YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY William Arnold Healy Fund THE WORKS OF MR. RICHARD HOOKER, IN EIGHT BOOKS OF THE LAWS OF ECCLESIASTICAL POLITY : WITH SEVERAL OTHER TREATISES, AND A GENERAL INDEX. - ¦¦>'•. ¦' ALSO, A LIFE OR THE AUTHOR, By ISAAC WALTON. A NEW EDITION, IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : printed for w. clarke, new bond street ; w. baynes and son, paternoster row; priestley and weale, high street, blooms- bury; r. baynes, ivy lane; e: edwards, newgate street ; t. & j. allman, princes street, hanover square ; j. offer, newgate street: also, dbighton and sons; and r. newby, Cambridge. 1821. TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY CHARLES II. BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, FRANCE, AND IRELAND, DEFENDER OF THE FAITH, &c. most gracious sovereign. Although I know how little leisure great kings have to read large books, or indeed any, save only God's (the study, belief, and obedience of which are precisely commanded, even to kings (Deut. xvii. 18, 19), and from which, whatever wholly diverts them, will hazard to damn them ; there being no affairs of so great import ance, as their serving God, and saving their own souls; nor any precepts so wise, just, holy, and safe, as those of the Divine ora cles; nor any empire so glorions, as that by which kings, being subject to God's law, have dominion over themselves, and so best deserve and exercise it over their subjects) : Yet having lived to see the wonderful and happy restoration of your Majesty to your rightful kingdoms and of this reformed church to its just rights, primitive order, and pristine constitution, by your Majesty's prudent care and unparalleled bounty, I know not what to present more worthy of your Majesty's acceptance and my duty, than these elaborate and seasonable works of the famous and pru dent Mr. Richard Hooker, now augmented, and I hope completed, with the three last books, so much desired, and so long concealed. The publishing of which volume so entire, and thus presenting it to your Majesty, seem to be a blessing and honour reserved by God's providence, to add a farther lustre to your Majesty's glorious name, and happy reign, whose transcendant favour, justice, merit, and munificence, to the long-afflicted church of England, is a sub ject no less worthy of admiration than gratitude to all posterity. And of all things (next God's grace) not to be abused or turned into wantonness by any of your Majesty's clergy, who are highly obliged, beyond all other subjects, to piety, loyalty, and industry. I shall need nothing more to ingratiate this incomparable piece to your Majesty's acceptance, and all the English world's, than those high commendations it hath ever had, as from all prudent, VOL. I. B 2 AN EPISTLE peaceable, and impartial readers, so especially from your Majesty's royal father, who, a few days before he was crowned with martyr dom, recommended to his dearest children the diligent reading of Mr. Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, even next the Bible ; as an ex cellent means to settle them in the truth of religion, and in the peace of this church, as much Christian, and as well reformed as any under heaven : as if God had reserved this signal honour to be done by the best of kings, and greatest sufferers for this church, to him who was one of the best writers and ablest defenders of it. To this completed edition, is added such particular accounts as could be got ofthe Author's person, education, temper, manners, fortunes, life, and death, which are now done with much exactness and proportion : that hereby your Majesty, and all the world, may see what sort of men are fittest for church-work (which, like the building of Solomon's temple, is best carried on with most even ness of judgment, and least noise of passion). Also, what manner of man he was, to, whom we all owe this noble work, and durable defence. Which is indeed at once (as the tongues of eloquent princes are to themselves and their subjects) both a treasury and an armoury, to enrich their friends, and defend them against the church of Eng land : a rare composition of unpassionate reason, and impartial religion ; the mature product of a judicious scholar, a loyal sub ject, an humble preacher, and a most eloquent writer : the very abstract and quintessence of laws human and Divine ; a summary of the grounds, rules, and proportions, of true polity in church and state : upon which clear, solid, and safe foundations, the good order, peace, and government, of this cliurch were anciently settled, and on which, while it stands firm, it will be flourishing : all other popular and specious pretensions being found by1 late sad expe riences, to be as novel and unfit, so factious and fallacious, yea, dangerous and destructive to the peace and prosperity of this church and kingdom, whose inseparable happiness and interests are bound up in monarchy and episcopacy. The politic and visible managing of both which, God hath now graciously restored and committed to your Majesty's sovereign wis dom and authority, after the many and long tragedies suffered from those club-«iasters and tub-ministers, who sought not fairly to ob tain reformation of what might seem amiss, but violently and wholly to overthrow the ancient and goodly fabric of this church and kingdom. For finding themselves not able in many years to answer this one book, long ago written in defence of the truth, or der, government, authority, and liberty (in things indifferent), of this reformed church, agreeable to right reason and true reli gion (which make this well-tempered piece, a file capable to break TO THE KING. 3 the teeth of any that venture to bite it) ; they conspired at last to betake themselves to arms, to kindle those horrid fires of civil wars, which this wise Author foresaw and foretold in his admira. ble preface would follow those sparks and that smoke which he saw rise in his days : so that from impertinent disputes (seconded with scurrilous pamphlets) they fled to tumults, sedition, rebellion, sacrilege, parricide, yea, regicide ; counsels, weapons, and practices, certainly no way becoming the hearts and hands of Christian sub jects, nor ever sanctified by Christ for his service, or his church's good. What now remains, but your Majesty's perfecting and preserv ing that (in this church) which you have with much prudence and tenderness so happily begun and prosecuted, with more zeal than the establishment of your own throne. The still crazy church of England, together* with this book (its great and impregnable shield), do farther need, and humbly implore, your Majesty's royal protection under God : nor can your Majesty, by any gene rous instance and perseverance (most worthy of a Christian king) more express that pious and grateful sense which God and all good men expect from your Majesty, as some retribution for his many miraculous mercies to yourself, than in a wise, speedy, and happy settling, of our religious peace ; with the least grievance, and most satisfaction to all your good subjects ; sacred order and uni formity being the centre and circumference of our civil tranquillity ; sedition naturally rising out of schism, and rebellion out of faction: the only cure and antidote against both, are good laws and canons, first wisely made, with all Christian moderation and seasonable charity ; next, duly executed with justice and impartiality ; which sober severity is indeed the greatest charity to the public ; whose verity, unity, sanctity, and solemnity, in religious concernments, being once duly established, must not be shaken, or sacrificed to any private varieties and extravagances. Where the internals of doctrine, morality, mysterious and evangelical duties, being (as they are in the church of England) sound and sacred, the externals of decent forms, circumstances, rites, and ceremonies, being subor dinate and servient to the main, cannot be either evil or unsafe, neither offensive to God nor good Christians. For the attaining of which blessed ends of piety and peace, that the sacred sun and shield of the Divine grace and power directing and protecting, may ever shine upon your Majesty's person and family, counsels and power, is the humble prayer of Your sacred Majesty's Most loyal subject, and devoted servant, Joh. Exon. b 2 THE READER. I think it necessary to inform my reader, that Dr. Gauden (the late bishop of Worcester) hath also lately wrote and published the life of Master Hooker. And though this be not writ by design to oppose what he hath truly written ; yet I am put upon a necessity to say, that in it there be many material mistakes, and more omis sions. I conceive some of his mistakes did proceed from a belief in Master Thomas Fuller, who had too hastily published what he hath since most ingenuously retracted. And for the Bishop's omissions, I suppose his more weighty business, and want of time, made him pass over many things without that due examination, which my bet ter leisure, my diligence, and my accidental advantages, have made known unto me. And now for myself, I can say, I hope, or rather know, there are no material mistakes in what I here present to you that shall be come my reader. Little things that I have received by tradition (to which there may be too much and too little faith given), I will not at this distance of time undertake to justify ; for though I have used great diligence, and compared relations and circumstances, and probable results and expressions ; yet I shall not impose my belief upon my reader ; I shall rather leave him at liberty : but if there shall appear any material omission, I desire every lover of truth and the memory of Master Hooker, that it may be made known unto me. And, to incline him to it, I here promise 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) endea vours may become a better monument, and in some degree more worthy the memory of this venerable man. I confess, that when I consider the great learning and virtue of Master Hooker, and what satisfaction aud advantages many emi nent scholars and admirers of him have had by his labours ; I do not a little wonder, that in sixty years no man did undertake to tell pqsterity of the excellences of his life and learning, and the acci dents of both ; and sometimes wonder more at myself, that I have been persuaded to it; and, indeed, I do not easily pronounce my own pardon, nor expect that my reader shall, unless my Introduc tion shall prove my apology, to which I refer him. COPY OF A LETTER WRITTEN TO MR. WALTON, BY DR. KING, LORD BISHOP OF CHICHESTER. HONEST ISAAC, 1 hough a familiarity of forty years continuance, and the con stant experience of your love, even in the worst times, be sufficient to endear our friendship ; yet I must confess my affection much improved, not only by evidences of private respect to those very many that know and love you, but by your new demonstration of a public spirit, testified in a diligent, true, and useful collection, of so many material passages as you have now afforded me in the life of venerable Mr. Hooker ; of which, since desired by such a friend as yourself, I shall not deny to give the testimony of what I know concerning him and his learned books ; but shall first here take a fair occasion to tell yon, that you have been happy in choosing to write the lives of three such persons, as posterity hath just cause to honour ; which they will do the more for the true relation of them by your happy pen ; of all which I shall give you my un feigned censure. I shall begin with my