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 From /lisWitt in tfie Brfvgatire Office, 
 
 I 
 
 From his Will in. the Consistory Court at Canterbury. 
 
 Engmvcd by CHtath . 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Published'hy John Major Fleet Street , 
 l^.Tulv. 1825. 
 
THE 
 
 LIVES 
 
 OF 
 
 DR. JOHN DONNE, SIR HENRY WOTTON, 
 
 MR. RICHARD HOOKER, 
 
 MR. GEORGE HERBERT, 
 
 AND 
 
 DR. ROBERT SANDERSON: 
 BY IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 
 
 THE AUTOGRAPHS OF THOSE EMINENT MEN, 
 
 NOW FIRST COLLECTED J 
 
 AN INDEX, AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. 
 
 These were Honourable Men in their Generationi. Ecclus. xliv. 7. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN MAJOR, FLEET-STREET, 
 
 ADJOINING SERJEANTS'-INN. 
 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
5#i 1 
 
 'vi,' 
 
 " There are no colours in the fairest sky, 
 So fair as these ; the feather whence the pen 
 Was shaped, that traced the Lives of these good men? 
 JDropt from an angel's wing : with moistened eye, 
 We read of faith, and purest charity, 
 In statesman, priest, and humble citizen. 
 Oh ! could we copy their mild virtues then, 
 What joy to live, what happiness to die ! 
 Methinks their very names shine still and bright, 
 Satellites turning in a lucid ring, 
 Around meek Walton's heavenly memory !" 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 
 Printed at the Shakspeare Press, by W. Nicol, 
 Cleveland-Row, St. James's. 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 The motives and feelings whieh have influenced the 
 publisher of the present work, being precisely similar 
 to those which gave birth to its precursor, the recent edi- 
 tion cf the " Complete Angler," he begs to refer the 
 Reader to the Introductory pages of that volume, in pre- 
 ference to craving his attention, for more than a moment, 
 from the inimitable language of Walton. A single re- 
 mark may suffice. Whilst the " Angler" has been too 
 commonly supposed interesting to anglers only, the 
 "Lives" have been as falsely appropriated to the de- 
 lights of the mere antiquarian reader. A proper degree 
 of public spirit appears to have been alone wanting to 
 prove that the two works possess the seeds of popularity 
 in an equal degree ; and that, singular as the fact may 
 appear, they mutually illustrate and explain each other. 
 Alike irresistible in the excellence of their tendencies, the 
 one might be characterised as the Ritual of the Fields ! the 
 other the ' ' Book of the Church /" 
 
 In these delightful compositions — remarkable for their 
 veracity, yet teeming with incidents which might be en- 
 vied even by the writer of Romance — abounding with 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 important historical facts not elsewhere related— yet here 
 related in language unrivalled at once for sweetness and 
 for power! — in these delightful Lives, we can alone dis- 
 cover those peculiar habitudes of their author, by which 
 he was enabled to render his piscatorial work a general 
 favorite, independently of all attachment to the art itself, 
 and even in many instances of total aversion! — In the 
 Complete Angler his extreme beauty of style seems to 
 impart new charms to the universal face of Nature ; 
 whilst in his Lives, Philology and History are but as the 
 handmaids to Morality and Religion ! 
 
 Good books appear to be the natural caskets wherein 
 to deposit those " Gems of Art" which at once illustrate 
 and are illustrated by the association:* and never did 
 there exist a fitter repository than the ensuing pages, for 
 that mass of talent here collected and dedicated to " set 
 the Author's memory on fire I" May this delightful man 
 only be known according to his worth ! — May the " Bro- 
 thers of the Angle" be also " Fishers of Men I" and the 
 inestimable works of the Benevolent Walton, " find 
 or make all readers like him I" 
 May 1st, 1825. J. M. 
 
 * To have been instrumental in extending the circulation 
 and usefulness of such a writer as Walton, is of itself an un- 
 speakable gratification ; but a still prouder result is aboutto 
 attend the publisher's zealous labours. The London Walton 
 and Cotton Club, " adopting the idea suggested in his Intro- 
 ductory Essay" (p. 47, edit. 1823— p. 29, edit. 1824,) " have 
 resolved on erecting a Monument in Winchester Cathedral, to 
 the mem 017 of Honest Izaah " and steps are now taking by 
 that spirited Society for carrying the design into effect. 
 
y 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 THE EMBELLISHMENTS 
 
 CONTAINED IN 
 
 j. major's edition of izaak walton's lives. 
 
 mdcccxxv. 
 
 WOOD-CUTS. 
 
 1. Page iii. Preface, Head- piece: Portraits and Arms of 
 
 Dr. Alexander Nowell, Dean of St, Paul's ; Dr. 
 William W T hittaker ; and the Rev. William Perkins, 
 three eminent Divines and Anglers, mentioned in Wal- 
 ton's Complete Angler, Chap. I. Drawn by W. H. 
 Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 2. Page xvi. List of Embellishments, Tail-piece : Emblems 
 
 of Painting, including the Youthful Portrait of Dr. 
 Donne, mentioned at page 73, of the ensuing Life. 
 Drawn from the Original Engraving by W. H. Brooke : 
 Engraved by H. White. 
 
 3. Page xvii. Walton's Original Dedication, Head-piece : 
 
 Miniature Portrait of Dr. George Morley, Bishop of 
 Winchester, surrounded by a star, ribband, and badge, 
 as Prelate of the Order of the Garter. Drawn by R. 
 Thomson : Engraved by H. White. 
 
 4. Page xix. Life of Dr. John Donne, Device in the Title- 
 
 page : South entrance to St. Paul's Cathedral before 
 the Fire of London, being the gate immediately leading 
 to Dr. Donne's Monument ; surrounded by a wreath 
 of those " curious and costly flowers," with which his 
 
vi DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 
 
 grave was adorned for some days after his interment : 
 vide the ensuing Life, page 77. Drawn by W. H. 
 Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 5. Page 2. Life of Dr. John Donne. Introduction, Tail- 
 
 piece : Armorial Ensigns of the three learned Societies 
 of which Dr. Donne was a Member ; namely, Hart- 
 Hall, Oxford ; Trinity College, Cambridge ; and Lin- 
 coln's Inn, London : vide the ensuing Life, pages 4,5. 
 Drawn by R. Thomson : Engraved by the late W. 
 Hughes. 
 
 6. Page 3. Head-piece : View 
 
 of Losely Hall, in the County of Surrey, the Seat of 
 Sir George More, the Father-in-law of Dr. Donne, to 
 which he removed his daughter, previously to her 
 private marriage : vide the ensuing Life, page 8. 
 Drawn and Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 7. i ■ ■ Initial Letter M. : 
 
 Armorial Ensigns of the Deanery of St. Paul's Cathe- 
 dral, and the families of Donne and More. Drawn by 
 R. Thomson : Engraved by the late W. Hughes. 
 
 8. Page 14. Portrait and Arms 
 
 of Dr. Thomas Morton, Bishop of Durham. Drawn 
 by R. Thomson : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 9. Page 31. Interior View of the 
 
 Great Gallery at Theobald's Palace, Hertfordshire. 
 Drawn and Engraved by G. W. Bonner, from a scarce 
 print in the possession of the Publisher, copied from 
 an Original Painting, supposed by Steenwyck, pre- 
 served at Hinton St. George, the seat of the Right 
 Honourable the Earl Poulett, in the County of Somer- 
 set. The figures in this view are Portraits copied 
 from Vandyke; the Nobleman with the wand is 
 William Herbert, Earl of Montgomery; by whom 
 stand the Queen Henrietta Maria, and King Charles I. 
 The head of Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, is seen 
 through the doorway ; and on the left appears Geoffrey 
 
THE EMBELLISHMENTS. vii 
 
 Hudson, the Queen's Dwarf: vide Gough's British 
 Topography, Vol. I. page 426. Walpole's Anecdotes 
 of Painting, Vol. II. pp. 176, 177. 
 
 10. Page 42. Life of Dr. John Donnr. Portrait and Arms 
 
 of Elizabeth, Princess Palatine, and Queen of Bohemia; 
 from " A Collection of Royal Letters " by Sir George 
 Bromley, Bart. Lond. 1787, 8vo. page x. Above the 
 portrait is a representation of that Mourning Ring 
 containing the hair of King Charles I., which the Queen 
 wore in commemoration of his Martyrdom : vide the 
 preceding work, page xxxi. Drawn by R. Thomson : 
 Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 11. Page 60. ■ Representation of 
 
 the Obverse of Dr. Donne's Golden Medal, struck to 
 commemorate the sitting of the Synod of Dortin 1619. 
 Drawn by R. Thomson, from Gerard Van Loon's 
 " Histoire Metallique des xvn Provinces des Pays 
 Bas." Hague, 1732-37, fol. Vol. II. page 105 : Engraved 
 by the late W. Hughes. 
 
 12. Page 86. Tail-piece : Nor- 
 
 thern View of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Lon- 
 don ; as it appeared when Dr. Donne was made Dean : 
 vide the ensuing Life, page 43. Drawn from an 
 ancient print by W. Harvey : Engraved by H. White. 
 
 13. Page 87. Life of Sir Henry Wotton. Device in the 
 
 Title-page : Armorial Ensigns, and principal entrance 
 to Eton College, Buckinghamshire, of which Sir Henry 
 was made Provost: vide page 132; surrounded by a 
 wreath of Lilies, the badge of the Institution. Drawn 
 by W. Harvey : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 14. Page 89. Head-piece : North-west View of part of the 
 
 ancient Hall and Church of Bocton Malherbe, near 
 Charing, Kent ; formerly the Family Seat of the Wot- 
 tons. From a Drawing made on the spot expressly 
 for this work, by J. P. Neale, Copied and Engraved by 
 G. W. Bonner. 
 
viii DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 
 
 15. Page 89. Life of Sir Henry Wotton. Initial Letter 
 
 S. Armorial Ensigns of Sir Henry Wotton. Drawn 
 by R Thomson : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 16. Page 99. ■ — Portrait and 
 
 Arms of the Very Reverend Nicholas Wotton, some- 
 time Dean of York and Canterbury Cathedrals ; some 
 circumstances of whose life are mentioned and nar- 
 rated on pages 93 and 99. Drawn by W. H. Brooke, 
 from his beautiful monumental effigy in Becket's 
 Chapel, in Canterbury Cathedral, erected by his Nephew 
 Thomas Wotton, Esq. referred to onpage 104, and en- 
 graven in Dart's " Accurate Description and History of 
 the Churches of Canterbury and York." Lond. 1755, 
 Fol. Plate 54. Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 17. Page 114. ■ — — — View of the 
 
 Rialto and City of Venice, to which Sir Henry Wotton 
 was thrice sent Ambassador. Drawn from an Ancient 
 Print by J. Findley : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 18. Page 130. — Portrait and 
 
 Arms of Sir Julius Csesar, Master of the Rolls to King 
 James I., from the rare Print by Reginald Elstracke. 
 Drawn by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 19. Page 160. — — - — Tail-piece: 
 
 View of the Eastern end of Eton College, Bucking- 
 hamshire, at which Sir Henry Wotton died. Drawn by 
 J. P. Neale : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 20. Page 161. Life of Mr. Richard Hooker, Master of 
 
 the Temple, from 1585 to 1591. Device in the Title- 
 page : Northern View of the Middle Temple Hall, sur- 
 rounded by a Wreath of the York and Lancastrian 
 Roses ; supposed to have been first plucked in the 
 Temple Gardens. Drawn by J. Findley : Engraved by 
 G. W. Bonner. 
 
 21. Page 164. « — Introduc- 
 
 tion, Tail-piece : Armorial Ensigns of Corpus Christi 
 College, Oxford, at which Mr. Hooker was educated ; 
 
THE EMBELLISHMENTS. ix 
 
 and of Archbishop Usher, George Cranmer, Dr. Spen- 
 cer, and John Hales, of Eton, who are stated in the 
 Introduction to have furnished the materials of the 
 Memoir. Drawn by R. Thomson i Engraved by H. 
 White. 
 
 22. Page 165. Life of Mr. Richard Hooker. Head-piece: 
 
 View of the Church and Parsonage of Drayton- Beau- 
 champ, in Buckinghamshire ; to which Hooker was 
 presented in 1584. Vide page 187. Drawn on the 
 spot expressly for this work, by R. T. Bone : En- 
 graved by H. White. 
 
 23. Initial 
 
 Letter I ; Armorial Ensigns of the Temple, and 
 the families of Hooker and Churchman. Drawn 
 by R. Thomson : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 24. Page 170. ■ Portrait 
 
 and Arms of Dr. John Jewel, Bishop of Salisbury, from 
 the rare Print in the Herologia, set upon a Diamond 
 Cross. Drawn and Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 25. Page 177. : Portrait and 
 
 Arms of Sir Henry Savile. Drawn by R. Thomson : 
 Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 26. Page 187. View of 
 
 Hooker's Parsonage, at Drayton-Beauchamp, in Buck- 
 inghamshire. Drawn on the spot expressly for this 
 work, by R. T. Bone. Copied and Engraved by H. White. 
 
 27. Page 199. • ■ ■ Portrait and 
 
 Arms of Dr. John Whitgift, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 Drawn and Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 28. Page 230. View of 
 
 Hooker's Parsonage, at Bishop's Bourne, in Kent. 
 Drawn by J. P. Neale, from a Drawing in the posses- 
 sion of the Hon. and Rev. Dr. Percy, the present 
 Rector. The house is not now in the same state. Copied 
 and Engraved by H. White. 
 
 29. Page 268. Tail-piece : 
 
 North side of Hooker's Church, at Bishop's Bourne, in 
 b 
 
x DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 
 
 Kent. Drawn on the spot expressly for this Work, by 
 J. P. Neale, Copied and Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 30. Page 269. Life of Mr. George Herbert. Device in 
 
 the Title-page : View of the Ruins of Montgomery 
 Castle, Montgomeryshire, the Birth-place of Herbert ; 
 Vide the ensuingLife, page 273, surrounded by a wreath 
 of Passion flowers, emblematical of piety ; and enclo- 
 sing the Armorial Ensigns of the family of Clare, the 
 first Earls of Pembroke, which title afterwards be- 
 longed to the Herberts. Drawn by W. H. Brooke : 
 Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 31. Page 272. Intro- 
 
 duction. Tail-piece: The power of Biography and 
 Piety over the Grave ; generally expressed in the fore- 
 going Introduction, and exemplified by the Funereal 
 Urn, Censer, Cross, Spikenard, Laurel-branch, &c. 
 Drawn by R. Thomson : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 32. Page 273. Head- 
 
 piece : South East View of the Church of St. Mary, 
 at Leighton-Bromswold, in the County of Huntingdon ; 
 re-built by Mr. George Herbert; Vide the ensuing 
 Life, page 296. Drawn and Engraved by G. W. 
 Bonner, from Dr. Zouch's edition of Walton's Lives. 
 
 33. . Initial 
 
 Letter G, enclosing the Armorial Ensigns of Herbert 
 and Danvers. Drawn by R. Thomson : Engraved by T. 
 Mosses. 
 
 34. Page 289. Portrait 
 
 and Arms of Dr. Launcelot Andrews, Bishop of Win- 
 chester. Drawn by W. H. Brooke, from the Original 
 Engraving by Loggan. Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 35. Page 308. View 
 
 of the Chapel and Parsonage of Bemerton, in Wiltshire, 
 from an Original Drawing taken on the spot, and 
 kindly furnished by the Venerable Archdeacon Coxe. 
 Copied and Engraved by H. White. 
 
THE EMBELLISHMENTS. xi 
 
 36. Page 331. Life of Mr. George Herbert. View of 
 
 Fulston Church, near Bemerton, in Wiltshire. From 
 an Original Drawing made on the spot expressly" for 
 this Work, by D. C Read : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 37. Page 348. Herbert's Letter to Nicholas Farrer, Tail-piece : 
 
 Portrait and Arms of Nicholas Farrer, placed be- 
 tween two figures in the Religious habit worn at his 
 Convent of Little Gidding, in Huntingdonshire. Drawn 
 by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 38. Page 349. Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson, Bishop of 
 
 Lincoln. Device in the Title-page : Ruins of the Epis- 
 copal Palace, at Lincoln, surrounded by a Wreath of 
 Snowdrops and Evening Primroses, emblematical of 
 his humility, meeting beneath in the Armorial Ensigns 
 of the See. Drawn by W. H. Brooke. Engraved by 
 G. W. Bonner. 
 
 39. Page 354. ■ Introduc- 
 
 tion, Tail-piece : Armorial Ensigns of the University 
 of Oxford and Lincoln College, in which Dr. Sander- 
 son was educated, surrounded by the emblems of his 
 eloquence, fame, and piety. Drawn by R. Thomson : 
 Engraved by H. White. 
 
 40. Page 355. Head- 
 
 piece : View of the Church and Parsonage of Boothby 
 Pannell, in the County of Lincoln ; the living of Dr. 
 Sanderson for upwards of forty years. Vide page 372 
 of the ensuing Life. Drawn by W. Harvey : Engraved 
 by H. White. 
 
 41. Initial Letter D. 
 
 Armorial Ensigns of Dr. Sanderson. Drawn by R. 
 Thomson : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 42. Page 371. Portrait 
 
 and Arms of Dr. John King, Bishop of London. Drawn 
 from the Original Engraving, by S. Passe, by W. H. 
 Brooke : Engraved by H. White. 
 
xii DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 
 
 43. Page 400. Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson : Portrait 
 
 and Arms of Dr. Henry Hammond, with the Sheldonian 
 Theatre and other public buildings of Oxford in the 
 back ground. Drawn by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by 
 T. Mosses 
 
 44. Page 427. . View of 
 
 the Palace at Buckden, in Huntingdonshire, the Seat 
 of the Bishops of Lincoln, repaired by Dr. Sanderson. 
 Drawn by W. Harvey : Engraved by H. White. 
 
 45. Page 438. Tail-piece : 
 
 View of the Cathedral at Lincoln. Drawn and Engraved 
 by H. White. 
 
 The following Illustrations are contained in the Notes. 
 
 46. Head-piece : View of Hooker's Study at Drayton-Beau- 
 
 champ, in Buckinghamshire. From a Sketch taken 
 on the spot by R. T. Bone. Drawn by W. Harvey : 
 Engraved by H. White. 
 
 47. Portrait of the celebrated John Hales, of Eton ; called 
 
 from his universal learning, " the Walking Library." 
 Drawn by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 48. Monument erected to the memory of Sir Henry Wotton, 
 
 by his own desire, in the Chapel of Eton College; 
 Vide the ensuing Life, pages 149, 159. From a Sketch 
 made on the spot by R. T. Bone. Drawn by J. Find- 
 ley : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 
 
 49. View of St. Paul's Cross, and the manner of preaching 
 
 there, alluded to in the Life of Hooker, page 183, 
 Drawn from an Ancient View by W. H. Brooke : 
 Engraved by H. White. 
 
 50. Tail-piece : Portrait of Lord Edward Herbert, of Cher- 
 
 bury, the elder brother of George Herbert ; commemo- 
 rated by Walton, on page 275 of the ensuing Life. 
 Drawn by W. H. Brooke, from the Print attached to 
 his Memoirs ; Lond. 1778, 4to. Engraved by G. W. 
 Bonner. 
 
 51. Index, Head-piece ; View of the City of Florence, from 
 
THE EMBELLISHMENTS. xiii 
 
 Fiesole ; referred to by Walton in his Complete 
 Angler, Chap v. 
 
 " When I sat last on this primrose bank, and 
 " looked down these meadows, I thought of 
 " them, as Charles the Emperor did of the City of 
 " Florence ; that they were too pleasant to be 
 " looked on, but only on holidays," 
 Florence was also the chief residence of Sir H. Wotton 
 in his exile from England. Vide the ensuing Life, 
 page 108. Drawn and Engraved by H. White, from 
 the view in Hakewill's Italy, by the kind permission 
 of the Proprietor. 
 52. Index, Tail-piece : View of Farnham Castle, Surrey ; the 
 Seat of the Bishops of Winchester, in which Walton 
 wrote the Lives of Hooker and Herbert. Drawn by 
 W. H. Brooke : Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 COPPER -PLATES. 
 
 1, To face the Title-Page of the Volume : Autograph Signa- 
 tures, surrounded by an emblematical design com- 
 posed of passion flowers, indicative of the piety of 
 the subjects of the ensuing Lives, entwined with 
 various devices relative to their learning, eloquence, 
 fame, and ecclesiastical rank. The Portrait of 
 Walton appears at the top environed by hawthorn ; 
 and beneath is a rustic spring issuing from a rock in- 
 scribed with afac-simile of his writing, from a presen- 
 tation copy of his Lives , belonging to Mr. W. Upcott, 
 of the London Institution. The other signatures have 
 been procured from the following sources. Dr. Donne, 
 from an original Letter attached to the Manuscript of 
 his Biathanatos in the Bodleian Library at Oxford ; 
 communicated by the Rev. Dr. Bliss : Sir Henry 
 
xiv DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 
 
 Wotton, from his Will in the Archives of the Prero- 
 gative Court of Canterbury : Richard Hooker, from 
 his Will in the Consistory Court at Canterbury, being 
 probably the last signature he ever made ; communi- 
 cated by J. H. Markland, Esq. : George Herbert, from 
 an original Latin Poem in Manuscript in the Collec- 
 tion of Mr. W. Upcott, of the London Institution : 
 and Dr. Sanderson, Bishop of Lincoln, from his Will 
 in the Archives of the Prerogative Court of Canterbury. 
 The design drawn by H. Corbould : Engraved by C. 
 Heath ; the Signatures traced by R. Thomson : En- 
 graved by R. Ashby. 
 
 2. To face the Title-Page of the Life of Dr. Donne : Portrait 
 
 of Dr. John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral ; 
 copied by permission, from an original Painting in the 
 possession of the Rev. Dr. Barrett, of Westminster, by 
 R. T. Bone : Engraved by W. Bromley, A. R. A. 
 
 3. Page 24. The Vision. 
 
 From an Original Drawing, designed expressly for the 
 present work by W. Wright : Engraved by C. Heath. 
 " I have seen a dreadful Vision since I saw you : 
 " I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me 
 " through this room, with her hair hanging about 
 " her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms." 
 
 4. Page 87. To face the Title-Page of the Life of Sir H. Wot- 
 
 ton : Portrait of Sir Henry Wotton, Provost of Eton 
 College. Copied by permission, from the Original 
 Painting at Eton College, by R. T. Bone : Engraved 
 by W. Finden. 
 
 5. Page 128. Life of Sir H. Wotton : The Jewel. 
 
 From an Original Painting, designed expressly for the 
 present work by R. C. Leslie, Esq. A. R. A. Engraved 
 by J. Mitchell. 
 
 " The next morning at his departing from Vienna, 
 " he, at his taking leave of the Countess of Sa- 
 " brina, — an Italian Lady, in whose house the 
 
THE EMBELLISHMENTS. xv 
 
 " Emperor had appointed him to be lodged and 
 " honourably entertained, — acknowledged her 
 " merits, and besought her to accept of that Jewel, 
 " as a testimony of his gratitude for her civilities." 
 
 6. Page 161. To face the Title-Page of the Life of R. Hooker : 
 
 Portrait of Mr. Richard Hooker, from his Monument 
 in Bishop's Bourne Church, Kent : Engraved by F. 
 Engleheart. 
 
 7. Page 187. Life of Richard Hooker : The Country Pastor. 
 
 From an Original Painting, designed expressly for the 
 present work by R. T. Bone : Engraved by W. R. 
 Smith. 
 
 " And in this condition he continued about a 
 " year ; in which time his two pupils, Edwin 
 " Sandys and George Cranmer, took a journey 
 " to see their Tutor ; where they found him with 
 " a book in his hand, it was the Odes of Horace, 
 " he being then, like humble and innocent Abel, 
 " tending his small allotment of sheep in a com- 
 " mon field." 
 
 8. Page 269. To face the Title-page of the Life of G. Herbert : 
 
 Portrait of Mr. George Herbert, Engraved after the 
 fine Print by Robert White, by Ambrose Warren. 
 
 9. Page 328. Life of Mr. George Herbert : The Good Sama- 
 
 ritan. From an Original Painting, designed expressly 
 for the present work, by A. Cooper, Esq. R. A. En- 
 graved by C. Rolls. 
 
 " In another walk to Salisbury, he saw a poor 
 " man, with a poorer horse, that was fallen down 
 " under his load ; they were both in distress and 
 " needed present help ; which Mr. Herbert ob- 
 " serving, put off his canonical coat, and helped 
 " the poor man to unload, and after to load his 
 " horse." 
 
 10. Page 349. To face the Title-page of the Life of Dr. San- 
 
 derson : Portrait of Dr. Robert Sanderson, Bishop of 
 
xvi DESCRIPTIVE LIST, &c. 
 
 Lincoln. Engraved by W. Raddon, from the Original 
 
 Print by Robert White. 
 
 With respect to the Portraits of Hooker, Herbert, 
 and Sanderson, the Publisher of the present 
 volume has been unable to procure any finer or 
 more authentic originals, than those which have 
 hitherto been before the Public ; but if there 
 exist any good and genuine Paintings of these 
 celebrated men, he will feel obliged by a com- 
 munication concerning them. 
 11. Page 377. Life of Dr. R. Sanderson : The Advocate. From an 
 
 Original Painting designed expressly for the present 
 
 work, by P. R. Stephanoff. Engraved by J. Romney. 
 " To the Landlord he went the next day, and in 
 " a conference, the Doctor presented to him the 
 " sad condition of his poor dejected Tenant." 
 " These, and such other reasons were urged with 
 " so grave and compassionate an earnestness, that 
 " the Landlord forgave his Tenant the whole 
 " rent." 
 
XV11 
 TO THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE AND REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, 
 
 GEORGE, 
 LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, 
 
 AND PRELATE OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER 
 OF THE GARTER. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 I did some years past, present you with a plain 
 relation of the Life of Mr. Richard Hooker, that 
 humble man, to whose memory, Princes and the 
 most learned of this nation, have paid a rever- 
 ence at the mention of his name. And now, 
 with Mr. Hooker's, I present you also, the Life 
 of that pattern of primitive piety, Mr. George 
 Herbert ; and with his the Life of Dr. Donne, 
 and your friend Sir Henri/ Wotton, all re- 
 printed. The two first were written under 
 
XVlll DEDICATION. 
 
 your roof: for which reason, if they were worth 
 it, you might justly challenge a Dedication. 
 And indeed, so you might of Dr. Donne's, and 
 Sir Henry Wottoris : because, if I had been fit 
 for this undertaking, it would not have been by 
 acquired learning or study, but by the advantage 
 of forty years friendship, and thereby, with 
 hearing and discoursing with your Lordship, 
 that hath enabled me to make the relation of 
 these Lives passable — if they prove so — in an 
 eloquent and captious age. 
 
 And indeed, my Lord, though these relations 
 be well-meant sacrifices to the memory of these 
 worthy men ; yet I have so little confidence in 
 my performance, that I beg pardon for super- 
 scribing your name to them: and desire all 
 that know your Lordship, to apprehend this 
 not as a Dedication, — at least by which you 
 receive any addition of honour ; — but rather as 
 an humble, and a more public acknowledgement, 
 of your long-continued, and your now daily 
 favours to 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your most affectionate, 
 
 and most humble servant, 
 Izaak Walton. 
 
 i 
 
Engra^a "by W. Bromley A.B..A. 
 
 LOFD ON, 
 
 Published "by Join Major. 50. ELeet Street, 
 
 May 15^1825. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 DR. JOHN DONNE, 
 
 LATE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 
 LONDON. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MAJOR, 
 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 TO 
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 DOCTOR DONNE; 
 
 as originally prefixed to the flrst collection of his 
 Sermons in 1640. 
 
 If that great master of language and art, Sir Henry 
 Wotton, the late Provost of Eton College, had lived to 
 see the publication of these Sermons, he had presented 
 the world with the Author's life exactly written ; and 
 'twas pity he did not, for it was a work worthy his under- 
 taking, and he fit to undertake it : betwixt whom and the 
 Author there was so mutual a knowledge, and such a 
 friendship contracted in their youth, as nothing but death 
 could force a separation. And, though their bodies were 
 divided, their affections were not; for that learned Knight's 
 love followed his friend's fame beyond death and the for- 
 getful grave ; which he testified by entreating me, whom 
 he acquainted with his design, to enquire of some parti- 
 culars that concerned it, not doubting but my knowledge 
 of the Author, and love to his memory, might make my 
 diligence useful: I did most gladly undertake the em- 
 ployment, and continued it with great content, till I had 
 made my collection ready to be augmented and completed 
 by his matchless pen : but then death prevented his in- 
 tentions. 
 
 When I heard that sad news, and heard also that these 
 Sermons were to be printed, and want the Author's life, 
 which I thought to be very remarkable ; indignation or 
 grief — indeed I know not which — transported me so far, 
 that I reviewed my forsaken collections, and resolved the 
 world should see the best plain picture of the Author's 
 life, that my artless pencil, guided by the hand of truth, 
 could present to it. 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 And if I shall now be demanded, as once Pompey's 
 poor bond-man was,* " the grateful wretch had been left 
 " alone on the sea-shore, with the forsaken 
 * Plutarch. " dead body of his once glorious lord and mas- 
 " ter ; and was then gathering the scattered 
 " pieces of an old broken boat, to make a funeral pile 
 " to burn it ; which was the custom of the Romans — 
 " Who art thou, that alone hast the honour to bury the 
 " body of Pompey the Great ?" So, who am I, that do 
 thus officiously set the Author's memory on fire ? I hope 
 the question will prove to have in it more of wonder 
 than disdain ; but wonder indeed the reader may, that I, 
 who profess myself artless, should presume with my faint 
 light to shew forth his life, whose very name makes it 
 illustrious ! But, be this to the disadvantage of the person 
 represented : certain I am, it is to the advantage of the be- 
 holder, who shall here see the Author's picture in a natural 
 dress, which ought to beget faith in what is spoken : for he 
 that wants skill to deceive, may safely be trusted. 
 
 And if the Author's glorious spirit, which now is in 
 heaven, can have the leisure to look down and see me, 
 the poorest, the meanest of all his friends, in the midst 
 of this officious duty, confident I am, that he will not dis- 
 dain this well-meant sacrifice to his memory : for, whilst 
 his conversation made me and many others happy below, 
 I know his humility and gentleness were then eminent ; 
 and, I have heard divines say, those virtues that were but 
 sparks upon earth, become great and glorious flames in 
 heaven. 
 
 Before I proceed further, I am to entreat the reader to 
 take notice, that when Doctor Donne's Sermons were 
 first printed, this was then my excuse for daring to write 
 his life ; and I dare not now appear without it. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 PR. JOHN DONNE, 
 
 LATE DEAN OF ST. PAUl's CHURCH, LONDON. 
 
 aster John Donne was born 
 in London, in the year 1573, of 
 good and virtuous parents: and, 
 though his own learning and 
 other multiplied merits may 
 justly appear sufficient to dig- 
 nify both himself and his poste- 
 rity 3 yet the reader may be 
 pleased to know, that his father was masculinely 
 and lineally descended from a very ancient family 
 in Wales, where many of his name now live, that 
 deserve, and have great reputation in that country. 
 
4 THE LIFE OF 
 
 By his mother he was descended of the family of 
 the famous and learned Sir Thomas More, sometime 
 Lord Chancellor of England : as also, from that wor- 
 thy and laborious Judge Rastall, who left posterity 
 the vast Statutes of the Law of this nation most 
 exactly abridged. 
 
 He had his first breeding in his father's house, 
 where a private tutor had the care of him, until the 
 tenth year of his age j and, in his eleventh year, was 
 sent to the University of Oxford; having at that 
 time a good command both of the French and Latin 
 tongue. This, and some other of his remarkable 
 abilities, made one then give this censure of him ; 
 That this age had brought forth another Picus Miran- 
 dula ; of whom story says, That he was rather born, 
 than made wise by study. 
 
 There he remained for some years in Hart-Hall, 
 having, for the advancement of his studies, tutors 
 of several sciences to attend and instruct him, till 
 time made him capable, and his learning expressed 
 in public exercises, declared him worthy, to receive 
 his first degree in the schools, which he forbore by 
 advice from his friends, who, being for their reli- 
 gion of the Romish persuasion, were conscionably 
 averse to some parts of the oath that is always ten- 
 dered at those times, and not to be refused by those 
 that expect the titulary honour of their studies. 
 
 About the fourteenth year of his age, he was trans- 
 planted from Oxford to Cambridge ; where, that he 
 might receive nourishment from both soils, he staid 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 5 
 
 till his seventeenth year -, all which time he was a 
 most laborious student, often changing his studies, 
 but endeavouring to take no degree, for the reasons 
 formerly mentioned. 
 
 About the seventeenth year of his age he was re- 
 moved to London, and then admitted into Lincoln s 
 Inn, with an intent to study the Law ; where he 
 gave great testimonies of his wit, his learning, and 
 of his improvement in that profession 5 which never 
 served him for other use than an ornament and 
 self-satisfaction. 
 
 His father died before his admission into this 
 society ; and, being a merchant, left him his portion 
 in money. (It was a£3000.) His mother, and those 
 to whose care he was committed, were watchful to 
 improve his knowledge, and to that end appointed 
 him tutors both in the Mathematics, and in all the 
 other Liberal Sciences, to attend him. But with 
 these arts, they were advised to instil into him par- 
 ticular principles of the Romish Church ; of which 
 those tutors professed, though secretly, themselves 
 to be members. 
 
 They had almost obliged him to their faith ; hav- 
 ing for their advantage, besides many opportunities, 
 the example of his dear and pious parents, which 
 was a most powerful persuasion, and did work 
 much upon him, as he professeth in his Preface to 
 his Pseudo-Martyr, a book of which the reader shall 
 have some account in what follows. 
 
 He was now entered into the eighteenth year of 
 
6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 his age ; and at that time had betrothed himself to 
 no religion, that might give him any other denomi- 
 nation than a Christian. And reason and piety had 
 both persuaded him, that there could be no such sin 
 as Schism, if an adherence to some visible Church 
 were not necessary. 
 
 About the nineteenth year of his age, he, being 
 then unresolved what religion to adhere to, and con- 
 sidering how much it concerned his soul to choose 
 the most orthodox, did therefore, — though his youth 
 and health promised him a long life — to rectify all 
 scruples that might concern that, presently lay aside 
 all study of the Law, and of all other sciences that 
 might give him a denomination -, and began seri- 
 ously to survey and consider the body of Divinity, 
 as it was then controverted betwixt the Reformed 
 and the Roman Church. And, as God's blessed Spirit 
 did then awaken him to the search, and in that industry 
 did never forsake him, — they be his 
 
 '28EZ&? own *°rds*_ S o he calls the same 
 Holy Spirit to witness this protestation ; 
 that in that disquisition and search, he proceeded with 
 humility and diffidence in himself ; and by that which he 
 took to be the safest way ; namely, frequent prayers, 
 and an indifferent affection to both parties; and in- 
 deed, Truth had too much light about her to be hid 
 from so sharp an enquirer ; and he had too much 
 ingenuity, not to acknowledge he had found her. 
 
 Being to undertake this search, he believed the 
 Cardinal Bellarmine to be the best defender of the 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 7 
 
 Roman cause, and therefore betook himself to the 
 examination of his reasons. The cause was weighty, 
 and wilful delays had been inexcusable both towards 
 God and his own conscience : he therefore pro- 
 ceeded in this search with all moderate haste, and 
 about the twentieth year of his age, did shew the 
 then Dean of Gloucester — whose name my memory 
 hath now lost — all the Cardinal's works marked with 
 many weighty observations under his own hand; 
 which works were bequeathed by him, at his death, 
 as a legacy to a most dear friend. 
 
 About a year following he resolved to travel; 
 and the Earl of Essex going first the Cales, and after 
 the Island voyages, the first Anno 1596, the second 
 1597, he took the advantage of those opportunities, 
 waited upon his Lordship, and was an eye-witness 
 of those happy and unhappy employments. 
 
 But he returned not back into England, till he 
 had staid some years, first in Italy, and then in 
 Spain, where he made many useful observations of 
 those countries, their laws and manner of govern- 
 ment, and returned perfect in their languages. 
 
 The time that he spent in Spain, was, at his first 
 going into Italy, designed for travelling to the Holy 
 Land, and for viewing Jerusalem and the Sepulchre 
 of our Saviour. But at his being in the furthest 
 parts of Italy, the disappointment of company, or of 
 a safe convoy, or the uncertainty of returns of 
 money into those remote parts, denied him that 
 happiness, which he did often occasionally mention 
 with a deploration. 
 
8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Not long after his return into England, that ex- 
 emplary pattern of gravity and wisdom, the Lord 
 Ellesmere, then Keeper of the Great Seal, and Lord 
 Chancellor of England, taking notice of his learning, 
 languages, and other abilities, and much affecting 
 his person and behaviour, took him to be his chief 
 Secretary ; supposing and intending it to be an in- 
 troduction to some more weighty employment in 
 the State ; for which, his Lordship did often protest, 
 he thought him very fit. 
 
 Nor did his Lordship in this time of Master 
 Donne s attendance upon him, account him to be so 
 much his servant, as to forget he was his friend ; 
 and, to testify it, did always use him with much 
 courtesy, appointing him a place at his own table, 
 to which he esteemed his company and discourse to 
 be a great ornament. 
 
 He continued that employment for the space of 
 five years, being daily useful, and not mercenary to 
 his friends. During which time., he, — I dare not say 
 unhappily — fell into such a liking, as, — with her ap- 
 probation, — increased into a love, with a young gen- 
 tlewoman that lived in that family, who was niece 
 to the Lady Ellesmere, and daughter to Sir George 
 More, then Chancellor of the Garter and Lieutenant 
 of the Tower. 
 
 Sir George had some intimation of it, and, know- 
 ing prevention to be a great part of wisdom, did 
 therefore remove her with much haste, from that to 
 his own house at Lothesley, in the County of Surrey ; 
 but too late, by reason of some faithful promises 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 9 
 
 which were so interchangeably passed, as never to 
 be violated by either party. 
 
 These promises were only known to themselves 5 
 and the friends of both parties used much diligence, 
 and many arguments, to kill or cool their affections 
 to each other : but in vain j for Love is a flattering 
 mischief, that hath denied aged and wise men a 
 foresight of those evils that too often prove to be 
 the children of that blind father ; a passion, that 
 carries us to commit errors with as much ease as 
 whirlwinds move feathers, and begets in us an 
 unwearied industry to the attainment of what we 
 desire. And such an industry did, notwithstanding 
 much watchfulness against it, bring them secretly 
 together, — I forbear to tell the manner how — and 
 at last to a marriage too, without the allowance of 
 those friends, whose approbation always was, and 
 ever will be, necessary, to make even a virtuous 
 love become lawful. 
 
 And, that the knowledge of their marriage might 
 not fall, like an unexpected tempest, on those that 
 were unwilling to have it so ; and that pre-appre- 
 hensions might make it the less enormous when it 
 was known, it was purposely whispered into the 
 ears of many that it was so, yet by none that could 
 affirm it. But, to put a period to the jealousies of 
 Sir George, — doubt often begetting more restless 
 thoughts than the certain knowledge of what we 
 fear — the news was, in favour to Mr. Donne, and 
 with his allowance, made known to Sir George, by 
 c 
 
10 THE LIFE OF 
 
 his honourable friend and neighbour Henry, Earl 
 of Northumberland : but it was to Sir George so 
 immeasurably unwelcome, and so transported him, 
 that, as though his passion of anger and inconsi- 
 deration might exceed their' s of love and error, he 
 presently engaged his sister, the Lady Ellesmere, to 
 join with him to procure her lord to discharge Mr. 
 Donne of the place he held under his Lordship. 
 This request was followed with violence j and 
 though Sir George were remembered, that errors 
 might be over punished, and desired therefore to 
 forbear, till second considerations might clear some 
 scruples ; yet he became restless until his suit was 
 granted, and the punishment executed. And though 
 the Lord Chancellor did not, at Mr. Donne's dis- 
 mission, give him such a commendation as the great 
 Emperor Charles the Fifth did of his Secretary Eraso, 
 when he parted with him to his son and succes- 
 sor, Philip the Second, saying, " That in his Eraso, 
 he gave to him a greater gift than all his estate, and all 
 the kingdoms which he then resigned to him : yet the 
 Lord Chancellor said, " He parted with a friend, and such 
 a Secretary as was fitter to serve a king than a subject." 
 Immediately after his dismission from his service, 
 he sent a sad letter to his wife, to acquaint her with 
 it : and after the subscription of his name, writ, 
 
 John Donne, Anne Donne, Un-done ; 
 
 And God knows it proved too true : for this bitter 
 physic of Mr. Donne's dismission, was not enough to 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 11 
 
 purge out all Sir Georges choler ; for he was not 
 satisfied till Mr. Donne and his sometime eom-pupil 
 in Cambridge, that married him, namely, Samuel 
 Brooke,who was after Doctor in Divinity, and Master 
 of Trinity College — and his brother Mr. Christopher 
 Brooke, sometime Mr. Donne's chamber-fellow in 
 Lincoln's Inn, who gave Mr. Donne his wife, and 
 witnessed the marriage, were all committed to three 
 several prisons. 
 
 Mr. Donne was first enlarged, who neither gave 
 rest to his body or brain, nor to any friend in whom 
 he might hope to have an interest, until he had 
 procured an enlargement for his two imprisoned 
 friends. 
 
 He was now at liberty, but his days were still 
 cloudy: and being past these troubles, others did 
 still multiply upon him j for his wife was, — to her 
 extreme sorrow — detained from him; and though 
 with Jacob he endured not an hard service for her, 
 yet he lost a good one, and was forced to make good 
 his title and to get possession of her by a long and 
 restless suit in law j which proved troublesome and 
 sadly chargeable to him, whose youth, and travel, 
 and needless bounty, had brought his estate into a 
 narrow compass. 
 
 It is observed, and most truly, that silence and 
 submission are charming qualities, and work most 
 upon passionate men ; and it proved so with Sir 
 George; for these, and a general report of Mr. 
 Donne s merits, together with his winning beha- 
 viour, — which, when it would entice, had a strange 
 
12 THE LIFE OF 
 
 kind of elegant irresistible art; — these, and time had 
 so dispassionated Sir George, that as the world had 
 approved his daughter's choice, so he also could not 
 but see a more than ordinary merit in his new son ; 
 and this at last melted him into so much remorse, — 
 for love and anger are so like agues, as to have hot 
 and cold fits 5 and love in parents, though it may 
 be quenched, yet is easily re-kindled, and expires not 
 till death denies mankind a natural heat, — that he 
 laboured his son's restoration to his place ; using to 
 that end, both his own and his sister's power to her 
 lord 5 but with no sucess ; for his answer was, That 
 though he was unfeignedly sorry for what he had done, 
 yet it was inconsistent with his place and credit, to dis- 
 charge and re-admit servants at the request of passionate 
 petitioners. 
 
 Sir George's endeavour for Mr. Donne's re -admis- 
 sion, was by all means to be kept secret :— for men 
 do more naturally reluct for errors, than submit to 
 put on those blemishes that attend their visible ac- 
 knowledgement- — But, however, it was not long 
 before Sir George appeared to be so far reconciled, 
 as to wish their happiness, and not to deny them his 
 paternal blessing, but yet refused to contribute any 
 means that might conduce to their livelihood. 
 
 Mr. Donne's estate was the greatest part spent in 
 many and chargeable travels, books, and dear-bought 
 experience : he out of all employment that might 
 yield a support for himself and wife, who had been 
 curiously and plentifully educated; both their na- 
 tures generous, and accustomed to confer, and not to 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 13 
 
 receive, courtesies : these and other considerations, 
 but chiefly that his wife was to bear a part in his 
 sufferings, surrounded him with many sad thoughts, 
 and some apparent apprehensions of want. 
 
 But his sorrows were lessened and his wants pre- 
 vented, by the seasonable courtesy of their noble 
 kinsman, Sir Francis Wolly, of Pirford in Surrey, who 
 intreated them to a cohabitation with him ; where 
 they remained with much freedom to themselves, 
 and equal content to him, for some years j and as 
 their charge increased — she had yearly a child,— so 
 did his love and bounty. 
 
 It hath been observed by wise and considering 
 men, that wealth hath seldom been the portion, and 
 never the mark to discover good people ; but that 
 Almighty God, who disposeth all things wisely, hath 
 of his abundant goodness denied it — he only knows 
 why — to many, whose minds he hath enriched with 
 the greater blessings of knowledge and virtue, as the 
 fairer testimonies of his love to mankind : and this 
 was the present condition of this man of so excellent 
 erudition and endowments 3 whose necessary and 
 daily expences, were hardly reconcileable with his 
 uncertain and narrow estate. Which I mention, for 
 that at this time, there was a most generous offer 
 made him for the moderating of his worldly cares j 
 the declaration of which shall be the next employ- 
 ment of my pen. 
 
 God hath been so good to his Church, as to afford 
 it in every age, some such men to serve at his altar, 
 
14 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 1648. 
 
 as have been piously ambitious of doing good to 
 mankind j a disposition, that is so like to God him- 
 self, that it owes itself only to Him, who takes a 
 pleasure to behold it in his creatures. These 
 times * he did bless with many such ; some 
 of which still live to be patterns of apostolical charity, 
 and of more than human patience. I have said this, 
 because I have occasion to mention one of them in 
 my following discourse j namely, Dr. Morton, 
 
 the most laborious and learned Bishop of Durham ; 1 
 one that God hath blessed with perfect intellectuals 
 and a cheerful heart at the age of 94 years — and is 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 15 
 
 yet living :-— one, that in his days of plenty had so 
 large a heart, as to use his large revenue to the en- 
 couragement of Learning and Virtue, and is now — be 
 it spoken with sorrow — reduced to a narrow estate, 
 which he embraces without repining 5 and still shews 
 the beauty of his mind by so liberal a hand, as if this 
 were an age in which to-morrow were to care for itself. 
 I have taken a pleasure in giving the reader a short, 
 but true character of this good man, my friend, from 
 whom I received this following relation. — He sent 
 to Mr. Donne, and intreated to borrow an hour of his 
 time for a conference the next day. After their 
 meeting, there was not many minutes passed before 
 he spake to Mr. Donne to this purpose : tf Mr. 
 " Donne, the occasion of sending for you, is to pro- 
 " pose to you what I have often revolved in my own 
 " thought since I last saw you : which nevertheless, 
 " I will not declare but upon this condition, that you 
 " shall not return me a present answer, but forbear 
 " three days, and bestow some part of that time in 
 " fasting and prayer j and after a serious considera- 
 " tion of what I shall propose, then return to me 
 "with your answer. Deny me not, Mr. Donne; 
 " for, it is the effect of a true love, which I would 
 " gladly pay as a debt due for your's to me." 
 
 This request being granted, the Doctor expressed 
 himself thus : 
 
 " Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities ; 
 " I know your expectation of a State-employment ; 
 " and I know your fitness for it ; and I know too 
 
16 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " the many delays and contingencies that attend 
 '- Court-promises : and let me tell you, that my 
 
 * love, begot by our long friendship and your merits, 
 " hath prompted me to such an inquisition after your 
 " present temporal estate, as makes me no stranger 
 " to your necessities -, which I know to be such as 
 " your generous spirit could not bear, if it were not 
 " supported with a pious patience. You know I 
 " have formerly persuaded you to wave your Court- 
 " hopes, and enter into holy orders -, which I now 
 " again persuade you to embrace, with this reason 
 ft added to my former request : The King hath yes- 
 a terday made me Dean of Gloucester, and I am 
 " also possessed of a benefice, the profits of which 
 <( are equal to those of my Deanery ; I will think my 
 " Deanery enough for my maintenance, — who am, 
 " and resolve to die, a single man — and will quit 
 " my benefice, and estate you in it, — which the Pa- 
 " tron is willing I shall do — if God shall incline 
 " your heart to embrace this motion. Remember, 
 " Mr. Donne, no man's education or parts make him 
 " too good for this employment, which is to be an 
 ei ambassador for the God of glory ; that God, who by 
 " a vile death opened the gates of life to mankind. 
 " Make me no present answer 3 but remember your 
 
 * promise, and return to me the third day with your 
 " resolution." 
 
 At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne s faint breath 
 and perplexed countenance, gave a visible testimony 
 of an inward conflict : but he performed his promise, 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 17 
 
 and departed without returning an answer till the 
 third day, and then his answer was to this effect : 
 
 " My most worthy and most dear friend, since I 
 " saw you, I have been faithful to my promise, and 
 " have also meditated much of your great kindness, 
 " which hath been such as would exceed even my 
 " gratitude ; but that it cannot do ; and more I 
 * cannot return you -, and I do that with an heart 
 " full of humility and thanks, though I may not ac- 
 " cept of your offer : but, Sir, my refusal is not for 
 " that I think myself too good for that calling, for 
 f which Kings, if they think so, are not good enough : 
 " nor for that my education and learning, though not 
 " eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace 
 " and humility, render me in some measure fit for 
 " it ; but I dare make so dear a friend as you are, 
 ' f my confessor : some irregularities of my life have 
 " been so visible to some men, that though I have, 
 " I thank God, made my peace with him by peniten- 
 " tial resolutions against them, and by the assistance 
 " of his grace banished them my affections j yet this, 
 " which God knows to be so, is not so visible to 
 " man, as to free me from their censures, and it may 
 " be that sacred calling from a dishonour. And 
 " besides, whereas it is determined by the best of 
 " Casuists, that God's glory should be the first end, and 
 " a maintenance the second motive to embrace that call- 
 " ing; and though each man may propose to himself 
 " both together, yet the first may not be put last 
 " without a violation of conscience, which he that 
 
 D 
 
18 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " searches the heart will judge. And truly my 
 " present condition is such, that if I ask my own 
 " conscience, whether it be reconcileable to that rule, 
 " it is at this time so perplexed about it, that I can 
 " neither give myself nor you an answer. You 
 " know, Sir, who says, Happy is that man whose con- 
 " science doth not accuse him for that thing which he 
 " does. To these I might add other reasons that 
 " dissuade me j but I crave your favour that I may 
 " forbear to express them, and thankfully decline 
 " your offer. 
 
 This was his present resolution, but the heart of 
 man is not in his own keeping $ and he was des- 
 tined to this sacred service by an higher hand j a 
 hand so powerful, as at last forced him to a com- 
 pliance : of which I shall give the reader an account, 
 before I shall give a rest to my pen. 
 
 Mr. Donne and his wife continued with Sir Francis 
 Wolly till his death : a little before which time, Sir 
 Francis was so happy as to make a perfect recon- 
 ciliation betwixt Sir George, and his forsaken son 
 and daughter -, Sir George conditioning by bond, 
 to pay to Mr. Donne 8001. at a certain day, as a 
 portion with his wife, or 9,01. quarterly for their 
 maintenance, as the interest for it, till the said por- 
 tion was paid. 
 
 Most of those years that he lived with Sir Francis, 
 he studied the Civil and Canon Laws ; in which he 
 acquired such a perfection, as was judged to hold 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 19 
 
 proportion with many, who had made that study the 
 employment of their whole life. 
 
 Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family 
 dissolved, Mr. Donne took for himself a house in 
 Mitcham, — near to Croydon in Surrey — a place noted 
 for good air and choice company : there his wife and 
 children remained j and for himself he took lodgings 
 in London, near to White-hall, whither his friends 
 and occasions drew him very often, and where he 
 was as often visited, by many of the Nobility and 
 others of this nation, who used him in their counsels 
 of greatest consideration, and with some rewards 
 for his better subsistence. 
 
 Nor did our own Nobility only value and favour 
 him, but his acquaintance and friendship was sought 
 for by most Ambassadors of foreign nations, and by 
 many other strangers, whose learning or business 
 occasioned their stay in this nation. 
 
 He was much importuned by many friends to 
 make his constant residence in London ; but he still 
 denied it, having settled his dear wife and children 
 at Mitcham, and near some friends that were boun- 
 tiful to them and him - } for they, God knows, needed 
 it : and that you may the better now judge of the 
 then present condition of his mind and fortune, I 
 shall present you with an extract collected out of 
 some few of his many letters. 
 
 And the reason why I did not send an answer 
 
 to your last week's letter, was, because it then found 
 
20 THE LIFE OF 
 
 me under too great a sadness ; and at present 'tis thus 
 with me : There is not one person, but myself, well of 
 my family : I have already lost half a child, and, with 
 that mischance of hers, my wife is fallen into such a 
 discomposure, as would afflict her too extremely, but that 
 the sickness of all her other children stwpifies her : of 
 one of which, in good faith, 1 have not much hope: and 
 these meet with a fortune so ill-provided for physic, and 
 such relief, that if God should ease us with burials, I 
 know not how to perform even that : but I flatter my- 
 self with this hope, that I am dying too ; for I cannot 
 
 waste faster than by such griefs. As for, 
 
 From my hospital at Mitcham, 
 Aug. 10. JOHN DONNE. 
 
 Thus he did bemoan himself: and thus in other 
 letters. 
 
 - — — For, we hardly discover a sin, when it is but an 
 omission of some good, and no accusing act : with this 
 or the former, I have often suspected myself to be over- 
 taken ; which is, with an over-earnest desire of the 
 next life : and, though I know it is not merely a weari- 
 ness of this, because I had the same desire when I went 
 with the tide, and enjoyed fairer hopes than I now do ; 
 yet I doubt worldly troubles have increased it : 'tis now 
 Spring, and all the pleasures of it displease me -, every 
 other tree blossoms, and I wither : I grow older, and not 
 better ; my strength diminisheth, and my load grows 
 heavier -, and yet, I would fain be or do something ; but 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 21 
 
 that I cannot tell what, is no wonder in this time of my 
 sadness ; for to choose is to do; but to be no part of 
 any body, is as to be nothing : and so I am, and shall 
 so judge myself, unless I could be so incorporated into 
 a part of the world, as by business to contribute some 
 sustentation to the whole. This I made account; I 
 began early, when I understood the study of our Laws ; 
 but was diverted by leaving that, and embracing the 
 ivorst voluptuousness, an hydroptic immoderate de- 
 sire of human learning and languages : beautiful 
 ornaments indeed to men of great fortunes, but mine 
 was grown so low as to need an occupation ; which I 
 thought I entered well into, when I subjected myself to 
 such a service as I thought might excercise my poor 
 abilities : and there I stumbled, and fell too ; and now 
 I am become so little, or such a nothing, that I am not 
 a subject good enough for one of my own letters.— Sir, 
 I fear my present discontent, does not proceed from a 
 good root, that I am so well content to be nothing, that 
 is, dead. But, Sir, though my fortune hath made me 
 such, as that I am rather a sickness or a disease of the 
 world, than any part of it, and therefore neither love it, 
 nor life ; yet I would gladly live to become some such 
 thing as you should not repent loving me : Sir, your own 
 soul cannot be more zealous for your good, than I am ; 
 and God, who loves that zeal in me, will not suffer you 
 to doubt it : You would pity me now, if you saw me write, 
 for my pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and 
 holds it so, that my eye cannot follow my pen. I there' 
 
22 THE LIFE OF 
 
 fore receive you into my prayers with mine own weary 
 soul, and commend myself to yours. I doubt not but 
 next week vnll bring you good news, for I have either 
 mending or dying on my side : but, if 1 do continue 
 longer thus, I shall have comfort in this, that my blessed 
 Saviour in exercising his justice upon my two worldly 
 parts, my fortune and my body, reserves all his mercy 
 for that which most needs it, my soul ! which is, I doubt, 
 too like a porter, that is very often near the gate, and 
 yet goes not out. Sir, I profess to you truly, that my 
 loathness to give over writing now, seems to myself a 
 sign that I shall write no more. 
 
 Your poor friend, and 
 
 " God's poor patient, 
 Sept. 7. JOHN DONNE. 
 
 By this you have seen a part of the picture of his 
 narrow fortune, and the perplexities of his generous 
 mind $ and thus it continued with him for about two 
 years, all which time his family remained constantly 
 at Mitcham; and to which place he often retired 
 himself, and destined some days to a constant study 
 of some points of controversy betwixt the English 
 and Roman Church, and especially those of Supre- 
 macy and Allegiance: and to that place and such 
 studies, he could willingly have wedded himself 
 during his life : but the earnest persuasion of friends 
 became at last to be so powerful, as to cause the 
 removal of himself and family to London, where Sir 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 23 
 
 Robert Drewry, a gentleman of a very noble estate, 
 and a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife 
 an useful apartment in his own large house in Drury- 
 lane, and not only rent free, but was also a cherisher 
 of his studies, and such a friend as sympathized with 
 him and his, in all their joy and sorrows. 
 
 At this time of Mr. Donne s and his wife's living 
 in Sir Robert's house, the Lord Hay, was, by King 
 James, sent upon a glorious embassy to the then 
 French King, Henry the Fourth $ and Sir Robert put 
 on a sudden resolution to accompany him to the 
 French Court, and to be present at his audience there. 
 And Sir Robert put on as sudden a resolution, to so- 
 licit Mr, Donne to be his companion in that journey. 
 And this desire was suddenly made known to his wife, 
 who was then with child, and otherwise under so 
 dangerous a habit of body, as to her health, that she 
 professed an unwillingness to allow him any absence 
 from her ; saying, Her divining soul boded her some 
 ill in his absence; and therefore desired him not to 
 leave her. This made Mr. Donne lay aside all 
 thoughts of the journey, and really to resolve against 
 it. But Sir Robert became restless in his persua- 
 sions for it, and Mr. Donne was so generous as to 
 think he had sold his liberty, when he received so 
 many charitable kindnesses from him j and told his 
 wife so j who did therefore, with an unwilling- wil- 
 lingness, give a faint consent to the journey, which 
 was proposed to be but for two months ; for about 
 
24 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that time they determined their return. Within a 
 few days after this resolve, the Ambassador, Sir 
 Robert, and Mr. Donne, left London ,• and were the 
 twelfth day got all safe to Paris. Two days after 
 their arrival there, Mr. Donne was left alone in that 
 room, in which Sir Robert, and he, and some other 
 friends had dined together. To this place Sir Robert 
 returned within half an hour 5 and as he left, so he 
 found, Mr. Donne alone : but in such an ecstasy, and 
 so altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to 
 behold him ; insomuch that he earnestly desired 
 Mr. Donne to declare what had befallen him in the 
 short time of his absence. To which Mr. Donne 
 was not able to make a present answer : but, after 
 a long and perplexed pause, did at last say, 1 have 
 seen a dreadful Vision since I saw you : I have seen my 
 dear wife pass twice by me through this room, with her 
 hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in 
 her arms : this I have seen since I saw you. To which 
 Sir Robert replied, Sure, Sir, you have slept since I saw 
 you ; and this is the result of some melancholy dream, 
 which I desire you to forget, for you are now awake. 
 To which Mr. Donne s reply was : I cannot be surer 
 that I now live, than that I have not slept since I saw 
 you : and am as sure, that at her second appearing, she 
 stopped, and looked me in the face, and vanished. — Rest 
 and sleep had not altered Mr. Donne's opinion the 
 next day : for he then affirmed this vision with a 
 more deliberate, and so confirmed a confidence, that 
 
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 Published "by John Major. 50. Beet Street. 
 May IS 1 ? 1 1825. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 25 
 
 he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the Vision 
 was true, — It is truly said, that desire and doubt 
 have no rest ; and it proved so with Sir Robert ; for 
 he immediately sent a servant to Drew;n/-house, 
 with a charge to hasten back, and bring him word, 
 whether Mrs. Donne were alive • and, if alive, in what 
 condition she was as to her health. The twelfth day 
 the messenger returned with this account — That 
 he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad, and sick in 
 her bed 5 and that, after a long and dangerous labour, 
 she had been delivered of a dead child. And, upon 
 examination, the abortion proved to be the same day, 
 and about the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed 
 he saw her pass by him in his chamber. 
 
 This is a relation that will beget some wonder, 
 and it well may ; for most of our world are at pre- 
 sent possessed with an opinion, that Visions and 
 Miracles are ceased. And, though it is most certain, 
 that two lutes being both strung and tuned to an 
 equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, 
 that is not touched, being laid upon a table at a fit 
 distance, will — like an echo to a trumpet- — warble 
 a faint audible harmony in answer to the same tune 5 
 yet many will not believe there is any such thing as 
 a sympathy of souls; and I am well pleased, that 
 every Reader do enjoy his own opinion. But if the 
 unbelieving, will not allow the believing Reader of 
 this story, a liberty to believe that it may be true j 
 £hen I wish him to consider, many wise men have 
 
 B 
 
26 THE LIFE OF 
 
 believed that the ghost of Julius Ccesar did appear 
 to Brutus, and that both St. Austin, and Monica his 
 mother, had visions in order to his conversion. And 
 though these, and many others — too many to name 
 — have but the authority of human story, yet the in- 
 credible Reader may find in the Sacred 
 * 1 Sam.xxviii. story> * that Samuel did appear to Saul 
 even after his death — whether really 
 or not, I undertake not to determine. — And Bildad, in 
 the Book of Job, says these words ; t 
 ' " " A spirit passed before my face ; the hair 
 
 of my head stood up ; fear and trembling came upon me, 
 and made all my bones to shake" Upon which words 
 I will make no comment, but leave them to be con- 
 sidered by the incredulous Reader -, to whom I will 
 also commend this following consideration : That 
 there be many pious and learned men, that believe 
 our merciful God hath assigned to every man a par- 
 ticular Guardian Angel, to be his constant monitor j 
 and to attend him in all his dangers, both of body 
 and soul. And the opinion that every man hath his 
 particular Angel, may gain some authority, by the 
 relation of St. Peter s miraculous deliverance out of 
 prison, % not by many, but by one Angel. 
 
 XA ib.i3-i5 10 ' And this belief ma y y et S ain more cre " 
 
 dit, by the Reader's considering, that 
 when Peter after his enlargement knocked at the door 
 of Mary the mother of John, and Rhode, the maid-ser- 
 vant, being surprized with joy that Peter was there, 
 
DIt. JOHN DONNE. 27 
 
 did not let him in, but ran in haste, and told the Disci- 
 ples — who were then and there met together — that 
 Peter was at the door ; and they, not believing it, said 
 she was mad : yet, when she again affirmed it, though 
 they then believed it not, yet they concluded, and 
 said, It is his Angel. 
 
 More observations of this nature, and inferences 
 from them, might be made to gain the relation a 
 firmer belief : but I forbear, lest I, that intended to 
 be but a relator, may be thought to be an engaged 
 person for the proving what was related to me; 
 and yet I think myself bound to declare, that though 
 it was not told me by Mr.' Donne himself, it was 
 told me — now long since — by a Person of Honour, 
 and of such intimacy with him, that he knew more 
 of the secrets of his soul, than any person then liv- 
 ing : and I think he told me the truth ; for it was 
 told with such circumstances, and such asseveration, 
 that — to say nothing of my own thoughts — I verily 
 believe he that told it me, did himself believe it to 
 be true. 
 
 I forbear the Reader's farther trouble, as to the 
 relation, and what concerns it ; and will conclude 
 mine, with commending to his view a copy of verses 
 given by Mr. Donne to his wife at the time he then 
 parted from her. And I beg leave to tell, that I 
 have heard some critics, learned both in Languages 
 and Poetry, say, that none of the Greek or Latin 
 Poets did ever equal them. 
 
28 THE LIFE OF 
 
 A VALEDICTION, FORBIDDING TO MOURN, 
 
 As virtuous men pass mildly away, 
 And whisper to their souls, to go, 
 
 Whilst some of their sad friends do say, 
 The breath goes now, and some say, No ; 
 
 So let us melt, and make no ?wise, 
 
 No tear-floods, nor sigh tempests move ^ 
 
 'Twere profanation of our joys, 
 To tell the laity our love. 
 
 Moving of iti earth, brings harms and f ears : 
 Men reckon what it did or meant : 
 
 But trepidation of the spheres, 
 Though greater far, is innocent. 
 
 Dull sublunary lovers' love 
 
 ——Whose soul is sense — cannot admit 
 
 Absence, because that doth remove 
 Those things which elemented it. 
 
 But we, by a love so far refind, 
 That ourselves know not what it is, 
 
 Inter-assured of the mind, 
 
 Care not hands, eyes, or lips to miss. 
 
 Our two souls therefore, which are one, 
 — Though I must go, — endure not yet 
 
 A breach, but an expansion, 
 Like gold to airy thinness beat. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 29 
 
 If we be two P we are two so 
 
 As stiff twin-compasses are two : 
 Thy soul, the fix 'd foot, makes no show 
 
 To move, but does if th' other do. 
 
 And though thine in the centre sit, 
 Yet, when my other far does roam, 
 
 Thine leans and hearkens after it, 
 And grows erect as mine comes home. 
 
 Such wilt thou be to me, who must, 
 Like tli other foot, obliquely run : 
 
 Thy firmness makes my circle just, 
 And me to end where I begun. 
 
 I return from my account of the Vision, to tell the 
 Reader, that hothbeforeMr.Donne's going into France, 
 at his being there, and after his return, many of the 
 Nobility and others that were powerful at Court, 
 were watchful and solicitous to the King for some 
 secular employment for him. The King had for- 
 merly both known and put a value upon his com- 
 pany, and had also given him some hopes of a State- 
 employment ; being always much pleased when Mr. 
 Donne attended him, especially at his meals, where 
 there were usually many deep discourses of general 
 learning, and very often friendly disputes, or de- 
 bates of Religion, betwixt his Majesty and those 
 Divines, whose places required their attendance on 
 him at those times : particularly the Dean of the 
 Chapel, who then was Bishop Montague — the pub- 
 
30 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lisher of the learned and eloquent Works of his 
 Majesty — and the most Reverend Doctor Andrews, 
 the late learned Bishop of Winchester 3 who was then 
 the King's Almoner. 
 
 About this time there grew many disputes, that 
 concerned the Oath of Supremacy and Allegiance, in 
 which the King had appeared, and engaged him- 
 self by his public writings now extant : and his 
 Majesty discoursing with Mr. Donne, concerning 
 many of the reasons which are usually urged against 
 the taking of those Oaths, apprehended such a 
 validity and clearness in his stating the questions, 
 and his answers to them, that his Majesty com- 
 manded him to bestow some time in drawing the 
 arguments into a method, and then to write his 
 answers to them > and, having done that, not to 
 send, but be his own messenger, and bring them 
 to him. To this he presently and diligently applied 
 himself, and within six weeks brought them to him 
 under his own hand writing, as they be now printed ; 
 the book bearing the name of Pseudo-Martyr, printed 
 anno 1610. 
 
 When the King had read and considered that 
 book, he persuaded Mr. Donne to enter into the 
 Ministry 5 to which, at that time, he was, and ap- 
 peared, very unwilling, apprehending it — such was 
 his mistaken modesty — to be too weighty for his 
 abilities : and though his Majesty had promised him 
 a favour, and many persons of worth mediated with 
 his Majesty for some secular employment for him, — 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 31 
 
 to which his education had apted him — and par- 
 ticularly the Earl of Somerset, when in his greatest 
 height of favour ; who being then at Theobald's 
 
 with the King, where one of the Clerks of the 
 Council died that night, the Earl posted a messenger 
 for Mr. Donne to come to him immediately, and at 
 Mr. Donne s coming, said, Mr. Donne, to testify the 
 reality of my affection, and my purpose to prefer you, 
 stay in this garden till I go up to the King, and bring 
 you word that you are Clerk of the Council: doubt 
 not my doing this, for I know the King loves you, and 
 know the King will not deny me. But the King gave 
 a positive denial to all requests, and, having a dis- 
 cerning spirit, replied, I know Mr. Donne is a learned 
 man, has the abilities of a learned Divine, and will 
 prove a powerful preacher ; and my desire is to prefer 
 
32 THE LIFE OF 
 
 him that way, and in that way I will deny you nothing 
 for him. After that time, as he profess- 
 ofD ? ook efc h, * the King descended to a persuasion, 
 almost to a solicitation, of him to enter 
 into sacred Orders: which, though he then denied not, 
 yet he deferred it for almost three years. All which 
 time he applied himself to an incessant study of 
 Textual Divinity, and to the attainment of a greater 
 perfection in the learned languages, Greek and 
 Hebrew. 
 
 In the first and most blessed times of Christianity, 
 when the Clergy were looked upon with reverence, 
 and deserved it, when they overcame their opposers 
 by high examples of virtue, by a blessed patience 
 and long-suffering, those only were then judged 
 worthy the Ministry, whose quiet and meek spirits 
 did make them look upon that sacred calling with 
 an humble adoration and fear to undertake it $ which 
 indeed requires such great degrees of humility, and 
 labour, and care, that none but such were then 
 thought worthy of that celestial dignity. And such 
 only were then sought out, and solicited to under- 
 take it. This I have mentioned, because forward- 
 ness and inconsideration, could not, in Mr. Donne, 
 as in many others, be an argument of insufficiency 
 or unfitness j for he had considered long, and had 
 many strifes within himself concerning the strict- 
 ness of life, and competency of learning, required in 
 such as enter into sacred Orders - 3 and doubtless, 
 considering his own demerits, did humbly ask God 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 33 
 
 with St. Paul, Lord, who is sufficient for these things ? 
 and with meek Moses, Lord, who am I? And sure, 
 if he had consulted with flesh and blood, he had 
 not for these reasons put his hand to that holy 
 plough. But God, who is able to prevail, wrestled 
 with him, as the Angel did with Jacob, and marked 
 him • marked him for his own j marked him with a 
 blessing, a blessing of obedience to the motions of 
 his blessed Spirit. And then, as he had formerly- 
 asked God with Moses, Who am I? so now, being 
 inspired with an apprehension of God's particular 
 mercy to him, in the King's and others solicitations 
 of him, he came to ask King David's thankful ques- 
 tion, Lord, who am I, that thou art so mindful of me ? 
 So mindful of me, as to lead me for more than forty 
 years through this wilderness of the many tempta- 
 tions and various turnings of a dangerous life : so 
 merciful to me, as to move the learnedest of Kings 
 to descend to move me to serve at the altar ! So 
 merciful to me, as at last to move my heart to em- 
 brace this holy motion ! Thy motions I will and do 
 embrace : and I now say with the blessed Virgin, 
 Be it with thy servant as seemeth best in thy sight : and 
 so, Blessed Jesus, I do take the Cup of Salvation, and 
 will call upon thy Name, and will preach thy Gospel. 
 Such strifes as these St. Austin had, when St. 
 Ambrose endeavoured his conversion to Christianity ; 
 with which he confesseth he acquainted his friend 
 Alipius. Our learned author, — a man fit to write 
 after no mean copy — did the like. And declaring 
 
 F 
 
34 THE LIFE OF 
 
 his intentions to his dear friend Dr. King, then 
 Bishop of London, a man famous in his generation, 
 and no stranger to Mr. Donne s abilities, — for he 
 had been Chaplain to the Lord Chancellor, at the 
 time of Mr. Donne s being his Lordship's Secretary — 
 that reverend man did receive the news with much 
 gladness 3 and, after some expressions of joy, and a 
 persuasion to be constant in his pious purpose, he 
 proceeded with all convenient speed to ordain him 
 first Deacon, and then Priest not long after. 
 
 Now the English Church had gained a second St. 
 Austin ,• for I think none was so like him before his 
 conversion, none so like St. Ambrose after it : and 
 if his youth had the infirmities of the one, his age 
 had the excellencies of the other 5 the learning and 
 holiness of both. 
 
 And now all his studies which had been occasion- 
 ally diffused, were all concentered in Divinity. Now 
 he had a new calling, new thoughts, and a new em- 
 ployment for his wit and eloquence. Now, all his 
 earthly affections were changed into divine love ; 
 and all the faculties of his own soul were engaged 
 in the conversion of others ; in preaching the glad 
 tidings of remission to repenting sinners, and peace 
 to each troubled soul. To these he applied himself 
 with all care and diligence : and now such a change 
 was wrought in him, that he could say with David, 
 O how amiable are thy Tabernacles, O Lord God of 
 Hosts ! Now he declared openly, that when he required 
 a temporal, God gave him a spiritual blessing. And 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 35 
 
 that he was now gladder to be a door-keeper in the House 
 of God, than he could be to enjoy the noblest of all tem- 
 poral employments. 
 
 Presently after he entered into his holy profession, 
 the King sent for him, and made him his Chaplain 
 in Ordinary, and promised to take a particular care 
 for his preferment. 
 
 And, though his long familiarity with scholars 
 and persons of greatest quality, was such, as might 
 have given some men boldness enough to have 
 preached to any eminent auditory ; yet his modesty 
 in this employment was such, that he could not be 
 persuaded to it, but went usually accompanied with 
 some one friend to preach privately in some village, 
 not far from London- his first Sermon being preached 
 at Paddington. This he did, till his Majesty sent 
 and appointed him a day to preach to him at White- 
 hall • and, though much were expected from him, 
 both by his Majesty and others, yet he was so happy 
 — which few are — as to satisfy and exceed their ex- 
 pectations : preaching the Word so, as shewed his 
 own heart was possessed with those very thoughts 
 and joys that he laboured to distil into others : a 
 preacher in earnest ; weeping sometimes for his 
 auditory, sometimes with them 5 always preaching 
 to himself, like an Angel from a cloud, but in none 5 
 carrying some, as St. Paul was, to Heaven in holy 
 raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and 
 courtship to amend their lives : here picturing a Vice 
 so as to make it ugly to those that practised it 5 and 
 
36 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a Virtue so as to make it beloved, even by those 
 that loved it not -, and all this with a most particular 
 grace and an unexpressible addition of comeliness. 
 
 There may be some that may incline to think — 
 such indeed as have not heard him — that my affec- 
 tion to my friend hath transported me to an im- 
 moderate commendation of his preaching. If this 
 meets with any such, let me entreat, though I will 
 omit many, yet that they will receive a double wit- 
 ness for what I say 5 it being attested by a gentle- 
 man of worth, — Mr. Chidley, a frequent hearer of 
 his Sermons — in part of a Funeral Elegy writ by 
 him on Dr. Donne ; and is a known truth, though it 
 be in verse. 
 
 Each altar had his Jive 
 
 He kept his love, but not his object ; wit 
 
 He did not banish, but transplanted it; 
 
 Taught it both time and place, and brought it liome 
 
 To piety, which it doth best become. 
 ****** 
 
 For say, had ever pleasure such a dress ? 
 
 Have you seen crimes so shap'd, or loveliness 
 
 Such as his lips did clothe Religion in ? 
 
 Had not reproof a beauty passing Sin ? 
 
 Corrupted Nature sorrow 'd that she stood 
 
 So near the danger of becoming good. 
 
 And, when he preaclid, she wish*d her ears exempt 
 
 From piety, that had such powW to tempt. 
 
 How did his sacred flattery beguile 
 
 Men to amend ?•— — 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 37 
 
 More of this, and more witnesses, might be brought; 
 but I forbear and return. 
 
 That Summer, in the very same month in which 
 he entered into sacred Orders, and was made the 
 Kings Chaplain, his Majesty then going his Progress, 
 was entreated to receive an entertainment in the 
 University of Cambridge : and Mr. Donne attending 
 his Majesty at that time, his Majesty was pleased to 
 recommend him to the University, to be made 
 Doctor in Divinity : Doctor Harsnett — after Arch- 
 bishop of York — was then Vice- Chancellor, who, 
 knowing him to be the author of that learned book 
 the Pseudo-Martyr, required no other proof of his 
 abilities, but proposed it to the University, who 
 presently assented, and expressed a gladness, that 
 they had such an occasion to entitle him to be 
 their' s. 
 
 His abilities and industry in his profession were 
 so eminent, and he so known and so beloved by 
 persons of quality, that within the first year of his 
 entering into sacred Orders, he had fourteen advow- 
 sons of several benefices presented to him : but they 
 were in the country, and he could not leave his 
 beloved London, to which place he had a natural 
 inclination, having received both his birth and edu- 
 cation in it, and there contracted a friendship with 
 many, whose conversation multiplied the joys of his 
 life : but an employment that might affix him to 
 that place would be welcome, for he needed it. 
 
 Immediately after his return from Cambridge, his 
 
38 THE LIFE OF 
 
 wife died, leaving him a man of a narrow, unsettled 
 estate, and — having buried five- — the careful father 
 of seven children then living, to whom he gave a 
 voluntary assurance, never to bring them under the 
 subjection of a step-mother ; which promise he kept 
 most faithfully, burying with his tears, all his earthly 
 joys in his most dear and deserving wife's grave, 
 and betook himself to a most retired and solitary 
 life. 
 
 In this retiredness, which was often from the 
 sight of his dearest friends, he became crucified to 
 the world, and all those vanities, those imaginary 
 pleasures, that are daily acted on that restless stage ; 
 and they were as perfectly crucified to him. Nor 
 is it hard to think — being, passions may be both 
 changed and heightened by accidents — but that that 
 abundant affection which once was betwixt him and 
 her, who had long been the delight of his eyes, and 
 the companion of his youth ; her, with whom he 
 had divided so many pleasant sorrows and contented 
 fears, as common people are not capable of ; — not 
 hard to think but that she being now removed by 
 death, a commeasurable grief took as full a posses- 
 sion of him as joy had done ; and so indeed it did ; 
 for now his very soul was elemented of nothing but 
 sadness j now grief took so full a possession of his 
 heart, as to leave no place for joy : If it did, it was 
 a joy to be alone, where, like a pelican in the wil- 
 derness, he might bemoan himself without witness or 
 restraint, and pour forth his passions like Job in the 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 39 
 
 days of his affliction : Oh that I might have the desire 
 of my heart ! Oh that God would grant the thing that I 
 long for ! For then, as the grave is become her house, 
 so I would hasten to make it mine also ; that we two 
 might there make our beds together in the dark. Thus, 
 as the Israelites sat mourning by the rivers of Baby- 
 lon, when they remembered Sion • so he gave some 
 ease to his oppressed heart by thus venting his sor- 
 rows : thus he began the day, and ended the night 5 
 ended the restless night and began the weary day 
 in lamentations. And thus he continued, till a con- 
 sideration of his new engagements to God, and St. 
 Paul's. — Woe is me, if I preach not the Gospel ! dis- 
 persed those sad clouds that had then benighted his 
 hopes, and now forced him to behold the light. 
 
 His first motion from his house, was to preach 
 where his beloved wife lay buried, — in St. Clement's 
 Church, near Temple Bar, London, — and his text 
 was a part of the Prophet Jeremy's Lamentation : 
 Lo, I am the Man that have seen affliction. 
 
 And indeed his very words and looks testified him 
 to be truly such a man ; and they, with the addition 
 of his sighs and tears, expressed in his Sermon, did 
 so work upon the affections of his hearers, as melted 
 and moulded them into a companionable sadness j 
 and so they left the congregation ; but then their 
 houses presented them with objects of diversion, 
 and his presented him with nothing but fresh objects 
 of sorrow, in beholding many helpless children, a 
 
40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 narrow fortune, and a consideration of the many 
 cares and casualties that attend their education. 
 
 In this time of sadness he was importuned by 
 the grave Benchers of Lincoln s Inn — who were once 
 the companions and friends of his youth — to accept 
 of their Lecture, which, by reason of Dr. Gatakers 
 removal from thence, was then void 5 of which he 
 accepted, being most glad to renew his intermitted 
 friendship with those whom he so much loved, and 
 where he had been a Saul, — though not to persecute 
 Christianity, or to deride it, yet in his irregular 
 youth to neglect the visible practice of it, — there to 
 become a Paul, and preach salvation to his beloved 
 brethren. 
 
 And now his life was as a shining light among his 
 old friends : now he gave an ocular testimony of 
 the strictness and regularity of it : now he might 
 say, as St. Paul adviseth his Corinthians, Be ye fol- 
 lowers of me, as I follow Christ, and walk as ye have me 
 for an example ; not the example of a busy body, but 
 of a contemplative, a harmless, an humble, and an 
 holy life and conversation. 
 
 The love of that noble Society was expressed to 
 him many ways 5 for, besides fair lodgings that were 
 set apart, and newly furnished for him with all ne- 
 cessaries, other courtesies were also daily added; 
 indeed so many, and so freely, as if they meant 
 their gratitude should exceed his merits : and in 
 this love-strife of desert and liberality, they con- 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 41 
 
 tinued for the space of two years, he preaching 
 faithfully and constantly to them, and they liberally 
 requiting him. About which time the Emperor of 
 Germany died, and the Palsgrave, who had lately 
 married the Lady Elizabeth, the King's only daugh- 
 ter, was elected and crowned King of Bohemia, the 
 unhappy beginning of many miseries in that nation. 
 
 King James, whose motto — Beati pacifici — did 
 truly speak the very thoughts of his heart, endea- 
 voured first to prevent, and after to compose, the 
 discords of that discomposed State ; and, amongst 
 other his endeavours, did then send the Lord Hay, 
 Earl of Doncaster, his Ambassador to those unset- 
 tled Princes ; and, by a special command from his 
 Majesty, Dr. Donne was appointed to assist and 
 attend that employment to the Princes of the Union j 
 for which the Earl was most glad, who had always 
 put a great value on him, and taken a great plea- 
 sure in his conversation and discourse : and his 
 friends at Lincoln's Inn were as glad ; for they feared 
 that his immoderate study, and sadness for his wife's 
 death, would, as Jacob said, make his days few, and, 
 respecting his bodily health, evil too 5 and of this 
 there were many visible signs. 
 
 At his going, he left his friends of Lincoln s Inn, 
 and they him, with many reluctations : for, though 
 he could not say as St. Paul to his Ephesians, Behold, 
 you, to whom I have preached the Kingdom of God, 
 shall from henceforth see my face no more ; yet he, be- 
 lieving himself to be in a Consumption, questioned, 
 
42 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and they feared it : all concluding that his troubled 
 mind, with the help of his unintermitted studies, 
 hastened the decays of his weak body. But God, 
 who is the God of all wisdom and goodness, turned it 
 to the best ; for this employment — to say nothing of 
 the event of it — did not only divert him from those 
 too serious studies and sad thoughts, but seemed 
 to give him a new life, by a true occasion of joy, to 
 be an eye witness of the health of his most dear 
 and most honoured mistress, the Queen of Bohemia, 
 
 in a foreign nation 5 and to be a witness of that 
 gladness which she expressed to see him : who, 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 43 
 
 having formerly known him a courtier, was much 
 joyed to see him in a canonical habit, and more glad 
 to be an ear-witness of his excellent and powerful 
 preaching. 
 
 About fourteen months after his departure out of 
 England, he returned to his friends of Lincoln s Inn, 
 with his sorrows moderated, and his health im- 
 proved ; and there betook himself to his constant 
 course of preaching. 
 
 About a year after his return out of Germany, Dr. 
 Carey was made Bishop of Exeter, and by his re- 
 moval the Deanery of St. Paul's being vacant, the 
 King sent to Dr. Donne, and appointed him to at- 
 tend him at dinner the next day. When his Ma- 
 jesty was sat down, before he had eat any meat, he 
 said after his pleasant manner, Dr. Donne, I have 
 invited you to dinner; and, though you sit not down 
 with me, yet I will carve to you of a dish that I know 
 you love well; for, knowing you love London, I do 
 therefore make you Dean of Paul's; and, when I have 
 dined, then do you take your beloved dish home to your 
 study, say grace there to yourself, and much good may 
 it do you. 
 
 Immediately after he came to his Deanery, he 
 employed workmen to repair and beautify the Cha- 
 pel; suffering, as holy David once vowed, his eyes 
 and temples to take no rest, till he had first beautified 
 the house of God. 
 
 The next quarter following, when his father-in- 
 law, Sir George More, — whom time had made a 
 
44 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lover and admirer of him — came to pay to him the 
 conditioned sum of twenty pounds, he refused to 
 receive it ; and said — as good Jacob did, when he 
 heard his beloved son Joseph was alive, It is enough. — 
 You have been kind to me and mine : I know your 
 present condition is such as not to abound, and I 
 hope mine is, or will be such as not to need it : I 
 will therefore receive no more from you upon that 
 contract ; and in testimony of it freely gave him up 
 his bond. 
 
 Immediately after his admission into his Deanery, 
 the Vicarage of St. Dunstan in the West, London, 
 fell to him by the death of Dr. White, the advowson 
 of it having been given to him long before by his 
 honourable friend Richard Earl of Dorset, then the 
 patron, and confirmed by his brother the late de- 
 ceased Edward, both of them men of much honour. 
 
 By these, and another ecclesiastical endowment 
 which fell to him about the same time, given to him 
 formerly by the Earl of Kent, he was enabled to 
 become charitable to the poor, and kind to his 
 friends, and to make such provision for his children, 
 that they were not left scandalous, as relating to 
 their, or his profession and quality. 
 
 The next Parliament, which was within that pre- 
 sent year, he was chosen Prolocutor to the Convo- 
 cation, and about that time was appointed by his 
 Majesty, his most gracious master, to preach very 
 many occasional Sermons, as at St. Paul's Cross, 
 and other places. All which employments he per- 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 45 
 
 formed to the admiration of the representative body 
 of the whole Clergy of this nation. 
 
 He was once, and but once, clouded with the 
 King's displeasure, and it was about this time ; 
 which was occasioned by some malicious whisperer, 
 who had told his Majesty that Dr. Donne had put on 
 the general humour of the pulpits, and was become 
 busy in insinuating a fear of the King's inclining 
 to Popery, and a dislike of his government ; and 
 particularly for the King's then turning the Evening 
 Lectures into Catechising, and expounding the Prayer 
 of our Lord, and of the Belief, and Commandments. 
 His Majesty was the more inclinable to believe this, 
 for that a person of Nobility and great note, betwixt 
 whom and Dr. Donne there had been a great friend- 
 ship, was at this very time discarded the Court — I 
 shall forbear his name, unless I had a fairer occa- 
 sion — and justly committed to prison ; which begot 
 many rumours in the common people, who in this 
 nation think they are not wise, unless they be busy 
 about what they understand not, and especially about 
 Religion. 
 
 The King received this news with so much dis- 
 content and restlessness, that he would not suffer 
 the sun to set and leave him under this doubt ; but 
 sent for Dr. Donne, and required his answer to the 
 accusation; which was so clear and satisfactory, 
 that the King said, he was right glad he rested no 
 longer under the suspicion. When the King had said 
 
46 THE LIFE OF 
 
 this, Doctor Donne kneeled down, and thanked his 
 Majesty, and protested his answer was faithful, and 
 free from all collusion, and therefore, desired that 
 he might not rise, till, as in like cases, he always had 
 from God, so he might have from his Majesty, some as- 
 surance that he stood clear and fair in his opinion. At 
 which the King raised him from his knees with his 
 own hands, and protested he believed him -, and that he 
 knew he was an honest man, and doubted not but that 
 he loved him truly. And, having thus dismissed him, 
 he called some Lords of his Council into his cham- 
 ber, and said with much earnestness, My Doctor is 
 an honest man ; and, my Lords, I was never better sa- 
 tisfied with an answer than he hath now made me ; and 
 I always rejoice when I think that by my means he be- 
 came a Divine. 
 
 He was made Dean in the fiftieth year of his age ; 
 and in his fifty -fourth year, a dangerous sickness 
 seized him, which inclined him to a Consumption : 
 but God, as Job thankfully acknowledged, preserved 
 his spirit, and kept his intellectuals as clear and per- 
 fect, as when that sickness first seized his body ; 
 but it continued long, and threatened him with 
 death, which he dreaded not. 
 
 In this distemper of body, his dear friend, Dr. 
 Henry King, — then chief Residentiary of that church, 
 and late Bishop of Chichester — a man generally 
 known by the Clergy of this nation, and as generally 
 noted for his obliging nature, visited him daily j and 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 47 
 
 observing that his sickness rendered his recovery 
 doubtful, he chose a seasonable time to speak to 
 him to this purpose. 
 
 " Mr. Dean, I am, by your favour, no stranger to 
 " your temporal estate, and you are no stranger to 
 " the offer lately made us, for the renewing a lease 
 " of the best Prebend's corps belonging to our 
 " church 3 and you know 'twas denied, for that our 
 " tenant being very rich, offered to fine at so low a 
 " rate as held not proportion with his advantages : 
 " but I will either raise him to an higher sum, or 
 " procure that the other Residentiaries shall join to 
 " accept of what was offered : one of these, I can 
 " and will by your favour do without delay, and 
 " without any trouble either to your body or mind : 
 " I beseech you to accept of my offer, for I know 
 " it will be a considerable addition to your present 
 " estate, which I know needs it." 
 
 To this, after a short pause, and raising himself 
 upon his bed, he made this reply : 
 
 " My most dear friend, I most humbly thank you 
 " for your many favours, and this in particular ; but 
 " in my present condition I shall not accept of your 
 " proposal ; for doubtless there is such a sin as 
 " Sacrilege ; if there were not, it could not have a 
 " name in Scripture : and the primitive Clergy were 
 " watchful against all appearances of that evil -, and 
 " indeed then all Christians looked upon it with 
 " horror and detestation, judging it to be even an 
 "■ open defiance of the Power and Providence of Almighty 
 
48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " God, and a sad presage of a declining Religion. But 
 u instead of such Christians, who had selected times 
 " set apart to fast and pray to God, for a pious 
 " Clergy, which they then did obey, our times abound 
 " with men that are busy and litigious about trifles 
 " and Church-ceremonies, and yet so far from 
 " scrupling Sacrilege, that they make not so much 
 " as a qucere what it is : but I thank God I have ; 
 " and dare not now upon my sick bed, when Al- 
 " mighty God hath made me useless to the service 
 (< of the Church, make any advantages out of it. 
 " But if he shall again restore me to such a degree 
 " of health, as again to serve at his altar, I shall 
 " then gladly take the reward which the bountiful 
 " benefactors of this church have designed me ; for 
 " God knows my children and relations will need it. 
 " In which number, my mother, — whose credulity 
 " and charity has contracted a very plentiful to a 
 " very narrow estate — must not be forgotten. But 
 " Dr. King, if I recover not, that little worldly 
 " estate that I shall leave behind me — that very 
 " little, when divided into eight parts — must, if you 
 " deny me not so charitable a favour, fall into your 
 " hands, as my most faithful friend and Executor j 
 " of whose care and justice I make no more doubt, 
 " than of God's blessing, on that which I have con- 
 " scientiously collected for them 5 but it shall not 
 " be augmented on my sick-bed ; and this I declare 
 " to be my unalterable resolution." 
 
 The reply to this was only a promise to observe 
 his request. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 49 
 
 Within a few days his distempers abated j and as 
 his strength increased, so did his thankfulness to 
 Almighty God, testified in his most excellent Book 
 of Devotions, which he published at his recovery ; 
 in which the reader may see the most secret thoughts 
 that then possessed his soul, paraphrased and made 
 public : a book, that may not unfitly be called a 
 Sacred Picture of Spiritual Ecstasies, occasioned and 
 appliable to the emergencies of that sickness 5 which 
 book, being a composition of Meditations, Disquisi- 
 tions, and Prayers, he writ on his sick bed j herein 
 imitating the holy Patriarchs, who were wont to 
 build their altars in that place where they had re- 
 ceived their blessings. 
 
 This sickness brought him so near to the gates of 
 death, and he saw the grave so ready to devour him, 
 that he would often say, his recovery was superna- 
 tural : but that God that then restored his health, 
 continued it to him till the fifty-ninth year of his 
 life : and then, in August 1630, being with his eldest 
 daughter, Mrs. Harvey, at Abury Hatch, in Essex, he 
 there fell into a fever, which, with the help of his 
 constant infirmity — vapours from the spleen— hast- 
 ened him into so visible a Consumption, that his 
 beholders might say, as St. Paul of himself, He dies 
 daily ; and he might say with Job, My welfare pas- 
 seth away as a cloud, the days of my affliction have 
 taken hold of me, and weary nights are appointed 
 for me. 
 
 H 
 
50 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Reader, This sickness continued long, not only weaken- 
 ing, but wearying him so much, that my desire is, he 
 may now take some rest ; and that before I speak of his 
 death, thou wilt not think it an impertinent digression to 
 look back with me upon some observations of his life, 
 wMch, whilst a gentle slumber gives rest to his spirits, 
 may, I hope, not unfitly exercise thy consideration. 
 
 His marriage was the remarkable error of his 
 life j an error, which, though he had a wit able and 
 very apt to maintain paradoxes, yet he was very far 
 from justifying it : and though his wife's competent 
 years, and other reasons, might be justly urged to 
 moderate severe censures, yet he would occasionally 
 condemn himself for it : and doubtless it had been 
 attended with an heavy repentance, if God had not 
 blessed them with so mutual and cordial affections, 
 as in the midst of their sufferings made their bread 
 of sorrow taste more pleasantly, than the banquets 
 of dull and low-spirited people. 
 
 The recreations of his youth were Poetry, in which 
 he was so happy, as if Nature and all her varieties 
 had been made only to exercise his sharp wit and 
 high fancy^ and in those pieces which were face- 
 tiously composed and carelessly scattered, — most of 
 them being written before the twentieth year of his 
 age — it may appear by his choice metaphors, that 
 both Nature and all the Arts joined to assist him 
 with their utmost skill. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 51 
 
 It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing 
 some of those pieces that had been loosely — God 
 knows, too loosely — scattered in his youth, he wished 
 they had been abortive, or so short-lived that his 
 own eyes had witnessed their funerals : but, though 
 he was no friend to them, he was not so fallen out 
 with heavenly Poetry, as to forsake that j no, not in 
 his declining age ; witnessed then by many divine 
 Sonnets, and other high, holy, and harmonious com- 
 posures. Yea, even on his former sick-bed he wrote 
 this heavenly Hymn, expressing the great joy that 
 then possessed his soul, in the assurance of God's 
 favour to him when he composed it : 
 
 AN HYMN 
 
 TO GOD THE FATHER. 
 
 Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, 
 
 Which was my sin, though it were done before ? 
 
 Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run, 
 And do run still, though still I do deplore ? 
 
 When thou hast done, thou hast not done, 
 
 For I have more. 
 
 Wilt thou forgive that sin, which I have won 
 Others to sin, and made my sin their door ? 
 
 Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun 
 A year or two ,- — but wallow 'd in a score ? 
 
 When thou hast done, thou hast not done, 
 
 For I have more. 
 
52 THE LIFE OF 
 
 I have a sin of fear, that when I've spun 
 My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ; 
 
 But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son 
 Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ; 
 
 And having done that, thou hast done, 
 
 I fear no more. 
 
 I have the rather mentioned this Hymn, for that 
 he caused it to be set to a most grave and solemn 
 tune, and to be often sung to the Organ by the Cho- 
 risters of St. Paul's Church, in his own hearing ; 
 especially at the Evening Service j and at his return 
 from his customary devotions in that place, did oc- 
 casionally say to a friend^ The words of this Hymn 
 have restored to me the same thoughts of joy that pos- 
 sessed my soul in my sickness, when I composed it. And, 
 the power of Church-music ! that harmony added to 
 this Hymn has raised the affections of my heart, and 
 quickened my graces of zeal and gratitude ; and I ob- 
 serve that I always return from paying this public duty 
 of Prayer and Praise to God, with an unexpressible 
 tranquillity of mind, and a willingness to leave the 
 world. 
 
 After this manner did the Disciples of our Saviour, 
 and the best of Christians in those ages of the Church 
 nearest to his time, offer their praises to Almighty 
 God. And the reader of SL Augustine's life may 
 there find, that towards his dissolution he wept 
 abundantly, that the enemies of Christianity had 
 broke in upon them, and profaned and ruined their 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 53 
 
 Sanctuaries, and because their Public Hymns and 
 Lauds were lost out of their Churches. And after 
 this manner have many devout souls lifted up their 
 hands, and offered acceptable sacrifices unto Al- 
 mighty God, where Dr. Donne offered his, and now 
 lies buried. 
 
 But now. Oh Lord ! how is that place 
 become desolate ! 
 
 Before I proceed further, I think fit to inform the 
 Reader, that not long before his death he caused to 
 be drawn a figure of the body of Christ extended 
 upon an Anchor, like those which painters draw, 
 when they would present us with the picture of 
 Christ crucified on the Cross : his varying no other- 
 wise, than to affix him not to a Cross, but to an 
 Anchor — the emblem of Hope; — this he caused to 
 be drawn in little, and then many of those figures 
 thus drawn to be engraven very small in Helitro- 
 pium stones, and set in gold 5 and of these he sent to 
 many of his deareast friends, to be used as seals, or 
 rings, and kept as memorials of him, and of his affec- 
 tion to them. 
 
 His dear friends and benefactors, Sir Henry 
 Goodier, and Sir Robert Drewry, could not be of that 
 number ; nor could the Lady Magdalen Herbert, the 
 mother of George Herbert, for they had put off mor- 
 tality, and taken possession of the grave before him : 
 but Sir Henry, Wotton, and Dr. Hall, the then late 
 deceased Bishop of Norwich, were ; and so were 
 Dr. Duppa, Bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, 
 
54 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Bishop of Chichester — lately deceased— men, in 
 whom there was such a commixture of general 
 Learning, of natural Eloquence, and Christian Humility, 
 that they deserve a commemoration by a pen equal 
 to their own, which none have exceeded. 
 
