n ; m% A LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. V A LIFE JOSEPH HALL, D.D., BISHOP OF EXETER- AND NORWICH. REV-. GEO. LEWIS, B.A. BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD, M.A. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON ; CURATE OF ST. l'AUL'.S, OXFORD. HODDER AND STOUGHTON, 27, PATERNOSTER ROW. MDCCCLXXXVI. {All Rights reserved.] TO THE REV. W. B. DUGGAN, M.A., VICAR OF ST. PAUL'S, OXFORD, 1 BEG TO DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK WITH ALL AFFECTIONATE ESTEEM. PREFACE P*HOSE who have any knowledge of the history ¦*¦ of the Church will not deem an apology necessary for a Life of one of its ablest and most devoted servants at a perilous crisis. None, perhaps, who revere goodness, or value scholarly divinity, will be averse to renewing their acquaintance with Bishop Hall. Lovers of moderation will remember that in him is mirrored a virtue scarcely ever out of place, never more necessary than at the present time. I have not thought it needful in a work of this magnitude and purpose to give verifying references, except in comparatively few instances. Here, how ever, I would acknowledge my great obligations to the ordinary sources of information, the State Papers, leading County Histories, Fuller, Neale's " History of the Puritans," Birch's " Life of the Prince of Wales," Heylin's " Laud," Canterbury's " Doom," Laud's " History of his Troubles," Blomfield's " Norwich," Hallam's " Const. History," etc. ; and among more recent authors, in particular, to Mr. Bass Mullinger's viii PREFACE. " History of Cambridge," Perry's " English Church History,"— an invaluable companion from first to last, — Hook's " Lives of the Archbishops," Stoughton's " Religion in England," the Histories of Scotland by Grub and Cunningham, Masson's " Life and Times of Milton," Dr. Jessop's " Diocesan History of Norwich," Grosart's Edition of Hall's Satires and Poetry, the elegant publication of the long-missing "King's Prophecie, or Weeping Joy," brought out by the Roxburgh Society under the editorship of the Rev. W. Edward Buckley, eta Among those who have given me personal assist ance I beg to sincerely thank the Dean of Norwich (Dr. Goulburn) for information furnished by himself; and also for putting me in communication with Dr. Bensly, Diocesan Registrar, and Dr. Jessop, from both of whom I have received substantial help. E. S. Shuckburgh, Esq., late Fellow of Emmanuel, not only sent me the account of the Dort Medal which is embodied in the text, but also directed the pub lishers to send me his very useful " Memoir of Chaderton," the first Master of that College. To the kindness and courtesy of Dr. Sanday and of the Rector of Exeter College, where several of Hall's sons were educated, I am indebted for per mission to see Bishop George Hall's Cup, — an art treasure described in the Appendix ; the description was pointed out to me by Mr. Boase, Senior Fellow and Librarian, whom I have also to thank for PREFACE. valuable hints in his laborious and exhaustive Register of the College. The Vicar of Ashby, Hall's birthplace ; the Rector of Higham, where he died and was buried ; Dr. Cowie, Dean of Exeter, and many others, have also readily responded to my inquiries, and my thanks are especially due to my dear friend, the Rev. W. B. Duggan, for assistance in revising the proofs, and for various suggestions from time to time. The most useful works on the same subject I have found to be Bishop Wordsworth's " Ecclesiastical Biographies," and Jones's " Life of Hall" (1826), and of editions of Hall's writings that by Peter Hall, though Wynter's contains some matter not before published. CONTENTS. CHAP. MGE I. BIRTH AND SCHOOL I II. NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD- EMMANUEL COLLEGE — SCHOLAR — B.A.— M.A. . II III. FELLOW OF EMMANUEL— PROFESSOR OF RHE TORIC — HEAD MASTER OF BLUNDEL'S SCHOOL — THE OFFER OF HALSTEAD — THE " SATIRES" — "MUNDUS ALTER ET IDEM" . . .38 IV. VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. . . .62 V. WORK AT HALSTEAD — CHAPLAIN TO THE PRINCE OF WALES — THE OFFER OF WALTHAM 86 VI. FAREWELL TO HALSTEAD — WALTHAM — HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC 106 VII. "THE CHARACTERISTICS OF VIRTUE AND VICE" — EARLIEST CONTROVERSIAL WORKS — REFUSAL TO LEAVE WALTHAM— DEATH OF PRINCE HENRY 1 26 VIH. HALL AND CHURCH DEFENCE — LIFE AT WAL THAM — VISIT TO PARIS — DEAN OF WORCESTER I46 IX. HALL AND ABSOLUTISM 1 63 X. THE "QUO VADIS?" — HALL ACCOMPANIES KING JAMES TO SCOTLAND— STUDIES RITUAL 173 XI. SERMON BEFORE THE CORPORATION OF LONDON — SYNOD OF DORT— SICKNESS AND RETURN, ETC. I96 XII. CONTINUED ILL-HEALTH — "THE HONOUR OF THE MARRIED CLERGY" — THE "VIA MEDIA" — THE ARCHBISHOP OF SPALATO — SERMONS, ETC. — BISHOP OF EXETER .... 210, XIII. HALL'S MODERATION 244 XIV. BISHOP OF EXETER (1627-37) • • • ¦ 27" XV. (1637-41) THE DISASTER AT WITHECOMBE— OVERTHROW OF EPISCOPACY IN SCOTLAND— HALL'S PROPOSAL FOR A SYNOD — "THE EPIS COPACY BY DIVINE RIGHT " — THE " ET CETERA" OATH — THE CANONS — THE COMMITTEE OF RELIGION — ASSAULT UPON THE ENGLISH BISHOPS — RETURN TO EXETER — THE SMEC- TYMNUANS — BISHOP OF NORWICH, ETC. . 310 XVI. HALL AND CONTROVERSY 347 XVII. THE TOWER — NORWICH 381 XVIII. HIGHAM— CLOSING DAYS— DEATH . . . 407 APPENDIX. I. A SHORT PEDIGREE OF BISHOP HALL'S FAMILY . 426 II. WILL OF DR. JOSEPH HALL, BISHOP OF NORWICH 428 III. THE PROTEST DRAWN UP BY THE BISHOPS . . 430 IV. BISHOP GEORGE HALL'S CUP AT EXETER COLLEGE, OXFORD . , , 432 V. (TO PAGE 180) ., ADDENDA INDEX CHAPTER I. BIRTH AND SCHOOL. JOSEPH HALL, afterwards Bishop of Exeter, and from thence translated to Norwich, was born July ist, 1574, at five ofthe clock in the morn ing. The house of his birth stood in what was then called Bristow Park, within the parish of Ashby-de- la-Zouch, a town in the north of Leicestershire. At that time there were two farms, which are now, and have been long, thrown into one. The name Bristow has been lost, while that of Prestop remains. The house stood about a mile from the town, on the road to Burton-on-Trent, and the site is now occupied by a cottage and farm-buildings. The future bishop was baptized on July 4th, when only three days old, in the parish church of Ashby. The entry is as follows : — 1574- THE FATHER'S NAME. THE CHILD'S NAME. BAPTIZED. July 4th John Joseph Hall. His father was an officer under that truly honour able and religious Henry, third Earl of Huntingdon, in 1572 appointed President ofthe North, and under 1 LIFE OF fOSEPH HALL, D.D. him had the government of Ashby, the chief seat of the. earldom. Little is known of the elder Hall, but from the way in which his son speaks of his death it may be inferred that he was a man of worth and piety. " Since I saw you," he wrote to Sir Andrew Asteley, " I saw my father die. How boldly and merrily did he pass through the gates of death, as if they had no terror, but much pleasure ! Oh that I could as easily imitate, as not forget him ! We know we must tread the same way : how happy, if with the same mind ! " His mother, Winifrede, belonged to the house of the Bambridges, or Bainbridges, who originally came from the north, and were of good if not of high family. They had attained some importance in Leicestershire, since we find Robert Bambridge dining with Sir William Skipwith at the Earl of Huntingdon's, and interceding with the Earl of Shaftesbury that the consort of James I. and the young Prince Henry, then on the road from York to London, might do the Earl of Huntingdon the honour of staying at Ashby Castle. A distinguished member of the family was John, son of the fore going, ,born at Ashby in 1582, and educated at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, under the tuition of Hall, the subject of this history. After taking his degree, he taught a grammar school in Leicester shire, and at the same time practised physic and studied mathematics. Both as a physician and as an astronomer he gained some reputation, being admitted a fellow of the College of Physicians, and discovering the comet of 161 8. He thus became acquainted with Sir Henry Savile, Warden of Merton College, Oxford, who appointed him first Savilian BIRTH AND SCHOOL. Professor. He was incorporated M.D., became Junior Linacre lecturer in 1631, and Superior Reader in 1635. He died in a house opposite Merton College, November 3rd, 1643, and was buried in the Choir of Merton, against the north wall, near the altar. Like many other famous men, Hall owed much to his mother's influence. He describes her as a " woman of that rare sanctity, that were it not for my interest in nature, I durst say that neither Aleth, the mother of that just Honour of Clairval (St. Bernard of Clairvaux), nor Monica, nor any other of those pious matrons antiently famous for devotion, need to disdain her admittance to comparison. She was continually exercised with the affection of a weak body, and oft of a wounded spirit ; the agonies whereof, as she would oft recount with much passion, professing that the greatest bodily sicknesses were but flea-bites to these scorpions, so, from them all, at last, she found a happy and comfortable deliverance. And that not without a more than ordinary hand of God ; for, on a time, being in great distress of con science, she thought in her dream there stood by her a grave personage in the gown and other habits of a physician, who, enquiring of her estate, and receiving a sad and querulous answer from her, took her by the hand, and bade her be of good comfort, for this should be the last fit that ever she should feel of this kind. Whereto she seemed to answer, that, upon that condition, she could well be content, for the time, with that or any other torment. Reply was made to her, as she thought, with a redoubled assurance of that happy issue of this her last trial ; whereat she began to conceive an unspeakable joy, LIFE OF fOSEPH HALL, D.D. which yet, upon her awaking, left her more discon solate, as then conceiving her happiness imaginary, her misery real. The very same day she was visited by the reverend and, in his time, famous divine, Mr. Anthony Gilby, under whose ministry she lived ; who, upon the relation of this her pleasing vision and the contrary effects it had in her, began to persuade her, that dream was no other than divine, and that she had good reason to think that gracious premonition was sent her from God Himself, Who, though ordinarily He keeps the common road of His proceedings, yet sometimes, in the distresses of His servants, goes unusual ways to their relief. Hereupon she began to take heart, and by good counsel, and her fervent prayers, found that happy prediction verified to her, and, upon all occasions in the remainder of her life, was ready to magnify the mercy of her God in so sensible a deliverance. What with the trial of both these hands of God, so had she profited in the school of Christ, that it was hard for any friend to come from her discourse no whit holier. How often have I blessed the memory of those Divine passages of experimental divinity, which I have heard from her mouth ! What day did she pass without a large task of private devotion ? Whence she would still come forth with a countenance of undissembled mortification. Never any lips have read to me such feeling lectures of piety ; neither have I known any soul that more accurately practised them, than her own. Temptations, desertions, and spiritual comforts were her usual theme. Shortly, for I can hardly take off my pen from so exemplary a subject, her life and death were saint-like." Her spiritual adviser, under whose ministry Hall's BIRTH AND. SCHOOL. younger years were spent, was a man of considerable eminence. A native of Lincolnshire, and a member of Christ's College, Cambridge, he appears to have been learned in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages. Long afterwards Hall remembered him as the author of that bitter dialogue between Miles Monopodius and Bernard Blinkard, one of the hottest and busiest sticklers in the quarrels at Frankfort, and " one of the godfathers of the Geneva Discipline, who, after his peregrinations in Germany and Geneva, undertook for that new-born infant at an English font." He published various works, such as a Commentary on Micah, a treatise on predestination, a paraphrase of the Psalms, etc., and he livedo at Ashby as great as a bishop. He was succeeded in the vicarage by his son, Nathanael Gilby. Hall may thus be said to have almost imbibed Calvinism with his mother's milk. If Ashby was great in the religious world, through Mr. Gilby, it was equally great in the secular, though only a place of about seventy families, through its connection with the powerful Earls of Huntingdon, whose seat, Ashby Castle, was situate on a gentle eminence on the south side of the town. Here, in the last week of November 1 5 6g, Mary Queen of Scots, on her way from Tutbury to Coventry, was a captive, and a room in 1804 still remaining there bore her name. The charge of her was entrusted to the Earl of Shrewsbury, together with the Earl of Huntingdon, and the latter appears to have exercised his trust with not only vigilance, but rigour. He was directly descended from George, Duke of Clarence, and brother of Edward IV., and pretended to dispute with the Scottish queen her right to the succession. LIfE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Hall's younger days must thus have been full of the unhappy queen, and her execution in i 587, (February 8th), when he was only thirteen years of age, must have left an indelible impression upon his mind. One may picture him as frequently accompanying his father to the Castle, and thus getting an insight into the life of the aristocracy, and acquiring those habits of respect and deference which afterwards gained for him patrons and enabled him to keep them. The Earls more than once entertained royalty. James I. quartered himself and his whole court upon the then Earl for many days together. Every day, we are told, the dinner was served up by thirty poor knights, with gold chains and velvet gowns. In 1645 Charles was there; but before long the glory had departed. Colonel Henry Hastings, younger son of the Earl, made a stand for the King, and was allowed to march away from his fortress uncon- quered. In 1648 the home of so much hospitality and princely splendour was dismantled. Hall's first training was gained in the public school of his native place, which only some seven years before his birth had been founded by Henry Earl of Huntingdon and others, " for instructing youth in good manners, learning, knowledge, and virtue." Of his school-fellows one is well known to us, Hugh Cholmley, whose father was also a dependent on the Castle, and most likely came of the Cholmleys of Bramsby. The two boys, "partners of one lesson from their cradles," were at the University together, " for many years partners of one bed," bishop and pre bend respectively of the same Cathedral at Exeter, and lifelong friends. From his infancy Hall's parents had devoted him to the sacred calling, and BlRftt AND SCHOOL 7 his education was directed to that end. How near their hopes and his were to blasting cannot be better told than in his own words. "After I had spent some years, not altogether indiligently, under the ferule of such masters as the place afforded, and had here attained to some competent ripeness for the univer sity, my schoolmaster, being a great admirer of one Mr. Pelset, who was then lately come from Cambridge to be the public preacher of Leicester (a man very eminent in those times for the fame of his learning, but especially for his sacred oratory), persuaded my father, that if I might have my edu cation under so excellent and complete a divine, it might be both a nearer and easier way to his pur posed end, than by an academical institution. The motion sounded well in my father's ears, and carried fair probabilities; neither was it other than fore-com pacted betwixt my schoolmaster and Mr. Pelset, so as, on both sides, it was entertained with great for wardness. The gentleman, upon essay taken of my fitness for the use of his studies, undertakes within one seven years to send me forth, no less furnished with arts, languages, and grounds of theoretical divinity, than the carefullest tutor in the strictest college of either university. Which that he might assuredly perform, to prevent the danger of any mutable thoughts in my parents or myself, he desired mutual bonds to be drawn between us." The argument of twelve children to provide for made his father yield to so likely a project for a younger son ; accordingly, before long the indentures were pre paring, the time was set, and the boy's suits were addressed for the journey. It has been said that there is no evidence to show life of Joseph hall, d.d. that Hall's mind when a young man was " orderly." If by this word be meant moral order, the statement is certainly wrong. At the age of fifteen, which he- has now reached, he displays that spiritual temper and that trust in Divine guidance which afterwards became so conspicuous in him. " What was the issue?" he asks. "O God, Thy Providence made and found it. Thou knowest how sincerely and heartily, in those my young years, I did cast myself upon Thy hands ; with what faithful resolution I did, in this particular occasion, resign myself over to Thy dis position : earnestly begging of Thee in my fervent prayers to order all things to the best, and confi dently waiting upon Thy will for the event. Cer tainly, never did I, in all my life, more clearly roll myself upon the Divine providence than I did in this business. And it succeeded accordingly." How it came about that after all he did go to Cambridge is thus told. " It fell out at this time that my elder brother, having some occasions to journey into Cambridge, was kindly entertained there by Mr. Nathanael Gilby, Fellow of Emmanuel College ; who, for that he was born in the same town with me, and had conceived some good opinion of my aptness to learning, enquired diligently con cerning me, and hearing of the diversion of my father's purposes from the University, importunately dissuaded from that new course, professing to pity the loss of so good hopes. My brother, partly moved with his words, and partly won by his own eyes to a great love and reverence for an academical life, returning home, fell upon his knees to my father; and after the report of Mr. Gilby's words and his own admiration of the place, earnestly besought BIRTH AND SCHOOL. him, that he would be pleased to alter that so pre judicial resolution, that he would not suffer my hopes to be drowned in a shallow country channel ; but that he would revive his first purposes for Cam bridge ; adding, in the zeal of his love, that if the chargeableness of that course were the hindrance, he did there humbly beseech him, rather to sell some part of that land, which himself should in course of nature inherit, than to abridge me of that happy means to perfect my education. No sooner had he spoken those words, than my father no less passionately condescended ; not without a vehement protestation, that, whatsoever it might cost him, I should, God willing, be sent to the University. Neither were those words sooner out of his lips, than there was a message from Mr. Pelset knocking at the door, to call me to that fairer bondage ; signify ing, that the next day he expected me, with a full despatch of that business; to whom my father replied, that he came some minutes too late, that he had now otherwise determined of me ; and, with a respectful message of thanks to the master, sent the man home empty, leaving me full of the tears of joy for so happy a change. Indeed I had been but lost, if that project had succeeded ; as it well appeared in the experience of him who succeeded in that room, which was by me thus unexpectedly forsaken. O God, how was I then taken up, with a thankful acknowledgment and joyful admiration of Thy gracious providence over me ! " We may well share his joy and gratitude, and unite in admiration not only of the Providence which gave this happy issue, but also of the generous spirit of the elder brother, and the reasonable temper of the father io LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. willing to accept and act upon the intercession of his son, even at the cost of alteration of plans and expenditure of money which he could ill afford. And now Hall lived in the expectation of Cam bridge. CHAPTER II. NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD.— EM MANUEL COLLEGE.— SCHOLAR— B.A.— M.A. BEFORE we proceed to the details of Hall's career at Cambridge, it may perhaps be well to take a brief survey of the life of the nation during the years of his boyhood, and all the more because the college of which he became a distinguished member was the direct product of the forces then at work. It was a time of gallant deeds, romantic en terprises, and atrocious crimes. Raleigh, though doomed to failure in his own attempt, had planted our first colony on the shores of Virginia, and so led the van in what afterwards became the magnificent crusade of world-wide colonisation. Our navy was beginning to acquire the splendid fame which it has never since lost. Francis Drake, when Hall was a child just out of arms, had assailed the Spaniards in their far-off western possessions, and after taking a rich booty had returned to England by the Cape of Good Hope. Thus he was the first Englishman to sail round the globe, and, more fortunate than Magellan, who died during his attempt, the first commander-in-chief. His valour had been rewarded by the presence of Elizabeth at a banquet on board the Admiral's ship. Later, with a fleet of twenty 14 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. , sail, he had carried the war to the West Indies, and only a year before Hall went up to Cambridge, the same brave sailor had displayed no less strategy than courage in putting to the rout the Invincible Armada. A boy of so religious a temperament as Hall must have been much impressed by hearing the struggle described as not merely for national honour, but for the existence of the Protestant faith. In his sermon on " The Defeat of Cruelty " he speaks of the deliverance in these terms : " What is it that made us so happily successful in '88, beyond all hope, beyond all conceit, but the fervency of our humble devotions ? That invincible navy came on dreadfully ; floating like a moving wood in the sight of our coast ; those vast vessels were as so many lofty castles raised on those liquid foundations ; then straight, as if those huge bottoms had been stuft with tempests, there was nothing but thunder, and lightning, and smoke, and all the terrible apparitions of death. We, what did we ? we fought upon our knees, both prince and people. Straight, God fought for us from heaven. Our prayers were the gale, yea the gust, that tore those mis-consecrated flags and sails, and scattered and drenched those presumptuous piles, and sent them into the bottom of the deep, to be a parlour for whales and sea-monsters. There lay the pride of Spain, the terror of England." Sir Philip Sidney, too, had fascinated the imagination of his contemporaries no less than Drake, and, by resigning his bottle of water to the dying soldier beneath the walls of Zutphen, when he himself, parched with thirst, was at the point to die, had proved himself as much a mirror of Christian chivalry as a pattern of courtly grace. Elizabeth, at the zenith of her power, NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 13 was inspiring the heads and hearts of those around her with ambitious dreams, and dallying now with Anjou, now with Leicester, now with Essex, yet never forgot to subject her passions to her patriotism. Another queen, far fairer, of whom it is hard to think without a sigh, and almost a tear, was languishing in a prison, but even there could lead men spellbound to perilous attempts or certain death. Anthony Babington and his associates expiated their mis placed devotion with their lives, and the Queen of Scots, in 1587, also perished upon the scaffold. England had thrilled with horror at the Massacre of St. Bartholomew two years before Hall's birth, and the memory of that crime had been perpetuated by the medal struck by Gregory XIII., and the Te Deum sung to celebrate the butchery of ten thousand Protestant victims. In our own land, too, fanaticism had showed its bloody hand when Birchett, " moved by the Spirit of God," attempted in the open street to murder Mr. Hatton, afterwards Lord Chancellor, because he was supposed to be an enemy of God's Word, and a maintainer of papistry. Before long the assassin's dagger had been more successful with the Duke of Guise and his brother the Cardinal, and Henry III., who caused their assassination, had him self met a similar fate at the hand of the friar, Jacques Clement. Puritanism during these years had been rapidly unfolding itself, and moving onwards to its final development. Bishop Cooper, in his "Admonition to the People of England," published in the year 1589, thus summarises the progress of the move ment. " At the beginning some learned and godly preachers, for private respects in themselves, made 14 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. strange to wear the surplice, cap, or tippet ; but yet so that they declared themselves to think the thing indifferent, and not to judge evil of such as did use them. Shortly after rose up others, defending that they were not things indifferent, but distained with antichristian idolatry, and therefore not to be suffered in the Church. Not long after came another sort, affirming that those matters touching apparel were but trifles, and not worthy contention in the Church, but that there were greater things , far, of more weight and importance, and indeed touching faith and religion, and therefore meet to be altered in a Church rightly reformed ; as the book of Common Prayer, the administration of the sacraments, the government of the Church, the election of ministers, and a number of other like. Fourthly, now break out another sort, earnestly affirming and teaching, that we have no Church, no bishops, no ministers, no sacraments ; and therefore that all that love Jesus Christ ought with all speed to separate themselves from our con gregations, because our assemblies are profane, wicked, and anti-Christian. Thus have ye heard of four degrees for the overthrow of the state of the Church of England. Now lastly of all come in these men . that make their whole direption against the living of bishops and other ecclesiastical ministers ; that they should have no temporal lands or jurisdiction." In 1576 Grindal succeeded Parker as Primate, and how persistently obtrusive Puri tanism had become, and how dangerous it appeared, is evidenced by the struggle between the Queen and the Primate respecting the exercises called " pro- phesyings." These, which were originally intended NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 15 to be expositions and discussions of passages of Holy Scripture for the improvement of the clergy, had become a means of attacking the established religion, and of venting all kinds of erroneous doctrines. Grindal could not see his way to obey the Queen's command and stop them ; he even had the courage, then rare, to beg her Majesty in things spiritual to be guided by her spiritual advisers ; but had he been firmer in resisting Puritan aggression, he would have spared the country the sight of its Primate suspended, and would have left an easier task for Whitgift. As it was, his neglect of disci pline did no good. In 1 576 the first Nonconformist congregation assembled in Plummer's Hall. In 1580, the Book of Discipline, which had been drawn up by Cartwright and Travers on the model of Calvin, was recognized as the Puritan standard. In 1582, the Classis was formed, a systematic attempt by parochial councils, provincial synods, and even a national synod to fill the pulpits with men of the new opinions, whose consciences were, in respect of disputed points, to be in the keeping of those by whom they were selected for the ministry. Their true ordination was supposed to be through the Classis, but they were allowed to apply to the bishop for the legal rite. It is not surprising that many rejoiced in the title of " no sacrament ministers," and that a letter of the Council was deemed necessary to force those who refused to celebrate the Communion to perform their priestly functions. The vigorous administra tion of Whitgift soon turned the tide for at least some time. In 1583, he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury and before the end of 1 584 a reaction 16 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. against Puritanism had set in. His subscription test, by which he required the loyal acknowledgment of the Supremacy, the Book of Common Prayer, and the Thirty-nine Articles, though hotly opposed, and met by a determined effort in 1584 to obtain a parliamentary status for the Discipline, was suc cessful. His elevation to the Council in 1586 secured his position, and henceforth, to the end of Elizabeth's reign, he had the command of his opponents. The Mar-prelate libels of 1588, with their scurrilous and profligate abuse, were but the expression of an impotent section of the party, who could not away with the patient and wiser policy of some of their brethren to " tarry for the magistrate." The effect was a widespread disgust at those who could wield such filthy weapons. The Romanists, too, and especially their Jesuit agents, were no less energetic. As far back as 1568, Dr. Allen had founded the English College at Douay, and within five years had sent nearly a hundred missionaries into England. On the 27th of April, 1570, Pope Pius V. had issued his bull of excommunication against Elizabeth, "ad quam veluti ad asylum omnium infestissimi profugium invenerunt," and in the spring of the following year Felton affixed it to the gates of the Bishop of London's palace. This Pope expressed himself willing to, shed his blood if only England could be brought back to the faith, and his ardour was fully shared by Gregory XIII., who in 1572 followed him on the papal throne. He hoped to unite Don John of Austria with Philip II. of Spain in a campaign against this renegade country ; but this grand con ception dwindled down to the attempt made upon NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 17 Ireland under the leadership of the Irish refugee Geraldine, with the ships and money furnished at the Pope's expense, and with the aid of a contribu tion from the King of Spain. The adventurer lost his life, and after revolting cruelties perpetrated by the Protestants, English colonists took possession of the devastated province of Munster. The Pope, however, was resolute in his aim, and looked about for other methods. In 1579 he founded the English Jesuit College at Rome, and all who studied within its walls were pledged to return to England and there labour for the restoration of the old faith. It was in 1580 that Parsons and Campion arrived at the head of a mission, and, after reaching London, commenced their work, the one in the northern, the other in the southern counties. They were to publish books, send emissaries throughout the kingdom, and do all in their power to rouse the people from the passive attitude they maintained, during at least the first fifteen years of Elizabeth's reign, to an active resist ance to the Protestant regime, and induce them to give effect to the bull of Pius V. Ranke* thus vividly describes the success they experienced : "They usually took up their abode in the dwellings of the Catholic nobles. Their coming was always announced, but the precaution was constantly taken of receiving them as strangers. A chapel had mean while been prepared in the most retired part of the house, into which they were conducted, and where the members of the family were assembled to receive their benediction. The missionary rarely prolonged his stay beyond one night. The evening of his * Popes, I. p. 458. 