most dear and incomparable friend, Dr. Donne, late dean of St. Paul's church, who not only trusted me as his executor, but three days before his death delivered into my hands those excellent sermons of his which are now made public ; professing before Dr. Winniff, Dr. Montford, and I think -your self, then present at his bed-side, that it was by my restless impor tunity that he had prepared them for the press ; together with which (as his best legacy) he gave me all his sermon-notes, and his other papers, containing an extract of near fifteen hundred authors.' How these were got out of my hands, you, who were the messen ger for them, and how lost both to me and yourself, is not now seasonable to complain ; but, since they did miscarry, I am glad that the general demonstration of his worth was so fairly preserved, and represented to the world by your pen in the history of his life ; indeed so well, that, beside others, the best critic of our later time (Mr. John Hales, of Eton-college) affirmed to me, he had not seen 6 DR. KING'S LETTER a life written with more advantage to the subject, or more reputa tion to the writer, than that of Dr. Donne's. After the performance of this task for Dr. Donne, you undertook the like office for our friend Sir Henry Wotton, betwixt which two there was a friendship begun in Oxford, continued in their various travels, and more confirmed in the religious friendship of age, and doubtless this excellent person had writ the life of Dr. Donne, if death had not prevented him : by which means, his and your pre- collections for that work fell to the happy manage of your pen : a work, which you would have declined if imperious persuasions had not been stronger than your modest resolutions against it. And I am thus far glad, that the first life was so imposed upon you, be cause it gave an unavoidable cause of writing the second : if not, it is too probable we had wanted both, which had been a prejudice to all lovers of honour and ingenious learning. And let me not leave my friend Sir Henry without this testimony added to yours, that he was a man of as florid a wit, and elegant a pen, as any for mer, or ours, which in that kind is a most excellent age, hath ever produced. And now having made this voluntary observation of our two de ceased friends, I proceed to satisfy your desire concerning what I know and believe of the ever-memorable Mr. Hooker, who was schismaticorum malleus, so great a champion for the church of England's rights, against the factious torrent of separatists that then ran high against church discipline, and in his unanswerable books continues still to be so against the unquiet discipline of their schism, which now under other names carry on their design ; and who (as the proper heirs of their irrational zeal) would again rake into the scarce-closed wounds of a newly-bleeding state and church. And first, though I dare not say I knew Mr. Hooker, yet, as our ecclesiastical history reports to the honour of Ignatius, that he lived in the time of St. John, and had seen him in his childhood ; so I also joy, that in my minority I have often seen Mr. Hooker, with my father, then lord bishop of Loudon; from whom, and others at that time, I have heard most of the material passages which you relate in the history of his life ; and from my father received such a character of his learning, humility, and other vir tues, that, like jewels of invaluable price, they still cast such a lustre as envy or the rust of time shall never darken. From my father I have also heard all the circumstances of the plot to defame him ; and how Sir Edwin Sandys outwitted his accusers, and gain ed their confession; and could give an account of each particular of that plot, but that I judge it filter to be forgotten, and rot in the same grave with the malicious authors. I may not omit to declare that my father's knowledge of Mr. Hooker was occasioned by the TO MB. WALTON. 7 learned Dr. John Spencer, who after the death of Mr. Hooker was so careful to preserve his invaluable sixth, seventh, aud eighth books of Ecclesiastical Polity, and his other writings, that he pro cured Henry Jackson, then of Corpus Christi-college, to transcribe for him all Mr. Hooker's remaining written papers, many of which were imperfect ; for his study had been rifled or worse used by Mr. Chark, and another of principles too like his : but as these papers were, they were endeavoured to be completed by his dear friend, Dr. Spencer, who bequeathed them as a precious legacy to my father; after whose death they rested in my hand, till Dr. Ab bot, then archbishop of Canterbury, commanded them out of my custody, authorizing Dr. John Barkham (his Lordship's chaplain) to require and bring them to him to Lambeth ; at which time I have heard they were put into the Bishop's library, and that they remained there till the martyrdom of Archbishop Laud, and were then by the brethren of that faction given with the library to Hugh Peters, as a reward for his remarkable service in those sad times of the church's confusion : and though they could hardly fall into a fouler hand, yet there wanted not other endeavours to corrupt and make them speak that language for which the faction then fought ; which was, to subject the sovereign power to the people. I need not strive to vindicate Mr. Hooker in this particu lar ; his known loyalty to his prince whilst he lived, the sorrow expressed by King James for his death ; the value our late sove reign (of ever-blessed memory) put upon his works, and now the singular character of his worth given by you in the passages of his life (especially in your Appendix to it), do sufficiently clear him from that imputation : and I am glad you mention how much va lue Robert Stapleton, Pope Clement the Eighth, and other eminent men of the Romish persuasion, have put upon his books, having been told the same in my youth by persons of worth that have travelled Italy. Lastly, I must again congratulate this undertaking of your's, as now more proper to you than any other person, by reason of your long knowledge and alliance to the worthy family of the Cranmers (my old friends also), who have been men of noted wisdom, especially Mr. George Cranmer, whose prudence, added to that of Sir Edwin Sandys, proved very useful in the com pleting of Mr. Hooker's matchless books ; one of their letters I herewith send you to make use of, if you think fit. And let me say farther, you merit much from many of Mr. Hooker's best friends then living ; namely, from the ever-renowned Archbishop Whitgift, of whose incomparable worth, with the character of the times, you have given' us a more short and significant account than I have re ceived from any other pen. You have done much for Sir Henry Savile, his contemporary and familiar friend ; amongst the surviv- 8 DK. KING'S LETTER, &C ing monuments of whose learning (give me leave to tell you so) two are omitted; his edition of Euclid ; but especially his translation of King James's Apology for the Oath of Allegiance, into elegant Latin : which flying in that dress as far as Rome, was by the Pope and conclave sent unto Frauciscus Suares to Salamanca (he then residing there as president of that college), with a command to an swer it. When he had perfected the work (which he calls Defen- sio Fidei Catholicae), it was transmitted to Rome for a view of the inquisitors ; who, according to their custom, blotted out what they pleased, and (as Mr. Hooker hath been used since his death) added whatsoever mightadvance the Pope's supremacy, or carry on their own interest, commonly coupling together deponere et occidere, the deposing and killing of princes ; which cruel and unchristian lan guage Mr. John Saltkell (his amanuensis, when he wrote at Sala manca ; but since a convert, living long in my father's house) often professed the good did man (whose piety and charity Mr. Saltkell magnified much) not only disavowed but detested. Not to trouble you farther, your reader (if, according to your desire, my approba tion of your work carries any weight) will find many just reasons to thank you for it ; and for this circumstance here mentioned (not known to many) may happily apprehend one to thank him, who is, Sir, Your ever faithful and affectionate old friend, Henry Chichester. Chichester, Nov. 12, 16. LIFE MR. RICHARD HOOKER. THE INTRODUCTION, I have been persuaded by a friend, that I ought to obey, to write the life of Richard Hooker, the happy Author of five (if not more) ofthe eight learned books of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. And though I have undertaken it, yet it hath been with some unwilling ness, foreseeing that it must prove to me, and especially at this time of my age, a work of much labour to inquire, 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 ob servations and prognostics, as may at least adorn, if not prove necessary for the completing of, what I have undertaken. This trouble I foresee, and foresee also that it is impossible to es cape censures; against which I will not hope my well-meaning and diligence can protect me (for I consider the agein which I live), and shall therefore but entreat of my reader a suspension of them, till I have made known unto him some reasons, which I myself would now fain believe, do make me in some measure fit for this under. taking : and if these reasons shall not acquit me from all censures, they may at least abate of their severity ; and this is all I can pro bably hope for. My reasons follow. About forty years past (for I am now in the seventieth of mY?£f) I began a happy affinity with William Cranmer (now with God), grand nephew unto the great Archbishop of that name ; a family of noted prudence and resolution : with him and two of his sisters I had an entire and free friendship : one of them was the wife of Dr. Spencer, a bosom-friend, and sometime com-pupil with Mr. Hooker, in Corpus Christi-college, in Oxford, and after president of the same I name them here, for that I shall have occasion to men tion them in this following discourse ; as also their brother, of whose useful abilities my reader may have a more authentic testi- 10 THE LIFE OF mony than my pen can purchase for him, by that of our learned Cambden and others. This William Cranmer, and his two forenamed sisters, had some affinity, and a most familiarfriendship with Mr. Hooker, and had had some part of their education with him in his house, when he was parson of Bishop's Born, near Canterbury ; in which city their good father then lived. They had (I say) a great part of their education with him, as myself, since that time, a happy cohabition with them ; and having some years before read part of Mr. Hooker's works with great liking and satisfaction, my affection 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 inquiry hath given me much advantage in the knowledge of what is now under my con sideration, and intended for the satisfaction of my reader. I had also a friendship with the Reverend Doctor Usher, the late learned archbishop of Armagh ; and with Doctor Morton ; the late learned and charitable bishop of Durham ; as also with the learn ed John Hales, of Eton-college ; and with them also (who loved the very name of Mr. Hooker) I have had maDy discourses concern ing 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 dili gence 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. His binh JT ;s not t0 be doubted, but that Richard Hooker was born within and youth. , . .. ., -„ 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 in deed the county may, in which it stands, that