 And in this enumeration of his friends, though 
 many must be omitted, yet that man of primitive 
 piety, Mr. George Herbert, may not : I mean that 
 George Herbert, who was the author of The Temple^ 
 or Sacred Poems and Ejaculations. A book, in which 
 by declaring his own spiritual conflicts, he hath 
 comforted and raised many a dejected and discom- 
 posed soul, and charmed them into sweet and quiet 
 thoughts : a book, by the frequent reading whereof, 
 and the assistance of that Spirit that seemed to in- 
 spire the Author, the Reader may attain habits of 
 Peace and Piety, and all the gifts of the Holy Ghost 
 and Heaven: and may, by still reading, still keep 
 those sacred fires burning upon the altar of so pure 
 a heart, as shall free it from the anxieties of this 
 world, and keep it fixed upon things that are above. 
 Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr. Donne, there 
 was a long and dear friendship, made up by such a 
 sympathy of inclinations, that they coveted and 
 joyed to be in each other's company j and this happy 
 friendship was still maintained by many sacred en- 
 dearments 5 of which that which followeth may be 
 some testimony. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 55 
 
 TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT ; 
 
 SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE ANCHOR 
 AND CHRIST. 
 
 A Sheaf of Snakes used heretofore to be my Seal, which 
 is the Crest of oar poor family. 
 
 Qui prius assuetus serpentum falce tabellas 
 
 Signare, haec nostrse symbola parva domus, 
 Adscitus domui Domini — 
 
 Adopted in God's family, and so 
 
 My old Coat lost, into new Arms I go. 
 
 The Cross, my Seal in Baptism, spread below, 
 
 Does by that form into an Anchor grow. 
 
 Crosses grow Anchors, bear as thou shouldst do 
 
 Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor too. 
 
 But he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus, 
 
 Is Christ, who there is crucified for us. 
 
 Yet with this I may my first Serpents hold; 
 
 — God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old — 
 
 The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be ; 
 
 My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me. 
 
 And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure 
 
 He is my death ; but on the Cross, my cure. 
 
 Crucify nature then ; and then implore 
 
 All grace from him, crucified there before. 
 
 When all is Cross, and that Cross Anchor grown, 
 
 This Seats a Catechism, not a Seal alone. 
 
 Under that little Seal great gifts I send, 
 
 Both works and pray rs, pawns and fruits of a friend. 
 
56 THE LIFE OF 
 
 O ! may that Saint that rides on our Great Seal, 
 To you that bear his name, large bounty deal. 
 
 John Donne. 
 
 IN SACRAM ANCHORAM PISCATORIS 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 Quod Crux nequibat fixa clavique additi, 
 — Tenere Christum scilicet ne ascenderet, — 
 Tuive Christum 
 
 Although the Cross could not Christ here detain, 
 
 When naiVd untot, but he ascends again ; 
 
 Nor yet thy eloquence here keep him still, 
 
 But only whilst thou speak' st — this Anchor will : 
 
 Nor canst thou be content, unless thou to 
 
 This certain Anchor add a Seal, and so 
 
 The water and the earth both unto thee 
 
 Do owe the symbol of their certainty. 
 
 Let the world reel, we and all ours stand sure, 
 
 This holy cable's from all storms secure. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
 I return to tell the reader, that, besides these 
 verses to his dear Mr. Herbert, and that Hymn that 
 I mentioned to be sung in the Choir of St. PauVs 
 Church, he did also shorten and beguile many sad 
 hours by composing other sacred ditties ; and he 
 writ an Hymn on his death-bed,, which bears this 
 title : 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 57 
 
 AN HYMN TO GOD, MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS. 
 March 23, 1630. 
 
 Since I am coming to that holy room, 
 
 Where, with thy Choir of Saints, for evermore 
 
 I shall be made thy music, as I come 
 I tune my instrument here at the door, 
 And, what I must do then, think here before. 
 
 Since my Physicians by their loves are grown 
 Cosmographers ; and I their map, who lye 
 Flat on this bed 
 
 So, in his purple wrapt, receive me, Lord ! 
 By these his thorns, give me his other crown : 
 
 And, as to other souls I preactid thy word, 
 Be this my text, my sermon to mine own, 
 " That he may raise, therefore the Lord throws down," 
 
 If these fall under the censure of a soul, whose 
 too much mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge 
 of these high raptures and illuminations, let him 
 know, that many holy and devout men have thought 
 the soul of Prudentius to be most refined, when, not 
 many days before his death, he charged it to present his 
 God each morning and evening with a new and spiritual 
 song ,• justified by the example of King David and 
 the good King Hezekiah, who, upon the renovation 
 of his years paid his thankful vows to Almighty God 
 
58 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in a royal hymn, which he concludes in these words j 
 The Lord was ready to save ; therefore I will sing my 
 songs to the stringed instruments all the days of my life 
 in the Temple of my God. 
 
 The latter part of his life may be said to be a 
 continued study ; for as he usually preached once a 
 week, if not oftener, so after his Sermon he never 
 gave his eyes rest, till he had chosen out a new 
 Text, and that night cast his Sermon into a form, 
 and his Text into divisions ; and the next day be- 
 took himself to consult the Fathers, and so commit 
 his meditations to his memory, which was excellent. 
 But upon Saturday he usually gave himself and his 
 mind a rest from the weary burthen of his week's 
 meditations, and usually spent that day in visitation 
 of friends, or some other diversions of his thoughts j 
 and would say, that he gave both his body and mind 
 that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the 
 work of the day following, not faintly, but with courage 
 and cheerfulness. 
 
 Nor was his age only so industrious, but in the 
 most unsettled days of his youth, his bed was not 
 able to detain him beyond the hour of four in a 
 morning ; and it was no common business that drew 
 him out of his chamber till past ten : all which time 
 was employed in study j though he took great li- 
 berty after it. And if this seem strange, it may 
 gain a belief by the visible fruits of his labours $ 
 some of which remain as testimonies of what is here 
 written : for he left the resistance of 1400 Authors, 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 59 
 
 most of them abridged and analysed with his own 
 hand : he left also six score of his Sermons, all 
 written with his own hand -, also an exact and la- 
 borious Treatise concerning Self-murder, called Bia- 
 thanatos; wherein all the Laws violated by that act 
 are diligently surveyed, and judiciously censured : a 
 Treatise written in his younger days, which alone 
 might declare him then not only perfect in the Civil 
 and Canon Laiv, but in many other such studies and 
 arguments, as enter not into the consideration of 
 many that labour to be thought great clerks, and 
 pretend to know all things. 
 
 Nor were these only found in his study, but all 
 businesses that passed of any public consequence, 
 either in this or any of our neighbour-nations, he 
 abbreviated either in Latin, or in the language of 
 that nation, and kept them by him for useful memo- 
 rials. So he did the copies of divers Letters and 
 Cases of Conscience that had concerned his friends, 
 with his observations and solutions of them ; and 
 divers other businesses of importance, all particu- 
 larly and methodically digested by himself. 
 
 He did prepare to leave the world before life left 
 him ; making his Will when no faculty of his soul 
 was damped or made defective by pain or sickness, 
 or he surprised by a sudden apprehension of death : 
 but it was made with mature deliberation, express- 
 ing himself an impartial father, by making his chil- 
 dren's portions equal ; and a lover of his friends, 
 whom he remembered with legacies fitly and dis- 
 
60 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 creetly chosen and bequeathed. I cannot forbear 
 a nomination of some of them ; for methinks they 
 be persons that seem to challenge a recordation 
 in this place 5 as namely, to his Brother-in-law, 
 Sir Thomas Grimes, he gave that striking clock, 
 which he had long worn in his pocket ; to his dear 
 friend and executor, Dr. King, — late Bishop of Chi- 
 chester— that Model of Gold of the Synod of Dort, 
 
 with which the States presented him at his last 
 being at the Hague ; and the two pictures of *Padre 
 Paolo and Fulgentio, men of his acquaintance when 
 he travelled Italy, and of great note in that nation 
 for their remarkable learning. — To his ancient friend 
 Dr. Brook, — that married him — Master of Trinity 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 61 
 
 College in Cambridge, he gave the picture of the 
 Blessed Virgin and Joseph. — To Dr. Winniff — who 
 succeeded him in the Deanery — he gave a picture 
 called the Skeleton. — To the succeeding Dean, who 
 was not then known, he gave many necessaries of 
 worth, and useful for his house ; and also several 
 pictures and ornaments for the Chapel, with a desire 
 that they might be registered, and remain as a le- 
 gacy to his successors. — To the Earls of Dorset 
 and Carlisle he gave several pictures -, and so he did 
 to many other friends ; legacies, given rather to ex- 
 press his affection, than to make any addition to 
 their estates : but unto the poor he was full of 
 charity, and unto many others, who, by his constant 
 and long continued bounty, might entitle themselves 
 to be his alms -people : for all these he made provi- 
 sion, and so largely, as, having then six children 
 living, might to some appear more than proportion- 
 able to his estate. I forbear to mention any more, 
 lest the Reader may think I trespass upon his pa- 
 tience : but I will beg his favour, to present him 
 with the beginning and end of his Will. 
 
 In the name of the blessed and glorious Trinity, Amen. 
 I John Donne, by the mercy of Christ Jesus, and by 
 the calling of the Church of England, Priest, being at 
 this time in good health and perfect understanding, — 
 praised be God therefore — do hereby make my last Will 
 and Testament in manner and form following : 
 
 First, I give my gracious God an entire sacrifice of 
 
62 THE LIFE OF 
 
 body and soul, with my most humble thanks for that 
 assurance which his blessed Spirit imprints in me now of 
 the Salvation of the one, and the Resurrection of the 
 other ; and for that constant and cheerful resolution, 
 which the same Spirit hath established in me, to live and 
 die in the Religion now professed in the Church of Eng- 
 land. In expectation of that Resurrection, I desire my 
 body may be buried — in the most private manner that 
 may be — in that place of St. Paul's Church, London, 
 that the now Residentiaries have at my request designed 
 
 for that purpose, &c. And this my last Will and 
 
 Testament, made in the fear of God, — whose mercy I 
 humbly beg, and constantly rely upon in Jesus Christ — 
 and in perfect love and charity with all the world — 
 whose pardon I ask, from the lowest of my servants, to 
 the highest of my superiors — written all with my own 
 hand, and my name subscribed to every page, of which 
 there are Jive in number. 
 
 Sealed December 13, 1630. 
 
 Nor was this blessed sacrifice of Charity expressed 
 only at his death, but in his life also, by a cheerful 
 and frequent visitation of any friend whose mind 
 was dejected, or his fortune necessitous : he was 
 inquisitive after the wants of prisoners, and redeemed 
 many from prison, that lay for their fees or small 
 debts : he was a continual giver to poor scholars, 
 both of this and foreign nations. Besides what he 
 gave with his own hand, he usually sent a servant, 
 or a discreet and trusty friend, to distribute his cha- 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 63 
 
 rity to all the Prisons in London, at all the festival 
 times of the year, especially at the Birth and Resur- 
 rection of our Saviour. He gave an hundred pounds 
 at one time to an old friend, whom he had known 
 live plentifully, and by a too liberal heart and care- 
 lessness became decayed in his estate; and when 
 the receiving of it was denied, by the gentleman's 
 saying, He wanted not; — for the reader may note, 
 that as there be some spirits so generous as to 
 labour to conceal and endure a sad poverty, rather 
 than expose themselves to those blushes that attend 
 the confession of it ; so there be others, to whom 
 Nature and Grace have afforded such sweet and com- 
 passionate souls, as to pity and prevent the distresses 
 of mankind j — which I have mentioned because of 
 Dr. Donne s reply, whose answer was 5 I know you 
 want not what will sustain nature ,• for a little will do 
 that ; but my desire is, that you, who in the days of your 
 plenty have cheered and raised the hearts of so many of 
 your dejected friends, would now receive this from me, 
 and use it as a cordial for the cheering of your own : 
 and upon these terms it was received. He was an 
 happy reconciler of many differences in the families 
 of his friends and kindred, — which he never under- 
 took faintly ; for such undertakings have usually faint 
 effects — and they had such a faith in his judgment 
 and impartiality, that he never advised them to any 
 thing in vain. He was, even to her death, a most 
 dutiful son to his Mother, careful to provide for her 
 supportation, of which she had been destitute, but 
 
64 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that God raised him up to prevent her necessities ; 
 who, having sucked in the religion of the Roman 
 Church with the mother's milk, spent her estate in 
 foreign countries, to enjoy a liberty in it, and died 
 in his house but three months before him. 
 
 And to the end it may appear how just a steward 
 he was of his Lord and Master's revenue, I have 
 thought fit to let the reader know, that after his en- 
 trance into his Deanery, as he numbered his years, 
 he, — at the foot of a private account, to which God 
 and his Angels were only witnesses with him, — com- 
 puted first his revenue, then what was given to the 
 poor, and other pious uses j and lastly, what rested 
 for him and his ; and having done that, he then 
 blessed each year's poor remainder with a thankful 
 prayer ; which, for that they discover a more than 
 common devotion, the Reader shall partake some of 
 them in his own words : 
 
 So all is that remains this year 
 
 Deo Opt. Max. benigno largitori, a me, et ab iis 
 quibus hcec a me reservantur, Gloria et gratia in ceter- 
 num. Amen. 
 
 Translated thus. 
 
 To God all Good, all Great, the benevolent Be- 
 stower, by me, and by them, for whom, by me, these 
 sums are laid up, be Glory and Grace ascribed for 
 ever. Amen. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 65 
 
 So that this year, God hath blessed me and mine 
 with: — 
 
 MultiplicatcB sunt super nos misericordice tuce, Domine. 
 
 Translated thus. 
 Thy mercies, Oh Lord ! are multiplied upon us. 
 
 Da, Domine, ut qua ex immensd bonitate tud nobis 
 elargiri dignatus sis, in quorumcunque manus devene- 
 rint, in tuam semper cedant gloriam. Amen. 
 
 Translated thus. 
 Grant, Oh Lord ! that what out of thine infinite 
 bounty Thou hast vouchsafed to lavish upon us, 
 into whosesover hands it may devolve, may always 
 be improved to thy glory. Amen. 
 
 In fine horum sex annorum manet : 
 
 Quid habeo quod non accepi a Domino ? Largitur 
 etiam ut qu<e largitus est sua iterum fiant, bono eorum 
 usu ; ut quemadmodum nee officiis hujus mundi, nee 
 loci in quo me posuit dignitati, nee servis, nee egenis, in 
 toto hujus anni curriculo mihi conscius sum me defuisse ; 
 ita et liberi, quibus quce supersunt, supersunt, grato 
 animo ea accipiant, et beneficum authorem recognos- 
 cant. Amen. 
 
 Translated thus. 
 At the end of these six years remains : — 
 What have I, which I have not received from the 
 Lord ? He bestows, also, to the intent that what he 
 
66 TliE LIFE OF 
 
 hath bestowed may revert to Him by the proper use 
 of it : that, as I have not consciously been wanting 
 to myself during the whole course of the past year, 
 either in discharging my secular duties, in retain- 
 ing the dignity of my station, or in my conduct 
 towards my servants and the poor, — so my chil- 
 dren, for whom remains whatever is remaining, may 
 receive it with gratitude, and acknowledge the 
 beneficent Giver. Amen. 
 
 But I return from my long digression. 
 
 We left the Author sick in Essex, where he was 
 forced to spend much of that Winter, by reason of 
 his disability to remove from that place 5 and hav- 
 ing never, for almost twenty years, omitted his per- 
 sonal attendance on His Majesty in that month, in 
 which he was to attend and preach to him j nor 
 having ever been left out of the roll and number of 
 Lent Preachers, and there being then — in January, 
 1630, — a report brought to London, or raised there, 
 that Dr. Donne was dead; that report gave him 
 occasion to write the following letter to a dear 
 friend : 
 Sir, 
 
 " This advantage you and my other friends 
 " have by my frequent fevers, that I am so much 
 " the oftener at the gates of Heaven 3 and this ad- 
 " vantage by the solitude and close imprisonment 
 <( that they reduce me to after, that I am so much 
 " the oftener at my prayers, in which I shall never 
 " leave out your happiness 5 and 1 doubt not, among 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 67 
 
 " his other blessings, God will add some one to you 
 " for my prayers. A man would almost be con- 
 " tent to die, — if there were no other benefit in 
 " death, — to hear of so much sorrow, and so much 
 " good testimony from good men, as I, — God be 
 " blessed for it — did upon the report of my death : 
 " yet I perceive it went not through all ; for one 
 * writ to me, that some, — and he said of my friends, 
 <( — conceived I was not so ill as I pretended, but 
 " withdrew myself to live at ease, discharged of 
 " preaching. It is an unfriendly, and, God knows, 
 " an ill-grounded interpretation ; for I have always 
 " been sorrier when I could not preach, than any 
 " could be they could not hear me. It hath been 
 " my desire, and God may be pleased to grant it, 
 " that I might die in the pulpit ; if not that, yet 
 " that I might take my death in the pulpit ; that 
 " is, die the sooner by occasion of those labours. 
 " Sir, I hope to see you presently after Candlemas } 
 " about which time will fall my Lent Sermon at 
 " Court, except my Lord Chamberlain believe me to 
 " be dead, and so leave me out of the roll : but as 
 " long as I live, and am not speechless, I would not 
 (< willingly decline that service. I have better 
 " leisure to write, than you to read ; yet I would 
 " not willingly oppress you with too much letter. 
 ee God so bless you and your son, as I wish to 
 Your poor friend, and Servant 
 in Christ Jesus, 
 
 J. Donne, 
 
68 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Before that month ended, he was appointed to 
 preach upon his old constant day, the first Friday in 
 Lent : he had notice of it, and had in his sickness 
 so prepared for that employment, that as he had 
 long thirsted for it, so he resolved his weakness 
 should not hinder his journey 3 he came therefore 
 to London some few days before his appointed day 
 of preaching-. At his coming thither, many of his 
 friends — who with sorrow saw his sickness had left 
 him but so much flesh as did only cover his bones — 
 doubted his strength to peform that task, and did 
 therefore dissuade him from undertaking it, assur- 
 ing him however, it was like to shorten his life : but 
 he passionately denied their requests, saying he would 
 not doubt that that God, who in so many weaknesses 
 had assisted him with an unexpected strength, would 
 now withdraw it in his last employment ; professing an 
 holy ambition to perform that sacred work. And when, 
 to the amazement of some beholders, he appeared 
 in the pulpit, many of them thought he presented 
 himself not to preach mortification by a living voice, 
 but mortality by a decayed body, and a dying face. 
 And doubtless many did secretly ask that question 
 
 in Ezekiel. Do these bones live? or. 
 Chap, xxxvii. 3. 
 
 can that soul organize that tongue, to 
 
 speak so long time as the sand in that glass will move 
 
 towards it's centre, and measure out an hour of this 
 
 dijing mans unspent life ? Doubtless it cannot. And 
 
 yet, after some faint pauses in his zealous prayer, 
 
 his strong desires enabled his weak body to dis- 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 69 
 
 charge his memory of his preconceived meditations, 
 which were of dying ; the Text being, To God the 
 Lord belong the issues from death. Many that then- 
 saw his tears, and heard his faint and hollow voice, 
 professing they thought the Text prophetically 
 chosen, and that Dr. Donne had preached his own 
 Funeral Sermon. 
 
 Being full of joy that God had enabled him to 
 perform this desired duty, he hastened to his house ; 
 out of which he never moved, till, like St. Stephen, 
 he was carried by devout men to his grave. 
 
 The next day after his Sermon, his strength being 
 much wasted, and his spirits so spent as indisposed 
 him to business or to talk, a friend, that had often 
 been a witness of his free and facetious discourse, 
 asked him, Why are you sad? To whom he re- 
 plied, with a countenance so full of cheerful gravity, 
 as gave testimony of an inward tranquillity of mind, 
 and of a soul willing to take a farewell of this 
 world ; and said, 
 
 " I am not sad 5 but most of the night past I have 
 " entertained myself with many thoughts of several 
 " friends that have left me here, and are gone to that 
 " place from which they shall not return; and that 
 " within a few days I also shall go hence, and be no 
 " more seen. And my preparation for this change 
 ct is become my nightly meditation upon my bed, 
 " which my infirmities have now made restless to 
 " me. But at this present time, I was in a serious 
 " contemplation of the Providence and Goodness of 
 
70 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " God to me ; to me, who am less than the least of 
 " his mercies : and looking back upon my life past, 
 " I now plainly see it was his hand that prevented 
 " me from all temporal employment j and that it 
 " was his will I should never settle nor thrive till I 
 " entered into the Ministry 5 in which I have now 
 " lived almost twenty years — I hope to his glory, — 
 " and by which, I most humbly thank him, I have 
 " been enabled to requite most of those friends which 
 " shewed me kindness when my fortune was very 
 " low, as God knows it was : and, — as it hath oc- 
 <e casioned the expression of my gratitude — I thank 
 " God most of them have stood in need of my re- 
 ' ' quital. I have lived to be useful and comfortable 
 " to my good Father-in-law, Sir George More, whose 
 " patience God hath been pleased to exercise with 
 " many temporal crosses ; I have maintained my 
 u own Mother, whom it hath pleased God, after a 
 " plentiful fortune in her younger days, to bring to 
 " great decay in her very old age. I have quieted 
 " the consciences of many, that have groaned under 
 " the burthen of a wounded spirit, whose prayers I 
 " hope are available for me. I cannot plead in- 
 " nocency of life, especially of my youth 5 but I am 
 " to be judged by a merciful God, who is not willing 
 " to see what I have done amiss. And though of my- 
 " self I have nothing to present to him but sins and 
 " misery, yet I know he looks not upon me now as 
 u I am of myself, but as I am in my Saviour, and 
 " hath given me, even at this present time, some 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 71 
 
 " testimonies by his Holy Spirit, that I am of the 
 " number of his Elect : I am therefore full of inex- 
 " pressiblejoy, and shall die in peace" 
 
 I must here look so far back, as to tell the Reader 
 that at his first return out of Essex, to preach his 
 last Sermon, his old friend and Physician, Dr. Fox — 
 a man of great worth — came to him to consult his 
 health ; and that after a sight of him, and some 
 queries concerning his distempers, he told him, 
 That by cordials, and drinking milk twenty days together, 
 there was a probability of his restoration to health ; but 
 he passionately denied to drink it. Nevertheless, 
 Dr. Fox, who loved him most entirely, wearied him 
 with solicitations, till he yielded to take it for ten 
 days ; at the end of which time he told Dr. Fox, 
 He had drunk it more to satisfy him, than to recover his 
 health ,• and that he would not drink it ten days longer, 
 upon the best moral assurance of having twenty years 
 added to his life-, for he loved it not; and was so far 
 from fearing Death, which to others is the King of 
 Terrors, that he longed for the day of his dissolution. 
 
 It is observed, that a desire of glory or commen- 
 dation is rooted in the very nature of man -, and that 
 those of the severest and most mortified lives, though 
 they may become so humble as to banish self-flattery, 
 and such weeds as naturally grow there ; yet they 
 have not been able to kill this desire of glory, but 
 that, like our radical heat, it will both live and die 
 with us j and many think it should do so ; and we 
 want not sacred examples to justify the desire of 
 
72 THE LIFE OF 
 
 having our memory to outlive our lives ; which I 
 mention, because Dr. Donne, by the persuasion of 
 Dr. Fox, easily yielded at this very time to have a 
 Monument made for him ; but Dr. Fox undertook 
 not to persuade him how, or what Monument it 
 should be } that was left to Dr. Donne himself. 
 
 A Monument being resolved upon, Dr. Donne 
 sent for a Carver to make for him in wood the figure 
 of an Urn, giving him directions for the compass 
 and height of it ; and to bring with it a board, of 
 the just height of his body. " These being got, 
 <e then without delay a choice Painter was got to be 
 " in readiness to draw his picture, which was taken 
 
 " as followeth. Several charcoal fires being first 
 
 " made in his large Study, he brought with him into 
 " that place his winding-sheet in his hand, and 
 " having put off all his clothes, had this sheet put 
 " on him, and so tied with knots at his head and feet, 
 " and his hands so placed as dead bodies are usually 
 " fitted, to be shrowded and put into their coffin, or 
 " grave. Upon this Urn he thus stood, with his 
 " eyes shut, and with so much of the sheet turned 
 " aside as might shew his lean, pale, and death-like 
 " face, which was purposely turned towards the 
 " East, from whence he expected the second coming 
 " of his and our Saviour Jesus." In this posture he 
 was drawn at his just height ; and when the picture 
 was fully finished, he caused it to be set by his bed- 
 side, where it continued and became his hourly 
 object till his death, and was then given to his 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 73 
 
 dearest friend and Executor Dr. Henry King, then 
 chief Residentiary of St. Pauts, who caused him to 
 be thus carved in one entire piece of white marble, 
 as it now stands in that Church ; and by Dr. Donne s 
 own appointment, these words were to be affixed to 
 it as an Epitaph : 
 
 JOHANNES DONNE, 
 
 SAC. THEOL. PROFESS. 
 
 POST VARIA STUDIA, QUIBUS AB ANNIS 
 
 TENERRIMIS FIDELITER, NEC INFELICITER 
 
 INCUBUITj 
 INSTINCTU ET IMPULSU SP. SANCTI, MONITU 
 
 ET HORTATU 
 
 REGIS JACOBI, ORDINES SACROS AMPLEXUS, 
 
 ANNO SUI JESU, MDCXIV. ET SU^E .ETATIS XLII. 
 
 DECANATU HUJUS ECCLESLE INDUTUS, 
 
 XXVII. NOVEMBRIS, MDCXXI. 
 
 EXUTUS MORTE ULTIMO DIE MARTII, MDCXXXI. 
 
 HIC LICET IN OCCIDUO CINERE, ASPICIT EUM 
 
 CUJUS NOMEN EST ORIENS. 
 
 [Translated in the Notes.] 
 
 And now, having brought him through the many 
 labyrinths and perplexities of a various life, even to 
 the gates of death and the grave ; my desire is, he 
 may rest, till I have told my Reader that I have 
 seen many pictures of him, in several habits, and 
 at several ages, and in several postures : and I now 
 mention this, because I have seen one picture of 
 him, drawn by a curious hand, at his age of eighteen, 
 with his sword, and what other adornments might 
 then suit with the present fashions of youth, and 
 
74 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the giddy gaities of that age 5 and his Motto then 
 was 
 
 How much shall I be changed, 
 
 Before I am changed ! 
 
 And if that young, and his now dying picture 
 were at this time set together, every beholder might 
 say, Lord ! how much is Dr. Donne already changed, 
 before he is changed ! And the view of them might 
 give my Reader occasion to ask himself with some 
 amazement, Lord ! how much may I also, that am now 
 in health, be changed before I am changed ; before this 
 vile, this changeable body shall put off mortality ! and 
 
 therefore to prepare for it. But this is not writ 
 
 so much for my Reader's memento, as to tell him, 
 that Dr. Donne would often in his private discourses, 
 and often publicly in his Sermons, mention the 
 many changes both of his body and mind 3 especially 
 of his mind from a vertiginous giddiness 3 and 
 would as often say, His great and most blessed change 
 was from a temporal to a spiritual employment ; in 
 which he was so happy, that he accounted the 
 former part of his life to be lost 3 and the beginning 
 of it to be, from his first entering into Sacred 
 Orders, and serving his most merciful God at his 
 altar. 
 
 Upon Monday, after the drawing this picture, he 
 took his last leave of his beloved study 3 and, being 
 sensible of his hourly decay, retired himself to his 
 bed-chamber 3 and that week sent at several times 
 for many of his most considerable friends, with 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 75 
 
 whom he took a solemn and deliberate farewell, 
 commending to their considerations some sentences 
 useful for the regulation of their lives ; and then 
 dismissed them, as good Jacob did his sons, with a 
 spiritual benediction. The Sunday following, he 
 appointed his servants, that if there were any busi- 
 ness yet undone, that concerned him or themselves, 
 it should be prepared against Saturday next ; for 
 after that day he would not mix his thoughts with 
 any thing that concerned this world ; nor ever did ; 
 but, as Job, so he waited for the appointed day of his 
 dissolution. 
 
 And now he was so happy as to have nothing to 
 do but to die, to do which, he stood in need of no 
 longer time ; for he had studied it long, and to so 
 happy a perfection, that in a former sickness he 
 called God to witness * He was that % j ,. Book 
 minute ready to deliver his soul into his of Devotions 
 hands, if that minute God would deter- 
 mine his dissolution. In that sickness he begged of 
 God the constancy to be preserved in that estate for 
 fcver 5 and his patient expectation to have his im- 
 mortal soul disrobed from her garment of mortality, 
 makes me confident, that he now had a modest as- 
 surance that his prayers were then heard, and his 
 petition granted. He lay fifteen days earnestly ex- 
 pecting his hourly change) and in the last hour of 
 his last day, as his body melted away, and vapoured 
 into spirit, his soul having, I verily believe, some 
 revelation of the beatifical vision, he said, I were 
 
76 THE LIFE OF 
 
 miserable if I might not die ; and after those words, 
 closed many periods of his faint breath by saying 
 often, Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. His speech, 
 which had long been his rea'dy and faithful servant, 
 left him not till the last minute of his life, and then 
 forsook him, not to serve another master — for who 
 speaks like him, — but died before him ; for that it 
 was then become useless to him, that now con- 
 versed with God on Earth, as Angels are said to do 
 in Heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being speech- 
 less, and seeing Heaven by that illumination by 
 which he saw it, he did, as St. Stephen, look sted- 
 fastly into it, till he saw the Son of Man standing at the 
 right hand of God his Father ; and being satisfied 
 with this blessed sight, as his soul ascended/and 
 his last breath departed from him, he closed his 
 own eyes, and then disposed his hands and body into 
 such a posture, as required not the least alteration 
 by those that came to shroud him. 
 
 Thus variable, thus virtuous was the life : thus 
 excellent, thus exemplary was the death of this me- 
 morable man. 
 
 He was buried in that place of St. Paul's Church, 
 which he had appointed for that use some years 
 before his death ; and by which he passed daily to 
 pay his public devotions to Almighty God — who 
 was then served twice a day by a public form of 
 prayer and praises in that place : — but he was not 
 buried privately, though he desired it ; for, beside 
 an unnumbered number of others, many persons of 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 77 
 
 Nobility, and of eminency for Learning, who did 
 love and honour him in his life, did shew it at his 
 death, by a voluntary and sad attendance of his 
 body to the grave, where nothing was so remark- 
 able as a public sorrow. 
 
 To which place of his burial some mournful friend 
 repaired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the 
 grave of the famous Achilles, so they strewed his 
 with an abundance of curious and costly flowers j 
 which course, they, — who were never yet known, — 
 continued morning and evening for many days, not 
 ceasing, till the stones, that were taken up in that 
 Church, to give his body admission into the cold 
 earth — now his bed of rest, — were again by the 
 Mason's art so levelled and firmed as they had been 
 formerly, and his place of burial undistinguishable 
 to common view. 
 
 The next day after his burial, some unknown 
 friend, some one of the many lovers and admirers 
 of his Virtue and Learning, writ this Epitaph with 
 a coal on the wall over his grave : 
 
 Reader ! I am to let thee know, 
 Donne's Body only lies belovj ; 
 For, could the grave his Soul comprise, 
 Earth would be richer than the Skies ! 
 
 Nor was this all the honour done to his reverend 
 ashes 5 for, as there be some persons that will not 
 receive a reward for that for which God accounts 
 himself a debtor ; persons that dare trust God with 
 their charity, and without a witness 3 so there was 
 
78 THE LIFE OF 
 
 by some grateful unknown friend, that thought Dr. 
 Donne s memory ought to be perpetuated, an hun- 
 dred marks sent to his two faithful 
 Dr?i*S^A d friends * and Executors, towards 
 the making of his Monument. It 
 was not for many years known by whom ; but, after 
 the death of Dr. Fox, it was known that it was he 
 that sent it ; and he lived to see as lively a repre- 
 sentation of his dead friend, as marble can express : 
 a statue indeed so like Dr. Donne, that — as his friend 
 Sir Henry Wotton hath expressed himself, — It seems 
 to breathe faintly , and posterity shall look upon it as a 
 kind of artificial miracle. 
 
 He was of Stature moderately tall; of a straight 
 and equally -proportioned body, to which all his words 
 and actions gave an unexpressible addition of comeliness. 
 
 The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so 
 contempered, that each gave advantage to the other, 
 and made his company one of the delights of mankind. 
 
 His fancy was unimitably high, equalled only by his 
 great wit; both being made useful by a commanding 
 judgment. 
 
 His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent 
 testimony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience 
 at peace with itself. 
 
 His melting eye shewed that he had a soft heart, 
 full of noble compassion ; of too brave a soul to offer 
 injuries, and too much a Christian not to pardon them 
 in others. 
 
 He did much contemplate — especially after he entered 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 79 
 
 into his sacred calling — the Mercies of Almighty God, 
 the Immortality of the Soul, and the Joys of Heaven : 
 and would often say in a kind of sacred ecstacy, — ' 
 Blessed be God that he is God, only and divinely 
 like himself. 
 
 He was by nature highly passionate, but more apt to 
 reluct at the excesses of it. A great lover of the offices 
 of humanity, and of so merciful a spirit, that he never 
 beheld the miseries of mankind without pity and 
 relief. 
 
 He was earnest and unwearied in the search of know- 
 ledge, with which his vigorous soul is now satisfied, and 
 employed in a continual praise of that God that first 
 breathed it into his active body : that body, which once 
 was a Temple of the Holy Ghost, and is now become 
 a small quantity of Christian dust : — 
 
 But I shall see it re-animated. 
 
 Feb. 15, 1639. I. W. 
 
 AN EPITAPH, 
 
 WRITTEN BY 
 
 DOCTOR CORBET, LATE BISHOP OF OXFORD, 
 
 ON HIS FRIEND DR. DONNE. 
 
 He that would write an Epitaph for thee, 
 And write it well, must first begin to be 
 Such as thou wert j for none can truly know 
 Thy life and worth, but he that hath liv'd so : 
 
80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 He must have Wit to spare, and to hurl down, 
 
 Enough to keep the gallants of the town. 
 
 He must have Learning plenty ; both the Laws, 
 
 Civil and common, to judge any cause. 
 
 Divinity, great store, above the rest, 
 
 Not of the last edition, but the best. 
 
 He must have Language, Travel, all the Arts, 
 
 Judgment to use, or else he wants thy parts. 
 
 He must have friends the highest, able to do, 
 
 Such as Maecenas and Augustus too. 
 
 He must have such a sickness, such a death, 
 
 Or else his vain descriptions come beneath. 
 
 He that would write an Epitaph for thee, 
 
 Should first be dead 5 — let it alone for me. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY EVER-DESIRED FRIEND, DOCTOR DONNE. 
 AN ELEGY 
 
 BY H. KING, LATE BISHOP OF CHICHESTER. 
 
 To have liv'd eminent, in a degree 
 Beyond our loftiest thoughts, that is, like Thee j 
 Or t' have had too much merit is not safe, 
 For such excesses find no epitaph. 
 
 At common graves we have poetic eyes 
 Can melt themselves in easy elegies ; 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 81 
 
 Each quill can drop his tributary verse, 
 
 And pin it, like the hatchments, to the hearse ; 
 
 But at thine, poem or inscription 
 
 — Rich soul of wit and language — we have none. 
 
 Indeed a silence does that tomb befit, 
 
 Where is no herald left to blazon it. 
 
 Widow'd Invention justly doth forbear 
 
 To come abroad, knowing thou art not there : 
 
 Late her great patron, whose prerogative 
 
 Maintain' d and cloth'd her so, as none alive 
 
 Must now presume to keep her at thy rate, 
 
 Tho' he the Indies for her dower estate. 
 
 Or else, that awful fire which once did burn 
 
 In thy clear brain, now fallen into thy urn, 
 
 Lives there, to fright rude empirics from thence, 
 
 Which might profane thee by their ignorance. 
 
 Whoever writes of Thee, and in a style 
 
 Unworthy such a theme, does but revile 
 
 Thy precious dust, and wakes a learned spirit, 
 
 Which may revenge his rapes upon thy merit : 
 
 For, all a low-pitch'd fancy can devise 
 
 Will prove at best but hallow' d injuries. 
 
 Thou like the dying swan didst lately sing, 
 Thy mournful dirge in audience of the King ; 
 When pale looks and faint accents of thy breath, 
 Presented so to life that piece of death, 
 That it was fear'd and prophesy' d by all 
 Thou thither cam'st to preach thy funeral. 
 
 M 
 
82 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Oh ! had'st thou in an elegiac knell 
 Rung out unto the world thine own farewell, 
 And in thy high victorious numbers beat 
 The solemn measures of thy griev'd retreat, 
 Thou might' st the Poet's service now have miss'd 
 As well as then thou didst prevent the Priest j 
 And never to the world beholden be, 
 So much as for an epitaph for thee. 
 
 I do not like the office $ nor is't fit 
 Thou, who didst lend our age such sums, of wit, 
 Should' st now re-borrow from her bankrupt mine 
 That ore to bury thee which first was thine : 
 Rather still leave us in thy debt -, and know, 
 Exalted soul, more glory 'tis to owe 
 Thy memory what we can never pay, 
 Than with embased coin those rites defray. 
 
 Commit we then Thee to Thyself, nor blame 
 Our drooping loves, that thus to thine own frame 
 Leave Thee executor, since but thine own 
 No pen could do thee justice, nor bays crown 
 Thy vast deserts $ save that we nothing can 
 Depute, to be thy ashes' guardian. 
 
 So Jewellers no art or metal trust, 
 To form the diamond, but the diamond's dust. 
 
 H.K. 
 
BR. JOHN DONNE. 83 
 
 AN ELEGY ON DR. DONNE. 
 BY IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 Our Donne is dead ! and we may sighing say, 
 We had that man, where language chose to stay, 
 And shew her utmost power. I would not praise 
 That, and his great wit, which in our vain days 
 Make others proud ; but as these serv'd to unlock 
 That cabinet his mind, where such a stock 
 Of knowledge was repos'd, that I lament 
 Our just and general cause of discontent. 
 
 And I rejoice I am not so severe, 
 But as I write a line, to weep a tear 
 For his decease 5 such sad extremities 
 Can make such men as I write elegies. 
 
 And wonder not 3 for when so great a loss 
 Falls on a nation, and they slight the cross, 
 God hath rais'd Prophets to awaken them 
 From their dull lethargy ; witness my pen, 
 Not us'd to upbraid the world, though now it must 
 Freely and boldly, for the cause is just. 
 
 Dull age ! Oh, I would spare thee, but thou'rt worse : 
 Thou art not only dull, but hast a curse 
 Of black ingratitude j if not, couldst thou 
 Part with this matchless man, and make no vow 
 
84 THE LIFE OF 
 
 For thee and thine successively to pay 
 Some sad remembrance to his dying day ? 
 
 Did his youth scatter Poetry, wherein 
 Lay Love's Philosophy ? was every sin 
 Pictur'd in his sharp Satires, made so foul, 
 That some have fear'd sin's shapes, and kept their soul 
 Safer by reading verse ; Bid he give days, 
 Past marble monuments, to those whose praise 
 He would perpetuate ? Did he — I fear 
 Envy will doubt— these at his twentieth year ? 
 
 But, more matur'd, did his rich soul conceive, 
 And in harmonious holy numbers weave 
 A Crown of Sacred Sonnets* fit t' adorn 
 A dying martyr's brow, or to be worn 
 On that blest head of Mary Magdalen, 
 After she wip'd Christ's feet, but not till then ; 
 Did he — fit for such penitents as she 
 And he to use — leave us a Litany, 
 Which all devout men love, and doubtless shall, 
 As times grow better, grow more classical ? 
 Did he write Hymns, for piety and wit, 
 Equal to those great grave Prudentius writ ? 
 Spake he all Languages ? Knew he all Laws ? 
 The grounds and use of Physic 5 but, because 
 'Twas mercenary, wav'd it ? went to see 
 That happy place of Christ's nativity ? 
 Did he return and preach him ? preach him so, 
 As since St. Paul none ever did ? they know — • 
 * La Corona. 
 
DR. JOHN DONNE. 85 
 
 Those happy souls that heard him — know this truth. 
 Did he confirm thy ag'd ? convert thy youth ? 
 Did he these wonders ? and is his dear loss 
 Mourn* d by so few ? few for so great a cross. 
 
 But sure the silent are ambitious all 
 To be close mourners of his funeraL 
 If not, in common pity they forbear 
 By repetitions to renew our care : 
 Or knowing grief conceiv'd and hid, consumes 
 Man's life insensibly, — as poison's fumes 
 Corrupt the brain, — take silence for the way 
 T' enlarge the soul from these walls, mud and clay, 
 — Materials of this body — to remain 
 With him in heaven, where no promiscuous pain 
 Lessens those joys we have ; for with him all 
 Are satisfied with joys essential. 
 
 Dwell on these joys, my thoughts ! Oh ! do not call 
 Grief back, by thinking on his funeral 
 Forget he lov'd me : waste not my swift years, 
 Which haste to David's seventy, fill'd with fears 
 And sorrows for his death : forget his parts, 
 They find a living grave in good men's hearts : 
 And, for my first is daily paid for sin, 
 Forget to pay my second sigh for him : 
 Forget his powerful preaching j and forget 
 I am his convert. Oh my frailty ! let 
 My flesh be no more heard 5 it will obtrude 
 This lethargy : so should my gratitude, 
 
86 
 
 THE LIFE, &c. 
 
 My vows of gratitude should so be broke, 
 Which can no more be, than his virtues, spoke 
 By any but himself : for which cause, I 
 Write no encomiums, but this elegy ; 
 Which, as a free-will offering, I here give 
 Fame and the world ,- and parting with it, grieve 
 I want abilities fit to set forth 
 A monument, as matchless as his worth. 
 
 IZ. WA. 
 April 7, 1631. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
Engra-ved ~by W?Fmaen . 
 
 Sum, iHTiiwmT Wo^riccDsr, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 PuteKsOieaiy Join. Major, 50.Tleet Street, 
 
 May 15^1825. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OP 
 
 SJR HENRY WOTTON, KNIGHT, 
 
 LATE 
 
 PROVOST 
 
 OF 
 
 ETON COLLEGE. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MAJOR, 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 SIR HENRY WOTTON. 
 
 ir Henry Wotton — whose life I 
 now intend to write — was born 
 in the year of our Redemption 
 1568, in Bocton-Hall, — com- 
 monly called Bocton, or Bough- 
 ton-Place, or Palace, — in the 
 Parish of Bocton Malherbe, in the 
 fruitful country of Kent. Boc- 
 ton-Hall being an ancient and goodly structure, beau- 
 tifying and being beautified by the Parish-Church 
 of Bocton Malherbe adjoining unto it, and both seated 
 within a fair Park of the Wottons, on the brow of 
 such a hill, as gives the advantage of a large pro- 
 spect, and of equal pleasure to all beholders. 
 
90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But this House and Church are not remarkable 
 for any thing so much, as for that the memorable 
 Family of the Wottons have so long inhabited the one, 
 and now lie buried in the other, as appears by their 
 many Monuments in that Church : the Wottons being 
 a family that hath brought forth divers persons emi- 
 nent for Wisdom and Valour ; whose heroic acts, and 
 noble employments, both in England and in foreign 
 parts, have adorned themselves and this nation ; 
 which they have served abroad faithfully, in the dis- 
 charge of their great trust, and prudently in their 
 negociations with several Princes j and also served 
 at home with much Honour and Justice, in their wise 
 managing a great part of the public affairs thereof, 
 in the various times both of War and Peace. 
 
 But lest I should be thought by any, that may in- 
 cline either to deny or doubt this truth, not to have 
 observed moderation in the commendation of this 
 Family ; and also for that I believe the merits and 
 memory of such persons ought to be thankfully re- 
 corded, I shall offer to the consideration of every 
 Reader, out of the testimony of their Pedigree and 
 our Chronicles, a part — and but a part — of that just 
 commendation which might be from thence en- 
 larged, and shall then leave the indifferent Reader 
 to judge whether my error be an excess or defect of 
 commendations. 
 
 Sir Robert Wotton, of Bocton Malherbe, Knight, 
 was born about the year of Christ 1460 : he, living 
 in the reign of King Edward the Fourth, was by 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 91 
 
 him trusted to be Lieutenant of Guisnes, to be Knight 
 
 Porter, and Comptroller of Calais, where he died, and 
 
 lies honourably buried. 
 
 Sir Edward Wotton of Bocton Malherbe, Knight, — 
 
 son and heir of the said Sir Robert — was born in the 
 
 year of Christ 1489, in the reign of King Henry the 
 
 Seventh ; he was made Treasurer of Calais, and of 
 
 the Privy Council to King Henry the Eighth, who 
 
 offered him to be Lord Chancellor of England : but, 
 
 saith Holinshed* out of a virtuous „. _ . . „. 
 
 * In his Chronicle, 
 modesty, he refused it. 
 
 Thomas Wotton of Bocton Malherbe, Esquire, son 
 and heir of the said Sir Edward, and the father of 
 our Sir Henry, that occasions this relation, was 
 born in the year of Christ 1521. He was a gentle- 
 man excellently educated, and studious in all the 
 Liberal Arts ,• in the knowledge whereof he attained 
 unto a great perfection ; who, though he had — be- 
 sides those abilities, a very noble and plentiful estate, 
 and the ancient interest of his predecessors — many in- 
 vitations from Queen Elizabeth to change his country 
 recreations and retirement for a Court, offering him 
 a Knighthood, — she was then with him at his Boc- 
 ton-Hall — and that to be but as an earnest of some 
 more honourable and more profitable employment 
 under her ; yet he humbly refused both, being a man 
 of great modesty, of a most plain and single heart, of 
 an ancient freedom, and integrity of mind. A com- 
 mendation which Sir Henry Wotton took occasion 
 often to remember with great gladness, and thank- 
 fully to boast himself the son of such a father j from 
 
92 THE LIFE OF 
 
 whom indeed he derived that noble ingenuity that 
 was always practised by himself, and which he ever 
 both commended and cherished in others. This 
 Thomas was also remarkable for hospitality, a great 
 lover and much beloved of his country 5 to which 
 may justly be added, that he was a cherisher of 
 learning, as appears by that excellent Antiquary Mr. 
 William Lambarde, in his Perambulation of Kent. 
 
 This Thomas had four sons, Sir Edward, Sir James, 
 Sir John, and Sir Henry. 
 
 Sir Edward was knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and 
 made Comptroller of Her Majesty's Household. He 
 was, — saith Camden y — a man remarkable for many 
 and great employments in the State, during her 
 reign, and sent several times Ambassador into foreign 
 nations. After her death, he was by King James 
 made Comptroller of his Household, and called to 
 be of his Privy Council, and by him advanced to be 
 Lord Wotton, Baron of Merley in Kent, and made 
 Lord Lieutenant of that County. 
 
 Sir James, the second son, may be numbered 
 among the martial men of his age, who was, in the 
 thirty-eighth of Queen Elizabeth's reign — with Ro- 
 bert, Earl of Sussex, Count Lodowick of Nassau, Don 
 Christophoro, son of Antonio, King of Portugal, and 
 divers other gentlemen of nobleness and valour — 
 knighted in the field near Cadiz in Spain, after they 
 had gotten great honour and riches, besides a nota- 
 ble retaliation of injuries, by taking that town. 
 
 Sir John, being a gentleman excellently accom- 
 plished, both by Learning and Travel, was knighted 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 93 
 
 by Queen Elizabeth, and by her looked upon with 
 more than ordinary favour, and with intentions of 
 preferment ; but death in his younger years put a 
 period to his growing hopes. 
 
 Of Sir Henry my following discourse shall give 
 an account. 
 
 The descent of these fore-named Wottons was all 
 in a direct line, and most of them and their actions in 
 the memory of those with whom we have conversed ; 
 but if I had looked so far back as to Sir Nicholas 
 Wotton, who lived in the reign of King Richard the 
 Second, or before him upon divers others of great 
 note in their several ages, I might by some be thought 
 tedious ; and yet others may more justly think me 
 negligent, if I omit to mention Nicholas Wotton, the 
 fourth son of Sir Robert, whom I first named. 
 
 This Nicholas Wotton was Doctor of Law, and 
 sometime Dean both of York and Canterbury ,• a man 
 whom God did not only bless with a long life, but 
 with great abilities of mind, and an inclination to 
 employ them in the service of his country, as is tes- 
 tified by his several employments,* 
 having been sent nine times Ambas- ^P Britannia 
 sador unto foreign Princes ; and by 
 his being a Privy Councillor to King Henry the 
 Eighth, to Edward the Sixth, to Queen Mary, and 
 Queen Elizabeth; who also, after he had been, 
 during the Wars between England, Scotland, and 
 France, three several times — and not unsuccessfully 
 — employed in Committees for settling of Peace 
 betwixt this and those Kingdoms, died, saith learned 
 
94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Camden , full of commendations for Wisdom and Piety. 
 He was also, by the Will of King Henry the Eighth, 
 made one of his Executors, and Chief Secretary of 
 State to his son, that pious Prince, Edward the Sixth. 
 Concerning which Nicholas Wotton I shall say but 
 this little more ; that he refused — being offered it 
 by Queen Elizabeth — to be Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, * — and that he died not rich, 
 though he lived in that time of the dissolution of 
 Abbeys. 
 
 More might be added ; but by this it may appear, 
 that Sir Henry Wotton was a branch of such a kin- 
 dred, as left a stock of reputation to their posterity : 
 such reputation as might kindle a generous emula- 
 tion in strangers, and preserve a noble ambition in 
 those of his name and family, to perform actions 
 worthy of their ancestors. 
 
 And that Sir Henry Wotton did so, might appear 
 
 more perfectly than my pen can express it, if of his 
 
 many surviving friends, some one of higher parts and 
 
 employments, had been pleased to have commended his 
 
 to posterity ; but since some years are now past, and 
 
 they have all — I know not why — -forborne to do it, my 
 
 gratitude to the memory of my dead 
 
 *$ir 'Edward friend, and the renewed request of 
 
 Byssne, Llarenceux d 1 J 
 
 King of Arms, Mr. some* that still live solicitous to see 
 
 mTmI C Nk°Ou- this duty performed ; these have had 
 
 dert, sometime Sir a power to persuade me to undertake 
 
 servant *" ^ ; which truly I have not done but 
 
 with distrust of mine own abilities; 
 
 and yet so far from despair, that lam modestly con/idem 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 95 
 
 my humble language shall be accepted, because I shall 
 present all readers with a commixture of truth, and 
 Sir Henry Wotton's merits. 
 
 This being premised, I proceed to tell the reader, 
 that the Father of Sir Henry Wotton was twice mar- 
 ried ; first to Elizabeth, the daughter of Sir John 
 Rudstone, Knight ; after whose death, though his 
 inclination was averse to all contentions, yet neces- 
 sitated he was to several Suits in Law j in the pro- 
 secution whereof, — which took up much of his time, 
 and were the occasion of many discontents, — he was 
 by divers of his friends earnestly persuaded to a re- 
 marriage; to whom he as often answered, That if 
 ever he did put on a resolution to marry, he was 
 seriously resolved to avoid three sorts of persons: 
 namely, 
 
 Those that had Children ; 
 
 Those that had Law-suits ; 
 
 And those that were of his Kindred. 
 
 And yet, following his own Law-suits, he met in 
 Westminster- Hall with Mrs. Eleonora Morton, Widow 
 to Robert Morton, of Kent, Esquire, who was also 
 engaged in several Suits in Law : and he, observ- 
 ing her comportment at the time of hearing one 
 of her causes before the Judges, could not but at 
 the same time both compassionate her condition, and 
 affect her person j for the tears of Lovers, or Beauty 
 dressed in sadness, are observed to have in them a 
 charming eloquence, and to become very often too 
 
96 THE LIFE OF 
 
 strong to be resisted : which I mention, because 
 it proved so with this Thomas Wotton ,• for although 
 there were in her a concurrence of all those acci- 
 dents, against which he had so seriously resolved, 
 yet his affection to her grew then so strong, that 
 he resolved to solicit her for a wife, and did, and 
 obtained her. 
 
 By her — who was the daughter of Sir William 
 Finch, of Eastwell, in Kent, — he had only Henry his 
 youngest son. His Mother undertook to be tuto- 
 ress unto him during much of his childhood ; for 
 whose care and pains he paid her each day with such 
 visible signs of future perfection in Learning, as 
 turned her employment into a pleasing trouble ; 
 which she was content to continue, till his Father 
 took him into his own particular care, and disposed 
 of him to a Tutor in his own house at Bocton. 
 
 And when time and diligent instruction had made 
 him fit for a removal to an higher form, — which 
 was very early, — he was sent to Winchester -school : a 
 place of strict discipline and order, that so he might 
 in his youth be moulded into a method of living by 
 rule, which his wise father knew to be the most ne- 
 cessary way to make the future part of his life both 
 happy to himself, and useful for the discharge of all 
 business, whether public or private. 
 
 And that he might be confirmed in this regularity, 
 he was, at a fit age, removed from that School, to be 
 a Commoner of New-College in Oxford; both being 
 founded by William Wickham, Bishop of Winchester. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 97 
 
 There he continued till about the eighteenth year 
 of his age, and was then transplanted into Queen's 
 College ; where, within that year, he was by the chief 
 of that College, persuasively enjoined to write a play 
 for their private use ; — it was the Tragedy of Tan- 
 credo — which was so interwoven with sentences, 
 and for the method and exact personating those 
 humours, passions and dispositions, which he pro- 
 posed to represent, so performed, that the gravest 
 of that society declared, he had, in a slight employ- 
 ment, given an early and a solid testimony of his 
 future abilities. And though there may be some 
 sour dispositions, which may think this not worth 
 a memorial, yet that wise Knight, Baptista Guarini, — 
 whom learned Italy accounts one of her ornaments, 
 — thought it neither an uncomely nor an unprofit- 
 able employment for his age. 
 
 But I pass to what will be thought more serious. 
 
 About the twentieth year of his age he proceeded 
 Master of Arts ,• and at that time read in Latin three 
 Lectures De Oculo ,• wherein he having described the 
 form, the motion, the curious composure of the Eye, 
 and demonstrated how of those very many, every 
 humour and nerve performs it's distinct office, so as 
 the God of Order hath appointed, without mixture 
 or confusion ; and all this to the advantage of man, 
 to whom the Eye is given, not only as the body's 
 guide, but whereas all other of his senses require 
 time to inform the soul, this in an instant appre- 
 hends and warns him of danger; teaching him in 
 the very eyes of others, to discover Wit, Folly, Love, 
 p 
 
98 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and Hatred. After he had made these observations, 
 he fell to dispute this Optic question. Whether we 
 see by the emission of the beams from within, or recep- 
 tion of the species from without ? And after that, and 
 many other like learned disquisitions, he, in the 
 conclusion of his Lectures, took a fair occasion to 
 beautify his discourse with a commendation of the 
 blessing and benefit of Seeing ; — by which we do not 
 only discover Nature's secrets, but, with a continued 
 content — for the eye is never weary of seeing — behold 
 the great Light of the World, and by it discover the 
 fabric of the Heavens, and both the order and motion 
 of the Celestial Orbs ; nay, that if the Eye look but 
 downward, it may rejoice to behold the bosom of the 
 Earth, our common mother, embroidered and adorned 
 with numberless and various flowers, which man sees 
 daily grow up to perfection, and then silently moralise 
 his own condition, who, in a short time, — like those very 
 flowers — decays, withers, and quickly returns again to 
 that Earth, from which both had their first being. 
 
 These were so exactly debated, and so rhetorically 
 heightened, as, among other admirers, caused that 
 learned Italian, Albericus Gentilis, then Professor of 
 the Civil Law in Oxford, to call him Henrice mi 
 Ocelle ,• which dear expression of his was also used 
 by divers of Sir Henry's dearest friends, and by many 
 other persons of note during his stay in the University. 
 
 But his stay there was not long, at least not so 
 long as his friends once intended ; for the year after 
 Sir Henry proceeded Master of Arts, his Father — 
 whom Sir Henry did never mention without this, or 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 
 
 99 
 
 some like reverential expression 3 as, That good 
 man my Father 3 or, My Father, the best of men; — 
 about that time, this good man changed this for a 
 better life ; leaving to Sir Henry, as to his other 
 younger sons, a rent-charge of an hundred marks 
 a year, to be paid for ever out of some one of his 
 Manors, of a much greater value. 
 
 And here, though this good man be dead, yet I 
 wish a circumstance or two that concerns him, may 
 not be buried without a relation 3 which I shall un- 
 dertake to do, for that I suppose they may so much 
 concern the Reader to know, that I may promise 
 myself a pardon for a short digression. 
 
 In the year of our Redemption 1553, Nicholas 
 Wotton, Dean of Canterbury, 
 
 — whom I formerly mentioned, — being then Am- 
 bassador in France, dreamed that his Nephew, this 
 
100 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Thomas Wotton, was inclined to be a party in sueh a 
 project, as, if he were not suddenly prevented, 
 would turn both to the loss of his life, and ruin of 
 his Family. 
 
 Doubtless the good Dean did well know that 
 common Dreams are but a senseless paraphrase on 
 our waking thoughts, or of the business of the day 
 past, or are the result of our over-engaged affec- 
 tions, when we betake ourselves to rest ; and knew 
 that the observation of them may turn to silly su- 
 perstitions, as they too often do. But, though he 
 might know all this, and might also believe that 
 prophecies are ceased ; yet doubtless he could not 
 but consider, that all dreams are not to be neglected 
 or cast away without all consideration ; and did 
 therefore rather lay this Dream aside, than intend 
 totally to lose it ; and dreaming the same again the 
 night following, when it became a double Dream, 
 like that of Pharaoh, — of which double Dreams the 
 learned have made many observations, — and con- 
 sidering that it had no dependence on his waking 
 thoughts, much less on the desires of his heart, 
 then he did more seriously consider it ; and re- 
 membered that Almighty God was pleased in a 
 Dream to reveal and to assure Monica,* 
 *St. Austin's the Mother of St Justin That he, her 
 
 Confession. ' ' 
 
 son, for whom she wept so bitterly, and 
 prayed so much, should at last become a Christian: 
 This, I believe, the good Dean considered ; and 
 considering also that Almighty God,— though the 
 causes of Dreams be often unknown — hath even in 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 101 
 
 these latter times also, by a certain illumination of 
 the Soul in sleep, discovered many things that 
 human wisdom could not foresee ; upon these con- , 
 siderations he resolved to use so prudent a remedy 
 by way of prevention, as might introduce no great 
 inconvenience either to himself or to his Nephew. 
 And to that end he wrote to the Queen, — 'twas 
 Queen Mary, — and besought her, That she would 
 cause his Nephew, Thomas Wotton, to be sent for out 
 of Kent 3 and that the Lords of her Council might in- 
 terrogate him in some such feigned questions, as might 
 give a colour for his commitment into a favourable 
 prison ; declaring that he would acquaint her Majesty 
 with the true reason of his request, when he should next 
 become so happy as to see and speak to her Majesty. 
 
 It was done as the Dean desired : and in prison 
 I must leave Mr. Wotton, till I have told the Reader 
 what followed. 
 
 At this time a marriage was concluded betwixt 
 our Queen Mary, and Philip, King of Spain; and 
 though this was concluded with the advice, if not 
 by the persuasion, of her Privy Council, as having 
 many probabilities of advantage to this nation j yet 
 divers persons of a contrary persuasion did not only 
 declare against it, but also raised forces to oppose 
 it : believing — as they said — it would be a means 
 to bring England to be under a subjection to Spain, 
 and make those of this nation slaves to strangers. 
 
 And of this number, Sir Thomas Wyat, of Boxley- 
 Abbey in Kent, — betwixt whose family and the fav 
 
102 THE LIFE OF 
 
 mily of the Wottons there had been an ancient and 
 entire friendship, — was the principal actor; who 
 having persuaded many of the Nobility and Gentry 
 — especially of Kent — to side with him, and he being 
 defeated, and taken prisoner, was legally arraigned 
 and condemned, and lost his life : so did the Duke 
 of Suffolk and divers others, especially many of the 
 Gentry of Kent, who were there in several places 
 executed as Wyat's assistants. 
 
 And of this number, in all probability, had Mr. 
 Wotton been, if he had not been confined -, for 
 though he could not be ignorant that another mans 
 Treason makes it mine by concealing it, yet he durst 
 confess to his Uncle, when he returned into England, 
 and then came to visit him in prison, That he had 
 more than an intimation of Wyat's intentions; and 
 thought he had not continued actually innocent, if 
 his Uncle had not so happily dreamed him into a 
 prison ; out of which place when he was delivered 
 by the same hand that caused his commitment, they 
 both considered the Dream more seriously, and 
 then both joined in praising God for it ; That God, 
 who ties himself to no rules, either in preventing of 
 evil, or in shewing of mercy to those, whom of good 
 pleasure he hath chosen to love. 
 
 And this Dream was the more considerable, be- 
 cause that God, who in the days of old did use to 
 speak to his people in Visions, did seem to speak to 
 many of this Family in Dreams j of which I will 
 also give the reader one short particular of this 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 103 
 
 Thomas Wotton, whose Dreams did usually prove 
 true, both in foretelling things to come, and dis- 
 covering things past j and the particular is this. — 
 This Thomas, a little before his death, dreamed that 
 the University Treasury was robbed by Townsmen 
 and poor Scholars, and that the number was five -, 
 and being that day to write to his son Henry at 
 Oxford, he thought it worth so much pains, as by a 
 postscript in his letter to make a slight enquiry of 
 it. The letter — which was writ out of Kent, and 
 dated three days before — came to his son's hands 
 the very morning after the night in which the 
 robbery was committed; and when the City and 
 University were both in a perplexed inquest of the 
 thieves, then did Sir Henry Wotton shew his Father's 
 letter, and by it such light was given of this work 
 of darkness, that the five guilty persons were pre- 
 sently discovered and apprehended, without putting 
 the University to so much trouble as the casting of 
 a Figure. 
 
 And it may yet be more considerable, that this 
 Nicholas and Thomas Wotton should both — being 
 men of holy lives, of even tempers, and much given 
 to fasting and prayer — foresee and foretell the very 
 days of their own death. Nicholas did so, being 
 then seventy years of age, and in perfect health. 
 Thomas did the like in the sixty-fifth year of his 
 age 5 who being then in London, — where he died, — 
 and foreseeing his death there, gave direction in 
 what manner his body should be carried to Bocton ; 
 
104 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and though he thought his Uncle Nicholas worthy 
 of that noble monument which he built for him in 
 the Cathedral Church of Canterbury ; yet this humble 
 man gave direction concerning himself, to be buried 
 privately, and especially without any pomp at his 
 funeral. This is some account of this family, which 
 seemed to be beloved of God. 
 
 But it may now seem more than time, that I re- 
 turn to Sir Henry Wotton at Oxford-, where, after 
 his Optic Lecture, he was taken into such a bosom 
 friendship with the learned Albericus Gentilis, — 
 whom I formerly named, — that, if it had been pos- 
 sible, Gentilis would have breathed all his excellent 
 knowledge, both of the Mathematics and Law, into 
 the breast of his dear Harry, for so Gentilis used to 
 call him : and though he was not able to do that, 
 yet there was in Sir Henry such a propensity and 
 connaturalness to the Italian language, and those 
 studies whereof Gentilis was a great master, that 
 the friendship between them did daily increase, and 
 proved daily advantageous to Sir Henry, for the im- 
 provement of him in several sciences during his stay 
 in the University. 
 
 From which place, before I shall invite the Reader 
 to follow him into a foreign nation, though I must 
 omit to mention divers persons that were then in 
 Oxford, of memorable note for learning, and friends 
 to Sir Henry Wotton ; yet I must not omit the men- 
 tion of a love that was there begun betwixt him 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 105 
 
 and Dr. Donne, sometimes Dean of St. PauVs ,- a 
 man of whose abilities I shall forbear to say any 
 thing, because he who is of this nation, and pretends 
 to learning or ingenuity, and is ignorant of Dr. 
 Donne, deserves not to know him. The friendship 
 of these two I must not omit to mention, being such 
 a friendship as was generously elemented ; and as 
 it was begun in their youth, and in an University, 
 and there maintained by correspondent inclinations 
 and studies, so it lasted till age and death forced a 
 separation. 
 
 In Oxford he stayed till about two years after his 
 Father's death -, at which time he was about the 
 twenty- second year of his age ; and having to his 
 great wit added the ballast of learning, and know- 
 ledge of the Arts, he then laid aside his books, and 
 betook himself to the useful library of travel, and 
 a more general conversation with mankind - } em- 
 ploying the remaining part of his youth, his in- 
 dustry, and fortune, to adorn his mind, and to 
 purchase the rich treasure of foreign knowledge : 
 of which, both for the secrets of Nature, the dis- 
 positions of many nations, their several laws and 
 languages, he was the possessor in a very large 
 measure -, as I shall faithfully make to appear, be- 
 fore I take my pen from the following narration of 
 his life. 
 
 In his travels, which was almost nine years before 
 his return into England, he stayed but one year 
 in France, and most of that in Geneva, where he 
 
 Q 
 
106 THE LIFE OF 
 
 became acquainted with Theodore Beza,-- -then very 
 aged 5 — and with Isaac Casaubon, in whose house, if 
 I be rightly informed, Sir Henry Wotton was lodged, 
 and there contracted a most worthy friendship with 
 that man of rare learning and ingenuity. 
 
 Three of the. remaining eight years were spent 
 in Germany, the other five in Italy, — the stage on 
 which God appointed he should act a great part of 
 his life 5 — where, both in Rome, Venice, and Florence, 
 he became acquainted with the most eminent men 
 for learning and all manner of Artsj as Picture, 
 Sculpture, Chemistry, Architecture, and other manual 
 Arts, even Arts of inferior nature ; of all which he 
 was a most dear lover, and a most excellent judge. 
 
 He returned out of Italy into England about the 
 thirtieth year of his age, being then noted by many 
 both for his person and comportment j for indeed 
 he was of a choice shape, tall of stature, and of a 
 most persuasive behaviour j which was so mixed 
 with sweet discourse and civilities, as gained him 
 much love from all persons with whom he entered 
 into an acquaintance. 
 
 And whereas he was noted in his youth to have 
 a sharp wit, and apt to jest -, that, by time, travel, 
 and conversation, was so polished, and made so 
 useful, that his company seemed to be one of the 
 delights of mankind 5 insomuch as Robert Earl of 
 Essex — then one of the Darlings of Fortune, and in 
 greatest favour with Queen Elizabeth — invited him 
 first into a friendship, and, after a knowledge of his 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 107 
 
 great abilities, to be one of his Secretaries ; the 
 other being Mr. Henry Cuffe, sometime of Merton 
 College in Oxford, — and there also the acquaintance 
 of Sir Henry Wotton in his youth, — Mr. Cuffe being 
 then a man of no common note in the University for 
 his learning ; nor, after his removal from that place, 
 for the great abilities of his mind, nor indeed for 
 the fatalness of his end. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton, being now taken into a service- 
 able friendship with the Earl of Essex, did per- 
 sonally attend his counsels and employments in two 
 voyages at sea against the Spaniard, and also in 
 that — which was the Earl's last — into Ireland ,• that 
 voyage, wherein he then did so much provoke the 
 Queen to anger, and worse at his return into Etig- 
 land; upon whose immoveable favour the Earl had 
 built such sandy hopes, as encouraged him to those 
 undertakings, which, with the help of a contrary 
 faction, suddenly caused his commitment to the 
 Tower. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton observing this, though he was 
 not of that faction — for the EarVs followers were 
 also divided into their several interests — which en- 
 couraged the Earl to those undertakings which 
 proved so fatal to him and divers of his confedera- 
 tion, yet, knowing Treason to be so comprehensive, 
 as to take in even circumstances, and out of them 
 to make such positive conclusions, as subtle States-* 
 men shall project, either for their revenge or safety ; 
 considering this, he thought prevention, by absence 
 
108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 out of England j a better security, than to stay in it, 
 and there plead his innocency in a prison. There- 
 fore did he, so soon as the Earl was apprehended, 
 very quickly, and as privately, glide through Kent 
 to Dover, without so much as looking toward his 
 native and beloved Bocton; and was, by the help 
 of favourable winds, and liberal payment of the 
 mariners, within sixteen hours after his departure 
 from London, set upon the French shore 5 where he 
 heard shortly after, that the Earl was arraigned, 
 condemned, and beheaded $ and that his friend Mr. 
 Cuffe was hanged, and divers other persons of emi- 
 nent quality executed. 
 
 The times did not look so favourably upon Sir 
 Henry Wot ton, as to invite his return into England : 
 having therefore procured of Sir Edward Wotton, 
 his elder brother, an assurance that his annuity 
 should be paid him in Italy, thither he went, happily 
 renewing his intermitted friendship and interest, 
 and indeed his great content in a new conversation 
 with his old acquaintance in that nation, and more 
 particularly in Florence, — which City is not more 
 eminent for the Great Duke's Court, than for the 
 great recourse of men of choicest note for Learning 
 and Arts, — in which number he there met with his 
 old friend Signior Vietta, a gentleman of Venice, and 
 then taken to be Secretary to the Great Duke of 
 Tuscany. 
 
 After some stay in Florence, he went the fourth 
 time to visit Rome, where, in the English College he 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 109 
 
 had very many friends ; — their humanity made them 
 really so, though they knew him to be a dissenter 
 from many of their principles of religion ; and 
 having enjoyed their company, and satisfied himself 
 concerning some curiosities that did partly occasion 
 his journey thither, he returned back to Florence, 
 where a most notable accident befel him -, an acci- 
 dent that did not only find new employment for his 
 choice abilities, but did introduce him to a know- 
 ledge and interest with our King James, then King 
 of Scotland ; which I shall proceed to relate. 
 
 But first I am to tell the Reader, that though 
 Queen Elizabeth, or she and her Council, were never 
 willing to declare her successor ,• yet James, then 
 King of the Scots, was confidently believed by most 
 to be the man upon whom the sweet trouble of 
 Kingly government would be imposed ; and the 
 Queen declining very fast, both by age and visible 
 infirmities, those that were of the Romish persuasion 
 in point of Religion, — even Rome itself, and those 
 of this nation, — knowing that the death of the 
 Queen and the establishing of her successor, were 
 taken to be critical days for destroying or establish- 
 ing the Protestant Religion in this nation, did there- 
 fore improve all opportunities for preventing a 
 Protestant Prince to succeed her. And as the Popes 
 Excommunication of Queen Elizabeth, had both by 
 the judgment and practice of the Jesuited Papist, 
 exposed her to be warrantably destroyed j so, — if 
 
110 THE LIFE OF 
 
 we may believe an angry adversary, a secular 
 
 Priest* against a Jesuit — you may be- 
 ^Watsonm H th&t about that time there were 
 
 his Quodhbets. 
 
 many endeavours, first to excommu- 
 nicate, and then to shorten the life of King James. 
 
 Immediately after Sir Henry Wottoris return from 
 Rome to Florence, — which was about a year before 
 the death of Queen Elizabeth, — Ferdinand the Great 
 Duke of Florence, had intercepted certain letters, 
 that discovered a design to take away the life of 
 James, the then King of Scots. The Duke abhor- 
 ring this fact, and resolving to endeavour a preven- 
 tion of it, advised with his Secretary Vietta,by what 
 means a caution might be best given to that King j 
 and after consideration it was resolved to be done 
 by Sir Henry Wotton, whom Vietta first commended 
 to the Duke, and the Duke had noted and approved 
 of above all the English that frequented his Court. 
 
 Sir Henry was gladly called by his friend Vietta 
 to the Duke, who, after much profession of trust 
 and friendship, acquainted him with the secret -, and 
 being well instructed, dispatched him into Scotland 
 with letters to the King, and with those letters such 
 Italian antidotes against poison, as the Scots till 
 then had been strangers to. 
 
 Having parted from the Duke, he took up the 
 name and language of an Italian ; and thinking it 
 best to avoid the line of English intelligence and 
 danger, he posted into Norway, and through that 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. Ill 
 
 country towards Scotland, where he found the King 
 at Stirling. Being there, he used means, by Bernard 
 Lindsey, one of the King's Bed-chamber, to procure 
 him a speedy and private conference with his Ma- 
 jesty -, assuring him., That the business which he was 
 to negociate was of such consequence, as had caused the 
 Great Duke of Tuscany to enjoin him suddenly to 
 leave his native country of Italy, to impart it to his 
 King. 
 
 This being by Bernard Lindsey made known to 
 the King, the King, after a little wonder — mixed 
 with jealousy — to hear of an Italian Ambassador, 
 or messenger, required his name, — which was said 
 to be Octavio Baldi, — and appointed him to be heard 
 privately at a fixed hour that evening. 
 
 When Octavio Baldi came to the Presence-chamber 
 door, he was requested to lay aside his long rapier 
 — which, Italian-like, he then wore ; — and being 
 entered the chamber, he found there with the King 
 three or four Scotch Lords standing distant in several 
 corners of the chamber : at the sight of whom he 
 made a stand ; which the King observing, bade him 
 be bold, and deliver his message ; for he would undertake 
 for the secrecy of all that were present. Then did 
 Octavio Baldi deliver his letters and his message to 
 the King in Italian ; which when the King had gra- 
 ciously received, after a little pause, Octavio Baldi 
 steps to the table, and whispers to the King in his 
 own language, that he was an Englishman, beseech- 
 ing him for a more private conference with his 
 
112 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Majesty, and that he might be concealed during 
 his stay in that nation j which was promised and 
 really performed by the King, during all his abode 
 there, which was about three months - } all which 
 time was spent with much pleasantness to the King, 
 and with as much to Octavio Baldi himself, as that 
 country could afford j from which he departed as 
 true an Italian as he came thither. 
 
 To the Duke at Florence he returned with a fair 
 and grateful account of his employment 5 and with- 
 in some few months after his return, there came 
 certain news to Florence, that Queen Elizabeth was 
 dead j and James, King of the Scots proclaimed 
 King of England. The Duke knowing travel and 
 business to be the best schools of wisdom, and that 
 Sir Henry Wotton had been tutored in both, advised 
 him to return presently to England, and there joy 
 the King with his new and better title, and wait 
 there upon Fortune for a better employment. 
 
 When King James came into England, he found 
 amongst other of the late Queen's officers, Sir 
 Edward, who was, after Lord Wotton, Comptroller 
 of the House, of whom he demanded, If he knew one 
 Henry Wotton, that had spent much time in foreign 
 travel ? The Lord replied he knew him well, and 
 that he was his brother. Then the King, asking 
 where he then was, was answered, at Venice or 
 Florence ; but by late letters from thence he under- 
 stood he would suddenly be at Paris. Send for him, 
 said the King, and when he shall come into England, 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 113 
 
 bid him repair privately to me. The Lord Wotton, 
 after a little wonder,, asked the King, If he knew. 
 him ? To which the King answered, You must rest 
 unsatisfied of that till you bring the gentleman to me. 
 
 Not many months after this discourse, the Lord 
 Wotton brought his brother to attend the King, 
 who took him in his arms, and bade him welcome 
 by the name of Octavio Baldi, saying, he was the most 
 honest,- and therefore the best dissembler that ever he 
 met with : and said, Seeing I know you neither want 
 learning, travel, nor experience, and that I have had so 
 real a testimony of your faithfulness and abilities to 
 manage an ambassage, I have sent for you to declare 
 my purpose ,• which is, to make use of you in that kind 
 hereafter. And indeed the King did so, most of 
 those two and twenty years of his reign j but be- 
 fore he dismissed Octavio Baldi from his present 
 attendance upon him, he restored him to his old 
 name of Henry Wotton, by which he then knighted 
 him. 
 
 Not long after this, the King having resolved 
 according to his Motto, — Beati paciftci — to have a 
 friendship with his neighbour Kingdoms of France 
 and Spain ,• and also, for divers weighty reasons, to 
 enter into an alliance with the State of Venice, and 
 to that end to send Ambassadors to those several 
 places, did propose the choice of these employments 
 to Sir Henry Wotton; who, considering the small- 
 ness of his own estate, — which he never took care 
 
114 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to augment, — and knowing the Courts of great 
 Princes to be sumptuous, and necessarily expensive, 
 inclined most to that of Venice, as being a place of 
 more retirement, and best suiting with his genius, 
 who did ever love to join with business, study, 
 and a trial of natural experiments ; for both which, 
 fruitful Italy, that Darling of Nature, and Cherisher 
 of all Arts, is so justly famed in all parts of the 
 Christian world. 
 
 Sir Henry having, after some short time and 
 consideration, resolved upon Venice, 
 
 "■■■■ 
 
 ISPE 
 
 fymmjm 
 
 rfK -3ll£ : #tS 
 
 - 
 
 icBBlJj^fl 
 
 - - 
 
 
 
 and a large allowance being appointed by the King 
 for his voyage thither, and a settled maintenance 
 during his stay there, he left England, nobly ac- 
 companied through France to Venice, by gentlemen 
 of the best families and breeding that this nation 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 115 
 
 afforded : they were too many to name ; but these 
 two, for the following reasons, may not be omitted. 
 Sir Albertus Morton, his Nephew, who went his Se- 
 cretary ; and William Bedel, a man of choice learning, 
 and sanctified wisdom, who went his Chaplain. 
 
 And though his dear friend Dr. Donne — then a 
 private gentleman— was not one of the number that 
 did personally accompany him in this voyage, yet 
 the reading of this following letter, sent by him to 
 Sir Henry Wotton, the morning before he left Eng- 
 land, may testify he wanted not his friend's best 
 wishes to attend him. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 After those reverend papers, whose soul is 
 
 Our good and great King's lovd hand and fear d name 
 
 By which to you he derives much of his, 
 
 And, how he may, makes you almost the same ; 
 
 A taper of his torch $ a copy writ 
 
 From his original, and a fair beam 
 
 Of the same warm and dazzling Sun, though it ■ 
 
 Must in another sphere his virtue stream : 
 
 After those learned papers, which your hand 
 Hath stord with notes of use and pleasure too ; 
 From which rich treasury you may command 
 Fit matter whether you will write or do .• 
 
116 THE LIFE OF 
 
 After those loving papers which friends send 
 With glad grief to your sea-ward steps, farewell. 
 And thicken on you now as prayers ascend 
 To Heaven on troops at a good mans Passing-bell 
 
 Admit this honest paper, and allow 
 It such an audience as yourself would ask ; 
 What you would say at Venice, this says now, 
 And has for Nature what you have for task. 
 
 To swear much love ; nor to be changd before 
 Honour alone will to your fortune fit ; 
 Nor shall I then honour your fortune more, 
 Than I have done your honour -wanting Wit. 
 
 But 'tis an easier load — though both oppress — 
 To want, than govern greatness • for we are. 
 In that, our own and only business ; 
 In this, we must for others' vices care. 
 
 ' Tis therefore well your spirits now are placd 
 
 In their last furnace, in activity, 
 
 Which fits them ,• Schools, and Courts, and Wars 
 
 oerpast 
 To touch and taste in any best degree. 
 
 For me ! — if there be such a thing as I — 
 Fortune — if there be sach a thing as she — 
 Finds that I bear so well her tyranny, 
 That she thinks nothing else so Jit for me. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 117 
 
 But, though she part us, to hear my oft prayers 
 For your increase, God is as near me here : 
 And, to send you what I shall beg, his stairs 
 In length and ease are alike every where. 
 
 J. Donne. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton was received by the State of 
 Venice with much honour and gladness, both for 
 that he delivered his ambassage most elegantly in 
 the Italian language, and came also in such a junc- 
 ture of time, as his master's friendship seemed use- 
 ful for that Republic. The time of his coming 
 thither was about the year 1604, Leonardo Donato 
 being then Duke ; a wise and resolved man, and to 
 all purposes such — Sir Henry Wotton would often 
 say it — as the State of Venice could not then have 
 wanted; there having been formerly, in the time 
 of Pope Clement the Eighth, some contests about 
 the privileges of Churchmen, and the power of the 
 Civil Magistrate 3 of which, for the information of 
 common Readers, I shall say a little, because it may 
 give light to some passages that follow, 
 
 About the year 1603, the Republic of Venice made 
 several injunctions against lay-persons giving lands 
 or goods to the Church, without licence from the 
 Civil Magistrate; and in that inhibition they ex- 
 pressed their reasons to be, For that when any goods 
 or land once came into the hands of the Ecclesiastics, it 
 was not subject to alienation ; by reason whereof — the 
 
118 THE LIFE OF 
 
 lay-people being at their death charitable even to excess, 
 ■ — the Clergy grew every day more numerous, and pre- 
 tended an exemption from all public service and taxes, 
 and from all secular judgment ; so that the burden 
 grew thereby too heavy to be born by the Laity. 
 
 Another occasion of difference was, that about 
 this time complaints were justly made by the Vene- 
 tians against two Clergymen, the Abbot of Nervesa, 
 and a Canon of Vicenza, for committing such sins 
 as I think not fit to name : nor are these mentioned 
 with an intent to fix a scandal upon any calling $ — 
 for holiness is not tied to Ecclesiastical Orders, — 
 and Italy is observed to breed the most virtuous 
 and most vicious men of any nation. These two 
 having been long complained of at Rome in the name 
 of the State of Venice, and no satisfaction being 
 given to the Venetians, they seized the persons of 
 this Abbot and Canon, and committed them to prison. 
 
 The justice or injustice of such, or the like power, 
 then used by the Venetians, had formerly had some 
 calm debates betwixt the former Pope Clement the 
 Eighth and that Republic : I say, calm, for he did 
 not excommunicate them ; considering, — as I con- 
 ceive, — that in the late Council of Trent, it was at 
 last — after many politic disturbances and delays, 
 and endeavours to preserve the Pope's present 
 power, — in order to a general reformation of those 
 many errors, which were in time crept into the 
 Church, declared by that Council, That though dis- 
 cipline and especial Excommunication be one of the 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 119 
 
 chief sinews of Church- government, and intended to keep 
 men in obedience to it ; for which end it was declared, 
 to be very profitable; yet it was also declared, and 
 advised to be used with great sobriety and care, because 
 experience had informed them, that when it was pro- 
 nounced unadvisedly or rashly, it became more contemned 
 than feared. And, though this was the advice of 
 that Council at the conclusion of it, which was not 
 many years before this quarrel with the Venetians ; 
 yet this prudent, patient Pope Clement dying, Pope 
 Paul the Fifth, who succeeded him, — though not 
 immediately, yet in the same year, — being a man 
 of a much hotter temper, brought this difference 
 with the Venetians to a much higher contention} ob- 
 jecting those late acts of that State to be a diminu- 
 tion of his just power, and limited a time of twenty- 
 four days for their revocation} threatening if he 
 were not obeyed, to proceed to the Excommunica- 
 tion of the Republic, who still offered to shew both 
 reason and ancient custom to warrant their actions. 
 But this Pope, contrary to his predecessor's mode- 
 ration, required absolute obedience without dis- 
 putes. 
 
 Thus it continued for about a year, the Pope still 
 threatening Excommunication, and the Venetians 
 still answering him with fair speeches, and no com- 
 pliance ; till at last the Pope's zeal to the Apostolic 
 See did make him to excommunicate the Duke, the 
 whole Senate, and all their dominions, and, that 
 done, to shut up all their Churches ; charging the 
 
120 THE LIFE OF 
 
 whole Clergy to forbear all sacred offices to the Ve- 
 netians, till their obedience should render them 
 capable of Absolution. 
 
 But this act of the Popes, did but the more con- 
 firm the Venetians in their resolution not to obey 
 him : and to that end, upon the hearing of the Pope's 
 interdict, they presently published, by sound of trum- 
 pet 3 a Proclamation to this effect: 
 
 That whosoever hath received from Rome any copy 
 of a Papal Interdict, published there, as well against 
 the Law of God, as against the honour of this nation, 
 shall presently render it to the Council of Ten, upon 
 pain of Death. And made it loss of estate and Nobi- 
 lity, but to speak in the behalf of the Jesuits. 
 
 Then was Duado their Ambassador called home 
 from Rome, and the Inquisition presently suspended 
 by order of the State : and the flood-gates being 
 thus set open, any man that had a pleasant Qr scoffing 
 wit, might safely vent it against the Pope, either by 
 free speaking, or by libels in print ; and both be- 
 came very pleasant to the people. 
 
 Matters thus heightened, the State advised with 
 Father Paul, a holy and learned Friar, — the author 
 of the History of the Council of Trent, — whose advice 
 was, Neither to provoke the Pope, nor lose their own 
 right : he declaring publicly in print, in the name of 
 the State, That the Pope was trusted to keep two 
 keys, one of Prudence, and the other of Power : and 
 that, if they were not both used together, Power alone 
 is not effectual in an Excommunication. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 121 
 
 And thus these discontents and oppositions con- 
 tinued, till a report was blown abroad, that the 
 Venetians were all turned Protestants; which was 
 believed by many, for that it was observed that the 
 English Ambassador was so often in conference with 
 the Senate, and his Chaplain Mr. Bedel, more often 
 with Father Paul, whom the people did not take to 
 be his friend : and also, for that the Republic of 
 Venice was known to give commission to Gregory 
 Justiniano, then their Ambassador in England, to 
 make all these proceedings known to the King of 
 England, and to crave a promise of his assistance, if 
 need should require : and in the mean time they 
 required the King's advice and judgement ; which 
 was the same that he gave to Pope Clement, at his 
 first coming to the Crown of England $ — that Pope 
 then moving him to an union with the Roman 
 Church ; — namely, To endeavour the calling of a free 
 Council, for the settlement of peace in Christendom; 
 and that he doubted not but that the French King, and 
 divers other Princes, would join to assist in so good a 
 work ; and, in the mean time, the sin of this breach, both 
 with his and the Venetian dominions, must of necessity 
 lie at the Pope's door. 
 
 In this contention — which lasted almost two years 
 — the Pope grew still higher, and the Venetians more 
 and more resolved and careless ; still acquainting 
 King James with their proceedings, which was done 
 by the help of Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Bedel, and 
 Padre Paulo, whom the Venetians did then call to 
 
122 THE LIFE OF 
 
 be one of their Consulters of State, and with his 
 pen to defend their just cause : which was by hint 
 so performed, that the Pope saw plainly he had 
 weakened his power by exceeding it, and offered 
 the Venetians Absolution upon very easy terms 5 
 which the Venetians still slighting, did at last obtain 
 by that which was scarce so much as a shew of 
 acknowledging it : for they made an order, that in 
 that day in which they were absolved, there should 
 be no public rejoicing, nor any bonfires that night, 
 lest the common people might judge, that they 
 desired an Absolution, or were absolved for com- 
 mitting a fault. 
 
 These contests were the occasion of Padre Paulo's 
 knowledge and interest with King James ,• for whose 
 sake principally, Padre Paulo compiled that eminent 
 History of the remarkable Council of Trent ; which 
 history was, as fast as it was written, sent in several 
 sheets in letters by Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Bedel, 
 and others, unto King James, and the then Bishop of 
 Canterbury, into England, and there first made pub- 
 lic, both in English and the universal language. 
 
 For eight years after Sir Henry Wotton s going 
 into Italy, he stood fair and highly valued in the 
 King's opinion^ but at last became much clouded 
 by an accident, which I shall proceed to relate. 
 
 At his first going Ambassador into Italy, as he 
 passed through Germany, he stayed some days at 
 Augusta j where, having been in his former travels 
 well known by many of the best note for learning 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 123 
 
 and ingeniousness, — those that are esteemed the 
 virtuosi of that nation, — with whom he passing an 
 evening in merriments, was requested by Christophet 
 Flecamore to write some sentence in his Albo j — a 
 book of white paper, which for that purpose many 
 of the German gentry usually carry about them : — 
 and Sir Henry Wotton consenting to the motion, 
 took an occasion, from some accidental discourse 
 of the present company, to write a pleasant defini- 
 tion of an Ambassador in these very words : 
 
 " Legatus est vir bonus, peregre missus ad mentien~ 
 " dum Reipublicce causd." 
 
 Which Sir Henry Wotton could have been content 
 should have been thus Englished : 
 
 " An Ambassador is an honest man, sent to lie 
 f< abroad for the good of his country." 
 
 But the word for lie — being the hinge upon which 
 the conceit was to turn — was not so expressed in 
 Latin, as would admit — in the hands of an enemy 
 especially — so fair a construction as Sir Henry 
 thought in English. Yet as it was, it slept quietly 
 among other sentences in this Albo, almost eight 
 years, till by accident it fell into the hands of Jasper 
 Scioppius, a Romanist, a man of a restless spirit and 
 a malicious pen ; who, with books against King 
 James, prints this as a principle of that religion 
 professed by the King, and his Ambassador Sir 
 
124 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Henry Wotton, then at Venice ; and in Venice it was 
 presently after written in several glass-windows, 
 and spitefully declared to be Sir Henry Wotton s. 
 
 This coming to the knowledge of King James, he 
 apprehended it to be such an oversight, such a 
 weakness, or worse, in Sir Henry Wotton, as caused 
 the King to express much wrath against him : and 
 this caused Sir Henry Wotton to write two Apologies, 
 one to Velserus — one of the chiefs of Augusta — in 
 the universal language, which he caused to be 
 printed, and given and scattered in the most re- 
 markable places both of Germany and Italy, as an 
 antidote against the venomous books of Scioppius ; 
 and another Apology to King James ; which were 
 both so ingenious, so clear, and so choicely eloquent, 
 that his Majesty — who was a pure judge of it — could 
 not forbear, at the receipt thereof, to declare pub- 
 licly, That Sir Henry Wotton had commuted suf- 
 ficiently for a greater offence. 
 
 And now, as broken bones well set become 
 stronger, so Sir Henry Wotton did not only recover, 
 but was much more confirmed in his Majesty's esti- 
 mation and favour than formerly he had been. 
 
 And, as that man of great wit and useful fancy, 
 his friend Dr. Donne, gave in a Will of his — a Will 
 of conceits — his Reputation to his Friends, and his 
 Industry to his Foes, because from thence he re- 
 ceived both ; so those friends, that in this time of 
 trial laboured to excuse this facetious freedom of 
 Sir Henry Wotton s, were to him more dear, and by 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 125 
 
 him more highly valued ; and those acquaintance, 
 that urged this as an advantage against him, caused 
 him by this error to grow both more wise, and 
 — which is the best fruit error can bring forth — for 
 the future to become more industriously watchful 
 over his tongue and pen. 
 
 I have told you a part of his employment in Italy ; 
 where, notwithstanding the death of his favourer, 
 the Duke Leonardo Donato, who had an undis- 
 sembled affection for him, and the malicious accu- 
 sation of Scioppius, yet his interest — as though it 
 had been an entailed love — was still found to live 
 and increase in all the succeeding Dukes, during his 
 employment to that State, which was almost twenty 
 years ; all which time he studied the dispositions 
 of those Dukes, and the other Consulters of State; 
 well knowing that he who negociates a continued 
 business, and neglects the study of dispositions, 
 usually fails in his proposed ends. But in this Sir 
 Henry Wotton did not fail ; for, by a fine sorting 
 of fit presents, curious, and not costly entertain- 
 ments, always sweetened by various and pleasant 
 discourse — with which, and his choice application 
 of stories, and his elegant delivery of all these, even 
 in their Italian language, he first got, and still pre- 
 served, such interest in the State of Venice, that 
 it was observed — such was either his merit or his 
 modesty — they never denied him any request. 
 
 But all this shews but his abilities, and his fitness 
 for that employment : it will therefore be needful 
 
126 THELIFEOF 
 
 to tell the Reader, what use he made of the interest 
 which these procured him : and that indeed was 
 rather to oblige others than to enrich himself j he 
 still endeavouring that the reputation of the English 
 might be maintained, both in the German Empire 
 and in Italy ; where many gentlemen, whom travel 
 had invited into that nation, received from him 
 cheerful entertainments, advice for their behaviour, 
 and, by his interest, shelter or deliverance from those 
 accidental storms of adversity which usually attend 
 upon travel. 
 
 And because these things may appear to the 
 Reader to be but generals, I shall acquaint him with 
 two particular examples : one of his merciful dis- 
 position, and one of the nobleness of his mind ; 
 which shall follow. 
 
 There had been many English Soldiers brought 
 by Commanders of their own country, to serve the 
 Venetians for pay against the Turk: and those 
 English, having by irregularities, or improvidence, 
 brought themselves into several galleys and prisons, 
 Sir Henry Wotton became a petitioner to that State 
 for their lives and enlargement ; and his request 
 was granted : so that those — which were many 
 hundreds, and there made the sad examples of 
 human misery, by hard imprisonment and unpitied 
 poverty in a strange nation — were by his means 
 released, relieved, and in a comfortable condition 
 sent to thank God and him, for their lives and liberty 
 in their own country. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 127 
 
 And this I have observed as one testimony of 
 the compassionate nature of him, who was, during 
 his stay in those parts, as a city of refuge for the 
 distressed of this and other nations. 
 
 And for that which I offer as a testimony of the 
 nobleness of his mind, I shall make way to the 
 Reader's clearer understanding of it, by telling him, 
 that beside several other foreign employments, Sir 
 Henry Wotton was sent thrice Ambassador to the 
 Republic of Venice. And at his last going thither, 
 he was employed Ambassador to several of the 
 German Princes, and more particularly to the Em- 
 peror Ferdinando the Second ; and that his employ- 
 ment to him, and those Princes, was to incline them 
 to equitable conditions for the restoration of the 
 Queen of Bohemia and her descendants, to their 
 patrimonial inheritance of the Palatinate. 
 
 This was, by his eight months' constant endea- 
 vours and attendance upon the Emperor, his Court, 
 and Council, brought to a probability of a successful 
 conclusion, without bloodshed. But there were at 
 that time two opposite armies in the field 5 and as 
 they were treating, there was a battle fought, in the 
 managery whereof there were so many miserable 
 errors on the one side, — so Sir Henry Wotton ex- 
 presses it in a dispatch to the King — and so ad- 
 vantageous events to the Emperor, as put an end 
 to all present hopes of a successful treaty ; so that 
 Sir Henry, seeing the face of peace altered by that 
 victory, prepared for a removal from that Court ; 
 
128 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and at his departure from the Emperor, was so 
 bold as to remember him, That the events of every 
 battle move on the unseen wheels of Fortune, which are 
 this moment up, and down the next; and therefore 
 humbly advised him to use his victory so soberly, as still 
 to put on thoughts of peace. Which advice, though it 
 seemed to be spoken with some passion, — his dear 
 mistress the Queen of Bohemia being concerned in 
 it — was yet taken in good part by the Emperor j 
 who replied, That he would consider his advice. And 
 though he looked on the King his master, as an abettor 
 of his enemy, the Palsgrave; yet for Sir Henry him' 
 self, his behaviour had been such during the manage of 
 the Treaty, that he took him to be a person of much 
 honour and merit ; and did therefore desire him to ac- 
 cept of that Jewel, as a testimony of his good opinion 
 of him : which was a Jewel of Diamonds of more 
 value than a thousand pounds. 
 
 This Jewel was received with all outward cir- 
 cumstances and terms of honour by Sir Henry Wot- 
 ton. But the next morning, at his departing from 
 Vienna, he, at his taking leave of the Countess of 
 Sabrina, — an Italian Lady, in whose house the 
 Emperor had appointed him to be lodged, and ho- 
 nourably entertained — acknowledged her merits, and 
 besought her to accept of that Jewel, as a testimony of 
 his gratitude for her civilities ; presenting her with 
 the same that was given him by the Emperor : which 
 being suddenly discovered, and told to the Emperor, 
 was by him taken for a high affront, and Sir Henry 
 
C .R.Leslie. AR.A.Knz'? 
 
 J.MitcheTL Scalp? 
 
 TELM 31EWM1L, 
 
 L O N D ON. 
 
 Published "by Jolm Major. SO. Fleet Street, 
 May. 15^1825 . 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 129 
 
 Wotton told so by a messenger. To which he replied, 
 That though he received it with thankfulness, yet he 
 found in himself an indisposition to be the better for any 
 gift that came from an enemy to his Royal Mistress, the 
 Queen of Bohemia ; for so she was pleased he should 
 always call her. Many other of his services to his 
 Prince and this nation might be insisted upon ; as, 
 namely, his procurations of privileges and courtesies 
 with the German Princes, and the Republic of Ve- 
 nice, for the English Merchants : and what he did 
 by direction of King James with the Venetian State, 
 concerning the Bishop of Spalato's return to the 
 Church of Rome. But for the particulars of these, 
 and many more that I meant to make known, I want 
 a view of some papers that might inform me, — his 
 late Majesty's Letter-Office having now suffered a 
 strange alienation, — and indeed I want time too 5 
 for the Printer's press stays for what is written : so 
 that I must haste to bring Sir Henry Wotton in an 
 instant from Venice to London, leaving the Reader 
 to make up what is defective in this place, by the 
 small supplement of the Inscription under his Arms, 
 which he left at all those houses where he rested, 
 or lodged, when he returned from his last Embassy 
 into England. 
 