18 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. arrival was employed in religious preparations and confession ; on the following morning, mass was read, the sacrament administered, and a sermon preached. All the Catholics who were in the neighbourhood attended, and the number was sometimes very great. The religion that for nine hundred years had ruled supreme over the island, was thus once more incul cated with the added charm of mystery and novelty. Secret synods were held, a printing-press was set up, first in a village near London, and afterwards in a lonely house in a neighbouring wood ; Catholic books once more appeared, written with all the readiness and ability derived from constant practice in con troversy, and sometimes with much elegance ; the impression these works produced was strengthened by the impenetrable secrecy of their origin. The imme diate result of these proceedings was, that the Catho lics ceased to attend the Protestant service, and to observe the ecclesiastical edicts of the Queen ; and that the opposite party insisted on their opinions with increased violence, while persecution became more severe and oppressive." Campion and others were executed December i st, 1581. Parsons escaped to the Continent. The Jesuit plotters, however, were by no means extinguished ; Church and State alike were menaced by their machinations : their theories of government were well known ; and Burleigh's tract, " Execution of Justice in England for Treason and not for Religion," would seem to be the approxi mate expression of the truth. At Ashby, with its Calvinistic " bishop," the Jesuits and their doings could not fail to be a subject of engrossing interest ; and Hall's mind may very early have been tinctured with that antipathy which led him afterwards to describe NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 19 an English Jesuit as the most venomous of his kind. A good insight into the inner life of the Church is afforded by the visitation articles of inquiry issued by the bishops, fixing, as they do, what was requisite and necessary, and at the same time indi cating those points wherein deficiencies still existed. A visitor to a representative church in the first decade of Hall's life would have seen, amongst other things, specially the Book of Common Prayer with Parker's new Kalender, a Psalter, the English Bible in the largest volume, the two tomes of the Homilies, the Paraphrases of Erasmus translated into English, the table of the Ten Commandments, a convenient pulpit well placed, a comely and decent table stand ing on a frame for the Holy Communion, with a fair linen cloth to lay upon the same, and some covering, of silk, buckram, or other such like, for the clean keeping thereof; a fair and comely Communion cup of silver, and a cover of silver for the same, which might serve also for the ministration of the Commu nion bread; a decent large surplice with sleeves, to say nothing of a sure coffer, with two locks and keys, for the keeping of the register book, and a strong chest or box for the alms of the poor, with three locks and keys to the same. The Communion table would have been full of interest, for it was expected that all altars should be utterly taken down and clean removed, even unto the foundation, and the place where they stood paved, and the wall whereunto they joined whited over, and made uniform with the , rest, so that no breach or rupture should appear. A change, too, would have been found to have come over the rood-loft ; the cross beam alone was left. LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Instead of the crucifix some convenient crest would have been put upon the same. No old service- books would have been seen, or if they were stowed away in some dusty corner, they would be defaced, rent, and well-nigh abolished. The vestments, albs, tunicles, stoles, phanons, pixes, panes, handbells, sacring bells, censers, chrismatories, crosses, candle sticks, holy-water stocks, and images, would be utterly defaced, broken, and destroyed, since these were regarded as relics and monuments of super stition and idolatry. The parson, vicar, curate, or minister would not dare to wear a cope in his parish church, for the Advertisements had long since restricted the use of that vestment as a minimum for the Cathedral, and had allowed him in the same regard the use of a goodly surplice. Nor would he venture to minister the holy communion in any chalice heretofore used at mass, or in any profane cup or glass, or to indulge in any gestures, rites, or ceremonies not appointed by the Book of Common Prayer, as crossing or breathing over the sacramental bread and wine, or showing the same to the people to be worshipped and adored, or any such like, or to use any oil and chrism, tapers, spattle, or any other popish ceremony in the ministration of the sacrament of baptism. The new calendar would be closely followed. And at that well-ordered church there would be no ringing or tolling of bells to call the people together upon the abrogated holy days or fasting days, more than upon the ordinary work days. The passing bell, however, would be tolled when a parishioner was passing out of this life, to move the people to pray for the sick person ; and when the sick person had passed away one short NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 21 peal might be rung before the burial and another short peal after it. More than this was superfluous and superstitious. On All Saints' Day, after evening prayer, the bells in the steeple would not speak forth as heretofore, that being supposed to tend to the maintenance of purgatory, or of prayer for the dead. One bell might be rung or tolled in convenient time before the sermon on Sundays and holy days, but the sweet music which once told the people far and wide that to-morrow a hero of the Church would be com memorated was a thing of the past, wherein was excess. Great stress would be laid upon catechising. The names of all children, apprentices, and servants of both sexes, being above seven years of age and under twenty, would be known to the good parish priest, who every Sunday and holy day would dili gently, for half-an-hour at the least, before or at the evening prayer, instruct them in the Ten Command ments, the Articles of the Belief, the Lord's Prayer, and the Catechism as it was then allowed and set forth. This was very important, since none could be admitted to Holy Communion who could not if under fourteen say by Jieart the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, or if above that age and under twenty, the Catechism as well ; nor was marriage so easy as at the present day. None might be married who could not say the Catechism. In the parish we are supposing, the incumbent would be resident, and would dwell continually upon his benefice, doing his duty in preaching, reading, and ministering the sacraments, keeping hospitality as far as his means would allow, and having his house and chancel well repaired and upholden. LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. If absent from his benefice, no rude and unlearned person would be found in charge, but an honest and well-learned expert curate, who could and would teach the people wholesome doctrine ; he would also see that at least one-fortieth of the fruits of his benefice was distributed among the poor. Neither incumbent nor curate would think himself well equipped for his work, if under the degree of a Master of Arts, unless he had of his own at the least the New Testament both in English and Latjn ; nor would his conscience be at rest, unless every day with good advisement he conferred one chapter of the Latin and English together at the least, and in due season gave account thereof to the bishop or the bishop's representative. He would be neither a preacher of corrupt and popish doctrine, nor a maintainer of sectaries, like too many around him, dispraising the Book of Common Prayer, and favouring secret conventicles, preachings, lectures, or readings contrary to the law. He would keep a sharp look-out after popish priests, either going as priests, or disguised in other apparel, resorting secretly or openly into his parish, and would find out by whom they were received, harboured, and relieved. Many of his brethren were hunters, hawkers, dicers, carders, tablers, swearers. Of course he would be none of these, but would find his pleasure in reading or hearing some part of the Holy Scripture, or other good author, or in some other godly or laudable exercise, meet for his vocation. Some of them turned the parsonage into the alehouse, tippling-house, or tavern, and sold ale, beer, wine, or victuals. He would be far from this. A part of his duty, which NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 23 he would certainly not omit, would be, every Sunday, after reading the second lesson at morning and evening prayer, to admonish the churchwardens and sidesmen to look to their charge in observing and noting such as absented themselves from Divine service, or behaved irreverently thereat. Even these responsible officers sometimes, when they should have been at church observing others that were absent, were themselves away at home, or, shocking to relate ! in some tavern or alehouse, or else about some worldly business, or at bowls, cards, tables, or other gaming, without regard of their office and duty. Much more the people. They were in the habit of coming very late to church, and' there walking, talking, and otherwise irreverently behaving themselves ; or they might be seen sitting in the streets or churchyard in the time of common prayer. By a statute made in the first year pi Elizabeth's reign, there was a forfeiture of twelve pence for every such offence, and the wardens were expected to rigorously exact the same and put it to the use of the poor. Fairs, too, and common markets might fall upon the Sunday, and the irreligious in their love of filthy lucre were prone to use the church yards and show their wares before morning service was over. Occasionally there was as little regard for the inside as for the outside of the sacred building. Lords of misrule, summer lords and ladies, disguised persons or others, in Christmas or at May-games, or morris-dancers, would come irreverently into the church, or chapel, or church yard, and there dance, or play unseemly parts with scoffs, jests, wanton gestures, or ribald talk, in the time of Divine service. Stubbs, in his "Anatomie 24 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. of Abuses" (a.d. 1595), thus speaks of their practice : — " The wilde heades of the parish, flocking together, chusethem a graund captaine of mischiefe, whom they innoble with the title of my Lord of Misrule. ... In this sorte they go to the church (though the minister be at prayer or preaching), dauncing and swinging their handkerchiefs over their heads like devils incarnate, with such a con fused noise that no man can heare his owne voyce. Then the foolish people, they looke, they stare, they laugh, they fleere, and mount upon formes and pewes to see these goodly pageants solemnised in this sort. Then after this, aboute the church they go againe and againe, and so fourthe into the churcheyard, where they have commonly their summer-halls, their bowers, arbours, and banquetting houses . . . and thus they spend the Sabbath Day." What with all this, the popish recusants, the Non conformist sectaries, the insinuating schoolmasters, the users of magic, sorcery, witchcraft, charms, or unlawful prayers or invocations in Latin, or other wise, in particular mid wives, whose opportunities for mischief were shrewdly suspected, a clergyman in those days must have had as many calls upon his time and led nearly as busy a life as the head of a large town parish at the present day. We have deviated from the direct line of the memoir in hand, but it comes within the scope of the author's intention to give as far as practic able some account of the contemporary history of our country. The reader will perhaps therefore pardon the digression, and all the more because every man is more or less moulded by circumstances, and is the child of the times in which he is born. NATIONAL LIFE DURING HALL'S BOYHOOD. 25 Let us now revert to the university of which Hall was on the point of becoming a member, and briefly trace the course of events during the few years immediately preceding the date of his matriculation, for the most part taking as our guide Mr. Bass Mullinger's admirable history of Cambridge. Puri tanism was growing stronger, and, but for Baro, Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity (1574-96), would have had nearly undisputed sway. He maintained the theses that the first love of God is of the nature of justifying faith, that justifying faith is enjoined in the Decalogue, — positions which involved him in a controversy with Chaderton in the year 1 5 8 1 . The latter denounced them in a public meeting, or in a sermon, whereupon he was cited by Baro before the Vice-Chancellor. The dispute was less acrimonious than, unfortunately, was too often the case, and it is much to the credit of both that Chaderton could speak of his opponent as a man for whom he cer tainly entertained a great affection. Fourteen years after this Baro was to resume the attack on Calvinism, and that time to pay for his devotion to truth with banishment from the home and office of two-and- twenty years. In 1582 Beza presented to the Uni versity a polyglot Pentateuch, printed at Constan tinople, together with the famous Codex Bezae, and was thanked, we are told, by the public orator in terms which made the authority of the Calvinistic professor only second to that of Scripture itself. In 1584 the Discipline, the product of the joint labour of Thomas Cartwright and Walter Travers, was printed anew at Cambridge. Both were well known in the University, Cartwright having been appointed Margaret Professor in 1570, and having used his 26 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. point of vantage for discrediting Episcopacy, for which grave misdemeanour he had been deprived of his professorship and fellowship, and expelled from his alma mater ; while Travers, as Fellow of Trinity and B.D., had made himself almost as conspicuous by disdaining our orders and being " called to the minis try " by a congregation at Antwerp. He was des tined for further notoriety through the inglorious defeat he sustained at the hands of Hooker. The university press was directed by its superintendent to controversial ends, Thomas Thomas, who was desig nated by Martin Marprelate the " Cambridge Puritan printer," publishing in 1586 a translation of the Harmonia Confessionum Fidei, an attempt to show, with how much success may be imagined, that Luther and Calvin were essentially at one in their teaching. But perhaps nothing more clearly indicates the tendency of events than the sermon preached the same year at Great St. Mary's by John Smith of Christ's. It appears that at that time plays were performed even on Sunday evenings, a practice which was sternly denounced by the preacher. It is true that he was cited for his temerity before the deputy Vice- Chancellor and other Heads, and was constrained to offer explanations. Public opinion, however, as to Sabbath observance, had been much influenced by " Mr. Greenham, his Book of the Sabbath," of which Fuller says no book in that age made greater impression on people's practice. He died three years after Hall entered at Emmanuel. The following ode describes both author and book : — " While Greenham writeth ofthe Sabbath's rest, His soul enjoys not what his pen express'd: His work enjoys not what itself doth say, EMMANUEL COLLEGE. 27 For it shall never find one resting day ; A thousand hands shall toss each page and line, Which shall be scanned by a thousand eine, That Sabbath's rest, or this Sabbath's unrest, Hard is to say whether's the happiest." J. Hall. In 1586-7 Whitaker became head of John's. He and Chaderton, the first head of Emmanuel, had married sisters, and both favoured the Puritan rather than the Anglican party, not only in doctrine, but also in discipline. His attempt to expel one of the Fellows, Everard Digby, who had the courage to denounce Calvinists as schismatics, indicates his real opinions. Secret meetings were held at the College, when Cartwright occasionally stole up and sat in conclave with the master, Chaderton, and Fulk, the rancorous disputant and Head of Pembroke. Some times Travers, Greenham, and Perkins, whom, accord ing to Fuller, all held for a prophet, might be seen there. This last was a Fellow of Christ's, and a preacher at St. Andrew's. " He would pronounce the word damn with such an emphasis as left a doleful echo in his auditor's ears, and when Catechist of Christ's College, in expounding the Command ments, applied them so home,, able almost to make his hearers' hearts fall down, and hairs stand up right." Notwithstanding this, it is gratifying to learn that he was of a " cheerful nature and pleasant disposition." The great subject at these meetings was the Discipline, which was talked over, revised, corrected, and finally adopted as the true account of the Christian Church. The very year in which Hall went up to the University, a general meeting of the brethren was held at St. John's, Cartwright and others 28 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. , present, wherein it was agreed that so many as would should subscribe the said book. It is with Emmanuel College, however, that we are more particularly concerned, since there Hall spent the next twelve or thirteen years of his life, and that foundation was the expression in stone and timber of what elsewhere manifested itself in paper and ink — it was the recognised academic centre of Puritanism, to which it was in Cambridge what Keble College is intended to be to Anglicanism at Oxford* Side by side with the movement for the abolition of our discipline another was advancing, a few years before the date at which we have arrived, which was well calculated to utterly change the character of the Universities. In the Session of 1584-5, a paper of sixteen petitions had been drawn up by the House of Commons, and presented to the House of Lords. Amongst the most noteworthy of these, was one requesting that "Where in certain Colleges, and Cathedral and Collegiate Churches, the foundation or statutes require such as are there placed to be ministers, it shall be lawful for such as are known to profess the study of divinity, or otherwise be lawfully dispensed withal, to retain any fellowship or prebend within the said Colleges, notwithstanding they be no ministers." This was only to renew an attempt which two or three years previously had been made to introduce the principle of the endowment of theological research. * For much interesting information respecting Emmanuel, I am indebted to Mr. E. S. Shuckburgh, M.A., late one of its Fellows, whose kindness I have also acknowledged in the preface. EMMANUEL COLLEGE. 29 " The aim," says Mr. Mullinger, "of the petitioners would seem to have been to encourage the study of divinity as a recognised pursuit among the senior members of the University, and thus to form within its precincts a body of sound and well-read divines, whose studious leisure should be unbroken by duties eitJier of pulpit or the cure!' The change, however, would have tended more to the advancement of con troversy and contentiousness, than of any solid gain to the Church, and the bishops were not slow to resist the innovation. The proposition was met by seventeen counter-objections. To admit the change would be, it was urged, to overthrow the statutes of almost all the Colleges in Cambridge and Oxford, seeing that they had been founded principally for the study of divinity, and to deprive the Church of England - of the worthiest, best learned, and wisest ministers and preachers, for though there were divers who could preach, etc., yet they had no substance of learning in them, neither were they able to stand with the adversary, either in pulpit or disputation ; a thing as well required in a minister as exhortation. At that time there were in the University of Cambridge a hundred preachers at the least, very worthy men, and not many less in the University of Oxford. The number was daily increasing ; but if this might take place, the bishops ventured to predict there would not be five ministers in either of them. Everyone, to keep the comfortable places provided by the Colleges, would openly profess the study of divinity, and secretly study the one law or the other, or physic, or some trifling study all his life long, and so a layman would live idly on the spoil of the Church except he taught a benefice. Preaching 30 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. would decay. A beggarly, unlearned, and contempt ible clergy would be bred. A great confusion in the Church and commonwealth would result. In short, it was a piece of T. C, his platform, and covertly a shove at the Gospel, to place the lawyers and others as they pleased. The profound distrust displayed by the bishops was, curiously enough, shared by some of the dis tinguished leaders of the Puritans themselves, amongst them by Walter Mildmay, who, knighted in the first year of Edward VI., had afterwards become Chan cellor of the Exchequer to Queen Elizabeth, and was the founder of the family of the Earls of Westmore land. To him belongs also the honour of being the founder of Emmanuel College. An ardent Protestant, and anxious to promote his faith in every possible way, the idea occurred to him that he would do this with effect were he to establish a College at Cam bridge, for the express object of training for the ministry. Accordingly, on January iith, 1583-4, the charter for Emmanuel was given, and, before long, there rose, on the site of a house once occupied by Preaching Friars, a house for the fiercest assailants of the creed so long there confessed. " And the manner in which the remains of the ancient buildings were adapted to the purpose, seems designed to express the animus of the foundation. The chapel was converted into the hall and parlour ; the fireplace round which the Fellows sat being on the spot once occupied by the high altar. The refectory was turned into a chapel, facing, as was observed, north and south." No wonder that when Sir Walter came soon after to court, the Queen said, " Sir Walter, I hear you have erected a Puritan foundation ; " nor EMMANUEL COLLEGE. %\ that with much discretion he replied, " No, Madam, far be it from me to countenance anything contrary to your established laws ; but I have set an acorn which, when it becomes an oak, God alone knows what will be the fruit thereof." Elsewhere he says, " We have founded the College, with the design that it should be, by the grace of God, a seminary of learned men for the supply of the Church, and for the sending forth of as large a number as possible of those who shall instruct the people in the Christian faith. We would not have any Fellow suppose that we have given him in this College a perpetual abode." To secure these ends, the important statute De mora sociorum was framed, whereby every Fellow was requierd to vacate his fellowship within a year of taking his degree. The College soon attracted many whose names are famous in the annals of nonconformity, and gave to the New World John Harvard, the founder of Harvard College. The acorn grew, and at the time of the Commonwealth became a tree overshadowing all Cambridge. BradshaWj President of the court which condemned Charles I., Cromwell's son Henry, and Sir Philip Meadows, one of his Latin secretaries, were educated there, and no less than eleven other colleges were ruled by masters who had come from thence. The first master was Laurence Chaderton, who had been an intimate friend of Mildmay's at Christ's, and for seventeen years preceding his appointment had lectured at St. Clement's. He, it will be re membered, was one of the Puritan divines at the Hampton Court Conference, where he conducted himself so decorously that King James chose him as one of the revisers of the Bible. He was a man 32 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. of learning and piety, and during his long master ship of thirty-nine years devoted himself to his charge with no interest save that which springs from unselfish affection. He was a diligent commentator, and acquired a reputation as a preacher, being endowed not only with intellectual power, but with a voice very clear and pleasing and of astonishing flexibility, great dignity of manner, and propriety of action. His success at times appears to have been marked. " Once in a town not far from Manchester (Oldham was his birthplace) he under took to officiate, and in a short time, by the Divine help, he wrought such a change that more than ten pints of wine was wanted at the next celebration, whereas only one had before been sufficient. At another place, having once preached for two hours, he said that he 'had tired his hearers' patience and would leave off ; upon which the whole congregation cried out : ' For God's sake, Sir, go on, we beg you ' — go on ! ' He accordingly continued the thread of his discourse for another hour, to the great pleasure and delight of his hearers." With such an example at the head of the college, all the more striking because up to this time preaching was rare in the university, Hall could not fail to have his thoughts directed to the sphere in which he himself laboured with so much diligence and success. From the first the College set academic usage at defiance, using its own form of religious service, and discarding surplices and hoods, both at morning and evening prayer, and at the celebration of the Lord's Supper. There was a careless disregard even of the cap and gown, and suppers were given on Fridays. Perhaps it was for these reasons that until 1650 EMMANUEL COLLEGE. 33 Emmanuel was not placed upon the same footing as the other colleges, and admitted to the cycle for the nomination of proctors, etc. Hall, early in his career, in his letter to Wadsworth describes it in enthusiastic terr^ : " Was not your youth spent in a society of such comely order, strict government, wise laws, religious care (it was ours, yet let me praise it to your shame) as may justly challenge, after all brags, either Rhemes or Douay, or if your Jesuits have any other den more cleanly or more worthy of ostentation ; " and in the retrospect of a long life could speak of it as strict and well ordered. This is not of necessity inconsistent with the ritual irregu larities already mentioned, which eventually became a subject of scandal, and, as being a practical ex emplification of the principles of the Disciplina, called forth a formal protest at the beginning of the seventeenth century. The following account of the mode of reception at Holy Communion vividly illustrates, due allowance being made for the evident exaggeration, the tone ofthe College. "InEmmanual College they receive the Holy Sacrament, sittinge upon forms about the Communion table, and doe pull the loafe one from the other, after the minister hath begon. And soe the Cupp, one drinking as it were to another, like good fellows, without any particular application of the saide words, more than once for all." Such was the society of which Hall became a- member, and it is hard to forbear the expression of our admiration for the independence of mind and liberality of thought which enabled him, amid storms of controversy, gradually to take his stand as far from Geneva on the one side as from Rome 3 34 LIEF OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. on the other. Thanks to Mr. Mullinger, we are able to form a fair idea of the undergraduate life of the time. The boy fresh from the small country town would share in the pride and exultation with which Peter Baro in 1588, preaching before the University, spoke of her stately buildings and ample revenues, of the combination of external splendour with internal comfort and luxury presented by her colleges, though at first he himself would not enjoy either comfort or luxury. The colleges were over crowded, and each student shared a single room with three, or, at least, two other occupants. It was only on attaining the rank of a Fellow that a collegian had a room to himself. The great majority of his fellow-students belonged to the humbler classes. The ideal undergraduate was a beautiful object, seldom, it is said, met with in real life. " He was a decorous, modest, soberly attired youth, who made his college his habitual home. Whenever he issued forth beyond its gates, it was only with the express permission of his tutor or the dean. Unless it devolved upon him as a sizar or poor scholar to perform some menial errand for a superior, he was always accompanied by a fellow collegian (Cholmley would be Hall's companion). He wore his academic gown, reaching to his ankles, and unless a scholar a round cloth cap " (Hall, coming from Emmanuel, would be a notable exception). " He loitered neither in the market-place nor in the streets, and shunned alike the lodging-house and the tavern. He attended no cock-fights, no baitings of bears or of bulls, no fencing matches ; the popular and apparently innocent diversion of quoits could not attract him, neither as a player nor even as a spectator. He EMMANUEL COLLEGE. 35 neither bathed nor boated. At the early morning service at five o'clock, and again in the evening, he was regularly to be seen in his place in the college chapel. On Sundays, feast-days, and Eves, he wore a shining surplice, and although the garment was then five times more costly than at the present day, no narrowness of means could prevent him from pos sessing it in due newness and cleanness." (Here again Hall would certainly not reach the standard). " Not less assiduous would be his attendance on the public lectures in the schools specially designed to assist him in his undergraduate course of study — a patient attentive auditor from the commencement of each lecture to its close. His common places in the college' chapel and his public ' acts ' were regularly and carefully performed without flippancy, personalities, or paradox. At Christmas, amid the licence per mitted even by statute at that festive season, he might venture to take a hand at cards, but he invariably refused to touch the dice-box." As for his studies, his first year would be given to Rhetoric, which had taken the place of mathematics ; his second and third chiefly to Logic, the logic not of Aristotle but of Ramus, nowhere so influential as at Cambridge, where, from his known accession to the ranks of Calvinism, he had the sympathy of the Puritan party, and an able exponent in the Master of Emmanuel. History was pursued with but little intelligence. The languages were comparatively neglected. Latin of course was indispensable ; for the last forty years of the century Greek was only not extinct. Theologians had taken up an attitude of hostility to the " new learning," and the fruit of their indiscretion was what might have been 36 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. expected. Hebrew, from the days of Bucer and Fagius, had not wanted competent teachers, though Edward Lively (Regius Professor 1575-160 5) either very rarely lectured, or succeeded in gaining but few hearers. The staple of the academic culture was logic and rhetoric, with which the best students combined some knowledge of the ethics, physics, and metaphysics of the time ; but over and above all, pervading all, was Theology, which, so far from realising its office, was not only narrow and intolerant, but had the temerity even to dictate to Physical Science. Hall had passed two years amid such scenes, and in pursuing such studies, when circumstances com pelled him to leave college and return home. His father, " whose not very large cistern was to feed many pipes besides his," under the pressure of small means, and at the suggestion of unwise friends, had consented to accept for him the post of master- in his old school at Ashby. Once more Hall's hopes of academic distinction were on the point of being crushed. How the disaster was averted he himself tells : — " Now was I fetched home, with a heavy heart : and now, this second time, had mine hopes been nipped in the blossom, had not God raised trie up an unhoped benefactor, Mr. Edmund Sleigh of Derby (whose pious memory I have cause ever to love and reverence), out of no other relation to me, save that he married my aunt. Pitying my too apparent dejectedness, he voluntarily urged and solicited my father for my return to the University, and offered -freely to contribute the one half of my maintenance there, till I should attain to the degree of Master of Arts; which he no less really and lovingly performed. EMMANUEL COLLEGE. ' 37 The condition was gladly accepted." Hall now returned with joy to Emmanuel, and, ere long, being chosen Scholar " of that strict and well ordered College," his pecuniary embarrassments were relieved. In 1592 he proceeded to the B.A., and after three years more was of sufficient standing for the M.A., and eligible for a fellowship. How he gained his fellowship, what he had been doing in the meantime, and how he occupied himself during the six or seven years he held it, must be reserved for another chapter. CHAPTER III. FELLOW OF EMMANUEL.— PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC. —HEAD MASTER OF BLUNDEL'S SCHOOL— THE OFFER OF HALSTED.—THE SATIRES— ¦" MUNDUS AL TER ET IDEM." BY a statute of the College only one of a shire could be fellow there at a given time, and Leicestershire was already represented by Mr. Nicholas Gilby, Hall's tutor. Hall was therefore excluded, and, the stipulated time for the allowance from his uncle being about to terminate, he was now entertaining notions of removal. The gracious Providence which seemed to keep him in all his ways was never more Conspicuous than here. His own account is as follows : — " A place was offered me in the island of Guernsey, which I had in speech and chase. It fell out, that the father of my loving chamber-fellow, Mr. Cholmley, a gentleman that had likewise dependence upon the most noble Henry Earl of Huntingdon, having occasion to go to York, unto that his honourable Lord, fell into some mention of me. That good Earl, who well esteemed my father's service, having belikely heard some better words of me than I could deserve, made earnest inquiry after me — what were my courses, what my hopes ; and, hearing of the likelihood of my removal, professed much dislike of it ; not without some vehemence, demanding why I was FELLOW OF EMMANUEL. 