it hath furnished this nation with Bishop Jewel, Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Raleigh, and many others memorable for their valour and learning. He was born about the year of our redemption one thousand five hundred fifty and three, and of parents that were not so remarkable for their extraction or riches, as for their virtue and industry and God's bless ing upon both ; by which they were enabled to educate their children in some degree of learning, of which our Richard Hooker may ap pear to be one fair testimony; aud that Nature is not so partial as MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 11 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 ear nestness in either of them, but a gravity suitable to the aged. And it is observed (so far as inquiry is able to look back at this distance of time) that at his being a schoolboy, he was an early questionist, quietly inquisitive, Why this was, and that was not, to be remem bered t 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 a little 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 schoolmaster, caused him to persuade his parents (who intended him for an apprentice) to con tinue him at school till he could find out some means, by persuad ing his rich uncle, or some other charitable person, to ease them of a part of their care and charge ; assuring them, that their son was so enriched with the blessings of nature and grace, that God seemed to single him out as a special instrument of his glory. And the good man told them also, that he would double his diligence in instructing him, and would neither expect nor receive any other reward, than the content of so hopeful and happy an employment. This was not unwelcome news, and especially to his mother, to whom he was a dutiful and dear child ; and all parties were so pleased with this proposal, that it was resolved so it should be. And in the mean time his parents and master laid a foundation for his future happiness, by instilling into his soul the seeds of piety, those con scientious principles of loving and fearing God ; of an early belief, that he knows the very secrets of our souls; that hepunisheth our vices, and rewards our innocence ; that we should be free from hy pocrisy, and appear to man what we are to God, because first or last the crafty man is catched in his own snare. These seeds of piety were so seasonably planted, and so continually watered, with the daily dew of God's blessed Spirit, that his infant virtues grew into such holy habits as did make him grow daily into more and more favour both with God and man : which with the great learn ing that he did attain to, hath made Richard Hooker honoured in this, and will continue him to be so to succeeding generations. 12 THE LIFE OF This good schoolmaster, 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 tbe memory of his scho lar), was very solicitous with John Hooker, then chamberlain 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 ; still urging and assuring him that his charge would not continue long; for the lad's learning and manners were both so remarkable, that they must of necessity be taken notice of; and that 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, procured from his uncle a faithful promise that he would take him into his care and charge before the expiration ofthe year following, which was performed. This promise was made about the fourth year of the reign of Queen Mary ; and the learned John Jewel (after bishop of Salis bury) having been in the first of this Queen's reign expelled out of Corpus Christi-college in Oxford (of which he was a fellow), for adhering to the truth of those principles of religion, to which he had assented in the days of her brother and predecessor, Edward the Sixth ; and he having now a just cause to fear a more heavy punish ment than expulsion, was forced, by forsaking this, to seek safety in another nation, and, with that safety, the enjoyment of that doc trine and worship for which he suffered. But the cloud of that persecution and fear ending with the life of Queen Mary, the affairs of the church and state did then look more clear and comfortable ; so that he, and 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 com missioner or visitor of the churches of the western parts of this kingdom, and especially of those in Devonshire, in which county he was born ; and then and there he contracted a friendship with John Hooker, the uncle of our Richard. In the third year of her reign, this John Jewel was made bishop of Salisbury : and there beiug always observed in him a willingness to do good and oblige his friends, and now a power added to it ; 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 learn- iug ; and that the Bishop would therefore become his patron, and prevent him from being a tradesman ; for he was a boy of remark able hopes. And though the Bishop knew men do not usually look MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 13 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 schoolmaster 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 the 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 was per formed. For, about the fourteenth year of his age, which was anno 1567, he was by the Bishop appointed to remove to Oxford, and Admitted there to attend Dr. Cole, then president of Corpus Christi-college; christi°coiS which he did ; and Doctor Cole had (according to a promise made lege, Oxon. to the Bishop) provided for him both a tutor (which was said to be the learned Doctor John Reynolds) and a clerk's place in that col lege : which place, though it were not a full maintenance, yet with the contribution of his uncle, and the continued pension of his pa tron, the good Bishop, gave him a comfortable subsistence. And Bp. Jewel, in this condition he continued unto the eighteenth year of his age, ,lis patron. still increasing in learning and prudence, aud so much in humility and piety, that he seemed to be filled with the Holy Ghost, and even, like St. John Baptist, to be sanctified from his mother's womb, who did often bless the day in which she bare him. About this time of his age he fell into a dangerous sickness, which lasted two months: all which time, his mother, having notice of it, did in her hourly prayers as earnestly beg his life of God as 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 pray that he might never live to occasion any sorrow to so good a mo ther ; whom, he would often say, he loved so dearly, that he would endeavour to be good, even as much for her sake as for his own. As soon as he was perfectly recovered from his sickness, he took a journey from Oxford to Exeter, to satisfy and see his good mo ther, being accompanied with a countryman and companion of his own college, and both on foot ; which was then either more in fashion, or want of money, or their humility made it so : but on foot they went, and took Salisbury in their way, purposely to see the good Bishop, who made Mr. Hooker and his companion dine with him at his own table ;-which Mr. Hooker boasted of with much joy and gratitude when he saw his mother and friends : and at the Bishop's parting with him, the Bishop gave him good counsel, and his benediction, but forgot to give him money ; which when the Bishop had considered, he sent a servant in all haste to call Richard back to him : and at Richard's return, the Bishop said to him, " Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse which hath car- 14 - THE LIFE OF ried me many a mile, and, I thank God, with much ease." And presently delivered into his hand a walking-staff, with which he pro fessed 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 de liver to your mother, and tell her, I send her a bishop's benedic tion with it, and beg the continuance of her prayers for me. And if you bring my horse back to me, I will give you ten groats more, to carry you on foot to the college : and so God bless you, good Richard." And this, you may believe, was performed by both parties. But, alas ! the next news that followed Mr. Hooker to Oxford was, that his learned and charitable patron had changed this for a better life. Which 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 1 And now Mr. Hooker became a man of sorrow and fear: of sor row, for the loss of so dear and comfortable a patron ; and of fear, for his future subsistence. But Mr. Cple raised his spirits from this dejection, by bidding him go cheerfully to his studies, aud assuring him, that 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, or not much longer; for about that time the following accident did befal Mr. Hooker. Edwin Sandys (then bishop of London, and after archbishop of York) had also been in the days of Queen Mary forced, by forsak ing this, to seek safety in another nation ; where, for many years, Bishop Jewel and he were companions at bed and board in Ger many ; 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 time did not blot out, but lasted till the death of Bishop Jewel, which was one thousand five hundred seventy aud one. A little before which time the two bishops meeting, Jewel began 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 Cam bridge, where he had obliged, and had many friends ; 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, thou»h his son Edwin was then almost of the same age : for the Bishop said, " I will have a tutor for my son, that shall teach him learning by instruction, and virtue by example ; and my greatest care shall be of the last, and (God willing) this Richard Hooker shall be the MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 15 man, into whose hands I will commit my Edwin." And the Bishop did so about twelve months after this resolution. And doubtless, as to these two, abetter choice could not be made : for Mr. Hooker was now in the nineteenth year of his age ; had spent five in the university ; and had, by a constant unwearied diligence, attained unto a perfection in all the learned languages ; by the help of which, an excellent tutor, and his unintermitted study, he had made the subtilty of all the arts easy and familiar to himself, and useful for the discovery of such learning as lay hid from common searchers. So that by these, added to his great rea son, aud his industry added to both, he did not only know more of causes and effects ; but what he knew, he knew better than other men. And with this knowledge he had a most blessed and clear me thod of demonstrating what he knew, to the great advantage of all his pupils (which in time were many), but especially to his two first, his dear Edwin Sandys, and his as dear George Cranmer ; of which there will be a fair testimony in the ensuing relation. This for his learning. And for his behaviour, amongst other testimonies, this still remains of him, that in four years he was but twice absent from the chapel- prayers ; and that his behaviour there was such as shewed an awful reverence of that God which he then worshipped and prayed to ; giving all outward testimonies that his affections were set on heavenly things. This was his behaviour towards God; and for that to man, it is observable, that he was never known to be angry, or passionate, or extreme in any of his desires ; never heard to repine or dispute with Providence, but, by a quiet gentle submission and resignation of his will to the wisdom of his Creator, bore the burden of the day with patience ; never heard to utter an uncomely word ; and by this, and a grave beha viour, which is a Divine charm, he begot an early reverence unto his person, even