 Henricus Wottonius Anglo- Cantianus, Thomae op- 
 timi viri filius natu minimus, a Serenissimo Jacobo I. 
 Mag. Brit. Rege, in equestrem titulum adscitus, ejus- 
 demque ter ad Rempublicam Venetam Legatus Ordi- 
 narius, semel ad Confcederatarum Provinciarum Or dines 
 in Juliacensi negotio. Bis ad Carolum Emanuel, Sa- 
 baudiee Ducem 5 semel ad Unitos Superioris Germanise 
 
 T 
 
130 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Principes in Conventu Heilbrunensi, postremb ad At* 
 chiducem Leopoldum, Ducem Wittembergensem> 
 Civitates Imperiales, Argentinam, Ulmamque, et ipsum 
 Romanorum Imperatorem Ferdinandum Secundum., 
 Legatus Extraordinarius, tandem hoc didicit, 
 
 Animas fieri sapientiores quieseendo. 
 [Translated in the Notes.] 
 To London he came the year before King James 
 died ; who having, for the reward of his foreign 
 service, promised him the reversion of an office, 
 which was fit to be turned into present money, which 
 he wanted, for a supply of his present necessities <, 
 and also granted him the reversion of the Master of 
 the Rolls place, if he outlived charitable Sir Julius 
 Ccesar, 
 
 who then possessed it, and then grown so old, that 
 he was said to be kept alive beyond Nature's course. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 131 
 
 by the prayers of those many poor which he daily 
 relieved. 
 
 But these were but in hope ; and his condition 
 required a present support : for in the begin- 
 ning of these employments he sold to his elder 
 brother, the Lord Wotton, the rent-charge left by 
 his good father 5 and — which is worse — was now 
 at his return indebted to several persons, whom he 
 was not able to satisfy, but by the King's payment 
 of his arrears, due for his foreign employments. 
 He had brought into England many servants, of 
 which some were German and Italian Artists : this 
 was part of his condition, who had many times 
 hardly sufficient to supply the occasions of the 
 day : for it may by no means be said of his provi- 
 dence, as himself said of Sir Philip Sidney's wit, That 
 it was the very measure of congruity, he being always 
 so careless of money, as though our Saviour's words, 
 Care not for to-morrow, were to be literally under- 
 stood. 
 
 But it pleased the God of Providence, that in this 
 juncture of time, the Provostship of his Majesty's 
 College of Eton, became void by the death of Mr. 
 Thomas Murray, for which there were, as the place 
 deserved,, many earnest and powerful suitors to the 
 King. And Sir Henry, who had for many years 
 — like Sisyphus — rolled the restless stone of a State- 
 employment, knowing experimentally that the great 
 blessing of sweet content was not to be found in 
 multitudes of men or business, and that a College 
 
132 THE LIFE OF 
 
 was the fittest place to nourish holy thoughts, and to 
 afford rest both to his body and mind, which his age 
 — being now almost threescore years — seemed to 
 require, did therefore use his own, and the interest 
 of all his friends to procure that place. By which 
 means, and quitting the King of his promised re- 
 versionary offices, and a piece of honest policy/— 
 which I have not time to relate, — he got a grant 
 of it from his Majesty. 
 
 And this was a fair satisfaction to his mind : but 
 money was wanting to furnish him with those ne- 
 cessaries which attend removes, and a settlement 
 in such a place 5 and, to procure that, he wrote to 
 his old friend Mr. Nicholas Pey, for his assistance. 
 Of which Nicholas Pey I shall here say a little, for 
 the clearing of some passages that I shall mention 
 hereafter. 
 
 He was in his youth a Clerk, or in some such way 
 a servant to the Lord Wotton, Sir Henry s brother ; 
 and by him, when he was Comptroller of the King's 
 Household, was made a great officer in his Majesty's 
 house. This and- other favours being conferred 
 upon Mr. Pey — in whom there was a radical honesty — 
 were always thankfully acknowledged by him, and 
 his gratitude expressed by a willing and unwearied 
 serviceableness to that family even till his death. 
 To him Sir Henry Wotton wrote, to use all his in- 
 terest at Court, to procure five hundred pounds of 
 his arrears, — for less would not settle him in the 
 College ; and the want of such a sum wrinkled his 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 133 
 
 face with care-, — 'twas his own expression, — and, 
 that money being procured, he should the next day 
 after find him in his College, and Invidke remedium 
 writ over his Study door. 
 
 This money, being part of his arrears, was, by his 
 own, and the help of honest Nicholas Peys interest 
 in Court, quickly procured him, and he as quickly 
 in the College ,• the place, where indeed his happiness 
 then seemed to have it's beginning; the College 
 being to his mind as a quiet harbour to a sea-faring 
 man after a tempestuous voyage j where, by the 
 bounty of the pious Founder, his very food and rai- 
 ment were plentifully provided for him in kind, and 
 more money than enough ; where he was freed from 
 all corroding cares, and seated on such a rock, as 
 the waves of want could not probably shake ; where 
 he might sit in a calm, and, looking down, behold 
 the busy multitude turmoiled and tossed in a tem- 
 pestuous sea of trouble and dangers ; and — as Sir 
 William Davenant has happily expressed the like of 
 another person — 
 
 Laugh at the graver business of the State, 
 Which speaks men rather wise than fortunate. 
 
 Being thus settled according to the desires of his 
 heart, his first study was the Statutes of the College; 
 by which he conceived himself bound to enter into 
 Holy Orders, which he did, being made Deacon with 
 all convenient speed. Shortly after which time, as 
 he came in his surjjlice from the Church- service, an 
 
134 THE LIFE OF 
 
 old friend, a person of quality, met him so attired, 
 and joyed him of his new habit. To whom Sir 
 Henry Wotton replied, I thank God and the King, by 
 whose goodness I now am in this condition ; a condition 
 which that Emperor Charles the Fifth seemed to ap- 
 prove ; who, after so many remarkable victories, when 
 his glory was great in the eyes of all men, freely gave 
 up his Crown, and the many cares that attended it, to 
 Philip his Son, making a holy retreat to a Cloisteral 
 life, where he might, by devout meditations, consult 
 with God, — which the rich or busy men seldom 
 do — and have leisure both to examine the errors of his 
 life past, and prepare for that great day, wherein all 
 flesh must make an account of their actions : and after 
 a kind of tempestuous life, I now have the like advan- 
 tage from him, that makes the outgoings of the morn- 
 ing to praise him j even from my God, whom I daily 
 magnify for this particular mercy of an exemption from 
 busi7iess, a quiet mind, and a liberal maintenance, even 
 in this part of my life, when my age and infirmities 
 seem to sound me a retreat from the pleasures of this 
 world, and invite me to contemplation, in which I have 
 ever taken the greatest felicity . 
 
 And now to speak a little of the employment of 
 his time in the College. After his customary public 
 Devotions, his use was to retire into his Study, and 
 there to spend some hours in reading the Bible, 
 and Authors in Divinity, closing up his meditations 
 with private prayer ; this was, for the most part, 
 his employment in the forenoon. But when he was 
 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 135 
 
 once sat to dinner, then nothing but cheerful 
 thoughts possessed his mind, and those still in- 
 creased by constant company at his table, of such 
 persons as brought thither additions both of learn- 
 ing and pleasure : but some parts of most days was 
 usually spent in Philosophical conclusions. Nor did 
 he forget his innate pleasure of Angling, which he 
 would usually call, his idle time not idly spent ,• saying 
 often, he would rather live Jive May months than 
 forty Decembers. 
 
 He was a great lover of his neighbours, and a 
 bountiful entertainer of them very often at his table, 
 where his meat was choice, and his discourse 
 better. 
 
 He was a constant cherisher of all those youths 
 in that School, in whom he found either a constant 
 diligence, or a genius that prompted them to learn- 
 ing ; for whose encouragement he was — beside 
 many other things of necessity and beauty — at the 
 charge of setting up in it two rows of pillars, on 
 which he caused to be choicely drawn the pictures 
 of divers of the most famous Greek and Latin His- 
 torians, Poets, and Orators • persuading them not to 
 neglect Rhetoric, because Almighty God has left man- 
 kind affections to be wrought upon : And he would 
 often say, That none despised Eloquence, but such dull 
 souls as were not capable of it. He would also often 
 make choice of some observations out of those 
 Historians and Poets; and would never leave the 
 School, without dropping some choice Greek or 
 
136 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Latin apophthegm or sentence, that might be worthy 
 of a room in the memory of a growing scholar. 
 
 He was pleased constantly to breed tip one or 
 more hopeful youths, which he picked out of the 
 School, and took into his own domestic care, and to 
 attend him at his meals 3 out of whose discourse and 
 behaviour, he gathered observations for the better 
 completing of his intended work of Education : of 
 which, by his still striving to make the whole better, 
 he lived to leave but part to posterity. 
 
 He was a great enemy to wrangling disputes of 
 Religion ,• concerning which I shall say a little, both 
 to testify that, and to shew the readiness of his wit. 
 
 Having at his being in Rome made acquaintance 
 with a pleasant Priest, who invited him one evening 
 to hear their Vesper music at Church ; the Priest 
 seeing Sir Henry stand obscurely in a corner, sends 
 to him by a boy of the Choir this question, writ in 
 a small piece of paper -, Where was your Religion to 
 be found before Luther ? To which question Sir 
 Henry presently underwrit, My Religion was to be 
 found then, where yours is not to be found now, in the 
 written Word of God. 
 
 The next Vesper, Sir Henry went purposely to 
 the same Church, and sent one of the Choir-boys 
 with this question to his honest, pleasant friend, the 
 Priest : Do you believe all those many thousands of 
 poor Christians were damned, that were excommunicated 
 because the Pope and the Duke of Venice could not 
 agree about their temporal power ? even those poor 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 137 
 
 Christians that knew not why they quarrelled. 
 
 Speak your conscience. To which he underwrit in 
 
 French, Monsieur, excmez-moi. 
 
 To one that asked him, Whether a Papist may be 
 saved ? he replied, You may be saved without knowing 
 
 that. Look to yourself. 
 
 To another, whose earnestness exceeded his 
 knowledge, and was still railing against the Papists, 
 he gave this advice : Pray, Sir, forbear till you have 
 studied the points better : for the wise Italians have 
 this Proverb : He that understands amiss concludes 
 worse. And take heed of thinking, the farther you 
 go from the Church of Rome, the nearer you are to 
 God. 
 
 And to another that spake indiscreet and bitter 
 words against Arminius, I heard him reply to this 
 purpose : 
 
 In my travel towards Venice, as I passed through 
 Germany, 2" rested almost a year at Leyden, where I 
 entered into an acquaintance with Arminius, — tlien the 
 Professor of Divinity in that University, — a man much 
 talked of in this age, which is made up of opposition 
 and controversy. And indeed, if I mistake not Ar- 
 minius in his expressions, — as so weak a brain as mine 
 is may easily do, — then I know I differ from him in 
 some points; yet I profess my judgment of him to be, 
 that he was a man of most rare learning, and I knew 
 him to be of a most strict life, and of a most meek spirit. 
 And that he was so mild appears by his proposals to our 
 Master Perkins of Cambridge, from whose book, Of 
 u 
 
138 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the Order and Causes of Salvation — which first was 
 writ in Latin — Arminius took the occasion of writing 
 some queries to him concerning the consequents of his 
 doctrine ; intending them, 'tis said, to come privately to 
 Mr. Perkins' own hands, and to receive from him a like 
 private and a like loving Answer. But Mr. Perkins 
 died before those queries came to him, and 'tis thought 
 Arminius meant them to die with him : for though he 
 lived long after, I have heard he forbore to publish 
 them : but since his death his sons did not. And 'tis 
 pity, if God had been so pleased, that Mr. Perkins did 
 not live to see, consider, and answer those proposals 
 himself; for he was also of a most meek spirit, and of 
 great and sanctified learning. Arid though, since their 
 deaths, many of high parts and piety have undertaken to 
 clear the controversy ; yet for the most part they have 
 rather satisfied themselves, than convinced the dissenting 
 party. And, doubtless, many middle-witted men, which 
 yet may mean well, many scholars that are not in the 
 highest form for learning, which yet may preach well, 
 men that are but preachers, and shall never know, till 
 they come to Heaven, where the questions stick betwixt 
 Arminius and the Church of England, — if there be 
 any, — will yet in this world be tampering with, and 
 thereby perplexing the controversy, and do therefore 
 justly fall wider the reproof of St. Jude,/or being busy- 
 bodies, and for meddling with things they under- 
 stand not. 
 
 And here it offers itself — I think not unfitly — to 
 tell the Reader, that a friend of Sir Henry Wottons 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 139 
 
 being designed for the employment of an Ambassador, 
 came to Eton, and requested from him some experi- 
 mental rules for his prudent and safe carriage hi 
 his negociations : to whom he smilingly gave this 
 for an infallible aphorism ; That, to be in safety him- 
 self, and serviceable to his country, he should always, 
 and upon all occasions, speak the truth, — it seems a 
 State paradox— -for, says Sir Henry Wotton, you 
 shall never be believed ; and by this means your truth 
 will secure yourself, if you shall ever be called to any 
 account ; and it ivill also put your adversaries — who 
 will still hunt counter — to a loss in all their disquisitions 
 and undertakings. 
 
 Many more of this nature might be observed j 
 but they must be laid aside : for I shall here make 
 a little stop, and invite the Reader to look back 
 with me, whilst, according to my promise, I shall 
 say a little of Sir Albertus Morton, and Mr. William 
 Bedel, whom I formerly mentioned. 
 
 I have told you that are my Reader, that at Sir 
 Henry Wotton s first going Ambassador into Italy, 
 his Cousin, Sir Albertus Morton, went his Secretary : 
 and I am next to tell you, that Sir Albertus died 
 Secretary of State to our late King ; but cannot, am 
 not able to express the sorrow that possessed Sir 
 Henry Wotton, at his first hearing the news that Sir 
 Albertus was by death lost to him and this world. 
 And yet the Reader may partly guess by these fol- 
 lowing expressions : the first in a letter to his 
 Nicholas Pey, of which this that followeth is a part. 
 
 And, my dear Nich. when I had been here 
 
140 THE LIFE OF 
 
 almost a fortnight, in the midst of my great contentment ', 
 I received notice of Sir Albertus Morton his departure 
 out of this world, who was dearer to me than mine own 
 being in it : what a wound it is to my heart, you thai 
 knew him, and know me, will easily believe ; but our 
 Creator s will must be done, and unrepiningly received 
 by his own creatures, who is the Lord of all Nature and 
 of all Fortune, when he taketh to himself now one, and 
 then another, till that expected day, wherein it shall 
 please him to dissolve the whole, and wrap up even 
 the Heaven itself as a scroll of parchment. This is the 
 last philosophy that we must study upon earth ; let us 
 therefore, that yet remain here, as our days and friends 
 waste, reinforce our love to each other; which of all 
 virtues, both spiritual and moral, hath the highest 
 privilege, because death itself cannot end it. And my 
 good Nich. #c. 
 
 This is a part of his sorrow thus expressed to his 
 Nich. Pey : the other part is in this following Elegy, 
 of which the Reader may safely conclude it was too 
 hearty to be dissembled. 
 
 TEARS 
 
 WEPT AT THE GRAVE OF SIR ALBERTUS MORTON^ 
 BY HENRY WOTTON. 
 
 Silence, in truth, would speak my sorrow best, 
 For deepest wounds can least their feelings tell : 
 Yet, let me borrow from mine own unrest, 
 A time to bid him, whom I lovd, farewell. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 141 
 
 Oh, my unhappy lines ! you that before 
 Have servd my youth to vent some wanton cries, 
 And now, congealed with grief, can scarce implore ' 
 Strength to accent, Here my Albertus lies. 
 
 This is that sable stone, this is the cave 
 And womb of earth, that doth his corse embrace ; 
 While others sing his praise, let me engrave 
 These bleeding numbers to adorn the place. 
 
 Here will I paint the characters of woe) 
 Here will I pay my tribute to the dead ; 
 And here my faithful tears in showers shall flow, 
 To humanize the flints on which I tread. 
 
 Where, though I mourn my matchless loss alone, 
 And none between my weakness judge and me ; 
 Yet even these pensive walls allow my moan, 
 Whose doleful echoes to my plaints agree. 
 
 But is he gone ? and live I rhyming here, 
 As if some Muse would listen to my lay ? 
 When all distund sit waiting for their dear, 
 And bathe the banks where he was wont to play. 
 
 Dwell then in endless bliss with happy souls, 
 Discharg dfrom Nature's and from Fortune's trust - f 
 Whilst on this fluid globe my hour-glass rolls, 
 And runs the rest of my remaining dust. 
 
 H. W. 
 
142 THE LIFE OF 
 
 This concerning his Sir Albertus Morton. 
 And for what I shall say concerning Mr. William 
 Bedel, I must prepare the Reader by telling him, 
 that when King James sent Sir Henry Wotton Am- 
 bassador to the State of Venice, he sent also an Am- 
 bassador to the King of France, and another to the 
 King of Spain. With the Ambassador of France 
 went Joseph Hall, late Bishop of Norwich, whose 
 many and useful works speak his great merit : with 
 the Ambassador to Spain went James Wadsworth ; 
 and with Sir Henry Wotton went William Bedel. 
 
 These three Chaplains to these three Ambassa- 
 dors were all bred in one University, all of one 
 College,* all beneficed in one 
 inTambridge^ 6 Diocese, and all most dear and 
 entire friends. But in Spain, Mr. 
 Wadsworth met with temptations, or reasons, such 
 as were so powerful as to persuade him — who of 
 the three was formerly observed to be the most 
 averse to that Religion that calls itself Catholic — to 
 disclaim himself a member of the Church of Eng- 
 land, and to declare himself for the Church of Rome ,• 
 discharging himself of his attendance on the Am- 
 bassador, and betaking himself to a monasterial 
 life, in which he lived very regularly, and so died. 
 
 When Dr. Hall, the late Bishop of Norwich, came 
 into England, he wrote to Mr. Wadsworth, — it is the 
 first Epistle in his printed Decades, — to persuade his 
 return, or to shew the reason of his apostacy. The 
 letter seemed to have in it many sweet expressions 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 143 
 
 of love ; and yet there was in it some expression 
 that was so unpleasant to Mr. Wadsworth, that he 
 chose rather to acquaint his old friend Mr. Bedel 
 with his motives ; by which means there passed 
 betwixt Mr. Bedel and Mr. Wadsworth, divers letters 
 which be extant in print, and did well deserve it ; 
 for in them there seems to be a controversy, not of 
 Religion only, but who should answer each other 
 with most love and meekness 3 which I mention 
 the rather, because it too seldom falls out to be so 
 in a book -war. 
 
 There is yet a little more to be said of Mr. Bedel, 
 for the greatest part of which the Reader is referred 
 to this following letter of Sir Henry Wottons, writ- 
 ten to our late King Charles the First : 
 
 May it please Your most Gracious Majesty, 
 Having been informed that certain persons have, by 
 the good wishes of the Archbishop of Armagh, been 
 directed hither, with a most humble petition unto your 
 Majesty, that you will be pleased to make Mr. William 
 Bedel — now resident upon a small benefice in Suffolk — 
 Governor of your College at Dublin, for the good of 
 that Society ; and myself being required to render unto 
 your Majesty some testimony of the said William Bedel, 
 who was long my Chaplain at Venice, in the time of 
 my first employment there, I am bound in all conscience 
 and truth — so far as your Majesty will vouchsafe to 
 accept my poor judgment — to affirm of him, that I think 
 hardly a fitter man for that charge could have been 
 
144 THE LIFE OF 
 
 propounded unto your Majesty in your whole kingdom, 
 for singular erudition and piety, conformity to the rites 
 of the Church, and zeal to advance the cause of God, 
 wherein his travails abroad were not obscure in the time 
 of the Excommunication of the Venetians. 
 
 For it may please your Majesty to know, that this is 
 the man whom Padre Paulo took, I may say, into his 
 very soul, with whom he did communicate the inwardest 
 thoughts of his heart ;from whom he professed to have re- 
 ceived more knowledge in all Divinity, both scholastical 
 and positive, than from any that he had ever practised 
 in his days ; of which all the passages were well known 
 to the King your Father, of most blessed memory. And 
 so, with your Majesty's good favour, I will end this 
 needless office; for the general fame of his learning, his 
 life, and Christian temper, and those religious labours 
 which himself hath dedicated to your Majesty, do better 
 describe him than I am able. 
 
 Your Majesty's 
 Most humble and faithful servant, 
 
 H. WOTTON. 
 
 To this letter I shall add this j that he was — to 
 
 the great joy of Sir Henry Wotton — made Governor 
 
 , ™« of the sa id College :* and that, after 
 * Aug. 1627. 
 
 a fair discharge of his duty and trust 
 
 there, he was thence removed to be Bishop of 
 
 Kilmore.f In both places his life 
 f Sept. 3, 1629. ^ 
 
 was so holy, as seemed to equal the 
 
 primitive Christians : for as they, so he kept all the 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 145 
 
 Ember-weeks, observed — besides his private devo- 
 tions — the canonical hours of prayer very strictly, 
 and so he did all the Feasts and Fast- days of his 
 mother, the Church of England. To which I may 
 add, that his patience and charity were both such, 
 as shewed his affections were set upon things that 
 are above ; for indeed his whole life brought forth 
 the fruits of the spirit ; there being in him such a 
 remarkable meekness, that as St. Paul advised his 
 Timothy in the election of a Bishop, That he have a 
 
 qood report of those that be without :* so 
 
 ? ,, , + , ,-u ' 4 * 1 Tim. iii. 7. 
 
 had he : tor those that were without, 
 
 even those that in point of Religion were of the 
 Roman persuasion, — of which there were very many 
 in his Diocese, — did yet — such is the power of 
 visible piety — ever look upon him with respect and 
 reverence, and testified it by a concealing, and safe 
 protecting him from death in the late horrid Rebel- 
 lion in Ireland, when the fury of the wild Irish knew 
 no distinction of persons -, and yet, there and then 
 he was protected and cherished by those of a con- 
 trary persuasion ; and there and then he died, not 
 by violence or misusage, but by grief in a quiet 
 prison (1629). And with him was lost many of his 
 learned writings which were thought worthy of pre- 
 servation ; and amongst the rest was lost the Bible, 
 which by many years labour, and conference, and 
 study, he had translated into the Irish tongue, with 
 an intent to have printed it for public use. 
 
 More might be said of Mr. Bedel, who, I told the 
 
146 THE LIFE Otf 
 
 Reader, was Sir Henry Wottoris first Chaplain ; and 
 much of his second Chaplain, Isaac Bargrave, Doc- 
 tor in Divinity, and the late learned and hospitable 
 Dean of Canterbury ; as also of the merits of many 
 others, that had the happiness to attend Sir Henry 
 in his foreign employments : but the Reader may 
 think that in this digression I have already earried 
 him too far from Eton College, and therefore I shall 
 lead him back as gently and as orderly as I may to 
 that place, for a further conference concerning Sir 
 Henry Wotton. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton had proposed: to himself, before 
 he entered into his Collegiate life, to write the Life 
 of Martin Luther, and in it the History of the Re- 
 formation, as it was carried on in Germany: for 
 the doing of which he had many advantages by his 
 several Embassies into those parts, and his interest 
 in the several Princes of the Empire ; by whose 
 means he had access to the Records of all the Hans 
 Towns, and the knowledge of many secret passages 
 that fell not under common view j and in these he 
 had made a happy progress, as was well known to 
 his worthy friend Dr. Duppa, the late reverend Bi- 
 shop of Salisbury. But in the midst of this design, 
 his late Majesty King Charles the First, that knew 
 the value of Sir Henry Wotton 's pen, did, by a per- 
 suasive loving violence — to which may be added a 
 promise of 500/. a year — force him to lay Luther 
 aside, and betake himself to write the History of 
 England; in which he proceeded to write some 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 147 
 
 short characters of a few Kings, as a foundation upon 
 which he meant to build ; but, for the present, 
 meant to be more large in the story of Henry the 
 Sixth, the Founder of that College, in which he then 
 enjoyed all the worldly happiness of his present 
 being. But Sir Henry died in the midst of this un- 
 dertaking, and the footsteps of his labours are not 
 recoverable by a more than common diligence. 
 
 This is some account both of his inclination, and 
 the employment of his time in the College, where 
 he seemed to have his youth renewed by a con- 
 tinual conversation with that learned society, and a 
 daily recourse of other friends of choicest breeding 
 and parts -, by which that great blessing of a cheer^ 
 ful heart was still maintained j he being always free, 
 even to the last of his days, from that peevishness 
 which usually attends age. 
 
 And yet his mirth was sometimes damped by the 
 remembrance of divers old debts, partly contracted 
 in his foreign employments, for which his just ar- 
 rears due from the King would have made satisfac- 
 tion : but being still delayed with Court-promises, 
 and finding some decays of health, he did, about two 
 years before his death, out of a Christian desire that 
 none should be a loser by him, make his last Will; 
 concerning which a doubt still remains, namely, 
 whether it discovered more holy wit, or conscionable 
 policy. But there is no doubt but that his chief 
 design, was a Christian endeavour that his debts 
 might be satisfied. 
 
148 THE LIFE OF 
 
 And that it may remain as such a testimony, and 
 a legacy to those that loved him, I shall here impart 
 it to the Reader, as it was found written with his 
 own hand. 
 
 In the name of God Almighty and All-merciful, I 
 Henry Wotton, Provost of his Majesty's College by 
 Eton, being mindful of mine own mortality, which the 
 the sin of our first parents did bring upon all flesh, do 
 by this last Will and Testament thus dispose of myself 
 and the poor things I shall leave in this world, My 
 Soul I bequeath to the Immortal God my Maker, Father 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, my blessed Redeemer and Me- 
 diator, through his all sole-sufficient satisfaction for the 
 sins of the whole world, and efficient for his elect-, in 
 the number of whom I am one by his mere grace, and 
 thereof most unremoveably assured by his Holy Spirit, 
 the true eternal Comforter. My Body I bequeath to 
 the earth, if I shall end my transitory days, at or near 
 Eton, to be buried in the Chapel of the said College, as 
 the Fellows shall dispose thereof, with whom I have 
 lived — my God knows — in all loving affection ; or if 
 I shall die near Bocton Malherbe, in the County of 
 Kent, then I wish to be laid in that Parish-Church, as 
 near as may be to the Sepulchre of my good father, 
 expecting a joyful resurrection with him in the day of 
 Christ. 
 
 After this account of his faith, and this surrender 
 of his soul to that God that inspired it, and this di- 
 rection for the disposal of his body, he proceeded to 
 appoint that his Executors should lay over his grave 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 149 
 
 a marble stone, plain, and not costly : and consider- 
 ing that time moulders even marble to 
 dust, — for* — Monuments themselves must Sat YT46. 
 die ; therefore did he — waving the com- 
 mon way — think fit rather to preserve his name — 
 to which the son of Sirach adviseth all men — by a 
 useful Apophthegm, than by a large enumeration of 
 his descent or merits, of both which he might justly 
 have boasted ; but he was content to forget them, 
 and did choose only this prudent, pious sentence, to 
 discover his disposition, and preserve his memory. 
 It was directed by him to be thus inscribed : 
 
 Hie jacet hujus Sententice primus Author : 
 
 DISPUTANDI PRURITUS, ECCLESIARUM 
 SCABIES. 
 
 Nomen alias quaere. 
 
 Which may be Englished thus : 
 
 Here lies the first Author of this Sentence : 
 
 THE ITCH OF DISPUTATION WILL PROVE 
 
 THE SCAB OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 Inquire his Name elsewhere. 
 
 And if any shall object, as I think some have, 
 that Sir Henry Wotton was not the first author of 
 this sentence : but that this, or a sentence like it, 
 was long before his time ; to him I answer, that 
 Solomon says, Nothing can be spoken, that hath not 
 been spoken ; for there is no new thing under the sun. 
 
150 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But grant, that in his various reading he had met 
 with this, or a like sentence, yet reason mixed with 
 charity should persuade all Readers to believe, that 
 Sir Henry Wottons mind was then so fixed on that 
 part of the communion of Saints which is above, 
 that an holy lethargy did surprise his memory. For 
 doubtless, if he had not believed himself to be the 
 first author of what he said, he was too prudent 
 first to own, and then expose it to the public view 
 and censure of every critic. And questionless it will 
 be charity in all Readers to think his mind was then 
 so fixed on Heaven, that a holy zeal did transport 
 him 5 and that, in this sacred ecstacy, his thoughts 
 were then only of the Church Triumphant, into 
 which he daily expected his admission ; and that 
 Almighty God was then pleased to make him a 
 Prophet, to tell the Church Militant, and particularly 
 that part of it in this nation, where the weeds of 
 controversy grow to be daily both more numerous 
 and more destructive to humble piety $ and where 
 men have consciences that boggle at ceremonies, 
 and yet scruple not to speak and act such sins as the 
 ancient humble Christians believed to be a sin to 
 think 5 and where, our reverend Hooker says, former 
 simplicity, and softness of spirit, is not now to be found, 
 because Zeal hath drowned Charity, and Skill, Meekness. 
 It will be good to think, that these sad changes have 
 proved this Epitaph to be a useful caution unto us 
 of this nation ; and the sad effects thereof in Ger- 
 many have proved it to be a mournful truth. 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 151 
 
 This by way of observation concerning his Epi- 
 taph; the rest of his Will follows in his own words.. 
 
 Further, I the said Henry Wotton, do constitute and 
 ordain to be joint Executors of this my last Will and 
 Testament, my two Grand-nephews, Albert Morton, 
 second son to Sir Robert Morton, Knight, late deceased, 
 and Thomas Bargrave, eldest son to Dr. Bargrave, 
 Dean of Canterbury, husband to my right virtuous and 
 only Niece. And I do pray the foresaid Dr. Bargrave, 
 and Mr. Nicholas Pey, my most faithful and chosen 
 friends, together with Mr. John Harrison, one of the 
 Fellows of Eton College, best acquainted with my books, 
 and pictures, and other utensils, to be Supervisors of this 
 my last Will and Testament. And I do pray the fore- 
 said Dr. Bargrave, and Mr. Nicholas Pey, to be so- 
 licitors for such arrearages as shall appear due unto me 
 from his Majesty's Exchequer at the time of my death ; 
 and to assist my forenamed Executors in some reason- 
 able and conscientious satisfaction of my creditors, and 
 discharge of my legacies now specified ; or that shall be 
 hereafter added unto this my Testament, by any Codicil 
 or Schedule, or left in the hands, or in any memorial 
 with the aforesaid Mr. John Harrison. And first, to 
 my most dear Sovereign and Master, of incomparable 
 goodness, — in whose gracious opinion I have ever had 
 some portion, as far as the interest of a plain honest 
 man, — I leave four pictures at large of those Dukes of 
 Venice, in whose time I ivas there employed, with their 
 names written on the back side, which hang in my great 
 
152 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ordinary Dining room, done after the life by Edoardo 
 Fialetto : likewise a table of the Venetian College, 
 where Ambassadors had their audience, hanging over the 
 mantle of the chimney in the said room, done by the same 
 hand, which containeth a draught in little, well resem- 
 bling the famous Duke Leonardo Donato, in a time 
 which needed a wise and constant man. Item. The 
 picture of a Duke of Venice, hanging over against the 
 door, done either by Titiano, or some other principal 
 hand, long before my time. Most humbly beseeching his 
 Majesty, that the said pieces may remain in some corner 
 of any of his houses, for a poor memorial of his most 
 humble vassal. 
 
 Item. I leave his said Majesty all the papers and 
 negotiations of Sir Nich. Throgmorton, Knight, dur- 
 ing his famous employment under Queen Elizabeth, in 
 Scotland, and in France • which contain divers secrets 
 of State, that perchance his Majesty will think fit to be 
 preserved in his Paper- Office, after they have been pe-r 
 rused and sorted by Mr. Secretary Windebank, with 
 whom I have heretofore, as I remember, conferred about 
 them. They were committed to my disposal by Sir 
 Arthur Throgmorton, his Son, to whose worthy me- 
 mory I cannot better discharge my faith, than by assign- 
 ing them to the highest place of trust. Item. I leave 
 to our most gracious and virtuous Queen Mary, Dios- 
 corides, with the plants naturally coloured, and the text 
 translated by Matthiolo, in the best language of Tus- 
 cany, whence her said Majesty is lineally descended, for 
 a poor token of my thankful devotion, for the honour she 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 153 
 
 was once pleased to do my private Study with her pre- 
 sence. Heave to the most hopeful Prince, the picture of 
 the elected and crowned Queen of Bohemia, his Aunt, 
 of clear and resplendent virtues, through the clouds of 
 her fortune. To my Lord's Grace of Canterbury now 
 being, I leave my picture of Divine Love, rarely co- 
 pied from one in the King's galleries, of my presentation 
 to his Majesty ; beseeching him to receive it as a pledge 
 of my humble reverence to his great wisdom. And to 
 the most worthy Lord Bishop of London, Lord High 
 Treasurer of England, in true admiration of his Chris- 
 tian simplicity and contempt of earthly pomp, I leave a 
 picture of Her&clitus bewailing, and Democritus laugh- 
 ing at the world ; most humbly beseeching the said Lord 
 Archbishop his Grace, and the Lord Bishop of London, 
 of both whose favours I have tasted in my life-time, to 
 intercede with our most gracious Sovereign after my 
 death, in the bowels of Jesus Christ, that out of com- 
 passionate memory of my long services, — wherein I more 
 studied the public honour than mine own utility ,— some 
 order may be taken out of my arrears due in the Ex- 
 chequer, for such satisfaction of my creditors, as those 
 whom I have ordained Supervisors of this my last Will 
 and Testament shall present unto their Lordships, 
 without their farther trouble ; hoping likewise in his 
 Majesty's most indubitable goodness, that he will keep 
 me from all prejudice, which I may otherwise suffer by 
 any defect of formality in the demand of my said ar- 
 rears. To for a poor addition to his Cabinet, I 
 
 leave, as emblems of his attractive virtues and obliging 
 nobleness, my great Loadstone, and a piece of Amber, 
 
154 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of both kinds naturally united, and only differing in de- 
 gree of concoction, which is thought somewhat rare. 
 Item, a piece of Chrystal Sexangular — as they grow 
 all — grasping divers several things within it, which I 
 bought among the Rhaetian Alps, in the very place 
 where it grew ; recommending most humbly unto his 
 Lordship, the reputation of my poor name in the point 
 of my debts, as I have done to the forenamed Spiritual 
 Lords, and am heartily sorry that I have no better token 
 of my humble thankfulness to his honoured person. Item. 
 I leave to Sir Francis Windebank, one of his Majesty's 
 principal Secretaries of State, — whom I found my great 
 friend in point of necessity, — the four Seasons of old 
 Bassano, to hang near the eye in his Parlour, — being 
 in little form, — which I bought at Venice, where 1 first 
 entered into his most worthy acquaintance. 
 
 To the above-named Dr. Bargrave, Dean of Canter- 
 bury, I leave all my Italian Books not disposed in this 
 Will. I leave to him likewise my Viol de Gamba, 
 which hath been twice with me in Italy, in which country 
 I first contracted with him an unremoveable affection. 
 To my other Supervisor, Mr. Nicholas Pey, I leave my 
 Chest, or Cabinet of Instruments and Engines of all 
 
 * T .,. r . ,. , , kinds of uses : in the lower box 
 
 * In it were Italian locks, J 
 
 pick-locks, screws to force whereof, are some* fit to be 
 open doors, and many things 7 ■, , . ■ T . 
 
 of worth and rarity, that he bequeathed to none but so 
 
 had gathered in his foreign entire an honest man as he 
 
 tl*fl.Vftl 
 
 is. I leave him likewise forty 
 pounds for his pains in the solicitation of my arrears; 
 and am sorry that my ragged estate can reach no far- 
 ther to one that hath taken such care for me in the same 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 155 
 
 kind, during all my foreign employments. To the 
 Library at Eton College, I leave all my Manuscripts 
 not before disposed, and to each of the Fellows a plain 
 Ring of gold, enamelled black, all save the verge, with 
 this motto within, Amor unit omnia. 
 
 This is my last Will and Testament, save what shall 
 be added by a Schedule thereunto annexed, written on 
 the First of October, in the present Year of our Redemp- 
 tion, 1637, and subscribed by myself, with the testimony 
 
 of these Witnesses. 
 
 Henry Wotton. 
 Nich. Oudert. 
 
 Geo. Lash. 
 
 And now, because the mind of man is best satis- 
 fied by the knowledge of events, I think fit to de- 
 clare, that every one that was named in his Will 
 did gladly receive their legacies : by which, and 
 his most just and passionate desires for the payment 
 of his debts, they joined in assisting the Overseers 
 of his Will ; and by their joint endeavours to the 
 King, — than whom none was more willing — con- 
 scionable satisfaction was given for his just debts. 
 
 The next thing wherewith I shall acquaint the 
 Reader is, that he went usually once a year, if not 
 oftener, to the beloved Bocton Hall, where he would 
 say, He found a cure for all cares, by the cheerful com- 
 pany, which he called the living furniture of that place : 
 and a restoration of his strength, by the connaturalness 
 of that which he called his genial air. 
 
 He yearly went also to Oxford. But the Summer 
 before his death he changed that for a journey to 
 
156 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Winchester College, to which School he was first re- 
 moved from Bocton. And as he returned from Win- 
 chester towards Eton College, said to a friend, his 
 companion in that journey ; How useful was that ad- 
 vice of a holy Monk, who persuaded his friend to per- 
 form his customary devotions in a constant place, 
 because in that place we usually meet with those 
 very thoughts which possessed us at our last being 
 there ! And I find it thus far experimentally true, 
 that at my now being in that School, and seeing that 
 very place where I sat when I was a boy, occasioned me 
 to remember those very thoughts of my youth which then 
 possessed me : sweet thoughts indeed, that promised my 
 growing years numerous pleasures, without mixtures of 
 cares ; and those to be enjoyed, when time — which I 
 therefore thought slow -paced — had changed my youth 
 into manhood. Bui age and experience have taught me 
 that those were but empty hopes ,• for I have always 
 found it true, as my Saviour did foretell, Sufficient for 
 the day is the evil thereof. Nevertheless, I saw there 
 a succession of boys using the same recreations, and, 
 questionless, possessed with the same thoughts that then 
 possessed me. Thus one generation succeeds another, both 
 in their lives, recreations, hopes, fears, and death. 
 
 After his return from Winchester to Eton, which 
 was about five months before his death, he became 
 much more retired and contemplative : in which 
 time he was often visited by Mr. John Hales, — 
 learned Mr. John Hales, — then a Fellow of that Col- 
 lege, to whom upon an occasion he spake to this 
 purpose : I have, in my passage to my grave, met with 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 157 
 
 most of those joys of which a discoursive soul is capable; 
 and been entertained with more inferior pleasures than 
 the sons of men are usually made partakers of: never- 
 theless, in this voyage I have not always floated on the 
 calm sea of content ; but have often met with cross winds 
 and storms, and with many troubles of mind and temp- 
 tations to evil. And yet, though I have been, and am 
 a man compassed about with human frailties, Almighty 
 God hath by his grace prevented me from making ship- 
 wreck of faith and a good conscience, the thought of 
 which is now the joy of my heart, and I most humbly 
 praise him for it : and I humbly acknowledge that it 
 was not myself, but he that hath kept me to this great 
 age, and let him take the glory of his great mercy. — ■ 
 And, my dear friend, I now see that I draw near my 
 harbour of death; that harbour that will secure me 
 from all the future storms and waves of this restless 
 ivorld; and I praise God lam willing to leave it, and ex- 
 pect a better ; that world wherein dwelleth righteous- 
 ness j and I long for it ! 
 
 These and the like expressions, were then uttered 
 by him at the beginning of a feverish distemper, at 
 which time he was also troubled with an Asthma, or 
 short spitting : but after less than twenty fits, by the 
 help of familiar physic and a spare diet, this fever 
 abated, yet so as to leave him much weaker than it 
 found him ; and his Asthma seemed also to be over- 
 come in a good degree by his forbearing tobacco, 
 which, as many thoughtful men do, he also had 
 taken somewhat immoderately. This was his then 
 present condition, and thus he continued till about 
 
158 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the end of October, 1639, which was about a month 
 before his death, at which time he again fell into a 
 c ever, which though he seemed to recover, yet these 
 still left him so weak, that they, and those other 
 common infirmities that accompany age, were wont 
 to visit him like civil friends, and after some short 
 time to leave him, — came now both oftener and with 
 more violence, and at last took up their constant 
 habitation with him, still weakening his body and 
 abating his cheerfulness ; of both which he grew 
 more sensible, and did the oftener retire into his 
 Study, and there made many papers that had passed 
 his pen, both in the days of his youth and in the 
 busy part of his life, useless, by a fire made there 
 to that purpose. These, and several unusual ex- 
 pressions to his servants and friends, seemed to 
 foretell that the day of his death drew near ; for 
 which he seemed to those many friends that ob- 
 served him, to be well prepared, and to be both 
 patient and free from all fear, as several of his let- 
 ters writ on this his last sick-bed may testify. And 
 thus he continued till about the beginning of Decem- 
 ber following, at which time he was seized more 
 violently with a Quotidian fever ; in the tenth fit of 
 which fever, his better part, that part of Sir Henry 
 Wotton which could not die, put off mortality with 
 as much content and cheerfulness as human frailty 
 is capable of, being then in great tranquillity of 
 mind, and in perfect peace with God and man. 
 
 And thus the circle of Sir Henry Wotton s life — 
 that circle which began at Bocton, and in the cir- 
 
SIR HENRY WOTTON. 159 
 
 cumference thereof did first touch at Winchester School, 
 then at Oxford, and after upon so many remarkable 
 parts and passages in Christendom — that circle of his 
 Life was by Death thus closed up and completed, in 
 the seventy and second year of his age, at Eton Col- 
 lege , where, according to his Will, he now lies 
 buried, with his Motto on a plain Grave-stone over 
 him : dying worthy of his name and family, worthy 
 of the love and favour of so many Princes, snd per- 
 sons of eminent wisdom and learning, worthy of the 
 trust committed unto him, for the service of his 
 Prince and Country. 
 
 And all Readers are requested to believe } that he was 
 worthy of a more worthy pen, to have preserved his 
 Memory, and commended his Merits to the imitation 
 of posterity . . Iz. Wa. 
 
 ELEGY ON SIR HENRY WOTTON, 
 
 WRIT BY 
 
 MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY. 
 
 What shall we say, since silent now is he, 
 Who when he spoke all things would silent be ? 
 Who had so many languages in store, 
 That only Fame shall speak of him in more. 
 Whom England now no more return'd, must see 
 He's gone to Heaven, on M\s fourth embassy. 
 On earth he travelFd often, not to say, 
 He'd been abroad to pass loose time away j 
 For in whatever land he chanced to come, 
 He read the men and manners ; bringing home 
 
160 
 
 THE LIFE, &c. 
 
 Their wisdom, learning, and their piety, 
 As if he went to conquer, not to see. 
 So well he understood the most and best 
 Of tongues that Babel sent into the West ; 
 Spoke them so truly, that he had, you'd swear, 
 Not only liv'd, but been born every-where. 
 Justly each nation's speech to him was known, 
 Who for the world was made, not us alone ; 
 Nor ought the language of that man be less, 
 Who in his breast had all things to express. 
 We say that learning's endless, and blame Fate 
 For not allowing- life a longer date, 
 He did the utmost bounds of Knowledge find, 
 And found them not so large as was his mind ; 
 But, like the brave Pellean youth, did moan, 
 Because that Art had no more worlds than one. 
 And when he saw that he through all had past, 
 He died — lest he should idle grow at last. 
 
 A. Cowley. 
 
F .^EiLtflelieait Sculps 
 
 IRE ©MARIO) 3HI(Q><D>I£3EIS 
 
 L o jst d o isr. 
 
 Tu"blisked>7 JoTm Major, 50. Fleet Street, 
 Msy,15^1SZ5. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 MR. RICHARD HOOKER 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF THOSE LEARNED BOOKS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LAWS OF ECCLESIASTICAL POLITY. 
 
 jbst *%r 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN MAJOR, 
 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 RICHARD HOOKER. 
 
 I have been persuaded, by a friend whom I reverence, 
 and ought to obey, to write the Life of Richard Hooker ; 
 the happy Author of Five— if not more — of the Eight 
 learned books of The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. And 
 though I have undertaken it, yet it hath been with some 
 unwillingness : because I foresee that it must prove to 
 me, and especially at this time of my age, a work of much 
 labour to enquire, consider, research, and determine, what 
 is needful to be known concerning him. For I knew him 
 not in his life, and must therefore not only look back to 
 his death, — now sixty-four years past — but almost fifty 
 years beyond that, even to his childhood and youth ; and 
 gather thence such observations and prognostics, as may 
 at least adorn, if not prove necessary for the completing 
 of what 1 have undertaken. 
 
 This trouble I foresee, and foresee also that it is impos- 
 sible to escape censures ; against which I will not hope 
 my well-meaning and diligence can protect me, — for I 
 consider the age in which I live — and shall therefore but 
 intreat of my Reader a suspension of his censures, till I 
 have made known unto him some reasons, which I myself 
 would now gladly believe do make me in some measure 
 fit for this undertaking: and if these reasons shall not ac- 
 quit me from all censures, they may at least abate of their 
 severity, and this is all I can probably hope for. My rea- 
 sons follow. 
 
 About forty years past — for I am now past the seventy 
 of my age — I began a happy affinity with William Cran- 
 mer,-~ now with God,— grand-nephew unto the great Arch- 
 bishop of that name ; a family of noted prudence and re- 
 solution ; with him and two of his sisters I had an entire 
 and free friendship : one of them was the wife of Dr. 
 Spencer, a bosom-friend and sometime corn-pupil with 
 Mr. Hooker in Corpus Christi College in Oxford, and after 
 President of the same. I name them here, for that I shall 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 have occasion to mention them in the following discourse ; 
 as also George Cranmer, their brother, of whose useful 
 abilities my Reader may have a more authentic testimony 
 than my pen can purchase for him, by that of our learned 
 Camden, and others. 
 
 This William Cranmer and his two fore-named sisters 
 had some affinity, and a most familiar friendship, with Mr. 
 Hooker, and had had some part of their education with 
 him in his house, when he was parson of Bishop- 's-Bourne 
 near Canterbury ; in which City their good father then 
 lived. They had, I say, a part of their education with 
 him, as myself, since that time, a happy cohabitation with 
 them ; and having some years before read part of Mr, 
 Hoohefs works with great liking and satisfaction, my af- 
 fection to them made me a diligent inquisitor into many 
 things that concerned him -, as namely, of his person, his 
 nature, the management of his time, his wife, his family, 
 and the fortune of him and his. Which enquiry hath 
 given me much advantage in the knowledge of what is 
 now under my consideration, and intended for the satis- 
 faction of my Reader. 
 
 I had also a friendship with the Reverend Dr. Ushet% 
 the late learned Archbishop of Armagh; and with Dr. 
 Morton, the late learned and charitable Bishop of Durham ; 
 as also the learned John Hales, of Eton College ; and 
 with them also — who loved the very name of Mr. Hooker 
 ■ — I have had many discourses concerning him ; and from 
 them, and many others that have now put off mortality, I 
 might have had more informations, if I could then have 
 admitted a thought of any fitness, for what by persuasion 
 I have now undertaken. But though that full harvest be 
 irrecoverably lost, yet my memory hath preserved some 
 gleanings, and my diligence made such additions to them, 
 as I hope will prove useful to the completing of what I 
 intend: in the discovery of which I shall be faithful, and 
 with this assurance put a period to my Introduction. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 
 
 t is not to be doubted, but that 
 Richard Hooker was born at 
 Heavy-tree, near, or within the 
 precincts, or in the City of 
 Exeter ; a City which may justly 
 boast, that it was the birth- 
 place of him and Sir Thomas 
 Bodley ; as indeed the County 
 may, in which it stands, that it hath furnished this 
 nation with Bishop Jewel, Sir Francis Drake, Sir 
 Walter Raleigh, and many others, memorable for 
 
 
 
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166 THE LIFE OF 
 
 their valour and learning. He was born about the 
 year of our Redemption 1553, and of parents that 
 were not so remarkable for their extraction or riches, 
 as for their virtue and industry, and God's blessing 
 upon both 5 by which they were enabled to educate 
 their children in some degree of learning, of which 
 our Richard Hooker may appear to be one fair testi- 
 mony, and that Nature is not so partial as always 
 to give the great blessings of wisdom and learning, 
 and with them the greater blessings of virtue and 
 government, to those only that are of a more high 
 and honourable birth. 
 
 His complexion — if we may guess by him at the 
 age of forty — was sanguine, with a mixture of 
 choler ; and yet his motion was slow even in his 
 youth, and so was his speech, never expressing an 
 earnestness in either of them, but an humble gravity 
 suitable to the aged. And it is observed, — so far 
 as enquiry is able to look back at this distance of 
 time, — that at his being a school-boy he was an 
 early questionist, quietly inquisitive Why this was, 
 and that was not, to be remembered ? Why this was 
 granted, and that denied ? This being mixed with a 
 remarkable modesty, and a sweet serene quietness 
 of nature, and with them a quick apprehension of 
 many perplexed parts of learning, imposed then 
 upon him as a scholar, made his Master and others 
 to believe him to have an inward blessed divine 
 light, and therefore to consider him to be a little 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 167 
 
 wonder. For in that, children were less pregnant, 
 less confident, and more malleable, than in this 
 wiser, but not better, age. 
 
 This meekness and conjuncture of knowledge, 
 with modesty in his conversation, being observed 
 by his School-master, caused him to persuade his 
 parents — who intended him for an apprentice — to 
 continue him at school till he could find out some 
 means, by persuading his rich Uncle, or some other 
 charitable person, to ease them of a part of their 
 care and charge ; assuring them, that their son was 
 so enriched with the blessings of nature and grace, 
 that God seemed to single him out as a special in- 
 strument of his glory. And the good man told them 
 also, that he would double his diligence in instruct- 
 ing him, and would neither expect nor receive any 
 other reward, than the content of so hopeful and 
 happy an employment. 
 
 This was not unwelcome news, and especially to 
 his Mother, to whom he was a dutiful and dear 
 child ; and all parties were so pleased with this 
 proposal, that it was resolved so it should be. And 
 in the mean time his Parents and Master laid a 
 foundation for his future happiness, by instilling 
 into his soul the seeds of piety, those conscientious 
 principles of loving and fearing God, of an early be- 
 lief that he knows the very secrets of our souls ; that he 
 punisheth our vices, and rewards our innocence; that 
 we should be free from hypocrisy, and appear to man 
 
168 THE LIFE OF 
 
 what we are to God, because first or last the crafty man 
 is catched in his own snare. These seeds of piety 
 were so seasonably planted, and so continually 
 watered with the daily dew of God's blessed Spirit, 
 that his infant virtues grew into such holy habits, 
 as did make him grow daily into more and more 
 favour both with God and man $ which, with the 
 great learning that he did after attain to, hath made 
 Richard Hooker honoured in this, and will continue 
 him to be so to succeeding generations. 
 
 This good School-master, whose name I am not 
 able to recover,— and am sorry, for that I would 
 have given him a better memorial in this humble 
 monument, dedicated to the memory of his scholar, 
 — was very solicitous with John Hooker, then Cham- 
 berlain of Exeter, and Uncle to our Richard, to take 
 his Nephew into his care, and to maintain him for 
 one year in the University, and in the mean time to 
 use his endeavours to procure an admission for him 
 into some College, though it were but in a mean 
 degree ; still urging and assuring him, that his 
 charge would not continue long ; for the lad's learn- 
 ing and manners were both so remarkable, that they 
 must of necessity be taken notice of j and that 
 doubtless God would provide him some second 
 patron, that would free him and his Parents from 
 their future care and charge. 
 
 These reasons, with the affectionate rhetoric of 
 his good Master, and God's blessing upon both^ 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 169 
 
 procured from his Uncle a faithful promise, that he 
 would take him into his care and charge before the 
 expiration of the year following, which was per- 
 formed by him, and with the assistance of the 
 learned Mr. John Jewel; of whom this may be 
 noted, that he left, or was about the first of Queen 
 Marys reign expelled out of Corpus Christi College 
 in Oxford, — of which he was a Fellow, — for adhering 
 to the truth of those principles of Religion, to which 
 he had assented and given testimony in the days of 
 her brother and predecessor, Edward the Sixth 3 
 and this John Jewel having within a short time after, 
 a just cause to fear a more heavy punishment than 
 expulsion, was forced, by forsaking this, to seek 
 safety in another nation 5 and, with that safety, the 
 enjoyment of that doctrine and worship for which 
 he suffered. 
 
 But the cloud of that persecution and fear ending 
 with the life of Queen Mary, the affairs of the 
 Church and State did then look more clear and 
 comfortable j so that he, and with him many others 
 of the same judgment, made a happy return into 
 England about the first of Queen Elizabeth; in 
 which year this John Jewel was sent a Commissioner 
 or Visitor, of the Churches of the Western parts of 
 this kingdom, and especially of those in Devonshire, 
 in which County he was born 3 and then and there 
 he contracted a friendship with John Hooker, the 
 Uncle of our Richard. 
 
 Aa 
 
170 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 About the second or third year of her reign> this 
 John Jewel was made Bishop of Salisbury ; 
 
 and there being always observed in him a willing- 
 ness to do good,, and to oblige his friends, and now 
 a power added to this willingness 5 this John Hooker 
 gave him a visit in Salisbury, and besought him for 
 charity s sake to look favourably upon a poor Nephew 
 of his, whom Nature had fitted for a scholar ; but the 
 estate of his parents was so narrow, that they were 
 unable to give him the advantage of learning ; and that 
 the Bishop would therefore become his patron, and pre- 
 vent him from being a tradesman, for he was a boy of 
 remarkable hopes. And though the Bishop knew 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 171 
 
 men do not usually look with an indifferent eye upon 
 their own children and relations, yet he assented 
 so far to John Hooker, that he appointed the boy 
 and his School-master should attend him, about 
 Easter next following, at that place : which was 
 done accordingly -, and then, after some questions 
 and observations of the boy's learning, and gravity, 
 and behaviour, the Bishop gave his Schoolmaster a 
 reward, and took order for an annual pension for 
 the boy's parents ; promising also to take him into 
 his care for a future preferment, which he per- 
 formed : for about the fifteenth year of his age, 
 which was Anno 1567, he was by the Bishop ap- 
 pointed to remove to Oxford, and there to attend 
 Dr. Cole, then President of Corpus Christi College. 
 Which he did 5 and Dr. Cole had — according to a 
 promise made to the Bishop — provided for him both 
 a Tutor — which was said to be the learned Dr. 
 John Reynolds — and a Clerk's place in that College : 
 which place, though it were not a full maintenance, 
 yet, with the contribution of his Uncle, and the con- 
 tinued pension of his patron, the good Bishop, gave 
 him a comfortable subsistence. And in this con- 
 dition he continued unto the eighteenth year of his 
 age, still increasing in learning and prudence, and so 
 much in humility and piety, that he seemed to be 
 filled with the Holy Ghost ; and even like St. John 
 Baptist, to be sanctified from his mother's womb, 
 who did often bless the day in which she bare him. 
 About this time of his age, he fell into a danger- 
 
172 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ous sickness, which lasted two months ; all which 
 time his Mother, having notice of it, did in her 
 hourly prayers as earnestly beg his life of God, as 
 Monica, the mother of St. Augustine did, that he 
 might become a true Christian ; and their prayers 
 were both so heard as to be granted. Which Mr. 
 Hooker would often mention with much joy, and as 
 often pray that he might never live to occasion any 
 sorrow to so good a mother ; of whom he would often 
 say, he loved her so dearly, that he would endeavour to 
 be good, even as much for hers, as for his own sake. 
 
 As soon as he was perfectly recovered from this 
 sickness, he took a journey from Oxford to Exeter, 
 to satisfy and see his good Mother, being accompa- 
 nied with a countryman and companion of his own 
 College, and both on foot ; which was then either 
 more in fashion, or want of money, or their humi- 
 lity made it so : but on foot they went, and took 
 Salisbury in their way, purposely to see the good 
 Bishop, who made Mr. Hooker and his companion 
 dine with him at his OAvn table : which Mr. Hooker 
 boasted of with much joy and gratitude when he 
 saw his mother and friends : and at the Bishop's 
 parting with him, the Bishop gave him good coun- 
 sel, and his benediction, but forgot to give him 
 money; which, when the Bishop had considered, 
 he sent a servant in all haste to call Richard back 
 to him : and at Richard's return, the Bishop said to 
 him, Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse, 
 which hath carried me many a mile, and, I thank God 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 173 
 
 with much ease: and presently delivered into his 
 hand a walking-staff, with which he professed he 
 had travelled through many parts of Germany. And 
 he said, Richard, I do not give, but lend you my 
 horse: be sure you be honest, and bring my horse 
 back to me at your return this way to Oxford. And 
 I do now give you ten groats, to bear your charges to 
 Exeter \ and here is ten groats more, which I charge 
 you to deliver to your Mother, and tell her I send her 
 a Bishop's benediction with it, and beg the continuance 
 of her prayers for me. And if you bring my horse back to 
 me, I will give you ten groats more, to carry you on foot 
 to the College : and so God bless you, good Richard. 
 
 And this, you may believe, was performed by both 
 parties. But, alas ! the next news that followed 
 Mr. Hooker to Oxford was, that his learned and cha- 
 ritable patron had changed this for a better life. 
 Which happy change may be believed, for that as 
 he lived, so he died, in devout meditation and prayer ; 
 and in both so zealously, that it became a religious 
 question, Whether his last ejaculations or his soul, did 
 first enter into Heaven ? 
 
 And now Mr. Hooker became a man of sorrow 
 and fear : of sorrow, for the loss of so dear and com- 
 fortable a patron ; and of fear, for his future sub- 
 sistence. But Dr. Cole raised his spirits from this 
 dejection, by bidding him go cheerfully to his 
 studies, and assuring him, he should neither want 
 food nor raiment, — which was the utmost of his 
 hopes, — for he would become his patron. 
 
 And so he was for about nine months, and not 
 
174 THE LIFE OF 
 
 longer ; for about that time this following accident 
 did befall Mr. Hooker. 
 
 Edwin Sandys — sometime Bishop of London, and 
 after Archbishop of York — had also been in the days 
 of Queen Mary, forced, by forsaking this, to seek 
 safety in another nation ; where, for some years, 
 Bishop Jewel and he were companions at bed and 
 board in Germany ; and where, in this their exile, 
 they did often eat the bread of sorrow, and by that 
 means they there began such a friendship, as lasted 
 till the death of Bishop Jewel, which was in Sept- 
 ember, 1571. A little before which time the two 
 Bishops meeting, Jewel had an occasion to begin a 
 story of his Richard Hooker, and in it gave such a 
 character of his learning and manners, that though 
 Bishop Sandys was educated in Cambridge, where 
 he had obliged, and had many friends 5 yet his reso- 
 lution was, that his son Edwin should be sent to 
 Corpus Christi College in Oxford, and by all means be 
 pupil to Mr. Hooker, though his son Edwin was not 
 much younger than Mr. Hooker then was : for the 
 Bishop said, I will have a Tutor for my son, that shall 
 teach him learning by instruction, and virtue by ex- 
 ample : and my greatest care shall be of the last ,• and, 
 God willing, this Richard Hooker shall be the man 
 into whose hands I will commit my Edwin. And the 
 Bishop did so about twelve months, or not much 
 longer, after this resolution. 
 
 And doubtless, as to these two, a better choice 
 could not be made -, for Mr. Hooker was now in the 
 nineteenth year of his age; had spent five in the 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 175 
 
 University 5 and had,, by a constant unwearied dili- 
 gence, attained unto a perfection in all the learned 
 languages j by the help of which, an excellent Tutor, 
 and his unintermitted studies, he had made the sub- 
 tilty of all the arts easy and familiar to him, and 
 useful for the discovery of such learning as lay hid 
 from common searchers. So that by these, added 
 to his great reason, and his restless industry added 
 to both, he did not only know more of causes and ef- 
 fects ; but what he knew, he knew better than other 
 men. And with this knowledge he had a most 
 blessed and clear method of demonstrating what he 
 knew, to the great advantage of all his Pupils, — 
 which in time were many, — but especially to his 
 two first, his dear Edwin Sandys, and his as dear 
 George Cranmer ; of which there will be a fair tes- 
 timony in the ensuing relation. 
 
 This for Mr. Hookers learning. And for his be- 
 haviour, amongst other testimonies, this still remains 
 of him, that in four years he was but twice absent 
 from the Chapel prayers ; and that his behaviour 
 there was such, as shewed an awful reverence of 
 that God which he then worshipped and prayed to 5 
 giving all outward testimonies that his affections 
 were set on heavenly things. This was his behaviour 
 towards God 3 and for that to man, it is observable, 
 that he was never known to be angry, or passionate, 
 or extreme in any of his desires 3 never heard to 
 repine or dispute with Providence, but, by a quiet 
 gentle submission and resignation of his will to the 
 
176 THE LIFE OF 
 
 wisdom of his Creator, bore the burthen of the day 
 with patience j never heard to utter an uncomely 
 word : and by this, and a grave behaviour, which 
 is a divine charm, he begot an early reverence unto 
 his person, even from those that at other times and 
 in other companies, took a liberty to cast off that 
 strictness of behaviour and discourse that is required 
 in a Collegiate life. And when he took any liberty 
 to be pleasant, his wit was never blemished with 
 scoffing, or the utterance of any conceit that bor- 
 dered upon, or might beget a thought of looseness 
 in his hearers. Thus mild, thus innocent and ex- 
 emplary was his behaviour in his College 3 and thus 
 this good man continued till his death, still increas- 
 ing in learning, in patience, and piety. 
 
 In this nineteenth year of his age, he was, Decem- 
 ber 24, 1573, admitted to be one of the twenty Scho- 
 lars of the Foundation; being elected and so ad- 
 mitted as born in Devon or Hantshire ; out of which 
 Counties a certain number are to be elected in 
 vacancies by the Founder's Statutes. And now as 
 he was much encouraged, so now he was perfectly 
 incorporated into this beloved College, which was 
 then noted for an eminent Library, strict Students, 
 and remarkable Scholars. And indeed it may glory, 
 that it had Cardinal Poole, but more that it had 
 Bishop Jewel, Dr. John Reynolds, and Dr. Thomas 
 Jackson, of that foundation. The first famous for 
 his learned Apology far the Church of England, and 
 his Defence of it against Harding. The second, for 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 177 
 
 the learned and wise manage of a public dispute 
 with John Hart, of the Romish persuasion, about the 
 Head and Faith of the Church, and after printed by 
 consent of both parties. And the third, for his 
 most excellent Exposition of the Creed, and other 
 treatises 3 all such as have given greatest satisfac- 
 tion to men of the greatest learning. Nor was Dr. 
 Jackson more note-worthy for his learning, than for 
 his strict and pious life, testified by his abundant 
 love, and meekness, and charity to all men. 
 
 And in the year 1576, February 23, Mr. Hookers 
 Grace was given him for Inceptor of Arts ; Dr. Her- 
 bert Westphaling, a man of note for learning, being 
 then Vice-Chancellor : and the Act following he was 
 completed Master, which was Anno 1577, bis patron 
 Dr. Cole, being Vice-Chancellor that year, and his 
 dear friend, Henry Savile of Merton College, being 
 then one of the Proctors. 'Twas that Henry Savile, 
 
 that was after Sir Henry Savile, Warden of Merton 
 
 College, and Provost of Eton ; he which founded in 
 
 Bb 
 
178 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Oxford two famous Lectures 5 and endowed them 
 with liberal maintenance. 
 
 It was that Sir Henry Savile that translated and 
 enlightened the History of Cornelius Tacitus, with a 
 most excellent Comment 5 and enriched the world 
 by his laborious and chargeable collecting the scat- 
 tered pieces of St. Chrysostom, and the publication 
 of them in one entire body in Greek ; in which lan- 
 guage he was a most judicious critic. It was this 
 Sir Henry Saville that had the happiness to be a 
 contemporary and familiar friend to Mr. Hooker; 
 and let posterity know it. 
 
 And in this year of 1577, he was so happy as to 
 be admitted Fellow of the College 5 happy also in 
 being the contemporary and friend of that Dr. John 
 Reynolds, of whom I have lately spoken, and of Dr. 
 Spencer; both which were after, and successively 
 made Presidents of Corpus Christi College : men of 
 great learning and merit, and famous in their gene- 
 rations. 
 
 Nor was Mr. Hooker more happy in his contem- 
 poraries of his time and College, than in the pupil- 
 age and friendship of his Edwin Sandys and George 
 Cranmer ; of whom my Reader may note, that this 
 Edwin Sandys was after Sir Edwin Sandys, and as 
 famous for his Speculum Europce, as his brother 
 George for making posterity beholden to his pen by 
 a learned relation and comment on his dangerous 
 and remarkable Travels; and for his harmonious 
 translation of the Psalms of David, the Book of Job, 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 179 
 
 and other poetical parts of Holy Writ, into most 
 high and elegant verse. And for Cranmer, his other 
 pupil, I shall refer my Reader to the printed testi- 
 monies of our learned Mr. Camden, of Fynes Moryson 
 and others. 
 
 " This Cranmer," — says Mr. Camden in his Annals 
 of Queen Elizabeth, — " whose Christian name was 
 " George, was a gentleman of singular hopes, the 
 " eldest son of Thomas Cranmer, son of Edmund 
 " Cranmer, the Archbishop's brother : he spent 
 " much of his youth in Corpus Christi College in 
 " Oxford, where he continued Master of Arts for 
 " some time before he removed, and then betook 
 " himself to travel, accompanying that worthy gen- 
 " tleman Sir Edwin Sandys into France, Germany, 
 " and Italy, for the space of three years ; and after 
 " their happy return, he betook himself to an em- 
 " ployment under Secretary Davison, a Privy Coun- 
 " cillor of note, who, for an unhappy undertaking, 
 " became clouded and pitied : after whose fall, he 
 " went in place of Secretary with Sir Henry Kille- 
 " grew in his Embassage into France : and after his 
 te death he was sought after by the most noble Lord 
 u Mountjoy, with whom he went into Ireland, where 
 " he remained, until in a battle against the rebels 
 " near Carlingford, an unfortunate wound put an 
 " end both to his life, and the great hopes that 
 " were conceived of him, he being then but in the 
 " thirty-sixth year of his age." 
 
180 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Betwixt Mr. Hooker and these his two Pupils, 
 there was a sacred friendship ; a friendship made 
 up of religious principles, which increased daily by 
 a similitude of inclinations to the same recreations 
 and studies j a friendship elemented in youth, and 
 in an University, free from self-ends, which the 
 friendships of age usually are not. And in this 
 sweet, this blessed, this spiritual amity, they went 
 on for many years : and as the holy Prophet saith, 
 so they took sweet counsel together, and walked in the 
 house of God as friends. By which means they im- 
 proved this friendship to such a degree of holy 
 amity, as bordered upon heaven 5 a friendship so 
 sacred, that when it ended in this world, it began 
 in that next, where it shall have no end. 
 
 And, though this world cannot give any degree 
 of pleasure equal to such a friendship 5 yet obedience 
 to parents, and a desire to know the affairs, man- 
 ners, laws, and learning of other nations, that they 
 might thereby become the more serviceable unto 
 their own, made them put off their gowns, and 
 leave the College and Mr. Hooker to his studies, in 
 which he was daily more assiduous, still enriching 
 his quiet and capacious soul with the precious learn- 
 ing of the Philosophers, Casuists, and Schoolmen ; 
 and with them the foundation and reason of all 
 Laws, both Sacred and Civil ; and indeed with 
 such other learning as lay most remote from the 
 track of common studies. And, as he was diligent 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 181 
 
 in these,, so he seemed restless in searching the 
 scope and intention of God's Spirit revealed to 
 mankind in the Sacred Scripture : for the under- 
 standing of which, he seemed to be assisted by the 
 same Spirit with which they were written ; He that 
 regardeth truth in the inward parts, making him to 
 understand wisdom secretly. And the good man 
 would often say, that God abhors confusion as contrary 
 to his nature ,• and as often say, That the Scripture 
 was not writ to beget disputations and pride, and oppo- 
 sition to government ,• but charity and humility, modera- 
 tion, obedience to authority, and peace to mankind ; of 
 w T hich virtues, he would as often say, no man did ever 
 repent himself on his death-bed. And that this was 
 really his judgment, did appear in his future writ- 
 ings, and in all the actions of his life. Nor was 
 this excellent man a stranger to the more light and 
 airy parts of learning, as Music and Poetry; all 
 which he had digested and made useful ; and of all 
 which the Reader will have a fair testimony in what 
 will follow. 
 
 In the year 1579, the Chancellor of the Univer- 
 sity was given to understand, that the public Hebrew 
 Lecture was not read according to the Statutes ; 
 nor could be, by reason of a distemper, that had 
 then seized the brain of Mr. Kingsmill, who was to 
 read it ; so that it lay long unread, to the great de- 
 triment of those that were studious of that lan- 
 guage. Therefore the Chancellor writ to his Vice- 
 
182 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Chancellor, and the University, that he had heard 
 such commendations of the excellent knowledge of 
 Mr. Richard Hooker in that tongue, that he desired 
 he might be procured to read it : and he did, and 
 continued to do so till he left Oxford. 
 
 Within three months after his undertaking this 
 Lecture, — namely in October 1579, — he was, with 
 Dr. Reynolds and others expelled his College ; and 
 this Letter, transcribed from Dr. Reynolds his own 
 hand., may give some account of it. 
 
 To Sir Francis Knolles. 
 
 I am sorry, Right Honourable, that I am enforced to 
 make unto you such a suit, which I cannot move, but I 
 must complain of the unrighteous dealing of one of our 
 College ; who hath taken upon him, against all law and 
 reason, to expel out of our house both me and Mr. 
 Hooker, and three other of our fellows, for doing that 
 which by oath we were bound to do. Our matter must 
 be heard before the Bishop of Winchester, with whom 
 I do not doubt but we shall find equity. Howbeit, foras- 
 much as some of our adversaries have said that the 
 Bishop is already forestalled, and will not give us such 
 audience as we look for ; therefore I am humbly to be- 
 seech your Honour, that you will desire the Bishop, by 
 your letters, to let us have justice ; though it be with 
 rigour, so it be justice ; our cause is so good, that I am 
 sure we shall prevail by it. Thus much I am bold to 
 request of your honour for Corpus Christi College 
 sake, or rather for Christ's sake ; whom I beseech to 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 183 
 
 bless you with daily increase of his manifold gifts, and 
 the blessed graces of his Holy Spirit. 
 
 Your Honours in Christ to command, 
 London, October 9, 1579. John Reynolds. 
 
 This expulsion was by Dr. John Barfoote, then 
 Vice-president of the College, and Chaplain to Am- 
 brose Earl of Warwick. I cannot learn the pretended 
 cause ; but, that they were restored the same month 
 is most certain. 
 
 I return to Mr. Hooker in his College, where he 
 continued his studies with all quietness, for the 
 space of three years ; about which time he entered 
 into Sacred Orders, being then made Deacon and 
 Priest, and, not long after, was appointed to preach 
 at St. Paul's Cross. 
 
 In order to which Sermon, to London he came, 
 and immediately to the Shunamite's House; which 
 is a House so called, for that, besides the stipend 
 paid the Preacher, there is provision made also for 
 his lodging and diet for two days before, and one 
 day after his Sermon. This house was then kept 
 by John Churchman, sometime a Draper of good note 
 in Watling-street, upon whom poverty had at last 
 come like an armed man, and brought him into a 
 necessitous condition ; which, though it be a punish- 
 ment, is not always an argument of God's disfavour 5 
 for he was a virtuous man. I shall not yet give the 
 like testimony of his wife, but leave the Reader to 
 
184 THE LIFE OF 
 
 judge by what follows. But to this house Mr. 
 Hooker came so wet, so weary, and weather-beaten, 
 that he was never known to express more passion, 
 than against a friend that dissuaded him from foot- 
 ing it to London, and for finding him no easier an 
 horse, — supposing the horse trotted when he did 
 not 5 — and at this time also, such a faintness and 
 fear possessed him, that he would not be persuaded 
 two days rest and quietness, or any other means 
 could be used to make him able to preach his Sun- 
 day's Sermon : but a warm bed, and rest, and drink 
 proper for a cold, given him by Mrs. Churchman, 
 and her diligent attendance added unto it, enabled 
 him to perform the office of the day, which was in, 
 or about the year 1581. 
 
 And in this first public appearance to the world, 
 he was not so happy as to be free from exceptions 
 against a point of doctrine delivered in his Sermon , 
 which was, That in God there were two wills -, an an- 
 tecedent and a consequent will : his first will. That all 
 mankind should be saved ; but his second will was, That 
 those only should be saved, that did live answerable to 
 that degree of grace which he had offered or afforded 
 them. This seemed to cross a late opinion of Mr. 
 Calvin s, and then taken for granted by many that 
 had not a capacity to examine it, as it had been by 
 him before, and hath been since by Master Henry 
 Mason, Dr. Jackson, Dr. Hammond, and others of 
 great learning, who believe that a contrary opinion 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 185 
 
 intrenches upon the honour and justice of our mer- 
 ciful God. How he justified this, I will not under- 
 take to declare ; but it was not excepted against — 
 as Mr. Hooker declares in his rational Answer to 
 Mr. Travers — by John Elmer, then Bishop of London, 
 at this time one of his auditors, and at last one 
 of his advocates too, when Mr. Hooker was accused 
 for it. 
 
 But the justifying of this doctrine did not prove 
 of so bad consequence, as the kindness of Mrs. 
 Churchman s curing him of his late distemper and 
 coldj for that was so gratefully apprehended by 
 Mr. Hooker, that he thought himself bound in con- 
 science to believe all that she said : so that the 
 good man came to be persuaded by her, that he was 
 a man of a tender constitution ; and that it was best 
 for him to have a wife, that might prove a nurse to 
 him ; such an one as might both prolong his life, and 
 make it more comfortable ; and such a one she could 
 and would provide for him, if he thought fit to marry. 
 And he, not considering that the children of this 
 world are wiser in their generation than the children of 
 light ; but, like a true Nathaniel, fearing no guile, 
 because he meant none, did give her such a power 
 as Eleazar was trusted with, — -you may read it in 
 the book of Genesis, — when he was sent to choose 
 a wife for Isaac: for even so he trusted her to 
 choose for him, promising upon a fair summons to 
 return to London, r and accept of her choice 5 and he 
 c c 
 
186 THE LIFE OF 
 
 did so in that, or about the year following. Now* 
 the wife provided for him was her daughter Joan, 
 who brought him neither beauty nor portion ; and 
 for her conditions, they were too like that wife's, 
 which is by Solomon compared to a dripping house : 
 so that the good man had no reason to rejoice in the 
 wife of his youth; but too just cause to say with the 
 holy Prophet, Wo is me, that I am constrained to have 
 my habitation in the tents of Kedar ! 
 
 This choice of Mr. Hooker s — if it were his choice 
 — may be wondered at : but let us consider that 
 the Prophet Ezekiel says, There is a wheel within 
 a wheel; a secret sacred wheel of Providence, — 
 most visible in marriages,— guided by His hand, 
 that allows not the race to the swift, nor bread to 
 the wise, nor good wives to good men : and He 
 that can bring good out of evil — for mortals are 
 blind to this reason — only knows why this bles- 
 sing was denied to patient Job, to meek Moses, and 
 to our as meek and patient Mr. Hooker. But so it 
 was ; and let the Reader cease to wonder, for afflic- 
 tion is a divine diet ; which though it be not pleasing 
 to mankind, yet Almighty God hath often, very often, 
 imposed it as good, though bitter physic to those 
 children, whose souls are dearest to him. 
 
 And by this marriage the good man was drawn 
 from the tranquillity of his College -, from that 
 garden of piety, of pleasure, of peace, and a sweet 
 conversation, into the thorny wilderness of a busy 
 
 / 
 I 
 
E.T. Boiie.jiW 
 
 T1ELM FAiT©IE< 
 
 LOHD ON. 
 Tublisied "by Jolm Major. 50. Fleet Street, 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 187 
 
 world ; into those corroding cares that attend a 
 married Priest, and a country Parsonage; which 
 was Drayton-Beauchamp in Buckinghamshire, 
 
 
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 WS^^^^^X" K: 
 
 
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 pHt^-- 
 
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 f 
 
 1§p1I1PI?siii§ 
 
 not far from Aylesbury, and in the Diocese of Lin- 
 coln ; to which he was presented by John Cheney, 
 Esq. — then Patron of it — the 9th of December, 1584, 
 where he behaved himself so as to give no occasion 
 of evil, but as St. Paul adviseth a minister of God 
 — in much patience, in afflictions, in anguishes, in ne- 
 cessities, in poverty, and no doubt in long-suffering ; yet 
 troubling no man with his discontents and wants. 
 
 And in this condition he continued about a year ; 
 in which time his two Pupils, Edwin Sandys and 
 George Cranmer, took a journey to see their Tutor ; 
 where they found him with a book in his hand, — it 
 was the Odes of Horace, — he being then like humble 
 and innocent Abel, tending his small allotment of 
 sheep in a common field ; which he told his Pupils 
 
183 THE LIFE OF 
 
 he was forced to do then, for that his servant was 
 gone home to dine, and assist his wife to do some 
 necessary household business. But when his ser- 
 vant returned and released him, then his two Pupils 
 attended him unto his house, where their best en- 
 tertainment was his quiet company, which was pre- 
 sently denied them j for Richard was called to rock 
 the cradle ; and the rest of their welcome was so 
 like this, that they staid but till next morning, which 
 was time enough to discover and pity their Tutor's 
 condition ; and they having in that time rejoiced in 
 the remembrance, and then paraphrased on many 
 of the innocent recreations of their younger days, 
 and other like diversions, and thereby given him as 
 much present comfort as they were able, they were 
 forced to leave him to the company of his wife 
 Joan, and seek themselves a quieter lodging for next 
 night. But at their parting from him, Mr. Cran- 
 mer said, Good Tutor, I am sorry your lot is fallen in 
 no better ground, as to your parsonage ; and more sorry 
 that your wife proves not a more comfortable companion, 
 after you have wearied yourself in your restless studies. 
 To whom the good man replied, My dear George, 
 if Saints have usually a double share in the miseries of 
 this life, I, that am none, ought not to repine at what 
 my wise Creator hath appointed for me ; but labour — 
 as indeed I do daily — to submit mine to his will, and 
 possess my soul in patience and peace. 
 
 At their return to London, Edwin Sandys acquaints 
 his Father, who was then Archbishop of York, with 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 189 
 
 his Tutor's sad condition, and solicits for his re- 
 moval to some benefice that might give him a more 
 quiet and a more comfortable subsistence; which 
 his father did most willingly grant him when it 
 should next fall into his power. And not long after 
 this time, which was in the year 1585, Mr. Alvey, — 
 Master of the Temple, — died, who was a man of 
 a strict life, of great learning, and of so venerable 
 behaviour, as to gain so high a degree of love and 
 reverence from all men, that he was generally 
 known by the name of Father Alvey. And at the 
 Temple-reading, next after the death of this Father 
 Alvey, he, the said Archbishop of York being then at 
 dinner with the Judges, the Reader, and the Benchers 
 of that Society, met with a general condolement 
 for the death of Father Alvey, and with a high com- 
 mendation of his Saint-like life, and of his great 
 merit both towards God and man 5 and as they be- 
 wailed his death, so they wished for a like pattern 
 of virtue and learning to succeed him. And here 
 came in a fair occasion for the Bishop to commend 
 Mr. Hooker to Father Alvey s place, which he did 
 with so effectual an earnestness, and that seconded 
 with so many other testimonies of his worth, that 
 Mr. Hooker was sent for from Dray Ion- Beauchamp 
 to London, and there the Mastership of the Temple 
 proposed unto him by the Bishop, as a greater free- 
 dom from his country cares, the advantages of 
 a better society, and a more liberal pension than 
 his country Parsonage did afford him. But these 
 
190 THE LIFE OF 
 
 reasons were not powerful enough to incline him to 
 a willing acceptance of it : his wish was rather to 
 gain a better country living, where he might see God's 
 blessings spring out of the earth, and be free from noise, 
 — so he expressed the desire of his heart, — and eat 
 that bread which he might more properly call his own, 
 in privacy and quietness. But, notwithstanding this 
 averseness, he was at last persuaded to accept of 
 
 * m. n , . tne Bishop's proposal: 
 
 * 1 his you may find in the 
 
 Temple Records. William Erm- and was by* Patent for 
 stead was Master of the Temple Hf made Magter of the 
 at the Dissolution of the Priory , 
 
 and died 2 Eliz. (1559) . Temple the 17th of March, 
 
 Pa^Febr.TEnz? MagZfr, 1585 ' he bein S then in 
 
 sive Custos DomAs et Ecclesics the 34th year of his age. 
 NoviTempli,died27 Eliz. (1585). . , , T , „ ° 
 
 Richard Hooker succeeded that And nere * shall make 
 
 year by Patent, in terminis, as a s t p ; and, that the 
 Alvey had it, and he left it 33 
 
 Eliz. (1591). Reader may the better 
 
 That year Dr. Bslgey succeed- j ud of what f H ows 
 
 ed Richard Hooker- J & ' 
 
 give him a character of 
 
 the times, and temper of the people of this nation, 
 when Mr. Hooker had his admission into this place ; 
 a place which he accepted, rather than desired : and 
 et here he promised himself a virtuous quietness, 
 that blessed tranquillity which he always prayed 
 and laboured for, that so he might in peace bring 
 forth the fruits of peace, and glorify God by unin- 
 terrupted prayers and praises. For this he always 
 thirsted and prayed : but Almighty God did not 
 grant it 5 for his admission into this place was the 
 very beginning of those oppositions and anxieties. 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 191 
 
 which till then this good man was a stranger to j 
 and of which the Reader may guess by what follows. 
 
 In this character of the times, I shall, by the 
 Reader's favour, and for his information, look so 
 far back as to the beginning of the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth ,• a time, in which the many pretended titles 
 to the Crown, the frequent treasons, the doubts of her 
 successor, the late Civil War, and the sharp persecu- 
 tion for Religion that raged to the effusion of so much 
 blood in the reign of Queen Mary, were fresh in the 
 memory of all men j and begot fears in the most 
 pious and wisest of this nation, lest the like days 
 should return again to them, or their present pos- 
 terity. And the apprehension of these dangers, 
 begot a hearty desire of a settlement in the Church 
 and State ; believing there was no other probable 
 way left to make them sit quietly under their own 
 vines and fig-trees, and enjoy the desired fruit of 
 their labours. But time, and peace, and plenty, be- 
 got self-ends ; and these begot animosities, envy, op- 
 position, and unthankfulness for those very blessings 
 for which they lately thirsted, being then the very 
 utmost of their desires, and even beyond their 
 hopes. 
 
 This was the temper of the times in the begin- 
 ning of her reign ; and thus it continued too long j 
 for those very people that had enjoyed the desires 
 of their hearts in a reformation from the Church of 
 Rome, became at last so like the grave, as never to 
 be satisfied, but were still thirsting for more and 
 
192 THE LIFE OF 
 
 more ; neglecting to pay that obedience, and per- 
 form those vows, which they made in their days of 
 adversities and fear: so that in short time there 
 appeared three several interests, each of them fear- 
 less and restless in the prosecution of their designs : 
 they may for distinction be called, the active Ro- 
 manists, the restless Non-conformists, — of which 
 there were many sorts, — and the passive peaceable 
 Protestant. The counsels of the first considered and 
 resolved on in Rome : the second both in Scotland, 
 in Geneva, and in divers selected, secret, dangerous 
 Conventicles, both there, and within the bosom of 
 our own nation : the third pleaded and defended 
 their cause by established Laws, both Ecclesiastical 
 and Civil : and if they were active, it was to pre- 
 vent the other two from destroying what was by 
 those known Laws happily established to them and 
 their posterity. 
 
 I shall forbear to mention the very many and 
 dangerous plots of the Romanists against the Church 
 and State ; because what is principally intended in 
 this digression, is an account of the opinions and 
 activity of the Non-conformists ; against whose 
 judgment and practice Mr. Hooker became at last, 
 but most unwillingly, to be engaged in a book -war $ 
 a war which he maintained not as against an enemy, 
 but with the spirit of meekness and reason. 
 
 In which number of Non-conformists, though 
 some might be sincere, well-meaning men, whose 
 indiscreet zeal might be so like charity, as thereby 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 193 
 
 to cover a multitude of their errors -, yet of this 
 party there were many that were possessed with a 
 high degree of spiritual wickedness ,■ I mean with an 
 innate restless pride and malice ; I do not mean the 
 visible carnal sins of gluttony and drunkenness, and 
 the like, — from which, good Lord, deliver us ! — 
 but sins of a higher nature, because they are more 
 unlike God, who is the God of love, and mercy, and 
 order, and peace ; and more like the Devil, who is 
 not a glutton, nor can be drunk, and yet is a Devil : 
 but I mean those spritual wickednesses of malice 
 and revenge, and an opposition to government : men 
 that joyed to be the authors of misery, which is 
 properly his work that is the enemy and disturber of 
 mankind ; and thereby greater sinners than the glut- 
 ton or drunkard, though some will not believe it. 
 And of this party there were also many, whom pre- 
 judice and a furious zeal had so blinded, as to make 
 them neither to hear reason, nor adhere to the 
 ways of peace : men, that were the very dregs and 
 pest of mankind ; men whom pride and self-conceit 
 had made to over-value their own pitiful crooked 
 wisdom so much, as not to be ashamed to hold 
 foolish and unmannerly disputes against those men 
 whom they ought to reverence, and those laws 
 which they ought to obey ; men, that laboured and 
 joyed first to find out the faults, and then speak 
 evil of Government, and to be the authors of con- 
 fusion 5 men, whom company, and conversation, 
 and custom had at last so blinded, and made so 
 d d 
 
194 THE LIFE OF 
 
 insensible that these were sins, that like those that 
 perished in the gainsaying of Korah, so these died 
 without repenting of these spiritual wickednesses; 
 of which the practices of Coppinger and Hacket in 
 their lives, and the death of them and their ad- 
 herents, are, God knows, too sad examples, and 
 ought to be cautions to those men that are inclined 
 to the like spiritual wickednesses. 
 
 And in these times, which tended thus to con- 
 fusion, there were also many of these scruple- 
 mongers, that pretended a tenderness of conscience, 
 refusing to take an oath before a lawful Magistrate : 
 and yet these very men in their secret Conventicles 
 did covenant and swear to each other, to be assidu- 
 ous and faithful in using their best' endeavours to 
 set up the Presbyterian doctrine and discipline ,• and 
 both in such a manner as they themselves had not 
 yet agreed on ; but up that government must. To 
 which end there were many that wandered up and 
 down, and were active in sowing discontents and 
 sedition, by venomous and secret murmurings, and 
 a dispersion of scurrilous pamphlets and libels 
 against the Church and State ; but especially against 
 the Bishops ; by which means, together with ve- 
 nomous and indiscreet sermons, the common people 
 became so fanatic, as to believe the Bishops to be 
 Antichrist, and the only obstructers of God's disci- 
 pline ! and at last some of them were given over to 
 so bloody a zeal, and such other desperate delu- 
 sions, as to find out a text in the Revelation of St. 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 195 
 
 John, that Antichrist was to be overcome by the sword. 
 So that those very men, that began with tender and 
 meek petitions, proceeded to admonitions ; then to 
 satirical remonstrances : and at last — having, like 
 Absalom, numbered who was not, and who was, for 
 their cause — they got a supposed certainty of so 
 great a party, that they durst threaten first the 
 Bishops, and then the Queen and Parliament, to all 
 which they were secretly encouraged by the Earl 
 of Leicester, then in great favour with her Majesty, 
 and the reputed cherisher and patron- general of 
 these pretenders to tenderness of conscience ; his 
 design being, by their means, to bring such an 
 odium upon the Bishops, as to procure an alienation 
 of their lands, and a large proportion of them for 
 himself: which avaricious desire had at last so 
 blinded his reason, that his ambitious and greedy 
 hopes seemed to put him into a present possession 
 of Lambeth-House. 
 
 And to these undertakings the Non-conformists 
 of this nation, were much encouraged and heighten- 
 ed by a correspondence and confederacy with that 
 brotherhood in Scotland ,• so that here they became 
 
 so bold, that one * told the Queen 
 
 i • p , 7 . 7 * Mr. Bering. 
 
 openly in a sermon, She was like an 
 
 untamed heifer, that would not be ruled by God 1 s people, 
 
 but obstructed his discipline. And in Scotland they 
 
 were more confident : for there f . 17 . , „. , 
 
 ' ' t Vide Bishop Spots- 
 
 they declared her an Atheist, and wood's History of the 
 grew to such an height, as not to Church of Scotland ' 
 be accountable for any thing spoken against her, 
 
196 THE LIFE OF 
 
 nor for treason against their own King, if it were but 
 spoken in the pulpit ; shewing at last such a dis- 
 obedience to him,, that his Mother being in England, 
 and then in distress, and in prison, and in danger 
 of death, the Church denied the King their prayers 
 for her 5 and at another time, when he had ap- 
 pointed a day of Feasting, the Church declared for 
 a general Fast, in opposition to his authority. 
 
 To this height they were grown in both nations, 
 and by these means there was distilled into the 
 minds of the common people such other venomous 
 and. turbulent principles, as were inconsistent with 
 the safety of the Church and State : and these 
 opinions vented so daringly, that, beside the loss 
 of life and limbs, the governors of the Church and 
 State were forced to use such other severities as 
 will not admit of an excuse, if it had not been to 
 prevent the gangrene of confusion, and the peril- 
 ous consequences of it ; which, without such pre- 
 vention, would have been first confusion, and then 
 ruin and misery to this numerous nation. 
 
 These errors and animosities were so remarkable, 
 that they begot wonder in an ingenious Italian, who 
 being about this time come newly into this nation, 
 and considering them, writ scoffingly to a friend in 
 his own country, to this purpose -, That the common 
 people of England id ere wiser than the wisest of his 
 nation ; for here the very women and shop-keepers 
 were able to judge of Predestination, and to determine 
 what laws were Jit to be made concerning Church-govern- 
 ment ; and then, what were ft to be obeyed or abolished. 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 197 
 
 That they were more able — or at least thought so — to 
 raise and determine perplexed Cases of Conscience, than 
 the wisest of the most learned Colleges in Italy ! That 
 men of the slightest learning, and the most ignorant of 
 the common people, were mad for a new, or super, or 
 re- reformation of Religion; and that in tiis they 
 appeared like that man, who would never cease to 
 whet and whet his knife, till there was no steel left 
 to make it useful. And he concluded his letter 
 with this observation, That those very men that were 
 most busy in oppositions, and disputations, and contro- 
 versies, and finding out the faults of their governors, 
 had usually the least of humility and mortification, 
 or of the power of godliness . 
 
 And to heighten all these discontents and dangers, 
 there was also sprung up a generation of godless 
 men ; men that had so long given way to their own 
 lusts and delusions, and so highly opposed the 
 blessed motions of His Spirit, and the inward light 
 of their own consciences, that they became the 
 very slaves of vice, and had thereby sinned them- 
 selves into a belief of that which they would, but 
 could not believe, into a belief, which is repugnant 
 even to human nature ; — for the Heathens believe 
 that there are many Gods ; — but these had sinned 
 themselves into a belief that there was no God ! 
 and so, finding nothing in themselves but what was 
 worse than nothing, began to wish what they were 
 not able to hope for, namely, That they might be like 
 the beasts that perish ! and in wicked company — 
 
198 THE LIFE OP 
 
 which is the Atheist's sanctuary — were so bold as 
 to say so : though the worst of mankind, when he 
 is left alone at midnight, may wish, but is not then 
 able to think it : even into a belief that there is no 
 God. Into this wretched, this reprobate condition, 
 many had then sinned themselves. 
 
 And now, when the Church was pestered with 
 them, and with all those other fore-named irregu- 
 larities ; when her lands were in danger of aliena- 
 tion, her power at least neglected, and her peace 
 torn to pieces by several schisms, and such heresies 
 as do usually attend that sin ; — for heresies do 
 usually outlive their first authors ; — when the com- 
 mon people seemed ambitious of doing those very 
 things that were forbidden and attended with most 
 dangers, that thereby they might be punished, and 
 then applauded and pitied : when they called the 
 spirit of opposition a tender conscience, and com- 
 plained of persecution, because they wanted power 
 to persecute others : when the giddy multitude 
 raged, and became restless to find out misery for 
 themselves and others ; and the rabble would herd 
 themselves together, and endeavour to govern and 
 act in spite of authority ; — in this extremity of fear, 
 and danger of the Church and State, when, to sup- 
 press, the growing evils of both, they needed a man 
 of prudence and piety, and of an high and fearless 
 fortitude, they were blest in all by John Whitgift, 
 his being made Archbishop of Canterbury ; of whom 
 Sir Henry Wotlon — that knew him well in his youth, 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 
 
 199 
 
 and had studied him in his age, — gives this true 
 character ; That he was a man of reverend and sacred 
 memory, and of the primitive temper ,• such a temper, as 
 when the Church by lowliness of spirit did flourish in 
 highest examples of virtue. And indeed this man 
 proved so. 
 
 And though I dare not imdertake to add to this 
 excellent and true character of Sir Henry Wotton ; 
 yet I shall neither do right to this discourse, nor to 
 my Reader, if I forbear to give him a further and 
 short account of the life and manners of this excel- 
 lent man ; and it shall be short, for I long to end 
 this digression, that I may lead my Reader back to 
 Mr. Hooker where we left him at the Temple. 
 
 John Whitgift was born in the County of Lincoln, 
 
 of a family that was ancient ; and noted to be both 
 prudent; and affable, and gentle by nature. He was 
 
200 THE LIFE OF 
 
 educated in Cambridge ; much of his learning was ac- 
 quired in Pembroke-Hall, — where Mr. Bradford the 
 Martyr was his Tutor :— from thence he was re- 
 moved to Peter-House ,• from thence to be Master of 
 Pembroke- Hall ; and from thence to the Mastership 
 of Trinity -College. About which time the Queen 
 made him her Chaplain -, and not long after Prebend 
 of Ely, and then Dean of Lincoln ; and having for 
 many years past looked upon him with much re- 
 verence and favour, gave him a fair testimony of 
 both, by giving him the Bishopric of Worcester, and 
 — which was not with her a usual favour — forgiving 
 him his first fruits ; then by constituting him Vice- 
 President of the Principality of Wales. And having 
 experimented his wisdom, his justice, and modera- 
 tion in the manage of her affairs in both these places, 
 she, in the twenty-sixth of her reign, 1583, made 
 him Archbishop of Canterbury, and, not long after, 
 of her Privy Council ; and trusted him to manage 
 all her Ecclesiastical affairs and preferments. In all 
 which removes, he was like the Ark, which left a 
 blessing upon the place where it rested 5 and in all 
 his employments was like Jehoiada, that did good 
 unto Israel. 
 
 These were the steps of this Bishop's ascension 
 to this place of dignity and cares : in which place 
 — to speak Mr. Camden s very words in his Annals 
 of Queen Elizabeth — he devoutly consecrated both his 
 whole life to God, and his painful labours to the good 
 of his Church. And yet in this place he met with 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 201 
 
 many oppositions in the regulation of Church affairs, 
 which were much disordered at his entrance, by 
 reason of the age and remissness of Bishop Grinclal, 
 his immediate predecessor, the activity of the Non- 
 conformists, and their chief assistant the Earl of 
 Leicester; and indeed by too many others of the 
 like sacrilegious principles. With these he was to 
 encounter ; and though he wanted neither courage, 
 nor a good cause, yet he foresaw, that without a 
 great measure of the Queen's favour, it was impos- 
 sible to stand in the breach, that had been lately 
 made into the lands and immunities of the Church, 
 or indeed to maintain the remaining lands and 
 rights of it. And therefore by justifiable sacred 
 insinuations, such as St. Paul to Agrippa, — Agrippa, 
 believest thou ? I know thou believest, he wrought 
 himself into so great a degree of favour with her, 
 as, by his pious use of it, hath got both of them a 
 great degree of fame in this world, and of glory in 
 that into which tliey are now both entered. 
 
 His merits to the Queen, and her favours to him 
 were such, that she called him her little black hus- 
 band, and called his servants her servants : and she 
 saw so visible and blessed a sincerity shine in all 
 his cares and endeavours for the Church's and for 
 her good, that she was supposed to trust him with 
 the very secrets of her soul, and to make him her 
 confessor 5 of which she gave many fair testimo- 
 nies ; and of which one was, that she would never 
 eat flesh in Lent, without obtaining a licence from her 
 e e 
 
202 THE LIFE OF 
 
 little black husband : and would often say, she pitied 
 him because she trusted him, and had thereby eased her- 
 self by laying the burthen of all her Clergy-cares upon 
 his shoulders, which he managed with prudence and 
 piety. 
 
 I shall not keep myself within the promised rules 
 of brevity in this account of his interest with her 
 Majesty, and his care of the Church's rights, if in 
 this digression I should enlarge to particulars ; and 
 therefore my desire is, that one example may serve 
 for a testimony of both. And, that the Reader may 
 the better understand it, he may take notice, that 
 not many years before his being made Archbishop, 
 there passed an Act, or Acts of Parliament, intending 
 the better preservation of the Church-lands, by re- 
 calling a power which was vested in others to sell 
 or lease them, by lodging and trusting the future 
 care and protection of them only in the Crown : and 
 amongst many that made a bad use of this power 
 or trust of the Queen's, the Earl of Leicester was 
 one j and the Bishop having, by his interest with 
 her Majesty, put a stop to the Earl's sacrilegious 
 designs, they two fell to an open opposition before 
 her ; after which they both quitted the room, not 
 friends in appearance. But the Bishop made a 
 sudden and seasonable return to her Majesty, — for 
 he found her alone — and spake to her with great 
 humility and reverence, to this purpose. 
 