39 not chosen Fellow of that College, wherein by report I received such approbation. Answer was returned that my county debarred me ; which, being filled with my tutor, whom his Lordship well knew, could not by the statute admit a second. The Earl presently replied, that, if that were the hindrance, he would soon take order to remove it. Whereupon his Lordship presently sends for my tutor, Mr. Gilby, unto York, and with proffers of large conditions of the chaplainship in his house, and assured promises of better provisions, drew him to relinquish his place in the College to a free election. No sooner was his assent signified, than the days were set for the public (and, indeed, exquisite) examination of the competitors. By that time two of the three allotted to this trial were past, certain news came to us of the unexpected death of that incomparably religious and noble Earl of Huntingdon ; by whose loss my then disappointed tutor must necessarily be left to the wide world unprovided for. Upon notice thereof, I presently repaired to the Master of the College, Mr. Dr. Chaderton ; and besought him to tender that hard condition to which my good tutor must needs be driven, if the election proceeded ; to stay any farther progress in that business ; and to leave me to my own good hopes wheresoever, whose youth exposed me to less needs, and more opportunities of provision. Answer was made me, that the place was pronounced void, however ; and, therefore, that my tutor was divested of all possi bility of remedy, and must wait upon the providence of God for his disposing elsewhere, and the election must necessarily proceed the day following. Then was I, with a cheerful unanimity, chosen into that 40 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. society ; which, if it had any equals, I daresay had ,none beyond it, for good order, studious carriage, strict government, austere piety ; in which I spent six or seven years more, with such contentment, as the rest of my life hath in vain striven to yield." The lapse of years is wont to soften in recollection the hardships and discomforts of long ago. We might therefore suppose that this account of his frame of mind at Emmanuel had more of fancy than of fact ; but writing while still at Cambridge he says : — " 'Mongst all these stirs of discontented strife, Oh ! let me lead an academic life. To know much, and to think we nothing know ; Nothing to have, yet think we have enow : In skill to want, and wanting seek for more ; In weale,.nor want nor wish for greater store. Envy, ye monarchs, with your proud excess, At our low sail, and our high happiness.' ' He was now called to public disputations often, and with no ill success. It may have been at this time that he became noted in the University for ingeniously maintaining that mundus senescit, the world groweth old. "Yet in some sort," says Fuller, " his position confuteth his position ; the wit and quickness whereof did argue an increase rather than a decay of parts in this latter age." It was his practice never to appear in any of these exercises of scholarship till he had from his knees looked up to heaven for a blessing, and renewed his actual dependence upon the Divine Hand. His reputation had thus extended beyond the walls of his college, and his next advancement was to the post of Rhetoric Lecturer in the public schools, PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC. 41 which he held for two years. The success which had hitherto attended him did not now forsake him ; on the contrary, his lectures drew numerous auditors and were well applauded. But still the work was somewhat out of his way ; he was not altogether at ease in having wandered from the path marked out for him in life, and in having neglected to devote himself to the ministry. He accordingly, " in the midst of those poor acclama tions," gave up the office to Dr. Dod, and, betaking himself to the serious study of divinity, after a while entered holy orders. " The honour whereof having once attained, I was no niggard of the talent which my God had entrusted to me, preaching often as occasion was offered, both in country villages abroad, and at home in the most awful auditory of the University." He was now only waiting for further employment, and before long, in a way little expected, a door was opened to him. Just about that time, in the year 1599, Blundel had built and endowed that " famous school " at Tiverton, which, connected with Balliol College, Oxford, and Sydney College, Cambridge, by scholarships and fellowships, has given the world many men of mark, among them Frederick Temple, Bishop of London. The care of it was entrusted chiefly to Chief Justice Pop- ham, who having great interest in the Master of Emmanuel, moved him earnestly to commend some able, learned, and discreet governor, such as should ' not need so much as his oversight. Dr. Chaderton recommended Hall, assuring him " of no small advantages, and no great toil, since it was intended the main load of the work should lie upon other- 42 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. ' shoulders." Good offers in the severe society of Emmanuel came - but seldom, and it was neither wise nor safe to refuse them. Hall therefore entertained the offer, not with any intention of abandoning divinity, to which he had been destined by his parents, but purposing to pass through that western school to it. The next step was an intro duction to the Lord Chief Justice. The Master and Fellow of Emmanuel travelled together to London, and there, with much testimony of appro bation, Hall was presented to Popham, who was well pleased with the choice, and promised his full support, and so the interview ended. No sooner had Hall parted from the Judge than, in the street, a messenger presented him with a letter from Lady Drury, tendering the Rectory of Halsted, then newly void, and very earnestly desiring him to accept it. Dr. Chaderton observing in him some change of countenance, asked him what the matter might be. He explained how matters stood, and besought his master's advice, at the same time giving him the letter to read. " Sir," quoth he, " methinks God pulls me by the sleeve, and tells me it is His will I should rather go to the east than to the west." " Nay," answered Chaderton, " I should rather think that God would have you to go westward, for that He hath contrived your engagement before the tender of this letter, which therefore, coming too late, may receive a fair and easy answer." Hall, however, saw that God, Who found him ready to go the farther way about to the work of the sacred ministry, was now calling him the nearest and most direct way. His friend no longer opposed, but only pleaded the offence THE SATIRES. 43. which would justly be taken by the Lord Chief Justice. Hereupon Hall undertook to fully satisfy him, which he did with no great difficulty, com mending to his Lordship his old friend and chamber-fellow, Mr. Cholmley. The nomination was accepted, and the two who came together to the University now left it together. Cholmley, for some reason or other, was not after all appointed to Blundel's ; Hall, did settle at Halsted, " in that sweet and civil county of Suffolk, near to St. Edmond's Bury." From these outlines of his career at Emmanuel, in the main as sketched by himself, we should never have known that he had a claim to be- ranked among English poets, and that his fame as a satirist at one time eclipsed the reputation he gained as a divine. In 1597, when only twenty- three, he published three books of Toothless Satires, Poetical, Academical, and Moral. This volume was followed in 1598 by three books of Biting Satires, and in 1599 there appeared an edition of the six books bound up together. Arch bishop Whitgift and Bishop Bancroft, deeming it dangerous, had the work stopped at the press, and ordered that such copies as could be found in circu lation should be collected and burnt in public. This timidity is not to be wondered at after the experience of the Marprelate libellers and a host of others, and Hall's was no exceptional treatment, the " Scourge of Villany," published by his rival Marston (of whom more presently), in 1598 being likewise consigned to the flames. For nearly two hundred years the Satires were almost forgotten, until in 1753, under the direction of the Rev. W. Thompson, 44 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. formerly Fellow of Queen's, there appeared an edition at Oxford. Warton's commendation gave them a place among classical English poetry. Various editions were subsequently issued, and only five years since they were again edited by Dr. Grosart,* who has elucidated some points hitherto obscure, and given many suggestive hints. In his prologue, Hall claims to be the first English satirist : " I first adventure with foolhardy might To tread the steps of perilous despight ; I first adventure, follow me who list, And be the second English Satirist." The claim has been hotly contested, and, if its justice is to stand or fall with the date of the publication of the Satires, it has been said that he is not to be reckoned either first, second, or third, but at the most fourth English satirist. Edward Hake had published satires as far back as 1567; George Gascoigne's "Steele Glas" appeared in 1 576 ; and Dr. Lodge's "Fig for Momus " in 1595. As for the two former, their claim cannot be withstood. As for the latter, although he published two years before Hall, it is not so certain that he preceded him in composition. In the author's charge pre fixed to the Biting Satires he speaks of his " Luckless rhymes, whom not unkindly spite Begot long since of truth and holy rage." May he not have composed at least part of them soon after taking his degree in 1592 ? But, what ever may be his position chronologically, his ori- * The author begs to express his gratitude to Dr. Grosart, though he finds it impossible at all times to accept his judg ment, or agree with him in his reading of Hall's character. THE SATIRES. 45 ginality cannot be gainsaid. Save the Satires of Ariosto and one base French satire, he had never had sight of any for his direction ; and there is a sense in which the honour of being the first English satirist may be conceded to him. He was un doubtedly the first who endeavoured to take a place among our writers corresponding to that of Juvenal, Perseus, and Horace among the writers of Rome ; he was the first who strove to imitate them, and so the first to introduce among us the classical standard of English satire. The Satires attracted much attention, and Meres, in his " Wit's Treasurie," almost immediately after publication (in 1598) mentions Hall as celebrated for such composition. This is all the more surpris ing 'since he had served his mistress, Poetry, " only with the broken messes of our twelve o'clock hours, which homely service she only claimed and found of him, for that short while of his attendance," — that is to say, presumably, that he had not neglected more serious duties, nor devoted to the work any time beyond that of odd hours. He invites the muses to witness how " he wilfull sung those headdy rhymes" (the Toothless Satires) "withouten second care." That he should have made any stir at all says much for his watchfulness and insight into human nature, with its vices, its weaknesses, its faults, and its failings. The burning protest of the Court of High Commission has been already noticed. Other critics, though less powerful, were equally hostile. Some thought the Satires indecorous in the author, because poems ; others because satire was unlawful in itself ; some thought them harmful to others, because of their acidity ; others thought 46 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. them no satires at all, because so mild ; the learned deemed them too perspicuous compared with Juvenal and Perseus ; the unlearned found no savour in them, because too obscure. Still, great judges have set the mint-mark of their approval upon them. Pope esteemed them " the best poetry and truest satire in the English language," and had an intention of modernizing them. He carefully read, in particular, the first of the tenth book, and wrote at the top Optima Satira. Gray considered them to be " full of spirit and poetry, as much of the first as Dr. Donne, and far more of the latter. Lord Hailes judged them to have merit, and predicted that they would be remembered. Campbell said that in read ing Hall we might frequently imagine ourselves perusing Dryden. Whalley thought his verses in general extremely musical and flowing, and that many of his lines would do honour to the most ingenious of our modern poets. Warton says, " They are distinguished by a classical precision, to which English poetry had yet rarely attained. They are replete with animation of style and sentiment. The indignation of the satirist is always the result of good sense, i Nor are the thorns of severe invective unmixed with the flowers of pure poetry. The characters are delineated in strong and lively colour ing ; and their discriminations are touched with the masterly traces of genuine humour. The versifica tion is equally energetic and elegant, and the fabric of the couplets approaches to the modern standard. It is no inconsiderable proof of a genius predomi nating over the general taste of an age when every preacher was a punster, to have written verses, when laughter was to be raised, and the reader to be THE SATIRES. 47 entertained with sallies of pleasantry, without quibbles and conceits. His chief fault is obscurity, arising from a remote phraseology, constrained com binations, unfamiliar allusions, elliptical apostrophes, and abruptness of expression." There were two occasions, separated by a long interval, on which Hall's love of the muses exposed him to much unmerited scorn from two men, even farther apart in character and repute than they were in time. His first assailant was Jacob or James Wadsworth, who had been fellow-student with him at Emmanuel, and from a benefice in Suffolk had gone into Spain as English tutor to the Infanta, then regarded as the future bride of Charles I. There he was prevailed, upon to abandon both his religion and his country. This drew from Hall an epistle, in which he expostulated with him for his apostasy, and persuaded him to return. " Once," said he, " the same walls held us in one loving society ; the same diocese, in one honourable function ; now, not one land, and, which I lament, not one Church." In the letter there is much, doubtless, which could not fail to be offensive to a proselyte anxious to vindicate his new choice ; but, upon the whole, affection pre dominates over censure, and even in the inevitably artificial style of a formal composition, it is easy to see a genuine regard for the erring one. Wadsworth afterwards becoming involved in a controversy with Bedell,* replied hotly and contemptuously to a letter addressed to him, which contained certain allusions * William Bedell, the well-known Head of Trinity College, Dublin, and Bishop of Kilmore and Armagh, the friend of Paul Sarpi and Antonio de Dominis, was born four years before Hall. He- was educated at Emmanuel College, of which he 48 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D to Hall, he would not " soil his fingers with such an adversary," and more to the same effect. Hall retorts that an English University had not scorned to set him in the chair of divinity. Wadsworth had taxed him with two vices, poetry and railing. As for the latter, nothing could have been written more mildly, modestly, or lovingly, than his letter. " Of the former," he says, " I must acquit myself, cujus unum est sed magnum vitium poesis. What were I the worse if I were still a lover of these studies ? " Most of the renowned and holy Fathers ofthe Church were eminent in that profession for which he was scorned. Amongst many others, Tertullian, Lactan tius, Nazianzen, Prudentius, Fulgentius, Apollinarius, Nonus, Hilarius, Prosper, and now in the upshot devout Bernard ; and why should their honour be his disgrace ? But the truth was, those were the recrea tions of his minority, now forgotten. He concludes, " What my proficiency hath been in serious studies, if the University and Church hath pleased to testify, what need I stand at the mercy of a fugitive ? But if any of his (Wadsworth's) masters should undertake me in the cause of God, he should find that I had studied prose." His other antagonist on this score was none other than John Milton himself. Close upon half a century had passed since the Satires had birth, and Hall meanwhile had risen from his Fellowship at Emmanuel to the See of Exeter, when the indiscre tion of having been a poet was again cast in his became Fellow in 1593, two years before Hall attained the like honour. At Bury, in Suffolk, where he settled for some years, he would be a neighbour of the Rector of Halsted, and the intimacy of college friendship was thus extended. THE SATIRES. 49 teeth. The Bishop's son, with ill-advised zeal for his father's honour in the Smectymnuan controversy, had raked together a collection of groundless scandals connected with Milton's college days. The great poet was cut to the quick, and took his revenge in part by a fierce assault upon the Bishop's early efforts in that sphere, where he himself stands almost supreme. " Lighting upon the title of Toothless Satires, I will not conceal what I thought, readers, that sure this must be some sucking satir, who might have done better to have used his corall, and made an end of breeding ere he took upon him to wield a satir's whip. But, when I heard him talk of scouring the rusted swords of elvish knights, do not blame me if I changed my thought and concluded him some desperate cutler. But why his scornful muse could ¦never abide witJi tragick shoes her ankles for to hide, the face of the verse told me that her maukin knuckles were never shapen to that royall buskin. And turning by chance to the sixth satire of his second book I was confirmed ; where having begun loftily in-heavens universall alphabet he falls down to that wretched poorness and frigidity as to talk of Bridge Street in heaif and the ostler of heavn, and there wanting other matters to catch him in a heat, (for certain he was in the frozen zone miserably benumbed)j with thoughts lower than any beadle betakes him to whip the signposts of Cambridge alehouses, the ordinary subject of freshmen's tales, and in a strain as pitiful. Which for him who would be accounted the first English satyr, to abase himself to, who might have learnt better among the Latin and Italian satyrists, and in our own tongue from the Vision and Creed of Pierce Plowman, besides others before him, 4 50 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. manifested a presumptuous undertaking, with weak and unexamined shoulders. For a satyr, as it was born out of a tragedy, so ought to resemble his parentage, to strike high and adventure dangerously at the most eminent vices among the greatest persons, and not to creep into every blind taphouse that fears a constable more than a satyr. But that such a form should be toothless, I still affirme it to be a bull, taking away the essence of that which it calls itself. For if it bite neither the persons, nor the vices, how is it a satyr ? and if it bite either, how is it toothless ? So that toothless satyrs are as much as if he had said toothless teeth." This passage affords a good illustration of genius spurred by malice. It would be presumptuous to question the critic's authority in the technical points referred to ; but how unjust he is in his exposition of the facts would perhaps be apparent to anyone who would take the trouble to read the Satires atten tively. The " Vision of Pierce Plowman '' can scarcely be called a satire. The famous astrologers of the day, by a single prediction concerning Jupiter and Saturn, could throw the whole kingdom into a panic of consternation. To represent them as ostlers, tapsters, and chamberlains was surely to " strike high. and adventure dangerously " at eminent folly, if not vice, among great persons, and might easily be paralleled in Juvenal. The epithets "toothless" and " biting " are relative terms, and best explained by Hall's words at the end of the third book : — ¦ " ThUs have I writ, in smoother cedar tree, So gentle satires , penn'd so easily. Henceforth I write in crabbed oak-tree rind : Search they that mean the secret meaning find. THE SATIRES. 51 Hold out, ye guilty and ye galled hides, And meet my far-fetch' stripes with waiting sides." The gentle satires were, as he called them, Vir- gidemice, bundles of rods, no less than the others. But in the one case the rod was a whip, in the other a scorpion. One other quarrel connected with the Satires must be noticed before we proceed to give some account of their contents. This was with John Marston, who has been described as Hall's particular rival at Cam bridge, but incorrectly, since he was not a Cambridge man, but educated at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and, about the time when Hall's first Satires were composed, lecturer to the Middle Temple. The origin of the bitter strife between the two young poets is not certainly known. The following has been suggested. In the year 1598 Marston pub lished his " Pygmalion's Image," a somewhat sen suous paraphrase of one of Ovid's Metamorphoses, and in his satires which were appended he attacked Hall for his assaults on contemporary writers. Thereupon the latter laid hands on all copies of "Pygmalion's Image" reaching Cambridge, and caused an epigram to be pasted to the last page. This epigram ran thus : — " I askt Phisitions what their counsell was, For a mad dogge, or for a mankind asse ? They told me, though there were confections store Of poppie-seede, and soueraine hellebore, The dogge was best cured by cutting and kinsing, The asse must be kindly whipped for winsing. Now then, S. K., I little passe * Whether thou be a mad dogge, or a mankind asse." * I.e., make little account. 52 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Marston had assumed the name Kinsayder, hence the S.K. and kinsing. Then came the second half of Virgidemiarum, the Biting Satires, and the later of these has been supposed to be intended for Marston, who retorted with another epigram, as coarse and vulgar as Hall's, but rather more unsavoury. In 1 60 1 the "Whipping ofthe Satyre " was published, inspired, it is said, by Hall ; and in the same year an answer to it, " The Whipper of the Satyre, his Pennance in a White Sheete : or the Beadle's Con futation." It was not unnatural that Hall's free handling of his literary contemporaries should expose him to attack on the ground of self-conceit. There were, however, notwithstanding the splendour of the sun rise, many spots upon the face of literature at that time. Our poets were as often noted for their obscenity, debauchery, and blasphemy as for their undisputed genius. They were frequently tavern haunters, and in their efforts to attain popularity con descended to play the buffoon ; they began to write for hire, and parted with purity to secure a rapid sale. MarlOwe outdid all his companions, and ended his life in a drunken brawl at Deptford, June 1593. Shakspere published his Venus and Adonis, and a host of authors now forgotten were sending out indecent publications appealing to the pruriency of the public. This was fairly open to attack, and against it Hall directed his first shafts. The dramatists too were given to that passion-tearing which the chief among them has condemned. Another division of litterateurs had given themselves up, in defiance of the nature of our language, to a servile imitation of classical models, and were follow- THE SATIRES. 53 ing Stanihurst, the translator of Virgil, who had just introduced hexametrical poetry. Even Spenser and Sidney were among his imitators. It seems hardly credible that lines such as these should have been regarded as English : — " Rounce robble hobble, Of ruff raff roaring with thwick thwack tharlery bouncing." Would the reader guess that this was meant for a description of a tempest ? Or again : — " Loud dub a dub tabering with trapping rip rap of Etna." Hall saw perfectly well that " our speech was too craggy for the hexameter verse to set his plough in," and that " The nimble dactyls, striving to outgo The drawling sponders, pacing it below ; The lingering spondees, labouring to delay The breathless dactyls with a sudden stay," were like " a colt wanton and wild, Yoked with a slow-foot on a fallow field." He had the merit of giving the coup-de-gr&ce to the hexameter school of his day. Then there was an army of sonneteers, amatory writers dedicated to the exaggerated expression of maudlin sentiment ; and, in striking contrast with these, the Puritan poets, with an extraordinary fondness for metrical versions of Holy Scripture. One of these effusions was " The Poem of Poems, or Sion's Muse, con taining the Divine Song of King Solomon, divided into Eight Eclogues." This transformation of Parnassus to Sion Hill drew from Hall a short satire, in which he says : — 54 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. " Great Solomon sings in the English quire ; And is become a newfound sonnetist, Singing his love, the holy spouse of Christ ; Like as she were some light-skirts of the rest, In mightiest inkhornisms he can thither wrest. Ye Sion Muses shall, by my dear will, For this your zeal and far-admired skill, Be straight transported from Jerusalem Unto the holy house of Bethlehem (Bedlam)." In two of his contemporaries my readers will take more than ordinary interest, Spenser and Shakspere. Romeo and Juliet, Richard II. and Richard III. can be traced no higher in print than 1597, the year of the first Satires, but Shakspere was at that time distinguished as " the most excellent both for tragedy and comedy, and his fine-filed phrase." Spenser, at the same date, his generous patron Sir Philip Sidney long since dead, his Irish property lost, was within the space of a year and a few months to lie down to die in obscurity and want at a tavern in Westminster. Neither one nor the other escaped without some slight censure from Hall. The " hotch-potch " of a buffoon brought upon the stage to relieve the tension of tragic acting moved his displeasure. Certain passages in Spenser did not please him. But to both he freely gives the palm in their respective departments, and of Spenser he speaks in terms of highest eulogy. " The Marriage of Thames and Medway " had just been published in Book IV. (Canto II.) of the " Fairy Queen." Hall complains that now not even a lowly muse could bide to sit and sing by Granta's naked side. Only the willows were left to the Cam, and they told of desolation and desertion. Spenser before this, in " Colin Clout's come home again," had sung the praises THE SATIRES. 55 of Raleigh. Hall "throws his yielding reed at Colin's feet." He has blamed some efforts of the Fairy Muse. Suddenly he checks himself and exclaims — " But let no rebell satyre dare traduce Th' eternal legends of thy Fairy Muse, Renowned Spenser ; whom no earthly wight Dares once to emulate, much less dares despight. Sailust of France, and Tuscan Ariost, Yield up the laurel garland ye have lost : And let all others willow wear with me, Or let their undeserving temples bared be." It is pleasing to find that he was able to see and willing to acknowledge the unrivalled splendour of the man who was cruelly neglected, if not persecuted, by the illustrious Burleigh.* Whatever Hall's literary indiscretions may have been (and Hall would have deemed it no kindness for a biographer to conceal them), his keenness of observation and power of penetrating character are such as might have been looked for in the man of the world, rather than in the studious youth scarce out of his teens. The pictures of contemporary life are drawn with a masterly hand ; and if the light is sometimes a little fierce, the dramatis persona are * There is a touching allusion to Spenser's (Colin's) sad end in a short poem by Hall addressed to Dr. Bedell, the original MS. of which was found among the papers of Dr. Dillingham, Master of Emmanuel College : — " Thine be his verse, not his reward be thine ! Ah me ! that after unbeseeming care, And secret want, which bred his last misfare, His relics dear obscurely tombed lie, Under unwritten stones ; that w^io goes by Cannot once read, Lo, here doth Colin lie." 56 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. clearly seen. He brings before us the lawyer, lighting on wrong's offal and living best like the loathly fly, that lives on galled wound. In many lawyers he sees much store of malady to the commonwealth, and bids us notice the lawyer's eye squinting on his fist : — " If that seeme lined with a larger fee, Doubt not the suite, the law is plaine for thee." Galen, on the contrary, whose help doth sweetest life and health uphold, was worthy to be weighed in gold, but was sadly underpaid. As for the clergy, simony was rife, and the traffic in livings disgrace fully common. He pities the poor servile fool who put his si quis on Paul's Church door, advertising for clerical work, and advises him : — " For but a slender price Advowson thee with some fat benefice : Or, if thee list not wayt for dead men's shoon, Nor pray ech morn th' incumbent's daies wer doon ; A thousand patrons thither ready bring, Their new-falne Churches to the chaffering. Stake three yeares' stipend : no man asketh more : Go take possession of the Church-porch doore, And ring thy bels." He gives a humorous description of the poor trencher-chaplain, who for five marks and winter livery had to instruct the son of some gentle squire, lie upon his truckle bed, never presume to sit above the salt, never change his trencher twice, barely sit at meals but one half rise and wait, and never beat his yoqng master, without asking his mother to define how many jerkes she would his breech should line. The astrology so generally believed in is pitilessly ridiculed. The ostentation of the Eliza- THE SATIRES. 57 bethan period, still so painfully apparent in the monuments of many a country church, is heartily condemned. He asks : — "Who ever gives a paire of velvet shoes To th' Holy Rood, or liberally allowes But a new rope to ring the Curfew bell, But he desires that his great deed may dwell Or graven in the chancel-window glasse, Or in his lasting tombe of plated brasse ? " The " fare and fashions" of the citizens are passed under review, the "curious cost and wondrous choice of cheare, beef and pork, hare and fish, goose-liver, goat and quaile, the hen and Parthian deer, grapes and figs and chesnuts faire." The periwig about this time became an article of dress, and afforded much merriment. Signet rings of Bristol diamond were worn, and that they might be better seen, a hole was cut in the glove. The linen collar was a labyrinth of a " thousand double turnings." The sleeves were half hid with elbow pinionings. The ladies wore " Curl'd periwigs, and chalked their face, And still were poring on their pocket-glasse. Tyr'd with pin'd ruffes, and fans, and partlet-strips, And buskes and verdingales about their hips ; And trode on corked stilts a prisoner's pace, And made1 their napkin for their spitting place, And griped their wast within a narrow span." The drunkard, so thirsty, even after death, that Charon was afraid of him lest he should drink Acheron, dry ; the hungry gallant whose belly envied his back ; the carpet-knight and his sports ; the pedigree-maker, boasting how his first ancestor came in long since with the Conqueror, and deserving for his crest the Scottish Barnacle, that 58 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. of a worm doth wax a winged goose, — are all drawn from life. Nor does he spare the piracy which passed ciirrent under the name of bold seamanship, the gambling, the bribery, the usury, the sacrilege he saw about him. The commons were being enclosed, the condition of the small farmers was bad, landlords were non-resident, rapacious, , and lacking in hospitality ; rents were increasing, emigration was compulsory, and all this excited the young satirist's indignation.* But enough has been said. With one more extract, which describes a state of things as common now as it was then, let us end our survey of the Satires. The contrast is between the wealthy merchant and the com paratively poor country gentleman, who affects a state beyond his means. " Villius, the wealthy farmer, left his heire Twice twenty sterling pounds to spend by yeare. The neighbours praysen Villio's hide-bound sonne, , And say it was a goodly portion : Not knowing how some marchants dowre can rise, By Sundaie's tale to fifty centuries ; Or to' weigh down a leaden bride with golde, Worth all that Matho bought, or Pontice sold. But whiles ten pound goes to his wive's new gowne, Nor little less can serve to suit.his owne ; * Hall's indignation against every kind of social oppres sion, and his young enthusiasm for the cause of the weak and the down-trodden, is by no means singular. Mr. Arnold Toynbee, whose memory must be dear to all Balliol men, was a notable instance of these virtues. Dying so early, his example is perhaps more valuable than had he been spared to teach the world with the more calculating wisdom of maturer years. In his schemes for reform he never lost sight of the indelible distinction between right and justice on the one hand, and wrong and robbery on the other. Our so-called " Christian Socialists " might well imitate both him and Hall. THE SATIRES. 59 Whiles one peece payes her idle waiting man, Or buyes a hoode, or silver-handled fanne, Or hires a Friezeland trotter, half yarde deepe, To drag his tumbrell through the staring Cheape ; Or whiles he rideth with two liveries, And's trable rated at the subsidies ; One end a kennel keeps of thriftlesse hounds ; What thinke you rests of all my younker's pounds, To diet him, or deale out at his doore, To coffer up, or stock his wasting store ? If then I reckon' d right, it should appear That forty pounds serve not the farmer's heir." Satire was not the only occupation of Hall's leisure hours at Cambridge. Whether he wrote pastorals is not certain. One passing hint seems to say that he did. He was the author of several odes. That upon Mr. Greenham's book has already been referred to. Others were that upon Cardinal Bellarmine and Dr. Whitaker, the elegies on Sir Edward and Lady Lewkenor, Sir Horatio Palla- vicini, who died in 1600, and whose widow married Sir Oliver Cromwell, of Hinchinbrook, uncle to the Protector, and that composed on the death of Whitaker in 1595. This last is a poem of about one hundred lines, and no doubt expresses the feeling of the University at the loss of one who was called its pride and ornament. His funeral sermon was preached at St. Mary's, by Dr. Goad, where, says Fuller, so sad was the whole congrega tion that one might as soon have found a face without eyes, as eyes without tears. Besides these metrical efforts of his earlier years, Hall wrote some philological notes, the manuscript of which he entrusted to his friend Knight, to gether with the manuscript of a work of a different kind, which calls for a more detailed notice. This 60 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. was the " Mundus alter et idem," the only instance in the first part of the seventeenth century, excepting Godwin's " Man in the Moon," written while the author was a student at Oxford, of the English novel or romance. It purports to be the description of a new continent discovered by the British Mercury in the southern hemisphere, and is a satire in Latin prose on the vices of the old world in which we live. The scope of the composition will be easily gathered from the names and subdivisions of the four quarters into which the new realm is divided. The first is Crapulia, with its two provinces of Pamphagonia and Yvronica, the land of gluttons and the land of drunkards. The second Viraginia, where women dwell in Aphrodisia, Lasciva, Hermaphroditica, Amazonia, and the land of Shrews. The third is an extensive tract, Moronia, the abode of fools in many kinds, unstable, bilious, fatuous, buffoon, boastful, superstitious. The fourth, after Horace's line, " Da mihi fallere falsaque dicere, pulchra Laverna," is Lavernia, where impostors, cut-purses, plagiarists, lovers of filthy lucre, do homage to their goddess. By some the work has been supposed to have given the hint to Swift for his " Gulliver's Travels." Milton, as might have been almost anticipated, thought it "the idlest and the paltriest mime that ever mounted upon banke ; " Hallam, " not a very successful effort." A foreign literary chronicler towards the close of the seventeenth century expresses his opinion that in it Hall had " founded a Poneropolis (a city of the wicked), which would no less divert the readers than inflame their minds with the 4ove of virtue ; " and it has been considered deserving of a translation and "MUNDUS ALTER ET IDEM." 6l of a partial imitation. But whatever its merits, the critic could not well have showed less regard for it than the author himself. Knight, who had charge of the manuscript, tells us that no entreaties could prevail upon Hall to allow it to be published. He excused himself upon the plea that it was but an exercise of his boyhood and an amusement of his leisure while at Cambridge. His friend, accordingly, undertook the publication upon his own responsibility, and it first appeared without place or date. It was reprinted at Hanau, in Germany, 1607, and often afterwards. Of Mr. Knight, who enjoyed this close intimacy with Hall, nothing is known beyond what can be gathered from a letter addressed to him, en couraging him to persist in the holy calling of the ministry, which, upon conceit of his insufficiency, and want of affection, he seemed inclining to forsake and change. Hall speaks of him as one whose gifts many had envied, a good linguist, possessed ofa style worth emulation, and, which was worth all, a faithful and honest heart. The fact that he was at the pains to give the " Mundus. alter et idem " to the public is a testimony to its value.