from those that at other times, and in other com panies, 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 bordered upon, or might beget a thought of, looseness in his hearers. Thus innocent and exem plary was his behaviour in his college; and thus this good man con tinued till death; still increasing in learning, in patience, and piety. In this nineteenth year of his age, he was chosen, December 21, 1573, to be one of the twenty scholars of ihe foundation ; being elected and admitted as born in Devonshire (out of which county a certain number are to be elected in vacancies by the founder's statutes). And now he was much encouraged ; for now he was perfectly incorporated into this beloved college, which was then noted for an eminent library, strict students, and remarkable stho. 16 THE LIFE OF lars. And indeed it may glory, that it had Bishop Jewel, Dr. John Reynolds, and Dr. Thomas Jackson, of that foundation. The first, famous by his learned Apology for the Church of England, and his Defence of it against Harding. The second, for the learned and wise manage of a public dispute with John Hart, of the Roman per suasion, about the head and faith of the church, then printed by consent of both parties. And the third, for his most excellent Ex position ofthe Creed, and for his other treatises : all such as hath given greatest satisfaction to men of the greatest learning. Nor was this man more eminent for his learning than for his strict and pious life, testified by his abundant love and charity to all. In the year 1576, February 23, Mr. Hooker's Grace was given him for inceptor of arts ; Dr. Herbert Westphaling, a man of noted learning, being then vice-chancellor, and the act following he was completed master, which was anno 1577, his patron, Dr. Cole, being that year vice-chancellor, and his dear friend, Henry Savil, of Merton-college, then one of the proctors. It was that Henry Savil that was after Sir Henry Savil, warden of Merton-college, and provost of Eton : he which founded in Oxford two famous lectures, and endowed them with liberal maintenance. It was that Sir Henry Savil that translated and enlightened the History of Cornelius Ta citus with a most excellent comment ; and enriched the world by his laborious and chargeable collecting the scattered pieces of St. Chrysostom, and the publication of them in one entire body in Greek ; in which language he was a most judicious critic. It was this Sir Henry Savil that had the happiness to be a contemporary, and a most familiar friend, to our Richard Hooker, and let posterity know it. And in this year of 1577, he was chosen fellow of the college : happy also in being the contemporary and friend of Dr. John Rey nolds, of whom I have lately spoken, and of Dr. Spencer ; both which were afterward successively made presidents of his college : men of great learning and merit, and famous in their generations. Nor was Mr. Hooker more happy in his contemporaries of his time and college, than in the pupilage and friendship of his Edwin Sandys and George Cranmer; of whom my reader may note, that this Edwin Sandys was after Sir Edwin Sandyjs, and as famous for his Speculum Europaj as his brother George for making posterity beholden to his pen by a learned relation and comment on his dan gerous and remarkable. travels; and for his harmonious translation ofthe Psalms of David, the Book of Job, and other poetical parts of holy writ, into most high and elegant verse. And for Cranmer, his other pupil, 1 shall refer my reader to the printed testimonies of our learned Master Camden, the Lord Tottenes, Fines Morrison, and others. ME. RICHARD HOOKER. 17 " This Cranmer, whose Christian name was George, was a gentle man of singular hope, 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 many years before he removed, and then betook himself to travel accompanying that worthy gentleman Sir Edwin Sandys into France, Germany and Italy, for the space of three years ; and after their happy return, he betook himself to an em ployment under Secretary Davison : after whose fall, he went in place of secretary with Sir Henry Killegrew in his embassage into France; and after his death he was sought after by the most noble Lord Mountjoy, with whom he went into Ireland, where he re mained, until, in a battle against the rebels near Charlinford, an unfortunate wound put an end both to his life, and the. great hopes that were conceived of him." Betwixt Mr. Hooker and these his two pupils, there was a sa cred friendship ; a friendship made up of religious principles, which increased daily by a similitude of inclinations to the same recreations and studies; a friendship elemented in youth, and in a university, free from self-ends, which the friendships of age usually are not. 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 improved it to such a degree of amity, as bordered upon heaven ; a friendship so sacred, that when it ended in this world, it began in the next, where it shall have no end. And, though this world cannot give any degree of pleasure equal to such a friendship ; yet obedience to parents, and a desire to know the affairs, and manners, and laws, and learning of other na tions, that they might thereby become the more serviceable unto their own, made them put off their gowns, and leave Mr. Hooker to his college : were he was daily more assiduous in his studies, still enriching his quiet and capacious soul with the precious learn ing ofthe philosophers, casuists, and schoolmen ; and with them the foundation and reason of all laws, both sacred and civil ; and with such other learning as lay most remote from the track of com mon studies. And as he was.diligent in these ; so he seemed rest less in searching the scope and intention of God's Spirit revealed to mankind iu the sacred Scripture : for the understanding of which he seemed to be assisted by the same Spirit with which they were written ; he that regardeth truth in the inward parts, maketh him to understand wisdom secretly. And the good man would often say, " The Scripture was not writ to beget pride and dispu tations, and opposition to government ; but moderation, and cha- VOL. i. c 18 THE LIFE OF rity, and humility, and obedience, and peace, and piety in man kind; of which no good man did ever repent himself upon his death bed." And that this was really his judgment, did appear in his future writings, and in all the actions of his life. Nor was this ex cellent 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 follows. Thus he continued his studies in all quietness for the space of three or more years ; about which time he entered into sacred or ders, and was made both deacon and priest ; and not long after, in obedience to the college statutes, he was to preach either at St Peter's, Oxford, or at St. Paul's Cross, London, and the last fell to his allotment. In order to which sermon, to London he came, and immediately to the Shunammite's house ; which is a house so called, for that be sides the stipend paid the preacher, there is provision made also for his lodging and diet two days before, and one day after his ser mon. This house was then kept by John Churchman, sometime a draper of good note in Watling-street, upon whom, after many years of plenty, poverty had at last come like an armed man, and brought him into a necessitous condition : which, though it be a punishment, is not always an argument of God's disfavour, for he was a virtuous man : I shall not yet give the like testimony of his wife, but leave the reader to judge by what follows. But to this house Mr. Hooker came so wet, so weary, and wheathei-beaten, that he was never known to express more passion, than against a friend that dissuaded him from footing it to London, and for hiring him no easier a horse (supposing the horse trotted when he did riot); and at this time also, such a faintness and fear possessed him* that he would not be persuaded two days' quietness, or any other means could be used to make him able to preach his Sunday's sera- mon ; but a warm bed, and rest, and drink proper for a cold, given to 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 de livered in his sermon, which was, "that in God there were two wills ; an antecedent and a consequent will: his first will, that all mankind should be saved ; but his second will was, that those 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, and had been since by Dr. Jackson, Dr. Hammond, and others of great learning wno MR. RICHARD HOOKER. - 19 believe that a contrary opinion trenches upon the honour and jus tice of our merciful God. How he justified this, I will not under take to declare : but it was not excepted against (as Mr. Hooker declares in an occasional 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 con sequence, as the kindness of Mrs. Churchman's curing him of his late distemper and cold ; for that was so gratefully apprehended by Mr. Hooker, that he thought himself bound in conscience 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 a one as might both prolong his life, and make it more comfortable ; and such a one she could and would provide for him, if he thought fit to marry.'' A nd he not considering, that " the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light ;" but, like a true Nathaniel, who feared no guile, because he meant none ; did give her such power as Eleazar was trusted with, when he was sent to choose a wife for Isaac ; for even so he trusted her to choose for him, promising upon a fair summons to return to London, and ac cept of her choice ; and he did so in that or 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 Soloman compared to a dripping-house ; so that he had no reason to rejoice in the wife of his youth but ra ther to say with the holy prophet, " Woe is me, that I am con strained to have my habitation in the tents of Kedar!'' This choice of Mr. Hooker's (if it were his choice) may be won dered at ; but let us consider that tbe prophet Ezekiel says; " There is a wheel within a wheel ;" a secret sacred wheel of Pro vidence, (especially 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 such reasons) only knows why this blessing was denied to patient Job, and (as some think) to meek Moses, and to our as meek and patient Mr. Hooker. But so it was ; and let the reader cease to wonder, for affliction is a Divine diet ; which though it be un- pleasing to mankind, yet Almighty God hath often, very often im posed it as good, though bitter physic to those children whose souls are dearest to him. And by this means 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 world ; into those corroding cares that attend a married priest, and a coun- c 2 20 THE LIFE OF try parsonage ; which was Drayton-Beauchamp in Buckinghamshire (not far from Aylesbury, and in the diocess of Lincoln) ; to which he was presented by John Cheney, Esq. (then patron of it), the 9th of December 1684, 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 necessities, in po verty, and no doubt in long-suffering; yet troubling no man with his discontents and wants. And in this mean condition he continued about a year; in which time his two pupils, Edwin Sandys and George Cranmer, were re turned from travel, and took a journey to Drayton to see their tu tor ; where they found him with a book in his hand (it was the Odes of Horace), he being then tending his small allotment of sheep in a common field ; which he told his pupils he was forced to do, for that his servant was then gone home to dine, and assist bis wife to do some necessary household business. When his servant