 I beseech your Majesty to hear me with patience, 
 and to believe that yours and the Church's safety are 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 203 
 
 dearer to me than my life, but my conscience dearer than 
 both : and therefore give me leave to do my duty, and 
 tell you, that Princes are deputed nursing Fathers of 
 the Church., and owe it a protection ; and therefore 
 God forbid that you should be so much as passive in her 
 ruin, when you may prevent it ; or that I should behold 
 it without horror and detestation; or should forbear to 
 tell your Majesty of the sin and danger of Sacrilege. 
 And though you and myself were born in an age of 
 frailties, when the primitive piety and care of the Church* s 
 lands and immunities are much decayed ; yet, Madam, 
 let me beg that you would first consider that there are 
 such sins as Profaneness and Sacrilege ; and that, if 
 there were not, they could not have names in Holy Writ, 
 and particularly in the New Testament. And I beseech 
 you to consider, that though our Saviour said, He judged 
 no man 5 and, to testify it, would not judge nor divide 
 the inheritance betwixt the two brethren, nor would 
 judge the woman taken in adultery ,• yet in this point of 
 the Church's rights he was so zealous, that he made 
 himself both the accuser, and the judge, and the execu- 
 tioner too, to punish these sins ; witnessed, in that he 
 himself made the whip to drive the prof oners out of the 
 Temple, overthrew the tables of the money-changers, 
 and drove them out of it. And I beseech you to con- 
 sider, that it was St. Paul that said to those Christians 
 of his time that were offended with Idolatry, and yet 
 committed Sacrilege ; Thou that abhorrest Idols, dost 
 thou commit Sacrilege ? supposing, I think, Sacrilege 
 the greater sin. This may occasion your Majesty to 
 
204 THE LIFE OF 
 
 consider, that there is such a sin as Sacrilege 5 and to 
 incline you to prevent the Curse that will follow it, I 
 beseech you also to consider, that Constantine, the first 
 Christian Emperor, and Helena his Mother ; that King 
 Edgar, and Edward the Confessor 5 and indeed many 
 others of your predecessors, and many private Christians, 
 have also given to God, and to his Church, much land, 
 and many immunities, which they might have given to 
 those of their own families, and did not ; but gave them 
 for ever as an absolute right and sacrifice to God : 
 and with these immunities and lands they have entailed 
 a curse upon the alienators of them : God prevent 
 your Majesty and your successors from being liable to 
 that Curse, which will cleave unto Church-lands as the 
 leprosy to the Jews. 
 
 And to make you, that are trusted with their preser- 
 vation, the better to understand the danger of it, 1 
 beseech you forget not, that, to prevent these Curses, the 
 Church's land and power have been also endeavoured to 
 be preserved, as far as human reason and the law of this 
 nation have been able to preserve them, by an immediate 
 and most sacred obligation on the consciences of the 
 Princes of this realm. For they that consult Magna 
 Charta shall find, that as all your predecessors were at 
 their Coronation, so you also were sworn before all the 
 Nobility and Bishops then present, and in the presence 
 of God, and in his stead to him that anointed you, to 
 maintain the Church-lands, and the rights belonging 
 to it 5 and this you yourself have testified openly to 
 God at the holy Altar, by laying your hands on the 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 205 
 
 Bible then lying upon it. And not only Magna Charta, 
 but many modern Statutes have denounced a Curse 
 upon those that break Magna Charta ; a Curse like the 
 leprosy, that was entailed on the Jews : for as that, so 
 these Curses have, and will cleave to the very stones of 
 those buildings that have been consecrated to God ; and 
 the father s sin of Sacrilege hath, and will prove to be 
 entailed on his son and family. And now, Madam, 
 what account can be given for the breach of this Oath at 
 the Last Great Day, either by your Majesty, or by me, 
 if it be wilfully, or but negligently violated, I know not. 
 And therefore, good Madam, let not the late Lord's 
 exceptions against the failings of some few Clergymen 
 prevail with you to punish posterity for the errors of this 
 present age ; let particular men suffer for their particu- 
 lar errors ; but let God and his Church have their in- 
 heritance: and though I pretend not to prophecy, yet I 
 beg posterity to take notice of what is already become 
 visible in many families ; that Church-land added to 
 an ancient and just inheritance, hath proved like a 
 moth fretting a garment, and secretly consumed 
 both : or like the Eagle that stole a coal from the 
 altar, and thereby set her nest on fire, which con- 
 sumed both her young eagles and herself that stole 
 it. And though I shall forbear to speak reproachfully 
 of your Father, yet I beg you to take notice, that a part 
 of the Church's rights, added to the vast treasures left 
 him by his Father, hath been conceived to bring an un- 
 avoidable consumption upon both, notwithstanding all 
 his diligence to preserve them. 
 
206 THE LIFE OF 
 
 And consider, that after the violation of those laws, 
 to which he had sworn in Magna Charta, God did so 
 far deny him his restraining grace, that as King Saul, 
 after he was forsaken of God, fell from one sin to 
 another ,• so he, till at last he fell into greater sins than I 
 am willing to mention. Madam, Religion is the foun- 
 dation and cement of human societies ; and when they 
 that serve at God's Altar shall be exposed to poverty, 
 then Religion itself will be exposed to scorn, and become 
 contemptible -, as you may already observe it to be in too 
 many poor Vicarages in this nation. And therefore, as 
 you are by a late Act or Acts of Parliament, entrusted 
 with a great power to preserve or waste the Church's 
 lands ; yet dispose of them, for Jesus' sake, as you 
 have promised to men, and vowed to God, that is, 
 as the donors intended : let neither falsehood nor 
 flattery beguile you to do otherwise ; but put a stop to 
 God's and the Levite's portion, I beseech you, and to the 
 approaching ruins of His Church, as you expect comfort 
 at the Last Great Day ,• for Kings must be judged. 
 Pardon this affectionate plainness my most dear Sove- 
 reign, and let me beg to be still continued in y our fav our ; 
 and the Lord still continue you in His. 
 
 The Queen's patient hearing this affectionate 
 speech, and her future care to preserve the Church's 
 rights, which till then had been neglected, may ap- 
 pear a fair testimony, that he made her's and the 
 Church's good the chiefest of his cares, and that 
 she also thought so. And of this there were such 
 daily testimonies given, as begot betwixt them so 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 207 
 
 mutual a joy and confidence, that they seemed born 
 to believe and do good to each other 5 she not 
 doubting his piety to be more than all his opposers, 
 which were many ; nor doubting his prudence to 
 be equal to the chiefest of her Council, who were 
 then as remarkable for active wisdom, as those 
 dangerous times did require, or this nation did ever 
 enjoy. And in this condition he continued twenty 
 years ; in which time he saw some Rowings, but 
 many more ebbings of her favour towards all men 
 that had opposed him, especially the Earl of Lei- 
 cester : so that God seemed still to keep him in her 
 favour, that he might preserve the remaining Church- 
 lands and immunities from Sacrilegious alienations. 
 And this good man deserved all the honour and 
 power with which she gratified and trusted him ; 
 for he was a pious man, and naturally of noble and 
 grateful principles : he eased her of all her Church- 
 cares by his wise manage of them ; he gave her 
 faithful and prudent counsels in all the extremities 
 and dangers of her temporal affairs, which were 
 very many 3 he lived to be the chief comfort of her 
 life in her declining age, and to be then most fre- 
 quently with her, and her assistant at her private 
 devotions ; he lived to be the greatest comfort of 
 her soul upon her death-bed, to be present at the 
 expiration of her last breath, and to behold the 
 closing of those eyes that had long looked upon 
 him with reverence and affection. And let this also 
 be added, that he was the Chief Mourner at her sad 
 
208 THE LIFE OF 
 
 funeral ; nor let this be forgotten, that, within a 
 few hours after her death he was the happy pro- 
 claimed that King James— her peaceful successor — 
 was heir to the Crown. 
 
 Let me beg of my Reader to allow me to say a 
 little, and but a little, more, of this good Bishop, 
 and I shall then presently lead him back to Mr. 
 Hooker ,• and because I would hasten, I will men- 
 tion but one part of the Bishop's charity and hu- 
 mility j but this of both. He built a large Alms- 
 house near to his own Palace at Croydon in Surrey, 
 and endowed it with maintenance for a Master and 
 twenty-eight poor men and women j which he 
 visited so often, that he knew their names and dis- 
 positions ; and was so truly humble, that he called 
 them Brothers and Sisters: and whensoever the 
 Queen descended to that lowliness to dine with him 
 at his Palace in Lambeth, — which was very often, 
 — he would usually the next day shew the like low- 
 liness to his poor Brothers and Sisters at Croydon, 
 and dine with them at his Hospital ; at which time, 
 you may believe there was joy at the table. And 
 at this place he built also a fair Free-school, with 
 a good accommodation and maintenance for the 
 Master and Scholars. Which gave just occasion for 
 Boyse Sisi, then Ambassador for the French King, 
 and resident here, at the Bishop's death, to say, 
 The Bishop had published many learned books ,■ but a 
 Free-school to train up youth, and an Hospital to lodge 
 and maintain aged and poor people, were the best 
 

 MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 209 
 
 evidences of Christian learning that a Bishop could 
 leave to posterity. This good Bishop lived to see 
 King James settled in peace, and then fell into an 
 extreme sickness at his Palace in Lambeth ; of which 
 when the King had notice, he went presently to 
 visit him, and found him in his bed in a declining 
 condition and very weak 3 and after some short 
 discourse betwixt them, the King at his departure 
 assured him, He had a great affection for him, and a 
 very high value for his prudence and virtues, and would 
 endeavour to beg his life of God for the good of his 
 Church. To which the good Bishop replied, Pro 
 Ecclesia Dei ! Pro Ecclesia Dei ! which were the 
 last words he ever spake ; therein testifying, that 
 as in his life, so at his death, his chiefest care was 
 of God's Church. 
 
 This John Whitgift was made Archbishop in the 
 year 1583. In which busy place he continued 
 twenty years and some months ; and in which time 
 you may believe he had many trials of his courage 
 and patience : but his motto was Vincit qui patitur ; 
 and he made it good. 
 
 Many of his trials were occasioned by the then 
 powerful Earl of Leicester, who did still — but se- 
 cretly — raise and cherish a faction of Non-confor- 
 mists to oppose him ; especially one Thomas Cart- 
 wright, a man of noted learning, sometime contem- 
 porary with the Bishop in Cambridge, and of the 
 same College, of which the Bishop had been Master: 
 in which place there began some emulations, — the 
 
 Ff 
 
210 THE LIFE OF 
 
 particulars I forbear, — and at last open and high 
 oppositions betwixt them ; and in which you may 
 believe Mr. Cartwright was most faulty, if his ex- 
 pulsion out of the University can incline you to it. 
 
 And in this discontent after the Earl's death, — 
 which was 1588, — Mr. Cartwright appeared a chief 
 cherisher of a party that were for the Geneva Church- 
 government ; and, to effect it, he ran himself into 
 many dangers both of liberty and life) appearing 
 at the last to justify himself and his party in many 
 remonstrances, which he caused to be printed : and 
 to which the Bishop made a first answer, and 
 Cartwright replied upon him 3 and then the Bishop 
 having rejoined to his first reply, Mr. Cartwright 
 either was, or was persuaded to be, satisfied ; for 
 he wrote no more, but left the Reader to be judge 
 w r hich had maintained their cause with most charity 
 and reason. After some silence, Mr. Cartwright 
 received from the Bishop many personal favours 
 and betook himself to a more private living, which 
 was at Warwick, where he was made Master of an 
 Hospital, and lived quietly, and grew rich ; and 
 where the Bishop gave him a licence to preach, 
 upon promises not to meddle with controversies, but 
 incline his hearers to piety and moderation : and 
 this promise he kept during his life, which ended 
 1602, the Bishop surviving him but some few 
 months ; each ending his days in perfect charity 
 with the other. 
 
 And now after this long digression, made for the 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 211 
 
 information of my Reader concerning what follows, 
 I bring him back to venerable Mr. Hooker, where 
 we left him in the Temple, and where we shall find 
 him as deeply engaged in a controversy with Walter 
 Travers, — a friend and favourite of Mr. Cartwright's 
 — as the Bishop had ever been with Mr. Cartwright 
 himself, and of which I shall proceed to give this 
 following account. 
 
 And first this 3 that though the pens of Mr. Cart- 
 wright and the Bishop were now at rest, yet there 
 was sprung up a new generation of restless men, 
 that by company and clamours became possessed of 
 a faith, which they ought to have kept to them- 
 selves, but could not : men that were become posi- 
 tive in asserting, That a Papist cannot be saved : 
 insomuch, that about this time, at the execution of 
 the Queen of Scots, the Bishop that preached her 
 Funeral Sermon — which was Dr. Howland, then 
 Bishop of Peterborough — was reviled for not being 
 positive for her damnation. And besides this bold- 
 ness of their becoming Gods, so far as to set limits 
 to His mercies, there was not only one Martin Mar- 
 Prelate, but other venomous books daily printed 
 and dispersed ; books that were so absurd and 
 scurrilous, that the graver Divines disdained them 
 an answer. And yet these were grown into high 
 esteem with the common people, till Tom Nash ap- 
 peared against them all, who was a man of a sharp 
 wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry 
 pen, which he employed to discover the absurdities 
 
212 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of those blind, malicious, senseless pamphlets, and 
 sermons as senseless as they ; Nash's answers being 
 like his books, which bore these, or like titles ; An 
 Almond for a Parrot; A Fig for my Godson; Come 
 crack me this Nut, and the like - } so that this merry- 
 wit made some sport, and such a discovery of their 
 absurdities, as — which is strange — he put a greater 
 stop to these malicious pamphlets, than a much 
 wiser man had been able. 
 
 And now the Reader is to take notice, that at the 
 death of Father Alvey, who was Master of the 
 Temple, this Walter Travers was Lecturer there for 
 the Evening Sermons, which he preached with great 
 approbation, especially of some citizens, and the 
 younger gentlemen of that Society ; and for the 
 most part approved by Mr. Hooker himself, in the 
 midst of their oppositions. For he continued Lec- 
 turer a part of his time ; Mr. Travers being indeed 
 a man of competent learning, of a winning beha- 
 viourj and of a blameless life. But he had taken 
 Orders by the Presbytery in Antwerp, — and with 
 them some opinions, that could never be eradicated, 
 — and if in any thing he was transported, it was in 
 an extreme desire to set up that government in this 
 nation ; for the promoting of which he had a cor- 
 respondence with Theodore Beza at Geneva, and 
 others in Scotland ,• and was one of the chiefest as- 
 sistants to Mr. Cartwright in that design. 
 
 Mr. Travers had also a particular hope to set. up 
 this government in the Temple, and to that end used 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 213 
 
 his most zealous endeavours to be Master of it ; 
 
 and his being disappointed by Mr. Hooker s admit- 
 tance,, proved the occasion of a public opposition 
 betwixt them in their Sermons : many of which were 
 concerning the doctrine and ceremonies of this 
 Church : insomuch that, as St. Paul withstood St. 
 Peter to his face, so did they withstand each other 
 in their Sermons : for, as one hath pleasantly ex- 
 pressed, it The forenoon Sermon spake Canterbury j 
 and the afternoon Geneva. 
 
 In these Sermons there was little of bitterness, 
 but each party brought all the reasons he was able 
 to prove his adversary's opinion erroneous. And 
 thus it continued a long time, till the oppositions 
 became so visible, and the consequences so dange- 
 rous, especially in that place, that the prudent Arch- 
 bishop put a stop to Mr. Travers his preaching, by 
 a positive prohibition. Against which Mr. Travers 
 appealed, and petitioned her Majesty's Privy Council 
 to have it recalled ; where, besides his patron, the 
 Earl of Leicester, he met also with many assisting 
 friends : but they were not able to prevail with, or 
 against the Archbishop, whom the Queen had in- 
 trusted with all Church -pow r er ; and he had received 
 so fair a testimony of Mr. Hooker s principles, and 
 of his learning and moderation, that he withstood 
 all solicitations. But the denying this petition of 
 Mr. Tracers, w r as unpleasant to divers of his party $ 
 and the reasonableness of it became at last to be so 
 publicly magnified by them, and many others of 
 
214 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that party, as never to be answered : so that, in- 
 tending the Bishop's and Mr. Hooker s disgrace, they 
 procured it to be privately printed and scattered 
 abroad 5 and then Mr. Hooker was forced to appear, 
 and make as public an Answer -, which he did, and 
 dedicated it to the Archbishop 5 and it proved so 
 full an answer, an answer that had in it so much of 
 clear reason, and writ with so much meekness and 
 majesty of style, that the Bishop began to have him 
 in admiration, and to rejoice that he had appeared 
 in his cause, and disdained not earnestly to beg his 
 friendship ; even a familiar friendship with a man 
 of so much quiet learning and humility. 
 
 To enumerate the many particular points, in 
 which Mr. Hooker and Mr. Travers dissented, — all, 
 or most of which I have seen written, — would prove 
 at least tedious : and therefore I shall impose upon 
 my Reader no more than two, which shall imme- 
 diately follow, and by which he may judge of the 
 rest. 
 
 Mr. Travers excepted against Mr. Hooker, for that 
 in one of his Sermons he declared, That the assur- 
 ance of what we believe by the Word of God is not to 
 us so certain as that which we perceive by sense. And 
 Mr. Hooker confesseth he said so, and endeavours to 
 justify it by the reasons following. 
 
 First ; I taught that the things which God promises 
 in his Word are surer than what we touch, handle, or 
 see : but are we so sure and certain of them ? If we 
 be, why doth God so often prove his promises to us as he 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 215 
 
 doth, by arguments drawn from our sensible experience ? 
 For we must be surer of the proof than of the things 
 proved j otherwise it is no proof. For example ; 
 how is it that many men looking on the moon, at the 
 same time, every one knoweth it to be the moon as cer- 
 tainly as the other doth ? but many believing one and 
 the same promise, have not all one and the same ful- 
 ness of persuasion. For how falleth it out, that men 
 being assured of any thing by sense, can be no surer of 
 it than they are ; when as the strongest in faith that 
 liveth upon the earth hath always need to labour, strive, 
 and pray, that his assurance concerning heavenly and 
 spiritual things may grow, increase, and be augmented ? 
 
 The Sermon, that gave him the cause of this his 
 justification, makes the case more plain, by declaring 
 That there is, besides this certainty of evidence, a cer- 
 tainty of adherence. In which having most excel- 
 lently demonstrated what the certainty of adhe- 
 rence is, he makes this comfortable use of it, Com- 
 fortable, he says., as to weak believers, who suppose 
 themselves to be faithless, not to believe, when notwith- 
 standing they have their adherence ; the Holy Spirit 
 hath his private operations, and worketh secretly in 
 them, and effectually too, though they want the inward 
 testimony of it. 
 
 Tell this, saith he, to a man that hath a mind too 
 much dejected by a sad sense of his sin j to one that, 
 by a too severe judging of himself, concludes that 
 he wants faith, because he wants the comfortable 
 assurance of it 5 and his answer will be, Do not per- 
 
216 THE LIFE OF 
 
 suade me against my knowledge, against what 1 find 
 and feel in myself: I do not, I know, I do not believe. 
 « — Mr. Hooker's own words follow. — Well then, to 
 favour such men a little in their weakness, let that be 
 granted which they do imagine ; be it, that they adhere 
 not to God's promises, but are faithless, and without be- 
 lief: but are they not grieved for their unbelief? They 
 confess they are; do they not wish it might, and also 
 strive that it may be otherwise ? We know they do. 
 Whence cometh this, but from a secret love and liking, 
 that they have of those things believed ? For no man 
 can love those things which in his own opinion are 
 not ; and if they think those things to be, which they 
 shew they love, when they desire to believe them ; then 
 must it be, that, by desiri?ig to believe, they prove them- 
 selves true believers : for without faith no man thinketh 
 that things believed are : which argument all the 
 subtilties of infernal powers will never be able to dissolve. 
 This is an abridgement of part of the reasons Mr. 
 Hooker gives for his justification of this his opinion, 
 for which he was excepted against by Mr. Travers. 
 
 Mr. Hooker was also accused by Mr. Travers, for 
 that he in one of his Sermons had declared, That 
 he doubted not but that God was merciful to many of 
 our forefathers living in Popish superstition, for as much 
 as they sinned ignorantly : and Mr. Hooker in his 
 Answer professeth it to be his judgment, and de- 
 clares his reasons for this charitable opinion to be 
 as folio weth. 
 
 But first, he states the question about Justification 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 217 
 
 and Works, and how the foundation of Faith without 
 works is overthrown ,• and then he proceeds to dis- 
 cover that way which natural men and some others 
 have mistaken to be the way, by which they hope 
 to attain true and everlasting happiness : and hav- 
 ing discovered the mistaken, he proceeds to direct 
 to that true way, by which, and no other, everlast- 
 ing life and blessedness is attainable. And these 
 two ways he demonstrates thus : — they be his own 
 words that follow : — " That, the way of Nature ; 
 u this, the way of Grace ; the end of that way, Salva- 
 ft Hon merited, presupposing the righteousness of men s 
 " works ; their righteousness, a natural ability to do 
 " them • that ability, the goodness of God, which created 
 " them in such perfection. But the end of this way, 
 u Salvation bestowed upon men as a gift : presupposing 
 " not their righteousness, but the forgiveness of their 
 " unrighteousness, Justification ; their justification, not 
 " their natural ability to do good, but their hearty sor- 
 e< row for not doing, and unfeigned belief in Him, for 
 " whose sake not-doers are accepted, which is their 
 " Vocation ; their vocation, the election of God, taking 
 " them out of the number of lost children ; their Elec- 
 " tion, a Mediator in whom to be elected ; this media- 
 " tion, inexplicable mercy ; this mercy, supposing their 
 " misery for whom He vouchsafed to die, and make 
 " Himself a Mediator." 
 
 And he also declareth, There is no meritorious 
 cause for our Justification, but Christ : no effectual, 
 but his mercy ; and says also, We deny the grace of 
 g g 
 
218 THE LIFE OF 
 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, we abuse, disannul, and annihi- 
 late the benefit of his passion, if by a proud imagination 
 we believe we can merit everlasting life, or can be worthy 
 of it. This belief, he declareth, is to destroy the 
 very essence of our Justification ; and he makes all 
 opinions that border upon this to be very dangerous. 
 Yet nevertheless, — and for this he was accused, — 
 c< considering how many virtuous and just men, how 
 " many Saints and Martyrs have had their dangerous 
 " opinions, amongst which this was one, that they hoped 
 ce to make God some part of amends, by voluntary 
 " punishments which they laid upon themselves : be- 
 e< cause by this, or the like erroneous opinions, 
 " which do by consequence overthrow the merits of 
 " Christ, shall man be so bold as to write on their 
 e( graves, Such men are damned ; there is for them no 
 ie Salvation ? St. Austin says, Errare possum, Hcere- 
 " ticus esse nolo. And except we put a difference 
 " betwixt them that err ignorantly, and them that 
 " obstinately persist in it, how is it possible that 
 " any man should hope to be saved ? Give me a 
 " Pope or a Cardinal, whom great afflictions have 
 " made to know himself, whose heart God hath 
 " touched with true sorrow for all his sins, and 
 '* filled with a love of Christ and his Gospel ; whose 
 " eyes are willingly open to see the truth, and his 
 " mouth ready to renounce all error, — this one 
 " opinion of merit excepted, which he thinketh God 
 " will require at his hands;— and because he wanteth, 
 " trembleth, and is discouraged, and yet can say, 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 219 
 
 " Lord, cleanse me from all my secret sins ! shall I 
 " think, because of this, or a like error, such men 
 " touch not so much as the hem of Christ's gar- 
 " ment I If they do, wherefore should I doubt, but 
 u that virtue may proceed from Christ to save them ? 
 " No, I will not be afraid to say to such a one, 
 " You err in your opinion ; but be of good comfort ■ you 
 " have to do with a merciful God, who will make the 
 " best of that little which you hold well ,• and not with 
 e< a captious sophister, who gathereth the worst out of 
 " every thing in which you are mistaken." 
 
 But it will be said, says Mr. Hooker, The admit- 
 tance of merit in any degree overthroweth the founda- 
 tion, excludeth from the hope of mercy, from all pos- 
 sibility of salvation. (And now Mr. Hooker s own 
 words follow.) 
 
 " What, though they hold the truth sincerely in 
 " all other parts of Christian faith y although they 
 " have in some measure all the virtues and graces 
 " of the Spirit, although they have all other tokens 
 " of God's children in them ? although they be far 
 " from having any proud opinion, that they shall be 
 " saved, by the worthiness of their deeds ? although 
 " the only thing, that troubleth and moles teth them, 
 " be a little too much dejection, somewhat too great 
 " a fear arising from an erroneous conceit, that God 
 " will require a worthiness in them, which they 
 " are grieved to find wanting in themselves ? al- 
 " though they be not obstinate in this opinion ? 
 " although they be willing, and would be glad to 
 
2<2G THE LIFE OF 
 
 " forsake it, if any one reason were brought suf- 
 " ficient to disprove it ? although the only cause 
 <e why they do not forsake it ere they die, be their 
 " ignorance of that means by which it might be 
 e< disproved ? although the cause why the ignorance 
 c< in this point is not removed, be the want of know- 
 ct ledge in such as should be able, and are not, to 
 " remove it V Let me die, says Mr. Hooker, if it be 
 ever proved, that simply an error doth exclude a Pope 
 or Cardinal in such a case utterly from hope of life. 
 " Surely, I must confess, that if it be an error to 
 " think that God may be merciful to save men, even 
 " when they err, my greatest comfort is my error : 
 " were it not for the love I bear to this error, I 
 " would never wish to speak or to live." 
 
 I was willing to take notice of these two points, 
 as supposing them to be very material ) and that, 
 as they are thus contracted, they may prove useful 
 to my Reader 5 as also for that the answers be ar- 
 guments of Mr. Hooker's great and clear reason, and 
 equal charity. Other exceptions were also made 
 against him by Mr. Travers, as That he prayed before, 
 and not after, his Sermons ; that in his prayers he 
 named Bishops; that he kneeled, both when he prayed, 
 and when he received the Sacrament ; and — says Mr. 
 Hooker in his Defence — other exceptions so like these, 
 as but to name, I should have thought a greater fault 
 than to commit them. 
 
 And it is not unworthy the noting, that, in the 
 manage of so great a controversy, a sharper reproof 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 221 
 
 than this, and one like it, did never fall from the 
 happy pen of this humble man. That like it was 
 upon a like occasion of exceptions, to which his 
 answer was, your next argument consists of railing 
 and of reasons ; to your railing. I say nothing ,• to your 
 reasons I say what follows. And I am glad of this 
 fair occasion to testify the dove-like temper of this 
 meek, this matchless man. And doubtless, if Al- 
 mighty God had blest the Dissenters from the 
 ceremonies and discipline of this Church, with a 
 like measure of wisdom and humility, instead of 
 their pertinacious zeal, then obedience and truth 
 had kissed each other ; then peace and piety had 
 flourished in our nation, and this Church and State 
 had been blessed like Jerusalem, that is at unity with 
 itself: but this can never be expected, till God 
 shall bless the common people of this nation with a 
 belief, That Schism is a sin, and they not ft to judge 
 what is Schism ,• and bless them also with a belief, 
 That there may be offences taken which are not given, 
 and, That laws are not made for private men to dispute, 
 but to obey. 
 
 And this also may be worthy of noting, that these 
 exceptions of Mr. Travers against Mr. Hooker proved 
 to be felix error, for they were the cause of his 
 transcribing those few of his Sermons, which we 
 now see printed with his books ; and of his Answer 
 to Mr. Travers his Supplication ; and of his most 
 learned and useful Discourse of Justification, of Faith, 
 and Works : and by their transcription they fell into 
 
222 THE LIFE OF 
 
 such hands as have preserved them from being lost, 
 as too many of his other matchless writings were j 
 and from these I have gathered many observations 
 in this discourse of his life, 
 
 After the publication of his Answer to the Peti- 
 tion of Mr. Travers, Mr. Hooker grew daily into 
 greater repute with the most learned and wise of 
 the nation : but it had a contrary effect in very 
 many of the Temple, that were zealous for Mr. Tra- 
 vers, and for his Church-discipline j insomuch, that 
 though Mr. Travers left the place, yet the seeds of 
 discontent could not be rooted out of that Society, 
 by the great reason, and as great meekness, of this 
 humble man : for though the chief Benchers gave 
 him much reverence and encouragement, yet he 
 there met with many neglects and oppositions by 
 those of Master Travers' judgment 5 insomuch that 
 it turned to his extreme grief : and, that he might 
 unbeguile and win them, he designed to write a 
 deliberate, sober treatise of the Church's power to 
 make Canons for the use of ceremonies, and by 
 law to impose an obedience to them, as upon her 
 children -, and this he proposed to do in Eight Books 
 of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity ,• intending there- 
 in to shew such arguments as should force an assent 
 from all men, if reason, delivered in sweet language, 
 and void of any provocation, were able to do it : 
 and, that he might prevent all prejudice, he wrote 
 before it a large Preface, or Epistle to the Dissent- 
 ing Brethren, wherein there were such bowels of 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 223 
 
 love, and such a commixture of that love with rea- 
 son, as was never exceeded but in Holy Writ ; and 
 particularly by that of St. Paul to his dear brother 
 and fellow- labourer Philemon : than which none 
 ever was more like this epistle of Mr. Hooker's. So 
 that his dear friend and companion in his studies, 
 Dr. Spencer, might, after his death, justly say, What 
 admirable height of learning, and depth of judgment, 
 dwelt in the lowly mind of this truly humble man; — great 
 in all wise mens eyes, except his own -, with what gravity 
 and majesty of speech his tongue and pen uttered hea- 
 venly mysteries ; whose eyes, in the humility of his 
 heart, were always cast down to the ground ; how all 
 things that proceeded from him were breathed as from 
 the Spirit of Love ; as if he, like the Bird of the Holy 
 Ghost, the Dove, had wanted gall; — let those that knew 
 him not in his person, judge by these living images of 
 his soul, his writings. 
 
 The foundation of these books was laid in the 
 Temple ; but he found it no fit place to finish what 
 he had there designed ; he therefore earnestly so- 
 licited the Archbishop for a remove from that place j 
 to whom he spake to this purpose : My Lord, when 
 I lost the freedom of my cell, which was my College, yet 
 I found some degree of it in my quiet country parson- 
 age : but I am weary of the noise and oppositions of 
 this place ; and indeed God and Nature did not intend 
 me for contentions, but for study and quietness. My 
 Lord, my particular contests with Mr. Travers here 
 have proved the more unpleasant to me, because I believe 
 
224 THE LIFE OF 
 
 him to be a good man ; and that belief hath occasioned 
 me to examine mine own conscience concerning his 
 opinions -, and, to satisfy that, I have consulted the 
 Scripture, and other laws, both human and divine, 
 whether the conscience of him, and others of his judg- 
 ment, ought to be so far complied with, as to alter our 
 frame of Church-government, our manner of God's 
 worship, our praising and praying to him, and our es- 
 tablished ceremonies, as often as his, and other tender 
 consciences shall require us. And in this examination, 
 I have not only satisfied myself, but have begun a Trea- 
 tise, in which I intend a justification of the Laws of our 
 Ecclesiastical Polity) in which design God and his 
 holy Angels shall at the Last Great Day bear me that 
 witness which my conscience now does : that my mean- 
 ing is not to provoke any, but rather to satisfy all ten- 
 der consciences : and I shall never be able to do this, 
 but where I may study, and pray for God's blessing 
 upon my endeavours, and keep myself in peace and 
 privacy, and behold God's blessing spring out of my 
 mother earth, and eat my own bread without oppositions ; 
 and therefore, if your Grace can judge, me worthy of 
 such a favour, let me beg it, that I may perfect what I 
 have begun. 
 
 About this time the Parsonage or Rectory of 
 Boscum, in the Diocese of Sarum, and six miles from 
 that City, became void. The Bishop of Sarum is 
 Patron of it 5 but in the vacancy of that See, — 
 which was three years betwixt the translation 
 of Bishop Pierce to the See of York, and Bishop 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 225 
 
 Caldwell's admission into it, — the disposal of that, and 
 all benefices belonging to that See, during this said 
 vacancy, came to be disposed of by the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury ,• and he presented Richard Hooker to 
 it in the year 1591. And Richard Hooker was also 
 in the said year instituted, July \7, to be a Minor 
 Prebend of Salisbury, the corps to it being Nether- 
 Haven, about ten miles from that City ; which pre- 
 bend was of no great value, but intended chiefly to 
 make him capable of a better preferment in that 
 church. In this Boscum he continued till he had 
 finished four of his eight proposed books of the 
 Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, and these were en- 
 tered into the Register-book in Stationers Hall, the 
 9th of March, 1592, but not published till the year 
 1594, and then were with the before-mentioned 
 large and affectionate Preface, which he directs to 
 them that seek — as they term it — the reformation of the 
 Laws and Orders Ecclesiastical in the Church of Eng- 
 land ; of which books I shall yet say nothing more, 
 but that he continued his laborious diligence to 
 finish the remaining four during his life ; — of all 
 which more properly hereafter 5— but at Boscum he 
 finished and published but only the first four, being 
 then in the 39th year of his age. 
 
 He left Boscum in the year 1595, by a surrender 
 of it into the hands of Bishop Caldwell ,• and he pre- 
 sented Benjamin Russel, who was instituted into it 
 the 23d of June in the same year. 
 
 The Parsonage of Bishop s Bourne in Kent, three 
 
 Hh 
 
226 THE LIFE Of 
 
 miles from Canterbury, is in that Archbishop's gift r 
 but, in the latter end of the year 1594, Dr. William 
 Redman, the Rector of it, was made Bishop of Nor- 
 wich ,• by which means the power of presenting to 
 it was pro ed vice in the Queen ; and she presented 
 Richard Hooker, whom she loved well, to this good 
 living of Bourne, the 7th of July, 1595 ;■ in which 
 living he continued till his death, without any ad- 
 dition of dignity or profit. 
 
 And now having brought our Richard Hooker 
 
 from his birth-place, to this where he found a 
 
 grave, I shall only give some account of his books, 
 
 and of his behaviour in this Parsonage of Bourne, 
 
 and then give a rest both to myself and my Reader. 
 
 His first four books and large epistle have been 
 
 declared to be printed at his being at Boscum, Anno 
 
 1594. Next I am to tell, that at the end of these 
 
 four books there was, when he first printed them, 
 
 this Advertisement to the Reader. " I have for 
 
 " some causes, thought it at this time more fit to 
 
 (t let go these first four books by themselves, than 
 
 c< to stay both them and the rest, till the whole 
 
 " might together be published. Such generalities 
 
 " of the cause in question as are here handled, it 
 
 " will be perhaps not amiss to consider apart, by 
 
 " way of introduction unto the books that are to 
 
 " follow concerning, particulars ; in the mean time 
 
 u the Reader is requested to mend the Printer's 
 
 " errors, as noted underneath." 
 
 And I am next to declare, that his Fifth Book— 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. <m 
 
 which is larger than his first four — was first also 
 printed by itself, Anno 1597, and dedicated to his 
 patron — for till then he chose none — the Arch- 
 bishop. These books were read with an admira- 
 tion of their excellency in this, and their just fame 
 spread itself also into foreign nations. And I have 
 been told, more than forty years past, that either 
 Cardinal Allen, or learned Dr. Stapleton, — both 
 Englishmen, and in Italy about the time when 
 Hooker s four books were first printed, — meeting 
 with this general fame of them, were desirous to 
 read an author, that both the reformed and the 
 learned of their own Romish Church did so much 
 magnify ; and therefore caused them to be sent 
 for to Rome : and after reading them, boasted to 
 the Pope, — which then was Clement the Eighth, — 
 That though he had lately said, he never met with an 
 English book, whose writer deserved the name of au- 
 thor ; yet there now appeared a wonder to them, 
 and it would be so to his Holiness, if it were in 
 Latin : for a poor obscure English Priest had writ four 
 such books of Laws, and Church-polity, and in a style 
 that expressed such a grave and so humble a majesty, 
 with such clear demonstration of reason, that in all 
 their readings they had not met with any that exceeded 
 him : and this begot in the Pope an earnest desire 
 that Dr. Stapleton should bring the said four books, 
 and, looking on the English, read a part of them 
 to him in Latin ; which Dr. Stapleton did, to the 
 end of the first book j at the conclusion of which, 
 
228 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the Pope spake to this purpose : There is no learn" 
 ing that this man hath not searched into, nothing too 
 hard for his understanding: this man indeed deserves 
 the name of an author: his books will get reverence by 
 age ; for there is in them such seeds of eternity, that if 
 the rest be like this, they shall last till the last fire 
 shall consume all learning. 
 
 Nor was this high, the only testimony and com- 
 mendations given to his books; for at the first 
 coming of King James into this kingdom, he en- 
 quired of the Archbishop Whitgift for his friend 
 Mr. Hooker, that writ the books of Church- polity ; 
 to which the answer was, that he died a year before 
 Queen Elizabeth, who received the sad news of his 
 death with very much sorrow -, to which the King 
 replied, And I receive it with no less, that I shall want 
 the desired happiness of seeing and discoursing with that 
 man, from whose books I have received such satisfac- 
 tion : indeed, my Lord, I have received more satisfac- 
 tion in reading a leaf or paragraph, in Mr. Hooker, 
 though it were but about the fashion of Churches, or 
 Church-Music, or the like, but especially of the Sa- 
 craments, than I have had in the reading particular 
 large treatises written but of one of those subjects by 
 others, though very learned men : and I observe there is 
 in Mr. Hooker no affected language ; but a grave, 
 comprehensive, clear manifestation of reason, and that 
 backed with the authority of the Scripture, the Fathers, 
 and Schoolmen, and with all Law both Sacred and 
 Civil. And, though many others write well, yet in the 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 229 
 
 next age they will be forgotten ; but doubtless there is 
 in every page of Mr. Hooker's book the picture of a 
 divine soul, such pictures of truth and reason, and 
 drawn in so sacred colours, that they shall never fade, 
 but give an immortal memory to the author. And it is 
 so truly true, that the King thought what he spake, 
 that, as the most learned of the nation have, and 
 still do mention Mr. Hooker with reverence ; so he 
 also did never mention him but with the epithet of 
 learned, or judicious, or reverend, or venerable Mr. 
 Hooker, 
 
 Nor did his son, our late King Charles the First, 
 ever mention him but with the same reverence, en- 
 joining his son, our now gracious King, to be stu- 
 dious in Mr. Hooker s books. And our learned An- 
 tiquary Mr. Camden* mentioning the * InhisAnnahj 
 death, the modesty, and other virtues 1599. 
 
 of Mr. Hooker, and magnifying his books, wished, 
 that, for the honour of this, and benefit of other nations, 
 they were turned into the Universal Language. Which 
 work, though undertaken by many, yet they have 
 been weary, and forsaken it : but the Reader may 
 now expect it, having been long since begun and 
 lately finished, by the happy pen of Dr. Earle, now 
 Lord Bishop of Salisbury, of whom I may justly 
 say, — and let it not offend him, because it is such 
 a truth as ought not to be concealed from posterity, 
 or those that now live, and yet know him not, — 
 that since Mr. Hooker died, none have lived whom 
 God hath blessed with more innocent wisdom, 
 
230 THE LIFE OF 
 
 more sanctified learning, or a more pious, peaceable, 
 primitive temper : so that this excellent person 
 seems to be only like himself, and our venerable 
 Richard Hooker ; and only fit to make the learned 
 of all nations happy, in knowing what hath been too 
 long confined to the language of our little island. 
 
 There might be many more and just occasions 
 taken to speak of his books, which none ever did 
 or can commend too much; but I decline them, 
 and hasten to an account of his Christian behaviour 
 and death at Bourne : in which place he continued 
 
 his customary rules of mortification and self-denial ; 
 was much in fasting, frequent in meditation and 
 prayers, enjoying those blessed returns, which 
 only men of strict lives feel and know, and of 
 which men of loose and godless lives cannot be 
 made sensible 5 for spiritual things are spiritually 
 discerned. 
 
 At his entrance into this place,, his friendship was 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 231 
 
 much sought for by Dr. Hadrian Saravia, then, or 
 about that time, made one of the Prebends of Can- 
 terbury ; a German by birth, and sometimes a Pas- 
 tor both in Flanders and Holland, where he had 
 studied, and well considered the controverted points 
 concerning Episcopacy and Sacrilege ; and in Eng- 
 land had a just occasion to declare his judgment 
 concerning both, unto his brethren ministers of the 
 Low Countries; which was excepted against by 
 Theodore Beza and others ; against whose excep- 
 tions he rejoined, and thereby became the happy 
 author of many learned tracts writ in Latin, espe- 
 cially of three $ one, of the Degrees of Ministers, and 
 of the Bishops' superiority above the Presbytery ; a 
 second, against Sacrilege; and a third of Christian 
 Obedience to Princes ,• the last being occasioned by 
 Gretzerus the Jesuit. And it is observable, that 
 when, in a time of church-tumults, Beza gave his 
 reasons to the Chancellor of Scotland for the abro- 
 gation of Episcopacy in that nation, partly by let- 
 ters, and more fully in a Treatise of a threefold 
 Episcopacy, — which he calls divine, human, and sa~ 
 tanical, — this Dr. Saravia had, by the help of Bishop 
 Whitgift, made such an early discovery of their in- 
 tentions, that he had almost as soon answered that 
 Treatise as it became public ; and he therein dis- 
 covered how Bezas opinion did contradict that of 
 Calvin s and his adherents 3 leaving them to inter- 
 fere with themselves in point of Episcopacy. But 
 of these tracts it will not concern me to say more,. 
 
232 THE LIFE OF 
 
 than that they were most of them dedicated to his, 
 and the Church of England's watchful patron, John 
 Whitgift, the Archbishop j and printed about the 
 time in which Mr. Hooker also appeared first to the 
 world, in the publication of his first four books of 
 Ecclesiastical Polity. 
 
 This friendship being sought for by this learned 
 Doctor, you may believe was not denied by Mr. 
 Hooker, who was by fortune so like him, as to be 
 engaged against Mr. Travers, Mr. Cartwright, and 
 others of their judgment, in a controversy too like 
 Dr. Saravias ; so that in this year of 1595, and in 
 this place of Bourne, these two excellent persons 
 began a holy friendship, increasing daily to so high 
 and mutual affections, that their two wills seemed 
 to be but one and the same -, and their designs both 
 for the glory of God, and peace of the Church, still 
 assisting and improving each other's virtues, and 
 the desired comforts of a peaceable piety j which 
 I have willingly mentioned, because it gives a foun- 
 dation to some things that follow. 
 
 This Parsonage of Bourne is from Canterbury three 
 miles, and near to the common road that leads 
 from that City to Dover ; in which Parsonage Mr. 
 Hooker had not been twelve months, but his books, 
 and the innocency and sanctity of his life became 
 so remarkable, that many turned out of the road, 
 and others — scholars especially — went purposely to 
 see the man, whose life and learning were so much 
 admired : and Alas ! as our Saviour said of St. 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 233 
 
 John Baptist, What went they out to see ? a man 
 clothed in purple and fine linen ? No, indeed j but 
 an obscure, harmless man ,• a man in poor clothes, his 
 loins usually girt in a coarse gown, or canonical coat; 
 of a mean stature, and stooping, and yet more lowly in 
 the thoughts of his soul: his body worn out, not with 
 age, but study and holy mortifications ; his face full of 
 heat pimples, begot by his unactivity and sedentary life. 
 And to this true character of his person, let me 
 add this of his disposition and behaviour : God and 
 Nature blessed him with so blessed a bashfulness, 
 that as in his younger days his pupils might easily 
 look him out of countenance ; so neither then, nor 
 in his age, did he ever willingly look any man in the 
 face : and was of so mild and humble a nature, that his 
 poor Parish-Clerk and he did never talk but with both 
 their hats on, or both off, at the same time : and to 
 this may be added, that though he was not pur- 
 blind, yet he was short or weak-sighted ; and 
 where he fixed his eyes at the beginning of his 
 sermon, there they continued till it was ended : and 
 the Reader has a liberty to believe, that his modesty 
 and dim sight were some of the reasons why he 
 trusted Mrs. Churchman to choose his wife. 
 
 This Parish-Clerk lived till the third or fourth 
 year of the late Long Parliament ; betwixt which 
 time and Mr. Hookers death there had come many 
 to see the place of his burial, and the Monument 
 dedicated to his memory by Sir William Cowper, 
 who still lives j and the poor Clerk had many 
 
234 THE LIFE OF 
 
 rewards for shewing Mr. Hookers grave place, and 
 his said Monument, and did always hear Mr. Hooker 
 mentioned with commendations and reverence : to 
 all which he added his own knowledge and obser- 
 vations of his humility and holiness j and in all 
 which discourses the poor man was still more con- 
 firmed in his opinion of Mr. Hooker's virtues and 
 learning. But it so fell out, that about the said 
 third or fourth year of the Long Parliament, the 
 then present Parson of Bourne was sequestered, — 
 you may guess why, — and a Genevan Minister put 
 into his good living. This, and other like seques- 
 trations, made the Clerk express himself in a won- 
 der, and say, They had sequestered so many good men, 
 that he doubied, if his good master Mr. Hooker had 
 lived till now, they would have sequestered him too I 
 
 It was not long before this intruding Minister had 
 made a party in and about the said Parish, that 
 were desirous to receive the Sacrament as in Ge- 
 neva 5 to which end, the day was appointed for a 
 select company, and forms and stools set about the 
 altar, or communion-table, for them to sit and eat 
 and drink : but when they went about this work, 
 there was a want of some joint-stools, which the 
 Minister sent the Clerk to fetch, and then to fetch 
 cushions,—- but not to kneel upon. — When the 
 Clerk saw them begin to sit down, he began to 
 wonder ; but the Minister bade him cease wondering, 
 and lock the Church-door : to whom he replied, Pray 
 take you the keys, and lock me out : I will never come 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 235 
 
 more into this Church ,• for all men will say, my master 
 Hooker was a good man, and a good scholar ; and I 
 am sure it was not used to be thus in his days : and 
 report says the old man went presently home and 
 died ; I do not say died immediately, but within a 
 few days after. 
 
 But let us leave this grateful Clerk in his quiet 
 grave, and return to Mr. Hooker himself, continuing 
 our observations of his Christian behaviour in this 
 place, where he gave a holy valediction to all the 
 pleasures and allurements of earth 5 possessing his 
 soul in a virtuous quietness, which he maintained 
 by constant study, prayers, and meditations. His 
 use was to preach once every Sunday, and he, or his 
 Curate, to catechise after the Second Lesson in the 
 Evening Prayer. His Sermons were neither long 
 nor earnest, but uttered with a grave zeal, and an 
 humble voice : his eyes always fixed on one place, 
 to prevent imagination from wandering ; insomuch, 
 that he seemed to study as he spake. The design 
 of his Sermons — as indeed of all his discourses — 
 was to shew reasons for what he spake 5 and with 
 these reasons such a kind of rhetoric, as did rather 
 convince and persuade, than frighten men into 
 piety 3 studying not so much for matter, — which 
 he never wanted, — as for apt illustrations, to inform 
 and teach his unlearned hearers by familiar ex- 
 amples, and then make them better by convincing 
 applications ; never labouring by hard words, and 
 then by needless distinctions and subdistinctions, to 
 
236 THE LIFE OF 
 
 amuse his hearers, and get glory to himself} but 
 glory only to God. Which intention, he would 
 often say, was as discernible in a Preacher, as a na- 
 tural from an artificial beauty. 
 
 He never failed the Sunday before every Ember- 
 week to give notice of it to his parishioners, per- 
 suading them both to fast, and then to double their 
 devotions for a learned and a pious Clergy, but 
 especially the last j saying often, That the life of a 
 pious Clergyman was visible rhetoric ; and so convincing , 
 that the most godless men — though they would not deny 
 themselves the enjoyment of their present lusts — did yet 
 secretly wish themselves like those of the strictest lives. 
 And to what he persuaded others, he added his own 
 example of fasting and prayer ; and did usually 
 every Ember-week take from the Parish-Clerk the 
 key of the Church- door, into which place he retired 
 every day, and locked himself up for many hours ; 
 and did the like most Fridays and other days of 
 fasting. 
 
 He would by no means omit the customary time 
 of Procession, persuading all, both rich and poor, if 
 they desired the preservation of love, and their 
 Parish-rights and liberties, to accompany him in 
 his perambulation ; and most did so : in which 
 perambulation he would usually express more plea- 
 sant discourse than at other times, and would then 
 always drop some loving and facetious observations 
 to be remembered against the next year, especially 
 by the boys and young people j still inclining them, 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 237 
 
 and all his present parishioners, to meekness, and 
 mutual kindnesses and love j because Love thinks 
 not evil, but covers a multitude of infirmities. 
 
 He was diligent to enquire who of his Parish 
 were sick, or any ways distressed, and would often 
 visit them, unsent for 5 supposing that the fittest 
 time to discover to them those errors, to which 
 health and prosperity had blinded them. And hav- 
 ing by pious reasons and prayers moulded them into 
 holy resolutions for the time to come, he would 
 incline them to confession and bewailing their sins, 
 with purpose to forsake them, and then to receive 
 the Communion, both as a strengthening of those 
 holy resolutions, and as a seal betwixt God and 
 them of his mercies to their souls, in case that 
 present sicknesss did put a period to their lives. 
 
 And as he was thus watchful and charitable to 
 the sick, so he was as diligent to prevent law-suits ; 
 still urging his parishioners and neighbours to bear 
 with each other's infirmities, and live in love, be- 
 cause, as St. John says, He that lives in love, lives in 
 God ; for God is love. And to maintain this holy 
 fire of love constantly burning on the altar of a pure 
 heart, his advice was to watch and pray, and always 
 keep themselves fit to receive the Communion, and 
 then to receive it often 5 for it was both a confirm- 
 ing and strengthening of their graces. This was 
 his advice j and at his entrance or departure out of 
 any house, he would usually speak to the whole 
 family, and bless them by name ; insomuch, that as 
 
238 THE LIFE OF 
 
 he seemed in his youth to be taught of God, so he 
 seemed in this place to teach his precepts, as 
 Enoch did, by walking with him in all holiness and 
 humility, making each day a step towards a blessed 
 eternity. And though, in this weak and declining 
 age of the world, such examples are become barren, 
 and almost incredible ; yet let his memory be blest 
 with this true recordation, because he that praises 
 Richard Hooker, praises God who hath given such 
 gifts to men $ and let this humble and affectionate 
 relation of him become such a pattern, as may in- 
 vite posterity to imitate these his virtues. 
 
 This was his constant behaviour both at Bourne, 
 and in all the places in which he lived : thus did he 
 walk with God, and tread the footsteps of primitive 
 piety j and yet, as that great example of meekness 
 and purity, even our blessed Jesus, was not free 
 from false accusations, no more was this disciple 
 of his, this most humble, most innocent, holy man. 
 His was a slander parallel to that of chaste Susan- 
 nah's by the wicked Elders j or that against St. 
 Athanasius, as it is recorded in his life, — for that 
 holy man had heretical enemies, — a slander which 
 this age calls trepanning. The particulars need not 
 a repetition ; and that it was false, needs no other 
 testimony than the public punishment of his ac- 
 cusers, and their open confession of his innocency. 
 It was said, that the accusation was contrived by a 
 dissenting brother, one that endured not Church- 
 ceremonies, hating him for his book's sake, which 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 239 
 
 he was not able to answer 5 and his name hath 
 been told me : but I have not so much confidence 
 in the relation, as to make my pen fix a scandal on 
 him to posterity 5 I shall rather leave it doubtful 
 till the great day of revelation. But this is certain, 
 that he lay under the great charge, and the anxiety 
 of this accusation, and kept it secret to himself for 
 many months ; and, being a helpless man, had lain 
 longer under this heavy burthen, but that the Pro- 
 tector of the innocent gave such an accidental occa- 
 sion, as forced him to make it known to his two 
 dearest friends, Edwin Sandys and George Cranmer, 
 who were so sensible of their Tutor's sufferings, 
 that they gave themselves no rest, till by their dis- 
 quisitions and diligence they had found out the 
 fraud, and brought him the welcome news, that his 
 accusers did confess they had wronged him, and 
 begged his pardon. To which the good man's 
 reply was to this purpose : The Lord forgive them ; 
 and the Lord bless you for this comfortable news. Now 
 have I a just occasion to say with Solomon, Friends 
 are born for the days of adversity ; and such you have 
 proved to me. And to my God I say, as did the 
 Mother of St. John Baptist, Thus hath the Lord 
 dealt with me, in the day wherein he looked upon me, 
 to take away my reproach among men. And, my 
 God ! neither my life, nor my reputation, are safe in 
 mine own keeping ; but in thine, who didst take care of 
 me when I yet hanged upon my mother s breast. Blessed 
 are they that put their trust in thee, Lord ! for when 
 
240 THE LIFE OF 
 
 false witnesses were risen up against me ; when shame 
 was ready to cover my face; when my nights were 
 restless; when my soul thirsted for a deliverance, as the 
 hart panteth after the rivers of waters; then thou, 
 Lord, didst hear my complaints, pity my condition, and 
 art now become my deliverer ; and as long as I live I 
 will hold up my hands in this manner, and magnify thy 
 mercies, ivho didst not give me over as a prey to mine 
 enemies : the net is broken, and they are taken in it. 
 Oh ! blessed are they that put their trust in thee ! and 
 no prosperity shall make me forget those days of sorrow, 
 or to perform those vows that I have made to thee hi the 
 days of my affliction ; for with such sacrifices, thou, 
 God ! art well pleased ; and I will pay them. 
 
 Thus did the joy and gratitude of this good man's 
 heart break forth 5 and it is observable, that as the 
 invitation to this slander was his meek behaviour 
 and dove-like simplicity, for which he was remark- 
 able ; so his Christian charity ought to be imitated. 
 For though the spirit of revenge is so pleasing to 
 mankind, that it is never conquered but by a super- 
 natural grace, revenge being indeed so deeply 
 rooted in human nature, that, to prevent the ex-. 
 cesses of it, — for men would not know moderation, 
 — Almighty God allows not any degree of it to any 
 man, but says Vengeance is mine : and though this 
 be said positively by God himself, yet this revenge 
 is so pleasing, that man is hardly persuaded to 
 submit the manage of it to the time, and justice, and 
 wisdom of his Creator, but would hasten to be his 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 241 
 
 own executioner of it. And yet nevertheless, if any 
 man ever did wholly decline, and leave this pleasing 
 passion to the time and measure of God alone, it 
 was this Richard Hooker, of whom I write : for 
 when his slanderers were to suffer, he laboured to 
 procure their pardon ; and when that was denied 
 him, his reply was, That however he would fast and 
 pray that God would give them repentance, and patience 
 to undergo their punishment. And his prayers were 
 so far returned into his own bosom, that the first 
 was granted, if we may believe a penitent behaviour, 
 and an open confession. And 'tis observable, that 
 after this time he would often say to Dr. Saravia, 
 Oh ! with what quietness did I enjoy my soul, after I was 
 free from the fears of my slander ! And how much more 
 after a conflict and victory over my desires of revenge ! 
 About the year 1600, and of his age forty-six, he 
 fell into a long and sharp sickness, occasioned by a 
 cold taken in his passage by water betwixt London 
 and Gravesend, from the malignity of which he was 
 never recovered 3 for after that time, till his death, 
 he was not free from thoughtful days and restless 
 nights : but a submission to His will that makes the 
 sick man's bed easy, by giving rest to his soul, made 
 his very languishment comfortable : and yet all this 
 time he was solicitous in his study, and said often 
 to Dr. Saravia— who saw him daily, and was the 
 chief comfort of his life, — That he did not beg a long 
 life of God for any other reason, but to live to finish 
 his three remaining books of Polity ; and then, Lord, 
 
 Kk 
 
242 THE LIFE OF 
 
 let thy servant depart in peace ; which was his usual 
 expression. And God heard his prayers, though he 
 denied the Church the benefit of them, as com- 
 pleted by himself ; and 'tis thought he hastened 
 his own death, by hastening to give life to his books. 
 But this is certain, that the nearer he was to his 
 death, the more he grew in humility, in holy thoughts, 
 and resolutions. 
 
 About a month before his death, this good man, 
 that never knew, or at least never considered, the 
 pleasures of the palate, became first to lose his 
 appetite, and then to have an averseness to all food, 
 insomuch that he seemed to live some intermitted 
 weeks by the smell of meat only, and yet still 
 studied and writ. And now his guardian angel 
 seemed to foretel him that the day of his disso- 
 lution drew near] for which his vigorous soul 
 appeared to thirst. 
 
 In this time of his sickness, and not many days 
 before his death, his house was robbed $ of which 
 he having notice, his question was, Are my books 
 and written papers safe ? And being answered that 
 they were ,• his reply was, Then it matters not ,• for 
 no other loss can trouble me. 
 
 About one day before his death, Dr. Saravia, who 
 knew the very secrets of his soul, — for they were 
 supposed to be confessors to each other, — came to 
 him, and, after a conference of the benefit, the 
 necessity, and safety of the Church's absolution, it 
 was resolved the Doctor should give him both that 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 243 
 
 and the Sacrament the day following. To which 
 end the Doctor came, and, after a short retirement 
 and privacy, they two returned to the company ; 
 and then the Doctor gave him, and some of those 
 friends which were with him, the blessed Sacrament 
 of the body and blood of our Jesus. Which being 
 performed, the Doctor thought he saw a reverend 
 gaiety and joy in his face 5 but it lasted not long 5 
 for his bodily infirmities did return suddenly, and 
 became more visible, insomuch that the Doctor 
 apprehended death ready to seize him -, yet, after 
 some amendment, left him at night, with a promise 
 to return early the day following 3 which he did, 
 and then found him better in appearance, deep in 
 contemplation, and not inclinable to discourse 5 
 which gave the Doctor occasion to require his pre- 
 sent thoughts. To which he replied, That he was 
 meditating the number and nature of Angels, and their 
 blessed obedience and order, without which, peace could 
 not be in Heaven : and Oh ! that it might be so on 
 Earth ! After which words, he said, I have lived to 
 see this world is made up of perturbations ,• and I have 
 been long preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort 
 for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, 
 which I now apprehend to be near : and though I have 
 by his grace loved him in my youth, and feared him in 
 mine age, and laboured to have a conscience void of 
 offence to him, and to all men; yet if thou, O Lord! be 
 extreme to mark what I have done amiss, who can abide 
 it? And therefore, where I have failed, Lord, shew 
 
244 THE LIFE OF 
 
 mercy to me; for I plead not my righteousness, but the 
 forgiveness of my unrighteousness, for His merits, who 
 died to purchase pardon for penitent sinners. And 
 since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and 
 then take thine own time ; I submit to it : let not mine, 
 O Lord .' but let thy will be done. With which ex- 
 pression he fell into a dangerous slumber ; dange- 
 rous as to his recovery, yet recover he did, but it 
 was to speak only these few words : Good Doctor, 
 God hath heard my daily petitions, for I am at peace 
 with all men, and he is at peace with me -, and from that 
 blessed assurance I feel that inward joy, which this 
 world can neither give nor take from me : my conscience 
 beareth me this witness, and this witness makes the 
 thoughts of death joyful. I could wish to live to do 
 the Church more service; but cannot hope it, for my 
 days are past as a shadow that returns not. More he 
 would have spoken, but his spirits failed him 3 and, 
 after a short conflict betwixt Nature and Death, a 
 quiet sigh put a period to his last breath, and so he 
 fell asleep. And now he seems to rest like Lazarus 
 in Abraham's bosom. Let me here draw his curtain, 
 till with the most glorious company of the Patriarchs 
 and Apostles, the most Noble Army of Martyrs and 
 Confessors, this most learned, most humble, holy 
 man shall also awake to receive an eternal tran- 
 quillity, and with it a greater degree of glory, than 
 common Christians shall be made partakers of. 
 
 In the mean time, Bless, Lord ! Lord, bless his 
 brethren, the Clergy of this yiation, with effectual en- 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 245 
 
 deavours to attain, if not to his great learning, yet to 
 his remarkable meekness, his godly simplicity, and his 
 Christian moderation; for these will bring peace at the 
 last. And, Lord, let his most excellent writings be 
 blest with what he designed, when he undertook them : 
 which was, glory to thee, O God ! on high, peace in thy 
 Church, and goodwill to mankind. Amen, Amen. 
 
 IZAAK WALTON. 
 
 This following Epitaph was long since presented to the 
 world, in memory of Mr. Hooker, by Sir William 
 Cowper, who also built him a fair Monument in Bourne 
 Church, and acknowledges him to have been his spi- 
 ritual father. 
 
 Though nothing can be spoke worthy his fame, 
 
 Or the remembrance of that precious name, 
 
 Judicious Hooker; though this cost be spent 
 
 On him, that hath a lasting monument 
 
 In his own books ; yet ought we to express, 
 
 If not his worth, yet our respectfulness. 
 
 Church-Ceremonies he maintain'd j then why 
 
 Without all ceremony should he die ? 
 
 Was it because his life and death should be 
 
 Both equal patterns of humility ? 
 
 Or that perhaps this only glorious one 
 
 Was above all, to ask, why had he none ? 
 
 Yet he, that lay so long obscurely low, 
 
 Doth now preferr'd to greater honours go. 
 
 Ambitious men, learn hence to be more wise, 
 
 Humility is the true way to rise : 
 
 And God in me this lesson did inspire, 
 
 To bid this humble man, " Friend, sit up higher." 
 
[ 246 ] 
 
 AN 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 TO THE 
 
 LIFE OF MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 
 
 And now, having by a long and laborious search satis- 
 fied myself, and I hope my Reader, by imparting to him 
 the true relation of Mr. Hooker's life, I am desirous also 
 to acquaint him with some observations that relate to it, 
 and which could not properly fall to be spoken till after 
 his death ; of which my Reader may expect a brief and 
 true account in the following Appendix. 
 
 And first, it is not to be doubted but that he died in 
 the forty-seventh, if not in the forty-sixth year of his 
 age ; which I mention, because many have believed him 
 to be more aged : but I have so -examined it, as to be 
 confident I mistake not ; and for the year of his death, 
 Mr. Camden, who in his Annals of Queen Elizabeth, 1599, 
 mentions him with a high commendation of his life and 
 learning, declares him to die in the year 1599 ; and yet 
 in that inscription of his Monument, set up at the charge 
 of Sir William Cowper, in Bourne Church, where Mr. 
 Hooker was buried, his death is there said to be in Anno 
 1603: but doubtless both are mistaken; for I have it 
 attested under the hand of William Somner, the Arch- 
 bishop's Registrar for the Province of Canterbury, that 
 Richard Hooker's Will bears date October 26th in Anna 
 
APPENDIX, &c. 
 
 247 
 
 1600, and that it was proved 
 the third of December fol- 
 lowing.* 
 
 And that at his death he 
 left four daughters, Alice, 
 Cicely \ Jane, and Margaret; 
 
 * And the Reader may- 
 take notice, that since I first 
 writ this Appendix to the Life 
 of Mr. Hooker, Mr. Fulman, 
 of Corpus Christi College, 
 hath shewed me a good au- 
 thority for the very day and 
 hour of Mr. Hooker's death, 
 
 that he gave to each of them in one of his books of Polity, 
 
 an hundred pounds ; that he whic 5 ha J he ™ ^^shop 
 . r T ^• t Lau<Ts. In which book, De- 
 left Joan, his wife, his sole side many considerable mar- 
 executrix ; and that, by his ginal notes of some passages 
 invpntnrv hU P«tatP_a o-rpat of his time,under the Bishop's 
 inventory nib estate— a great own handj there is also writ- 
 part of it being in books — ten in the title-page of that 
 came to 1092/. 9,9. 2d. which book— which now is Mr. 
 
 , , . Fulman's — this attestation : 
 
 was much more than he Richardiis Hooker »»>«*m- 
 
 thought himself worth ; and mis doctrines dotibits ornatus, 
 
 which was not got by his care, de EcclesiA pratipuh Angli- 
 
 ° cana optxme meritus ,obut No- 
 
 much less by the good house- vemo . 2, circiter horamsecun- 
 
 wiferv of his wife, but saved dam postmeridianam, Anno 
 
 — ' 1 fiflO 
 
 by his trusty servant, Thomas 
 
 Lane, that was wiser than his master in getting money 
 for him, and more frugal than his mistress in keeping 
 of it. Of which Will of Mr. Hooker's I shall say no 
 more, but that his dear friend Thomas, the father of 
 George Cranmer, — of whom I have spoken, and shall 
 have occasion to say more, — was one of the witnesses 
 to it. 
 
 One of his eldest daughters was married to one Cha- 
 linor, sometime a School-master in Chichester, and are 
 both dead long since. Margaret, his youngest daughter, 
 was married unto Ezekiel Charlie, Bachelor in Divinity, 
 and Rector of St. Nicholas in Harbledown near Canter- 
 bury, who died about sixteen years past, and had a son 
 Ezekiel, now living, and in Sacred Orders ; being at this 
 
248 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF 
 
 time Rector of Waldron in Sussex. She left also a 
 daughter, with both whom I have spoken not many 
 months past, and find her to be a widow in a condition 
 that wants not, but very far from abounding. And 
 these two attested unto me, that Richard Hooker, their 
 grandfather, had a sister, by name Elizabeth Harvey, 
 that lived to the age of 121 years, and died in the month 
 of September, 1663. 
 
 For his other two daughters I can learn little certainty, 
 but have heard they both died before they were mar- 
 riageable. And for his wife, she was so unlike Jephtha's 
 daughter, that she staid not a comely time to bewail her 
 widowhood ; nor lived long enough to repent her second 
 marriage ; for which, doubtless, she would have found 
 cause, if there had been but four months betwixt Mr. 
 Hooker's and her death. But she is dead, and let her 
 other infirmities be buried with her. 
 
 Thus much briefly for his age, the year of his death, 
 his estate, his wife, and his children. I am next to 
 speak of his books ; concerning which I shall have a 
 necessity of being longer, or shall neither do right to 
 myself, or my Reader, which is chiefly intended in this 
 Appendix. 
 
 I have declared in his Life, that he proposed Eight 
 Books, and that his first Four were printed Anno 1594, 
 and his Fifth book first printed, and alone, Anno 1597 ; 
 and that he lived to finish the remaining Three of the 
 proposed Eight : but whether we have the last Three 
 as finished by himself, is a just and material question ; 
 concerning which I do declare, that I have been told 
 almost forty years past, by one that very well knew Mr. 
 Hooker and the affairs of his family, that, about a month 
 after the death of Mr. Hooker, Bishop Whitgift, then 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 249 
 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, sent one of his Chaplains to 
 enquire of Mrs. Hooker, for the three remaining books 
 of Polity, writ l)y her husband : of which she would not, 
 or could not, give any account : and that about three 
 months after that time the Bishop procured her to be 
 sent for to London, and then by his procurement she 
 was to be examined by some of her Majesty's Council, 
 concerning the disposal of those books : but, by way of 
 preparation for the next day's examination, the Bishop 
 invited her to Lambeth, and after some friendly ques- 
 tions, she confessed to him, that one Mr. Charke, and 
 another Minister that dwelt near Canterbury, came to her, 
 and desired that they might go into her husband's study , 
 and look upon some of his writings : and that there they 
 two burnt and tore many of them, assuring her, that they 
 were writings not fit to be seen ; and that she knew nothing 
 more concerning them. Her lodging was then in King- 
 street in Westminster, where she was found next morn- 
 ing dead in her bed, and her new husband suspected and 
 questioned for it ; but he was declared innocent of her 
 death. 
 
 And I declare also, that Dr. John Spencer, — men- 
 tioned in the Life of Mr. Hooker, — who was of Mr. 
 Hooker's College, and of his time there, and betwixt 
 whom there was so friendly a friendship, that they con- 
 tinually advised together in all their studies, and parti- 
 cularly in what concerned these books of Polity — this 
 Dr. Spencer, the Three perfect books being lost, had 
 delivered into his hands— I think by Bishop Whitgift — 
 the imperfect books, or first rough draughts of them, to 
 be made as perfect as they might be by him, who both 
 knew Mr. Hooker's hand-writing, and was best acquainted 
 with his intentions. And a fair testimony of this may 
 l1 
 
250 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF 
 
 appear by an Epistle, first, and usually printed before 
 Mr. Hooker's Five books, — but omitted, I know not why, 
 in the last impression of the Eight printed together in 
 Anno 1662, in which the Publishers seem to impose the 
 three doubtful books, to be the undoubted books of Mr. 
 Hooker, — with these two letters J. S. at the end of the 
 said Epistle, which was meant for this John Spencer : 
 in which Epistle the Reader may find these words, which 
 may give some authority to what I have here written of 
 his last Three books. 
 
 And though Mr. Hooker hastened his ovm death by 
 hastening to give life to his books, yet he held out with 
 his eyes to behold these Benjamins, these sons of his 
 right hand, though to him they proved Benonies, sons of 
 pain and sorrow. But some evil-disposed minds, whether 
 of malice, or covetousness, or wicked blind zeal, it is un- 
 certain, as soon as they were born, and their father dead, 
 smothered them, and by conveying the perfect copies, left 
 unto us nothing but the old, imperfect, mangled draughts, 
 dismembered into pieces ; no favour, no grace, not the 
 shadow of themselves remaining in them. Had the Father 
 lived to behold them thus defaced, he might rightly have 
 named them Benonies, the sons of sorrow : but being the 
 learned will not suffer them to die and be buried, it is in- 
 tended the world shall see them as they are ; the learned 
 will find in them some shadows and resemblances of their 
 father's face. God grant, that as they were with their 
 brethren dedicated to the Church for messengers of peace: 
 so, in the strength of that little breath of life that re- 
 maineth in them, they may prosper in their work, and, by 
 satisfying the doubts of such as are willing to learn, they 
 may help to give an end to the calamities of these our civil 
 wars, J. So 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 251 
 
 And next the Reader may note, that this Epistle of 
 Dr. Spencer's was writ and first printed within four 
 years after the death of Mr. Hooker, in which time all 
 diligent search had been made for the perfect copies ; 
 and then granted not recoverable, and therefore en- 
 deavoured to be completed out of Mr. Hooker's rough 
 draughts, as is expressed by the said Dr. Spencer in the 
 said Epistle, since whose death it is now fifty years. 
 
 And I do profess by the faith of a Christian, that Dr. 
 Spencer's wife — who was my Aunt, and Sister to George 
 Cranmer, of whom I have spoken — told me forty years 
 since, in these, or in words to this purpose : That her 
 husband had made up, or finished Mr . Hooker's last Three 
 books ; and that upon her husband's death-bed, or in his 
 last sickness, he gave them into her hand, with a charge 
 that they should not be seen by any man, but be by her 
 delivered into the hands of the then Archbishop ^Canter- 
 bury, which was Dr. Abbot, or unto Dr. King, then 
 Bishop of London, and that she did as he enjoined her. 
 
 I do conceive, that from Dr. Spencer's, and no other 
 copy, there have been divers transcripts ; and I know 
 that these were to be found in several places ; as namely, 
 in Sir Thomas Bodley's Library ; in that of Dr. Andrews, 
 late Bishop of Winton ,• in the late Lord Conway's ; in 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury's ; and in the Bishop of 
 Armagh's ; and in many others : and most of these pre- 
 tended to be the Author's own hand, but much disagree- 
 ing, being indeed altered and diminished, as men have 
 thought fittest to make Mr. Hooker's judgment suit with 
 their fancies, or give authority to their corrupt designs ; 
 and for proof of a part of this, take these following tes- 
 timonies. 
 
 Dr. Barnard, sometime Chaplain to Dr. Usher, late 
 
252 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF 
 
 Lord Archbishop of Armagh, hath declared in a late 
 book, called Clavi Trabales, printed by Richard Hodg- 
 kinson, anno 1661, that, in his search and examination 
 of the said Bishop's manuscripts, he found the Three 
 written books which were supposed the Sixth, Seventh, 
 and Eighth of Mr. Hooker 's books of Ecclesiastical Polity ; 
 and that in the said Three books—now printed as Mr. 
 Hoohefs—- there are so many omissions, that they amount 
 to many paragraphs, and which cause many ineoheren- 
 cies : the omissions are set down at large in the said 
 printed book, to which I refer the Reader for the whole ; 
 but think fit in this place to insert this following short 
 part of some of the said omissions. 
 
 First t as there could he in natural bodies no motion of 
 any thing, unless there were some first which moved all 
 things, and continued unmoveable ; even so in politic socie- 
 ties there must be some unpunishable, or else no man shall 
 suffer punishment : for sith punishments proceed always 
 from superiors, to whom the administration of justice be- 
 longeih ; which administration must have necessarily a foun- 
 tain, that deriveth it to all others, and receiveth not from 
 any, because otherwise the course of justice should go in- 
 finitely in a circle, every superior having his superior with- 
 out end, which cannot be : therefore a well-spring, it fol- 
 loweth, there is: a supreme head of justice, whereunto all 
 are subject, but itself in subjection to none. Which kind 
 of pre-eminency if some ought to have in a kingdom, who 
 but a King shall have it f Kings, therefore, or no man, 
 can have lawful power to judge. 
 
 If private men offend, there is the Magistrate over them., 
 which judgeth ; if Magistrates, they have their Prince; 
 if Princes, there is Heaven, a tribunal, before ivhich they 
 shall appear ; on earth they are not accountable to any. 
 Here, says the Doctor, it breaks off abruptly. 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 253 
 
 And I have these words also attested under the hand of 
 Mr. Fabian Philips, a man of note for his useful books. I 
 will make oath, if I shall be required, that Dr. Sanderson, 
 the late Bishop of Lincoln, did a little before his death 
 affirm to me, he had seen a manuscript affirmed to him 
 to be the hand-writing of Mr. Richard Hooker, in which 
 there was no mention made of the King or supreme go- 
 vernors being accountable to the people. This I will 
 make oath, that that good man attested to me. 
 
 Fabian Phillips. 
 
 So that there appears to be both omissions and addi- 
 tions in the said last Three printed books : and this may 
 probably be one reason why Dr. Sanderson, the said 
 learned Bishop, — whose writings are so highly and justly 
 valued, — gave a strict charge near the time of his death, 
 or in his last Will, Tliat nothing of his that was not already 
 printed, should be printed after his death. 
 
 It is well known how high a value our learned King 
 James put upon the books writ by Mr. Hooker; and 
 known also that our late King Charles — the Martyr for 
 the Church — valued them the second of all books, tes- 
 tified by his commending them to the reading of his son 
 Charles, that now is our gracious King : and you may 
 suppose that this Charles the First was not a stranger to 
 the Three pretended books, because, in a discourse with 
 the Lord Say, in the time of the Long Parliament, when 
 the said Lord required the King to grant the truth of his 
 argument, because it was the judgment of Mr. Hooker,- — 
 quoting him in one of the three written books, the King 
 replied, " They were not allowed to be Mr. Hooker's 
 books : but, however, he would allow them to be Mr. 
 Hooker's, and consent to what his Lordship proposed to 
 
254 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 
 
 prove out of those doubtful books, if he would but consent 
 to the judgment of Mr. Hooker, in the other five, that were 
 the undoubted books of Mr. Hooker." 
 
 In this relation concerning these Three doubtful books 
 of Mr. Hooker's, my purpose was to enquire, then set 
 down what I observed and know; which I have done, 
 not as an engaged person, but indifferently; and now 
 leave my Reader to give sentence, for their legitimation, 
 as to himself; but so as to leave others the same liberty 
 of believing, or disbelieving them to be Mr. Hooker* s: 
 and 'tis observable, that as Mr. Hooker advised with Dr. 
 Spencer, in the design and manage of these books; so 
 also, and chiefly, with his dear pupil, George Cranmer, 
 — whose sister was the wife of Dr. Spencer — of which 
 this following letter may be a testimony, and doth also 
 give authority to some things mentioned both in this Ap- 
 pendix, and in the Life of Mr. Hooker, and is therefore 
 added. J. W. 
 
 GEORGE CRANMER'S 
 LETTER UNTO MR. RICHARD HOOKER, 
 
 February, 1598. 
 
 What posterity is likely to judge of these matters con- 
 cerning Church-discipline, we may the better conjecture, 
 if we call to mind what our own age, within few years, 
 upon better experience, hath already judged concerning 
 the same. It may be remembered, that at first, the 
 greatest part of the learned in the land were either eagerly 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 255 
 
 affected, or favourably inclined that way The books then 
 written for the most part savoured of the disciplinary 
 style; it sounded every where in pulpits, and in common 
 phrase of men's speech. The contrary part began to 
 fear they had taken a wrong course ; many which im- 
 pugned the discipline, yet so impugned it, not as not 
 being the better form of government, but as not being 
 so convenient for our state, in regard of dangerous in- 
 novations thereby like to grow:* 
 one man alone there was to speak , °Arclibish ' 
 
 of, — whom let no suspicion of flat- 
 tery deprive of his deserved commendation — who, in the 
 defiance of the one part, and courage of the other, stood 
 in the gap and gave others respite to prepare themselves 
 to the defence, which, by the sudden eagerness and vio- 
 lence of their adversaries, had otherwise been prevented, 
 wherein God hath made good unto him his own impress, 
 Vincit quipatitur: for what contumelious indignities he 
 hath at their hands sustained, the world is witness; and 
 what reward of honour above his adversaries God hath 
 bestowed upon him, themselves — though nothing glad 
 thereof — must needs confess. Now of late years the heat 
 of men towards the discipline is greatly decayed; their 
 judgments begin to sway on the other side; the learned 
 have weighed it, and found it light ; wise men conceive 
 some fear, lest it prove not only not the best kind of go- 
 vernment, but the very bane and destruction of all go- 
 vernment. The cause of this change in men's opinions 
 may be drawn from the general nature of error, disguised 
 and clothed with the name of truth; which did mightily 
 and violently possess men at first, but afterwards, the 
 weakness thereof being by time discovered, it lost that 
 reputation, which before it had gained. As by the out- 
 
256 GEORGE GRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 
 
 side of an house the passers-by are oftentimes deceived, 
 till they see the eonveniency of the rooms within ; so, by 
 the very name of discipline and reformation, men were 
 drawn at first to cast a fancy towards it, but now they 
 have not contented themselves only to pass by and be- 
 hold afar off the fore-front of this reformed house ,• they 
 have entered in, even at the special request of the master- 
 workmen and chief-builders thereof : they have perused 
 the rooms, the lights, the conveniences, and they find 
 them not answerable to that report which was made of 
 them, nor to that opinion which upon report they had 
 conceived : so as now the discipline, which at first 
 triumphed over all, being unmasked, beginneth to droop, 
 and hang down her head. 
 
 The cause of change in opinion concerning the disci- 
 pline is proper to the learned, or to such as by them have 
 been instructed. Another cause there is more open, and 
 more apparent to the view of all, namely, the course of 
 practice, which the Reformers have had with us from 
 the beginning. The first degree was only some small 
 difference about the cap and surplice ; but not such as 
 either bred division in the Church, or tended to the ruin 
 of the government established. This was peaceable ; 
 the next degree more stirring. Admonitions were di- 
 rected to the Parliament in peremptory sort against our 
 whole form of regiment. In defence of them, volumes 
 were published in English and in Latin : yet this was no 
 more than writing. Devices were set on foot to erect 
 the practice of the discipline without authority; yet 
 herein some regard of modesty, some moderation was 
 used. Behold at length it brake forth into open out- 
 rage, first in writing by Martin ; in whose kind of deal- 
 ing these things may be observed : 1. That whereas T. C, 
 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 257 
 
 and others his great masters, had always before set out 
 the discipline as a Queen, and as the daughter of God ; 
 he contrariwise, to make her more acceptable to the 
 people, brought her forth as a Vice upon the stage. 2. 
 This conceit of his was grounded — as may be supposed — 
 upon this rare policy, that seeing the discipline was by 
 writing refuted, in Parliament rejected, in secret corners 
 hunted out and decried,it was imagined that by open rail- 
 ing, — which to the vulgar is commonly most plausible, — 
 the State Ecclesiastical might have been drawn into such 
 contempt and hatred, as the overthrow thereof should 
 have been most grateful to all men, and in a manner de- 
 sired by all the common people. 3. It may be noted 
 — and this I know myself to be true — how some of them, 
 although they could not for shame approve so lewd an 
 action, yet were content to lay hold on it to the advance- 
 ment of their cause, by acknowledging therein the secret 
 judgments of God against the Bishops, and hoping that 
 some good might be wrought thereby for his Church ; 
 as indeed there was, though not according to their con- 
 struction. For 4thly, contrary to their expectation, that 
 railing spirit did not only not further, but extremely 
 disgrace and prejudice their cause, when it was once 
 perceived from how low degrees of contradiction, at 
 first, to what outrage of contumely and slander, they 
 were at length proceeded ; and were also likely to pro- 
 ceed further. 
 
 A further degree of outrage was also in fact : cer- 
 tain * prophets did arise, who deeming it * Hacket and 
 not possible that God should suffer that to Coppinger. 
 be undone, which they did so fiercely desire to have 
 done, namely, that his holy saints, the favourers and 
 fathers of the discipline, should be enlarged, and delivered 
 m m 
 
258 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 
 
 from persecution ; and seeing no means of deliverance 
 ordinary, were fain to persuade themselves that God 
 must needs raise some extraordinary means ; and being 
 persuaded of none so well as of themselves, they forth- 
 with must needs be the instruments of this great work. 
 Hereupon they framed unto themselves an assured hope, 
 that, upon their preaching out of a peas-cart in Cheap- 
 side, all the multitude would have presently joined unto 
 them, and in amazement of mind have asked them, Viri 
 fratres, quid agimus ? whereunto it is likely they would 
 have returned an answer far unlike to that of St. Peter : 
 Such and such are men unworthy to govern ; pluck them 
 down : such and such are the dear children of God ; let 
 them be advanced. 
 
 Of two of these men it is meet to speak with all com- 
 miseration ; yet so, that others by their example may 
 receive instruction, and withal some light may appear, 
 what stirring affections the discipline is like to inspire, 
 if it light upon apt and prepared minds. 
 
 Now if any man doubt of what society they were ; or 
 if the Reformers disclaim them, pretending that by them 
 they were condemned ; let these points be considered. 
 1. Whose associates were they before they entered into 
 this frantic passion ? Whose sermons did they frequent ? 
 Whom did they admire ? 2. Even when they were enter* 
 ing into it, whose advice did they require ? and when they 
 were in, Whose approbation? Whom advertised they of their 
 purpose ? Whose assistance by prayer did they request ? 
 But we deal injuriously with them to lay this to their 
 charge; for they reproved and condemned it. How! 
 did they disclose it to the Magistrate, that it might be 
 suppressed ? or were they not rather content to stand 
 aloof off, and see the end of it, as being loath to quench 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 259 
 
 that spirit ? No doubt these mad practitioners were of 
 their society, with whom before, and in the practice of 
 their madness, they had most affinity. Hereof read Dr. 
 Bancroft's book. 
 
 A third inducement may be to dislike of the discipline, 
 if we consider not only how far the Reformers themselves 
 have proceeded, but what others upon their foundations 
 have built. Here come the Brownlsts in the first rank, 
 their lineal descendants, who have seized upon a number 
 of strange opinions ; whereof, although their ancestors, 
 the Reformers, were never actually possessed, yet, by 
 right and interest from them derived, the Brownlsts and 
 Barrowists have taken possession of them : for if the 
 positions of the Reformers be true, I cannot see how the 
 main and general conclusions of Brownism should be 
 false; for upon these two points, as I conceive, they 
 stand. 
 
 1. That, because we have no Church, they are to sever 
 themselves from us. 2. That without Civil authority 
 they are to erect a Church of their own. And if the 
 former of these be true, the latter, I suppose will follow : 
 for if above all things men be to regard their salvation ; 
 and if out of the Church there be no salvation ; it fol- 
 loweth, that, if we have no Church, we have no means 
 of salvation ; and therefore separation from us in that 
 respect is both lawful and necessary ,• as also, that men, 
 so separated from the false and counterfeit Church, are 
 to associate themselves unto some Church ; not to ours ; 
 to the Popish much less ,• therefore to one of their own 
 making. Now the ground of all these inferences being 
 this, That in our Church there is no means of salvation, 
 is out of the Reformer's principles most clearly to 
 be proved. For wheresoever any matter of faith unto 
 
260 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 
 
 salvation necessary is denied, there can be no means of 
 salvation ; but in the Church of England, the discipline, 
 by them accounted a matter of faith, and necessary to 
 salvation, is not only denied, but impugned, and the 
 professors thereof oppressed. Ergo. 
 
 Again, — but this reason perhaps is weak,— every true 
 Church of Christ acknowledged the whole Gospel of 
 Christ : the discipline, in their opinion, is a part of the 
 Gospel, and yet by our Church resisted. Ergo. 
 
 Again, the discipline is essentially united to the Church : 
 by which term essentially, they must mean either an es- 
 sential part, or an essential property. Both which ways 
 it must needs be, that where that essential discipline is 
 not, neither is there any Church. If therefore between 
 them and the Brownists there should be appointed a so- 
 lemn disputation, whereof with us they have been often- 
 times so earnest challengers ; it doth not yet appear what 
 other answer they could possibly frame to these and the 
 like arguments, wherewith they may be pressed, but 
 fairly to deny the conclusion, — for all the premises are 
 their own — or rather ingeniously to reverse their own 
 principles before laid, whereon so foul absurdities have 
 been so firmly built. What further proofs you can bring 
 out of their high words, magnifying the discipline, I 
 leave to your better remembrance : but, above all points, 
 I am desirous this one should be strongly enforced against 
 them, because it wringeth them most of all, and is of all 
 others — for aught I see — the most unanswerable. You 
 may notwithstanding say, that you would be heartily glad 
 these their positions might be salved, as the Brownists 
 might not appear to have issued out of their loins : but 
 until that be done, they must give us leave to think that 
 they- have cast the seed whereout these tares are grown. 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 2C1 
 
 Another sort of men there are, which have been con- 
 tent to run on with the Reformers for a time, and to 
 make them poor instruments of their own designs. These 
 are a sort of godless politics , who, perceiving the plot of 
 discipline to consist of these two parts, the overthrow of 
 Episcopal, and erection of Presbyterial authority ; and 
 that this latter can take no place till the former be re- 
 moved ; are content to join with them in the destructive 
 part of discipline, bearing them in hand, that in the 
 other also they shall find them as ready. But when time 
 shall come, it may be they would be as loath to be yoked 
 with that kind of regiment, as now they are willing to be 
 released from this. These men's ends in all their actions 
 is distraction ; their pretence and colour, reformation. 
 ' Those things which under this colour they have effected 
 to their own good, are, 1. By maintaining a contrary 
 faction, they have kept the Clergy always in awe, and 
 thereby made them more pliable, and willing to buy 
 their peace. 2. By maintaining an opinion of equality 
 among Ministers, they have made way to their own pur- 
 poses for devouring Cathedral Churches, and Bishop's 
 livings. 3. By exclaiming against abuses in the Church, 
 they have carried their own corrupt dealings in the Civil 
 State more covertly. For such is the nature of the 
 multitude, that they are not able to apprehend many 
 things at once ; so as being possessed with a dislike or 
 liking of any one thing, many other in the mean time 
 may escape them without being perceived. 4. They have 
 sought to disgrace the Clergy, in entertaining a conceit 
 in men's minds, and confirming it by continual practice, 
 That men of learning, and specially of the Clergy, which 
 are employed in the chief est kind of learning, are not to be 
 
262 GEORGE CRANMERS LETTER UNTO 
 
 admitted, to matters of State ; contrary to the practice of 
 all well-governed commonwealths, and of our own till 
 these late years. 
 
 A third sort of men there are, though not descended 
 from the Reformers, yet in part raised and greatly 
 strengthened by them; namely, the cursed crew of Athe- 
 ists. This also is one of those points, which I am desirous 
 you should handle most effectually, and strain yourself 
 therein to all points of motion and affection ; as in that 
 of the Brownists, to all strength and sinews of reason. 
 This is a sort most damnable, and yet by the general sus- 
 picion of the world at this day most common. The 
 causes of it, which are in the parties themselves, although 
 you handle in the beginning of the fifth book, yet here 
 again they may be touched : but the occasions of help 
 and furtherance, which by the Reformers have been 
 yielded unto them, are, as I conceive, two; namely, 
 senseless preaching, and disgracing of the Ministry : for 
 how should not men dare to impugn that, which neither 
 by force of reason, nor by authority of persons; is main- 
 tained ? But in the parties themselves these two causes I 
 conceive of Atheism : 1 . More abundance of wit than 
 judgment, and of witty than judicious learning; whereby 
 they are more inclined to contradict any thing, than 
 willing to be informed of the truth. They are not 
 therefore men of sound learning for the most part, 
 but smatterers; neither is their kind of dispute so 
 much by force of argument, as by scoffing ; which hu- 
 mour of scoffing, and turning matters most serious 
 into merriment, is now become so common, as we 
 are not to marvel what the Prophet means by the seat 
 of scorners, nor what the Apostles, by foretelling of 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 263 
 
 scorners to come; for our own age hath verified their 
 speech unto us : which also may be an argument against 
 these scoffers and Atheists themselves, seeing it hath been 
 so many ages ago foretold, that such men the latter days 
 of the world should afford : which could not be done by 
 any other spirit, save that whereunto things future and 
 present are alike. And even for the main question of the 
 resurrection, whereat they stick so mightily, was it not 
 plainly foretold, that men should in the latter times say, 
 Where is the promise of his coming? Against the crea- 
 tion, the ark, and divers other points, exceptions are said 
 to be taken, the ground whereof is superfluity of wit, 
 without ground of learning and judgment. A second 
 cause of Atheism is sensuality, which maketh men desi- 
 rous to remove all stops and impediments of their wicked 
 life ; among which because Religion is the chiefest, so as 
 neither in this life without shame they can persist therein, 
 nor — if that be true — without torment in the life to 
 come ; they therefore whet their wits to annihilate the 
 joys of Heaven, wherein they see — if any such be — they 
 can have no part, and likewise the pains of Hell, wherein 
 their portion must needs be very great. They labour 
 therefore, not that they may not deserve those pains, but 
 that, deserving them, there may be no such pains to seize 
 upon them. But what conceit can be imagined more 
 base, than that man should strive to persuade himself 
 even against the secret instinct, no doubt, of his own 
 mind, that his soul is as the soul of a beast, mortal, and 
 corruptible with the body? Against which barbarous 
 opinion their own Atheism is a very strong argument. 
 For, were not the soul a nature separable from the body, 
 how could it enter into discourse of things merely spi- 
 
264 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 
 
 ritual, and nothing at all pertaining to the body ? Surely 
 the soul were not able to conceive any thing of Heaven, 
 no not so much as to dispute against Heaven, and against 
 God, if there were not in it somewhat heavenly, and de- 
 rived from God. 
 
 The last which have received strength and encourage- 
 ment from the Reformers are Papists; against whom, al- 
 though they are most bitter enemies, yet unwittingly they 
 have- given them great advantage. For what can any 
 enemy rather desire than the breach and dissention of 
 those which are confederates against him? Wherein 
 they are to remember, that if our communion with Pa- 
 pists in some few ceremonies do so much strengthen 
 them, as is pretended, how much more doth this division 
 and rent among ourselves, especially seeing it is main- 
 tained to be, not in light matters only, but even in mat- 
 ters of faith and salvation ? Which over-reaching speech 
 of theirs, because it is so open an advantage fortheiter- 
 rowist and the Papist, we are to wish and hope for, that 
 they will acknowledge it to have been spoken rather in 
 heat of affection, than with soundness of judgment; and 
 that through their exceeding love to that creature of dis- 
 cipline which themselves have bred, nourished, and main- 
 tained, their mouth in commendation of her did so often 
 overflow. 
 
 From hence you may proceed — but the means of con- 
 nection I leave to yourself — to another discourse, which 
 I think very meet to be handled either here or elsewhere 
 at large; the parts whereof may be these: 1. That in this 
 cause between them and us, men are to sever the proper 
 and essential points and controversy from those which 
 are accidental. The most essential and proper are these 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 265 
 
 two : overthrow of Episcopal, and erection of Presbyte- 
 rial authority. But in these two points whosoever join- 
 ethwith them, is accounted of their number; whosoever 
 in all other points agreeth with them, yet thinketh the 
 authority of Bishops not unlawful, and of Elders not ne- 
 cessary, may justly be severed from their retinue. Those 
 things therefore, which either in the persons, or in the 
 laws and orders themselves, are faulty, may be complain- 
 ed on, acknowledged, and amended, yet they no whit the 
 nearer their main purpose: for what if all errors by them 
 supposed in our Liturgy were amended, even according 
 to their own hearts desire ; if non-residence, pluralities, 
 and the like, were utterly taken away; are their lay -elders 
 therefore presently authorised? or their sovereign eccle- 
 siastical jurisdiction established ? 
 
 But even in their complaining against the outward and 
 accidental matters in Church-government, they are many 
 ways faulty, 1. In their end, which they propose to 
 themselves. For in declaiming against abuses, their 
 meaning is not to have them redressed, but, by disgracing 
 the present state, to make way for their own discipline. 
 As therefore in Venice, if any Senator should discourse 
 against the power of their Senate, as being either too 
 sovereign, or too weak in government, with purpose to 
 draw their authority to a moderation, it might well be 
 suffered; but not so, if it should appear he spake with 
 purpose to induce another state by depraving the present. 
 So in all causes belonging either to Church or Common- 
 wealth, we are to have regard what mind the complain- 
 ing part doth bear, whether of amendment or innova- 
 tion; and accordingly either to suffer or suppress it. 
 Their objection therefore is frivolous, Why, may not men 
 speak against abuses ? Yes ; but with desire to cure the 
 n n 
 
266 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 
 
 part affected, not to destroy the whole. 2. A second fault 
 is in their manner of complaining, not only because it is 
 for the most part in bitter and reproachful terms, but 
 also it is to the common people, who are judges incom- 
 petent and insufficient, both to determine any thing amiss, 
 and for want of skill and authority to amend it. Which 
 also discovereth their intent and purpose to be rather 
 destructive than corrective. 3. Those very exceptions 
 which they take are frivolous and impertinent. Some 
 things indeed they accuse as impious ; which if they may 
 appear to be such, God forbid they should be maintained. 
 Against the rest it is only alleged, that they are idle 
 ceremonies without use, and that better and more pro- 
 fitable might be devised. Wherein they are doubly de- 
 ceived; for neither is it a sufficient plea to say, this 
 must give place, because a better may be devised ; be- 
 cause in our judgments of better and worse, we often- 
 times conceive amiss, when we compare those things 
 which are in devise with those which are in practice : 
 for the imperfections of the one are hid, till by time and 
 trial they be discovered : the others are already manifest 
 and open to all. But last of all, — which is a point in my 
 opinion of great regard, and which I am desirous to have 
 enlarged, — they do not see that for the most part when 
 they strike* at the State Ecclesiastical, they secretly wound 
 the Civil State, for personal faults ; What can be said 
 against the Church, which may not also agree to the Com- 
 monwealth ? In both, Statesmen have always been, and 
 mil be always, men ; sometimes blinded with error, most 
 commonly perverted by passions : many unworthy have 
 been and are advanced in both : many worthy not re- 
 garded. And as for abuses, which they pretend to be in 
 the laws themselves j when they inveigh against non~ 
 
MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 267 
 
 residence, do they take it a matter lawful or expedient in 
 the Civil State, for a man to have a great and gainful 
 office in the North, himself continually remaining in the 
 South ? He that hath an office let him attend his office. 
 When they condemn plurality of livings spiritual to the 
 pit of Hell, what think they of the infinity of temporal 
 promotions ? By the great Philosopher, Pol. lib. ii. cap. 
 9, it is forbidden as a thing most dangerous to Com- 
 monwealths, that by the same man many great offices 
 should be exercised. When they deride our ceremonies 
 as vain and frivolous, were it hard to apply their excep- 
 tions even to those civil ceremonies, which at the Coro- 
 nation, in Parliament, and all Courts of Justice, are 
 used ? Were it hard to argue even against Circumcision, 
 the ordinance of God, as being a cruel ceremony ? against 
 the Passover, as being ridiculous — shod, girt, a staff in 
 their hand, to eat a lamb ? 
 
 To conclude : you may exhort the Clergy,— or what 
 if you direct your conclusion not to the Clergy in general, 
 but only to the learned in or of both Universities ? — you 
 may exhort them to a due consideration of all things, 
 and to a right esteem and valuing of each thing in that 
 degree wherein it ought to stand. For it oftentimes 
 falleth out, that what men have either devised themselves, 
 or greatly delighted in, the price and the excellency 
 thereof they do admire above desert. The chiefest labour 
 of a Christian should be to know, of a Minister to 
 preach, Christ crucified: in regard whereof, not only 
 worldly things, but things otherwise precious, even the 
 discipline itself is vile and base. Whereas now, by the 
 heat of contention, and violence of affection, the zeal of 
 men towards the one hath greatly decayed their love to 
 
268 GEORGE CRANMER S LETTER, &c. 
 
 the other. Hereunto therefore they are to be exhorted 
 to preach Christ Crucified, the mortification of the flesh, 
 the renewing of the Spirit; not those things which in 
 time of strife seem precious, but — passions being allayed 
 — are vain and childish. 
 
