The life, times and writings of Thomas Fuller, the church historian (1608-1661)

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THE

LIFE, TIMES AND WRITINGS

THOMAS FULLER, D.D.,

THE CHUBCH HISTORIAN (1608-1661).

REV. MORRIS FULLER, M.A.,

Hector of Ry burgh.

AUTHOR OF "THE LORD'S DAY; OR, CHRISTIAN SUNDAY," "OUR ESTABLISHED CHURCH,
" A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS," " THE COURT OF FINAL APPEAL," &C.

VOL. I.

SECOND EDITION.

LONDON:
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, LE BAS & LOWREY,

PATERNOSTER SQUARE.

1886

BX

5 1 rl c

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

CHAPTER. PAGE.

I. INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . I

II. " THE FULLER FAMILY " . . . . • • 5

in. ' FULLER'S FATHER, FAMILY, AND FRIENDS . . 16

iv. FULLER'S EARLY YEARS . . . . . . 28

v. COLLEGE DAYS (QUEENS), 1621-9 .. ..42

vi. COLLEGE, DAYS (SYDNEY-SUSSEX), 1629-1631 .. 68

vii. FULLER'S AUTHORSHIP AND PREACHING (1631) 91

VIII. FAREWELL TO CAMBRIDGE, AND REMOVAL TO

BROAD WINDSOR (1634) .. . . .. Il6

IX. THE CONVOCATION OF 1640, AND THE CANONS 148

x. FULLER'S "JOSEPH'S PARTI-COLOURED COAT"

(1640) . . . . . . . . . . 160

XI. THE LONG PARLIAMENT, AND SECOND CONVOCA
TION OF 1640. DEATH OF BISHOP
DAVENANT (1641).. .. .. .. 185

XII. FULLER AT THE SAVOY. HOLY STATE . . . . 196

xni. FULLER'S SERMONS AT THE SAVOY (1641-3) . . 212
xiv. FULLER'S FLIGHT FROM LONDON — GOES TO

OXFORD (1643) . . . . 233

XV. MILITARY CHAPLAIN, SIR RALPH HOPTON, AND

BASING HOUSE (1643-4) .. .. ..260

XVI. SIEGE OF EXETER, THE EVER FAITHFUL CITY

SEMPER FIDELIS (1644-6) . . . . . . 295

XVII. UNSETTLED AND TROUBLOUS TIMES . . . . 334

XVIII. ROYALIST EXILE, AND MENDICANT DIVINE

(1647-49) .. 368

XIX. " REGICIDE, AND THE JUST MAN'S FUNERAL "

(1649) 399

XX. MINISTER OF WALTHAM HOLY CROSS, OR

ABBEY (1649-50) .. .. .. ..419

XXI. FULLER'S " PISGAH-SIGHT OF PALESTINE "(1650) 447

PBEF ACE.

WHEN the writer of this work was a student at Cambridge,
now many years ago, the Rev. Mr. Russell, Vicar of Caxton,
Cambridgeshire, and author of the " Memorials of Fuller,"
called upon him, as a descendant of the Old Worthy, and pre
sented him with a copy of the said work, which, at that time,
was the only modern biography of his ancestor, Dr. Thomas
Fuller. During his residence at the University, the writer
saw a good deal of Mr. Russell, both in his own rooms and
at Caxton Vicarage, and from these interviews he has carried
away with him vivid recollections of Mr Russell's enthusi
astic admiration for the subject of the "Memorials." It
was there that Mr. Russell was always putting before him
the example of his illustrious ancestor as an ideal churchman
and clergyman, and model of true moderation — the via
media of the Church of England, — at the same time urging
him to expand the " Materials " some day, should an oppor
tunity present itself, and make them the point of departure
for a new biography. The duties of a Master in a Public
School, and subsequently the responsibilities of one of the
largest parishes in England — where much time had to be
devoted to building and working school-chapels, restoring
churches, and rebuilding a rectory house — precluded the
idea of carrying out the proposal of composing a new
biography of the celebrated Church Historian. But the

ii. Preface.

writer never laid aside the intention which had been formed
in his undergraduate days at Cambridge, and through life
he had been collecting his materials. A change of resi
dence during the last five years, bringing him within easy
distance of the treasures of the British Museum, has enabled
him at last to externalize this desire ; nor must he omit to
notice the great assistance he has received from Mr. Bailey's
exhaustive work, to whom he takes this opportunity of
acknowledging his great indebtedness. But if the
" Materials " were too dry for the ordinary reader, the book
just referred to was too minute and tedious. The design
of the present work, then, is to hold a middle position between
these two, and its endeavour is to avoid the Scylla of baldness
on the one hand, and the Charybdis of prolixity on the other.
The object of this " Life, Times and Writings " of Dr.
Fuller is to add one more effort to stir up an interest in the
life and works of this quaint old Worthy. Much as he is
valued by the learned, he is not yet known, as he deserves
to be, by the general public. In " Good old Fuller the
Worthy " we have set before us an inspiring model of a good
English Churchman and Clergyman all-round ; the Parish
Priest, the Divine, the Preacher, and Lecturer ; and a better
ideal of a good sound Anglican Divine, of the good old type,
it would be difficult to find. There is the ring of the true
metal about him. For he was not only a good Parish-Priest,
he was likewise the cultured scholar, the courteous gentle
man, the kind neighbour and companion, the loving husband
and father, and the true patriot both in Church and State-
in short, the type of excellence every clergyman should
endeavour to reach unto. Here, then, is a model for all our
Parish Priests, and there were giants in those days.

Preface. iii.

" But I speak of the number of Anglican divines of this,
period " (said the Archdeacon of Middlesex on the occasion
of the unveiling of a window to his memory at St. Clement's,
Eastcheap, on New Year's Day, 1878) "whose works of pen,
or of life, or of both (for good men we are told ' lived their
sermons ' in those days) have come down to us. They
differed, of course, in various respects, representing, as they
did, the various lines of thought which existed then as now
in the English Church." ("Address," p. 13.)

The character of Fuller is a remarkable illustration of
this. As the quaint epitaph on his monument states, he
spent his life in making others immortal, and thereby attained
immortality himself— a sentence which is true of him in a
double sense, for though the reference is there first to his
great work, the " Worthies of England," it also holds good
to the work he performed as a clergyman, and especially to
that part of his work which he performed in the Savoy, and
among the predecessors of the congregation who still
assemble where he for the last time preached the Gospel of
Peace.*

Besides which, the subject of these memoirs was a model
of true moderation, holding precise dogmatic truth; a
true Catholic, yet withal Protestant, as against the intruded
mission of Rome on the one hand, and the fanaticism of the
Sectaries on the other, keeping to the old paths of Scripture
and Primitive Antiquity. But what we mean by Moderation.
we must refer the reader to his Essay on Moderation, which
is well worth reading at the present day, and in this age of
extremes. He defines Moderation in a few admirable

* " Memorials of the Savoy," p. 181.

iv. Preface.

sentences : " It is not a halting between two opinions,
neither is it a lukewarmness in those things wherein God's
glory is concerned; but it is a mixture of discretion and
charity in one's judgment. ' The lukewarm man,' he con
tinues, 'eyes only his own ends and particular profit: the
moderate man aims at the good of others and the unity of
the Church.' "

Lastly, the object of this Biography is to inspire hope
respecting the Church of the future. We belong to the
same historical Church as Fuller did, and let us compare
the present position of the National Church with what it
was under the Commonwealth. It is true that the relations
of Church and State don't even yet work smoothly ; that there
is much friction and tension ; and there are still great search-
ings of heart. We have, unhappily, drifted into an " Eccle
siastical Dead-lock;" but, at all events, our authorities in
Church and State are trying to feel their way out of the
difficulty, and doing their best to remedy the errors of the
past. The appointment of a Commission for enquiring into
the working of the Ecclesiastical Courts is a step in the right
direction, in endeavouring to repair the luckless and hapless
legislation of 1832-3. And if we compare the state of public
feeling ; the hold the Church has generally upon the affections
of the people ; the beauty and frequency and earnestness of
the Church's services, there is much cause for gratitude.
Look on this picture, when under the Commonwealth
(according to the Diarists of the period) there was not a
single Church service to be found in all London on Christmas
Day, and on this (say the last Christmas Day under Queen
Victoria), the efficiency of the Church in every parish in the
kingdom, the beauty, heartiness and simple grandeur of

Preface. v

the Church's functions ; her restored Basilicas all over the
country ; the piety and devotion of her members, and the
crowds of Communicants. Things may in some respects be
bad, but they might be, as they have been, worse. One
single clergyman has indeed been incarcerated, owing to the
temporary confusion of the Regale and Pontificale, for the
last twelvemonths, but in those days, the Parochial Clergy,
almost to a man, were sequestrated all over the country.
Had it not been for the City Lecturers, the Church's voice
would not have been heard even in London. The Church
had almost collapsed . In fact, Dr. Fuller wrote these words
at the beginning of his "Church History" (1655) in his
Epistle to the Reader : " An Ingenious Gentleman, moneths
since, in jest-earnest, advised me to make Hast with my
' History of the Church of England,' for fear (said he) lest
the Church of England be ended before the History thereof."
Yet the Church rose like a Phoenix from her ashes, and
the learned Doctor could add subsequently, " And blessed
be God, the Church of England is still (and long may it be)
in being, though disturbed, distempered, distracted. God
help her, and heal her most sad condition."

Matters have much improved since those days. There
have been the two great revivals in the Church "during the
present century — the one at Cambridge, and the other at
Oxford — subjective and objective, making a complete and
germane totality of re-formation. If the Church is still
' disturbed, distempered, and distracted,' and has trials to
undergo from divided councils, opposing factions, false
friends, and cruel adversaries, we must yet hope in God's
good time all will come right, and eventuate in the salvation
of souls and glory of God. Only let us be faithful and patient.

vi. Preface.

To conclude, in Fuller's own words: "Many things in
England are out of joint for the present, and a strange con
fusion there is in Church and State : but let this comfort us,
we trust it is confusion in tendency to order ; and, therefore,
let us for a time more patiently comport therewith."*

* The following extract from Fuller's " Occasional Meditations "
is a good illustration of Longfellow's " Excelsior " :— It is headed
Upwards! Upwards! "How large houses do they build in
London on little ground, revenging themselves on the narrowness
of their room with stores of storeys. Excellent arithmetic
From the root of one floor to multiply so many chambers. And
though painful the climbing up, pleasant the staying there, the
higher the healthfuller, with clearer light and sweeter air. May
I mount my soul the higher in heavenly meditations, relying on
Divine Providence. Higher ! my soul : higher ! In bodily
buildings, considering the garrets are most empty, but my mind,
the higher mounted, will be the better furnished. Let perse
verance to death be my uppermost chamber, the roof of which,
grace, is the pavement of glory."

THE LIFE, TIMES AND WRITINGS

OF

THOMAS FULLER, D.D.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION.

" Fuller of faith than of fear,
Fuller of resolution than pains,
Fuller of honour than of days."
Inscription on monument in Westminster Abbey.

|UAINT Old Fuller," « Old Tom Fuller," "The
great Tom Fuller," « Good Old Fuller, the Wor
thy," such are some of the kindly epithets which
have been lavished upon this wittiest of Caroline
divines, this raciest of pre-Restoration writers. Witty he
was rather than quaint, for " wit" was, according to Cole
ridge, " the stuff and substance of Fuller's intellect ; " and
" old" did not refer to length of days, but may be regarded
as a familiar form of endearment, as, for example, the
" Venerable Bede." He is the beau ideal of a Church-and-
State man, " that stout Church-and-King man Tom Fuller,"
as Coleridge calls him. Admirers he has had in abundance,
and among them some of the greatest names in the annals
of literature. The seventeenth century saw the first account
of his life, "the life of that reverend divine and learned his
torian, Dr. Thomas Fuller ; " in the eighteenth was published

2 The Life of Fuller.

the life of Fuller in the Biographia Britannica ; and the
present century has witnessed the publication of the
•" Memorials of Dr. Fuller's Life and Works," by my friend
the Rev. Arthur Russell, Vicar of Caxton, Cambridgeshire,
whose presentation copy now lie^before me ; some lives in
biographical dictionaries, and the principal work on the
subject by J. E. Bailey, "The Life of Thomas Fuller,
D.D." But his critics have been both numerous and
enthusiastic. Charles Lamb made an appreciative selec
tion from the works of the genial old prebendary, who was at
that time scarcely known except to antiquarians. From some
similarity of genius he literally revelled in the " seria " and
" joca," in the "golden works" of one, whom he called his
" dear, fine, silly old angel." Coleridge speaks of him in no
measured terms : " Next to Shakespeare, I am not certain
whether Thomas Fuller, beyond all others, does not excite
in me the sense and emotion of the marvellous . . . Fuller
was incomparably the most sensible, the least prejudiced
great man of an age that boasted a galaxy of great men."
" Shakespeare ! Milton ! Fuller ! Defoe ! Hogarth ! As to
the remaining host of our great men, other countries have
produced something like them ; but these are unique.
England may challenge the world to show a correspondent
name to either of the five. I do not say that, with the
exception of the. first, names of equal glory may not be pro
duced in a different kind. But these are genera, containing
each only one individual." Fuller was the " prime favourite
author " of the poet Southey, whose writings contain many
notices of his works. Professor Rogers, in his essay, which
he first published in the Edinburgh Review, January, 1842,
expresses his conviction that posterity had dealt hardly by

Introduction. 3

Fuller's memory, and that " there are hundreds who have
been better remembered, with far less claims to that honour."
" Thus," he remarks, "it is singular that even Mr. Hallam,
in his recent ' History of European Literature,' should not
have bestowed upon him any special notice, but dismisses
him with only a slight allusion in a note upon another sub
ject (vol. iii. p. 104). Yet Fuller was not only one of the
most voluminous — an equivocal indication of merit it
must be allowed —but one of the most original writers in
the language. Like Taylor and Barrow and Sir Thomas
Browne, he wrote with a vigour and originality, with a
fertility of thought and imagery, and a general felicity of
style, which, considering the quantity of his compositions,
and the haste with which he produced them, impress us
with wonder at his untiring activity and preternatural
fecundity." And again, " In a moral and religious point cf
view, the character of Fuller is entitled to our admiration,
and is altogether one of the most attractive and interesting
which that age exhibits to us."

A writer in the Retrospective Review^xys of him, " His life
was meritoriously passed, and exemplary throughout ; his
opinions were independently adopted and unshrinkingly
maintained. In the darkest and gloomiest periods of our
national history he had the sense and the wisdom to pursue the
right way, and to persevere in an eventenour of moderation,
as remote from interested lukewarmness as it was from
mean-spirited fear. Unwilling to go all lengths with either
party, he was of consequence vilified by both ; willing to
unite the maintainers of opposite and conflicting sentiments,
he only united them against himself. Secure in the strength
of his intellectual riches, the storms and hurricanes which

4 The Lije of Fuller.

uprooted the fabric of the Constitution had only the effect
of confining him more to his own resources, and of inciting
him to the production of more numerous treatises and com
pilations, for which he received from his contemporaries
respect and reputation, and for which posterity will render
him its tribute of unfailing gratitude."

The Fuller Family.

CHAPTER II.

" THE FULLER FAMILY."

" Ager Fullonum — Fullers Field."

Pisgah-sight) iii. 310.

]HE very name of Fuller is suggestive of a pun, and
we find that the changes of many a pun were
rung upon it, both by the subject of our biogra
phy himself and his compeers both friend and
foe alike. According to a Roman proverb, the name of
" Old Fuller," as he was facetiously called, is both nomen
and omen.

" Though Shakespeare asks ' What's in a name ? '
(As if cognomens were much the same),
There's really a very great scope in it."

HOOD.

A fuller is one employed in woollen manufactures to mill
or scour clothes, to full them, i.e., to render them compact,
thick, and durable, For this purpose Fuller's earth is re
quired, and good cloth can hardly be made without it. Dr.
Fuller having once asked his companions to write his
epitaph, one of them suggested, " Here lies Fuller's earth."

As the industrious author of so many worthy, solid, and \
sterling works, he certainly answers to his name. Thus
Nuttal, in his introduction to the " Worthies of England,"
comparing his writings with others, says, "They are not only
Fuller in useful matter and varied interest, but (as a punster
in his own day would have said) fuller in spirit,/** //<sr in wit

6 The Life of Fuller.

in fact, Fuller throughout." Deriving them from the origin
of his name, Fuller made various puns —

" My soul is stained with a dusky colour,
Let thy Son be the sope, and I'll be the Fuller,"

is a prayer taken from his " Epigrams." Again, in his
"Appeal of Injured Innocence," he prays, "As for other
stains and spots upon my soul, I hope that He (be it spoken
without the least verbal reflection) who is the Fuller's sope
(Malachi iii. 2) will scour them forth with His merit that I
may appear clean by God's mercy."

Again, in his witty work entitled "A Pisgah-sight of
Palestine," he makes a jocular use of his surname, and in
the map of Jerusalem which accompanies it, and which is
evidently the author's handiwork, instead of writing " Fuller
fecit," he has put in the left hand corner " Ager Fullonum "
— " Fullers' Field," which clearly indicates the source of the
pun, or, at all events, that he had secured an engraver who
entered into the spirit of it.

A story is extant to the effect that on one occasion Dr.
Fuller asked a Mr. Sparrowhawk, in whose company he
happened to find himself, " what was the difference between
an owl and a sparrowhawk ? " from whom he received the
unexpected reply, " An owl is fuller in the head, fuller in
face, and Fuller all over." Dr. Peter Heylin, who was Dr.
Fuller's antagonist all through life, and with whom he was
perpetually breaking a lance, a disciple of Laud, and a
leader of the advanced Church party, tells a story of our
Fuller in his " Examen Historicum." " I have heard a
story of a lady too, to whose table one Mr. Fuller was a
welcome, though a frequent guest ; and being asked once
by her whether he would please to eat the wing of a wood-

The Fuller Family. 7

cock, he would needs put her to the question how her lady
ship knew it was a vfovfaock and not a wood/kvz. And this
he pressed with such a troublesome importunity that at last
the lady answered, with some show of displeasure, that the
woodcock was /«//<?r-headed, /W/kr-breasted, /«//*r-thighed,
and in a word every way fuller. Whether this tale be true
or false I am not able to say, but being generally believed,
I have set it down here."

But this constant punning on his name did not at all dis
concert the bearer of it. " I had rather," said this genial-
hearted divine, "my name should make many causelessly
merry, than any justly sad, and seeing it lieth equally open
and obvious to praise or dispraise, I shall as little be elated
when flattered "Fuller of wit and learning," as dejected
when flouted " Fuller of folly and ignorance."

Fuller's name appears to have been the occasion of some
mirth in connection with the Keeping some Act at Oxford
University about the year 1656, and his constant opponent
Heylin alludes to the fact of his having been ridiculed
within a year or two afterwards ; to which Fuller replied,
" I heard nothing thereof at Oxford, being then sixty miles
distanced thence. Sure I am 1 did not there male audire
deservedly, and if undeservedly, malafama beneparta ddcctat.
Secondly, I have heard since that one in the Act was bold
to play on my own name, and Chtirch History. But for the
seventeen years I lived at Cambridge, I never heard any
Prevaricator mention his senior by name ; we count such
particularising beneath a University. Thirdly, I hope it
will not be accounted pride but prudence, in me, to believe
myself above such trifles, who have written a book to
Eternity. Fourthly, I regret not to be anvil for any inge-

8 The Life of Fuller.

nious hammer to make pleasant music on ; but it seems my
traducer was not so happy. Lastly, I remember a speech
of Sir Walter Raleigh. "If any," saith he, " speaketh
against me to my face, my tongue shall give him an answer ;
but my back-side is good enough to return to him who
abuseth me behind my back." *

Even after his death Fuller's name continued to be played
upon. Thus, underneath the portrait which forms a frontis
piece to his life by an anonymous author, but friend of the
subject of his biography, are these lines —

" Bodie and mind do answer well his name,
Fuller, comparative to 's bliss and fame."

"Bliss covets to \>s fuller and complete" is also found in
Heath's elegy upon Dr. Fuller.

And in the chapel of St. Paul, in Westminster Abbey, is
a monument to Sir John and Lady Fullerton, with an
inscription stating that the former died "fuller of faith than
of fear, fuller of resolution than of pains, fuller of honour
than of days."

All through life Heylin continued to ridicule the name of
his great antagonist, who, however, replied in these words,
" All his jeering on my name shall not make me go to the
herald's office to endeavour the altering thereof. I fetched
it from my great, great grandfather, and hope I shall leave
it to my great, great grandchild : a name which no doubt
was originally taken from that useful trade, without which
mankind can neither be warm nor cleanly. The like is fre-

* " Heylin's Examen : Appeal," pt. i. p. 321.

The Fuller Family. 9

quent in many respectful families in England, as the anti
quary hath observed —

" From whence came Smith, albe he knight or squire,
But from the smith that forge th at the fire."

Yet considering the narrowness of my name, it is inferior to
few, having produced the best of English pilots, Thomas
Fuller, who steered Captain Cavendish round the world;
the best of English critics, Nicholas Fuller, so famous in
foreign parts for his " Miscellanies ;" and none of the worst
of English benefactors, John Fuller."

We will say a few words about each of these worthy
bearers of the name of Fuller, of whom our hero was so
justly proud.

About Thomas Fuller, the pilot, in the dedication of the
closing section of his work on " Church History," Fuller
thus writes : " I find that my namesake, Thomas Fuller,
was pilot in a ship called the Desire, wherein Captain
Cavendish surrounded (sailed round) the world." In his
"Worthies" of Suffolk, Fuller alludes to this Cavendish
having taken to the sea, and made the third circumnaviga
tion of the globe in 1580. " Mr. Thomas Fuller," he adds,
" of Ipswich, acted as pilot, and made charts of the voyage,
which proved of much service to those early mariners." *

Nicholas Fuller, the theologian, was a man after Fuller's
own heart, and he has a place in the " Worthies " and
" Church History " of his namesake. Born about 1557, he
afterwards settled at Allington, near Amesbury, Wilts, where
he had a benefice rather than a living, so small the revenues

* " Appeal of Injured Innocence," ii. 533.

io The Life of Fuller.

thereof. But a contented mind extendeth the smallest
parish into a diocese, and improveth the least benefice into
a bishopric. Here a great candle was put under a bushel
(or peck rather), so private his place and employment.
Here he applied his studies in the tongues, and was happy
in pitching on (not difficult trifles but) useful difficulties
tending to the understanding of Scripture. He became an
excellent linguist, and his books found good regard beyond
the seas, where they were reprinted. Drusius, the Belgian
critic, grown old, angry and jealous that he should be out-
shined in his own sphere, foully cast some drops of ink upon
him which the other as fairly wiped off again." This alludes
to his "Miscellanies." Good Bishop Andrews came to him as
the Queen of Sheba to Solomon, to pose him with hard
questions, " bringing with him a heap of knots for the other
to untie, and departed from him with good satisfaction."
Anthony Wood says of him (who has been sometimes con
founded with our Fuller) that " he surpassed all the critics
of his time ; " and Fuller himself says, " he was the prince
of all our English critics ... by discovering how much
Hebrew there is in the New Testament Greek, he cleareth
many real difficulties from his verbal observations."*

There is also another member of the Fuller family who
bears the same name as the linguist-critic ; this is Nicholas
Fuller, a bencher of Gray's Inn, and of Chamberhouse,
Berks, who also finds a place in the " Church History."
Fuller thus speaks of the character and attainments of his
kinsman. " Be it reported to the Jesses of Gray's Inn (I
mean such benchers as pass among them for old men, and

* " Appeal " ii. 532.

The Fuller Family. i r

can distinctly remember him) whether he hath not left a
precious and perfumed memory behind him of one pious to
God, temperate in himself, able in his profession, moderate
in his fees, careful for his client, faithful to his friend,
hospitable to his neighbour, pitiful to the poor, and bountiful
to Emmanuel College in Cambridge." He died in 1619,
and his son-in-law, Sir John Offley, Knt., of Madely Manor,
was executor. " He left behind him the reputation of an
honest man, and a plentiful estate to his family." This
estate, which was in Berkshire, consisted of large landed
property, which passed to his son, Sir Nicholas Fuller, Knt.,
who married Maria, daughter of George Douse, of Mere
Court, Hampshire. This is the Douse Fuller, of Hamp
shire, Esquire, to whom Fuller dedicates one of the early
editions of his " Church History," whom he claims to
be a kinsman of, although he cannot say certainly, he "is
near of kin unto us," as Naomi did to Boaz. (Ruth ii. 20.)

Of " John Fuller," the third of the illustrious Fullers men
tioned in the "Appeal of Injured Innocence," we have the
following particulars ; — " One of the Judges in the Sheriff's
Court in London, who built and endowed an almshouse (two
according to his will) for twelve poor men at Stoken-heath,
and another at Shoreditch for as many poor women.
Besides, he gave his lands and tenements, of great yearly
valuation, in the parishes of St. Benet and Peter (Paul's
Wharf), London, to feoffees in trust to release prisoners in
the Hole of both Compters, whose debts exceeded not
twenty shillings eight pence." His lands in the parish of St.
Giles were left to Francis Fuller, Gent.

Having thus referred to three illustrious members of his
family, Thomas Fuller, who became more distinguished and

12 The Life of Fuller.

better known than all, then enumerates with some degree of
pride others of the same name who were then living (1659),
and who were either dignitaries of the Church, or graduates
in Divinity and Arts " of no contemptible condition," and
concludes thus : " Pardon, reader, this digression done se
defendendo against one (Heylin) to whom my name is too
much undervalued by ironical over- valuing thereof." Against
Heylin's ironical recapitulation of these four gradations of
Fuller's : bad, worse, worst, worst of all, which our author
wittily translates into "good, bad, better, best of all." And
having summed up the characteristics of three first, he thus
modestly answers for himself. "For the fourth and last, I
will make the animadverter the self-same answer which the
servants of Hezekiah returned to Rabshakeh, " But they held
their peace, and answered him not a word."

There have been various readings of the surname of this
family. It is written Fuller, le Fuller, Fuler, Ffooler, Fulwer, Fill-
war, and the arms of the family are argent and gules. This coat
(still used by the Fullers of Sussex) is ascribed by our Fuller
to Douse Fuller ; it was also borne by Dr. William Fuller,
Bishop, first of Limerick, then of Lincoln. (2) A second
variation was barry of six argent and gules, a canton of the
last. Other forms were (3) three barulets and a canton
gule ; and (4) barry of six argent and gules without the
canton. These (i)are also the arms of Dr. Thomas Fuller, of
Sussex, and M.D. of Queens' College (1672), which are still
used by the writer's family, the Sussex branch.

The original spot — " the hole of the pit from whence they
were digged" — whence the family are found, is in the south
eastern counties. Perhaps Suffolk may claim to be the
home of the original stock, where they obtained some

The Fuller Family. 1 3

importance. This was the seat of the great woollen manu
factures, of which the county town (Ipswich) was the
headquarters, and with this trade fullers (whence came the
name) were everywhere connected. The name is still to be
found in several parts of the county, as if locally correlated
with that manufacture, which has made the county famous.
There are also several families of Fuller to be met with in
Essex. Some of these claim to be descendants or connec
tions of Robert Fuller, last Abbot of Waltham Abbey, where
our Fuller was curate just one hundred years after. The abbot
was also Prior Commendatory of St. Bartholomew, West
Smithfield. With regard to this abbey, Fuller tells us that
though the Abbot could not prevent its dissolution in the
time of Henry VIII., he preserved its antiquities from
oblivion in the " Ledger-book " which he himself collected.
This ecclesiastic died in 1540. In the extracts given from
the churchwardens' accounts by Fuller in his history of
Waltham Abbey, is entered a sum of ;£io, as received from
the executors of this "Sir Robert Fuller," according to his
will.

Although the clerical element in the Fuller family was
very strong in our Fuller's time, yet we find among the
section of the family settled in Cambridgeshire, about a
century later, the name of the celebrated Baptist Divine,
Andrew Fuller, with whom our author has been frequently
confounded. He, too, was a learned biblical critic, and still
holds, we believe, a revered position among the modern,
more moderate, and least Calvinistic section, of the Baptist
persuasion.

Other brandies of the family are to be found in Berks,
Surrey, Kent, and Sussex. To this last branch belongs Dr.

14 The Life of Fuller.

Thomas Fuller, a physician of some eminence, and the
author of several learned medical treatises. Strange to say,
this worthy has also been sometimes mistaken for our hero.
He was born at Uckfield, in Sussex, and entered the family
college of Queens' College, Cambridge, in 1672, taking his
M.D. in 1 68 1. He wrote also some moral works, and, like
his kinsman, made collections of proverbs, wise saws,
maxims, and aphorisms. His arms are the same as the other
members of the Fuller family, argent, three bars and a canton
gule : the crest being a lion's head out of a ducal coronet,
and on the coat is an escutcheon of pretence, showing his
wife was an heiress or co-heiress. He was honorably dis
tinguished for his kindness to the poor, and died 1734,
having written a tetrastic epitaph for himself.

Some of these different sections also settled in London,
and became merchants, and it was doubtless in the
metropolis that our hero's father, " Thomas Fuller the elder,"
first saw the light. He is principally celebrated as being
the father of the illustrious Church Historian, and was
entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, 1583, taking his
B.A. degree the same year as the renowned Cabalistic
divine and orientalist, William Alabaster, of Trinity, 1587.
He was present at the celebrated disputation between
Dillingham, a controversial divine of the period, and
Alabaster, in a Greek act, " a disputation so famous that it
served as an era or epoch for the scholars in that age to
date their seniority." * He becarre Fellow of his College,
1590, having been a pupil of the erudite and learned Dr.
Whitaker, whose portrait in " The Holy State " of " the

* Holy State," 47.

The Fuller Family. 1 5

controversial Divine " is drawn out of admiration by Dr.
Fuller himself. Fuller's father then became a parish priest,
and was presented by the second Lord Burghley, and first
Earl of. Exeter, tothe rectory of St. Peter's, Aldwinckle, near
Oundle, Northamptonshire, in 1602. In his dedication of
" Pisgah-sight of Palestine " to Lord Burghley, our author
wittily says, " Now the first light which I saw in this world was
in a benefice conferred on my father by your most honorable
great father, and therefore I stand obliged in all thankful
ness to your family. Yea, this my right hand, which grasped
the first free aire in a Manor to which your Lordship is Heir-
Apparent, hath since often been catching at a pen to write
something in expression of my thankfulness, and now at last
dedicates this book to your infant honour. Thus as my
obligation bears date from my birth, my thankfulness makes
speed to tender itself to jour cradle."

In alluding to his clerical parentage, and in reply to the
then attacks of the Church of Rome against the children of
clerics, Fuller avers in one of his works that such have been
as successful as the children of men of other professions ;
they may have been more observed, but not more unfortunate.

The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER III.
FULLER'S FATHER, FAMILY, AND FRIENDS.

" He was born at All-Winckle, . . a place now equalled to,
and vying honour with, any seed-plot (in that county) of virtue,
learning, and religion ; and of which hereafter to its glory it shall
be said ' that this man was born there.' "-Anonymous Life. p. 2.
|HE subject of this biography— the celebrated
Church-Historian, the witty writer and laborious
Antiquary, was born at St. Peter's Vicarage,
Aldwinckle, between Thrapston and Oundle,
in 1608, and baptised June i9th of the same year,
being the elder of the two sons of Dr. FULLER, Rector
of St. Peter, Prebendary of Sarum, and formerly Fellow of
Trinity College, Cambridge. He was proud of his native
county, which was Northamptonshire, and which he con
siders to be " as fruitful and populous as any in England."
Lord Palmerston used to say a man should be enthusiastic,
not only about his native country, but his county, and even
town or village ; Civis Romanus sum should be his motto.
Fuller would have answered well to this description. He
gloried in his native county— the county town, and his own
birthplace. " God in His providence fixed my nativity in a
remarkable place. I was born in Aldwinckle, in Northamp
tonshire, where my father was the painful preacher of St.
Peter's ;" and again, " If that county esteem me no disgrace
to it, I esteem it an honour to me. " *

* " Mixt Contemplations," 43.

Gutter's Jfatner and friends. 1 7

Aldwinckle, or the Aldwinckles, for there are two of them,
is situate in the north-eastern part of the county, and in the
valley of the river Nene. It is surrounded by rich pastures
and well-wooded fields, the fields in this locality being un
usually large. The village of Aldwinckle stands on a sloping
ground, near the old forest of Rockingham ; and in the com
fortably thatched vicarage of All Saints, Dryden, the poet,
was born, and spent the early part of his life, twenty-three
years after the birth of the subject of this memoir. The
poet was in all probability baptised by the rector in the
grey old turreted church of Aldwinckle All Saints, although
there is no record of the same, the parish registers of that
period being no longer extant. The other church of Ald
winckle, which is more intimately connected with the early
days of the subject of this biography, St. Peter's, carries with
it a more venerable air, and is pleasantly situated not far
from the road, and is surrounded with trees. It boasts of
some architectural beauty, and is chiefly remarkable for its
spire, which gracefully rises to the height of ninety-five feet,
the tower and spire being harmoniously blended.

Northamptonshire is great in spires, and the inhabitants
have a saying that the county is famed for its " squires and
spires, its springs and spinsters." Dr. Fuller thus speaks '
of it in his " Worthies : " " It is as fruitful and populous as
any in England, insomuch that sixteen several towns with
their churches have at one view been discovered therein by
my eyes, which I confess none of the best ; and God grant
that those who are sharper-sighted may hereafter never see
fewer." He adds in a note, " Other men have discovered
two and thirty." This gives point to a remark in Coleridge's
"Friend," that an "instinctive taste teaches men to build

B

1 8 The Life of Fuller.

their churches in flat countries with spire steeples, which,
as they cannot be referred to any other object, point up
with silent finger to the sky and stars." There are several
fine spires in the county of Northampton — Oundle, Welling-
borough, Thrapston, Kettering, Kingsthorpe, Higham
Ferrers, Denford, and the Aldwinckles, all which have been
much admired for their elegance and beauty. It is supposed
there were even more in Dr. Fuller's time. It has been
well remarked that Quakers must have learnt to call churches
" steeple-houses" from this county.

The interior of St. Peter's, Aldwinckle, is even more in
teresting than the exterior. It has a nave and two side
aisles, with a spacious chancel, lighted with long decorated
windows, and a very large east window of five compartments.
There are some stained-glass windows, and around the bor
der of one of them is a dog and hare alternately. The dog
seems to suggest that this window was the gift of one of the
Lords Lovell. In heraldry a white dog is called a " lovell;"
and it was by this very cognizance that in the celebrated
satirical verses upon Richard III. reference was made to
one of the lords of this manor, Francis Viscount Lovell.

These well-known verses are thus given by Fuller :

" The Rat and the Cat, and Lovell the dog^
Do govern all England under the Hog" *

i.e. Ratcliffe and Catesby under King Richard u who gave a
boar for his crest."

Under an altar tomb on the south-east side is buried
Margaret Davenant, some time wife of John Davenant, Esq.,

"Worthies" (Northampton), p. 287.

Fuller's Father and Friends. 1 9

Citizen of London. She departed this life March 3oth,
1613.
Upon the tomb is the following epitaph : —

" Many and happy years I lived a wife,
Fruitful in children, more in godly life.
And many years in widowhood I past,
Until to heaven I wedded was at last.
In wedlock, children, widowhood ever blest,
But most in death, for now with God I rest."

This Margaret was daughter and co-heir of John Clarke,
of Farnham, Surrey : her husband was John Davenant,
descended of the ancient family of that name settled at
Sible Hedingham, Essex, as early as the reign of Henry III.,
and was the second son of William Davenant, and Joan,
his wife. He was a merchant-tailor, lived in Watling-street,
London, and accumulated a vast estate. By his wife Mar
garet he had two daughters, Judith, wife of Thomas Fuller
the father of the celebrated author, and Margaret, wife of
Dr. Townson, Bishop of Salisbury. He had also by the same
Margaret four sons. The eldest, Edward, married Anne,
daughter of John Symmes, of London, and by her had two
sons, Edward Davenant subsequently D.D., and secondly
Dr. John Davenant, successor to his brother-in-law, Dr.
Townson, in the see of Salisbury.

Dr. Thomas Fuller, the subject of this biography, " first
saw the light," as he himself says, in the old glebe house at
the upper end of the village. But the rectory was pulled
down some eighty years ago, by the first Powys, owner of
the property. And yet it seems to have been a building of
considerable interest, and if not so famous as Shakespeare's
house at Stratford-on-Avon, in degree, yet the same kind of
interest attached to it, as is the case with the birthplaces of

B 2

20 The Life of Fuller.

remarkable men. There are none living who remember it,
but there is still the traditional history of it current ; that it
stood on the glebe close to the village street, and con
tiguous to a well, which now exists, and out of whose waters
he must often have drunk, seems clearly attested. The
well appears to have been close to the back door, and no
doubt suggested his remark, that, " the mischief of many
houses was where the servants must bring the well on their
shoulders." But irrespective of these considerations, the
old Parsonage seems to have been a well-built house, in
Fuller's language a " substantive able to take care of itself."
It possessed a remarkable staircase, broad and massive, with
great posts and timbers, " almost like the pillars in the
church," and no doubt from this peculiarity may be dated
back to the time of Queen Elizabeth. People " used fre
quently to come on purpose to see the old house, it was so
curious. "

From the description of this Parsonage, there can be no
doubt that Fuller had his eye upon it, when he wrote his
essay " On Building," which also illustrates his fondness for
his home. It was built, as he there says, " in the wholesome
air," commended fora house, and wood and water were also
"two staple commodities." "The former, I confess," he
says, "hath made so much iron, that it must now (1640)
be bought with the more silver, and grows daily dearer.
But 'tis as well pleasant as profitable to see a house
cased with trees like that of Anchises in Troy. (/En. ii.

299).

' Quanquam secuta parentis
Anchisae domus aiboribusque obtecta recepit.'

The worst is, where a place is bald of wood, no art

Fuller's Father and Friends. 2 1

can make it a periwig. As for water, begin with Pindar's
beginning, apicrrov fjJ

" Tho' deep in shade
My father's palace stood embayed."— (CONINGTON.)

The Rectory had also the " pleasant prospect " requisite
for a house, and it was a substantial building, as he says,
" Country houses must be substantives, able to stand by them
selves : not like city buildings, supported by their neighbours."
And in this building "beauty was last to be regarded," being
made "to be lived in, not looked at" Nor did it "look
asquint on a stranger but accosted him right at the
entrance."

It was in this parsonage the elder Fuller began to devote
himself to the duties of a parish priest, his life varied only
by visits to his Alma Mater, in his official capacity as head
lecturer at Trinity College. This was in 1605. The great
event in his pastoral life would be the progress of Queen
Elizabeth's successor through the kingdom, " by many small
journeys and great feastings, from Scotland to London," and
the king passed close by the neighbourhood of Aldwinckle.
Fuller gives a graphic description of this progress, and of
the many entertainments, and especially of that at the house
of Master Oliver Cromwell, which seems to have distanced
and eclipsed all others.

Two years after his appointment to the Rectory of
Aldwinckle, Mr. Fuller, in 1607, married Judith, daughter
of John Davenant, a citizen of London. The celebrated
Church historian was their eldest son, being born in June
of the following year, 1608, and baptized June iQth, in
St. Peter's Church.

2 2 The Life of Fuller.

This brings me to say a few words about the history of
Dr. Fuller's mother's family, the Davenants, a name also
honoured, and well-known in ecclesiastical circles.

The Davenants were of an ancient and honourable
family, and were descended from Sir John Davenant, who
the time of Henry III. settled at Davenant's lands, in
the parish of Heddingham, Essex. His descendants fol
lowed <lin a worshipful degree," till we come to William
Davenant, who married Joan, daughter of John Fryer, of
Clare, in Suffolk. Their son was John Davenant, a
merchant tailor, of Watling Street, who was, says Fuller,
" wealthy and religious." His wife, Margaret Clarke, was
the daughter and co-heiress of John Clarke, who resided
at Farnham Castle, in Surrey. It was in this way that she
became acquainted with Stephen Gardiner, and received
kindnesses from him which were suitably acknowledged in
"our author's gratitude to Stephen Gardiner."

It was this old lady's grandchild, Judith Davenant who
became the mother of Dr. Fuller, whose life we are con
sidering. When his baptism took place at St. Peter's, as
stated before, he had as godfathers his two uncles, Dr.
Davenant and Dr. Townson. Of these, he says in his
" Worthies," " Both these persons were my godfathers and
uncles, the one marrying the sister of, the other being
brother, to my mother." These two uncles are intimately
connected with their nephew in his subsequent official
career, and require some notice en passant.

John Davenant was a younger son of Mr. John Dave
nant, merchant, already alluded to, and was born in 1572.
He was educated a fellow-commoner of Queens' College,

Cambridge, and was elected fellow of that society in 1597,

Fullers Father and Friends. 23

It is highly probable that he was at that time a college
associate of the elder Fuller. Davenant gave such an
earnest of his future maturity, that the celebrated Dr.
Whitaker, hearing him dispute, uttered the prediction,
which afterwards came to pass, that he would prove to be
the honour] of the University. He became subsequently
president of Queens' (and no doubt Fuller thought of him
when he wrote his " Good Master of a College," and " The
Good Bishop," in " Holy State," p. 80), Margaret Professor
of Theology, and Bishop of Salisbury.

There is a good anecdote anent tithes, told by Fuller in
his "Church History," about Davenant, when Vicar of
Oakington, near Cambridge (1612). "A reverend Doctor
in Cambridge, and afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, was
troubled at his small living at Oakington with a peremptory
Anabaptist, who plainly told him, ' It goes against my con
science to pay you tithes, except you can show me a place
of Scripture, whereby they are due unto you.' The Doctor
returned, ' Why should it not go as much against my con
science, that you should enjoy your nine parts, for which
you can show no place of Scripture ? ' To whom the other
rejoined, 'But I have my land deeds and evidences from
my fathers, who purchased and were peaceably possessed
thereof by the laws of the land.' * The same is my title,'
saith the Doctor, ' tithes being confirmed unto me, by many
statutes of the land, time out of mind.' Thus he drave
that nail, not which was of the strongest metal or sharpest
point, but which would go best for the present. It was
argumentum ad hominem fittest for the person he was to
meddle with, who afterwards peaceably paid his tithes unto
him. Had the Doctor engaged in Scripture argument

24 The Life of Fuller.

though never so pregnant and pertinent, it had been end
less to dispute with him, who made clamour the end of his
dispute, whose obstinacy and ignorance made him incapable
of solid reason ; and therefore the worse the argument, the
better for his apprehension."

Robert Tovvnson, a native of Cambridge, was also
entered at Queens' College, and became a fellow of that
society, with his future brother-in-law, Davenant, in 1597.
He was afterwards beneficed at Wellingborough, in North
amptonshire, and married Margaret, elder daughter of John
Davenant, the merchant tailor of London, being born in
1585. Living in the same neighbourhood, the families of
Townsons and their cousins, the Fullers, both very numer
ous, would naturally have been thrown much together, and
there are proofs of an intimacy between the younger Town-
son and Fuller. To this period belongs Fuller's recollection
of his uncle, Dr. Townson, who was "of a comely carriage,
courteous nature, an excellent preacher," and " becoming a
pulpit with his gravity." Like Fuller himself, and the rest
of that family, Dr. Townson had a very retentive faculty,
for when made D.D. he could repeat the whole of the
second book of the ALneid without missing a single verse.
These two divines, being uncles of our hero, and beneficed
in the same county, were frequent guests at his father's
rectory, and Fuller not only saw much of them, but enter
tained for them the greatest regard.

Among the friends of Fuller's father at that time, and
who were in the habit of coming to the rectory, may be
mentioned the names of Sir Robert Cotton, Dr. Roger
Fenton, Dr. John Overall, Richard Greenham, Carey, and
Pykering. One or two of these deserve some notice. Dr.

Puller's Father and friends. 2 5

Roger Fenton was one of the translators of the Bible,
"than whom never a more learned hath Pembroke Hall
brought forth, with but one exception" (i.e. Bishop An-
drewes). Fenton was the faithful, pious, learned, and
beloved minister of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, London.
Fuller mentions the fact of their "being contemporaries,
collegiates, and city ministers together, with some simili
tudes in their names, but more sympathies in their natures ; "
and he tells the following anecdote of these two divines :
"Once my own Father gave Dr. Fenton a visit, who ex
cused himself from entertaining him any longer. ' Mr.
Fuller, hear how the passing bell tolls at this very instant
for my dear friend Dr. Felton, now a-dying ; I must to my
study, it being mutually agreed upon betwixt us in our
health, that the survivor of us should preach the other's
funeral sermon.' But see a strange change ! God, to whom
belong the issues from death, was pleased (with the patri
arch Jacob blessing his grandchildren) wittingly to guide
his hands across, reaching out death to the living and life
to the dying. So that Dr. Felton recovered, and not only
performed that last office to his friend, Dr. Fenton, but died
Bishop of Ely ( 1626)."

Dr. John Overall was also most intimate with Mr. Fuller.
He wrote the sacramental part of the Catechism, and was
also one of the translators of the Bible. He was called
" a prodigious learned man." He was a Cambridge man,
and succeeded Whitaker as Regius Professor of Divinity.
He was appointed to preach before the Queen as Dean of
St. Paul's, and professed to the elder Fuller, " he had spoken
Latin so long, it was troublesome to speak English in a
continued oration." Fuller calls him " one of the most pro-

26 The Life of Fuller.

found school divines of the English nation." He was made
Bishop of Norwich (1618), and was a "discreet presser
of Conformity," and he had great influence, not only
with the divines of his own, but with those of other
countries.

The Church of England must always feel a debt of
gratitude to this able divine, for the lucid and exhaustive
exposition of its sacramental system.

It was here, then, at Aldwinckle,— a parish, with some ot
the Lecturers in its vicinity, and not altogether at ecclesiastical
peace with itself— the elder Fuller, a devoted Churchman,
but not a bigot, laboured for thirty years, endeavouring to
avoid every occasion of strife— theological and political—
in that most disputatious period. We may safely conclude
that the words which Fuller wrote would apply no less to
the father than to his son, the author of them himself :
" He (i.e. the faithful minister) is moderate in his tenets and
opinions. Not that he gilds over lukewarmness in matters
of moment with the title of discretion, but withal is careful
not to entitle violence in indifferent and inconcerning
matters to be zeal. Indeed, men of extraordinary tallness,
though otherwise little deserving, are made porters to lords,
and those of unusual littleness are made ladies' dwarfs,
while men of moderate stature may want masters. Thus
many notorious for extremities may find favourers to prefer
them, whilst moderate men in the middle truth may want
any to advance them. But what saith'nhe Apostle? 'If
in this life only we have hope, we are of all men most
miserable.' "

It is evident that the elder Fuller belonged to that class of
men who (to use his son's own words) were pious, but not so

Fuller's Father and Friends. 2 7

eminently learned — "very painful* and profitable in God's
vineyard."

* The word "painful " continually occurs in Fuller's writings, / >Q
By "painful" is meant " taking pains" not giving pain. Thus J '
the Archbishop of Dublin explains the word. Fuller, our Church
historian, praising some famous divine, lately dead, exclaims :
"Oh the painfulness of his preaching." How easily we might
take this for an exclamation wrung out at the recollection of the
tediousness which he inflicted on his hearers. Nothing of the
kind : the words are a record not of the pain which he caused to
others, but of the pains which he bestowed himself. Nor can I
doubt, if we had more " painful " preachers in the old sense of
the word, i.e., who took Pains themselves, we should hear fewer
" painful " ones in the modern sense, who cause pain to their
hearers. So, too, Bishop Grosthead is recorded as "\htpainful
writer of two hundred books, not meaning hereby that these
books were ' painful ' in the reading, but {Holy State, p. 78) that
he was laborious and 'painful ' in their composition." English
Past and Present, p. 200-1.

28 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER IV.

FULLER'S EARLY YEARS.

" Having under this tuition past the just time of adolescency
in these puerile studies, at twelve years of age this hopeful slip
was translated to Cambridge, where he first settled in Qyeens
Colledge, of which a neer kinsman of his, Dr. Davenant, was
then President." — Anonymous Life, p. 3.

|HERE are not many particulars to be found about
Fuller's early days, but what they are prove
suggestive. If the " boy is father to the
man," in most cases, how much more truly can
these words be spoken of our hero. He was sent to a
private school in his own village, which was kept by the
Rev. Arthur Smith, who was probably of Emmanuel
College, Cambridge. This Mr. Smith was for some time
" Curat" of Mr. Brown, Rector of Achurch, the Brownist, and
founder of the sect, which ultimately became the Indepen
dent. After leaving the national Church, and founding the
Brownists, propagating his theories of Church Government
— the autonomy of each several congregation — in Holland
and subsequently at Norwich, where many Dutch were
settled, he returned to the Church of his baptism (leaving
however his mantle to one, Harrison, to carry on the schism),
and was preferred to the rich living of Achurch, by his
kinsman, one of the Cecil family. Mr. Smith was his
"Curat" during Mr. Brown's absence, between 1617 and

Fullers Boyhood. 29

1626, and as locum tenens his name frequently occurs in the
parish registers.

This Mr. Smith was not a good schoolmaster,
if we can trust the author of " An Anonymous Life," for
he was not SiSa/mKos apt to teach, although he was
" plagiosus," a paedagogue given to the rod. Fuller does
not seem to have learned much under his tuition, with whom
he spent about four years. Yet he had a very high
estimation of the duties of a schoolmaster : witness his essay
in the " Holy State," and his panegyric on Thomas 'Robert
son. Anent the latter faculty for education, he says. " Every
boy can teach a man • whereas he must be a man that can
teach a boy. It is easy to inform them who are able to
understand, but it must be a masterpiece of industry and
discretion to descend to the capacity of children." Speaking
of the scholastic profession, he says, " There is scarce any
profession in the Commonwealth more necessary, which is
so slightly performed. The reasons whereof I conceive to
be these : first, young scholars make this calling their
refuge, yea, perchance before they have taken any degree in
the University, commence schoolmasters in the country, as
if nothing else was required to set up this profession but
only a rod and a ferula. Secondly, others who are able,
use it only as a passage to better preferment, to patch the
rents in their present future, till they can provide a new one,
and betake themselves to some more gainful calling.
Thirdly, they are disheartened from doing their best, with
the miserable reward which, in some places, they receive,
being master to the children, and slaves to the parents.
Fourthly, being grown rich they grow negligent, and scorn
to touch the school, but by the proxy of an usher."

30 The Life of Fuller.

Doubtless we should never have heard of the schoolmaster,
Mr. Arthur Smith, but for the celebrity of his pupil, Dr.
Fuller. But to qaote from " the good schoolmaster " once
more, " Who had ever heard of R. Bond, of Lancashire, but
for the breeding of learned Ascham, his scholar ; or of
Hartgrave, of Mundley School, in the same county, but
because he was first to teach worthy Dr. Whitaker. Nor
do I honour the memory of Mulcaster for anything so
much as for his scholar, that gulf of Learning, Bishop
Andrewes. This made the Athenians, the day before the
great feast of Theseus, their founder, to sacrifice a ram to
the memory of Conidas his schoolmaster that first instructed
him.*" The elder Fuller would seem to have devoted his
firstborn son to the service of that Church, in which so many
members of his family had engaged. It was a father's best
gift, and he did- not begrudge such an offering, nor did he
know of that silly saying, which obtained in a past genera
tion, that " any thing was good enough for the Church." And
it was with this view that his education was carefully
superintended by his father, who was fully qualified to take
it in hand. He got on quickly enough when he was trans
ferred from the tuition of Mr. Smith to that of the Parson of
Aldwinckle, for " in a little while, such a proficiency was
visibly seen in him, that it was a question whether he owed
more to his father for his birth or education."

The key-note of the boy's character at this time was
diligence, and a close attention to his studies. "He was
admirably learned, before it could be supposed that he had
been taught." His progress was remarkable, and he literally

(Holy State, p, 88).

Fullers Boyhood. 31

devoured books, and his intense application to his studies
followed him through his whole career. He was a very
precocious lad, one who would be called an " old boy."
He would have been called "ingenious and industrious"
in that " Grammar of boys' natures," which he holds a good
schoolmaster would soon be able to make of his scholar.
" The conjunction of two such planets in a youth," he says,
" presage much good unto him."

In " Aubrey's Letters " there is a memorial of Fuller's early
days, by Aubrey, who was intimate with Fuller's cousin,
and with other members of the family, to the following
effect : " He was a boy of pregnant wit, and when the
Bishop (Davenant, his uncle) and his father were discoursing
he would be by, and hearken, and now and then put in,
beyond expectation of his years. He was of a middle
stature, strong set, curled hair, a very working head,
insomuch that, walking and meditating before dinner, he
would eat up a penny loaf, not knowing that he did it."
We have then presented to our view, a lad (as prefiguring
his after years) of " pleasant ruddiness," " grave and serious
aspect," and " comely light-coloured hair," fond of the
company and conversation of his seniors, which no doubt
he did much to enliven. In the grave and witty society
of his father's quaint parsonage, no doubt our hero
imbibed his prolific and inveterate habit of punning — which
he illustrated so freely in his subsequent writings as an
author. Every one was a punster in those days both
wit and poet, politician and theologian. Addison tells us
in the Spectator (No. 61) that " the age in which the punn
chiefly flourished was the reign of King James I. That
learned monarch was himself a tolerable punster, and made

32 The Life of Fuller.

very few Bishops or Privy Councillors, that had not some
time or other signalized themselves, by a clinch or a conun
drum. It was, therefore, in this age when the punn
appeared in pomp and dignity. It had before been ad
mitted into merry speeches and ludicrous compositions, but
was now delivered with great gravity from the pulpit, or
pronounced in the most solemn manner at the Council-
table. The greatest authors, in their most serious works,
made frequent use of punns. The sermons of Bishop
Andrewes and the tragedies of Shakespeare are full of them.
The sinner was punned into repentance by the former, as
in the latter nothing is more usual than to see a hero
weeping and quibbling for a dozen lines together."

Fuller therefore followed the literary " form " of the age
in which he lived, but from his own natural predisposition
out of the alembic of his own mother wit — crassa Minerva,
as the Romans would have said — he raised the mere
fashion of punning and verbal alliteration, to the dignity
of genuine English wit. Surrounded by the quaint and
witty, the boy became quaint and witty too, and such was
the bent of his natural genius, he excelled them all in a
line in which they were all more or less famous. He " was
well learned, especially in history : very witty and very
pleasant in discourse. He would often give a smart jest,
which would make the place both blush and bleed where it
lighted. Yet this was the better taken at his hands,
because he cherished not a cowardly wit in himself to wound
men behind their backs, but played on them freely to their
faces : yea, and never refused the coin they paid him in,
but would be contented to be the subject of a good jest,
and sometimes he was well favourably met with, as the best

Fuller's Boyhood. 33

fencer in wit's school hath now and then an unhappy blow
dealt him."*

Aubrey also tells us that Fuller had a most excellent
appetite, and was blessed with a good and strong constitu
tion. He was robust and broad shouldered, and when he
was middle-aged thankfully acknowledged that he had never
had a day's illness in his life. In this respect he has presented
a remarkable contrast to that of most students, where
the attenuated frame, the transparent hand, and the rose
taken out of the cheek, attest the constant and painful
worker, and the midnight oil.