returned and released him, his two pupils attended him unto his house, where their best entertainment was quiet company, which was presently denied them ; for Richard was called to rock the cra dle ; and their welcome was so like this, that they stayed but next morning, which was time enough to discover and pity their tutor's condition : and having in that time remembered and paraphrased on many of the innocent recreations of their younger days, and, by other such-like diversions, given him as much present pleasure as their acceptable company aud discourse could afford him, they were forced to leave him to the company of his wife, and seek themselves a quieter lodging. But at their parting from him, Mr. Cranmer said " Good tutor, 1 am sorry your lot is fallen in no better ground, as to your parsonage : and more sorry your wife proves not a more comfortable companion after you have wearied your thoughts in your i-estless 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 to his will, and possess my soul in patience and peace." Made mas- At their return to London, Edwin Sandys acquaints his father Temp *° (then bish°P °f Londol1> and after archbishop of York), with his tu tor's sad condition, and solicits for his removal to some benefice that might give him a more comfortable subsistence ; which his fa ther 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 such a degree of love and reverence from all men that knew him, » He was dead, and the place void in the month of August, anno 1584. J. s MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 21 that he was generally known by the name of Father Alvey. At the Temple reading, next after the death of this Father Alvey, the Arch bishop of York being then at dinner with the judges, the reader and benchers of that society, he met there with a condolement for the death of Father Alvey, a high commendation of his saint-like life, and of his great merit both to God and man ; 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 Archbishop 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 Drayton-Beauchamp to London, and there the mastership of the Temple proposed unto him by the Bishop, as a greater freedom from his country cares, the advantage of a better society, and a more liberal pension than his parsonage did afford him. But these rea sons were not powerful enough to incline him to a willing accept ance of it : his wish was rather to gain a better country living, where he might 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 averse- ness, he was at last persuaded to accept of the Bishop's proposal ; and was by patent for life made master of the Temple the 17th of March, 1585, a he being then in the thirty-fourth year of his age. [But before any mention was made of Mr. Hooker for this place Endeavours two other divines were nominated to succeed Alvey ; whereof Mr. for Tra,,ers .,, , ' ,..,......, . . to be master Walter Travers, a disciplinarian in his judgment and practice, and oftheTem- preacher here in the afternoons, was chief, and recommended by Ple> J-s- Alvey himself on his death-bed, to be master after him : and no marvel, for Alvey's and Travers's principles did somewhat corres pond. And many gentlemen of the house desired him ; which de sire the Lord Treasurer Burghley was privy to, and by their request, and his own inclination towards him, being a good preacher, he moved the Queen to allow of him ; for the disposal of the place was in her. But Archbishop Whitgift knew the man and his hot temper and principles, from the time he was fellow of Trinity col lege, and had observed his steps ever after : he knew how turbu- lently he had carried himself at the college, how he had disowned the English established church and episcopacy, and went to Gene va, and afterwards to Antwerp to be ordained minister, as he was by Villers and Cartwright, and others the heads of a congregation there ; and so came back again more confirmed for the discipline. a This you may find in the Temple records. Will. Ermstead was master of the Temple at the dissolution of the priory, and died 2 Eliz. Richard Alvey, bat. divi nity, pat. 13 Feb. 2 Eliz. Magister sive custos domfa et ecclesia novi Templi ; died 27 Kliz. — Richard Hooker succeeded that year by patent, in terminis, as Alvey had it, and he left it at 33 Eliz. — That year Dr. Belgey succeeded Rich. Hooker. 22 THE LIFE OF And knowing how much the doctrine and converse of the master to be placed here would influence the gentlemen, and their influ ence and authority prevail in all parts of the realm where their ha bitations and estates were, that careful prelate made it his en. Opposed by deavour to stop Travers's coming in ; and had a learned man in his bishoVrCh" viGW' and of PrinciPIes more conformable and agreeable to the ' church, namely, one Dr. Bond, the Queen's chaplain, and well known to her. She well understanding the importance of this place, and knowing by the Archbishop what Travers was, by a letter he timely writ to her Majesty upon the vacancy, gave particular order to the Treasurer to discourse with the Archbishop about it. The Lord Treasurer hereupon, iu a letter, consulted with the said Achbishop, and mentioned Travers to him, as one desired by many of the house. But the Archbishop, in his answer, plainly signified to his Lordship, that he judged him altogether unfit, for the reasons mentioned before ; and that he had recommended to the Queen Dr. Bond, as a very fit person. But, however, she declined him, fear ing his bodily strength to perform the duty ofthe place, as she did Travers for other causes. And by laying both aside, she avoided giving disgust to either of those great men. This Dr. Bond seems to be that Dr. Nicholas Bond that afterwards was president of Magda len-college, Oxon, and was much abused by Martin Mar-prelate. These particulars I have collected from a letter of the Archbi shop to the Queen, and other letters that passed between the Arch bishop and theLord Treasurerabout this affair, while the mastership was vacant. The passages whereof, taken verbatim out of their said letters, may deserve here to be specified for the satisfaction of the readers. And first, in the month of August, upon the death of the former master, the Archbishop wrote this letter unto the Queen: — TheArchbi- " It may please your Majesty to be advertised, that the master- shop to the s]ni of the Xemple is vacant by the death of Mr. Alvey. Thelivine Queen con- r . , . . J & ceming the is not great, yet doth it require a learned, discreet, and wise man, vacancy of jn reSpect of the company there : who, being well directed and the Temple. , * , . , , , ., taught, may do much good elsewhere in the commonwealth, as otherwise also they may do much harm. And because I hear there is suit made to your Highness for one Mr. Travers, I thought it my duty to signify unto your Majesty, that the said Travers hath been, and is one of the chief and principal authors of dissension in this church, a contemner ofthe Book of Prayers, and of other orders by authority established ; an earnest seeker of innovation; and ei ther in no degree ofthe ministry at all, or else ordered beyond the seas ; not according to the form in this church of England used. Whose placing in that room, especially by your Majesty, would MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 23 greatly animate the rest of that faction, and do very much harm in sundry respects. " Your Majesty hath a chaplain of your own, Dr. Bond, a man in my opinion very fit for that office, and willing also, to take pains therein, if it shall please your Highness to bestow it upon him. Which I refer to your own most gracious disposition : beseeching Almighty God long to bless, prosper, and preserve your Majesty to his glory, and all our comforts, " Your Majesty's most faithful Servant and Chaplain *' Jo. Cantuar.'' From Croydon, the day of August, 1584. Next, in a letter of the Archbishop to the Lord Treasurer, dated from Lambeth, Sept. 14, 1584, he hath these words : " I beseech your Lordship to help such a one to the mastership The Arch- of the Temple, as is known to be conformable to the laws and or- ¦>lsl|0P to the Lord ders established ; and a defender, not a depraver, of the present Treasurer. state and government. He that now readeth there is nothing less, as I of mine own knowledge and experience can testify. Dr. Bond is desirous of it, and I know not a fitter man." The Lord Treasurer, in a letter to the Archbishop, dated from Oat- lands (where the Queen now was), Sept. 17, 1584, thus wrote: — " The Queen hath asked me what I thought of Travers to be The Lord master of the Temple. Whereunto I answered, that at the request £'*£* Y"h. of Dr. Alvey in his sickness, and a number of honest gentlemen of bishop. the Temple, I had yielded my allowance of him to the place, so as he would shew himself conformable to the orders of the church. Whereunto I was informed, that he would so be. But her Majesty told me that your Grace did not so allow of him. Which, I said, might be for some things supposed to be written by him (in a book) entituled, De Disciplina Ecclesiastica. Whereupon her Majesty commanded me to write to your Grace, to know your opinion, which I pray your Grace to signify unto her, as God shall move you. Surely it were great pity, that any impediment should be occasion to the contrary ; for he is well learned, very honest, and well allowed, and loved of the generality of that house. Mr. Bond told me, that your Grace liked well of him ; and so do I also, as of one well learn ed and honest; but, as I told him, if he came not to the place with some applause of the company, he shall be weary thereof. And yet I commended him unto her Majesty, if Travers should not have it. " But her Majesty thinks him not fit for that place, because of his infirmities. Thus wishing your Grace assistance of God's Spirit to govern your charge unblameable. " Your Grace's to command, " Will. Burghley." From the Court at Oatlands, the 27th Sept. 1584. 