 G. C. 
 
Enrfravei iy A_"W "Warren.. 
 
 rE©»I H5EMB3S3&T 
 
 LOKD ON. 
 
 Published, iy Join Major, &0. Fleet Street, 
 
 MavI5 & 1S2£. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. GEORGE HERBERT, 
 
 PREBENDARY OF SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN MAJOR, 
 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 In a late retreat from the business of this world, and 
 those many little cares with Avhich I have too often 
 cumbered myself, I fell into a contemplation of some of 
 those historical passages that are recorded in Sacred Story : 
 and more particularly of what had passed betwixt our 
 blessed Saviour, and that wonder of Women, and Sinners, 
 and Mourners, Saint Mary Magdalen. I call her Saint, 
 because I did not then, nor do now consider her, as when 
 slie was possessed with seven devils ; not as when her wan- 
 ton eyes and dishevelled hair, were designed and managed 
 to charm and ensnare amorous beholders. But I did then, 
 and do now consider her, as after she had expressed a vi- 
 sible and sacred sorrow for her sensualities ; as after 
 those eyes had wept such a flood of penitential tears as 
 did wash, and that hair had wiped, and she most pas- 
 sionately kissed the feet of her's and our blessed Jesus. 
 And I do now consider, that because she loved much, not 
 only much was forgiven her; but that beside that bless- 
 ing of having her sins pardoned, and the joy of knowing 
 her happy condition, she also had from him a testimony, 
 that her alabaster box of precious ointment poured on his 
 headandfeet, and that spikenard, and those spices that were 
 by her dedicated to embalm and preserve his sacred body 
 to putrefaction, should so far preserve her own memory, 
 that these demonstrations of her sanctioned love, and of 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 her officious and generous gratitude, should be recorded 
 and mentioned wheresoever his Gospel should be read ; 
 intending thereby, that as his, so her name should also 
 live to succeeding generations, even till time itself shall 
 be no more. 
 
 Upon occasion of which fair example, I did lately look 
 back, and not without some content, — at least to myself, — 
 that I have endeavoured to deserve the love, and preserve 
 the memory, of my two deceased friends, Dr. Bonne, and 
 Sir Henry Wotton, by declaring the several employments 
 and various accidents of their lives. And though Mr. 
 George Herbert — whose Life I now intend to write — 
 were to me a stranger as to his person, for I have only 
 seen him ; yet since he was, and was worthy to be, their 
 friend, and very many of his have been mine, I judge it 
 may not be unacceptable to those that knew any of them 
 in their lives, or do now know them by mine, or their own 
 writings, to see this conjunction of them after their 
 deaths; without which, many things that concerned 
 them, and some things that concerned the age in which 
 they lived, would be less perfect, and lost to posterity. 
 For these reasons I have undertaken it ; and if I have pre- 
 vented any abler person, I beg pardon of him and my 
 Reader. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 eorge Herbert was born the 
 Third day of April, in the Year 
 of our Redemption 1593. The 
 place of his birth was near to 
 the Town of Montgomery, and 
 in that Castle that did then bear 
 the name of that Town and 
 County : that Castle was then a 
 place of state and strength, and had been succes- 
 sively happy in the Family of the Herberts, who had 
 long possessed it ; and with it, a plentiful estate, 
 and hearts as liberal to their poor neighbours. A 
 family, that hath been blessed with men of remarkable 
 wisdom, and a willingness to serve their country, 
 and, indeed, to do good to all mankind j for which 
 o o 
 
274 THE LIFE OP 
 
 they are eminent : But alas ! this family did in the 
 late rebellion suffer extremely in their estates j and 
 the heirs of that Castle saw it laid level with tlvat 
 earth, that was too good to bury those wretches that 
 were the cause of it. 
 
 The Father of our George was Richard Herbert, 
 the son of Edward Herbert, Knight, the son of 
 Richard Herbert, Knight, the son of the famous Sir 
 Richard Herbert of Colebrook, in the County of Mon- 
 mouth, Banneret, who was the youngest brother of 
 that memorable William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, 
 that lived in the reign of our King Edward the 
 Fourth. 
 
 His Mother was Magdalen Newport, the youngest 
 daughter of Sir Richard, and sister to Sir Francis 
 Newport of High-Arkall, in the County of Salop, 
 Knight, and grandfather of Francis Lord Newport, 
 now Controller of his Majesty's Household. A 
 family, that for their loyalty have suffered much in 
 their estates, and seen the ruin of that excellent 
 structure, where their ancestors have long lived, 
 and been memorable for their hospitality. 
 
 The Mother of George Herbert — of whose person, 
 and wisdom, and virtue, I intend to give a true 
 account in a seasonable place — was the happy 
 mother of seven sons and three daughters, which 
 she would often say was Job's number, and Job's dis- 
 tribution; and as often bless God, that they were 
 neither defective in their shapes, or in their reason : 
 and very often reprove them that did not praise 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 275 
 
 God for so great a blessing. I shall give the Reader 
 a short account of their names, and not say much 
 of their fortunes. 
 
 Edward, the eldest, was first made Knight of the 
 Bath, at that glorious time of our late Prince Henry's 
 being installed Knight of the Garter ; and after 
 many years useful travel, and the attainment of 
 many languages, he was by King James sent Am- 
 bassador resident to the then French King, Lewis 
 the Thirteenth. There he continued about two 
 years j but he could not subject himself to a com- 
 pliance with the humours of the Duke de Luisnes, 
 who was then the great and powerful favourite at 
 Court : so that upon a complaint to our King, he 
 was called back into England in some displeasure 5 
 but at his return he gave such an honourable ac- 
 count of his employment, and so justified his com- 
 portment to the Ihike and all the Court, that he 
 was suddenly sent back upon the same Embassy, 
 from which he returned in the beginning of the 
 reign of our good King Charles the First, who made 
 him first Baron of Castle- Island, and not long after 
 of Cherbury in the County of Salop. He was a man 
 of great learning and reason, as appears by his printed 
 book De Veritate, and by his History of the reign of 
 King Henry the Eighth, and by several other tracts. 
 
 The second and third brothers were Richard and 
 William, who ventured their lives to purchase ho- 
 nour in the wars of the Low Countries, and died 
 officers in that employment. Charles was the fourth, 
 
9.76 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and died fellow of New College in Oxford. Henry 
 was the sixth, who became a menial servant to the 
 Crown in the days of King James, and hath con- 
 tinued to be so for fifty years ; during all which 
 time he hath been Master of the Revels ; a place 
 that requires a diligent wisdom, with which God 
 hath blessed him. The seventh son was Thomas, 
 who, being made Captain of a ship in that fleet with 
 which Sir Robert Mansell was sent against Algiers, 
 did there shew a fortunate and true English valour. 
 Of the three sisters I need not say more, than that 
 they were all married to persons of worth, and plen- 
 tiful fortunes , and lived to be examples of virtue, 
 and to do good in their generations. 
 
 I now come to give my intended account of 
 George, who was the fifth of those seven brothers. 
 George Herbert spent much of his childhood in 
 a sweet content under the eye and care of his pru- 
 dent Mother, and the tuition of a Chaplain, or tutor 
 to him and two of his brothers, in her own family, — - 
 for she was then a widow, — where he continued till 
 about the age of twelve years 5 and being at that 
 time well instructed in the rules of Grammar, he 
 was not long after commended to the care of Dr. 
 Neale, who was then Dean of Westminster ; and by 
 him to the care of Mr. Ireland, who was then Chief 
 Master of that School ; where the beauties of his 
 pretty behaviour and wit shined and became so 
 eminent and lovely in this his innocent age, that he 
 seemed to be marked out for piety, and to become 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 277 
 
 the care of Heaven, and of a particular good angel 
 to guard and guide him. And thus he continued in 
 that School, till he came to be perfect in the learned 
 languages, and especially in the Greek tongue, in 
 which he after proved an excellent critic. 
 
 About the age of fifteen — he being then a King's 
 Scholar — he was elected out of that School for Tri- 
 nity College in Cambridge, to which place he was 
 transplanted about the year 1608 ; and his prudent 
 Mother, well knowing that he might easily lose or 
 lessen that virtue and innocence, which her advice 
 and example had planted in his mind, did therefore 
 procure the generous and liberal Dr. Nevil, who 
 was then Dean of Canterbury, and Master of that 
 College, to take him into his particular care, and 
 provide him a Tutor ; which he did most gladly un- 
 dertake, for he knew the excellencies of his mother, 
 and how to value such a friendship. 
 
 This was the method of his education, till he was 
 settled in Cambridge ; where we will leave him in 
 his study, till I have paid my promised account of 
 his excellent Mother ; and I will endeavour to 
 make it short. 
 
 I have told her birth, her marriage, and the 
 number of her children, and have given some short 
 account of them. I shall next tell the Reader, that 
 her husband died when our George was about the 
 age of four years : I am next to tell, that she con- 
 tinued twelve years a widow 3 that she then married 
 happily to a noble gentleman, the brother and heir 
 
9,78 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who did highly 
 value both her person and the most excellent en- 
 dowments of her mind. 
 
 In this time of her widowhood, she being de- 
 sirous to give Edward, her eldest son, such advan- 
 tages of learning, and other education, as might 
 suit his birth and fortune, and thereby make him 
 the more fit for the service of his country, did, at 
 his being of a fit age, remove from Montgomery 
 Castle with him, and some of her younger sons, to 
 Oxford; and having entered Edward into Queen's 
 College, and provided him a fit Tutor, she commen- 
 ded him to his care : yet she continued there with 
 him, and still kept him in a moderate awe of herself, 
 and so much under her own eye, as to see and con- 
 verse with him daily : but she managed this power 
 over him without any such rigid sourness, as might 
 make her company a torment to her child) but 
 with such a sweetness and compliance with the re- 
 creations and pleasures of youth, as did incline him 
 willingly to spend much of his time in the company 
 of his dear and careful mother ; which was to her 
 great content : for she would often say, " That as 
 " our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the 
 " meat on which we feed j so our souls do as in- 
 " sensibly take in vice by the example or conversa- 
 tion with wicked company:" and Avould there- 
 fore as often say, " That ignorance of vice was the 
 " best preservation of virtue - } and that the very 
 " knowledge of wickedness was as tinder to inflame 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 279 
 
 (( and kindle sin, and to keep it burning." For 
 these reasons she endeared him to her own com- 
 pany, and continued with him in Oxford four years ; 
 in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful 
 gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an ac- 
 quaintance and friendship with most of any eminent 
 worth or learning, that were at that time in or near 
 that University ; and particularly with Mr. John 
 Donne, who then came accidentally to that place, 
 in this time of her being there. It was that John 
 Donne j who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean of 
 Saint Paul's, London : and he, at his leaving Oxford, 
 writ and left there, in verse, a character of the 
 beauties of her body and mind : of the first he says, 
 
 No Spring nor Summer-beauty has such grace, 
 As I have seen in an Autumnal face, 
 
 Of the latter he says, 
 
 In all her words to every hearer fit, 
 You may at revels, or at council sit. 
 
 The rest of her character may be read in his 
 printed poems, in that Elegy which bears the name 
 of The Autumnal Beauty. For both he and she were 
 then past the meridian of man's life. 
 
 This amity, begun at this time and place, was not 
 an amity that polluted their souls ; but an amity 
 made up of a chain of suitable inclinations and 
 virtues - } an amity like that of St, Chrysostoms to his 
 
280 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dear and virtuous Olympias ; whom, in his letters, 
 he calls his Saint: or an amity, indeed, more like 
 that of St. Hierome to his Paula ; whose affection to 
 her was such, that he turned poet in his old age, 
 and then made her epitaph : wishing all his body 
 were turned into tongues, that he might declare her just 
 praises to posterity. And this amity betwixt her and 
 Mr. Donne was begun in a happy time for him, he 
 being then near to the fortieth year of his age, — 
 which was some years before he entered into Sa- 
 cred Orders • — a time, when his necessities needed 
 a daily supply for the support of his wife, seven 
 children, and a family. And in this time she proved 
 one of his most bountiful benefactors j and he as 
 grateful an acknowledger of it. You may take one 
 testimony for what I have said of these two worthy 
 persons, from this following Letter and Sonnet. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " Your favours to me are every where -, I use 
 " them, and have them. I enjoy them at London, 
 " and leave them there -, and yet find them at Mit- 
 " cham. Such riddles as these become things inex- 
 " pressible ; and such is your goodness. I was 
 ■' almost sorry to find your servant here this day, 
 " because I was loath to have any witness of my 
 " not coming home last night, and indeed of my 
 " coming this morning. But my not coming was 
 " excusable, because earnest business detained me ; 
 " and my coming this day is by the example of your 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 281 
 
 <( St. Mary Magdalen, who rose early upon Sunday, 
 " to seek that which she loved most j and so did 
 " I. And, from her and myself, I return such 
 " thanks as are due to one, to whom we owe all 
 " the good opinion,, that they, whom we need most, 
 " have of us. By this messenger, and on this good 
 " day, I commit the inclosed holy Hymns and Son- 
 <e nets — which for the matter, not the workmanship, 
 " have yet escaped the fire — to your judgment, 
 " and to your protection too, if you think them 
 " worthy of it ; and I have appointed to this in- 
 " closed Sonnet to usher them to your happy hand. 
 Your unworthiest servant, 
 Unless your accepting him to be so 
 have mended him, 
 Mitcham, July 11, 1607. Jo. Donne. 
 
 To the Lady Magdalen Herbert : Of St. Mary 
 Magdalen. 
 
 Her of your name, whose fair inheritance 
 
 Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo, 
 An active faith so highly did advance, 
 
 That she once knew more than the Church did know, 
 The Resurrection ! so much good there is 
 
 Delivered of her, that some Fathers be 
 Loth to believe one woman could do this ; 
 
 But think these Magdalens were two or three. 
 pp 
 
282 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Increase their number Lady, and their fame : 
 
 To their devotion add your innocence : 
 Take so much of tK example, as of the name ; 
 
 The latter half; and in some recompense 
 That they did harbour Christ himself a guest, 
 
 Harbour these Hymns, to his dear name addrest. 
 
 J. IX 
 
 These Hymns are now lost to us ; but doubtless 
 they were such, as they two now sing in, Heaven. 
 
 There might be more demonstrations of the 
 friendship, and the many sacred endearments be- 
 twixt these two excellent persons, — for I have many 
 of their letters in my hand, — and much more might 
 be said of her great prudence and piety : but my 
 design was not to write her's, but the life of her 
 son 5 and therefore I shall only tell my Reader, that 
 about that very day twenty years that this letter 
 was dated, and sent her, I saw and heard this Mr. 
 John Donne — who was then Dean of St. Paul's — 
 weep, and preach her Funeral Sermon, in the Parish- 
 Church of Chelsea, near London, where she now 
 rests in her quiet grave 5 and where we must now 
 leave her, and return to her son George, whom we 
 left in his study in Cambridge. 
 
 And in Cambridge we may find our George Her- 
 bert's behaviour to be such, that we may conclude 
 he consecrated the first-fruits of his early age to 
 virtue, and a serious study of learning. And that 
 he did so, this following Letter and Sonnet, which 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 283 
 
 were, in the first year of his going to Cambridge, 
 sent his dear Mother for a New-year's gift, may 
 appear to be some testimony. 
 
 — " But I fear the heat of my late ague hath 
 u dried up those springs, by which scholars say the 
 ee Muses use to take up their habitations. However, 
 " I need not their help to reprove the vanity of 
 " those many love-poems, that are daily writ, and 
 " consecrated to Venus; nor to bewail that so few 
 " are writ, that look towards God and Heaven, 
 " For my own part, my meaning — dear Mother — is, 
 " in these Sonnets, to declare my resolution to be, 
 " that my poor abilities in Poetry, shall be all and 
 " ever consecrated to God's glory : and I beg you 
 " to receive this as one testimony." 
 
 My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, 
 Wherewith whole shoals of Martyrs once did burn, 
 Besides their other flames ? Doth Poetry 
 
 Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? 
 
 Why are not Sonnets made of thee ? and lays 
 Upon thine altar burnt ? Cannot thy love 
 Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise 
 
 As well as any she ? Cannot thy Dove 
 
 Outstrip their Cupid easily inflight ? 
 
 Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same, 
 Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name ? 
 
 Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might 
 Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose 
 Than that, which one day, worms may chance refuse ? 
 
284 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Sure) Lord, there is enough in thee to dry 
 
 Oceans of ink ; for as the Deluge did 
 
 Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty ,• 
 Each cloud distils thy praise, and doth forbid 
 Poets to turn it to another use. 
 
 Roses and lilies speak Thee; and to make 
 
 A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse. 
 Why should I women's eyes for crystal take ? 
 Such poor invention burns in their low mind 
 
 Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go 
 
 To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow. 
 Open the bones, and you shall nothing find 
 
 In the best face but filth $ when Lord, in Thee 
 
 The beauty lies, in the discovery. 
 
 G.R 
 
 This was his resolution at the sending this letter 
 to his dear Mother, about which time he was in 
 the seventeenth year of his age j and as he grew 
 older, so he grew in learning, and more and more 
 in favour both with God and man : insomuch that, 
 in this morning of that short day of his life, he 
 seemed to be marked out for virtue, and to become 
 the care of Heaven 3 for God still kept his soul in 
 so holy a frame, that he may, and ought to be a pat- 
 tern of virtue to all posterity, and especially to his 
 brethren of the Clergy, of which the Reader may- 
 expect a more exact account in what will follow. 
 
 I need not declare that he was a strict student, 
 because, that he was so, there will be many testi- 
 monies in the future part of his life. I shall there- 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 285 
 
 fore only tell, that he was made Bachelor of Arts in 
 the year 1611 5 Major Fellow of the College , March 
 15th, 1615 : and, that in that year he was also made 
 Master of Arts, he being then in the 22d year of his 
 age 5, during all which time, all, or the greatest 
 diversion from his study, was the practice of Music, 
 in which he became a great master ; and of which 
 he would say, That it did relieve his drooping spirits, 
 compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weary 
 soul so far above earth, that it gave him an earnest of 
 the joys of Heaven, before he possessed them. And it 
 may be noted, that from his first entrance into the 
 College, the generous Dr. Nevil was a cherisher of 
 his studies, and such a lover of his person, his be- 
 haviour, and the excellent endowments of his mind, 
 that he took him often into his own company ; by 
 which he confirmed his native gentleness : and if 
 during his time he expressed any error, it was, that 
 he kept himself too much retired, and at too great 
 a distance with all his inferiors ; and his clothes 
 seemed to prove, that he put too great a value on 
 his parts and parentage. 
 
 This may be some account of his disposition, and 
 of the employment of his time, till he was Master 
 of Arts, which was Anno 1615, and in the year 1619 
 he was chosen Orator for the University. His two 
 precedent Orators were Sir Robert Naunton, and Sir 
 Francis Nethersole. The first was not long after 
 made Secretary of State 3 and Sir Francis, not very 
 long after his being Orator, was made Secretary to 
 the Lady Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia. In this 
 
286 THE LIFE OF 
 
 place of Orator our George Herbert continued eight 
 years ; and managed it with as becoming and grave 
 a gaiety, as any had ever before or since his time. 
 For, he had acquired great learning, and was blessed 
 with a high fancy, a civil and sharp wit, and with a 
 natural elegance, both in his behaviour, his tongue, and 
 his pen. Of all which there might be very many 
 particular evidences ; but I will limit myself to the 
 mention of but three. 
 
 And the first notable occasion of shewing his fit- 
 ness for this employment of Orator was manifested 
 in a letter to King James, upon the occasion of his 
 sending that University his book called Basilicon 
 Doron ; and their Orator was to acknowledge this 
 great honour, and return their gratitude to his 
 Majesty for such a condescension j at the close of 
 which letter he writ, 
 
 Quid Vaticanam Bodleianamque objicis hospes ! 
 Unicus est nobis Bibliotheca Liber. 
 
 This letter was writ in such excellent Latin, was 
 so full of conceits, and all the expressions so suited 
 to the genius of the King, that he enquired the Ora- 
 tor's name, and then asked William Earl of Pem- 
 broke, if he knew him ? whose answer was That he 
 knew him very well, and that he was his kinsman ■ but 
 he loved him more for his learning and virtue, than for 
 that he was of his name and family. At which answer 
 the King smiled, and asked the Earl leave that he 
 might love him too, for he took him to be the jewel of 
 that University, 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 287 
 
 The next occasion he had and took to shew his 
 great abilities, was, with them, to shew also his 
 great affection to that Church in which he received 
 his baptism, and of which he professed himself a 
 member ; and the occasion was this : There was 
 one Andrew Melvin, a Minister of the Scotch Church, 
 and Rector of St. Andrew's ; who, by a long and 
 constant converse with a discontented part of that 
 Clergy which opposed Episcopacy, became at last 
 to be a chief leader of that faction ; and had proudly 
 appeared to be so %p King James, when he was but 
 King of that nation, who, the second year after his 
 Coronation in England, convened a part of the 
 Bishops, and other learned Divines of his Church, 
 to attend him at Hampton- Court, in order to a 
 friendly conference with some dissenting brethren, 
 both of this and the Church of Scotland : of which 
 Scotch party Andrew Melvin was one 5 and he being 
 a man of learning, and inclined to satirical poetry, 
 had scattered many malicious, bitter verses against 
 our Liturgy, our ceremonies, and our Church- govern- 
 ment ; which were by some of that party so mag- 
 nified for the wit, that they were therefore brought 
 into Westminster School, where Mr. George Herbert, 
 then, and often after, made such answers to them, 
 and such reflections on him and his Kirk, as might 
 unbeguile any man that was not too deeply pre-en- 
 gaged in such a quarrel. — But to return to Mr. 
 Melvin at Hampton-Court Conference; he there ap- 
 peared to be a man of an unruly wit, of a strange 
 confidence, of so furious a zeal, and of so ungoverned 
 
288 THE LIFE OF 
 
 passions, that his insolence to the King, and others 
 at this Conference, lost him both his Rectorship of 
 St. Andrew's and his liberty too j for his former 
 verses, and his present reproaches there used against 
 the Church and State, caused him to be committed 
 prisoner to the Tower of London ; where he re- 
 mained very angry for three years. At which time 
 of his commitment, he found the Lady Arabella an 
 innocent prisoner there ; and he pleased himself 
 much in sending, the next day after his commit- 
 ment, these two verses to the good lady 5 which I 
 will underwrite, because they may give the Reader 
 a taste of his others, which were like these. 
 
 Causa tibi mecum est communis, carceris, Ara- 
 Bella, tibi causa est, Araque sacra mihi. 
 
 I shall not trouble my Reader with an account of 
 his enlargement from that prison, or his death; 
 but tell him Mr. Herbert's verses were thought so 
 worthy to be preserved, that Dr. Duport, the learned 
 Dean of Peterborough, hath lately collected and 
 caused many of them to be printed, as an honour- 
 able memorial Of his friend Mr. George Herbert, and 
 the cause he undertook. 
 
 And in order to my third and last observation of 
 his great abilities, it will be needful to declare, 
 that about this time King James came very often to 
 hunt at Newmarket and Royston, and was almost as 
 often invited to Cambridge, where his entertainment 
 was comedies suited to his pleasant humour; and 
 where Mr. George Herbert was to welcome him 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 289 
 
 with gratulations, and the applauses of an Orator ; 
 which he always performed so well, that he still 
 grew more into the King's favour, insomuch that 
 he had a particular appointment to attend his Ma- 
 jesty at Royston ; where, after a discourse with him, 
 his Majesty declared to his kinsman, the Earl of 
 Pembroke, that he found the Orator s learning and wis- 
 dom much above his age or wit. The year following, 
 the King appointed to end his progress at Cambridge, 
 and to stay there certain days ; at which time he 
 was attended by the great Secretary of Nature and 
 ^11 learning, Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, and 
 by the ever-memorable and learned Dr. Andrews, 
 
 Bishop of Winchester, both which did at that time 
 begin a desired friendship with our Orator. Upon 
 whom, the first put such a value on his judgment, 
 that he usually desired his approbation before he 
 
290 THE LIFE OF 
 
 would expose any of his books to be printed ; and 
 thought him so worthy of his friendship, that hav- 
 ing translated many of the Prophet David's Psalms 
 into English verse, he made George Herbert his 
 patron, by a public dedication of them to him, as 
 the best judge of Divine Poetry. And for the 
 learned Bishop, it is observable, that at that time 
 there fell to be a modest debate betwixt them two 
 about Predestination, and Sanctity of life ; of both 
 which the Orator did, not long after, send the Bishop 
 some safe and useful aphorisms, in a long letter, 
 written in Greek -, which letter was so remarkable 
 for the language and reason of it, that, after the 
 reading it, the Bishop put it into his bosom, and 
 did often shew it to many Scholars, both of this 
 and foreign nations ; but did always return it back 
 to the place where he first lodged it, and continued 
 it so near his heart till the last day of his life. 
 
 To these I might add the long and entire friend- 
 ship betwixt him and Sir Henry Wotton, and Dr. 
 Donne; but I have promised to contract myself, 
 and shall therefore only add one testimony to what 
 is also mentioned in the Life of Dr. Donne ; namely, 
 that a little before his death he caused many Seals 
 to be made, and in them to be engraven the figure 
 of Christ crucified on an Anchor, — the emblem of 
 Hope, — and of which Dr. Donne would often say, 
 Crux mihi anchora. — These Seals he gave or sent to 
 most of those friends on which he put a value ; 
 and, at Mr. Herbert's death, these verses were found 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 291 
 
 wrapt up with that seal, which was by the Doctor 
 given to him j 
 
 When my dear friend could write no more, 
 He gave this Seal, and so gave o'er. 
 
 When winds and waves rise highest I am sure. 
 This Anchor keeps my faith, that, me secure. 
 
 At this time of being Orator, he had learned to 
 understand the Italian, Spanish, and French tongues 
 very perfectly j hoping, that as his predecessors, so 
 he might in time attain the place of a Secretary of 
 State, he being at that time very high in the King's 
 favour, and not meanly valued and loved by the 
 most eminent and most powerful of the Court No- 
 bility. This, and the love of a Court-conversation, 
 mixed with a laudable ambition to be something 
 more than he then was, drew him often from Cam- 
 bridge, to attend the King wheresoever the Court 
 was, who then gave him a sinecure, which fell into 
 his Majesty's disposal, I think, by the death of the 
 Bishop of St. Asaph. It was the same that Queen 
 Elizabeth had formerly given to her favourite, Sir 
 Philip Sidney, and valued to be worth an hundred 
 and twenty pounds per annum. With this, and his 
 annuity, and the advantage of his College, and of 
 his Oratorship, he enjoyed his genteel humour for 
 clothes, and Court-like company, and seldom looked 
 towards Cambridge, unless the King were there, 
 
292 THE LIFE OF 
 
 but then he never failed ; and, at other times, left 
 the manage of his Orator s place to his learned 
 friend, Mr. Herbert Thorndike, who is now Prebend 
 of Westminster. 
 
 I may not omit to tell, that he had often designed 
 to leave the University, and decline all study, which 
 he thought did impair his healthy for he had a 
 body apt to a consumption, and to fevers, and other 
 infirmities, which he judged were increased by 
 his studies 3 for he would often say, He had too 
 thoughtful a wit ; a wit, like a penknife in too narrow 
 a sheath, too sharp for his body. But his Mother 
 would by no means allow him to leave the Univer- 
 sity,, or to travel j and though he inclined very 
 much to both, yet he would by no means satisfy his 
 own desires at so dear a rate, as to prove an un- 
 dutiful son to so affectionate a Mother; but did 
 always submit to her wisdom. And what I have 
 now said may partly appear in a copy of verses in 
 his printed poems 5 'tis one of those that bear the 
 title of Affliction ; and it appears to be a pious reflec- 
 tion on God's providence, and some passages of his 
 life, in which he says, 
 
 Whereas my birth and spirit rather took 
 
 The way that takes the town ; 
 Thou didst betray me to a lingering book. 
 
 And wrapt me in a gown : 
 I was entangled in a world of strife, 
 Before I had the power to change my life* 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 293 
 
 Yet, for I threaten d oft the siege to raise, 
 
 Not simpering all mine age ; 
 Thou often didst with academic praise 
 
 Melt and dissolve my rage : 
 I took the sweeten 'd pill, till I came where 
 I could not go away, nor persevere. 
 
 Yet, lest perchance I should too happy be 
 
 In my unhappiness, 
 Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me 
 
 Into more sicknesses. 
 Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making 
 Thine own gifts good, yet me from my ways taking. 
 
 Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me 
 
 None of my books will show. 
 I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree, 
 
 For then sure I should grow 
 To fruit or shade, at least some bird would trust 
 Her household with me, and I would be just. 
 
 Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek, 
 
 In weakness must be stout. 
 Well, I will change my service, and go seek 
 
 Some other master out : 
 Ah, my dear God ! though I am clean forgot. 
 Let me not leave thee, if 1 love thee not. 
 
 G. H. 
 
 In this time of Mr. Herbert's attendance and ex- 
 pectation of some good occasion to remove from 
 
294 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Cambridge to Court, God, in whom there is an un- 
 seen chain of causes, did in a short time put an end 
 to the lives of two of his most obliging and most 
 powerful friends, Lodowick Duke of Richmond, and 
 James Marquis of Hamilton -, and not long after him 
 King James died also, and with them, all Mr. Her- 
 bert's Court-hopes : so that he presently betook 
 himself to a retreat from London, to a friend in Kent, 
 where he lived very privately, and was such a lover 
 of solitariness, as was judged to impair his health, 
 more than his study had done. In this time of 
 retirement, he had many conflicts with himself, whe- 
 ther he should return to the painted pleasures of a 
 Court-life, or betake himself to a study of Divinity, 
 and enter into Sacred Orders, to which his dear 
 mother had often persuaded him. These were such 
 conflicts, as they only can know, that have endured 
 them 5 for ambitious desires, and the outward glory 
 of this world, are not easily laid aside : but at last 
 God inclined him to put on a resolution to serve at 
 his altar. 
 
 He did, at his return to London, acquaint a Court- 
 friend with his resolution to enter into Sacred 
 Orders, who persuaded him to alter it, as too mean 
 an employment, and too much below his birth, and 
 the excellent abilities and endowments of his mind. 
 To whom he replied, It hath been formerly judged 
 that the domestic servants of the King of Heaven should 
 be of the noblest families on earth. And though the 
 iniquity of the late times have made clergymen meanly 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 295 
 
 valued, and the sacred name of priest contemptible ; yet 
 I will labour to make it honourable, by consecrating all 
 my learning, and all my poor abilities to advance the 
 glory of that God that gave them -, knowing that I can 
 never do too much for him, that hath done so much for 
 me, as to make me a Christian. And I will labour to 
 be like my Saviour, by making humility lovely in the 
 eyes of all men, and by following the merciful and meek 
 example of my dear Jesus. 
 
 This was then his resolution; and the God of 
 constancy, who intended him for a great example 
 of virtue, continued him in it, for within that year 
 he was made Deacon, but the day when, or by 
 whom, I cannot learn : but that he was about that 
 time then made Deacon, is most certain ; for I find 
 by the Records of Lincoln, that he was made Pre- 
 bend of Layton Ecclesia, in the Diocese of Lincoln, 
 July 15th 1626, and that this Prebend was given him 
 by John, then Lord Bishop of that See. And now 
 he had a fit occasion to shew that piety and bounty 
 that was derived from his generous mother, and his 
 other memorable ancestors, and the occasion was 
 this. 
 
 This Layton Ecclesia is a village near to Spalden, 
 in the County of Huntingdon, and the greatest part 
 of the Parish- Church was fallen down, and that of 
 it which stood was so decayed, so little, and so use- 
 less, that the parishioners could not meet to per- 
 form their duty to God in public prayer and praises ; 
 and thus it had been for almost twenty years, in 
 
296 THE LIFE OF 
 
 which time there had been some faint endeavours 
 for a public collection, to enable the parishioners to 
 rebuild it ; but with no success, till Mr. Herbert 
 undertook it - } and he, by his own, and the contribu- 
 tion of many of his kindred, and other noble friends, 
 undertook the re-edification of it ; and made it so 
 much his whole business, that he became restless 
 till he saw it finished as it now stands j being for 
 the workmanship, a costly Mosaic ; for the form, 
 an exact cross ; and for the decency and beauty, I 
 am assured, it is the most remarkable Parish- Church 
 that this nation affords. He lived to see it so wain- 
 scotted, as to be exceeded by none ; and, by his 
 order, the Reading-pew and Pulpit were a little 
 distant from each other, and both of an equal height ; 
 for he would often say, They should neither have a 
 precedency or priority of the other ; but that Prayer and 
 Preaching, being equally useful, might agree like bre- 
 thren, and have an equal honour and estimation. 
 
 Before I proceed farther, I must look back to the 
 time of Mr. Herbert's being made Prebend, and tell 
 the Reader, that not long after, his Mother being 
 informed of his intentions to rebuild that Church, 
 and apprehending the great trouble and charge that 
 he was like to draw upon himself, his relations and 
 friends, before it could be finished, sent for him 
 from London to Chelsea, — where she then dwelt, — 
 and at his coming, said, George, I sent for you, to 
 persuade you to commit Simony, by giving your patron 
 as good a gift as he has given to you; namely, that you 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 297 
 
 give him back his prebend ; for, George, it is not for 
 your weak body, and empty purse, to undertake to build 
 Churches. Of which, he desired he might have a 
 day's time to consider, and then make her an 
 answer. And at his return to her the next day, 
 when he had first desired her blessing, and she 
 given it him, his next request was, That she would, 
 at the age of thirty-three years, allow him to become an 
 un dutiful son ,• for he had made a vow to God, that, if 
 he were able, he would rebuild that Church. And then 
 shewed her such reasons for his resolution, that she 
 presently subscribed to be one of his benefactors ; 
 and undertook to solicit William Earl of Pembroke 
 to become another, who subscribed for fifty pounds j 
 and not long after, by a witty and persuasive letter 
 from Mr. Herbert, made it fifty pounds more. And 
 in this nomination of some of his benefactors, James 
 Duke of Lenox, and his brother, Sir Henry Herbert, 
 ought to be remembered $ as also the bounty of 
 Mr. Nicholas Farrer, and Mr. Arthur Woodnot ,• the 
 one a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Layton, 
 and the other a Goldsmith in Foster Lane, London, 
 ought not to be forgotten : for the memory of such 
 men ought to outlive their lives. Of Mr. Farrer, 
 I shall hereafter give an account in a more season- 
 able place 3 but before I proceed farther, I will 
 give this short account of Mr. Arthur Woodnot. 
 
 He was a man, that had considered overgrown 
 estates do often require more care and watchfulness 
 r r 
 
298 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to preserve than get them, and considered that there 
 be many discontents, that riches cure not j and did 
 therefore set limits to himself, as to desire of wealth. 
 And having attained so much as to be able to shew 
 some mercy to the poor, and preserve a competence 
 for himself, he dedicated the remaining part of his 
 life to the service of God, and to be useful to his 
 friends ; and he proved to be so to Mr. Herbert; 
 for beside his own bounty, he collected and returned 
 most of the money that was paid for the rebuilding 
 of that Church 3 he kept all the account of the 
 charges, and would often go down to state them, 
 and see all the workmen paid. When I have said, 
 that this good man was a useful friend to Mr. 
 Herbert's father, and to his mother, and continued 
 to be so to him, till he closed his eyes on his death- 
 bed 3 I will forbear to say more, till I have the next 
 fair occasion to mention the holy friendship that 
 was betwixt him and Mr. Herbert. From whom 
 Mr. Woodnot carried to his mother this following 
 letter, and delivered it to her in a sickness, which 
 was not long before that which proved to be her 
 last. 
 
 A Letter of Mr. George Herbert to his Mother ■, 
 in her Sickness. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 At my last parting from you, I was the better con- 
 tent, because I was in hope I should myself carry all 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT, 299 
 
 sickness out of your family : but since I know I did not, 
 and that your share continues, or rather increaseth, I 
 wish earnestly that I were again with you ; and would 
 quickly make good my wish, but that my employment 
 does fix me here, it being now but a month to our Com- 
 mencement : wherein my absence, by how much it 
 naturally augmenteth suspicion, by so much shall it 
 make my prayers the more constant and the more earnest 
 for you to the God of all consolation. — In the mean 
 time, I beseech you to be cheerful, and comfort yourself 
 in the God of all comfort, who is not willing to behold 
 any sorrow but for sin. — What hath affliction grievous 
 in it more than for a moment ? or why should our 
 afflictions here, have so much power or boldness as to op- 
 pose the hope of our joys hereafter ? — Madam, as the 
 earth is but a point in respect of the heavens, so are 
 earthly troubles compared to heavenly joys : therefore, 
 if either age or sickness lead you to those joys, consider 
 what advantage you have over youth and health, who 
 are novj so near those true comforts. Your last letter 
 gave me earthly preferment, and I hope kept heavenly 
 for yourself: but would you divide and choose too P Our 
 College customs allow not that : and I should account 
 myself most happy, if I might change with you -, for I 
 have always observed the thread of life to be like other 
 threads or skeins of silk, full ofsnarles and incumbrances. 
 Happy is he, whose bottom is wound up, and laid ready 
 for work in the New Jerusalem. — For myself dear 
 Mother, I always feared sickness more than death, 
 
300 THE LIFE OF 
 
 because sickness hath made me unable to perform those 
 offices for which I came into the world, and must yet be 
 kept in it ; but you are freed from that fear, who have 
 already abundantly discharged that part, having both 
 ordered your family, and so brought up your children, 
 that they have attained to the years of discretion, and 
 competent maintenance. So that now, if they do not 
 well, the fault cannot be charged on you, whose example 
 and care of them will justify you both to the world and 
 your own conscience ; insomuch that, whether you turn 
 your thoughts on the life past, or on the joys that are 
 to come, you have strong preservatives against all dis- 
 quiet. And for temporal afflictions, I beseech you con- 
 sider, all that can happen to you are either afflictions of 
 estate,, or body, or mind. For those of estate, of what 
 poor regard ought they to be ? since, if we had riches, 
 we are commanded to give them away : so that the best 
 use of them is, having, not to have them. But perhaps, 
 being above the common people, our credit and estima- 
 tion calls on us to live in a more splendid fashion : but, 
 God J how easily is that answered, when we consider 
 that the blessings in the holy Scripture are never given 
 to the rich, but to the poor. I never find ' Blessed be 
 the rich,* or l Blessed be the noble / but, Blessed be 
 the meek, and, Blessed be the poor, and, Blessed be 
 the mourners, for they shall be comforted. — And 
 yet, O God ! most carry themselves so, as if they not 
 only not desired, but even feared to be blessed. — And: for 
 afflictions of the body 3 dear Madam, remember the holy 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 301 
 
 Martyrs of God,how they have been burned by thousands, 
 and have endured such other tortures, as the very men- 
 tion of them might beget amazement : but their fiery 
 trials have had an end ; and yours — which, praised be 
 God, are less, — are not like to continue long. I beseech 
 you, let such thoughts as these moderate your present 
 fear and sorrow ; and know, that if any of your s should 
 prove a Goliah-like trouble, yet you may say with 
 David, That God, who hath delivered me out of 
 the paws of the lion and bear, will also deliver me 
 out of the hands of this uncircumcised Philistine. — 
 Lastly, for those afflictions of the soul} consider that 
 God intends that to be as a Sacred Temple for himself 
 to dwell in, and will not allow any room therefor such 
 an inmate as grief; or allow that any sadness shall be 
 his competitor. And, above all, if any care of future 
 things molest you, remember those admirable words of 
 of the Psalmist : Cast thy care on the Lord, and he 
 shall nourish thee.* To which join that *p i i 22 
 of St. Peter, Casting all your care on 
 the Lord, for he careth for you.f What + l Pet ' y ' 7 ' 
 an admirable thing is this, that God puts his shoulder 
 to our burden, and entertains our carefor us, that we 
 may the more quietly intend his service ! — To conclude, 
 let me commend only one place more to you: Philipp. 
 iv. 4. St. Paul saith there, Rejoice in the Lord al- 
 ways : and again I say, rejoice. He doubles it to take 
 away the scruple of those that might say, What, shall 
 we rejoice in afflictions ? Yes, I say again, rejoice ; 
 
302 THE LIFE OF 
 
 so that it is not left to us to rejoice, or not rejoice ; but, 
 whatsoever befalls us, we must always, at all times, 
 rejoice in the Lord, who taketh care for us. And it 
 follows in the next verses : Let your moderation ap- 
 pear to all men : The Lord is at hand : Be careful 
 for nothing. What can be said more comfortably ? 
 Trouble not yourselves ,• God is at hand, to deliver us 
 from all, or in all. — Dear Madam, pardon my bold- 
 ness, and accept the good meaning of 
 
 Your most obedient son, 
 
 George Herbert. 
 Trin. Coll. May 25th 1622. 
 
 About the year 1629, and the thirty-fourth of his 
 age, Mr. Herbert was seized with a sharp quotidian 
 ague, and thought to remove it by the change of air ; 
 to which end, he went to Woodford in Essex, but 
 thither more chiefly to enjoy the company of his be- 
 loved brother, Sir Henry Herbert, and other friends 
 then of that family. In his house he remained 
 about twelve months, and there became his own 
 physician, and cured himself of his ague, by for- 
 bearing drink, and not eating any meat, no riot 
 mutton, nor a hen, or pigeon, unless they were 
 salted 5 and by such a constant diet he removed his 
 ague, but with inconveniences that were worse ; 
 for he brought upon himself a disposition to rheums, 
 and other weaknesses, and a supposed consumption. 
 And it is to be noted, that in the sharpest of his 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 303 
 
 extreme fits he would often say, Lord, abate my great 
 affliction, or increase my patience : but Lord, 1 repine 
 not ; I am dumb, Lord, before thee, because thou doest 
 it. By which, and a sanctified submission to the 
 will of God, he shewed he was inclinable to bear 
 the sweet yoke of Christian discipline, both then and 
 in the latter part of his life, of which there will be 
 many true testimonies. 
 
 And now his care was to recover from his con- 
 sumption, by a change from Woodford into such an 
 air as was most proper to that end. And his re- 
 move was to Dauntsey in Wiltshire, a noble house, 
 which stands in a choice air 5 the owner of it then 
 was the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who loved 
 Mr. Herbert so very much, that he allowed him such 
 an apartment in it, as might best suit with his ac- 
 commodation and liking. And in this place, by a 
 spare diet, declining all perplexing studies, moderate 
 exercise, and a cheerful conversation, his health was 
 apparently improved to a good degree of strength 
 and cheerfulness. And then he declared his reso- 
 lution both to marry, and to enter into the Sacred 
 Orders of Priesthood. These had long been the 
 desires of his Mother, and his other relations 3 but 
 she lived not to see either, for she died in the year 
 1627. And though he was disobedient to her about 
 Layton Church, yet, in conformity to her will, he 
 kept his Orator's place till after her death, and then 
 presently declined it $ and the more willingly, that 
 
304 THE LIFE OF 
 
 he might be succeeded by his friend Robert Creigh- 
 ton, who now is Dr. Creighton, and the worthy 
 Bishop of Wells. 
 
 I shall now proceed to his marriage ; in order to 
 which, it will be convenient that I first give the 
 Reader a short view of his person, and then an 
 account of his wife, and of some circumstances 
 concerning both. — He was for his person of a stature 
 inclining towards tallness ; his body was very straight, 
 and so far from being cumbered with too much flesh, 
 that he was lean to an extremity. His aspect was 
 cheerful, and his speech and motion did both declare 
 him a gentleman ; for they were all so meek and oblig- 
 ing, that they purchased love and respect from all that 
 knew him. 
 
 These, and his other visible virtues, begot him 
 much love from a gentleman of a noble fortune, 
 and a near kinsman to his friend the Earl of Danby ; 
 namely, from Mr. Charles Danvers of Bainton, in 
 the County of Wilts, Esq. This Mr. Danvers hav- 
 ing known him long, and familiarly, did so much 
 affect him, that he often and publicly declared a 
 desire, that Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine 
 daughters, — for he had so many, — but rather his 
 daughter Jane than any other, because Jane was 
 his beloved daughter. And he had often said the 
 same to Mr. Herbert himself 5 and that if he could 
 like her for a wife, and she him for a husband, 
 Jane should have a double blessing : and Mr. Danvers 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 305 
 
 had so often said the like to Jane, and so much 
 commended Mr. Herbert to her, that Jane became so 
 much a platonic, as to fall in love with Mr. Herbert 
 unseen. 
 
 This was a fair preparation for a marriage ; but, 
 alas ! her father died before Mr. Herbert's retire- 
 ment to Dauntsey : yet some friends to both parties 
 procured their meeting j at which time a mutual 
 affection entered into both their hearts, as a con- 
 queror enters into a surprised city : and love having 
 got such possession, governed, and made there such 
 laws and resolutions, as neither party was able to 
 resist ; insomuch, that she changed her name into 
 Herbert the third day after this first interview. 
 
 This haste might in others be thought a love- 
 frenzy, or worse j but it was not, for they had 
 wooed so like princes, as to have select proxies 5 
 such as were true friends to both parties, such as 
 well understood Mr. Herbert's and her temper of 
 mind, and also their estates, so well before this 
 interview, that the suddenness was justifiable by 
 the strictest rules of prudence j and the more, be- 
 cause it proved so happy to both parties ; for the 
 eternal lover of mankind made them happy in each 
 other's mutual and equal affections, and compliance j 
 indeed, so happy, that there never was any opposi- 
 tion betwixt them, unless it were a contest which 
 should most incline to a compliance with the other's 
 desires. And though this begot, and continued in 
 them, such a mutual love, and joy, and content, as 
 s s 
 
306 THE LIFE OF 
 
 was no way defective ; yet this mutual content, and 
 love, and joy, did receive a daily augmentation, by 
 such daily obligingness to each other, as still added 
 such new affluences to the former fulness of these 
 divine souls, as was only improvable in Heaven, 
 where they now enjoy it. 
 
 About three months after this marriage, Dr. Curie, 
 who was then Rector of Bemerton, in Wiltshire, was 
 made Bishop of Bath and Wells, and not long after 
 translated to Winchester, and by that means the 
 presentation of a Clerk to Bemerton did not fall to 
 the Earl of Pembroke, — who was the undoubted 
 Patron of it, — but to the King, by reason of Dr. 
 Curie's advancement : but Philip, then Earl of Pem- 
 broke, — for William was lately dead — requested the 
 King to bestow it upon his kinsman George Herbert ; 
 and the King said, Most willingly to Mr. Herbert, 
 if it be worth his acceptance; and the Earl as wil- 
 lingly and suddenly sent it him, without seeking. 
 But though Mr. Herbert had formerly put on a 
 resolution for the Clergy ; yet, at receiving this 
 presentation, the apprehension of the last great 
 account, that he was to make for the cure of so 
 many souls, made him fast and pray often, and 
 consider for not less than a month : in which time 
 he had some resolutions to decline both the Priest- 
 hood, and that living. And in this time of con- 
 sidering, he endured, as he would often say, such 
 spiritual conflicts, as none can think, but only those that 
 have endured them. 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 307 
 
 In the midst of these conflicts, his old and dear 
 friend, Mr. Arthur Woodnot, took a journey to 
 salute him at Bainton, — where he then was with 
 his wife's friends and relations — and was joyful to 
 be an eye-witness of his health and happy marriage. 
 And after they had rejoiced together some few 
 days, they took a journey to Wilton, the famous 
 seat of the Earls of Pembroke • at which time the 
 King, the Earl, and the whole Court were there, or 
 at Salisbury, which is near to it. And at this time 
 Mr. Herbert presented his thanks to the Earl, for 
 his presentation to Bemerton, but had not yet re- 
 solved to accept it, and told him the reason why : 
 but that night, the Earl acquainted Dr. Laud, then 
 Bishop of London, and after Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, with his kinsman's irresolution. And the 
 Bishop did the next day so convince Mr. Herbert, 
 that the refusal of it was a sin, that a tailor was sent 
 for to come speedily from Salisbury to Wilton, to 
 take measure, and make him canonical clothes 
 against next day ; which the tailor did : and Mr. 
 Herbert being so habited, went with his presenta- 
 tion to the learned Dr. Davenant, who was then 
 Bishop of Salisbury, and he gave him institution 
 immediately, — for Mr. Herbert had been made 
 Deacon some years before, — and he was also the 
 same day — which was April 26th 1630, — inducted 
 into the good, and more pleasant than healthful, 
 Parsonage of Bemerton ; which is a mile from 
 Salisbury, 
 
308 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 I have now brought him to the Parsonage of Be- 
 merton, and to the thirty-sixth year of his age, and 
 
 must stop here, and bespeak the Reader to prepare for 
 an almost incredible story, of the great sanctity of the 
 short remainder of his holy life ; a life so full of charity, 
 humility, and all Christian virtues, that it deserves the 
 eloquence of St. Chrysostom to commend and declare 
 it : a life, that if it were related by a pen like his, there 
 would then be no need for this age to look back into 
 times past for the examples of primitive piety ; for they 
 might be all found in the life of George Herbert. 
 But now, alas ! who is Jit to undertake it P I confess 
 I am not ; and am not pleased with myself that I must -, 
 and profess myself amazed, when I consider how few of 
 the Clergy lived like him then, and how many, live so 
 unlike him now. But it becomes not me to censure : 
 my design is rather to assure the Reader, that I have 
 used very great diligence to inform myself, that I might 
 inform him of the truth of what follows $ and though 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 309 
 
 I cannot adorn it with eloquence, yet I will do it with 
 sincerity. 
 
 When at his induction he was shut into Bemerton 
 Church, being left there alone to toll the bell, — as 
 the Law requires him, — he staid so much longer 
 than an ordinary time, before he returned to those 
 friends that staid expecting him at the Church-door, 
 that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in at the Church- 
 window, and saw him lie prostrate on the ground 
 before the Altar j at which time and place — as he 
 after told Mr. Woodnot — he set some rules to him- 
 self, for the future manage of his life ; and then and 
 there made a vow to labour to keep them. 
 
 And the same night that he had his induction, he 
 said to Mr. Woodnot, I now look back upon my as- 
 piring thoughts, and think myself more happy than if I 
 had attained what then I so ambitiously thirsted for. 
 And I can now behold the Court with an impartial eye, 
 and see plainly that it is made up of fraud, and titles, 
 and flattery, and many other such empty, imaginary, 
 painted pleasures ,• pleasures, that are so empty, as not 
 to satisfy when they are enjoyed. But in God, and his 
 service, is a fulness of all joy and pleasure, and no 
 satiety. And I will now use all my endeavours to 
 bring my relations and dependents to a love and reliance 
 on Him, who never fails those that trust him. But 
 above all, I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous 
 life of a Clergyman, is the most powerful eloquence to 
 persuade all that see it to reverence and love, and at 
 least to desire to live like him. And this I will do, 
 
310 THE LIFE OF 
 
 because I know we live in an age that hath more need 
 of good examples than precepts. And I beseech that 
 God, who hath honoured me so much as to call me to 
 serve him at his altar, that as by his special grace he 
 hath put into my heart these good desires and resolu- 
 tions j so he will, by his assisting grace, give me ghostly 
 strength to bring the same to good effect. And I be- 
 seech him, that my humble and charitable life may so win 
 upon others, as to bring glory to my Jesus, whom I 
 have this day taken to be my Master and Governor ; 
 and I am so proud of his service, that I will always 
 observe, and obey, and do his will; and always call 
 him, Jesus my Master ; and I will always contemn 
 my birth, or any title or dignity that can be conferred 
 upon me, when I shall compare them with my title of 
 being a Priest, and serving at the Altar of Jesus my 
 Master. 
 
 And that he did so, may appear in many parts of 
 his book of Sacred Poems ; especially in that which 
 he calls The Odour. In which he seems to rejoice 
 in the thoughts of that word Jesus, and say, that 
 the adding these words, my Master, to it, and the 
 often repetition of them, seemed to perfume his 
 mind, and leave an oriental fragrancy in his very 
 breath. And for his unforced choice to serve at 
 God's altar, he seems in another place of his poems, 
 The Pearl, (Matth. xiii. 45, 46,) to rejoice and say — 
 He knew the ways of learning ; knew what nature does 
 willingly, and what, when it is forced by fire; knew the 
 ways of honour, and when glory inclines the soul ta 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 311 
 
 noble expressions : knew the Court ,• knew the ways of 
 pleasure, of love, of wit, of music, and upon what terms 
 he declined all these for the service of his Master Jesus ; 
 and then concludes, saying, 
 
 That, through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit, 
 But thy silk twist, let down from Heaven to me, 
 Did both conduct, and teach me, how by it 
 
 To climb to thee. 
 
 The third day after he was made Rector of Be- 
 merton, and had changed his sword and silk clothes 
 into a canonical coat, he returned so habited with 
 his friend Mr. Woodnot to Bainton ; and immediately 
 after he had seen and saluted his wife, he said to 
 her — You are now a Minister s wife, and must now so 
 far forget your father s house, as not to claim a prece- 
 dence of any of your parishioners -, for you are to know, 
 that a Priest' s wife can challenge no precedence or place, 
 but that ivhich she purchases by her obliging humility ,• 
 and I am sure, places so purchased do best become 
 them. And let me tell you, that I" am so good a He- 
 rald, as to assure you that this is truth. And she was 
 so meek a wife, as to assure him, it was no vexing 
 news to her, and that he should see her observe it with 
 a cheerful willingness. And, indeed, her unforced 
 humility, that humility that was in her so original, 
 as to be born with her, made her so happy as to 
 do so ) and her doing so begot her an unfeigned 
 
312 THE LIFE OF 
 
 love, and a serviceable respect from all that con- 
 versed with her ; and this love followed her in all 
 places, as inseparably as shadows follow substances 
 in sunshine. 
 
 It was not many days before he returned back to 
 Bemerton, to view the Church, and repair the 
 Chancel j and indeed to rebuild almost three parts 
 of his house, which was fallen down, or decayed by 
 reason of his predecessor's living at a better Parson- 
 age-house , namely, at Minal, sixteen or twenty 
 miles from this place. At which time of Mr. Her- 
 bert's coming alone to Bemerton, there came to him 
 a poor old woman, with an intent to acquaint him 
 with her necessitous condition, as also with some 
 troubles of her mind : but after she had spoke some 
 few words to him, she was surprised with a fear, 
 and that begot a shortness of breath, so that her 
 spirits and speech failed her ; which he perceiving, 
 did so compassionate her, and was so humble, that 
 he took her by the hand, and said, Speak, good 
 mother ,• be not afraid to speak to me ; for I am a man 
 that will hear you with patience ; and will relieve your 
 necessities too, if I be able : and this I will do willingly; 
 and therefore, mother, be not afraid to acquaint me 
 with what you desire. After which comfortable 
 speech, he again took her by the hand, made her sit 
 down by him, and understanding she was of his 
 parish, he told her, He would be acquainted with her, 
 and take her into his care. And having with patience 
 
MR. GEORTGE HERBERT. 313 
 
 heard and understood her wants, — and it is some 
 relief for a poor body to be but heard with patience, 
 — he, like a Christian Clergyman, comforted her by 
 his meek behaviour and counsel ; but because that 
 cost him nothing, he relieved her with money too, 
 and so sent her home with a cheerful heart, praising 
 God, and praying for him. Thus worthy, and — like 
 David's blessed man — thus lowly, was Mr. George 
 Herbert in his own eyes, and thus lovely in the eyes of 
 others. 
 
 At his return that night to his wife at Sainton, he 
 gave her an account of the passages betwixt him 
 and the poor woman ; with which she was so af- 
 fected, that she went next day to Salisbury, and 
 there bought a pair of blankets, and sent them as a 
 token of her love to the poor woman : and with 
 them a message, That she would see and be acquainted 
 with her, when her house was built at Bemerton. 
 
 There be many such passages both of him and 
 his wife, of which some few will be related : but I 
 shall first tell, that he hasted to get the Parish- 
 Church repaired ; then to beautify the Chapel, — 
 which stands near his house, — and that at his own 
 great charge. He then proceeded to rebuild the 
 greatest part of the Parsonage -house, which he did 
 also very completely, and at his own charge -, and 
 having done this good work, he caused these verses 
 to be writ upon, or engraven in, the mantle of the 
 chimney in his hall. 
 
 t t 
 
314 THE LIFE OF 
 
 TO MY SUCCESSOR. 
 
 If thou chance for to find 
 
 A new house to thy mind, 
 And built without thy cost ; 
 
 Be good to the poor, 
 
 As God gives thee store, 
 And then my labour s not lost. 
 
 We will now, by the Reader's favour, suppose 
 him fixed at Bemerton, and grant him to have seen 
 the Church repaired, and the Chapel belonging to 
 it very decently adorned at his own great charge, 
 — which is a real truth -, — and having now fixed him 
 there, I shall proceed to give an account of the rest 
 of his behaviour, both to his parishioners, and those 
 many others that knew and conversed with him. 
 
 Doubtless Mr. Herbert had considered, and given 
 rules to himself for his Christian carriage both to 
 God and man, before he entered into holy Orders. 
 And 'tis not unlike, but that he renewed those re- 
 solutions at his prostration before the holy altar, at 
 his induction into the Church of Bemerton : but as 
 yet he was but a Deacon, and therefore longed for 
 the next Ember-week, that he might be ordained 
 Priest, and made capable of administering both the 
 Sacraments. At which time the reverend Dr. Hum- 
 phrey Henchman, now Lord Bishop of London, — 
 who does not mention him but with some veneration 
 for his life and excellent learnings — tells me, He laid 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 315 
 
 his hand on Mr. Herbert's head, and, Alas ! within 
 less than three years, lent his shoulder to carry his dear 
 friend to his grave. 
 
 And that Mr. Herbert might the better preserve 
 those holy rules which such a Priest as he intended 
 to be, ought to observe ; and that time might not 
 insensibly blot them out of his memory, but that the 
 next year might shew him his variations from this 
 year's resolutions ; he therefore did set down his 
 rules, then resolved upon, in that order as the 
 world now sees them printed in a little book, called, 
 The Country Parson; in which some of his rules 
 are : 
 
 The Parsons knowledge. The Parson condescend- 
 The Parson on Sundays. ing. 
 
 The Parson praying. The Parson in his journey. 
 
 The Parson preaching. The Parson in his mirth. 
 
 The Parsons charity. The Parson with his 
 The Parson comforting the Churchwardens, 
 
 sick. The Parson blessing the 
 
 The Parson arguing. people. 
 
 And his behaviour toward God and man may be said 
 to be a practical comment on these, and the other 
 holy rules set down in that useful book : a book so 
 full of plain, prudent, and useful rules, that that 
 Country Parson, that can spare twelve-pence, and yet 
 wants it, is scarce excusable ; because it will both 
 direct him what he ought to do, and convince him 
 for not having done it. 
 
316 THE LIFE OF 
 
 At the death of Mr. Herbert, this book fell into 
 the hands of his friend Mr. Woodnot ; and he com- 
 mended it into the trusty hands of Mr. Barnabas 
 Oley, who published it with a most conscientious 
 and excellent preface $ from which I have had some 
 of those truths, that are related in this Life of Mr. 
 Herbert. The text of his first Sermon was taken 
 out of Solomon's Proverbs, chap. iv. 23, and the 
 words were, Keep thy heart with all diligence. In 
 which first Sermon he gave his Parishioners many 
 necessary, holy, safe rules for the discharge of a 
 good conscience, both to God and man ; and de- 
 livered his Sermon after a most florid manner, both 
 with great learning and eloquence : but, at the close 
 of this Sermon, told them, That should not be his con- 
 stant way of preaching ; for since Almighty God does 
 not intend to lead men to Heaven by hard questions, he 
 would not therefore fill their heads with unnecessary 
 notions ; but that, for their sokes, his language and his 
 expressions should be more plain and practical in his 
 future sermons. And he then made it his humble 
 request, That they would be constant to the Afternoons 
 Service, and Catechising : and shewed them convinc- 
 ing reasons why he desired it j and his obliging 
 example and persuasions brought them to a willing 
 conformity to his desires. 
 
 The texts for all his future sermons — which, 
 God knows, were not many — were constantly taken 
 out of the Gospel for the day 3 and he did as con- 
 stantly declare why the Church did appoint that 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 317 
 
 portion of Scripture to be that day read ; and in 
 what manner the Collect for every Sunday does 
 refer to the Gospel, or to the Epistle then read to 
 them j and, that they might pray with understand- 
 ing, he did usually take occasion to explain, not 
 only the Collect for every particular Sunday, but the 
 reasons of all the other Collects and Responses in our 
 Church-service j and made it appear to them, that 
 the whole service of the Church was a reasonable, and 
 therefore an acceptable sacrifice to God ; as namely, 
 that we begin with Confession of ourselves to be vile, 
 miserable sinners ; and that we begin so, because, till 
 we have confessed ourselves to be such, we are not 
 capable of that mercy which we acknowledge we 
 need, and pray for : but having, in the prayer of 
 our Lord, begged pardon for those sins which we 
 have confessed 3 and hoping, that as the Priest hath 
 declared our Absolution, so by our public confession, 
 and real repentance, we have obtained that pardon ; 
 then we dare and do proceed to beg of the Lord, to 
 open our lips, that our mouth may shew forth his praise ; 
 for till then we are neither able nor worthy to 
 praise him. But this being supposed, we are then 
 fit to say, Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and 
 to the Holy Ghost ; and fit to proceed to a further 
 service of our God, in the Collects, and Psalms, and 
 Lauds, to follow in the service. 
 
 And as to these Psalms and Lauds, he proceeded 
 to inform them why they were so often, and some 
 of them daily, repeated in our Church-service; 
 
318 THE LIFE OF 
 
 namely, the Psalms every month, because they be 
 an historical and thankful repetition of mercies past, 
 and such a composition of prayers and praises, as 
 ought to be repeated often, and publicly ; for with 
 such sacrifices God is honoured and well pleased. This 
 for the Psalms. 
 
 And for the Hymns and Lauds appointed to be 
 daily repeated or sung after the first and second 
 Lessons are read to the congregation ; he pro- 
 ceeded to inform them, that it was most reason- 
 able, after they have heard the will and goodness of 
 God declared or preached by the Priest in his reading 
 the two chapters, that it was then a seasonable duty 
 to rise up, and express their gratitude to Almighty 
 God, for those his mercies to them, and to all man- 
 kind 5 and then to say with the Blessed Virgin, that 
 their souls do magnify the Lord, and that their spirits do 
 also rejoice in God their Saviour: and that it was their 
 duty also to rejoice with Simeon in his song, and 
 say with him, That their eyes have also seen their salva- 
 vation; for they have seen that salvation which was 
 but prophesied till his time : and he then broke out 
 into those expressions of joy that he did see it} 
 but they live to see it daily in the history of it, and 
 therefore ought daily to rejoice, and daily to offer 
 up their sacrifices of praise to their God, for that 
 particular mercy. A service, which is now the con- 
 stant employment of that Blessed Virgin, and Simeon, 
 and all those blessed Saints that are possessed of 
 Heaven : and where they are at this time inter- 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 319 
 
 changeably and constantly singing, Holy, holy, 
 Lord God; glory be to God on high, and on earth 
 peace. And he taught them, that to do this was an 
 acceptable service to God, because the Prophet 
 David says in his Psalms, He that praiseth the Lord 
 honoureth him. 
 
 He made them to understand how happy they 
 be that are freed from the incumbrances of that 
 law which our forefathers groaned under j namely, 
 from the legal sacrifices, and from the many ceremo- 
 nies of the Levitical law ; freed from Circumcision, and 
 from the strict observation of the Jewish Sabbath, 
 and the like. And he made them know, that hav- 
 ing received so many and so great blessings, by 
 being born since the days of our Saviour, it must 
 be an acceptable sacrifice to Almighty God, for 
 them to acknowledge those blessings daily, and 
 stand up and worship, and say as Zacharias did, 
 Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath — in our 
 days— visited and redeemed his people ; and — he hath 
 in our days — remembered, and shewed that mercy, 
 which by the mouth of the Prophets, he promised to our 
 forefathers', and this he hath done according to his 
 holy covenant made with them. And he made them 
 to understand that we live to see and enjoy the 
 benefit of it, in his Birth, in his Life, his Passion, 
 his Resurrection, and Ascension into Heaven where, 
 he now sits sensible of all our temptations and 
 infirmities j and where he is at this present time 
 making intercession for us, to his and our Father ; 
 
320 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and therefore they ought daily to express their 
 public gratulations, and say daily with Zacharias, 
 Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, that hath thus visi- 
 ted and thus redeemed his people. — These were some 
 of the reasons, by which Mr. Herbert instructed his 
 congregation for the use of the Psalms and the 
 Hymns appointed to be daily sung or said in the 
 Church-service. 
 
 He informed them also, when the Priest did pray 
 only for the congregation, and not for himself 3 and 
 when they did only pray for him 3 as namely, after 
 the repetition of the Creed before he proceeds to 
 pray the Lord's Prayer, or any of the appointed 
 Collects, the Priest is directed to kneel down, and 
 pray for them, saying, The Lord be with you; and 
 when they pray for him, saying, And with thy spirit; 
 and then they join together in the following Col- 
 lects : and he assured them, that when there is 
 such mutual love, and such joint prayers offered for 
 each other, then the holy Angels look down from 
 Heaven, and are ready to carry such charitable 
 desires to God Almighty, and he as ready to receive 
 them 5 and that a Christian congregation calling 
 thus upon God with one heart, and one voice, and 
 in one reverent and humble posture, looks as beauti- 
 fully as Jerusalem, that is at peace with itself. 
 
 He instructed them also why the prayer of our 
 Lord was prayed often in every full service of the 
 Church j namely, at the conclusion of the several 
 parts of that service ; and prayed then, not only 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 321 
 
 because it was composed and commanded by our 
 Jesus that made it, but as a perfect pattern for our 
 less perfect forms of prayer, and therefore fittest to 
 sum up and conclude all our imperfect petitions. 
 
 He instructed them also, that as by the second 
 Commandment we are required not to bow down, 
 or worship an idol, or false God; so, by the con- 
 trary rule, we are to bow down and kneel, or stand 
 up and worship the true God. And he instructed 
 them why the Church required the congregation to 
 stand up at the repetition of the Creeds ; namely, 
 because they did thereby declare both their obedi- 
 ence to the Church, and an assent to that faith into 
 which they had been baptized. And he taught 
 them, that in that shorter Creed, or Doxology, so 
 often repeated daily, they also stood up to testify 
 their belief to be, that the God that they trusted in 
 was one God, and three persons ; the Father, the Son, 
 and the Holy Ghost ) to whom they and the Priest gave 
 glory. And because there had been heretics that 
 had denied some of those three persons to be God, 
 therefore the congregation stood up and honoured 
 him, by confessing and saying, It was so in the begin' 
 ning, is now so, and shall ever be so world without end. 
 And all gave their assent to this belief, by standing 
 up and saying, Amen. 
 
 He instructed them also what benefit they had 
 by the Church's appointing the celebration of holi- 
 days and the excellent use of them ; namely, that 
 they were set apart for particular commemorations 
 u u 
 
322 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of particular mercies received from Almighty God ; 
 and — as the reverend Mr. Hooker says — to be the 
 landmarks to distinguish times 5 for by them we are 
 taught to take notice how time passes by us, and 
 that we ought not to let the years pass without a 
 celebration of praise for those mercies which those 
 days give us occasion to remember 5 and therefore 
 they were to note that the year is appointed to 
 begin the 25th day of March ; a day in which we 
 commemorate the Angel's appearing to the Blessed 
 Virgin, with the joyful tidings that she should conceive 
 arid bear a son, that should be the Redeemer of man- 
 kind. And she did so forty weeks after this joyful 
 salutation j namely, at our Christmas; a day in which 
 we commemorate his Birth with joy and praise: 
 and that eight days after this happy birth we cele- 
 brate his Circumcision; namely, in that which we 
 call New-year s day. And that, upon that day which 
 we call Twelfth-day, we commemorate the manifes- 
 tation of the unsearchable riches of Jesus to the 
 Gentiles : and that that day we also celebrate the 
 memory of his goodness in sending a star to guide 
 the three Wise Men from the East to Bethlehem, that 
 they might there worship, and present him with 
 their oblations of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 
 And he — Mr. Herbert — instructed them, that Jesus 
 was forty days after his birth presented by his 
 blessed mother in the Temple j namely, on that 
 day which we call, The Purification of the Blessed 
 Virgin, Saint Mary. And he instructed them, that 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 323 
 
 by the Lent-fast we imitate and commemorate our 
 Saviour's humiliation in fasting forty days 3 and that 
 we ought to endeavour to be like him in purity: 
 and that on Good Friday we commemorate and con- 
 dole his Crucifixion', and at Easter commemorate his 
 glorious Resurrection. And he taught them, that 
 after Jesus had manifested himself to his Disciples 
 to be that Christ that was crucified, dead and buried', 
 and by his appearing and conversing with his Disci- 
 ples for the space of forty days after his Resurrec- 
 tion, he then, and not till then, ascended into Heaven 
 in the sight of those Disciples - } namely, on that 
 day which we call the Ascension, or Holy Thursday. 
 And that we then celebrate the performance of the 
 promise which he made to his Disciples at or before 
 his Ascension 5 namely, that though he left them, yet 
 he would send them the Holy Ghost to be their Com- 
 forter; and that he did so on that day which the 
 Church calls Whitsunday. — Thus the Church keeps 
 an historical and circular commemoration of times, 
 as they pass by us ; of such times as ought to incline 
 us to occasional praises, for the particular bles- 
 sings which we do, or might receive, by those holy 
 commemorations. 
 
 He made them know also why the Church hath 
 appointed Ember-weeks-, and to know the reason 
 why the Commandments, and the Epistles and Gos- 
 pels, were to be read at the Altar, or Communion 
 Table; why the Priest was to pray the Litany kneel- 
 ing j and why to pray some Collects standing : and 
 
324 THE LIFE OF 
 
 he gave them many other observations, fit for his 
 plain congregation, but not fit for me now to men- 
 tion 5 for I must set limits to my pen, and not make 
 that a treatise, which I intended to be a much 
 shorter account than I have made it : but I have 
 done, when I have told the Reader, that he was 
 constant in catechising every Sunday in the afternoon, 
 and that his catechising was after his Second Les- 
 son, and in the pulpit 5 and that he never exceeded 
 his half hour, and was always so happy as to have 
 an obedient and a full congregation. 
 
 And to this I must add, that if he were at any 
 time too zealous in his Sermons, it was in reproving 
 the indecencies of the people's behaviour in the time 
 of divine service j and of those Ministers that huddle 
 up the Church-prayers, without a visible reverence 
 and affection 5 namely, such as seemed to say the 
 Lord's prayer , or a Collect, in a breath. But for him- 
 self, his custom was, to stop betwixt every Collect, 
 and give the people time to consider what they had 
 prayed, and to force their desires affectionately to 
 God, before he engaged them into new petitions. 
 
 And by this account of his diligence to make his 
 parishioners understand what they prayed, and why 
 they praised and adored their Creator, I hope I shall 
 the more easily obtain the Reader's belief to the 
 following account of Mr. Herbert's own practice ; 
 which was to appear constantly with his wife and 
 three nieces — the daughters of a deceased sister — 
 and his whole family, twice every day at the Church- 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 325 
 
 prayers, in the Chapel, which does almost join to 
 his Parsonage -house. And for the time of his ap- 
 pearing, it was strictly at the canonical hours of 
 ten and four : and then and there he lifted up pure 
 and charitable hands to God in the midst of the 
 congregation. And he would joy to have spent that 
 time in that place, where the honour of his Master 
 Jesus dwelleth ; and there, by that inward devotion 
 which he testified constantly by an humble behaviour 
 and visible adoration, he, like Joshua, brought not only 
 his own household thus to serve the Lord ,• but brought 
 most of his parishioners, and many gentlemen in the 
 neighbourhood, constantly to make a part of his 
 congregation twice a day ; and some of the meaner 
 sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. 
 Herbert, that they would let their plough rest when 
 Mr. Herbert's Sainfs-bell rung to prayers, that they 
 might also offer their devotions to God with him $ 
 and would then return back to their plough. And 
 his most holy life was such, that it begot such re- 
 verence to God, and to him, that they thought 
 themselves the happier, when they carried Mr. 
 Herbert's blessing back with them to their labour. 
 Thus powerful was his reason and example to per- 
 suade others to a practical piety and devotion. 
 
 And his constant public prayers did never make 
 him to neglect his own private devotions, nor those 
 prayers that he thought himself bound to perform 
 with his family, which always were a set form, and 
 not long j and he did always conclude them with 
 that Collect which the Church hath appointed for 
 
326 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the day or week. — Thus he made every days sanctity 
 a step towards that kingdom, where impurity cannot 
 enter. 
 
 His chiefest recreation was Music, in which 
 heavenly art he was a most excellent master, and 
 did himself compose many divine Hymns and An- 
 thems, which he set and sung to his lute or viol : and 
 though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his love to 
 Music was such, that he went usually twice every 
 week, on certain appointed days, to the Cathedral 
 Church in Salisbury ; and at his return would say, 
 That his time spent in prayer, and Cathedral-music, 
 elevated his soul, and was his Heaven upon earth. But 
 before his return thence to Bemerton, he would 
 usually sing and play his part at an appointed private 
 Music-meeting j and, to justify this practice, he 
 would often say, Religion does not banish mirth, but 
 only moderates and sets rules to it 
 
 And as his desire to enjoy his Heaven upon earth 
 drew him twice every week to Salisbury, so his 
 walks thither were the occasion of many happy 
 accidents to others 3 of which I will mention some 
 few. 
 
 In one of his walks to Salisbury, he overtook a 
 gentleman, that is still living in that City ; and in 
 their walk together, Mr. Herbert took a fair occasion 
 to talk with him, and humbly begged to be excused, 
 if he asked him some account of his faith ; and 
 said, I do this the rather, because though you are not of 
 my parish, yet I receive ty the from you by the hand of 
 your tenant ; and, Sir, I am the bolder to do it, because 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 327 
 
 I know there be some sermon-hearers that be like those 
 fishes, that always live in salt water, and yet are always 
 fresh. 
 
 After which expression, Mr. Herbert asked him 
 some needful questions, and having received his 
 answer, gave him such rules for the trial of his sin- 
 cerity, and for a practical piety, and in so loving and 
 meek a manner, that the gentleman did so fall in 
 love with him, and his discourse, that he would 
 often contrive to meet him in his walk to Salisbury, 
 or to attend him back to Bemerton ; and still men- 
 tions the name of Mr. George Herbert with venera- 
 tion, and still praiseth God for the occasion of 
 knowing him. 
 
 In another of his Salisbury walks, he met with a 
 neighbour Minister 5 and after some friendly dis- 
 course betwixt them, and some condolement for the 
 decay of piety, and too general contempt of the 
 Clergy, Mr. Herbert took occasion to say, 
 
 One cure for these distempers would be, for the Clergy 
 themselves to keep the Ember-weeks strictly, and beg 
 of their parishioners to join with them in fasting and 
 prayers for a more religious Clergy. 
 
 And another cure would be, for themselves to re- 
 store the great and neglected duty of Catechising, on 
 which the salvation of so many of the poor and igno- 
 rant lay -people does depend ; but principally, that the 
 Clergy themselves would be sure to live unblameably ; and 
 that the dignified Clergy especially, which preach tem- 
 perance, would avoid surfeiting, and take all occasions 
 to express a visible humility and charity in their lives ; 
 
283 THE LIFE OF 
 
 for this would force a love and an imitation, and an 
 unfeigned reverence from all that knew them to be such. 
 (And for proof of this, we need no other testimony 
 than the life and death of Dr. Lake, late Lord Bishop 
 of Bath and Wells.) This, said Mr. Herbert, would 
 be a cure for the wickedness and growing Atheism of 
 our age. And, my dear brother, till this be done by 
 us, and done in earnest, let no man expect a reformation 
 of the manners of the Laity ; for 'tis not learning, but 
 this, this only that must do it ,• and, till then, the fault 
 must lie at our doors. 
 
 In another walk to Salisbury, he saw a poor man 
 with a poorer horse, that was fallen under his load : 
 they were both in distress, and needed present 
 help j which Mr. Herbert perceiving, put off his ca- 
 nonical coat, and helped the poor man to unload, 
 and after to load, his horse. The poor man blessed 
 him for it, and he blessed the poor man $ and was 
 so like the good Samaritan, that he gave him money 
 to refresh both himself and his horse; and told 
 him, That if he loved himself, he should be merciful to 
 his beast. Thus he left the poor man : and at his 
 coming to his musical friends at Salisbury, they be- 
 gan to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, which used 
 to be so trim and clean, came into that company so 
 soiled and discomposed : but he told them the oc- 
 casion. And when one of the company told him 
 He had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment, 
 his answer was, That he thought of what he had done 
 would prove music to him at midnight', and that the 
 omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in 
 
'.; Rolls, ScuLpT 
 
 TMM ©@®3E) lAliM^AI. 
 
 LONDON. 
 . * 1825. 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 329 
 
 his conscience, vjhensoever he should pass by that place : 
 for if I be bound to pray for all that be in distress, I am 
 sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power, to 
 practise what I pray for. And though I do not wish for 
 the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I would 
 not willingly pass one day of my life without comforting 
 a sad soul, or shewing mercy ; and I praise God for this 
 occasion. And now let's tune our instruments. 
 
 Thus, as our blessed Saviour, after his Resurrec- 
 tion, did take occasion to interpret the Scripture to 
 Cleophas, and that other Disciple, which he met 
 with and accompanied in their journey to Emmaus ; 
 so Mr. Herbert, in his path toward Heaven, did 
 daily take any fair occasion to instruct the ignorant, 
 or comfort any that were in affliction j and did 
 always confirm his precepts, by shewing humility 
 and mercy, and ministering grace to the hearers. 
 
 And he was most happy in his wife's unforced 
 compliance with his acts of charity, whom he made 
 his almoner, and paid constantly into her hand, a 
 tenth penny of what money he received for tythe, and 
 gave her power to dispose that to the poor of his 
 parish, and with it a power to dispose a tenth part 
 of the corn that came yearly into his barn : which 
 trust she did most faithfully perform, and would often 
 offer to him an account of her stewardship, and as often 
 beg an enlargement of his bounty ; for she rejoiced 
 in the employment : and this was usually laid out by 
 her in blankets and shoes for some such poor people 
 as she knew to stand in most need of them. This 
 as to her charity. — And for his own, he set no limits 
 x x 
 
330 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to it : nor did ever turn his face from any that he 
 saw in want, but would relieve them 3 especially his 
 poor neighbours ; to the meanest of whose houses 
 he would go, and inform himself of their wants, and 
 relieve them cheerfully, if they were in distress > 
 and would always praise God, as much for being 
 willing, as for being able to do it. And when he 
 was advised by a friend to be more frugal, because 
 he might have children, his answer was, He would 
 not see the danger of want so far off: but being the 
 Scripture does so commend Charity, as to tell us that 
 Charity is the top of Christian virtues, the covering of 
 sins, the fulfilling of the Law, the life of Faith ; and 
 that Charity hath a promise of the blessings of this life, 
 and of a reward in that life which is to come : being 
 these, and more excellent things are in Scripture spoken 
 of thee, O Charity ! and that, being all my tythes and 
 Church-dues are a deodate/rom thee, my God ! make 
 me, O my God ! so far to trust thy promise, as to return 
 them back to thee ; and by thy grace I will do so, in 
 distributing them to any of thy poor members that are in 
 distress, or do but bear the image of Jesus my Master. 
 Sir, said he to his friend, my wife hath a competent 
 maintenance secured her after my death ; and therefore, 
 as this is my prayer, so this my resolution shall, by God's 
 grace, be unalterable. 
 
 This may be some account of the excellencies of 
 the active part of his life $ and thus he continued, 
 till a consumption so weakened him, as to confine 
 him to his house, or to the Chapel, which does 
 almost join to it 3 in which he continued to read 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 331 
 
 prayers constantly twice every day, though he were 
 very weak : in one of which times of his reading, 
 his wife observed him to read in pain, and told 
 him so, and that it wasted his spirits, and weakened 
 him ; and he confessed it did, but said, his life could 
 not be better spent, than in the service of his Master 
 Jesus, who had done and suffered so much for him. 
 But, said he, I will not be wilful ; for though my spirit 
 be willing, yet I find my flesh is weak ; and therefore 
 Mr. Bostock shall be appointed to read prayers for me 
 to-morrow ; and I will now be only a hearer of them, 
 till this mortal shall put on immortality. And Mr. 
 Bostock did the next day undertake and continue 
 this happy employment, till Mr. Herbert's death. 
 This Mr. Bostock was a learned and virtuous man, 
 an old friend of Mr. Herbert's, and then his Curate 
 to the Church of Fulston, which is a mile from 
 
 Bemerton, to which Church Bemerton is but a Chapel 
 of Ease. And this Mr. Bostock did also constantly 
 
332 THE LIFE OF 
 
 supply the Church-service for Mr. Herbert in that 
 Chapel, when the Music -meeting at Salisbury caused 
 his absence from it. 
 
 About one month before his death, his friend Mr. 
 Farrer, — for an account of whom I am by promise 
 indebted to the Reader, and intend to make him 
 sudden payment, — hearing of Mr. Herbert's sickness, 
 sent Mr. Edmund Duncon — who is now Rector of 
 Friar Barnet in the County of Middlesex — from his 
 house of Gidden Hall, which is near to Huntingdon, 
 to see Mr. Herbert, and to assure him, he wanted 
 not his daily prayers for his recovery ; and Mr. 
 Duncon was to return back to Gidden, with an ac- 
 count of Mr. Herbert's condition. Mr. Duncon found 
 him weak, and at that time lying on his bed, or on 
 a pallet ; but at his seeing Mr. Duncon he raised 
 himself vigorously, saluted him, and with some 
 earnestness enquired the health of his brother Farrer ; 
 of which Mr. Duncon satisfied him, and after some 
 discourse of Mr. Farrer s holy life, and the manner 
 of his constant serving God, he said to Mr. Duncon, 
 — Sir, I see by your habit that you are a Priest, and I 
 desire you to pray with me: which being granted, 
 Mr. Duncon asked him, What prayers ? To which 
 Mr. Herbert's answer was, 0, Sir ! the prayers of my 
 Mother, the Church of England : no other prayers are 
 equal to them ! But at this time, I beg of you to pray 
 only the Litany, for I am weak and faint: and Mr. 
 Duncon did so. After which, and some other dis- 
 course of Mr. Farrer, Mrs. Herbert provided Mr. 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 333 
 
 Duncon a plain supper, and a clean lodging, and he 
 betook himself to rest. This Mr. Duncon tells me, 
 and tells me, that, at his first view of Mr. Herbert, 
 he saw majesty and humility so reconciled in his 
 looks and behaviour, as begot in him an awful re- 
 verence for his person ; and say, his discourse was 
 so pious, and his motion so genteel and meek, that after 
 almost forty years, yet they remain still fresh in his 
 memory. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Duncon left him, and be- 
 took himself to a journey to Bath, but with a promise 
 to return back to him within five days ; and he did 
 so : but before I shall say any thing of what discourse 
 then fell betwixt them too, I will pay my promised 
 account of Mr. Farrer. 
 
 Mr. Nicholas Farrer — who got the reputation of 
 being called Saint Nicholas at the age of six years- 
 was born in London, and doubtless had good educa- 
 tion in his youth ; but certainly was, at an early 
 age, made Fellow of Clare-Hall in Cambridge ; where 
 he continued to be eminent for his piety, temperance, 
 and learning. About the twenty-sixth year of his 
 age, he betook himself to travel : in which he added, 
 to his Latin and Greek, a perfect knowledge of all 
 the languages spoken in the Western parts of our 
 Christian world j and understood well the principles 
 of their Religion, and of their manner, and the 
 reasons of their worship. In this his travel he met 
 with many persuasions to come into a communion 
 with that Church which calls itself Catholic ; but he 
 
334 THE LIFE OF 
 
 returned from his travels as he went, eminent for 
 his obedience to his mother, the Church of England. 
 In his absence from England, Mr. Farrer' s father — 
 who was a merchant — allowed him a liberal main- 
 tenance 5 and, not long after his return into England, 
 Mr. Farrer had, by the death of his father, or an 
 elder brother, or both, an estate left him, that en- 
 abled him to purchase land to the value of four or 
 five hundred pounds a year ; . the greatest part of 
 which land was at Little Gidden, four or six miles 
 from Huntingdon, and about eighteen from Cam- 
 bridge; which place he chose for the privacy of it, 
 and for the Hall, which had the Parish-Church or 
 Chapel, belonging and adjoining near to it ; for Mr. 
 Farrer having seen the manners and vanities of the 
 world, and found them to be, as Mr. Herbert says, a 
 nothing between two dishes, did so contemn it, that he 
 resolved to spend the remainder of his life in morti- 
 fications, and in devotion, and charity, and to be 
 always prepared for death. And his life was spent 
 thus : 
 
 He and his family, which were like a little Col- 
 lege, and about thirty in number, did most of them 
 keep Lent and all Ember-weeks strictly, both in 
 fasting and using all those mortifications and prayers 
 that the Church hath appointed to be then used 5 
 and he and they did the like constantly on Fridays, 
 and on the Vigils or Eves appointed to be fasted 
 before the Saints' days : and this frugality and ab- 
 stinence turned to the relief of the poor : but this 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 335 
 
 was but a part of his charity ; none but God and 
 he knew the rest. 
 
 This family, which I have said to be in number 
 about thirty, were a part of them his kindred, and 
 the rest chosen to be of a temper fit to be moulded 
 into a devout life ; and all of them were for their 
 dispositions serviceable, and quiet, and humble, and 
 free from scandal. Having thus fitted himself for 
 his family, he did, about the year 1630, betake him- 
 self to a constant and methodical service of God ; 
 and it was in this manner ; — He, being accompanied 
 with most of his family, did himself use to read the 
 common prayers — for he was a Deacon — every day, 
 at the appointed hours of ten and four, in the Parish- 
 Church, which was very near his house, and which 
 he had both repaired and adorned ; for it was fallen 
 into a great ruin, by reason of a depopulation of 
 the village before Mr. Farrer bought the manor. 
 And he did also constantly read the Matins every 
 morning at the hour of six, either in the Church, 
 or in an Oratory, which was within his own house. 
 And many of the family did there continue with 
 him after the prayers were ended, and there they 
 spent some hours in singing Hymns, or Anthems, 
 sometimes in the Church, and often to an organ in 
 the Oratory. And there they sometimes betook 
 themselves to meditate, or to pray privately, or to 
 read a part of the New Testament to themselves, 
 or to continue their praying or reading the Psalms 5 
 and in case the Psalms were not always read in the 
 
336 THE LIFE OF 
 
 day, then Mr Farrer, and others of the congrega- 
 tion, did at night, at the ringing of a watch-bell, 
 repair to the Church or Oratory, and there betake 
 themselves to prayers and lauding God, and reading 
 the Psalms that had not been read in the day : and 
 when these, or any part of the congregation, grew 
 weary or faint, the watch -bell was rung, sometimes 
 before, and sometimes after midnight ; and then 
 another part of the family rose, and maintained the 
 watch, sometimes by praying, or singing lauds to 
 God, or reading the Psalms : and when, after some 
 hours, they also grew weary or faint, then they 
 rung the watch-bell and were also relieved by some 
 of the former, or by a new part of the society, 
 which continued their devotions— as hath been men- 
 tioned — until morning. And it is to be noted, that 
 in this continued serving of God, the Psalter, or 
 whole Book of Psalms, was in every four and 
 twenty hours sung or read over, from the first to 
 the last verse - } and this was done as constantly as 
 the sun runs his circle every day about the world, 
 and then begins again the same instant that it 
 ended. 
 
 Thus did Mr. Farrer and his happy family serve 
 God day and night : thus did they always behave 
 themselves as in his presence. And they did 
 always eat and drink by the strictest rules of tem- 
 perance 5 eat and drink so as to be ready to rise at 
 midnight, or at the call of a watch-bell, and per- 
 form their devotions to God. And it is fit to tell 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 337 
 
 the Reader, that many of the Clergy, that were 
 more inclined to practical piety and devotion, than to 
 doubtful and needless disputations, did often come 
 to Gidden Hall, and make themselves a part of that 
 happy society, and stay a week or more, and then 
 join with Mr. Farrer and the family in these devo- 
 tions, and assist and ease him or them in their 
 watch by night. And these various devotions had 
 never less than two of the domestic family in the 
 night; and the watch was always kept in the 
 Church, or Oratory, unless in extreme cold winter 
 nights, and then it was maintained in a parlour, 
 which had a fire in it -, and the parlour was fitted 
 for that purpose. And this course of piety, and 
 great liberality to his poor neighbours, Mr. Farrer 
 maintained till his death, which was in the year 
 1639. 
 
 Mr. Farrer s and Mr. Herbert's devout lives were 
 both so noted, that the general report of their 
 sanctity gave them occasion to renew that slight 
 acquaintance which was begun at their being 
 contemporaries in Cambridge- and this new holy 
 friendship was long maintained without any inter- 
 view, but only by loving and endearing letters. And 
 one testimony of their friendship and pious designs, 
 may appear by Mr. Farrer s commending the Con- 
 siderations of John Valdesso — a book which he had 
 met with in his travels, and translated out of Spanish 
 into English, — to be examined and censured by Mr. 
 Herbert before it was made public 5 which excellent 
 vy 
 
338 THE LIFE OF 
 
 book Mr. Herbert did read, and return back with 
 many marginal notes, as they be now printed with 
 it ; and with them, Mr. Herbert's affectionate letter 
 to Mr. Farrer. 
 
 This John Valdesso was a Spaniard, and was for 
 his learning and virtue much valued and loved by 
 the great Emperor Charles the Fifth, whom Valdesso 
 had followed as a Cavalier all the time of his long 
 and dangerous wars : and when Valdesso grew old, 
 and grew weary both of war and the world, he took 
 his fair opportunity to declare to the Emperor, that 
 his resolution was to decline his Majesty's service, 
 and betake himself to a quiet and contemplative 
 life, because there ought to be a vacancy of time betwixt 
 fighting and dying. The Emperor had himself, for 
 the same, or other like reasons, put on the same 
 resolution : but God and himself did, till then, only 
 know them ; and he did therefore desire Valdesso to 
 consider well of what he had said, and to keep his 
 purpose within his own breast, till they two might 
 have a second opportunity of a friendly discourse ; 
 which Valdesso promised to do. 
 
 In the mean time the Emperor appoints privately 
 a day for him and Valdesso to meet again ; and, 
 after a pious and free discourse, they both agreed 
 on a certain day to receive the blessed Sacrament 
 publicly j and appointed an eloquent and devout 
 Friar to preach a Sermon of contempt of the world, 
 and of the happiness and benefit of a quiet and con- 
 templative life j which the Friar did most affec- 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 339 
 
 tionately. After which Sermon, the Emperor took 
 occasion to declare openly, That the Preacher had 
 begot in him a resolution to lay down his dignities, and 
 to forsake the world, and betake himself to a monastical 
 life. And he pretended, he had persuaded John 
 Valdesso to do the like : but this is most certain, 
 that after the Emperor had called his son Philip out 
 of England, and resigned to him all his kingdoms, 
 that then the Emperor and John Valdesso did per- 
 form their resolutions. 
 
 This account of John Valdesso I received from a 
 friend, that had it from the mouth of Mr. Farrer. 
 And the Reader may note, that in this retirement 
 John Valdesso writ his Hundred and Ten Considera- 
 tions, and many other treatises of worth, which 
 want a second Mr. Farrer to procure and translate 
 them. 
 
 After this account of Mr. Farrer and John Val- 
 desso, I proceed to my account of Mr. Herbert, and 
 Mr. Duncon, who, according to his promise, re- 
 turned from the Bath the fifth day, and then found 
 Mr. Herbert much weaker than he left him ; and 
 therefore their discourse could not be long : but at 
 Mr. Duncon s parting with him, Mr. Herbert spoke 
 to this purpose : Sir, I pray you give my brother 
 Farrer an account of the decaying condition of my body, 
 and tell him I beg him to continue his daily prayers for 
 me : and let him know that I have considered, that 
 God only is what he would be ; and that I am, by 
 
340 THE LIFE OF 
 
 his grace, become now so like him, as to be pleased with 
 what pleaseth him : and tell him, that I do not repine, 
 but am pleased with my want of health : and tell him, 
 my heart is fixed on that place where true joy is only to 
 be found ; and that I long to be there, and do wait for 
 my appointed change with hope and patience. Having 
 said this, he did, with so sweet a humility as seemed 
 to exalt him, bow down to Mr. Duncon, and with a 
 thoughtful and contented look, say to him, Sir, I 
 pray deliver this little book to my dear brother Farrer, 
 and tell him, he shall find in it a picture of the many 
 spiritual confiicts that have passed betwixt God and my 
 soul, before I could subject mine to the will of Jesus 
 my Master ; in whose service I have now found perfect 
 freedom. Desire him to read it ; and then, if he can 
 think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected poor 
 soul, let it be made public ; if not let him burn it ; for 
 I and it are less than the least of God's mercies. Thus 
 meanly did this humble man think of this excellent 
 book, which now bears the name of The Temple; 
 or, Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations -, of which 
 Mr. Farrer would say, There was in it the picture of 
 a divine soul in every page ; and that the whole booh 
 was such a harmony of holy passions, as would enrich 
 the world with pleasure and piety, And it appears to 
 have done so ; for there have been more than 
 twenty thousand of them sold since the first im- 
 pression. 
 
 And this ought to be noted, that when Mr* Farrer 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 341 
 
 sent this book to Cambridge to be licensed for the 
 press, the Vice-Chancellor would by no means allow 
 the two so much noted verses, 
 
 Religion stands a tiptoe in our land, 
 Ready to pass to the American strand, 
 
 to be printed -, and Mr. Farrer would by no means 
 allow the book to be printed and want them. But 
 after some time, and some arguments for and 
 against their being made public, the Vice- Chancellor 
 said, I knew Mr. Herbert well, and know that he had 
 many heavenly speculations, and was a divine poet : 
 but I hope the world will not take him to be an inspired 
 prophet, and therefore I licence the whole book. So 
 that it came to be printed without the diminution 
 or addition of a syllable, since it was delivered into 
 the hands of Mr. Duncoii, save only that Mr. Farrer 
 hath added that excellent Preface that is printed 
 before it. 
 
 At the time of Mr. Duncons leaving Mr. Herbert, 
 — which was about three weeks before his death, — 
 his old and dear friend Mr. Woodnot came from 
 London to Bemerton, and never left him till he had 
 seen him draw his last breath, and closed his eyes 
 on his death-bed. In this time of his decay, he was 
 often visited and prayed for by all the Clergy that 
 lived near to him, especially by his friends the 
 Bishop and Prebends of the Cathedral Church in 
 Salisbury ,• but by none more devoutly than his 
 
342 THE LIFE OF 
 
 wife, his three nieces, — then a part of his family,— 
 and Mr. Woodnot, who were the sad witnesses of 
 his daily decay 5 to whom he would often speak to 
 this purpose : I now look back upon the pleasures of 
 my life past, and see the content I have taken in beauty, 
 in wit, in music, and pleasant conversation, are now 
 all past by me like a dream, or as a shadow that returns 
 not, and are now all become dead to me, or I to them ; 
 and I see, that as my father and generation hath done 
 before me, so I also shall now suddenly (with Job) 
 make my bed also in the dark 5 and I praise God 
 I am prepared for it; and I praise him that I am not 
 to learn patience now I stand in such need of it ; and 
 that I have practised mortification, and endeavoured to 
 die daily, that I might not die eternally ; and my hope 
 is, that I shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and 
 be free from all fevers and pain ; and, which will be 
 a more happy condition, I shall be free from sin, and all 
 the temptations and anxieties that attend it: and this 
 being past, I shall dwell in the New Jerusalem j dwell 
 there with men made perfect ,- dwell where these eyes 
 shall see my Master and Saviour Jesus; and with 
 him see my dear Mother, and all my relations and friends. 
 But I must die, or not come to that happy place. And 
 this is my content, that I am going daily towards it : 
 and that every day which I have lived, hath taken 
 a part of my appointed time from me ,• and that I shall 
 live the less time, for having lived this and the day past. 
 These, and the like expressions, which he uttered 
 often, may be said to be his enjoyment of Heaven 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 343 
 
 before he enjoyed it. The Sunday before his death, 
 he rose suddenly from his bed or couch, called for 
 one of his instruments, took it into his hand and 
 said, 
 
 My God, my God, 
 
 My music shall find thee, 
 And every string 
 
 Shall have his attribute to sing. 
 
 And having 1 tuned it, he played and sung : 
 
 The Sundays of mans life, 
 Threaded together on times string, 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 Of the eternal glorious King : 
 On Sundays Heaven s door stands ope ; 
 Blessings are plentiful and rife, 
 
 More plentiful than hope. 
 
 Thus he sung on earth such Hymns and Anthems, 
 as the Angels, and he, and Mr. Farrer, now sing in 
 Heaven. 
 