Brought up by a studious father, and surrounded by
learned theologians and wits, we are not surprised to find
that young Fuller was very fond of books, and of books he
chose the solid and the wiser sort, nor did the boy disdain
pictures. On the contrary, he seems to have preferred them,
and amongst his chief favourites was " Foxe's Book of Mar
tyrs," illustrated, and folio edition. It is impossible to over
rate the power of such a book as this, especially on the
youthful imagination, and the telling effect of its pictures.
" When a child I loved to look on the pictures in the ' Book
of Martyrs ' " he says, in his " Mixt Contemplations." We can
well picture to ourselves the precocious boy, with his ruddy
cheeks, his light curly hair, and his witty expression of eye,
sitting in the quaint old Parsonage at the feet of his aged
but saintly grandmother, who had lived in the days of
Mary, and stood in awe in the presence of Bishop
Gardiner, at Farnham Castle. The old lady would be only
too pleased to talk of those terrible days, to her witty and

* (Holy Warre, vol. ii., c. xxiv.)
C

34 The Life of Fuller.

intelligent grandchild for auditor. Her influence and that
of his father's is seen in the " Life of Bishop Ridley," which
he wrote against those who have " cried down " the martyrs
of that age, but especially against " the author of the book
lately printed of '•Causes hindering Reformation in England] "
a John Milton, of whom Fuller says, " One lately hath tra
duced them with such language as neither beseemed his
parts, whosoever he was that spake it, nor their piety of
whom it was spoken." " When I was a child I was pos
sessed of a reverend esteem for them (the Marian Martyrs),
as most holy and pious men, dying martyrs in the reign of
Queen Mary for the profession of the truth ; which opinion
having from my parents taken quiet possession of my soul,
they must be very forcible reasons which eject it." No
wonder, stimulated by such surroundings, he learned to
reverence the memories of " our first reformers, reverend
Cranmer, learned Ridley, downright Latimer, zealous
Bradford, pious Philpot, patient Hooper, men that had
their failings, but worthy in their generations."

The illustrations, rude and quaint though they were, made
such a vivid impression, that our author could well recall
them forty years afterwards, yielding them from the " mind
ful tablets of his memory."

" Profuse in garniture of wooden cuts,
Strange and uncouth : dire faces, figures dire,
Sharp-kneed, sharp elbowed, and lean-ankled too,
With long and ghastly shanks— forms which, once seen,
Could never be forgotten."— Wordsworth.

Fuller never forgot his illustrated copy of " Foxe's Book of
Martyrs" all through life, and in writing his "Church
History," Foxe was always at his elbow. He loved the

Fuller's Boyhood. 35

book, he revelled in it, and in his " Good Thoughts" he has
given us some idea of the childish thoughts which struck him.
" I thought that there (i.e., in the pictures in the book) the
martyrs at the stake seemed like the three children in the
fiery furnace, ever since I had known them there, not one
hair more of their head was burnt, nor any smell of the fire
singeing of their clothes. This made me think martyrdom
was nothing. But, oh ! though the lion be painted fiercer
than he is, the fire is far fiercer than // is painted. Thus it
is easy for one to endure an affliction, as he limns it out in
his own fancy, and represents it to himself but in a bare
speculation. But when it is brought indeed and laid home
to us, there must be a man, yea, there must be God to
assist the man to undergo it."

His love for his Bible also was very strong. The Bible
is, as we know, a well of undefiled English, and has done
much in forming the style of many a writer by its terse,
vigorous, and Saxon language. Archbishop Sharpe said
that the Bible and Shakespeare had made him Archbishop
of York. Like Timothy, he must have known the Scriptures
from a child, which is proved by his so often quoting from
the Old Bibles used anterior to the translation of King
James. He could never forget the phrases and words he
had been accustomed to in his youthood, although he must
have prized the new version, if only from the fact that many
of his relations or connections assisted in its compilation.
We subjoin some of the alterations. The phrase "at
adventures," i Kings xxii. 34, is given in the new translation
"at a venture" in his " Pisgah-sight." We find also
pismire (for ant) as a quotation from Prov. vi. 6. (" Pisgah-
sight.") " Preach you on the housetops," as if quoted from

C 2

36 The Lift of Fuller.

Matt. x. 27. Again, "His behaviour was as though he
would go to Jerusalem," instead of " his face," was quoted
from Luke ix. 53. The following words also occur,
"clouts," which occurs in Jeremiah xxxviii. IT, 12, and
" clods," which is given as a quotation from Luke xxii. 44.
But then changes are inevitable in every new translation,
and we, in our days, may witness something of the kind
when the new revised translation comes into circulation
and use.

When Fuller was about five years old, his grandmother,
Margaret Davenant, who had apparently come to live with
or near them, died, and was buried in St. Peter's Church.
Three years later, a tablet was put up to her memory on the
south wall, and an inscription, which we have already given.
It contains the arms of Davenant and Clarke.

In the locality in which young Fuller spent his boyhood,
there were many things observable and remarkable, and we
may be quite sure that, under the stimulating tuition of his
father, these would not be lost in forming his character.
We have already alluded to Dryden, and his connection with
Aldwinckle.

There was Fotheringhay Castle, near Oundle, and the
tragedy which had been connected therewith, in the matter
of Mary Queen of Scots. The room in which she was
beheaded had been bought by Sir Richard Cotton, furniture
and all, and set up in his house at Conington. The castle
had been partly dismantled, but in his youth he had read in
one of the rooms the verses penned by Queen Mary " in a
window with a pointed diamond " —

" From the top of all my trust,
Mishap hath laid me in the dust."

Fuller's Boyhoo . 37

This castle was also famous for being the birthplace of
Richard Plantagenet (Crookback).

In the same direction, further on, near Stamford, was the
magnificent mansion, turreted and quaint, built by Queen
Elizabeth's great minister, Lord Burghley, which hospitable
mansion had some years before opened its gates to
entertain King James in his triumphant progress from
Scotland to the metropolis, and the seat of Government.
There were many other noble mansions in the vicinity.
" No county in England," says Fuller, " yielding more noble
men, no noble men in England having fairer habitations."

Young Fuller might have seen at Geddington village, the
site of the ancient palace connected with many of our
earliest Kings and Parliaments. And here too, at a place
where three roads meet, is a perfect specimen raised by
Edward I. in memory of Queen Eleanor. It is a triangular
erection, and is still in the same preservation as it must have
been in Fuller's time.

West of Aldwinckle is Grafion-under- Woods, which is
associated wiih another Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, of
whom every Queens' man ought to be proud, for she had
much to do with the founding or finishing of the College of
S. Margaret and S. Bernard, commonly called Queens' Col
lege, in Cambridge. Fuller believes she was born here.
" Her memory," says he, "is most remarkable for the finish
ing Queens' College, in Cambridge, where I had my first
breeding, and for it and all therein I shall ever have an
unfeigned affection."

There were two notables in the neighbourhood in which
young Fuller spent his early days. Brown, the founder of
the Brownists sect, or Independents, and Francis Tresham

38 The Life of Fuller.

so active with the Gunpowder plot. " God in His providence
fixed my nativity," he says, " in a remarkable place^ Ald-
winckle. This village was distanced one good mile- from
Achurch, where Mr. Brown, the founder of the Brownists,
did dwell, whom, out of curiosity when a youth, I did often
visit. It was likewise a mile and a half distant east from
Siveden, where Francis Tresham, Esquire, so active in the
Gunpowder Treason, had a large demeasne and ancient
habitation." The person of Brown was no doubt very
familiar to both our author and his father, as he had been
connected with the Church from 1591 to 1630. Fuller
seems often to have gone over to Achurch, to see a man
who had given so much trouble to those in authority.
" For my own part," Fuller says, in his " Church History "
(whose nativity placed within a mile of this Brown his
pastoral care), " I have, when a youth, often beheld him."
Fuller therefore had ample opportunities of knowing about
one who was the founder of the modern Independents, in
troducing principles, and an ecclesiastical regimen, the most
inimical of all to the claims of the National Church. From
the position of his birthplace, between Brown on the one
hand and Tresham on the other, Fuller imbibed the virtue
of moderation, and hit the via media of the Church of Eng
land. In his " Thoughts " he says, " My nativity may mind
me of moderation, whose cradle was rocked between two
rocks. Now, seeing I was never such a churl as to eat my
morsel alone, let such as like my prayer join with me therein;
God grant that we may hit the golden mean, and endea
vour to avoid all extremes — the fanatic Anabaptist on one
side, and the fiery zeal of the Jesuit on the other — that so
we may be true Protestants, or which is a far better name,
real Christians indeed."

Fuller's Boyhood. 39

This moderation was one of the strong points of Fuller's cha
racter. It was his pleasant dwelling place, and in his excellent
essay on the subject he endorses the apothegm of his friend
Bishop Hall by quoting it ; " Moderation is the silken
string running through the pearl chain of all the virtues."

The dialect of the district where Fuller spent his youth is
as pure as any in England, which must have exercised a
beneficial influence upon his speech and diction. It is re
markably pure even on the lips of ploughboys, and both
Latham and other philologists acknowledge that the North-
amptonship dialect in or near where Fuller was brought up
is the purest in England, just as Tours and Blois are the
parts where the purest French is spoken. This purity of
diction is alluded to by Fuller himself in his "Worthies."'
The language of the common people is generally the best of
any shire in England, a proof whereof, when a boy, I re
ceived from a hand-labouring man herein, which since my
judgment : " We speak, I believe," said he, " as good Eng
lish as any shire in England, because though in the singing
Psalms some words are used to make the metre unknown to
us, yet the last translation of the Bible, which no doubt was
done by those learned men in the best English, agreeth
perfectly with the common speech of our country." And
again, " The English of the common people therein (lying
in the very heart of the land) is generally very good."
Fuller's writings contain a great many old Bible words,
and, like Dryden — who also received some of his early edu
cation in the neighbouring village of Tichmarsh — are
remarkable for vigorous diction, which we can likewise trace
to the dialect of the country. His style was massive and
Saxon, full of a number of uncommon but expressive wordsr

40 The Life of Fuller.

which must have been acquired by lengthened intercourse
with the people. If he uses words of a sesquipedalia cha
racter, or classical derivation, it is mostly for the sake of
punning. And to this all agree. Marsh says "They, i.e.,
our author and Sir Thomas Browne are both remarkable for
a wide range of vocabulary, Fuller inclining to a Saxon, and
Browne to a Latinised diction, and their syntax is marked
by the same peculiarities as their nomenclature." Arch
bishop Trench, whom we have already quoted, says that
few writers are more important than Fuller for the study of
English, and Coleridge uses the following strong language :
" Fuller's language ! Grant me patience, Heaven ! a tithe
of his beauties would be sold cheap for a whole library of
our classical writers, from Addison to Johnson and Junius
inclusive." And Bishop Nicholson, a painstaking old char
woman of the antiquarian and rubbish concern ! " The
venerable rust and dust of the whole firm are not worth an
ounce of Fuller's earth."

Meanwhile Fuller's uncles were being preferred in the
Church. In 1617 Townson was introduced at Court, and was
made chaplain to King James. He was subsequently made
Dean of Westminster, and in 1618 it was his melancholy duty
to attend the execution of Sir Walter Raleigh, in Palace
Yard, of whose last hours he has left a touching and graphic
account. In 1620 he was appointed to the see of Salisbury,
and consecrated July Qth, at Lambeth, but he did not long
enjoy his preferment, as he died 151)1 May, 1621, prema
turely of a fever, the result of a chill, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey. The King (James) was very fond of
both divines, and selected Davenant to succeed Townson in
the see of Salisbury, which see he held for many years, and

Fuller's Boyhood. 41

the tablet to his memory is still to be seen in Salisbury
Cathedral. He had been President of Queens' College, and
Margaret Professor of Divinity, Cambridge. In 1619 he
had been elected one of the delegates to the synod of Dort.
Hall and Carleton (afterwards Bishops) and Dr. Ward,
Master of Sidney Sussex College, were his associates.
Hacket says of him, " What a pillar he was in the synod of
Dort is to be read in the judgments of the British divines
inserted in the public Acts, his part being best in that work,
and that work being far the best in the compliments of that
synod." One of their acts was the order for the translation
of the Bible. The British Divines returned after seven
months' absence. They met with their reward — a liberal
payment of the States, and early preferment at the hands of
King James. A gold medal was struck to commemorate
the event, representing the synod in session. Davenant
returned to his lectures in the schools, the collegiate cure,
until called away to his preferment in the Bishopric to
which, " by an unusual rise," he was elected within a month
of the death of his brother-in-law.

42 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER V.

COLLEGE DAYS (QUEENS').— 1621-9.

" But this (then disqualifying Statute at Queens') gave him a
fair occasion to transfer himself to Sidney College, whither by
some of his choice and learned friends he had often been
invited." — Anonymous Life, p. 4.

IT the early age of twelve— the age among the Jews
for becoming a " son of the law " — Fuller was re
moved from the parental roof, and sent up to Cam
bridge. Students entered the University much
earlier in those days to what they do now, and it is said that
Jeremy Taylor was entered even younger, so that going up
so young need not be put down to any particular preco
city. Still, it must be admitted that twelve is very early to
begin student life, and be it remembered the number of
students in those days exceeded that at the present time.
He was entered at the ancient and loyal College of St. Mar
garet and St. Bernard, commonly called Queens', one of the
three royal collegiate foundations of the University. This
was about the time of the death of his uncle, Bishop Town-
son, Bishop of Salisbury. Fuller himself allows that the age
was " very young," and in his " History of Cambridge " says
of the Franciscans there, 1384, that they " surprised many
when children into their order, before they could well dis
tinguish between a cap and a cowl, whose time ran on from
their admission therein, and so they became Masters of Arts
before they were masters of themselves"

College Days. 43

In the choice of a college — one of the most important
steps in life, second only to a choice of a profession or a
wife — no doubt Fuller's father had many friends in the Uni
versity, and indeed himself was still connected with it, who
would be in a position to advise him. Among others he
would naturally consult his own brother-in-law (Davenant),
at that time President of Queens' College, and Margaret Pro
fessor of Divinity. The Fullers were also on intimate terms
with Dr. Ward, Master of Sidney Sussex College, and about
this time (1620) Vice-Chancellor of the University. The
result was that it was finally determined to enter him at his
uncle's college — which has been always regarded as the
family college — the college of the Davenants, the Town-
sons, the Fullers (both on the theological and medical side,
for these seem to have been the two professions the family
principally addicted themselves to), and he was accordingly
entered on Friday, June 29th, 1621. Why he was entered
at the end of the academical year, deponent sayeth not, for
the Cambridge academical year begins in the October term,
except it may have been to save a term.

It was endowed with revenues to the amount of £200
per annum for the support of a President and four fellows.
The first stone of the chapel was laid, for the Queen, by Sir
John Wenlock (afterwards slain at Tewkesbury), who caused
the following inscription to be engraved on it : " Exit Do-
mina nostra Margaretta Dominus in Refugium et lapis iste
in Signum " (The Lord be a refuge to our lady, Queen Mar
garet, and this stone shall be a token thereof).

The civil wars soon after interrupted the work, but An
drew Dokett, the President, obtained, besides several other
considerable benefactions, the patronage of Elizabeth Wood-

44 The Life of Fuller.

ville, Queen of Edward IV., and the number of fellows was
increased to nineteen, and forty-five scholarships were
founded, recently consolidated into fewer. The Lady
Elizabeth has since been annually celebrated as a co-
foundress. The endowments were much increased by
Richard III., and various benefactors.

The College of St. Margaret and St. Bernard, commonly
called Queens' College, was so called from the two Queens,
the one who began to build it in 1448, Margaret of Anjou,
wife of Henry VI., and the other, Elizabeth Woodville, wife
of Edward VI., to whom reference has been already made,
and who completed it. Thus, as Fuller observes, " the two
houses of York and Lancaster had their first amity in that
foundation." It is entered by a lofty gateway, with a tower,
upon which are emblazoned the arms of Queen Margaret.
There is an air of antiquity about it, and the buildings are
much admired. The gateway is said to contain the oldest
brickwork in England, and no antiquarian or architectural
enthusiast would dream of leaving Cambridge without having
paid a visit to Queens'. From the first quadrangle, which is
96 feet long and 84 broad, there is a passage into the second,
where most of the fellows reside, in an angle of which is
Erasmus' tower and rooms. Through another passage we
pass out into the Walnut-tree Court, one of the most charm
ing learned retirements in the whole university. On the
right hand of the quadrangle, to one entering, is the vene
rable chapel, lately restored, and opposite is the Hall and
combination-room leading therefrom. The Hall is large,
handsome, and well proportioned, and contains the follow
ing portraits : Sir Thomas Smith, the eminent Greek scholar,
half-length and dressed in a fur cloak, leaning on a globe :

College Days. 45

Elizabeth Woodville, Consort of Edward IV., a very fine
painting ; the learned Erasmus, seated at a table writing,
and dressed in a fur cloak. On the west side is a full-length
portrait of Joshua King, LL.D.,the late President. The large
oriel window has recently been ornamented with the arms of
the foundresses, presidents, and other distinguished persons,
and the side windows with the arms of the Earl of Hard-
wicke, Earl of Stamford, and Sir Henry Russell. The com
bination-room contains a fine portrait of Dr. Milner, Pre
sident, and Dean of Carlisle, who also left 3,000 valuable
works to the Library. Between the Hall and Chapel is a
splendid Library of 30,000 volumes, one of the finest in
Cambridge, and the Librarian is selected from one of the
undergraduates, who usually holds the Clark's scholarship
with it. In the Library are all the Greek and Latin
works of Sir Thomas Smith, a fine copy of the Antwerp
Polyglot Bible in eight folios, above 100 volumes given by
Henry Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon ; 60 folios given by Dr.
Tindal, Dean of Ely; 600 volumes bequeathed by the
learned John Smith, 1650; 13 Persian and Turkish MSS.,
rare missals and Roman service books, and a perfect
repertoire of old and choice works. The whole buildings are
very striking, and when seen by moonlight have a quaint weird
look about them. The President's Lodge, which is com
modious and extensive, contains many valuable pictures,
and an altar-piece from the chapel ; it is at the corner of the
inner court, cloistered on three sides, each about 80 feet in
length, which leads out from the Walnut-tree Court, and is
entered by a door in the cloisters. It abuts on the river, and
the front presents a neat oriel. Queens' now ranks as one
of the smaller colleges, but in young Fuller's time it ranked

46 The Lift of Fuller.

fifth in point of numbers, having, including tutors, about 290
members resident. One of its chief worthies is Erasmus, the
celebrated reformer and writer of the "Colloquies," who came
to this university to complete his theological studies, and for
some time it was believed held the chair of theology
(Margaret). He selected Queens', although, as Fuller says,
" no doubt he might have picked and chosen what house he
pleased." The south-west tower in the old court — we may
borrow Fuller's words even now — " still retaineth its name. "
Erasmus' study is on the top of this tower, from which there
is a pleasant prospect. The writer's first rooms at Cam
bridge, before he removed to the Walnut-tree Court
(Staircase H), were in this tower, so the reader will kindly
excuse his dwelling so long upon them. " Erasmus' walk" is
to be found on the other side of the river, over the Mathe
matical Bridge, where are the College Gardens and grounds,
for the Undergraduates of Queens', which are truly collegiate,
adorned by some fine trees, overhanging a beautiful terrace
on the banks of the river, stretching on to King's, with a
pretty view of Clare College. Queens' boasts of a
number of eminent men, five Bishops, among whom are
John Poynet, called the (boy) Bishop of Winchester, 1550,
Anthony Sparrow, of Norwich, and Simon Patrick, of Ely.
It is worthy of remark that the President, Fellows, and
Scholars were, in 1642, without one exception, ejected for
refusing to subscribe the covenant.

Erasmus " often complained of the college ale," says
Fuller, " ccrvisia hujus loci, mihi nullo mode placet, as raw,
small, and windy : whereby it appears (i) ale in that age
was the constant beverage of all colleges before the
innovation of beer (the child of hops) was brought

College Days. 47

into England ; (2) Queens' College cervisia was not
vis cereris but ceres vitiata. In my time (when I continued
member of that house) scholars, continued Erasmus' his
complaint : whilst the brewers, having, it seems (prescription
on their side for long time) little amended it. The best
was, Erasmus had his lagena or flagon of wine (recruited
weekly from his friends in London), " which he drank some
times singly by itself, and sometimes encouraged his faint ale
with the mixture thereof" No one can complain of the
Queens' College ale of the present day, as with King's
and Trinity, the other two Royal Colleges, it has the privi
lege of brewing its own ale, and the strength of the "Audit
ale" is notorious. As was natural, Fuller had a great
respect and admiration for the great scholar, and frequently
mentions him in his writings. He often quotes from his
Colloquia and Adagta, which seem to have been his fa
vourites. He considered Desiderius Erasmus to be a
greater scholar than divine. A full length portrait of him,
together with those of the foundresses, adorns the Hall.

When Fuller began his college days at Queens,' his uncle,
Davenant, was still its President, although he was Bishop
Designate of Salisbury, which appointment he had just re
ceived in May. He had been the head of his College for
six years, and his qualifications for the post were of a high
order. He took great interest in the students and their
studies, and his departure was much regretted, for his in
fluence with them was very great. His nephew relates that
when "taking leave of the College, and one, John Rolfe,
an ancient servant thereof, he desired him to pray for him,
and when the other modestly returned that he rather needed
his Lordship's prayers; 'yea, John,' said he, 'and I need thine

48 The Life of Fuller.

too, being now to enter into a calling, wherein I shall meet
with many and great temptations.' " Fuller says, " Prafuit
qui profuit was the motto written in most of his books, the
sense whereof he practised in his conversation."

His uncle, Davenant, would have a thorough knowledge of
his nephew's talents and powers, before quitting the President
ship of the College for his Bishopric, and no doubt had made
every preparation for the supervision of young Fuller's
course of study, and arranged his curriculum. His interest
remained unabated during the whole of his nephew's career,
as his letters to Dr. Ward, Master of Sidney Sussex College,
when he had taken his B.A. degree some seven years after
wards, sufficiently testify.

Davenant was consecrated Bishop the following Novem
ber 1 8th, and finally resigned the mastership of the College,
which he would fain have held with it. On the same day
were consecrated Laud to St. David's, and Carey to Exeter,
both appointments being mainly due to Lord Keeper
Williams, lately preferred to Lincoln. Fuller tells us that
his uncle, whom he regarded as a paragon of all clerical
excellence, received consecration at the hands of Arch
bishop Abbott, in spite of the irregularity under which that
prelate was supposed to lie, on account of his having
accidentally shot a gamekeeper, " by some squeamish
and nice-conscienced elects." After his consecration,
Fuller tells us, "being to perform some personal service to
King James, at Newmarket, he refused to ride on the Lord's
Day : and came, though a day late to the Court, no less
welcome to the King, not only accepting his excuse, but also
commending his seasonable forbearance." Davenant after
wards "magnified King James's bounty to him, who, from a

College Days. 49

private master, without any other immediate preferment,
advanced him by an unusual rise."

Aubrey tells us that many leases of the lands of the See
" were but newly expired when Davenant came to this See,
so that there tumbled into his coffers vast summes."

When he finally quitted Queens', and settled at Salisbury,
he was joined by his widowed sister, Margaret, and her
children, who took up their abode at the episcopal palace,
finding there, as her epitaph records, "consolation and a
home." From letters extant, the Bishop, we find, was
anxious to advance these children, and to get his two nieces
comfortably settled in life. The Bishop himself was never
married, and it is narrated by Camden that King James,
when he bestowed the bishopric upon him, forbade him to
take a wife. Davenant was long enough connected with
Queens', as its President, to give it a distinct theological
tone, which we might have expected from his holding the
Chair of Margaret Professor of Theology, whence he
influenced the University with it. His reputation as a
theologian was so great, that he was one of the English
prelates selected to attend, as we have seen, the Synod of
Dort. His Commentary on St. Paul's Epistle to the
Colossians is a standard work. Like most of the divines
in the reign of King James, he had strong Calvinistic
tendencies, but these were much modified by his
sound learning ; at the same time he shared the strong
feelings against Popery, peculiar to that period. He
treated the Puritans with tolerance and even kindness,
being a gentle presser of Conformity when Bishop, but he
was a great stickler for the old canonical ceremonies of that
reign. His divinity was of a practical cast and moderate,

D

5o The Life of Fuller.

and he strongly held the doctrine of universal redemption.
Fuller had the greatest respect for his uncle's character and
attainments, being much thrown with him in his early days,
and he followed the Bishop's churchmanship all through
life, with a very large circle of his connections, which,
indeed, did very much to perpetuate it. Mr. Russell sums
up his character as "a man in whom piety and sound
learning were united to a degree, perhaps, rarely excelled."
(Page 303.)

Bishop Davenant was .succeeded in the Presidentship by
Dr. Mansel in 1622, which post he held for nine years, and
was therefore Master of the College during the whole of
Fuller's student life. There are no records concerning him
of any moment : but to his eternal disgrace, or that of the
College authorities, or both, Fuller, with all his brilliancy,
was never elected Fellow of that House, in spite of all the
Bishop's influence, nor did he, as a matter of course, receive
a College living. Whoever may be at fault, it is a matter
which has never been satisfactorily cleared up.

The two tutors, under which Fuller was placed at
Queens', were Mr. Edward Davenant, and Mr. Thorpe.
Mr. Davenant was the Bishop's nephew, and, therefore,
Fuller's cousin. His father was a London merchant, a
great mathematician, a better Greek scholar than the
Bishop, and, according to Aubrey, " an incomparable man."
Edward was educated at Merchant Taylors', and then sent
up to Queens', where he proved himself a ripe scholar, with
a strong bent and genius for mathematics. He was one of
the Fellows of Queens', having taken his B.A., 1614.
Aubrey knew him well, and obtained from him most of his
memorials about Dr. Fuller. When his uncle became

College Days. 5 1

Bishop of Salisbury, he received from him, first of all, a
Prebendal stall, and subsequently the treasurership of the
Cathedral (1630). He was also rector of Gillingham, in
Dorset. He became Archdeacon of Berks, and received
Paulshot Parsonage, near Devizes. Aubrey speaks of him
in the highest terms, and calls him " my singular good friend,
a man not only of vast learning, but great goodness and
charity : he was very ready to teach and instruct : he did
me the favour to inform me first in algebra ; his daughters
were algebrists." Mathematics was his favourite study, to
which he would naturally direct young Fuller's attention,
into which he entered " with great contentment, using it as
ballast for his soul, yet to fix it, not to stall it, nor suffers he
it to be so unmannerly as to jostle out other arts." (Holy
State, Chapter vii.)

Under this tutor it was Fuller cultivated the art of
memory, which brought him in after life such remarkable
fame. He taught his pupils to repeat without notes what
they had heard or just read, and Fuller may have got his
method in his mind when he subsequently wrote his essay
on " Memory." Much is not recorded of Fuller's other
tutor, Dr. Thorpe, but he calls him " my ever-honoured
tutor : not so much beneath him " (another Thorpe) " in
logic, as above him in the skill of divinity and an holy
conversation." What a bond of union there must have
been between College tutor and student, when the pupil
could so write of his instructor so many years after.

Among the celebrities connected with Queens' at that
time was Dr. John Preston, one of the Fellows of that
Society, and a tutor very successful with his pupils; John
Goodwin, a great advocate of religious toleration, and an

D 2

5 2 The Life of Fuller.

uncompromising champion of the, Independent cause; and
Herbert Palmer, who became President in 1644, in place of
the ejected Dr. Martin. He received the living of Ashwell
from Laud, and took many pupils, being very careful of
their religious training, as well as their education.
Subsequently, he became one of the assessors of the
Assembly of Divines. John Weever, the antiquary,
another of the worthies of Queens', was also at the
College about this time. And such were the tutors, and
such some of his associates, when Fuller commenced his
student life in the old royal foundation, in which he entered
with characteristic ardour. College life and academical
habits were very different in those days to those which
obtain now, and our modern students affect. Prayers were
said in the College Chapel every morning at five o'clock,
and then after breakfast began the regular work of the day.
" It consisted of two parts — the College studies, or the
attendance of the students on the lectures and examinations
of the College tutors, or lecturers in Latin, Greek, logic,
mathematics, physics, &c. And the University's exercises,
or the attendance of the students, together with the students
of other Colleges, in the public schools of the University,
either to hear the lectures of the University professors of
Greek, logic, &c. (which, however, was not incumbent on
all students), or to hear and take part in the public
disputations of those students of all the Colleges, who
were preparing for their degree." Dinner was at twelve
o'clock, after which a short attendance was given to the
disputations. Students were expected to attend evensong,
and supper was served at seven o'clock, and they retired to
rest about nine or ten o'clock, this time being their own.

College Days. 53

The course of studies in the " Liberal arts " took about
seven years, the curriculum being divided into two periods of
four and three years.

We cannot do better than give the course of study from
the pen of Fuller himself, under the title of " The General
Artist." " I know the general cavil against general learning:
is this, that aliquis in omnibus tst nullus in singults : he that
sips of many arts drinks of none. However, we must know
that all learning, which is but one grand science, hath so
homogeneal a body, that the parts thereof do, with a mutual
service, relate to, and communicate strength and lustre each
to other. Our learning, knowing language to be the key of
learning, thus begins :

1. His tongue being one by nature he gets cloven by art
and industry. Before the confusion of Babel all the world
was one continent in language, since divided into several
tongues as several islands. Grammar is the ship by benefit
whereof we pass from one to another, in the learned
languages generally spoken in no country. His mother
tongue was like the dull music of a monochord, which by
study he turns into the harmony of several instruments.

2. He first gaineth skill in the Latin and Greek tongues.
On the credit of the former alone, he may trade all over
Christendom. But the Greek, though not so generally
spoken, is known with no less profit and more pleasure.
The joints of her compounded words are so naturally oiled
that they run nimbly on the tongue, which makes them,
though long, never tedious, because significant

3. Hence he proceeds to the Hebrew, the mother tongue
of the world. More pains than quickness of wit is required
to get it, and with daily exercise he continues it. Apostacy

54 The Life of Fuller.

herein is usual to fall totally from the language by a little
neglect.

4. Then he applies his studies to logic and ethics. The
latter makes a man's soul mannerly and wise : but as for
logic, that is the armoury of reason, furnished with all
offensive and defensive weapons. There are syllogisms, long
swords : enthymemes, short daggers : dilemmas, two-edged
swords that cut on both sides : sorites, chain-shot : and for
the defensive, distinctions, which are shields : retortions,
which are targets with a spikejn the middest of them, both
to defend and oppose. From hence he raiseth his studies
to the knowledge of physics, the great hall of nature, and
metaphysics, the closet thereof: and is careful not to wade
therein so far, till by subtle distinguishing of notions he con
founds himself.

5. He is skilled in rhetoric, which gives a speech colour,
as logic doth favour, and both together beauty. Though
some condemn rhetoric as the mother of lies, speaking more
than the truth in hyperboles, less in her meiosis, otherwise
in her metaphors, contrary in her ironies, yet is there
excellent use of all these, when disposed of with judgment.
Nor is he a stranger to poetry, which is music in words ; nor
to music, which is poetry in sound.

6. Mathematics he moderately studieth.

7. Hence he makes his study into the progress of
history. Nestor, who lived three ages, was accounted the
wisest man in the world. But the historian may make him
self wise by living as many ages as have past since the
beginning of the world. His books enable him to maintain
discourse, who besides the stock of his own experience, may
speed on the common purse of his reading. This directs

College Days. 55

him in his life, so that he makes the shipracks of others sea
marks to himself : yea, accidents which others start from for
their strangeness, he welcomes as his wonted acquaintance,
having found precedents for them formerly. Without history
a man's soul is purblind, seeing only the things which almost
touch his eyes.

8. He is well seen in Chronology.

Then taking these sciences in their general latitude, he
hath finished the round circle or golden ring of the arts ;
only he keeps a place for the diamond to be set in : I mean
for that predominant profession of law, physic, divinity, or
state policy, which he intends for his principal calling here
after."

This, then, is a sketch of the curriculum through which our
young student passed. By it he became " so general a
scholar that it was his insight into everything he had read
(together with his thinking and meditating nature, out of
which he could not be got sometimes for several hours
together) made his fancy so nimble that as soon as he heard
any subject, he was able to speak to it, taking not above two
hours' time to recollect himself for his sermons."

A student's life is generally uneventful. Fuller's under
graduate days sped their usual flight, the only events likely
to relieve their monotony being the royal visits, which hap
pened from time to time, when the King was hunting at
Newmarket and Royston, and received invitations to Cam
bridge. On one such occasion " the young scholars, dressed
according to their degree, were placed in order from Jesus
College gates unto Trinity College gates." When the King
was feasted at Trinity, the King was greeted everywhere with
cries of "Vivat Rex," and no doubt our young student

56 The Life of Fuller.

joined in this demonstration of loyalty, being both loyal him
self and belonging to a foundation remarkable for its loyalty.
Then there would be the rejoicings (1623) upon the return
of Prince Charles from his impolitic matrimonial tour to
Spain, when, as Mede says, "our bells rang all that day,
and the towne made bonfires at night." Fuller would seem to
have much enjoyed and to have taken a lively interest in the
private theatricals and the Latin plays, which at that time
obtained at the University, not only at the time of the royal
visits, but which were allowed to be repeated at other times.
He may have acted himself. At all events, he made the
acquaintance of the dramatic works of that dramatic age, and,
of course, especially of Shakespeare. Several attempts
were made to put down these histrionic eventuations, but
they continued to flourish, and in some Colleges more than
others. Thus, Queens' appears to have taken a prominent
place among them, and a play was acted there, called
" Senile odium" by the undergraduates in 1631. It was
composed by a friend and neighbour of Fuller's, Peter
Hanstead, born at Oundle, near Aldwinckle.

But, in spite of all these attractions, our student never
forgot the object for which he was sent to the University,
and diligently pursued those usual academic studies, which
can only be learned at one time in life, and at one place.
This diligence is proved by his taking his first or B. A. degree
at the early age of seventeen, in the year 1625. For this
degree students had to take part in two disputations before a
Moderator. Each candidate had to be respondent, and to
give in three propositions to be maintained in Latin. Other
examinations were also required, including questions from
the old Stagyrite Aristotle. These tests having been com-

College Days. 5 7

plied with, the successful candidates were duly announced
by the Proctor, on the Thursday before Palm Sunday.
Thus Fuller took his B.A. degree, Commemoration Day,
at the end of the Lent term, 1624, together with fifty-one
other students of Queens', having passed through his
exercises with great eclat, which is expressly stated, and
signed his name in the University subscription book to
the newly-introduced Thirty-nine Articles. The first period
of his student life was thus as successful, as it had been
assiduous.

Our student had now three years more to reside and
spend in his academical studies before he could proceed to
the superior degree. For this he had to perform fresh acts,
both in the public schools and separate colleges. During
this time he began to be surrounded by a numerous circle
of friends, for his genial disposition, his bonhommie, his
ready wit, his genuine humour, were bound to make him a ,
general favourite with his compeers and College companions.
Aubrey says, " He was a pleasant, facetious person, and a
bonus socius" The friendships he made at Queens' were
lasting, and at the lapse of thirty years he could remember
many of them. Amongst his friends and acquaintance may
be mentioned William Buckley, one of the Fellows, whom
Fuller speaks of as "my worthy friend, lately gone to
God " ; Stephen Nettler, another Fellow, who wrote a learned
work in answer to Selden's " Divine Right of Tithes " ;
William Johnson, another Fellow, who took great delight in
the plays acted in the College ; Edmund Gourney, another
fellow, " an excellent scholar, who could be humorous, and
would be serious, as he was himself disposed : his humours
were never prophane towards God, or injurious towards his

58 The Lift of Fuller.

neighbour : which premised, none have cause to be dis
pleased if in his fancies he pleased himself. Coming to me
in Cambridge, when I was studying, he demanded of me
the subject on which I studied. I told him I was collect
ing the witnesses of the Protestant religion through all ages
even in the depth of Popery, conceiving it feasible, though
difficult, to evidence them, * It is a needless pains,' said he,
' for I know that I am descended from Adam, though I
cannot prove my degree from him.' And yet, reader, be
pleased to take notice that he was born of as good a
family as any in Norfolk/' Among Fuller's other acquain
tances we may notice Thomas Edwards, the author of
" Gangrsena " ; Sidrach Simpson, one of the five Congrega-
tionalists in the Westminster Assembly, 1643; who were
both at Queens'.

King Charles was proclaimed king 3oth of March, 1625,
and the town and University of Cambridge seem to have
given themselves up to unbounded joy at such a succession
to the Crown. Troublous times, however, were in store for
the nation ; and the struggle, which was then going on in
the political world, soon began to be felt both in town and
college. The students in those days probably took a more
spirited interest in politics and political questions than they
do now, and Queens' appears to have played by no means
an unimportant part in these struggles.

In the disputed election between the Earl of Buckingham,
as Chancellor of the University, and the Earl of Berkshire,
"loving and loved of the University," the members of
Queens', especially the students, took a most active part in
promoting the candidature of the latter, which, however,
proved unsuccessful, the Court favourite winning by four

College Days. 59

votes. No doubt this and other similar conflicts were
preparing the students for the important part which they
had to play a few years afterwards, when the kingdom found
itself divided between Royalist and Roundhead : a conflict
which had even then begun.

Mr. Bailey (in his voluminous biography) gives us an
account of an interesting episode which took place at Mid
summer Eve, this year, as recorded by Fuller in his
** Worthies." A book containing " A Preparation to the
Cross," and two other treatises on religion, was found in the
belly of a codfish, which had been brought to Cambridge
for sale. The affair created a great sensation. The book
" was wrapped about with canvas, and probably that vora
cious fish plundered both out of the pocket of some
shipwrecked seaman. The wits of the University made
themselves merry thereat, one making a long copy of verses
thereon, whereof this distich I remember —

" If fishes then do bring in books, then we
May hope to equal Bodlye^s Library. "

But whilst the youngsters disported themselves therewith,
the graver sort beheld it as a sad presage ; and some who
little looked for the Cross have since found it in that
place."

Young Fuller, it may be confidently asserted, was fore
most among these wits. We wonder whether any of the bad
jokes which follow may be attributed to him : " A young
scholar (who had in a stationer's shop peeped into the titles
of the civil law) there viewing this unconcocted book in the
codfish, made a quiblet thereupon, saying that it might be
found in the Code, but never could be entered into the
Digest : " Another said or wrote, " that he would hereafter

60 The Life of Fuller.

never count it a reproach to be called Cod's head, seeing
that fish is now become so learned an helluo librorum"
which signifies a man of much reading, or skilful in many
books. Another said, " that at the act of commencement
for degrees, two things are principally expected, good
learning and good cheer, whereupon this seaquest against
the very term of commencement brought his book to furnish
the one, and his carcase to make up the other."

We have another recollection of Fuller's college days
in the following passage, where he is speaking of Latimer's
sermon on the Cards — blunt preaching, which was then
admirably effectual, but ridiculous now. " I remember in
my time a country minister preached at' St. Mary's : his
text, Romans xii. 3, 'As God hath dealt to every man a
measure of faith.' In a fond (foolish) imitation of Lati
mer's card sermon, he prosecuted the metaphor of dealing,
that men should play above board, i.e., avoid all dissem
bling, not pocket cards, but improve their gifts and graces,
follow suit, wear the surplice, and conform in ceremonies,
&c. All produced nothing but laughter in the audience.
Thus the same actions are by several persons and times
made not the same actions ; yea, differenced from commend
able discretion to ridiculous absurdity. And thus he will
make but bad music, who hath the instrument and fiddlestick,
but none of the rosin of Mr. Latimer."

Fuller's anonymous biographer relates that he would have
been elected to a Fellowship at Queens' College, but that
the statutes forbade two fellowships to be held together
at the same time by natives of his county. The same
writer adds, that he might have had a dispensation, but
declined it. The following correspondence, however, oi'

College Days. 6 1

his uncle, Bishop Davenant, with his intimate friend, Dr.
Ward, would lead us — as Mr. Russell says in his Memorials
— to infer that this account was altogether unfounded : in
fact the reason why he was passed over has always been a
mystery to us.

SALUTEM IN CHRISTO.

July 27th, 1626.
GOOD DR. WARD,

I hope you will make a journey this summer into these
western parts and visitt us here in Salisbury in your way. Had
not God taken from vs our worthy friend I might perchance
have accompanied unto Wells : but now these viadges are with
mee at an end. I would intreat you to cast about, wher I
may have ye best likelihood for preferring my nephew Sr
Ffuller, to a fellowship, yf hee cannot speed in Queens Colledg
Dr. Mansel has yet givin mee no answer one way or other, but
I think ere long hee will. I pray when you come down this way
so cast your business yt I may enjoy your company as long as
your occasions will p'mitt: you cannot doe me a greater kinde-
ness. And thus with my harty commendations I committ you to

God and rest alwaies.

Your very loving friend,

JO : SARU.

To ye right woorll. his very loving friend Dr. Ward, Master of
Sidney Colledg, and one of the publicq readers in Divinity, give
this.

The next letter in which Sr Ffuller' s name appears is
dated Sept. 23rd, 1627, and written at Lacham, a seat of
the Montagus, near Chippenham, with whom the Fullers
seem to have been upon very intimate terms.

SALUTEM IN CHRISTO.
GOOD DR. WARD,

So soon as I have opportunity I shall think of those points
which you mentioned unto mee in your last letter. But I am at

62 The Life of Fuller.

this present unfurnished of bookes and am like so to continew
till I return to Saru. The number of those who die weekly is not
great ; but ye danger is that ever and anon some new house is
infected. I pray God wee may savely return thither at Christ
mas. I am now going to ye Bath, to try yf I can gett away
ye noise in my head. I have writt unto the Master of Queens'
Colledg (Dr. Mansel) to know what likelihood ther is for ye
preferment of my nephew Thomas Ffuller vnto a fellowship.
Hee is to bee Master of Artes next commencement, and therefore
I am resolved (yf ther bee no hope ther) to seek what may bee
doon els where. And herein I must crave your favour and
assistance. I pray therefore (yf you can preferr him in your
own colledg) let me intreat your best assistance therein : or yf
you have no means to doe it there, make trial what Dr. Preston
thinks may be doune in Immanuel Colledg. In briefe, I should
bee gladd to have him spedd of a fellowship in any Colledg : and
should not be vnthankful towards that society, which for my
sake should do him ye favour. I am unwilling to write vnto any
but your selfe, unles I first might vnderstand from you, wher is
ye best likelihood of prevailing, and then I should write willingly,
vnto, any whome you finde willing at my motion to doe him good.
Then with remembrance of my love, I comityouto God and rest
alwaies.

Your very loving friend,

JO : SARU.

The next letter on the same subject is dated October
25th, and is written from the same place.

SALUTEM IN CHRISTO.
GOOD DR. WARD,

I have spent some time in considering those pointes con
cerning ffreewill, which you mentioned in your last letter. But
I am altogether destitute of my bookes, and cannot possibly bee
furnished with them, unless myselfe (which I am yet loath to
doe) should goe over to Salisbury. I am therefore loath to send
you my bare conceat of those questions : but so soon, as- I can

College Days. 63

have ye help of my bookes to advise withall, you shall know my
opinion.

Dr. Mansel has not yet given mee a resolute answer' whether
Sr ffuller bee in possibility of beeing chosen at their next elec
tion or no. But I have now writt unto him, and expect a ful
and finall answer yf their bee no hope of speeding in Queens
Colledg : I should think my selfe behoulding vnto you (as I
formerly writt) yf you should take pains to inquire in what other
colledg hee might be spedd. Whersomever that favour should
bee donne him : I should not forgett to take some opportunity
of requiting it : I once mentioned another matter unto you,
which I would desire you still to think of. It was this, that
when you know any Discreet Man, competently provided for,
who intends marriadg, you would (as from your selfe) wish him
to bee a suiter unto some of our maidens (i.e. the Townsons)
wherof two are now marriadgable. My sister will give reason
able portions and I shall bee ready to doe somewhat for any
woorthy man that shall match with any of them, as occasion is
offered mee. The sickness contineus so at Salesbury, that I
doubt I shall keep my Christmas here at Lacock. Thus comitt-
ing you to ye protection of ye Almighty I rest alwaies

Your very loving friend,

JO: SARU.

Nothing resolute Having been done for our student by
Dr. Mansel and the Fellows of Queens', although some
promise had been given by the former, Bishop Davenant
wrote to Fuller's father to go up to Cambridge, and see
what could be done, as the following letter, dated 28th
November, will testify.

DR. WARD,

I hardly thank you for your mindefulness of my nephew
Sr ffuller : what Queens' Colledg: will doe for him I know not :
I have writt unto his father to make a jorney to Cambridg and
to see if anything is likely to bee done for him in our own Colledg,
yet yf bee no hope there, wee may seek, abroad in time. As for

64 The Life of Fuller.

my nieces, ye elder is seventeen yeer ould, a maide of a sober
and gentle disposition, and every way fitt to make a good wife
for a Divine. The next is but fiveteen yeer ould, not yet ripe for
marriadg, but will bee by that time a good husband bee found
for her, and I doubt not she will in all good qualities match her
sister, £c.

The annual commencement took place July ist, 1628,
when Fuller proceeded to his degree of M.A. The Vice-
Chancellor was Dr. Bainbrigge, Master of Christs College,
where Milton was a student ; and the usual ceremonies and
rejoicings in connection with it began at St. Mary's Church.
The Divinity Act (of which Dr. Belton, of Queens', and
Mr. Chase, of Sydney, were the respondents) took place in
the morning, and the Philosophical Act in the afternoon.
Witty Dr. Brownrig (one of Fuller's friends) was the Pre
varicator, and the whole proceedings, especially in the
public schools, seem to have passed off with unusual eclat
and brilliancy.

Fuller received his M.A. degree with marked applause, in
company with 216 other graduates. We are told that both
his degrees were " taken with such general commendation,
and at such unusual age, that such a commencement was
not within memory." He had once more to sign his name
to the subscription book, and thus moved one step higher.
He had now passed through the whole curriculum of his
seven years' studies, and no doubt had made the acquaint
ance of those Fathers and classic authors, quotations from
which abound in such a marvellous way, as was the case
with the other giants of literature in that period.

But Fuller was still without his fellowship. There was
another election this same year ; but, in spite of the earnest
entreaties of Bishop Davenant, he was again passed over,

College Days. 65

the reason not being given ; but it would seem to point to
a want of inclination on the part of the President Yet
it was needful for something to be done, for being in
tended for the Church, five years more were required to
qualify him for his degrees in Divinity. This would entail
a burden upon his father, and if he had to remain in resi
dence, it was needful for his friends to make some arrange
ment for his subsistence. Accordingly, we find Davenant
once more writing to his "very loving friend," Dr. Ward,
on the subject, dated October 2ist, 1628.

SALUTEM IN CHRISTO.
DR. WARD,

I am informed they have made a late election at Queens'
Colledg : and utterly passed by my nephew. I would the Master
had but donne mee that kindenes, as not to have made mee ex
pect some kindenes from him. I should have taken it much
better, than his dooing of lesse than nothing, after some promise
of his favourable assistance. I am loath Mr. ffuller should bee
snatched away from the University before hee bee grown
somewhat riper. His ffather is p'swaded to continew him
there vntill I can provide him some other means : but hee
think it will bee some disparagement and discouragement to
his sonne to continew in that Colledg: where hee see many
of his punies stept before him in preferment. In which hee is
very desirous that hee should remoov vnto your colledg, there
to live in fellowes comons, till hee should bee otherwise dis
posed of. Wee neither intend nor desire to make him fellow
of yours or any other colledg : but only that hee may be con
veniently placed for ye continuance of his studyes. I pray
him doe him what kindenes conveniently you may in helping
to a chamber and study, and in admittance into fellowes
comons with as little chardg as ye orders of your howse will
give leave. In Queens' Colledg, Mrs. of Arts had many times
ye' favour granted to come into Comons, without giving plate

E

66 The Life of Fuller.

or any such like burdens, which lay upon young gentlemen
fellow comoners. I make no doubt of your readines to doe
him any lawfull favour : but ye cheife thing which I am at in his
removal is that hee may also have your supr'vision and
direction bothe in ye course of his life and study. And thus with
remembrance of my love I comittyou to God and rest alwaies,
Your very loving friend,

JO : SARU.

Thus Fuller's connection with the old royal foundation
was severed once and for all. There is another account
given of the reason why he did not obtain a Fellowship at
Queens'. During his stay there, a co-fellowship fell vacant,
and our student became a candidate for it,1" prompted thereto
by a double plea of merit and interest, besides the desire
of the whole house." But the College statutes forbade the
election of more than one fellow from the same county, and
Northamptonshire was already represented, probably by
Fuller's cousin, Robert Townson, who required it more than
he did, so Fuller accordingly " quitted his pretensions and
designation to that preferment." It was proposed to alter
the said statute in his favour, so as to allow him to accept
a fellowship, but this " he totally declined," thinking it an
unwise precedent to change a College statute, " not willing
to own his rise and advancement to the courtesy of so ill a
precedent, that might usher in more immodest intrusions
upon the privileges and laws of the College."

Thus Fuller quitted the College of his family and connec
tions ; the College of his choice, in which he had spent seven
pleasant and profitable years. He left it with his M.A.
degree and a good stock of solid learning, with a mind
well-stored with general and special literature. In after

College Days. 67

years he always looked back with loving and grateful re
membrance upon the time he had spent within its own quaint
and venerable walls. "And thus," he said, in the annals of the
University, " I take my farewell of this foundation, wherein I
had my education for the first eight years [1621-8] in that
University. Desiring God's blessing to be plentifully
poured upon all the members thereof."

" Accordingly," says Mr. Russell, " Fuller was on the 5th
of November, 1629, admitted a Tanquam-Socius at Sidney-
Sussex College, under the tutorship of Dr. Ward, the Master,
and Mr. Richard Dugard."

E 2

63 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER VI.

COLLEGE DAYS (SYDNEY-SUSSEX). 1629-1631.

" He was chosen minister of St. Bennefs parish in the Town
of Cambridge, in whose church he offered the Primiticc of his
ministerial fruits, which, like apples of gold in pictures of silver
(Sublime Divinity in the most ravishing elegancies), attracted
the audience of the University, by whose dilated commendations
he was generally known at that age at which most men do but
peep into the world"— Anonymous Life, p. 5.

[ROM one end of Cambridge to the other, from
Queens' Lane to Jesus Lane, from Queen's
College to Sydney College, we must now
accompany our learned and studious hero to his
new rooms, in which he will now address himself to the
studies of Theology, Hebrew, and Divinity. Mr. Bailey says
he was admitted to this foundation not as "Tanquam
socius" as stated, but only ad conviclum sociorum, i e., as
fellow-commoner. Fuller says " a Tanquam it seems, is a
fellow in all save the name thereof," which he defines as " a
fellow's fellow." To acquire this privilege higher fees had
to be paid, and no doubt Bishop Davenant defrayed the
extra expense incurred by this privilege. But I fail to see,
if Fuller was neither a fellow or Tanquam socius at Sydney, the
reason of his migrating from Queens'. There are to this
day fellow-commoners at Queens', and surely such a dis
tinguished commoner as Fuller would have been allowed to
remain on that foundation, in which he had spent seven

Student Life. 69

years, in this new capacity. The expense would have been
about the same, and the only way in which I can account
for his migration is either pique at being passed over, or the
friendship of so famed a theologian as Dr. Ward.

Sydney, or more correctly Sydney Sussex, commonly
called " Sydney Sus " College, was a new college, com
paratively speaking, when Fuller migrated to it, and had
been founded by Frances, widow of the Earl of Sussex, and
aunt of Sir Philip Sydney. It stood on the site of the old
Franciscans, or Grey Friars friary, who established themselves
on the spot 1274, and dated back to Edward I., its founder.
Fuller observes in his day the area of their church was
easily visible in Sydney College garden, where the depres
sions and subsidency of their bowling green, east and west,
present the dimensions thereof : and I have oft found dead
men's bones thereabouts." The site had been purchased
from Trinity College, to whom it had been granted by
Henry VIII., on the suppression of their house by the
foundress, and the church had been used for public exercises
as far down as 1507, being the largest in the University.
When the new college was erected, the refectory of the old
friary was utilised for a chapel, which continued as such till
1776. But there seems to have been a doubt as to its con
secration, some averring that it had been a stable. For this
it was " presented " among the visitation articles by Bishop
Wrenn to Archbishop Laud, with which his Majesty was
much displeased, and determined on its consecration. On
the other hand, it was contended by many learned
authorities (and Fuller evidently shared their opinion) that
the continuous use of the building for public prayers for the
space of 30 years did effectually consecrate it. He calls the

7 o The Life of Fuller.

foundation a Benjamin College, "the least, and last in time,
and born after the death of its mother." Though " a little
babe," Fuller says it was " well-batteled " under the foster
ing care of its early masters, and others who interested
themselves in increasing its revenues.

The first master of the College was Dr. Mountagu, after
wards Bishop of Bath and Wells, who was a great benefactor
to his College. He was a strenuous advocate of " Low
Church" opinions, and gave the College a Puritanical
tendency and reputation. He was a courtier, and translated
King James's works into Latin, for which the King gave him
rapid promotion. He died Bishop of Winchester, being
succeeded by " that gulf of learning," Bishop Andrewes, in
1618. Among the other benefactors was Francis Cleark,
Knt, who either pitched upon the foundation for the
receipt of his charity because it was the youngest, or out of
admiration for Dr. Ward and his scholars, their grave
deportment and patient industry, whose commendable
order he beheld on a visit of his to the University. Also Mr.
Peter Blundell, of Tiverton, founder of Blundell's School,
where Dr. Temple, the present excellent Bishop of Exeter,
was educated, and laid the foundation of his future success.