24 THE LIFE OF Part of the Archbishop's letter in answer to this was to this tenor : — The Arch- «< Mr. Travels, whom your Lordship names in your letter, is to no iniSan°sPwerto man better k'<>own> 1 think> than t0 myse]{> l did eleCt h'm fell°W the letter of of Trinity-college, being before rejected by Dr. Beaumont for his Treasurer into]enible stomach : whereof I had also afterwards such expe rience, that I was forced by due punishment so to weary him, till he was fain to travel, and depart from the college to Geneva, otherwise he should have been expelled for want of conformity towards the orders of the house, and for this pertinaticy. Neither was there ever any under our government, in whom I found less submission and humility than in him. Nevertheless, if time and years have now altered that disposition (which I cannot believe, seeing yet no to ken thereof, but rather the contrary), I will be as ready to do him good as any friend he hath. Otherwise I cannot in duty but do my endeavour to keep him from that place, where be may do so much harm, and do little or no good at all. For howsoever some commend him to your Lordship and others, yet I think that the greater and better number of both the Temples have not so good an opinion of him. Sure I am, that divers grave, and of the best affected of them, - have shewed their misliking of him to me ; not only out of respect of his disorderliness in the manner of the communion, and contempt of the prayers, but also of his negligence iu reading. Whose lec tures, by their report, are so barren of matter, that his hearers take no commodity thereby. " The book De Disciplina Ecclesiastica, by common opinion, hath been reputed of his penning, since the first publishing of it. And by divers arguments I am moved to make no doubt thereof. The drift of which book is wholly against the state and government. Wherein also, among other things, he condemneth the taking and paying of first-fruits, tenths, &c. And therefore, unless he will tes tify his conformity by subscription, as all others do which now enter into ecclesiastical livings, and make proof unto me, that he is a minister ordered according to the laws of this church of England, as I verily, believe he is not, because he forsook his place in the col lege upon that account, I can by no means yield my consent to the placing him there or elsewhere, in any function of this church.] And here I shall make a stop ; and, that the reader may the bet ter judge of what follows, give him a character of the times, and temper ofthe people of this nation, when Mr. Hooker had his ad mission into this place : a place which he accepted, rather than deT sired; and yet 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 glo rify God by uninterrupted prayers and praises: for this he always MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 25 thirsted ; and yet this was denied him. For his admission into this place was the very beginning of those oppositions and anxieties, which till then this good man was a stranger to, and of which the reader may guess by what follows. In this character of the times, I shall, by the reader's favour, and for his information, look so far back as to the beginning of thereign 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 persecution that had raged to the ef fusion of so much blood in the reign of Queen Mary, were fresh in the memory of all men ; and these begat fears in the most pious and wisest of this nation, lest the like days should return again to them or their present posterity. The apprehension of which dangers begat an earnest desire of a settlement in the church and state ; be lieving there was no other way 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, begat self-ends ; and those begat animosities, envy, opposition, and unthankfulness, for those bless ings for which they lately thirsted, being then the very utmost of their desires, and even beyond their hopes. This was the temper of the times in the beginning and progress of her reign ; and thus it continued too long : for those very people that had enjoyed the desires of their hearts in a reformation from the church of Rome, became at last so like the grave, as never to be satisfied; but were still thirsting for more and more": neglecting to pay that obedience to government, and perform those vows to God, which they made in their days of adversities and fears : 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 Romanists, the restless nonconfor mists (of which there were many sorts), and the passive, peaceable protestant. The counsels ofthe first considered and resolved on in Rome : the second 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 es tablished laws, both ecclesiastical and civil : and if they were active, it was to prevent 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 prin cipally intended in this digression, is an account of the opinions and activity of the nonconformists; against whose judgment and prac tice Mr. Hooker became at last, but most unwillingly, to be engaged, in a book-war ; a war which he maintained, not as against an ene my, but with the spirit of meekness and reason. presented. 26 THE LIFE OF Nonconfor- In which number of nonconformists, though some might be sin- mists re- cere al](j welLmeaning men, whose indiscreet zeal might be so like charity, as thereby to cover a multitude of errors, yet ot this party there were many that were possessed of a high degree of spiritual wickedness ; I mean with an innate, restless, radical pride and ma lice ; I mean not those lesser sins which are more visible and more properly carnal, and sin against a man's self, as gluttony and drunk enness, and the like, (from which good Lord deliver us !) but sins of a higher nature ; because more unlike to the nature of God, which is love, and mercy, and peace ; and more like the devil (who is not a glutton, nor can be drunk ; and yet is a devil): those wicked nesses of malice and revenge, and opposition, and a complacence in working and beholding confusion (which are more properly his work, who is the enemy and disturber of mankind ; and greater sins, though many will not believe it): men whom a furious zeal and prejudice had blinded and mad« incapable of hearing reason, or adhering to the ways of peace; men whom pride and self-conceit had made to over value their own wisdom, and become pertinacious, and to hold foolish and unmannerly disputes against those men whieh they ought to reve rence, and those laws which they ought to obey ; men that labour ed and joyed to speak evil of government, and then to be the authors of confusion (of confusion as it is confusion) : whom com pany, and conversation, and custom had blinded, and manyinsensi. ble that these were errors ; and at last became so restless, and so hardened in their opinions, that like those which " perished in the gainsaying of Core,'' so these died without repenting these spiritual wickednesses, of which Coppingerand Hacket, and their adherents, are too sad testimonies. And in these times, which tended thus to confusion, there were also many others that pretended to tenderness of conscience, refus ing to submit to ceremonies, or to take an oath before a lawful ma gistrate and yet these very men did, in their secret conventicles, covenant and swear to each other, to be assiduous and faithful in using their best endeavours to set up a church-government that they had not agreed on. To which end there were many select parties 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 very bold, and as indiscreet sermons, the common people became so fanatic, as St. Peter observed there were in his time " some that wrested the Scripture to their own destruction ;" so by these men, and this means many came to believe the bishops to be antichrist, and the only obstructors of God's discipline ; and many of them were at last given over to such desperate delusions, as to find out a text in the Reve- MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 27 Iationof St. John, that " antichrist was to be overcome by thesword," which they were very ready to take into their hands. So that those very men, that began with tender meek petitions, proceeded to print public admonitions, and then to satirical remonstrances ; and at last (having, like David, 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, not long after, both 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 tender ness of conscience ; whom he used as a sacrilegious snare to farther his design, which was 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 so blinded his reason, that his ambitious and greedy hopes had almost flattered him into present possession of Lambeth-house. And to these strange and dangerous undertakings, the nonconfor mists of this nation were much encouraged and heightened by a cor respondence and confederacy with that brotherhood in Scotland ; so that here they became so bold, that one a told the Queen openly in a sermon, she was like an untamed heifer, that would not be ruled by God's people, but obstructed his discipline.'' And in Scotland they were more confident, for there they declared her an atheist, b* and grew to such a height as not to be accountable for any thing spoken against her ; no nor for treason against their own King, if spoken in the pulpit : shewing at jnst such a disobedience even 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 ; arid at another time, when he had appointed a day of feasting, their 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 ofthe church and state : and these vented so daringly, that, besides the loss of iifeand limbs, the church and state were both forced to use such other severities, as will not admit of an excuse, if it had not been to prevent confusion, and the perilous consequences of it ; which, without such prevention, would in a short time have brought unavoidable ruin and misery to this numerous nation. These errors and animosities were so remarkable, that they begat Wonder in an ingenious Italian, who being about this time come newly into this nation, writ scoffingly to a friend in his own coun- * Mr. Dering. b See Bishop. Spotswood's History ofthe Church of Scotland. 28 THE LIFE OF try ; " That the common people of England were wiser than the wisest of his nation ; for here the very women and shopkeepers were able to judge of predestination, and determine what laws were fit to be made concerning church government; then, what were fit to be obeyed or abolished. That they were more able (or at least thought so), to raise and determine perplexed cases of conscience, than the most learned colleges in Italy. That men of the slightest learning, and the most ignorant ofthe common people were mad for a new, or super, or re-reformation of religion ; and that in this they appeared like that man, who would never cease to whet and 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 than were most busy in oppositions and disputations, and con troversies, and finding out the faults of their governors, had usually the least of humility and mortification, or ofthe 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 had so often, and so highly opposed the blessed motions of the blessed Spirit, and the inward light of their own consciences, that they had thereby sinned themselves to a belief of what they would, but were not able to believe: into a belief, which is repugnant even to human na- .ture (for the heathens believe there are many gods); but these have sinned themselves into a belief, that there is no God ; and so finding nothing in themselves, but what is worse than nothing, be gan to wish what they were not able to hope for, " that they should be like the beasts that perish ;" and, in wicked company (which is the atheists's sanctuary), were so bold as to say so : though the worst of mankind, when he is left alone at midnight, may wish, but cannot then think it. Into this wretched, this reprobate condi tion, many had then sinned themselves. And now, when the church was pestered with them, and with all these other irregularities ; when her lands were in danger of alien ation, her power at least neglected, and her peace torn in pieces by several schisms, and such heresies as do usually attend that sin: when the common people seemed ambitious of doing those very things which were 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 complained of persecution, because they wanted power to persecute others: when the giddy multitude raged, and became restless to find out misery for themselves and others; and the rabble would herd them selves together, and endeavour to govern and act in spite of autho rity— In this extremity, fear, and danger of the church and state, when, to suppress the growing evils of both, they needed a man of MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 29 prudence and piety, and of a high and fearles# fortitude ; they were blest in all by John Whitgift, his being made archbishop of Canterbury ; of whom ingenious Sir Henry Wotton (that knew him well) hath left this true character, that he was a man of a reverend and sacred memory ; and of the primitive