 Thus he continued meditating, and praying, and 
 rejoicing, till the day of his death 5 and on that day 
 said to Mr. Woodnot, My dear friend,- 1 am sorry I 
 have nothing to present to my merciful God but sin and 
 misery ; but the first is pardoned, and a few hours will 
 now put a period to the latter ; for I shall suddenly go 
 hence, and be no more seen. Upon which expression 
 Mr. Woodnot took occasion to remember him of the 
 re-edifying Layton Church, and his many acts of 
 mercy. To which he made answer, saying, They 
 
344 THE LIFE OF 
 
 be good works, if they be sprinkled with the blood of 
 Christ, and not otherwise. After this discourse he 
 became more restless, and his soul seemed to be 
 weary of her earthly tabernacle ; and this uneasi- 
 ness became so visible, that his wife, his three 
 nieces, and Mr. Woodnot, stood constantly about his 
 bed, beholding him with sorrow, and an unwilling- 
 ness to lose the sight of him, whom they could not 
 hope to see much longer. As they stood thus be- 
 holding him, his wife observed him to breathe 
 faintly, and with much trouble, and observed him 
 to fall into a sudden agony ; which so surprised 
 her, that she fell into a sudden passion, and required 
 of him to know how he did. To which his answer 
 was, that he had passed a conflict with his last enemy, 
 and had overcome him by the merits of his Master Jesus. 
 After which answer, he looked up, and saw his wife 
 and nieces weeping to an extremity, and charged 
 them, if they loved him to withdraw into the next room, 
 and there pray every one alone for him ,• for nothing 
 but their lamentations could make his death uncomfort- 
 able. To which request their sighs and tears would 
 not suffer them to make any reply ; but they yielded 
 him a sad obedience, leaving only with him Mr. 
 Woodnot and Mr. Bostock. Immediately after they 
 had left him, he said to Mr. Bostock, Pray, Sir, open 
 that door, then look into that cabinet, in which you may 
 easily find my last Will, and give it into my hand : 
 which being done, Mr. Herbert delivered it into the 
 hand of Mr. Woodnot, and said, My old friend, I here 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 345 
 
 deliver you my last Will, in which you will find that I 
 have made you sole Executor for the good of my wife 
 and nieces ,• and I desire you to shew kindness to them, 
 as they shall need it : I do not desire you to be just ; 
 for I know you will be so for your own sake ; but I 
 charge you, by the religion of our friendship, to be care- 
 ful of them. And having obtained Mr. Woodnot's 
 promise to be so, he said, I am now ready to die. 
 After which words, he said, Lord, forsake me not 
 now my strength faileth me; but grant me mercy for 
 the merits of my Jesus. And now, Lord — Lord, now 
 receive my soul. And with those words he breathed 
 forth his divine soul, without any apparent disturb- 
 ance, Mr. Woodnot and Mr. Bostock attending his 
 last breath, and closing his eyes. 
 
 Thus he lived, and thus he died, like a Saint, un- 
 spotted of the world, fall of alms-deeds, full of 
 humility, and all the examples of a virtuous life 5 
 which I cannot conclude better, than with this 
 borrowed observation : 
 
 All must to their cold graves : 
 
 But the religious actions of the just 
 
 Smell sweet in death, and blossom in the dust. 
 
 Mr. George Herbert's have done so to this, and 
 will doubtless do so to succeeding generations. — I 
 have but this to say more of him ; that if Andrew 
 Melvin died before him, then George Herbert died 
 without an enemy. I wish — if God shall be so 
 pleased — that I may be so happy as to die like him. 
 
 Iz. Wa. 
 z z 
 
346 THE LIFE OF 
 
 There is a debt justly due to the memory of Mr. Her- 
 bert's virtuous Wife ; a part of which I will endeavour to 
 pay, by a very short account of the remainder of her life, 
 which shall follow. 
 
 She continued his disconsolate widow about six years, 
 bemoaning herself and complaining, that she had lost the 
 delight of her eyes ; but more that she had lost the spi- 
 ritual guide for her poor soul ; and would often say, O 
 that I had, like holy Mary, the Mother of Jesus, trea- 
 sured up all his sayings in my heart ! But since I have 
 not been able to do that, I will labour to live like him, 
 that where he now is I may be also. And she would often 
 sa y y — a s the Prophet David for his son Absalom. — O that 
 I had died for him ! Thus she continued mourning till 
 time and conversation had so moderated her sorrows, that 
 she became the happy wife of Sir Robert Cook, of High- 
 nam, in the County of Gloucester, Knight. And though 
 he put a high value on the excellent accomplishments of her 
 mind and body, and was so like Mr. Herbert, as not to 
 govern like a master, but as an affectionate husband; yet 
 she would even to him often take occasion to mention the 
 name of Mr. George Herbert, and say, that name must 
 live in her memory till she put off mortality. By Sir 
 Robert she had only one child, a daughter, whose parts and 
 plentiful estate make her happy in this world, and her well 
 using of them gives a fair testimony that she will be so in 
 that which is to come. 
 
 Mrs. Herbert was the wife of Sir Robert eight years, 
 and lived his widow about fifteen ,* all which time she took 
 a pleasure in mentioning and commending the excellencies 
 of Mr. George Herbert. She died in the year 1653, and 
 lies buried at Highnam ; Mr. Herbert in his own Church, 
 under the Altar, and covered with a grave-stone without 
 any inscription* 
 
MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 347 
 
 This Lady Cook had preserved many of Mr. Herbert's 
 private writings, which she intended to make public ; but 
 they and Highnam House were burnt together by the late 
 rebels, and so lost to posterity. I. W. 
 
 Letter from Mr. George Herbert to Nicholas 
 Farrer, the Translator o/'Valdesso. 
 
 My dear and deserving brother, your Valdesso I now 
 return with many thanks, and some notes, in which per- 
 haps you will discover some care which I forbear not in 
 the midst of my griefs ,• first for your sake, because I 
 would do nothing negligently that you commit unto me : 
 secondly for the Author's sake, whom I conceive to have 
 been a true servant of God ; and to such, and all that is 
 their's, I owe diligence : thirdly for the Church's sake, to 
 whom by printing it, I would have you consecrate it. 
 You owe the Church a debt, and God hath put this into 
 your hands — as he sent the fish with money to St. Peter 
 — to discharge it ; haply also with this — as his thoughts 
 are fruitful — intending the honour of his servant the 
 Author, who, being obscured in his own country, he would 
 have to flourish in this land of light, and region of the 
 Gospel among his chosen. It is true, there are some 
 things which I like not in him, as my fragments will ex- 
 press, when you read them : nevertheless, I wish you by 
 all means to publish it, for these three eminent things ob- 
 servable therein : First, that God in the midst of Popery, 
 should open the eyes of one to understand and express 
 so clearly and excellently, the intent of the Gospel in the 
 acceptation of Christ's righteousness, — as he sheweth 
 through all his Considerations, — a thing strangely buried 
 and darkened by the adversaries, and their great stumbling 
 block, Secondly, the great honour and reverence which 
 
348 LETTER TO NICHOLAS FARRER. 
 
 he every where bears towards our dear Master and Lord ; 
 concluding every Consideration almost with his holy name, 
 and setting his merit forth so piously ; for which I do so 
 love him, that were there nothing else, I would print it, 
 that with it the honour of my Lord might be published. 
 Thirdly, the many pious rules of ordering our life about 
 mortification, and observation of God's kingdom within 
 us, and the working thereof; of which he was a very 
 diligent observer. These three things are very eminent 
 in the Author, and overweigh the defects — as I conceive 
 — towards the publishing thereof. 
 
 From his Parsonage of 
 Bemerton, near Salisbury, 
 Sept. 29th, 1632. 
 

 Engraved "by "W.BsLddou.. 
 
 B 1 ?- lEo SAMB3imO(0)lT, 
 
 LONDON, 
 Pi£blish.ea."b7 Jotm. Majox. 50, Fleet Street, 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 DR. ROBERT SANDERSON, 
 
 LATE BISHOP OF I ^NCv^LN. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN MAJOR, 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
TO THE 
 
 RIGHT REVEREND AND HONOURABLE, 
 
 GEORGE 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, 
 
 PRELATE OF THE GARTER, 
 AND ONE OF 
 
 his majesty's privy council. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 If I should undertake to enumerate, the many favours and 
 advantages I have had by my very long acquaintance with 
 your Lordship, I should enter upon an employment, that 
 might prove as tedious as the collecting of the materials 
 for this poor Monument, which I have erected, and do 
 dedicate to the Memory of your beloved friend, Dr. San- 
 derson : But though I will not venture to do that ; yet I 
 do remember with pleasure, and remonstrate with grati- 
 tude, that your Lordship made me known to him, Mr. 
 Chillingworth, and Dr. Hammond; men, whose merits 
 ought never to be forgotten. 
 
 My friendship with the first was begun almost forty 
 years past, when I was as far from a thought, as a desire 
 to outlive him ; and farther from an intention to write his 
 Life. But the wise Disposer of all men's lives and actions 
 hath prolonged the first, and now permitted the last; 
 which is here dedicated to your Lordship, — and, as it 
 ought to be — with all humility, and a desire that it may 
 remain as a public testimony of my gratitude. 
 
 My Lord, 
 Your most affectionate old friend, 
 and most humble servant, 
 IZAAK WALTON, 
 
THE 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I dare neither think, nor assure the Reader, that I have 
 committed no mistakes in this relation of the Life of 
 Dr. Sanderson; but I am sure, there is none that are 
 either wilful, or very material. I confess, it was worthy 
 the employment of some person of more Learning- and 
 greater abilities than I can pretend to ; and I have not 
 a little wondered that none have yet been so grateful to 
 him and posterity, as to undertake it. For it may be 
 noted, that our Saviour hath had such care, that, for 
 Mary Magdalen's kindness to him, her name should never 
 be forgotten : And doubtless Dr. Sanderson's meek and 
 innocent life, his great and useful Learning, might there- 
 fore challenge the like endeavours to preserve his me- 
 mory : And 'tis to me a wonder, that it has been 
 already fifteen years neglected. But, in saying this, my 
 meaning is not to upbraid others, — I am far from that, — 
 but excuse myself, or beg pardon for daring to attempt 
 it. This being premised, I desire to tell the Reader, 
 that in this relation I have been so bold, as to paraphrase 
 and say, what I think he — whom I had the happiness to 
 know well — would have said upon the same occasions : 
 and if I have erred in this kind, and cannot now beg 
 pardon of him that loved me ; yet I do of my Reader, 
 from whom I desire the same favour. 
 
 And, though my age might have procured me a Writ 
 of Ease, and that secured me from all further trouble in 
 
THE PREFACE. 353 
 
 this kind ; yet I met with such persuasions to begin, and 
 so many willing informers since, and from them, and 
 others, such helps and encouragements to proceed, that 
 when I found myself faint, and weary of the burthen with 
 which I had loaden myself, and ready to lay it down ; 
 yet time and new strength hath at last brought it to be 
 what it now is, and presented to the Reader, and with it 
 this desire ; that he will take notice, that Dr. Sanderson 
 did in his Will, or last sickness, advertise, that after his 
 death nothing of his might be printed; because that 
 might be said to be his, which indeed was not ; and also 
 for that he might have changed his opinion since he first 
 icrit it. And though these reasons ought to be regarded, 
 yet regarded so, as he resolves in that Case of Conscience 
 concerning Rash Vows; that there may appear very 
 good second reasons, why we may forbear to perform 
 them. However, for his said reasons, they ought to be 
 read as we do Apocryphal Scripture; to explain, but 
 not oblige us to so firm a belief of what is here presented 
 as his. 
 
 And I have this to say more ; That as, in my queries 
 for writing Dr. Sande?'son's Life, I met with these little 
 Tracts annexed ;* so, in my former queries for my in- 
 formation to write the Life of venerable Mr. Hooker, I 
 met with a Sermon, which I a>o believe was really his, 
 and here presented as his to the Redder. It is affirmed, 
 — and I have met with reason to believe it,— that there be 
 some Artists, that do certainly know an original picture 
 from a copy ; and in what age of the world, and by whom 
 
 * Of the tracts here alluded to, a particular account will be 
 given in a future publication, the nature and objects of which, 
 are explained in the commencement of the Notes to the pre- 
 sent volume. 
 
 3 A 
 
354 
 
 THE PREFACE. 
 
 drawn. And if so, then I hope it may be as safely af- 
 firmed, that what is here presented for their's is so like 
 their temper of mind, their other writings, the times 
 when, and the occasions upon which they were writ, that 
 all Readers may safely conclude, they could be writ by 
 none but venerable Mr. Hooker, and the humble and 
 learned Dr. Sanderson. 
 
 And lastly, I am now glad that I have collected these 
 memoirs, which lay scattered, and contracted them into 
 a narrower compass ; and if I have, by the pleasant toil 
 of doing so, either pleased or profited any man, I have 
 attained what I designed when I first undertook it. But 
 I seriously wish, both for the Reader's and Dr. Sander- 
 son's sake, that posterity had known his great Learning 
 and Virtue by a better pen ; by such a pen, as could 
 have made his life as immortal, as his Learning and merits 
 ought to be. /. W. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 DR. ROBERT SANDERSON, 
 
 LATE LORD BISHOP OF LINCOLN. 
 
 octor Robert Sanderson, the 
 late learned Bishop of Lincoln, 
 whose Life I intend to write with 
 all truth and equal plainness, 
 was born the nineteenth day of 
 September in the year of our Re- 
 demption 1587. The place of 
 his birth was Rotherham in the 
 County of York ; a Town of good note, and the 
 more, for that Thomas Rotherham, some time Arch- 
 bishop of that See, was born in it ; a man, whose 
 great wisdom, and bounty, and sanctity of life, 
 have made it the more memorable ; as indeed it 
 
356 THE LIFE OF 
 
 it ought also to be, for being the birth place of our 
 Robert Sanderson. And the Reader will be of my 
 belief, if this humble relation of his life can hold 
 any proportion with his great Piety, his useful 
 Learning, and his many other extraordinary en- 
 dowments. 
 
 He was the second and youngest Son, of Robert 
 Sanderson, of Gilthwaite'Hall, in the said Parish and 
 County, Esq. by Elizabeth, one of the daughters of 
 Richard Carr, of Butterthwaite-Hall, in the Parish of 
 Ecclesfield, in the said County of York, Gentleman. 
 
 This Robert Sanderson, the Father, was descended 
 from a numerous, ancient, and honourable family of 
 his own name : for the search of which truth, I 
 refer my Reader, that inclines to it, to Dr. Thorn- 
 ton's History of the Antiquities of Nottinghamshire, 
 and other records 3 not thinking it necessary here 
 to engage him into a search for bare titles, which 
 are noted to have in them nothing of reality : for 
 titles not acquired, but derived only, do but shew 
 us who of our ancestors have, and how they have 
 achieved that honour which their descendants claim, 
 and may not be worthy to enjoy. For, if those 
 titles descend to persons that degenerate into Vice, 
 and break off the continued line of Learning, or 
 Valour, or that Virtue that acquired them, they 
 destroy the very foundation upon which that Honour 
 was built -, and all the rubbish of their vices ought 
 to fall heavy on such dishonourable heads ; ought 
 to fall so heavy, as to degrade them of their titles, 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 357 
 
 and blast their memories with reproach and 
 shame. 
 
 But our Robert Sanderson lived worthy of his 
 name and family : of which one testimony may be, 
 that Gilbert, called the Great Earl of Shrewsbury, 
 thought him not unworthy to be joined with him 
 as a Godfather to Gilbert Sheldon, the late Lord 
 Archbishop of Canterbury ,• to whose merits and 
 memory, posterity — the Clergy especially — ought 
 to pay a reverence. 
 
 But I return to my intended relation of Robert 
 the Son, who began in his youth to make the 
 Laws of God, and obedience to his parents, the 
 rules of his life ; seeming even then to dedicate 
 himself, and all his studies, to Piety and Virtue. 
 
 And as he was inclined to this by that native 
 goodness, with which the wise Disposer of all 
 hearts had endowed his j so this calm, this quiet 
 and happy temper of mind — his being mild, and 
 averse to oppositions; — made the whole course of 
 his life easy and grateful both to himself and 
 others : and this blessed temper was maintained 
 and improved by his prudent Father's good ex- 
 ample -j and by frequent conversing with him, and 
 scattering short apophthegms and little pleasant 
 stories, and making useful applications of them, 
 his son was in his infancy taught to abhor Vanity 
 and Vice as monsters, and to discern the loveliness 
 of Wisdom and Virtue -, and by these means, and 
 God's concurring grace, his knowledge was so 
 
358 THE LIFE OF 
 
 augmented, and his native goodness so confirmed, 
 that all became so habitual, as it was not easy to 
 determine whether Nature or Education were his 
 teachers. 
 
 And here let me tell the Reader, that these 
 
 early beginnings of Virtue, were by God's assisting 
 
 * Ph'l ' 6 S race > blessed with what St. Paul seemed 
 
 to beg for his Philippians ,•* namely, That 
 
 he, that had begun a good work in them, ivould finish 
 
 it. And Almighty God did : for his whole life was 
 
 so regular and innocent, that he might have said 
 
 at his death — and with truth and comfort — what 
 
 the same St. Paul said after to the same Philippians, 
 
 when he advised them to walk as they 
 
 had him for an example. \ 
 
 And this goodness, of which I have spoken, 
 seemed to increase as his years did j and with his 
 goodness his Learning, the foundation of which 
 was laid in the Grammar-school of Rotherham — that 
 being one of those three that were founded and libe- 
 rally endowed by the said great and good Bishop of 
 that name. — And in this time of his being a Scholar 
 there, he was observed to use an unwearied dili- 
 gence to attain learning, and to have a seriousness 
 beyond his age, and with it a more than common 
 modesty ; and to be of so calm and obliging a be- 
 haviour, that the Master and whole number of 
 Scholars, loved him as one man. 
 
 And in this love and amity he continued at that 
 School till about the thirteenth year of his age; 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 359 
 
 at which time his Father designed to improve his 
 Grammar learning, by removing him from Rother- 
 ham to one of the more noted Schools of Eton or 
 Westminster ; and after a year's stay there, then to 
 remove him thence to Oxford. But, as he went with 
 him, he called on an old friend, a Minister of noted 
 learning, and told him his intentions 5 and he, after 
 many questions with his Son, received such answers 
 from him, that he assured his Father, his Son was 
 so perfect a Grammarian, that he had laid a good 
 foundation to build any or all the Arts upon 5 and 
 therefore advised him to shorten his journey, and 
 leave him at Oxford. And his Father did so. 
 
 His Father left him there to the sole care and 
 manage of Dr. Kilbie, who was then Rector of Lin- 
 coln College. And he, after some time, and trial of 
 his manners and learning, thought fit to enter him 
 of that College, and after to matriculate him in the 
 University, which he did the first of July, 1603 ; 
 but he was not chosen Fellow till the third of May, 
 1606 3 at which time he had taken his degree of 
 Bachelor of Arts : at the taking of which degree, 
 his Tutor told the Rector, That his pupil Sanderson 
 had a metaphysical brain, and a matchless memory ; 
 and that he thought he had improved, or made the last 
 so by an art of his own invention. And all the future 
 employments of his life proved that his Tutor was 
 not mistaken. I must here stop my Reader, and 
 tell him, that this Dr. Kilbie was a man of so great 
 learning and wisdom, and so excellent a critic in 
 
360 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the Hebrew Tongue, that he was made Professor of 
 it in this University; and was also so perfect a 
 Grecian, that he was by King James appointed to 
 be one of the Translators of the Bible j and that 
 this Doctor and Mr. Sandei % son had frequent dis- 
 courses, and loved as father and son. The Doctor 
 was to ride a journey into Derbyshire, and took Mr. 
 Sanderson to bear him company: and they going 
 together on a Sunday with the Doctor's friend to 
 that Parish Church where they then were, found the 
 young Preacher to have no more discretion, than 
 to waste a great part of the hour allotted for his 
 Sermon in exceptions against the late Translation 
 of several words, — not expecting such a hearer as 
 Dr. Kilbie, — and shewed three reasons why a par- 
 ticular word should have been otherwise translated. 
 When Evening Prayer was ended, the Preacher 
 was invited to the Doctor's friend's house ; where 
 after some other conference, the Doctor told him, 
 He might have preached more useful doctrine, and not 
 have filled his auditor s ears with needless exceptions 
 against the late Translation: and for that word, for 
 which he offered to that poor congregation three reasons 
 why it ought to have been translated as he said ; he and 
 others had considered all them, and found thirteen more 
 considerable reasons why it was translated as now 
 printed : and told him, If his friend, then attending 
 him, should prove guilty of such indiscretion, he should 
 forfeit his favour. To which Mr. Sanderson said, He 
 hoped he should not. And the Preacher was so 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 361 
 
 ingenuous as to say, He would not justify himself. And 
 so I return to Oxford. In the year 1608, — July the 
 11th, — Mr. Sanderson was completed Master cf 
 Arts. I am not ignorant, that for the attaining 
 these dignities, the time was shorter than was 
 then, or is now required -, but either his birth, or 
 the well performance of some extraordinary ex- 
 ercise, or some other merit, made him so : and the 
 Reader is requested to believe that 'twas the last j 
 and requested to believe also, that, if I be mistaken 
 in the time, the College Records have misinformed 
 me : but I hope they have not. 
 
 In that year of 1608, he was — November the 7th 
 — by his College chosen Reader of Logic in the 
 House j which he performed so well, that he was 
 chosen again the sixth of November, 1609. In the 
 year 16 13, he was chosen Sub-Rector of the College, 
 and the like for the year 1614, and chosen again 
 to the same dignity and trust for the year 1616. 
 
 In all which time and employments, his abilities 
 and behaviour were such, as procured him both 
 love and reverence from the whole Society ; there 
 being no exception against him for any faults, but 
 a sorrow for the infirmities of his being too timo- 
 rous and bashful j both which were, God knows, 
 so connatural, as they never left him. And I know 
 not whether his lovers ought to wish they had ; 
 for they proved so like the radical moisture in man's 
 body, that they preserved the life of Virtue in his 
 3 B 
 
362 THE LIFE OF 
 
 soul, which by God's assisting grace never left 
 him till this life put on immortality. Of which 
 happy infirmities — if they may be so called — more 
 hereafter. 
 
 In the year 1614, he stood to be elected one of 
 the Proctors for the University. And 'twas not to 
 satisfy any ambition of his own, but to comply with 
 the desire of the Rector and whole Society, of 
 which he was a Member; who had not had a 
 Proctor chosen out of their College for the space 
 of sixty years; — namely, not from the year 1554, 
 unto his standing ; — and they persuaded him, that 
 if he would but stand for Proctor, his merits were 
 so generally known, and he so well beloved, that 
 'twas but appearing, and he would infallibly carry 
 it against any opposers; and told him, That he 
 would by that means recover a right or reputation that 
 was seemingly dead to his College. By these, and other 
 like persuasions, he yielded up his own reason to 
 their's, and appeared to stand for Proctor. But 
 that Election was carried on by so sudden and 
 secret, and by so powerful a faction, that he missed 
 it. Which when he understood, he professed 
 seriously to his friends, That if he were troubled at 
 the disappointment, it was for theirs, and not for his 
 own sake : for he was far from any desire of such an 
 employment, as must be managed with charge and 
 trouble, and was too usually rewarded with hard cen- 
 sures, or hatred, or both. 
 
BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 363 
 
 In the year following he was earnestly persuaded 
 by Dr. Kilbie and others, to review the Logic Lec- 
 tures which he had read some years past in his 
 College ; and, that done, to methodise and print 
 them, for the ease and public good of posterity. 
 But though he had an averseness to appear pub- 
 licly in print ; yet after many serious solicitations, 
 and some second thoughts of his own, he laid 
 aside his modesty, and promised he would ; and he 
 did so in that year of 1615. And the book proved 
 as his friends seemed to prophesy - } that is, of great 
 and general use, whether we respect the Art or the 
 Author. For Logic may be said to be an Art of 
 right reasoning ,- an Art that undeceives men who 
 take falsehood for truth ; enables men to pass a 
 true judgment, and detect those fallacies, which in 
 some men's understandings usurp the place of 
 right reason. And how great a master our Author 
 was in this art, will quickly appear from that clear- 
 ness of method, argument, and demonstration, which 
 is so conspicuous in all his other writings. He, 
 who had attained to so great a dexterity in the use 
 of reason himself, was best qualified to prescribe 
 rules and directions for the instruction of others. 
 And I am the more satisfied of the excellency and 
 usefulness of this, his first public undertaking, by 
 hearing that most Tutors in both Universities teach 
 Dr. Sandersons Logic to their Pupils, as a founda- 
 tion upon which they are to build their future 
 
364 THE LIFE OF 
 
 studies in Philosophy. And, for a further confir- 
 mation of my belief, the Reader may note, that 
 since his Book of Logic was first printed, there 
 has not been less than ten thousand sold : and that 
 'tis like to continue both to discover truth, and 
 to clear and confirm the reason of the unborn 
 world. 
 
 It will easily be believed that his former stand- 
 ing for a Proctor's place, and being disappointed, 
 must prove much displeasing to a man of his great 
 wisdom and modesty, and create in him an averse- 
 ness to run a second hazard of his credit and con- 
 tent : and yet he was assured by Dr. Kilbie, and the 
 Fellows of his own College, and most of those that 
 had opposed him in the former Election, that his 
 book of Logic had purchased for him such a belief 
 of his learning and prudence, and his behaviour at 
 the former Election had got for him so great and 
 so general a love, that all his former opposers re- 
 pented what they had done 5 and therefore per- 
 suaded him to venture to stand a second time. 
 And, upon these, and other like encouragements, 
 he did again, but not without an inward unwilling- 
 ness, yield up his own reason to their's, and pro- 
 mised to stand. And he did so ; and was the tenth 
 of April, 1616, chosen Senior Proctor for the year 
 following j Mr. Charles Crooke of Christ Church 
 being then chosen the Junior. 
 
 In this year of his being Proctor, there happened 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. S65 
 
 many . memorable accidents j namely, Dr. Robert 
 Abbot, Master of Balliol College, and Regius Pro- 
 fessor of Divinity, — who being elected or conse- 
 crated Bishop of Sarum some months before, — was 
 solemnly conducted out of Oxford towards his 
 Diocese, by the Heads of all Houses, and the chief 
 of all the University. And Dr. Prideaux succeeded 
 him in the Professorship, in which he continued 
 till the year 1642, — being then elected Bishop of 
 Worcester, — and then our now Proctor, Mr. Sander- 
 son, succeeded him in the Regius Professorship. 
 
 And in this year Dr. Arthur Lake — then Warden 
 of New College- — was advanced to the Bishopric of 
 Bath and Wells : a man of whom I take myself 
 bound in justice to say, that he has made the great 
 trust committed to him, the chief care and whole 
 business of his life. And one testimony of this 
 proof may be, that he sate usually with his Chan- 
 cellor in his Consistory, and at least advised, if not 
 assisted, in most sentences for the punishing of 
 such offenders as deserved Church-censures. And 
 it may be noted, that, after a sentence for penance 
 was pronounced, he did very rarely or never, allow 
 of any commutation for the offence, but did usually 
 see the sentence for penance executed ; and then 
 as usually preached a Sermon of mortification and 
 repentance, and did so apply them to the offenders, 
 that then stood before him, as begot in them a 
 
366 THE LIFE OF 
 
 devout contrition, and at least resolutions to amend 
 their lives : and having done that, he would take 
 them — though never so poor — to dinner with him, 
 and use them friendly, and dismiss them with his 
 blessing and persuasions to a virtuous life, and beg 
 them to believe him. And his humility and charity, 
 and other Christian excellencies, were all like this. 
 Of all which the Reader may inform himself in his 
 Life, truly writ, and printed before his Sermons. 
 
 And in this year also, the very prudent and very 
 wise Lord Ellesmere, who was so very long Lord 
 Chancellor of England, and then of Oxford, resign- 
 ing up the last, the Right honourable, and as mag- 
 nificent, William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, was 
 chosen to succeed him. 
 
 And in this year our late King Charles the First 
 — then Prince of Wales — came honourably attended 
 to Oxford ; and having deliberately visited the 
 University, the Schools, Colleges, and Libraries, he 
 and his attendants were entertained with ceremonies 
 and feasting suitable to their dignity and merits. 
 
 And this year King James sent Letters to the 
 University for the regulating their studies ; espe- 
 cially of the young Divines : advising they should 
 not rely on modern sums and systems, but study 
 the Fathers and Councils, and the more primitive 
 learning. And this advice was occasioned by the 
 indiscreet inferences made by very many Preachers 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 367 
 
 out of Mr. Calvin s doctrine concerning Predestina- 
 tion, Universal Redemption, the Irresistibility of God's 
 Grace, and of some other knotty points depending 
 upon these ; points which many think were not, 
 but by interpreters forced to be, Mr. Calvin s mean- 
 ing ; of the truth or falsehood of which I pretend 
 not to have an ability to judge ; my meaning in 
 this relation, being only to acquaint the Reader with 
 the occasion of the King's Letter. 
 
 It may be observed, that the various accidents of 
 this year did afford our Proctor large and laudable 
 matter to dilate and discourse upon : and that 
 though his office seemed, according to statute and 
 custom, to require him to do so at his leaving it j 
 yet he chose rather to pass them over with some 
 very short observations, and present the governors, 
 and his other hearers, with rules to keep up dis- 
 cipline and order in the University ; which at that 
 time was, either by defective Statutes, or want of 
 the due execution of those that were good, grown 
 to be extremely irregular. And in this year also, 
 the magisterial part of the Proctor required more 
 diligence, and was more difficult to be managed 
 than formerly, by reason of a multiplicity of new 
 Statutes, which begot much confusion ; some of 
 which Statutes were then, and others suddenly 
 after, put into an useful execution. And though 
 these Statutes were not then made so perfectly 
 useful as they were designed, till Archbishop Laud's 
 
368 THE LIFE OF 
 
 time, — who assisted in the forming and promoting 
 them 5 — yet our present Proctor made them as 
 effectual as discretion and diligence could do : of 
 which one example may seem worthy the noting j 
 namely, that if in his night-walk he met with 
 irregular Scholars absent from their Colleges at 
 University hours, or disordered by drink, or in 
 scandalous company, he did not use his power of 
 punishing to an extremity ; but did usually take 
 their names, and a promise to appear before him 
 unsent for next morning : and when they did, con- 
 vinced them, with such obligingness, and reason 
 added to it, that they parted from him with such 
 resolutions, as the man after God's own heart was 
 possessed with, when he said, There is mercy with 
 % thee, and therefore thou shalt be feared, Psal. cxxx. 4. 
 And by this and a like behaviour to all men, he was 
 so happy as to lay down this dangerous employ- 
 ment, as but very few, if any, have done, even 
 without an enemy. 
 
 After his speech was ended, and he retired with 
 a friend into a convenient privacy, he looked upon 
 his friend with a more than common cheerfulness, 
 and spake to him to this purpose : I look back upon 
 my late employment with some content to myself and 
 a great thankfulness to Almighty God, that he hath 
 made me of a temper not apt to provoke the meanest of 
 mankind, but rather to pass by infirmities, if noted; 
 and in this employment I have had — God knows — many 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 369 
 
 occasions to do both. And ivhen I consider, how many 
 of a contrary temper are by sudden and small occasions 
 transported and hurried by anger to commit such errors, 
 as they in that passion could not foresee, and will in 
 their more calm and deliberate thoughts upbraid, and 
 require repentance : and consider, that though repent- 
 ance secures us from the punishment of any sin, yet 
 how much more comfortable it is to be innocent, than 
 need pardon ; and consider, that errors against men, 
 though pardoned both by God and them, do yet leave 
 such anxious and upbraiding impressions in the memory, 
 as abates of the offender s content : — when I consider 
 all this, and that God hath of his goodness given me a 
 temper that hath prevented me from running into such 
 enormities, I remember my temper with joy and thank' 
 fidness. And though I cannot say with David — I wish 
 I could, — that therefore his praise shall always be in 
 my mouth, Psal. xxxiv. 1 ; yet I hope, that by his 
 grace, and that grace seconded by my endeavours, it 
 shall never be blotted out of my memory ,• and I now 
 beseech Almighty God that it never may. 
 
 And here I must look back, and mention one 
 passage more in his Proctorship, which is, that 
 Gilbert Sheldon, the late Lord Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, was this year sent to Trinity College in that 
 University ; and not long after his entrance there, 
 a letter was sent after him from his god-father, — 
 the father of our Proctor, —to let his son know it, 
 and commend his godson to his acquaintance, and 
 3 c 
 
370 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to more than a common care of his behaviour ^ 
 which proved a pleasing injunction to our Proctor^ 
 who was so gladly obedient to his father's desire, 
 that he some few days after sent his servitor to in- 
 treat Mr. Sheldon to his chamber next morning. 
 But it seems Mr. Sheldon having — like a young 
 man as he was — run into some such irregularity 
 as made him conscious he had transgressed his 
 Statutes, did therefore apprehend the Proctor's in- 
 vitation as an introduction to punishment -, the fear 
 of which made his bed restless that night : but, at 
 their meeting the next morning, that fear vanished 
 immediately by the Proctor's cheerful countenance, 
 and the freedom of their discourse of friends. And 
 let me tell my Reader, that this first meeting 
 proved the beginning of as spiritual a friendship as 
 human nature is capable of 5 of a friendship free 
 from all self- ends : and it continued to be so, till 
 death forced a separation of it on earth 5 but it is 
 now reunited in Heaven. 
 
 And now, having given this account of his be- 
 haviour, and the considerable accidents in his Proc- 
 torship, I proceed to tell my Reader, that, this 
 busy employment being ended, he preached his 
 sermon for his Degree of Bachelor m Divinity in as 
 elegant Latin, and as remarkable for the matter, as 
 hath been preached in that University since that 
 day. And having well performed his other ex- 
 ercises for that Degree, he took it the nine and 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 371 
 
 twentieth of May following, having been ordained 
 Deacon and Priest in the year 1611, by John King, 
 
 then Bishop of London, who had not long before 
 been Dean of Christ Church, and then knew him so 
 well, that he became his most affectionate friend. 
 And in this year, being then about the twenty- ninth 
 of his age, he took from the University a licence 
 to preach. 
 
 In the year 1618, he was by Sir Nicholas Sander- 
 son, Lord Viscount Castleton, presented to the Rec- 
 tory of Wibberton, not far from Boston, in the County 
 of Lincoln, a living of very good value ; but it lay 
 
372 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in so low and wet a part of that country as was 
 inconsistent with his health. And health being 
 — next to a good conscience — the greatest of God's 
 blessings in this life, and requiring therefore of 
 every man a care and diligence to preserve it, he, 
 apprehending a danger of losing it, if he continued 
 at Wibberton a second Winter, did therefore resign 
 it back into the hands of his worthy kinsman and 
 patron, about one year after his donation of it to 
 him. 
 
 And about this time of his resignation he was 
 presented to the Rectory of Boothby Pannell, in the 
 same County of Lincoln ; a town which has been 
 made famous, and must continue to be famous, 
 because Dr. Sanderson, the humble and learned Dr. 
 Sanderson, was more than forty years Parson of 
 Boothby Pannell, and from thence dated all or most 
 of his matchless writings. 
 
 To this living— which was of less value, but 
 a purer air than Wibberton — he was presented by 
 Thomas Harrington, of the same County, and Parish, 
 Esq. who was a gentleman of a very ancient family, 
 and of great use and esteem in his country during 
 his whole life. And in this Boothby Pannell the 
 meek and charitable Dr. Sanderson and his patron 
 lived with an endearing, mutual, and comfortable 
 friendship, till the death of the last put a period 
 to it. 
 
 About the time that he was made Parson of 
 Boothby Pannell, he resigned his Fellowship of 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 373 
 
 Lincoln College unto the then Rector and Fellows ; 
 and his resignation is recorded in these words : 
 
 Ego Robertus Sanderson perpetuus, &c. 
 
 I Robert Sanderson, Fellow of the College of St. 
 Mary's and All-Saints, commonly called Lincoln Col- 
 lege, in the University of Oxford, do freely and 
 willingly resign into the hands of the Rector and Fel- 
 lows, all the right and title that I have in the said 
 College, wishing to them and their successors all peace, 
 and piety, and happiness, in the name of the Father, 
 and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 
 
 May 6, 1619. Robert Sanderson. 
 
 And not long after this resignation, he was by 
 the then Bishop of York, or the King, sede vacante, 
 made Prebend of the Collegiate Church of South- 
 well in that Diocese 5 and shortly after of Lincoln, 
 by the Bishop of that See. 
 
 And being now resolved to set down his rest in 
 a quiet privacy at Boothby Pannell, and looking back 
 with some sadness upon his removal from his gene- 
 ral acquaintance left in Oxford, and the peculiar 
 pleasures of a University life 5 he could not but 
 think the want of society would render this of a 
 country Parson the more uncomfortable, by reason 
 of that want of conversation j and therefore he did 
 put on some faint purposes to marry. For he had 
 considered, that though marriage be cumbered 
 with more worldly care than a single life 5 yet a 
 
374 THE LIFE OF 
 
 complying and a prudent wife changes those very 
 cares into so mutual a content, as makes them 
 become like the sufferings of St. Paul, Colos. i. 24, 
 which he would not have wanted because they 
 occasioned his rejoicing in them. And he, having well 
 considered this, and observed the secret unutterable 
 joys that children beget in parents, and the mutual 
 pleasures and contented trouble of their daily care 
 and constant endeavours to bring up those little 
 images of themselves, so as to make them as happy 
 as all those cares and endeavours can make them : 
 he, having considered all this, the hopes of such 
 happiness turned his faint purposes into a positive 
 resolution to marry. And he was so happy as to 
 obtain Anne, the daughter of Henry Nelson, Bachelor 
 in Divinity, then Rector of Haugham, in the County 
 of Lincoln, a man of noted worth and learning. 
 And the Giver of all good things was so good to 
 him, as to give him such a wife as was suitable to 
 his own desires 5 a wife, that made his life happy 
 by being always content when he was cheerful; 
 that divided her joys with him, and abated of his 
 sorrow, by bearing a part of that burden ; a wife, 
 that demonstrated her affection by a cheerful 
 obedience to all his desires, during the whole course 
 of his life -, and at his death too, for she outlived 
 him. 
 
 And in this Boothby Pannell, he either found or 
 made his parishioners peaceable, and complying 
 with him in the decent and regular service of God. 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 375 
 
 And thus his Parish, his patron, and he lived toge- 
 ther in a religious love, and a contented quietness ; 
 he not troubling their thoughts by preaching high 
 and useless notions, but such plain truths as were 
 necessary to be known, believed, and practised, in 
 order to their salvation. And their assent to what 
 he taught was testified by such a conformity to 
 his doctrine, as declared they believed and loved 
 him. For he would often say, That, without the 
 last, the most evident truths — heard as from an enemy, 
 or an evil liver — either are not, or are at least the less 
 effectual; and do usually rather harden than convince 
 the hearer. 
 
 And this excellent man did not think his duty 
 discharged by only reading the Church prayers, 
 catechising, preaching, and administering the Sa- 
 craments seasonably 5 but thought — if the Law or 
 the Canons may seem to enjoin no more, — yet that 
 God would require more, than the defective laws of 
 man's making can or do enjoin 5 the performance 
 of that inward law, which Almighty God hath im- 
 printed in the conscience of all good Christians, 
 and inclines those whom he loves to perform. He, 
 considering this, did therefore become a law to 
 himself, practising what his conscience told him 
 was his duty, in reconciling differences, and pre- 
 venting law- suits, both in his Parish and iii the 
 neighbourhood. To which may be added his often 
 visiting sick and disconsolate families, persuading 
 them to patience, and raising them from dejection 
 
376 THE LIFE OF 
 
 by his advice and cheerful discourse, and by adding 
 his own alms, if there were any so poor as to need 
 it 5 considering how acceptable it is to Almighty 
 God, when we do as we are advised by St. Paul, 
 Gal. vi. 2. help to bear one another's burden, either of 
 sorrow or want : and what a comfort it will be, 
 when the Searcher of all hearts shall call us to a 
 strict account for that evil we have done, and the 
 good we have omitted, to remember we have com- 
 forted and been helpful to a dejected or distressed 
 family. 
 
 And that his practice was to do good, one ex- 
 ample may be, that he met with a poor dejected 
 neighbour, that complained he had taken a meadow, 
 the rent of which was 91. a year ; and when the 
 hay was made ready to be carried into his barn, 
 several days constant rain had so raised the water, 
 that a sudden flood carried all away, and his rich 
 Landlord would bate him no rent ; and that unless he 
 had half abated, he and seven children were utterly 
 undone. It may be noted, that in this age there 
 are a sort of people so unlike the God of Mercy, so 
 void of the bowels of pity, that they love only 
 themselves and children ; love them so, as not to 
 be concerned, whether the rest of mankind waste 
 their days in sorrow or shame ; people that are 
 cursed with riches, and a mistake that nothing but 
 riches can make them and their's happy. But it 
 was not so with Dr. Sanderson; for he was con- 
 cerned, and spoke comfortably to the poor dejected 
 
T. P. Stephanoff p: 
 
 J.Romney; sculp 
 
 tmie jpiLMAmmm, 
 
 LONDON 
 Paflishea "by Join. Major, 50, Heet 
 May. 15^ 1825. 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 377 
 
 man ; bade him go home and pray, and not load 
 himself with sorrow, for he would go to his Land- 
 lord next morning ; and if his Landlord would not 
 abate what he desired, he and a friend would pay- 
 it for him. 
 
 To the Landlord he went the next day, and, in a 
 conference, the Doctor presented to him the sad 
 condition of his poor dejected Tenant j telling him 
 how much God is pleased when men compassionate 
 the poor : and told him, that though God loves sa- 
 crifice, yet he loves mercy so much better, that he 
 is pleased when called the God of Mercy. And told 
 him, the riches he was possessed of were given 
 him by that God of Mercy, who would not be pleased, 
 if he, that had so much given, yea, and forgiven 
 him too, should prove like the rich Steward in the 
 Gospel, that took his fellow servant by the throat to 
 make him pay the utmost farthing. This he told him : 
 and told him, that the law of this nation — by 
 which law he claims his rent — does not undertake 
 to make men honest or merciful-, but does what it 
 can to restrain men from being dishonest or unmer- 
 ciful, and yet was defective in both : and that taking 
 any rent from his poor Tenant, for what God suf- 
 fered him not to enjoy, though the law allowed 
 him to do so, yet if he did so, he was too like that 
 rich Steward which he had mentioned to him ; and 
 told him that riches so gotten, and added to his 
 great estate, would, as Job says, prove like gravel in 
 his teeth : would in time so corrode his conscience, 
 3 D 
 
378 THE LIFE OF 
 
 or become so nauseous when he lay upon his death- 
 bed, that he would then labour to vomit it up, and 
 not be able : and therefore advised him, being very 
 rich, to make friends of his unrighteous Mammon, 
 before that evil day come upon him : but however, 
 neither for his own sake, nor for God's sake, to take 
 any rent of his poor, dejected, sad Tenant j for that 
 were to gain a temporal, and lose his eternal hap- 
 piness. These, and other such reasons were urged 
 with so grave and compassionate an earnestness, 
 that the Landlord forgave his Tenant the whole 
 rent. 
 
 The Reader will easily believe that Dr. Sander- 
 son, who was so meek and merciful, did suddenly 
 and gladly carry this comfortable news to the de- 
 jected Tenant j and we believe, that at the telling 
 of it there was a mutual rejoicing. It was one of 
 Job's boasts, that he had seen none perish for want of 
 clothing : and that he had often made the heart of the 
 widow to rejoice. Job xxxi. 19. And doubtless Dr. 
 Sanderson might have made the same religious boast 
 of this, and very many like occasions. But, since 
 he did not, I rejoice that I have this just occasion 
 to do it for him ; and that I can tell the Reader, I 
 might tire myself and him, in telling how like the 
 whole course of Dr. Sanderson's life, was to this 
 which I have now related. 
 
 Thus he went on in an obscure and quiet privacy, 
 doing good daily both by word and by deed, as often 
 as any occasion offered itself; yet not so obscurely, 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 379 
 
 but that his very great learning, prudence, and piety, 
 were much noted and valued by the Bishop of his 
 Diocese, and by most of the Nobility and gentry of 
 that County. By the first of which he was often 
 summoned to preach many Visitation Sermons, and 
 by the latter at many Assizes. Which Sermons, 
 though they were much esteemed by them that 
 procured, and were fit to judge them ; yet they 
 were the less valued, because he read them, which 
 he was forced to do ; for though he had an ex- 
 traordinary memory, — even the art of it, — yet he 
 had such an innate invincible fear and bashfulness, 
 that his memory was wholly useless, as to the re- 
 petition of his sermons as he had writ them ; which 
 gave occasion to say, when they were first printed 
 and exposed to censure, — which was in the year 
 1632, — that the best Sermons that were ever read, 
 were never preached. 
 
 In this contented obscurity he continued, till the 
 learned and good Archbishop Laud, who knew him 
 well in Oxford, — for he was his contemporary there, 
 — told the King, — 'twas the knowing and con- 
 scientious King Charles the First, — that there was 
 one Mr. Sanderson, an obscure country Minister, 
 that was of such sincerity, and so excellent in all 
 casuistical learning, that he desired his Majesty 
 would make him his Chaplain. The King granted 
 it most willingly, and gave the Bishop charge to 
 hasten it, for he longed to discourse with a man 
 that had dedicated his studies to that useful part of 
 
380 THE LIFE OF 
 
 learning. The Bishop forgot not the King's desire, 
 and Mr. Sanderson was made his Chaplain in Ordi- 
 nary in November following, 1631. And when they 
 became known to each other, the King did put 
 many Cases of Conscience to him, and received 
 from him such deliberate, safe, and clear solutions, 
 as gave him great content in conversing with him : 
 so that, at the end of his month's attendance, the 
 King told him, he should long for the next November j 
 for he resolved to have a more inward acquaintance with 
 him, when that month and he returned. And when 
 the month and he did return, the good King was 
 never absent from his Sermons, and would usually 
 say, I carry my ears to hear other preachers ; but I 
 carry my conscience to hear Mr. Sanderson, and to 
 act accordingly. And this ought not to be concealed 
 from posterity, that the King thought what he 
 spake : for he took him to be his adviser in that 
 quiet part of his life, and he proved to be his com- 
 forter in those days of his affliction, when he ap- 
 prehended himself to^be in ^danger of death or de- 
 posing. Of which more hereafter. 
 
 In the first Parliament of this good King, — which 
 was 1625, — he was chosen to be a Clerk of the 
 Convocation for the Diocese of Lincoln; which I 
 here mention, because about that time did arise 
 many disputes about Predestination, and the many 
 critical points that depend upon, or are interwoven 
 in it -, occasioned as was said, by a disquisition of 
 new principles of Mr. Calvin's, though others say 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 381 
 
 they were before his time. But of these Dr. San- 
 derson then drew up, for his own satisfaction, such 
 a scheme — he called it Pax Ecclesice — as then gave 
 himself, and hath since given others such satisfac- 
 tion, that it still remains to be of great estimation 
 among the most learned. He was also chosen 
 Clerk of all the Convocations during that good 
 King's reign. Which I here tell my Reader, be- 
 cause I shall hereafter have occasion to mention 
 that Convocation in 1640, the unhappy Long Par- 
 liament, and some debates of the Predestination 
 points as they have been since charitably handled 
 betwixt him, the learned Dr. Hammond, and Dr. 
 Pierce, the now Reverend Dean of Salisbury. 
 
 In the year 1636, his Majesty, then in his pro- 
 gress, took a fair occasion to visit Oxford, and to 
 take an entertainment for two days for himself and 
 honourable attendants ; which the Reader ought to 
 believe was suitable to their dignities. But this is 
 mentioned, because at the. King's coming thither, 
 Dr. Sanderson did attend him, and was then — the 
 31st of August — created Doctor of Divinity -, which 
 honour had an addition to it, by having many of 
 the Nobility of this nation then made Doctors and 
 Masters of Arts with him : some of whose names 
 shall be recorded and live with his, and none shall 
 outlive it. First, Dr. Curie and Dr. Wren, who 
 were then Bishops of Winton and of Norwich, — and 
 had formerly taken their Degrees in Cambridge, 
 were with him created Doctors of Divinity in his 
 
382 THE LIFE OF 
 
 University. So was Meric the son of the learned 
 Isaac Casaubon; and Prince Rupert, who still lives, 
 the then Duke of Lenox, Earl of Hereford, Earl of 
 Essex, of Berkshire, and very many others of noble 
 birth — too many to be named — were then created 
 Masters of Arts. 
 
 Some years before the unhappy Long Parliament, 
 this nation being then happy and in peace, — though 
 inwardly sick of being well, — namely in the year 
 1639, a discontented party of the Scots Church 
 were zealously restless for another reformation of 
 their Kirk-government 5 and to that end created a 
 new Covenant, for the general taking of which 
 they pretended to petition the King for his assent, 
 and that he would enjoin the taking of it by all of 
 that nation. But this petition was not to be pre- 
 sented to him by a committee of eight or ten men 
 of their fraternity ; but by so many thousands, and 
 they so armed, as seemed to force an assent to what 
 they seemed to request ; so that though forbidden 
 by the King, yet they entered England, and in their 
 heat of zeal took and plundered Newcastle, where 
 the King was forced to meet them with an army : 
 but upon a treaty and some concessions, he sent 
 them back, — though not so rich as they intended, 
 yet, — for that time, without bloodshed. But, Oh S 
 this peace, and this Covenant, were but the fore- 
 runners of war, and the many miseries that fol- 
 lowed : for in the year following there were so 
 many chosen into the Long Parliament, that were 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 383 
 
 of a conjunct council with these very zealous and 
 as factious reformers, as begot such a confusion by 
 the several desires and designs in many of the 
 Members of that Parliament, and at last in the very 
 common people of this nation, that they were so 
 lost by contrary designs, fears, and confusions, as 
 to believe the Scots and their Covenant would re- 
 store them to their former tranquillity. And to that 
 end the Presbyterian party of this nation did again, 
 in the year 1643, invite the Scotch Covenanters 
 back into England : and hither they came marching 
 with it gloriously upon their pikes and in their 
 hats, with this motto ; For the Crown and Covenant 
 of both Kingdoms. This I saw, and suffered by it. 
 But when I look back upon the ruin of families, 
 the bloodshed, the decay of common honesty, and 
 how the former piety and plain dealing of this now 
 sinful nation is turned into cruelty and cunning, I 
 praise God that he prevented me from being of that 
 party which helped to bring in this Covenant, and 
 those sad confusions that have followed it. And 
 I have been the bolder to say this of myself, because, 
 in a sad discourse with Dr. Sanderson, I heard him 
 make the like grateful acknowledgment. 
 
 This digression is intended for the better infor- 
 mation of the Reader in what will follow concern- 
 ing Dr. Sanderson. And first, that the Covenanters 
 of this nation, and their party in Parliament, made 
 many exceptions against the Common Prayer and 
 ceremonies of the Church, and seemed restless for 
 
384 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a Reformation : and though their desires seemed 
 not reasonable to the King, and the learned Dr. 
 Laud, then Archbishop of Canterbury ,• yet, to quiet 
 their consciences, and prevent future confusion, 
 they did, in the year 1641, desire Dr. Sanderson to 
 call two more of the Convocation to advise with 
 him, and that he would then draw up some such 
 safe alterations as he thought fit in the Service- 
 book, and abate some of the ceremonies that were 
 least material for satisfying their consciences : — 
 and to this end they did meet together privately 
 twice a week at the Dean of Westminster s house, 
 for the space of three months or more. But not 
 long after that time, when Dr. Sanderson had made 
 the reformation ready for a view, the Church and 
 State were both fallen into such a confusion, that 
 Dr. Sanderson s model for reformation became then 
 useless. Nevertheless, his reputation was such, 
 that he was, in the year 1642, proposed by both 
 Houses of Parliament to the King, then in Oxford, 
 to be one of their trustees for the settling of Church- 
 affairs, and was allowed of by the King to be so : 
 but that treaty came to nothing. 
 
 In the year 1643, the two Houses of Parliament 
 took upon them to make an ordinance, and call an 
 Assembly of Divines, to debate and settle some 
 Church-controversies, of which many were very 
 unfit to judge : in which Dr. Sanderson was also 
 named, but did not appear ; I suppose for the 
 same reason that many other worthy and learned 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 385 
 
 men did forbear, the summons wanting the King's 
 authority. And here I must look back, and tell the 
 Reader, that in the year 1642, he was, July 21st, 
 named by a more undoubted authority to a more 
 noble employment, which was to be Professor Regius 
 of Divinity in Oxford : but, though knowledge be said 
 to puff up, yet his modesty and too mean an opinion 
 of his great abilities, and some other real or pre- 
 tended reasons, — expressed in his speech, when he 
 first appeared in the chair, and since printed, — kept . 
 him from entering into it till October, 1646. 
 
 He did, for about a year's time, continue to read 
 his matchless Lectures, which were first de Jura- 
 mento 3 a point very difficult, and at that time very 
 dangerous to be handled as it ought to be. But 
 this learned man, as he was eminently furnished 
 with abilities to satisfy the consciences of men upon 
 that important subject ; so he wanted not courage 
 to assert the true obligation of Oaths in a degene- 
 rate age, when men had made perjury a main part 
 of their religion. How much the learned world 
 stands obliged to him for these, and his following 
 Lectures de Conscientid, I shall not attempt to de- 
 clare, as being very sensible that the best pens must 
 needs fall short in the commendation of them : so 
 that I shall only add, that they continue to this 
 day, and will do for ever, as a complete standard 
 for the resolution of the most material doubts in 
 Casuistical Divinity. And therefore I proceed to 
 tell the Reader, that about the time of his reading 
 3 E 
 
386 THE LIFE OF 
 
 those Lectures, — the King being then prisoner in 
 the Isle of Wight, — the Parliament had sent the 
 Covenant, the Negative Oath, and I know not what 
 more, to be taken by the Doctor of the Chair, and 
 all Heads of Houses ; and all other inferior Scho- 
 lars, of what degree soever, were all to take these 
 Oaths by a fixed day 5 and those that did not, to 
 abandon their College, and the University too, 
 within twenty-four hours after the beating of a 
 drum 5 for if they remained longer, they were to 
 be proceeded against as spies. 
 
 Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
 Earl of Strafford, and many others, had been for- 
 merly murdered by this wicked Parliament ; but 
 the King yet was not : and the University had yet 
 some faint hopes that in a Treaty then in being, or 
 pretended to be suddenly, there might be such an 
 agreement made between King and Parliament, 
 that the Dissenters in the University might both 
 preserve their consciences and subsistence which 
 they then enjoyed by their Colleges. 
 
 And being possessed of this mistaken hope, that 
 the Parliament were not yet grown so merciless as 
 not to allow manifest reason for their not submit- 
 ting to the enjoined Oaths, the University appointed 
 twenty delegates to meet, consider, and draw up a 
 Manifesto to the Parliament, why they could not 
 take those oaths but by violation of their con- 
 sciences : and of these delegates Dr. Sheldon, — late 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, — Dr. Hammond, Dr. San- 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 387 
 
 derson, Dr. Morley, — now Bishop of Winchester, — 
 and that most honest and as judicious Civil Lawyer, 
 Dr. Zouch, were a part] the rest I cannot now 
 name : but the whole number of the delegates 
 requested Dr. Zouch to draw up the Law part, and 
 give it to Dr. Sanderson : and he was requested to 
 methodise and add what referred to reason and 
 conscience, and put it into form. He yielded to 
 their desires and did so. And then, after they had 
 been read in a full Convocation, and allowed of, 
 they were printed in Latin, that the Parliament's 
 proceedings and the University's sufferings might 
 be manifested to all nations : and the imposers 
 of these oaths might repent, or answer them : but 
 they were past the first 5 and for the latter, I might 
 swear they neither can, nor ever will. And these 
 Reasons were also suddenly turned into English by 
 Dr. Sanderson, that those of these three king- 
 doms might the better judge of the loyal party's 
 sufferings. 
 
 About this time the Independents — who were 
 then grown to be the most powerful part of the 
 army — had taken the King from a close to a more 
 large imprisonment ; and, by their own pretences 
 to liberty of conscience, were obliged to allow some- 
 what of that to the King, who had, in the year 
 1646, sent for Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Hammond, Dr. 
 Sheldon, — the late Archbishop of Canterbury, — and 
 Dr. Morley, — the now Bishop of Winchester, — to 
 attend him, in order to advise with them, how far 
 
388 THE LIFE OF 
 
 he might with a good conscience comply with the 
 proposals of the Parliament for a peace in Church 
 and State : but these, having been then denied him 
 by the Presbyterian Parliament, were now allowed 
 him by those in present power. And as those 
 other Divines, so Dr. Sanderson gave his attendance 
 on his Majesty also in the Isle of Wight, preached 
 there before him, and had in that attendance many, 
 both public and private, conferences with him, to 
 his Majesty's great satisfaction. At which time he 
 desired Dr. Sanderson, that, being the Parliament 
 had proposed to him the abolishing of Episcopal 
 Government in the Church, as inconsistent with 
 Monarchy, that he would consider of it, and declare 
 his judgment. He undertook to do so, and did it 5 
 but it might not be printed till our King's happy 
 Restoration, and then it was. And at Dr. Sander- 
 son's taking his leave of his Majesty in his last at- 
 tendance on him, the King requested him to betake 
 himself to the writing Cases of Conscience for the good 
 of posterity. To which his answer was, That he was 
 now grown too old, and unfit to write Cases of Con- 
 science. But the King was so bold with him as to 
 say, It was the simplest answer he ever heard from Dr. 
 Sanderson , for no young man was fit to be a judge, 
 or write Cases of Conscience. And let me here take 
 occasion to tell the Reader this truth, not com- 
 monly known ; that in one of these conferences 
 this conscientious King told Dr. Sanderson, or one 
 of them that then waited with him, that the remem- 
 brance of two errors did much afflict him, which were, 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 389 
 
 his assent to the Earl of Strafford's death, and the 
 abolishing Episcopacy in Scotland; and that if God 
 ever restored him to be in peaceable possession of his 
 Crown, he would demonstrate his repentance by a public 
 confession, and a voluntary penance, — I think barefoot 
 ■—from the Tower of London, or Whitehall, to St. 
 Paul's Church, and desire the people to intercede with 
 God for his pardon. I am sure one of them that 
 told it me, lives still, and will witness it. And it 
 ought to be observed, that Dr. Sanderson s Lectures 
 de Juramento were so approved and valued by the 
 King, that in this time of his imprisonment and 
 solitude he translated them into exact English, 
 desiring Dr. Juxon. — then Bishop of London, — Dr. 
 Hammond, and Sir Thomas Herbert, — who then at- 
 tended him, — to compare them with the original. 
 The last still lives, and has declared it, with some 
 other of that King's excellencies, in a letter under 
 his own hand, which was lately shewed me by Sir 
 William Dugdale, King of Arms. The book was 
 designed to be put into the King's Library at St. 
 James's ; but, I doubt, not now to be found there. 
 I thought the honour of the Author and the Trans- 
 lator to be both so much concerned in this relation, 
 that it ought not to be concealed from the Reader, 
 and 'tis therefore here inserted. 
 
 I now return to Dr. Sanderson in the Chair in 
 Oxford ,• where they that complied no't in taking the 
 Covenant, Negative Oath, and Parliament Ordinance 
 for Church-discipline and worship, were under a 
 
390 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sad and daily apprehension of expulsion : for the 
 Visitors were daily expected, and both City and 
 University full of soldiers, and a party of Presbyte- 
 rian Divines, that were as greedy and ready to pos- 
 sess, as the ignorant and ill-natured Visitors were 
 to eject the Dissenters out of their Colleges and 
 livelihoods : but, notwithstanding, Dr. Sanderson 
 did still continue to read his Lecture, and did, to 
 the very faces of those Presbyterian Divines and 
 soldiers, read with so much reason, and with a 
 calm fortitude make such applications, as, if they 
 were not, they ought to have been ashamed, and 
 begged pardon of God and him, and forborne to do 
 what followed. But these thriving sinners were 
 hardened ; and, as the visitors expelled the ortho- 
 dox, they, without scruple or shame, possessed 
 themselves of their Colleges ; so that, with the rest, 
 Dr. Sanderson was in June, 1648, forced to pack up 
 and be gone, and thank God he was not imprisoned, 
 as Dr. Sheldon, Dr. Hammond, and others then were. 
 I must now again look back to Oxford, and tell 
 my Reader, that the year before this expulsion, 
 when the University had denied this subscription, 
 and apprehended the danger of that visitation which 
 followed, they sent Dr. Morley, then Canon of Christ- 
 Church, — -now Lord Bishop of Winchester, — and 
 others, to petition the Parliament for recalling the 
 injunction, or a mitigation of it, or accept of their 
 reasons why they could not take the Oaths enjoined 
 them ; and the petition was by Parliament referred 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 391 
 
 to a committee to hear and report the reasons to 
 the House, and a day set for hearing them. This 
 done, Dr. Morley and the rest went to inform and 
 fee Counsel, to plead their cause on the day ap- 
 pointed ; but there had been so many committed 
 for pleading, that none durst undertake it j for at 
 this time the privileges of that Parliament were 
 become a Noli me tangere, as sacred and useful to 
 them, as traditions ever were, or are now, to the 
 Church of Rome ; their number must never be 
 known, and therefore not without danger to be 
 meddled with. For which reason Dr. Morley was 
 forced, for want of Counsel, to plead the Univer- 
 sity's Reasons for non-compliance with the Par- 
 liament's injunctions : and though this was done 
 with great reason, and a boldness equal to the 
 justice of his cause ; yet the effect of it was, but 
 that he and the rest appearing with him were so 
 fortunate, as to return to Oxford without commit- 
 ment. This was some few days before the Visitors 
 and more soldiers were sent down to drive the 
 Dissenters out of the University. And one that 
 was, at this time of Dr. Morley s pleading, a power- 
 ful man in the Parliament, and of that committee, 
 observing Dr. Morley s behaviour and reason, and 
 inquiring of him and hearing a good report of his 
 morals, was therefore willing to afford him a pe- 
 culiar favour 5 and, that he might express it, sent 
 for me that relate this story, and knew Dr. Morley 
 well, and told me, he had such a love for Dr. Morley 
 
392 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that knowing he would not take the Oaths, and must 
 therefore be ejected his College, and leave Oxford 5 he 
 desired I would therefore write to him to ride out of 
 Oxford., when the Visitors came into it, and not return 
 till they left it, and he should be sure then to return in 
 safety ,• and that he should, without taking any Oath or 
 other molestation, enjoy his Canon s place in his College, 
 I did receive this intended kindness with a sudden 
 gladness, because I was sure the party had a power, 
 and as sure he meant to perform it, and did there- 
 fore write the Doctor word : and his answer was, 
 that I must not fail to return my friend, — who still 
 lives — his humble and undissembled thanks, though he 
 could not accept of his intended kindness ; for when the 
 Dean, Dr. Gardner, Dr. Paine, Dr. Hammond, Dr. 
 Sanderson, and all the rest of the College, were turned 
 out, except Dr. Wall, he should take it to be, if not a 
 sin, yet a shame, to be left behind with him only. Dr. 
 Wall I knew, and will speak nothing of him, for he 
 is dead. 
 
 It may easily be imagined, with what a joyful 
 willingness these self-loving reformers took pos- 
 session of all vacant preferments, and with what 
 reluctance others parted with their beloved Colleges 
 and subsistence : but their consciences were dearer 
 than their subsistence, and out they went ; the re- 
 formers possessing them without shame or scruple : 
 where I will leave these scruple-mongers, and make 
 an account of the then present affairs of London, to 
 be the next employment of my Reader's patience. 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 393 
 
 And in London all the Bishop's houses were turned 
 to be prisons, and they filled with Divines, that 
 would not take the Covenant, or forbear reading 
 Common Prayer, or that were accused for some 
 faults like these. For it may be noted, that about 
 this time the Parliament set out a Proclamation, to 
 encourage all laymen that had occasion to complain 
 of their Ministers for being troublesome or scan- 
 dalous, or that conformed not to Orders of Parlia- 
 ment, to make their complaint to a Committee for 
 that purpose -, and the Minister, though a hundred 
 miles from London, should appear there, and give 
 satisfaction, or be sequestered ; — and you may be 
 sure no Parish could want a covetous, or malicious, 
 or cross-grained complainant ; — by which means 
 all prisons in London, and in some other places, 
 became the sad habitations of conforming Divines. 
 
 And about this time the Bishop of Canterbury 
 having been by an unknown law condemned to die, 
 and the execution suspended for some days, many 
 of the malicious citizens, fearing his pardon, shut 
 up their shops, professing not to open them till 
 justice was executed. This malice and madness is 
 scarce credible ; but I saw it. 
 
 The Bishops had been voted out of the House of 
 Parliament, and some upon that occasion sent to 
 the Tower j which made many Covenanters rejoice, 
 and believe Mr. Brightman — who probably was a 
 good and well-meaning man — to be inspired in his 
 Comment on the Apocalypse, an abridgment of which 
 3 F 
 
394 THE LIFE OF 
 
 was now printed, and called Mr. Brightmans Reve- 
 lation of the Revelation. And though he was grossly 
 mistaken in other things, yet, because he had made 
 the Churches of Geneva and Scotland, which had no 
 Bishops, to be Philadelphia in the Apocalypse, the 
 Angel that God loved; Rev. iii. 7-13, and the power 
 of Prelacy to be Antichrist, the evil Angel, which 
 the House of Commons had now so spewed up, as 
 never to recover their dignity ; therefore did those 
 Covenanters approve and applaud Mr. Brightman 
 for discovering and foretelling the Bishops' down- 
 fall ; so that they both railed at them, and rejoiced 
 to buy good pennyworths of their lands, which 
 their friends of the House of Commons did afford 
 them, as a reward of their diligent assistance to pull 
 them down. 
 
 And the Bishops' power being now vacated, the 
 common people were made so happy, as every 
 Parish might choose their own Minister, and tell 
 him when he did, and when he did not, preach 
 true doctrine : and by this and like means, several 
 Churches had several teachers, that prayed and 
 preached for and against one another : and engaged 
 their hearers to contend furiously for truths which 
 they understood not -, some of which I shall men- 
 tion in the discourse that follows. 
 
 I have heard of two men, that in their discourse 
 undertook to give a character of a third person -, 
 and one concluded he was a very honest man, for 
 he was beholden to him ; and the other, that he was 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 395 
 
 not, for he was not beholden to him. And something 
 like this was in the designs both of the Covenanters 
 and Independents, the last of which were now grown 
 both as numerous and as powerful as the former : 
 for though they differed much in many principles, 
 and preached against each other, one making it a 
 sign of being in the state of grace, if we were but 
 zealous for the Covenant ; and the other, that we 
 ought to buy and sell by a measure, and to allow 
 the same liberty of conscience to others, which we 
 by Scripture claim to ourselves 5 and therefore not 
 to force any to swear the Covenant contrary to their 
 consciences, and lose both their livings and liber- 
 ties too. Though these differed thus in their con- 
 clusions, yet they both agreed in their practice to 
 preach down Common Prayer, and get into the best 
 sequestered livings ; and whatever became of the 
 true owners, their wives and children, yet to con- 
 tinue in them without the least scruple of con- 
 science. 
 
 They also made other strange observations of 
 Election, Reprobation, and Free Will, and the other 
 points dependent upon these ; such as the wisest of 
 the common people were not fit to judge of : I am 
 sure I am not ; though I must mention some of 
 them historically in a more proper place, when I 
 have brought my Reader with me to Dr. Sanderson 
 at Boothby Pannell. 
 
 And in the way thither I must tell him, that a 
 very Covenanter, and a Scot too, that came into 
 
396 THE LIFE OF 
 
 England with this unhappy Covenant, was got into 
 a good sequestered living by the help of a Presby- 
 terian Parish, which had got the true owner out. 
 And this Scotch Presbyterian, being well settled in 
 this good living, began to reform the Church- yard, 
 by cutting down a large yew-tree, and some other 
 trees that were an ornament to the place, and very 
 often a shelter to the parishioners 5 who, excepting 
 against him for so doing, were answered, That the 
 trees were his, and 'twas lawful for every man to use 
 his own, as he, and not as they thought fit. I have 
 heard, but do not affirm it, that no action lies 
 against him that is so wicked as to steal the wind- 
 ing-sheet of a dead body after it is buried; and 
 have heard the reason to be, because none were 
 supposed to be so void of humanity - } *and that such 
 a law would vilify that nation that would but sup- 
 pose so vile a man to be born in it : nor would one 
 suppose any man to do what this Covenanter did. 
 And whether there were any law against him, I 
 know not ; but pity the Parish the less for turning 
 out their legal Minister. 
 
 We have now overtaken Dr. Sanderson at Boothby 
 Parish, where he hoped to have enjoyed himself, 
 though in a poor, yet in a quiet and desired privacy 5 
 but it proved otherwise : for all corners of the 
 nation were filled with Covenanters, confusion, Com- 
 mittee-men, and soldiers, serving each other to their 
 several ends, of revenge, or power, or profit ; and 
 these Committee-men and soldiers were most of 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 397 
 
 them so possessed with this Covenant, that they 
 
 became like those that were infected with that 
 
 dreadful Plague of Athens ; the plague of which 
 
 Plague was, that they by it became maliciously 
 
 restless to get into company, and to joy, — so the 
 
 Historian* saith, — when they had in- ^ _. 
 
 J * Thucydides. 
 
 fected others, even those of their most 
 
 beloved or nearest friends or relations : and though 
 there might be some of these Covenanters that 
 were beguiled and meant well 5 yet such were the 
 generality of them, and temper of the times, that 
 you may be sure Dr. Sanderson, who though quiet 
 and harmless, yet an eminent dissenter from them, 
 could not live peaceably 5 nor did he ; for the 
 soldiers would appear, and visibly disturb him in 
 the Church when he read prayers, pretending to 
 advise him how God was to be served most accep- 
 tably : which he not approving, but continuing to 
 observe order and decent behaviour in reading the 
 Church-service, they forced his book from him, 
 and tore it, expecting extemporary prayers. 
 
 At this time he was advised by a Parliament man 
 of power and note, that valued and loved him much, 
 not to be strict in reading all the Common Prayer, 
 but make some little variation, especially if the 
 soldiers came to watch him j for then it might not be 
 in the power of him and his other friends to secure 
 him from taking the Covenant, or Sequestration : 
 for which reasons he did vary somewhat from 
 the strict rules of the Rubric. I will set down the 
 
398 THE LIFE OF 
 
 very words of confession which he used, as I have 
 it under his own hand ; and tell the Reader, that 
 all his other variations were as little, and much 
 like to this. 
 
 HIS CONFESSION. 
 
 Almighty God and merciful Father, we, thy un- 
 worthy servants, do with shame and sorrow confess, that 
 we have all our life long gone astray out of thy ways like 
 lost sheep ; and that, by following too much the vain 
 devices and desires of our own hearts, we have grievously 
 offended against thy holy laws, both in thought, word, 
 and deed ; we have many times left undone those good 
 duties, which we might and ought to have done ; and 
 we have many times done those evils, when we might 
 have avoided them, which we ought not to have done. 
 We confess, O Lord ! that there is no health at all, nor 
 help in any creature to relieve us ; but all our hope is 
 in thy mercy, whose justice we have by our sins so far 
 provoked. Have mercy therefore upon us, O Lord ! 
 have mercy upon us miserable offenders : spare us, good 
 God, who confess our faults, that we perish not ; but, 
 according to thy gracious promises declared unto man- 
 kind in Christ Jesus our Lord, restore us upon our 
 true repentance into thy grace and favour. And grant, 
 most merciful Father ! for his sake, that we henceforth 
 study to serve and please thee by leading a godly, 
 righteous, and a sober life, to the glory of thy holy 
 name, and the eternal comfort of our own souls, through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 399 
 
 In these disturbances of tearing his service-book, 
 a neighbour came on a Sunday, after the Evening 
 service was ended, to visit and condole with him 
 for the affront offered by the soldiers. To whom 
 he spake with a composed patience, and said ; God 
 hath restored me to my desired privacy, with my wife 
 and children ; where I hoped to have met with quietness, 
 and it proves not so : but I will labour to be pleased, 
 because God, on whom I depend, sees it is not Jit for 
 me to be quiet. I praise him, that he hath by his grace 
 prevented me, from making shipwreck of a good con- 
 science to maintain me in a place of great reputation 
 and profit : and though my condition be such, that I 
 need the last, yet I submit ; for God did not send me 
 into this world to do my own, but suffer his will, and I 
 will obey it. Thus by a sublime depending on his 
 wise, and powerful, and pitiful Creator, he did 
 cheerfully submit to what God had appointed, 
 justifying the truth of that doctrine which he had 
 preached. 
 
 About this time that excellent book of The King's 
 Meditations in his Solitude was printed, and made 
 public : and Dr. Sanderson was such a lover of the 
 Author, and so desirous that the whole world 
 should see the character of him in that book, and 
 something of the cause for which they suffered, 
 that he designed to turn it into Latin : but when 
 he had done half of it most excellently, his friend 
 Dr. Earle prevented him, by appearing to have done 
 the whole very well before him. 
 
400 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 About this time his dear and most intimate friend, 
 the learned Dr. Hammond, came to enjoy a conver- 
 
 sation and rest with him for some days ; and did 
 so. And having formerly persuaded him to trust 
 his excellent memory, and not read, but try to 
 speak a sermon as he had writ it, Dr. Sanderson 
 became so compliant, as to promise he would. And 
 to that end they two went early the Sunday follow- 
 ing to a neighbour Minister, and requested to ex- 
 change a sermon ; and they did so. And at Dr. 
 Sandersons going into the pulpit, he gave his ser- 
 mon — which was a very short one — into the hand 
 of Dr. Hammond, intending to preach it as it was 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 401 
 
 writ : but before he had preached a third part, Dr. 
 Hammond, — looking on his sermon as written — 
 observed him to be out, and so lost as to the matter, 
 that he also became afraid for him 5 for 'twas dis- 
 cernible to many of the plain auditory. But when 
 he had ended this short sermon, as they two walked 
 homeward, Dr. Sanderson said with much earnest- 
 ness, Good Doctor, give me my sermon ; and know, 
 that neither you nor any man living, shall ever persuade 
 me to preach again without my books. To which the 
 reply was, Good Doctor, be not angry ; for if I ever 
 persuade you to preach again without book, I will give 
 you leave to burn all those that I am master of. 
 
 Part of the occasion of Dr. Hammond's visit, was 
 at this time to discourse with Dr. Sanderson about 
 some opinions, in which, if they did not then, they 
 had doubtless differed formerly; it was about those 
 knotty points, which are by the learned called the 
 Quinquarticular Controversy ; of which I shall pro- 
 ceed, not to give any judgment, — I pretend not to 
 that, —but some short historical account which 
 shall follow. 
 
 There had been, since the unhappy Covenant was 
 brought and so generally taken in England, a li- 
 berty given or taken by many Preachers — those of 
 London especially — to preach and be too positive 
 in the points of Universal Redemption, Predestination, 
 and those other depending upon these. Some of 
 which preached, That all men were, before they came 
 into this world, so predestinated to salvation or damna- 
 3 G 
 
402 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Hon, that it was not in their power to sin so, as to lose 
 the first, nor by their most diligent endeavour to avoid 
 the latter. Others, That it was not so; because then 
 God could not be said to grieve for the death of a sinner, 
 when he himself had made him so by an inevitable de- 
 cree, before he had so much as a being in this world ; 
 affirming therefore, that man had some power left 
 him to do the will of God, because he was advised to 
 work out his salvation with fear and trembling; main- 
 taining, that it is most certain every man can do what 
 he can to be saved ; and that he that does what he can 
 to be saved, shall never be damned. And yet many 
 that affirmed this would confess, That that grace, 
 which is but a persuasive offer, and left to us to receive 
 or refuse, is not that grace which shall bring men to 
 Heaven. Which truths, or untruths, or both, be 
 they which they will, did upon these, or the like 
 occasions, come to be searched into, and charitably 
 debated betwixt Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Hammond, and 
 Dr. Pierce, — the now Reverend Dean of Salisbury, — 
 of which I shall proceed to give some account, but 
 briefly. 
 
 In the year 1648, the fifty-two London Ministers 
 — then a fraternity of Sion College in that City — 
 had in a printed Declaration aspersed Dr. Hammond 
 most heinously, for that he had in his Practical Ca- 
 techism affirmed, that our Saviour died for the sins of 
 all mankind. To justify which truth, he presently 
 makes a charitable reply — as 'tis now printed in 
 his works. — After which there were many letters 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 403 
 
 passed betwixt the said Dr. Hammond, Dr. Sander- 
 son, and Dr. Pierce, concerning God's grace and 
 decrees. Dr. Sanderson was with much unwilling- 
 ness drawn into this debate ; for he declared it 
 would prove uneasy to him, who in his judgment 
 of God's decrees differed with Dr. Hammond, — 
 whom he reverenced and loved dearly, — and would 
 not therefore engage him into a controversy, of 
 which he could never hope to see an end : but they 
 did all enter into a charitable disquisition of these 
 said points in several letters, to the full satisfaction 
 of the learned j those betwixt Dr. Sanderson and Dr. 
 Hammond being printed in his works ; and for what 
 passed betwixt him and the learned Dr. Pierce, I 
 refer my Reader to a Letter annexed to the end 
 of this relation * 
 
 I think the judgment of Dr. Sanderson, was, by 
 these debates, altered from what it was at his en- 
 trance into them ^ for in the year 1632, when his 
 excellent Sermons were first printed in quarto, the 
 Reader may on the margin find some accusation of 
 Arminius for false doctrine ; and find that, upon a 
 review and reprinting those Sermons in folio, in the 
 year 1657, that accusation of Arminius is omitted. 
 And the change of his judgment seems more fully 
 to appear in his said letter to Dr. Pierce. And let 
 me now tell the Reader, which may seem to be 
 perplexed with these several affirmations of God's 
 
 * This Letter will also be found inserted in the volume 
 already mentioned on page 353. 
 
404 THE LIFE OF 
 
 decrees before mentioned, that Dr. Hammond, in a 
 postscript to the last letter of Dr. Sanderson s, says, 
 God can reconcile his own contradictions, and therefore 
 advises all men, as the Apostle does, to study mortification, 
 and be wise to sobriety. And let me add further, that 
 if these fifty-two Ministers of Sion College were the 
 occasion of the debates in these letters, they have, 
 I think, been the occasion of giving an end to the 
 Quinquarticular Controversy; for none have since 
 undertaken to say more 5 but seem to be so wise, 
 as to be content to be ignorant of the rest, till they 
 come to that place, where the secrets of all hearts 
 shall be laid open. And let me here tell the Reader 
 also, that if the rest of mankind would, as Dr. San- 
 derson, not conceal their alteration of judgment, but 
 confess it to the honour of God and themselves, 
 then our nation would become freer from pertina- 
 cious disputes, and fuller of recantations. 
 
 I cannot lead my Reader to Dr. Hammond and 
 Dr. Sanderson, where we left them at Boothby Pan- 
 nell, till I have looked back to the Long Parliament, 
 the Society of Covenanters in Sion College, and 
 those others scattered up and down in London, and 
 given some account of their proceedings and usage 
 of the late learned Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of 
 Canterbury. And though I will forbear to mention 
 the injustice of his death, and the barbarous usage 
 of him, both then and before it 3 yet my desire is 
 that what follows may be noted, because it does 
 now, or may hereafter, concern us 5 namely, that 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 405 
 
 in his last sad sermon on the scaffold at his death, 
 he having freely pardoned all his enemies, and 
 humbly begged of God to pardon them, and be- 
 sought those present to pardon and pray for him j 
 yet he seemed to accuse the magistrates of the 
 City, for suffering a sort of wVetched people, that 
 could not know why he was condemned, to go 
 visibly up and down to gather hands to a petition, 
 that the Parliament would hasten his execution. And 
 having declared how unjustly he thought himself 
 to be condemned, and accused for endeavouring to 
 bring in Popery, — for that was one of the accusa- 
 tions for which he died, — he declared with sadness, 
 That the several sects and divisions then in England — 
 which he had laboured to prevent, — were like to bring 
 the Pope afar greater harvest, than he could ever have 
 expected without them. And said, These sects and 
 divisions introduce prqfaneness under the cloak of an 
 imaginary Religion; and that we have lost the sub- 
 stance of Religion by changing it into opinion; and that 
 by these means this Church, which all the Jesuits' ma- 
 chinations could not ruin, was fallen into -apparent 
 danger by those which were his accusers. To this pur- 
 pose he spoke at his death : for this, and more of 
 which, the Reader may view his last sad sermon 
 on the scaffold. And it is here mentioned, because 
 his dear friend Dr. Sanderson } seems to demonstrate 
 the same in his two large and remarkable Prefaces 
 before his two volumes of Sermons 5 and he seems 
 also with much sorrow to say the same again in 
 
406 THE LIFE OF 
 
 his last Will, made when he apprehended himself 
 to be very near his death. And these Covenanters 
 ought to take notice of it, and to remember, that, 
 by the late wicked war begun by them, Dr. San- 
 derson was ejected out of the Professor's Chair in 
 Oxford; and that if he had continued in it, — for he 
 lived fourteen years after, — both the learned of 
 this, and other nations, had been made happy by 
 many remarkable Cases of Conscience, so rationally 
 stated, and so briefly, so clearly, and so convincingly 
 determined, that posterity might have joyed and 
 boasted, that Dr. Sanderson was born in this nation, 
 for the ease and benefit of all the learned that 
 shall be born after him : but this benefit is so 
 like time past, that they are both irrecoverably 
 lost. 
 
 I should now return to Boothby Pannell, where 
 we left Dr. Hammond and Dr. Sanderson together - 7 
 but neither can be found there : for the first was 
 in his journey to London, and the second seized 
 upon the day after his friend's departure, and 
 carried prisoner to Lincoln, then a garrison of the 
 Parliament's. For the pretended reason of which 
 commitment, I shall give this following account. 
 
 There was one Mr. Clarke, the Minister of Aling- 
 ton, a town not many miles from Boothby Pannell, 
 who was an active man for the Parliament and 
 Covenant ; one that, when Belvoir Castle — then a 
 garrison for the Parliament — was taken by a party 
 of the King's soldiers, was taken in it, and made a 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 407 
 
 prisoner of war in Newark, then a garrison of the 
 King's ; a man so active and useful for his party, 
 that they became so much concerned for his en- 
 largement., that the Committee of Lincoln sent a 
 troop of horse to seize and bring Dr. Sanderson a 
 prisoner to that garrison : and they did so. And 
 there he had the happiness to meet with many, that 
 knew him so well as to treat him kindly ; but told 
 him, He must continue their prisoner, till he should 
 purchase his own enlargement by procuring an exchange 
 for Mr. Clarke, then prisoner in the King's garrison of 
 Newark. There were many reasons given by the 
 Doctor of the injustice of his imprisonment, and 
 the inequality of the exchange ; but all were in- 
 effectual ; for done it must be, or he continue a 
 prisoner. And in time done it was, upon the follow- 
 ing conditions. 
 
 First, that Dr. Sanderson and Mr. Clarke being 
 exchanged, should live undisturbed at their own 
 Parishes 3 and if either were injured by the soldiers 
 of the contrary party, the other, having notice of 
 it, should procure him a redress, by having satis- 
 faction made for his loss, or for any other injury ; 
 or if not, he to be used in the same kind by the 
 other party. Nevertheless, Dr. Sanderson could 
 neither live safe nor quietly, being several times 
 plundered, and once wounded in three places : but 
 he, apprehending the remedy might turn to a more 
 intolerable burden by impatience or complaining, 
 forbore both 5 and possessed his soul in a contented 
 
408 THE LIFE OF 
 
 quietness, without the least repining. But though 
 he could not enjoy the safety he expected by this 
 exchange, yet, by His providence that can bring 
 good out of evil, it turned so much to his advan- 
 tage, that whereas as his living had been sequestered 
 from the year 1644, and continued to be so till this 
 time of his imprisonment, he, by the Articles of War 
 in this exchange for Mr. Clarke, procured his se- 
 questration to be recalled, and by that means en- 
 joyed a poor, but contented subsistence for himself, 
 wife, and children, till the happy restoration of our 
 King and Church. 
 
 In this time of his poor, but contented privacy 
 of life, his casuistical learning, peaceful moderation, 
 and sincerity, became so remarkable, that there 
 were many that applied themselves to him for re- 
 solution in cases of conscience ; some known to 
 him, many notj some requiring satisfaction by 
 conference, others by letters ; so many, that his 
 life became almost as restless as their minds 3 yet 
 he denied no man : and if it be a truth which holy 
 Mr. Herbert says, That all worldly joys seem less, when 
 compared with shewing mercy or doing kindnesses ,• then 
 doubtless Dr. Sanderson might have boasted for 
 relieving so many restless and wounded con- 
 sciences 5 which, as Solomon says, are a burden thai 
 none can bear, though their fortitude may sustain their 
 other infirmities : and if words cannot express the 
 joy of a conscience relieved from such restless 
 agonies ; then Dr. Sanderson might rejoice that so 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 409 
 
 many were by him so clearly and conscientiously 
 satisfied, for he denied none, and would often praise 
 God for that ability, and as often for the occasion, 
 and that God had inclined his heart to do it to the 
 meanest of any of those poor, but precious souls, 
 for which his Saviour vouchsafed to be crucified. 
 
 Some of those very many cases that were re- 
 solved by letters, have been preserved and printed 
 for the benefit of posterity j as namely, 
 
 1. Of the Sabbath. 
 
 2. Marrying with a Recusant. 
 
 3. Of unlawful love. 
 A. Of a military life. 
 
 5. Of Scandal. 
 
 6. Of a bond taken in the King's name. 
 
 7. Of the Engagement. 
 
 8. Of a rash vow. 
 
 But many more remain in private hands, of which 
 one is of Simony ,• and I wish the world might see 
 it, that it might undeceive some Patrons, who think 
 they have discharged that great and dangerous 
 trust, both to God and man, if they take no money 
 for a living, though it may be parted with for other 
 ends less justifiable. 
 
 And in this time of his retirement, when the 
 common people were amazed and grown giddy by 
 the many falsehoods, and misapplications of truths 
 3 H 
 
410 THE LIFE OF 
 
 frequently vented in sermons ; when they wrested 
 the Scripture by challenging God to be of their 
 party, and called upon him in their prayers to pa- 
 tronize their sacrilege and zealous frenzies 3 in this 
 time he did so compassionate the generality of this 
 misled nation, that though the times threatened 
 danger, yet he then hazarded his safety by writing 
 the large and bold Preface now extant before his 
 last twenty Sermons ; — first printed in the year 
 1655 3 — in which there was such strength of reason, 
 with so powerful and clear convincing applications 
 made to the Nonconformists, as being read by one 
 of those dissenting brethren, who was possessed 
 with such a spirit of contradiction, as being neither 
 able to defend his error, nor yield to truth manifest, 
 — his conscience having slept long and quietly in a 
 good sequestered living, — was yet at the reading of 
 it so awakened, that after a conflict with the reason 
 he had met, and the damage he was to sustain if 
 he consented to it, — and being still unwilling to be 
 so convinced, as to lose by being over-reasoned, — 
 he went in haste to the bookseller of whom it was 
 bought, threatened him, and told him in anger, he 
 had sold a book in which there was false Divinity ; and 
 that the Preface had upbraided the Parliament, and 
 many godly Ministers of that party, for unjust dealing. 
 To which his reply was, — 'twas Tim, Garthwaite, — 
 That 'twas not his trade to judge of true or false 
 Divinity, but to print and sell books : and yet if he, or 
 
BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 411 
 
 any friend of his, would write an answer to it, and own 
 it by setting his name to it, he would print the Answer, 
 and promote the selling of it. 
 
 About the time of his printing this excellent 
 Preface, I met him accidentally in London, in sad- 
 coloured clothes, and, God knows, far from being 
 costly. The place of our meeting was near to Little 
 Britain, where he had been to buy a book, which 
 he then had in his hand. We had no inclination to 
 part presently, and therefore turned to stand in a 
 corner under a penthouse, — for it began to rain, — 
 and immediately the wind rose, and the rain in- 
 creased so much, that both became so inconvenient, 
 as to force us into a cleanly house, where we had 
 bread, cheese, ale, and a fire, for our money. This 
 rain and wind were so obliging to me, as to force 
 our stay there for at least an hour, to my great 
 content and advantage ; for in that time he made 
 to me many useful observations, with much clear- 
 ness and conscientious freedom. I shall relate a 
 part of them, in hope they may also turn to the 
 advantage of my Reader. He seemed to lament, 
 that the Parliament had taken upon them to abolish 
 our Liturgy, to the scandal of so many devout and 
 learned men, and the disgrace of those many mar- 
 tyrs, who had sealed the truth and use of it with 
 their blood : and that no Minister was now thought 
 godly that did not decry it, and at least pretend to 
 make better prayers ex tempore : and that they, and 
 only they, that could do so, prayed by the Spirit, 
 
412 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and were godly 3 though in their sermons they dis- 
 puted, and evidently contradicted each other in 
 their prayers. And as he did dislike this, so he did 
 most highly commend the Common Prayer of the 
 Church, saying, the Collects were the most passionate, 
 proper, and most elegant expressions that any language 
 ever afforded ; and that there was in them such piety, 
 and so interwoven with instructions, that they taught us 
 to know the power, the wisdom, the majesty, and mercy 
 of God, and much of our duty both to him and our 
 neighbour ; and that a congregation, behaving themselves 
 reverently, and putting up to God these joint and known 
 desires for pardon of sins, and praises for mercies re- 
 ceived, could not but be more pleasing to God, than 
 those raw, unpremeditated expressions, to which many 
 of the hearers could not say, Amen. 
 
 And he then commended to me the frequent use 
 of the Psalter, or Psalms of David ; speaking to this 
 purpose : That they were the treasury of Christian 
 comfort, fitted for all persons and necessities ; able to 
 raise the soul from dejection by the frequent mention of 
 God's mercies to repentant sinners ; to stir up holy de- 
 sires ; to increase joy ; to moderate sorrow ; to nourish 
 hope, and teach us patience, by waiting God's leisure ; 
 to beget a trust in the mercy, power, and providence of 
 our Creator ; and to cause a resignation of ourselves to 
 his will j and then, and not till then, to believe our- 
 selves happy. This, he said, the Liturgy and Psalms 
 taught us 5 and that by the frequent use of the last, 
 they would not only prove to be our soul's comfort^ 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 413 
 
 but would become so habitual, as to transform them 
 into the image of his soul that composed them. 
 After this manner he expressed himself concerning 
 the Liturgy and Psalms ; and seemed to lament that 
 this, which was the devotion of the more primitive 
 times, should in common pulpits be turned into 
 needless debates about Freewill, Election, and Repro- 
 bation, of which, and many like questions, we may 
 be safely ignorant, because Almighty God intends 
 not to lead us to Heaven by hard questions, but by 
 meekness and charity, and a frequent practice of 
 devotion. 
 
 And he seemed to lament very much, that, by 
 the means of irregular and indiscreet preaching, the 
 generality of the nation were possessed with such 
 dangerous mistakes, as to think, they might be re- 
 ligious first, and then just and merciful ; that they 
 might sell their consciences, and yet have something left 
 that was worth keeping ; that they might be sure they 
 were elected, though their lives were visibly scandalous ; 
 that to be cunning was to be wise ; that to be rich was 
 to be happy, though their wealth was got without justice 
 or mercy ; that to be busy in things they understood not, 
 was no sin. These, and the like mistakes he la- 
 mented much, and besought God to remove them, 
 and restore us to that humility, sincerity, and single- 
 heartedness, with which this nation was blessed, 
 before the unhappy Covenant was brought into the 
 nation, and every man preached and prayed what 
 seemed best in his own eyes. And he tijen said to 
 
414 THE LIFE OF 
 
 me, That the way to restore this nation to a more meek 
 and Christian temper, was to have the body of Divinity 
 — or so much of it as was needful to be known — -to be 
 put into fifty -two Homilies or Sermons, of such a length 
 as not to exceed a third, or fourth part of an hours 
 reading ; and these needful points to be made so clear 
 and plain, that those of a mean capacity might know 
 what was necessary to be believed, and what God requires 
 to be done ; and then some applications of trial and 
 conviction : and these to be read every Sunday of the 
 year, as infallibly as the blood circulates the body ; and 
 then as certainly begun again, and continued the year 
 following : and that this being done, it might probably 
 abate the inordinate desire of knowing what we need 
 not, and practising what we know and ought to do. 
 This was the earnest desire of this prudent man. 
 And Oh that Dr. Sanderson had undertaken it ! for 
 then in all probability it would have proved effec- 
 tual. 
 
 At this happy time of enjoying his company and 
 this discourse, he expressed a sorrow by saying to 
 me, Oh that I had gone Chaplain to that excellently 
 accomplished gentleman, your friend, Sir Henry Wot- 
 ton ! which was once intended, when he first went 
 Ambassador to the State of Venice : for by that em- 
 ployment I had been forced into a necessity of conversing, 
 not with him only, but with several men of several 
 nations ; and might thereby have kept myself from my 
 unmanly bashfulness, which has proved very troublesome, 
 and not less inconvenient to me ; and which I now fear 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 415 
 
 is become so habitual as never to leave me : and by that 
 means I might also have known, or at least have had 
 the satisfaction of seeing, one of the late miracles of 
 general learning, prudence, and modesty, Sir Henry 
 Wotton's dear friend, Padrio Faulo, ivho, the author 
 of his life says, was born with a bashfulness as invincible 
 as I have found my own to be : a man whose fame must 
 never die, till virtue and learning shall become so use' 
 less as not to be regarded. 
 
 This was a part of the benefit I then had by that 
 hour's conversation : and I gladly remember and 
 mention it, as an argument of my happiness, and 
 his great humility and condescension. I had also 
 a like advantage by another happy conference with 
 him, which I am desirous to impart in this place to 
 the Reader. He lamented much, that in many 
 Parishes, where the maintenance was not great, 
 there was no Minister to officiate ; and that many 
 of the best sequestered livings were possessed with 
 such rigid Covenanters as denied the Sacrament to 
 their parishioners, unless upon such conditions, and 
 in such a manner, as they could not take it. This 
 he mentioned with much sorrow, saying, The blessed 
 Sacrament did, by way of preparation for it, give occa- 
 sion to all conscientious receivers to examine the per- 
 formance of their vows, since they received their last 
 seal for the pardon of their sins past; and to examine 
 and re-search their hearts, and make penitent reflections 
 on their failings ; and, that done, to bewail them, and 
 then make new vows or resolutions to obey all God's 
 
416 THE LIFE OF 
 
 commands, and beg his grace to perform them. And 
 this done, the Sacrament repairs the decays of grace, 
 helps us to conquer infirmities, gives us grace to beg 
 God's grace, and then gives us what we beg ; makes us 
 still hunger and thirst after his righteousness, which we 
 then receive, and being assisted with our endeavours, 
 will still so dwell in us, as to become our satisfaction in 
 this life, and our comfort on our last sick beds. The 
 want of this blessed benefit he lamented much, and 
 pitied their condition that desired, but could not 
 obtain it. 
 
 I hope I shall not disoblige my Reader, if I here 
 enlarge into a further character of his person and 
 temper. As first, that he was moderately tall : his 
 behaviour had in it much of a plain comeliness, and 
 very little, yet enough, of ceremony or courtship ; 
 his looks and motion manifested affability and mild- 
 ness,, and yet he had with these a calm, but so 
 matchless a fortitude, as secured him from com- 
 plying with any of those many Parliament injunc- 
 tions, that interfered with a doubtful conscience. 
 His learning was methodical and exact, his wisdom 
 useful, his integrity visible, and his whole life so 
 unspotted, that all ought to be preserved as copies 
 for posterity to write after ; the Clergy especially, 
 who with impure hands ought not to offer sacrifice 
 to that God, whose pure eyes abhor iniquity. 
 
 There was in his Sermons no improper rhetoric, 
 nor such perplexed divisions, as may be said to 
 be like too much light, that so dazzles the eyes, 
 
BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 417 
 
 that the sight becomes less perfect : but there was 
 therein no want of useful matter, nor waste of 
 words 5 and yet such clear distinctions as dispelled 
 all confused notions, and made his hearers depart 
 both wiser, and more confirmed in virtuous reso- 
 lutions. 
 