Fuller tells us of one of the curiosities of Sydney College,
a skull brought from a well in Candia (about ten feet
beneath the soil) to England in 1621, which was candied 'all
over with sfotie, yet so as the bone remained entire in the
middle, as by a casual breach thereof did appear. He
had been speaking of a spring which is conceived to turn
wood into stone. " The truth is this, the coldness of the
water incrustateth wood (or what else falleth into it) on every
side with a strong matter, yet so that it does not transub-

Student Life. 71

stantiate wood into stone; for the wood remaineth entire
within, until at last wholly consumed, which giveth occasion
to the former erroneous relations. The like is reported of
a well in Candia with the same mistake, that quicquid incidit
lapidcscit" He then mentions the skull at Sydney College.
This skull was sent for by King Charles Ix, through
Dr. Harvey, and whilst I lived in the house, by him safely
returned to the College, being a prince as desirous in such
cases to preserve other's property, as to satisfy his own
curiosity." The teeth are white and sound and remain
unchanged, but the other parts resemble a hard sandstone.
It has, however, since been broken and some parts lost.
The library, which is conveniently contrived as a study to
the Master's Lodge, and is neatly fitted up with a choice
selection of books, also contains a bust of Cromwell, exe
cuted by the celebrated Bernini, from a plaster impression,
taken from Oliver's face after his death and sent to Italy.
The countenance bears a great resemblance to the cele
brated picture by Cooper.

The College is situated on the east side of Sidney Street,
at the corner of Jesus Lane : its buildings enclose two
small courts, much altered since Fuller's time, having
recently undergone great restoration, under the direction of
Sir Jeffrey Wyatville, in the Gothic style. The north court
is embattled and gabled ; windows on the east side are
transomed, without tracery, and the central portion projects
beyond the rest with an arcade. The second or south
court is gabled and embattled on the north and south sides ;
the west, on which stands the library and chapel, is graced
with pinnacles, an enriched porch, a bell-turret or rather
bell-gable, in the hermitage or monastic manner, observable

72 The Life of Fuller.

at Skelton Church, near York, and some few village
churches in Rutland.

The chapel, which, as we have observed, was originally
the Friars' dormitory, has been elegantly re-built. It con
tains a very handsome Altar-piece, viz : " a Repose during the
Flight into Egypt." It was painted by Pittoni, a Venetian,
and represents the Virgin with the infant Saviour in her
arms reclining on some loose straw : on the right is Joseph
sleeping in the clouds ; in the upper part are several cherubs,
one of whom bears a fillet, on which an inscription,
explanatory of the subject, is supposed to have been
written ; but this was obliterated by the damage the painting
sustained in the ship which brought it from Venice being
leaky. Both the composition and the colouring are extremely
fine.

Among other portraits in the Master's Lodge, is an
original crayon of Oliver Cromwell, by Cooper. This is
esteemed a very correct likeness and has been frequently
copied. It was presented to the College in 1765. Oliver,
who was born in Huntingdon, April 25th, 1599, was a
member of this house. The time of his admission into the
College is thus noticed in the register: "Aprilis 26, 1616,
Oliverus Cromwell, Huntingdoniensis, admissus ad com-
meatum Sociorum Aprilis vicesimo sexto, 1616, Tutore,
Mro. Ricardo Howlet." Among other eminent men are to
be found the names of Dr. Ward, second master of the
College, the friend of the Fullers ; Archbishop Bramhall, of
Armagh(i66i), Dr. Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury (1667),
and Dean Comber, of Durham (1691), and Wollaston,
author of " The Religion of Nature Delineated."

Dr. Samuel Ward — "my reverend Tutor, " as Fuller calls

Student Life. 73

him, had been Master of the College since 1609, and not
only had he been for many years on terms of intimacy with
his family, but from the letters which passed between Bishop
Davenant and himself, with regard to young Fuller, and
which we have already given at length, it is easy to see
what an interest he must have taken in the young alumnus.
In fact, there seems to have been a great intimacy existing
between the master and his pupil — which would be only
natural, from the fact that the Doctor knew his family so
well — the interest he took in his pupils was quite a note in
his character — and he was well acquainted with the brilliant
promise of the new student.

Dr. Ward was born at Bishop's Middleson, in the county
of Durham, and came of a good family. He was educated
at Christ's and Emmanuel Colleges, and had the reputation
of being a learned theologian. To him, as he was an exact
linguist, was assigned a part of the translation of the Bible —
some of the Apocryphal Books, upon the production of
which he was much complimented by the revisers, and on
account of his great theological attainments he was selected
with Davenant and others to represent the English Church
at the Synod of Dort, where he distinguished himself.
When Davenant was made Bishop of Salisbury, he suc
ceeded him as Margaret Professor of Theology, in accord
ance with Davenant's wishes, which chair he held for twenty
years ; his theses attest his readiness in the scholastic divinity
of those times ; he inclined to the Calvinistic School. He
became chaplain to Bishop Mountagu (a former Head
of the College), and by him was introduced to the Court.
The King seemed to have held him in great estimation, but
his theology didn't synchronise with that of Laud and the

74 The Life of Fuller.

Court clergy : he was, however, enrolled among the Court
chaplains. Some idea of his learning may be gathered from
his letters to the elder Vossins, in which he animadverted
upon his " History of Pelagianism." He was also the friend
and correspondent of the indefatigable Ussher. Dr. Ward
made an excellent Master of a College, and the College
flourished under him, numbering some 140 students. He
took great interest in the advancement of his pupils, who
were much attached to him in consequence. One of them,
Lloyd, thus speaks of him, " He was so good a man that he
was tutor as well as master to the whole College ; yea, kept
almost as big a College by his goodness, as he governed by
his place : more depending upon him there and abroad as
a benefactor, than did as a governour. Being a great recom-
mender, as well as an incourager of worth, he used to say
that he knew nothing that Church and State suffered more
from, than the want of a due knowledge of those worthy men
that were peculiarly enabled and designed to serve both.
And as another argument of his goodness, he went always
along with the moderate in the censures of the preachers in
the University, practices in the Courts that were under his
jurisdiction : and, in opinions in the Convocation, whereof
he was a member, much pleased with a modest soft way: "
With regard to his College duties as Master, there are docu
ments extant, which prove that he was morbidly sensitive in
the discharge of these.

Fuller, who has gratefully memorialized Dr. Ward in his
"Worthies" (Durham vol. i. p. 334,) concludes thus, "He
turned with the times as a rock riseth with the tide, " and, for
his uncomplying therewith, was imprisoned in St. John's
College, in Cambridge. In a word, he was counted a Puritan

Student Life, 75

before these times, and Popish in these times : and yet being
always the same, was a true Protestant at all times. He
died anno 1643, and was the first man buried in Sydney
College Chapel." Touching his character his pupil again
writes " Yet was he a Moses not only for slowness of speech,
but otherwise meekness of nature. Indeed, when in my pri
vate thoughts, I have beheld him and Dr. Collins (disputable
whether more different or more eminent in their endow
ments), I could not but remember the running of Peter and
John to the place where Christ was buried. In which John
came first as the youngest and swiftest, but Peter first en
tered into the grave. Dr. Collins had much the speed of him
in quickness of parts : but let me say (nor doth the relation
of a pupil misguide me) the other pierced the deeper into
the underground and profound points of Divinity. Now as
high winds bring some men the sooner into sleep, so I con
ceive the storms and tempests of these distracted times
invited this good old man the sooner to his long rest, where
we fairly leave him, and quietly draw the curtains about him."

Dr. Ward's deportment was particularly grave, and the
intimacy between him and his pupil quite paternal, so that
the residue of Fuller's studies were conducted under his
direction. Ward contributed the " Life of Mr. Perkins,"
which is appended to " The Faithful Minister," and on his
authority, Fuller tells us, "That Perkins would pronounce the
word damn with much emphasis as left a doleful echo in
his auditor's ears a good while after."

Fuller's other tutor was Mr. Richard Dugard, Fellow and
tutor of Sidney College, and B.D., in 1620. Of Dugard, he
records : " He was chosen Fellow of Sidney College, where,
in my time (for I had the honour of his intimate acquaint

7 6 The Life of Fuller.

tance), he had a moiety of the most considerable pupils,
whom he bred in learning and piety in the golden mean be
tween superstition and faction. He held a gentle strict
hand over them, so that none presumed on his lenity to
offend, or were discouraged by his severity to amend. He
was an excellent Grecian and general scholar ; old when
young, such his gravity in behaviour ; and young when old,
such the quickness of his endowments." He was an inti
mate friend of Milton, and died Rector of Fulletby, in Lin
colnshire, 1653 ; being buried under a marble stone in the
chancel.

Surrounded as he was with such excellent tutors, and
having before him such bright examples as Heads of Col
leges, no wonder our author found plenty of material,
wherewith to write his essay on " The Good Master of a Col
lege." We might have expected Davenant or Ward would
have provided the original of the sketch, which, however, is
supposed to be that of Dr. Metcalf, Master of St. John's
College, who counted the College as his own home." Not
like those masters who, making their Colleges as steps to
higher advancement, will trample on them to raise up them
selves ; and using their wings to fly up to their own honour,
cannot afford to spread them to brood their College. But the
thriving of the nursery is the best argument to prove the skill
and care of the nurse." Metcalf counted among his pupils,
Roger Ascham, author of the "Schoolmaster," and tutor of
Lady Jane Grey, Lord Burghley, Sir John Cheke, and
others.

Settling down to his new work at Sidney, and surrounded
with such eminent men and incentives to study, we can
picture to ourselves the young student buckling with re-

Student Life. 77

doubled industry to his new curriculum of Hebrew and •
Theology.

There are many facts to prove that Fuller did not neglect
his Hebrew studies. It has been already alluded to in his
sketch of " The General Artist," and elsewhere he speaks of
the necessity of continuous application to this language.
" Skill in Hebrew," he says in his " Holy State," " will
quickly go out, and burn no longer than 'tis blown." In
his earlier writings there are occasional references made to
this language, but it is chiefly in his •" Pisgah-sight of
Palestine " we find most plentiful instances of his skill in
that tongue. Both in his " Sermons " and " Church
History " are to be noticed traces of, and discussion anent,
Hebraistic literature. His copy of Sebastian Munster's
Hebrew and Latin Bible, which contains his autograph and
his style (D.D.) annexed thereto, is in the possession of a
Dorsetshire clergyman, and was exhibited in the Archaeo
logical Society in that county in 1865. Fuller took the
degree of D.D. in 1660, and he died 1661, so there is an
antecedent probability that this was one of the last books
he studied, and that he kept up his Hebrew to the end. At
all events, he was not one of those who buy books to
adorn their bookshelves, but to read them and make use of
them, so we may assume he read the Bible in the original
at that time.

A hearty welcome and a warm reception must have
been given Fuller on his introduction to Sydney College,
not only on account of his intimate relations with the
master, but from the attractions of the young graduate
himself — his solid learning, his conversational powers, his
bonhommie and ready wit. He formed, of course, many

7 S The Life of Fuller.

new acquaintances (and his presence had been eagerly
desired at the college, according to his biographer), and
these with the old ones left behind at Queens' (for though
severed in body he was not separated in spirit from his old
friends he had left behind) his circle of friends must have
been both numerous and yet select. Nor was he cut off
from them by the political troubles of the age. There were
Litton, his " chamber ' fellow," Sir George Ent, Clement
Bretton, Walter Mountagu, Joseph Mede, and Edward
Benlowes. All these were members of the college. These
solid facts and surroundings combined no doubt to paint his
life at that time with rose colour. It was in fact his golden
age, this loving intercourse with true friends. "The poets
called the first age of the world the golden age, not on
account of the abundance of gold, of which there was then
but little in use (inasmuch as * riches, the incentives to evil,'
were not yet dug out of the earth), but on account of the
supreme simplicity of that time. And in this sense indeed I
ought to consider college-life truly golden ; for I recall with
delight our life at the time when we formerly devoted our
selves to letters at Sydney College, I under the chief
direction of Dr. Ward, you under the tutorship of Master
Dugard, who have now both joined the ranks of the
blessed. But besides this happiness, which was common to
me with others, it was my especial honour to be associated
with you in the same' chamber, for that saying is well known,
' one is known by one's companion : ' wherefore I hope
that my obscurity -among my associates will be brightened
among posterity (as by a noteworthy sign) by the advantage
of your company."

It will be seen from the above that a student had not in

Stitdent Life. 79

those days a separate bedroom to himself, but shared it with
a chum or chamber fellow, who, from the nature of the
case, must have assisted or retarded the studies of the
other. But we have changed all that now.

In Fuller's case evidently they were " kindred spirits."
This Lytton was of Knebworth, in Hertfordshire, his
father being M.P. for Herts, and was one of the Committee
of Parliament sent to treat with the King at Oxford, 1643.
He was the ancestor of the present Lord Lytton, whose
family have always been more or less remarkable in politics
and letters. Clement Bretton was D.D., and died Arch
deacon of Leicester in 1669. He penned some laudatory
verses to " his dear friend " Mr. Fuller for the "Holy War "—

Thy quill hath wing'd the earth, the holy land
Doth visit us, commanded by^thy hand, £c.

Dr. George . Ent, " my old friend," as Fuller calls him,
became President of the College of Surgeons, was knighted
by Charles II., and wrote in defence of the discovery of Dr.
Harvey, his friend and contemporary at college. Walter
Mountagu, brother to the Earl of Manchester, was also at
the college, but he "went over" to the Roman Church, and
for a time went against the king, but retraced his steps, and
subsequently became Chamberlain. Mede became a
fellow of Christ's. Fuller calls him "most learned in
mystical divinity." He was a great friend of Ussher's,
and was much given to abstruse biblical studies, his
magnum opus being Clavis Apocalyptica. He gave Fuller
much assistance in his literary studies, who called him " my
oracle in doubts of this nature," i.e., some historical subject.
Elsewhere Fuller says of him, " Of one who constantly kept

8 0 The Life of Fuller.

his cell (so he called his chamber) none travelled oftener
and farther all over Christendom. For things past, he was a
perfect historian ; for things present, a judicious novilant ;
and for things to come, a prudential, not to say prophetical,
conjectures" (Worthies I.) To Edward Bendlowes, Fuller
dedicates the 6th Part of the " History of Cambridge."
Mr. Russell says of him, " he appears to have been
benevolent without prudence, and to have suffered ac
cordingly, but to have lived in the respect of those who
perhaps knew not the exigences by which he was overtaken
in his later years. He retained moreover to an un
fashionable period for such a characteristic that aversion to
Popery and to Arminianism which in his younger days was
far from singular." (p. 32.)

Besides these members of his own College there were a
number of "out College men" whose friendship Fuller had
the honour of, some of whom were destined to make a
conspicuous figure in the world of letters. There was
Edmund Waller, studying at Trinity, whose poems he was
familiar with. Then there was George Herbert, who, as
Public Orator, came down to discharge his duty " with as
becoming and grave a gaiety as any had ever before or
since his time " : he and Fuller often met. At this time
Milton was pursuing his studies at Christ's—" the lady of
Christ's College/' as he was called— under the tutorship of
William Chappel, remarkable for his skill in turning out
good scholars, and the love of poetry on both their parts
would naturally bring the young students together. Lastly,
there was the celebrated Jeremy Taylor, a native of
Cambridge, and a sizar of Caius College, who became
Fuller's "respected friend." Of the author of "Holy

Student Life. 81

Living and Holy Dying," &c., it is reported that when
Laud heard him first preach, his remark was that " it was
too good a sermon for so young a man " : " Please your
Grace," said the young divine, " if I live I will quickly
mend that fault."

Such were some of Fuller's compeers at the University
at this time, and it is to be confessed that with such
friendships in and out of College, and such academical
surroundings, that period of his life must have been a
" golden age " indeed. In truth, he must have made many
friends, and been quite a conspicuous figure among the
young graduates of the period. Certainly there is no life
so fascinating as that of College days, the mixture of grave
and gay, the peculiar atmosphere of the College life itself,
the quaint mediaevalism, the bonhommie of youth, the
stimulating the different parts of our many-sided nature,
now intellectual and now the physical, the friendship and
happy meetings — all combine to make life a prolonged and
charming poem — at that time.

This good feeling and respect in which Fuller was held
manifested itself in an unexpected way. He was offered
the perpetual curacy of St. Benet's (i.e., Benedict's) Church,
by the Master and Fellows of Corpus Christi College, its
patrons. This was in 1630, and soon after his admission at
Sydney, but we are not told that Fuller had any claims on
Corpus.

Corpus Christi College differs in its origin from that of
any other in the University, and was founded by the union
and benevolence of two societies or guilds in Cambridge,
termed " Gilda Corporis Christi " and " Gilda beatse Mariae
Virginis." Guilds were of very early institution, and

F

82 The Life of Fuller.

consisted of a company of persons associated sometimes
for particular, and at others for mixed, purposes. These
societies were of the latter class, and at once embraced
various objects, religious, charitable, and commercial.
Through the instrumentality of Henry Plantagenet, Duke
of Lancaster, their alderman, these guilds obtained, in 1352,
a licence from Edward III. to convert their societies into a
College, and they endowed it for a master and two fellows.
The endowments have been since augmented by succeeding
benefactors, and particularly by Archbishop Parker, who added
two fellowships and eleven scholarships. He procured also
a new body of statutes, gave many considerable bene
factions, and made a large addition to the library, by a
collection of printed books and rare and valuable MSS.

The College formerly consisted of an old Court and
Chapel, the latter built in 1578, at the expense of Sir
Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper, in the reign of Elizabeth,
and father of the illustrious statesman and philosopher of
that name. The old Court, situated behind the Hall, still
exists, and from it the ancient tower of St. Benet's may be
seen. The walls and buttresses of these old buildings are
covered with ivy, and seem to breathe an atmosphere of a
bygone age. The old Hall is now the College kitchen.

The Library contains some valuable books, and most of
the Reformation documents, and those connected with the
consecration of Archbishop Parker, and consequent
episcopal succession in the National Church. The manu
scripts contained in this Library are amongst the most
valuable in the kingdom. They are very ancient, some of
them being as old as the eighth century, but are chiefly
remarkable as comprising a large and very rare collection of

Student Life. 83

papers relating to ecclesiastical affairs, which had been
collected on the dissolution of monasteries by Henry VIII. ,
and amongst them are found interesting documents relative
to the Reformation, and a copy of the Thirty-nine Articles,
with the manuscript corrections of the compilers.

This matchless collection of MSS. was left to the College
by Archbishop Parker, formerly Master, and is held under
the following particular restrictions. " Every year, on the
6th of August, it is to be visited by the Masters of Trinity
Hall and Cains College, with two scholars on the Arch
bishop's foundation. Upon the examination of the library, if
twenty-five books are missing, or cannot be found within six
months, the whole collection devolves to Caius. In that case
the Masters of Trinity Hall and Corpus Christi College, with
two scholars on the same foundation, are the visitors, and if
Caius be guilty of the like neglect, the books are to be
delivered up to Trinity Hall : the then Masters of Caius and
Corpus, with two such scholars, become the inspectors, and
in case of default on the part of Trinity Hall, the whole collec
tion reverts to its former order." These valuable books, and
most important historical documents, are so carefully kept,
that even a Fellow of the College is not allowed to enter
the library, except accompanied by another Fellow or
scholar, who must attend him during his stay, according to
the Archbishop's will. Here is also a portrait of the
Archbishop, supposed to be original. The College is now
entered by a superb entrance gateway, flanked by lofty
towers, in the grand west front, which faces Trumpington
Street, but it was formerly entered from St. Benet's Street,
near the Church tower. Before the erection of the present
Chapel — an elegant structure, in the ecclesiastical style of

F 2

84 The Life of Fuller.

architecture — the students "kept their prayers" in St.
Benet's Church, which gave the name to the College even
in Fuller's days. "It hath another working day name," he
said, " commonly called, from the adjoined Church, Bennet
College."

When Fuller was admitted to this foundation Dr. Henry
Butts was Master, and, after his melancholy death, was
succeeded by Dr. Richard Love, who afterwards sat with
the Westminster Assembly. There were eleven fellows on
the foundation, and Fuller thus records his indebtedness to
them. " I must thankfully confess myself once a member
at large of this house, when they were pleased, above
twenty years since, freely (without my thoughts thereof) to
choose me minister of St. Benedict's Church, the parish
adjoining, and in their patronage."

Some description of this Church— as being Fuller's first
pastoral charge — may prove interesting to the reader, which
we give in Mr. Bailey's woids : "The Church to which
Fuller was thus appointed takes us back to Saxon times,
dating from 650. It adjoins the northern part of the
College, and is of rather small dimensions. It was origi
nally the University Church; and the Vice-Chancellor, &c.,
still officially attend it every Easter Tuesday. The main
portion of the Church seems to be Early English : but the
edifice is chiefly remarkable in having a square, lofty,
unbuttressed and unornamented Saxon tower, which was
restored many years ago by the Camden Society. The
tower contains a peal of six ' tuneable ' bells, upon one of
which, dated 1607, is inscribed : OF . ALL . THE BELLS IN

BENNET . I . AM . BEST . AND . YET . FOR . MY. CASTING . THE

PARISH PAID LEST. A similar quaint sentiment runs round

Student Life. 85

another. Very worthy of notice is the internal massive
western to\ver-arch, distinguished by its peculiar impost
mouldings, jambs of what is technically called * long and
short' work, and pilaster strips — the two latter being an
evident imitation in stone of the wooden construction of
the Saxons. This arch has been described by competent
authority as * certainly one of the most noticeable Roman
esque arches in the country.' The window opposite the
arch is also seen in the exterior view of the tower, £c.
The ' long and short ' work again appears at the angles of
this tower."

There seems to be some discrepancy about the time that
Fuller received holy orders. It is supposed that upon
receiving this important pastoral charge — the perpetual
curacy, or, as we should now say, the vicarage of St.
Benedict's — he received ordination from his diocesan, the
Bishop of Ely (John Buckeridge), by whom he would be
licensed to his cure of souls. But he surely could not have
received this pastoral care till he was in priest's orders (a
rule which obtains universally and for obvious reasons), and
yet there is no mention of his ordination to the diaconate.
Possibly he may have received deacon's orders about 1628,
and been priested on his nomination to St. Benet's, before
his institution and induction to the temporalities of the
living. The register, however, of Ely — neither at Ely or
London — contains no record of the ceremony. One of his
biographers says he was ordained by his uncle, Dr. Davenanr,
but there is no proof of this. Aubrey again avers that
" he was first minister of Broad Windsor," i.e., in the diocese
of Bristol, which must be incorrect. During the time
Fuller served St. Benet's, he did not reside at Corpus, but

86 The Life of Fuller.

kept on his rooms at Sydney, for which College he had an
affectionate regard.

At St. Benet's Church at all events Fuller entered into
his labours as parish priest. He there " offered the primity
of his ministerial fruits, which like apples of gold in pictures
of silver (sublime divinity in the most ravishing elegancies),
attracted the audience of the University." His success as
a preacher was most marked, and as his biographer says,
" he was generally known at that age at which most men do
peep into the world," so young was he for that position.
But his ministrations were of short duration. For the
plague, which had been brought to Cambridge by two
soldiers of the King of Sweden's army, broke out in the
University about April, 1630. The town was well adapted
for assisting the scourge, as it was " situate in a low, dirty,
unpleasant place, the streets ill-lighted, the air thick and
infected by the fens." According to Evelyn, most of the
Colleges were closed, only a few (Dr. Ward among the
number) remaining at their post. " Our University is, in a
manner, wholly dissolved," says Mede, " all meetings and
exercises ceasing. In many Colleges almost none left. In
ours, out of twenty-seven messes, we have not five. Our
gates strickly kept, none but Fellows to go forth, or any to
be let in without the consent of the major part of our
society : of which we have but seven at home at this
present. Only a sizar may go with his tutor's ticket upon
an errand. Our butcher, baker, and chandler bring the
provisions to the College gates, where the steward and cook
receive them. We have taken all our officers we need into
the College, and none must stir out : if he doth, he is to
come no more. Thus we live as close prisoners, and, I

Student Life. 87

trust, without danger.^ 'As the plague increased, all the
Colleges were closed, the students to return the ensuing
term. There was a great distress everywhere, to relieve
which collections were made in various parts of the country,
especially in London. There died 347 of the townspeople.
Few students re-assembled the next, i.e., October, term, and
the plague didn't leave till the winter."

During all this time Fuller remained at his post as Vicar
of St. Benet's, which the official registers of the parish,
kept by him, will duly testify. A great many were interred
from the "Spittal." As we have said, Fuller was not
residing at Corpus, so the Master, Dr. Butts, was left
almost alone. The effect upon the University was most
disastrous, and it was long before the students assembled
in their usual numbers. Many got their degrees without
public exercises, much to the annoyance of those who had
painfully gotten theirs. "Yea, Dr. Collins, being after
wards to admit an able man Doctor, did (according to the
pleasantness of his fancy) distinguish inter cathcdraui
pestilentitz, and cathcdram eminentice, leaving it to his
auditors easily to distinguish his meaning therein."

One of the parishioners of St. Benet's parish was no less
a person than the celebrated " Hobson the carrier." He
was a great benefactor to the church and parish, and pos
sibly Fuller may have had him in his eye when he wrote
his " Good Parishioner." He left five shillings a year for
an annual sermon. This Hobson was the first man who
let out hackney- horses, and was much patronised by the
students of the period. He kept forty horses in his stables,
and there was always one ready when wanted, but he con
siderately obliged his customers to take the one nearest the

88 The Life of Fuller.

door. Hence the well-known proverb, "Hobsoris choice,
this or none." Fuller would naturally have taken a pride
in such a parishioner as the merciful old waggoner, being
one who cared for his cattle, whose " dumbness is oratory
to a conscientious man ; and he that will not be merciful to
his beast is a beast himself," to quote from his " Holy
State." Hobson died of the epidemic, having " sickened,"
as Milton says, " in the time of the vacancy, being forbid to
go to London by reason of the plague." It was feared
that the infection would be spread by his waggon journeys
to and fro to the metropolis,

His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome.

— Milton's Epitaph.

He was buried in the chancel of his parish church at his
own request, and no doubt Fuller performed the cere
mony, as there is an entry in the parish register to that
effect, signed by Fuller. Hobson bequeathed lands for
the erection of a workhouse, and the still existing conduit,
which he presented to his fellow-townsmen.

At the time when the students were being distracted into
their several counties by the plague, a royal prince was
born (Charles II.), May 29th. « Great," says Fuller, "was
the rejoicing thereat. The University of Oxford congratu
lated his birth with printed poems : and it was taken ill,
though causeless by some, that Cambridge did not do the
like; for then the wits of the University were sadly distracted
into their several counties by reason of the plague therein :
and remember Cambridge modestly excused herself in their
poem, made at the birth of the lady Mary : and it will not

Student Life. 89

be amiss to insert one tetrastic made by my worthy friend
Master John F. Booth, of Corpus Christi College, Cam
bridge :

Quod fuit ad nixus Academia muta prioris,
Ignoscat Princeps Carolus, cegra fuit,
Spe veniente nova, si tune tacuisset amores :
Non tantum morbo digna, sed ilia mori.

Fuller's translation runs thus :

Prince Charles, forgive me that my silent quill
Joy'd not thy birth : alas ! so sick was I.

New hopes now come : had I been silent still,
I should deserve both to be sick and die,

On the birth of the Princess Mary, the mother of
William III., next year, November 4th, 1631, the poetically
inclined Cantabs put out a volume of congratulatory verses,
amongst which appears Fuller as a contributor, in a poem
of six Latin verses. This is supposed to have been his
maiden production as a poet, being composed before his
" David." Among the contributors was Edward King
(Milton's "Lycidas"), Hansted of Queens', Whelock of
Clare, Randolph of Trinity, and James Duport, one of
Fuller's great friends. He it was who wrote some verses
for the " Holy War."

Then Christians rest secure : ye need not band
Henceforth in Holy leagues for th' Holy Land,
To conquer and recover 't from the Turk :
'Tis done already : Fuller's learned work
And pen more honour to the cause doth bring
Than did great Godfrey or our Lion King.

Thus learned Fuller a full conquest makes;
Triumphs o'er time and men's affections ; takes
Captive both it and them: his History,

9o The Life of Fuller.

Methinks it not a war, but Victory :

Where every line doth crown (such strength it bears)

The author Laureate, and a trophy rears.

About this time there was no small stir made about
draining the fens of Cambridgeshire ; and Fuller alludes to
the early efforts of Dutchmen to compass this important
work. But the Bailiff of Bedford, " as the country people
called the overflowing of the Ouse," attended like a person
of quality, by many servants, and undid all their work.
Arguments pro. and con. were given anent the scheme.
" But the best argument to prove that a thing can be done
is actually to do it." The draining brought more com
modities ; and as it had got more earth, so it gained better
air. " And Cambridge itself may soon be sensible of this
perfective alteration. Indeed, Athens (the staple of ancient
learning) was seated in a morass or fenny place (and so
Pisa, an academy in Italy), and the grossness of the air is
conceived by some to quicken their wits and strengthen
their memories. However, a pure air, in all impartial judg
ments, is to be preferred for students to reside in." Again,
in his " Holy State," " Some say a pure and subtle air is
best; another commends a thick and foggy air. For the
Pisans, sited in the fens and marsh of Arnus, have excel
lent memories, as if the foggy air were a cap for their
heads." However this may be, Fuller was through life
remarkable for his vigorous memory, which he cultivated
at this time at Cambridge. And both his father and uncle
Townson, who had also a remarkable retentive faculty, were
likewise Cambridge men.

With the Muses. 91

CHAPTER VII.
FULLER'S AUTHORSHIP AND PREACHING. — (1631.)

" Conceive him (the faithful minister) now a graduate in Arts
and entred into orders, according to the solemn form of the
Church of England, and presented by some Patrone to a
pastorall charge, or place equivalent, and then let us see how
well he dischargeth his office."— Holy State (The Faithful
Minister) p. 73.

]IVINITY and poetry do not, as a rule, go hand
in hand, and the reader may be surprised to
hear that our author's first endeavour in the
domain of authorship was that of Poetry. He
who became a grave theologian and preacher made his
first essay as the writer of verses. The cacoethes scribenai
seems to have been strong upon him at an early age, and we
have already noticed his first attempts, when, in company
with a few of his friends, he wrote some congratulatory
verses anent the birth of the Princess Mary. Yet Cam
bridge is not a place calculated to inspire a poetic feeling.
Milton had to confess that the surroundings of his Univer
sity were the very reverse. And Robert Hall, the great
Baptist preacher, had no patience with the Cambridgeshire
scenery, having neither river nor hill ; and when one sug
gested that the fields gave an idea of plenty, " And so, sir,"
said Hall, " does a meal tub." However, this depressing
effect is not visible in Fuller's case; for although in his
maturer years he talked of the " pleasant but profitless

9 2 The Life of Fuller.

study of poetry," he seemed to have been carried away with
the current furore then in vogue among the budding literati,
and to have given himself up to verse making.

Most of our readers, who have heard of " Fuller's Church
History," " Pisgah-Sight," " Holy War," " Holy and Profane
State," will perhaps not even have heard of Fuller's first
work, which is indeed quite forgotten. Yet even this work —
we suppose because it was the first of so eminent an author
— has fetched fabulous sums. A copy of it has lately
been priced at eight guineas, and in the British Museum
Copy there is a memorandum that it had sold for .£17.
Still we doubt if many of our readers ever saw a copy of it,
except by the merest chance.

The subject of Fuller's maiden effort was no doubt sug
gested by his theological reading — viz.: 'David, sweet singer
of Israel.' The punning propensities of the author are at once
visible in the singular alliterative title, " David's Hanious
Sinne, heartie repentance, heavie punishment." By Thomas
Fuller, Master of Arts of Sidnye Colledge, in Cambridge.
London, 1631. From the title, it is evident that the author
endeavoured to gain a niche in the temple of fame, among
the quaint poets of that quaint age — the ' metaphysical '
class of poets, as they may be termed, beginning with Lyly,
! culminating in Donne, and ending in Cowley. With the
spirit of this class of poets, their peculiarities and maner-
isms, Fuller was thoroughly imbued.

The subject, which our author selected, has proved an
attractive one to poets, but they do not appear to have
been successful in it. George Peile had dramatized it in
1599. Cowley, about the same time as Fuller, wrote an
" Heroical Poem on the troubles of David " : and Thomas

With the Muses. 93

Ellwood, the Quaker, who is credited with the suggestion to
Milton of his " Paradise Regained," also wrote on the same
subject, but the poetry is conspicuous by its absence.

Fuller's first publication, then, is a modest and unpreten
ding little book, compared with his later works, and consisted
of three books, the books being divided into stanzas of
seven lines each, and is comprised on forty leaves. As the
work is scarce, we will quote a few lines, as a specimen of
Fuller's versification. He begins by detailing the argument
of the poem.

How Zion's Psalmist grievously offended,
How Israel's Harper did most foully slide,
Yet how that Psalmist penitent amended,
And how that Harper patient did abide,
Deserved chastisement, &c.

After invocation for help, he then describes how David

When on Bathsheba loose eyes
He fixt, his heavenly Half did him dissuade.

After the storm struggle between flesh and spirit, the
result is thus described : —

Thus he that conquered men and beast most cruel, N
(Whose greedy paws with felon goods were found)
Answer'd Goliath's challenge in a duel,
And laid the Giant grovelling on the ground :
He that of Philistines two hundred slew,
No whit appaPd at their grisly hue,
Him one frail woman's beauty did subdue.

Other incidents follow, and the attempt to make Uriah
drunk.

Abishay next is drunk-to, Joab's brother,
And this cup to a second paves its way :

94 The Life of Fuller.

That orderly doth usher in another :
Then wine, once walking, knows not where to stay :
Yea, such a course methodical they take,
In ordering of cups, the same did make
Uriah quite all order to forsake".
His false supporters soon begin to slip :
And if his faltering tongue doth chance to light
On some long word, he speedily doth clip
The train thereof: yea, his deceitful sight,
All objects paired doth present to him,
As double faces, both obscure and dim,
Seem in a lying looking glass to swim.

Then follows a prayer with a strong teetotal flavour,

My prayer for friend's prosperity and wealth,
Shall ne'er be wanting: but if I refuse
To hurt myself by drinking other's health,
O, let ingenuous natures me excuse.

If men bad manners this esteem, then I
Desire to be esteemed unmannerly,
That, to live well, will suffer wine to die.

The plan not succeeding, he goes on to describe the
treacherous letter to Uriah, who thus bears his own wittiness,
and David sober worse than Uriah drunk.

Thus crafty maisters, when they mind to beat
A careless boy, to gather birch they send him :
The little lad doth make the rod complete
Thinking his maister therefore will commend him.
But, busily employed, he little thought
He made the net wherein himself was caught,
And must be beaten with the birch he brought.

We come now to the besieging army, affairs in the town
being thus described : —

With the Muses. 95

Whilst in the town one with his friend did talk,
A sudden stroake did take his tongiie away;
Some had their legs arrested as they walked,
By martial law commanding them to stay :
Here falls a massy beam : a mighty wall
Comes tumbling there : and many men doth maul
Who were both slain and buried by the fall.

After the death of Uriah, the second book opens with
the anger of the Almighty, creation itself demanding David's
punishment.

1 Please it your Highness for to give me leave,
/'// scorch the wretch to cinders,' said the fire,
' Send me,' said Air, * him of breath I'll bereave.'
'No,' quoth the earnest water, ' I desire
His soily sins with deluge to scour.'
' Nay, but my Lord,' quote earth, ' employ my power
With yawning chaps I will him quick devour.'

God is represented as about to take away David's name
from the book of life, but the Son intercedes, thereupon
fire, air, earth, and water recant.

Plain-speaking Nathan is next introduced, this col
loquy ends in David's repentance. Taking up his harp,
David "makes one voice to sob and sing" the penitential
Psalm (5 1 st).

In the third part the death cf Bathsheba is treated of,
in which the following stanza occurs : —

As when a tender rose begins to blow
Yet scarce unswaddled is, some wanton maide,
Pleased with the smell, allured by the show,
Will not reprive it till it hath displayed

The folded leaves : but to her breast applies
The abortive bud, where coffined it lies,
Losing the blushing dye before it dies
So this babe's life, newly begun, did end.

9 6 The Life of Fuller.

These lines prove that Fuller had some power as a
poet, but after the quaint "forms" of the age, he cannot
resist punning in his rhyme.

The tragedy of Ammon follows, in which the praises of
Rebecca are sung.

Rebeka was esteemed of comely hew (hue)

Yet not so nice her comlinesse to keepe

But that she water for the camels drew:

Rachell was faire, yet fedd her father's sheepe :
But now for to supply Rebeka's place,
Or doe as Rachell did, is counted base:
Our dainty dames would take it in disgrace.

In the following stanza, Fuller descants on the doings
of " Fame" just as Virgil had done before him in a well-
known passage in the ^Eneid.

She (Fame) gets by going, and doth gather strength,
As balls of snow by rolling more doe gaine,
She whisper'd first, but loudly blaz'd at length,
All the king's sonnes all the king's sonnes are slain.
The pensive Court in doleful dumps did rue,
This dismal case, till they the matter knew :
Would all bad news like this might prove untrue.

This he said in his Holy State, " Absolom killed one of
David's sons " " but Fame killed all the rest." The follow
ing describes Absolom's death ; —

The graceless son was plunged in deep distress,

For earth his weight no longer would endure :

The angry heavens denied all access

Unto a wretch so wicked, so impure :

At last the heavens and earth, with one consent,
A middle place unto the monster lent,
Above the earth, beneath the firmament.

With the Muses. 97

We have been induced to make rather lengthy quota
tions from this poem of "David," to give the reader some idea
of Fuller's early poetical powers, and to bring before him
specimens of a work now very rarely to be met with. The
author himself doesn't allude to it, and most of the fanciful
ideas and expressions were subsequently worked-up in his
" Pisgah-Sight."

In guaging Fuller's merits as a poet, we must not look at
him from a nineteenth century standpoint, for even in this
materialistic age the spirit of poetry is not extinct. We
must not put him in the same category as Tennyson or
Coleridge, but, comparing him with the poets of his
own age, we find the same blemishes in the works of his
compeers, the quaint conceits, the everlasting pun, the end
less alliterations, the far-fetched metaphors, the incongruous
allusions, the word quibblings, verbal hobbies ridden to
death — so that he does not come out of the comparison
unfavourably. It was so in Cowley's poems, witness
Addison's remarks on him : —

One glittering- thought no sooner strikes our eyes
With silent wonder, but new wonders rise.

And in Dryden's; nor is Milton free from the same in his
earlier poems.

Fuller, however, did not cease to try his hand in verses.
Throughout his voluminous works are to be found scraps
of poetry, and ready translations from the numerous
classic authors, whom he so frequently quotes, done into the
terse and most nervous English. There are also original
couplets, telling epigrams, and poetical odds and ends,
scattered up and down his larger works, as in his " Church
History," for example, broadcast, in prodigal confusion.

G

98 The Life of Fuller.

We append some specimens of his verse translation : thus
he renders,

Tres sumus imbelles numero, sine viribus uxor,
Laertesque senex, Telemachusque puer.

Three weaklings \ve, a wife for war too mild,
Laertes old, Telemachus a child.

In Queen Elizabeth's repartee to the Spanish Ambas
sador,

Ad Grcecas, bone rex, fiant mandata calendas,

is translated

" Worthy King know this your will,
At Latter Lammas we'll fulfill.

Speaking of Perkins, a writer against Rome, who like
Ehud was left-handed,

Dextera quantumvis fuerat tibi manca, docendi
Pollebas mira dexteritate manu.

Though nature thee of thy right hand bereft,
Right well thou writest with the hand that's left.

In his " Pisgah-Sight," he translates the Horatian lines,
which he applies to Dagon,

Desinit in piscem, mulier formosa superne :

Upwards manlike he ascended,
Downwards like a fish he ended.

And in the quotation from Horace:

Naturam expellas furca licet, usque recurret,

Beat nature back, 'tis all in vain,
With tines of fork 'twill come again.

Again, illustrating his axiom " it is the life of a gift to be
done in the life of the giver,"

With the Muses. 99

Silver in the living
Is gold in the giving.
Guldin the dying
Is but silver a flying.
Gold and silver in the dead
Turn too often into lead.

There are many epigrams to be found in his other books,
as well as couplets. Here are one or two instances on
Peter's sinking : —

Cephas, what's that? a stone? Yea, so I think,
A heavy stone, for it began to sink.

And again on Peter's succession : —

If in the sea the Popes durst him succeed,
Where he was dnckt they would be drowned indeed.

The following lines show a knowledge of human
nature : —

And every man whereof himself is free,
That he conceives the only sin to be.

It is evident from the numerous quotations in all his
works, more or less, the " itch of versification " remained on
him to the last. He made no great flights as in his
"David," but he "kept on singing " all through life. His
hand never lost its cunning. Poetry and music, to use his
words, " were excellent sauce, but they have lived and died
poor that made them their meat."

The poem of Fuller was dedicated to the three sens of
Lord Mountagu, of Boughton, one of whom at least was
at Sidney College at the time of the publication. But there
can be no doubt that the Fullers knew the Mountagus at

G 2

i oo The Life of Fuller.

their home at Boughton, which was not far from Aldwinckle.
The Mountagus were descended from Thomas Mountagu
(sixth in descent from Sir Simon de Montacute, the
younger brother of the third Earl of Salisbury), who
married Elizabeth Boughton, of Boughton, Northampton
shire. Edward, their son, was brought up to the law, and
became Lord Chief Justice. He was a Privy Councillor,
and one of the sixteen councillors and guardians to Edward
VI , whose will he drew up. and signed the articles of
succession in favour of Lady Jane Grey, for which offence
he was dismissed from his office the following reign.
Fuller speaks of him as a " worthy patriot and bountiful
housekeeper, blessed in a numerous family." He was a type
of the old English Baron for patriotism and hospitality.

Sir Edward's eldest son, Edward, represented his shire in
Parliament, and was a man of decided piety and justice.
Indeed, his household formed a picture of the old English
piety. He had prayers daily offered, from the Book of
Common Prayer, and the Scriptures read in the Great Hall,
and two hymns sung after supper. The family were exemplary
in their attendance at church winter and summer, before
nine in the morning and one in the afternoon, and " he
never forced minister or people to weary themselves to wait
for his coming." On Sunday evenings the notes of the
sermon were repeated by the servants in their master's
presence. He belonged to the same school of thought as
his brother, the bishop. " So long as the truth was preached,
old Mountagu cared not who preached it ; and his own
chaplain had no sinecure of it in his house, where that
reverend official, on Sunday afternoon, assembled the
servants, and put them through their Catechism. He was

With the Muses. 101

as hospitable as pious. His cottagers found him a kind and
generous 'lord/ and he patronised men of letters, his
mansion being thrown open to many a divine and poor
clerk. Two scholarships were founded by him at Sidney
College, and ' of his work/ Fuller says, ' I will say nothing
because I cannot say enough.' "

Our author then dedicated his poem to this worthy
nobleman's three sons in the quaint style of the age and
person, to the Honourable Mr. Edward, Mr. William, and
Mr. Christopher Montagu, sons to the Right Honourable
Edward Lord Montagu, of Boughton, addressing them
thus :—

Faire branches of a stocke so faire,
Each a sonne, and each an heire :
Two Joseph-like from sire so sage,
Sprung in Autumne of his age :
But a Benjamin the other,
Gain'd with loving of his mother.
This fruit of some spare hours I spent,

To your Honours I present.

* * *

Whilst your father (like the greene
Eagle in his scutcheon scene,
Which with bill his age doth cast),
May longer still and longer last.
To see your vertues o're increase
Your years, ere he departs in peace.
Thus my booke to make an end
To you, and you to God, commend.

Edward was a member of Sidney College. William took
to the law, and was made by Charles II. Lord Chief Baron
of the Exchequer, and Attorney General to Queen
Catherine, and Christopher was educated at Sidney, but
died in early manhood. Edward's lady " was biassed," Mr.

i o 2 The Life of Fuller.

Russell says, " in favour of the Puritans and against the
liturgy, wherefore her faithful and honest father-in-law (the
first Lord Mountagu) who had the common prayer read
daily in his house morning and evening, said to her,
* Daughter, if you come to visit me I will never ask why you
come not to prayers ; but if you come to cohabit with me,
pray with me, or live not with me.' The second Lord Mount
agu, her husband, was a most devoted friend of Fuller in his
troubles, and provided at his own cost for the education of
his elder son, a kindness which he acknowledges in a
dedication to his son Edward in his map of Jerusalem, that
accompanies his 'Palestine.'"

But advancement in the Church came quickly to Fuller.
It must not be supposed that he was neglecting his clerical
duties, while he was engaging in writing these poetical pro
lusions. He was still discharging the responsibilities and
official duties of his pastoral charge at St. Benet's, and we
are not surprised to find that his uncle Davenant gave him
one of the earliest pieces of preferment at his disposal. On
the death of Dr. Rawlinson, Prebendary in the Cathedral of
Sarum, the vacant post was bestowed on Fuller. The
Stall was that of Nertherbury - in - Ecclesia Beaminster,
Dorsetshire, and was considered valuable preferment.
Alluding to its value, Fuller says that it was " one of the
best prebends in England." In the Bishop's register are to
be found his subscription to the Articles in his own hand
writing, and in the record office his composition for First-
fruits, &c.

About this time, it appears, Bishop Dr. Davenant had got
into son.e trouble with the " powers that be." He was
preaching before the Court, and in continuation of his sermon

With the Muses. 103

preached the year before, launched out into the subject of
Predestination, taking the moderate Calvinistic view. This
was considered a violation of the wording of His "Majesty's
declaration," which is prefixed to the articles. " It was
drawing the article " aside one way; it was "putting his
own sense and comment on the meaning " of the article,
and not taking it in the " literal and grammatical sense."
This was considered a grave offence, and for it he was "had
up " before the Privy Council. Presenting himself on his
knees before that august assembly, he had so continued,
says his nephew, " for any favour he found from any of his
own function then present. But the Temporal Lords bade
him arise and stand to his own defence, being as yet only
accused not convicted." Archbishop Harsenet (deputed by
the King) " managed all the business against him (Bishop
Laud walking by all the while in silence spake not one
word). The heads of the Bishop's defence, spoken with
much warmth, are given in the Church History, and a long
letter from Davenant to Dr. Ward clearing and defending
himself. Next day he kissed the Kings hand. Fuller
alludes to this episode at some length, showing his desire to
vindicate his uncle's good fame. The party of Laud was
now in the ascendancy at court, so there was little chance
for the more moderate school of Davenant, who from this
time forward seems to have kept to his diocese.

Fuller did not resign St. Benet's when he became
Prebend of Salisbury, but kept it on for some years. At all
events, he took his degrees in Divinity before finally
quitting the University, which were taken seven years after
his M.A. degrees. &c., about the year 1635. He may
possibly, about this time, have gone to " read himself in," and

1 04 The Life of Fuller.

take possession of his Sarum prebendary, and naturally a good
deal of the time, which he could spare, would be spent in
the company of his uncle, the Bishop.

Fuller thus alludes to his position in the Cathedral of
Sarum, in his controversy with Peter Heylin : " My ex
traction — who was Prebendarius Prebendarides and relation
(as the animadvertor knows) to two (no mean) bishops, my
uncles — may clear me frcm any ecclesiastical antipathy. I
honour any man who is a bishop : both honour and love
him, who is a religious and learned bishop."

Speaking of Salisbury Cathedral and its elegant spire, the
highest in England (where much of his time was now spent),
he says that the doors and chapels therein equalled the
months, the windows the days, the pillars and pillarets the
hours of the year. " Once walking in this church (whereof
then I was Prebendary) I met a countryman wondering
at the structure thereof. ' I once,' said he to me, ' admired
that there should be a church that should have so many
pillars as there be hours in the year, and now I admire more
that there should be so many hours in the year, as I see
pillars in this church.' "

Fuller has a "meditation" upon Salisbury Cathedral :
" Travelling upon the Plain (which, notwithstanding, has its
risings and fallings) I discovered Salisbury Steeple many
miles off. Coming to a declivity I lost the sight thereof,
but climbing up the next hill the Steeple grew out of the
ground again : yea, I often found it and lost it, till at last I
came safely to it, and took my lodging near it. It fareth
thus with us whilst we are wayfaring to heaven : mounted
on the Pisgah-top of good meditation, we get a glimpse of
our celestial Canaan (Deut. xxxiv., i). But when, either on

With the Muses. 105

the flat of an ordinary temper, or in the fall of some extra
ordinary temptation, we lose the view thereof. Thus in the
sight of our soul heaven is discovered, covered and recovered,
till, though late, at last, though slowly, surely, we arrive at
the haven of our happiness."

The King and Queen visited ^ the Town of Cambridge
March, 1631, and were right royally received — feasting,
speeches, and comedies being the order of the day. The
play selected to act on this occasion was that of the " Rival
Friends," by Hansted, of Queens' College, born at Oundle,
in Northampton, a friend and compeer of our author. This
Hansted became a Chaplain in the army, and met his death
at the siege of Banbury. He was also Vicar of Gretton.

It was at St. Benet's Church his " Lectures on the Book of
Ruth " were preached which Fuller published in 1654, that it
might not be done by other hands from the imperfect notes
which had been taken by some who heard them. In the
Epistle Dedicatory he observes, " they were preached in an
eminent place, when I first entered into the ministry, above
twenty years since." Of this book "The first chapter," he
saith, " sheweth that many are the troubles of the righteous,
and the three last do shew that God delivereth them out
of all."

" Perhaps there are few instances," says Mr. Russell in his
memorials, " which so strikingly illustrate the great design of
Scripture — that it should bear witness to Christ — than this
book, few more striking instances how events, apparently the
most private, and to the eye of the world unimportant, are
all included in the Divine purposes, and made in their place
subservient to that eternal wisdom which disposes all the hearts
and ways of men. Fuller doesn't fail to notice that but for

i o 5 The Life of Fuller.

this Book genealogists had been at a loss for four or five
descents in deducing the genealogy of our Saviour, and that
under the conversion of Ruth, the Moabitess, and her recep
tion into the ancestry of the Son of David, is typified the
taking of the Gentiles into the sheepfold of the great Shep
herd.

The lectures include only the first two chapters, and are
not unworthy the author of " The Holy State." They evince
that moderation, that benevolence, and that practical piety
which ever characterised their author." Indeed, earnestness,
plain speaking, moderation and piety are the characteristics
of this production. His wit, too, breaks out, as if even
sacred themes could not keep it back The following ex
tracts will possess a double interest as being the first-fruits
of one so ingenious : — " Bear with patience light afflictions
when God afHicteth His children with long lasting punish
ments. Mutter not for a burning fever of a fortnight : what
is this to the woman who had a running issue for twelve
years ? Murmur not for a twelvemonth's quartan ague : 'tis
nothing to the woman that was bowed for eighteen years,
nor seven years' consumption, to the man that lay thirty
and eight years lame at the pool of Bethesda."

Many men have had affliction, none like Job :
Many women have had tribulation, none like Naomi,

" This was the privilege of the people of the Jews, that
they were styled God's people, but now Ammi is made Lo-
Ammi, and Ruchama Lo-Ruchama, and we Gentiles are
placed in their room. Let us therefore remember the words
of St. Paul (Rom. xi. 21) : " Be not high minded, but fear,
for if God spared not the natural branches of the olive, fear
that He will not spare thee also." " O that He would be

With the Muses. i c 7

pleased to cast his eye of pity upon His poor Jews, which,
for 1,500 years and upwards, have wandered without law,
without lord, without land. And, as once they were, so
once again to make them His people."

That Fuller walked along the true via media of the Church
of England, the " old paths " of the Bible and Primitive anti
quity, the word of God and the " old Fathers and Doctors "
—steering between the Scylla of Rome on the one hand
and the Chary bdis of Geneva on the other, is proved by the
following passage on the commemoration of the dead. "It
is no Popery, nor superstition to praise God for the happy
condition of His servants departed : the ancient patriarchs,
the inspired prophets, the holy apostles, the patient martyrs,
the religious confessors. When the tribes of Reuben, Gad,
and half Manasses erected the altar E D (i.e., a witness, the
altar of testimony) at the passage of Jordan, it startled all
the rest of the tribes as if under it they had hatched some
superstitious design, whereas, indeed, the altar was not in
tended for sacrifice, but was merely an altar of memorial, to
evidence to posterity that those two tribes and a half
(though divided from the rest by the River Jordan), were
conjoined with them in the worship of the same God. In
like manner, when some ministers (probably in the Bidding
Prayer) thank God for the departure of His servants, some
people are so weak, and some so wilful to condemn such for
passages of Popery, as if superstitious prayers were made for
their departure, whereas, indeed, such congratulation, on the
contrary, speaks our confidence in their present bliss and
happiness, and continueth the Church militant with the
Church triumphant, as the completing one entire Catholic
Church of Jesus Christ." (p. 67).

icS The Life of Fuller.

Most characteristic of their author are the following pas
sages selected from these lectures : —

"The monument less subject to casualty is, to imitate the
virtues of our dead friends : in other tombs the dead are
preserved, in these they may be said to remain alive."

" Always preserve in thyself an awful fear lest thou
shouldst fall away from God. Fear to fall, and assurance
to stand, are two sisters, and though Cain said he was not
his brother's keeper, sure I am that this Fear doth watch and
guard her sister Assurance. Tantus est gradus certitudinis
quantus sollicitudinis. They that have much of this fear
have much certainty ; they that have little, little certainty ;
they that have none have none at all." (p. 86).

" Oh that there was such an holy ambition and heavenly
emulation in our hearts, that as Peter and John ran a race
which should come first to the grave of our Saviour, so men
would contend who should first attain to true mortification.'

" After proof and trial made of their fidelity, we are to
trust our brethren without any further suspicion. Not to
try before we trust, is want of wisdom ; not to trust after
we have tried, is want of charity" (p. 112).

Ruth ii. 20. " Naomi never before made any mention
of Boaz, nor of his good deeds ; but now being informed of
his bounty to Ruth, it puts her in mind of his former
courtesies. Learn from hence, new favours cause a fresh
remembrance of former courtesies. Wherefore, if men
begin to be forgetful of those favours which formerly we
have bestowed upon them, let us flourish and varnish over
our old courtesies with fresh colours of new kindnesses ; so
shall we recall our past favours to their memories" (p. 206).

" If envy and covetousness and idleness were not the

With the Muses. 109

hindrances, how might one Christian reciprocally be a help
unto another ; all have something ; none have all things ;
yet all might have all things in a comfortable and com
petent proportion, if seriously suiting themselves as Ruth
and Naomi did, that what is defective in one, might be
supplied in the other " (p. 223).