temper, a man of such a temper, as when the church by lowliness of spirit did flourish in highest examples of virtue. And though I dare not undertake to add to his character, yet I shall neither do right to this discourse, nor to my reader, if I for bear to give him a farther aud short account of the life and manners of this excellent 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 Someac- that was ancient, and noted to be prudent and affable, and gentle w^"{ °[t by nature. He was educated in Cambridge ; much of his learning archbishop was acquired in Pembroke-hall (where Mr. Bradford the martyr °f Cante'- was his tutor) : from thence he was removed to Peter-house ; from thence to be master of Pembroke-hall; and from thence to the mastership of Trinity-college. About which time the Queen made him her chaplain ; and not long after prebendary of Ely, and then dean of Lincoln ; and having for many years past looked upon him with much reverence and favour, gave him a fair testimony of both, by giving him the bishopric of Worcester, and (which was not an usual favour) forgiving him his first-fruits ; then by constituting him vice-president of the principality of Wales. And having for several years 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 made him archbishop of Canterbury ; and, not long after, of her privy council ; and trusted him to ma nage 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 ; 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) " 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 many oppositions in the regulation of church affairs, which were much disordered at his entrance, by reason ofthe age and remissness of Bishop Grindal a (his immedi ate predecessor), the activity of the nonconformists, and their chief a Or rather by reason of his suspension and sequestration, which he lay under (together with the Queen's displeasure) for some years, when the ecclesiastical affairs were managed by certain civilians. J. S. SO THE LIFE OF assistant the Earl of Leicester; and indeed, by too many others of the like sacrilegious principles. With these he was to encounter; aud though he wanted neither courage nor a good cause, yet he foresaw, that, without a great measure of the Queen's favour, it was impossible to stand in the breach that was made into the lands and immunities ofthe church, or to maintain the remaining rights of it. And therefore by justifiable sacred insinuations, such as St. Paul to Agrippa, " Aprippa, 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 greater degree of fame in this world, and of glory in that into which they are now entered. His merits to the Queen, and her favours to him, were such, that she called him her little black husband, and called his servants her servants : and she saw so visible and blessed a 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 : of which she gave many fair testimonies ; and of which one was, that she would never eat flesh in Lent, without obtaining a licence from her little black husband : and would often say, she pitied him because she trusted him, and had eased herself by laying the burthen of all her clergy-cares upon his shoulders, which she was certain 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 testi mony 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 church-lands, by recalling 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; and the good Bishop hav ing by his interest with her Majesty put a stop to the Earl's sacri legious 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 a seasonable return to her Ma jesty (for he found her alone) and spake to her with great humility and reverence, and to this purpose ; — Hisspeech « I beseech your Majesty to hear me with patience, and to be- QVeen. lieve that vour's and the church's safety are dearer to me than my life, but my conscience dearer than both : and therefore o-ive me leave to do ray duty, and tell you, that princes are deputed nursing fathers ofthe church, and owe it a protection ; and therefore God MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 31 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 de testation; or should forbear to tell your Majesty of the sin and danger. And though you and myself are born in an age of frail ties, when the primitive piety and care of the church's lands and immunities are much decayed ; yet, madam, let me beg that you will but first consider, and then you will believe there are such sins as profaneness and sacrilege ; for 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;' 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 executioner to punish these sins ; witnessed, in that he himself made the whip to drive the profaners out of the temple ; overthrew the tables of the money-changers, aud drove them out of it. And consider, that it was St. Paul that said to those Christians of his time that were offended with idolatry, yet committed sacri lege, 'Thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?' supposing, I think, sacrilege to be the greater sin. This may occa sion your Majesty to consider, that there is such a sin as sacrilege; 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 Con fessor, and indeed many others of your predecessors, and many pri vate 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, aud did not; but gave them 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 pre vent your Majesty from being liable to that curse. " And to make you that are trusted with their preservation, the better to understand the danger of it ; I beseech you, forget not, that, besides 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 imme diate 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 ; and this testified openly at the holy altar, by laying your hands on the Bible then lying upon it. And not only Magna Charta, but many modern 32 THE LIFE OF statutes have denounced a curse upon those that break Magna Charta. And now 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 pu nish posterity for the errors of this present age ; let particular men suffer for their particular errors, but let God and his church have their right; and though I pretend not to prophecy, yet I beg pos terity to. take notice of what is already become visible in many fa milies; that church-land added to an ancient inheritance, hath proved like a moth fretting a garment, and secretly consumed both : or like the eagle that stole a coal from the altar, and thereby set her nest on fire, which consumed both her young eagles, and herself that stole it. And though I shall forbear to speak reproach fully of your father ; yet I beg you to take notice, that a part ofthe church's rights, added to the vast treasure left him by his father, hath been conceived to bring an unavoidable consumption upon both, notwithstanding all his diligence to preserve it. " And consider, that after the violation of those laws, to which he had sworn in Magna Charta, God did so far deny him his restrain ing grace, that he fell into greater sins than I am willing to mention. Madam, religion is the foundation and cement of human socie ties : 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 in too many poor vicar ages in this nation. And therefore, as you are by a late act or acts entrusted with a great power to preserve or waste the church's lands ; yet dispose of them for Jesus's sake as the donors intended : let neither falsehood nor flattery beguile you to do otherwise, and put a stop, 1 beseech you, to the approaching ruins of God's church ; as you expect comfort of the last great day ; for kings must be judged. Pardon this affectionate plainness, my most dear sovereign, and let me beg to be still continued in your favour ; and the Lord still continue you in his." The Queen's patient hearing this affectionate speech, her future care to preserve the church's rights, which till then had been neg lected, may appear a fair testimony, that he made her's and the church's good the chiefest of his cares, and that she also thought so. And of this there were such daily testimonies given, as begat betwixt them so mutual a joy and confidence, that they seemed born to believe and do good to each other: she not doubting his piety to be more than all his opposers, which were many, and those powerful too; nor his prudence equal to the chiefest of her coun cil, who were then as remarkable for active wisdom, as those dan- MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 33 gerous times did require, or this nation did ever enjoy. And in this condition he continued twenty years, in whichtime he saw some Sow ings, but many more ebbings of her favour towards all men that op posed him, especially the Earl of Leicester : so that God seemed still to keep him in her favour, that he might preserve the remaining church-lands and immunities from sacrilegious alienations. And this good man deserved all the honour and power with which she 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 ex tremities and dangers of her temporal affairs, which were very many ; he lived to be the chief comfort of her life in her declining age ; to be then most frequently with her and her assistant at her private devotions ; 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 her chief mourner at her sad funeral ; nor let. this be forgotten, that within a few hours after her death, he was the happy proclaimer that King James (her peaceful successor) was heir to the crown. Let me beg of ray reader that he 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 humility ; but this of both. He built a large alms'-house near to his own palace at Croy don in Surrey, and endowed it with maintenance for a master and twenty-eight poor men and women ; which he visited so often, that he knew their names and dispositions ; and was so truly hum ble, 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 lowliness 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 evidences of Christian learn ing that a bishop could leave to posterity." This good Bishop lived to see King James settled in peace, and then fell sick at Lambeth ; of which the King having notice, went to visit him, and found him in his bed in a declining condition, and very weak : VOL. I. D 34 THE LIFE OF and after some short discourse, the King assured him, " he had a great affection for him, and high value for his prudence and virtues, which were so useful for the church, that he would earnestly beg his life of God." To which he replied, Pro ecclesia Dei, pro ec- cksiaDei: which were the last words he ever spake; therein tes tifying, 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 cou rage and patience ; but his motto was, Vincit qui patitur ; i. e. He conquers that endures. And he made it good. Many of his many trials were occasioned by the then powerful Earl of Leicester, who did still (but secretly) raise and cherish a faction of noncon formists to oppose him ; especially one Thomas Cartwright, a man of noted learning ; some time contemporary with the Bishop in Cambridge, and of the same college of which Dr. Whitgift, before he was bishop, was master : in which place there began some emu lations (the particulars I forbear), and at last open and high op positions betwixt them, and in which you may believe Mr. Cart wright was most faulty, if his expulsion out of the university can incline you to it. And in this discontent, long before the Earl's death (which was 1588), Mr. Cartwright appeared a chief cherishcr of the party that were for the Geneva church-government ; and to effect it he ran himself into