 His memory was so matchless and firm, as 'twas 
 only overcome by his bashfulness ; for he alone, or 
 to a friend, could repeat all the Odes of Horace, all 
 Tullys Offices, and much of Juvenal and Persius, 
 without book ; and would say, the repetition of one 
 of the Odes of Horace to himself, was to him such 
 music, as a lesson on the viol was to others, when they 
 played it to themselves or friends. And though he was 
 blest with a clearer judgment than other men, yet 
 he was so distrustful of it, that he did over-consider 
 of consequences, and would so delay and re-consider 
 what to determine, that though none ever deter- 
 mined better, yet, when the bell tolled for him to 
 appear and read his Divinity Lectures in Oxford, 
 and all the scholars attended to hear him, he had 
 not then, or not till then, resolved and writ what 
 he meant to determine ; so that that appeared to 
 be a truth, which his old dear friend Dr. Sheldon 
 would often say, namely, That his judgment was so 
 much superior to his fancy, that whatsoever this sug- 
 gested, that disliked and controlled; still considering, 
 and re-considering, till his time was so wasted, that he 
 was forced to write, not, probably, what was best, bu; 
 what he thought last. And yet what he did then 
 3 1 
 
418 THE LIFE OF 
 
 read, appeared to all hearers to be so useful, clear, 
 and satisfactory, as none ever determined with 
 greater applause. These tiring and perplexing 
 thoughts, begot in him an averseness to enter into 
 the toil of considering and determining all casuis- 
 tical points j because, during that time, they neither 
 gave rest to his body or mind. But though he 
 would not be always loaden with these knotty 
 points and distinctions j yet the study of old re- 
 cords, genealogies, and Heraldry, were a recreation, 
 and so pleasing, that he would say they gave rest 
 to his mind. Of the last of which I have seen two 
 remarkable volumes 5 and the Reader needs neither 
 to doubt their truth or exactness. 
 
 And this humble man had so conquered all re- 
 pining and ambitious thoughts, and with them all 
 other unruly passions, that, if the accidents of the 
 day proved to his danger or damage, yet he both 
 began and ended it with an even and undisturbed 
 quietness j always praising God that he had not 
 withdrawn food and raiment from him and his 
 poor family ; nor suffered him to violate his con- 
 science for his safety, or to support himself or them 
 in a more splendid or plentiful condition 5 and that 
 he therefore resolved with David, That his praise 
 should be always in his mouth. 
 
 I have taken a content in giving my Reader this 
 character of his person, his temper, and some of 
 the accidents of his life past ; and more might be 
 added of all : but I will with sorrow look forward 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 419 
 
 to the sad days, in which so many good men suf- 
 fered, about the year 1658, at which time Dr. San- 
 derson was in a very low condition as to his estate : 
 and in that time Mr. Robert Boyle — a gentleman of 
 a very noble birth, and more eminent for his libe- 
 rality, learning, and virtue, and of whom I would 
 say much more, but that he still lives — having 
 casually met with and read his Lectures de Jura- 
 mento, to his great satisfaction, and being informed 
 of Dr. Sandersons great innocence and sincerity, 
 and that he and his family were brought into a low 
 condition by his not complying with the Parlia- 
 ment's injunctions, sent him by his dear friend Dr. 
 Barlow — the now learned Bishop of Lincoln — 501. 
 and with it a request and promise. The request 
 was, that he would review the Lectures de Con- 
 scientid, which he had read when he was Doctor of 
 the Chair in Oxford, aud print them for the good of 
 posterity ; — and this Dr. Sanderson did in the year 
 1659. — And the promise was, that he would pay 
 him that, or a greater sum if desired, during his 
 life, to enable him to pay an Amanuensis, to ease 
 him from the trouble of writing what he should 
 conceive or dictate. For the more particular ac- 
 count of which, I refer my Reader to a letter writ 
 by the said Dr. Barlow, which I have annexed to 
 the end of this relation.* 
 
 Towards the end of this year, 1659, when the 
 
 * This will also be found printed in the work mentioned on 
 page 353. 
 
420 THE LIFE OF 
 
 many mixed sects, and their creators and merciless 
 protectors, had led or driven each other into a 
 whirlpool of confusion -, when amazement and fear 
 had seized them, and their accusing consciences 
 gave them an inward and fearful intelligence, that 
 the God which they had long served was now ready 
 to pay them such wages, as he does always reward 
 Witches with for their obeying him j when these 
 wretches were come to foresee an end of their cruel 
 reign j by our King's return ; and such sufferers as 
 Dr. Sanderson — and with him many of the oppressed 
 Clergy and others — could foresee the cloud of their 
 afflictions would be dispersed by it ; then, in the 
 beginning of the year following, the King was by 
 God restored to us, and we to our known laws and 
 liberties, and a general joy and peace seemed to 
 breathe through the three nations. Then were the 
 suffering Clergy freed from their sequestration, 
 restored to their revenues, and to a liberty to adore, 
 praise, and pray to God in such order as their con- 
 sciences and oaths had formerly obliged them. 
 And the Reader will easily believe, that Dr. Sander- 
 son and his dejected family rejoiced to see this day, 
 and be of this number. 
 
 It ought to be considered — which I have often 
 heard or read — that in the primitive times men of 
 learning and virtue were usually sought for, and 
 solicited to accept of Episcopal government, and 
 often refused it. For they conscientiously con- 
 sidered, that the office of a Bishop was made up of 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 421 
 
 labour and care ; that they were trusted to be God's 
 almoners of the Church's revenue, and double their 
 care for the poor ; to live strictly themselves, and 
 use all diligence to see that their family, officers, 
 and Clergy did so ; and that the account of that 
 stewardship, must, at the last dreadful day be made 
 to the Searcher of all Hearts : and that in the pri- 
 mitive times they were therefore timorous to un- 
 dertake it. It may not be said, that Dr. Sanderson 
 was accomplished with these, and all the other re- 
 quisites required in a Bishop, so as to be able to 
 answer them exactly : but it may be affirmed, as a 
 good preparation, that he had at the age of seventy- 
 three years — for he was so old at the King's return 
 — fewer faults to be pardoned by God or man, than 
 are apparent in others in these days, in which, God 
 knows, we fall so short of that visible sanctity and 
 zeal to God's glory, which was apparent in the 
 days of primitive Christianity. This is mentioned 
 by way of preparation to what I shall say more of 
 Dr. Sanderson ; and namely, that, at the King's re- 
 turn, Dr. Sheldon, the late prudent Bishop of Can- 
 terbury, — than whom none knew, valued, or loved 
 Dr. Sanderson more or better, — was by his Majesty 
 made a chief trustee to commend to him fit men to 
 supply the then vacant Bishoprics. And Dr. Shel- 
 don knew none fitter than Dr. Sanderson, and there- 
 therefore humbly desired the King that he would 
 nominate him : and, that done, he did as humbly 
 desire Dr. Sanderson that he would, for God's and 
 
422 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the Church's sake, take that charge and care upon 
 him. Dr. Sanderson had, if not an unwillingness, 
 certainly no forwardness to undertake it j and would 
 often say, he had not led himself, but his friend would 
 now lead him into a temptation, which he had daily 
 prayed against ; and besought God, if he did undertake 
 it } so to assist him with his grace, that the example of 
 his life, his cares and endeavours, might promote his 
 glory, and help forward the salvation of others. 
 
 This I have mentioned as a happy preparation to 
 his Bishopric ; and am next to tell, that he was 
 consecrated Bishop of Lincoln at Westminster, the 
 28th of October, 1660. 
 
 There was about this time a Christian care taken, 
 that those whose consciences were, as they said, 
 tender, and could not comply with the service and 
 ceremonies of the Church, might have satisfaction 
 given by a friendly debate betwixt a select number 
 of them, and some like number of those that had 
 been sufferers for the Church- service and ceremonies, 
 and now restored to liberty $ of which last some 
 were then preferred to power and dignity in the 
 Church. And of these Bishop Sanderson was one, 
 and then chose to be a moderator in that debate : 
 and he performed his trust with much mildness, 
 patience, and reason ', but all proved ineffectual : 
 for there be some prepossessions like jealousies, 
 which, though causeless, yet cannot be removed 
 by reasons as apparent as demonstrations can make 
 any truth. The place appointed for this debate 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 423 
 
 was the Savoy in the Strand: and the points de- 
 bated were, I think, many 5 some affirmed to be 
 truth and reason, some denied to be either -, and 
 these debates being then in words, proved to be so 
 loose and perplexed as satisfied neither party. For 
 sometime that which had been affirmed was im- 
 mediately forgot or denied, and so no satisfaction 
 given to either party. But that the debate might 
 become more useful, it was therefore resolved, that 
 the day following the desires and reasons of the 
 Nonconformists should be given in writing, and they 
 in writing receive answers from the conforming 
 party. And though I neither now can, nor need to 
 mention all the points debated, nor the names of 
 the dissenting brethren 5 yet I am sure Mr. Baxter 
 was one, and am sure what shall now follow was 
 one of the points debated. 
 
 Concerning a command of lawful superiors, what 
 was sufficient to its being a lawful command 5 this 
 proposition was brought by the conforming party. 
 
 That command which commands an act in itself 
 lawful, and no other act or circumstance unlawful, is 
 not sinful. 
 
 Mr. Baxter denied it for two reasons, which he 
 gave in with his own hand in writing, thus : 
 
 One was, Because that may be a sin per accidens, 
 which is not so in itself, and may be unlawfully com- 
 manded, though that accident be not in the' command. 
 Another was, That it may be commanded under an 
 unjust penalty. 
 
424 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Again, this proposition being brought by the 
 Conformists, That command which commandeth an 
 act in itself lawful, and no other act whereby any unjust 
 penalty is enjoined, nor any circumstance whence, per 
 accidens, any sin is consequent which the commander 
 ought to provide against, is not sinful. 
 
 Mr. Baxter denied it for this reason, then given 
 in with his own hand in writing thus -, Because the 
 first act commanded may be per accidens unlawful, 
 and be commanded by an unjust penalty, though no 
 other act or circumstance commanded be such. 
 
 Again, this proposition being brought by the Con- 
 formists, That command which commandeth an act in 
 itself lawful, and no other act whereby any unjust 
 penalty is enjoined, nor any circumstance, whence directly, 
 or per accidens, any sin is consequent, which the com- 
 mander ought to provide against, hath in it all things 
 requisite to the lawfulness of a command, and particu- 
 larly cannot be guilty of commanding an act per acci- 
 dens unlawful, nor of commanding an act under an 
 unjust penalty. 
 
 Mr. Baxter denied it upon the same reasons. 
 
 Peter Gunning. 
 John Pearson. 
 
 These were then two of the disputants, still alive, 
 and will attest this ; one being now Lord Bishop 
 of Ely, and the other of Chester. And the last of 
 them told me very lately, that one of the Dis- 
 senters — which I could, but forbear to name — 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 425 
 
 appeared to Dr. Sanderson to be so bold, so trouble- 
 some, and so illogical in the dispute, as forced 
 patient Dr. Sanderson — who was then Bishop of 
 Lincoln, and a moderator with other Bishops — to 
 say, with an unusual earnestness, That he had never 
 met with a man of more pertinacious confidence, and less 
 abilities, in all his conversation. 
 
 But though this debate at the Savoy was ended 
 without any great satisfaction to either party, yet 
 both parties knew the desires, and understood the 
 abilities, of the other, much better than before it.: 
 and the late distressed Clergy, that were now re- 
 stored to their former rights and power, did, at their 
 next meeting in Convocation, contrive to give the 
 dissenting party satisfaction by alteration, explana- 
 tion, and addition to some part both of the Rubric 
 and Common- Prayer, as also by adding some new 
 necessary Collects, and a particular Collect of 
 Thanksgiving. How many of those new Collects 
 were worded by Dr. Sanderson, I cannot say -, but 
 am sure the whole Convocation valued him so much, 
 that he never undertook to speak to any point in 
 question, but he was heard with great willingness 
 and attention 3 and when any point in question was 
 determined, the Convocation did usually desire him 
 to word their intentions, and as usually approve and 
 thank him. 
 
 At this Convocation the Common Prayer was 
 made more complete, by adding three new neces- 
 sary Offices 5 which were, A Form of Humiliation for 
 3 K 
 
426 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the Murder of King Charles the Martyr ; A Thanks* 
 giving for the Restoration of his Son our King ; and 
 For the Baptizing of Persons of riper Age. I cannot 
 say Dr. Sanderson did form, or word them all, but 
 doubtless more than any single man of the Convo- 
 cation ; and he did also, by desire of the Convoca- 
 tion, alter and add to the forms of Prayers to be 
 used at Sea — now taken into the Service-Book.— 
 And it may be noted, that William, the now Right 
 Reverend Bishop of Canterbury, was in these em- 
 ployments diligently useful 5 especially in helping 
 to rectify the Calendar and Rubric. And lastly, it 
 may be noted, that, for the satisfying all the dis- 
 senting brethren and others, the Convocation's 
 reasons for the alterations and additions to the 
 Liturgy were by them desired to be drawn up by 
 Dr. Sanderson; which being done by him, and ap- 
 proved by them, was appointed to be printed before 
 the Liturgy, and may be known by this title. — 
 The Preface-, and begins thus — It hath been the 
 wisdom of the Church.- — 
 
 I shall now follow him to his Bishopric, and de- 
 clare a part of his behaviour in that busy and 
 weighty employment. And first, that it was with 
 such condescension and obligingness to the meanest 
 of his Clergy, as to know and be known to them. 
 And indeed he practised the like to all men of what 
 degree soever, especially to his old neighbours or 
 parishioners of Boothby Pannell, for there was all 
 joy at his table, when they came to visit him : then 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 427 
 
 they prayed for him, and he for them, with an un- 
 feigned affection, 
 
 I think it will not be denied, but that the care 
 and toil required of a Bishop, may justly challenge 
 the riches and revenue with which their predeces- 
 sors had lawfully endowed them : and yet he sought 
 not that so much, as doing good both to the present 
 age and posterity} and he made this appear by 
 what follows. 
 
 The Bishop's chief house at Buckden, in the 
 
 County of Huntingdon, the usual residence of his 
 predecessors, — for it stands about the midst of his 
 Diocese, — having been at his consecration a great 
 part of it demolished, and what was left standing 
 under a visible decay, was by him undertaken to be 
 erected and repaired ; and it was performed with 
 great speed, care, and charge. And to this may 
 be added, that the King having by an Injunction 
 
423 THE LIFE OF 
 
 commended to the care of the Bishops, Deans, and 
 Prebends of all Cathedral Churches, the repair of 
 them, their houses, and their augmentation of small 
 Vicarages ; he, when he was repairing Buckden, did 
 also augment the last, as fast as fines were paid 
 for renewing leases : so fast, that a friend, taking 
 notice of his bounty, was so bold as to advise him 
 to remember he was under his first-fruits, and that he 
 was old, and had a wife and children yet but meanly 
 provided for, especially if his dignity were considered. 
 To whom he made a mild and thankful answer, 
 saying, It would not become a Christian Bishop to suffer 
 those houses built by his predecessors to be ruined for 
 want of repair ; and less justifiable to suffer any of 
 those, that were called to so high a calling as to sacrifice 
 at God's altar, to eat the bread of sorrow constantly, 
 when he had a power by a small augmentation, to turn 
 it into the bread of cheerfulness : and wished, that as 
 this was, so it were also in his power to make all man- 
 kind happy, for he desired nothing more. And for his 
 wife and children, he hoped to leave them a competence, 
 and in the hands of a God that would provide for all 
 that kept innocence, and trusted his providence and pro- 
 tection, which he had always found enough to make and 
 keep him happy. 
 
 There was in his Diocese a Minister of almost 
 his age, that had been of Lincoln College when he 
 left it, who visited him often, and always welcome, 
 because he was a man of innocence and open- 
 heartedness. This Minister asked the Bishop what 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 429 
 
 books he studied most, when he laid the founda- 
 tion of his great and clear learning. To which his 
 answer was, that he declined reading many ; but 
 what he did read were well chosen, and read so 
 often, that he became very familiar with them ; 
 and said, they were chiefly three, Aristotle s Rhetoric, 
 Aquinas s Secunda Secundce, and Tully, but chiefly his 
 Offices, which he had not read over less than twenty 
 times, and could at this age say without book. 
 And told him also, the learned Civilian Doctor 
 Zouch — who died lately — had writ Elementa Juris- 
 prudenticE, which was a book that he could also say 
 without book 5 and that no wise man could read it 
 too often, or love or commend too much 5 and told 
 him these had been his toil : but for himself he 
 always had a natural love to genealogies and He- 
 raldry ; and that when his thoughts were harassed 
 with any perplexed studies, he left off, and turned 
 to them as a recreation : and that his very recrea- 
 tion had made him so perfect in them, that he could, 
 in a very short time, give an account of the descent, 
 arms, and antiquity of any family of the Nobility or 
 gentry of this nation. 
 
 Before I give an account of Dr. Sandersons last 
 sickness, I desire to tell the Reader that he was of 
 a healthful constitution, cheerful and mild, of an 
 even temper, very moderate in his diet, and had 
 had little sickness, till some few years before his 
 death ; but was then every winter punished with 
 a diarrhcea, which left him not till warm weather 
 
430 THE LIFE OF 
 
 returned and removed it : and this distemper did, 
 as he grew older, seize him oftener, and continue 
 longer with him. But though it weakened him, 
 yet it made him rather indisposed than sick, and did 
 no way disable him from studying — indeed too 
 much. — In this decay of his strength, but not of 
 his memory or reason, — for this distemper works 
 not upon the understanding, — he made his last Will, 
 of which I shall give some account for confirmation 
 of what hath been said, and what I think convenient 
 to be known, before I declare his death and burial. 
 He did in his last Will, give an account of his 
 faith and persuasion in point of Religion, and 
 Church-government, in these very words : 
 
 I, Robert Sanderson, Doctor of Divinity, an un- 
 worthy Minister of Jesus Christ, and, by the providence 
 of God, Bishop of Lincoln, being by the long conti- 
 nuance of an habitual distemper brought to a great 
 bodily weakness and faintness of spirits, but — by the 
 great mercy of God — without any bodily pain other- 
 wise, or decay of understanding, do make this my Will 
 and Testament, — written all with my own hand, — re- 
 voking all former Wills by me heretofore made, if any 
 such shall be found. First, I commend my soul into 
 the hands of Almighty God, as of a faithful Creator, 
 which I humbly beseech him mercifully to accept, look- 
 ing upon it, not as it is in itself, — infinitely polluted 
 with sin, — but as it is redeemed and purged with the 
 precious blood of his only beloved Son, and my most 
 
BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 431 
 
 sweet Saviour, Jesus Christ; in confidence of whose 
 merits and mediation alone it is, that I cast myself upon 
 the mercy of God for the pardon of my sins, and the 
 hopes of eternal life. And here I do profess, that as I 
 have lived, so I desire, and — by the grace of God — re- 
 solve, to die in the communion of the Catholic Church of 
 Christ, and a true son of the Church of England ; 
 which, as it stands by law established, to be both in doc- 
 trine and worship agreeable to the word of God, and in 
 the most, and most material points of both, conformable 
 to the faith and practice of the godly Churches of Christ 
 in the primitive and purer times, I do firmly believe : 
 led so to do, not so much from the force of custom and 
 education, — to which the greatest part of mankind owe 
 their particular different persuasions in point of Religion, 
 — as upon the clear evidence of truth and reason, after 
 a serious and impartial examination of the grounds, as 
 well of Popery as Puritanism, according to that measure 
 of understanding, and those opportunities which God 
 hath afforded me : and herein I am abundantly satis- 
 fed, that the schism which the Papists on the one hand, 
 and the superstition which the Puritan on the other 
 hand, lay to our charge, are very justly chargeable upon 
 themselves respectively. Wherefore I humbly beseech 
 Almighty God, the Father of mercies, to preserve the 
 Church by his power and providence, in peace, truth, 
 and godliness, evermore to the world's end : which doubt- 
 less he will do, if the wickedness and security of a sinful 
 people — and particularly those sins that are so rife, and 
 seem daily to increase among us, of unthankfulness, 
 
432 THE LIFE OF 
 
 riot, and sacrilege — do not tempt his patience to the 
 contrary. And I also farther humbly beseech him, that 
 it would please him to give unto our gracious Sovereign, 
 the reverend Bishops, and the Parliament, timely to con- 
 sider the great danger that visibly threatens this Church 
 in point of Religion by the late great increase of Popery, 
 and in point of revenue by sacrilegious inclosures ; and 
 to provide such wholesome and effectual remedies, as 
 may prevent the same before it be too late. 
 
 And for a further manifestation of his humble 
 thoughts and desires, they may appear to the Reader 
 by another part of his Will which follows. 
 
 As for my corruptible body, I bequeath it to the earth 
 whence it was taken, to be decently buried in the Parish 
 Church of Buckden, towards the upper end of the 
 Chancel, upon the second, or — at the farthest — the third 
 day after my decease ; and that with as little noise, 
 pomp, and charge as may be, without the invitation of 
 any person how near soever related unto me, other than 
 the inhabitants of Buckden 5 without the unnecessary 
 expence of escutcheons, gloves, ribbons, fyc. and without 
 any blacks to be hung any where in or about the house 
 or Church, other than a pulpit cloth, a hearse-cloth, 
 and a mourning gown for the Preacher ■ whereof the 
 former — after my body shall be interred— to be given 
 to the Preacher of the Funeral Sermon, and the latter 
 to the Curate of the Parish for the time being. And 
 my will further is, that the Funeral Sermon be preached 
 by my own household Chaplain, containing some whole- 
 some discourse concerning Mortality, the Resurrection 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 433 
 
 of the Dead, and the Last Judgment ; and that he shall 
 have for his pains ol. upon condition, that he speak 
 nothing at all concerning my person, either good or ill, 
 other than I myself shall direct ; only signifying to the 
 auditory that it was my express will to have it so. And 
 it is my will, that no costly monument be erected for my 
 memory, but only a fair flat marble stone to be laid over 
 me, with this inscription in legible Roman characters, 
 
 DEPOSITUM ROBERTI SANDERSON NUPER LINCOLNIENSIS 
 EPISCOPI, QUI OBIIT ANNO DOMINI MDCLXII. ET ^ETATIS 
 SILE SEPTUAGESIMO SEXTO, HIC REQUIESCIT IN SPE 
 
 beat^s resurrectionis. This manner of burial, al- 
 though I cannot but foresee it will prove unsatisfactory 
 to sundry my nearest friends and relations, and be apt 
 to be censured by others, as an evidence of my too much 
 parsimony and narrowness of mind, as being altogether 
 unusual, and not according to the mode of these times ; 
 yet it is agreeable to the sense of my heart, and I do 
 very much desire my Will may be carefully observed 
 herein, hoping it may become exemplary to some or other : 
 at least however testifying at my death — what I have so 
 often earnestly professed in my life time — my utter dis- 
 like of the flatteries commonly used in Funeral Sermons, 
 and of the vast expenses otherwise laid out in Funeral 
 solemnities and entertainments, with very little benefit to 
 any ; which, if bestowed in pious and charitable works, 
 might redound to the public or private benefit of many 
 persons. 
 
 I am next to tell, that he died the 29th of January, 
 3 L 
 
434 THE LIFE OF 
 
 1662 5 and that his body was buried in Buckden, the 
 third day after his death ; and for the manner, 
 that it was as far from ostentation as he desired it j 
 and all the rest of his Will was as punctually per- 
 formed. And when I have — to his just praise — told 
 this truth, That he died far from being rich, I shall 
 return back to visit, and give a farther account of 
 him on his last sick-bed. 
 
 His last Will — of which I have mentioned a part 
 - — was made about three weeks before his death, 
 about which time, finding his strength to decay by 
 reason of his constant infirmity, and a consumptive 
 cough added to it, he retired to his chamber, ex- 
 pressing a desire to enjoy his last thoughts to him- 
 self in private, without disturbance or care, especially 
 of what might concern this world. And that none 
 of his Clergy — which are more numerous than any 
 other Bishop's — might suffer by his retirement, he 
 did by commission impower his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, 
 with Episcopal power to give institutions to all 
 livings or Church-preferments, during this his dis- 
 ability to do it himself. In this time of his retire- 
 ment he longed for his dissolution j and when some 
 that loved him prayed for his recovery, if he at any 
 time found any amendment, he seemed to be dis- 
 pleased, by saying, His friends said their prayers back- 
 ward for him : and that it was not his desire to live a 
 useless life, and by filling up a place keep another out 
 of it 3 that might do God and his Church service. He 
 would often with much joy and thankfulness men- 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 435 
 
 tion, That during his being a housekeeper — which was 
 more than forty years — there had not been one buried 
 out of his family , and that he was now like to be the 
 first. He would also often mention with thankful- 
 ness, That till he was three score years of age, he had 
 never spent five shillings in law, nor — upon himself — 
 so much in wine : and rejoiced much that he had so 
 lived, as never to cause an hour's sorrow to his good 
 father ; and hoped he should die without an enemy. 
 
 He, in this retirement, had the Church prayers 
 read in his chamber twice every day $ and at nine 
 at night, some prayers read to him and a part of 
 his family out of The Whole Duty of Man. As he 
 was remarkably punctual and regular in all his 
 studies and actions, so he used himself to be for 
 his meals. And his dinner being appointed to be 
 constantly ready at the ending of prayers, and he 
 expecting and calling for it, was answered, It would 
 be ready in a quarter of an hour. To which his re- 
 ply was, A quarter of an hour ! Is a quarter of an 
 hour nothing to a man that probably has not many 
 hours to live ? And though he did live many hours 
 after this, yet he lived not many days j for the day 
 after — which was three days before his death — he 
 was become so weak and weary of either motion or 
 sitting, that he was content, or forced, to keep his 
 bed : in which I desire he may rest, till I have 
 given some account of his behaviour there, and 
 immediately before it. 
 
 The day before he took liis bed, — which was 
 
436 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 three days before his death, — he, that he might 
 receive a new assurance for the pardon of -his sins 
 past, and be strengthened in his way to the New 
 Jerusalem, took the blessed Sacrament of the Body 
 and Blood of his and our blessed Jesus, from the 
 hands of his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, accompanied with 
 his wife, children, and a friend, in as awful, humble, 
 and ardent a manner, as outward reverence could 
 express. After the praise and thanksgiving for it 
 was ended, he spake to this purpose : Thou, God ! 
 tookest me out of my mother s womb, and hast been the 
 powerful protector of me to this present moment of my 
 life: Thou hast neither forsaken me now I am become 
 grey-headed, nor suffered me to forsake thee in the late 
 days of temptation, and sacrifice my conscience for the 
 preservation of my liberty or estate. It was by grace 
 that I have stood, when others have fallen under my 
 trials : and these mercies I now remember with joy and 
 thankfulness ; and my hope and desire is, that I may 
 die praising thee. 
 
 The frequent repetition of the Psalms of David, 
 hath been noted to be a great part of the devotion 
 of the primitive Christians ; the Psalms having in 
 them not only prayers and holy instructions, but 
 such commemorations of God's mercies, as may 
 preserve, comfort, and confirm our dependence on 
 the power, and providence, and mercy of our 
 Creator. And this is mentioned in order to telling, 
 that as the holy Psalmist said, that his eyes should 
 prevent both the dawning of the day and night watches, 
 
DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 437 
 
 by meditating on God's word; Psal. cxix. 147. so it 
 was Dr. Sandersons, constant practice every morn- 
 ing to entertain his first waking thoughts with a 
 repetition of those very Psalms that the Church 
 hath appointed to be constantly read in the daily 
 Morning service : and having at night laid him in 
 his bed, he as constantly closed his eyes with a re- 
 petition of those appointed for the service of the 
 evening, remembering and repeating the very Psalms 
 appointed for every day ; and as the month had 
 formerly ended and began again, so did this exer- 
 cise of his devotion. And if his first waking 
 thoughts were of the world, or what concerned it, 
 he would arraign and condemn himself for it. Thus 
 he began that work on earth, which is now his 
 employment in Heaven. 
 
 After his taking his bed, and about a day before 
 his death, he desired his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, to 
 give him absolution : and at his performing that 
 office, he pulled off his cap, that Mr. Pullin might 
 lay his hand upon his bare head. After this desire 
 of his was satisfied, his body seemed to be at more 
 ease, and his mind more cheerful ; and he said, 
 Lord, forsake me not now my strength faileth me ; but 
 continue thy mercy, and let my mouth be filled with thy 
 praise. He continued the remaining night and day 
 very patient, and thankful for any of the little 
 offices that were performed for his ease and refresh - 
 ment j and during that time did often say the 1 03rd 
 Psalm to himself, and very often these words, My 
 heart is fixed, God ! my heart is fixed where true joy 
 
438 
 
 THE LIFE, &c. 
 
 is to be found. His thoughts seemed now to be 
 wholly of death, for which he was so prepared, that 
 the King of Terrors could not surprise him as a thief 
 in the night : for he had often said, he was prepared, 
 and longed for it. And as this desire seemed to come 
 from Heaven, so it left him not till his soul ascended 
 to that region of blessed spirits, whose employ- 
 ments are to join in concert with him, and sing 
 praise and glory to that God, who hath brought 
 them to that place, into which sin and sorrow cannot 
 enter. 
 
 Thus this pattern of meekness and primitive inno- 
 cence changed this for a better life. 'Tis now too 
 late to wish that my life may be like his j for I am 
 in the eighty-fifth year of my age : but I humbly 
 beseech Almighty God, that my death may 5 and 
 do as earnestly beg of every Reader, to say — Amen. 
 
 Blessed is the man in whose spirit there is no guile, 
 Psal. xxxii. 2. 
 
ORIGINAL AND SELECTED 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE PRECEDING LIVES. 
 
 In conformity with the plan adopted in the recent edition 
 of the Complete Angler, to which a list of the Authori- 
 ties, probably consulted by Walton, was attached for the 
 first time, a similar catalogue will be found to precede 
 the ensuing Notes. In the present instance too, as in the 
 former, the principal various readings have been pointed 
 out as they occur in the texts of the several impressions of 
 these Lives, published in the Author's life-time; since they 
 were but little less progressive, than were the editions 
 of the Complete Angler. Indeed, from the statements 
 which Walton himself has attached to them, — either in 
 their respective Introductions, or in those Advertise- 
 ments to the Reader, which are to be found in the earlier 
 
440 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 impressions only, — it was impossible for him to perfect 
 all his enquiries and collections upon the first appearance 
 of each Memoir; for of some he observes, that the 
 Printer took away the manuscript in fragments, as fast 
 as it could be written, and in others he promises, in a 
 new edition, to amend his first defects, and supply his 
 original deficiences. Of these future editions, he ex- 
 presses himself with the same modesty which charac- 
 terised his Preface to the Complete Angler. " I here 
 promise," says he, in the Address to the Reader originally 
 prefixed to the Life of Hooker, " to acknowledge and 
 rectify any such mistake in a second impression, which 
 the Printer says he hopes for ; and by this means my 
 weak, but faithful endeavours, may become a better mo- 
 nument, and in some degree more worthy the memory of 
 this venerable man." Having thus premised that a col- 
 lation of these several editions was essential, that it has 
 been performed, and that some of the principal variations 
 are hereafter introduced to the Reader, who may not 
 possess the same sources of comparison, — it is not in- 
 tended in the present volume to enter into any bibliogra- 
 phical account of them, farther than to observe for his 
 general guidance, that they appeared in about the fol- 
 lowing order. 
 
 Life of Dr. Bonne, originally prefixed to the first 
 volume of his Sermons, 1640, Fol. Second Edition, alone, 
 1658, 12mo. Life of Sir Henry Wotton, attached to the 
 Reliquiae Wottonianse, 1651, 12mo. other editions 1654, 
 1672, 1685. Life of Richard Hooker, First Edition, 1665, 
 small octavo ; Second ditto, attached to the Ecclesiasti- 
 cal Polity, 1666, Folio. Life of George Herbert, First 
 Edition, with his Letters, 1670, 12mo. ; the Memoir was 
 afterwards attached to his Temple, Poems, &c. in the 
 
NOTES. 441 
 
 edition of 16/9. Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson, the first 
 separate edition by Walton, was printed in Octavo, in 
 1678, together with several of the Prelate's Tracts, Cases 
 of Conscience, a Sermon by Hooker, and two Letters on 
 the subject of the Memoir. Of Collections of the first 
 four of these Lives, there were four editions ; the first of 
 which was published in 16/0, and the last in 1675, both 
 in Octavo. The latter of these has been used for re- 
 vising the text of the foregoing pages ; and the Publisher 
 has been kindly favoured by Mr. William Upcott of the 
 London Institution, with the use of a Presentation copy 
 of it, having all the typographical errors corrected by 
 Walton's own pen ; whilst upon the fly-leaf is written, 
 " Ffor my Cozen M ris . Wiliams, Iz. Wa." The Pub- 
 lisher has also to acknowledge the kindness of Francis 
 Martin, Esq. Windsor Herald, and Joseph Haslewood, 
 Esq. ; the former for the favour of a copy of Walton's 
 first edition of his collected Memoirs, and the latter 
 for that of the original impression of the Life of Sir 
 Henry Wot ton. 
 
 The principal of the ensuing Notes, are, as it will 
 readily be anticipated, founded on, or selected from Dr. 
 Zouch's excellent, yet certainly pedantic edition of these 
 Lives ; in which however, several new illustrations are 
 inserted, dates have been supplied, some particulars 
 added, and all his original references verified. The scho- 
 lastic habits of that Divine, naturally led him, when 
 turning to the Classics cited by Walton, to consult them 
 in their original languages, rather than in the most po- 
 pular translations of the time, from which the very 
 words of the text are often to be recovered : but in the 
 following annotations they have been carefully sought 
 after> and, in general, correctly ascertained. The read- 
 ing of Izaak Walton, though not extensive, was of the 
 3 m 
 
442 NOTES. 
 
 most happy and useful kind ; being at once of the most 
 pious, best, most learned, and newest books of his day j 
 which brought him acquainted, by their numerous re- 
 ferences and citations, with the works of many authors, 
 his very mention of whom has often excited the surprise 
 of his Readers. He read, and he quoted, as though he 
 had made the maxim of the wise Selden — which he very 
 probably had heard — his rule for both. " In quoting of 
 books/' said that excellent scholar, " quote such authors 
 as are usually read : — quoting of authors is most for 
 matter of fact, and there I write them as I would produce 
 a witness ; sometimes for a free expression, and then I 
 give the author his due, and gain myself praise by reading 
 him." Such was the learning of Izaak Walton. He had 
 read carefully, wisely, and well, rather than much ; and 
 his conversation was so greatly enlightened, and adorned 
 by his Authors, that he became a delightful companion 
 for the most learned and pious Divines, even of his own 
 period. 
 
 In the edition of Walton's Lives, published by Dr. 
 Zouch, there is a list of the literary labours of each 
 person attached to his Memoir ; but as those of them- 
 selves would form an article of considerable length, they 
 have been reserved, together with a particular and in- 
 teresting account of the impressions of Walton's own 
 works, for the concluding volume of this series>* in 
 
 * A separate publication to be entitled " Walton iana," 
 consisting of copious Lives of ; Walton and Cotton, and ad- 
 ditional Illustrations of the " Angler," and the " Lives" both 
 graphic and literary, is also in preparation, with the view of 
 doing still greater justice to this most graceful writer, and still 
 further asserting the high rank he must ever hold as a genuine 
 English Classic. Every known fragment of the Author's 
 writing will also be comprised herein ; so that the labours of 
 the present Editors, when completed, will present the Public,, 
 for the first time, with the Complete Works of Walton ! 
 
NOTES. 443 
 
 which they will be given with several additions and im- 
 provements. There will also be introduced in that work 
 a series of comparative passages, which occur in the 
 writings of this Author, and which are particularly to be 
 found in the Complete Angler, and the ensuing Lives. 
 Such then being a general notice of the early editions of 
 Izaak Walton's Lives, and the character of his Authors, 
 the works to which he has chiefly referred in the ensuing 
 pages, exclusively of the Sacred Scriptures, are presumed 
 to be the following ; but the titles of several others are 
 given in the course of the succeeding Notes. 
 
 1 . Austin, St. D. Aurelius, St. Augustine's Confessions trans- 
 
 lated : and with some marginal notes illustrated. Wherein 
 divers Antiquities are explained ; and the marginal notes 
 of a former Popish translation answered. By William 
 Wats, D. D. Lond. 1650. 12mo. 
 
 2. Barnard, Dr. Nicholas : Clavi Trabales, or, Nails fastened by 
 
 some great .Masters of Assemblies. Lond. 1661. 
 
 3. Camden, William : Britain, or, a Chorographical Description of 
 
 the most Flourishing Kingdoms of England, Scotland, 
 and the Isles adjoining, out of the depth of Antiquitie. 
 Translated from the Latin by Philemon Holland, M. D. 
 Lond. 1637. fol. 
 
 4. ■ Annales, or the History of the most Renowned 
 and Victorious Princesse Elizabeth, late Queen of England. 
 Contayning all the important and remarkable passages of 
 of State, both at home and abroad, during her long and 
 prosperous reigne. Written in Latin by the learned Mr. 
 William Camden. Translated into English by R. N. 
 Gent, together with divers additions of the Author's never 
 before published. Lond. 1635. fol. 
 
 5. Donne, Dr. John : Pseudo-Martyr, wherein out of certaine 
 
 propositions and gradations, this conclusion is euicted. 
 That those which are of the Romane Religion in this 
 kingdome, may, and ought to take the Oath of Allegiance. 
 Lond. 1610. 4to. 
 
444 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 6. Donne, Dr. John : Devotions vpon emergent occasions, and 
 seuerall steps in my sicknes. Digested into 1. Medita- 
 tions vpon our humane condition. 2. Expostvlations and 
 Debatements with God. 3. Prayers vpon the seuerall 
 occasions to him. Lond. 1624. 12mo. 
 Death's Duell, or a Consolation to the 
 
 7. 
 
 Soule against the dying life and living death of the body. 
 Deliuered in a Sermon at Whitehall, before the King's 
 Maiesty, in the beginning of Lent, 1630. By that late 
 learned and Reuerend Diuine John Donne, Dr. in 
 Diuinity, and Deane of St. Paul's, London. Being his 
 last Sermon, and called by his Maiesties household, The 
 Doctor's owne Funerall Sermon. Lond. 1632. 4to. 
 Poems by J. D. with Elegies on the Au- 
 
 thor's Death. Lond. 1635. 12mo. 
 
 — lxxx Sermons preached by that learned 
 
 10, 
 
 and Reuerend Divine, Iohn Donne, Dr. in Divinity, late 
 Deane of the Cathedrall Church of St. Paul's London. 
 Lond. 1640. fol. 
 BIATHANATOS. A Declaration of that 
 
 Paradoxe or Thesis, that Self-homicide is not so naturally 
 sin, that it may never be otherwise. Wherein the nature 
 and extent of all those Lawes which seem to be violated 
 by this act, are diligently surveyed. Lond. 1644. 4to. 
 
 11. Fuller, Dr. Thomas : The Church History of Britain, from 
 
 the Birth of Jesus Christ, untill the year m. dc xlviii. 
 Lond. 1655. fol. 
 
 12. Herbert, George : The Temple. Sacred Poems and Private 
 
 Ejaculations. Cambr. 1633. 12mo. 
 
 13. A Priest to the Temple, or the Character 
 
 of a Country Parson. Lond. 1675. 8vo. 
 
 14. Holinshed, Raphael : The Historie of England, from the time 
 
 that it was first inhabited, vntill the time that it was last 
 conquered. Continued by John Hooker. Lond. 1586. fol. 
 
 15. Hooker, Richard : Of the Lawes of Ecclesiastical Politie, 
 
 Eight Bookes; with some Tracts and Sermons. Lond. 
 1631. fol. 
 
NOTES. 445 
 
 16. Lambarde, William: A Perambulation of Kent; conteyning 
 
 the Description, Hystorie, and Customes of that Shyre. 
 Lond. 1576. 4to. 
 
 17. Moryson, Fynes: An Itinerary, written first in the Latine 
 
 Tongue, and then translated by him into Englishe ; con- 
 taining his Ten Yeeres Travell through the Twelve Do- 
 mjnions of Germany, Bohmerland, Sweitzerland, Nether- 
 land, Denmarke, Poland, Italy, Turky, France, England, 
 Scotland, and Ireland. Lond. 1617. fol. 
 
 18. Padre Paolo Sarpi : The Historie of the Covncel of Trent ; 
 
 conteining Eight Bookes. In which (besides the ordinarie 
 Actes of the Councell)' are declared many notable oc- 
 currences, which happened in Christendome, during the 
 space of fourtie yeares and more. Written in Italian by 
 Pietro Soave Polano, and faithfully translated into English 
 by Nathaniel Brent. Lond. 1620. fol. 
 
 19. Plutarch : The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romanes, 
 
 compared together by that grave and learned Philosopher 
 and Historiographer, Plutarke of Chaeronea. Translated 
 out of Greeke into French by James Amyot, Abbot of 
 Bellozane, &c. and out of French into Englishe by Thomas 
 North, (Esq. Controller of the Household to Queen Eli- 
 zabeth.) Lond. 1579. fol. 
 
 20. Sanderson, Dr. Robert, Bishop of Lincoln : Logicae Artis 
 
 Compendium. Oxf. 1615. 8vo. 
 
 21. — — ■ ■ ' xn Sermons, 
 
 viz. Three ad Clerum, three ad Magistratum, and six ad 
 Populum. Lond. 1632. fol. 
 
 22. ■- xx Sermons, 
 
 viz. Sixteen ad Aulam, three ad Magistratum, and one ad 
 Populum, with a large Preface by the said Author. Lond. 
 1655. fol. 
 
 23. ■ DeJuramenli 
 promissorii obligatione praelectiones septem. Habitae in 
 Schola Theologica Oxon. Termino Michaelis An. Dom. 
 mdcxlvi. Lond. 1647. 8vo. 
 
446 NOT E S. 
 
 24. Sanderson, Dr. Robert, Bishop of Lincoln : Nine Cases of 
 
 Conscience occasionally determined by the late Reverend 
 Father in God, Robert Sanderson, Lord Bishop of Lincoln, 
 Lond. 1678. 8vo. 
 
 25. De Obligatione 
 
 Conscientise, praelectiones decern Oxonii in Schola Theo- 
 logica habitae Anno Dom. mdcxlvii. 1659. 8vo. 
 
 26. Spotswood, John, Archbishop of St. Andrews : The History 
 
 of the Church of Scotland, beginning the year of our 
 Lord 203, and continued to the latter end of the reign of 
 King James of blessed memory. Lond. 1654. fol. 
 
 27. Travers, Walter : A Supplication made to the Privy Counsell. 
 
 Oxf. 1612. 4to. 
 
 28. Valdesso, Juan: The Hundred and Ten Considerations of 
 
 Signor Iohn Valdesso. Translated from Spanish into 
 Italian by Caelius Secundus Curio, of Basil, and into 
 English by Nicholas Farrer, Jun. of little Gidding. Oxf. 
 1638. 4to. 
 
 29. Wadsworth, James : The Copies of Certaine Letters which 
 
 have passed betweene Spaine and England in matter of 
 Religion. Concerning the generall motiues to the Romane 
 obedience. Betweene Master James Wadsworth, a late 
 Pensioner of the Holy Inquisition in Shrill, and W. Bedell, 
 a Minister of the Gospell of Jesus Christ in Suffolke. 
 Lond. 1624. 4to. 
 
 30. Watson, William : A Decacordon of x Quodlibetical Questions 
 
 concerning Religion and State ; wherein the Author solves 
 a hundred cross interrogatory doubts about the contentions 
 betwixt the Seminary Priests. 1602. 4to. 
 
 Page xvii. George, Lord Bishop of Winchester. 
 
 This very eminent Prelate, so distinguished for his unshaken 
 loyalty to King Charles L, was Dr. George Morley, who was born 
 in Cheapside, London, Feb. 27th, 1597. He was educated at 
 Westminster School, and Christ Church College, Oxford ; but in 
 1647-48, he was deprived of all his preferments, and in the fol- 
 
NOTES. 447 
 
 lowing year he left England, and remained abroad until the resto- 
 ration. On the King's return he was made Dean of Christ Church, 
 and Bishop of Worcester ; and in 1661, he was an active manager 
 of the Conference between the Episcopal and Presbyterian Divines. 
 In 1662, he was translated to the See of Winchester, to which, as 
 well as to other places, he was a very liberal benefactor. He died 
 at his palace of Farnham Castle, Oct. 29th, 1684, bearing the 
 character of a pious man of exemplary life, but his temper was 
 inclined to warmth and obstinacy from his former sufferings. His 
 study was very severe, though he published but a few Sermons 
 and Letters ; for he rose at five in the morning throughout the 
 year, never having a fire in any season, and eating only once 
 in the day. During his exile in Antwerp, and afterwards in 
 Buda, for about seven years, he read the Church Service twice 
 every day ; catechised once in the week ; and administered the 
 Sacrament monthly to all the English who would partake of it. 
 Biogr. Brit. 
 
 Page 2. As once Pompey's poor bondman was. 
 
 This circumstance is related in Plutarch's Lives, of which the 
 edition used by Walton, was in all probability that marked No. 19, 
 in the preceding list of Authorities ; and the passage referred to 
 will be found at page 718 of that volume. This work is repeatedly 
 quoted in the Complete Angler. 
 
 Page 4. descended of the family of the famous and learned Sir 
 Thomas More. 
 
 Fuller, in his Church History, Book x. page 112, mentions 
 these circumstances most probably from the present work ; since 
 he concludes his notice of Donne by saying, that his " life is no lesse 
 truly than elegantly written, by my worthily respected friend Mr. 
 Izaak Walton, whence the Reader may store himself with further 
 information." Zouch. In the first two editions of the Life of Donne, 
 there is no separation between the Introd\iction and Memoir ; 
 and no year mentioned for his time of birth. William Rastall, 
 or Rastell, who is mentioned in the same paragraph of the text, 
 was an eminent Printer of London, and the son of John Rastall 
 and Elizabeth, the sister of Sir Thomas More. He was born and 
 educated in London, and about 1525, at the age of 17, was sent to 
 Oxford, after which he entered Lincoln's Inn, and became an ex- 
 cellent Lawyer. On the change of religion in England he went 
 to Loavain, being a zealous Catholic ; but on the accession of Mary 
 he returned and filled several offices of great repute, of which one 
 was Justice of the Common Pleas, In the reign of Elizabeth 
 he again returned to Louvain, and died there August 27th, 1565. As 
 he was a literary man, there are several works ascribed to him, of 
 which it is doubtful if he were the Author ; but the " Abregement 
 of the Statutys," alluded to in the text, was first published by him 
 
448 NO T E S. 
 
 in 8vo. in 1533, and an account of it with his other books, and 
 farther particulars of his life, may be seen in the Rev. Dr. Dibdin's 
 edition of Ames's Typographical Antiquities, Vol. in. pp. 373-383. 
 It is quaintly said in Walton's first edition of Donne's Life about 
 this part of it, that he had " a command of the French and Latiue 
 tongues, when others can scarce speak their owne." 
 
 Page 4. Picus Mirandula. 
 
 John Picus, Prince of Mirandula, a Duchy in Italy, now the 
 property of the Dukes of Modena, was born Feb. 24th, 1463, and 
 his father soon dying, his education was commenced by his mother. 
 He is said to have understood twenty-two languages at the age of 
 18 ; and at 24 he discoursed on every branch of knowledge with 
 equal success. He travelled, disputed, and studied in many parts 
 of Italy, forming an extensive literary acquaintance ; but the death 
 of his friend Lorenzo de' Medicis, so much affected him, that, re- 
 signing his sovereignty to his nephew, he died in retirement at 
 Florence, Nov. 17th, 1494. His works were chiefly Controversial 
 Theology, and old Philosophy, with some familiar Epistles. 
 Chalmers. His name does not occur in Walton's first edition. 
 
 Page 6. in his Preface to his Pseudo-Martyr. 
 
 Vide No. 5 of the foregoing list of Authorities for the full title 
 of this volume ; and the passages alluded to will be found in the 
 fourth paragraph of the Preface. 
 
 Page 7. the Cardinal Bellarmine. 
 
 One of the most celebrated controversial writers of his time, 
 who was born in Tuscany in 1542, and became a Jesuit in 1560. 
 Until 1576, he was a teacher of Divinity in the Low Countries, 
 but he then commenced reading controversial Lectures at Rome ; 
 and with such success, that Sixtus V. sent him with his Legate 
 into France, to assist in the event of any religious dispute. In 
 1599, Clement VIII. created him a Cardinal, and he resided in 
 the Vatican from 1605 till 1621, when he left it in declining health, 
 and died in the House of the Jesuits, Sept. 17th. His work alluded 
 to in the text is entitled " Disputationes de Controversiis Christiana, 
 1 Fidei, adversus sui temporis Hereticos," Cologne, 1610, fol. 4 vol, 
 Chalmers. 
 
 Page 7. the then Dean of Gloucester. 
 
 Dr. Anthony Rudde, a native of Yorkshire, and Fellow of 
 Trinity College, Cambridge ; who died Bishop of St. David's in 
 1613-14. Fuller, in his Church History, Book x. Cent. xvii. pp. 
 68-69, calls him " A most excellent Preacher, whose Sermons 
 were very acceptable to Queen Elizabeth ;" and adds that 
 " he justly retained the repute of a Reverend and godly Prelate, 
 and carried the same to the grave. He wrought much on the 
 Welsh by his wisdome, and won their affections." 
 
 
NOTES. 449 
 
 Page 7. the Cales and Island Voyages. 
 
 The Cales, or Cadiz voyage, was an expedition set forward by 
 Queen Elizabeth in .1596, to prevent the invasion of England by 
 Philip, King of Spain. It consisted of a fleet of 150 sail, with 
 twenty-two Dutch ships, and seven thousand soldiers ; Charles 
 Howard, Earl of Nottingham, being Lord High Admiral, and the 
 Earl of Essex, General of the Land forces. On June 21st, the 
 Spanish squadron was destroyed, and the town taken, with an 
 immense treasure and stores ; in addition to which the inhabitants 
 redeemed their lives at the price of 520,000 ducats. The Island 
 voyage was also an expedition to oppose the King of Spain in- 
 vading Ireland, in 1597 ; and it consisted of 120 sail, and 6000 
 Land forces under the Earl of Essex. It was his intention first to 
 have destroyed the ships preparing, and then sailing to the Azores, 
 or Western Islands, to have waited for, and captured the Spanish 
 India Fleet, This scheme, however failed, through contrary winds, 
 storms, and a dispute between the Earl of Essex and Sir Walter 
 Raleigh. Rapin. 
 
 Page 8. the Lord Ellesmere. 
 
 Sir Thomas Ellesmere of Tatton in the County of Chester, 
 Knight, and founder of the splendid house of Egerton. He was 
 the natural son of Sir Richard Egerton of Ridley, was born about 
 1540, and was entered of Brazen Nose College, Oxford, at the age 
 of 17, whence he removed to Lincoln's Inn. On June 28th, 1581, 
 he was made Solicitor-General, and was soon afterwards knighted j 
 in April 1594, he was appointed Master of the Rolls ; and in 
 1596, he received the Great Seal, and was sworn of the Privy- 
 Council. In 1604, James I. created him Baron of Ellesmere and 
 Lord Chancellor, which office he held till the age of 76, when he 
 addressed two pathetic letters to the King for his dismissal. The 
 Sovereign first created him Viscount Brackley, and then received 
 the Seals from him in person upon his death-bed. He died at 
 York House in the Strand, March 15th, 1617. Ormerod's Hist, 
 of Chester. 
 
 Page ibid. Sir George More, 
 
 Was the only son and heir of Sir William More, and was born 
 Nov. 28th, 1553. He was educated at Exeter College, Oxford, 
 whence he removed to the Inns of Court. About 1597, he was 
 knignted, in 1610, was made Chancellor of the Garter, and in 
 1615, Lieutenant of the Tower. He frequently sat in Parliament 
 for the Borough of Guildford, and he died Oct. 16th, 1632. His 
 sister, the Lady Ellesmere, who is also mentioned in the text, was 
 the eldest daughter of Sir William More, and was born April 28th, 
 1552. She was thrice married, the last of her husbands being 
 Chancellor Egerton ; and the second Sir John Woolley of Pirford, 
 Knt. whose liberality to Dr. Donne and his family is related on 
 
 3 N 
 
450 NOTES. 
 
 page 13. Loseley House, the seat of the More family, is situate 
 in the Hundred of Godlaming, and County of Surrey, about two 
 miles south-west of Guildford. It consists of a main body, facing 
 the north, and one wing extending northward from its western 
 extremity ; the whole being built of the ordinary country stone, 
 vide Bray's Hist, of Surrey, vol. i. pp. 92-99. The fine passage con- 
 cerning the rashness of youthful passion on page 9, was not inserted 
 till Walton's second edition. 
 
 Page 10. Henry, Earl of Northumberland. 
 
 Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland, was born in April y 
 1564 ; and succeeded to the title in June 1585. In 1588, he was 
 one of those gallant young noblemen who hired ships at their own 
 charge, and joined the fleet then dispatched against the Spanish 
 Armada ; and in 1593, he was made a Knight of the Garter. In 
 1601, whilst at the siege of Ostend, he had some disputes with 
 Sir Francis Vere, and on his return to England, challenged him ; 
 though their proceedings were stopped by the express command 
 of Elizabeth. He was greatly attached to the House of Stuart, 
 and was active in the interests of James I. ; but as one of the con- 
 spirators in the Gunpowder Plot was related to his Lordship, he 
 was prosecuted, fined ^£30,000, by Sir Edward Coke in the Star- 
 Chamber, and sentenced to imprisonment in the Tower during 
 life. After many most pathetic letters and petitions to the King, 
 the Earl's fine was reduced to ^20,000, and his liberty restored 
 after fifteen years confinement, in July 1621. He died, Nov. 5th, 
 1632. Wood calls him " a learned man himself, and the generous 
 favourer of all good learning ;" during his imprisonment he allowed 
 salaries for eminent scholars to attend upon him, and he also en- 
 joyed the converse of Sir Walter Raleigh, then a prisoner in the 
 Tower. He had a peculiar talent for the mathematics ; and on 
 account of his love for the Occult Sciences, he was sometimes en- 
 titled Henry the Wizard. Collins. The passage beginning " and 
 though the Lord Chancellor" — down to — " it proved too true," is 
 not entire in either of Walton's first two editions. 
 
 Page 11. Samuel Brook, 
 
 Son of Robert Brook, an eminent Merchant, and Lord Mayor 
 of York, in 1582 and 1595. He was admitted of Trinity College, 
 in Cambridge, in 1596, and Sept. 26th, 1612, was chosen Divinity 
 Professor in Gresham College, being then Chaplain to Prince 
 Henry. In 1615, he was made D. D.; in 1618, Rector of St. Mar- 
 garet's Lothbury, in London ; in 1629, Master of Trinity College ; 
 and Archdeacon of Wells, in 1631, in which year he died. Of his 
 writing there remains one Latin Discourse, and a Latin Pastoral 
 called Melanthe, acted before King James at Cambridge. Chris- 
 topher Brook was a Bencher and Summer Reader at Lincoln's Inn, 
 and is much commended as a poet by Ben Jonson, Drayton, &c« 
 
NOTES. 451 
 
 He wrote an Elegy to the never-dying memory of Henry, Prince 
 of Wales, Lond. 1613, 4to. ; and he also published a volume of 
 Eclogues, Lond. 1614. In Dr. Donne's Poems are two addressed 
 to this gentleman, " the Storme," and " the Calme." Zouch. 
 
 Page 11. his wife was — detained from him. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the metaphysical conceits for which Dr. 
 Johnson has censured Donne in his Life of Cowley, it cannot be 
 denied that he drew many of the materials for his verses from his 
 own life, and that he then wrote with a fervour of language which 
 sometimes compensated for his extravagance of idea. This may 
 be the better illustrated by a reference to Donne's Poems, No. 8, 
 of the foregoing list, and on page 95 of that volume, Elegy xiv. is 
 entitled, " His parting from her," which seems by it's name and 
 contents, to have been written on his being separated from Mrs. 
 Donne. On page 100 too, Elegy xvn., which is called the " Ex- 
 postulation," appears to have been written when " the friends of 
 both parties used many arguments to kill or cool their affections 
 for each other ;" this was at the first separation of Mr. Donne 
 and Ann More, previously to their private marriage. Allusions to 
 various passages of Dr. Donne's secret courtship, and subsequent 
 distresses, are perhaps to be found in many others of his Poems ; 
 and in Elegy iv. page 76, (t the Perfume," he seems to refer to 
 that suspicion which was awakened, both of Anne More and of 
 himself before their secret and unhappy marriage. The scriptural 
 allusion contained in this paragraph of the text, is to Genesis, 
 chap. xxix. ; and the first edition has this and similar references 
 placed in the margin. 
 
 Page 13. Sir Francis Wolly, 
 
 Or Wolley, only son of Sir John Wolley, Knight, Dean of 
 Carlisle, and Latin Secretary to Queen Elizabeth ; was bora 
 March 18th, 1582-83, and was a Member of Merton College, 
 Oxford. In 1600, he represented the Borough of Haslemere, in 
 Parliament, and was afterwards knighted, but he died unmarried 
 in the flower of his age in 1610. He was buried in the same 
 grave with his father, and the Lady Egerton his mother, in the 
 Church of Pirford, in Surrey ; but in 1614, their bodies were all 
 removed, and re-interred under a beautiful monument of black 
 and white marble, bearing their effigies, and a Latin Epitaph, in 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, which was destroyed in the great fire. 
 Bray. 
 
 Page 14. Dr. Morton. 
 
 Thomas Morton, is supposed by his friend and biographer, Dr. 
 John Barwick, to have been descended from the famous Cardinal 
 Morton, Bishop of Ely. He was born at York, March 20th, 1564, 
 and was educated there and at Halifax, where one of his school- 
 
452 NOTE S. 
 
 fellows was the notorious Guy Fawkes. In 1582, he was entered 
 of St. John's College, Cambridge, where he read Lectures on 
 Logic ; and on account of his skill in disputing with the Romish 
 recusants, he was selected to be Chaplain to the Earl of Hunting- 
 don, then Lord President of the North. In 1602, holding a Rec- 
 tory about four miles from York, he distinguished himself by his 
 fearless and charitable exertions whilst the Plague was in that 
 City ; often visiting the Pest-house there, and carrying provisions 
 to the poor unattended by a single domestic. In 1603, he went as 
 Chaplain with the English Embassy to Denmark ; in 1606, he 
 became D. D. and Chaplain to James I. ; he was made Dean of 
 Gloucester by the King, June 22nd, 1607, and was removed to 
 Winchester in 1609. Early in 1616, Dr. Morton was made 
 Bishop of Chester ; in which Diocese he used many efforts to 
 conciliate the Nonconformists. In 1618, he was again ti'anslated 
 to the See of Lichfield and Coventry, in which situation he de- 
 tected the supposed witchcraft of the Boy of Bilson ; and on July 
 2nd, 1632, he was advanced to the Bishopric of Durham. Dr. 
 Morton suffered much during the Rebellion, and was expelled 
 from his Palace, but he was at length taken into the protection of 
 Sir Christopher Yelverton, to whose son he became Tutor ; and at 
 whose seat in Northamptonshire he died, Sept. 22nd, 1659, 
 having been 44 years a Bishop, and being in the 95th year of his 
 age. Life by Dr. Barwick. The proposal of Dr. Morton to Mr. 
 Donne, beginning at the words " It hath been," page 13, down 
 to " a rest to my pen," page 18, was not inserted until Walton's 
 second edition of this life. 
 
 Page 18. You know Sir who says, <f-c. 
 
 Romans xiv. 22. The modern translation is " Happy is he that 
 condemneth not himself in that which he doeth." Zouch, 
 
 Page 19. I shall present you with an extract, <%c. 
 
 As the epistles of Dr. Donne, cited by Walton, are not to be 
 found entire in that printed collection of his correspondence, pub- 
 lished by Dr. Donne, Junior, under the title of " Letters to 
 severall Persons of Honour," Lond. 1651, 1654, 4to. They were 
 therefore most probably copied from the originals. Dr. Zouch 
 quotes a passage from another of Dr. Donne's letters, wherein he 
 says, " I write from the fire-side in my parlour, and in the noise 
 of three gamesome children, and by the side of her, whom, be- 
 cause I have transplanted into such a wretched fortune, I must 
 labour to disguise that from her by all such honest devices, as 
 giving her my company and discourse," page 137. The passage 
 containing these letters from page 19, " having settled his dear 
 wife," to page 22, " the earnest persuasion of friends," is not in 
 either of the first two editions of this life. 
 
NOTES. 453 
 
 Page 22. Sir Robert Drury, 
 
 A celebrated member of the Family of Drury, of Hawsted, in 
 Suffolk, was the eldest son of Sir William Drury, who was killed 
 in a duel in France in 1589. , In 1591, Sir Robert attended the 
 .Earl of Essex to the unsuccessful Siege of Rouen, where he was 
 knighted, when he could not exceed the age of 14. He married 
 when he came of age, Anne, daughter of Sir Nicholas Bacon of 
 Redgrave, in Suffolk ; by whom he had a daughter Dorothy, who 
 died in 1610, and to whose memory Dr. Donne composed two 
 Poems, " An Anatomie of the World," and " The Progresse of 
 the Soule :" see his Poems in the preceding List, pages 211, 234, 
 301. In March 1610, he built, and liberally endowed an Alms- 
 house for Widows at Hawsted, and in 1612, he went to Paris, 
 when Dr. Donne, as it is shewn by his letters, accompanied him. 
 There seems to be some error concerning the time when Walton 
 states that Dr. Donne went into France, since the Lord Hay was 
 not sent Ambassador there till July 1616, and beside the dates of 
 Donne's Letters, Sir Robert Drury died April 2d, 1615. His 
 Latin Epitaph from Hawsted Church is given by Sir John Cullum, 
 and he supposes it might have been composed by Dr. Donne. 
 Cullum's Hist. Hawsted. Drury-House, also mentioned in the text, 
 is supposed to have been erected by the father of this Sir Robert ; 
 it stood at the lower end of Drury Lane, and upper end of Wych 
 Street. It was afterwards the seat of William Earl of Craven, 
 who called it Craven House from the additions he made to it, 
 which comprised several houses. It was entered through a pair of 
 wide gates, which led into a spacious court-yard, and at the back 
 was a handsome garden. The remains of Craven House were 
 taken down in 1809, and the Olympic Theatre erected on a part 
 of it's site. Seymour, Pennant. 
 
 Page 26. The Ghost of Julius Ccesar did appear to Brutus. 
 
 For this narrative, vide North's translation of Amyot's Plutarch, 
 No. 19, in the preceding list, pages 1071 and 1078, of that volume. 
 It is possible that when Walton wrote this passage, he derived 
 his information concerning Spirits, from Thomas Hey wood's " Hie- 
 rarchie of the Blessed Angells, their names, order, and offices." 
 Lond. 1635. fol. Vide page 219. The whole of this narrative, 
 &c. concerning Dr. Donne's vision, beginning " At this time," 
 page 23, down to page 26, " many of the Nobility," is wanting 
 in Walton's earlier editions of the life as well as in the collection 
 of 1670 : and it has been supposed that he did not sooner insert 
 it that he might have time to ascertain it's truth. The account of 
 the visions of St. Austin and Monica, will be found in the volume 
 marked No. 1. in the preceding list of Authorities, vide Book iii. 
 Chap. 11, page 75 ; and Book viii. Chap. 12, pp. 253-256. 
 
454 NOTES. 
 
 Page 27. A copy of Verses, <$*c. 
 
 These stanzas will be found in the edition of Dr. Donne's Poems, 
 marked No. 8, in the preceding list of Authorities, page 42, and 
 are there entitled " A Valediction forbidding Mourning." In the 
 same work too, there are other verses, which seem to have been 
 composed upon the same, or a similar occasion, as in the Song on 
 page 13, beginning, " Sweetest love I do not go f and that Ron- 
 deau, on page 62, commencing, " Soul's joy now I am gone." 
 Mr. Alexander Chalmers, in his Memoir of Donne, in the General 
 Biographical Dictionary, supposes that it was probably upon Mr. 
 Donne's parting from his wife to go into France, that he addressed 
 to her, those verses, " By our first strange and fatal interview." 
 " She had formed," he continues, if this conjecture be allowed, " the 
 romantic design of accompanying him in the disguise of a page ; 
 from which it was the purpose of these verses to dissuade her." 
 These fervent and pathetic lines are contained in the volume already 
 referred to, at page 269 ; they are entitled, " Elegie on his Mis- 
 tris," and certainly possess many internal arguments in favour of 
 this supposition. 
 
 Page 29. Bishop Montague. 
 
 James, fifth son to Sir Edward, and brother to Edward, First 
 Lord Montague of Boughton, in the County of Northampton, 
 was usually called " King James's Ecclesiastical Favourite. He 
 was educated in Christ Church College, Cambridge, and in 1608, 
 was made Bishop of Bath and Wells ; when he repaired the 
 Abbey Church of Bath, at a great expense, through the represen- 
 tations of Sir John Harrington. In 1616, he was translated to the 
 Bishopric of Winchester, and died in his 49th year in 1618, being 
 buried in the Abbey at Bath. " The learned and eloquent works 
 of his Majesty," mentioned in the text, were published by this 
 Divine in folio, with two fine engravings by Simon Passe, and 
 Reginald Elstracke, being entitled, " The workes of the Most High 
 and Mighty Prince lames, by the Grace of God, King of Great 
 Britaine, #c. Published by lames, Bishop of Winton, and Dean of 
 His Maiesties Chappel Royal." Lond. 1616. Zouch. Brit. Com- 
 pend. Watt. 
 
 Page 30. the most reverend Dr. Andrews. 
 
 Launcelot Andrews, a Prelate of most eminent virtues, born in 
 London in 1565, and educated at Merchant Taylor's School, and 
 Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, of which he became Fellow. He not 
 only attracted great attention at the University by his Lectures on 
 the Commandments, and his skill in Cases of Conscience, but 
 Henry Earl of Huntingdon made him his Chaplain when he was 
 President of the North — where he made several converts to the 
 Protestant faith — and he was also patronised by Secretary Wal~ 
 
NOTES. 455 
 
 sfngham. Queen Elizabeth made him one of her Chaplains in 
 Ordinary, and was so much pleased with his preaching, that she 
 appointed him Prebendary and Dean of Westminster, and Bishop 
 of London at the death of Dr. Bancroft. Dr. Andrews was also in 
 great favour with James I. who promoted him to the See of Chi- 
 chester in 1605, and in 1609, to that of Ely. In 1618, he was 
 translated to Winchester, and he died at the Episcopal Palace in 
 Southwark, Sept. 25th, 1626, being buried under a splendid monu- 
 ment in St. Saviour's Church. Bishop Andrews was one of the 
 translators of King James's Bible, and he is said to have known 
 fifteen modern languages. His other works, were a Latin answer 
 to Bellarmine's tract against the Ecclesiastical power of Princes; 
 an excellent Manual of Private Devotions, written in Latin and 
 Greek, and translated by Dean- Stanhope ; and several Sermons 
 and Tracts, in Latin and English. Biogr. Brit. 
 
 Page 31. The Earl of Somerset — then at Theobalds, &c. 
 
 This very celebrated favourite was Robert Carr, a Scots gentle- 
 man, who had been page to King James I. before he came to Eng- 
 land. He was introduced to the King at a tilting, in 1611, by 
 Lord Hay, when the accidental breaking of his leg by a fall from 
 his horse, at once brought him into favour. On his recovery, he 
 was knighted; the King himself taught him the Latin tongue, 
 made him Lord of his Bed-chamber, and, soon after, Lord Trea- 
 surer of Scotland. " All suits, all petitions," says Rapin, were 
 addressed to him, and no favours granted but by his means." In 
 1612 he was created Viscount Rochester, a Member of the Privy 
 Council, and a Knight of the Garter; and, at first, he conducted 
 himself with moderation ; but becoming enamoured of that infa- 
 mous woman Frances Howard, afterwards Countess of Essex, she 
 was divorced from her husband to be married to Carr, who, Nov. 4th, 
 1613, was created Earl of Somerset, and the following July, Lord 
 Chamberlain. The excellent Sir Thomas Overbury having vainly 
 endeavoured to prevent the above marriage, drew upon himself the 
 anger of both parties, and by their intrigues he was committed to 
 the Tower, where he was poisoned Sept. 15th, 1613. This was 
 not discovered until 1615, when the Lieutenant of the Tower, and 
 four others, were tried, condemned, and executed ; and though 
 sentence was also passed upon the Earl and Countess of Somerset, 
 they were pardoned, but banished the Court, and the former died 
 in July, 1645. Rapin — Sandford. An historical account of Theo- 
 bald's house, with an exterior view, will be found in the recent edi- 
 tions of Walton's Complete Angler, printed uniformly with the 
 present work. The passage in the text, begiuning, " And though 
 His Majesty" page 30, down to " but the King gave a positive 
 denial" — page 31, was not inserted until the second edition of the 
 Life of Donne. 
 
456 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Page 32. As he professeth in his Book of Devotions. 
 
 The title of this volume will be found at No. 6 of the foregoing 
 list of authorities, and Dr. Zouch supposed that the passage referred 
 to was the commencement of the Dedication to Charles Prince of 
 Wales, vide sign. A 3, rev ; but the margin of the first edition of 
 Dr. Donne's Life, has " Expost. 8." A reference to this part of the 
 work from page 173-190, will shew that the whole of the article 
 relates to the King's endeavours to make him enter into Holy Or- 
 ders : but the particular passage will be found on page 182. 
 
 Page 33. Such strifes as these St. Austin had. 
 
 Vide No. 1. of the preceding list of Authors, Book VIII. Chap. 
 8, page 243. The passage is entitled " What he did in the Gar- 
 den." The account of St. Austin's conversion by the preaching 
 of St. Ambrose, will be found in Book V, chap. 14, page 138. 
 St. D. Aurelius Augustine was born at Tagasta, in Africa, in 
 354. Though he had received an excellent education, his early 
 life was careless and dissolute ; and in 371 he became a convert 
 to the heresy of the Manichees at Carthage, where also he 
 taught Rhetoric in 380, but lived in almost open profligacy. In 
 383 he was made Professor of Rhetoric at Milan ; and was pre» 
 vailed on, partly by the tears and entreaties of his pious mother, 
 Monica, to attend the Sermons of St. Ambrose, which effected his 
 conversion, and in 387 be was baptized. He returned into Africa 
 the next year, was ordained Priest, and was assistant and successor 
 to Valerius, Bishop of Hippo. He died of a fever in 430, during 
 the Siege of Hippo by the Vandals under Genseric, having written 
 a history of his life under the title of Confessions, in which he cen- 
 sures his former folly ; but his subsequent charity, piety, and zeal, 
 procured for him the title of " the Great Doctor of Africa." St. 
 Ambrose was born at Aries in France, in 340, and was called " the 
 Mellifluous Doctor," from his eloquence and sweetness of language. 
 In 374, he was made Bishop of Milan, where he was a firm op- 
 poser to the Arians and Pagans, and he also put the Emperor 
 Theodosius to open penance for his massacre in that City. He 
 died at Milan in 397. Cave. The Scriptural references on this 
 page are to II. Corinthians, ii, 16; Exodus, hi. 11 ; Genesis, 
 xxxii, 28 ; II Samuel, vii. 18 ; St. Luke, i. 38 ; and Psalms, cxvi, 
 13 ; some of which are given on the margin of the first edition. 
 The meekness of Moses is mentioned in Numbers, xii, 3. The 
 Scriptural references on pages 34 and 35, are to Psalm lxxxiv, 1, 
 10. 
 
 Page 36. Mr. Chidley. 
 
 John Chudleigh, M. A. of Wadham College, Oxford, and eldest 
 son of Sir John Chudleigh, Bart, of Ashton, in Devonshire, con- 
 cerning whom, vide Prince's Worthies of Devon, Edit. Lond. 1701, 
 
NOTES. 457 
 
 Fol. page 209. The elegy quoted in the text, will be found at the 
 end of Donne's Poems, No. 8 of the list, and on signat. c c, 7 rev. 
 of the volume, but the verses in the text are somewhat altered from 
 the original, and are not all consecutive. 
 
 Page 37. Dr. Harsnett. 
 
 Samuel Harsnett, born at Colchester in 1561, and admitted of 
 King's College, Cambridge, in Sept. 1576, whence he removed to 
 Pembroke Hall, of which he was elected Fellow in 1583, and 
 Master in 1605. In the same year, and again in 1614, he was 
 Vice Chancellor of Cambridge ; in 1609, he was made Bishop of 
 Chichester, whence he was translated to the See of Norwich in 1 519, 
 and to the Archbishopric of York in 1628. In Nov. 1629, Dr. 
 Harsnett was made a Privy Councillor, and he died May 25th, 
 1631. He was one of the best writers of his time, and his publica- 
 tions consist of a Sermon at Paul's Cross, and a Controversial tract 
 on Demoniacal Possession. Le Neve states that he gave up his 
 Mastership in Cambridge, rather than stand the result of an en- 
 quiry into 57 articles which were brought against him. Biogr. 
 Brit. 
 
 The circumstance of Dr. Donne being madeD.D. at Cambridge, 
 is related in a different manner in two letters written by Mr. Cham- 
 berlain to Sir Dudley Carleton. In one, dated March 16th, 1614, 
 he writes " I had almost forgotten, that almost all the Courtiers 
 went forth Masters of Arts at the King's being there ; but few, or 
 no Doctors, save only Younge, which was done by a mandate, 
 being son to Sir Peter, the King's schoolmaster. The Vice-Chan- 
 cellor and University were exceeding strict in that point, and 
 refused many importunities of great men ; among whom was Mr. 
 Secretary, that made great means for Mr. Westfield ; but it would 
 not be ; neither the King's intreaty for John Dun would prevail : 
 yet they are threatened with a mandate, which, if it come, it is like 
 they will obey ; but they are resolved to give him such a blow withal, 
 that he were better w'ithout it." In another letter, of nearly the 
 same date, he writes thus.—" John Donne, and one Cheke, went 
 out Doctors at Cambridge with much ado, after our coming away, 
 by the King's express mandate ; though the Vice-Chancellor and 
 some of the Heads called them openly Filios noctis et tenebriones, 
 that sought thus to come in at the window, when there was a fair 
 gate open. But the worst is, that Donne had gotten a reversion of 
 the Deanery of Canterbury, if such grants could be lawful ; where- 
 by he hath purchased himself a great deal of envy, that a man of 
 his sort should seek, per saltum, to intercept such a place from so 
 many more worthy and ancient Divines." Zouch. 
 
 Page 38. His wife died, 
 
 Aug. 15th, 1617, on the seventh day after the birth of her 
 twelfth child. Lord Orford, in his Anecdotes of Painting, under 
 the class of Artists living in the reign of King James I., has printed 
 
 3 o 
 
458 NOTES. 
 
 the contents of the Account Book of Nicholas Stone, Sen. an emi- 
 nent English Sculptor, who died in 1647, aged 61 ; and from thi« 
 document it is ascertained that he made " a tomb for Dr. Donne's 
 wife in St. Clement Danes, for the which I had fiffeen pieces." 
 Works of Hor. Walpole, Earl of Orford. Lond. 1796-1822, 4to. 
 vol. iii, page 166. This monument stood on the north side of the 
 Chancel, and the inscription may be seen in Strype's edition of 
 Stowe's survey. Lond. 1754-55, vol. ii. page 109. Zouch. The 
 text of the Funeral Sermon which Dr. Donne preached for his wife, 
 was from Lamentations, chap. iii. 1, of which book he gave a poe- 
 tical version, printed with his other Poems. Dr. Zouch supposes 
 it was composed probably during his distress; but in Donne's 
 Funeral Sermon, which is printed in his second volume of Fifty 
 Sermons, Lond. 1649, Fol. Serm. xlviii, pages 445-455, there is 
 nothing of that excess of grief which it might be supposed to con- 
 tain. The Scriptural references on pages 38, 39, and 40, are to 
 Job vi, 8 ; xvii, 13 ; Psalm cxxxvii ; I. Corinthians, ix, 16 ; and 
 Lamentations, iii, 1. In the first edition of Donne's Life, the pas- 
 sage beginning, " In this retiredness," page 38, down to " attend 
 their education," page 40, is wanting. 
 
 Page 40. Dr. Gataker' s removalfrom thence. 
 
 Dr. Zouch, in his note upon this passage, originally pointed out 
 an error concerning Dr. Donne's immediate predecessor as Divinity 
 Reader at Lincoln's Inn : for he states " that Mr. Thomas Gataker 
 quitted, that Society for the Rectory of Rotherhithe in 1611, six 
 years before Dr. Donne was chosen there. Upon referring to 
 Coxe's Manuscript Digest of the Records of Lincoln's Inn, it is 
 ascertained that Dr. Gataker was elected Preacher in the 44th of 
 Eliz. 1601 ; that he was succeeded by Dr. Holloway, in the 10th 
 of James I. 1612 ; that Dr. Donne became Lecturer in the 14th of 
 James I. 1616 ; that in the 17th of that Sovereign, 1619, he went 
 on his German Embassy; and that in his 20th year, 1622, he was 
 succeeded at Lincoln's Inn by Mr. Preston. Thomas Gataker, a 
 learned Divine, was born in London, in 1574, and was educated at 
 'St. John's College, Cambridge. He was celebrated for a Treatise 
 " Of the Nature and Use of Lots ;" and, being of the Parliamentary 
 party, was one of the Assembly of Divines in 1642, though his 
 own conduct was moderate, and he protested against the violence 
 of others, and especially against the King's trial. He died in 
 1654, and was also the author of some excellent Annotations on 
 the Scriptures, and some Tracts against William Lilly. His house 
 had the appearance of a College, where many young men, both 
 English and Foreign, attended to receive instruction by his Lec- 
 tures. Wood's Athen. Oxom Zouch. 
 
 Page 41. the Lady Elizabeth the King's only daughter. 
 
 This unfortunate Princess, from her amiable and engaging 
 
NOTES. 4&9 
 
 manners, was called " The Queen of Hearts." She was born in 
 Scotland, Aug. 19th, 1596 ; and was married to Frederick V. 
 Count Palatine of the Rhine, &c. on Valentine's day, Feb. 14th, 
 1612, on which occasion Dr. Donne wrote an Epithalamium. 
 She left England, April 10th of the same year ; and on the death 
 of the Emperor Matthias, March 20th, 1619, the States of Bohemia, 
 rejected his cousin and adopted son, Ferdinand II. from being 
 their King, and offered their crown to the husband of Elizabeth. 
 Ferdinand, however, being elected Emperor of Germany, in the 
 following August, marched his forces against Frederick in Prague, 
 and not only expelled him and his Queen and children thence, but 
 also took from him his Palatinate, and forced him for succour into 
 the Low Countries. He died of a Fever at Mentz, Nov. 29th, 
 16S2, and his Queen continued at the Hague until after the Res- 
 toration, when she returned to England, and died Feb. 13th, 1661. 
 Sandford, Rapin, Zouch. The Ambassador sent by King James, 
 to effect a peace between the Bohemian States, and the Emperor 
 Ferdinand, was his favourite, Sir James Hay, born at Pitcorthie, in 
 Fife, who came with him to England in 1603. In June 1615, he 
 was made Baron Hay of Sauley, in Yorkshire ; in July 1616, he 
 went Ambassador to France. ; in March 1617, he was made a Privy 
 Councillor ; and in July 1618, Viscount Doncaster. He departed 
 on his Embassy in May 1619, and returned in the January fol- 
 lowing ; after which, in 1622, he was again sent as Ambassador to 
 France, and his services rewarded by his being created Earl of 
 Carlisle. He died at Whitehall, April 25th, 1636, and was buried 
 in St. Paul's. His embassy to Ferdinand was very costly, but 
 entirely useless ; and Rapin doubts if he even once saw the Em- 
 peror. Lord Clarendon has given a very fine portrait of this 
 nobleman ; in which he states him to have been a person well 
 qualified by his breeding in France, and study in human learning, 
 to entertain the King, and by his gracefulness and affability to 
 excite a particular interest in him. He was a man of the greatest 
 expense in his own person, and his famous Ante-Suppers, of any 
 of his time ; and after having spent £ 400,000, received of the 
 crown, he died, leaving literally nothing behind him but the repu- 
 tation of a fine gentleman, and an accomplished courtier. Douglas. 
 
 Page 41. he left Ms friends of Lincoln's Inn. 
 
 In Dr. Donne's third volume of xxvi Sermons, Lond. 1661. 
 Fol. pages 269-281, Sermon xix., is the address he delivered on 
 this occasion from Ecclesiastes xii. 1. " Remember now thy Creator 
 in the days of thy youth ;" and it is entitled, " A Sermon of Vale- 
 diction at my going into Germany, at Lincoln's Inne, April 18, 
 1619." In the margin of the first edition of Donne's Life, there is 
 ut this place a reference to Genesis xlvii. 9. 
 
460 NOTE S. 
 
 Page 43. Dr. Carey. 
 
 Valentine Carey, Master of Christ's College in Cambridge, and 
 Dean of St. Paul's, is said to have been born in Northumberland, 
 and descended of the noble family of Hunsdon. He was con- 
 secrated Bishop of Exeter, Nov. 18th, 1621, and he died June 
 10th, 1626, and was buried in St. Paul's. Godwin, Zouch. The 
 first edition of this life has a reference here to Psalm cxxxii. 4, 5. 
 
 Page 44. Dr. White. 
 
 Dr. Thomas White, born in Bristol, and entered a Student of 
 Magdalen Hall, Oxford, about 1566. He was well known and 
 much esteemed as a preacher, being Minister of St. Gregory's, near 
 St. Paul's, in London, and afterward Rector of St. Dunstan's in 
 Fleet-Street. In 1585, he was made a Canon of St. Paul's; in 
 1590, Treasurer of Salisbury ; in 1591, a Canon of Christ Church, 
 Oxford ; and in 1593, a Canon of St. George's, Windsor. His 
 cnly publications were Sermons ; but his charities to Bristol, and 
 to Sion College, London, and his foundation of a Lecture on Moral 
 Philosophy at Oxford, have better preserved his memory. He 
 died March 1st, 1623. Wood's Athens Oxon. 
 
 Richard Sackville, third Earl of Dorset, also mentioned on the 
 above page, was born March 28th, 1589, at the Charter-house in 
 London ; and Feb. 27th, 1608-9, was married to Anne, daughter 
 and heir of the famous George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, his 
 father having died two days before. He died on Easter Sunday. 
 March 28th, 1624 ; and his lady, in a manuscript history of her 
 life, has given him the character of an amiable man, a scholar, a 
 soldier, a courtier, and a gentleman. His brother Edward, fourth 
 Earl of Dorset, also referred to, was born in 1590 ; and having 
 been accomplished both by study and travel, was early distinguished 
 for his eminent abilities. In 1613, he was involved in a quarrel 
 with the Lord Bruce, which terminated in a duel, when the latter 
 was killed near Antwerp. In 1620, he was made a Knight of the 
 Bath, and in 1625, one of the chief Commanders sent to assist 
 the King of Bohemia, and Knight of the Garter. He adhered to 
 the Royal cause throughout the Civil Wars, and took the King's 
 murder so much to heart, as never after to leave his dwelling, but 
 died July 17th, 1652, at Dorset House, in Fleet Street, London. 
 Collins. 
 
 The Earl of Kent, who is likewise mentioned in connection with 
 the above nobleman, was Henry Grey, ninth Earl of his family, 
 who married Elizabeth, second daughter, and co-heir of Gilbert 
 Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury ; and who died without issue at his 
 house in White Friars, London, Nov. 21st, 1639. Hasted. The 
 first edition of Donne's Life, has in this place a marginal re- 
 ference to Genesis xlv. 28, and on page 46, there is an allusion 
 to Job x. 12. 
 
NOTES. 461 
 
 Page 49. in his most excellent Book of Devotions. 
 
 Vide No. 6, of the foregoing list of authorities, and the passage 
 referred to by Walton probably commences at Meditation 19th ; 
 when the disease of the patient, supposed to be the author of thi3 
 book, shews the first favourable symptom, vide pages 444-479. 
 The gratitude of Dr. Donne is certainly beautifully exemplified in 
 the Prayer on page 474. The account of Bishop King's offer to 
 Dr. Donne, from the words, " In this distemper," page 46, down 
 to " within a few days," page 49, was not inserted until the second 
 edition of this life. In the first edition the following scriptural 
 references appear on the margin : Genesis xii. 7, 8 ; xxviii. 18 ; 
 I Corinthians xv. 31 ; Job xxx. 15 ; vii. 3. The Hymn on page 
 51, will be found in Donne's Poems, page 388. 
 
 Page 52. the reader of St. Augustine's life. 
 
 St. Augustine died after the Goths and Vandals had with great 
 cruelty and slaughter, over-run the greatest part of his native 
 country of Africa ; in which only three cities of any eminence 
 were preserved from their fury, Hippo, his own city being one, 
 though it was besieged by them for fourteen months. According 
 to his prayer he was delivered out of their hands by the mercy of 
 God, who took him to himself during the siege. Zouch. 
 
 Page 53. how is that place become desolate. 
 
 By the votes of both Houses, passed in the Long Parliament, 
 Sept. 10th, 11th, 1642, for the abolishing of Bishops, Deans, and 
 Chapters, the very foundation of this famous Cathedral, says Sir 
 William Dugdale, was utterly shaken in pieces. In the following 
 year, the famous Cross in the Church-yard, which had been for 
 many ages the most noted and solemn place for the gravest Divines 
 and greatest scholars to preach at, was pulled down to the ground : 
 the stalls in the choir were taken away, as also part of the pavement 
 torn up, and the monuments demolished or defaced. The scaf- 
 folds erected for repair of the Church were given to the soldiers, 
 who dug pits in several places in the fabric, for sawing up the 
 timber ; even where some reverend Bishops and other persons of 
 quality lay interred : and afterwards the body of the Church was 
 frequently converted into a horse-quarter for soldiers, though a 
 part of the choir was separated by a brick wall as a preaching 
 place, the entrance to which was at the uppermost window on the 
 north side eastwards. Vide Rennet's Register and Chronicle, 
 page 549 : Dugdale's Hist of St. Paul's, edit, by Ellis, pages 109, 
 110, 115. Zouch. 
 
 Page ibid. Engraven very small on Heliotropium stones. 
 
 These are commonly called a beautiful species of Jasper, but 
 they are also defined as a sort of stone of the quartz family, sup- 
 posed to be r combination of calcedony, with green earth. They 
 have been long known as a gem, and are of a fine and strong green, 
 
462 NOTES. 
 
 sometimes pure and simple, but more frequently with an admixture 
 of blue in it. The Heliotrope is moderately transparent in thin 
 pieces, and is always veined, clouded, and spotted with a blood red, 
 from which it has been called Blood-stone by the jewellers. Zouch, 
 Crabbe. An engraving from an impression of one of Dr. Donne's 
 seals was given in the recent editions of the Complete Angler, 
 printed uniformly with these Lives ; and a print of a seal itself, 
 supposed to have been the identical one given to George Herbert, 
 so particularly spoken of at page 55 of this work, will be found in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine for 1807, vol. lxxvii, Part I. page 313, 
 Plate ii. 
 
 Page 53. Sir Henry Goodier — Lady Magdalen Herbert— Dr. 
 Hall — Dr. Duppa. 
 
 The first of these persons was the son and heir of Sir William 
 Goodier, of Monkskirby, in Warwickshire, Knight, and was a Gen- 
 tleman of the Privy Chamber to King James I. He once enjoyed, 
 in succession, the Manor of Baginton, in the above County ; but not 
 being so fortunate in his estate, by following the Court, he alienated 
 the Lordship to his brother-in-law, Sir Henry Rainsford, of Clifford, 
 in Gloucestershire. He married his cousin Frances, the daughter 
 of Sir Henry Goodier, a great supporter of, and sufferer for, Mary 
 Queen of Scotland ; and he left four daughters, of whom, Lucy, the 
 eldest, was married to Sir Francis Nethersole. In the collection of 
 Dr. Donne's Letters, published in 1651, are several addressed to 
 this gentleman ; and Weever, in his Ancient Funerall. Monuments, 
 page 533, gives this epitaph to his memory : 
 
 " An ill yeare of a Goodyer vs bereft, 
 Who, gon to God, much lacke of him here left j 
 Full of good gifts, of body and of minde, 
 Wise, comely, learned, eloquent, and kinde. 
 
 Dugdale — Zouch. 
 
 Lady Magdalen Herbert, was the daughter of Sir Richard New- 
 port, and Margaret, youngest daughter and heir of Sir Thomas 
 Bromley, one of the Privy Council, and Executor to Henry VIII. 
 She was married to Richard Herbert Esq. and was the mother of the 
 famous George Herbert, and Edward Lord Herbert, of Cherbury. 
 She survived her husband, who died in 1597, and, says the latter 
 of her sons, " gave rare testimonies of an incomparable piety to 
 God, and love to her children : as being most assiduous and devout 
 in her daily, both public and private, prayers ; and so careful to 
 provide for her posterity, that though it were in her power to give 
 her estate, which was very great, to whom she would, yet she con- 
 tinued still unmarried, after she lived most virtuously and lovingly 
 with her husband. She, after his death, erected a fair monument 
 for him in Montgomery Church, brought up her children carefully, 
 
NOTES. 463 
 
 and put them in good courses for making their fortunes ; and 
 briefly was that woman Dr. Donne hath described her, in his Fune- 
 ral Sermon of her printed." She died, July 11th, 1627, and was 
 buried at Chelsea. Life of Lord Herbert. Collins. 
 
 Dr. Joseph Hall, was an eminent Prelate, called the " English, 
 or Christian Seneca, " and was born, July 1st, 1574, at Ashby-de- 
 la-Zouch, in Leicestershire. He was entered of Emanuel College, 
 Oxford, at the age of 15, and in 1595, became Fellow. He held 
 the office of Chaplain to Henry Prince of Wales ; in 1616, he was 
 made Dean of Worcester, and in 1618, was sent as a Member of 
 the famous Synod of Dort. In 1624, he refused the Bishopric of 
 Gloucester ; but in 1627, he accepted that of Exeter, whence he 
 was translated to Norwich, in 1641. A few weeks afterwards, he 
 was sent to the Tower with twelve other Prelates, for protesting 
 against any Laws passed in Parliament during their forced absence 
 from the House, and he was not released until June, 1642. He 
 suffered much from the Puritans during the following year, since 
 they plundered his house, despoiled his Cathedral, sequestered his 
 estate, and reduced him to poverty, though he still continued to 
 preach occasionally. He died at Higham, near Norwich, Sept. 8th, 
 1656. Bishop Hall is considered as the first English Satirist, 
 and one of his most famous works is the Virgidemiarum. Life in his 
 Works. 
 
 Dr. Bryan Duppawas born at Lewisham, March 10th, 1588, and 
 was educated at Westminster, whence he was elected to Christ 
 Church, Oxford, in 1605. In 1638, he was appointed Tutor to 
 Prince Charles and theDuke of York, and about the same time was 
 made Bishop of Chichester, whence he was translated to Salisbury 
 in 1641. He attended Charles I. in the Isle of Wight, and is sup- 
 posed to have assisted in writing the Eikoii Basilike. After re- 
 maining with the King till his martyrdom, he lived in retirement 
 at Richmond until the Restoration, when he was made Bishop of 
 Winchester, and Lord Almoner. He died at Richmond, March 
 26th, 1662 ; when he was visited by Charles II. who received his 
 last benediction kneeling. Wood's Athen. Oxon. 
 
 Page 55. To Mr. George Herbert. 
 
 The two lines and a half of Elegiacs on the above page, and the 
 Iambics on the ensuing, form the commencement of copies of Latin 
 verses, the originals of the English poetry also printed in theHext : 
 which in both instances is, apparently, Dr. Donne's. The verses 
 begi nnin g " Quod Crux nequibat," &c. page 56, " are printed," 
 says Mr. Archdeacon Wrangham, who has kindly assisted the pub- 
 lisher in several other instances in this volume, " both in the 
 Poems of Donne, 1669, 8vo. page 402, and of Herbert, see his 
 Jacula Prudentum, 1651, l2mo.'page 182 ; but in the former vo- 
 lume, they have not, like the other copy, the initials J. D. at- 
 tached." The copy of Walton's Lives, 4th edit. 1675, from which 
 
 
464 NOTES. 
 
 the present edition has been revised, was a presentation book from 
 the author, and, originally, had an impression of one of Dr. Donne's 
 seals affixed to the margin of the verses on page 56. 
 
 Page 57. Prudentius. 
 
 Clemens Aurelius Prudentius, a Christian Poet, born in Spain, 
 in the year 348. He was brought up to the Law, of which he 
 became a Judge ; but he was also a soldier, and enjoyed an office 
 of rank in the Court of the Emperor Honorius. His verses were 
 not written until he was advanced in years ; and Gyraldus observes, 
 that they contain more of religious zeal, than of the beauties of 
 poetry. Zouch. In the first edition of Donne's Life, the passages 
 contained between " I fear no more," page 52, and the title of the 
 Hymn, on page 57, together with the verses of that Hymn, were 
 omitted ; but they were inserted in the second edition, with the ex- 
 ception of the latter verses. The Scriptural allusion on page 58, is 
 to Isaiah xxxviii, 20, as it appears in the margin of the original folio. 
 The whole of the imperfect verses on page 56, will be found in 
 Donne's Poems, page 387. 
 
 Page 59. A laborious Treatise concerning Self Murder. 
 
 The title of this Work, is given at No. 10 of the list of authorities, 
 and it was first printed without a date, being published by the 
 Author's son about 1644, and again in 1648. The original Manu- 
 script is now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, having been pre- 
 sented to it in 1642, by Sir Edward Herbert, to whom Dr. Donne 
 gave it with a dedicatory letter. The account of Dr. Donne's ar- 
 rangement of his Sermons, was not inserted until the second edition 
 of his Life. 
 Page 59. Making his Will, &c. 
 
 Dr. Donne's Will, is recorded in the Prerogative Court of Canter- 
 bury, in the volume marked St. John, Art. 46 ; and it was proved 
 before Sir Henry Marten, Knight, April 16th, 1631. 
 
 Page 60. That model of gold, of the Synod ofDort. 
 
 This famous national Convocation was made to examine into cer- 
 tain doctrines of Arminius, which were disputed in Holland. It 
 met at Dort, Nov. 13th, 1618, and the States General allowed 
 100,000 francs for its expenses. The members of whom it was 
 composed, were six persons from each of the United Provinces, 
 twelve from North and South Holland, two from the country of 
 Drent, and deputies sent b}' desire of the States from the King of 
 England, the Elector Palatine, the Landgrave of Hesse, the States 
 of Weteravia, the Republics and Cities of Geneva, Bremen, and 
 Embden, and the Cantons of Zurich, Berne, Basle, and Schaaf- 
 hausen. The doctrines which they discussed were those of Predes- 
 tination, Redemption, Vocation, Conversion, and Perseverance ; in 
 which all that was contrary to the tenets of Calvin was condemned, 
 whilst Vorstius, and others who would not subscribe to the decrees 
 of the Synod, were deprived of their Cures, and banished from the 
 
NOTES. 465 
 
 United States. These decrees were publicly read in the Great 
 Church of Dort, May 1st, 1619, when the Synod brake up ; but the 
 States General ordered the Medal to be struck, of which a repre- 
 sentation is given in the text, and of which they sent an impression 
 in gold to every foreign Theologian and Councillor who had 
 attended the meeting. The reverse of this Medal represents a 
 mountain, on the summit of which is a temple, to which, some 
 figures are ascending by a very steep path. The four winds, em- 
 blematical of those who disturbed the tranquillity of the Church, 
 are represented blowing upon the mountain ; and above the temple 
 is the word Jehovah, in Hebrew characters. The legend is taken 
 from Psalm cxxv, 1, and is, Erunt ut Mons Sion. cioiocxix. 
 Bizot's Histoire Metallique, vol. i. p. 139. Van Loon's Hist. Metal- 
 lique, vol. ii. p. 105. The words in Donne's own Will are, " that 
 medall of gold," instead of " that model," as in the text. 
 
 Page 60. Padre Paolo and Fulgentio. 
 
 Paul Sarpi, commonly called Father Paul, was born at Venice, 
 Aug. 14th, 1552, and was a member of the Order of Servites. Al- 
 though lie is said to have been a pattern of humility, he was an 
 excellent Divine, Mathematician, and Natural Philosopher ; and 
 to him are attributed several discoveries in Anatomy. Being made 
 Procurator General of his Order, he resided at Rome, leaving his 
 property in the hands of a person who abused his trust, and who, to 
 avoid detection, advised Paolo to remain in Rome for the sake of 
 promotion. His answer was, .that he held the dignities of that 
 Court in abomination ; and the letter containing the passage being 
 betrayed to the Pope, Paolo was regarded as a heretic. His exer~ 
 tions on behalf of Venice, caused him to be cited to Rome, and 
 after the Pope and the Venetian States were reconciled, the defen- 
 ders of the latter were marked as objects of vengeance, on which 
 account, his life was attempted in 1607. His famous History of 
 the Council of Trent was written in the seclusion to which he then 
 retired, and he died Jan. 14th, 1622. Lifcby Dr. Johnson. 
 
 M. Fulgentio, was a Minorite, and the friend and biographer of 
 Father Paul, his Life of him being published in English, in 1651, 
 8vo. He was celebrated for the dignity and freedom with which 
 he preached the pure Word of God -, and Pope Paul V. said of his 
 Discourses, " He has indeed some good Sermons, but bad ones 
 withal : he stands too much upon Scripture, which is a book that if 
 any man will keep close to, he will quite ruin the Catholic faith.'' 
 Father Fulgentio had written in the Venetian controversy against 
 the Pope, but was induced by the Nuncio to visit Rome, on pro- 
 mise of safe conduct. He was at first received with favour, and 
 even with festivity, but he was afterwards burned in the Field of 
 Flora. Zovch. 
 
 3 p 
 
i66 NOTE S. 
 