* So far as I am aware, the philological notes were never printed. * There was a William Knight, who took his B.A. at Christ's College, Cambridge, in 1583, and was made rector of Gransden-Parva, Cambs., in 1598 (v. "Ath. Cant.," iii., 16). In i6iohe published a " Concordance axiomatical, containing a survey of theological propositions with the reasons and uses in Holy Scripture." Hall, while at Emmanuel, might very well have become acquainted with him, and he is, perhaps, the friend in question. CHAPTER IV. HALSTED — VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. THE twelve or thirteen years of Hall's stay at Cambridge were now at an end, and with them ended perhaps the happiest portion of his long life. Noted in the University as a great wit and a much-applauded professor, he was admitted to the best society, and made many friends. But the sweetest of companions to him were books ; his love of study was a passion, and intellectual exercise one of his keenest pleasures. " Study itself is our life," he says, "from which we would not be barred for a world ; how much sweeter, then, is the fruit of study, the conscience of knowledge ! In com parison thereof, the soul that hath once tasted it, easily contemns all human comforts." It is no marvel, therefore, that he always looked back upon his college days with fond regret, and spoke of our universities with an enthusiastic admira tion, which was something more than mere conformity to a fashion at a time when the royal pedant was giving parliamentary representation to Oxford and Cambridge, and the University of Edinburgh, founded in 1582, and Trinity College, Dublin, in 1591, were in their infancy. Our universities he considered the " most absolute and famous seminaries of the HALSTED. 63 world, where the tutor's eye supplied the parent's." Still, he was not blind to defects. His own ex perience as a tutor had taught him that students went up too early, and, unless they fell under careful tuition, studied in jest and played in earnest. But a worse evil than this was the contempt for learning shown by the upper classes. The " trade of a scholar" was in his eyes worthy of those who were aiming at the highest perfection of man. There was an inherent nobility in learning, but the mis- educated gentry of his time thought it well enough for priests and pedants ; for gentlemen pleasure was the appropriate pursuit. In other nations the sons of nobles scorned not either merchandise or learned professions, and hated nothing so much as to do nothing ; our gallants despised all honest callings. The universities were not altogether to blame. Those who came too young went away too soon, and, being transplanted to the Inns of Law, forgot the little they had once known. The Inns of Law were, it will be remembered, now fast rising into importance, and though not chartered until after James came to the throne, were attracting many to them. It is interesting to note Hall's estimate of them. Each one there, he says, was his own master in respect of his private study and govern ment. Paul's (the common resort of lounging idlers) was their Westminster, their study an ordinary, or playhouse, or dancing-school. Where many pots are boiling, there cannot but be much scum ; and these novices, turned loose into the main ere they knew either coast or compass, could not avoid those rocks and shelves upon which both their estates and souls were miserably wrecked. Commonly they learnt 64 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. to roar, instead of pleading ; and instead of knowing the laws, learnt how to contemn them. "2 dec. 1 60 1 Joseph. Hall A.M. ad pres. Rob. Drury. Mil." Thus runs the entry of Hall's admis sion to the benefice in the Hawstead register. Haw- stead, or Halsted, is a village three miles south from Bury St. Edmund's, with a population at the present day of 320, and a tithe rent charge of -£"581. Sir Robert Drury, the then patron, was the son of Sir William Drury, who was killed in a duel in France, in 1589. Before he was out of mourning for his father, he had attended the Earl of Essex to the unsuccessful siege of Rouen in 1 59 1, where he was knighted, when not above the age of fourteen. His wife was Anne, daughter of Sir Nicholas Bacon, who in 161 1 was created first baronet of England, and was half-brother to Sir Francis Bacon, the famous Baron Verulam and Viscount St. Albans, now fast rising to eminence. A map given in Gage's "History of Suffolk" shows that the manor house and the church stood near each other. The Drurys, however, did not live there, but at Hawstead Place, which, since demolished, had been built on the site of Talmage's or Bokenham's manor, some distance to the west, by Sir William, who, through his marriage with a lady of the name of Stafford, had succeeded to the estate in 1 5 5 7. It is described in 16 1 6, the year after the death of Hall's patron, as a fair and strong-built house of brick and timber, covered with tiles, having convenient rooms, well- watered with a conduite, within a square moat ; the necessary outhouses, courts, yards, gardens, orchards, and walks, without the same moat, containing xj acres, " worth by the yere vju xvs." Cullum, in his HALSTED. 65 " History of Hawstead," describes it as being " on an eminence, gently sloping towards the south. The whole formed a quadrangle, 202 feet by 211, within an area formerly called the Base Court, afterwards the Court Yard. The Mansion House, which was also a quadrangle, formed the fourth side, standing higher than the other buildings, and detached from them by a wide moat, faced on all its banks with bricks, and surrounded by a handsome terrace, a considerable part of which commanded a fine view over the surrounding country, and bespoke a taste superior to the artificial mound which in many old gardens had to be clambered up for the sake of prospect. The approach to the house was by a flight of steps, and a strong brick bridge of three arches, through a small jealous wicket, formed in the great well-timbered gate." Within the wicket was a statue tp commemorate the. visit of Queen Elizabeth in 1578, and a fountain played there, supplied with water from a pond a mile off. Tobacco had been introduced not long since, and the smoking-room on the left hand of the entrance was almost as indis pensable . as the licensed chapel which faced it on the other side. It is almost certain that Hall was never himself a smoker, and would be seldom in the genial company of the former. He complains that the gallants, among other things still less reputable, thought they did credit to their blood and merited others' good opinion, if they could " take smoke at a play-house ; '' and denounces the " incense of Indian smoke " offered to the palate, and those who, " whiffing themselves away in Necotian Incense " and " reeking of Indian smoke," spent as much in that " wantonness " as their honest forefathers spent 5 66 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. in substantial hospitality. Even of those mouths which were sacred to God, there were some which out of a wanton custom savoured of nothing but Indian soot, and took more pleasure to put forth a cloud of smoke than the thunderings and lightnings of the Law. This last he told Convocation in 1623. The church of which he had charge, dedicated to All Saints, consisted at the close of last century of a handsome body without aisles, a chancel, and a fine tower. The north and south doors were Norman, the arch of the former having a single zig-zag moulding, and the latter a double one, both with a column on each side. The body of the church was chiefly rebuilt together with the porch in the latter part of the fifteenth century, either by the Cloptons or Sir William Drury. The tower was erected by Sir Robert, and was furnished with three bells. The chancel, originally in the early pointed style, was separated from the nave by a screen with rood- loft, on which, as late as 1784, hung the little sacring bell, six inches in diameter. An inventory, . taken in 1637, presents us with another relic, which might well have been used by Hall, — "Onehoure glase, with an iron frame to it ; " and amongst other things " two payer of orgaynes, standing in the chansell " (they must have been small, since the chancel was °nly 33i by l8 feet)» and "one great cheaste with three locks and 3 keis, and one little bockes within it, which hath the town evidences, and two brasses for the Bible and one large peese of iron." Like some other men, Hall, who could not " crouch and writhe his fawning tayle to some great patron," appears to have owed his first HALSTED. 67 advancement to female influence. It was Lady Drury who wrote begging him to accept Hawstead. Sir Robert, he found on his arrival there, was strongly prepossessed against him, although they had never met. This was owing to the suggestion of a Mr. Lilly, whom Hall calls " a witty and bold atheist," and who, by his writings, conversational power, and demeanour, had deeply insinuated himself into the good opinion of his and Hall's common patron. Why he should have been at the trouble to injure the new incumbent by his wicked detraction is not clear. Perhaps literary jealousy was at the bottom of it : maybe Lilly did not anticipate in the author of the Satires the same genial companion he possibly had in Hall's " not over-deserving predecessor." At all events, if Lilly were the man he is supposed to have been, there is enough in the Satires to account for his malice. He was an Oxford man, M.A. Magdalen College, and, while at the University, distinguished for his wit and vivacity. Later in life he wrote plays, nine in all, the best passages of which are said to have been paraphrased by Shakspere. His chief prose works were " Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit," and " Euphues and his England," published respectively about 1580 and 1582. He was a favourite at the court of Elizabeth, where he introduced an artificial style, and an affectation which were burlesqued by both Shakspere and Scott. He is said to have been a little man, and a great taker of tobacco. This dangerous opponent to the success of his ministry occasioned Hall no small anxiety, and had he not been early removed, could not have failed to be a perpetual torment. 68 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. How he was taken away is thus told : — " Hereupon, I confess, finding the obduredness and hopeless condition of that man, I bent my prayers against him ; beseeching God daily, that He would be pleased to remove, by some means or other, that apparent hinderance of my faithful labours : Who gave me an answer accordingly ; for this malicious man, going up hastily to London to exasperate my patron against me, was then and there swept away by the pestilence, and never returned to do any further mischief." This agrees with the fact that Lilly died in obscurity, and that the date of his death is unknown. The coast was now clear before Hall, and, gaining every day in the good opinion of Drury and his neighbours, he was able to settle down to the duties of his new sphere. His first work was to build a parsonage house, the one he occupied being ex tremely ruinous. To the Roxburgh edition of the " Weeping Joy," presently to be noticed, is prefixed a drawing by Miss Collett (daughter of the late Rev. W. Collett, Rector of Hawstead) of the old rectory, made from a picture in the possession of the Collett family. With the exception of the wing on the right, which is of more recent erection than the rest, it represents the house as it was in Hall's incumbency. The new home had no pretension to either greatness or beauty, but was a low thatched dwelling, with somewhat heavy-mullioned windows. The dear old place has long since vanished, having been pulled down in 1852. Thither after two years, in 1603, the rector brought his bride. His own account of the event reminds us of Hooker's similar experience, though, HALSTED. 69 fortunately, the venture was not attended with such unhappy results. " The uncouth solitariness of my life, and the extreme incommodity of that single housekeeping, drew my thoughts, after two years, to condescend to the necessity of a married estate, which God no less strangely provided for me. For, walking from the church on Monday in the Whitsun week, with a grave and reverend minister, Mr. Grandidge, I saw a comely and modest gentle woman standing at the door of that house where we were invited to a wedding-dinner ; and, inquiring of that worthy friend whether he knew her, ' Yes,' quoth he, ' I know her well, and have bespoken her for your wife.' When I further demanded an account of that answer, he told me she was the daughter of a gentleman whom he much respected, Mr. George Winniff, of Bretenham ; that, out of an opinion had of the fitness of that match for me, he had already treated with her father about it, whom he found very apt to entertain it ; . advising me not to neglect the opportunity, and not con cealing the just praises of the modesty, piety, good disposition, and other virtues that were lodged in that seemly presence. I listened to the motion as sent from God, and at last, upon due prosecution, happily prevailed ; enjoying the comfortable society of that meet help for the space of forty-nine years." Queen Elizabeth died March 24th, 1602-3, and shortly afterwards James was proclaimed king. The conclusion of the old, and the beginning of the new, was marked by many poetic effusions ; and, among other contributors, the University of Cambridge addressed to the king a volume of congratulatory verses, entitled " Sorrowe's Joy." Hall was not 70 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. behind the rest, but in the same year published a poem called " The King's Prophecie or Weeping Joy, expressed in a poeme to the honor of England's too (two) great solemnities." A peculiar interest attaches to this work. Peter Hall, who edited the Bishop's works, was aware of its existence, and that, as he supposed, the only copy remaining was in the possession of a barrister in London, well known for his literary rarities, and to whom he had made several applications for a sight of the volume, but without success. The owner to whom he referred was the late Mr. Benjamin Hey wood Bright, whose library was sold in 1845. The volume was then sold for six pounds to the late Rev. Thomas Corser, Rector of Stand, near Manchester, who in 1877 contributed a full account of it to the Chatham Society. In 1870 the book was again sold for six guineas to Mr. Boone, of the British Museum, being again described as unique and unknown to all the biographers of Bishop Hall. This, however, was not correct ; a second copy, quite complete, was dis covered in 188 1, by Mr. J. E. Loveday in the library at Williamscote House, near Banbury, in a volume containing five other rare poetical pieces, one of them a second copy of the third edition of Shakspere's Passionate Pilgrim. This volume had formerly belonged to Mr. James Meyrick, of Trinity College, Oxford. We are indebted to the Rev. W. Edward Buckley, who, under the auspices of the Roxburgh Club, has given us an elegant edition, for the re publication of the missing poem. It is written in six-line stanzas, of which there are over fifty, and contains references to pastoral poems of the author (whose identity is thus placed beyond doubt), VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. 71 including a translation of Virgil's fourth Eclogue, which he had applied to the birth of Prince Henry, to the Satires, and to the circumstances of his life in Suffolk. King James, of course, is much belauded, and it is foretold concerning the king, that " Religion's Spring, Autumne of Heresie, Winter of Atheisme his reigne shall bee." He is acquainted with the Basilicon doron, and is of opinion that " crowns from heaven are sent." Never since Jesse's youngest son rose from the fold hath He that gives crowns " Ever yet besprent With the sweet oyle of sacred unction An holyer head, than that this present day The weight of England's roial crown doth sway." The king is also complimented on his polished wit and poetical ability. " Renowned Drury," too, is " 'mongst the rest, above the rest." Upon the whole, one gathers that although Hall cannot yet wag his tail, he is learning by experience that in a world of shams truth without embellishment is not welcome. Within the two years following his marriage his eldest son Robert was born. The christening took place December 26th, 1605. The next noteworthy incident in the life of Hall was a visit to the Continent. Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, son of the Protector Duke of Somerset, and husband of Lady Katharine Grey* was * Concerning this unfortunate lady, who, at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, was, by the will of Henry and statute law, heiress-presumptive to the Crown, her marriages with the Earls of Pembroke and Hertford, the cruelty with which she 72 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. just about to cross over to Brussels on an embassy to confirm peace, resolved to make a splendid appear ance, and prepared to spend £10,000 besides his allowance. Sir Edmund Bacon, brother of Hall's patroness, thought the opportunity a good one for visiting the famous Spa, which has given its name to so many watering-places, and for the last four hundred and fifty years has been frequented for the sake of its chalybeate springs, and in the season still attracts 20,000 visitors. He earnestly begged the rector of Hawstead, with whom he was upon terms of close intimacy, to accompany him. The journey under taken now would, he said, be safe, easy, and pleasurable, while the small extravagance would be compensated by the benefit derived. This last consideration had weight with Hall, who, never strong, was growing weaker, and seems at this time to have anticipated the worst for himself. He had, moreover, a great desire to see for himself the state and practice of the Roman Church, and so the better equip himself for his vocation. He, therefore, consented to accompany Sir Edmund, and, after taking careful order for the supply of his charge, '' with the assent and good allowance " of his nearest friends, he entered upon that " secret voyage." Before we follow the fortunes of the travellers, let us glance for a moment at the course religious opinion had taken, that we may more perfectly understand the inner movement of Hall's life and the formation of his character. When he went up to Cambridge, Calvinism was just reaching its and the latter were treated by the Queen, their unhappy loves in prison, and her early death, see Hallam, " Const. History," vol. i., 123, 128, 249, etc. VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. 73 climax ; before he left the University the little rivulet, which, some few years before, began with Baro's ineffectual protest, had become a river strong enough to raise alarm in the strongholds of Genevan doctrine and discipline. Whitaker's crusade against " Pelagianism and Popery " had all along, little as his modesty, gentleness, and retiring spirit disposed him for such warfare, been stoutly opposed by Baro, who resisted the extravagances of his brother professor, and by his teaching had gradually been moulding a generation of students who preferred the Fathers, and sometimes the Schoolmen, to the manuals of Calvin. In 1595 the attempt was made to force the Lambeth Articles on the University and on the Church. Whitaker died December 4th, 1595, and within a few weeks of his death Baro ventured, when preaching at St. Mary's, to criticise the new formu lary. This he did with modesty and moderation, not so much objecting against it, as justifying his acceptance of it, and explaining the construction he put upon it. Nothing could save him. The Calvinistic blood was up, and the aged man, accord ing to Fuller, the great scholar, inoffensive in life and conversation, who had painfully spent his strength in the employment of his professorship, was cited before the Vice-Chancellor, and before the end of the year resigned his office (fugio, ne fugarer, he said). Three years afterwards he died in London, a martyr to intolerance. The Anglican party did ' what they could, and showed their appreciation of his work by honouring him with an imposing funeral. The reader will think of another imposing funeral which not long since was seen in Christ Church quadrangle, and of the house in Oxford which 74 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. perpetuates the memory of one whose almost only reward, while living, was the love of souls which he guided. He will perhaps, too, be reminded of the magnificent monument erected to the honour of another true son of the Church, who will not be forgotten so long as Keble College and its chapel stand among the historic buildings of the University which he adorned. The moderate party, to which Baro belonged, was rapidly advancing. Another champion, less stable, who afterwards lost his balance and allied himself with the Jesuits, was found in Barret ; but the man who had the greatest influence upon the new school was Overall, the framer of the sacramental portion of our Catechism, and who was appointed Regius Professor and successor to Whitaker. How much Hall owed to him will probably never be known. We do know that, after the Synod of Dort, Hall was willing to adopt his views of the points in dispute as the readiest solution of the difficulty, and spoke admiringly of his splendid moderation. A mind so open to reason as was Hall's could not fail to be attracted by such a teacher. And probably before he left the university he had drawn back from many of the more revolting positions of Calvin. But if he was advancing along the line of moderate churchmanship, there were intellectual forces at work enough to keep him from moving too fast and going too far. The Romanists were so active as to excite alarm and invite measures for their effectual suppression. So long ago as 1592 a com mission was appointed to make search for adherents of the Roman faith, and the commissioners, in their report, spoke of the papists as doing much harm in VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. 75 corrupting youth. The Heads, in their letter asking for archiepiscopal censure on Barret, urged that the study of many a divine in the University who pro fessed the tenets of the Church of England would be found, on examination, to be mainly composed of the works of the Schoolmen, and of the tractates of the Jesuits, but of Protestant authors few or none. Towards the end of Elizabeth's reign restrictive measures, of which every variety in turn was tried, were adopted with rigorous severity against recusants. A gentlewoman was hanged only for relieving and harbouring a priest ; a citizen was hanged for being reconciled to the Church of Rome ; the penal laws, Goodman in his " Memoir of the Court of James I." relates, were so executed that Romanists could not subsist, what was openly bought and sold in shops being taken away from them as popish and supersti tious. The common people hated them. No sooner had James been proclaimed king, than he received a letter from Henry IV. of France, warning him against papists, for they were all of the Spanish faction. Thus it was that the king, who had made overtures to Pope Clement VIII. to support his claim to the English crown, and on his part had promised to favour the Romanists (with which he was openly taxed in a pamphlet called " Look to the Back Door"), was now become their bitter enemy, and even at table was wont to regale his servile hearers with pungent expressions of the hatred he bore them. Exasperated by all this, they were busy hatching those schemes which happily found abortive issue in the Gunpowder Plot. It was a time of intense excitement, and Hall's anxiety to know the truth respecting Rome is not 76 LIFE OF fOSEPH HALL, D.D. hard to account for. In order to secure his end, he resolved to travel dressed as a layman, a circum stance which led him into some strange adventures, and afforded him a good deal of amusement. After waiting some days at Harwich for a wind, the travellers attempted to cross to Dunkirk, where the British ambassador had lately landed ; but after being a day and half a night at sea, they were forced to put in at Queenborough, whence coasting over " the rich and pleasant county of Kent," they again took shipping at Dover, and soon landed at Calais. " There was nothing," Hall says, " that made not my journey pleasant, save the labour of the way, which yet was so sweetly deceived by the society of Sir Edmund Bacon, a gentleman truly honourable beyond all titles, that I found small cause to complain. The sea brooked not me, nor I it ; an unquiet element, made only for wonder and use, not for pleasure. Alighted once from that wooden conveyance and uneven way, I bethought myself how fondly our life is committed to an unsteady and reeling piece of wood, fickle winds, restless waters, while we may set foot on steadfast and constant earth." Long wagons, plying between Canterbury, Norwich, Gloucester, etc., and London, with passengers and commodities, had been intro duced into England about 1580. By one of these more familiar " wooden conveyances " the friends went in two days to Gravelines and Dunkirk, where Hall found much horror in himself at passing under those dark and dreadful prisons where so many brave Englishmen had breathed out their souls in a miserable captivity. From thence they proceeded through Winnoxberg, Ypres, Ghent, Courtray to VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. 77 Brussels, the ambassador having lately arrived there. In a letter to Sir Thomas Challoner he says, "Along our way how many churches saw we demolished ! Nothing left but rude heaps, to tell the passenger there had been both devotion and hostility. Oh, the miserable footsteps of war, besides bloodshed, ruin, and desolation ! Fury hath done that there, which Covetousness would do with us ; would do, but shall not ; the truth within shall save the walls without." But if churches had fallen, he marvelled to find Jesuits' colleges rising everywhere. There was no city where they were not either rearing or built. " Those men, as we say of the fox, fare best, when they are most cursed ; none, so much spited of their own ; none, so hated of all ; none, so opposed by ours ; and yet these ill weeds grow. Whosoever lives long shall see them feared of their own, which now hate them ; shall see these seven lean kine devour all the fat beasts, that feed on the meadows of Tiber. I prophecy, as Pharaoh dreamed ; the event shall justify my confidence." About this time much stir had been made respecting the miracles said to be wrought by an image of our Lady of Montaigle, which stood in the old church of Sichem, a small town in Brabant. Two years before Hall visited the Continent, the number of pilgrims to the shrine at the feast of her nativity was twenty thousand, . and now pilgrims were everywhere met. At Brussels the authority of these miracles was warmly discussed by Hall ; but what there befell him cannot be better told than in his own words. " That noble gentleman, in whose company I travelled, was welcomed with many kind 78 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. invitations. Amongst the rest, there came to him an English gentleman, who, having run himself out of breath in the Inns of Court, had forsaken his country, and therewith his religion ; and was turned both bigot and physician, residing now in Brussels. This man, after few interchanges of compliment with Sir Edmund Bacon, fell into a hyperbolical predication of the wonderful miracles done newly by our Lady at Sichem, the credit whereof, when that worthy knight wittily questioned, he avowed a particular miracle of cure wrought by her upon himself. I, coming into the room in the midst of this discourse, habited not like a divine, but in such colour and fashion as might best secure my travel, and hearing my countryman's zealous and confident relations, at last asked him this question : — ' Sir,' quoth I, ' put case this report of yours be granted for true, I beseech you teach me what difference there is between these miracles which you say are wrought by this Lady, and those which were wrought by Vespasian, by some vestals by charms and spells ; the rather, for that I have noted, in the late published report of these miracles, some patients prescribed to come upon a Friday, and some to wash in such a well before their approach, and divers other such charm like observations ? ' The gentleman, not expecting such a question from me, answered, ' Sir, I do not profess this kind of scholarship ; but we have in the city many famous divines, with whom, if it would please you to confer, you might sooner receive satisfaction.' I asked him whom he took for the most eminent divine of that place. He named to me Father Costerus, an old man, more testy than subtle, and more able to wrangle than satisfy, undertaking VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. 