Again, after a quaint colloquy between Elimelech and
" a plain and honest neighbour," dissuading him from his
departure into Moab, the author asserts that to travel in a
foreign country is lawful for (i) merchants, (2) ambassadors,
and (3) "private persons that travel with an intent to
accomplish themselves with a better sufficiency to serve
their king and country ; but unlawful it is for such to travel
which, Dinah-like, go only to see the customs of several
countries, and make themselves the lacqueys to their own
humourous curiosity. Hence cometh it to pass, when
they return, it is justly questionable whether their clothes
be disguised with more foolish fashions, or bodies disabled
with more loathsome diseases, or souls defiled with more
notorious vices ; having learned jealousy from the Italian,
pride from the Spaniard, lasciviousness from the French,
drunkenness from the Dutch. And yet what need they go
so far to learn so bad a lesson, which (God knows) we have
so many schools where it is taught here at home ? Now if
any do demand of me my opinion concerning our brethren,
which of late left this kingdom to advance a plantation in
New England, surely I think, as St. Paul said concerning
virgins, * he had received no commandment from the
Lord ; ' so I cannot find any just warrant to encourage men
to this removal ; but think rather the counsel best that
King Joash prescribed to Amaziah, * Tarry at home.' Yet

1 1 o The Life of Fuller.

as for those that are already gone, far be it from us to con
ceive them to be such, to whom we may not say 'God
speed' (as it is in 2 John v. 10), but let us pity them and
pray for them ; for sure they have no need of our mocks,
which I am afraid have too much of their own miseries. I
conclude, therefore, of the two Englands, what our Saviour
saith of the two wines (Luke v. 39), * No man having tasted
of the old, presently desireth the new ; for he saith, the old
is better.' "

We must now retrace our steps to Aldwinckle, and peep
into the quaint old Rectory of St. Peter's. Here, in all
probability, Death, which comes to all sooner or later, laid
his icy hand on the revered father of our author, who, for
upwards of a quarter of a century, had been its painful and
pious parson, or parish priest. It is not certain whether he
died here, or at Salisbury, where he was prebendary of the
Cathedral, or amonghis London friends, as there is no record
can be found of the place of his sepulture. But his successor
(John Webster, B.A.) was instituted April, 1632. He died
intestate, and probably poor, and he left his son, Thomas
Fuller, his executor, loth April, 1632.

" The faithful minister lives in too bare a pasture to die
fat," is a sentiment which will be echoed by many a poor
parson, whose benefice is often called a " living " by a sort
of grim satire. " It is well if he hath gathered any flesh,
being more in blessing than in bulk," remarks Fuller.

The painstaking regularity with which he made the entries
in the parish registers, even to the very last, as far as 1631,
is a proof how assiduous he was in the discharge of his
duties as parish priest ; and this in spite of his official
duties connected with the prebendal stall of Highworth, in

With the Muses. 1 1 1

the Cathedral of Sarum. He, too, " lived sermons," for he
was a man of a blameless and as private life, who spent
himself in the discharge of his pastoral office, — the best
epitaph for the Christian pastor.

The prebendal stall thus vacated was conferred by
Bishop Davenant (ever mindful of his family) upon his
nephew, Robert Townson, and upon his death, a few months
afterwards, upon John Townson, who, after sequestration, was
repossessed of his stall at the Restoration, holding it fifty-
four years. The death of the elder Fuller broke up the
family household at the quaint old parsonage at St. Peter's ;
which is an additional trial to the bereavement in case of
the death of clerics, for the glebe house must be quitted at
once. The widow, her son John, her daughters, of whom
the youngest was sixteen, were now dependent upon others ;
and no doubt our author, as the eldest son, took upon him
self the burden ot the family. The widow died in 1638,
and John was entered of Sydney College, where he pursued
his studies, taking his B.A. in 1635-6. About two years
after the death of the elder Fuller, his sister-in-law, Margaret
Davenant (wife of the former Bishop Townson, who died
about thirteen years previously), died at her brother's palace
at Salisbury, October 2 9th, 1634. She, like her sister, was
remarkable for her circumspection and sanctity of life.
She was buried in the Cathedral, near the south wall of the
eastern transept, where a mural tablet was set up to her
memory. The oval escutcheon contains the arms of
Townson and Davenant, and both the monument and in
scription are of a simple character. Most of her daughters
married " clergie-men," the Bishop conferring upon the
husbands prebends and other dignities of the Church, which

ii2 The Life of Fuller.

shows that he was neither unmindful of the temporal in
terests of his family, nor forgetful of his promise about " our
maidens." Margaret married a prebend and archdeacon ;
Ellen's husband became successively Bishop of Sarum and
London ; Maria married a prebend, who became Dean ot
Westminster and Bishop of Salisbury ; and Judith married
another prebend of Salisbury ; all, it will be seen, with very
clerical surroundings, — prebendal, archidiaconal, decanal,
and episcopal.

The death of the elder Fuller may be connected with the
resignation of his son of the perpetual curacy of St. Benet's,
Cambridge, for there is no trace of his connection with it
after March, 1632-3, when he made his last entry in the
registers of the parish. One of the fellows of Corpus,
Edward Palgrave, was appointed his successor on July 5th,
same year. The Chapter Book of the College about
this time being lost, no record can be found of the exact
date.

The resignation, however, of this cure doesn't neces
sarily prove that Fuller's connection with the University was
at this time severed. More time, perhaps, may have been
given to his uncle at Salisbury, but it is difficult to predicate
exactly as to the date of his leaving Cambridge. He says
himself, in his " History of Cambridge " : "At this time
(1633-4) I discontinued my living in the University, and
therefore crave leave here to break off my history, finding
it difficult to attain to certain intelligence. However, be
cause I meet with much printed matter about the visitation
of Cambridge in these troublesome times (though after some
years' interval), I shall for a conclusion adventure to give
posterity an impartial relation thereof" (p 162). Fuller,

With the Muses. 113

however, must have been in nominal residence up to June,
1635, when he took his degree; and he calls Sydney
College his mother up to 1636 or 1637, still later.
In the summer of 1633 the King visited Scotland with
Laud in his company, and on this occasion was crowned.
His return was made the opportunity of penning congratu
latory verses at Cambridge, and among the 140 contributors
our author is credited with two poems. At this time, the
influence of Laud was making itself felt in the University,
and there was quite a Catholic revival. Chapels were re
stored, organs introduced, College services improved, and a
more reverent celebration of the Eucharist encouraged, which
some thought then as they do now, that these things mean
superstition and necessarily lead on to Popery.

Fuller comported himself with becoming gravity at this
crisis, and showed his usual good sense, although he stuck
through life to the moderate school in which he had been
bred — the theology of his early days. He used the ritual
customary in his time, not changing for fashion's sake, con
tented with that in which he was brought up, discarding
neither surplice, litany, or decent ceremonial : his views on
these subjects are clearly seen in " the true Church anti
quary. " " He is not zealous for the introduction of old
useless ceremonies. The mischief is, some who are most
violent to bring such in, are most negligent in preaching the
cautions in using them : and simple people like children in
eating of fish, swallow bones and all to their danger of
choking. Besides, what is observed of horsehairs, that lying
nine days in water they turn to snakes, so some ceremonies,
though dead at first, in continuance of time, quicken, yet
stings may do much mischief, especially in an age when the

H

1 1 4 The Life of Fuller.

meddling of some have justly awaked the jealousy of all.
Again, not that I am displeased with neatness or plead
for nastiness in God's service. Surely God would have the
Church His spouse, as not a harlot, so not a slut: and indeed
outward decency in the Church is a harbinger to provide
inward devotion to follow after. But we would not have
religion so bedaubed with lace that one cannot see the cloth,
and ceremonies which should adorn, obscure the substance
of the sacraments and God's worship. And let us labour to be
men in Christianity, and not be allured to God's service by
the outward pomp and splendour of it. But let us love
Religion not for her clothes, but for her face : and then we
shall affect it, if they should chance(as God forbid) to be either
naked through poverty, or ragged through persecution : in a
word, if God hath appointed it, let us love the plainness of
His ordinance, though therein there be neither warm water,
nor strong water, nor sweet water, but plain water of Jordan."
But Fuller did not censure all the practices of the Laud-
ian clergy ; on the contrary, he says : " In mixt actions where
good and bad are blended together, we can neither choose
nor refuse all, but may pick out some and must leave the rest.
But they may better be termed Renovations than Innovations,
as lately not new forged, but new furbished. Secondly, they
were not so many as some complain. The suspicious old
man cries out in the comedy, that 600 cooks were let into his
house, 'when there was but two ; jealousy hath her hyperboles
as well as her flattery. Thirdly, some of these innovations
may easier be railed on than justly reproved, viz. ; such as
concerned adorning of Churches. Fourthly, if these gave
offence, it was not for anything in themselves, but either
because (i) they were challenged to be brought into without

With the Muses. 115

la\v, (2) because they seemed new and unusual, (3) because
they were multiplied without any set number, (4) because
they were pressed in some places without moderation, (5)
because they were pressed by men, some of whose persons
were otherwise much distasted."

Would that these weighty words had been "marked,
learned, and inwardly digested," during the Catholic revival
and ritual recoveries of the last few years. A little more of
Fuller's common sense would have saved us from many a
trouble, many a mistake, in settling our religious difficul
ties, and ecclesiastical controversies, consequent on a revival
of spiritual life and activity.

II 2

1 1 6 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER VIII.

" FAREWELL TO CAMBRIDGE AND REMOVAL TO BROAD
WINDSOR" (1634).

"Then our minister compounds all controversies betwixt
God's ordinances by praysing them all, practising them all, and
thanking God for them all. He counts the Common Prayers to
prepare him the better for preaching, and as one said, if he did
not first toll the bell on one side, it made it afterwards ring out
the better in his sermon."- -Holy State (The Faithful Minister),
p. 74.

IDVANCEMENT in the Church was in Fuller's case
rapid, and there were still more good things in store
for him. The favorite nephew was not forgotten
by his good uncle, and when patronage fell into
Jiis hands, Bishop Davenant at once offered it to him, and
once again evinced his paternal kindness on his behalf.
"That Prebend of Salisbury was a commodious step to
another more profitable place," says his biographer. This
was the Rectory of Broad Windsor, near Beaminster, in the
County of Dorset, to which he was collated in 1634. Fuller
did not immediately accept the proffered living "till after a
serious scrutiny of himself, and his abilities to discharge the
requisite duties the place called for : and after a very full
and satisfactory enquiry of his Parishioners," he then became
a " country parson."

The parish of Broad Windsor, consisting for the most part
of a rich vale of meadows and orchards, watered by small

Country Parson. i r 7

brooks and bounded by bold hills (of which Lewesdon, 960
feet, and Pillesdon, 940 feet, are well known), is from five to
six miles in length, and from two to three in breadth. It is
situated between Bridport and Lyme Regis, and is not far from
Somersetshire, taking its name from the winding nature of
the border which separates the Counties. Fuller appre
ciated the County very highly, saying that it possessed all
commodities necessary for man's temporal well-being. The
two hills are used as landmarks at sea, and are called the
Cow and the Calf, from their apparent likeness to those
animals. " Lewesdon Hill " has been rendered classical by
the poem of the Rev. W. Crowe, public Orator of the Univer
sity of Oxford, the friend of the poet Rogers, and Rector
of Stoke Abbott Fuller quotes a local proverb, " as much
akin as Leuson Hill to Pilsen Pen," it is no kin at all. " It
is spoke of such who have vicinity of habitation of neighbour
hood without the least degree of consanguinity and affinity
betwixt them. For here are two high hills, the first wholly,
the other partly, in the parish of Broadwinsor, whereof once
I was minister."

Leaving Lyme Regis — famous for its three things — its
pier, made of loose stones and rubble without mortar, its sea
walk, and the house where Monmouth slept after landing
(kept just as it was, furniture and all), and passing to
Charmouth, a charming watering place (whence Charles II.
attempted to escape after his defeat at Worcester), one has
to keep this Lewesdon Hill in front to get to Broad Windsor.
Ascending this hill is a good view, and the village and
church connected with our author come suddenly into
view and are seen to advantage. The prospect is all one can
desire, with its undulating fields and scattered homesteads,

1 1 8 The Life of Fuller.

the distant view of the sea, and the bathing crags of the
shore — all blending with the deep blue sky above : Crowe
speaks of it as

A variegated scene of hills

And woods and fruitful vales, and villages

Half-hid in tufted orchards, and the sea

Boundless, and studded thick with many a sail.

From this proud eminence on all sides round,

Th' unbroken prospect opens to my view,

On all sides large : save only where the head

Of Pillesdon rises, Pillesdon's lofty Pen :

So call (still rendering to his ancient name

Observance due) that rival height south-west,

Which like a rampart bounds the vale beneath.

There woods, there blooming orchards, there are seen

Herds ranging, or at rest beneath the shade

Of some wide-branching oak : there goodly fields

Of corn and verdant pasture, whence the kine

Returning with their milky treasure home,

Store the rich dairy : such fair plenty fills

The pleasant vale of Marsh wood.

The village is both picturesque and neat, containing a
population of about 1,400, partly engaged in agricultural
pursuits and dairy produce, and partly in the trade of sail
cloth. There doesn't seem to have been much change in the
occupation of the inhabitants since Fuller's time, although
many of the old houses are still standing, the old Rectory in
which Fuller wrote or projected some of his principal works
has long since disappeared. The old house, which was very
ruinous, described as a cottage, stood on the site of the pre
sent schools, which were erected by that famous champion of
National Schools, Archdeacon Denison, the incumbent in
1843. It had two sitting rooms, four bed rooms, and built
in the form of a carpenter's square.

Country Parson. 1 1 9

The Church — the only remaining feature of interest now

connected with Fuller — is of an ancient period, probably

about the beginning of the thirteenth century. It is partly

in the Norman and partly in the Gothic style, and was

dedicated to S. John the Baptist, consisting of a nave, aisles,

chancel, and a lofty western tower, embattled with a turret

at one corner. Here are some old bells, which belong to a

pre-reformation period, and the old tower is a resting place

for birds. The building looks like so many churches of the

West — thoroughly weatherbeaten. Fuller thus speaks of it,

" Birds we see (Psalm Ixxxiv. 3) may prescribe an ancient

title to build in our steeples, having time out of mind taken

the same privilege in the tabernacle and temple ; yea, David

in exile, debarred access to God's public service, doth pity

his own, and prefer the condition of these fowls before him.

And although no devotion (whereof they were uncapable)

but the bare delight in fair fabrics brought them hither, yet

we may presume, according to their kind, they served God

better than many men in that place, chirping forth morning

and even praises to the honour of their Maker." (Pisgah-

sight II. 365.) In the north aisle are two altar-tombs,

which belong to the old family of Champernowne, members

of which family resided there in Fuller's time, who are said

to have come over with the Conqueror, and with whom Sir

Walter Raleigh was related. The interior of the Church

has been much altered at various times, as is shown by the

want of harmony in its arrangement It is spacious, and

contains many styles of architecture, including the Norman.

The pulpit remains the same as that in which the witty and

accomplished preacher delighted his rustic audience. " It

is very old," says Mr. Russell, in 1844, "but its carvings

1 2 o The Life of Fuller.

disfigured by sundry coatings of paint : " no doubt these
blemishes have been removed at the recent restoration. " It
has a double row of panels, divided by a horizontal roll,
which are enriched by arabesque work of carved foliage.
At the angles, and dividing perpendicularly, are crocketed
buttresses, which below the roll are continued by a round
moulding, enriched with foliage of a semi-classical
character," is the description in Hutchins' "Dorset." (330.)
When the young Rector took up his abode in his new
parish as a " country parson," he had with him his unmarried
sister and his mother, who died between this date and 1637.
He very soon gained the general love and goodwill of his
people, which is the first step in realising the portraiture of
of " the faithful minister," which he penned about this time.
" He is strict in ordering his conversation. As for those who
cleanse blurs with blotted fingers, they make it worse. It
was said of one who preached very well and lived very ill,
* that when he was out of the pulpit, it was a pity he should
ever go into it, and when he was in the pulpit, it was a pity
he should ever come out of it,' but our minister lives
sermons." So of Perkins, " He lived sermons, and as his
preaching was a comment on his text, so his practice was a
comment on his preaching." (Abel Redevivus.) He is
u grave, courteous to his people, not too austere and
retired. Especially he detesteth affected gravity (which is
rather on men than in them), whereby some belie their
register-book, antedate their age to seem far older than they
are, and plait and set their brows in an affected sadness.
Whereas, St. Anthony, the monk, might have been known
among hundreds of his Order by his cheerful face, he
having ever, though a most mortified man, a merry coun-

Country Parson. 121

tenance." He doth not clash God's ordinances together about
precedency, not making odious comparisons betwixt prayer
and preaching, preaching and catechising, premeditate
prayer and extempore. Fuller must have been a diligent
" catechist " to judge from the following : "He carefully
catechiscth his people in the elements of religion. Except he
hath (a rare thing) a fleck without lambs, of all old sheep ;
and yet even Luther did not scorn to profess himself dis-
cipulum catechismi, a scholar of the catechism. By this
catechising, the Gospel first got ground of Popery : and let
not our religion, now grown rich, be ashamed of that which
first gave it credit and set it up, lest the Jesuits beat us at
our own weapon. Through the want of this catechising,
many who are well skilled in some dark out-corners of
Divinity have lost themselves in the beaten road thereof."
The care Fuller took with his sermons is evidenced in these
words, "He will not offer to God of that which cost shim nothing:
but takes pains* aforehand with his sermons. Demosthenes
never made any oration on the sudden ; yea, being called
upon, he never rose up to speak, except he had well studied
the matter : and he was wont to say that he showed how he
honoured and reverenced the people of Athens, because he
was careful what he spake unto them. Indeed, if our minister
be surprised with a sudden occasion, he counts himself

* Speaking of a clergyman (Symmons), who was very
conscientious in discharging his calling, he says, "being once
requested by me to preach for me, he excused himself for want
of competent warning, and when I pleaded that mine, being a
country parish, would be well pleased with his performance,"
" I can," said he, "content them, but not my own conscience to
preach with so little preparation." (" Worthies.")

122

The Life of Fuller.

rather to be excused than commended, if premeditating
only the bones of his sermons, he clothes it with flesh
extempore. As for those, whose long custom hath made
preaching their nature, that they can discourse sermons
without study, he accounts their example rather to be
admired than imitated."

The whole essay on "The Faithful Minister," in the
Holy State, is deserving of the most careful study, as
well as the " Life of Mr. Perkins," on the part of those,
who are endeavouring the ministry of the National Church.
It gives us an epitome of George Herbert's " Country
Parson." George Herbert had left the Court, and taken
the living of Bemerton, near Salisbury, in 1630, where he
was living sermons. The two grave divines were, therefore,
neighbours, clergymen of the same diocese, and must often
have met. Dr. Stoughton well sums up the points of them
both : " Fuller had nothing of the poetical pensiveness of
Herbert— nothing of that unearthly tone, which was so real
in the Salisbury canon : nothing even of the High Church-
manship of Dr. Hammond, yet he cordially loved the
Church of England. If any one will take the trouble to
compare the portraits of Herbert and Fuller, he must
confess that Herbert's gravity would look as foolish in the
face of Fuller, as Fuller's archness would be most unseemly
if it could be fixed on Herbert's sedate countenance."

Fuller must have found a great difference between the
social surroundings of a country village, some distance from
the market town, and those of the University, more
especially as he had made such proficiency in his academical
studies, and seemed almost to belong to Cambridge. There
are some men, who from their very natures, may from their

Country Parson. 123

very physique and appearance, seem cut out for country
parsons, or hedge parsons, as they are facetiously called,
rough, rubicund, almost bovine, suited for the company of
farmers and bucolics : while others, as Herrick, of Dean
Prior, near Dartmoor, from their gentler natures, their
intellectual proclivities, are quite the reverse. Yet how
often do the round pieces get into the square holes, and the
square into round, in a sort of ecclesiastical hurly-burly.

Soon after settling in Broad Windsor, Fuller was induced
by his numerous College friends, to pay a visit to Cambridge,
to take his degree of Bachelor of Divinity, for which his
studies and standing had duly qualified him. We can well
believe he was by no means disinclined to fall in with their
suggestion, and revisit his " Alma Mater," for which he had
a sincere affection. He prepared to carry out these inten
tions, but he didn't omit to provide a suitable and efficient
locum tenens, to whose temporary guardianship he could
leave " his few sheep in the wilderness " with confidence.
" Having taken care to supply his place for the time of his
absence," says his anonymous biographer, " at his setting
forth he was acquainted that four of his chief parishioners,
with his good leave, were ready to wait on him to Cambridge,
to testify their exceeding engagements : it being the sense
and request of his whole parish. This kindness was so
present, and so resolutely pressed, that the Doctor, with
many thanks for that and other demonstrations of their love
towards him, gladly accepted of their company, and with
his customary innate pleasantness entertained their time to
their journey's end."

The welcome accorded to Fuller on his return to Cam
bridge partook almost of the nature of an ovation. His old

1 24 The Life of Fuller.

friends and associates gave him a hearty welcome. He was
visited, so we are informed, " almost by all considerable per
sons of the University and town, and the greeting of his old
parishioners to their beloved pastor was most cordial, fame
and love vieing which should render him most addresses, to
the great delight and satisfaction of his fellow travellers and
neighbours, in having a minister who was so highly and yet
no less deservedly honoured." The visits both received and
paid must have been both gratifying and numerous.

But all these social pleasantries were the Trapepyov — the
by-work of the visit The work he had come to do was the
taking the B.D. degree, which (such was his acknowledged
skill and critical scholarship in the disputations and conse
quent reputation) he took with general applause and com
mendation, nth June, 1635, in company with six other
graduates. His signature in the University subscription
book is Thomas Fuller (only one " f " this time).

When the academical ceremonies were over, the young
bachelor gave the usual expected feast, in honour of the occa
sion, which put him to a considerable expense. His bio
grapher thus alludes to it : " At this commencement there
proceeded with him in the same degree of Bachelor of
Divinity three (there were six) other reverend persons, all
with general applause and commendation, and, therefore, to
do them no wrong, I forbear to give the deceased Doctor his
particular due. Only thus much, by the way, may be added
that this commencement cost the Doctor for his particular,
the sum of seven score pounds, an evidence of his liberality
and largeness of mind, proportionable to his other capacities,
and yet than which nothing "was less studied." This
apology for our author's extravagance is evidently from the

Country Parson. 125

pen of a friend, who may have shared in the banquet.
These feasts certainly led up to extravagance, and some
times no doubt to dissipation, and they were finally
abolished under the Puritan rule in 1647. It is said of
Williams, by Hacker, on taking his M.A. degree in 1605,
" he feasted his friends as if it had been his wedding,"
having plenty of cash at his disposal.

Commencement and feast being now over, Fuller took his
"farewell of Cambridge," and returned to his flock and
country parsonage. " At his departure he was dismissed
with as honourable valedictions, and so he returned in the
same company (who had, out of their own purse, contri
buted another condition of honour to that solemnity), to his
said Rectory of Broad Windsor, resolving there to spend
himself and the time of his pilgrimage amongst his dear and
loving charge."

Fuller's connection with Cambridge after this must have
been only nominal, but five more years (and usually of resi
dence) were required before taking his D.D degree. He
would naturally qualify in every possible way for that eccle
siastical eminence which lay before him, being now already
firmly placed on the ladder of preferment. He speaks of
his connection with Sydney College till 1637, and of the
seventeen years he spent at Cambridge, which cost him less
than the seventeen weeks he passed at Oxford, where he
lost his all. This fact is again alluded to in his Appeal.
But he may have been speaking roughly. At all events, for
any practical purpose we may consider his farewell was
taken about this time, and this is his prayer for his College
and University, in what he calls " a child's prayer for his
mother." " It is as yet but early days with his College (which

126 The Life of Fuller.

hath not seen sixty years), yet hath it been fruitful of working-
men, proportionally to the age thereof, and I hope it will daily
increase. Now, though it be only the place of the parents, and
proper to him as the greater to bless his childe (Heb. vii. 6),
yet it is the duty to pray for his parents, in which relation
my best desires are due to this Foundation ; my mother, for
the last eight years in this University, may* her lamp never
lack light for the oil, or oil for the light thereof. ' Zoar, is
it not a little one ? ' Yet, ' who shall despise the day of small
things ? ' May the foot of sacrilege, if once offering to enter
the gates thereof, stumble and rise no more. The Lord
bless the labours of all the students therein, that they may
tend and end at His glory, their own salvation, the profit
and honour of the Church and Commonwealth." (Hist.
Camb. viii. 155).

Fuller's love for his Alma Mater was most enthusiastic,
and in his portraiture of " The Good Bishop," in his " Holy
State," he makes love for his College, which bred him, one
of the cardinal notes of this episcopal character : — " He is
thankful to that College whence he had his education. He
conceiveth himself to hear his mother-college always speak
ing to him in the language of Joseph to Pharaoh's butler ;
* But think on me I fray thce, when it shall be well with ihce '
(Gen. xl. 12). If he himself hath but a little, the less from
him is the more acceptable ; a drop from a sponge is as
much as a ton of water from a marsh. He bestows on it
books, or plate, or lands, or buildings, and the houses of the
prophets rather lack watering than planting, there being
enough of them if they had enough." (p. 228).

What a contrast are these lines in his " Holy State " to
those of Dryden, who was born and reared in the same
village in Northamptonshire :

Country Parson. 127

Oxford to him a dearer name shall be

Than his own Mother- University :

Thebes did his green, unknowing youth engage,

He chooses Athens in his riper age.

Fuller showed his love for his " Mother-University " by
writing an exhaustive history of Cambridge and its separate
Colleges, exhibiting zeal for its reputation, and offering up
prayers for its welfare.

We must not, in quitting Cambridge, omit to mention the
sermon on the " Doctrine of Assurance," which Fuller
preached there in 1634, but which was not " exposed to pub-
licke view by the importunity of Friends " till 1648. " This
grace of Assurance," he observes, " is not attainable with
ease and idleness — Christianity is a laborious profession."
After various illustrations of this topic, he lays down, as the
plain doctrine of the text (2 Peter, i., 10), that assurance of
one's calling and election may, without any miraculous reve
lation, be in this life acquired : secondly, that such assur
ance is a separable fruit or effect not of every tree, but only
of some strong faiths, whereby the party is persuaded of the
certainty of his calling and election. "I say separable, to
manifest my dissenting from such worthy divines, who make
this assurance the very being, essence, life, soul and for
mality of faith itself." Whence these, our author admirably
observes in this sermon, " All heavenly gifts, as they are got
by prayer, are kept, confirmed and increased by praises."
" Presumption," he remarks, " is hot poison, it kills its thou
sands, makes quick riddance of men's soul to damnation.
"Despair, we confess, is poison, and hath killed its thousands,
but the venom therefore is more curable, as more cold and
faint in the operation thereof. Take heed, therefore, of

1 2 8 The Life of Fuller.

presumption, lest the confidence of the assurance of thy
calling betray thee to spiritual pride, that to security, that to
destruction."

" Now we must with sorrow confess that this doctrine
of the Spirit dwelling in the hearts of God's servants, is
much discountenanced of late, and the devil thereupon hath
improved his own interest. To speak plainly, it is not the
fierceness of the lion, nor the fraud of the fox, but the
mimicalness of the ape, which in our age hath discredited
the undoubted truth. But what if the apes in India, finding
a glow-worm, mistook it to be true fire, and heaping much
combustible matter about it, hoped by their blowing cf it
thence to kindle a flame. I say, what if that animal
yeAooroTToiov, that mirth-making creature, deceived itself, doth
it thence follow that there is no true fire at all ? And what
if some fanatical Anabaptists by usurpation have entitled
their brain-sick fancies to be so many illuminations of the
spirit, must we presently turn Sadducees in this point, and
deny that there is any Spirit at all ? God forbid ! "

" The third and last witness we shall insist on," says our
author, " is that comfort and contentment, the conscience of
the party takes in doing good works, and bringing forth the
fruits of new obedience ; that, though he knows his best
good works are straitened with corruption and many imper
fections, yet, because they are the end of his vocation, and
the justifiers of his faith — because thereby the Gospel is
graced, wicked men amazed, some of them converted, the
rest confounded, weak Christians confirmed, the poor re
lieved, devils repining at them, angels rejoicing for them,
God Himself glorified by them ; nay, because of these and
other reasons, He doth good deeds with humility and cheer-

Country Parson. 129

fulness, and findeth a singular joy in his soul, resulting from
the doing thereof." Two opinions as false as dangerous,
must of necessity be inferred, first, that everyone who hath
true faith, and is eternally to be saved, hath always some
measure of this assurance ; secondly, that such who are de
void of this assurance, are likewise deprived of all sincere
faith for the present. But God forbid any preacher should
deliver doctrines so destructive to Christian comfort on the
one side, and advantageous to spiritual pride on the other,
such will prove carnificincz, the racks and tortures of
tender consciences. And as the careless mother killed her
little child, for she overlaid it, so the weight of this heavy
doctrine would press many poor but pious souls : many faint
but feeble infant-faiths to the pit of despair, exacting and ex
torting from them more than God requires — that every faith
should have assurance with it, or else be ineffectual to sal
vation.

He then proceeds to state the proper ground of assurance,
which he does in a syllogism.

"THE MAJOR."

" He that truly repenteth himself of his sins, and relieth
with a true faith upon Christ is surely called, and by con
sequence elected before all eternity to be a vessel of
honour."

"THE MINOR."

" But I truly repent myself of my sins, and rely with a
true faith on God in Christ."

" THE CONCLUSION."

" Therefore I am truly called and elected."

To arrive at such an assurance, we must have, he adds,
the testimony of our conscience to the truth of our repent-

i

1 3o The Life of Fuller.

ance and sincerity of our faith ; secondly, the witness of the
Holy Spirit (Rom. viii. 16).

" Such faithful preaching," Mr. Russell adds, " is but too
unfashionable, yet, what but presumption is likely to ensue
in those congregations which are always cloyed with cor
dials ? What other effect is likely to attend the facile
labours of those, all whose looks are smiles, and whose
preaching a perpetual canticle, who are ever wooing their
congregation, thus abusing that much misquoted precedent
of Him who became all things to all men that He might
save some; Him who as sternly rebuked hypocrisy and
worldly compliances, as he tenderly consoled the dejected,
and condescended to the weak." (p. 62).

Return we now from the Cambridge commencement to
Broad Windsor with worthy Master Fuller, where he settled
down among his neighbours, who soon became his friends
and acquaintances. Our space will not permit us to do
more than enumerate some of the more prominent among
them. Fuller seems to have been on terms of intimacy with the
illustrious Rolle family, which was seated at Bicton, the head
of his house being Denny s Rolle, Esq. He was buried in Bicton
Church, in the chantry, on the south side of the chancel. On a
slab of black marble are the effigies of himself and wife, and
underneath it that of a child. Prince, in his " Worthies of
Devon," says the inscription in letters of gold on black marble,
was made by Dr. Fuller." The epitaph is as follows :—

" The Remains of Dennis Rolle, Esquire,
His earthly Part within this Tombe doth rest,
Who kept a Court of honour in his Breast :
Birth, Beauty, Witt and Wisedome sat as Peeres,
Till Death mistooke his virtues for his yeares :
Or else Heaven envy'd Earth so rich a treasure,

Country Parson. 131

Wherein too fine the Ware, too scant the measure,

His mournfull Wife her love to show in part,

This Tombe built here : a better in her heart.

Sweete Babe, his Ilopefull Heyre (Heaven grant this boon)

Live but so well : but oh ! dye not so soon."

Through the Rolle family, Fuller became acquainted with
the Pouletts, of Hinton St. George, Somerset. John, first
Baron Poulett, was active on the King's side in the civil
wars, when our author often met him. Fuller was also at this
time probably acquainted with Gerard Napier, Esquire, of
Middlemarsh Hall, Dorsetshire. He was created a baronet
in 1641, and was a member of the Long Parliament till
1644.

Fuller's neighbour, Hugh Windham, Bart., of Pilsden
Court, was a patron of his " Pisgah-Sight," and among his
clerical neighbours we may mention Rev. Gilbert Ironsides,
Rector of Winterbourne ; his name is returned as one who
had not paid ship money; and Rev. Robert Gomersall,
Vicar of Thorncombe, who was not only a florid preacher,
but a composer of tragedies and poems. The following
laudatory verses were composed by him, and prefixed to
the second edition of the " Holy War." " To his worthy
dear friend, Thomas Fuller, B.D., upon his excellent
work." ; —

" Peace is thy calling1, Friend, thy title Warre :
What doth thy Title with thy calling jarre?
The Holy Warre: this makes the wonder cease:
A holy Warre becomes a man of peace.
Tasso be silent: my friend speaks: his storie
Hath robb'd thy poeme of its long liv'd glorie.
So rich his vein, his lines of so high state
Thou canst not figure so well as he relate.
I 2

132 The Life of Fuller.

Godfrey first entered on this warre, to free
His Saviour's Tombe from Turk's captivitie :
And too too meanly of himself he deems,
If thus he his Redeemer not redeems.
A glorious end ! nor did he fear to erre
In losing life, to gain Christ's sepulchre.
But I dare say, were Godfrey now alive,
(Godfrey, who by thy penne must needs survive)
He would again act o're his noble toil,
Doing such deeds as should the former foil :
If for no other reason, yet to be
Delivered unto time and fame by thee:
Nor would he fear in such exploits to bleed,
Then to regain a tombe, now not to need."

At the further end of the county, his former tutor at
Queens' and relation — the great mathematical " coach "-
Edward Davenant was beneficed at Gillingham, near
Shaftesbury, a living he received from his uncle, the Bishop
of the diocese, in 1626. Fuller would naturally from time
to time be a visitor at the vicarage, and he certainly was
there in 1656, when he preached the assize sermon at
Shaftesbury. Here a numerous family was born to him, and
after holding the vicarage fifty-three years, he died.
Walker has an account of his trials and sufferings
during the political troubles by the sequestration of the
living.

"Another nephew of the same Bishop, Edward Davenant,
on whom was bestowed not only the treasureship of the
Cathedral, 'the best dignity,' but the valuable living of
Gillingham, besides other preferments. He is described by
Aubrey as not only ' a man of vast learning, but of great
goodness and charity.' He was executor to Bishop
Davenant's will, and also the inheritor of most of his property,
insomuch that it was said that * he gained more by the

Country Parson.

Church of Sarum than ever any man did by the Church
since the Reformation.'"* (p.202).

In Fuller's parish there also dwelt the descendants of the
great sea-king, Sir Francis Drake, whose life Fuller appended
to hls essay on "The good sea-captain," one of whom "his
dearandworthyparishioner/'died in r64o. In his "Worthies "
—nS those who had raised themselves in the reign ot
Ehzabeth by sea-service and "letters of mark," he says
hat such pnzes have been best observed to prospe
w ose takershad least of private revenge, and most of" ub,
therein Amongst these, most remarkable, the

of matrimony, but we are not informed by any
lograp ers who the lady was. Such a grave B^vin
no doubt make a prudent choice, especially if he put in
pact.ee the mjunct.on attributed to him by

Holy State" begins with an essay on "The

: : :eichffomr sort

commentary
domestic ,if.

name appears to have
S.P.CK. Diocesan Histories (Salisbury) by W. H. Jones.

I34 The Life of Fuller.

been Ellen, but as to her surname we are not told, except
that " she was a virtuous young gentlewoman." No record of
the marriage has yet been found, nor has the date been
ascertained. Bishop Davenant writing in 1638, makes
mention of her as being his nephew's wife, so he must have
been married before that year. It has also been surmised
that she was a Seymere or Seymour, as Fuller dedicates one
of his books in 1655 to Richard Seymere "my kinsman"
(ncccssario meo), which would point to the fact of his having
married into the family of Seymours of Dorset, or Devon.
His age at the time of his marriage would be about thirty,
and in addition to his cultured mind, his refined character
and cheerful disposition, he had a handsome and comely
person. He had an open countenance, blue eyes, florid
complexion, and light curly hair. He was a kind and
indulgent husband, and the marriage was a happy one.
But the stormy troubles, both in Church and State, were
soon to attract the notice of the « country parson » at
Broad Windsor, despite his happy social and domestic
surroundings. Government without parliament was coming
to an end, and about this time the agitation of the people
of Lyme Regis, anent the ship money, with which they were
heavily taxed, would be felt in that neighbourhood. In
matters ecclesiastical there was the Sabbatical controversy,
and that connected with the sacredness of holy places,
churches, adoration towards the altar, which name Fuller
observes now began to « out » God's Board, or Communion
Table. To a moderate man like Fuller the accommodation
of such matters "had been easy with a little condescension
on both sides." The injunction of Bishop Davenant on
this subject in the church, which was discovered by my

Country Parson. 135

friend (Rev. J. Bliss) in the register, and printed at the end
of his Oxford Edition of Laud's Works (Anglo-Catholic
Library), is now, thanks to his industry, well-known. This
document, which bears on the position of the " Holy
Table," of Bishop Davenant's, respecting the church and
parish of Aldbourne, in North Wilts, is of so much im
portance as throwing light on what was deemed the proper
position of the Holy Table in 1637 (the period we are
considering) that we venture to give a copy of it.
Bishop Davenant's order is as follows : —

John, by Divine providence, Bishop of Sarum.

To the Curate and Churchwardens with the parishioners of
Awborne, in the county of Wilts, and our diocese of Sarum,
greeting.

" Whereas his Majestic hath been lately informed that some
men factiously disposed have taken upon themselves to place
and remove the Communion Table in the Church at Auborne,
and thereupon his highness hath required me to take present
orders therein :— These are to let you know, that both according
to the injunctions given out in the raign of Oueene Elizabeth for
the placing of the Communion Tables in Churches, and by the
82 canon agreed upon in the first yeare of the raigne of King
James of blessed memory, it was intimated that these Tables
should ordinarily be sett and stand with the side to the east wall
of the Chancel, I therefore require you, the Church-wardens,
and all other persons not to meddle with the bringing downe or
transposing of the Communion Table, as you will answer it at
your -own perill. And because some doe ignorantly suppose
that the standing of the Communion Table where altars stood
in time of superstition, hath some relish of Popery, and some
perchance may as erroniously conceive that the placing thereof,
otherwise when the Holy Communion is administered, savours
of irreverence, I would have you take notice from the fore
named injunction and canon, from the Rubricke prefixed before
the administration of the Lord's Supper, and from the first article
not long since inquired of in the Visitation of our most reverend
Metropolitan, that the placing of it higher or lower in the

136 The Life of Fuller.

chauncell or in the Church is by the judgment of the Church of
England a thing indifferent, and to be ordered and guided by
the only rule of convenientie.

" Now, because in things of this nature to judge and determine
what is most convenient belongs not to private persons, but to
those that have ecclesiasticall authority, I inhibit you the
Churchwardens, and all persons what-soeverto meddle with the
bringing downe of the Communion Table, or with altering the
place thereof at such times as the Holy supper is to be ad
ministered, and I require you herein to yeeld obedience unto
what is already judged most convenient by my chauncellor,
unless, upon further consideration and viewe it shall be other
wise ordered. Now, to the end that the Minister may neither
be overtoyled, nor the people indecently and inconveniently
thronged together, when they are to drawe neire and take the
Holy Sacrament, and that the frequent celebration thereof may
never the lesse be continued. I doe further appoint that thrice
in the yeare at the least, there be publique notice given in the
Church for fower Communions to be held upon fower Sundaies
together, and, that there come not to the Communion in one
day, above two hundred at the most. For the better observation
wherof, and that every man may know his proper time, the
curate shall divide the parishioners into fower parts, accord
ing to his discretion, and as shall most fittingly serve to this
purpose. And if any turbulent spirits shall disobey this our order,
he shall be proceeded against according to the quality of his
fault and misdemeanour !

"In witness whereof I have hereunto sett my hand and scale,
Episcopall, this seventeenth day of May, 1637 and in the yeare
of our Consecration the sixteenth."

This injunction is entered in the Aldbourne Parish
Registers, and is printed in the Oxford edition of Laud's
works by the Rev. J. Bliss (vol. vi. p. 60). It is referred
to by the Archbishop himself in Laud's "Speech at the
Censure of Basterwick." Ibid., n, p. 80. See also Wilts
Arch. Mag. vii. 3.

The direction contained in it, to the effect that Holy
Communion should be administered on four successive

Country Parson. 137

Sundays, and that no more than two hundred persons
should communicate at one time, is to say the least a re
markable one respecting a parish, which we can hardly think
was ever a very populous one.

Fuller seems, however, now to have settled down to his
books and writing, in the quiet retirement of his country
parsonage, which indeed has also in many other cases proved
itself — as in that of Hooker and Herbert — a most congenial
sphere for the pursuit of literary investigation. Here at
Broad Windsor he laid the foundation of his great literary
fame, and began to collate and systematise the results of his
reading at Cambridge. Here too he got together the materials
of two works, which made his literary reputation at one
bound, and found for themselves a niche in tha temple of
fame, among the classics of the language, viz., " The
Holy War," or " A History of the Crusades," and a " Pisgah-
Sight of the Holy Land."

The " History of the Holy War " is dated from Broad
Windsor, March 6th, 1639, and is dedicated to Edward, Lord
Montagu, of Boughton, and John, Lord Poulett, of Hinton
St. George, in Somersetshire. The " Pisgah-Sight,"
however, was not published till some time afterwards,
the Epistle Dedicatory being dated at Waltham Abbey,
July yth, 1650. Fuller's anonymous biographer acquaints us
that in the retirement of Broad Windsor, he prepared his
" Pisgah-Sight," a work abounding with interest, and for the
time in which it appeared, of no common value. " In
the amenity and retirement of his rural life, some per
fective was given to those pieces which soon after blest this
age. From this pleasant prospect he drew that excellent
piece of his ' Holy Land,' * Pisgah-Sight,' and other tracts

138 The Life of Fuller.

relating thereto : so that what was said bitterly of some
tyrants, that they made whole countries vast solitudes and
deserts, may be inverted to the eulogy of this Doctor, that
he in these recesses made deserts — the solitudes of Israel,
the frequented path and track of all ingenious and studious
persons." (Life, p. 12.)

The " Historic of the Holy Warre," being a history of the
Crusades, although dated at Broad Windsor, was published
at Cambridge, in folio, same year — which shows the interest
he still felt in, and the desire to retain his connection with
his old "Alma Mater." At this time there seems to have
been a feud between the London and Cambridge booksellers,
the former of whom disputed the right of the latter to
publish, which, however, they were entitled to, by Royal
grants. Fuller evidently took the side of the Cambridge
men, and several editions of this work, as well as the " Holy
State," were published there by a celebrated University
printer of the period — Roger Daniel. Fuller's works,
especially his early ones, are adorned with engravings and
wood-cuts, which look exceedingly quaint to us, living in
such a marvellous age of artistic culture. His engraver was
William Marshall, amanofreputationinhisday,whodesigned
the title-page. It depicts a scene in which persons of all
ranks and conditions are seen marching out to war from
Europe, going out full and returning empty. In the
foreground is the temple of the Sepulchre, and oval-shaped
portraits of Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, and Saladin, are in
the two topmost corners ; and opposite are the arms of
Jerusalem and the Turkish Crescent ; and at the end of this
volume is a curious map of the Holy Land. In his
dedication, Fuller makes the following remarks on Learning

The Holy War. 139

and History : " Now, know, next Religion there is nothing
accomplishes a man more than Learning. Learning in a
Lord is a diamond in gold. And if you fear to hurt your
tender hands with thorny school-questions, there is no
danger in meddling with History, which is a velvet study
and recreative-work. What a pity it is to see a proper
gentleman have such a crick in his neck that he cannot look
backward. Yet no better is he, who cannot see behind
him the actions which long since were performed. History
maketh a young man to be old, without either wrinkles or
gray hairs ; privileging him with the experience of age,
without either the infirmities or inconveniences thereof.
Yea, it not only maketh things past present, but inableth
one to make a rational conjecture of things to come. For
this world affordeth no new accidents, but in the same
sense wherein we call it a new moon, which is the old one
in another shape, and yet no other than what hath been
formerly. Old actions return again, furbished over with
some new and different circumstances." Elsewhere he says,
"Our experimental knowledge is in itself both short and
narrow, and which cannot exceed 'the span of our own life.'
But when we are mounted on the advantage of History, we
cannot only reach the year of Christ's Incarnation, but
even touch the top of the world's beginning, and
at one view oversee all remarkable accidents of former
ages."

The customary poetical commendation of our author and
his book are prefixed, after the custom of the period, many
being from the pens of his old college friends.

We subjoin a few specimens — the first by Robert
Tyrling—

MO The Life of Fuller.

" Of this our author's book, I'll say but this
(For that is praise ample enough), Tis his :
Nor all the Muses and Apollo's lays,
Can sing his worth : be his own lines his bays."

Of our author's " excellently composed history," Booth (of
Corpus), " his worthy and learned friend," says —
" Captain of Arts, in this thy holy war,
My muse desires to be thy trumpeter,
In thy just praise to spend a blast or two :
For this is all that she (poor thing) can do."
Reading the book —

" Methinks I travel thro' the Holy Land,
Viewing the sacred objects on each hand.
Here mounts (me thinks) like Olivet, brave sense :
There flows a Jordan of pure eloquence.
A Temple rich in ornament I find
Presented here to my admiring mind,
To testify her liking, here my Muse
Makes solemn vows, as Holy Pilgrims use :
I vow dear friend the Holy War is here
Far better writ than ever fought elsewhere.
Might I but chose, I rather would by far
Be author of thy book, than of that war.
Let others fight, I vow to read thy works,
Prizing thy ink before the blood of Turks."

H. Hutton, fellow of Jesus, says the book would make
his memory as famous as his style —

" Thy style is clear and white : thy very name
Speaks pureness, and adds lustre to the frame.
All men could wish, nay long, the world would jar
So thou'dst be pleased to write, compose the war."

Henry Vintener, of King's College, a friend of Pearson's,
has some stately lines —

" The Temple razed and ruined seems more high
In his strong phrase than when it kiss'd the sky.
And as the viper, by those precious tears
Which Phaethon bemoan'd, of Amber wears

The Holy War. 141

A rich (though fatal) coat : so here inclosed
With words so rare, so splendent, so compos'd
Ev'n Mahomet has found a tomb, which shall
Last when the fainting loadstone lets him fall."

There are also several other laudatory poems, all attesting
the great popularity to which the work so speedily
attained.

Fuller's " History of the Holy War," and " The Crusades,"
comprises five books, the first four of which contains the
actual history which is thus summed up, " Thus after an
hundred and ninety years, and four years, ended the Holy
War : for continuance the longest, for money spent the
costliest, for bloodshed the crudest, for pretences the most
pious, for the true intent the most politic, the world ever
saw, and at this day, the Turks to spare the Christians their
pains of coming so long a journey to Palestine, have done
them the unwelcome courtesy to come more than half the
way to give them a meeting." The fifth book is called a
" Supplement, " and is said by Fuller to be " voluntary and
over-measure, only to hear the end of our history that it ravel
not out. " He now feels himself " discharged from the strict
service and ties of an historian : so that it may be lawful for
me to take more liberty and to make some observations on
what hath passed." He thereupon treats of the fates of the
Templars and other orders of Knights : of superstition in the
war : of the Christians breaking faith with the infidels : of the
hindrances to success ; of the military position of Jerusalem :
of the incredible numerousness of the armies : of the merit
attaching to each nation for their military valour : of the in
fluence of the war on heraldry : of subsequent proposals for
a crusade ; of the fortunes of Jerusalem since the war ; of
the pretenders to the kingdom ; of the greatness and wants

142 The Life of Fuller.

of the Turkish .Empire : "with some other passages which
offered attendance on these principal heads."

The Turk, though moribund, takes a long time in dying.
It may be interesting to some of our readers, who take an
interest in the " Eastern Question" as it is called, and would
like to drive the Osmanlis, "bag and baggage," out of
Europe, to know what Fuller thought of their possible deca
dence, even when it was a mighty empire. " The Turk's
head is less than his turbant, and the turbant less than it
seemeth ; swelling without, hollow within. If more seriously
it be considered, this state cannot be strong, which is a pure
and absolute tyranny. His subjects under him have nothing
certain but this — that they have nothing certain, and may
thank the Grand Signor for giving them whatsoever he
taketh not away from them. We have just cause to hope
that the fall of this unwieldy empire doth approach. It was
high noon with it fifty years ago ; we hope now it draweth
near night ; the rather because luxury though late, yet at last
hath found the Turks out, or they it. Heaven can as
easily blast an oak, as trample a mushroom, and we may ex
pect the ruin of this great empire will come ; for of late it
hath little increased its stock ; and now beginneth to spend
of the principal. It were arrant presumption for flesh to
prescribe God His way : or to teach Him, when He meaneth
to shoot, which arrow in His quiver to choose. It is more
than enough for any man to set down the fate of a single
soul : much more to resolve the doom of a whole nation,
when it shall be. These things we leave Providence to
work, and posterity to behold. As for our generation, let
us sooner expect the dissolution of our own microcosms
than the confusion of this empire : for neither are our own

The Holy War. 143

sins truly repented of, to have this punishment removed
from us : nor the Turk's wickedness yet come to the full ripe
ness, to have this great judgment laid upon them." (p. 301.)
Mr. Bailey, in Fuller's life observes, "This unique history,
Fuller's first ambitious effort, at once introduces us to
Fuller's very felicitous way of writing. No work better dis
plays the wealth of the Author's mind. It has all his genuine
wit, his peculiar quaintness, his irresistible drollery, his
skilfully constructed antithesis, and his incongruous allusions,
— in very much of which there is always something more
than mere ingenuity. He seems to revel in his composition,
as if his favourite study, history, and not divinity, were his
proper sphere. It is full of passages worthy of remembrance
or quotation. " The following is a specimen of some of
them, " Mariners' vows end with the tempest." " It is charity
to lend a crutch to a lame conceit." " The best way to keep
great Princes together is to keep them asunder." " Charity's
eyes must be open as well as her hands." "Slander (quicker
than martial law) arraigneth, condemneth, and executeth all
in an instant" " Hell itself cannot exist without Beelzebub, so
much order there is in the place of confusion." "No opinion so
monstrous, but if it had a mother, it will get a nurse." " A
friend's house is no home." "Mercenaries; England has best
thrived without them : under God's protection we stand on
our legs. Let it be our prayer, that as for those hirelings
which are to be last tried and least trusted, we have . never
want of their help and never have too much of it."

Fuller's great narrative power comes out in this work, and
like a magician, or word-painter, he has a marvellous faculty
of relating old stories in a novel and attractive manner.
Vigorous liveliness is the backbone of his style, and in this

144 The Life of Fuller.

work especially he may well earn the commendation of his
fervent admirer Charles Lamb, who says, " Above all his
way of telling a story, for its eager liveliness, and the per
petual running commentary of the narrator, happily blended
with the narrative, is perhaps unequalled." This praise is
well merited.

Professor Rogers in his essay in the Edinburgh Review writes
sympathetically thus, " The activity of Fuller's suggestive
faculty must have been immense. Though his principal cha
racteristic is wit, and that too so disproportionate, that it con
ceals in its ivy-like luxuriance, the robust wisdom, about which
it coils itself; his illustrations are drawn from every source and
quarter, and are ever ready at his bidding. In the variety,
frequency, and novelty of his illustrations, he strongly re
sembles two of the most imaginative writers in our language,
though in all other respects still more unlike them than they
were unlike one another, Jeremy Taylor and Edmund
Burke .... We have said that Fuller's faculty of illustration
is boundless : surely it may be safely asserted, since it can
diffuse over the driest geographical and chronological details,
an unwonted interest. We have a remarkable exemplifica
tion of this in those chapters of his ' Holy War, ' in which
he gives what he quaintly calls ' a Pisgah-sight or short
survey of Palestine in general,' and a still stronger, if pos
sible, in his ' Description of the Citie of Jerusalem.' In
these chapters, what in other hands would have proved
little more than a bare enumeration of names, sparkles with
perpetual wit, and is entwined with all sorts of vivacious
allusions."

The learning contained in this work is prodigious, and the
authorities he consulted and collated, ancient and modern,

The Holy War. 145

are both various and numerous. These he cites, he often
acknowledges, but sometimes he omits to do so, excusing
himself for not doing so, in the following address "to the
Reader," "If everywhere I have not charged the margin with
the author's names, it is either because the story is author
for itself (I mean generally received), or to avoid the often
citing of the same place. When I could not go abroad myself,
then I have taken air at the window, and have cited
authors on others citations : yet so that the stream may
direct to the fountain. If the reader may reap in a few
hours, what cost me more months, just cause have I to
rejoice, and he (I hope), none to complain." At the end
is a chronological table, with a preface on chronology from
A.D. 1095 to 1290, Pope Urban II. to Boniface VIII.

This book naturally engaged public attention, and became
most popular, in fact this and the " Holy State" were the most
popular of his works. It secured him at once his literary repu
tation, and much xuSos as well as /cepSo?. Next year (1640)
saw a second edition, and 1647 a third ; it was re-published in
the Aldine edition of 1840, from which we have quoted:
but its popularity seems to have waned after the Restoration,
yet probably no books than the two quoted, ever had a
larger circulation in that age of great writers and clever
authors.

Fuller gives us some incidental allusions to its popularity,
when discussing the question of second editions. " Here
let me humbly tend to the reader's consideration that my
'Holy War,' though (for some design of the stationer) sticking
still, in the title-page, at the third edition (as some unmar
ried maids will never be more than eighteen), yet hath it
of tcner passed the press, as hath my 'Holy State,' 'Meditations,'

K

i46 The Life cf Fuller.

etc., and yet never did I alter line or word in any new im
pression. I speak not this by way of attribution to myself,
as if my books came forth at first with more perfection than
other men's." ("Appeal," p. 293.)

Mr. Nicholl observes of the influence of the "Holy War"
and "Holy State," that they "made a strong impression on the
public mind, and for some years exercised an influence that
might be distinctly traced in many affairs connected both
with the Council and the Field, as the reader will perceive
by my copious preface to Fuller's ' Holy War.' "

In this year (1639) Fuller's brother, John, took his M.A.
at Sydney, and turned to the profession of the civil law,
by permission of his good uncle (Bishop Davenant), who
had otherwise evidently destined him for the Church ; and
about this time our author visited Norwich, and speaking of
the Cathedral, writes (in 1660) ; "The Cathedral therein is
large and spacious, though the roof in the cloisters be most
commended. When some twenty years since I was there,
the top of the steeple was blown down ; and an officer of
the church told me ' that the wind had done them much
wrong, but they meant not to put it up ; ' whether the
wrong or the steeple, he did not declare." Again : " As
for the Bishop's Palace, it was formerly a very fair struc
ture, but lately unleaded, and now covered with tile by the
purchasers thereof; whereon a wag, not unwittingly—

' Thus palaces are altered : we saw
John Leyden, now Wat Tyler, next Jack Straw.' "

On Tuesday, April 14*, the Convocation assembled in
the Chapter House of St. Paul's, and proceeded thence to
hear the sermon in the choir. It was preached by Dr.
Turner, Canon-residentiary of St. Paul's, and one of Laud's

The Convocation. 147

chaplains, in Latin, from St. Matthew, x. 16 : " Behold I
send you forth as she?p in the midst of wolves." Towards
the close of the sermon he animadverted upon such of the
Bishops as followed not closely in the steps of his patron,
and held not the reins of Church government with an even
hand, in pressing conformity strictly ; upbraiding them as
seekers of popularity, by whose lukewarm courses the other
Bishops were unjustly exposed to the charge of tyranny.
After the service, Dr. Richard Stewart, Dean of Chichester,
was chosen Prolocutor, i.e. chairman or "speaker" of the
house. On Wednesday (isth) the Convocation met in
that memorable chapel of King Henry VII., Westminster;
and when Sheldon presented the new Prolocutor to Laud,
the Archbishop, in a Latin speech of three-quarters of an
hour's length, deplored the calamities of the times, thus
described by Fuller, consisting of "most of generals, be
moaning the distempers of the Church ; but he concluded
it with a special passage, acquainting us how highly we
were indebted to his Majesty's favour, so far entrusting the
ability and integrity of that Convocation, as to empower
them with his Commission, the like whereof was not granted
many years before, to alter old, to make new canons for the
better government of the Church." Fuller remarks that the
appearance of Laud's eyes during the delivery of this speech
was almost tearful, being but one remove from weeping ;
and he alludes to the suspicions of thoughful men, lest that
Convocation should over-act its part "in such distracted,
dangerous, and discontented times."