 Page 64. At the foot of a private account. 
 In all, excepting the first edition of Donne's Life, the Latin 
 paragraphs, on this and the following page, have been erroneously 
 printed as verse ; but in the folio of 1640, they are properly printed 
 as prose, and, which greatly increases their interest, they have the 
 dates of the years when they were written annexed to them in the 
 margin. Thus, the sentence on page 64, was attached to Donne's 
 Account for 1624-1625 ; the upper one on page 65, was to that for 
 the year 1626 ; and the lower one, for 1628-29. It should be re- 
 marked, that the commencement and conclusion of Dr. Donne's 
 Will were not inserted until the second edition of his Life ; as well 
 as the account on page 63, of his friend who had fallen into em- 
 barrassed circumstances. 
 
 Page 69. Dr. Donne had preached his own Funeral Sermon. 
 The title of this Discourse is given in the preceding list of 
 authorities, No. 7; and the piece itself, is also printed in the last 
 collection of Donne's Sermons. Lond. 1661, Fol, page 397. At 
 the commencement, is an Address to the Reader, signed Pv. pro- 
 bably the initial of Richard Redmer, one of the publishers of the 
 volume, beginning with the following words. " This Sermon was, 
 by Sacred Authoritie, stiled the Author's owne Funeral Sermon. 
 Most fitly : whether we respect the time or the matter. It was 
 preached not many dayes before his death ; as if, hauing done this, 
 there remained nothing for him to doe but to die : And the matter 
 is of Death ; the occasion and subject of all Funerall Sermons." The 
 text of this Discourse will be found in Psalm lxviii, 20, the latter 
 part of the verse ; and another Scriptural reference on the present 
 page is to Acts viii, 2. 
 
 Page 73. Carved in one entire piece of marble. 
 In the account-book of Nicholas Stone, already mentioned, are 
 contained several particulars concerning Dr. Donne's monument. 
 " In 1631," observes he, " I made a tombe for Dr. Donne, and 
 sette it up in St. Paul's, London, for the which I was payed by 
 Doctor Mountford the sum of 120L I took 60/. in plate, in part 
 of payment," page 167. Another entry refers to a workman em- 
 ployed by Stone upon the same effigy. " 1631, Humphrey Mayor 
 finisht the statue for Dr. Donne's monument, 8l." Zouch. The 
 figure was erected within the choir in the south aisle, against the 
 south-east pier of the central tower of St. Paul's ; and it stood in 
 a niche of black marble, which was surmounted by a square tablet, 
 hung with garlands of fruit and leaves, having over it the arms of 
 the Deanery, impaling Donne. Dugdale. 
 
 The English translation of Dr. Donne's Latin Epitaph, given in 
 the text, is nearly as follows; but much of the original point is lost 
 by the attempt to render it into another language : 
 
NOTE S. 467 
 
 JOHN DONNE/ 
 
 Doctor of Divinity, 
 
 after various studies,— pursued by him from his earliest years 
 
 with assiduit}', and not without success, — 
 
 entered into Holy Orders, 
 
 under the influence and impulse of the Divine Spirit, 
 
 and by the advice and exhortation of King James, 
 
 in the year of his Saviour, 1614, and of his own age, 42. 
 
 Having been invested with the Deanery of this Church, 
 
 November 27th, 1621, 
 
 he was stripped of it by Death, on the last day of March, 1631 : 
 
 and here, though set in dust, he beholdeth 
 
 Him whose name is the Rising. 
 
 The concluding lines of this inscription, which has been obligingly 
 translated by Mr. Archdeacon Wrangham, alludes to the position 
 of Dr. Donne looking eastward, and to the famous passage in 
 Zechariah vi, 12, " Behold the man whose name is the Branch," 
 which the Septuagint Greek, and the vulgate Latin render " whose 
 name is the East/' or " the Rising." Zouch. 
 
 Page 73. I have seen one picture of him. 
 
 An engraving from this portrait was attached to Donne's Poems, 
 edit. 1650, 12mo. It consists of an oval, enclosed in a parallel- 
 ogram, and represents Donne as a youth in a dark close dress, with 
 a diamond cross pendant from his right ear, having a narrow linen ^ 
 collar and flowing hair ; but not as Dr. Zouch erroneously states, in 
 armour. On the left, at the lower side, is his hand resting on the 
 handle of an ancient sword. In the left angle, at the top of the 
 print, are the words " Anno Dni. 1591, ^Etatis suae 18 ;" and, on 
 the opposite side, are his arms and the motto mentioned on page 
 74, " Antes Mverto qvi Mvdado," supposed, " says Dr. Zouch, 
 by a Spanish Author, " to have been written on the sand by a lady 
 promising fidelity to her lover." Beneath the engraving, are 
 Walton's verses on Donne's portrait, which will be given in a future 
 volume, and a reduced copy of the engraving, will be found on page 
 xvi of the present. 
 
 Page 75. in his Book of Devotions. 
 
 Vide No. 6, of the foregoing list, pages 586, 587, and Prayer 
 23, of that volume. The Scriptures cited on this and the follow- 
 ing page, are Genesis xlix., Job xiv. 14, Acts vii. 55. 
 
 Page 77. as Alexander the Great, <%c. 
 
 When Alexander crossed the Hellespont to visit the ruins of 
 Ilium, he sacrificed to the heroes buried in the vicinity, and es- 
 pecially to A chilles. Zouch. The passage cited by Walton will 
 be found at page 729, of North's Translation of Plutarch, No. 19, 
 of the preceding list. The whole of the passage, from the words, 
 " I must here look back," page 71, dowu to " at his altar," page 
 
468 NOTE S. 
 
 74, were not inserted until the second edition of Donne's Life, nor 
 was the paragraph on page 77, containing the Epitaph ; and 
 several less important variations in the text occur between that 
 place and the end. 
 
 Page 79. Dr. Corbet. 
 
 Dr. Richard Corbet, an eminent Divine and Poet, born at 
 Ewell, in Surrey, and educated at Westminster, whence he removed 
 to Christ Church College, Oxford, in 1597-98. Upon entering into 
 Holy Orders, he was made Chaplain in Ordinary to King James I.; 
 and in July 1630, he was consecrated Bishop of Oxford. In 
 April 1632, he was translated to the See of Norwich, and he died 
 July 28th, 163.5. He was, according to Aubrey, a very convivial 
 man, and in his younger years, one of the most celebrated wits of 
 the University, and his volume of Poems is both a rare and meri- 
 torious production. Biogr. Brit. 
 
 Page 84. A Crown of 'Sacred Sonnets — a Litany. 
 
 A Poem written by Dr. Donne, entitled, " La Corona," vide 
 page 327, of his work already cited. It consists of seven holy 
 sonnets, each of which is united with the other, by beginning 
 with the last line of the preceding one ; whilst the Poem itself 
 commences and concludes with the same line. The Litany will be 
 found at page 354 of his Poems, and it was written during his 
 distress and sickness before he took Orders, as he states in a Letter 
 to Sir Henry Goodier. Zouch. The first folio is without any of 
 the Elegies on the death of Dr. Donne ; and Walton had improved 
 his own verses in the present work, very considerably from what 
 they were when first printed with Donne's Poems. 
 
 Page 89. Bocton-Hall, in the Parish of Bocton Malherbe. 
 
 A Parish situate five miles westward from Charing, and about a 
 mile and a half south of Lenham, almost in the very centre of the 
 County. The present state of this once princely mansion, is ex- 
 tremely ruinous, but some fragments of it's former splendour are 
 yet remaining in the fine oaken staircase, and in the first storey of 
 the house, where there is an immense apartment with carved 
 wainscot walls coloured in partitions, having a ceiling also divided 
 into pannel?, and painted in water-colours. This part of the build- 
 ing is now inhabited by a farmer, but much of its ancient charac- 
 ter is lost by the principal front being modernised, the large 
 apartments divided, and the arched doorways, bay-windows, &c. 
 being blocked up ; though a very fine specimen of the latter, 
 formed of octangular panes, is yet perfect, and is shewn in the view 
 on the above page. Several dates cut in stone, principally of the 
 sixteenth century, are still remaining on the ruins. The Church 
 of Bocton Malherbe, dedicated to St. Nicholas, stands nearly in 
 the centre of the Parish ; on the eastern side of the Hall ; and 
 within the rude dwarf wall of flints which surrounds the building 
 
NOTES. 469 
 
 of Bocton Place. Hasted' 's Hist, of Kent, in which, at page 437, 
 Vol. ii. will be found an account of the monuments mentioned in 
 the text, and a history of the descent of this Manor in the family 
 of Wotton. See also Harris's Hist, of Kent, page 48. 
 
 Page 91. saith Holinshed. 
 
 The passages alluded to, and abstracted by Walton, will be 
 found at considerable length in No. 14, of the preceding list, pages 
 1402, 1403. 
 
 Page 92. Mr. William Lambarde, in his Perambulation of Kent. 
 
 Vide No. 16 of the preceding list, to which there is an Epistle 
 Dedicatory addressed " To the Right Worshipful and Vertuous 
 M. Thomas Wotton, Esquier," probably containing the passage 
 alluded to. William Lambarde, an eminent Lawyer and Antiquary, 
 was the son of an Alderman ©f London, and was born Oct. 18th, 
 1536. In 1556, he entered Lincoln's Inn, and studied the law 
 under Lawrence Nowell, brother to the Dean of St. Paul's. In 
 1597, he was made Keeper of the Rolls by Chancellor Egerton; 
 and in 1600, Queen Elizabeth appointed him to be Keeper of the 
 Records in the Tower. He died Aug. 19th, 1601, and his prin- 
 cipal works are a collection and Latin Translation of the Saxon 
 Laws, a Discourse of the English Courts of Justice, another on the 
 Office of Justices, and the Perambulation of Kent. Chalmers. 
 The passage in Camden, referred to en this page, will be found in 
 No. 3 of the foregoing list of Authorities, p. 331, marginal letter B. 
 
 Page 97. Baptista Guarini. 
 
 An eminent Italian Poet, born at Ferrara in 1537, made Pro- 
 fessor of Belles Lettres in 1563, and subsequently entertained by 
 the Grand Duke Alphonso II., who employed him on several 
 embassies. In 1585, he published his famous poem II Pastor 
 Fido, to rival the writings of Tasso : and he died at Venice, Oct. 
 7tb, 1612. Chalmers. 
 
 Page 98. Albericus Gentilis. 
 
 A very celebrated Italian Lawyer, born at Ancona in 1550, and 
 educated at Perugia. About 1572, he left his own country with 
 his father and brother, they being of the reformed religion, and 
 whilst the two former settled in Germany, he came into England, 
 and was admitted of New Inn Hall, Oxford, in 1580, through the 
 patronage of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, then Chancellor 
 of that University. In 1587, Queen Elizabeth made him Profes- 
 sor of Civil Law, and it is supposed that he died at Oxford, about 
 April 1611. His works are principally on Jurisprudence, written 
 in Latin. Wood's Athen. Oxon. Edit. Bliss. 
 
 Page 106. Theodore Beza — Isaac Casaubon. 
 
 One of the most celebrated promoters of the Reformation, born 
 at Vezelai, a small town of Nivernais, in France, June 24th, 1519. 
 He was educated under the famous P.: former Melchior Wolmar, 
 
470 NOTES. 
 
 from whom he derived his Protestant principles. He was not in 
 Orders, though he held some Church preferments, but in 1548 he 
 resigned them, retired to Geneva, married, and abjured Popery. 
 In 1549, he was made Greek Professor at Lausanne, and in 1556, 
 published his Translation of the New Testament, and his Defence 
 of the burning of Servetus. He was a powerful assistant to Calvin, 
 and after his death became head of the reformed party. He died 
 Oct. 13th, 1605, having given great encouragement to the Puritans, 
 though his letters to Whitgift evince a high regard for the Church 
 of England . Chalmers. 
 
 Isaac Casaubon, the best Grecian of his time, was born at Geneva, 
 Feb. 18th, 1559, and at the age of twenty-three, became Greek 
 Professor there. About 1597, he read Lectures on the Belles 
 Lettres, at Geneva, and in 1600, at Paris ; when Henry IV. of 
 France made him his Librarian, though he vainly endeavoured to 
 draw him from the Protestant faith. In October 1610, he came 
 to England with Sir Henry Wotton, and was received with great 
 distinction by King James I., who preferred him in the Church, 
 and gave him a pension. His writings are very numerous, and are 
 Theological, Controversial, and Classical. He died July 1st, 1614, 
 was buried in Westminster Abbey, where Bishop Morton erected 
 him a monument. Zouch. Chalmers. 
 Page 107. Mr. Henry Cuffe. 
 
 An unfortunate wit and scholar, born at Hinton St. George, In 
 Somersetshire, about 1560, and entered of Trinity College, Oxford, 
 in 1576, from which he was expelled for some sarcasms on the 
 Founder. His learning and abilities being very considerable, he 
 was received into Merton College, and he was made Greek Pro- 
 fessor j but his restless disposition induced him to follow the Earl 
 of Essex to Cadiz. The ambitious schemes of that Nobleman 
 ruined both ; for when he was condemned, his confession so much 
 involved Cuffe, that he was brought to trial on the 5th, and hanged 
 at Tyburn, on the 30th of March, 1601. Biogr. Brit. State Trials, 
 Vol. I. 210. 
 
 Page 110. Watson in his Quodlibets. 
 
 William Watson, a secular Priest, who, in 1602, wrote the 
 volume marked No. 30 in the foregoing list, which is composed with 
 great acrimony ; each question being subdivided into ten articles. 
 This person, however, was executed in 1603, for High Treason, 
 together with William Clark, a Popish Priest, and George Brook, 
 brother to Lord Cobham. Zouch. State Trials. 
 Page 110. Ferdinand, the Great Duke of Florence, 
 First of that name of the House of Medicis, was intended for 
 the Church, and was created a Cardinal by Pius IV. in 1563. In 
 1587, on the death of his elder brother, Francis-Maria, Duke of 
 Tuscany, he resigned the purple, at the age of 52, and married 
 
NOTES. 471 
 
 Catherine of Lorraine, daughter of the Duke Charles II. He died 
 Feb. 22nd, 1608-9, having governed with great mildness, being 
 a wise and domestic Prince. Sir Henry Wotton has delineated 
 his character in the Reliquiae, Wottoniance, edit. 1651, page 359. 
 Moreri. Zoueh. 
 
 Page 115. Sir Albertus Morton. 
 
 The son of George Morton, of Esture, in Kent, elected 
 Scholar of King's College, Cambridge, in 1602. After his employ- 
 ment under Sir H. Wotton, he was thrice agent in Savoy. Secre- 
 tary to the Lady Elizabeth, in Heidelberg, and agent for the King 
 to the Princes of the Union. He also became a Clerk of the 
 Council, and was knighted in 1617'. He died in the Parish of 
 St. Margaret, Westminster, about November 1625, having been 
 elected a Burgess in Parliament for the University of Cambridge ; 
 and he left a widow and one son. Wood's Athen. Oxon. 
 
 William Bedel, who is mentioned in the same sentence, was an 
 excellent Prelate, who was born at Black Notley, in Essex, and 
 educated at Emanuel College, Cambridge, of which he became 
 Fellow, in 1593. Much of his memoirs is given in the text, and 
 he died Feb. 7th, 1641, in the house of an Irish Minister, whither 
 the rebels had conveyed him. In his life by Bishop Burnet, is an 
 interesting account of his Irish translation of the Scriptures. 
 
 The verses addressed by Dr. Donne to Sir Henry Wotton, 
 printed in the text, will be found at page 184 of his Poems ; but 
 in the first edition of this Life, the whole of the passages from 
 " And though his dear friend," page 115, down to " Sir Henry 
 Wotton was received," page 117, are wanting. 
 
 Page 118. Pope Clement the Eighth, 
 
 Originally named Hippolito Aldobrandini, was born at Fano, iu 
 1536, studied at Ferraraand Bologna, was made Cardinal by Sixtus 
 V., and in January 1592, succeeded Innocent IX. as Pontiff. He 
 converted Henry IV. of France, with many more to the Roman 
 faith, and advanced Beliarmine, Baronius, and other learned men to 
 be Cardinals. After a reign of piety, moderation, and wisdom, he 
 died in March 1605 ; and was succeeded by Leo XI. who lived 
 only twenty -nine da^s after. His successor was Camillo Borghese, 
 commonly called Pope Paul V. who is mentioned on page 119. 
 He was born at Rome, in 1552, and being an eminent Doctor 
 of the Civil Law, he rose rapidly in the Papal favour, until he 
 was created Cardinal by Clement VIII. His character and 
 most important public acts are given in the text, and he died 
 at Rome, in Jan. 1621. The passage contained between the 
 words " Clement VIII. and that Republic," page 118, and 
 " Pope Clement dying," page 119, are not in Walton's first edi- 
 tion of this Life. 
 
472 NOTES. 
 
 Page 122. History of the remarkable Council of Trent. 
 Vide No. 18 in the preceding list of Authorities, in which 
 will be found most of the historical matter related in the text. The 
 work was published under the name of Pietro Polano Soave, an 
 anagram formed out of that of the real author. Cardinals Bel- 
 larmine, and Baronius, were the principal adversaries of Padre 
 Paolo, in the Venetian controversy. Zouch. The passages on 
 page 120, between the words " capable of absolution, " and 
 " matters thus heightened," are wanting in the first edition of 
 Wotton's Life. 
 
 Page 123. Jasper Scioppius. 
 
 A learned writer, born in Germany about 1576, who turned 
 Romanist in 1599, on reading the Annals of Baronius. He re- 
 commended the extirpation of Protestants to the Catholic Princes, 
 and wrote with much rancour against King James, Scaliger, Casau- 
 bon, &c. Towards the end of his life he pretended to prophecy, 
 and sent some of his predictions to Cardinal Mazarine, who disre- 
 garded them. He died in 1649, at Padua, and his works, which 
 are very numerous, are no longer read. Moreri. 
 Page 124. Velserus. 
 
 Mark Velser, a Civilian, born at Augsburg in 1558, and educated 
 under Muretus at Rome. On his return home he acquired great 
 reputation at the bar, and became a Senator and Praetor. He 
 died in 1614, was a great patron of learned men, and wrote several 
 valuable works. Zouch. Sir Henry Wotton's Letter to him 
 was written in Latin, and is printed in the Reliquiae Wottonianae. 
 Dr. Donne's Will, menioned on this page, will be found in his 
 Poems. 
 
 Page 128. His dear mistress, the Queen of Bohemia. 
 Princess Elizabeth, afterwards Queen of Bohemia. Whenever 
 the name of this illustrious and unfortunate partaker of a throne 
 occurs, the willing memory of the lover of old poetry, quickens tore- 
 peat that beautiful and simple effusion upon her, which flowed from 
 the pen of Sir Henry Wotton. What event occasioned these com- 
 plimentary lines to be addressed by the gallant Courtier — though 
 nearly thirty years the elder — to a Princess of her youth and beauty, 
 seems unknown. It was, probably, after the Coronation in No- 
 vember, 1619, as she was by " choice a Queen," but it may be 
 conjectured it was before he received the command to distinguish 
 her as his " Royal Mistress," as that command, of which he ex- 
 pressed himself tenacious, is not used in entitling the poem ; now 
 given from the earliest printed copy known. Michael Este, the 
 composer, in " the sixt set of bookes wherein are Anthemes for 
 Versus and Chorus, of 5 and 6 parts, apt for violes and voyces," 
 1624, added, " in a vacant page," as the table describes, and 
 
NOTES. 473 
 
 which was the back of the dedication leaf, consequently after the 
 hook was printed : 
 
 An Aire of a Canzo, composed in honour of the most 
 illustrious Princesse, the Ladie Elizabeth, fyc. 
 
 You meaner beauties of the night, 
 
 That poorly satisfy our eyes, 
 More by your number than your light, 
 
 You common people of the skies ; 
 
 What are you when the Moon shall rise? 
 
 You Violets, which first appear, 
 
 By those your purple mantles known, fr 
 
 Much like proud Virgins of the year, 
 
 As if the Spring were all your own ; 
 
 What are you when the Rose is blown? 
 
 You wandring chaunters of the wood, 
 
 Who fill the eares with Nature's lays, 
 Thinking your passions uuderstood. 
 
 By weaker accents ; what's your praise 
 
 When Philomel her voice doth raise ? 
 
 TSo, when my Princesse shall be seen, 
 
 In sweetuesse of her lookes and minde, 
 By Virtue first, then choice, a Queen, 
 
 Tell me if she were not design'd 
 
 Th' eclipse and glory of her kind? 
 
 It would be of little interest to add here all the variations of differ- 
 ent Editors, but it is not immaterial to preserve the two additional 
 Stanzas, given as the first and concluding one, by Dr. Wright in the 
 Parnassus Biceps, 1656. 
 
 Ye glorious trifles of the East 
 Whose estimation fancies raise, 
 
 Pearles, rubies, saphirs, and the rest 
 Of precious gems ; what is your praise 
 When as the diamond shewes his raise? [it's rays.] 
 
 The Rose, the Violet, and the whole Spring 
 
 May to her breath for sweetnesse run ; 
 The Diamond's dark'ned in the ring, 
 
 When she appears the moon's undone. 
 
 As at the brightnesse of the Sun. 
 
 3 Q 
 
474 NOTES. 
 
 The preceding very curious and interesting particulars have 
 been kindly communicated by Joseph Haslewood, Esq. 
 Page 129. The Bishop of Spalato. 
 
 Marcus Antonius de Dominis, Archbishop of Spalato, in Dal- 
 matia, and the territory of Venice, was born at Arba, about 1561. 
 He came to England with Mr. Bedell, in 1617, and, on professing 
 himself a convert to the Protestant faith, was made Dean of 
 Windsor. He was, however, persuaded by the Ambassador Gon- 
 damar, to return to Rome, and his former religion: but though the 
 promise of a Cardinal's hat was held out to him, he was seized by 
 the Inquisition, and died in prison, in 1625. Zouch. 
 Page 129- The inscription under his Arms. 
 A painted shield, with the titles of the Ambassador written 
 below it, called a Lodging Scutcheon, was commonly hung over the 
 door of the house in which the Envoy resided ; a custom derived 
 probably from the ancient times of chivalry, when the knights who 
 were to appear in a tournament suspended their arms at the win- 
 dows of their dwellings. It was also done to procure respect to the 
 Ambassador's establishment, and the escutcheon was frequently 
 left as a memorial of his Embassy. The inscription given in the 
 text may be thus translated : 
 
 " Henry Wotton, an Englishman of Kent, youngest Son of 
 Thomas, the best of men ,* advanced to the Order of Knighthood 
 by the most Serene James I. King of Great Britain, thrice Ambas- 
 sador inordinary from the same, to the Republic of Venice ; and 
 once to the States of the United Provinces, in the Council of 
 Juliers. Twice Ambassador Extraordinary to Charles Emanuel, 
 Duke of Savoy; once to the superior Princes of Germany, in the 
 Assembly of Heilbrunen ; lastly, to the Archduke Leopold, Duke 
 of Wirtemburg, and to the Emperor Ferdinand the Second, and his 
 Imperial Cities of Strasburg and Ulm ; after all these employments, 
 he hath learned this, that 
 
 The Souls of wise Men grow better by resting." 
 
 Page 130. Charitable Sir Julius Caesar. 
 An eminent Civilian, descended from a very ancient Italian 
 family, and born at Tottenham, in Middlesex, in 1557, his father 
 being Physician to the Queens Mary and Elizabeth. He was 
 educated at Magdalen Hall, Oxford ; but he took his D. C. L. 
 degree at Paris. In 1563 he was made Master of the Requests, 
 Judge of the Admiralty, and Master of St. Catherine's Hos- 
 pital ; but King James I. Knighted him, made him Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer, and Master of the Rolls. He died in 1636, 
 Lodge. 
 
NOTES. 475 
 
 Page 135. His innate pleasure of Angling. 
 
 Vide Chapter I. page 41, of the Complete Angler. The para« 
 graph beginning " He was a constant cherisher" was not in Walton's 
 first edition of his Life, nor was that on page 136, commencing with 
 the words " The next vesper." 
 
 Page 137. Arminins. 
 
 James Arminius, a Dutch Divine, born in 1560, at Oudewater, 
 who studied at Leyden, Geneva, and Padua. Being employed to 
 answer Theodore Beza on Predestination, he became a convert to 
 the very tenets he was endeavouring to refute ; and the principal 
 features of his persuasion were, a denial of Election, a belief in 
 the free-will of man to attain salvation, and an idea that Christians 
 may fall away, and be lost. The violent disputes in which these 
 principles involved him, preyed upon his spirits, and brought on an 
 illness, of which he died in 1609. Of the Rev. W. Perkins, there 
 is a notice in the Complete Angler. The Scriptural reference on 
 page 138, is probably to Jude, verse 10, or to 1. Timothy, verse 13 ; 
 but the earlier translations of the Bible, were generally used by 
 Walton. The verses to the memory of Sir Albertus Morton, were 
 printed in the Reliquiae Wottonianse, first edit. p. 528. The pas- 
 sages between the words " they must be laid aside," page 139, and 
 ** this is some account," page 147, are wanting in the first edition 
 of the Life of Wotton. 
 
 Page 142. James Wadsworth. 
 
 Originally a Divine of the Church of England, but afterwards 
 a pensioner of the Holy Inquisition, in Seville. He had been edu- 
 cated with Mr. Bedel,, in Emanuel College, Cambridge, and went 
 with Sir Charles Cornwallis in his Embassy to Spain. He was ap- 
 pointed to teach the English tongue to the Infanta, when her mar- 
 riage with Prince Charles was supposed to be concluded. Accord- 
 ing to Wood, he left a son of the same name : but a very worthless 
 character, whose works are sometimes confounded with the father's. 
 Athen. Oxon. Winicood's Memorials, vol. ii. pp. 109, 131, 136. 
 Wadsworth's Letters, referred to in the text, will be found at No. 
 29 of the foregoing list. 
 
 Page 146. Isaac Bargrave, 
 
 Dean of Canterbury, born at Bridge, in Kent, in 1586, and edu- 
 cated at Clare Hall, Cambridge. He was fined 1000L at the com- 
 mencement of the Civil Wars, for being a member of the Convoca- 
 tion ; and, in 1642, Colonel Sandys, whom he had saved from 
 execution, threw him into the Fleet, which caused his death in 
 January, 1643. He was the Author of three Sermons. Vide Todd's 
 Deans of Canterbury. 
 
 Page 149. A marble stone, plain, and not costly. 
 
 This monument is erected in the Chapel of Eton College, and is 
 
476 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 formed of a slab of black marble, carved and ornamented, as in the 
 followin g representation of it. 
 
 The Will of Sir Henry Wotton is recorded in the Prerogative 
 Court of Canterbury, in the volume marked Coventry, Article 8 : it 
 was proved Jan. 18th, 1639-40, before Sir Henry Marten. 
 
 Page 151. Mr. John Harrison. 
 
 Elected Fellow of Eton College, October 28th, 1636. He was 
 probably that " learned and eminent Divine," whom Anthony 
 Wood mentions as the Author of " A Vindication of the Holy 
 Scriptures, or the Manifestation of Jesus Christ, the true Messiah 
 already come." Lond. 1656, 8vo. Athena, Oxon. Edit. Bliss, 
 vol. iv. page 551 . Zouch. 
 
 Page 152. Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, Knight. 
 
 An eminent Statesman and Ambassador in the Court of Elizabeth, 
 whose daughter was married by Sir Walter Raleigh. He was im- 
 prisoned in the Tower, as a party in Wyatt's insurrection, but was 
 acquitted for want of evidence ; and being greatly esteemed by 
 Secretary Walsingham, he was employed in Embassies, both to 
 France and Scotland. He died in February, 1571, being taken 
 ill in the house of Treasurer Cecil, and not without suspicion of 
 poison. Digges — Kennet — Collins. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 477 
 
 Sir Francis Windebank, mentioned on the same page, was the 
 eldest son of Sir John Windebank, Knight, of Haines Hill, in Berk- 
 shire, one of the Clerks of the Signet. He was educated at St. 
 John's College, Oxford, and was Knighted, and made Secretary of 
 State in 1632. He died in exile at Paris, in September, 1646, 
 whither he had fled, on being accused of protecting Romish Priests 
 and recusants. Wood's Fasti. 
 
 Page 156. Learned Mr. John Hales, of Eton, 
 
 commonly called " the Ever-Memorable," and u the Walking Li- 
 brary," from his extensive erudition, was Greek Professor of the 
 University of Oxford, and was born at Bath in the year 1584. He 
 entered Corpus Christi College at the age of 15, whence he was 
 elected a Fellow of Merton in 1606, Sir Henry Savile having dis- 
 covered his prodigious talents. In 1613, he left Oxford, for a Fel- 
 lowship at Eton ; and in 1618, he attended Sir Dudley Carleton, 
 the Ambassador of James I. to the Synod of Dort, of the proceed- 
 ings of which, he wrote a faithful and regular narrative in a series 
 of Letters. In 1638, Archbishop Laud made him one of his 
 Chaplains : and, in the following year, a Canon of Windsor ; but 
 he suffered much from his attachment to the Royal cause, and was 
 obliged to sell his collection of books at a low price, notwith- 
 standing which, and the assistance of some friends, he died in 
 extreme distress at Eton, on the 19th of May, 1656. Zouch. 
 Athen. Oxon. Edit. Bliss. 
 
478 NOTES. 
 
 The passage concerning Mr. Hales, is wholly omitted in the first 
 edition of the Life of Wotton. 
 
 Page 163. Dr. Spencer. 
 
 A native of Suffolk, and, originally, one of the Clerks of Corpus 
 Christi College, Oxford, of which he was elected Greek Reader, 
 June 9th, 1578. Wood states of him, that, entering into Orders, 
 he became a noted Preacher, Chaplain to James L, and a great 
 admirer of Richard Hooker, and the famous Dr. John Reynolds, 
 the latter of whom he succeeded as Master of his College. About 
 four years after Hooker's death, he published his Five Books of 
 Ecclesiastical Polity, with an excellent Preface; and dying on 
 April 3rd, 1614, was buried at Oxford. Athen. Oxon. 
 
 Page 164. Dr. Usher. 
 
 James Usher, the illustrious Primate of Ireland, born in Dublin, 
 Jan. 4th, 1580. He was the first Student of Trinity College, in 
 1593, and, in 1620, he was made Bishop of Meath, whence he was 
 translated to Armagh, in 1625. In the Irish Rebellion, he lost 
 every thing but his library, which he conveyed to England, where 
 he died in retirement, March 2 1 st, 1655-56. Parr. 
 
 Page 169. Mr. John Jewel. 
 
 Dr. John Jewel, was bora in the Parish of Berry Narber, in 
 Devon, May 24th, 1522. He was educated at Merton, and Corpus 
 Christi College, Oxford, and in the reign of Edward IV. he pub- 
 licly professed the reformed religion. During the reign of Mary he 
 remained abroad : but on the accession of Elizabeth, he returned, 
 and was made Bishop of Salisbury, in 1559. In his controversy 
 with the Roman Catholics, he published his famous " Apology for 
 the Church of England," which was translated into several languages, 
 although it was greatly opposed by the Papists. His fatigues 
 abroad, and his incessant study, so much impaired his constitution, 
 that he died, Sept. 23rd, 1571. Bohun. Zouch. 
 
 Page 171. Dr. Cole — Dr. John Reynolds. 
 
 Dr. William Cole, in 1599, exchanged with Dr. Reynolds the 
 Presidentship of Corpus Christi College, for the Deanery of Lin- 
 coln, which he did not long enjoy. He fled into Germany in the 
 time of Queen Mary, and Anthony Wood names him as one of the 
 exiles of Geneva engaged Avith Miles Coverdale, in a new Transla- 
 tion of the Bible. Dr. Reynolds, Professor of Diviuity at Oxford, 
 died May 21st, 1607. It has been said that he was brought up in 
 the Romish faith, and that he was afterwards a strong supporter of 
 the Puritans ; but Fuller supposes that it was only for the sake of 
 giving satisfaction to some of the more tender consciences of the 
 Non-conformists, since the virtue of Reynolds was almost pro- 
 verbial. Zouch. 
 
 Page 174. Edwin Sandys. 
 
 One of the Translators of the Bible, born in 1519> and educated 
 
NOTES. 479 
 
 at St. John's College, Cambridge, where he embraced the Protes- 
 tant faith. He was committed to the Tower and Marshalsea for 
 having preached in favour of Lady Jane Grey ; and on his release 
 he left the kingdom, till the accession of Elizabeth, by whom he 
 was made Bishop of Worcester. In 1570, he was translated to 
 London, in 1576, to York, and in 1588, he died : his sermons 
 are still admired, and a most virtuous character is given him by 
 Fuller. His son, Sir Edwin Sandys, Prebendary of York, was 
 born about 1561, and is well known as the author of the tract 
 entitled, u Europae Speculum." He was knighted by King James, 
 and died about 1629. Wood — Zouch. 
 
 Page 176. Cardinal Poole — Dr. Thomas Jackson. 
 
 Reginald Pole, a descendant from the blood-royal of England, 
 and born at Stourton, in Staffordshire, in 1500. He was educated 
 at the Monastery of Sheen, in Surrey, and Magdalen College, 
 Oxford. He conducted himself with moderation towards the Pro- 
 testants, and opposed the divorce of Henry VIII. On the mar- 
 tyrdom of Cranmer, he became Archbishop of Canterbury, but he 
 almost refused the Popedom on the death of Paul III. He died 
 the daj T after Queen Mary, Nov. 18th, 1558. His name is 
 omitted in the later editions of Hooker's Life. Dr. Jackson, was 
 born at Wilton on the Wear, in Durham, in 1579, and was 
 educated at Queen's, and Corpus Christi College, Oxford. He 
 was made Prebendary of Winchester, in 1635, and Dean of Peter- 
 borough, in 1638 ; he died in 1640, and his principal work is a 
 Commentary on the Creed. Wood. 
 
 Page 177. Dr. Herbert Westphaling — Sir Henry Savile. 
 
 A man of great piety of life, and such gravity, that he was 
 scarcely ever seen to laugh. He was a native of Westphalia, in 
 Germany ; was Canon of Christ Church, Vice Chancellor of the 
 University, and in 1585-86, was consecrated Bishop of Hereford. 
 Zouch. Sir H. Savile was born at Over Bradley, near Halifax, in 
 Yorkshire, Nov. 30th, 1547, and was entered of Merton College, 
 Oxford. He was Greek and Mathematical Preceptor to Queen 
 Elizabeth, and was one of the Translators of the Bible, under 
 James I. who knighted him in 1604. He died Provost of Eton 
 College, Feb. 19th, 1621-22. Biogr. Brit. 
 
 Page 179. Mr. Camden — Fyncs Moryson. 
 
 Vide No. 4 of the preceding list, for the edition of Camden's 
 Annals quoted in the text. Fynes Moryson's very curious and 
 interesting Travels, will be found at No. 17, and the place 
 referred to is Part II. Book I. Chap. 2. page 84. The later 
 editions of the Life of Hooker omit the account of his expulsion, 
 beginning at, " In the year 1579," page 181, down to " I return 
 to Mr. Hooker." 
 
480 NOTES. 
 
 Page 183. St, Paul's Cross. 
 
 A pulpit cross formed of timber, covered with lead, and mounted 
 upon stone steps, which stood in the midst of the Church-yard of 
 the Cathedral ; in which Sermons were preached by eminent 
 Divines every Sunday in the forenoon, when the Court, the Ma- 
 gistrates of the City, and a vast concourse of people usually at- 
 tended. There is notice of its use so early as 1259, but it was 
 not finished in the form above exhibited, until 1449, by Kemp, 
 Bishop of London, and it was finally destroyed by order of Par- 
 liament, in 1643. The Corporation of London ordained that all 
 Ministers who came from a distance to preach at this Cross, were 
 to have lodgings and provision for five days ; and the Bishop of 
 London gave them notice of their place of residence. Stow. 
 Pennant. 
 
 Page 185. John Elmer, then Bishop of London. 
 
 The excellent Aylmer, was born at Aylmer-Hall, in Norfolk, in 
 
NOTES. 481 
 
 1521, and was Tutor to Lady Jane Grey, but he left England, 
 during the reign of Mary, and went to Zurich. He returned on 
 Elizabeth's accession, and was made Bishop in 1576, strictly 
 governing the Puritans throughout his Prelacy. He died in 1594. 
 Strype. 
 
 Page 194. Coppinger and Hachet. 
 
 Of these persons, together with the other religious reformers of 
 their time, See Kennet's Hist, of England, vol. ii. page 253. 
 Carte's ditto, iii. p. 637, and Strype's Annals, iii. p. 68. Zouch. 
 
 Page 195. Mr. Bering. 
 
 Edward Dering, a Puritan Divine, and a native of Kent, edu- 
 cated at Christ College, Cambridge. He was suspended from his 
 Lectureships on account of his nonconformity, but he is com- 
 mended as a truly religious man, whose pure and virtuous life was 
 followed by a happy death, in 1576. He wrote some Sermons, 
 and a Defence of Bishop Jewel's Apology for the Church. Strype. 
 Bishop Spotswood's work will be found at No. 24 of the preceding 
 list, vide page 420, &c. of that volume. 
 
 Page 201. the age and remisness of Bishop Grindal. 
 
 Edmund Grindal, Archbishop of Canterbury, born in 1519, at 
 Hinsingham, in Cumberland, and educated at Cambridge. He 
 resided at Strasburg, till the accession of Elizabeth, who nominated 
 him to the See of London, whence, in 1570, he was translated to 
 York, and in 1575, to Canterbury. His indulgence to the Puri- 
 tans procured him the Queen's displeasure, and for some time he 
 was sequestered and confined to his house, but in 1582, he re- 
 signed his office, and died July 6th, 1583. Dr. Whitgift was 
 born in 1530, at Great Grimsby, in Lincolnshire, and died at 
 Lambeth, Feb. 29th, 1603. Strype. Of Mr. Bradford, named on 
 the preceding page, see Fox's Martyrs, and Fuller's Abel Redivi- 
 vus. Concerning the Statute of Magna Charta, mentioned on 
 page 204, See Blackstone's Great Charter, and Coke's Second 
 Institute ; Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. i. pp. 185-227, 
 229, and the Ancient Univers. Hist. vol. ii. p. 406, vol. xv. pp. 
 564, 569, will also illustrate the circumstances referred to on page 
 204. 
 
 Page 209. Thomas Cartwright. 
 
 A Puritan Divine, born in Hertfordshire, about 1535, and edu- 
 cated at St. John's College, Cambridge. On his expulsion from 
 the University, he went abroad, and became Minister to the 
 English, at Antwerp and Middleburgh. Besides his controversial 
 Tracts, he wrote a Commentary on the Proverbs, and a Harmony 
 of the Gospels. Biogr. Brit. Walter Travers, who is mentioned 
 on page 211, had been Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, to 
 which Cartwright removed, and he was also his intimate friend, 
 and joint pre?cher with him in Antwerp. When Travers came to 
 
 3 » 
 
482 NOTES. 
 
 England, he was made Chaplain to Lord Burghley, whose interest 
 procured him to be Lecturer at the Temple. 
 
 Page 211. Martin Mar-Prelate — Tom Nashe. 
 
 In 1588, many satirical libels were published against the 
 Bishops, written principally by a Society of men assuming the 
 name of Martin Mar-Prelate ', and some of them were entitled, 
 " Diotrephes," " the Minerals," " the Epistle to the Convocation- 
 House," Have you any work for a Cooper ?" and " More work for 
 a Cooper," referring to the Defence of the Church and Bishops 
 of England, witten by Cowper, Bishop of Winchester. The real 
 authors of these tracts, were John Perry, a Welchman, John 
 Udall, and other Ministers. Zouch. Thomas Nashe was an 
 English Satirical writer, born about 1564, at Lowestoffe, in Suffolk, 
 and. educated at St. John's College, Cambridge. His tracts are 
 both rare and curious ; but the titles given in the text belong all to 
 one pamphlet, supposed by Gabriel Harvey, to have been written 
 by John Lylly. He died in London in 1601. See Watt's Bibl. Brit. 
 
 Page 214. as public an Answer. 
 
 This will be found attached to the edition of the Ecclesiastical 
 Polity, No. 15 of the preceding list, together with the two Ser- 
 mons referred to on pages 214-221. Vide the volume, pp. 461- 
 463, 470, 473, 518-520, 543-547. 
 
 Page 224. And in this examination, &c. 
 
 In some of the later editions of the Life of Hooker, this para- 
 graph is thus altered — " And in this examination, I have not 
 only satisfied myself, but have begun a treatise in which I intend 
 the satisfaction of others, by a demonstration of the reasonableness 
 of our Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity ; and therein laid a hopeful 
 foundation for the Church's peace ; and so as not to provoke 
 your adversary, Mr. Cartwright, nor Mr. Travers, whom I take be 
 mine — but not mine enemy — God knows this to be my meaning. 
 To which end I have searched many books, and spent many 
 thoughtful hours ; and I hope not in vain, for I write to reasonable 
 men. But my Lord, I shall never be able to finish what I have 
 begun, unless I be removed into some quiet country parsonage, 
 where I may see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, 
 and eat mine own bread in peace and privacy. A place where I 
 may, without disturbance, meditate my approaching mortality, 
 and that great account, which all flesh must at the last great day 
 give to the God of all Spirits. This is my design ; and as those 
 are the designs of my heart, so they shall, by God's assistance, 
 be the constant endeavours ojf the uncertain remainder of my life. 
 And therefore, if your Grace," &c. 
 
 Page 227. learned Dr. Stapleton. 
 
 It is ascertained by Bishop King's letter to Walton, that it was 
 Dr. Stapleton who introduced the works of Hooker to the Pope 
 
NOTES. 483 
 
 Thomas Stapleton was a Romish Divine, born in 1535, at Henfield, 
 in Sussex, and educated at Winchester, and New College, Oxford 5 
 but he left England on account of his religion, and became Pro- 
 fessor of Divinity at Douay. He died at Louvain, in 1598, and 
 his works form four volumes in folio. Wood. 
 
 Page 229. Dr. Earle. 
 
 Dr. John Earle, Author of the " Microcosmography, or a piece of 
 the World, discovered in Essays and Characters," was born at York, 
 in 1601 ; was educated at Oxford, and was Tutor to Prince Charles. 
 In the Civil Wars, he lost both his property and preferments, and 
 attended the King abroad as his Chaplain. In 1662, this very 
 amiable man was consecrated Bishop of Worcester ; and in 1665, 
 he attended the Court, when it removed to Oxford from the Plague. 
 He died there, Nov. 17th, in the same year. Wood. His transla- 
 tion of Hooker's Polity, was never printed. Zouch. 
 
 Page 231. Dr. Hadrian Saravia. 
 
 A Protestant Divine, and Professor of Divinity at Leyden, born 
 at Artois in 1531, came to England in 1587. He was the bosom 
 friend of Whitgift, and, having been master of the Free-Grammar 
 School of Southampton, produced some of the most eminent men of 
 his time. Dr. Saravia was one of the Translators of King James's 
 Bible, and died in 1613. Wood — Zouch. His Tracts have been 
 printed, both in Latin and English. Vide Watt's Bib. Brit. 
 
 The Parish Register of Bishop's Bourne shews that the " grate- 
 ful Clerk," mentioned on pages 233-235, was Sampson Horton, 
 who" was buried the 9th of May, 1648, an aged man, who had bin 
 Clarke to this parish, by his own relation, threescore years." Zouch. 
 
 Page 238. A slander which this age calls trepanning. 
 
 See an account of this practice in the Biographia Britannica, 
 under the Life of Eusebius Andrews, Note A. Some particulars 
 of the conspiracy against Hooker are in Prince's Worthies of Devon, 
 p. 396. Vide also Fuller's Church History, Book IX. Zouch. 
 
 Page 246. Richard Hooker's Will, 
 
 Is recorded in the Archbishop's Consistory Court at Canterbury ; 
 and from this interesting document the fac-simile of his signature, 
 given in the Frontispiece to this volume, has been procured 
 through the kindness of J. H. Markland, Esq. and Mr. Thomas 
 Starr, of Canterbury. It was probably the last time that Hooker 
 ever wrote his name, for his Will describes him as " sicke in 
 bodye ;" and the letters are but imperfectly formed, probably from 
 his extreme debility at the time of signature. A Note in Arch- 
 bishop Laud's copy of the Ecclesiastical Polity, shews that Hooker 
 diedNov. 2d, 1600. The volume of" Clavi Trabales," referred to 
 on page 251, will be found at No. 2 of the foregoing list, and it con- 
 sists of a collection of Tracts formed by Archbishop Usher, and writ- 
 ten by himself, Mr. Hooker, Bishop Andrews,Dr. Saravia, &c, Zouch, 
 
484 NOTE & 
 
 Page 253. Mr. Fabian Phillips. 
 
 A Barrister of eminence, particularly noted for his loyalty, born 
 at Prestbury, in Gloucestershire, in 1601. He died in 1690 ; and 
 was the Author of several excellent Law Tracts, as well as one 
 asserting that Charles I. was a martyr for his people. Wood. 
 
 Page 254. George Cranmer's Letter. 
 
 This admirable dissertation originally appeared in 1642, en- 
 titled " Concerning the New Church Discipline ; an excellent 
 Letter written by Mr. George Cranmer, to Mr. R. H. ;" and Wood 
 observes, that Walton informed him that Mr. Cranmer had written 
 many other things beside this Letter, which were kept private, to 
 the great loss of the public. The initials T. C. on page 256, stand 
 for Thomas Cartwright, the rival of Hooker ; and Dr. Bancroft's 
 book, referred to on page 259, was entitled " A Survey of the pre- 
 tended Holy Discipline," to t which is prefixed, " A Sermon 
 preached against the Puritans at St. Paul's Cross, Feb. 9th, 1588- 
 89," from I John iv. 1. Of the Sects called Brownists and Barrow- 
 ists, and their founders, see Alexander Ross's " View of all Reli- 
 gions," Strype's " Life of Whitgift," Book iv. Ch. i. Fuller's 
 " Church History," Cent. IX, p. 148, Mosheim's " Ecclesiastical 
 History," vol. iv. page 98, Paule's " Life of Whitgift," page 58, 
 and Kennet's " History of England," vol. ii.page 571. Zouch. 
 
 Page 273. Montgomery Castle. 
 
 A fortress first erected by Roger de Montgomery, Earl of 
 Shrewsbury, under William I. to secure his conquests in Wales, 
 though it has been twice partly destroyed by the Welsh. It 
 stands near the Severn, on a gentle ascent, having a fair prospect 
 over {'. e plain beneath. After its destruction by Llewellyn the 
 Great, it became the property of the Lords Herbert, with whom it 
 remained until it was finally reduced to ruins by the Civil Wars, 
 and an order of the Parliament, June 11th, 1649. Camden — 
 Heylin — Zoiich. For an account of the various members of the 
 Herbert family, mentioned in the text, vide " The Life of Edward 
 Lord Herbert of Cherbury," Lond. 1778, 4to. and Collins's Peer- 
 age, vol. v. Zouch. The verses which usually precede Walton's 
 Life of George Herbert, will be found printed in the " Waltoniana." 
 
 Page 277. Dr. Neville. 
 
 A Divine at once eminent for his splendid birth, and his extraor- 
 dinary piety and learning, who was educated at Pembroke Hall, 
 Cambridge. He was made Dean of Canterbury in 1597, and on 
 the death of Elizabeth, Archbishop Whitgift sent him to Scotland, 
 to King James, to offer him the allegiance of the Clergy, and learn 
 his pleasure concerning them. He died in 1615. Todd. 
 
 Page 285. Sir Robert Naunton — Sir Francis Nethersole. 
 
 The first of these gentlemen was born in Suffolk, in 1563, and 
 was descended from a very ancient family in that County. He 
 
NOTES. 485 
 
 was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and, on January 8th, 
 1617-18, was made Secretary of State ; King James I. having 
 been previously so well pleased with his eloquence and learning, as 
 to appoint him Master of the Court of Wards. Sir Robert 
 Naunton was the Author of the interesting " Fragmenta Regalia, 
 or Observations on Queen Elizabeth and her Favourites." He died 
 on Good-Friday, 1633-34. 
 
 Sir Francis Nethersole was a native of Kent, Ambassador to the 
 Princes of the Union, and Secretary to the Queen of Bohemia ; 
 and lie was equally remarkable for his doings and sufferings in her 
 behalf. Zouch. 
 
 Page 286. His book called Basilicon Boron, 
 
 Or " His Majesty's Instructions to his dearest Son, Henry the 
 Prince," 1599. It is considered as the best, of the King's Works, and 
 is praised by Lord Bacon and Camden, as being excellently 
 written ; whilst Archbishop Spotswood states, that it more contri- 
 buted to procure James the English throne, than all the tracts 
 which were written in his favour. Andrew Melville procured this 
 work in Manuscript, and circulated it in Scotland, which pro- 
 duced a libel against it, and first caused its publication. This cele- 
 brated person, who is introduced on page 287, was born Aug. 1, 
 1547, and was educated at the University of St. Andrews, which 
 he left with an eminent character for learning, and travelled and 
 studied through France to Geneva. He was elected principal 
 Master of Glasgow College in 1574, when he began to enforce the 
 Presbyterian System ; and after much opposition, and two years 
 imprisonment, he died Professor of Divinity to the Protestants of 
 Sedan, in 1621. Zouch. The first edition of Herbert's Life has 
 about this part a long passage concerning Melville, afterwards omit- 
 ted, which will be reprinted in the " Waltoniana." 
 
 Page 288. The Lady Arabella, 
 
 Daughter of Charles Stuart, Earl of Lenox, the younger brother 
 of Henry, Earl of Darnley, father of King James I. She was born 
 at Hampstead in 1577, and received a very liberal education j 
 added to which, she possessed a large estate, and, the English suc- 
 cession being doubtful, she was supposed to be a probable heir to 
 the crown. She incurred the displeasure of James, by marrying 
 Mr. William Seymour, grandson of the Earl of Hertford, for which 
 she was sent to the Tower ; and although she had made her escape 
 thence, she was overtaken, brought back, and died there in 1615. 
 The verses addressed to heron page 288, have been translated : 
 
 For one like cause, our chains around us twine, 
 Thine altar beauteous is, and sacred mine: 
 
 alluding to the name Arabella, which signifies a fair altar. Vide 
 
4S6 NOTES. 
 
 " Lodge's, Illustrious Personages," DTsraeli's " Curiosities of Li- 
 terature," 2nd Series, vol. i. page 256. 
 
 Page 304. His friend Robert Creighton. 
 
 A native of Scotland, educated at Westminster School and Tri- 
 nity College, Cambridge, afterwards Greek Professor of the Uni- 
 versity. During the Civil Wars, he suffered extremely for the 
 Royal Cause, and was an exile with Charles II. who gave him the 
 Deanery of Wells on the Restoration, and in 1670, he was made 
 Bishop of Bath and Wells. He died in 1672. Zouch. Dr. John 
 Davenant, mentioned on page 307, was, in 1609, Lady Margaret's 
 Professor of Divinity at Cambridge, and in 1621, Bishop of Salis- 
 bury. He was appointed by James I. to attend the Synod of Dort, 
 and his endeavours to effect an union between the reformed Churches 
 were zealous and sincere. He died in 1641. Zouch — Biog. Brit. 
 
 Page 308. The Parsonage of Bemerton. 
 
 The Publisher is indebted for the View of this interesting spot 
 given in the text, to the kindness of the Venerable Archdeacon 
 Coxe ; who has also furnished the following information concerning 
 it. The north-east part of the house, which appears in the draw- 
 ing, consists of a pantry on the lower floor, with the same mullion 
 windows as in the time of Herbert, about ten feet by six ; next to 
 which is a small kind of housekeepers' room of the same size, in 
 which a similar window, once looking to the north, is now closed 
 up and made a fire-place : but another on the eastern side is still 
 remaining. The room above is a bed-chamber, about eleven feet 
 by seventeen, in which two mullion windows to the north are closed 
 up, and a modern one is opened to the east. The uppermost room 
 is of the same size ; but all the other parts of the house have been 
 altered. The house and grounds of this Rectory were in the same 
 state as in the time of Herbert, when the present incumbent was 
 presented to the living ; the principal part of the former was single, 
 with small windows, and the river Neder flowed at the bottom of 
 the garden. Bemerton is two miles west by north of Salisbury, 
 and the Church is dedicated to St. Andrew. 
 
 Page 314. Dr. Humphrey Henchman, 
 
 At the time mentioned in the text, was Prebendary of Salisbury, 
 of which See he became Bishop in 1660, and in 1663 he was re- 
 moved to London. He was much esteemed by King Charles II. whose 
 escape at the battle of Worcester he was very instrumental in pro- 
 moting ; but when the declaration for liberty of conscience was 
 published in 1671-72, this Prelate was not afraid of the King's dis- 
 pleasure, but injoined his Clergy to preach against Popery. Zouch. 
 
 Page 328. Dr. Lake. 
 
 Dr. Arthur Lake, a native of Southampton, educated at Win- 
 chester School, and New College Oxford ; he was made Dean of 
 Worcester in 1608, and Bishop of Bath and Wells in 1616. He 
 
NOTES. 487 
 
 died in 1626, being one of the best Preachers of his time, and 
 Fuller observes of him, that his piety may justly be exemplary to 
 all of his order. Zouch. 
 
 Page 331. The Church of Fulston. 
 
 George Herbert, says the Venerable Archdeacon Coxe, in his 
 valuable communications to the Publisher of this volume, is gene- 
 rally called Rector of Bemerton, because the Glebe-house, in 
 which he resided, is in that Parish : but he should more properly 
 be called Rector of Fugglestonc, or Foulston St. Peter's, cum 
 Bemerton annexed ; as the Rectory comprises the Parishes of Fug- 
 glestone, Quidhampton, and Bemerton. The View of Foulston 
 Church, given in the text, exhibits the west-end, and is probably as 
 it appeared in the time of Herbert. The Parish is situate one mile 
 to the east of Wilton. See Sir R. C. Hoare's " History of Wilts." 
 
 Page 333. Mr. Nicholas Farrer. 
 
 To the Memoirs given in the text of this eminent person, it may 
 be added, that he was born in 1591 ; that in 1624, he was a 
 Member of Parliament, and that he died Dec. 2nd, 1637, being 
 buried in the Chapel yard without any inscription over him. A. 
 farther account of his Convent, and its dispersion in the Civil 
 Wars, may be found in Hacket's " Life of Archbishop Williams," 
 pp. 50-53. Supplement to the " Biographia Britannica," Article, 
 Mapletoft. For Juan Valdesso, see the Complete Angler j his 
 work is No. 28 of the preceding list. 
 
 Page 346. Mr. Herbert, in his own Chapel under the Altar. 
 
 The Parish Register of Bemerton states, that " Mr. George 
 Herbert, Esq. Parson of Fuggleston and Bemerton, was buried the 
 3rd day of March, 1632 ;" but although his letter to Mr. Farrer is 
 dated Sept. 29th in the same year, it must be remembered that the 
 year then commenced on March 25th. Zouch. 
 
 The verses on the preceding page are altered from a Dirge, 
 written by Shirley, attached to his " Contention of Ajax and Ulysses 
 for the Armour of Achilles." Lond. 1659, 8vo. See Percy's 
 " Reliques of English Poetry," vol. i. p. 284. 
 
 Page 351. Mr. Chillingioorth — Dr. Hammond. 
 
 William Chillingworth, born at Oxford in 1602 ; and educated 
 at Trinity College. He was proverbially celebrated there for clear 
 and acute reasoning ; but he so much involved himself in the Romish 
 Controversy with John Fisher, a Jesuit, as to become a convert, 
 and enter the College at Douay. His re-conversion was brought 
 about by his god-father, Archbishop Laud, in 1631, when he re- 
 turned to England ; and in 1638, he wrote his famous work called 
 " The Religion of Protestants a Safe Way to Salvation." Fol. He 
 was zealously attached to the Royal cause, and served at the Siege 
 of Gloucester ; but being taken prisoner, he was carried to the 
 Bishop's Palace at Chichester, on account of his illness, and, dying 
 
488 NOTES. 
 
 there, Jan. 30th, 1644, was buried in the Cathedral, without any 
 other ceremony than that of his book being cast into the grave by 
 the hand of a fanatic. 
 
 Dr Henry Hammond was born at Chertsey, in Surrey, Aug. 18th, 
 1605 ; and was educated at Eton, and Magdalen College, Oxford. 
 His loyalty caused him to be deprived of his preferments during the 
 Civil Wars, and at the Restoration he was designed for Bishop of 
 Worcester, bnt died before consecration, April 25th, 1660. His 
 principal works are, his " Practical Catechism," and " A Para- 
 phrase and Annotations on the New Testament." Biog. Brit. 
 
 Page 359. Dr. Kilbie. 
 
 Dr, Richard Kilbie, born at Ratcliffe, in Leicestershire, and a 
 great benefactor to his College, since he restored the neglected 
 library, added eight new repositories for books, and gave to it many 
 excellent volumes. He became Rector in 1590, and in 1610 he 
 was appointed the King's Hebrew Professor. He died in 1620. 
 Zouch. Vide No. 20 of the list of Authorities for Sanderson's Logic. 
 
 Page 364. Dr. Robert Abbot, 
 
 Brother of George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, born at 
 Guildford in 1590, and promoted to the See of Salisbury in 
 1615, as a reward for his Lectures against Suarez and Bellarmine, 
 in defence of the King's supreme power. On his way to Sarum, 
 he made an oration to the University, and his friends parted from 
 him with tears. He died March 2nd, 1617. Zouch. 
 
 Page 365. Dr. Prideaux. 
 
 Dr. John Prideaux, born at Harford, in Devonshire, in 1578* 
 and Rector of Exeter College in 1612, when he acquired so much 
 fame in the government of it, that several eminent foreigners 
 placed themselves under his care. He was made King's Professor 
 in Divinity, in 1615, but was reduced to great poverty in the Civil 
 Wars, and he died July 20th, 1650. Zouch. 
 
 Page 371. John King, then Bishop of London. 
 
 A native of Wornall, in Buckinghamshire, born about 1559, and 
 educated at Westminster, Chaplain to Queen Elizabeth. In 1605 
 he was made Dean of Christ Church, and in 1611, Bishop of 
 London; he died in 1621, when it was reported that he had 
 joined the Church of Rome, which was contradicted by his son in 
 a Sermon at St. Paul's Cross. Wood. The Archbishop of York, 
 referred to on page 373, was Dr. Tobias Matthew, who died 
 March 29th, 1628, aged 83. Zouch. 
 
 Page 379. learned and pious Archbishop Laud. 
 
 Dr. William Laud, born at Reading, Oct. 7 th, 1573, and edu- 
 cated there, and at St. John's College, Oxford. In 1616 he wan 
 made Dean of Gloucester, in 1621 Bishop of St. David's, and ir 
 1622 he had a conference with Fisher the Jesuit, of which the 
 printed account evinces how opposed he was to Popery j but his 
 
NOTES. 489 
 
 Arminian tenets gave offence to the Calvinists. In 1626 he was 
 translated to the See of Bath and Wells, in 1628 to London, and 
 in 1633 to Canterhury. His zeal for the establishment of the 
 Liturgy in Scotland produced him numerous enemies, by whose 
 means he was imprisoned in the Tower for three years, and be- 
 headed Jan. 10th, 1644-45. Biogr. Brit. 
 
 Page 387. Dr. Zouch. 
 
 Dr. Richard Zouch, the first Civilian of his times, was born at 
 Ansley, in Wiltshire, in 1590, and was educated at Winchester 
 School, and New College, Oxford. In 1620, he was Regius Pro- 
 fessor of Civil Law, and he also held the office of Warden of the 
 Cinque Ports, and Judge of the Admiralty Court. He died in 
 1660, was the author of many Latin works, and Dr. Zouch has 
 compiled an interesting memoir of him in his Notes to these Lives. 
 
 Page 419. Mr. Robert Boyle. 
 
 This amiable Philosopher, the glory of his age and nation, was 
 born Jan. 25th, 1626-27, at Lismore, in the province of Munster, 
 in Ireland. He was not only a scholar and a gentleman, but a 
 christian of the most exalted piety and charity, and a very eminent 
 Natural Philosopher. He died December 30th, 1691. Dr. Birch's 
 Life. Dr. Thomas Barlow, who is mentioned on the samejpage, was 
 born in 1607, at Orton, in Westmoreland, was made Bishop of Lin- 
 coln, in 1675, and died at Buckden, in 1691. His character, which 
 appears to have been somewhat vacillating, will be found in the 
 Biographia Britannica; but his theological learning has never been 
 excelled. In the later editions of the Life of Dr. Sanderson, there 
 is a paragraph inserted after the words *.* of this number," on page 
 420, which will be printed in the " Waltoniana." 
 
 Page 423. the place appointed — was the Savoy in the Strand. 
 
 At the Bishop of London's lodgings there ; and for a farther 
 account of this assembly, see Dr. Nicholl's " Preface to his Com- 
 ment on the Common Prayer," " Kennet's Register," and Dr. 
 Manfs edition of the Prayer Book, 4to. with his Authorities. 
 Richard Baxter, also mentioned on this page, was born at Rowton, 
 in Shropshire, in 1615, and was a Chaplain in the Parliamentary 
 Army, though he was a defender of Monarchy. He refused the 
 Bishopric of Hereford, and died in 1691. Dr. Peter Gunning, 
 mentioned on the following page, was a loyalist Divine, who suf- 
 fered considerably for the Royal cause, and who died Bishop of 
 Ely, in 1684. Dr. John Pearson, was the author of the famous 
 " Exposition of the Creed ;" in 1661, he was made Lady Margaret's 
 Professor of Divinity, at Cambridge, and he died Bishop of Ches- 
 ter, in 1686, aged 74. Biogr. Brit. 
 
 Page 426. William, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 Dr. William Sancroft, born at Freshingfield, in Suffolk, in 1661, 
 and educated at Emanuel College, Cambridge, where he was de- 
 
 3 s 
 
490 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 prived of his Fellowship in 1649, for refusing to take the Engage- 
 ment. He was made Archbishop in 1677, and in 1688, he was 
 one of the seven Prelates sent to the Tower by James II. He was 
 a man of the greatest integrity and innocence, and at the Revolu- 
 tion he refused taking the Oaths to the new government, for 
 which, being suspended and deprived, he died in retirement Nov. 
 24th, 1693. Biogr. Brit. For an account of Buckden Palace, 
 see Hacket's " Life of Bishop Williams." 
 
 Page 430. his last Will. 
 
 Bishop Sanderson's Will is recorded in the Prerogative Court 
 of Canterbury, in the volume called Juxon, Article 37. After his 
 death, it was industriously reported that he repented of his writing 
 against the Presbyterians, and would not suffer a Church Minister 
 to pray by him, which is refuted by the narrative of Mr. Pullin's 
 giving him the Sacrament, &c. on pp. 434-436. There is in the 
 later editions, some variation in the concluding sentence of this 
 memoir, which will be given with others — now unnoticed, in the 
 work before announced — of which the great and unexpected 
 extent of the present volume has not permitted the insertion. 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Abbot, Dr. Robert, Bishop of Salisbury, 364, 488. 
 
 Album, sentence written in one, by Sir H. Wotton, 123. 
 
 Alvey, Richard, decease of, 189, 190. 
 
 Ambassadors, Sir H. Wotton's advice to, 139. 
 
 Ambrose, St. biographical notice of, 456. 
 
 Andrews, Dr. Launcelot, Bishop of Winchester, Portrait of, 289. 
 His friendship for Herbert, ibid. 290. Biographical notice of 
 454. 
 
 Angling, Sir Henry Wotton's love for, 135, 475. 
 
 Arminius, James, Sir H. Wotton's account of him, 137. His dis- 
 pute with Perkins, 138. Biographical notice of, 475. 
 
 Atheists of the seventeenth Century, 197, 262, 263. 
 
 Augusta, incident to Sir Henry Wotton at, 122. His Apology 
 addressed to the Chiefs of, 124. 
 
 Austin, St. various references to his Confessions, 26, 33, 34, 52, 
 100, 172, 218, 443, 453, 456, 461. Biographical notice of, 
 456. 
 
 Bacon, Sir Francis, Lord Verulam, his esteem for Herbert, 290. 
 
 Barfoote, Dr. John, his expulsiou of Dr. Reynolds, &c, 183. 
 
 Bargrave, Dr. Isaac, notices of, 146, 475. 
 
 Barlow, Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln, 419, 489. 
 
 Barnard, Dr. Nicholas, his mention of the alterations in Hooker's 
 
 ■ Ecclesiastical Polity, 252. 
 
492 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Basilicon Boron, notices of the, 286, 485. 
 
 Barrowists, their origin and tenets, 259. 
 
 Baxter, Rev. Richard, 423, 490. 
 
 Bedel, Rev. William, goes Chaplain to Sir Henry Wotton, on his 
 
 Embassy, 115, 1 42. A Correspondent between the Venetian 
 
 States and King James I., 121, and assists in forwarding the 
 
 History of the Council of Trent, 122. His mild controversy 
 
 with Wadsworth, 143. Made Bishop of Kilmore, 144. His 
 
 holy life and character, 145. 
 Bellarmine, Cardinal Robert, 7, biographical notice of, 448. 
 Bemerton, Rectory of, 306, 312, 486. View of the Church and 
 
 Parsonage of, 308. 
 Beza, Theodore, biographical account of, 470. 
 Biathanatos, references to, and account of, 59, 444, 464. 
 Bishops, puritanic proceedings and outcry against the, 194, 257. 
 
 Characters selected for in the Primitive Churches, 420. 
 Bishops Bourne, Rectory of, 225. Presented to Hooker, 226. 
 
 View of the Parsonage at, 230. His exemplary life there, 232- 
 
 237. View of the Church there, 268. 
 Bocton Hall and Church, Kent, View and account of, 89, 468. Sir 
 
 H. Wotton's annual visit to, 155. 
 Boothby Pannel, Lincoln, View of the Parsonage at, 355. 
 Boscum, Rectory.of, 224, 225. 
 Bostock, Mr. Robert, 331. 
 Boyle, Hon. Robert, 419, 489. 
 Brightman, Thomas, 393. 
 
 Brook, Christopher and Samuel, 11. Biographical notice of, 450. 
 Buckden, View of the Bishop of Lincoln's Palace at, 427. 
 
 Caesar, Sir Julius, his Portrait, 130. Biographical notice of, 474. 
 
 Cales Voyage, 7. Account of the, 449. 
 
 Camden, William, Clarencieux King of Arms, various references to 
 his Britannia, 93, 443. To his Annals, 179, 200, 229, 246, 443. 
 
 Carey, Dr. Valentine, biographical notice of him, 460. 
 
 Cartwright, Thomas, 209, 210, 481. 
 
 Casaubon, Isaac, biographical notice of, 470. 
 
 Chalmers, Mr. Alexander, his conjecture concerning Dr. Donne's 
 verses, 454. 
 
 Charity, various instances of Dr. Donne's, 61, 62, 63. Ditto of 
 Herbert's, 327, 329, 330. 
 
 Charke, William, destroys the remaining writings of Hooker, 249. 
 
 Charles I., King of England, Sir H. Wottor/s letter to, 143. En- 
 gages him to write a History of England, 146. His visit 
 to Oxford University, 366. His value for Hooker's Works, 
 229. His reply to Lord Say concerning them, 253. Presents 
 the living of Bemerton to George Herbert, 306. Makes Dr. 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 493 
 
 Sanderson bis Chaplain, 379. His love for his preaching and 
 Divinity, 380. His confessions to him in the Isle of Wight, 
 388. 
 
 Charles II. King of England, his injunctions to the Clergy of Ca- 
 thedrals, 427. 
 
 Chidley, John, verses by, 36. Biographical notice of, 456. 
 
 Chillingwortb, William, notice of, 487. 
 
 Church Discipline, George Cranmer's excellent letter on, 2-55. 
 
 Church-lands, attempts to take away, 201. Whitgift's defence of, 
 202. Protected by Magna Charta, 204, 205. 
 
 Churchman, John, 183. Mrs., 184-186. 
 
 Clarke, Rev. William, notices of, 406, 407. 
 
 Clavi Trabales, 16-61. References to, 442. 
 
 Clement VIII. Pope, moderation of in the Venetian dispute, 
 117, 118. His praise of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 228. 
 Biographical account of, 471. 
 
 Clergy, their privations and virtue during the Civil Wars, 13. 
 Ancient virtues and humility of, 32. Increase of in Italy, 117. 
 Privileges claimed by the Italian, 118. Injuries and oppres- 
 sion of by the Presbyterians, 257,261. How to prevent the 
 contempt of the, 327. Imprisonment of the, during the Civil 
 Wars, 393. 
 
 Cole, Dr. William, notice of, 478. 
 
 Common Prayer, Dr. Sanderson's alteration of the, 397, 398. Re- 
 vision of the, in 1661,425, 490. 
 
 Coppinger, Edmund, 194, 257, 481. 
 
 Corbet, Dr. Richard, Bishop of Oxford, his Elegy on Dr. Donne, 
 79. Biographical notice of, 468. 
 
 Covenanters, their origin and proceedings, 382, 383. Their dif- 
 ference from the Independents, 395. 
 
 Cowley, Abraham, his Elegy on Sir H. Wotton, 159. 
 
 Cowper, Sir William, his Epitaph on R. Hooker, 245. 
 
 Cranmer, George, account of him, 179. His friendship with 
 Hooker, 180. His visit to ditto, 187. Discovers a conspiracy 
 against Hooker, 237. His letter to Hooker, 254-268, 484. 
 
 William, notice of him and his family, 163, 164, 175. 
 
 Creighton, Robert, 304, 486. 
 
 Cuffe, Mr. Henry, notices of, 107, 108, 470. 
 
 Curie, Dr. Walter, 306, 381. 
 
 Danvers, family of, their kindness to G. Herbert, 304. 
 
 , Jane, her happy marriage with George Herbert, 305. 
 
 Innate humility and piety of, 311. Her charity, 313, 329. 
 
 Account of, after Herbert's death, 346. 
 Davenant, Dr. John, Bishop of Salisbury, his institution of George 
 
 Herbert, 307. 
 
494 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Dering, Edward, 195,481. 
 
 Devonshire, eminent characters born in, 165. 
 
 Devotions, Dr. Donne's Book of, extracts from, and references to, 
 32, 49, 75, 444, 456, 461, 467. 
 
 Donato, Leonardo, Duke of Venice, his wise and determined con- 
 duct, 117. 
 
 Donne, Dr. John, Introduction to his Life, 1. Life of, 3-86. 
 Birth and descent of, 3. His education and abilities, 4. Reli- 
 gious enquiries of, 5. His travels, 7. Entertained by Lord 
 Ellesmere, 8. Attachment and marriage of, ibid. 9. Dis- 
 charged from his service, 10. Imprisonment of, 11. En- 
 largement and subsequent difficulties, ib.-13. Dr. Morton's 
 friendship for him, 15. Is solicited to take holy Orders, 16, 
 30, 32. His objections to so doing, 17, 32, 33. Residence 
 ■with Sir F. Wolly, and reconciliation with Sir G. More, 18. 
 Removal to Mitcham, 19. Extracts from his letters, ibid. 20, 
 21, 22, 66, 452. Removes to Drury House, 22.^4ttends Sir 
 R.Druryto France, 23. His Vision there, 24. His verses 
 addressed to his wife, 28. Secular employment solicited for, 29. 
 King James's regard for, ibid. Answers the objections to the 
 Oath of Allegiance, 30. Prepares himself for the Ministry, 32. 
 takes Orders, 34. His diffidence in preaching, 35. Verses in 
 praise of his preaching, 36. Made King's Chaplain, and D.D. 
 at Cambridge, 37, 457. Death of his Wife, 38, 457. First 
 Sermon afterward, 39, 458. Becomes Divinity Lecturer at 
 Lincoln's Inn, 40, 458. Attends the Earl of Doncaster to Bo- 
 hemia, 41, 458, 459. Returns, and is made Dean of St. Paul's, 
 &c, 43, 44. Under the King's displeasure, 45. Clears himself, 
 46. His sickness, ibid. His noble refusal of Church property, 
 then offered, 47. His recovery, and last illness, 49, 66. Cha- 
 racter of, and of his Poetry, 50, 451, 454. Hymns by, 51, 52, 
 56, 57. His Seals of the Anchor and Christ, 53, 290, 461,464. 
 Verses sent with to G. Herbert, 55, 463. Reply to ditto, 56, 
 .291,463. Method of composing his Sermons, &c. 58. Trea- 
 tise of Biathanatos, 59, 444, 464. Makes his Will, 59-62. 
 His charities, 62, 63,466. Filial affection of, 63. Extracts from 
 his private accounts, 64, 65, 466. His last Lent Sermon, 67, 68, 
 69, 466. Joy at his recent Life, and at Death, 69, 70, 71. At- 
 tempt of Dr. Fox to cure him, 71. Mortuary Monument of 
 him executed, and carved in marble, 72, 73, 466. His Epitaph 
 and Portraits, 73, 467. Mental and bodily change, 74. His 
 happy death and burial, 75, 76. Honours paid to his tomb, 77. 
 Private subscription sent for his Monument, 78. His features, 
 eulogy, and character, ibid. Poetical Epitaphs on, 79-86. 
 Becomes acquainted with Sir H. Wotton, 105. Verses by, 
 addressed to Sir H. Wotton, 115. Singular Will of his alluded 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 495 
 
 to, 124. His admiration, verses, and letter addressed to Lady 
 
 Magdalen Herbert, 279-281. His Funeral Sermon for ditto, 
 
 282. Editions of his life, 440. 
 Dorset, Edward and Richard Sackville, Earls of, 44. Biographical 
 
 notices of, 460. 
 Dort, Synod of, representation of the Medal struck by the, 60. 
 
 Notice of the Assembly, 464. 
 Drayton Beauchamp Church and Parsonage, Views of, 165, 187. 
 
 Hooker presented to the living of, 187. Anecdote of his life 
 
 there, ibid. View of Hooker's Study at, 439. 
 Dreams, of Dean Wotton, 100. Causes and use of, 101, 102. Of 
 
 Thomas Wotton, 103. 
 Drury, Sir Robert, his kindness to Mr. Donne and family, 22, 24, 
 
 25. Biographical notice of him, &c, 453. 
 Duncon, Mr. Edmund, his visits to Herbert, 332, 339. 
 Duppa, Dr. Bryan, Bishop of Salisbury, 53. Biographical notice 
 
 of, 463. 
 
 Earle,Dr. John, Bishop of Salisbury, 229, 483. 
 
 Ecclesiastical Polity, various particulars concerning Hooker's work 
 on, 222-229, 249-254. 
 
 Ecclesiastical State of England, its overthrow endeavoured, 195, 
 257. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen of England, intrigues to destroy her, 109. Dis- 
 position of the people of England at her death, 191. Her fa- 
 vours to Archbishop Whitgift, 201. His bold address to her, 
 202, 206-208. 
 
 Queen of Bohemia, her marriage, 41. Portrait of, 42. 
 
 Sir H. Wotton's Embassy in behalf of, 127. Biographical 
 notice of, 458. Wotton's verses addressed to, 472, 473. 
 
 Ellesmere, Thomas Lord, receives Dr. Donne as his Secretary, 8. 
 His discharge of him, 10, 12. Chancellor of Oxford, 366. 
 Biographical account of him, &c, 449. 
 
 Elmer, John, Bishop of London, an advocate for Hooker, 185. 
 Biographical account of, 480. 
 
 Episcopacy, destruction of in England, 394. 
 
 Epitaphs, on Dr. Donne, 73, 77,~79-86. On Sir H. Wotton, 159. 
 on R. Hooker, 245. Tor Bishop Sanderson, 433. 
 
 Essex, Robert Devereux, Earl of, makes Sir H. Wotton his Secre- 
 tary, 107. Rebellion and execution of, ibid. 108. 
 
 Eton College, View of the entrance to, 87. Sir Henry Wotton 
 made Provost of, 132. His employments and virtuous life 
 there, 133-135. School of adorned by him, 135. And the 
 Scholars encouraged, 136. Sir H. Wotton's reflections there, 
 156. View of the east end of, 159. 
 
 Excommunication, decision of the Council of Trent concerning, 
 118. 
 
496 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Eye, excellence of it's composition, 97. Benefit and blessing of 
 the, 98. 
 
 Farrer, Nicholas, his subscription to Herbert's Church, 297. Bio- 
 giaphical account of, 333, 487. His extraordinary devotion, 
 334-337. His acquaintance with Herbert, and translation of 
 Valdesso's Considerations, 337, 338. Herbert's Letter to him, 
 concerning tbat work, 347. Portrait of him, 348. 
 
 Feasts of the Church, their order and excellence, 322-323. 
 
 Ferdinand II. Emperor of Germany, Sir H. Wotton's Embassy to, 
 127-129. 
 
 Ferdinand de' Medicis, Duke of Florence, account of, 471. 
 
 Flecamore, Christopher, sentence written in his Album by Sir H. 
 Wotton, 123, 
 
 Fox, Dr. various particulars concerning, 71, 72, 78. 
 
 Fulgentio, M. 60. Biographical notice of, 465. 
 
 Fuller, Dr. Thomas, his Church History referred to, 444, 447, 448. 
 
 Fulman, Mr. his notice of Hooker's death, 247, in margin. 
 
 Fulston Church, Wilts, exterior view of, 331. Notice of, 487. 
 
 Gattaker, Rev. Thomas, 40. Account of him, 458. 
 
 Gentilis, Albericus, various particulars concerning, 98, 104, 469. 
 
 Goodier, Sir Henry, 53. Biographical account of, 462. 
 
 Grindal, Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, account of, 481. 
 
 Guarini, Battista, 97, 469. 
 
 Gunning, Dr. Peter, Bishop of Ely, 424, 490. 
 
 Hacket, William, 194, 257, 481. 
 
 Hales, John, of Eton, Sir H. Wotton's address to, 156. Portrait 
 and account of, 477. 
 
 Hall, Dr. Joseph, Bishop of Norwich, 53. Notice of, 463. 
 
 Hammond, Dr. Henry, Portrait of, 400. Various particulars 
 concerning, 401, 402, 403, 488. 
 
 Harrison, John, notice of, 476. 
 
 Harsnett, Dr. Samuel, Bishop of Chichester, 37. Account of 
 him, 457. 
 
 Hay, James, Earl of Doncaster, 41. Biographical notice of, 459. 
 
 Henchman, Dr. Humphrey, Bishop of London, 314, 315, 486. 
 
 Henry VIII. King of England, his seizure of Church-lands, &c. 
 205, 206. 
 
 Herbert, George, character of his Temple, 54. Latin and 
 English verses by, addressed to Dr. Donne, 56. Life of, 269- 
 347. Introduction to ditto, 27 J, 272. His birth and family 
 seat, 273. Family of, 274-276. His education, 276. Entered 
 Cambridge, 277. Account of his mother, 277-280. His 
 studies at Cambridge, 282. His Letter and Poem to Lady 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 497 
 
 M. Herbert, 283. Virtue and piety of, 284. University 
 character and titles of, 285. His conduct as Orator, 286, 288, 
 289. Replies to Melvin's Satires, 287. Verses on Dr. Donne's 
 Seal, 291,463. His hopes of Court preferment, 291. His health 
 impaired by study, 292. His verses on affliction, ibid. 293. 
 Death of his Court friends, 294. Determines to take Orders, 
 ibid. 303. Made Deacon, &c. 295. Repairs the Church of 
 Layton Ecclesia, 296,-297. His Letter to his mother in her 
 sickness, 298. His own illness, 302. His resignation, reco- 
 very, and his person described, 303. Courtship and marriage 
 of, 304, 305. Receives the Rectory of Bemerton, 306. He- 
 sitates at taking Orders, ibid. Convinced by Bishop Laud, 
 and is ordained, 307. Holiness of his life, 308. His induc- 
 tion, ibid. His delight in the title of Priest, 310. Address 
 to his wife thereon, 311. Repairs his Church and Parsonage, 
 312-314. Instances of his humility and goodness, 312,313. 
 His christian conduct, 314. His Country Parson, 315, 444. 
 His Sermons, 316-324. Pious life of him and his parishioners, 
 325. His love for Music, 326. Anecdotes of, ibid. 327-330. 
 Is seized with a consumption, 330. Mr. Duncon's visits to, 
 332, 339. His acquaintance with Nicholas Farrer, 337. 
 Sacred Poems, sent to, 340. Their publication, 341, 444. 
 His reflections on dying, 342. Hymn by, 343. Dying con- 
 duct of, ibid, 344, 345. His Letter to Nicholas Farrer, 347. 
 Editions of his Life, 440. Burial of, 487. 
 
 Herbert, Lady Magdalen, various particulars concerning, 274, 
 277, 280, 281, 282, 283, 297, 298, 462. 
 
 — — —- family of, eulogium on, 2?3. Biographical notices of va- 
 rious members of the, 274-276. 
 
 Holinshed, Raphael, references to his Chronicle, 91, 94, 444, 468. 
 
 Hooker, Richard, Life of, 161-268. Introduction to ditto, 
 163, 164. His birth and character of his childhood, 166. 
 His Schoolmaster's advice, 167. Success of his intercession 
 with J. Hooker, 168. Is patronised and sent to Oxford by 
 ditto, and Bishop Jewel, 170, 171. Filial affection of, 172. 
 His visit to Bishop Jewel, ibid. Is made Tutor to Edwin 
 Sandys, 174. His learning and piety at Oxford, 175. Is ad- 
 mitted on the College Foundation, 176. Graduates there, 
 177. And becomes Fellow, 178. His pupils, ibid. 180. 
 His subsequent course of study, ibid. 181. Becomes Hebrew 
 Lecturer, 181. Is expelled his College, 182. Re-admitted, 
 takes Orders, and is appointed to preach at St. Paul's, 183. 
 His journey to London, and Sermon, ibid. 184. Unhappy 
 marriage of, 185, 186. His residence at Drayton Beauchamp, 
 187. Recommended to be Master of the Temple, 189. Re- 
 ceives the office, 190, 211. His religious disputes with Travers, 
 
 3 T 
 
498 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 213. His defence of his doctrine of Faith, 214. And Justi- 
 fication, 215-217. His charitable belief concerning Papists, 
 218, 219. His mildness in argument, 220, 221. His con- 
 troversial writings published, and his Ecclesiastical Polity com- 
 menced, 221, 222, 489. Dr. Spencer's eulogium on, 223. Is 
 presented to the Rectory of Boscum, 224, 225. Publication 
 of his first four books of Polity, 225. Receives the Rectory 
 of Bishop's Bourne, and his holy life there, 226, 232-237. 
 Preface to his books of Church Polity, 225, 226. Eulogies on 
 them, 227-229. View of his Parsonage at Bourne, 230. 
 His friendship with Dr. Saravia, 231, 232, His preaching, 
 235. Conspiracy against, 238-240. Occasion of his death, 
 241. Conduct in his sickness, 242. His death, 244, 246, 
 
 247, in margin. Conclusion, 245. Epitaph on, ibid. Ap- 
 pendix to his Life, 246-254. His Will and family, 247, 248. 
 Authenticity of the last three books of Polity considered, 
 
 248. His remaining writings destroyed, 249, 252. G. Cran- 
 mer's Letter to, 254-268. Editions of his Life, 448. 
 
 Hooker, Joan, various particulars concerning, 185, 187, 248, 249. 
 
 John, educates his nephew, 168. Introduces him to 
 
 Bishop Jewel, 170. 
 
 Horton, Sampson, Parish-Clerk of Bishop's Bourne, various par- 
 ticulars concerning, 233-235, 483. 
 
 Hymns 51, 57, 343. 
 
 Jackson, Dr. Thomas, 176, 479. 
 
 James I. King of England, various actions of, and particulars con- 
 cerning, 29-32, 35, 37, 41, 43-46, 110-114, 121, 122, 130, 
 196, 228, 253, 286, 288, 289, 366. 
 
 Jewel, John, Bishop of Salisbury, various particulars concerning, 
 169-173, 478. Portrait of, 170. 
 
 Independents, their difference from the Covenanters, 395. 
 
 Inscription under Sir Henry Wotton's Lodging Scutcheons, 129, 
 474. 
 
 Island Voyage, referred to, 7. Account of, 449. 
 
 Justification, Hooker's Argument on the nature of, 217, 218, 219. 
 
 Kent, Henry Grey, Earl of, 44. Notice of, 460. 
 Kilbie, Dr. Richard, 359, 360, 363, 364, 488. 
 King, Dr. Henry, Bishop of Chichester, various particulars con- 
 cerning, 34, 47, 48, 75, 78, 80. 
 , Dr. John, Bishop of London, Portrait of, 371. Account of, 
 
 Lake Dr. Arthur, Bishop of Bath and Wells, notices of, 328, 365, 
 487. 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 499 
 
 Lambard, William, his praise of Thomas Wotton, 92, 445. Ac- 
 count of, 469. 
 
 Laud, William, Archbishop of Canterbury, various notices of, 307, 
 393, 404, 405, 489. 
 
 Layton Ecclesia, Church of, View of, 273. Particulars concerning, 
 295, 296. 
 
 Leicester, Robert Dudley, Earl of, intrigues of, 195, 202, 209. 
 
 Liturgy, Herbert's Sermons explanatory of the, 316-324. San- 
 derson's praise and defence of the, 411, 412. 
 
 Lothesley, or Loseley Hall, View of, 3. Notice of, 450. 
 
 Martin Marprelate, 211, 257,485. 
 
 Melville, or Melvin, Andrew, 287, 288. Account of, 485. 
 
 Mirandula, Giovanni Picus, 4. Biographical notice of, 448. 
 
 Montague, Dr. James, Bishop of Bath and Wells, 29. Biogra- 
 phical account of, 454. 
 
 Montgomery Castle, View of, 271. Notices of, 273, 484. 
 
 More, Sir George, various particulars of, 8, 10, 12, 18, 43, 44. 
 Biographical account of, 449. 
 
 , Sir Thomas, Dr. Donne's descent from, 4, 447. 
 
 , Anne, various particulars relating to, 8, 9, 11, 23, 24, 25, 27, 
 
 28, 38, 39, 451, 454, 457, 458. 
 
 Morley, Dr. George, Bishop of Winchester, Portrait of, xvii. De- 
 dications to, ibid. 351. ' Various particulars of, 390-392, 446. 
 
 Morton, Sir Albert, various particulars of, 115, 139, 140, 471. 
 
 , Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Durham, Portrait, and various 
 
 notices of, 14-17, 471. 
 
 Moryson, Fynes, 179, 445. 
 
 Music, Herbert's praise of, 326. 
 
 Nash, Thomas, his Pamphlets, 211, 212. Account of, 482. 
 Naunton, Sir Robert, 285, 485. 
 Nethersole, Sir Francis, 285, 485. 
 Neville, Dr. Thomas, c z77 y 484. 
 
 Nonconformists, various notices of the, 192-195, 422. 
 Northumberland, Henry Percy, Earl of, 10. Biographical account 
 of, 450. 
 
 Oxford, Reasons against the Covenant drawn up at, 387. Expul- 
 sion and persecution of the Members of the University of, 90, 
 389-392. 
 
 Paolo, Padre, various particulars concerning, 120-122, 144, 445, 
 465, 472. 
 
 Papists, liberality of Sir H. Wotton to, 136. Strengthened by 
 the Presbyterian dissentions, 264, Uncharitable belief of the 
 Puritans, concerning, 211. Hooker's defence of the, 218, 219. 
 
500 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Paul, Cathedral Church of St., Donne's Monumental Effigy in, 73, 
 
 467, His burial there, 76, 77. Ancient Views of, xix, 86. 
 Destruction of by the Puritans, 53, 461. 
 
 Paul's Cross, 183, 480. 
 
 Paul V., Pope, various particulars concerning, 119,121, 122, 471. 
 
 Pearson, Dr. John, Bishop of Chester, 424, 490. 
 
 Perkins, Rev. William, his dispute with Arminius, 137, 138. Por- 
 trait of, iii. 
 
 Pey, Nicholas, 132, 133, 140. 
 
 Phillips, Fabian, 253, 484. 
 
 Plutarch, various extracts from and references to, 2, 26, 77, 445, 447, 
 453 467. 
 
 Poetry,' various pieces of, 28, 36, 50, 51, 54, 55, 56, 57, 77, 79- 
 86, 115, 140, 159, 245, 279, 281, 283, 292, 311, 314, 343, 
 
 468, 473. 
 
 Pole, Cardinal Reginald, 176, 479. 
 
 Portraits of Dr. Donne, xvi. xix. 
 
 Prayers, excellence of the Church of England, 412. 
 
 Preaching, dangerous manner of, in the Civil Wars, 413. 
 
 Predestination, Controversies concerning, 401. 
 
 Presbyterians, various particulars concerning the, 192-197, 211, 
 
 255, 256, 258-266. 
 Prideaux, Dr. John, 365, 488. 
 
 Promises of God, Hooker's Argument on their certainty, 214. 
 Prudentius Clemens, Aurelius, 57, 464. 
 Psalms, use of the, in the English Liturgy, 317, 318. Excellence 
 
 of the, 395, 412, 436. Sanderson's repetition of the, 437. 
 Pseudo-Martyr, references to, and extracts from the, 6, 30, 443, 
 
 448. 
 
 Quinquarticular Controversy, account of the, 401. 
 
 Rastall, William, 4, 447. 
 
 Retirement, Wotton's and Hooker's desire for, 134, 223, 482. 
 
 Reynolds, Dr. John, 171, 176, 182, 478. 
 
 Rudde, Dr. Anthony, Dean of Gloucester, 448. 
 
 Sacrament, benefit of its administration, 415. 
 
 Sancroft, Dr. William, Archbishop of Canterbury, 427, 490. 
 
 Sanderson, Dr. Robert — Bishop of Lincoln, charge of concern- 
 ing his Writings, 253. Life of, 349-438. Dedication, 351. 
 Preface, 352-354. Birth of, 355. Family of, &c. 356, 357. 
 His education, 358, 359. His degrees, &c. at Oxford, 361, 
 362, 364, 367, 369-371. His Logic Lectures, 363, 445. His 
 acquaintance with Dr. Sheldon, 369, 370. Resigns his Fel- 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 501 
 
 lowship, 375, and marries, 374. Instances of his piety and 
 charity, 375-378. Excellence of his Sermons, 379. His Con- 
 vocation employments and Answers to Calvin, 380, 381, 387. 
 Is made DD. 381. Employed to reform the Prayer Book, 
 
 384, 425, 426. Called to the Assembly of Divines, ibid. 
 Made Professor of Divinity, and excellence of his Lectures, 
 
 385. Attends the King in the Isle of Wight, 388, 389. 
 Forced to quit his College, 390. Persecuted at Boothby 
 Pannell, 397. Prayer used by in altering the Liturgy, 398. 
 Instances of his patience, 399, 407, 408. His singular me- 
 mory, 400, 401, 417. His debate in the Quinquarticular 
 Controversy, 403. Prefaces to his Sermons referred to, 405, 
 410, 445. Made prisoner by the Parliament, ibid. 407. Cases 
 of Conscience written by, 406-409. Walton's interview with, 
 411-415. Character of his person and manners, 416-418, 
 437. Mr. Boyle's friendship to, 419. Recommended to a 
 Bishopric, 421. Made Bishop of Lincoln, 422. His conduct 
 as such, 426-428. His principal studies, 429. Extracts from 
 his Will, 430-433. His burial and monument, 432-434. 
 Conduct of in his last sickness, 434-437. Conclusion, 438. 
 Editions of his life, 440. 
 
 Sandys, Dr. Edwin, Archbishop of York, various notices of, J 74, 
 188, 189, 478. 
 
 Sir Edwin, various notices of, 174, 178, 180, 187, 237, 
 
 479. 
 
 Saravia, Dr. Adrian, various notices of, 231, 232, 241, 244, 483. 
 
 Savile, Sir Henry, Portrait, and notices of, 177, 178, 479. 
 
 Scioppius, Jasper, 123, 472. 
 
 Sermons, notices of Dr. Donne's, 35, 39, 444. Notices and cha- 
 racter of Mr. Hooker's, 214-219, 235. Of Mr. Herbert's, 
 316-324. Of Bishop Sanderson's, 379. 
 
 Sheldon, Dr. Gilbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, various notices 
 concerning, 369, 370, 417, 421. 
 
 Somerset, Bobert Carr, Earl of, 31, 455. 
 
 Spalato, Archbishop of, 129, 474. 
 
 Spencer, Dr. John, various notices concerning, 223, 249-251, 478. 
 
 Spotswood, Dr. Johu, Archbishop of St. Andrews, 195, 446. 
 
 Stapleton, Dr. Thomas, 227, 283. 
 
 Stuart, Lady Arabella, 288, 485. 
 
 Temple, View of the Hall in the, 161. Death of the Master of 
 the, 189. The Office given to R. Hooker, 190. Extracts from 
 the Records of the, ibid. 
 
 Temple, The, notices of Mr. Herbert's Poems so called, 340, 341. 
 
 Theobald's Palace, interior View of, 31. 
 
 Throgmorton, Sir Nicholas, 476. 
 
502 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Travers, Rev. Walter, various particulars concerning, 185, 212- 
 
 216, 220, 222, 446, 481. 
 Trent, the Council of, 119, 122. 
 
 Valdesso, Signor John, 338, 339, 446. 
 
 Velserus, Marcus, 124, 472. 
 
 Venice, various particulars relating to, 117-122. View of the 
 
 Rial to and City of, 114. 
 Vietta, Signor, 108, 110. 
 
 Usher, Dr. James, Archbishop of Armagh, 478. 
 
 Wadsworth, Rev. James, various notices of, 142, 143, 446, 475. 
 Walton, Izaak, his Apology for writing the life of Dr. Donne, 1. 
 Elegy by, on his death, 383. His reason for writing the life of 
 Sir H. Wotton, 94. Ditto for that of Hooker, 163. His Con- 
 nection with the Cranmer family, ibid. Other eminent friends 
 of, 164. His praise of the life of Herbert, 308. His interview 
 with Bishop Sanderson during the Civil Wars, 411-415. Pro- 
 gressive improvements in the various editions of his Lives, 439. 
 Order of their publication, 440. Character of his Studies, 441, 
 442. List of his Authorities, 443. 
 Watson, William, 110, 446, 471. 
 Westphaling, Dr. Herbert, 479. 
 White, Dr. Thomas, 44, 460. 
 
 Whitgift, John, Archbishop of Canterbury, various particulars con- 
 cerning, 198-210, 213, 248, 255. Portrait of, 199. 
 Will, various particulars concerning Dr. Donne's, 60, 61, 62, 464. 
 Sir H. Wotton's 151-155, 476. R. Hooker's, 246, 247, 483. 
 Dr. Sanderson's, 430-432, 490. 
 Windebank, Sir Francis, account of, 477. 
 Wolly, Sir Francis, 18, 19. Biographical notice of, 451. 
 Woodnot, Mr. Arthur, 297, 298, 309, 341, 343, 344. 
 Wotton, Sir Henry, his purpose of writing Dr. Donne's life, 1. 
 Life of, 87-160. Birth-place of, 89. His Lectures at Oxford, 
 97, 98. His friendship with Dr. Donne, 104, 105. His 
 travels, 106. Becomes Secretary to the Earl of Essex, 107, 
 but goes abroad at the commencement of his rebellion, ibid. 
 108. His residence in Italy, 108, 109. Sent on a secret Em- 
 bassy to England, 110, 111. Returns to Florence, 112. His 
 reception by King James L, 113 Sent Ambassador to Venice, 
 114. Corresponds between the Republic and the King, 121. 
 Sentence of in an Album, 123. Loses, and recovers the King's 
 favour, 124. His interest with the Dukes of Venice, 125. 
 Prisoners liberated by, 126. Sent Ambassador to Germany, 
 127-129. Made Prevost of Eton, 132. His conduct there, 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 503 
 
 j 33-135. His liberal sentiments in religion-, 136, 137, 138. 
 Advice of to an Ambassador, 139. His Sorrow for Sir A. Morton, 
 139, 140. His Verses to his memory, 140. His recommen- 
 datory letter of Mr. Bedel, 141. His proposed Histories, 146, 
 
 147. His Monument, 149, 150, 476. Extracts from his Will, 
 
 148, 151-155. Last visit to^ Winchester College, 156. His 
 declining health, 156-158. His decease, and Conclusion, 158, 
 159. Cowley's Elegy on, 159. His character of Archbishop 
 Whitgift, 199. Editions of his life, 440. His Verses to the 
 Queen of Bohemia, 472, 473. 
 
 Wotton, family of, biographical notices, &c. of several of its mem- 
 bers, 90, 92, 93, 95, 99, 100-104, 112, 113. 
 
 — the very Rev. Nicholas, Dean of Canterbury and York, 
 
 various particulars concerning, 93, 100, 101, 104. Portrait of, 
 99. 
 
 Wyatt, Sir Thomas, his rebellion and execution, 101, 102. 
 
 Zouch, Dr. Richard, assists in drawing up the Oxford Reasons 
 against the Covenant, 387. Excellence of his Elcmenta Juris- 
 prudentia;, 429. Account of, 489. 
 
 i 
 
Printed at the Shakspeare Press, by W. Nicol, 
 Cleveland-Row, St, James's. 
 


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