79 that he would be very glad to give me conference, if I would be pleased to come up to the Jesuits' college. I willingly yielded. In the afternoon the forward gentleman prevented his time to attend me to the Father, as he stiled him ; who, as he said, was ready to entertain me with a meeting. I went alone up to him. The porter, shutting the door after me, welcomed me with a Deo gratias. I had not staid long in the Jesuits' Hall, before Costerus came in to me ; who, after a friendly salutation, fell into a formal speech of the unity of that Church, out of which is no salvation ; and had proceeded to lose his breath and labour, had not I, as civilly as I might, in terrupted him with this short answer : — ' Sir, I beseech you, mistake me not. My nation tells you of what religion I am. I come not hither out of any doubt of my professed belief, or any purpose to change it ; but moving a question to this gentleman concerning the pretended miracles of the time, he pleased to refer me to yourself for my answer ; which motion of his I was the more willing to embrace for the fame that I have heard of your learning and worth ; and if you can give me satisfaction herein, I am ready to receive it.' Hereupon we settled to our places, at a table in the end of the hall ; and buckled to a further discourse. He fell into a poor and imperfect account of the difference of Divine miracles and diabolical; which I modestly refuted. From thence he slipped into a choleric invective against our Church, which, as he said, could not yield one miracle ; and when I answered that in our Church we had manifest proofs of ejection of devils by fasting and prayer, he answered that, if it could be proved that ever any 80 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. devil was dispossessed in our Church, he would quit his religion. Many questions were incidentally traversed by us ; wherein I found no satisfaction given me. The conference was long and vehement ; in the heat whereof, who should come in but Father Baldwin, an English Jesuit, known to me, as by face, so much more by fame." (Hall first knew him at Brussels. He was a native of Cornwall, at first, professor of theology at Louvain, and vice-principal of the English Jesuit mission in the Netherlands. He afterwards became rector of the English seminary at St. Omer.) " He sat down upon a bench at the farther end of the table, and heard no small part of our dissertation ; seeming not too well afraid, that a gentleman of his nation (for being in that attire I was constantly spoken to by the stile of domi- natio veslrd) should depart from the Jesuits' college no better satisfied. On the next morning, therefore, he sends the same English physician to my lodging, with a courteous compellation ; professing to take it unkindly that his countryman should make choice of any other to confer with than himself, who desired both mine acquaintance and full satisfaction. Sir Edmund Bacon, in whose hearing the message was delivered, gave the secret signs of his utter unwilling ness to give way to any further conferences, the issue whereof, since we were to pass further and beyond the bounds of that protection, might prove dangerous. I returned a mannerly answer of thanks to Father Baldwin ; but for any further conference, that it were bootless. I could not hope to convert him, and was resolved he should not alter me ; and, therefore, both of us should rest where we were." Departing from Brussels the companions went VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC.. Si on their way to Namur, where on a pleasant and steep hill-top they found one that was termed a married hermit, and approved " his wisdom above his fellows, that could make choice of so cheerful and sociable a solitariness." Thence they had a delightful passage up the sweet river Meuse, and visited Liege. " The great city," Hall thought, might well be dichotomised into cloisters and hospitals. He felt inclined, after all the ruin that had come upon his neglected philology, to play the critic, and hazard a guess as to the derivation of the name of the people. They had been of old called Eburones. Without searching other records than his own eyes, he thought it should be written Ebriones, for their streets were moist, though not with wine, but blood. For three days after a murder the gates were open and justice shut. The murderer, though known, might be pursued by private justice ; public justice could not touch him. Here was a fine opportunity for revenge, or for making with a slight pecuniary satisfaction an easy atonement for the blackest guilt. " O England, thought I, happy for justice, happy for security ! There you shall find, in every corner, a maumet ; at every door, a beggar ; in every dish, a priest." At length the Spa was reached with its famous waters, the value whereof yet the simple inhabitants ascribed to their saint, whose heavy foot had made an ill-shaped impression in a stone of his Sevenir, the upper well of the Spa. Hall's experience of the waters was that they were " more wholesome than pleasant, and yet more famous than wholesome." The Forest of Ardennes, by which name the extensive hilly tract in the north-east of France and 6 82 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. the south-west of Belgium is familiar to my readers in the pages of Shakspere, now no less celebrated for the disaster of Sedan than renowned through its manufactures as the Lancashire of the two countries, was, at the time of Hall's visit to the Spa, sufficiently wild to be spoken of as wide deserts and savage Ardenna. His, mind was much exercised by the monsters called in English witch- wolves, there found in numbers. These were (the reader will please remember that the time is three hundred years ago) witches that had put on the shape of ,-those cruel beasts. There was no doubt of their existence, for Hall himself saw a boy whose half face was devoured by one of them near the village, and not many days before his arrival one of those miscreants had con fessed, on the wheel, to have devoured two-and- forty children in that form. Lycanthropy he thought was a problem for a large volume. His own solution was that therein the devil played the double sophister ; yea, the sorcerer with sorcerers, he both deluded the witch's conceit and the be holder's eyes. Another thing he could not omit without sinful oversight. Under the tyranny of the Inquisition a " confident confessor led to the stake had sung psalms along the way. The officer, there upon, had caused his tongue, drawn forth to the length, to be cut off near the roots. The poor martyr died in silence ; but, not many months after, the butcherly officer had a son born with his tongue hanging down upon his chin, like a deer after a long chase, which never could be gathered up within the bounds of his lips. Oh the Divine hand, full of justice, full of revenge." Whatever may be thought of lycanthropy, the malformation just VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, RTC. 83 described, upon physiological principles, might be something more than a coincidence. Any credulity Hall may have exhibited — though, bearing in mind that physical science was then only in the womb, it is hardly fair to tax him with it — was more than compensated by his thorough going scepticism in the matter of ecclesiastical miracles. At one time he intended to write a book upon the subject, but contented himself with a tract, which, though it would not perhaps be recom mended by a board of the faculty of theology, nevertheless contains some useful hints. He had noted four ranks of commonly-named miracles, — " the first, merely reported, not seen to be done ; the next, seeming to be done, but counterfeited ; the third, truly done, but not true miracles ; the last, truly miraculous, but by Satan." As he says, subtracting these, few remain for either belief or wonder. A just time was spent at the medicinal wells, and then the return journey was commenced. In sailing down the river Meuse, Hall had another con flict, and a dangerous one, with a Sorbonnist, a Carmelite Prior, who interpreted the travellers' kneeling at the Eucharist as an acknowledgment of transubstantiation. Upon his explaining the matter, and temperately resisting the railing accu sation his opponents brought against our Church and religion, their changing countenances pale with rage indicated so much peril that Sir Edmund Bacon, both by eye and tongue, withdrew his friend from the fray, and he, to avoid further provocation, at once left their presence. The prior was growing suspicious, and said that he himself had a green 84 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. satin suit once prepared for his travels into England. Hall, therefore, found it needful to lie close at Namur. " The next day," says he, " travel ling towards Brussels in the company of two Italian captains, Signor Ascanio Negro, and another whose name I have forgotten, who, inquiring into our nation and religion, wondered to hear that we had any baptism or churches in England, the congruity of my Latin in respect of their perfect barbarism, drew me and the rest into their suspicion, so as I might overhear them muttering to each other that we were not the mert we appeared. Straight the one boldly expressed his conceit ; and, together with this charge, began to inquire of our condition. I told him that the gentleman he saw before him was the grandchild of that renowned Bacon, the great Chancellor of England, a man of great birth and quality ; and that myself and my other companion travelled in his attendance to the Spa, from the train and under the privilege of our late ambassador ; with which just answer I stopped their mouths." At Brussels some Englishwomen were being professed vestals. At Antwerp the travellers saw " a solemn mass in a shambles." While the mass was being celebrated, the church was " full of meat, of butchers, of buyers, some kneeling, most bargaining, most talking, all busy." This is de scribed in a satirical vein which leaves room for some regret. Another curious sight was " an Englishman, so madly devout, that he had wilfully mured up himself as an anchorite, the worst of all prisoners ; there sat he, pent up, for his further merit, half hunger-starved, for the charity of the citizens." Hall's curiosity to see a solemn pro- VISIT TO THE CONTINENT, ETC. 85 cession in the streets on St. John Baptist's Day might have drawn him into danger, because he kept his hat on, had not the hulk of a tall Brabanter, behind whom he stood in a corner, shadowed him from notice. From Antwerp, which he thought the paragon of cities, the route lay down the Scheldt to Flushing. Here the company resolved to stay some hours, and Hall hasted to Middleburgh to see an ancient colleague. On his return he found his ship well out for sea, under sail for England, the master having taken advantage of a wind which had sprung up. His friends were all aboard ; so, after looking long after them in vain, he sadly retraced his steps to Middleburgh, and, at last, after waiting some time, by an " inconvenient and tempestuous passage reached home." CHAPTER V. WORK AT HAWSTEAD— CHAPLAIN 70 THE PRINCE OF WALES— THE OFFER OF WALTHAM. IN the old parsonage house at Hawstead there was long preserved a plate of lead with the motto Imum nolo, summum nequeo, quiesco, adopted, it has been supposed, by Hall when he first settled there. A modest ambition and a mind to some extent familiar with content are indicated ; but were it not for other sources of information, even assuming the motto to be the mirror of the man, we should not be able to go far in gauging his character at this time. Such sources of information fortunately we possess. Amongst his earliest devotional writings are two " Centuries of Meditations and Vows, Divine and Moral," dedicated to the patron of Hawstead and his wife. In the dedicatory preface of the first Century, the author says : — " That I have made there my homely aphorisms public, needs no other reason but that, though the world is furnished with other writings, even to satiety and surfeit, yet of those which reduce Christianity to practice, there is, at least, scarce enough ; wherein, yet, / must needs confess, I had some eye to myself, for Jiaving after a sort vowed this austere course . of judgment and practice to myself, I thought it best to acquaint the world with it, that it may either witness my answer- WORK AT HAWSTEAD. 87 able proceeding, or check me in my straying therefrom. By wliich means so many men as I live amongst, so many monitors T shall have ; which shall point me to my own rules, and upbraid me with my observations." Such a clue to character must no doubt be regarded with some distrust, and the conclusions arrived at received with some reserve. Still, after making all deductions, it will, I think, be apparent to the student of the " Meditations and Vows," that there is in them a personal element perfectly trustworthy and reliable, which, together with what is known of Hall besides, enables us to picture him in outline with tolerable accuracy. That he was a busy man is almost superfluous to say ; the idle man he con sidered the devil's cushion on which he taketh his free ease. Besides three sermons a week, every one of which he penned as he hoped to deliver it, not the fifteen or twenty minutes' effort which some regard as the ideal at the present day, but studied compositions full of thought, illustrated in many ways, — besides these, he was constantly engaged in study so severe as to excite the alarm of his friends, and was writing book after book which he sold that he might buy others. The labour, perhaps, was lighter to him than to many men because of the delight he took in imparting his knowledge to others. Nor was it likely to make of him a mere book-worm. He was fully sensible of the dangers of a too strict seclusion in narrowing the view and warping the sympathies. A chief reason why he took a wife was the " uncouth solitariness " of the parsonage, and it is quite consistent that he should esteem Christian good fellowship better than an eremitish and melancholy solitariness. In dealing 88 LIFE OF IOSEPH HALL, D.D. with his fellow-men he was cautious and discreet, particularly in administering reproof, having learned by experience that some men are thorns, and do not allow of rough handling ; some nettles, which reward a gentle touch with a sting and a prick. He was courteous to all ; but in his private estimate of men drew a sharp line between what a man could call his own, and " patrimony and vulgar account of honour which follows the blood in many generations. Virtue is not traduced in propagation, nor learning bequeathed by our will to our heirs." For com panions he cared little, unless they could teach him something, or would learn something from him. Of friends he had not many, but those so tried that he dared trust them. A friend who was sometimes a rod he valued, but, like Moses, would run from him who once proved to be a serpent. Friendship he had found brittle stuff, and experience told him that the friend who now loves, may hereafter come to hate. He did not, therefore, wear his heart upon his sleeve ; he disclosed himself no whit to his enemy, somewhat to his friend, wholly to no man, lest he should be more others' than his own. The infidelity of friends was all the more painful to him from his evident sincerity. Most men hold that speaking well without feeling is permissible, if only to train our own affections, or to set an ideal before others. To Hall there seemed to lie hid in this an habitual hypocrisy, which would one day manifest itself. His own endeavour was to speak as he thought. Not unnaturally, this being so, conver sation was a difficulty to him. It was hard to speak well, though harder to be silent, without incurring the charge of affectation, or sullenness, or ignorance. WORK AT HAWSTEAD. In his younger days one might almost suppose tlrat he had been contentious. " I have ever found that to strive with my superior is furious ; with my equal, doubtful ; with my inferior, sordid and base ; with any, full of unquietness." Perhaps, this is a reminiscence of his literary battles at Cambridge. Even now it is not hard to detect a passionate tendency, well controlled however, and firmly kept in check. There is the characteristic eagerness in disputation, of which we had some amusing instances in his adventures in Belgium, though we may fully credit him with the earnest effort so to order his courage and mildness that he might be neither " lion-like in his conversation, nor sheepish in the defence of a good cause." His splendid generosity was conspicuous when he begged that his tutor, Mr. Gilby, might be reinstated in the fellowship at Emmanuel, to which he was himself immediately afterwards elected. His modesty everywhere makes itself felt, and was something more than a decorous disguise of selfishness. He tells us that " it is commonly seen that boldness puts men forth before their time, before their ability. Wherein we have seen many that, like lapwings and partridges, have run away with some part of their shell on their heads ; whence it follows that, as they began boldly, so they proceed unprofitably, and conclude not without shame. I would rather be haled by force of others to great duties, than rush upon them unbidden. It were better that a man should want work, than that great works should want a man answerable to their weight." Words worthy of the man whose modesty afterwards led him to decline the bishopric of Gloucester ! Yet disliking, as he did. 90 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. popularity and ostentation, he was very sensitive to the opinion of those whose opinion he deemed worth having ; and his admirers will not think any the worse of him because he sometimes winced under the contempt for his office displayed by the worldly, or complained of the neglect with which he was treated by those who valued birth and wealth more than the treasures of piety and learning. Over all and above all was his devoutness of spirit, and his love of communing with the Invisible, which seemed to grow more and more intense with advancing years. When at Spa with Sir Edmund Bacon, he was wont to leave the romantic valley and go up " under the solitary hills of Ardenna," there to meditate. This was the occupation then of his leisure hours, as it soon became part of his daily work, and the fruit of those quiet moments we have in the third Century of " Meditations and Vows," dedicated to the companion of his travels. About the same time Hall appears to have pub lished a treatise called " Heaven upon Earth." The volume was little, he said ; perhaps the use more. He had always thought, according to the Greek proverb, a great book, a great evil. With a view to it he had studiously read over some of the moral writings of some wise heathen, especially those of the stoical profession, and, among them, Seneca, of whom he speaks in terms of admiration. "If Seneca could have had grace to his wit, what wonders would he have done in this kind ! What divine might not have yielded him the chair for ' Precepts of Tranquillity,' without any disparagement ? As he was, this he hath gained : never any heathen wrote more divinely : never any philosopher more pro- WORK AT HAWSTEAD. 91 bably." The little book, as exhaustively as the space permits, treats of the causes of restlessness, and points out how peace of mind is to be obtained. Encouraged by the success of the " Meditations and Vows," Hall determined to publish the " Art of Divine Meditation." They were written without rule ; this was intended to teach the systematic con templation of heavenly things. In composing it he confesses " to have received more light from one obscure nameless monk, who wrote some hundred and twelve years ago, than from the directions of all other writers." The method is illustrated by two meditations, one on Eternal Life, the Other on Death. To follow him in the minute details would be tedious, and, maybe, unprofitable, now that so many masters in the art have given their rules to the world ; the value he attached to the practice is suggestive to those who aim at self-improvement, and the glimpses gained of his habits full of interest to the biographer. The benefit of meditation he deemed unspeakable ; it was " the remedy of security and worldliness, the pastime of saints, the ladder of heaven, and, in short, the best improve ment of Christianity." In distinguishing the two kinds, Extemporal and Deliberate, he says that God's great book of nature has many capital letters, and he who cannot spell some words must be an idle truant. Amongst the hints he gives are that the clergy should omit no day without meditation, those in secular callings not many. A subject once begun should be steadily pursued, the same thought being dwelt upon until some issue in spiritual profit is attained. The length of the meditation should not be judged by the hour-glass, but by the increase 92 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. of devotion. Gerson had sometimes spent four hours together before he could become master of his thoughts, and reach a goal. As to place, it should be solitary, the world without and the world within both banished. Jesus was alone in the mount, John Baptist in the desert, David on his bed, Chrysostom in the bath. It is best to have the same place, our thoughts through custom being more easily gathered where we have frequently conversed with God. Like Isaac, he had always found the best time to be evening. As to gesture, too, he imitated Isaac, who meditated walking. He distinctly approves of a ritual of the body ; in thinking of sin, Ahab's soft face, the publican's downcast eyes and hand beat ing on his breast ; if joys of heaven attract the thoughts, the upturned gaze of Stephen, and David's hands lift up on high. The neglect of meditation he considered notoriously shameful, and prejudicial to the souls of professors. " Unto this only neglect let me ascribe the commonness of that Laodicean temper of men ; or, if that be worse, of the dead coldness which hath stricken the hearts of many, having left them nothing but the bodies of men, and visors of Christians: to this only, THEY HAVE NOT MEDITATED. It is not more impossible to live with out a heart, than to be devout without meditation. Would God, therefore, my words could be in this, as the wise man saith the words of the wise are, like unto goads in the sides of every reader, to quicken him up out of this dull and lazy security, to a cheer ful practice of this Divine meditation. Let him curse me upon his deathbed, if, looking back from thence to the bestowing of his former times, he acknowledges not these hours placed the most WORK AT HAWSTEAD. 93 happily in his whole life ; if he then wish not he had worn out more days in so profitable and heavenly a work." He was also busy writing the earliest of six decades of " Epistles," which he afterwards collected and published in three books, each containing two decades. The first volume appeared in 1608, the second in the same year, the third in 1 6 1 1 , all being dedicated to Henry, Prince of Wales. Hall is said to be the first who published compositions of this kind in his native tongue. He thus expresses his claim to the invention in his dedication to the prince : — " Further, which these times account not the least praise, your Grace shall herein perceive a new fashion of discourse by Epistles ; new to our language, usual to all others, and, as novelty is never without some plea of use, more free, more familiar, Thus we do but talk with our friends by our pen, and express ourselves no whit less easily, somewhat more digested ly." The " Epistles " embrace a great variety of topics — the contempt of the world, true honour, the welfare of the prince, observations on his travel, miracles, the fear of death, duelling, the increase of popery, etc., and are addressed to his patrons, relatives, and some of the well-known men of the day. One to Mr. W. L. (supposed with good reason to be Laud), " expostulating the cause of his unsettledness in religion, which is pleaded to be our dissensions ; " and another to Mr. Thomas Sutton, the founder of the Charterhouse, will have peculiar interest for the historian and the antiquary. We have already had occasion to make use of some of them, and shall, as the narrative proceeds, refer to others 94 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Hall's name does not appear among those of the divines entrusted with the translation of the Bible. While the Committee, however, were engaged in their work, and long before they had given to it its final form, he was contemplating a revision of the metrical version of the Psalms. As a satirist at Cambridge he had ridiculed the propensity of the Puritans for versifying Scripture ; but he had not then foreseen the noble work which was to be initiated by James at the suggestion of Puritan objectors, nor had he, as a parish priest, felt the necessity of suitable hymns and music for congre gational worship. The Church was certainly badly off in that respect. At the Reformation the old hymns of the Roman Church had, with almost in excusable negligence, been turned to little or no account. Luther, indeed, had utilised some of them, and had even put into verse the Augsburg Con fession. The Waldenses, the Lollards, and Bohemian brethren, too, had been fond of singing, and had translated and imitated in German metre many of the metrical compositions of the old faith. But the English and Swiss reformers had used instead a metrical version of the Psalms. Marot, about 1 5 40, in France1 led the way with fifty psalms, and the whole psalter so treated having been completed by Beza, was adopted by Calvin. Sir Thomas Wyatt was the first in England to follow in Marot's steps. His work has perished, but his labour was continued by Sternhold and Hopkins, through whose exertions chiefly the " Old Version," with about forty tunes, was published in 1562. The psalms contained in this were allowed to be sung before or after morning and evening prayer, before or after sermons, WORK AT HA WSTEAD. 95 and in private houses. This is the version of which Hall contemplated a revision, and though he does not appear to have translated more than ten psalms himself, his idea was subsequently realised, several editions being set forth, until the New Version by Tate and Brady was at length licensed by King William in 1696. How difficult Hall felt the task to be, and how important to the welfare of the Church, is clear from the letters to the friends he consulted, and the earnestness with which he begs for unsparing criticism of the portion he submitted to their judgment. He first disclosed his plan to his old school-fellow and college-friend, Hugh Cholmley, and after some time laid his work before his cousin Burton, Archdeacon of Gloucester, through whose influence he hoped to get the sanction of authority. To Hugh Cholmley, he wrote as follows : — " Fear not my immoderate studies. I have a body that controls me enough in these courses ; my friends need not. There is nothing whereof I could sooner surfeit, if I durst neglect my body to satisfy my mind : but, while I affect knowledge, my weakness checks me and says, 'Better a little learning than no health.' I yield, and patiently abide myself debarred of my chosen felicity. " The little I can get, I am no niggard of; neither am I more desirous to gather, than willing to impart. The full- handed are commonly most sparing. We vessels, that have any empty room, answer the least knock with a hollow noise. You that are full sound not. If we pardon your closeness, you may well bear with our profusion. If there be any wrong, it is to ourselves, that we utter what we should lay up. It is a pardonable fault, to do less good to ourselves, that we may do more to others. "Amongst other endeavours, I have boldly undertaken 96 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. the holy metres of David ; how happily, judge you by what you see. There is none of all my labours so open to all censures ; none, whereof I would so willingly bear the verdict of the wise and judicious. " Perhaps some think the verse harsh ; whose nice ear regards roundness more than sense. I embrace smooth ness ; but affect it not. This is the least good quality of a verse that intends anything but musical delight. " Others may blame the difficulty of the tunes, whose humour cannot be pleased without a greater offence ; for, to say truth, I never could see good verse written in the wonted measures. I ever thought them most easy, and least poetical. " This fault, if any, will light upon the negligence of our people, which endure not to take pains for any fit variety. The French and Dutch have given us worthy examples of diligence and exquisiteness in this kind. Neither our ears nor voices are less tunable- Here is nothing wanting, but will to learning. What is this, but to eat the corn out of the ear, because we will not abide the labour to grind and knead it ? " If the -question be, whether our verse must descend to them, or they ascend to it, a wise moderation, I think, would determine it most equal, that each part should remit somewhat, and both meet in the midst. Thus I have endeavoured to do, with sincere intent of their good, rather than my own applause. For it had been easy to have reached a higher strain, but I durst not ; whether for the grave majesty of the subject, or benefit of the simplest reader. "You shall note that I have laboured to keep David's entire sense, with numbers neither lofty nor slubbered : which mean is so much more difficult to find, as the business is more sacred, and the liberty less. " Many great wits have undertaken this task, which yet have either not effected it, or have smothered it in their private desks, and denied it the common light. Amongst WORK AT HAWSTEAD. 97 the rest were those two rare spirits of the Sidneys, to whom poesy was as natural, as it is affected of others ; and our worthy friend, Mr. Sylvester, hath showed me how happily he hath sometimes turned from his Bartas, to the sweet singer of Israel. It could not be that in such abundant plenty of poesy this work should have past unattempted. Would God I might live to see it perfected, either by my own hand, or a better ! " In the meantime, let me expect your unpartial sentence, both concerning the form and sense. Lay aside your love for awhile, which too oft blinds judgment. And, as it uses to be done in most equal proceedings of justice, shut me out of doors, while my verse is discussed; yea, let me receive not your censure only, but others' by you. This once, as you love me, play both the informer and the judge. Whether you allow it, you shall encourage me ; or correct, you shall amend me ; either your stars or your spits, that I may use Origen's notes, shall be welcome to my Margent. It shall be happy for us, if God shall make our poor labours any way serviceable to His Name and Church." His letter to Burton, who in 1607 was made Archdeacon of Gloucester, gives a further insight into his feelings : — " Indeed," he says, " my poetry was long since out of date, and yielded her place to graver studies, ; but whose vein would it not revive, to look into those heavenly songs ? I were not worthy to be a divine, if it should repent me to be a poet with David, after I shall have aged in the pulpit. This work is holy and strict, and abides not any youthful or heathenish liberty ; but requires hands free from profaneness, looseness, affection. It is a service to God and the Church, by so, much more carefully to be regarded, as it is more common. For, who is there that will not challenge a part in this labour, and that shall not find 7 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. himself much more affected with holy measure rightly composed? "Wherefore I have oft wondered how it could be offensive to our adversaries, that these Divine ditties, which the Spirit of God wrote in verse, should be sung in verse ; and that a Hebrew poem should be made English, For, if this kind of composition had been unfit, God would never have made choice of numbers wherein to express Himself. " Yea, who knows not that some other Scriptures, which the Spirit hath indited in prose, have yet been happily and with good allowance put into strict numbers ? If histories tell us of a wanton poet of old which lost his eyes while he went about to turn Moses into verse, yet every student knows, with what good success and commendation Nonnus hath turned John's Gospel into Greek heroics. And Apollinarius, that learned Syrian, matched with Basil and Gregory (who lived in his time) in the terms of this equality, that Basil's speech was calm and deliberate, but Apollinarius's rich and copious, wrote, as Suidas reports, all the Hebrew Scriptures in heroics ; as Sozomen, somewhat more restrainedly, all the archaeology of the Jews, till Saul's government, in twenty-four parts ; or, as Socrates, yet more particularly, all Moses in heroics, and all the other histories in divers metres : but, however his other labours lie hid, his ' Metaphrase of the Psalms ' is still in our hands, with the applause of all the learned, besides the labours of their own Flaminius and Arias Montanus, to seek for no more, which have worthily bestowed themselves in this subject. " Neither do I see how it can be offensive to our friends, that we should desire our English metaphrase bettered. I say nothing to the disgrace of that we have ; I know how glad our adversaries are of all such advantages, which they are ready enough to find out without me, ever reproachfully upbraiding us with these defects. But, since our whole translation is now universally revised, what inconvenience or show of innovation can it bear, that the verse should WORK AT HAWSTEAD. 99 accompany the prose? Especially since it is well known how rude and homely our English poesy was in those times, compared with the present ; wherein, if ever, it seeth her full perfection. " I have been solicited by some reverend friends to under take this task, as that which seemed well to accord with the former exercises of my youth and my present pro fession. The difficulties I found many ; the work long and great ; yet not more painful than beneficial to God's Church, whereto as I dare not profess any sufficiency, so I will not deny my readiness and utmost endeavour, if I shall be employed by authority. " Wherefore, in this part, I do humbly submit myself to the grave censures of them, whose wisdom manageth these common affairs of the Church, and am ready either to stand still or proceed, as I shall see their Cloud or Fire go before or behind me. Only, howsoever, I shall, for my true affection to the Church, wish it done by better workmen ; wherein, as you approve, so further my bold, but not un profitable motion, and commend it unto greater ears, as I do you to the Greatest. " Your loving kinsman, " Joseph Hall." His plan, for what reasons is not known, was never carried into execution ; and, if the ten psalms " metaphrased for a taste of the rest " may be taken as fairly indicating what the others would be, we shall be glad that it was so. In 1626 a writer ventured on the following epigram, but most readers who look into the ten complete psalms will perhaps think the praise above the performance. " You in high straines have sung God's Heavenly Graces, Which you shall sound in high and heavenly places ; Sweet Hall ! what Hallelujahs shall you sing In Heaven's high quire to the Eternall King ! " LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Much later in life Hall composed some anthems for the use of the cathedral at Exeter. As a speci men I select the shortest, for Christmas Day, which will possibly be thought not devoid of merit. " Immortal Babe, Who this dear day Didst change Thy Heaven for our clay, And didst with flesh Thy Godhead vail, Eternal Son of God, all hail ! Shine, happy star ! ye Angels, sing Glory on high to Heaven's King : Run, shepherds, leave your nightly watch, See Heaven come down to Bethlehem's cratch. Worship, ye sages of the east, The King of Gods in meanness drest ; O Blessed' Maid, smile and adore The God, thy womb and arms have bore. Star, angels, shepherds, and wise sages, Thou Virgin, glory of all ages, Restored frame of heaven and earth, Joy in your dear Redeemer's birth ! " Thus in ceaseless study and almost continuous toil the time was passed at Hawstead. At length, partly through the mean injustice of his patron, partly through the fame which his own indefatigable pen had brought him, Hall emerged from the com parative obscurity of the country vicarage into the light of court favour, and entered on that course which eventually brought him to the episcopal bench. It happened on this wise, in 1608, some year and a half after his visit to the Spa.' " My means were but short at Halsted ; yet such as I oft professed, if my then patron would have added but one ten pounds by year, which I held to be the value of my detained due, I should never have removed. One morning, CHAPLAIN TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. roi as I lay in my bed, a strong motion was suddenly glanced into my thoughts of going to London. I arose, and betook me to the- way. The ground that appeared of that purpose was to speak with my patron, Sir Robert Drury ; if by occa sion of the public preachership of St. Edmund's Bury, then offered me upon good conditions, I might draw him to a willing yieldance of that parcel of my due maintenance, which was kept back from my not over-deserving pre decessor : who, hearing my errand, dissuaded me from so ungainful an exchange, which had it been to my sensible advantage, he should have readily given way unto ; but not offering me the expected encouragement of my con tinuance. " With him I stayed and preached on the Sunday follow ing. That day Sir Robert Drury, meeting with the Lord Denny, fell belike into the commendation of my sermon. That religious and noble lord had long harboured good thoughts concerning me upon the reading of those poor pamphlets which I had formerly published, and long wished the opportunity to know me. To please him in this desire, Sir Robert willed me to go and tender my service to his Lordship ; which I modestly and seriously deprecated j yet, upon his earnest charge, went to his Lordship's gate, where I was not sorry to hear of his absence. " Being now full of cold and distemper in Drury Lane,* I was found out by a friend, in whom I had formerly no great interest, one Mr. Gurrey, tutor to the Earl of Essex (afterwards the famous Parliamentary General). He told me how well my " Meditations " were accepted at the Prince's Court ; and earnestly advised me to step over to Richmond, and preach to his Highness. I strongly pleaded my indis position of body, and my inpreparation for any such work, together with my bashful fears, and utter unfitness for such a presence. My averseness doubled his importunity ; in fine, he left me not till he had my engagement to preach * Where the Drurys had a mansion. LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. the Sunday following at Richmond. He made way for me to that awful pulpit, and encouraged me by the favour of his Noble Lord, the Earl of Essex. I preached. Through the favour of my God, that sermon was not so well given as taken, insomuch as that Sweet Prince signified his desire to hear me again the Tuesday following. Which done, that labour gave more contentment than the former : so as that Grapious Prince both gave me his hand, and commanded me to his service." Thus Hall arrived at the dignity of domestic chaplain to the heir to the crown. The prince appears to have been, even for a prince, preter- naturally precocious. He was only six when his father composed for his use the basilicon doron. When seven, he sent a letter in French to the States General of Holland, explaining his great regard for them and gratitude for the good opinion they enter tained of him, and desiring them to make use of his interest with the king. In 1605, at the age of eleven, he went with his royal parents from Wood stock to Oxford. The visitors were received with great solemnity by the University. Christ Church, under Dr. John King, who became Bishop of London in 161 1, hospitably lodged the king and queen, and provided an evening's amusement in the shape of a dramatic representation, a play, called Vertumnus, having been written specially for the occasion. But Christ Church had not then any monopoly in royal pupils, and the honour of matriculating the prince fell to Magdalen, the president's apartments during his four days' residence being given up to him. New College, too, gave a dinner, and St. John's was ready with another comedy, also strangely called Vertumnus, but (the prince's biographer says) quite CHAPLAIN TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. 