K 2

I48 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CONVOCATION OF 1640 AND THE CANONS.

" He baits at middle antiquity, but lodges not till he comes at
that which is ancient indeed. Some secure off the rust of old
inscriptions into their own souls, cankering themselves with
superstition, having read so often orate pro anima, that at last
they fall a praying for the departed ; and they more lament the
ruine of Monasteryes, than the decay and ruine of Monk's lives,
degenerating from their ancient piety and painfulnesse. Indeed,
a little skill in antiquity inclines a man to Popery, but depth in
that study brings him about again to our Religion."— Holy State
(The True Church Antiquary), p. 62.

IE come now to the memorable Convocation of
1640, in which Fuller sat, and approach the
troublous age of internal politics. It is one of
the most interesting and critical episodes in the
history of our Church. It was convened at the time of
that now known as the Short Parliament, April i4th, 1640,
and was composed, to use Clarendon's words, of " sober
and dispassionate men ; " it contained also, according to
Cardwell, men " remarkably zealous for the rights of the
Church," and " the most eminent assertors of those rights
that our Church or nation has known." "We have the
relations," says Mr. Perry, in his " History of the Church of
England,"* " of several who were present at the meeting to
guide us; but not so full and copious as they might
have been written; for, says Fuller (who was one of

* Perry's " History of Church of England," vol. i. p. 600.

Proctor to Convocation. 149

the proctors), ' it was ordered that none present should
take any private notes in the house ; whereby the par
ticular passages thereof are left in great uncertainty.
However, so far as I can remember, I will faithfully relate,
being comforted with this consideration, that generally he is
accounted an impartial arbitrator who displeaseth both
sides/ "* Fuller was elected to represent the clergy of the
diocese of Bristol, wherein he was beneficed ; and it shows
the esteem he must have been held in by his brother-
clergy, for there is no greater honour or mark of respect
and confidence, which can be bestowed on a beneficed
clergyman by the clergy of a diocese than this, to depute
him to represent them " and vote straight " in the Convoca
tion of the province to which they belong.

His colleague in the representation was his friend and
neighbour Gilbert Ironsides, Rector of Winterborne, a
future Bishop of Bristol. There also attended this Convo
cation, Fuller's uncle, Bishop Davenant, and also Dr.
William Fuller, the Dean of Ely.

Dr. William Fuller belonged to the Essex Fullers, and
was son of Andrew Fuller, of Hadleigh, in Suffolk. Some
authorities say he was one of Fuller's uncles, but this
fact does not seem to be substantiated. He was a Cam
bridge man, Fellow of St. Catherine's Hall, D.D., and well
known for his multifarious acquirements. After holding
the living of Weston, Notts, and St. Giles's, Cripplegate, he
was made Dean of Ely, 1636. He is described as a
" notable, prudential man, a pathetic preacher, and of a
nimble wit and clear expression." He was troubled by his

Church History," vol. xi. ch. iii. p. I.

150 The Life of Fuller.

parishioners, but the Lords would not entertain the petition
" against so revered a person, whose integrity is in so good
an esteem with the Lords." He, however, felt the full
brunt of the political troubles of the age, and suffered
severely.

Another notable member of this Convocation was Dr.
Peter Heylin, Fuller's doughty antagonist all through life ; the
great High Church writer, and the consistent and persistent
exponent of the Laudian school of thought. He sat as
proctor for his College of Westminster. He was educated
at Oxford, and was author of several works ; his lectures
at Oxford, called " Microcosmos ; or, A Description of the
Great World." and a book of travels in France, which
Southey characterised as " one of our liveliest books of
travels in its lighter parts, and one of the wisest and most
replete with information that was ever written by a young
man."

In this Convocation, Dr. Heylin comes before us as the
firm and unflinching opponent of the Puritan element, both
within and without the Church, and he maintained his
principle with much spirit and consistency. Southey says of
him, " He was an able, honest, and brave man, who stood to
his tackling when tested." He, as well as Fuller, published
nofes of this Convocation ; but the two historians and
literary athletes had been trained in different schools of
thought — one moderate, and the other extreme. The
consequence was, they were often found on opposite sides,
and as antagonists, some smart, but bitter writing passed
between them ; and although our author hit hard some
times, as, for example, when he twitted Heylin for delighting
to derive himself from the ancient kings of Wales in his

Proctor to Convocation. 151

"Appeal of Injured Innocence," we must allow he was
always most courteous, and readily acknowledged his oppo
nent's skill in Church Law, and other legal acquirements
which had not been so much in his line.

Fuller's history of this Convocation is to be found in his
" Church History and Appeal," and is remarkable for
its usual historical accuracy. It was, however, written from
memory, as the members were not allowed, by a decision
of the house, to take any notes, but he assures the reader
that the work is honestly done, as far as his memory served
him. Still, wonderful as was Fuller's retentive faculty, it
was all but impossible that mistakes, especially in details,
should not be made. This is not to be wondered at, con
sidering the difficulty of the task of reporting memoriter,
giving our author credit for the most conscientious pains
taking. It must, however, be remembered that Fuller's, if
brief, was \\\Q first complete account of this assembly, and
that he had no authentic records to refer for verifying his
own impression. Dr. Heylin's account, which is found in
his " Life of Archbishop Laud," did riot appear till many
years afterwards, in 1668.

When Fuller's "Church History" appeared, containing
his account of the Convocation, Dr. Heylin at once selected
that for his animadversion, and boldly challenged its accu
racy. Fuller accounts for this apparent discrepancy in a
very ingenious way in his "Appeal," as following: "No
wonder if some (I hope no great) variations betwixt us in
relating the passages of this Convocation, each observing
what made most for his own interest. The reader may be
pleased also to use his own discretion, and to credit him,
whom he believeth most probable of the two, exactly to

152 The Life of Fuller.

observe, firmly to remember, and faithfully to relate what
we saw done (both of us being there), and since borrowing
help of our friends then present, where we fall short in
our intelligence."*

Heylin's longer account is allowed to be more minute in
its details, but is not free from a strong party bias. The
most complete is that of Dr. Nalson's " Impartial Collec
tions," drawn up at the instigation of Archbishop Bancroft,
in answer to Rush worth's series of State Papers. Between
the three accounts, it is possible to arrive at a resultant,
which will give an approximation to the truth of a Convo
cation, memorable as to its session — both in regard to
the critical time and the learned men who sat in it —
momentous in its issues, and as being the first provincial
council of which there is a full account.

" For as water long dammed up ofttimes flounce, and fly
out too violently, when their sluices are pulled, and they
let loose on a sudden, so the judicious fear, lest Convocation
should now overact its part. Yea, they suspected, lest those
who formerly had outrun the canons with their additional con
formity (ceremonising more than was enjoined), now would
make the canons come up to them, making it necessary for
others, what voluntarily they had pre-practised themselves."
(" Church History," bk. xi. cent, xvii.)

Five canons were made in this Convocation, before the
dissolution of Parliament. The first (according to Heylin),
concerning the regal power, appears not to have been con
sidered till after the dissolution. That which is reckoned
the third was first treated of, for suppressing the further

Appeal," pt. iii. p. 597.

Proctor to Convocation. 153

growth of Popery, and reducing Papists to the Church. But
this was suddenly withdrawn for revision : the Convocation
proceeding with the second, for the better keeping of the
day of his Majesty's most happy inauguration. For the
reduction of the Papists, conferences were to be appointed
to which they were to be compelled to come. Recusants
were to be excommunicated, and prosecuted in the High
Commission Court, and to be forbidden to keep school.
Another canon was passed to check Socinianism, which
appears to have increased in this reign more rapidly than in
former years, when the services were more slovenly con
ducted. This canon was followed by another against
Sectaries, Anabaptists, Brownists, Separatists, Familists, and
depravers of the Liturgy, and against their books, and the
printers and publishers of them.

But while the Convocation was in full session, suddenly
the King took the ill-advised step of dissolving the Parlia
ment. " His Majesty," says Hacket, " had been forewarned
by a worthy counsellor, and a dying man against that error
in the Christmas before, cujus mortem dolor omnium
celebrem fecit." It was Lord Keeper Coventry, who made
but one request with his last breath to the King, and sent it
by Mr. James Maxwell, of the bedchamber, that his Majesty
would take all distastes from the Parliament summoned
against April with patience, and suffer it tj sit without an
unkind dissolution. But the barking of the living dogs was
sooner heard than the groaning of a dying lion : for that
Parliament ended in a few days, in its infancy and in its
innocence, but the grief for it will never end." "From
this very time," records Fuller, " did God begin to gather
the twigs of that rod (a civil war) wherewith he intended
soon after to whip a wanton nation."

154 The Life of Fuller.

The Parliament was dissolved Tuesday (May 5th), and
on Wednesday the Convocation met, with the general im
pression that it would dissolve too — the spiritual Parliament
following the temporal one, which it usually does fart flasstf
— which it probably would have done, but that one of the
clergy (Heylin), made the Primate acquainted with a prece
dent to the contrary, in Queen Elizabeth's time, for the
granting a subsidy or benevolence by Convocation, to be
taxed and levied by synodical Acts and Constitutions, with
out help of the Parliament, directing to the records of the
Convocation where it was to be found.''1'

Soon after this a new commission was brought from his
Majesty, " by virtue whereof," says Fuller, " we were war
ranted still to sit,not in the capacity of a Convocation, but a
synod, to prepare our canons for the royal assent thereof.
Eut Dr. Brownrigg, Dr. Hackett, Dr. Holdswprth, Mr.
Warmistre, with others (of whom Fuller was one), to the
number of thirty-six (the whole house consisting of about
six score), earnestly protested against the continuance of the
Convocation."

Amongst these was Fuller himself, but they did not enter
a record of their protest, which he acknowledges to have
been an oversight in his "Appeal." However, they im-
portunely pressed that it might sink with the Parliament, it
being ominous, and without precedent, that the one should
survive, when the other expired. To satisfy these, an instru
ment was brought into synod, signed with the hands of the
Lord Privy Seal, the two Chief Justices, and other Judges,
''justifying our so sitting in the nature of a synod, to be legal,

* Fuller's " Church History," Book xi., cent, xvii., p. 458.

Proctor tj Convocation. 155

according to the laws of the realm." "This," says our
author, " made the aforesaid thirty-six dissenters (though
solemnly making their oral protests to the contrary) yet, not
to dissever themselves, or enter any act in scriptis against
the legality of this assembly ; the rather, because they hoped
to moderate proceedings with their presence. Surely some
of their own coat, which since have censured these
dissenters for cowardly compliance, and doing no more in
this cause, would have done less themselves if in their
condition."

Now, because great bodies move slowly, and are fitter to
be the consenters to, than the contrivers of business, it was
thought fit to contract the synod into a select committee of
some six and twenty, besides the Prolocutor, who were to
ripen matters, as to the propounding and drawing up of
forms to what should pass, yet, so that nothing could be
accounted the act of the House, till thrice (as I take it)
publicly voted therein. * Then the canon was passed,
touching the regal power, affirming the order of Kings to be
of Divine right, the ordinance of God Himself: that the
Government of the Church belongs, in chief to Kings, as also
the power to call and dissolve Councils, both national and
provincial ; that the assertion of any co-active power, either
papal or popular is treason, as well as against God as against
the King; that for subjects to bear arms against their Kings,
either offensive or defensive, is contrary to Scripture ; that
the right of the King to all manner of necessary support
and supply, and of the subject to his property, are not con
trary but agreeable the one to the other.

* Heylin's " Life of Laud," Part ii., 403.

156 The Life of Fuller.

This canon not only provoked the indignation of the Par
liament at a subsequent period, but at the time the populace
testified its feelings against the clergy by assaulting the
Archbishop's house, and the King was forced to appoint a
guard to protect the members of the synod from the mobs
which threatened them. Heylin thus describes the state of
things, " To such extremities were the poor clergy brought
during these confusions, in danger of the King's displeasure
if they rose, of the people's fury if they sate, in danger of
being beaten up by tumults when they were at their work
of being beaten down by the following Parliament when
their work was done. Everyone must have his blow at them."

Forasmuch as we are given to understand that many of our
subjects being misled against the rites and ceremonies now
used in the Church of England, have lately taken offence at
the same, upon an unjust supposal that they are contrary to
our laws, the declaration goes on to assert that they
were used by the Reformers, but had lately begun to fall
into disuse, and then having recited the powers given to
this Convocation to make canons, it " ratines and confirms
the canons made." Sparrow's Collection, 337-344-

Next this assembly adopted an oath, obliging the Clergy
not only obedience to the then constitution of the Church,
but to maintain it without seeking directly or indirectly any
alteration in the hierarchical form. This oath was to be
taken by members of the Universities, schoolmasters, &c.

In the declaration concerning some rites and ceremonies,
it was affirmed that the standing of the Communion Table
sideway under the east window of every chancel or chapel,
is in its own nature indifferent, but that it is judged fit and
convenient that all churches and chapels do confine them-

Proctor to Convocation. 157

selves in this particular to the example of the cathedral or
mother churches, saving always the general liberty left to the
bishops by law during the time of the administration of the
Holy Communion. "And we declare that this situation of the
Holy Table (the Greek, ayta Tpd-rr^a} doth not imply that it is,
or ought to be esteemed a true and proper altar, whereon
Christ is again sacrificed : but it is, and may be called an
altar by us, in that sense which the Primitive Church called
it an altar and no other. The altar was to be railed about
to prevent the irreverent use of it, the putting of hats
upon it, common amongst those who abhor reverence in
worship."

Obeisance is also commended to all upon entering and
leaving the Church or the chancel, "according to the most
ancient custom of the Primitive Church in the purest time,
and of this Church also for many years of the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. The receiving therefore, of this ancient
and laudable custom we heartily commend to the serious
consideration of all good people, not with any intention to
exhibit any religious worship to the Communion Table, the
East or Church, or anything therein contained, in so doing ;
or to perform the said gesture in the celebration of the
Holy Eucharist upon any opinion of the corporal presence
of the body of Christ on the Holy Table, or in the mystical
elements, but only for the advancement of God's Majesty,
and to give Him alone that honour and glory that is due
unto Him and not otherwise. And in the practice or omis
sion of this rite, we desire that the rule of charity prescribed
by the Apostle may be observed, which is, that they which
use this rite, despise not them who use it not, and that they
who use it not, condemn not those who use it."

158 The Life of Fuller.

Heylin tells us that there had also been " a design in
deliberation touching the drawing and digesting of an
English Pontifical to be approved by this Convocation,
and tendered to his Majesty's confirmation, which said Pon
tifical \\os to contain the form and manner of his Majesty's
coronation, to serve for a perpetual standing rule on the
like occasions ; another form to be observed by all arch
bishops and bishops for consecrating churches, churchyards
and chapels, and a third for reconciling penitents, as either
had done open penance, or had revolted from the faith to
the law of Mahom t, which three together with the form of
Confirmation, and that of ordering Bishops, Priests, and
Deacons, which was then in force, were to make up the whole
body of the book intended." Heylin also seems to intimate
that another scheme for introducing the service in Latin in
all colleges and halls, at least in the morning service failed.

These Canons were disallowed in the following parlia
ment, and the oath was allowed to drop, Sanderson being
of opinion that it would possibly endanger the Church.
Hut after the twenty-six sessions, May 2Qth, the whole of
the seventeen Canons were subscribed to, " every man's
heart, says Heylin, going along with his hand, as it is to be
presumed from all men of that holy profession." Laud,
fourteen bishops (including Davenant), and eighty-nine
other members (including Fuller), subscribed their names,
for he talks of our subscription in the Appeal. The acts
were then sent to the Convocation of York, which also
adopted them, and they were then set forth by royal assent,
June 30. Fuller and Irs party signed the document
" suffering ourselves to be included by the majority of
the votes, after the practice of Councils and Synods, that

Proctor to Convocatijii. 159

the whole body should subscribe to those acts that are
passed by the major part, as to synodical acts, notwithstand
ing their private dissent."

No doubt the acts of this Convocation provoked the
hostility of the popular party. The Canon, touching the King's
majesty, gave especial umbrage, and that touching the oath*
was not approved of by even many of the Bishops themselves.
Some refused to tender it, as Hall and the Puritan Bishops,
while the London and Lincoln clergy openly ignored it.
Yet some of the Bishops were zealous in pushing it, and
Fuller declares that to his knowledge, some of the clergy
were compelled to take it on their knees. Be this as it may,
the Canons of this Convocation were the principal agents
in separating King and people, and divorcing Church and
State. The impeachment of Laud was due mainly to them,
as he was regarded as the fons ct origo, the concrete em
bodiment of the whole synodical action on the part of the
Clergy.

* The oath known as the Et Cetera Oath :— "I, A. B., do swear
that I do approve the doctrine and discipline or Government
established in the Church of England, as containing all things
necessary to salvation; and that I will not endeavour by myself,
or any other, directly or indirectly, to bring in any Popish doc
trine contrary to that which is so established, nor will I ever give
my consent to alter the government of this church by Arch
bishops, Bishops, Deans, and Archdeacons, &c., as it stands
now established, and as by right it ought to stand, nor ever yet
to subject it to the usurpations and superstitions of the See of
Rome. And all these things I do sincerely acknowledge and
swear, according to the plain and common sense understanding
of the same words, without any equivocation, or mental evasion
or secret reservation, whatsoever. And this I do heartily,
willingly, and truly, upon the faith of a Christian, so help me
God."— Perry's ^Church of England? i., 615.

160 Tht Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER X.

FULLER'S "JOSEPH'S PARTI-COLOURED COAT."— (1640.)

" The Sacrament^ solemnly celebrated, doth re-present and set
forth the death and Passion of Christ. That is, Christ was so
powerfully and pathetically preached unto them in the word, His
death so done to the life in the solemn, decent, and expressive
Administration of the Sacrament, that the tragedy of Christ's
death, ri\gs\ Jerusalem^ was re-acted before them. Say, not, then
in thy heart how shall I get to Jerusalem to see the place of
Christ's- suffering. See, faith can remove mountains. Mount
Calvary \* brought home to thee,and though there be /xeya xaa/xa,
A great gulf, or distance of ground betwixt England and Palestine,
yet, if thou be'est a faithful receiver, behold Christ Sacramentally
crucified on the Communion Table. Say not in thine heart how
shall I remember Christ's passion ; it was time out of mind 1600
years ago. Christ here teacheth thee the art of memory ; what
so long was past is now made present at the instant of thy worthy
receiving. Stay, pilgrims stay (would your voyages to the Holy
Land had been as farre from superstition as hitherto from
successe), go not you thither, but bring Palestine hither, by
bringing pure hearts with you when you come to receive the
Sacrament, for there the Lord's Body is shewed forth, as on the
."— Joseph's Party-Coloured Coat, pp. 61-62.

[HERE can be no doubt that this convocation was
the means of bringing Fuller (one of the Clerks
for the Diocese of Bristol), into prominence and
notice, and introducing him to the primate, and
London. Although the Archbishop and the Bristol proctor
had not taken the same sides in the synodical debates, yet it
is evident from the gratitude which Fuller betrays toward
Laud on jnore than one occasion, that the Archbishop

Parti- Coloured Coat. 161

had done him some act of kindness, or paid him some
delicate attention. Some think it may have been a per
mission to preach in another diocese, or that Fuller was
surprised by some unexpected courtesy, who alludes to it in
the following words : " I am much of the mind of Sir
Edward Deering, that the roughness of his (Laud's) un-
court-like nature sweetened many men when they least looked
for it, surprising some of them (and myself for one) with
unexpected courtesies." Whatever they may have been,
the fact points to some rapprochement between the two,
which had evidently left a pleasing reminiscence behind it.

At this period, too, Fuller made his acquaintance with
London, and during the sittings of the Convocation preached
in many of the leading pulpits— " the voice'd pulpits "—
as his biographer styles them — of the metropolis. He
became known as an attractive and popular preacher,
popular in a good sense, being known as eloquent in speech,
of a ready imagination, a sound divine, a clever writer, and
of engaging conversation and pleasing manners. He was
quickly a favourite among his new circle of friends, and was
as much " run after " in London as he had been at Cam
bridge and Broad Windsor. This new life would, especially
with such a temperament as his, in the whirl of Town, with
the circumambient friction of thought, the collision of mind
with mind, the excitement of the %day, the social surround
ings, and the general political and ecclesiastical ferment,
prove very attractive to this rising divine, and the contrast
between it and the humdrum of a co^itry parson's lifj
would naturally force itself upon him. ffe was drawn on
more and more. Groat changes were pending both in
Church and State, and the discussions and debates ancnt

L

1 62 TJit Life of Fuller.

them would be full of feverish interest and excitement. Into
these Fuller would have been insensibly drawn, so that his
prospects became altered, or at least modified, till at last the
idea of migrating to Town gradually assumed shape, issuing
in a determination to remove to the metropolis, and take an
active part in the struggles of the day, and allay the unnatural
strife thereof. " He was very sensible " says his biographer,
"whither those first commotions did tend, and that some
heavy disaster did, in those angry clouds which impended
over the nation, more particular threaten the clergy."

About this time Fuller took the opportunity of his visit
to Town to publish a volume of sermons, which was eagerly
bought, both at the time, and continued their popularity
through his life, which much enhanced his reputation.

This publication consisted of a comment on the portion
of St. Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians connected with the
institution of the Lord's Supper (i Cor. xi. 18 to 31 v.), and
eight other sermons were appended to it. Fuller gave it the
quaint appellation of " Joseph's Parti-Coloured Coat " and it
was printed by John Williams. It is dedicated to the Right
Worshipful the Lady Jane Covert, of Pepper Harrow, near
Godalming, Surrey. Fuller observes in the dedication,
whilst custom has licensed flattery in dedicating epistles,
epitaphs and dedications, he will not follow the stream herein-
" First, because I account it beneath my calling to speak any
thing above the truth, secondly, because of you it is needless.
Let deformed faces be beholding to the painter, art hath
nothing to do when nature hath prevented it." The title of
the book seems to* have been suggested by the variety of
topics introduced — the sermons in tha latter part of the book
being on the following subjects, "Growth in grace : How far

Pa Hi- Coloured Coat. 163

examples may be followed : An Ill-Match well broken off :
Good from Bad Friends : A Glass for Gluttons : How far
Grace may be entailed : A Christening Sermon : and Faction
Confuted." At this time Fullers popularity was of the
highest kind, for his sermons had the charm of truth about
them. It did not commence among a swarm of butterflies,
it grew not up amongst a crowd of itching ears. It was not
owing to their defects, but in spite of them, thatAndrewes, and
Fuller, and others of the like kind were in such estimation.
But it must be allowed that unseasonable as is wit in
sacred things, men are everywhere caught by it in spite
of themselves.

In these remarkable sermons, Fuller gives a definition of
heresy drawn from St. Augustine, an error in the essentials
of religion, and that obstinately maintained. " In the primi
tive church many were too lavish in bestowing the name of
heretic on those which dissented from the church in (as I
may say) venial errors. A charitable man would have been
loth to have been of the jury to condemn Jovinian for an
heretic, on no other evidence than that he maintained
marriage in merit to be equal with virginity." Pointing out
the evils of ignorance he says " To prevent these mischiefs,
let the meanest-parted labour to attain to some competent
measure of knowledge in matters of salvation, that so he may
not trust every spirit, but be able to try whether he be of
God or no. Believe no man with implicit faith in matters
of such moment ; for he who buys a jewel in a case without
ever looking at it, deserves to be cozened with a Bristol-
stone instead of a diamond."

Speaking of the love feasts, (dyaTn)) of the Primitive
Church, Fuller observes " Yet mark by the way that St. Paul

L 2

1 64 The Life of Fuller.

does not plant his arguments point-blank to beat these love-
feasts down to the ground, wholly to abrogate and make a
nullity of them, but only to correct and reform the abuses
therein, that there might be less riot in the rich, and more
charity towards the poor."

Most characteristic of his pen is the following ; " What
shall I say ? shall I praise you in this ? " Pastors may and
must praise their people wherein they do well.

i.— Hereby they shall peaceably possess themselves of
this good will of their people, which may much advance the
power and efficacy of their preaching. 2.— Men will more
willingly digest a reproof for their faults, if praised, when
they do well. 3. — Virtue being commended doth increase
and multiply ; creepers in goodness will go, goers run, run
ners fly. Use. "Those ministers to be blamed, which are
ever blaming, often without cause, always without measure,
(whereas it is said of God, He will not be always chiding,
Ps. ciii. 9.) "Do any desire to hear that which Themistocles
counted the best music, namely themselves commended ? On
these conditions, we ministers will indent with them. Let
them find matter, we will find words. Let them do what is
commendable, and blame us if we commend not what they
do. Such work for us would be recreation ; such employ
ment a pleasure, turning our most stammering tongue into
the pen of a ready writer. To reprove is prest from us, as
wine from grapes ; but praises would flow from our lips as
water from a fountain. . But alas, how can we build, when
they afford us neither brick nor straw? How can we praise
what they do when they will not do what is to be praised ?
If, with Ahab they will do what is evil, we must always pro
phecy evil unto them."

Parti-Coloured Coat. 165

Speaking of the way corruptions will creep in even in
the best Churches. "If Primitive Churches, whilst the
Apostles which planted them were alive to prune them,
had such errors in them, no wonder if the Church at sixteen
hundred years of age may have some defaults. Moses said
unto the Israelites, Deut. xxxi. 27, " Behold, while I am with
you this day, ye have been rebellious against the Lord ; and
how much more when I am dead." So, if while St. Paul
survived, Churches were so prone to decline, what can be
less expected in our days ? It was therefore well concluded
in the 39th session of the Council of Constance, that every
ten years at the furthest, there should be a General Council
held to reform such errors in the Church as probably in that
time would arise."

Speaking of the Word of God being attested most clearly
by His providence, " The providence of God plainly appears
in the preserving of Scriptures against all opposition. Many
a time from my youth up (may the Scriptures now say), yea,
many a time have they fought against me, but they could not
prevail against me, neither Antiochus before Christ, nor
Julian the Apostate since Him, nor the force of tyrants, nor
the fraud of heretics (though the world of late hath scarce
yielded a wicked sharp-wit, that hath not given the
scriptures a gash), could ever suppress them. Their tread
ing on this camomile made it grow the better, and their
snuffing of this candle made it burn the brighter. Whereas,
on the other side the records of tradition are lost, and those
books wherein they were compiled or composed aut incuria
hominum aut injuria temporis (either by the negligence of
men or by the ravages of time) or by some other sinister
accident, are wholly miscarried and nowhere appear.

1 66 The Life of Fuller.

Papias is reported by Eusebius (Hist, lib. 4, c. 8.) in five
books to have contained all the Apostolical traditions which
they call the Word not written : but Bellarmine himself
confessed that these are lost. Likewise Clemens Alexandri-
nus (as the same Eusebius lib. 6, c. u.) storiethit, wrote in a
book those traditions which he received from the elders, and
they from the Apostles, which book the Papists this day
cannot produce. I will conclude all with Gamaliel's words,
Acts v. 39. ' But if it be of God ye cannot destroy it.' Had
these books been inspired by God's Spirit, no doubt the
same providence would have watched to preserve them,
which hath protected the Scripture. Let us therefore,
leaving uncertain traditions, stick to the Scriptures alone,
trust no doctrine on its single bond, which brings not God's
word for its security. Let that plate be beaten in pieces
which hath not this tower-stamp upon it. From the words
' As often as ye eat this bread,' he proceeds to urge frequent
communion " Under as often is often included : Whence we
gather we must frequently celebrate the Lord's Supper. In
the Primitive Church it was done everyday, (i Euseb. lib.
i Demonst Evang. c. 10,) and fit it was the aqua vitae bottle
should ever be at their nostrils, who were swooning every
moment : and they needed constant cordials, who ever and
anon had the qualms of temptation in the time of persecu
tion." This homely figure is so expressive, as almost by its
suitableness to atone for its homeliness. This frequency
soon abated when peace came into the Church, which makes
S. Ambrose (Lib. v. de Sacramentis c. 4.) reprove the negli
gence of the Eastern Churches who received it but once a
year.

Our preacher proceeds to answer the objections that have

Parti-Coloured Coat. 167

been invented to dissuade from the revival of the better and
more ancient spirit. The first objection is taken from the
Passover which was observed but once a year. To this he
replies " The Passover by God was stinted to be used no
oftener ; in the Lord's Supper we are left to our own liberty.
Finding therefore our continual sinning, and therefore need
thereof to strengthen us in our grace, we may. yea, must
oftener use it, especially seeing all services of God under
the Gospel ought to be more plentiful and abundant than
under the Law." (p. 59) The second objection is " things
done often are seldom done solemnly." Then he replies,
sermons and prayers should be equally rare. The third is,
that long preparation is requisite to this action. To this he
answers that often preparing lessen the difficulty of right
preparation. He does not (with many) extenuate the guilt
of the unworthy communicant. He speaks of this sin as
" the highest of any pardonable sin, even guiltiness of
Christ's blood itself." This is a true maxim, " To him to
whom the sacrament is not heaven, it is hell." He observes
that there were other sins amongst the Corinthians, factions,
preference of pastors, connivance of incest, and going to law
one with another before heathen judges, and denying of the
resurrection. Of these he notes they were felony,
robbing God of His glory, but the irreverent receiving of
the sacrament was high treason against the person of Christ,
and so against God Himself."

Of the discourses that follow, the two most worthy of
their author are, the first, " On Growth in Grace," and the
last, entitled " Faction Confuted." In the first we have
this excellent apothegm, " Practice without knowledge is
blind, and knowledge without practice is lame." Again,

1 68 The Life of Fuller.

plants, he observes, "have their bounds, both in height
and breadth, set by nature, but growth in grace admits of no
such period." The latter part of the sermon is an answer to
the doubts of those who are troubled with scruples and fears
respecting their being in a state of grace.

" Others concern themselves not to be grown in grace
when they are grown, and that in these four cases.

" Sometimes they think they have less grace than they had
seven years ago, because they are more sensible of their
badness ; they daily see and grieve to see how spiritual the
law of God is, and how carnal they are ; now they sin both
against God's wrill and their own, and sorrow after their sin,
and sin after their sorrow. This makes many mistake
themselves to be worse than they have been formerly ;
whereas, indeed, the sick man begins to mend, when he
begins to feel his pain.

2. " Many think themselves to have less saving knowledge
now than they had at their first conversion : both because (as
we said before of grace) they are now more sensible of their
ignorance : and because their knowledge at their first conver
sion seemed a great deal, which, since seemeth not increased
because increased insensibly and by unappearing degrees.
One that hath lived all his life time in a most dark dungeon,
and at last is brought out but into the twilight, more admires
at the clearness and brightness thereof, than he will wonder
a month after at the sun at noon-day. So a Christian newly
regenerated, and brought out of the dark state of nature
into the life of grace, is more apprehensive at the first
illumination of the knowledge he receives, than of far greater
degree of knowledge which he receiveth afterwards.

" Some think they have less grace now than they had some

Parti- Coloured Coat. 169

years since, because a great measure of grace seems but
little to him that desires more. As in worldly wealth,
crcscit amor nummi quantum ipsa pecunia crcscit (the love of
money increaseth as the money itself increaseth), so is there
an holy, heavenly and laudable covetousness of grace, which
deceives the eye of the soul, and makes a great deal of good
ness seem but little.

" ."Many think they are grown less and weaker in grace,
when indeed they are assaulted with stronger temptations.
One saith, 'Seven years since I vanquished such temptations
as at this day foil me, therefore surely I am decreased in
grace.' Non sequitur, for though it be the same temptation
in kind, it may not be the same in degree and strength, thou
mayest still be as valiant, yet these enemies may conquer
thee, as assaulting thee with more force and fury. When
thou wert newly converted, God proportioned the weight to
the weakness of thy shoulders ; bound up the devil that he
should set upon thee with no more force than thou couldst
resist and subdue. Now, thou hast gotten a greater stock
of grace, God suffers the devil to buffet thee with greater
blows."

" Some think grace is less in them now than it was
at the first conversion, because they find not in their
souls such violent flashes, such strong impetuous (I had
almost said furious) raptures of goodness and flashes of
grace and heavenly illumination. But let them seriously
consider that these raptures which they then had, and now
complain they want, were but fits short and sudden : nimbus
eraf, cito prceteriit : not settled and constant, but such as
quickly spent themselves with their own violence : whereas,
grace in them now may be more solid, reduced, digested,

J7Q The Life of Fuller.

and concocted : Bos lapsus fortius figit pedem, more slow,
but more sure, less violent, but more constant : though
grace b3 not so thick at one time, yet now it is beaten and
hammered out to be broader and longer, yea, I might add
also, it is more pure and refined. This we may see in Saint
Peter, when he was a young man ; in a bravery he would
walk on the water, yea, so daring was he in his promise :
though all forsake thee, yet will not I: but afterwards in his
old age he was not so bold and daring. Experience had not
only corrected the rankness of his spirit, but also in some
sort quenched, surely tempered the flashes of his zeal for the
adventurousness of it : yet was he never a whit the worse
but the better Christian : though he was not so quick to run
into danger, yet he would answer the spur when need re
quired, and not flinch from persecution when just occasion was
offered : as at last he suffered martyrdom gloriously for Christ.

" To conclude, grace in the good thief on the cross, like
Jonah's gourd, grew up presently, for he was an extra
ordinary example ; but in us it is like the growth of an oak,
slow and insensible, so that we may sooner find it crevisse than
crescere. It must, therefore, be our daily task all the days
of our lives ; to which end, let us remember to pray to God
for His blessing on us. Our Saviour saith, Matt. vi. 27,
" Which of you by taking care is able to add one cubit unto his
stature in the corporal growth" much less able are we to add
one inch or hair's breadth to the height of our souls. Then
what was pride in the builders of Babel will be piety in us,
to mount and raise our souls on high, till the top of them
shall reach to heaven. Amen."

The fourth sermon, " Good from bad friends," is as ex
cellent as it is ingenious. 2 Samuel xv. 31, "And one

Parti-Coloured Coat. 171

told David, saying, Achitophel is among the conspirators
with Absalom." Our author observes how the treachery of
Achitophel was a just visitation on David for his treachery
to Uriah ; how, when our friends forsake us, we ought to
enter into a serious scrutiny of our own souls. 2. The most
politic heads have not always the faithfullest hearts. 3.
False friends will forsake in time of adversity.

From the unfaithfulness of friends we may learn: i. To
consider with ourselves whether we have not been faulty in
entertaining talebearers, and lending a listening ear unto
them : 2. If thy conscience accuse thee not, whether there
was not a false principle in the first invitation of thy love ?
was it a friendship begun in sin? 3. If it did not begin in sin,
hast thou not committed many sins to hold in with him ? Hast
thou not flattered him in his faults, or at leastwise by thy
silence consented to him ? 4. Hast thou not idolatrized thy
friend ? 5. Has thou not undervalued thy friend, and set too
mean a rate and low estimate on his love ? 6. It may be God
suffers thy friend to prove unfaithful to thee, to make thee
stick more closely to Himself. Micah vii. 5.

The next sermon is headed, " A Glass for Gluttons."
Rom. xii. 13. " Not in gluttony." Our preacher calls
gluttony the sin of England. " For though without usurpa
tion we may entitle ourselves to the pride of the Spanish,
jealousy of the Italian, wantonness of the French, drunken
ness of the Dutch, and laziness of the Irish, and though
these outlandish sins have of late been naturalized and made
free denizens of England, yet our ancientest carte is for the
sin of gluttony." This sermon against gluttony is itself a
surfeit of wit. Yet was it intended for a wholesome
medicine, but alas ! the glutton is not the man to be laughed

172 The Life of Fuller.

out of his disease. The danger of this sin our author illus
trates first, from the very circumstance that it is not punish
able by human laws, for as those offences are accounted the
greatest which cannot be punished by a constable, justice,
or judge of assize, but are reserved immediately to be
punished by the King himself, so gluttons must needs be
sinners in an high degree, who are not censurable by any
earthly king, but are referred to be judged at God's tribunal
alone.

2. " It is more dangerous because it is so hard and diffi
cult to discern. Like to the hectic fever, it steals on a man
unawares. Some sins come with observation, and are either
ushered with a noise, or like a snail, leave a slime behind
them, whereby they may be traced and tracked, as drunken
ness. The Ephraimites were differenced from the rest of
the Israelites by their lisping ; they could not pronounce
H. Thus drunkards are distinguished from the king's
sober subjects by clipping the coin of the tongue.
But there are not such signs and symptoms of gluttony.
This sin doth so insensibly unite and incorporate itself with
our natural appetite, to eat for the preservation of our lives,
that as St. Gregory saith (lib 30 moral c. 28 ante medium) it
is a hard thing to discern what necessity requires, and what
pleasure supplies, because in eating pleasure is mixed with
appetite or necessity : what is the full charge of food which
nature requires for our sustenance, and what is that sur
charge which is heaped by superfluity.

3. " Because of the sundry dangers it brings, first to the
soul. Luke xxi. 34. ' Take heed lest your hearts be op
pressed with surfeiting.' And, indeed, the soul must needs
be unfitting to serve God so encumbered. That man hath

Parti- Coloured Coat. 173

)ut an uncomfortable life who is confined to live in a smoky
louse. The brain is one of these places of the residence
)f the soul, and when that is filled with steam and vapours
irising from unconcocted crudities in the stomach, the soul
nust needs male habitare, dwell uncheerfully, ill accomo-
lated in so smoky a mansion. And as hereby it is unapt
or the performance of good, so it is ready for most evil, for
jncleanness, scurrility, ill-speaking.

"Secondly, this sin impairs the health of the body: the
Outlandish proverb says, that the glutton digs his grave with
his own teeth. Must there not be a battle in the stomach,
wherein there is meat hot, cold, sod, roast, flesh, fish ? and
which side soever wins, nature and health will be overcome,
when as a man's body is like unto the ark of Noah, con
taining all beasts, clean and unclean : but he is the most
clean beast that contains them. Our law interprets it to be
murther, when one is killed with a knife. Let us take
heed that we be not all condemned, for being felos-de-se :
for willingly murthering our own lives with our knives by
our superstitious eating. Thirdly, it wrongs the creatures
that are hereby abused. God saith (Hosea ii. 9) that He
will recover his flax and his wool from the idolatrous Jews,
Vindicabo, I will rescue and recover them as from slavery
and subjection, wherein they were detained against their
will : and in such like tyranny are the creatures, as bread,
wine, and meat, tortured under the glutton. Lastly, it
wrongeth the poor, for it is the overmuch feasting of Dives,
which of necessity maketh the fasting of Lazarus: and
might not the superfluous meat of the rich be sold for many
a pound, and given to the poor? "

He then proceeds to consider wherein gluttony doth con-

174 The Life of Fuller.

sist. It consisteth either in the quantity of the meat, or in
the quality, or in the manner of eating. Here he first
admits that it is hard to define the proportion of meat for
every man's stomach : " that quantity of rain will make a
clay-ground drunk, which will scarce quench the thirst of a
sandy country." It is well that our author did not live in
these times ; and what would he have said to the Malthu-
sian regulations in these and other matters ?

" Let this be the rule," says our not less and truly philo
sophical author, "he shall be arraigned and condemned
before God for gluttony in the quantity of meat, who hath
eaten so much, as thereby he is disabled, either in part, or
wholly, to serve God, in his general or particular calling, be
his age, climate, or temper whatsoever.

" Gluttony is in the quality of the meat : (i) when it is
too young (Exod. xxiii. 19); (2) too costly; (3) an incen
tive to lust ; (4) to increase appetite. It is in the manner
of eating, i. Greedily, without giving thanks to God : like
hogs eating up the mast, not looking up to the hand that
shaketh it down. It is said of the Israelites (Exod. xxiii. 6),
the people sat down to eat and drink ; there is no mention of
grace before meat : and rose up to play ; there is no mention
of grace after. 2. Constantly. Dives fared deliciously
every day : there was no Friday in his week, nor fast in his
almanack, nor Lent in his year : whereas the moon is not
always in its full, but hath as well a waning and a waxing :
the sea is not always in a spring-tide, but hath as well an
ebbing as a flowing : and surely the very rule of health will
dictate thus much to a man, not always to hold a constant
tenure of feasting, but sometimes to abate in his diet.
3. When they eat their meats studiously, resolving all the

Parti-Colour cd Coat. 175

powers of their mind upon meat : singing Requiem in their
souls with the glutton in the Gospel, ' Soul, take thine ease,'
etc. And whereas we are to eat to live, these only live to
eat"

The next discourse is entitled, " How far grace can be
•entailed," in Tim. i. 5. Here he enters upon the question,
How can we tell that grace is in another ? Only he replies
by long and intimate acquaintance, "Too bold are those
men, who upon a superficial knowledge and short convers
ing with any, dare peremptorily pronounce that such an one
hath saving grace and sanctity in him. These are professors
of spiritual palmistry, who think that upon small experience
they can see the life-line (the line of eternal life in the hands
of men's souls), whereas, for all" their skill, they often mis
take the hands of Esau for the hands of Jacob."

The Christening sermon is from 2 Kings v. 14 — the
history of Naaman. Here he observes the state in which
Naaman came to Elisha ; and how, being repulsed, he fol
lowed the advice of his servants. He proceeds to enume
rate the several points of his text, but finding them too
many for one discourse, likens this circumstance to Gideon,
who, having too great an army for his use, sent most of his
servants away ; and so confines his remarks to the time
after his servants had persuaded him : the simplicity of the
means in preaching and in the sacraments : the sevenfold
washing, in which we are taught patience ; the duty of ob
serving God's commandments, both in matter and manner,
both in substance and circumstance ; and the resemblance
between the washing away of leprosy and the washing of
baptism, to cleanse our original corruption, yet not to
cleanse perfectly, but in part, for " though the bane be

176 The Life of Fuller.

removed, the blot doth remain ; the guilt is remitted, the
blemish is retained ; the sting is gone, the stain doth stay :
which, if not consented to, cannot damn this infant, though
it may hereafter defile." In this dogmatic assertion our
author follows St. Augustine.

The discourse, " Faction confuted," from i Cor. i. 12, is
against the factious affecting of one pastor above another.
Here our worthy preacher, who was no lover of faction,
is quite at home. He meets this folly with abundance of
satire, and exposes it as well in the minister as in his " dear
hearers." He was not one of those who reproved only the
unpopular faults of his generation, and spared pleasing
follies by levelling at them inane platitudes.

" Such," says he, " is the subtlety of Satan, and such is the
frailty of the flesh, though things be ordered never so well,
they will quickly decline. Luther was wont to say he never
knew a good order to last above fifteen years. This speedy
decaying of goodness you may see in the Church of Corinth,
from which St. Paul was no sooner departed, but they de
parted from his doctrine. Some, more carried by fancy
than ruled by reason, or more swayed by carnal reason than
governed by grace, made choice of some particular, whom
they extolled to the great disgrace of his fellow ministers,
and greater dishonour of God Himself. Now St. Paul, not
willing to make these ministers a public example, concealeth
their persons, yet discovered the fault, and making bold
with his brethren Apollos and Cephas, applieth to them
and himself what the Corinthians spake of their fancied
preachers, 'Now this I say that every one of you saith, 1 am
of Paul, and lam of Apollos, and I am of Cephas, and I am
of Christ.

Par li- Coloured Coat. 177

" I need not divide the words, which in themselves
are nothing else but division, and contain four sorts of
people, like the four sorts of seed (Matt. i. 3), the
three first bad, the last only (I am of Christ) being
good and commendable." The mischiefs of factiousness
he thus enumerates, first, it will set enmity and dissen
sion betwixt the ministers of God's word. " It will
anger not only Saul, a mere carnal man, but even those
that have degrees of grace. He hath converted his thou
sands, but such an one his ten thousands: these dis
cords betwixt ministers I could as heartily wish they were
false, as I do certainly know they are too true. 2. It will
set dissension among people, whilst they violently engage
their affections for their pastors. 3. It will give just occa
sion to wicked men to rejoice at these dissensions, to whose
ears our discords are the sweetest harmony. O, then, let
not the herdsmen of Abraham and Lot fall out, whilst the
Canaanites and Perizites are yet in the land. Let us not
dissent whilst many adversaries of truth are mingled
amongst us who will make sport thereat. Lastly, it will
cause great dishonour to God Himself : His ordinance in
the meantime being neglected. Here is such doting on the
dish, there is no regarding the dainties. Such looking on
the embassador, there is no notice taken of the King that
sent him. Even Mary's complaint is now verified, ' They
have taken away the Lord, and placed Him I know not
where.' And as in times of Popery, Thomas Becket dis
possessed our Saviour of His Church in Canterbury (in
stead of Christ's Church being called St. Thomas's Church),
and whereas rich oblations were made to the shrine of that
supposed saint, summo altari nil, nothing was offered to

M

I7g The Life of Fuller.

Christ at the Communion Table ; so whilst some sacrifice
their reverence to this admired preacher, and others almost
adore this affected pastor, God in His ordinance is neg
lected, and the Word, being the savour of life, is had m
respect of persons.

« To prevent these mischiefs both pastor and people must
lend their helping hands. I begin with the pastor, and
first with those whose churches are crowded with the
thickest audience. Let them not pride themselves with the
bubble of popular applause, often as carelessly gotten as un
deservedly lost. Have we not seen those who have pre
ferred the onions and fleshpots of Egypt before heavenly
manna? lungs before brains, and sounding of a voice before
soundness of matter ?

"Yea, when pastors perceive people transported with an
immoderate admiration of them, let them labour to confute
them in their groundless humours. When St. John would
have worshipped the angel, ' see thou do it not ' (saith he) ;
worship God. So when people post headlong in affecting
their pastors, they ought to waive and decline this popular
honour, and to seek to transmit and fasten it on the God of
heaven. Christ went into the wilderness when the people
would have made Him a king. Let us shun, yea, fly such
dangerous honour, and tear off our heads such wreaths as
people would tie on them, striving rather to throw mists
and clouds of privacy on ourselves, than to affect a shining
appearance. But know, whatsoever thou art, who herein art
an epicure, and lovest to glut thyself with people's applause,
thou shalt surfeit of it before thy death. It shall prove at
last pricks in thy eye, and thorns in thy side, a great afflic
tion, if not a ruin unto thee, because sacrilegiously, thou hast

Parti- Coloured Coat. 179

robbed God of His honour. Let them labour also to in
gratiate every pastor who hath tolerability of desert with his
own congregation.

" I am come now to neglected ministers, at whose
churches solitudo ante ostiitni and within them too, whilst
others (perchance less deserving) are more frequented. Let
not such grieve in themselves, or repine at their brethren.

" One told a Greek statist, who had excellently deserved
of the city he lived in, that the city had chosen four and
twenty officers and yet left him out. * I am glad,' said he,
* the city affords twenty-four abler than myself.' And let us
practice St. Paul's precept by honour and dishonour, by
good report and disreport."

Turning to the people our preacher gives this excellent
advice ; " First, ever preserve a reverent esteem of the minis
ter whom God hath placed over thee. Secondly, let them
not make odious comparisons betwixt ministers of eminent
parts. It is said of Hezekiah (2 Kings xviii., 5) that ' after
him was none like him of all the kings of Judah, neither
any that were before him.' It is said also of King Josiah
(2 Kings xxiii., 25) 'and like unto him there was no king
before him, that turned to the Lord with all his heart, and
with all his soul, and with all his might, neither after him
rose up any like him." The Holy Spirit prefers neither for
better, but concludes both for best, and so, amongst minis
ters when each differ from others, all may be excellent in
their minds." Such was the sound teaching (now too much
gone out of fashion), the earnest spirit of one who was a
truly popular preacher, a divine who brought out of his
treasures new and old (KO.LVO. /cat TraAata), and was not carried
about by the current theology of the times ; who in doctrine

M 2

i So The Life of Fuller.

belonged not to this party or that, and avoided extremes on
either side, but was a true and faithful, loyal and devoted
son of his spiritual mother, the Church of England, and
proved himself not unworthy to take his place by the side of
judicious Hooker, pious Hall, saintly Herbert, learned Pear
son, apostolic Leighton, devout Jeremy Taylor, and other
worthies of the National Church.

We subjoin a few poetical gems taken from these ser
mons : " Traffic makes those wooden bridges over the seas,
which join the islands to the continent." "Woful was the
estate of the world when one could not see God for gods."
" It is an old humour for men to love new things, and in
this Doint even many barbarians are Athenians." " The
number of seren is most remarkable in holy writ and passeth
for the emblem of perfection or completeness ; as well it
may, consisting of a unity in the middle : guarded and
attended by a Trinity on either side." " The death of the
Godly in Scripture language is often styled sleep, and indeed
sleep and death are two twins. Sleep is the elder brother,
for Adam slept in Paradise, but death liveth longest, for the
last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." Etymology of
compliment "they are justly to be reproved which lately
have changed all hearty expressions of love into verbal com
pliments, which etymology is not to be deduced from
a completione mentis but a complete mentiri. And yet I
cannot say these men lie in their throats, for I persuade my
self their words never came so near their heart, but merely
lie in their mouths, when all their promises—

« Both birth and burial in a breath they have ;
That mouth which is their womb, it is their grave."

Speaking of the sea, he says " Esau went to kill his brother

Parti- Coloured Coat. 1 8 1

Jacob, but when he met him, his mind was altered ; he fell
a-kissing him, and so departed. Thus the waves of the sea
march against the shore, as if they would eat it up ; but
when they have kissed the utmost brink of the sand, they
melt themselves away to nothing."

In these sermons Fuller evidently followed as his models
such preachers as Donne and Andrewes, though it may be
at a measurable distance, both in his manner of handling his
discourse, by his manifold and complicated division and sub
division, and his style was both homely as theirs, and charac
terised by the epithet of" quaint." It was Andrewes who said
of his sermons, and what preacher has not felt this who is
called upon to make a double homiletic effort every Sunday?
" When I preach twice every Sunday I prate once." In
these sermons we notice Fuller's fondness for alliterations,
playing on the words and the first letters of them, antithe
sis, and antithetical periods, incongruous allusions, and the
everlasting pun. All these peculiarities are sown broadcast
over his work in prodigal confusion. But in spite of these
eccentricities we can well imagine that his preaching must
have been very impressive, and to thoughtful hearers most
attractive. He had all the makings of a popular preacher
in the best sense, for he was earnest, and his sermons breathe
an atmosphere of practical piety. They are also remark
able for their outspokenness, which no doubt earned for
him the soubriquet, which he deserved, of downright Fuller.
They beautifully illustrate his own sketch of the faithful
minister, who, having brought his sermon into his head,
labours to bring it to his heart before he preaches it to his
people, and who chiefly reproves the 'reigning sins of the
time and place he lives in.

82 The Life of Fuller.

Fuller composed about this time the " Life of Dr. Colet"
in a popular manual called Daily Devotions ; or the Chris
tian Morning and Evening Sacrifice. He calls Colet "a Luther
before Luther for his doctrine," and praises him for his
learning and shrewdness. There is also a notice of him in
his " Abel Redevivus " and his " Church History." The
publication of this manual, together with other remarks
made in his other works, attests the value that Fuller set
upon forms of prayer in general, and a pre-composed liturgy
in particular, not that he despised the extempore mode, on
the contrary, he highly valued it, but he regarded the set
form as more reverent in the addresses of the creature to
his Creator. The free form of prayer was soon coming in,
and forms of prayer were about to be abolished, and it is
quite clear what Fuller's views were on this subject. In
deed, he, in common with some of the dispossessed clergy,
composed some of the forms which were used during the
time of the prohibited liturgy. Pearson preached a sermon
at Cambridge in 1643 "On the Excellency of Forms of
Prayer," and in the days of the Directory, Fuller defended
"our late admired liturgy," which he, with other cavalier
parsons, never gave up. In his " Good thoughts in worse
times " he shows that " prescript form of Prayer " of our
own and others composing are lawful for any, and needful
for some, to use. " Lawftilfor any : otherwise God would
not have appointed the Priests (presumed of themselves best
able to pray) a form of blessing the people : nor would our
Saviour have set us His prayer, which (as the town-bushel is
the standard both to measure corn and other bushels by) is
both a prayer in itself, and a pattern or platform of prayer.
Such as accuse set forms to be pinioning the wings of the

Parti-Coloured Coat. 183

d:>ve, will, by the next return, affirm that girdles and garter
made to strengthen and adorn, are so many shackles and
fetters which hurt and hinder free motion."

" Needful for some: namely, for such as yet have not
attained (what all should endeavour) to pray extempore by
the spirit. But many confess their weakness in denying to
confess it, who, refusing to be beholding to a set form of
prayer, prefer to say nonsense rather than nothing in their
extempore expressions. More modesty and not less piety it
had been for such men to have prayed longer with set forms
that they might pray better without them."

" It is no base and beggarly shift (arguing a narrow and
necessitous heart), but a piece of holy and heavenly thrift,
often to use the same prayer again. Christ's practice is
my Directory herein, who "the third time said the same
words " (Matt, xxvi., 44). A good prayer is not like a strata
gem of war, to be used but once. No, the oftener the better.
The clothes of the Israelites, whilst they wandered forty years
in the wilderness, never waxed old as if made of perpetuano
indeed. So a good prayer, though often used, is still fresh
and fair in the ears and eyes of Heaven. Despair not, then,
thou simple soul, who hast no exchange of raiment, whose
prayer cannot appear every day at Heaven's court in new
clothes. Thou mayest be as good a subject, though not so
great a gallant, coming always in the same suit — yea, pur-
chance the very same which was thyfather's and grandfather's
before thee (a well composed prayer is a good heirloom in a
family, and may hereditarily be descended to many genera
tions), but know to thy comfort, thy prayer is well known to
Heaven, to which it is a constant customer."

Thus our author synchronizes with Paley in his excellent

1 84 The Life of Fuller.

essay on " Forms of Prayer," and the argument is more than
clenched when applied to the Liturgy, />., the form of cele
brating Holy Communion, as witnessed by the Primitive
Liturgies of the sub-Apostolic age.