many dangers both of liberty and life; appearing to justify himself and his party in many remonstrances (especially that called the Admonition to the Parliament). Which last he caused to be printed ; to which the Doctor made an answer, and Cartwright replied upon him : and .then the Doctor having rejoin ed to his reply (however Mr. Cartwright would not be satisfied), he wrote no more, but left the reader to be judge which had rnain- J. S. tained their cause with most charity and reason. [And to poste rity he left such a learned and most useful book, as does abund antly establish the reformation and constitution of our church, and vindicate it against all the cavils ofthe innovators.] After some years, the Doctor being preferred to the see, first of Worcester, and then of Canterbury, Mr. Cartwright, after his share of trouble and imprisonment (for setting up new presbyteries in divers places against the established order), having received from the Archbishop many personal favours, retired himself to a more private living, which was at Warwick, where he became master of an hospital, and lived quietly, and grew rich ; and where the Arch bishop gave him a licence to preach, upon promise not to meddle with controversies, but incline his hearers to piety and moderation : MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 35 and this promise he kept during his life, which ended 1602, the Archbishop surviving him but one year, each ending his days in perfect charity with the other. [It is true, the Archbishop treated Cartwright with such a civility J- s> as gained much upon him, and made him declare unto his patron, the Earl of Leicester, how much the Archbishop's humane carriage had endeared him to him ; and withal shewed his desire that he might have liberty sometimes to have access to him ; professing that he would seek to persuade all with whom he had concern aud con verse, to keep up a union with the church of England. This, I say, is certain ; but it is not so certain, that the Archbishop gave Cartwright a licence to preach. It appears that in the year 1585 he refused to grant it him, however solicited by Leicester's own let ter to do it; and notwithstanding Cartwright's promises, he re quired more space of time to be satisfied of his conformity. For the elucidation whereof, and some farther light into this matter, let both these letters be read and considered ; the former of the Earl to the Archbishop; the latter ofthe Archbishop to the Earl. " My good Lord, " I most heartily thank you for your favourable and courteous The Earl of usage of Mr. Cartwright, who hath so exceeding kindly taken it al- Leicester to so, as, I assure your Grace, he cannot speak enough of it. I trust it sh0p con- shall do a great deal of good. And he protesteth and professtth to ceming Mr. me, to take • no other course, but to the drawing of all men to the unity of the church : and that your Grace hath so dealt with him, as no man shall so command him and dispose of him as you shall : and doth mean to let this opinion publicly be known, even in the pulpit (if your Grace so permit him), what he himself will, and would all others should do, for obedience to the laws established. And if any little scruple be, it is not great, and easy to be reform ed by your Grace ; whom I do most heartily entreat to continue your favour and countenance towards him, with such access some times as your leisure may permit. For I perceive he doth much desire and crave it, &c. Thus, my good Lord, praying to God to bless his church, and to make his servants constant and faithful, I bid your Grace farewell. " Your Grace's very assured friend, " Rob. Leicester." At the Court, this ]4th of July. To which letter the Archbishop returned this answer. " My singular good Lord, " Mr. Cartwright shall be welcome to me at all times, and using The Arch- himself quietly, as becomes him, and as I hope he will, he shall find blshoP t0 .„. ' - . . , ' r, ' the Earl. me willing to do him any good : but to grant unto him as yet my D2 36 THE LIFE OF licence to preach, without longer trial, I cannot; especially seeing he protesteth himself to be of the same mind he was at the writing of his book, for the matter thereof, though not for the manner ; my self also, I thank God, not altered in any point by me set down to the contrary ; and knowing many things [in his book] to be very dangerous. Wherefore, notwithstanding, I am content and ready to be at peace with him, so long as he liveth peaceably ; yet doth my conscience and duty forbid me to give unto him any farther public approbation, until I be better persuaded of his conformity. And so being bold to use my accustomed plainness with your good Lordship, I commit you to the tuition of Almighty God ; this 17th of July, 1585."] And now after this long digression, made for the 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 Dr. Whitgift had ever been with Mr. Cartwright himself, and of which I shall proceed to give this following account. And first this ; that though the pens of Mr. Cartwright and Dr. Whitgift were now at rest, and had been a great while, 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 themselves, but could not : men that were become positive in asserting that a papist cannot be saved : insomuch, that about this time, at the execution ofthe 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 damna tion. And besides this boldness of their becoming gods, so far as to set limits to his mercies ; there was not only Martin Mar-Pre late, but other venomous books daily printed and dispersed : books that were so absurd and scurrilous, that the graver divines disdain ed them an answer. And yet these were grown into high esteem with the common people, till Tom Nash appeared against them all, who was a man of sharp wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry pen, which he employed to discover the absurdities of those blind, malicious, senseless pamphlets, and sermons as senseless as they. Nash's answers being like his books, which bore these titles, " An Almond for aTarrot;'' "A Fig for my Godson;" "Come crack me this Nut," and the like ; so that his merry wit made such a dis covery of their absurdities, as (which is strange) he put a greater stop to these malicious pamphlets, than a much wiser man had been able. ™e con- 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 lec- troversv MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 37 turer there for the evening sermons, which he preached with great between approbation, especially of the younger gentlemen of that society ; Hooker and and for the most part approved of by Mr. Hooker himself, in the midst of their oppositions. For he continued lecturer a part of his time : Mr. Travers being indeed a man of competent learning, of winning behaviour, of a blameless life. But he had taken orders by the presbyters in Antwerp, and if in any thing he was trans ported, it was in an extreme desire to set up that government in this nation : for the promoting of which be had a correspondence with Theodore Beza at Geneva, and others in Scotland ; and was one of the chiefest assistants to Mr. Cartwright in this design. Mr. Travers had also a particular hope to set up this govern ment in the Temple, and to that end used his endeavours to be master of it ; and his being disappointed by Mr. Hooker's admit tance, proved some occasion of his opposition of Mr Hooker's ser mons publicly in the pulpit. Many of which were concerning the doctrine, discipline, and ceremonies ofthischurch:andMr.Hooker again publicly justified his doctrine against the other's exceptions. Insomuch, that as St. Paul withstood St. Peter to his face, so did they. For as one hath pleasantly expressed it, " The forenoon sermons speak Canterbury, and the afternoon's Geneva." In these sermons there was a little of bitterness, but each party brought all the reasons he was able to prove his adversary's opi nions erroneous. And thus it continued for a time, till the oppo sitions became so high, and the consequences so dangerous, espe cially in that place, that the prudent Archbishop put a stop to Mr. Travers's preaching, by a positive prohibition ; [and that chiefly because of his foreign ordination.] Against which Mr. Travers ap pealed, and petitioned her Majestyand her privy council to have it recalled, where he met with many assisting powerful friends ; but they were not able to prevail with or against the Archbishop, whom the Queen had entrusted with all church power ; and he had re ceived so fair a testimony of Mr. Hooker's principles, and of his learning and moderation, that he withstood all solicitations. But the denying this petition of Mr. Travers was unpleasant to divers of his party, aud the reasonableness of it became at last to be so magnified by them and many others, as never to be answered : so that, intending the Bishop's and Mr. Hooker's disgrace, they pro cured it to/be privately printed and scattered abroad ; and then Mr. Hooker was forced to appear as publicly, and print an answer to it, which he did, and dedicated it to the Archbishop ; and it proved so full an answer, to have in it so much of clear reason, and writ with so much meekness and majesty of style, that the Bishop began to wonder at the man, to rejoice that he had appeared in his cause, and disdained not earnestly to beg his friendship ; even a 38 THE LIFE OF 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 writ ten), would prove at least tedious : and therefore I shall impose upon my reader no more than two, which shall immediately 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 assurance of that we believe by the word of God is not to us so certain as what 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 that we touch, handle, or see : but are we so sure and certain of them ? if we be, why doth God so often prove his pro mises to us as he doth, by arguments drawn from our sensible ex perience 1 For we must be surer of the proof than of the things proved ; 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 certainly as the other doth ? But many believing one and the same promise, have not all the same fulness of persuasion. For how falleth it out, that men being assured of any thing by sense can be no surer of it than they are ; when as the strongest in faith that liveth upon the earth has always need to labour, strive, and pray that his assurance concerning heavenly and spiritual things may grow, increase, and be augmented 1" The sermon that gave him the cause of this his justification, makes the case more plain, by declaring," that there is, besides this certain ty of evidence, a certainty of adherence." In which, having most excellently demonstrated what the certainty of adherence is, he makes this comfortable use of it : " Comfortable (he says) as to weak believers, who suppose themselves to be faithless, not to believe, when notwithstanding they have their adherence ; the Holy Spirit hath his private operations, and worketh secretly in them, and effec tually too, though they want the inward testimony of it." Tell this to a man that hath a mind too much dejected by a sad sense of his sin ; to one that by a too severe judging of himself, con cludes that he wants faith, because he wants the comfortable assur ance of it ; and his answer will be, " Do not persuade me, against my knowledge, againstwhat 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 notto God's promises, but are faithless, and without belief: but are they not grieved for their unbelief! They confess they are. Do they not wish it n)i