103 different in scope and execution from its Christ Church rival. Of intellectual pleasures there must have been more than enough. Numerous disputa tions were held, and the prince was well pleased with the ready wit of the disputants. One question disputed was whether the saints and angels know the thoughts of the heart ; a second was not so hard — whether pastors are not obliged to visit the sick during the plague ; a third might still be submitted to Dr. Burdon Sanderson — whether children imbibe the temper with the milk of their nurses ; a fourth indicates a respectful deference to the views of the author of the Counterblast— -the use of tobacco. In the year Hall was appointed chaplain, an account of the four days' residence was published under the title " Rex Platonicus, sive Muss Reg- nantes," with a dedication to the prince. The author remarks that the University had seen so much in that time of his Highness's temper and genius as answered their most sanguine wishes. With all allowance for academic unction, the subject of these flattering attentions is generally admitted to have deserved many, of the good things said of him. He was an attentive hearer of sermons, and dis tinguished such as excelled, a strict attender on public worship, a watchful guardian of his somewhat large " family," which, before he was eighteen, numbered about five hundred, and, unlike his august father, was never heard to indulge in an oath. To check the very common habit of swearing he ordered boxes to be kept at his three houses, St. James's, Richmond, and Nonsuch, for the reception of fines, to be distributed to the poor. Theologically he inclined to the Puritans, and is said to have expressed 104 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. his intention, in case he came to the throne, of doing. all in his power to effect a reconciliation with them. Neal calls him the " darling of the Puritans." Bishop Goodman thought him a little self-willed. His mother loved him less than Charles. His father conceived a strong antipathy to him on the ground of his obtrusiveness, whether justly or not is hard to say. He often provoked his brother Charles to tears, and sometimes taunted him with the weakness of his legs. If it be true that, at the age of seventeen, he requested that he might preside at the Privy Council, he certainly was not lacking in self-reliance. His passion for the Countess of Essex, afterwards divorced and re-married to Rochester, whose rising fortunes and handsome figure proved more attractive than the earnest love of the boy prince, is admitted by his most partial biographer. But, upon the whole, the verdict of those who have weighed him in the balance has been that he was manly, patriotic, a good supporter of the army and navy, accomplished, sober, chaste, temperate, honourable, upright, reli gious. And it is no small praise to Hall that out of the twenty-four royal chaplains, amid all the conflicting influences of such a household, he became the chief favourite of his young master. On his return to London from his interview with the prince, his patron, seeing him looked after by some great persons, began to wish him at home, and told him that some one or other would be snatch ing him up. " I answered, that it was in his power to prevent. Would he be pleased to make my maintenance but so competent as in right it should be, I would never stir from him. Jnstead of condescending, it pleased him to fall into an THE OFFER OF WALTHAM. 105 earnest expostulation of the rate of competencies ; affirming the variableness thereof, according to our own estimation, and our either raising or moderating the causes of our expenses. I showed him the insufficiency of my means, that I was forced to write books to buy books. Shortly, some harsh and unpleasing answer so disheartened me, that I resolved to embrace the first opportunity of my remove. " Now, while I was taken up with these anxious thoughts, a messenger (it was Sir Robert Wingfield of Northampton's son) came to me from the Lord Denny, now Earl of Norwich, my after-most-honourable patron, entreating me from his Lordship to speak with him. No sooner came I thither, than, after a glad and noble welcome, I was enter tained with the earnest offer of Waltham. The conditions were, like the mover of them, free and bountiful. I received them as from the munificent hand of my God, and returned full of the cheerful acknowledgments of a gracious Provi dence over me. " Too late now did my former Noble Patron relent, and offer me those terms, which had, before, fastened me for ever. I returned home, happy in a new master, and in a new patron, betwixt whom I divided myself and my labours with much comfort and no less acceptation." CHAPTER VI. FAREWELL TO HAWSTEAD.— WALTHAM.— HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. BEFORE leaving Hawstead, Hall addressed the following letter to Sir Robert Drury and his lady concerning his removal from them. "With how unwilling a heart I leave you, He knows, that searches the heart : neither durst I go, but that I sensibly see His hand pulling me from you. Indeed, desire of competency betrayed me at first, and drew mine eyes to look aside ; but, when I bent them upon the place and saw the number and the need of the people, together with their hunger and applause, meeting with the circum stances of God's strange conveyance of this offer to me, I saw that was but as the fowler's feather to make me stoop ; and, contemning that respect of myself, I sincerely acknow ledged higher motives of my yielding, and resolved I might not resist. " You are dear to me, as a charge to a pastor ; if my pains to you have not proved it, suspect me. Yet I leave you. God calls me to a greater work, I must follow Him. It were more ease to me to live secretly hidden in that quiet obscurity, as Saul amongst the stuff, than to be drawn out to the eye of the world, to act so high a part before a thousand witnesses. In this point, if I seem to neglect you, blame me not; I must neglect and forget myself. " I can but labour wheresoever I am. God knows how FAREWELL TO HAWSTEAD. 107 willingly I do that, whether there or here. I shall dig, and delve, and plant, in what ground soever my Master sets me. If He take me to a larger field, complain you not of loss, while the Church may gain. " But, you are my own charge ; no wise father neglects his own, in compassion of the greater need of others. Yet consider, that even careful parents, when the prince com mands, leave their families, and go to warfare. " What if God had called me to heaven ? Would you have grudged my departure? Imagine that I am there, where I shall be ; although the case be not to you altogether so hopeless ; for, now I may hear of you, visit you, renew my holy counsels, and be mutually comforted from you ; there, none of these. He that will once transpose me from earth to heaven, hath now chosen to transpose me from one piece of earth to another. What is here worthy of your sorrow, worthy of complaint ? That should be for my own good, this shall be for the good of many. If your experience have taught you that my labours do promise profit, obtain of yourself to deny yourself so much, as to rejoice that the loss of a few should be the advantage of many souls. Though, why do I speak of loss ? I speak that, as you fear, not my own, and your affection causes that fear, rather than the occasion. " The God of the Harvest shall send you a labourer more able, as careful. That is my prayer, and hope, and shall be my joy. I dare not leave, but in this expectation, this assurance. Whatever become of me, it shall be my greatest comfort to hear you commend your change ; and to see your happy progress in those ways I have both showed you and beaten. So shall we meet in the end, and never part." It is evident from this letter, called forth by ex pressions of regret at his departure (no doubt sincere) either verbal or in writing, that, in spite of the recent differences between him and Drury, the bond of 108 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. charity had been but slightly injured and quickly repaired. I am unable to ascertain the exact date of his leaving Hawstead ; but there is an entry in the register of that church, which shows that it was probably before the summer of 1608. The entry runs thus: "July 4. 1608 — Ezekiel Edgar, clericus, in art. mag. sup. prses. Roberti Drury Mil. Vacan. per resignationem ult. incumb." His new patron, of whom he always spoke with the utmost affection, was a man who, winning his Sovereign's favour, passed from the condition of a country gentleman to the highest ranks of the nobility. Born in 1569, Edward Denny was knighted at the early age of twenty. When King James passed from Scotland to London at his acces sion to the throne, Sir Edward was High Sheriff of Hertfordshire, and met him with a noble retinue of a hundred and forty men, suitably apparelled and well-mounted, and made his Majesty a present of a fine steed with rich accoutrements, a no mean gift about the time when Sir Nicholas Arnold's * efforts to improve our breed of English horses were beginning to be felt. Next year he was summoned to Parlia ment by the title of Baron Denny of Waltham. In 1626 he was made Earl of Norwich. His wife was Mary, third daughter of the Earl of Exeter, Thomas Cecil, eldest son of Lord Burleigh, and ancestor of the * Sir Nicholas Arnold, third son of John Arnold, of Llan- vihangel Crucorniensis, Monmouthshire, was Lord Deputy of Ireland in the reign of Elizabeth, and is said by Holinshed (" Chronicles") to have been the first improver of the breed of English horses. He imported the best blood of Spain and other countries, and at Higham Court, Gloucestershire, had a stud of above three hundred. WALTHAM. 109 present Marquis of Exeter, by whom he had one child, Honora, who married Viscount Doncaster, our ambassador to France. Burleigh's younger son, Robert Cecil, it will be remembered, was made Earl of Salisbury in 1605, and is the ancestor of the present Marquis of Salisbury. Hall was thus brought under the immediate notice of the most distinguished families in the state, while his friend ship with the Drurys was not ended, since we find him, some years after this, preaching at the dedication of the chapel of the Countess of Exeter, the second earl's second wife, who was a daughter of Sir William Drury, of Hawstead. Waltham Church, of which Hall now became incumbent, was one of great historical interest. It was the Abbey Church originally founded by King Harold, and dedicated at first to the Holy Cross, afterwards to St. Laurence. Harold lived only four years after laying the foundations ; the remainder was, therefore, built with the rest of the Abbey by degrees, and through the munificence of several benefactors, and was not completed until perhaps the time of Henry II. At the Reformation the chancel and choir had been pulled down, and, unfortunately, the central tower had partly fallen. A wall had, therefore, been run up at the east end, and a new tower erected at the west end. As in the case of other abbey churches, part of the sacred inclosure had become the garden land of the lord of the manor, and towards the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, Sir Edward Denny's gardener had discovered the coffin of King Harold, who, together with his two brothers, was buried in the church he founded. The king's bones, we are told, LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. lay in their proper order, without any kind of dirt, but, upon being touched, mouldered into dust. The Abbey having engrossed all the tithes and supplied the cure by one of their own members, the Church was left at the dissolution with a wretched pittance of £8 a year, and if the " donative," as it was called to distinguish it from rectory, vicarage, incumbency, or curacy, had not been endowed by Sir Edward Denny, Hall would have found the change little to his advantage. On the ist of May, 1608, Hall preached at Paul's Cross the first of his published sermons, on Pharisaism' and Christianity. As might be expected after recent events, the Jesuits are roundly denounced. " A poor widow's cottage filled the paunch of an old Pharisee ; how many fair patrimonies of devout young gentlemen Druryed by them (pardon the word, it is their own ; the thing I know and can witness) have gone down the throat of these Loyolists, let their own Quodlibet and Catechism report. What speak I of secular inheritances ? These eyes have seen no mean houses of devotion and charity swallowed up by them. As for their ambitious insinuations, not only all their own religious enviously cry down, but the whole world sees, and rings of. What oar of state can stir, with out their rowing ? What kingdom either stands or falls without their intermeddling ? What noble family complains not of their prowling and stealth ? And all this with a face of sad piety and stern mortification ! " He spoke, too, with burning words of the dissensions in the Church ; of simony and sacrilege ; of the " multitude of unregarded charges and souls dying and starved for want of spiritual WALTHAM. provision ; " of courtiers grating upon poor trades with hard monopolies ; of merchants loading them with deep and unreasonable prices, and making them pay dear for days ; of great men wringing the poor sponges of the commonalty into their private purses, for the maintenance of pride and excess ; of cor morant cornmongers, hatching up a dearth in the time of plenty. God, he told these last, sends grain ; but many times the devil sends garners. The earth had been no niggard in yielding, they had been lavish in transporting and concealing. Let them not talk of the extreme frosts. If their charity were not more frozen than ever the earth was, mean housekeepers would not need to beg, nor the meanest to starve for want of bread. Drunkenness he lashes with a scorpion-whip, not unworthy of the present eloquent Canon of Westminster. " How shamefully is this vice, especially, grown upon us with time ! We knew it once in our ordinary speech appropriated to beggars ; now, gallants fight for it. This beastliness had wont to be bashful; now, it is impudent ; once, children were wont to shout at a drunkard, as some foul wonder ; now, not to be drunk is quarrel enough among men, among friends ; those knees that we were wont to bow to the God of Heaven, are now bent to Bacchus in a paganish, bestial, devilish devotion. To leave the title of Christians, for shame let us be either men or beasts ! " Of Hall's nine brothers and sisters we know little. With his good elder brother, to whose entreaties he owed his university education, we are already acquainted. A younger brother, Samuel, had some .intentions, whether realised or not is uncertain, of entering Holy Orders. A sister was married to the LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Rev. John Brinsley, whose son of the same name, educated at Emmanuel, was afterwards lecturer at Yarmouth, where he died in 1664, and was buried, aged sixty-four, in the Church of St. Nicholas. This latter was the author of the " Ludus Literarius, or the Grammar Schoole," dedicated to the Princes Henry and Charles, and published in 16 12 with a commendatory preface by Hall. He also wrote several elementary books for the use of schools. Mr. Edmund Sleigh, too, Hall's maternal uncle at Derby, has come before us, with open purse defraying in part his nephew's expenses. His cousin Burton, whom he consulted concerning the version of the Psalms, was Archdeacon of Gloucester. His father and father-in-law both appear at this time in the " Epistles," and his intense devotion to his mother has already been described in his own affectionate words. But, so far as I am aware, Hall's works give us no further insight into the elder portion of the family circle. The little light we have, however, is enough to show the affection with which he was regarded, and the position he held as the comforter and coun sellor of them all. From a letter dedicated to his father, the subject of which was the fear of death, it might be fairly conjectured that the old man was now approaching his end. The son sent him the following message of comfort : — " You complain that you fear death ; he is no man that doth not. Besides the pain, nature shrinks at the thought of parting. If you would learn the remedy, know the cause — for that she is ignorant and foolish. She would not be cowardly, if she were not foolish. Our fear is from doubt, and our doubt from unbelief; and whence is our unbelief but chiefly from ignorance ? She knows not what good HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. 113 is elsewhere ; she believes not her part in it. Get once true knowledge and true faith, your fear shall vanish alone. Assurance of heavenly things makes us willing to part with earthly; he cannot contemn this life that knows not the other. If you would despise earth, therefore, think of heaven; if you would have death easy, think of that glorious life that follows it. Certainly, if we can endure pain for health, much more shall we abide a few pangs for glory. "Think how fondly we fear a vanquished, enemy. Lo ! Christ hath triumphed over death ; He bleedeth and gaspeth under us, and yet we tremble. It is enough to us that Christ died ; neither would He have died, but that we might die with safety and pleasure. " Think, that death is necessarily annexed to nature. We are for a time, on condition that we shall not be ; we receive life, but upon the terms of redelivery. Neces sity makes some things easy, as it usually makes easy things difficult. It is a fond injustice to embrace the covenant, and shrink at the condition. " Think, there is but one common road to all flesh ; there are no bye-paths of any fairer or nearer way, no, not for princes. Even company abateth miseries, and the commonness of an evil makes it less fearful. What worlds of men are gone before us ; yea, how many thousands out of one field ! How many crowns and sceptres lie piled up at the gates of death, which their owners have left there as spoils to the conqueror ! Have we been at so many graves, and so often seen ourselves die in our friends ; and do we shrink, when our course cometh ? Imagine you alone were exempted from the common law of man kind, or were condemned to Methuselah's age; assure yourself death is not now so fearful as your life would then be wearisome. " Think, not so much what death is, as from whom he comes, and for what. We receive even homely mes sengers and from great persons not without respect to their masters ; and what matters it who he be, so he bring us 8 H4 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. good news ? What news can be better than this — that God sends for you to take possession of a kingdom ? Let them fear death which know him but as a pursuivant sent from hell ; whom their conscience accuses of a life wilfully filthy, and binds over secretly to condemnation. We know whither we are going, and whom we have believed. Let us pass on cheerfully through these black gates, unto our glory. " Lastly, know that our improvidence only adds terror unto death. Think of death, and you shall not fear it. Do you not see that even bears and tigers seem not terrible to those that live with them ? How have we seen their keepers sport with them, when the beholders durst scarce trust their chain ? Be acquainted with death ; though he look grim upon you at the first, you shall find him, yea, you shall make him, a good companion. Familiarity cannot stand with fear. " These are recipes enough. Too much store doth rather overwhelm than satisfy. Take but these, and I dare promise you security." It is pleasing to relate that filial piety reaped its reward. Within a few months the father had passed away, finishing his course with joy. Writing to Sir Andrew Asteley, Hall says : — " Since I saw you I saw my father die. How boldly and merrily did he pass through the gates of death, as if they had had no terror, but much pleasure ! Oh, that I could as easily imitate, as not forget him ! We know we must tread the same way; how happy if with the same mind ! . . . We lament the loss of our parents ; how soon shall our sons bewail ours ! Lo ! I that write this, and you that read it, how long are we here? It were well if the world were as our tent, yea, as our inn, if not to lodge, yet to bait in but now it is only our thoroughfare; one generation passeth another cometh, none stayeth. If this HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. 115 earth were a paradise, and this which we call our life were sweet as the joys above, yet, how should this fickleness of it cool our delight ! " His father-in-law, Mr. George Weniffe, having complained of dulness, Hall writes exciting him to Christian cheerfulness, and, while reminding him that his disease was common and not unknown even to minds capable of contemning vanities, pointed out that "we sin if we rejoice not. There is not more error in false mirth than in unjust heaviness. If worldlings offend, that they laugh when they should mourn ; we shall offend no less if we droop in cause of cheerfulness." His sister, Mrs. Brinsley, told him of her sorrow, that she could not enough grieve for her sins. The reply is ample proof that the writer, by the comfort wherewith he was himself comforted, was able to comfort them in trouble. " It is seldom seen that a silent grief speeds well. For either a man must have strong hands of resolution to strangle it in his bosom, or else it drives him to some secret mischief; whereas sorrow revealed is half remedied, and even abates in the uttering. Your grief was wisely disclosed, and shall be as strangely answered. " I am glad of your sorrow, and should weep for you if you did not thus mourn. Your sorrow is that you cannot enough grieve for your sins. Let me tell you that the angels themselves sing at this lamentation; neither doth the earth afford any so sweet music in the ears of God. This heaviness is the way to joy. Worldly sorrow is worthy of pity, because it leadeth to death; but this deserves nothing but envy and gratulation. " If those tears were common hell would not so enlarge itself. Never sin repented of was punished, and never any thus mourned and repented not. Lo ! you have done that 116 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. which you grieve you have not done. That good God, Whose act is His will, accounts of our will as our deed. If He required sorrow proportionable to the heinousness of our sins, there were no end of our mourning. Now, His mercy regards not so much the measure as the truth of it, and accounts us to have that which we complain to want. " I never knew any truly penitent which, in the depth of his remorse, was afraid of sorrowing too much ; nor any unre pentant, which wished to sorrow more. Yea, let me tell you, that the sorrow is better and more than that deep heaviness for sin which you desire. Many have been vexed with an extreme remorse for some sin, from the gripe of a galled conscience, which yet never came where - true repentance grew, in whom the conscience plays at once the accuser, witness, judge, tormentor ; but an earnest grief for the want of grief was never found in any but a gracious heart. You are happy, and complain. Tell me, I beseech you — this sorrow which you mourn to want, is it a grace of the Spirit of God, or not? If not, why do you sorrow to want it ? If it be, oh, how happy is it to grieve for want of grace ! The God of all Truth and Blessedness hath said, Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness ; and with the same breath, Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. You say you mourn ; Christ saith you are blessed. Either now distrust your Saviour, or else confess your happiness, and, with patience, expect His promised consolation. " What do you fear ? You see others stand like strong oaks, unshaken, unremoved ; you are but a reed, a feeble plant, tossed and bowed with every wind, and with much agitation bruised. Lo ! you are in tender and favourable hands, that never brake any whom their sins bruised, never bruised any whom their temptations have bowed. You are but flax, and your best is not a flame, but an obscure smoke of grace. Lo ! here His Spirit is as a soft wind, not as cold water ; He will kindle, will never quench you. " The sorrow you want is His gift ; take heed, lest while HALL IN. COUNSEL, ETC. 117 you vex yourself with dislike of the measure, you grudge at the Giver. Beggars may not choose. This portion He hath vouchsafed to give you. If you have any, it is more than He was bound to bestow; yet you say, 'What, no more ! ' as if you took it unkindly that He is no more liberal. Even these holy discontentments are dangerous. Desire more, so much as you can ; but repine not, when you do not attain. Desire, but so as you be free from impatience, free from unthankfulness. Those that have tried can say how difficult it is to complain, with due reser vation of thanks. Neither know I whether is worse, to. long for good things impatiently, or not at all to desire them. " The fault of your sorrow is rather in your conceit than in itself. And, if indeed you mourn not enough, stay but God's leisure, and your eyes shall run over with tears. How many do you see sport with their sins, yea, brag of them ! How many that should die for want of pastime, if they might not sin freely, and more freely talk of it ! What a saint are you to these that can droop under the memory of the frailty of youth, and never think you have spent enow tears ! Yet so I encourage you in what you have as one that persuades you not to desist from suing for more. It is good to be covetous of grace, and to have our desires herein enlarged with our receipts. Weep still, and still desire to weep ; but let your tears be as the rain in a sunshine, comfortable and hopeful, and let not your longing savour of murmur or distrust. These tears are reserved, this hunger shall be satisfied, this sorrow shall be comforted. There is nothing betwixt God and you but time. Prescribe not to His wisdom, hasten not His mercy. His grace is enough for you, His glory shall be more than enough." To his brother he wrote the following letter, invaluable to those who would understand his character, and a useful guide to the ministry : — " It is a great and holy purpose, dear brother, that you 118 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. have entertained of serving God in His Church ; for, what higher or more worthy employment can there be than to do these Divine duties to such a Master, and such a Mother ? "Wherein yet I should little rejoice if any necessity had cast you upon this refuge ; for I hate and grieve to think that any desperate mind should make divinity but a shift, and dishonour this mistress by being forsaken of the world. This hath been the drift of your education, to this you were born and dedicated in a direct course. I do willingly encourage you, but not without many cautions. Enter not into so great a service without much foresight. When your hand is at the plough, it is too late to look back. Bethink yourself seriously of the weight of this charge, and let your holy desire be allayed with some trembling. It is a foolish rashness of young heads, when they are in God's chair, to wonder how they came thither, and to forget the awfumess of that place in the confidence of their own strength, which is ever so much less as it is more esteemed. I commend not the wayward excuses of Moses, nor the peremptory unwillingness of Ammonius and friar Thomas, who maimed themselves that they might be ruefully incapable. Betwixt both these there is an humble modesty, and religious fearfulness, easily to be noted in those whom the Church honours with the names of her Fathers, worthy your imitation ; wherein yet you shall need no precedents, if you well consider what worth of parts, what strictness of carriage, what weight of offices, God expects in this vocation. " Know first, that in this place there will be more holiness required of you than in the ordinary station of a Christian ; for, whereas before you were but as a common line, now God sets you for a copy of sanctification unto others, wherein every fault is both notable and dangerous- Here is looked for a settled acquaintance with God, and experience both of the proceedings of grace, and of the offers and repulses of temptations, which in vain we shall hope to manage in other hearts, if we have not found in our HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. 