The Long Parliament. 185

CHAPTER XL

THE LONG PARLIAMENT AND SECOND CONVOCATION OF 1640.
DEATH OF BISHOP DAVENANT. (1641.)

"In all State-alterations, be they never so bad, the Pulpit will
be of the same wood with the Council-Board."— Church History
iv. 153.

|E have dwelt in the last chapter, at some length,
on the early works of Fuller, to give the reader
an idea of their literary merits, and it would
appear that about this time he was engaged in
collecting materials for other works which he was projecting,
and which his visit to London enabled him to do. But the
times were getting stormy, and for a time he had, like
Milton, to relinquish those intellectual studies in which he
took so much pleasure. These events forced him " to in
terrupt the pursuit of his hopes, and to leave the calm and
pleasing solitariness, fed with cheerful and confident thoughts,
to embark on a troubulous sea of noises and hoarse disputes
from beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet
and still air of delightful studies." (" Church Hist."
xi., 172).

In the latter half of the year 1640 Fuller may have possibly
returned to his country parish, and devoted himself to his
parochial duties at Broad Windsor, but it must have been
with sad forebodings, for the political outlook was indeed
dark and stormy. Driven by his necessities the King sum
moned that Parliament known as the " Long lasting Parlia-

1 86 The Life of Fulhr.

ment," so known to posterity for the remarkable actions
therein," not the least of them being the impeachment and
incarceration of Archbishop Laud. It met Nov. 3rd, 1640,
and convocation again met — its last sitting for many a long
year to come, and under the same Prolocutor.

But, as Fuller significantly states, " the Parliament and it
were unable long to keep pace together." In this Convoca
tion Fuller does not seem to have sat, though most of his
friends were there. It met pretty frequently, but nothing
appears to have been done.

Early in the session the Acts and Canons (of the last Con
vocation) came under the censure of the House, as Claren
don puts it, "in that warm region where thunder and
lightning were made." They were discussed on the i4th De
cember and following day, it being carried:—

" That the Clergy of England, convened in Convocation,
or synod, or otherwise, have no power to make any Consti
tutions, Canons or Acts whatsoever in matter of doctrine,
discipline, or other .vise, to bind the clergy or laity of the
land, without common consent in Parliament. That the
cmons do contain in them matters contrary to the King's
prerogative, to the fundamental laws and constitutions of the
realm, to the rights of Parliament, to the property and liberty
of the subject, and matters tending to sedition and of dan
gerous consequences. That the several grants of the
benevolence or contribution granted to his most excellent
Majesty by the clergy are contrary to the laws, and ought
not to bind the clergy."

The consideration of the subject was again taken in hand
April 26th, 1641, and a Bill was brought in punishing and
finin°- the members of the Convocation of the province of

The Long Parliament. 187

Canterbury. When the committee met, the fines were taken
in hand, and the clergy of the Convocation were fined
£200,000, which was as much, or more than their whole
estates amounted to. Laud was fined ^£20,000, the Arch
bishop of York ;£io,ooo, Bishop Wren ^ 10,000, Bishop of
Chester .£3,000, and so on in proportion. In Rushworth's
list the entries under Bristol are given thus:— "Dean of
Bristol £500, Proctor - " i.e., £500.

The penalties appointed for the other proctors was £200,
and this was the sum levied upon Fuller, as he says in his
Appeal. Upon Heylin twitting him at the fear of being
unnoticed as a Clerk in Convocation, Fuller replied, " Dear
honour, indeed, honos onus for which I was fined, with
the rest of my brethren, two hundred pounds by the House
of Commons, though not put to pay it : partly because it
never passed the House of Lords : because they thought it
needless to shave their hair, whose heads they meant to cut
off : I mean they were so charitable as not to make them
pay a fine, whose place in cathedrals they intended not long
after to take away."

Dr. William Fuller, Dean of Ely, was fined ^1,000.
The principals of Convocation did not get off so well as the
Proctors, for thirteen of them were impeached by the Com
mons, Among them were Hill, Warner, Skinner, Good
man, and Towers, and some like Wren were imprisoned in
the Tower. Heylin found fault with Fuller for calling the
Convocation a " younger brother " of Parliament, who thus
excused himself for using the term, " The Parliament hath
made a younger brother of the Convocation, and there being
a priority in power, he in effect is the heir and elder brother
who confineth the other to a poor pittance, and small

1 88 The Life of Fuller.

portion as our age can well remember." (Appeal
ii. 502).

Through the influence of Williams, a committee of the
Lords was formed to settle matters and bring peace to the
Church. It was agreed to draw up a scheme and submit it
to Parliament. A sub-committee was also appointed, com
posed of quite moderate men, to prepare the agenda for
them. Most of the Bishops and Divines must have been
known to Fuller, who would have met about this time, Mr.
Thomas Hill, Rector, of Titchmarsh, near the Aldwinckles, an
old friend of the family, and also Stephen Marshall. Bishop
Usher, Bishop Hall, and Bishop Morton were there, and
likewise Drs. Ward, Hacket, and Saunderson. They met in
the Jerusalem Chamber, but were entertained by Williams at
the Deanery " with such bountiful cheer as well became a
Bishop." " But this," said Fuller, "we may behold as the
last course of all public episcopal treatments, whose guests
may even now put up their knives, seeing soon after the
Voider was called for, which took away all Bishop's lands,
and most of English hospitality." But the meetings of the
committee soon came to an end, as a Bill regarding Deans
and Canons — the outworks of Episcopacy, as Fuller calls
them, and which was to affect both him and many of his
friends — was run through the Commons, and sent up to the
Lords. Fuller observes concerning this Bill, that it put
such a distance between these divines "that never their
judgments, and scarce their persons, met after together."
Great efforts were made by the " moderate cathedral men "
to preserve their foundations, and a deputy from each
chapter was to solicit friends on their behalf, and to solicit
Parliament. But all their efforts were unavailing. The

Death of Bishop Davenant. 189

cathedral establishments were suppressed, and their en
dowments appropriated to further piety and learning. It was
owing to this measure that Fuller lost his valuable pre-
bendal stall, and for twenty years, according to Walker
(Sufferings of the Clergy ii. 67) he was deprived of its
profits. This measure was quickly followed by a Bill for the
abolition of Episcopacy.

The death of Bishop Davenant occurred on April 2ist,
1641, and Fuller was summoned to Salisbury to witness the
closing scenes of the good Bishop's life. His nephew thus
writes about his last hours: "With what gravity and
moderation he behaved himself: how humble, hospitable,
painful in preaching and writing, may better be reported
hereafter, when his memory (green as yet) shall be mellowed
by time. He sate Bishop about twenty years, and died of a
consumption, Anno 1641, to which sensibleness of the
sorrowful times (which he saw were bad, and foresaw would
be worse) did contribute not a little. I cannot omit how
some hours before his death, having lyen for a long time
(though not speechless yet) not speaking, nor able to speak,
(as we beholders thought, though indeed he hid that little
strength we thought he had lost, and reserved himself for
purpose), he fell into a most emphatical prayer for half or
quarter of an hour. Amongst many heavenly passages
therein, he " thanked God for this his fatherly correction,
because in all his lifetime he never had one heavie affliction,
which made him often much suspect with himself whether
he were a true child of God or no, until this his last sickness."
Then he sweetly fell asleep in Christ : and so we softly draw
the curtains about him." Fuller says elsewhere, " We read
of the patriarch Israel that the time drew near that he must

. : Tke Life of FulUr.

•tr. Accofding to an old epitaph " Regcm

: ir. : • - ; : .

! •.-; - I-'. ::.:.:-! • :: . :=
.7 - : . : .it: ::" T
ate3 then on the eve

' .':-.-.--.._:-.:--. :.: .-;.:-.----:
_-r.t5 ".". r.: : . _ :. .:. " "..: i-.i.

Death of Bishop Davenant. 191

was any motion, by saying nothing, but walking before his
eyes ; so our Bishop takes no notice of the false accusations
of people against his order, but " walks " on " circumspectly "
in his calling, really repelling their cavils in his conversation.
A Bishop's bare presence at a marriage in his own diocese
is by the law interpreted for a license, and what actions
soever he graceth with his company, he is conceived to
privilege them to be lawful, which makes him to be mbre
wary in his behaviour. . . . He is loved and feared of
all, and his presence frights the swearer out of his oaths or
into silence, and he stains all other men's lives with the
clearness of his own." There is an anecdote about Bishop
Davenant a propos to the last remark. " Once invited by
Bishop Field, and not well pleased with some roisting com
pany there, he embraced the next opportunity of departure
after dinner. And when Bishop Field proffered to light
him with a candle down stairs, ' My lord, my lord,' said he,
Met us lighten ourselves by our uublameable conversation :'
for which speech some since have severely censured him,
how justly I interpose not. But let others unrelated to
him, write his character, whose pen cannot be suspected of
flattery, which he when living did hate, and dead did not
need."

In Fuller's essay, " The Good Bishop " is careful and
happy in suppressing of heresies and schisms — which illus
trate the paternal discipline in Davenant's diocese : " He
meddleth as little as may be with temporal matters, having
little skill in them and less will to them. Not that he is un
worthy to manage them, but they unworthy to be managed
by him, yea, generally, the most dexterous in spiritual
matters are left-handed in temporal business, and go but

192 The Life of Fullet.

untowardly about them. Heaven is his vocation, and
therefore he counts earthly employments avocations."

In the same work Fuller also commends "worthy Bishop
Lake," " whose hand had the true seasoning of a sermon with
Law and Gospel," and " Reverend Andrewes" who was out of
his element in civil affairs, and he thus alludes to his uncle,
" In his grave writings, he (the good Bishop) aims at God's
glory and the Church's peace, with that worthy prelate the
second Jewel of Salisbury, whose comments and controver
sies will transmit his memory to all posterity." Whose
dying pen did write of Christian Union :

How Church with Church might safely keep communion,
Commend his care, although the cure do misse :
The woe is ours, the happiness is his :
Who finding discords daily to increase,
Because he could not live, would die in peace.

The last lines referred to a book which the Bishop pub
lished a short time before his death, being an English
translation of his ad pater nam communionem inter Evangelicas
Ecclesias restaurandum exhortatio (1640^. But his chief
works written in Latin, were "An Exposition of the
Epistle to the Colossians" (1627), and his "Treatise on Justifi
cation." As Divinity professor at Cambridge, Davenant's
prelections obtained considerable renown. Mr. Perry says
of him " Though by no means free from the usual faults of
commentators, and rather inclined to talk about a difficulty
instead of fairly meeting it, these treatises display much
talent and learning. Bishop Davenant's Latin is not so
classical or so vigorous as that of Crakanthorp or Hall,
but his composition is clear, and his reflections valuable." —
Church of England i., 636.

Bishop Davenanfs Will^ 193

An extract of Bishop Davenant's will is given in Cassan's
Bishops of Salisbury. The Davenants, Fullers, and
Townsons are all mentioned, and suitable legacies left to
each. Our author is not forgotten, and due recognition is
made to his literary tastes. His brother John received a
legacy, but of the five sisters, the names of Mary and Judith
do not appear, and they were probably dead; Margaret
was the wife of Matthew Huit, and to him the Bishop
bequeathed a valuable copy of Whitaker's works. He also
left one of his English books to each of his nieces, who seem
to have been of a studious turn of mind, the distribution
being made by Edward Davenant, his nephew. Bishop
Davenant was succeeded by Dr. Duppa, Chancellor of the
Diocese, who held the See for only a short time, and
became a fugitive to Oxford.

A son was born to our author a few months after the
death of the Bishop, and he was baptised in Broad Windsor
Church. The baptismal register is as follows " June 6,
(1641), John fil Thomas Ffuller Clerici." He was probably
named after his great uncle, and lived to edit that part of
the work left unfinished by his father. Some months after
this Fuller's wife died, but where this event took place
cannot be ascertained. The registers of Broad Windsor
make no sign, nor can the record of it be traced to any
London registers, nor is the date exactly known. The
biographer merely states it was soon after the birth of her
son, " and but a short time before the eruption of the civil
wars."

It is probable that this bereavement had something to do
with his removal to the metropolis, where he would get not
only change of scene, but social intercourse, likely to

N

1 94 The Life of Fuller.

alleviate his trouble. Some think that his active and free
genius was getting tired of the dulness and routine of a
country parish, " which was framed by nature for converse
and general intelligence, not to be smothered in such an
obscurity." But this can be hardly correct, although per
haps containing an element of truth. Rather are we dis
posed to think that his session in Convocation had intro
duced him to London life, new clerical associations, and the
stirring strife of the times. As the centre of the national
feeling, the unquietness of the age, would, as a matter of
course, come to a head there : his perfervid patriotism
would naturally be enkindled to throw himself into the
discussion, and to do what he could to heal the sad struggle
between King and people, for the doing of which his eminent
pulpit talents and the confidence reposed in him, eminently
qualified him. It is not known the precise time when
Fuller resigned the living of Broad Windsor. Walker in his
sufferings of the clergy speaks of Fuller, and (sometime
minister of Broad Windsor) being deprived of his prebend,
and lectureship at the Savoy, and as the Dorsetshire Rectory
is not mentioned, it may be supposed that he had resigned it.
Yet no duly appointed successor seems ever to have been
instituted, and his right to the living seems not to have been
questioned at the Restoration. Fuller's locum tenens was in
all probability that John Pinney, who was serving the
Church at the time of the Restoration. He had made com
mon cause with the parliamentary party, and was therefore
left in peace and undisturbed possession. Things were
going on quietly in his country parish, and Fuller saw no
reason to disturb the general contentment with Pinney and
his ministrations. But he received no fiscal benefit from it,

Leaves Broad Windsor. 195

for it was in reference to this benefice, and not the Savoy
Lectureship, that he said for the sake of his "lord and
master, King Charles," he lost " none of the worst livings,
and one of the best prebends in England," the word living,
though applied to Church preferment by a sort of grim
satire, refers to a legal benefice, and not a lectureship. It
was for this remark he was subsequently twitted by his
antagonist Heylin. Be the cause however what it was of
leaving his country cure, we must now bid adieu to Broad-
Windsor and its broadening meadows and streams, and
accompany our author to the Royal Chapel of the Savoy —
being chosen by the Master and Brotherhood (as well as
earnestly desired and entreated by that small parish), to
accept the lectureship at their Church, or Chapel of
St. Mary.

N 2

1 96 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER XII.

FULLER AT THE SAVOY. HOLY STATE.

" As for the matter of this Book, therein I am resident on my
Profession ; Holiness in the latitude thereof falling under the
cognizance of a Divine : For curious method, expect none,
Essays for the most part not being placed as at a Feast, but
placing themselves as at an Ordinary."— Holy State (To the
Reader)-

|T was about the year 1641, Fuller took up his per
manent abode in the metropolis, and at first
mostly preached in the Chapels of the Inns of

Court that " green oasis in the midst of a

wilderness of houses," as Lamb calls them. Here he pro
bably filled the office of lecturer, but there are no records
to that effect. That a hearty welcome was accorded to so
witty a Preacher, and sound a Divine, there can be no
doubt. But he was not long without preferment and a
definite cure, for he was invited to preach at the Chapel
Royal, Savoy, by the master and brotherhood. His biog
rapher says he was made lecturer, but more probably he
was the chaplain, with cure of souls, for he signs himself as
" Minister " of the parish, and speaks of " My dear parish,
St. Mary, Savoy." Fuller is styled " Curate " in the manu
script in the possession of the present chaplain, the Rev. H.
White, and the technical meaning of curate is " one who
has cure of souls," as in the prayer for Bishops and Curates.
To understand the limits of Fuller's charge we must refer to
the history of the Savoy.

CJiaflain of the Savoy. 197

The Savoy Chapel stands on the south side of the Strand,
within the precincts of the old Palace of the Savoy, of which
it is the only relic. Henry VIII. had founded a hospital on
the ruins of the palace as a lodging for poor persons,
and religious services were held for them in the Church of
St John Baptist. It was licensed by Henry VIII. in the
early part of his reign on the completion of the foundation,
and confided to the care of a master and four chaplains.
In the next reign it was handed over to the Protector, who
made extensive alterations in that neighbourhood, pulling
down portions of the buildings and the Church of St. Mary-
le-Strand. Queen Mary re-established it, and her maids of
honour provided the hospital with bedding, blankets, &c.,
corporal works of mercy, for which Fuller makes special
commendation in his " Church History," and speaking of
these charitable ladies, says, that if they were still living this
should be his prayer for them : " The Lord make all their
bed in their sickness." After this time the Sovereign be
came their visitor, instead of the Abbot of Westminster, as
heretofore. In Queen Elizabeth's reign, by the consent of
the ecclesiastical authorities (Bishop Grindal), a part was
carved out of St. Clement Danes (the mother parish of
Savoy) with the Church of St. John's as the parish church
of the new cure. The minister of the Savoy was therefore,
as the patents call him, Curate of the Parish of St. Mary le
Strand, serving the hospital Chapel of St. John's. The
name of the chapel was St. Mary, Savoy, or St. Mary le
Savoy, because the parishioners of St. Mary le Strand used
to attend it, when the Protector deprived them of their own
parish church. There are many interesting historical facts
connected with this chapel. It is said that the liturgy was

1 9 8 The Life of Fuller.

first used here, after it had been "Englished" in
Elizabeth's reign. Part of the buildings was turned into a
prison, and part into an agency for carrying on correspond
ence with foreign churches (Protestant I ween) by the
Parliament. It was here also in 1658 that the faith and
order of the congregational churches was agreed to. King
William's chaplain, Dr. Hornecke, like Fuller, one of the
foremost preachers of the day, predicated here the fire
which took place in 1664, destroyed the handsome carved
ceiling, paintings and blazonry, and left only the walls and
tower remaining. It has been handsomely restored by the
Queen, as a memorial to the late Prince Consort, the bene
fice belonging to her Majesty, in right of her Duchy of
Lancaster. The appointment of these four chaplains who
formed the brotherhood was in the hands of the master, but
as their stipend was very small, they usually held other (more
lucrative) benefices with them, on which they resided. The
original object of the hospital fell into desuetude, and the
hospital was dissolved in 1702, the statutes not having been
kept within living memory. The master of the Savoy when
Fuller was elected, was Dr. W. Balcanqual, one of the
King's chaplains, which he had held since 1617, and the
master paid the curate £20 per annum, who also received
the voluntary offerings of the parishioners.

These parishioners were as eager to secure Fuller's ser
vices as the brotherhood, and he was " earnestly desired and
entreated by that small parish." This cure naturally brought
him under the notice of the Court, for his attractive preach,
ing and loyal teaching quickly attracted a large congregation
tf the nobility and gentry, who chiefly affected Royalist
principles. Many of them resided in the immediate vicinity,

Chaplain of the Savoy. 199

for the convenience of their attendance at Court. The
Chapel of the Savoy became the great centre and rallying-
point for the loyal churchmen of the period, and the con
gregation from without the precincts was larger than that
within. It was here Fuller made the acquaintance of so
many of the nobility, which appears from his various dedica.
tions, and it was through their timely assistance so many of
the distressed and dispossessed clergy (Fuller included) were
relieved. Among his friends and parishioners were James,
Earl of Northampton and family ; Frances Mountagu,
Countess of Rutland ; Sir Thomas Adams, founder of the
Arabic professorship at Cambridge : Mr. Thomas Rich and
Mr. Henry Barnard. " You are," writes Fuller to Rich,
" the entertainer general of good men. Many a poor
minister will never be wholly sequestered whilst you are
living, whose charity is like to the wind, which cannot be
seen but may be felt."

Fuller, with such sympathising and attractive surroundings,
discharged his official duties with great effect and marked
approval, and his ministrations lasted two or three years. It
was August, 1643, when he is supposed to have left London,
so that the time he spent in the metropolis was one full of
stirring events and exciting topics. But he evidently
laboured under some uncertainty as to his future, and won
dered if he should be surrounded with suitable accessories
in carrying on his literary work, but he expresses a resolve
to " preach constantly in what place soever God's providence
and friends' good will should place him." His misgivings
were not without foundation, for there broke out about this
time that strong feeling, and wish for the abolition of Episco
pacy, and doing away with that regimen altogether. There

2oo The Life of Fuller.

broke out also a serious rebellion in Ireland, which embittered
the feelings of many against the King's party. The un
certainty as to the King's intentions brought on "the
Grand Remonstrance," which was presented to the King by
Sir Ralph Hopton. Petitions were sent in for Church Re
forms, and against the Bishops, in connection with which was
the apprentices' riot, and their attack on the Abbey, which
was courageously defended by the Dean, for no other reason,
but because the late Convocation had held their meetings
there.

Assent was given by the King at Canterbury, February
1 4th, 1642, to a Bill which had been passed by the Lords
for the exclusion of the Bishops from the House of Lords.
" Dying Episcopacy," said Fuller, " gave the last groan in
Bishop Warner, of Rochester," who was one of good
speech and a cheerful spirit, and (which made both) a good
purpose, and (which made all three) a good cause. He
alone of the Episcopal bench was left in the Lords to plead
the cause of his order ; he was its " best champion," and
" pleaded stoutly " for it. Many of the lay Lords also made
vigorous speeches on behalf of the Bishops, their efforts
being seconded by the unejected clergy of the city, Fuller
being one of them.

On his return from Scotland, in filling up the vacant sees,
the King had been very careful to select sound, but
moderate, men, and of blameless lives. Hall, Skinner,
Duppa, who succeeded Davenant at Salisbury, were of the
number but " all would not do." Fuller says " many who
loved them in their gowns, did not at all like them in their
rochets" (xi. 194.) Fuller was present on May 18, at the
consecration of Dr. Ralph Brownrigg to the see of Exeter,

Chaplain of the Savoy. 201

when Hall was translated to Norwich. The consecration
sermon was made by Brownrigg's good friend Dr. Young
("The waters are risen, O Lord, the waters are risen,")
wherein he very gravely complained of the many invasions
which popular violence made on the privileges of Church
and State. This Bishop himself, adds Fuller, was soon
sadly sensible of such inundations, and yet by fatprocerity
of his parts and piety, he not only safely waded through
them himself, but also when Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge,
by his prudence raised such banks that those overflowings
were not so destructive as otherwise they would have been
to the University." He was banished from Cambridge, for
the expression of his loyalty in an Accession Sermon, by
the Parliamentarians.

The King departed from Whitehall (Jan. 10) soon after
the attempted seizure of the five members, and then went to
York (March 19). He raised his standard at Nottingham
in August : the battle of Edge-hill in Warwickshire, was
fought in October, and began the Civil War, but it decided
nothing. Fuller alludes to the fight at Brentford in his
Worthies, and speaks with amazement of the quantity of
victuals sent out to feed the soldiers, being enough to have
feasted them for some days, and fed them for some weeks.
Although a Committee was appointed to enquire into the
condition of the plundered or ejected Ministers, there can
be no doubt that they suffered a good deal at this time
owing to their loyalty. Fuller records that the more mode
rate men of the Parliament party much bemoaned the
severity by which some clergymen, blameless for life, and
orthodox for doctrine, were only ejected on account of
their faithfulness to the King.

202 The Life of Fuller.

Fuller's success in preaching at this time was prodigious,
and ofttimes it might be said as it was of Dr. Hornecke,
" Dr. Hornecke's parish was much the largest in town, since
it reached from Whitehall to Whitechapel." Fuller's
eulogist thus alludes to it. " Witness the great confluence of
affected hearers from distant congregations, insomuch as
his own Cure were (in a sense) excommunicated from the
Church, unless their timous diligence kept pace with their
devotion ; the Doctor affording them no more time for their
extraordinaries on the Lord's day, than what he allowed his
habituated abstinence on all the rest. He had in his narrow
chapel two audiences, one without the pale, the other
within : the windows of that little church, and the sextonry
so crowded as if bees had swarmed to his mellifluous
d scourse." "Life," p. 18. The influence of the pulpit is great
in every age, but especially was it so at a time when litera
ture was not being disseminated as it is now, when papers and
magazines were few and far between, and a daily press was
unheard of. It is owing to this power that the Parliamentary
party was quick to eject the Royalist clergy, and put in
their place preachers after their own hearts. Fuller observes
somewhere that it was generally observed that they who held
the helm of the pulpit could generally stir people's hearts
as they please. These tactics were employed with great
effect after the loyal clergy had been turned out of the City
benefices, and their tongues silenced. The new preachers
openly broached 'doctrines of rebellion.' Clarendon speaks
of these " Ambassadors of peace by their functions," who
became "incendiaries towards rebellion." Hacket also
speaks of those who " rang the pan in the pulpit, and the
bees swarmed to rebellion." And Fuller in reference to these

Chaplain of the Savoy. 203

events speaks of " Ambitious clergymen, who reversing
the silver trumpets of the sanctuary, and putting the wrong
end into their mouths, make what was appointed to sound
religion, to signify rebellion." (" Ch. Hist." iv. 153.)

The consequent excitement of all this was very great.
The people forsaking their Pastors, if the pulpit was not
tuned to their liking, plunged into all kinds of excesses. The
congregations were fickle and unstable. Dr, Holdsworth
seems to have been an exception. " It is truly observed that
the people in London honour their Pastors as John Baptist
for an hour or short time, (vrpos wpav) yet this Doctor had
his hour measured him by a large glass " (alluding to the
preaching hour glasses). Another instance to the contrary,
was the devoted congregation at the Savoy, who came to
listen to the words of their favourite pastor Sunday after
Sunday with increasing interest. Yet Fuller, although an
exceedingly effective and popular preacher, and none more
so in his day, yet was popular in the best sense of the word.
There was no claptrap, nor meretricious rhetoric, nothing
that could pander to the weaknesses of his hearers. He
taught his people with authority, he used his great predica-
torial influence with moderation, he comported himself with
becoming dignity, and his endeavour was to guide his people
along the safe path of rectitude, and do his utmost to heal
the breach which broadened out from day to day in threat
ening attitude. His ministerial life could bear inspection.
" Many ministers," he used to say, "are most admired at a
distance, major e longinquo reverentia, like some kind of
stuff, they have the best gloss a good way off, more than a
prophet in his own country."

During the course of 1642, Fuller put forth his "Holy

204 The Life of Fuller.

and Profane State," that work by which he has been more
generally known than any other, as being of universal interest,
a mixture of biography and parable, commending itself to all
tastes, and adapted to all readers. This work was published
in Cambridge and London, and it is worthy of remark, that
this is the only one of his principal works without a dedica
tion ; it presumed, as its author puts it, " to appear in
company unmanned." In his address ' to the Reader,' he
commences " Who is not sensible with sorrow of the dis
tractions of the age. To write books therefore may seem
unseasonable, especially in a time wherein the press, like an
unruly horse, hath cast off his bridle of being licensed, and
some serious books which dare fly abroad, are hooted at by
a flock of pamphlets," and concludes as follows, " Meantime
I will stop the leakage of my soul, and what heretofore
hath run out in writing, shall hereafter, God willing, be
improved in constant preaching, in what place soever God's
providence and friends' good-will shall fix."

These moral essays, which are characterised by Fuller's
good sense and liveliness, are divided into five books — the
first four contain the Holy State, and the last the Profane
State — characters to be imitated, and those to be shunned.
The first part refers to family relationships. The good wife,
the good husband, the good parent, the good child, &c.
The second book refers to portraitures of characters or
delineations of callings, as the good advocate, the good
physician, the true church antiquary, the good parishioner,
&c. The third treats of general subjects ; as hos
pitality, jesting, anger, recreation, trials; "general rules
placed in the middle, that the books on both side
may reach equally to them, because all persons therein are

Holy State. 205

indifferently concerned." The fourth book returns to the
miscellaneous characters, and the last to the Profane State,
characters to be avoided. In Pickering's edition, the essays
are simply divided into " The Holy State " and " The Pro
fane State." This book belonged to a class of literature,
which in the 1 7 th century attained to great popularity. It
was published at a very critical time, and the author's
loyalty to Church and State was too pronounced to escape
observation. What his feelings towards Episcopacy were
is too evident in his essay on " The good Bishop ;" and his
leanings towards the monarchy were illustrated by this re
mark that "subjects should be adjective, not able to stand
without (much less against) their prince, or they will make
but bad construction otherwise."

These sentiments, correlated with the Fullerian appella
tion, would naturally procure the disfavour of those who
were in a state of antagonism to their king. The essay on
" The King," beginning " He is a mortal God," gives seven
delineations of the character of a good one, and bursts out in
this loyal panegyric of the then reigning monarch. " Such a
gracious Sovereign hath God vouchsafed to this land. How
pious is he towards his God ; attentive in hearing the word
preaching religion with his silence. How loving to his
spouse, tender to his children, faithful to his servants. How
doth he, with David, walk in the midst of his house without
partiality to any. How many wholesome laws hath he
enacted for the good of his subjects. How great is his
humility in so great height, which maketh his own praises
painful to himself to hear. His royal virtues are too great
to be told, and too great to be concealed." The whole
essay concludes like Milton's, with a remarkable prayer.

2 06 Tht Life of Fuller.

Fuller's intense admiration for the King, be it remembered,
never waned through life.

The popularity of this work was very great, and successive
editions came forth from the press, appearing in [648, 1652,
1663. Some of the copies were bound up with Fuller's
" Holy War," and the various editions seem to have been
put out as quietly as possible, so as to lull suspicion, and
not rouse the antagonism of the ruling powers. Williams was
his publisher, and he must have made a good thing out of
our author's literary labours. For some unexplained reason,
Fuller changed his publisher in after life ; of this he says
" I will not add that I have passed my promise (and that is
an honest man's bond) to my former stationer, that I will
write nothing for the future which was in my former books
so considerable as to make them interfere with one another
to his prejudice."

It is worthy of remark that in all the editions of his works,
even in those troublous times, Fuller continues to style
himself " Prebendary of Sarum," notwithstanding that
" from and after 2Qth March, 1649," the name, title, dignity,
function, and office of Dean, Prebend, belonging to any
cathedral, was wholly abolished and taken away. The book
was not suppressed from motives of policy ; " books," to
quote our author's words, " are most called on when called
in, and many who hear not of them when printed, enquire
after them when prohibited." The work has been twice
reprinted in our time. Although the criticism on Fuller's
works has been of a somewhat discrepant character,
posterity has been united as to the merits of the work under
consideration.

The writer in the Retrospective Review thinks that it is per-

Holy State. 207

haps the best of his works, that it " certainly displays to
better advantage than any his original and vigorous power
of thinking." Reed notices that his essays are in wit and
wisdom and just feeling not unlike the ' Elia ' essays of
Charles Lamb. Coleridge carefully read this work, and in
the margin said of Fuller's wit that it was " alike in quan
tity and quality and perpetuity, surpassing that of the
wittiest in a witty age," but that it " robbed him of the
praise not less due to him for an equal superiority in sound,
shrewd, good sense and freedom of intellect." And Mr.
James Nichols in his editorial preface says, " This curious
collection of essays and characters is the production of a
man possessed of no ordinary grasp of mind, who lived in
times of uncommon interest and excitement, and who wrote
with the obvious intention to personate '• a wise and witty
moderator between the two great parties in the State that
were then openly at issue." Archbishop Trench often
quotes our author in his " English, Past and Present," and
brings forth samples of his writing as illustrating the mean,
ing of the word he is endeavouring to point out ; and he
draws attention to the many apophthegmatic sentences,
alliteratively constructed, pithily pointed with shrewd sense,
and so sententious, as to convey almost the idea of their
being current proverbs of the day. No series of essays
would be complete without reference to these, and the num
bers of "wise saws," and "elegant extracts" culled there
from is a proof of the estimation in which this work "so
enamelled with figures and flowers of wit " has been held.

With regard to the authorship of this work, it is curious
to notice that it was ascribed to one Nicholas Ferrar, of
Little Gidding, Hunts, west of Fuller's birthplace, who men-

2 o 8 The Life of Fuller.

tions Ferrar's house and chapel as among the buildings of
the county. " Here," he says, " three numerous female
families (all from one grandmother) lived together in a strict
discipline of devotion. They rose at midnight to prayers,
and other people most complained thereof, whose heads, I
daresay, never ached for want of sleep. But their society
was beheld by some as an embryo nunnery," and as such
the household received the attention of the Long Parlia
ment. Fuller speaks as if he were intimate with the house,
and willing to give it a good word, says of it, " Sure I am
strangers were by these entertained, poor people were re
lieved, their children instructed to read, whilst their own
needles were employed in learned and pious work to bind
Bibles." In the catalogue of works found at Gidding were
a number of Livis essays, characters, &c., and many of them
tallying with the heads of Fuller's essays. It was there
fore put down erroneously for the work of Ferrar, who,
however, died five years before the work came out, i.e., in
1637. Most probably the manuscript referred to contained
extracts from other works, which may have been culled by
Ferrar for the benefit and instruction of the inmates, to
which were added some of Fuller's essays subsequently
taken, and transcribed by the ladies to be read in rotation,
finding the Holy State so very suitable for their purpose.
Hence the mistake may have arisen. "The nunnery was
broken up," says Fuller, "by Parliament in 1648; making a
great noise all over England." We subjoin a few extracts
as specimens of the essays contained in this work. Speak
ing of the Controversial Divine, he says, "He engagcih both
his judgment and affections in opposing falsehood.. Not like
country fencers who play on to make sport, but like

Holy State. 209

duellers indeed ; as if for life and limb ; chiefly if the ques^
tion be of large prospect and great concernings, he is
zealous in the quarrel. Yet some, though their judgment
weigh down on one side, the beam of their affections stand
so even they care not which part prevails." There are
twelve other points. Describing the Church Antiquary, he
says, " Some scour off the rust of old inscriptions into their
own souls, cankering themselves with their superstition,
having read so often ' Orate pro anima,' that at last they fall
a praying for the departed : and they more lament the ruin
of monasteries than the decay and ruin of monk's lives, de
generating from their ancient piety and painful-ness (painful
is one of the words selected by Trench, which means
taking pains or suffering pain). " He (the true Church
Antiquary) " is not zealous for the introducing of old useless
ceremonies. The mischief is that some who are most
violent to bring them in are most negligent to preach the
cautions in using them, and simple people, like children in
eating of fish, swallow bones and all, to their danger of
choking." Of course it depends altogether what ceremonies
are to be regarded " old and useless," and the reasons for
arriving at such conclusions.

Speaking of fat faithful minister, he says, " He doth not
clash God's ordinances together about precedency, not
making odious comparisons betwixt prayer and preaching,
preaching and catechising, public prayer and private, pre
meditate prayer and extempore. When, at the taking of
New Carthage, in Spain, two soldiers contended about the
mural crown (due to him who first climbeth the walls), so
that the whole army was in danger of division, Scipio, the
general, said he knew they both got up the wall together,

o

210 The Life of Fuller.

and so gave the scaling crown to them both. Thus our
minister compounded! all controversies betwixt God's
ordinances, by praising them all, practising them all, and
thanking God for them all, He counts the reading of
Common Prayers, to prepare him the better for preaching ;
and as one said, "if he did first toll the bell on the one side,
it made it afterwards ring out the better in his sermons ; "
ever seasonable is that place of our author, where he intro-
troduces the faithful pastor, as "chiefly reproving the
reigning sins of the time and place he lives in." Preaching
is also called prophesying, and the Christian pastor is in the
place of a prophet, " boldly to rebuke vice." " We may
observe," says Fuller, " that our Saviour never inveighed
against idolatry, usury, Sabbath-breaking, amongst the Jews;
not that these were not sins, but they were not practised so
much in that age, wherein wickedness was spun with a finer
thread ; and therefore Christ principally bent the drift of
His preaching against spiritual pride, hypocrisy, and tradi
tions, then predominant amongst the people." No reader
would like the following omitted, "He counts the success
of his ministry the greatest preferment. Yet herein God
hath humbled many painful pastors, in making them to be
clouds not to rain over Arabia the happy, but over the
stony, or desert. Yet such pastors may comfort themselves
that great is their reward with God in heaven, who measures
it, not by their success, but endeavours. Besides, though
they see not, their people may feel benefit by their ministry.
Yea, the preaching of the Word in some places is like the
planting of woods, where, though no profit is received for
twenty years together, it comes afterwards. And grant that
God honours thee not to build His temple in thy parish,

Holy State. 211

yet thou mayest with David provide metal and material for
Solomon, thy successor, to build with."

Fuller's grateful spirit thus speaks of the fatherly affection
of his now deceased uncle, Bishop Davenant. " In his
grave writings, he (the good bishop) aims at God's glory and
the Church's peace, with that worthy prelate, the second
Jewel of Salisbury, whose comments and controversies will
transmit his memory to all posterity." The character of the
good bishop is so inimitably drawn by Fuller, that we may
readily conceive that he would himself, had his life been
spared, considerably outshone the witty Bishop Corbet, and
havebeen transmitted to posterity as a secondToby Matthews,
that cheerful prelate, never to be forgotten by those who
have been acquainted with him through the pages of his
friend, Sir John Harrington.

o 2

2 1 2 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER XIII.
FULLER'S SERMONS AT THE SAVOY. — 1641-3.

" Having brought his Sermon into his head, he labours to bring
it into his heart before he preaches it to his people. Surely that
preaching which comes from the soul most works on the soul.
Some have questioned ventriloquie, when men strangely speak
out of their bellies, whether it can be done lawfully or not.
Might I coin the word cordiloquie? When men draw the
doctrines out of their hearts, sure all would count this lawtul and
commendable."— Holy State (The Faithful Minister), p. 75.

|ULLER'S ministry at the Savoy was passed
during a stormy period of our national history.
While he held the prominent position of one
of the foremost preachers of the day,
political troubles were thickening around him. And initial
mistakes in the political sphere were rapidly developing
their baleful crop of anarchichal miseries. Civil war had
begun in earnest, and the patriotic party (as they called
themselves) showed neither mercy nor pity to those who
had the temerity to differ from them. The King, insulted
and unprotected, had fled to York. This was in 1642.
There followed him Lord Keeper Lyttleton, and many of
the nobility, and amongst them the Earl of Northampton
and Lord Paulet. The King removed his headquarters to
Oxford, after the battle of Edgehill.

Three of Fuller's sermons, preached at this time, were

Savoy Sermons. 213

published, and they illustrate the line of conduct he adopted
during the crisis, and they are a proof of his moderation,

" Moderation, the silken string running through the pearl
chain of all virtues,"

and desire for a peaceful solution of the political problems of
the day. From these three specimens we can gather a good
idea of his opinions, and also of his preaching, when he was
at the height of his predicatorial success. They were
preached on feast days, or fast days, which shows that the
Calendar of the National Church hadn't become the dead
letter it subsequently became, when the observance of Saints'
Days has fallen into desuetude, and it not only proves that
the clergy said the office, but that the laity attended the
service at all events in sufficient numbers to warrant the
production of such deep and learned homiletic efforts.

There are three Holy days which are grouped round the
cradle of Bethlehem : and on the three days following the
Festival of the Nativity we have, first, St. Stephen's Day,
protomartyr of the Christian Church, a martyr both in fact
and in intention: then comes the Festival of St. John the
Evangelist, martyr in intention but not in fact: last, the
Holy Innocents' Day, martyrs in fact but not in intention.
It was this last feast day in the following December (28th)
which the Parliament ordered to be kept as a fast, perad-
venture as a religious mark of contempt for the institutions
and observances of the Church of England. Upon this
day Fuller preached a powerful sermon on Peace, from St.
Matthew v. 9, " Blessed are the peacemakers," in reference
to the Civil War. He notices the coincidences of the two
observances, for he says " that a fast and feast justled to
gether/' but he reverts to the maxim of the Solomon, and

2 1 4 The Life of Fuller.

urges his hearers to fast and not to feast, " and it may
please God of His goodness so to bring it to pass, that if
we keep a sad Christmas, we may have a merry Lent."
He says also, " We use to end our sermons with a
blessing : Christ begins His with the beatitudes, and of the
eight my text is neither the last nor the least." He sees in
the words the lest work — "peacemaker:" and the lest
Wages — they are "blessed" He exposes the un-Christian
nature of war ; its opposition to the spirit of prayer, faith,
and obedience. Wars are wicked. " But the worst,"
said he, " is still behind, for we are afflicted with civil war :
many wars have done woefully, but this surmounteth them
all. In civil war nothing can be expected but ruin and
desolation."

He alluded to the miserable condition of the Irish Pro
testants, the desertion of whose cause must necessarily
ensue in the continuance of the civil war at home. In the
early part of this reign a monthly fast was held. " Our general
fast," says Fuller, " was first appointed to bemoan the mas
sacre of our brethren in Ireland." It was appointed January,
1642, the last Wednesday in each month being devoted to
it, to continue so long as the condition of the country indi
cated that the Divine displeasure rested upon it. What
would our author have said in these days of the Land
League agitation ? Alluding to this, he says : " That harp
which, when it was well tuned, made so good music, must
now thereafter be hung upon the willows (a sad and sorrowful
tree), and our distraction will hasten their final destruction."
And again : " It is in vain to have a finger in the eye, if we have
not also a sword in the other hand : such tame lamenting
of lost friends is but lost lamentation. We must bend our

Savoy Sermons. 215

bows in the camp, as our knees in the churches, and second
our posture of piety with martial provision." He replied to
the objection, that the cause of truth would be sacrificed by
peace, " Before this war began, we had in England truth
in all essentials to salvation. We had all necessary and im
portant truths truly compiled in our Thirty-nine Articles.
We had the Word of God truly preached (I could wish it
had been more frequently and generally), the sacraments
duly administered ; which two put together doth constitute
a true Church." He proceeded to the objection, that errors
had crept into our doctrine, new ceremonies and innova
tions in discipline, " The best and only way to purge
these errors out is in a fair and peaceable way: for the
sword cannot discern betwixt truth and error ; it may have
two edges, but never an eye. Let there, on God's blessing,
be a synod of truly grave, pious, and learned Divines : and
let them both fairly dispute and fully decide what is true,
what is false ; what ceremonies are to be retained, what to
be rejected : and let civil authority stamp their command
upon it, to be generally received under what penalty their
discretion shall think fitting. But as long as war lasts, no
hope of any such agreement ; this must be a work for peace
to perform." "So, then, under the notion of peace,
hitherto we have and hereafter do intend such a peace as,
when it comes, we hope will restore truth to us in all the
accidental and ornamental parts thereof, and add to it that
truth in essentials to salvation which we enjoyed before this
war began ; and in this sense I will boldly pronounce,
4 Blessed are the peacemakers.' "

He proceeds to the hindrances of peace, the many
national sins of our kingdom not repented of, sins not of one

2 1 6 The Life of Fuller.

army, or of one class of persons. " Think not that the
King's army is like Sodom, not ten righteous men in it ; and
the other like Zion, consisting all of saints. No. There be
drunkards on both sides, and swearers on both sides, and
whoremongers on both sides, pious on both sides, and pro
fane on both sides ; like Jeremy's figs, those that are good
are very good, and those that are bad are very bad, in both
parties. I never knew or heard of an army all of saints,
save the holy army of martyrs, and those you know were
dead first ; for the last breath they sent forth proclaimed
them to be martyrs." " But it is not the sins of the army
alone, but the sins of the whole kingdom, which break off
our hopes of peace — our nation is generally sinful. The city
complains of the ambition and prodigality of the courtiers ;
the courtiers complain of the pride and covetousness of the
citizens ; the laity complain of the laziness and state
meddling of the clergy ; the clergy complain of the hard
dealing and sacrilege of the laity ; the rich complain of the
murmuring and ingratitude of the poor ; the poor complain
of the oppression and extortion of the rich. Thus, everyone
is more ready to throw dirt in another's face than to wash
his own clean. And in all this, though malice sets the var
nish, sure truth doth lay the ground-work."

" Of particular hindrances, in the first place, we may rank
the Romish recusants. Is not the hand of Joab with thee in all
this ? was David's question. But is not the hand, we may
all say, si Jesuits in these distractions." The Papists, he
observes, discovered that the strength of England lay in
unity, and that it was impossible to conquer English
Protestants but by English Protestants. And to this end
they sowed dissension. Then he proceeds to speak of-' the

Savoy Sermons. 217

schismatics," who had improved themselves upon the
clemency and long-suffering of our state ; and of those who
for their private interest supported the war, whose very
being consisted of war. " The truly noble English spirits
lies ire a foreign foe, for a mark for their bullets"

He then advises petitions both to the King and to the

Parliament, " the Gods on earth " (using the words of Ter-

tullus to Felix, Acts xxiv. 3), the laying aside of odious

party names and terms of contempt, and a serious and

general repentance, perorating in the following pregnant

style — " We are too proud hitherto for God to give peace to:

too many of us are humiliati, but few made lowly, so that

we are proud in our poverty, and as the unjust steward said,

"To beg lam ashamed;" for we are too stout, though

half-starved, on the bended knees of our souls, with true

repentance, to crave pardon of God for our sins ; which, till

it be done, we may discourse of peace and superficially

desire it, but never truly care for it, or can comfortably

receive it." He then compared " the complexion of the

war" with the recent " wars of Germany," which were " far

lighter than ours," and which ended where ours began — in

the winter — and, in allusion to a saying of our Saviour, and

to the recent battle of Edgehill, he adds the comment

" winter fights, woeful fights ; Sabbath wars, sorrowful wars."

It had been, he said, " a great curse of God upon us, to

make a constant misunderstanding between our King and

his Parliament; whilst both profess to level at the same end."

He gives reasons why he was not out of heart, but that there

was no hope of peace. He therefore again exhorts his

hearers to the devout observance of the fast, warns them

from the prophet Amos, who complaining of the luxury of

2iS The Life of Fuller.

the Israelites, their sensuality and degeneracy, concludes all
with this sharp close — "But they are not grieved for the
affliction of Joseph."

Fuller in this sermon shows his moderation, and he con
fined himself within very strict limits. He avoided every
thing of a strictly political nature, and so prevented the
danger of turning a fast into an occasion of strife and
debate. He loved peace, and he was labouring in private
and public to beget a right understanding among all men of
the King's most righteous cause, which through seduction
and popular fury was generally maligned. His exhortations
to peace and obedience were his constant subjects in the
church (all his sermons were such liturgies), while his
secular days were spent in vigorously promoting the King's
affairs, either by a sudden reconciliation or potent assist
ance ("Life," p. 12 1). But although he failed to bring others
round to his views, he, with our peacemakers, was comforted
in his conscience that " they may appeal to the God of
Heaven how they have prayed heartily for peace, have
petitioned humbly for peace, have been content to pay
dearly for peace, and to their power have endeavoured to
refrain themselves from sins, the breakers of peace ; and
therefore they trust that Christian English Protestant
blood which shall be shed, which hath been and hereafter
may be shed in these woeful wars, shall never be visited on
their score, or laid to their charge." In his sermon the
preacher strongly urged the sending a petition to the King,
which was presented to his Majesty, January yth, 1642-3.
In connection with this petition the name of Dr. Fuller
appears, but whether it was Fuller of the Savoy (as repre
senting one of three loyal parishes of Westminster, St.

Savoy Sermons. 219

Martin's, and St. Clement Danes) or some other Dr. Fuller,
is a question which has not been satisfactorily settled.

The Parliament professed (not with sincerity however) to
desire to have a peace. Their irritating language, and
demand that the King would sanction the utter abolition of
the episcopal regiment, shewed of themselves that as they
addressed him no longer as his subjects, they had no
intention of again acknowledging his authority. And on
the other hand there were those about the King who were as
little inclined to make any concessions, or to treat with
their enemies in any other light than that of traitors.
Taking advantage of this juncture of affairs, Fuller took the
opportunity of preaching a second public sermon, in which
he inculcated the duties of submission. This was preached
on the anniversary of the King's accession, March 2yth,
1643, at Westminster Abbey, which was probably lent him
for the occasion, through the kindness and influence of his
friends with the Dean and Chapter. The anniversary fell
on a Monday (two days before the monthly fast of Wednes
day), but its celebration had been strongly recommended in
one of the Canons of the Convocation of 1640, with which
Fuller evidently heartily agreed.

His discourse shows that he took a sanguine view of affairs
even at that time, although his text could not have proved
very palatable to any revolutionary spirits. It was taken
from II Samuel, 30, " Yea, let him take all, forasmuch as
my Lord, the King, is come again in peace unto his own
house." This sentiment of David's old friend was uttered
to show the "hyperbole of his happiness, the transcendency of
his joy, conceived at David's safe return ; joy which swelled
up in him in full measure, pressed down, shaken together.

22O The Life of Fuller.

and running over. Yet, lest the least drop of so precious a
liquor as this was (being the spirits of loyalty distilled)
should be spilt on the ground, let us gather it up with our
best attention to pour it in our hearts to practise it as it
flows from the text. He says of the action of the civil
power, somewhat satirically, " perchance the wisdom of our
Parliament may suffer in the censures of such who fathom
mysteries of State by their own shallow capacities, for seem
ing to suffer sectaries and schismatics to share and divide
in God's service with the Mephibosheths, the quiet and
peaceable children of our church. And, indeed, such
sectaries take a great share to themselves, having taken all
the Common Prayer out of most places, and under the
pretence to abolish superstition, have almost banished
decency out of God's Church. But no doubt the sages of
our State want not will, but wait a time, when, with more
conveniency and less disturbance (though slowly, surely),
they will restrain such turbulent spirits with David in my
text, who was rather contented than well pleased to pass by
Ziba for the present." He adds, with further reference to
his own time, " Pious princes can take no delight in victories
over their own subjects. For when they cast up their audits
they shall find themselves losers in their very gaining. Nor
can they properly be said to have won the day, which at
best is but a twilight, being benighted with a mixture of
much sorrow and sadness. For kings being the parents of
their country, must needs grieve at the destruction of their
children. I dare boldly say, that in that unhappy Aceldama
(Edge Hill, fought Oct. 23rd of the preceding year), wherein
the person of our Sovereign was present, a sword did pierce
through his own heart in the same sense as it is said of the

Savoy Sermons. 221

Virgin Mary (Luke ii. 35). For though (thanks be to God)
Divine providence did cover his head in the day of battle, as it
were miraculously commanding the bullets, which flew
about and respected no persons, not to touch His anointed,
yet, notwithstanding, his soul was shot through with grief to
behold a field spread with his subjects' corpses, that scarce
any passage but either through rivulets of blood, or over
bridges of bodies. And had he got as great a victory as
David got in the valley of Ephraim, yet surely he would
have preferred peace far above it." In speaking of the
peaceful clauses of the text, he censures those who would
bring about a dishonourable peace. " Now-a-days all cry to
have peace, and care not to have truth together with it.
Yea, there be many silly Mephibosheths in our days that so
adore peace that to obtain it they care not what they give
away to the malignant Zibas of our kingdom. These say,
' Yea, let them take all, laws, and liberties, and privileges,
and proprieties, and Parliaments, and religion, and the
Gospel and godliness, and God Himself, so but that the
Lord our King may come in peace. But let us have peace
and truth together, both or neither ; for if peace offer to
come alone, we will do with it as Ezekiel did with the
brazen serpent, even break it to pieces and stamp it to
powder as the dangerous idol of ignorant people."

Fair are the professions of the Parliament, on the other
side, and, no doubt, but as really they intend them. But
these matters belong not to us to meddle with ; and as for all
other politic objections against peace, they pertain not to
the pulpit to answer. All that we desire to see is, the King
re-married to the State ; and we doubt not, but as the bride
groom, on the one side, will be careful to have his portion

222 The Life of Fuller.

paid— His prerogative; so the bride's friends entrusted for
her, will be sure to see her jointure settled— the liberty of the
subject.

Then applying the text to the occasion, he thus lauds the
King: "Seeing now the servants of our Sovereign are
generally gone hence to wait on their Lord, we may now
boldly, without danger to make them puffed up with pride,
or ourselves suspected of flattery, speak that in praise of
their master, which malice itself cannot deny. Look above
him : to his God, how he is pious ! Look beneath : to his
subjects how is he pitiful ! Look about him : how is he con
stant to his wife, careful for his children ! Look near him :
how is he good to his servants ! Look far from him : how is
he just to foreign princes." Then enumerating the qualities
of our sovereigns, from William the Conqueror down to
Edward the Fourth, he proceeds : " But let malice itself
stain our Soveriegn with any notorious personal fault— for to
wish him wholly without fault were in effect to wish him
dead. Besides this, consider him as a King, and what
favours he hath bestowed on his subjects."

In opposition to the Anabaptists, separatists, and schis
matics whose pretended truth he calls " flatfalsities, mere fool
eries," the preacher, a loyal son of the Church, repeated the
assertion that formerly "we had in our churches all truth
necessary to salvation. Yea, let these that cry most for the
want of truth show one rotten kernel in the whole pome
granate, one false article in all Thirty-nine. But these men
know wherein their strength lieth, and they had rather creep
into houses and lead away captive silly women, laden with
infirmities, than to meddle with men and enter the lists to
combat with the learned doctors of the Church."

• Savoy Sermons. 223

He spoke very earnestly and unreservedly upon the duty
of all to unite in accepting the peace, which the King now
offered.

" There must," he says, " at least be a mutual confiding on
both sides, so that they must count the honesty of others their
only hostages. This the sooner it be done, the easier it is
done. For who can conceive that when both sides have
suffered more wrongs they will sooner forgive, or when they
have offered more wrongs be sooner forgiven. For our
King's part let us demand of his money what Christ asked
of Caesar's coin. ' Whose image is this ? ' Charles', and what
is the superscription ? ' Religio Protestantium, Leges Anglix'
Libertates Parliament!,' and the same hath caused them to be
cast both in silver and gold, in pieces of several sizes and
proportions, as if thereby to show that he intends to
make good his promise both to poor and rich, great and
small, and we are bound to believe him, nor less. Next we
insist on his own house, wherein the city is particularly pointed
at. For if London be the Jerusalem of our David, then
certainly Westminster is his Zion, where he hath his con
stant habitation. Here is the principal palace of his resi
dence, the proper seat of his great council, the usual receipt
of his revenues, the common courts of justice, the ancient
chair of his enthroning, the royal ashes of his ancestors, the
fruitful nursery of his children. You, therefore, the inhabi
tants of this city, have most reason to rejoice."

" But, alas ! what have I done that I should not, or
rather, what have I to do that I cannot, having invited
many guests now to a feast, and having no meat to set before
you ? I have called courtiers and citizens to rejoice, and
still one thing is wanting, and that, a main material one, the

224 The Life of Fuller.

founder of all the rest, the King is not returned in peace.
Then the sun is slipped out of our firmament, and the
diamond dropped out of the ring of my text. I pretended
and promised to make an application thereof to the time, and
must I now be like the foolish builder in the Gospel, begin
and cannot finish ? Own house, that is the bottom of the
text, but this stands empty. My Lord the King, and that is
the top of the text, but he is far off; and the words which
are the side-walls to join them together, He is come home in
peace, these, alas ! cannot be erected. In this case there is
but one remedy to help us,- and that prescribed by our
Saviour Himself, John xxvi., 23, ' Whatsoever ye shall ask
the Father in My name, He will give it you,' and then that
his courtesies might not unravel or fret out, hath he bound
them with a strong border, and a rich fringe, a triennial
Parliament." He then sums up the King's concessions, the
abolition of the Star Chamber and High Commission Court,
monopolies, and ship-money, and the King's offer of abolish
ing ''burdensome ceremonies to tender consciences;" and
lastly, triennial parliaments settled, and the present indefi
nitely prolonged. Fuller hints at the excess of these con
cessions in his own happy way. " Do we not dream ? Do
I speak ? Do you hear? Is it light ? Do we not deceive
ourselves with fond fancies ? or are not these boons too big
to beg? too great to be granted ? Such as our fathers never
durst desire, nor grandfathers hoped to receive ? O no, it is so,
it is sure, it is certain we are awake, we do not dream ; if
anything be asleep it is our ingratitude, which is so drowsy
to return deserved thanks to God and the King for these
great favours."

" Next to the King comes my Lord the King, and this

Savoy Sermons. 225

peculiarly concerns the courtiers, and such Mephibosheths
as eat bread at his table, who, under God, owe their being
to his bounty, and whose states are not only made but
created by him. These, indeed, of all others are bound
most to rejoice at their Sovereign's return, being obliged
thereunto by a three-fold tie : loyalty to a Sovereign, duty
to a master, and gratitude to a benefactor ; except (as some
fondly hold that a letter sealed with three seals may be
lawfully opened) any conceive that a three-fold engagement
may be easiest declined."

" Let us pray faithfully, pray fervently, pray constantly, pray
continually; let preacher and people join their prayers together,
that God would be pleased to build up the walls, make up the
breaches in application, that what cannot be told, may be
foretold for a truth ; and that our text may be verified of
Charles in prophecy, as by David in history. Excellently
St. Austin adviseth that men should not be curious to en
quire how original sin came into them, but careful to seek
how to get it out. By the same similitude (though reversed)
let us not be curious to know what made our King (who
next to God I count our original good) to leave this city, or
whether offences given or taken moved him to his departure :
but let us bend our brains and improve our best endeavours
to bring him safely and speedily back again. How often
herein have our pregnant hopes miscarried, even when they
were to be delivered ! just as a man in a storm swimming
through the sea to the shore, till the oars of his faint arms
begin to fail him, is now come to catch land, when an un
merciful wave beats him as far back in an instant as he can
recover in an hour. Just so, when our hopes of a happy
peace have been ready to arrive, some envious unexpected

p

226 The Life of Fuller.

obstacle hath started up, and hath set our hopes ten degrees
backward, as the shadow of the sun-dial of Ahaz. But let
us not be hereat disheartened, but with blind Bartimseus,
the more we are commanded by unhappy accidents to hold
our peace, let us cry the louder in our prayers, the rather,
because our King is already partly come ; come in his offer
to come ; come in his tender to treat ; come in his proffer of
peace. And this very day being the beginning of the treaty,
I may say he set his first step forward : God guide his feet,
and speed his pace. O let us thriftily husband the least
mite of hopes that it may increase, and date our day from
the first peeping of the morning star, before the sun be
risen. In a word, desist from sinning, persist in praying,
and then it may come to pass that this our use may once be
antedated, and this day's sermon sent as a harbinger before
hand to provide a lodging in your hearts for your joy against
the time that my Lord our King shall return to his own
house in peace."

This sermon got our preacher into trouble, for the
" theme was so distasteful to the ringleaders of the rebel
lion, and so well and loyally enforced by him that drew not
only a suspicion from the moderate misled party of Parlia
ment, but an absolute odium on him from the grandees and
principals of the rebellion." (Life, p. 17.) As an apologia
pro doctrina sttd, he published this sermon to prevent any
misrepresentation of his words. In his preface, which he
added, he said, " Sermons have their dooms, partly accord
ing to the capacities, partly according to the affections
of their hearers. I am, therefore, enforced to print my
more pains, not to get applause, but to assert my inno-
cency, and yet indeed he gaineth that can save in this age.

Savoy Sermons. 227

Read with judgment, censure with chanty. As for those
who have unmercifully persecuted me, my revenge is in
desiring they may be forgiven."

Notwithstanding the displeasure of the Parliamentary
leaders at this sermon, no steps seem to have been taken to
eject him from his position at the Savoy. Many of the
more pronounced Royalist clergy had been either driven out
by the " committee for plundered and scandalous ministers,"
or taken themselves to the King's quarters, and Fuller was
left alone, almost the solitary representative of loyal princi
ples, amongst those with whom he had but little sympathy.
It may seem strange that he should have been left un
molested when so many were compelled to leave, but his
known moderation and attractive power as a preacher had
rendered him a favourite, even with the more moderate of
the Parliamentary leaders. He seems to have been allowed
to do as he liked, and it is probable that the popular party
were unwilling to convert him into an avowed open enemy.
But his isolated position brought him into the more promi
nent notice of his opponents. " Their inspection and
spyal was confined almost to the Doctor's pulpit as to public
assemblies. But he went on labouring for peace in season
and out of season, and although the most strenuous efforts
were made to induce him to leave the Royalist cause, he
remained, like Abdiel, true and faithful to his principles."

A third sermon was preached about this time by Fuller
on occasion upon another Fast Day, which was ordered by
the Parliament. Taking advantage of this, he preached a
sermon at his own chapel at the Savoy on Reformation,
which word was then in every body's mouth. Anent this
subject there were several treaties put out by eminent men

p 2

228 The Life of Fuller.

on Church matters. Bishop Hall asserted Episcopacy to be
of Divine right in 1 641 . Jeremy Taylor followed on the same
side in his Episcopacy asserted. After the imprisonment of
Laud, Hall wrote his humble remonstrance to the High Court
of Parliament in defence pf Episcopacy. Milton followed
with his essay of Reformation and the causes that hitherto
have hindered it (1641), and there is evidence to prove that
Fuller was one of the earliest readers of the work. Heylin
came to the assistance of Hall, harassed by many assailants,
in his History of Episcopacie (1642). Reformation and
cognate subjects were as familiar to the auditors as the
preachers, when everyone was talking about it.

The sermon is entitled "A Sermon of Reformation, from
Heb. ix. 10, until the time of Reformation," and it was
licensed by John Downam, and published the same year.
Fuller begins his discourse by remarking that the word
" Reformation " was long in pronouncing, and longer in
performing, and insists upon the fact that Christians " living
under the Gospel live in a time of reformation. Cere
monies had been removed, manners reformed, and doctrine
refined, so that our twilight is clearer than the Jewish noon
day. The Jews, indeed, saw Christ presented in a landscape,
and beheld Him through the perspective of faith — seeing the
promise afar off. But at this day a dwarf Christian is an
overmatch for a giant Jew in knowledge." Freely confess
ing the " deformation " of the Church by Popery, Fuller
says the reforming under Henry VIII. and Edward VI. was
partial and imperfect. But the doctrine established in the
time of Elizabeth and her successors, and embodied in the
Thirty-nine Articles, " if declared, explained, asserted from
false glosses, have all gold, no dust or dross in them."

Savoy Sermons. 229

" Withal we flatly deny that Queen Elizabeth left the dmt
behind the door, which she cast out on the dunghill, whence
this uncivil expression was raked up." He also says, "We
freely confess that there may be some faults in our Church
in matters of practice and ceremonies ; and no wonder if
there be ; it would be a miracle if it were not. Besides,
there be some innovations rather in the Church than of the
Church, as not chargeable on the public account, but on
private men's scores, — who are old enough, let them answer
for themselves." He then proceeded to show the true
character of such who are to be true and proper reformers.
They must have a lawful calling to this work. It is plain,
from the approbation bestowed on the kings of Judah for
their interference in ecclesiastical affairs, that to reform the
Church was their proper office. Private persons should
help forward with their prayers. Their office is to reform
themselves and their own houses. " A good man in Scrip
ture is never called God's Church (because that is a col
lective term belonging to many), but is often termed God's
temple : such a temple it is lawful for every private man to

reform : he must see that the foundation of faith be firm

j

the pillars of patience be strong, the windows of knowledge
be clear, the roof of perseverance be perfected." He omits
not in the qualifications of a true reformer, discretion.
" Christian discretion, a grace none ever spake against, but
those that wanted it." Speaking much to the same effect,
he says in his " Pisgah Sight," " Oh if order were observed
for every one to mend his own house and heart, how would
personal amendment by degrees produce family, city,
country, kingdom reformation ! How soon are those streets
made clear, where every one sweeps against his own door."

230 The Life of Fuller.

Besides Christian discretion, he sets forth piety, knowledge,
true courage, and magnanimity as being proper qualifications
in a true reformer.

In reply to the objection as to the preacher's own calling
to meddle with this matter, Fuller replies with good reason :
" I am, or should be, most sensible of mine own weakness,
being eAax«rroTepo9, the least of those that dispense the
Word and Sacraments ; yet have I a calling as good as the
Church of England could give me. And if she be not
ashamed of such a son, I count myself honoured with such
a mother. And though mere private Christians may not inter
meddle with public reforming of a Church, God's prophets
have in all ages challenged the privilege to tell necessary
truths to the greatest. . . . We are Christ's Embassadors
(2 Cor. v. 20), and claim the leave to speak Truth with
soberness. And though I cannot expect my words should
be like nails 'fastened by the Masters of the Assemblies
(Eccles. xii. n), yet I hope they may prove as tacks (!)
entered by him that desires to be faithful and peaceable in
Israel."

In this sermon, as in the last, he animadverts upon the
turbulent spirit of the Anabaptists. " Very facile, but very
foul is that mistake in the Vulgar Translation," Luke xv., 8.
Instead of everrit dom um, she swept the house, 'tis rendered
evertit domum, she overturned the house. Such sweeping
we must expect from such spirits, which, under pretence to
cleanse our Church, would destroy it. The best is, they
are so far from sitting at the helm, that I hope they shall
ever be kept under the hatches."

Fuller then commends a due regard both to the ancient
and to the modern Fathers. "Reformation is to be done

Savoy Sermons. 2 i

with all reverence and respect to the ancient Fathers.
These, though they lived near the fountain of religion, yet
lived in the marches of Paganism, as also in the time when
the mystery of iniquity began to work, which we hope is
now ready to receive the wages. If, therefore, there be found
in their practice any ceremonies smacking of Paganism or
Popery, and if the same can be justly challenged to continue
in our Church, I plead not for their longer life, but for their
decent burial."

" Secondly, with honourable reservation to the memories
of our first reformers, reverend Cranmer, learned Ridley,
downright Latimer, zealous Bradford, pious Philpot, patient
Hooper, men that had their failings, but worthy in their
generation."

" And lastly, with carefulness not to give any just offence to
to the Papists, though Papists forget their duty to us, let us
remember our duty to them, not as Papists, but as pro
fessors of Christianity, to their persons, not erroneous
opinions, not giving them any just offence."

He concluded by saying that there was a grand difference
between the founding of a new church and reforming of an
old ; that a perfect reformation of any church in this world
may be desired, but not hoped for. In proving the fanati
cism of some of the sectaries, he remarks, " And yet there
are some now-a-days that talk of a great light manifested in
this age, more than ever before. Indeed, we moderns have
a mighty advantage of the ancients ; whatsoever was theirs
by industry may be made ours. The Christian philosophy
of Justyn Martyr, the constant sanctity of Cyprian, the
Catholic faith of Athanasius, the subtle controversies of
Augustine, the excellent Morals of Gregory the Great, the

232 The Life of Fuller.

humble devotion of Bernard, all contribute themselves to
the edification of us, who live in this latter age. But as for
any transcendent, extraordinary, miraculous light, peculiarly
conferred on our times, the worst I wish the opinion is this
that it were true."

He then points out, in conclusion, the melancholy con
dition of England at this time : " O the miserable condition
of our land at this time. God hath shewed the whole world
that England hath enough of itself to make itself happy or
unhappy, as it useth or abuseth it. Her homebred wares
enough to maintain her, and her homebred wars enough to
destroy her, though no foreign nation contribute to her
overthrow. Well, whilst others fight for peace, let us pray
for peace, for peace ongood^terms, yea, on God's terms and
in God's time, when He shall be pleased to give it and we
fitted to receive it. Let us wish both King and Parliament
so well, as to wish neither of them better, but both of them
best, even a happy accommodation."*

* This sermon, which was published, illustrates the true and
only logical platform of the Anglican Church— the appeal to
Primitive Antiquity — and was licensed by John Downam,
youngest son of the Bishop of Chester, one of the licencees of
the divinity publications. Williams was the publisher, and it was
duly entered at Stationers' Hall. It brought about a sudden
change in the preacher's prospects. Some condemned him as
too hot a Royalist. Truth then his character for moderation
was gone. And a contemporary writer says that Fuller "was
extremely distasteful to the Parliament." We shall not therefore be
surprised to find London became too hot for him, and to hear of
his flight from the metropolis, and the cession of the Savoy
chaplaincy.

Refugee at Oxford. 233

CHAPTER XIV.

FULLER'S FLIGHT FROM LONDON — GOES TO OXFORD (1643).

" The Doctor was settled in the love and affections of his own
Parish (Savoy), besides other obligations, so that the Covenant
then tendered might seem like the bright side of that cloud
(promising security and prosperity to him, as was insinuated to
the Doctor by many great Parliamentarians) which showered
down, after a little remoteness, such a black horrible tempest
upon the Clergy— nay, the Church and the Three Kingdomes.
But the good Doctor could not bow down to his knee to that
Baal-Berith, nor for any worldly considerations (enough whereof
invited him even to fall down and worship, men of his great
parts being infinitely acceptable to them) lend so much as an ear
to their serpentine charm of Religion and Reformation."-
Anonymous Life. p. 21.

|UST four days after the preaching of the sermon
on Reformation the news came to London that
Bristol had surrendered to the Royalist forces,
and that Nathaniel Fiennes had capitulated, July 27th, 1643.
This was the second important victory secured to the
Royalist forces, the former having been gained by Hopton
near Devizes on the i3th of the same month. Clarendon
says the direful news struck the Parliamentarians to the
heart. To the King it was a full tide of prosperity, and
made him master of the second city of the kingdom, and
gave him the undisputed possession of one of the richest.
The position of the Royalist armies at this time generated

the triplet :

" Bristol taking,
Exeter shaking,
Gloucester quaking."

The disputes, however, of Princes Maurice and Rupert

234 The Life of Fuller.

wasted the opportunities now open to the King. There was
a debate in Parliament about this time, and an accommo
dation with the King was carried by a considerable majority.
But on the following day, no longer held sacred by these
hypocrites, the city preachers — now augmented by the
assembly of Divines — sounded the tocsin to arms. The
proposals were rejected, and at a council meeting, presided
over by Lord Mayor Pennington, it was determined to
continue the war. Fuller had been appointed with five of
his brethren to carry up a petition for peace to the King,
but was on the way remanded by Parliament. His con
science would not allow him to take the oath, and to avoid
the consequences of his refusal, " I withdrew myself," said
he, " into the King's parts, which (I hope) I may no less
safely than I do freely confess, because punished for same with
the loss of my livelihood, and since, I suppose, pardoned
in the Acts of Oblivion."— (1651.)— (" Ch. Hist." xi., 20.)

It was at this juncture that many members of both Houses
and several Royalists made their way to the King's quarters
at Oxford, whose star at this time seemed in the ascendant.
Although our preacher still remained at the Savoy, his days
were evidently numbered. Clarendon says, " The violent
party carried now all before them, and were well contented
with the absence of those who used to give them some
trouble and vexation." With renewed vigour the war was
entered upon, and there seemed small hopes of peace.

Fuller's last sermon had given the greatest umbrage.
His remarks anent the Papists classed him as a malignant.
His idea of a Church was abhorrent to those who had cast
aside the episcopal regimen, and his loyalty to the King and
proposal for peace, brought down upon him the odium of

Refugee at Oxford. 235

the Parliamentarians. It was needful to tune all the
London pulpits, and so it was thought advisable to break
up the influential congregation which Fuller weekly
addressed ; and it was now therefore his refusal to take the
recent oath afforded the opportunity for driving the
preacher away. Some who were present in the vestry,
when Fuller had taken the oath, may have complained that
he had not taken it in its entirety, Be that as it may, it was
determined to make Fuller take the oath in the face of the
congregation at the Savoy in ter minis terminantibus, on
Sunday, Aug. 20th, 1640. This he firmly refused to do,
under the altered circumstances, as he could not conscien
tiously agree to its terms. His mind was made up ; his
mission of peace was ended, and he forthwith withdrew.

We are not told in what way Fuller's flight was managed
from London to the King's quarters, which were then at
Oxford, but no doubt it was by a prearranged plan at the
latter place, although communication between the two cities
was very difficult, passes from either side being demanded.
Nor do we know the exact date when his sudden dis
appearance took place, but it must have been just before
the excitement consequent upon the siege of Gloucester, to
the relief of which the trained bands marched under Essex
(Aug. 21, 30). The battle of Newbury was fought on
their return, "wherein the Londoners did show," says
Fuller, "that they could as well use a sword in the field as
a metward in the shop" (Sep. 20). The solemn league
and covenant was taken five days after, which secured the
assistance of the Scotch, at Westminster, by members of the
House of Commons and the Assembly of Divines, it being
subsequently signed by their adherents. The whole of the

2 36 The Life of Fuller.

proceedings were regarded with aversion by many, like
Walton, who says, " All corners of the nation weje filled
with Covenanters, confusion, committee-men, and soldiers."

It was said by some that Fuller had taken the solemn
league and covenant, which he distinctly repudiated, but
there can be no doubt that all sorts of wild stories got
circulated after his departure from the metropolis. No
doubt many were nettled at this act of self-sacrifice on the
part of our author, which he willingly offered on the shrine
of Episcopacy and Royalty — thus giving up his livelihood.

" A severe persecution," says Hallam, " fell on the
faithful children of the Anglican Church. Many had already
been sequestered from their livings, or even subjected to
imprisonment, by the Parliamentary committee for
scandalous ministers, or by subordinate committees of the
same kind set tip in each county within their quarters ;
sometimes on the score of immoralities or false doctrine ;
more frequently for what they termed malignity, or attach
ment to the King and his party. Yet wary men, who
meddled not with politics, might hope to elude this inqui
sition. But the Covenant, imposed as a general test, drove
out all who were too conscientious to pledge themselves by
a solemn appeal to the Deity to resist the polity which they
generally believed to be of this institution. What numbers
of the clergy were ejected (most of them for refusing the
Covenant ani for no moral offence or reputed superstition)
it is impossible to ascertain. Walker, in his " Sufferings of
the Clergy," a folio volume, published in the latter end of
Anne's reign, with all the virulence and partiality of the
High Church faction of that age, endeavoured to support
those who had reckoned it at 8000 ; a palpable over-

Refugee at Oxford. 237

statement upon his own shewing, for he cannot produce
near 2000 names, after a most diligent investigation.
Neale, however, admits 1600, probably more than one-fifth
of the beneficed ministers of the kingdom. The
biographical collections furnish a pretty copious martyrology
of men the most distinguished by their learning and virtues
in that age. The remorseless and indiscriminate bigotry of
Presbyterianism might boast that it had heaped disgrace
on Walton, and driven Lydiate to begging ; that it trampled
on the old age of Hales, and embittered with insult the
dying moments of Chillingworth." (" Constitutional History of
England," vol. i, pp. 168-9.)

But the report has been traced to one William Lilly, the
notorious astrologer and almanack maker of the time, in his
address to the reader prefacing his true history of James the
First and Charles the First. To this statement, however,
Fuller makes a satisfactory refutation in his " Church History,"
where he says, " So much concerning the covenant, which,
during three months after (Oct. ist, 1640), began to be
rigorously and generally urged. Nor have I aught else to
observe thereof, save to add, in mine own defence, that I
never saw the same except at distance, as hung up in
churches, nor ever had any occasion to read, or hear it read,
till this day in writing my History, whatever hath been
reported and printed to the contrary of my taking thereof
in London, who went away from the Savoy to the King's
quarters long before any mention thereof in England."
Then in a paragraph, which he terms The author 's plea in
his own just defence, he describes the oath which he did
take, and which has been already referred to and quoted.

The anonymous biographer thus writes of this part of

2 38 The Life of Fuller.

the author's life : " The Doctor was settled in the love and
affection of his own parish, besides other obligations to
his numerous followers ; so that the covenant then tendered
might seem like the bright side of that cloud (promising
serenity and prosperity to him, as was mistaken by many
great Parliamentarians) which showered down after a little
remoteness such a black horrible tempest upon the Clergy,
nay, the Church, and these kingdoms.

But the good Doctor could not bow down his knee to that
Baal-Berith, nor, for any worldly consideration (enough
whereof invited him to fall down and worship, men of his
great parts being infinitely acceptable to them), lend so
much as an ear to their serpentine charms of religion and
reformation. Since, therefore, he could not continue with
his cure without his conscience, and every day threatened
the imposition of that illegal oath, he resolved to betake
himself to God's providence, and to put himself directly
under it, waiving all indirect means and advantages what
soever to his security. In order thereunto, in April
(August?) 1643, he deserted the city of London, and
privately conveyed himself to Oxford, to the no less sudden
amazement of the faction here (London, who yet upon
their recollection quickly found their mistake) than to the
unexpected contentment and joy of the loyal party there,
who had every day Job's messengers of the plundering, ruin
and imprisonments of orthodox divines." ("Life," pp. 18-22.)
Oxford, the head-quarters of the Royalist party, the
asylum of Charles himself after the drawn battle of Edge-
hill, was in 1643 (as the author of the " Worthies " describes
it) " a court, a garrison, and a university," and so remained
for about three years. Cambridge was in the hands of the

Refugee at Oxford. 239

Parliamentary party, who retained possession of it during
the struggle, but Oxford remained true to the King. Some
of the students were enrolled as archers, and most of them
laid aside the pen for the sword. Prince Rupert was
quartered at Magdalen, which was especially loyal.

The King kept his court, thronged with numerous and
influential adherents, at Merton College, " famous for
schoolmen," and the Queen was the centre of great attrac
tion. The city had undergone great changes, fortifications
having been thrown up, at which the students worked with
a will Colleges were turned into barracks ; their inmates
became cavaliers. There was an influx of persons in
favour of the King's cause, soon after the King resorted
here, and the Royalist adherents poured from every
quarter. The biographer of Fuller describes it as " the com
mon refuge and shelter of such persecuted persons as
Fuller, so that it never was nor is it like to be a more
learned university (one breast in Cambridge being dried
up with Cromwell's visitation, the milk resorted to the
other), nor did ever letters and arms so well consist together,
it being an accomplished academy of both " ; adding, of
the King's friends, that they came " like the clean beasts
to the ark, when the waters increased." (" Life," pp. 22-23)

Fuller, now a fugitive, was lodged in Lincoln College,
then reputed the least in the university. Dr. Sanderson
was holding office in the university at the time and kept
there, but the academic curriculum was much interrupted at
this period by the demands made upon their time and
hospitality by the refugees. The colleges were crowded
by other than the usual class of inmates, and the price of
living became very high. Amongst other residents in

240 The Life of Fuller.

College was Sir Gervase Scroop, who was miraculously
saved after his twenty-six wounds received at the battle
of Edgehill, where he and his tenants fought for the King,
and a description of which he gave to Fuller — a monu
ment of God's sparing mercy and his son's affection.

"He always after carried his arm m a scarf; and
loss of blood made him look very pale, as a messenger
come from the grave to advise the living to prepare for
death. The effect of his story I received from his own
mouth in Lincoln College." (Lincoln "Worthies," p. 170).
Another of the residents was Sir Edward Wardour,
the colleague of Dr. Fuller of the peace petition, occupy
ing for the three last quarters of the year the low
chamber of the west end of the new chapel. His death
occurring here, he was buried in All Saints (the parish
church of Lincoln College).

During his stay at Oxford, Fuller preached before the
King in the university church : but his sincerity and
moderation (as Russell says) did not shield him from the
reflections of some whose zeal knew no bounds, although
it was not so with their charity. Fuller sought to recon
cile the animosities of unreasonable men on both sides,
but if the Heylins took this ill, we may be sure the
Sandersons and Halls did not. Bishop Hall owned his
friendship in a most cordial spirit, subscribing himself
his much devoted friend, precessor, and fellow-labourer,
in his letter vindicating himself and his colleague in the
Synod of Dort, from the aspersions of Goodwin, the
author of the book entitled " Redemption Redeemed."
And of Dr. Sanderson, who was of the same mind as
our author, in respect of the much disputed Canons of

Refugee at Oxford. 241

1640, our author writes "amongst the modern worthies of
his College, still surviving, Dr. Robert Sanderson (late
Regius Professor) moveth in the highest sphere, as no
less plain and profitable, than able and profound casuist
(a learning almost lost among Protestants) wrapping up
sharp thorns in rosy leaves ; I mean hard matter in neat
Latin, and pleasant expressions." ("Ch. Hist." bk. x.
P- 85).

Fuller remained at Lincoln College during his sojourn at
Oxford, but he complained of the dearness of the place.
Thus he writes in his " Church History," " I could much
desire (were it in my power) to express my service to this
foundation, acknowledging myself for a quarter of a year in
these troublous times (though no member of) a dweller in it
I will not complain of the dearness of this University, when
seventeen weeks cost me more than seventeen years at Cam
bridge, even all I had: but shall pray the students therein be
never hereafter disturbed upon the like occasion."

Heylin, Fuller's old antagonist, himself a native of
Oxfordshire, and upholding the honour of his alma mater,
falls foul of him for his remark thus : "He hath no reason
to complain of the University or the dearness of it, but
rather of himself for coming to a place so chargeable and
destructive to him. He might have tarried where he was, for
I never heard he was sent for, and then this great complaint
about the dearness of that University would have found no
place." To whom Fuller replied : " As for my being sent
for to Oxford, the animadvertor I see hath not heard of
all that was done. I thought that as St. Paul wished all "alto
gether such as he was, except these bonds," so the animad"
vertor would have wished all Englishmen like himself,

Q

242 The Life of Fuller.

save in his sequestration, and rather welcomed than jeered
such as went to Oxford." (" Appeal," p. n, 144.)

Our Fuller would meet with at least two other Fullers
refugees at Oxford for the Royalist cause. One was Dr.
William Fuller, Dean of Ely, who had sat in the Conovca-
tion of 1640. He seems to have come under censure very
early in the troubles of the period in connection with some
disturbance about the altar rails of St. Giles, Articles were
exhibited against him in Parliament, both as to his action
about lecturers and for some sermons preached by him, and
he was adjudged a delinquent. He was sent to Oxford in
exchange for another, and where he remained throughout
the siege, acting as Chaplain in Ordinary to the King. It
was said of him that " he preached there so seasonably that
King Charles would say of him and some others there, that
they were sent of God to set those distracted times in their
wits by the sobriety of their doctrines and the becomingness
of their behaviour. The Dean was not unlike our Thomas
Fuller, whom the King learned to appreciate, ordering him
to print more than one sermon preached before the Court:
and Charles, according to the biographer was " the most
excellent intelligent prince of the abilities of the clergy."
On the death of Balcanqual the King conferred the Deanery
of Durham on William Fuller, but he would not quit Ely.
He was D.D. of Cambridge, became incorporated D.D. of
Oxford, where he remained till its surrender.

Fuller would also meet another William Fuller, who ulti
mately became Bishop of Lincoln. We have alluded to
him before, as he has been thought to be the uncle of our
author, and indeed has been confounded with Thomas
Fuller himself by some. He was educated at West-

Preaches before the King. 243

minster School, afterwards entered Magdalen Hall, migrated
to Edmund's Hall, where he studied for fifteen years. He
became a " petty Canon of Christ Church," then Chaplain
to Lord Lyttleton, keeper of the Great Seal. He was
rector of Ewhurst, and in 1641 retired with his patron to
Oxford, where he remained till its surrender.

Our loyal and witty Thomas Fuller received a hearty wel
come from King Charles and his adherents. With many of
his courtiers he was on terms of intimacy, and as they had
been formerly parishioners or members of his congregation
at the Savoy, were frequent in their invitations for him to
remove to Oxford. No doubt the King had often heard of
the attractive discourses of the Savoy lecturer, and also of
his deep attachment to the Royalist cause, which he, in
common with the rest of the Fullers, dutifully enforced. It
was suggested that Fuller's long continued services to the
Royal cause should not continue without some public ac
knowledgment, and accordingly the King vouchsafed the
Doctor the honour of preaching before him. Fuller wil
lingly consented, and prepared a sermon specially for the
occasion. Here was an opportunity, had he been a time
server, of ingratiating himself in the Royal favour and ad
vancing his popularity and preferment in the Church.
But no. He was true to himself as a minister of the Gospel.
A brilliant audience had been attracted to St. Mary's to
listen to the witty Divine, and he seemed to have preached
to, not before, his hearers, not to the satisfaction of all the
assembled courtiers. He attempted to discuss both sides of
the prevalent feeling which actuated the contending parties,
and professed a hope of arriving at some modus vivendi,
which would restrain the hostile factions from renewed

Q 2

244 The Life of Fuller.

attacks and further effusion of blood. His biographer says
"Helaid open the blessings of an accommodation,as being too
sensible (and that so recently) of the virulency and impotent
rage, though potent arms of the disloyal Londoners, which,
as the Doctor then Christianly thought, could not better
be allayed than by a fair condescension in matters of Church
Reformation."

The preacher then rebuked the injustice of the party in
some respects, and made a side thrust against the godlessness
of some of the Cavaliers, whose " heaven upon earth was to
see the day that they might subdue and be revenged upon
the Roundheads." Fuller evidently spoke out his mind,
and was so intent upon doing good " that he minded
neither his own estate, habit, or carriage." He saw the dis
turbing elements seething around him, but he would still, as
a minister of the good news, "pray for the peace of
Jerusalem," and recall the great Master's beatitude on the
peacemakers. He saw there were good and bad on both
sides, and so he would not indiscriminately blame the one,
and praise the other. Thus he repeated at Oxford his Lon
don missive of peace, but his manly, outspoken, and sincere
nature — his words of truth and soberness — pleased the
Royalists no better than he had before the Parliamentarians.

" Some particulars in that sermon " were considered by
" some at court " to have been far too lukewarm, having a
tendency to damage the Royal cause, then as it appeared in a
prosperous condition. But these censures came not from
the King and the more moderate of the body, but from
the hot-blooded zealots and those eager for war. Thus it
came to pass that the same consistent Divine, who in Lon
don had been censured as " too hot a Royalist," was now

Preaches before the King. 245

at the Royal head-quarters condemned for not thoroughly
owning the Royal cause. Consequently, he fell into dis
grace again, " to the great trouble of the Doctor." But he
was not the only Divine who gave offence by his too plain
outspokenness, for he was kept in countenance by good
company, by Ussher, who at this time was giving umbrage
by his faithful preaching, and by Chillingworth, who in a
sermon in the autumn of this year, exposed the follies of the
times.

Fuller, by his moderation, then had contrived to offend
the two contending parties in the State, or rather the ex
treme men on both sides. He offered the nation an eirenicon
which was not accepted. But he regarded his own
present position as presumptive evidence that he was
right. His endeavours were not only unsuccessful, but they
recoiled upon his own head, and militated against his ad
vancement. His conduct can " only be ascribed to his
moderation, which he would sincerely have inculcated in
each party as the only means of reconciling both." But it
was altogether a thankless task. In after life, Fuller
thus sketches the fate of those who attempt to mediate
between hostile parties : " Let not such hereby be dis
heartened, but know that (besides the reward in heaven)
the very work of moderation is the wages of moderation. For
it carryeth with it a marvellous contentment in his con
science, who hath endeavoured his utmost in order to unity,
though unhappy in his success." It must have been galling
and mortifying in the extreme to his frank and independent
spirit to have thus undeservedly fallen into odium with the
very party, with whom all his own personal and traditional
sympathies were linked, for whom he had risked everything,

246 The Life of Fuller.

on whose behalf he had quitted his post in the metropolis,
and to whom he must ultimately look for protection in the
troubles which were thickening around him. Writing upon
the failure of conciliatory endeavours, he afterwards (1660)
wrote in his Mixt Contemplations ; " Had any endeavoured,
some sixteen years since, to have advanced a firm peace be
twixt the two opposite parties in our land, their success
would not have answered their intentions ; men's veins were
then so full of blood, and purses of money." (xviii., 28.)
Pride and popular applause were the two great enemies to
moderation. " And sure they who will sail with that wind
have their own vain-glory for their heaven."

In answer to the charge of " lukewarmness " brought
against him both in London and Oxford, our author is at
some pains to point out the difference between it and
moderation. He thus defends his conduct at this time :
" I must wash away an aspersion generally but falsely cast on
men of my profession and temper, for v\\' moderate men are
commonly condemned for lukewarm.

As it is true : Scspe latet vitium propinquitate boni,
It is as true : Scepe latet virtus propinquitate mali,
And as lukewarmness hath often fared the better (the more
men's ignorance) for pretending neighbourhood to modera
tion, so moderation (the more her wrong) hath many times
suffered for having some supposed vicinity to lukewarmness.
However, they are at a great distance, moderation being an
wholesome cordial to the soul, whilst lukewarmness (a tem
per which seeks to reconcile hot and cold) is so distasteful
that health itself seems sick of it, and vomits it out (Rev.
iii., 16). We may observe these differences between them :
" First, the lukewarm man (though it be hard to tell what

Defends his Sermon on the Reformation. 247

he is who knows not what he is himself) is fixed to no one
opinion and hath no certain creed to believe, whereas the
moderate man sticks to his principles, taking truth where
soever he finds it, in the opinions of friend or foe, gathering
a herb though in a ditch, and throwing away a weed though
in a garden." " Secondly, the lukewarm man is both the
archer and mark himself, aiming only at his outward
security. The moderate man levels at the glory of God,
the quiet of the Church, the choosing of the truth, and con
tenting of his conscience." " Lastly, the lukewarm man as
he will live in any religion, so he will die for none. The
moderate man, what he hath warily chosen, will valiantly
maintain, at leastwise intends and desires to defend it to
the death. 'The kingdom of heaven,' saith our Lord,
' suffereth violence.' And in this sense 1 may say the most
moderate men are the most violent, and will not abate an
hoof or hair's breadth in their opinions, whatsoever it cost
them. And time will come when moderate men shall be
honoured as God's doers, though now they be hooted at as
owls in the desert." (" Truth Maintained." * To the Reader')
Fuller's sermon on "Reformation" was about this time
attacked by Mr. John Saltmarsh, M.A., of Magdalen
College, Cambridge, and minister of Hesterton, Yorkshire.
Fuller thus speaks of him in his " Worthies": "John
Saltmarsh was extracted from a right ancient but decayed
family in Yorkshire, and I am informed that Sir John
Methan, his kinsman, bountifully contributed to his educa
tion. Returning into his native country, he was very great
with Sir John Hotham, the elder. He was one of a fine
and active family, no contemptible poet, and a good
preacher, as by some of his profitable printed sermons doth

248 The Life of Fuller.

appear. Be it charitably imputed to the information of his
judgment and conscience, that from a zealous observer, he
became a violent oppressor of Bishops and ceremonies.
He wrote a book against my sermon on Reformation, taxing
me for many points of Popery therein. I defended myself in
a book called Truth Maintained, and challenged him to an
answer, who appeared on the field no more, rendering the
season thereof, that he would not shoot his arrows at a dead
mark, being informed that I was dead at Exeter. I have
no cause to be angry with Fame (but rather to thank her)
for so good a lie. May I make this true use of that false
report, to die daily. See how Providence hath crossed it :
the dead (reported) man is still living (1661), the then living
man, dead • and, seeing I survive to go over his grave, I
will tread the more gently on the mould thereof, using that
civility on him which I received from him." " He died in or
about Windsor (as he was riding to and fro in the Parlia
ment army) of a burning fever, venting on his deathbed
strange expressions, apprehended (by some of his party) as
extatical, yea prophetical, raptures, whilst others accounted
them (no wonder of outrages in the city, when the enemy
hath possessed the castle commanding it) to the acuteness
of the disease which had seized his intellectuals. His death
happened about the year 1650." (" Worthies," Yorkshire,
p. 212).

Saltmarsh's strictures were licensed by Mr. Charles Herle,
a Cornishman, and B.A., of Exeter College, Oxford, who
died 1655. The notification of licence is followed by an
anonymous advertisement affirming that Mr. John Downam
had received from Fuller a promise which the latter did not
fulfil, to alter some passages in his sermon of Reformation.

Truth Maintained. 249

Saltmarsh dedicated his " Examinations " to the Assembly
of Divines : he professed that his thoughts took him but one
afternoon, and they accordingly evince neither learning nor
caution. Fuller replied to these animadversions in a work,
Truth Maintained, or positions delivered in a sermon at the
Savoy, since traduced for dangerous, now asserted for sound
and safe (Oxford, 1643). After the dedication to the
Universities is a letter from Mr. Herle, in which he vouches
for the utility of Saltmarsh's rash censures in the licence he
affixed to them. This was regarded by Fuller as endorsing
the charges brought against him and Saltmarsh, which
might have endangered him in those troublesome times.
Then follows a letter to Downam, in which Fuller categori
cally denies the anonymous report that he had promised to
answer some of the passages in the sermon under discussion.
Then follows an epistle to Saltmarsh himself, and this is
succeeded by another to his parishioners of St. Mary, Savoy.
As a specimen of the verve and manly spirit which animate
these epistles we will give the last in full : —

" MY DEAR PARISH— for so I dare call you, as conceiving that
as my calamities have divorced me from your bed and board,
the matrimonial knot betwixt us is "not yet rescinded. No, not
although you have admitted another (for fear and hope rather
than affection) in my place. I remember how David, forced to
fly from his wife, yet still calls her ' my wife Michall,' even when
at that time she was in the possession of Phaltiel, the son of
Laish, who had rather bedded than wedded her.

" This sermon I first made for your sakes, as providing it, not
as a feast to entertain strangers, but a meal to feed my family
And now, having again enlarged and confirmed it, I present it
to you as having therein a proper interest, being confident that
nothing but good and profitable truth is therein contained.
" Some, perchance, will object that if my sermon were so true

250 The Life of Fuller.

why then did I presently leave the parish when I had preached
it? My answer is legible in the Capital letters of other
ministers' misery who remain in the city. I went away "for
the present distress" (i Cor. vii. 26), thereby reserving myself
to do you longer and better service if God's providence shall
ever restore me unto you again. And if any tax me as Laban
taxed Jacob, 'Wherefore did'stthou flee away secretly,' without
solemn tears ? I say with Jacob to Laban, ' Because I was
afraid,' and that plain-dealing patriarch, who could not be
accused for purloining a shoe-latchet of other men's goods, con
fessed himself guilty of that lawful felony that he ' stole away '
for his own safety : seeing truth itself may sometimes seek
corners, not as fearing her cause, but suspecting her judge.

"And now all that I have to say to you is this : Take heed how
you may imitate the wise and noble Berceans, whatsoever the
Doctor or doctrine be, which teacheth or is taught unto you.
Search the Scriptures daily, whether these things be so.
Hansell this my counsel on this my book, and here beginning,
hence proceed to examine all sermons by the same rule of God's
Word.

" Only this I add also: pray daily to God to send us a good and
happy peace, before we be all brought to utter confusion. You
know how I, in all my sermons unto you, by leave of my text,
would have a passage in praise of Peace. Still I am of the same
opinion. The longer I see this war the less I like it, and the
more I loathe it. Not so much because it threatens temporal
ruin to our kingdom, as because it will bring a general spiritual
hardness of hearts. And if this war long continues, we may be
affected for the departure of charity. As the Ephesians were at
the going away of St. Paul, ' Sorrowing most of all that we shall
see his face thereof no more ' (Acts xx. 38). Strive, therefore,
in your prayers that that happy condition, which our sins made
us unworthy to hold, our repentance may, through God's accept
ance thereof, make us worthy to regain.

''Your loving Minister,

THOMAS FULLER."

Truth Maintained. 251

This truly touching letter not only gives the authentic reason
of Fuller's departure from the Savoy, but expresses his deep
sorrow at this sundering of parochial ties, which, with
buoyant hopes, he trusts may speedily be removed. He
also delicately hints at the different doctrine now preached
in his pulpit, and the Doctor alluded to is supposed to be
Dr. John Bond, of the Parliamentarian party.

As these letters are comparatively unknown, we are
tempted to give one more illustration of the raciness of his
epistolary productions. It is addressed to " the impartial
reader" whom he requests to have no fear of his soi-disant
" dangerous " positions. " The saints did not fear the in
fection of St. Paul, though he was indicted to be a pestilent
fellow." He calls attention to the moderation he had
practised — " I cannot but expect to procure the ill-will of
many, because I have gone in a middle and moderate way,
betwixt all extremities. I remember a story too truly ap
plicable to me. Once a jailor demanded of a prisoner
newly committed to him whether or no he was a Roman
Catholic. ' No/ answered he. ' What then, ' said he, ' are
you an Anabaptist?' 'Neither,' replied the prisoner.
' What !' said the other, 'are you a Brownist ?' ' Nor so/
said the man, ' I am a Protestant.' ' Then ' said the jailor,
' get you into the dungeon : I will afford no favour to you,
who shall get no profit by you : had you been of any of the
other religions some hope I had to gain by the visits of such
as are of your own profession.' " I," continues Fuller, "am
likely to find no better usage in this age, who profess myself
to be a plain Protestant, without welt or guard, or any
addition — equally opposite to all heretics and sectaries ....
yet I take not myself to be of so desolate and forlorn a

252 The Life of Fuller.

religion as to have no fellow-professors with me. If I
thought so, I should not only suspect but condemn my
judgment, having ever as much loved singleness of heart as
I have hated singularity of opinion. I conceive not my
self like Eliah ' to be left alone ' — having as I am confident
in England more than seventy thousand just of the same
religion with me — and among these there is one, in price
and value, eminently worth ten thousand, even our gracious
Sovereign, whom God, in safety and honour long preserve
amongst us."

At the conclusion of these epistles, Fuller enters into a
detailed examination of SaltmarshTs strictures, but he proves
himself a fairer controversialist than his opponent. For
whereas Saltmarsh selects isolated passages upon Fuller's
sermons, and concretes his criticism upon them, Fuller
takes the censures of Saltmarsh en bloc and goes through
them seriatim. This habit he had learnt from his uncle,
Bishop Davenant, who, in answering Hoard's " God's Love
to Mankind" incorporated the whole of it in his reply.
Fuller thus alludes to his method of reply. " This disjoint
ing of things undoeth kingdoms as well as sermons, whilst
even weak matters are preserved by their own unity and
entireness;" adding,"! have dealt more fairly with you to set
down your whole examination." This is a proof of Fuller's
fairness as a polemic. Notwithstanding the critical state of
affairs, our author is as witty as he is sarcastic — " Some
mirth in this sad time doth well."

There is no need to go into the details of this controversy,
which, though it elicited the keenest interest at the time,
would be perhaps wearisome to the modern reader. But it
led to the increased sale of the original sermon, which seems

Truth Maintained. 253

to have been very carefully prepared, and the spirit and wit
of the reply have been as much admired as its minute ex-
haustiveness. The original sermon was maintained by
additional reasons and arguments, and to give the reader
some idea of the exhaustive nature of the reply as well as
the soundness of Fuller's Church Principles, we append the
following particulars of it : —

I. That the doctrine of the impossibility of a Church's
perfection in this world being well understood, begets not
laziness but the more industry in wise reformers.

II. That the Church of England cannot justly be taxed
with superstitious innovations.

III. How far private Christians, ministers, and subor
dinate magistrates, are to concur to the ^advancing of a
public reformation.

IV. What parts therein are only to be acted by the
supreme power.

V. Of the progress and praise of passive obedience.

VI. That no extraordinary excitations, incitations,
or inspirations are bestowed from God on men in these
days.

VII. That it is utterly unlawful to give any just offence to
the papist, or to any men whatsoever.

VIII. What advantage the Fathers had of us in learning
and religion, and what we have of them.

IX. That no new light, or new essential truths are, or can
be revealed in this age.

X. That the doctrine of the Church's imperfection may
safely be preached, and cannot honestly be concealed.

It must be evident to see from these points, which were
pressed home with all the power and wit at the command

254 The Life of Fuller.

our author, what his views really were upon ecclesiastical
regimen ; and that for soundness and moderation they
synchronize with the views of Church government laid down
by the judicious Hooker in his immortal work on Ecclesias
tical Polity.

In after life, Fuller thus speaks of his conduct in this con
troversy, wherein he challenged a reply from Saltmarsh,
which, however, never came. " I appeal to such who knew
me in the University, to those who have heard my many
sermons in London and elsewhere, but especially to my book
called Truth Maintained, made against Mr. Saltmarsh ;
wherein I have heartily (to place that first), largely, to my
power, strongly indicated " non licet populo, renuenti magis-
tratu, rcformationem moliri — (it is not lawful for the
people, against the will of the magistracy, to undertake a
reformation)."

Before leaving this controversy, we must mention an
amusing story told in connection with Mr. Charles Herle,
who licensed Saltmarsh's production. " I know the man
full well," says Fuller in his u Worthies " (5th chapter), "to
whom Mr. Charles Herle, President of the Assembly, said,
somewhat insultingly, '/'// tell you news — last night I buried
a Bishop (dashing more at his profession than person) in
Westminster Abbey' To whom the other returned with
like latitude to both — 'Sure you buried him in hope of
resurrection? This our eyes at this day see performed,
and it being the work of the Lord, may justly seem mar
vellous in our sight."

Whilst at Oxford, all Fuller's property, including his
valuable library (in quality if not quantity), fell into the
hands of the Parliament, and another was appointed in his

Loss of his Library. 255

place at the Savoy (probably Dr. Bond, to whom allusion
has been made), so that our author was brought into as
great poverty as it was possible for his enemies to bring
him to. The sequestrators laid their hands upon all they
could get. He afterwards spoke of " sequestration as a yoke
borne in our youth, hoping that more freedom is reserved
for our old age — a rod formerly in fashion, but never so
soundly laid on as of late."

This loss of his books and manuscripts — especially the
parchments — affected our author much, and put an end to
those studies in which he took so great a delight. It is
not clear whether the bulk of his library was in London or
Broad Windsor, but no doubt the confiscation took place at
the former place. When Fuller quitted the Savoy, it was
only as he thought for a time, for he expected soon to be
restored to his dear parishioners. But, like many of his
compatriots, he was mistaken, and had to endure the full
brunt of poverty, although nominally a prebend, a rector,
and a lecturer. His books were not only seized but
disfigured by mischievous ignorance. " Was it not cruelty,"
he says, " to torture a library by maiming and mangling
the authors therein ? Neither leaving nor taking them
entire. Would they had took less that so what they left
might have been useful to me, or left less, that so what
they took might have been useful to others. Whereas now,
mischievous ignorance did a prejudice to me, without a
profit to itself or any body else.

" But would to God all my fellow brethren, which with

me bemoan the loss of their books, with me might also

rejoice for the recovery thereof, though not the same

numerical volumes. Thanks be to your honour,* who have

*Rt. Hon. Lord Cranfield, Earl of Middlesex.

256 The Life of Fuller.

bestowed on me (the treasure of a Lord Treasurer) what
remained of your father's library : your father who was the
greatest honourer and disgracer of students, bred in
learning ; honourer, giving due respect to all men of
learning; disgracer, who by his mere natural parts and
experience acquired that perfection of invention, expression
and judgment, to which those who make learning their
sole study do never arrive."

His loss he thus notices in his Meditations on the Times
(i7th), " One Nicias, a philosopher, having his shoes stolen
from him, ' May they] said he, '// his fed that took tJiem
away;'" a wish at the first view very harmless, but there
was that in it which poisoned his charity into a malicious
revenge. For he himself had hurled or crooked feet, so
that in effect he wished the thief to be lame. "Whosoever
hath plundered me of my books and papers I freely forgive
him, and desire that he may fully understand and make
good use thereof, wishing him more joy of them than he
hath right to them. Nor is there any snake under my
heels, nor have I, as Nicias, any reservation or latent sense to
myself, but from my heart do I desire that, to all purposes
and intents, my books may be beneficial unto him j only
requesting him, that one passage in his (lately my) Bible
(namely, Eph. iv. 28), may be taken into his serious
consideration."

But his loss was not so bad as at first anticipated, as is
clear from his dedication of part of his Pisgah Sight to
Henry Lord Beauchamp, son of the Marquess of Hertford,
: Besides desire to shelter myself under your patronage,
gratitude obligeth me to tender my service to your honour.
For all my books, being my ' nether and upper millstone *

Loss of his Library. 257

(and such by the Levitical law might not be ' taken to pledge '
because a man's life. Deut. xxiv. 6), without which I had
been unable to' grind any grist for the good of myself or
others, had been taken from me in these civil wars, had not
a letter from your lady-mother preserved the greatest part
thereof. Good reason, therefore, that the first handful
of my finest meal should be presented in thankfulness to
your family " (Book ii. p. 50).

From a state of comparative affluence, as we have said,
Fuller had now fallen into a state of the greatest poverty.
He might style himself " Prebendary of Sarum," but no
income was derivable thereof; Salisbury falling early into
the hands of the Parliamentarian party, there being no
means of defending it against them : he might be in pos
session of the legal benefice of Broad Windsor, but no tithe
could be drawn from a parish, whose vicinity was dominated
by the so-called popular party ; and his cure at the Savoy
being no longer profitable to him, as the Parliament showed
that they were fully alive to the importance of that post,
by intruding without loss of time one of their own creatures.
But all these privations, though coming so suddenly on
him in the midst of his prosperity, Fuller bore with Christian
resignation, acquiescing in the decrees of Providence, Who
was justly, so he thought, punishing the nation for its sins.
" God could no longer be just if we were prosperous.
Blessed be His name that I have suffered my share in the
calamities of my country. Had I poised myself so politicly
betwixt both parties that I had suffered from neither, yet
could I have taken no contentment in my safe escaping.
For why should I, equally engaged with others in sinning,
be exempted above them from the punishment? And

258 The Life of Fuller.

seeing the bitter cup which my brethren have pledged to pass
by me, I should fear it would be filled again, and returned
double, for me to drink it. Yea, I should suspect that I
was reserved alone for a greater shame and sorrow. It is
therefore some comfort that I draw in the same yoke with
my neighbours, and, with them, jointly bear the burthen
which our sins jointly brought upon us." (" Good Thoughts
in Bad Times : Mixt Contemplations," xvi. 19.)

And again, " I have observed that towns which have been
casually burnt have been built again more beautiful than
before : mud walls afterwards made of stone, and roofs
formerly but thatched after advanced to be tiled. The
Apostle tells me that I must ' not think strange concerning
the fiery trial which is to happen ' unto me. May I like
wise prove improved by it. Let my renewed soul, which
grows out of the ashes of the old man, be a more firm
fabric and stronger structure : so shall afflictions be my
advantage." (ix. 14.)

Fuller paid therefore a dear price for his flight from
London to Oxford. He found the daily expenses of living
at Lincoln College more than his purse could meet. There
was " nothing coming in," and all hope of preferment, now
that he lay under disgrace, was altogether taken away for the
time. He was paying the penalty of being a moderate man,
and had no refuge but trust in Providence.

Nor did he " score " with the Cavaliers, for his position
was not so comfortable as he had anticipated. Here was a
man who had defended with such pertinacity, power, and
persistence, the Royal cause publicly in the London pulpits,
now a " suspect " in the Royalist camp itself. He seemed to
have fallen under the ban of both parties. Even suspicions

Leaves Oxford. 259

of his loyalty were freely bandied about ; unpleasant remarks
were jeeringly made of the motive of his visit to Oxford ; the
cordiality which the centre of metropolitical thought and
culture had evinced towards him was found wanting in the
gay camp of Charles's soldiers. Perhaps the love of many,
as in other cases, began to wax cold. Shall we be surprised
to find our author writing thus, subsequently, of this unrelated
attitude of the Court : " Courtesy gaineth. I have heard
the Royal party (would I could say without cause) complained
of, that they have not charity enough for converts, who came
off unto them from the opposite side, who, though they ex
press a sense of, and sorrow for, their mistakes, and have
given testimony (though perchance not so plain and public
as others expected) of their sincerity, yet still they are
suspected as unsound, and such as frown not on, look but
a squint at them. This hath done much mischief, and re
tarded the return of many to their side." (" Mixt Contem
plations in Better Times," xxiii. 35.)

R 2

260 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER XV.

MILITARY CHAPLAIN, SIR RALPH HOPTON, AND
BASING HOUSE. — (1643-4.)

" He resolved, therefore, strenuously to evince his faithful
loyalty to the King\*y another kind of argument, by appearing
in the Ring's armies, to be a Preacher Militant to his Souldiers.'*
Anonymous Life, p. 24.

|E often hear of soldiers turning parsons ; and the
saying is, that the best black coat is the red
coat dyed black ; certainly, as far as our expe
rience goes, some of the best clergymen the writer has
known have been in the army, and laid aside the sword for
the toga. It must not be supposed that they are all like
the late Dean of Buryan, one of the soldiers who took up
the Church as a profession at the close of the great Penin
sular War, and whose case furnished the instance of the
following laconic correspondence : " Dear Cork, — Ordain
Stanhope. — Yours, York"; which elicited the rejoinder,
"Dear York, — Stanhope's ordained. — Yours, Cork." We
do not allude to such. Both on the side of the Royalists
and the Parliamentarians, clergy were found in the ranks of
the soldiery; and, as might have been expected, prelates
and other dignitaries of the Church fought with all the
ardour of Norman ecclesiastics for " Church and King."
And no doubt their presence had a very salutary and highly
moral effect. The fact of these " cavalier parsons," as they
were called, is thus alluded to by the biographer of Jeremy
Taylor, who, of course, is included among the number :

Cavalier Parson. 261

" Five of the most eminent of English theologians were
brought into scenes of difficulty, that put their nerves as
well as their piety to the proof. Fuller picked up stories of
English Worthies in the rear of a marching column. Pearson
was chaplain to the King's troops in Exeter, under Lord
Goring • and Chillingworth acted as engineer at the siege
of Gloucester in 1643, and was only prevented from trying
on English fortifications the implements of Roman science
by the sudden advance of the Parliamentary army. Barrow
was not summoned to the standard of his Sovereign ; but,
much as he admired Horace, there is no reason to think
that he would have imitated his flight. Upon one occasion,
at least, he stood gallantly to his gun, and succeeded in
beating off an Algerine privateer, sailing from Italy to
Smyrna."

No wonder that Fuller, then, without preferment and
without books, feeling keenly the reproaches of all parties,
being a "suspect" on the side of the extreme men in both
camps, thinking reconciliation farther off than ever, looked
upon even by the Royalists somewhat coldly, and tired of
an inactive life, at length betook himself to the King's
army as a "preacher militant," and, in one single step,
placed his loyalty above all suspicion.