119 own. To speak by aim or rote of repentance, of contrition, of the degrees of regeneration and faith, is both harsh, and seldom profitable. We trust those physicians best which have tried the virtue of their drugs, esteeming not of those who have only borrowed of their books. Here will be expected a free and absolute government of affections, that you can so steer your own vessel as not to be transported with fury, with self-love, with immoderation of pleasures, of cares, of desires, with excess of passions ; in all which so must you demean yourself as one that thinks he is no man of the world, but of God, as one too good by his double calling for that which is either the felicity or impotency of beasts. Here must be continual and inward exercise of mortification, and severe Christianity, whereby the heart is held in due awe, and the weak flames of the spirit quickened, the ashes of our dulness blown off, a practice necessary in him whose devotion must set many hearts on fire. Here must be wisdom and inoffensiveness of carriage, as of one that goes ever under monitors and knows other men's indifferences are his evils. No man hath such need to keep a strict mean. - Setting aside contempt, even in observation, behold, we are made a gazing stock to the world, to angels, to men. The very sail of your estate must be moderated, which if it bear too high, as seldom, incurs the censure of profusion and Epicur ism ; if too low, of a base and unbeseeming earthliness. Your hand may not be too close for others' need, nor too open for your own. Your conversation may not be rough and sullen, nor over familiar and fawning, whereof the one breeds a conceit of pride and strangeness, the other contempt ; not loosely merry, not cynically unsociable ; not contentious in small injuries, in great not hurtfully patient to the Church. Your attire (for whither do not censures reach ?) not youth fully wanton, not, in these years, affectedly ancient, but grave and comely like the mind, like the behaviour of the wearer. Your gesture like your habit, neither savouring of giddy light ness, nor overly insolence, nor wantonness, nor dull neglect of yourself, but such as may beseem a mortified mind, full of LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. worthy spirits. Your speech, like your gesture, not scurrilous, not detracting, not idle, not boasting, not rotten, not peremptory; but honest, mild, fruitful, savoury, and such as may both argue and work grace. Your deliberations mature, your resolutions well grounded, your devices sage and holy. Neither will it serve you to be thus good alone ; but, if God shall give you the honour of this estate, the world will look you should be the grave guide of a well-ordered family. For this is proper to us, that the vices of our charge reflect upon us, the sins of others are our reproach. If another man's children miscarry, the patient is pitied, if a minister's, censured ; yea, not our servant is faulty without our blemish. In all these occasions, a misery incident to us alone, our grief is our shame." The hint given by Hall that the minister's dress in those years should not be " affectedly ancient," is curiously illustrated by Archbishop Bancroft's letter about pluralities in 1 6 1 0. It is there said that never was clerical pride in the matter of apparel so great as it then was, from the dean to every curate, nothing being left that way to distinguish a bishop from any of them. Deans, nay even some archdeacons and inferior ministers, were to be found in their velvet, damask, or satin cassocks, with their silk nether- stocks. These last — sometimes " wonderful to beholde " — had been prohibited by Queen Elizabeth to all under the degree of a knight, excepting gentlemen of her household with a few others, and such as could afford to spend £200 a year. The same letter, too, throws some light upon Hall's other remarks about the " grave guide of a well-ordered family." The wives, in the cost and vanity of their apparel, exceeded as much or more, and this was the chief cause of the outcry against double-beneficed HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. iai men, and of the prevailing envy and heart-burning against their calling and estates. The archbishop severely reprimands the offenders, reminding them that many of them took more care to garnish them selves than to furnish their studies with useful books. From the • foregoing letters, not brought together in strict order of time, but all belonging to the few years immediately preceding 1 6 1 1, the reader will be able to judge of Hall's power of sympathy, a splendid gift which he possessed in an eminent degree, a treasure of the soul which increased in richness with the ever-growing fulness of his spiritual life. Before we resume the narrative, let us glance at one or two instances of his helpfulness in other directions. Thomas James, D.D., born about 1 5 7 1, at Newport, Isle of Wight, was a scholar of Win chester School and fellow of New College. In 15 99 he published the " Philobiblion " of Richard of Durham, and for this service to literature was made keeper of the Bodleian. He subsequently published, a catalogue of the books in that famous library, an " Apology for John Wickliffe," " Concordances to the Fathers," " The Jesuits' Downfall," and other works. But his great ambition was to collate the manuscripts of the Fathers and ecclesiastical writers, and it is here that he is brought into contact with Hall, who addressed him thus : — " Sir, I know no man so like as you to make posterity his debtor. Our adversaries, knowing of themselves that which Tertullian saith of all heresies, that if appeal be made to the sacred bench of prophets and apostles, they cannot stand, remove the suit of religion craftily into the court of the Fathers, a reverend trial as any under heaven; where it cannot be spoken how confidently they triumph ere the LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. conflict. ' Give us the Fathers for our judges,' say Campion and Possevine, ' the day is ours.' And whence is this courage ? Is antiquity our enemy, their advocate ? Certainly, it cannot be truth, that is new ; we would renounce our religion if it could be overlooked for time. Let go equity ; the older take both. There be two things, then, that give them heart in this provocation — one, the bastardy of false fathers ; the other, the corruption of the true. . . . Plainly, how are the honoured volumes of faithful antiquity blurred, interlined, altered, depraved by subtle treachery, and made to speak what they meant not ! . . . Hence, those Fathers are somewhere not ours, what wonder ? while they are not themselves. Your industry hath offered, and that motion is lively and heroical, to challenge all their learned and excellent pages from injury of corruption, to restore them to themselves, and to us. That which all the learned of our times have but desired to see done, you proffer to effect. Your essay in Cyprian and Austin is happy, and justly applauded. All our libraries, whom your diligent hand hath ransacked, offer their aid in such abundance of manuscripts, as all Europe would envy to see that in one island. After all this, for that the most spiteful imputation to our truth is novelty, you offer to deduce her pedigree from those primitive times, through the successions of all ages ; and to bring into the light of the world many, as yet obscure, but no less certain and authentical patrons, in a continued line of defence. You have given proof enough that these are no glorious vaunts, but the zealous challenges of an able champion. What wanteth then ? Let me say for you : not a heart, not a head, not a hand ; but, which I almost scorn to name in such a cause, a purse. If this continue your hinderance, it will not be more our loss than shame. Hear me a little, ye great and wealthy. Hath God loaded you with so much substance, and will you not lend Him a little of His own ? Shall your riot be fed with excess, while God's cause shall starve for want? Shall our adversaries HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. 123 so insultingly outbid us, and, in the zeal of their profusion, laugh at our heartless and cold niggardliness? Shall heavenly truth lie in the dust for want of a little stamped earth to raise her ? How can you so much any way honour God, yea, yourselves, deserve of posterity, pleasure the Church, and make you so good friends of your mammon ? Let not the next age say that she had so unkind prede cessors. Fetch forth of your superfluous store, and cast in your rich gifts into this treasury of the Temple. The Lord and His Church have need. For you, it angers me to see how that flattering Possevinus smoothly entices you from us, with golden offers, upon the advantage of our neglect. ... As if we were not as able to encourage, to reward desert. Hath virtue no patrons on this side of the Alps ? Are those hills only the thresholds of honour ? I plead not, because I cannot fear you ; but who sees not how munificently our Church scattereth her bountiful favours upon less merit ? If your day be not yet come, expect it ; God and the Church owe you a benefit ; if their payment be long, it is sure. Only go on with courage in those your high endeavours, and in the meantime think it great recompense to have deserved." This appeal was not successful in bringing the necessary funds, and James's design was never carried out. Still, he did not yield to the seductions of Possevin. The preferment Hall anticipated for him came at last in the shape of the Rectory of Mongeham, Kent, and the Sub-deanery of Wells. He died at Oxford, August 1629. Hall's public spirit and readiness in prompting to good was also exhibited in another event which happily passed beyond the sphere of design. This was the founding of the Charter House. Mr, Thomas Sutton, who was one of the richest commoners in England, was known to have long purposed that 124 LIFE OF IOSEPH HALL, D.D. munificent work, but, apparently, was hesitating as to the time. Hall urged him to proceed, and, amongst other things, said, " You cannot but know that your full hand and worthy purposes have possessed the world with much expectation. What speak I of the world ? whose honest and reason able claims cannot be contemned with honour, nor disappointed without dishonour. The God of Heaven, Which hath lent you this abundance, and given you the gracious thoughts of charity, of piety, looks long for the issue of both, and will easily complain, either of too little, or too late. . . . The Christian knows that Well done, faithful servant, is a thousand times more sweet a note than Soul, take thine ease. Blessed be that God Which hath given you a heart to forethink this, and, in this dry and dead age, a will to honour Him with His own, and to credit His gospel with your beneficence. So, we are upbraided with barrenness ; your name hath been publicly opposed to these challenges, as in whom it shall be seen, that the truth hath friends that can give. I neither distrust nor persuade you, whose resolutions are happily fixed on purposes of good. Only give me leave to hasten your pace a little, and to excite your Christian forwardness to begin speedily what you have long and constantly vowed. You would not but do good. Why not now ? I speak boldly, the more speed, the more comfort. Neither the times are in our disposing, nor ourselves. If God had set us a day, and made our wealth inseparable, there were no danger in delaying ; now, our uncertainty either must quicken us, or may deceive us. How many have meant well, and done nothing, and lost their crown with lingering! HALL IN COUNSEL, ETC. 125 Whose destinies have prevented their desires, and have made their good motions the wards of their executors ! Not without miserable success ; to whom that they would have done good is not so great a praise, as it is dishonour that they might have done it. Their wrecks are our warnings ; we are equally mortal, equally fickle . . . How many executors have proved the executioners of honest wills ! . . . Happy is that man that may be his own auditor, supervisor, executor. As you love God and yourself, be not afraid of being happy too soon. Suffer you yourself, therefore, good sir, for God's sake, for the Gospel's sake, for the Church's sake, for your soul's sake, to be stirred up by these poor lines to a resolute and speedy performing of your worthy intentions, and take this as a loving invitation sent from heaven, by an unworthy messenger." Thomas Sutton bought Howard House, once a Carthusian monastery, of the Earl of Suffolk in 161 1, for £13,000, and laid the foundation of the hospital, which has done, and is doing, so much for English education ; but he did not live to see his work finished. Before the end of the next year he was lying in the grave — a touch ing comment on Hall's counsel, borrowed from the Son of Sirach, " Do good before thou die." CHAPTER VII. " THE CHARACTERISTICS OF VIRTUE AND VICE."— EARLIEST CONTROVERSIAL WORKS.— REFUSAL TO LEAVE WALTHAM.— DEATH OF PRINCE HENRY. THERE might appear at first sight to be some inconsistency in a character which so largely combined tender sympathy and keen satire, yet the power for either certainly springs from the same root — a wide knowledge of human nature. To note the habits and feelings of those to whom we are well disposed, and, from the experience of our own pleasures and pains under similar circumstances, to treat them as we would ourselves, is sympathy ; to keep an equally watchful eye upon those to whom we are averse, and partly from sympathy with the opposite virtues, partly from indignation at wrong, to lash their vices, is satire. Hall's study was not confined to books even now, but men formed no small part of his reading. His sym pathies are better trained and cultivated, his judg ment is more accurate, his spiritual experience deeper, his charity more energetic ; still the satirical temper is left, and there is evidence, that it occasioned the owner some trouble in directing it aright. A harmless exercise for it was found in his " Charac- terisms of Vices," the counterpart of his "Charac- "CHARACTERISTICS OF VIRTUE AND VICE." 127 terisms of Virtues,"* in some of which, he says, " Perhaps (which thing I do at once fear and hate) my style shall seem to some less grave, more satyrical. If you find me, not without cause, jealous, let it please you to impute it to the nature of those vices which will not be otherwise handled. The fashions of some evils are, besides the odiousness, ridiculous ; which to repeat is to seem bitterly merry. I abhor to make sport with wickedness, and forbid any laughter here but of disdain." For the conception of this picture-gallery, in which he shows himself so consummate a portrait-painter, Hall was indebted to the heathen moralists-, the " divines " of the ancient world, some of whom "bestowed their time in drawing out the true lineaments of every virtue and vice so lively, that they who saw the medals might know the face : which art they significantly termed Charactery. Their papers were so many tables, their writings so many speaking pictures or living images, whereby the ruder multitude might even by their sense learn to know virtue and discern what to detest." He thought it no shame to learn wit of heathens, neither was it material in whose school he took out a good lesson ;, there was more shame in not following their good, than in not leaving them better. As one, therefore, that in worthy examples held imitation better than invention, he had trodden in their paths, and out of their tablets had drawn * The " Characters of Virtues and Vices " was published not later than 1608. There is a copy of that date in the Bodleian. It was translated into French in i6jo. There is also a copy of this in the Bodleiaa. Portions were put into English Verse by Nahum Tate in 1691. 128 LIFE OF fOSEPH HALL, D.D. these larger portraitures of both sorts. In passing through the gallery we find the wise man, the honest man, the faithful man, the humble man, the valiant man, the patient man, the true friend, the truly noble, the good magistrate, the penitent, and, last upon this side, the happy man ; on the other, the hypocrite, in brief, " the stranger's saint, the neigh bour's disease, the blot of goodness, a rotten stick in a dark night, a poppy in a cornfield, an ill- tempered candle with a great snuff, that in going out smells ill, an angel abroad, a devil at home, and worse when an angel, than when a devil ; " next comes the busybody, whose "estate being too narrow for his mind, he is fain to make himself room in others' affairs, and labours without thanks, talks without credit, lives without love, dies without tears, without pity, save that some say it was pity he died no sooner;" then the superstitious; the profane ; the malcontent, " neither well full, nor fasting ; " the inconstant ; the flatterer, " the moth of liberal men's coats, the earwig of the mighty, the bane of courts, a friend and a slave to the trencher, and good for nothing, but to be a factor for the devil ; " the slothful, " a standing fool which cannot choose but gather corruption, descried among a thousand neighbours by a dry and nasty hand that still savours of the sheet, a beard uncut and uncombed, an eye and ear yellow with their excretions, a coat shaken on, ragged, unbrushed, linen and face striving whether shall excel in uncleanliness ; " the covetous, who returning from the field asks, not without much rage, what became of the loose crust in his cup board, and who hath rioted among his leeks, who never eats a good meal but on his neighbour's "CHARACTERISTICS OF VIRTUE AND VICE" 129 trencher, where he makes amends to his complaining stomach for his former and future fasts, who, if his servant break but an earthen dish for want of light, abates it out of his quarter's wages," and does many other mean things. Passing by these with only just a glance, let us pause and consider more in detail the portrait of a character which the reader will probably admit is by no means obsolete, though the features will, of course, be somewhat changed after so long a time. This is the vainglorious. "All his humour rises up into the froth of ostentation, which, if it once settle, falls down into a narrow room. If the excess be in the understanding part, all his wit is in print, the press hath left his head empty ; yea, not only what he had, but what he could borrow without leave. If his glory be in his devotion, he gives not an alms but on record ; and, if he have once done well, God hears of it often : for, upon every unkindness, he is ready to upbraid Him with his merits. Over and above his own discharge, he hath some satisfaction to spare for the common treasure. He can fulfil the law with ease, and earn God with super fluity. If he have bestowed but a little sum in the glazing, paving, walling of God's house, you shall find it in the church-window. Or, if a more gallant humour possess him, he wears all his land on his back ; and, walking high, looks over his left shoulder to see if the point of his rapier follow him with a grace. He is proud of another man's horse ; and, well mounted, thinks every man wrongs him that looks not at him. A bare head in the street doth him more good than a meal's meat. He swears big at an ordinary ; and talks of the court with a sharp accent : neither vouchsafes to name any not honourable, nor those without some term of familiarity ; and likes well to see the hearer look upon him amazedly, as if he said, ' How happy 9 130 LIFE OF fOSEPH HALL, D.D. is this man, that is so great with great ones ! ' Under pretence of seeking for a scroll of news, he draws out a handful of letters, indorsed with his own style, to the height, half reading every title, passes over the latter part with a murmur, not without signifying what lord sent this, what great lady the other, and for what suits : the last paper, as it happens, is his news from his honourable friend in the French Court. In the midst of dinner his lacquey comes sweating in with a sealed note from his creditor, who now threatens a speedy arrest, and whispers the ill-news in his master's ear, when he aloud names a counsellor of state, and professes to know the employment. The same mes senger he calls with an imperious nod ; and, after expostu lation, where he hath left his fellows, in his ear sends him for some new spur-leathers, or stockings by this time footed ; and, when he is gone half the room, recalls him, and saith aloud, ' It is no matter, let the greater bag alone till I come ; ' and, yet again calling him closer, whispers, so that all the table may hear, that if his crimson suit be ready against the day, the rest need not haste. He picks his teeth when his stomach is empty ; and calls for pheasants at a common inn. You shall find him prizing the richest jewels and fairest horses, when his purse yields not money enough for earnest. He thrusts himself into the press before some great ladies ; and loves to be seen near the head of a great train. His talk is how many mourners he furnished with gowns at his father's funeral, how many messes ; how rich his coat is, and how ancient ; how great his alliance ; what challenges he hath made and answered ; what exploits he did at Calais, or Nieuport ; and, when he hath commended others' buildings, furniture, suits, com pares them with his own. When he hath undertaken to be the broker for some rich diamond, he wears it ; and, pulling off his glove to stroke up his hair, thinks no eye should have any other object. Entertaining his friend, he chides his cook for no better cheer; and names the dishes he meant and wants. To conclude, he is ever on the stage, EARLIEST CONTROVERSIAL WORKS. 131 and acts. a still glorious part abroad; when no man carries a baser heart, no man is more sordid and careless at home. He is a Spanish soldier on an Italian theatre ; a bladder full of wind, a skin full of words ; a fool's wonder, and a wise man's fool." We may not tarry with the distrustful man, who comes next, nor the ambitious, or envious, but must hasten on to other work which engaged Hall's attention about this time. Of a more sober kind, though perhaps not more beneficial to any one ex cept the preacher, was the " Solomon's Divine Arts," composed as a congratulatory present for the young Earl of Essex, on his return from abroad, and con sisting of Solomon's precepts brought together and arranged without comment under the three heads of Ethics, Politics, Economics, or the government of Behaviour, Commonwealth, Family. For some time, too, he had been preparing to enter the dusty arena of controversy. As might almost have been expected, he would not be a silent spectator of the strife between his royal master, aided by the gifted and learned Andrews on the one side, and the no less talented Bellarmine on the other. He, too, mingled in the fray. His first shaft was a tract, called " A Serious Dissuasion from Popery," soon followed by another in 1 609, bearing the ironical title of " The Peace of Rome." Its nature will be best understood from the full title, which ran thus : " The Peace of Rome, proclaimed to all the world by her famous Cardinal Bellarmine, and the no less famous casuist, Navarre ; whereof the one acknowledgeth and numbers up above Three Hundred Differences of Opinion, maintained in the Popish Church ; the other confesses near Threescore Differences amongst 132 LIFE OF fOSEPH HALL, D.D. their own Doctors, in one only point of their Religion. Gathered faithfully out of their writings, in their own words, and divided into Four Books, and those into several Decades. Whereto is pre fixed a serious Dissuasive from Popery. By J. HJ" The volume was dedicated to Prince Henry, whom, he said, the Romanists grieved to see, in the early spring of his age, so firmly rooted in the truth, and, before Hannibal's years, threatening hostility to error. He hopes that it will never be forgotten that in their bloody project, the prince's limbs also should have flown up to heaven with his soul. He prays that God, Who has reserved him for the Second Hope and Stay of the Christian World, may prosper his gracious proceedings, according to the promise of their entrance. His next polemical work in the same direction was the " No Peace with Rome," which title with that of " The Peace of Rome " gave rise to an amusing error : — A foreign author came to the con clusion that Hall had changed his mind, and was reconciled to the Roman Church. Elsewhere an attempt has been made to give some account of Hall as a controversialist. The author, therefore, forbears to take his readers over the necessarily some what dry and barren track of these disputes, and contents himself with pointing out that some twenty years afterwards Hall had occasion, when fiercely assailed on the ground of his leniency towards Rome, to show that he was then in this respect the same that he had ever been. He does, indeed, ask, " Can any man be so foolish to hope that our Church will ever be so mad as thus basely to bolster up the great bridge-maker of Tiber ; as though we could be ignorant how Christ never either performed or EARLIEST CONTROVERSIAL WORKS. 133 promised them any such privilege (as infallibility) ? For, where is it written, as Luther jested well, unless perhaps at Rome, in St. Peter's, upon some chimney with a coal ? " But notwithstanding this, he always maintained that Rome was a " truly visible Church, only an unsound," and it was for maintaining this that he incurred so much odium, and was subjected to the imputation of having accommodated his views to his desires for episcopal promotion. Hall, it will be seen in the sequel* amply vindicated himself, and Bishop Sanderson, in the preface to his Sermons, has added his testimony : — " With what outcries was Bishop Hall (good man, who little dreamt of any peace with Rome) pursued by Burton and other Hotspurs for yielding it a Church f who had made the same concession over and over again before he was Bishop (as Junius, Reynolds, and our best con- troversie-writers generally do) and no notice taken, no noise made of it. You may perceive by this one instance, where the shoe wringeth." In his letters Hall had occasionally treated of controversial topics, and, among others, had addressed an epistle to Smith and Robinson, who, at Amsterdam, were at the head of the Brownist separatists from the Anglican Church. In 16 10, some eighteen months after this, he received an answer to what was called his " Censorious Epistle " in the shape of what he termed a " stomachful pamphlet," which, beside the private wrongs of which he complains, cast upon the honoured name of his dear mother, the Church of England, " blasphemous imputations of Apostacy, Antichristianism, Whoredom Rebellion." The next two months were occupied in writing the " Common Apology of the Church of England 134 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. against the unjust challenges of the over-just sect, commonly called the Brownists," in which he dis cussed at considerable length the various positions taken up by the opponents. It would be perhaps unprofitable to follow these in detail, all the more as they have received some attention in the chapter on controversy. One subject, however, should be considered, since much of Hall's reputation as a polemic rests upon his subsequent treatment of the question, and it is interesting to mark the gradual formation of his opinions. What views did he hold at this time respecting the ministry of the established Church ? He admitted its Divine origin. It was " devised by our Saviour,, when He said, ' Go teach all nations and baptize,' etc. (Matt, xxviii. 19) ; and performed in continuance, when He gave some to be pastors and teachers (Eph. iv. 1 1)." Some part of the ministry thus devised by our Saviour was not to continue, viz., apostles, prophets, evangelists ; the ordinary callings of pastors and doctors " were intended to perpetuity." These pastors and doctors, " call them what you please, super intendents, that is bishops, prelates, priests, lecturers, parsons, vicars, etc.,". ... are allowed by Christ. As regards bishops in particular, he contends that " everywhere, in all ages, there has been an allowed superiority of Church-governors under this title." He invites Calvin to tell his opponents that, '" even in the primitive Church, the presbyters chose one out of their number in every city, whom they titled their bishop, lest dissension should arise from equality." The position of Hall is clearly not Erastian. Nor is it that of Hooker — that episcopal government is an ecclesiastical institution, having EARLIEST CONTROVERSIAL WORKS. 135 indeed a Divine sanction, but not binding of necessity in perpetuity. Calvin was still, a power in the formation of his opinions, and the vision of Calvin brought with it not only the Churches of Calvin's principles, but the other continental reformed, who, it seemed, might be contemned by a too high esteem of our discipline. But Bancroft, in his famous sermon at Paul's Cross in 15 89, had led the way in showing that Scripture was on the side of epis copacy. Saravia, in 1591, had maintained it to be " an apostolical tradition and a Divine institution." Bilson, with his " Perpetual Government of Christ's Church," in 1593, had driven Puritan assailants from every stronghold on the other side, and Bancroft, with his " Survey," in the same year, had supported him in the attack. King James's axiom concerning the connection between a bishop and a king was sounded forth far beyond the room in which sat the Hampton Court Conference. All this had in fluenced the mind of Hall, and he had advanced many steps towards a correct solution of the question. Upon the whole, it appears that now, though he made episcopal superiority to be in a sense of Divine origin, inasmuch as a bishop was a " pastor and doctor," and pastors and doctors were given by Christ, yet in reality it was, according to him, a perpetual ordinance based on expediency. The great event of this year, which sent a shock through Europe, was the assassination of the French monarch, Henry IV., by the fanatic Ravaillac. There is a letter from Hall to Peter Moulin on the sad event. Moulin (b. 1568) in his younger days, after studying at Sedan, had gone to Cambridge, which he left to become professor of philosophy at 136 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Leyden, where also he taught Greek. Returning to France in 1 5 99, he was, at the time of Henry's murder, preacher of the Protestant church at Paris, and was bold enough to charge the Jesuits with the crime, thus becoming involved in a contest with Cotton, the late king's confessor. Hall wrpte as follows : — " Since your travels here with us we have not forgotten you ; but since that your witty and learned travels in the common affairs of religion have made your memory both fresh and blessed. " Behold, while your hand was happily busy in the defence of our king, the heads and hands of traitors were busy in the massacring of your own. God doth no memor able and public act, which he would not have talked of, read, construed of all the world; how much more of neigh bours, whom scarce a sea severeth from each other ! how much yet more of brethren, whom neither land nor sea can sever ! Your dangers, and fears, and griefs, have been ours ; all the salt water that runs betwixt us cannot wash off our interest in all your common causes. The deadly blow of that miscreant, whose name is justly sentenced to forgetfulness, pierced even our sides. Who hath not bled within himself, to think that he who had so victoriously outlived the swords of enemies, should fall by the knife of a villain? And that he should die in the peaceable streets whom no fields could kill ? that all those honourable and happy triumphs should end in so base a violence ? " But, oh our idleness and impiety ! if we see not a Divine hand from above striking with this hand of disloyalty. Sparrows fall not to the ground without Him ; much less kings. One dies by a tile-sherd ; another by the splinters of a lance ; one by lice ; another by a fly ; one by poison ; another by a knife. What are all these but the executioners of that great God Which hath said, Ye are gods, but ye shall die like men ? EARLIEST CONTROVERSIAL WORKS. 137 " Perhaps God saw (that we may guess modestly at the reasons of His acts) you reposed too much in this arm of flesh ; or, perhaps, He saw this scourge would have been too early to those enemies whose sin, though great, yet was not full ; or, perhaps He saw that if that great spirit had been deliberately yielded in his bed, you should not have slept in yours ; or, perhaps the ancient connivance at those streams of blood, from your too common duels, was now called to reckoning ; or, it may be, that weak revolt from the truth. " He, Whose the rod was, knows why He struck ; yet may it not pass without a note, that he fell by that religion to which he fell. How many ages might that great monarch have lived, whatsoever the ripe head of your more than mellow Cotton could imagine, ere his least finger should have bled by the hand of a Huguenot ! All religions may have some monsters ; but, blessed be the God of Heaven, ours shall never yield that good Jesuit, either a Mariana to teach treason, or a Ravaillac to act it. But what is it that we hear? It is no marvel. That holy society is a fit guardian for the hearts of kings. I dare say none more loves to see them ; none takes more care to purchase them. How happy, think they, if it were full of such shrines ! I hope all Christian princes have long and well learned, so great is the courtesy of these good fathers, that they shall never, by their wills, need be troubled with the charge of their own hearts. A heart of a king in a Jesuit's hand is as proper as a wafer in a priest's. Justly was it written of old, under the picture of Ignatius Loyola, Cavete vobis, principles ! ' Be wise, O ye princes ! ' and learn to be the keepers of your own hearts. Yea rather, O Thou Keeper of Israel, that neither slumberest nor sleepest, keep Thou the hearts of all Christian kings, whether alive or dead, from the keeping of this traitorous generation, whose very religion is holy rebellion, and whose merits bloody. Doubtless, that murderer hoped to have stabbed thousands with that blow, and to have let out the life of religion at the side of 138 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. her collapsed patron. God did at once laugh and frown at his project; and suffered him to live, to see himself no less a fool than a villain. Oh, the infinite goodness of the wise and holy Governor of the world ! Who could have looked for such a calm in the midst of a tempest ? Who would have thought that violence would beget peace ? Who durst have conceived that King Henry should die alone ; and that religion should lose nothing but his person? This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes. You have now paralleled us. Out of both our fears God hath fetched security. Oh, that out of our security we could as easily fetch fear, not so much of evil, as of the Author of good ; and yet trust Him in our fear, and in , both magnify Him ! Yea, you have by this act gained some converts against the hope of the agents ; neither can I without many joyful congratulations think" of the estate of your Church, which every day honours with the access of new clients whose tears and sad confessions make the angels to rejoice in heaven, and the saints on earth. We should give you example, if our peace were as plentiful of goodness as of pleasure. But how seldom hath the Church gained by ease, or lost by restraint ! Bless you God for our prosperity ; and we shall praise Him for your pro gress." Hall would have an opportunity of talking the matter over with his friend in 16 15, when Moulin, at the invitation of James, visited England, was made prebend of Canterbury (an honour bestowed upon his son also, who died there towards the end of the century), and received the degree of D.D. from the University of Cambridge. Whether the intimacy between Hall and Moulin began with the letter above quoted, or is to be referred to an earlier date, is not certain ; but it continued long, and Hall was wont to speak of him as his " ancient friend," REFUSAL TO LEAVE WALTHAM. 139 He died at the age of ninety, some eighteen months after Hall's decease. We must now return to Hall and the Prince of Wales. How he was advancing in court favour, with what modesty he shrank from too rapid pro motion, and how amid his letters of comfort, his intelligent interest in political events, and his battles for the truth, he did not forget his duties as a pastor, shall be told in his own words, and the story may be of value to some who are so idly busy in their own narrow range as to despise others of more method and greater energy, who are capable of looking after more than one iron at a time. Only one explanatory remark is needed — that the twenty- four chaplains were required to be in attendance, two at a time, for the space of a month. " In the second year of mine attendance on his Highness when I came for my dismission from that monthly service, it pleased the prince to command me a longer stay ; and, at last, upon mine allowed departure, by the mouth of Sir Thomas Challoner, his governour, to tender unto me a motion of more honour and favour than I was worthy of: which was, that it was his Highness' pleasure and purpose, to have me continually resident at the court as a constant attendant, while the rest held on their wonted vicissitudes : for which purpose his Highness would obtain for me such preferments as should yield me full contentment. I re turned my humblest thanks, and my readiness to sacrifice myself to the service of so gracious a master ; but, being conscious to myself of my unanswerableness to so great expectation, and loth to forsake so dear and noble a patron who had placed much of his heart upon me, I did modestly put it off, and held close to my Waltham, where, in a con stant course, I preached a long time, as I had done also at Halsted before, thrice in the week ; yet never durst I climb 140 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. into the pulpit to preach any sermon, whereof I had not before, in my poor and plain fashion, penned every word in the same order, wherein I hoped to deliver it ; although, in the expression, I listed not to be a slave to syllables." In 1609 he preached the Passion Sermon at Paul's Cross on Good Friday. There is a pleasing candour in the preface to the published edition of it. He says he did not desire to make any apology for publishing ; it was motive enough to aim at a more public and more enduring good. " Spiritual nice- ness is the next degree to unfaithfulness." The drift of the discourse is contained in the words — " The Church of Rome so fixes herself, in her adora tion, upon the Cross of Christ, as if she forgat His glory : many of us so conceive of Him glorious, that we neglect the meditation of His Cross, the way to His glory and ours." In 161 1 and 161 2 he preached before the court two sermons upon Zech. xiv. 20 : — " In that day shall be written upon tlie bridles {or belts) of the horses, Holiness unto lite Lord; and the pots of the Lords house sJiall be like tlte bowls before the altar!' These are interesting examples of his style at this time. The Separatists and the Romanists alike were severely handled. As for the former, if any man was disposed to make himself sport, he should read the tragi-comical relation of the troubles and excommunication of the English at Amsterdam ; for the latter, no play book was more ridiculous than their Pontifical and Book of Holy Ceremonies. War seemed toNbe imminent. Against Agrippa, the Anabaptists, Erasmus, Ferus (Wild), he maintains the legality of war in general, if only it be pro lege et grege, for religion, for the commonwealth, and have two directors, Justice and REFUSAL TO LEAVE WALTHAM. I4I Charity. While acknowledging the difference be tween a preacher and a herald, and claiming the title evangelisans pacem, he dared say that, if in the cause of God and His Church that war should be undertaken, Holiness should be written upon their horses' bridles. He pleaded for the royal interven tion in the unhappy divisions of the Church, enforced the dignity of the priesthood, and called heaven and earth to witness whether any nation in the world could show so learned, so glorious a clergy. " But yet, among so many pots of the Temple, it is no marvel if some be dry for want of liquor ; others, rusty for want of use ; others, full of liquor without meat ; others, so full of meat that they want liquor. Let the Lord's Anointed, Whose example and en couragements have raised even this Divine learning to this excellent perfection, by His gracious counten ance dispel contempt from the professors of it, and by His effectual endeavours remove the causes of this contempt." The profligate character of the court of James I., perhaps not outdone even by that of Charles 1 1., is well known, and it did not escape the lash. " It were happy," said Hall, " if the court were free, and as.it receives more sweet influences of favour than all other places, so that it returned back more fragrant obedience ; that, as it is said of Mary's spikenard wherewith she anointed Christ, that the whole house was filled with the savour of the ointment, so the whole world might be full of the pleasant perfumes of virtuous example that might arise from thence. But, alas ! the painted faces, and manishness, and monstrous disguisedness, . of the one sex ; the factious hollowness, prodigal garishness, wanton pampering, excess in our respect \\Z LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. to ourselves, defects in our respects to God, iri the other ; argue too well, that too many of us savour more of the golden sockets of the holy lights, than the bowls of the altar." In the autumn of 1612 Hall dedicated to Prince Henry the first part of his " Contemplations," which, now begun, were not completed until he had been some time Bishop of Exeter. He himself tells us that they were the quintessence of sermons reduced to the form of meditations. A sorrowful interest attaches to the first volume — it was the last book ever dedicated to the Prince, and the last that was turned over by his hand. On November 6th Henry, in whom so many hopes were centred, the darling of one party, the possible dread of another, the favourite of historians, and, in spite of some faults, the ornament of his station, and the pride of his country, suddenly died. So sudden was his decline that there was some suspicion of poison, happily un founded. The funeral was one of great pomp and solemnity. Hall was present, and on New Year's Day 1623 performed the mournful task of preaching to the household of St. James's on the occasion of their disbanding. The sermon, full of pathos, of tender and restrained emotion, shows that Hall's affection for his young master was as sincere as the prince's regard for his chaplain. No one can read it without almost melting into tears. Towards the end he said : — " We are all now parting one from another ; and now is loosing a knot of the most loving and entire fellowship, that ever met in the court of any prince. Our sweet master, that was compounded of all loveliness, infused this gracious harmony into our hearts. Now we are saluting our last ; DEATH OL PRINCE HENRY. 143 and every one is, with sorrow enough, taking his own way. How safe, how happy shall we be, if each of us have God to go with him ! Certainly, my dear fellows, we shall never complain of the want of masters, of friends, while we find ourselves sure of Him ; nothing can make us miserable, while we are furnished with Him He shall counsel us in our doubts, direct us in our resolutions, dispose of us in our estate, cheer us in our distresses, prosper us in our lives, and in our deaths crown us. . . . What if we shall meet here no more ? What if we shall no more see one another's face? Brethren, we shall once meet together above, we shall once see the glorious face of God, and never look off again. Let it not overgrieve us to leave these tabernacles of stone, since we must shortly lay down these tabernacles of clay, and enter into tabernacles, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Till then, farewell, my dear brethren, farewell in the Lord. Go in peace, and live as those that have lost such a master, and as those that serve a Master Whom they cannot lose, and the God of Peace go with you, and prosper you in all your ways." On the night of the prince's decease a rainbow was seen, or said to be seen, over St. James's. The season was inclement, and sickness had swept away thousands. The king did not simulate a grief which he did not feel, and the court was not even put into mourning. The minds of the courtiers were turning to a more joyous event, the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth with Frederick, Elector Pala tine, which was shortly afterwards celebrated, in the following February. Oxford, with traditional loyalty, had expressed its sympathy on Monday, December 7th, with a " solemn obsequy," a sermon and funeral oration at St. Mary's, and the like in the afternoon at Christ Church, both places being hung with black. " A book of Latin elegies and funeral 144 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, DJ>. verses " had also been set forth. But Hall's own University had not been so forward, though some verses- had been privately distributed. All this will account for the tone of the two elegies with which he commemorated the loss of the prince. The first, " Upon the unseasonable times that have followed the unseasonable death of my Sweet Master, Prince Henry," was this : — " Fond Vulgar, canst thou think it strange to find So watery winter and so wasteful wind ? What other face could Nature's age become, In looking on great Henry's hearse and tomb ? The world's whole frame his part in mourning bears ; The winds are sighs ; the rain is Heaven's tears ; And if these tears be ripe, and sighs be strong, Such sighs, such tears to these sad times belong. These show'rs have drown'd all hearts ; these sighs did make The Church, the world, with griefs, with fears to shake. Weep on, ye Heav'ns, and sigh as ye begon, Men's sighs and tears are slight, and quickly done." The second, " Of the rainbow, that was reported to be seen in the night, over St. James's, before the Prince's death ; and of the unseasonable winter since," ran thus : — " Was ever nightly rainbow seen ? Did ever winter mourn in green ? Had that long bow been bent by day, 'T had chased all our cloud away ; But now that it by night appears, It tells the deluge of our tears. No marvel rainbows shine by night, When suns ere noon do lose their light. Iris was wont to be, of old, Heav'n's messenger to earthly mould ; And now she came to bring us down Sad news of Henry's better crown. DEATH OF PRINCE HENRY. 14S And as the Eastern star did tell The Persian sages of that cell, Where Sion's King was born and lay, And over that same house did stay ; So did that western bow descry Where Henry, prince of men, should die. Lo ! there this arch of heavenly state Rais'd to the triumph of his fate ; Yet rais'd in dark of night, to show His glory should be with our woe. And now, for that men's mourning weed Reports a grief not felt indeed ; The winter weeps and moans indeed, Though clothed in a summer weed." 10 CHAPTER VIII. HALL- AND CHURCH DEFENCE.— LIFE AT WALTHAM. — VISIT , TO PARIS— DEAN OF WORCESTER. SOME three or four years previous to the date at which we have arrived, Hall, preaching at Paul's Cross, had spoken of sacrilegious patrons, the merchants of souls, the pirates of the Church, the enemies of religion, and, contrasting them with the Pharisees of old, had said, " They tithed all, you nothing ; they paid to their Levites, your Levites must pay to you ; your cures must be purchased, your tithes abated, or compounded for. If ever thou be the fatter for this gravel, or the richer with that thou stealest from God, let me come to beg at thy door. Woe to you, spiritual robbers ! Our blind forefathers clothed the Church, you despoil it ; their ignorant devotion shall rise in judgment against your ravening covetousness. If robbery, simony, perjury will not carry you to hell, hope still you may be saved." This fierceness was not the mere rhetorical affectation of the pulpit. The speaker had himself smarted from the rapacity of his patron, and had known the worrying care of supporting a wife and family on the verge of poverty. Nor was he a solitary instance. The condition of the clergy was distressing. Little more than seventy years had passed since the Church had HALL AND CHURCH DEFENCE. 147 fallen among thieves, and her wounds were still bleeding from the treatment she then received. Again and again she had been pillaged. Elizabeth, with her many virtues, lacked one, — a just regard for ecclesiastical property. Archbishop Bancroft had brought in a Bill to succour the suffering clergy, but in 1 6 1 1 Abbot, whose knowledge of clerical work did not extend beyond what he could acquire by residence within the walls of a college, and whose sympathies had had no training except in a long and fruitless squabble with Laud, had been appointed to the primacy. His chief concern was to foster Puritanism ; for the contemptible and degraded lot of those who were doing the Church's work he cared little, or not at all. The spectacle was indeed a bitter one. Rich and powerful laymen, founding noble families and maintaining their state with the spoils of the Church, were everywhere to be seen, while the ministry had " scarce enough to feed them and keep them warm ; " the country parson might not expect anything better for his boys than to apprentice them to a trade ; the great men's chaplains were a little better paid than the cook and butler. Not to be sheepish in a good cause was one of Hall's maxims. A good cause now presented itself, and the sequel will show that the man was well adapted to apply the maxim. On other occasions he may perhaps seem to have been somewhat too pliant, on this he exhibited a firmness and a tenacity of purpose which does him infinite credit. The deanery of Wolverhampton dates from 996. Edward II. granted to it, with many of his free chapels, exemption from all ordinary jurisdiction, as well as many other privileges. In 1479 Edward IV. ,148 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. annexed the College of Wolverhampton to ' the Chapel of Windsor, so that the dean of St. George's at Windsor should be dean of Wolverhampton, and prebendary of the first of its eight prebends, which grant was confirmed by Act of Parliament. At the dissolution of the monasteries the ancient Church of St. Mary, or as since the time of Henry III. it had been called, the Church of St. Peter, was allowed to retain its collegiate character, but its lands having been seized by Edward VI. in the second year of his reign, were granted in 1553 to the Duke of Northumberland, who destroyed the images of the saints to whom the different chantries, chapels, and guilds were dedicated, removed the high altar just erected at great expense, and took formal possession of the emoluments.* Queen Mary restored the College to its former rank, but its property, excepting a mere pittance, was in lay hands, and in 1555, by the marriage of Thomas Leveson with Mary, the daughter of Robert Broke, it devolved upon the Leveson family. Three years after this Sir Richard Leveson, by a chancery suit, established his title, and the Church lands were now leased out for lives in smaller parcels. The deanery had been again annexed to Windsor by Queen Mary, and Elizabeth had confirmed the annexation, but in the eighth year of James I. Giles Thompson, then dean, granted to Sir Walter Leveson the deanery and all lands belonging thereto in the counties of Stafford and Worcester, and all mines, etc., at an annual rent of £3 8, and an entertainment for the dean and his retinue two days and three nights in a year. The lessee, however, *V~ide Dr. Oliver's " Collegiate Church of Wolverhampton." HALL AND CHURCH DEFENCE. 149 refusing to pay his rent without considerable deduc tions, the validity of the lease was questioned, and it was now that Hall, at the request of his cousin, determined to do battle. The bill in chancery was filed by him as prebendary of Willenhall, and Christopher Cragg, prebendary of Hatterton, in the thirteenth year of James I. One other remark, and then Hall shall tell the story of his long and weary suit, carried on for years, and at last issuing in the recovery of the lost property. He speaks of a sup posed concealment . The reader will perhaps allow me to remind him that when Church lands were given to the Crown, some were here and there privily detained, and held by private persons, or corpora tions, or churches. Queen Elizabeth, coming to understand this, appointed a commission to search after these concealments. It is to the possibility of such an inquiry that Hall refers when he speaks of a third dog taking the bone from the other two. "My worthy kinsman, Mr. Samuel Burton, Archdeacon of Gloucester, knowing in how good terms I stood at court, and pitying the miserable condition of his native church of Wolverhampton, was very desirous to engage me in so difficult and noble a service as the redemption of that captivated church. For which cause he importuned me to move some of my friends to solicit the Dean of Windsor, who by an Ancient Annexation is patron thereof, for the grant ofa particular prebend, when it should fall vacant in that church. Answer was returned me, that it was fore- promised to one of my fellow-chaplains. I sat down with out further expectation. Some year or two after, hearing that it was become void, and meeting with that fellow- chaplain of mine, I wished him much joy of the prebend. He asked me if it were void. I assured him so ; and, telling 150 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. him of the former answer, delivered to me in my ignorance of his engagement, wished him to hasten his possession of it. He delayed not. When he came to the Dean of Windsor (Anthony Maxey, 1612-1618) for his promised dispatch, the Dean brought him forth a letter from the Prince, wherein he was desired and charged to reverse his former engagement, since that other chaplain was other wise provided for, and to cast that favour upon me. I was sent for, who least thought of it ; and received the free collation of that poor dignity. It was not the value of the place, which was but nineteen nobles per annum, that we aimed at; but the freedom of a goodly church, consisting of a dean and eight prebendaries competently endowed, and many thousand souls lamentably swallowed up by wilful recusants, in a pretended fee-farm for ever. O God, what a hand hadst Thou in the carriage of this work! When we set foot in this suit (for another of the prebendaries joined with me) we knew not wherein to insist, nor where to ground a complaint : only we knew that a goodly patrimony was, by a sacrilegious conveyance, detained from the church. But, in the pursuit of it, such marvellous light opened itself unexpectedly to us, in revealing of a counter feit seal, found in the ashes of that ' burned house, of a false register, in the manifestation of raspres and interpolations, and misdates of unjustifiable evidences; that, after many years' suit, the wise and honourable Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, upon a full hearing, adjudged these two sued-for prebends clearly to be returned to the church, until, by Common Law, they could if possibly, be revicted. Our great adversary, Sir Walter Leveson,* finding it but loss * The Levesons, as is well known, were the ancestors ofthe present Dukes of Sutherland, and had long had great local influence, having acquired much wealth by trading in wool. In 1544 a Sir Walter Leveson, giving away what did not belong to him, had presented St. Peter's, Wolverhampton, with choir stalls, taken from the dissolved monastery of Lilleshall. HALL AND CHURCH DEFENCE. 151 and trouble to struggle for litigious sheaves, came off to a peaceable composition with me of forty pounds per annum for my part, whereof ten should be to the discharge of my stall in that church, till the suit should by course of Common Law be determined. We agreed upon fair wars. The cause was heard at the King's Bench Bar, where a special verdict was given for us. Upon the death of my partner in the suit, in whose name it had now been brought, it was renewed; a jury was empannelled in the county; the foreman, who had vowed he would carry it for Sir Walter Leveson howsoever, was, before the day, stricken mad, and so continued. We proceeded with the same success we formerly had. While we were thus striving, a word fell from my adversary that gave me intimation, that a third dog would perhaps come in and take the bone from us both, which I, finding to drive at a supposed conceal ment, happily prevented. For I presently addressed myself to his Majesty with a petition for renewing the charter of that church, and the full establishment of the laws, rights, liberties thereto belonging, which I easily obtained from those gracious hands. Now Sir Walter Leveson, seeing the patrimony of the church so fast and safely settled, and misdoubting what issue these his crazy evidences would find at the Common Law, began to incline to offers of peace ; and at last drew him so far, as that he yielded to those two main conditions, not particularly for myself, but ¦ for the whole body of all those prebends which pertained to the church : — first, that he would be content to cast up that fee-farm which he had of all the patrimony of that church, and disclaiming it, receive that which he held of the said church by lease from us the several prebendaries for term, whether of years, or, which he rather desired, of lives; secondly, that he would raise the maintenance of every prebend (whereof some were but forty shillings, others three pounds, others four, etc.) to the yearly value of thirty pounds to each man during the said term of his lease ; only, for a monument of my labour and success 152 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D, herein, I required that my prebend might have the addition of ten pounds per annum above the rest. We were busily treating of this happy match for that poor church ; Sir Walter Leveson was not only willing, but forward ; the then Dean, Mr. Antonius de Dominis, Archbishop of Spalato. (of whom more hereafter), gave both way and furtherance to the despatch ; all had been most happily ended, had not the scrupulousness of one or two of the number deferred so advantageous a conclusion. " In the meanwhile Sir Walter Leveson dies, leaves his young orphan ward to the King. All our hopes were now blown up ; an office was found of all those lands, the very wonted payments were denied, and I called into the Court of Wards, in fair likelihood to forego my former hold and yielded possession. But there it was justly awarded by the Lord Treasurer, then Master of the Wards, that the orphan could have no more, no other right than the father. I was therefore left in my former state ; only, upon public com- " plaint of the hard condition wherein the orphan was left, I suffered myself to be over-entreated, to abate somewhat of that evicted composition ; which work having once firmly settled, in a just pity of the mean provision, if not the desti tution of so many thousand souls, and a desire and care to have them comfortably provided for in the future, I resigned up the said prebend to a worthy preacher, Mr. Lee, who should constantly reside there, and painfully instruct that great and long-neglected people, which he hath hitherto performed with great mutual contentment and happy success." In 1846 the collegiate establishment ceased to exist, and its property was vested in the Ecclesias tical Commissioners ; the deanery is suppressed, the township is divided into thirteen parishes, St. Peter's being a rectory, the rest vicarages. But the memory of Hall's good work still lives, and has HALL AND CHURCH DEFENCE. 153 been perpetuated by the thoughtful care of Arch deacon lies, a former rector of St. Peter's, who has placed a Minton tile tablet in the wall of the north aisle of that church. Through the kindness of the present rector, the Rev. J. T. Jeffcock, I am in possession of the inscription, which is as follows : — In memory of Joseph Hall, D.D., Bishop of Norwich, Prebendary in 1612 of this church, Restorer of its freedom and patrimony, and careful Shepherd of " its great and long- neglected people." Born 1574, died 1656. The eve of the Annunciation 161 3, being the anniversary of the accession of James to the throne, was observed with much rejoicing in London. The bells were ringing, bonfires were blazing in the streets, feasting was universal. It fell to Hall to preach at St. Paul's Cross the sermon called a Holy Panegyric in commemoration of the event. The sermon was not, indeed, as the author said it should not be, altogether laudatory, but there is much laudation in it, and even adulation. Queen Elizabeth was at some length brought under review, and Prince Henry, too, received his meed of praise, but of course the king was the chief object of eulogy. The preacher told his hearers that when the mourners, standing round Henry's deathbed, lamented their wickedness as the cause of their sorrow, the dying prince, with Christian modesty, replied, " No, no, I have sins enough of my own to do this." Of Elizabeth, Hall said many pleasant things, and, upon the whole, his words did not belie the truth, though, remembering that two hun- 154 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. dred Roman Catholics are estimated to have been put to death in her reign, some would no doubt dispute the " sweetness of her government." His retrospect of our relations to the papacy during Elizabeth's reign is noteworthy. A few years after wards he would not have ventured so to speak ; but the Spanish faction had not yet become so important as it afterwards was, and political considerations had not yet made it expedient for James to seek a match for his son in the family of the pope's chief royal supporter. Hall, at this time, could safely, without wounding any susceptibilities, dilate upon Rome's malignant attacks on England, and upon England's successful resistance to Rome. Pope Clement might call Elizabeth a wretched woman, but Hall considered her the mother of the nation, the, nurse of the Church, the glory of woman hood, the envy and example of foreign nations, the wonder of times, by the virtues proper to her sex the queen of women, and by the masculine graces of learning, valour, wisdom, the queen of men, so learned that she could give answers to ambassadors in their own tongue, so valiant that her name, like Zisca's drum, made the proudest Romanists to quake, so wise that whatever fell out happily against the common adversary in France, the Netherlands, Ireland, was by themselves ascribed to her policy. Pius V. might launch his bull of excommunication against her, and, now that she was dead, her enemies might put her into their processions, like a tormented ghost, attended with fiends and firebrands, but she had never been so prosperous as when she was cursed, and he doubted not her glory in heaven was as much HALL AND CHURCH DEFENCE. 155 greater as was their malice. He vividly depicted the gloomy anticipations which prevailed as to her death : " Every one pointed to her white hairs and said, When this snow melts, there will be a flood." No day, except always the 5 th of Novem ber, was like to be so bloody as the day she died. Lots were cast upon our land, and Parsons had even drawn up a programme for the direction of affairs, when England should have passed into the hands of the Romanists. 1 How far Hall's eulogy was adulation, and whether he was at heart an absolutist, I have attempted to show in a separate chapter. It will therefore be unnecessary to touch upon the subject here, at the best a painful one to a biographer. In the interest, however, of historical truth, Hall's estimate of the character of James, as viewed by the light of his acts, almost contemporary, must be questioned. This sermon was preached on March 24th, 161 3, and amongst other virtues, one put conspicuously in the front is the king's mercy, which, it is hinted, might be thought to be even excessive. " I pray God the measure of this virtue may never hurt himself ; I am sure the want of it shall never give cause of complaint to his adversaries." Again, Hall congratulates himself and his hearers on the happy state of things exist ing, and the peaceful immunity from persecution then said to be enjoyed. " Here hath been no dragging out of houses, no hiding of Bibles, no creeping into woods, no Bonnering or butchering of God's saints, no rotting in dungeons, no casting of infants out of the mother's belly into the mother's flames ; nothing but God's truth abundantly preached, cheerfully professed, encouraged, rewarded." Had 156 LIFE OE JOSEPH HALL, D.D. Hall forgotten that on March 18th, in the previous year, one Bartholomew Legate was burned in Smith- field for heresy ? His crime was that in reading the Bible he had not kept close to orthodoxy, and had tried to influence others in the same direction. The king had argued with him before the Consistory Court of St. Paul's in the presence of a great assem blage, and finding him resolute in his resistance had spurned him with his foot before leaving him to his fate. Subsequently the king directed letters to the Lord Chancellor to issue a writ de J-ieretico comburendo. Had Hall forgotten that within a month of Legate's murder another victim, for the same offence, had been burned at Lichfield ? Did he not know that, as Fuller says, the novelty and hideousness of the punishment had roused the indignation of the people ? Did he really not understand the character of the king ? whose delight was cock-fighting and baiting bulls and bears, and who has been declared by a recent historian to have been incapable of pity; not too harsh a sentence when we think of Raleigh, fifteen years a prisoner, and then executed because he had not brought any gold from Guiana, and had quarrelled with the Spaniards. The truth appears to be that Hall, though he approved the death of Servetus, did not approve of the death of these men, or he would have said so ; but that, conscious of the obloquy his royal master had incurred, he draws a contrast between the terrible days of persecution, passed away with their countless victims, and the comparative blessedness of his own day, when solitary executions stirred men's wrath and pity. His words must thus, I think, be regarded, not as a justification of the king's conduct, but as an apology for it; not LIFE AT WALTHAM. 157 altogether satisfactory, it must be admitted, but perhaps as truthful as most men could or would make it, under similar circumstances. Of Hall's home-life at Waltham we have a valuable account in a letter to his patron, which, though it may be somewhat ideal (and who quite lives up to his ideal ?), was yet no doubt in the life of one so methodical and devout very largely put into practice. We are thus enabled to come very close to the man himself, and by being in his com pany in the study, at the fireside, and in the parish, to see for ourselves what manner of man he was. The date of the letter was probably some time in 1612. " Let me tell your Lordship how I would pass my days, whether common or sacred, that you, or whosoever others overhearing me, may either approve my thriftiness, or correct my errors. To whom is the account of my hours either more dear or more known? " All days are His who gave time a beginning and con tinuance ; yet some He hath made ours, not to command but to use. In none may we forget Him ; in some we must forget all besides Him. First, therefore, I desire to awake at those hours, not when I will but when I must ; pleasure is not a fit rule for rest but health ; neither do I consult so much with the sun as mine own necessity, whether of body, or in that of the mind. If this vassal could well serve me waking it should never sleep ; but now it must be pleased that it may be serviceable. "Now, when sleep is rather driven away than leaves me, I would ever awake with God. My first thoughts are for Him who hath made the night for rest and the day for travel, and as He gives so blesses both. If my heart be early seasoned with His presence, it will savour of Him all day after. While my body is dressing, not with an effeminate 158 LIFE OF JOSEPH HALL, D.D. curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect, my mind addresses itself to her ensuing task, bethinking what is to be done, and in what order, and marshalling, as it may, my hours with my work. " That done, after some while meditation, I walk up to my masters and companions, my books ; and, sitting down amongst them with the best contentment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any of them till I have first looked up to heaven and craved favour of Him to whom all my studies are duly referred, without whom I can neither profit nor labour. After this, out of no over-great variety, I call forth those which may best fit my occasions ; wherein I am not too scrupulous of age ; sometimes I put myself to school to one of those ancients whom the Church hath honoured with the name of Fathers, whose volumes I confess not to open without a secret reverence of their holiness and gravity; sometimes to those latter Doctors which want nothing but age to make them classical ; always to God's Book. That day is lost whereof some hours are not improved in those Divine monuments ; others I turn over out of choice, these out of duty. " Ere I can have sat into weariness, my family having now overcome all household distractions, invite me to our common devotions, not without some short preparation. These heartily performed, send me up with a more strong and cheerful appetite to my former work, which I find made easy to me by intermission and variety. " Now, therefore, cah I deceive the hours with change of pleasures, that is of labours. One while mine eyes are busied, another while my hand ; and sometimes my mind takes the burden from them both, wherein I would imitate the skilfuUest cooks, which make the best dishes with manifold mixtures. One hour is spent in textual divinity, another in controversy ; histories relieve them both. Now, when the, mind is weary of other labours, it begins to undertake her own ; sometimes it meditates and winds up for future use ; sometimes it lays forth her conceits into LIFE AT i WALTHAM. \