In commencing his military duties, Fuller was naturally
attracted to one of the best of the Royalists' leaders,
General Sir Ralph Hopton, then at the King's headquarters
at Oxford. Both parties unite in singing his praises. Claren
don, in his " History," says of him that he was " a man
superior to any temptation, and abhorred enough the
licence and the levities, with which he saw too many cor
rupted. He had a good understanding, a clear courage, an

262 The Life of Fuller.

industry not to be tired, and a generosity that was not to be
exhausted, — a virtue that none of the rest had." May also
thus writes of him, that Hopton, "by his unwearied in
dustry and great reputation among the people, had raised
himself to the most considerable height." Fuller's anony
mous biographer thus testifies of Lord Hopton : " This
noble lord, though as courageous and expert a captain, and
successful withal, as any the King had, was never averse to
an amicable closure of the war upon fair and honourable
terms, and did therefore well approve of the Doctor " (who
was his chaplain, having as a colleague Richard Watson, of
Caius) " and his desires and pursuits after peace. The
good Doctor was infinitely contented in his attendance on
such an excellent personage, whose conspicuous and noted
loyalty could not but derive the same reputation to his re
tainers, especially to one so near his conscience as his
chaplain, and so wipe off that stain which the mistakes of
those men had cast upon him. In this entendment God
was pleased to succeed the Doctor, and give him victory,
proper to the camp he followed, against this first attempt
on his honour."

The general >and his chaplain were well matched, and
seem to have been mutually pleased with each other. It is
supposed the Marquess of Hertford brought about the in
troduction; and as Lord Hopton was desirous of selecting a
chaplain, recommended Fuller to his notice, and subse
quent engagement. The following passage, written at the
close of his military career, may afford us some clue to
Fuller's taking this step. " It is recorded to the commen
dation of such Israelites as assisted Barak (against Sisera),
that they ' took no gain of money.' Indeed, they of Zebulun

Cavalier Parson. 263

were by their calling ' such as handled the pen ' (Judges
v. 14), though now turned swordsmen in case of necessity.
And when men of peaceable professions are, on a pinch of
extremity, for a short time, forced to fight, they ought not,
like soldiers of fortune, to make a trade to enrich them
selves, seeing defence of religion, life, and liberty, are the
only wages they seek for in their service."

" During the campaign, and. while the army continued,"
says his biographer, "he performed the duty of his holy
function according to the order and ritual of the Church of
England, preaching on the Lord's Day and exhorting the
soldiery. On his adopting this military career, he has left
his own feelings on the subject in one of his ' good thoughts
in bad times.' Lord, when our Saviour sent His apostles
abroad to preach, He enjoined them in one gospel, ' Possess
nothing, neither shoes nor a staff.' — Mat. x., 10. But it is
said in another gospel, ' And He commandeth them that
they should take nothing for their journey, save a staff
only." — Mark vi., 8. The reconciliation is easy. They
might have a staff to speak them travellers, not soldiers :
one to walk with, not war with ; a staff which was a wand,
not a weapon. But oh, in how doleful days do we live :
wherein ministers are armed, not as formerly, with their
nakedness, but need staves and swords, too, to defend them
from violence."— (" Good Thoughts.")

Besides Fuller, who would be naturally attracted to
Hopton's service, and attached themselves to the same
general, were Roger Clark, fellow Prebendary of Sarum and
Rector of Ashmore, Dorset, and the famous William Chilling-
worth.

This Lord Hopton, under whom Fuller took service,

264 The Life of Fuller.

presented our author with his portrait of "the good soldier,"
and seems to have been one of King Charles's most loyal
and successful generals. In the whole west country his
name was a potent spell everywhere, and at the head of
" the Cornish army " did the Royalist cause much good
service, both' in Devon and Cornwall. From Lisk card to
Exeter, and from Stratton to Modbury, nay, even to Bath
and Bristol, and in the county of Dorset, his name was a
tower of strength. He is said to have fortified thirty
important strongholds on behalf of the King. Hopton was
the son of a Somersetshire squire, though born in Mon
mouthshire, and was educated at Lincoln College, Oxford,
under the celebrated Dr. Robert Sanderson, the eminent
casuist. From Oxford he passed over to the Low Countries,
where he learnt the art of war, and this in company with
Waller, his future antagonist and great Parliamentary
general, who, as Lloyd says, " learned in one camp what
they practised in two." But his name is chiefly identified
with the West of England. He represented Somersetshire in
the short, and Wells in the long, Parliament, and had the
reputation of being an effective speaker and ready writer.
Although much respected on both sides, he ultimately
embraced the Royalist cause, and at the opening of the year
1642 we hear of him raising troops in Cornwall, and
" mastering all unquiet spirits in that county," the ultima
Thule of England. Hopton's military successes were chiefly
gained in the westernmost counties, so that he received the
soubriquet of " Hopton of the West," and his influence was
very great, " second to no man's."

Cornwall has always been remarkable for its virtue, and
strong religious proclivities and devotional instincts. Nor

Cavalier Parson. 265

was the time we are considering any exception to the rule.
Clarendon speaks of the " extraordinary temper and virtue
of the chief officers of the Cornish," commending the virtue
and valour of their men. Hopton was considered one of
the most religious of the King's generals, and no doubt his
earnest piety told upon the men. He also made it a point
to give God public thanks after his victories ; conduct on
the part of generals much eulogised by our author ; " and
because all true valour is founded in the knowledge of God
in Christ, such generals may and must, to raise the resolu
tions of their soldiers : by inserting and interposing passages
of Scripture, animating them to depend on God, the just
maintainer of a right cause. Thus Queen Elizabeth, in
'88, at Tilbury Camp, inspirited her soldiers with her Chris
tian exhortation."

Hopton, we are informed by an old memoir, kept " strict
communion with God all the while he was engaged in a war
with men. He was reckoned a Puritan before the wars for
his strict life, and a Papist in the wars for his exemplary
devotion : entertaining serious and sober Nonconformists
in his house, whilst he fought on foot against the rebellious
and factious in the field." Both at home and in the army,
he enforced " the strictest observation (observance) of the
Lord's Day, the encouragement of good ministers and
people throughout his quarters. He was also very strict in
deprecating rapine and acts of violence on the part of his
soldiery, saying that ' the scandal of his soldiers should
neither draw the wrath of God upon his undertaking, nor
enrage the country against his cause.' "

Some of Lord Hopton's most important victories were
gained about the time that Fuller threw in his lot with his

266 The Life of Fuller.

cause ; and, in his description of them, he tells us that they
are founded " not on the floating sands of uncertain
relations, but on the rock of real intelligence, having
gotten a manuscript of Sir Ralph Hopton's (courteously
communicated to me by his secretary, Master Tredin)
interpolated with his own hand, being a memorial of the
remarkables in the west, at which that worthy knight
was present in person."

Hopton's first victory was at Liskeard, in the county
of Cornwall (January iQth, 1643) and his chaplain tells-
us " He first gave orders that public prayers should be
had in the head of every squadron, and it was done
accordingly ; and the enemy, observing it, did style it
saying of Mass." In this engagement the Parliamentarian
forces under Stamford and Ruthven were defeated, and
many prisoners fell into the hands of the Royalists. Marching
that night to Liskeard, the King's forces first gave God
public thanks, and then took their own private repose."
Hopton's next great victory was at Stratton (near the
present favourite rising watering place of Bude, with its-
bracing air, good bathing, and strong Atlantic tide) where
on May i6th, in spite of great disadvantage, he routed the
Parliamentarians, under the Earl of Stamford, taking much
booty and many prisoners. They returned the usual thanks
on the summit of the hill, which they had won. The
" Cornish army " followed Stamford to Exeter, whither he-
had retired, after his " great defeat " so called in the
Roundheads' Remembrancer. Troops were despatched
from Oxford to reinforce Hopton's, under Prince Maurice,.
Hopton still remaining the real commander " whom
the people took to be the soul of that army, the

Cavalier Parson. 267

other names not being so well spoken of, or so we
known."

But the detachment from Oxford does not seem to have
kept up the reputation of the army of the West for its so
briety, especially at Taunton. " For whereas the chief
commanders of the Cornish army had restrained their sol
diers from all manner of licence, obliging them to solemn
and frequent acts of devotion, insomuch as the fame of
their religion and discipline was no less than of their courage
(these Oxford troops), were disorderly enough to give the
enemy credit in laying more to their charge than they
deserved." (Clarendon vii, 400.)

On July 5th an indecisive battle was fought near Bath on
an open plain at Lansdown, which Fuller describes as " a
heap of skirmishers huddled together," with Waller, the
Parliamentarian general, who had been dispatched from
London with a fresh army. Here Hopton, who is described
by Clarendon as "the soldiers' darling," was wounded
twice; he was shot through the arm, and subsequently
visiting the wounded on the field of battle, which was held
by his own troops, he was so much hurt by an explosion of
gunpowder that he was taken up at first for dead, a misfortune
which much dispirited the Royal troops. This accident
somewhat disfigured the appearance of his sedate but comely
countenance. For he had a clear eye, his nose was that
desiderated by Napoleon for his generals, and he had short
cut hair; his beard, which was of a reddish hue, being
closely cut.

The Royalist forces were then marched upon Devizes,
in Wilts, where Waller followed them. It was settled for
Hopton to defend this place, and hold the old Castle till

268 The Life of Fuller.

relieved, and for Maurice to break through the Parlia
mentarian lines, and reach Oxford. On July nth, Waller
made an unsuccessful attack upon the town, and while
terms of capitulation were being arranged, the beseiged were
relieved by some Royalist forces under Wilmot two days
afterwards, whereupon the army of the Parliament withdrew
to Rounday Down, near to which Waller was defeated,
and which became jocularly known as Ru?iaway Down.
Clarendon tells us that this victory redeemed the whole of
the King's affairs for a time. Bath was taken. Bristol
was surrendered (July 27th) to Prince Rupert by Colonel
Fiennes. " The terror of Sir Ralph Hopton's name, and
of his adjutant, Sir Francis Doddington, appears to have
been sufficient to keep all Wilts and Somerset in awe."
Hopton was now made Governor of Bristol, being " most
popular and gracious to that city and the country adjacent " ;
but Prince Rupert claimed the important position for him
self : the matter being compromised by Rupert being the
nominal governor, but Hopton the actual governor, which
unfortunate dispute (not of Hopton's creating) consumed a
good deal of valuable time.

It was here Hopton remained for the purpose of esta
blishing a magazine for arms and men, and to recover the
effects of his wounds, while Prince Maurice advanced
westwards to Exeter, taking the ever faithful city, " semper
fidelis" in September.

Before leaving Bristol for Gloucester, the King, on account
of his eminent military service and remarkable successes,
created Hopton, Baron Hopton of Stratton, in the county
of Cornwall. Fuller thus gives the account in his "Worthies" :
" Being chaplain to this worthy lord, I could do no less than

Cavalier Parson. 269

(in gratitude to his memory) make this exemplification."
The news of these continued successes gladdened the closing
hours of Fuller's old friend and tutor, Dr. Ward (of Sydney
College), " whose dying words were breathed up to Heaven
with his parting soul " in benediction of the King and his
general. But Lord Hopton had no easy task to garrison
Bristol, which the King obliged him to do, as the main body
of the army had gone to the west. However, by his
indomitable zeal and personal influence, this indefatigable
soldier collected a good force of both arms.

It was about this time Fuller joined Lord Hopton's
division, and if our author had remained at Oxford, roughly
speaking, about seventeen weeks, we may conclude he left
that University about the month of December, and went
away with the general to his military commandantship at
Bristol.

We do not know much of Fuller's life, nor have we any
details to our hand, during the years in which he followed
the fortunes of Baron Hopton, i.e., from the year 1643 to
' 1647, but it was the life of a campaigner. Our author,
when excusing the non-appearance of his promised eccle
siastical history, thus speaks of it : " For the first five
years during our actual civil wars, I had little list or leisure
to write, fearing to make a history, and shifting daily for my
safety. All that time I could not live to study, who did
only study to live." All we know is that he was in close
attendance on the General.

Lord Hopton had been ordered by the King to collect a
force out of the Bristol garrison to act apart in the Western
Counties, and be ready to meet Waller at any point, who
had been despatched to the West Country. This army ht

270 The Life of Fuller.

led to Salisbury, and then on to Winchester, where he was
met with a contingent of Devonshire soldiers, under Sir John
Berkeley. At this time he was persuaded, the King con
senting, to advance into Hampshire and Sussex, as the
King's adherents wished to form, at all events, the nucleus
of an army in those parts, and so break up the combination
which had gathered under Waller's standard, and massed in
the vicinity of Farnham.

Meanwhile, ^Lord Hopton passed into Sussex,, and pro
ceeded to Arundel Castle, one of the most charming spots
in the county, and the seat of the Duke of Norfolk, one of
the old English Roman Catholic families. On the march he
was joined by the famous William Chillingworth, author of
the "Religion of Protestants," who was attracted by the fame
and excellence of the Royalist leader, and no doubt, like
Fuller himself, he was glad of this favourable opportunity of
putting his Royalist principles (which had been characterised
by a little hesitancy and lukewarm preaching) beyond further
suspicion. Chillingworth had made himself useful at the
seige of Gloucester by his constructive power in the
engineering department, having invented some musket-proof
shelters — testudines cum pluteis — which were filled with
marksmen and run out on wheels. From these and other
contrivances he earned the soubriquet of the King's Little
Engineer and Black-art-man. It was getting on into winter
(Dec. Qth) when Arundel Castle (which was a place of great
strength, and as well protected by nature as fortified by art)
fell into the Royalists' hands. Hearing of Waller's advance,
Lord Hopton hastily returned to Winchester, leaving a
garrison at Arundel. Here Chillingworth, on account of
the severity of the winter weather, was left behind. Waller,

William Chillingworth. 271

attending his motions, suddenly fell on Lord Hopton's rear
near Alton, so that the Royal troops retired into Winchester
in some disorder, Arundel Castle falling into the hands of the
Parliamentary party. Among the prisoners was Chilling-
worth, who being unable to follow Waller to London, was
consigned to Chichester, where he was so barbarously
treated, that he died from the effects (according to Clarendon)
in a few days, about January 3oth, in the new year. Francis
Cheynell at that time usufructuary of the rich rectory of
Petworth, his old antagonist, has given us an interesting ac
count of his closing days, which throws considerable light on
the manners and customs of the military chaplains of those
days. The " malignants " were allowed to attend his
funeral, which was arranged as Cheynell observes " by men
of a cathedral spirit." A curious scene took place at the
grave. During the burial service, Cheynell solemnly walked
up to the grave, holding in his hand what he called the
mortal book of his dead brother ("The Apostolical Succession
of Christianity "), abused the volume, and thus denouncing it,
flung it on the coffin. " But his book," says Clarendon,
" will live and declare him to be a man of admirable parts
to all posterity." Fuller doesn't seem to have been present
on this occasion, nor are his remarks those of an eyewitness.
He merely tells us that Chillingworth had been taken
prisoner, " and not surprised and slain in his studies as
Archimedes, at the sacking of Syracuse (as some have given
it out), but was safely conducted to Chichester, where, notwith
standing, hard usage hastened his dissolution." ("Worthies",
Oxford, 340.) Chillingworth succeeded Dr. Duppa in the
Chancellorship of Sarum, where he had been a Prebend
since 1638, and he was selected to attend the Convocation

272 The Life of Fuller.

of 1640. " He was put into the roll" says Wood, to be
created Doctor of Divinity, with some others, " but he came
not to that degree, nor was he diplomated."

Fresh troops were sent from the King to reinforce Lord
Hopton's forces (who was much troubled by his defeat at
Alton, and the capitulation of Arundel Castle) at Winchester
under the King's general, the Earl of Brentford. Clarendon
tells us that " Hopton was exceedingly revived with the
presence of the general, and desired to receive his orders,
and that he (the Earl) would take upon him the absolute
command of the troops, which he as positively refused to
do ; only offered to keep him company in all expeditions,
and to give him the best assistance he was able." (Bk.
viii. 479.) This was agreed upon, and Brentford took the
lead.

With these reinforcements the Royal forces moved out
from Winchester to meet Waller, who was descending upon
Alresford. Lord Hopton, however, pushed forward with a
party of horse, leaving the remainder of the troops to
follow, and seized the village, where some of Waller's troops
had been quartered. Some skirmishes took place that day,
and on the next (Friday) they had a pitched battle. It was
March 2Qth when Hopton drew up his forces, about seven
miles from Winchester, upon Cheriton Down. The watch
word on both sides happened to be the same in both armies :
" God with us," but when Waller discovered this he changed
that of the Parliamentary army to " Jesus help us." The
battle was hotly contested, but the King's troops (which as
usual got the best of it at first) were utterly worsted, two
Irish regiments being the first to run off the field. In spite
of the most obstinate resistance, the Royal forces were

Basing-House. 273

completely routed, and dispersed. Many Royalist notables
were killed, and among them Lord John Stewart (the
Duke of Richmond's brother) who had followed Hopton
" to observe his conduct, and attain his other great virtues."
Hopton managed his forces soldier like, and with a party of
horse kept facing the enemy as well as he could to secure
his rear. His troops tried to fire the village in their retreat.
Waller failed to capture Lord Hopton's artillery, but con
tinued the pursuit towards Winchester. But Hopton,
favoured by the darkness, turned off to Basing House,
where it is clear that Fuller must now have been in the
general's company, for his biographer writes : " my Lord
Hopton drew down with his army and artillery to Basing
House, and so reached that way to Oxford, intending to
take up winter quarters as soon as he had consulted with the
King, and left the Doctor (Fuller) in that as courageously
manned as well fortified house." From Basing House
Hopton first of all advanced to Reading, and then got to
Oxford.

Waller (after taking Andover and Christchurch) returned
to Winchester, where he found the gates shut, which, how
ever, he battered down, giving up the town to plunder to
his soldiers, who behaved most disgracefully with the tombs
and monuments of the Cathedral, throwing down images
and escutcheons. This fanatical zeal of the Republican
army Fuller alludes to in his reference to " crest-fallen "
churches. Waller considered his reverses the next year a
judgment upon him for this sacrilegious irreverence on the
part of his troops. These military events are regarded by
Clarendon as a doleful beginning to the year 1644, and as
breaking up the King's measures. Waller now proceeded,

s

274 The Life of Fuller.

and not for the first time, to the assault of Basing House, in
which stronghold our hero now lay.

Basing House— where Fuller spent some time— was the
very extensive and magnificent seat of the Marquis of
Winchester. In his " Worthies," Fuller thus notices the
valour with which the inmates so long warded off the attacks
of the insurgents: "The motto, Love Loyalty (Aymez
Loyaulte), was often written in every window thereof, and was
well practised in it, when for resistance on that account it
was lately levelled to the ground." Once a magnificent
mansion, it was then a fort, and attained unexpectedly, as
other strongholds have done under similar circumstances,
great notoriety for its gallant defence. Even in the time of
Henry III. it was a strong place, and its ruins form one
of the most interesting relics of the civil wars. When it
had come into the hands of Sir William Pawlet he was
created by Edward the first Marquess of Winchester. The
original structure was added to by him, until, as Fuller
says, "it became the greatest of any subject's house in
England ; yea, larger than most (eagles have not the biggest
nests of all birds) of the King's palaces." This Marquess
was succeeded by his third son, John, who was sorely
pinched in keeping up such a large establishment, whose
rooms were all richly furnished.

By the time the Civil War broke out, John Pawlet had
contrived to free his establishment from all pecuniary
embarrassments, owing to his painstaking frugality. Dryden
describes this nobleman, who was a Roman Catholic, as " a
man of exemplary piety towards God, and of inviolable
fidelity towards his Sovereign." Hugh Peters, who went
through the house some three weeks after its final storming,

Basing-House. 275

was not only amazed at its elaborate decorations, but
scandalised at the relics of Romanism : " Popish books
many, with copes, utensils, &c." The old house had stood (as
it was reported) two or three hundred years, a nest of
idolatry : the new house surpassing that in beauty and
stateliness : and either of Lthem fit to make an emperor's
court. It was as much against the religion of the owner as
to his faithful allegiance to the cause of the King, that the
severity of the Puritan was directed. When the war broke
out, its owner at once declared for the King and offered
him both house and savings, which were gladly accepted, as
it was an important place, situate on rising ground, two
miles N. E. of Basingstoke ; a commercial centre, where five
roads met. This, with Donington Castle, near Newbury,
another Royalist stronghold, enabled the King to dominate
the great western highway. Many efforts were therefore made
to capture Basing House on account of its great importance,
whose surroundings had been considerably strengthened by
the inmates, a space of about fourteen acres being enclosed
with the earthwork, consisting of deep dry ditches or moats,
with high strong ramparts made of brick and lined with earth
— not easily pierced with shot.

The house, which was first defended only by the Mar
quess and his retainers by way of a garrison, subsequently
reinforced by 100 musketeers under Sir Robert Peake, sent
from Oxford by the King, was first invested by the Round
head General Waller, in August, 1643. It was by him un
successfully stormed thrice in nine days in the month of
November, who was compelled to retire with loss to Farn-
ham on the iQth. The garrison, which never seems to have
exceeded 500 men and 10 pieces of cannon, was of course

s 2

276 The Life of Fuller.

much weakened by these assaults — but during the next few
months the besiegers tried to starve them out, instead of
storming the stronghold. Fuller arrived at the fortress, be
tween the time that Waller left, and his next visit in March,
probably bearing some important letters, or despatches,
which at such critical times were usually confided to
such trusty parsons. No doubt, the Doctor would receive
a hearty welcome at Basing House, as its owner was rela
tion to the Paulets, who were Fuller's patrons. And if we
are to believe his biographer, he was neither an unemployed
nor unacceptable guest in that loyal stronghold. The Mar
quess was an ardent litterateur, and subsequently wrote some
pious works and adaptations of foreign devotional treatises.
Dryden wrote his epitaph in Englefield Church, where he
was buried, 1647..

While entering into the spirit of the scene, and doing his
best to stimulate the courage of the defenders, our author,
with his marvellous power of abstraction, commenced to
arrange the materials for his " Worthies " or " Church
History," and other antiquarian and literary work. This
work was rudely interrupted by the return of Waller's
besieging forces, fresh from the capture of Winchester,
which gave birth to some of those incidents inseparably con
nected with the history of Basing House. " He had scarce
begun," says his biographer, "to reduce his marching observa
tions into form and method, but Sir William Waller, having
taken in Winchester, came to besiege the Doctor's sanc
tuary. This no way amazed, or terrified him, but only the
noyse of the cannon playing from the enemy's leagure in
terrupted the prosecution of digesting his notes, which
trouble he recompensed to them by an importunate

Basing-House. 277

spiriting of the defendants in their sallies : which they
followed so close and so bravely, suffering the besiegers
scarce to eat or sleep, that Sir William was compelled to
raise his seige and march away, leaving about a thousand
men slain behind him : and the Doctor the pleasure of see
ing that strong effort of rebellion, in some way by his
means, repulsed and defeated, and in being free to proceed
in his wonted intendments."

Whether this account is exaggerated or not, we cannot say,
but it is only right to mention that none of Fuller's other
biographers mention it, nor does the Doctor allude to it
himself in any of his works. That he must have been
mixed up with the frequent sallies is evident, and his
presence may or may not have been noticed, but whether
so or no, his modesty is shown by his silence about him
self. We may therefore say of him as he did of Samson :
" His silence was no less commendable than his valour.
But indeed the truest prowess pleaseth more in doing than
repeating its own achievements." — (" Pisgah-Sight " ii.,

2I5-)
Among other notabilities who assisted at the siege, and

gave their assistance to the garrison, Col. Johnson, the
herbalist, may be mentioned, and Inigo Jones, the archi
tect. Johnson, however, fell a victim during the siege,
which is thus alluded to by our author : — " A dangerous
service having to be done, this Doctor, who publicly pre
tended not to valour, undertook and performed it. Yet after
wards he lost his life (1644) in the siege of the same house,
and was (to my knowledge) generally lamented of those
who were of an opposite judgment. But let us bestow this
epitaph upon him : —

278 The Life of Fuller.

Hie Johnson jacet, sed si mors cederet herbis,
Arte fugata tua cederet ilia tuis,

' Here Johnson lies : could physic fence Death's dart,
Sure death had been declined by his art.'

Inigo Jones was also there at the last seige, " an excellent
architector to build, but no engineer to pull down." So
also the celebrated engraver, Wentzell Hollar, who
afterwards illustrated some of Fuller's works, for he
engraved the west front of Lichfield Cathedral in his
" Churdi History," and also etched the frontispiece of the
Doctor's collected sermons, published in 1657. Hollar is
also supposed to have executed a portrait of Lord Win
chester, and to have made an etching of " The Siege of
Basinge House," from which the engraving is taken. " In
a window," says Mr. Bailey, " at the Rectory of Basing-
stoke are two quarries of domestic character, which were
found in a cottage in that town some years ago, and are
supposed to have come from old Basing House. One
bears the crest of the Pawlet family (a falcon gorged), the
other Lord Winchester's badge as Chamberlain (namely, a
key surrounded by a cord). This device occurs repeatedly
on brackets and shields in Basing Church, and also upon a
stone corbel, now at Basingstoke Rectory, which appears to
have come from Basing Church, as it resembles others
which are still in situ. The Rector of Basingstoke also
has one of Cromwell's cannon balls (a large one), and the
marks of others are to be seen in the walls of the
Church."

Several other attempts were made subsequently to reduce
this Royalist stronghold, under various Parliamentary
leaders, Morley, Harvey, and Waller, but without success,

Basing-House. 279

nor was their military reputation thereby improved. Its
ultimate reduction, however, took place under Oliver Crom
well (Oct. 4th, 1645), who described its fall in a letter to
the Speaker, beginning in these words : "I thank God, I
can give you a good account of Basing." A tradition in
the neighbourhood says that the garrison were surprised
while playing at cards, and there is a local saying among
whist players, " Clubs trumps, as when Basing House was
taken." Altogether, 2,000 men are said to have been slain
before the place, which had received two soubriquets, one
wittily that of " Basting House," on account of the many
repulses of the besiegers, and the other " Loyalty House,"
from the pronounced loyal devotion of its inmates. It is a
place described by Sanderson, seated and built as* if for
royalty, and Fuller's biographer says, in his notice of this
princely edifice, " in spight of their potent arms," in his time
still standing, " afterwards through the fortune of war,
being fallen into their hands and razed by their more im
potent revenge, he doth heartily lament in his ' Worthies
General,' preferring it, while it nourished, for the chiefest
fabric in Hantshire. This his kindness to the place of his
refuge, though no doubt true and deserved enough, yet no
questionless was . indeared in him by some more peculiar
obliging regards and respects he found during his abode
there, though indeed his worth could want and miss them
nowhere."

How long our author proved himself a doughty member
of the Church Militant, and assisted the gallant defence in
this palatial and loyal stronghold of " Basing " we cannot
accurately determine ; and all we can glean is from the
account given of Fuller's biographer. "What time the Doctor

280 The Life of Fuller.

continued here is very uncertain ; sure we may be, he was
not unemployed or an unacceptable guest to that loyal
garrison, and that as noble as honourable Marquis, the
Proprietary of the place, and his next removal was to his
charge in the army, and his particular duty of chaplain to
the said lord."

Although Fuller's movements just now seem a good deal
shrouded in obscurity, he would appear about this time to
have gone back to Oxford, where Lord Hopton was busily
engaged in collecting materials for a new departure to the
West country, where the chief hope of the Royalist cause
apparently lay. These Royalist troops were massed about
Marlborough ; it was thought that Sir William Waller would
be moving in that direction down West. Lord Hopton
usually held a command apart, and about April i6th, 1644,
was quartered at Merlinsborough, with a force exceeding
10,000 foot and horse. Subsequently, he removed to New-
bury, Fuller still being in his train, waiting to discover the
movements and intentions of the enemy. At this time our
author occasionally visited Oxford, and probably witnessed
the scene which took place there, at the dissolution of the
" Mongrel " Parliament, as it was called, and final parting
of the King and Queen in the Cathedral Church of Christ
Church. The King having, in the presence of the Peers,
received the Sacrament of the Lord's Body and
Blood at the hands of Ussher, Archbishop of Armagh, rose
up from his knees and made the following declaration:
" My lord, I espy here many resolved Protestants, who may
declare to the world the resolution which I do now make.
I have to the utmost of my power prepared my soul to be
come a worthy Receiver ; and may I so receive comfort by

Preaches again before the King. 281

the blessed Sacrament, as I do intend the establishment of
the true Reformed Protestant religion, as it stood in its
beauty in the happy days of Queen Elizabeth, without any
connivance at Popery. I bless God that in the midst of
these public distractions I have still liberty to communicate,
and may this Sacrament be my damnation if my heart do
not join with my lips in this protestation." Fuller again, by
some influence, came under the notice of the King, and
hearing that he was either in the city or neighbourhood,
King Charles made a special request that the witty divine
should preach a second time before him. This request was
complied with, and Fuller not only preached before the
King, but the sermon was subsequently published, though
without dedication, according to his wont. It was preached
on one of the monthly fast days, on Friday, May loth, the
Royalists keeping Fridays and the Parliamentarians Wednes
days, as days of humiliation and deprecating the wrath of
God, during this unhappy civil warfare. It was held on the
second Friday in each month in all churches and chapels,
and there was a special form of prayer drawn up for use on
these occasions, besides which there was usually a sermon
to edify the faithful Royalists. On the first of these days
(October 13, 1643) Chillingworth preached a sermon on
2 Tim. iii. 1-5, which was published the year after his death.
There were therefore two fasts in each month, which fact is
alluded to by Fuller in the following terms.* " During these

* When the Jewish Sabbath in the primitive times was newly
changed into the Christian Lord's Day, many devout people
twisted both together in their observations, abstaining from
servile works, and keeping both Saturday and Monday wholly for
holy employments.

282 The Life of Fuller.

civil wars Wednesday and Friday fasts have been appointed
by different authorities. What harm had it been if they had
both been generally observed ? Do not our two fasts more
peremptorily affirm and avouch our mutual malice and
hatred ? God forgive us ! we have cause enough to keep
ten, but not care enough to keep one monthly day of
humiliation." ("Good Thoughts in Worse Times : Med on
Times, No. xvii.")

Fuller's Fast sermon, which he preached at St. Mary's, be
fore the King and the Prince, was on the subject of
"Jacob's vo\v" (Genesis xxviii, 20-21). It is thus given in
Mr. Bailey's life, and is extremely rare and almost unknown
before. The preacher describes the general circumstances
under which the vow was made, dividing it into two parts
(i) Petitio, a request which he desired of God ; (2) Pro-
missio, a duty which he promised to perform to God. (i)
Jacob asked not for all the four things God had promised
him, but for bread for necessitie. Fuller then asks why
Isaac, being exceedingly rich, had sent forth his son so
poore, when he had sent for his very servant on the same
journey so richly attended. He gives four reasons (i) That
his brother might not so easily miss him, or know which way
to go after him; (2) that his misery might move his
brother to compassion and reconciliation ; (3) that, having
no money to maintain him, he might have more mind to
return home again ; and (4) that he might have better ex
perience of God's mercy. He then deduces that Adversitie
is the blessing of God's children as well as Prosperitie.
Jacob's moderate petition was designed to teach us modera
tion, " having once, seen God in Bethel, and set his heart
upon Him, who is the true treasure, he neither admired nor

Jacob's Vow. 283

much desired (more than was necessary) this worldly trash."
" Earthly honours and riches are the shadow of heavenly, and
the pleasures of sinne not so much as shadows of heavenly
pleasures."

But in addition to this moderate request for worldly goods
he desires the Divine Protection, " which is the staffe of
bread and blessing, without which a man may starve for
hunger, with bread in his mouthe, and die like the children
of Israel, with the flesh of quails between their teethe."

(2) He comes to the duties he promiseth to perform to
God. " Jacob having received but even the promise of a
benefit, presently voweth the performance of a dutie, to
teach all true Israelites that beneficium postulat officium ;
and that the thankfulness of the receiver ought to answere
unto the benefit of the bestower as the eccho answereth
to the voice." He concludes, " that we all having received
the same spiritual and temporal mercies are bound to the
like thankfulnesse." He reminds his congregation that
" many of them have passed over, not Jordan, but the river
of Trent, or Thames, or Severne, with their staves in their
hands, in poor estates in comparison, and are now laden
with riches and honours, and yet have not vowed with
Jacob to have the Lord for their God. One religious
vow you see weekly paid in this place by our Royal
Jacob, I mean our Tuesday's exercise : which was de
voutly vowed upon- as just an occasion as ever vow was
made. And hitherto (God be thanked) it hath been re-
ligiouslie performed. God grant that this our Jacob may
long and long live a happie King of this happie island, even
as long (if it be His will) as the old Patriarke Jacob did, to
pay his tribute and the rest of his vows to the King of

284 The Life of Fuller.

Kings. And thus much for the generall of Jacob's
vow."

In the next division of the discourse Fuller discussed the
particular duties vowed by the Patriarch : these are three :
(i) " That the Lord should be his God. (2) That the stone
he had set up as a pillar should be God's house, i.e., that
he would dedicate that place to the publique worship of
God. (3) That for the maintenance of both these he would
give the tenth of all that he had." (i) He describes as the
summe of the first commandment and the duty of every
one not an atheist : " How they perform this dutie, who
bestowe more cost even upon points and shoe strings in
one day than upon the worshipping of God a whole yeere,
judge ye."

(ii) This duty necessarily depends on the former, " For if
God must be worshipped, then must He have a place to be
worshipped in, here called a House." He called the
place Bethel because (i) God had manifested His presence
here in an extraordinary manner ; and (2) because Jacob
had consecrated the place to His service, To teach us,
that as our first care should be of the worship of God, so
our second care should be of the place of His worship. "He
distilleth the drops of His mercie upon every part of the
earth : but He poureth it down upon that holy ground
which is dedicated to His service."

Fuller then refers to the existing condition of the parish
churches : " Some of these houses which they (our fore
fathers) have built, and even the fairest of them, since their
buttresses and pillars (I mean their maintenance) have been
pluckt away, begin to droop alreadie, and in time (if it be not
prevented) will moulder away and drop down. And yet

JacoUs Vow. 285

who pitieth the mines of Zion, or repaireth any one wall or
window thereof? As we need not therefore vow to build,
let us vow to beautifie, or at least to keep up those houses
which are built to our hands."

(iii) Jacob in the third place " voweth for himself and all
the posteritie, as well of his faith as flesh, unto the end of
the world the payment of Tithes." Why does he vow the
tenth ? Because he knew, that by the light of nature or the
tradition and practice of his ancestors, that this quota, the
tenth, and no other part, was, is, and for ever must be, due
as unto God, as either His house or His worship. That
God, from the very creation of the world, reserved to Him
self (i) a form of Divine Worship; (2) a time for this wor
ship, the Sabbath Day ; (3) a place for this worship, which
is His House (4) a priesthood, which may never bow the
knee to Baal; (5) Tithes, for the maintenance of all these).
He suggests that Cain and Abel may have been taught to
offer Tithes by Adam — names the payment to Melchesidech
— the practice of the Levitical priesthood — and challenges
any man " to show when and where they were abrogated by
the Gospel." Not by Christ (Matt, xxiii.) ; not by St. Paul
(Gal. vi., 6) ; though he nameth not the very quotum, but
took it for granted. He then refers to i. Cor. ix., and
lastly (" which in mine opinion is the most impregnable
place ") Heb. vii. He goes on, " It is absurd to say that
these Tithes were only Leviticall, and that there is now
nothing but a competencie due by a morall equitie." Hav
ing shown that they were more than Levitical, he proceeds :
To speak of a competencie now, is a mere conceit, for who
shall presume to set down an uncertain competencie when
God Himself hath set down a perpetual certaintie, which

286 The Life of Fuller.

He never yet altered." Or why should any man think
that God, who provided a standing, certain, and liberal main
tenance for the Levitical priesthood in the time of the Law
which was less honourable, should leave the Ministerie of
the Gospel, which exceedeth in honour, to a beggarlie and
uncertain competencie: especially foreknowing and foretelling
that in these days charitie should wax cold and men be
lovers of themselves and their pleasures more than lovers
of God and His Church ; and yet he requireth hospitalitie
at our hands, too, which He knew the world's competencie
could not afford." He advises the nobility not only to pay
their own tithes, but to redeem the captive tithes out of the
hands of those who have usurped the same, " than which
they cannot almost offer a more acceptable sacrifice unto
God." He says the competency of ten pounds a year left
in some parishes is " scarce a competency for a Hog-heard,"
and that " the poor Levite has in some places, not the tenth,
in some not the twentieth part of the tithes." In conclusion,
he prays God " that the body of the Honourable Parlia
ment were as willing as the religious and Royal Head

hereof, to take this grievance into their serious considera
tion " and enact " some wholesome law for the honour of
God, the advancement of His Church, the peace of their
own consciences, and the reliefe of the poor clergie in this
behalf, that so we might all (as we are all bound) pray
Jacob's vow unto the God of Jacob, and receive from Him
Jacob's blessing."

The King's vow, which seems so prominently brought
before our notice in this discourse, points to the promise
publicly and weekly commemorated to give back to the

Church all the Abbey lands which he then held. There

King Charles' Vow. 287

are no records on the subject, but if we correlate the
protestation made by the King before the celebrant, Arch
bishop of Armagh (Ussher) with this vow, we shall pro
bably approximate to the truth of the facts. It was not till
April 1 3th, 1646, a few days before the King left the city in
disguise, that this vow " concerning the Restoring Church
Lands " was committed to writing. Here it is, as quoted
by the author of the " Fasts and Festivals of the Church,"
Robert Nelson : — " I, A. B. do here promise and solemnly
vow, in the presence, and for the service, of Almighty God,
that if it shall please His Divine Majesty, of His Infinite
goodness, to restore me to my just Kingly Rights, and to
re-establish me in my Throne, I will wholly give back to
His Church all those impropriations which are now held
by the Crown ; and what lands soever I now do, or should
enjoy, which have been taken away, either from any Epis
copal See, or any Cathedral or Collegiate Church, from any
Abbey or other Religious House. I likewise promise for
hereafter to hold them from the Church, under such reason
able fines and rents as shall be set down by some conscien
tious Persons, whom I promise to choose with all upright
ness of heart, to direct me in this particular. And I most
humbly beseech God to accept of this my vow, and to bless
me in the designs I have now in Hand, through Jesus
Christ our Lord. — Amen. — CHARLES R." The vow is also
to be found in that remarkable volume, " Spelmaris History
and Fate of Sacrilege" which is signed and attested as true
by Bishop Sheldon. There is also additional evidence to
prove that it was the King's fixed determination to restore
to the Church all that the exigencies of the times required
him to give up, and this especially in the case of the

288 The Life of Fuller.

Bishops' lands. " Here," says Fuller, " some presumed to
know His Majesty's intention, that he determined with him
self in the interim (within the period of the lease for 99
years) to redeem them, by their own revenues, and to re
fund them to ecclesiastical uses, which is proportionable to
his large heart in matters of that nature."

Our author's movements become again obscure, but we
shall not be wrong in assuming that, in company with Lord
Hopton, he went first to Newbury, and then, after the
skirmish with Captain Temple at Islip, near Oxford, pro-
ceeded to Bristol, where the general was sent by the orders
of the King. " The war was then at its zenith," says
Fuller's biographer, " hotter and more dilated, raging every
where, both in this and the two neighbouring kingdoms, so
that there was no shelter or retirement, which it had not
invaded and intruded into by unruly garrisons, while the
country became a devastated solitude, so that the Doctor's
design (writing his " Worthies ") could proceed nowhere.
This, therefore, is the most active part of Fuller's life as
1 cavalier parson.' "

The King, pursued by the Parliamentary forces under
Waller, and feeling uncomfortable as to the future of the
Queen, who was then at Exeter, determined to get to Exeter
by forced marches. He met some of Hopton's detachment,
who had received orders to levy troops in South Wales at
Yeovil (intending to form a junction with Prince Maurice,
in North Devon) and arrived at Bath (where he heard of
Marston Moor) on July i5th. During his march the King
heard of the Queen's flight from Exeter, which made him
slacken his pace, the Royal army not reaching the " ever-
faithful" city till July 26th, Essex having gone to the relief

Royalist Liturgies. 28

Plymouth. Here, then, for the first time, Fuller took up
his temporary abode at Exeter, for, as his biographer
says, " he took refuge there " betimes, i.e. before the Royal
forces had been driven into Cornwall at the end of
February, 1646, adding that "he took his conge and dis
mission of his beloved lord."

We may, then, contemplate our author during this portion
of his career, performing his duties of military chaplain with
zeal and much painstaking regularity. He was, in the
highest and best sense of the word, " a painful and pious
priest": not one who gave pain to his hearers, but one
who took great pains, gave himself much trouble in the
discharge of his solemn responsibilities. " During the
compania," his biographer goes on to say, " and while the
army continued in the field, he performed the duty of his
holy function with as much solemn piety and devotion as
he used in places consecrated to God's worship, and ac
cording to the form used and appointed by the Church
of England, in all emergencies and present enterprises,
using no other prayers than what the Fathers of the Church
had in those miserable exigencies newly direct." This, of
course, refers to those Royalist liturgies, like all our modem
State prayers, of very unequal merit, which had at that
time come into use. Forms were drawn up under con
siderable excitement : first, the monthly fasts on Fridays
had to be provided for, and then there was a Collection of
Prayers and Thanksgivings put out at Oxford, for "use
in His Majesty's Chapel, and in his armies." These con
tained special thanksgivings for victories over the Rebels
at Edgehill, and in the North and West, and for the
Queen's safe return, which provoked, as might be expected.

the ridicule of the Puritans.

T

290 The Life of Fuller.

Constant preaching was added to these prayers by our
chaplain on the Lord's Day. He especially animated the
soldiers " to fight courageously, and to demean themselves
worthy of that glorious cause with which God had honoured
them," which stirring addresses must often have inspirited the
besieged at Basing. To be busied in God's service was —
in the preacher's opinion — the surest armour against the
darts of death ; " no malice of man can antedate my end a
minute whilst my Maker hath any work for me to do." In
his daily services he used to read David's Psalms, and in a
collection of prayers, bearing date 1648, there are certain
Psalms given as being suitable for certain occasions (with
proper prayers) as setting the guards, marching forth, &c.

His biographer thus gives the account of the way in which
Fuller spent the many leisure hours of time, and his taste
for antiquarian researches : " With the progress of the war
he marched from place to place, and wherever there
happened (for the better accommodation of the army) any
reasonable stay, he allotted it with great satisfaction to his
beloved studies. Those cessations and intermissions begot
in him the most intentness and solicitous industry of mind ;
which, as he never used to much recreation or diversion
in times of peace, which might loose and relasch (sic.) a
well disciplined spirit : so neither did the horror and
rigidness of the war stiffen him in such a stupidity (which
generally possessed all learned men) or else distract him,
but that in such lucid intervals he would seriously come
to himself and his designed business."

" Indeed, his business and study then was a kind of
Errantry, having proposed to himself (in addition to his
Ecclesiastical History) a more exact collection of the

Collects Materials for his Literary Works. 291

Worthies General of England, in which others had waded
before, but he resolved to go through. In what places
soever therefore he came, of remark especially, he spent fre
quently most of his time in views and researches of their an
tiquities and church monuments, insinuating himself into the
acquaintance (which frequently ended in a lasting friendship)
of the learnedest and gravest persons residing within the
place, thereby to inform himself fully of those things he
thought worthy the commendation of his labours. It is an
incredible thing to think what a numerous correspondence
the Doctor maintained and enjoyed by this means.

"Nor did the good Doctor ever refuse to light his
candle in investigating truth from the meanest persons'
discovery. He would endure contentedly an hour's or more
impertinence from any aged church-officer, or other super
annuated people, for the gleaning of two lines to his purpose.
And though his spirit was quick and nimble, and all the
faculties of his mind ready and answerable to that activity
of despatch, yet in these inquests he would stay and at
tend those CIRCULAR rambles till they came to a point :
so resolute was he bent in sifting out abstruse antiquity.
Nor did he ever dismiss any such feeble adjutators or
helpers (as he pleased to style them) without giving them
money and cheerful thanks besides." (" Life," pp. 26-29).

This was indeed a strange sort of life for a Royalist
Chaplain, but it was one which the good Doctor took de
light in, and one not (witness Caesar's Commentaries) alto
gether without precedent even in secular history. In col
lecting materials for his historical work, Fuller made diligent
use of the parish registers, which we need not say cannot be
kept too carefully by the beneficed clergy, and other paro-

T 2

292 The Life of Fuller.

chial records, and these were useful in certain " nativities.""
With great justice he bemoans the " fieya xcur/ux, that 'great
gulph ' or broad blank, left in our registers during our civil
wars, after the laying aside of bishops, and before the resti
tution of his most sacred majesty : yea, hereafter, this sad
vacuum is like to prove so thick, like the ^Egyptian darkness,
that it will be sensible in our English histories. I dare
maintain, the wars betwixt York and Lancaster, lasting, by
intermission, some sixty years, were not so destructive to
church records as our modern wars in six years ; for during
the former their differences agreed in the same religion,
impressing them with reverence of all sacred muniments,
whilst our civil wars, founded in faction and vanity of pre
tended religions, exposed all naked church records a prey
to their armed violence."*

When, then, our chaplain pursued his antiquarian re
searches, it must have been under difficulties, and we hardly
know which to admire more — the fact itself or its results.
He not only filled up the long gaps of idleness, incident to a
soldier's life, but this mental activity had the approval of his
own conscience. " More than anything else, perhaps," says
one who has successfully delineated his portrait, " besides the
approval of his own conscience, did it tend to what appears
so remarkable in studying his works — that unmurmuring
acquiescence in the decrees of Providence, even when they
were most averse to his own earnest hopes and most
cherished desires — a feature in his character not enough
noticed by his biographer, but which is very strikingly
apparent when his works are read with a recollection of his

* "Worthies," c xxiii., p. 65.

What is Primitive Antiquity? 293

times and the circumstances in which they were severally
written. And that there is no assumed resignation here, every
reader of them will feel assured ; for never was the character
of an author more impressed on his writings than that of
Fuller on his. That they are perfectly natural, it is as
impossible to doubt as to doubt their perfect honesty."

By these pursuits Fuller acquired that marvellous skill in
descents and pedigrees which characterises his Worthies,
•and enabled him from his own experience and antiquarian
lore to write thus in his essay on "The Good Herald ": — "To
be able only to blazon a coat doth no more make an Herald
than the reading the titles of Gallipots makes a physician.
Bring our Herald to a monument ubi jacet Epitaphium, and
where the arms on the tombs are not only crest-fallen, but
their colours scarce to be discerned, and he will tell whose
they be, if any certainty therein can be rescued from the
teeth of time."*

We see our author's reverence for antiquity, and
the same shrewd delineation, where he pourtrays the
•companion portrait of " The True Church] Antiquary," illus
trating the maxim of baiting at middle antiquity, but lodging
not till he came to that which is ancient indeed. "Some
scour off the rust of old inscriptions into their own souls,
cankering themselves with superstition, having read so often
Orate pro anima, that at last they fall a-praying for the de
parted, and they more lament thejruins of monasteries than the
decay and ruin of monks' lives, degenerating from their ancient
piety and painfulness. Indeed, a little skill in antiquity in
clines a man to Popery; but depth in that study brings

Holy State," p. 115 (Pickering's Edition.)

294 The Life of Fuller.

him about again to our religion. A nobleman who had
heard the extreme age of one dwelling not far off, made a
journey to visit him, with admiration of his age, till his mis
take was rectified, for ' Oh, sir ' said the young old man,
* I am not he whom you seek for, but his son ; my father
is farther off in the field.' The same error is daily com
mitted by the Romish Church, adoring the reverend brow
and grey hairs of some ancient ceremonies, perchance but
of some seven or eight hundred years' standing in the
Church, and mistake these for their fathers, of far greater age
in the primitive times." (" Fuller's Holy State," p. 54.)

A little learning is a dangerous thing ;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
There shallow drops intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again."

—Pope's Essay on Criticism.

Siege of Exeter. 295

CHAPTER XVI.

SIEGE OF EXETER, THE EVER FAITHFUL CITY (semper

fidelis). — 1644-6.

" How many churches and chapels of the God of St. Lawrence
have been laid waste in England by this woeful war ! and which
is more (and more to be lamented) how many living Temples of the
Holy Ghost, Christian people, have therein been causelessly and
cruelly destroyed ! How shall our nation be ever able to make
recompense for it? God of His goodness forgave us that debt
which we of ourselves are not able to satisfy." — Good Thoughts
in Bad Times. (" Historical Application," vii.)

|E now accompany our author to the capital of the
West Country, without rival — beautiful for situ
ation, the joy and pride of fair Devon, Exeter —
the ever faithful city. At the time of his sojourn
there, it was very different to the description he gives
of it in 1660, when he spoke of it as one of the sweetest
and neatest cities in England. One of the Canons of
the Cathedral, Dr. Kellett, thus writes of it in his " In-
coenium" (1641), that "whereas the city of Exeter by its
natural situation is one of the sweetest cities in England,
yet by the ill use of many is one of the nastiest and
noysommest cities of the land ; but for my love to that
city I do forbear to say more." Although there were a
dozen churches (now there are twenty-one) they never
had a churchyard but the Cathedral, and Bishop Hall
made the remark that the accumulation of corpses was

296 The Life of Fuller.

so great, buried within the walls, that they threatened to
bury the Cathedral itself.

From the earliest times, owing to its natural position,
Exeter has been a most important place, a centre of all
military enterprises, eventuating westwards, and therefore
the key of the strategical position. It was, no doubt, a
British stronghold, and known as the " city on the river "
(Caer Isc). It was built on the head of the estuary of the
Exe, just where the river ceases to be navigable, and no
doubt was the great emporium with the western tin trade.
The Romans also established themselves here, as is evi
denced by many coins of Claudius, which have been
found.

Even after the departure of the Romans, it long remained
the capital of the British kingdom of Damnonia, which
included the counties of Devon, Cornwall, and part of
Somerset. When, however, Athelstan came westward, about
926, he found the town, which was called Exanceaster (the
English name — the " Chester," or fortified town on the Exe,
which has been shortened into Exeter), occupied by both
Britons and English. William of Malmesbury says that
Athelstan held a gemote there, when certain laws still in
existence were promulgated, and fortified the city with
towers, surrounding it with a wall of square stones. These
defences were not only raised against the Britons of " West
Wales" but against the Danes, who had wintered in
Exeter, 876, and again beset the burgh in 894, when
King Alfred marched against them and compelled
them to fly to their ships. These walls protected the
city in 1001, when the Danes ravaged the whole of that
south coast of Devon, and enabled the burghers to beat off

Siege of Exeter. 297

their assailants. It was taken and plundered in 1003, but
only through the treachery of the Norman Hugh, " reeve "
of the Lady Emma, Queen of ^thelred, who had
received the royal rights over Exeter, as part of her
" morning gift." The Danes then broke down the walls,
having before this ravaged the whole of the surrounding
county, in consequence of which " the Bishop's stool," of
Devonshire, then at Crediton (to which Cornwall had been
previously united), was removed by the Confessor in 1050
to the walled " burgh " of Exeter — which gave its name for
some hundreds of years to the See, dominating the two
westernmost counties, till its division again a few years ago
(1877) into the Dioceses of Exeter and Truro (Cornwall),
which has been followed by such happy and marvellous
results, surpassing even the most sanguine expectations.

From its physical position, its increased importance as a
Cathedral city, Exeter soon developed into a consider
able local centre, just as York and Norwich had done,
and the chief stronghold and key of the Western
Peninsula. Even after the battle of Hastings it
remained a long time independent, Gytha, the
mother of Harold, taking refuge there with her own
daughter, and some say the children of Harold. The
burghers rallied round the Saxon, and prepared to resist the
intrusion of an " alien king," and it was not till the spring
of 1068 that William the Conqueror reduced it to submis
sion, after a siege of 18 days. He then erected a strong
castle on the Rougemont, "red mount," overlooking
the city, which had been indifferently fortified before. This
castle was in 1137 held out for Queen Matilda by Baldwin,
Earl of Devon, and it was taken by Stephen after a siege

The Life of Fuller.

of three months, during which the Cathedral of St. Peter
was partly burned. Exeter was all this time a great com
mercial city, and the small craft then in use were able to
come right up to the city, and land their cargo on its quays.
This, however, was no longer possible after the powerful
Countess of Devon, Isabella de Fortibus, built a weir (still
called Countess Weir) right across the river, about a mile
above Topsham,in 1284. There was much excitement in and
around Exeter during the wars of the Roses, when this land
was long wasted with civil war, " till the red rose became
white with the blood it had lost and the white rose red with
the blood it had shed," as our author puts it.

The city took the side of the House of Lancaster, and
in 1469 received within its walls some of the most prominent
of the partisans of King Henry, and although it was be
sieged by Sir William Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, for
1 2 days, and the Yorkists, it held out against all assaults.
The celebrated Earl of Warwick, and Clarence, fled
to Exeter after the battle of Losecote, in Lincoln,
and thence to Dartmouth, so that when Edward IV.
arrived in Exeter (April, 1470) he found no enemy
to fight with. The burghers presented him with a
purse of 100 nobles, and he walked in procession to the
Cathedral on Palm Sunday. Perkin Warbeck, in 1497,
after landing in Whitsand Bay, near Plymouth, marched on
to Exeter in ten days, but was stoutly resisted by the
citizens, and in spite of many assaults was compelled to
raise the siege, and fly before King Henry VII. to Beaulieu,
in Hampshire. He was, however, taken at Taunton, and
led back to Exeter. Here the rebels were led out with
halters round their necks before the King, to enable whom

Siege of Exeter. 299

to have a better view of them as they passed along before
him, eight large trees were felled in the Cathedral yard.
Henry pardoned them, but many had been already executed
in Southernhay, which is hard by the Cathedral.

The next siege of the city was in 1549, when the Wes
tern Counties rose in defence of what was called " the old
religion," the Catholic faith. Exeter exerted itself
vigorously in 1588, during the alarm of the great Spanish
Armada, and Queen Elizabeth then granted to the city the
motto attached to its shield of arms — " Semper fidelis."

We have been led to make these historical remarks about
Exeter, to point out its extreme importance to the Royalist
cause, in a strategical point of view, as the metropolis of the
west. The city, too, was compact and surrounded with walls.
It was defended by the castle or stronghold of Rougemont,
" red mount," so called from the colour of the soil, and
which dominated the whole city itself, and indeed the entire
neighbourhood. Fuller describes it thus in his time : " The
houses stand sideways backward into their yards, and only
endways with their gables towards the street. The city
therefore is greater in content than appearance, being bigger
than it presenteth itself to passengers through the same."*
And again, in his " Church History," he speaks of it as a
" round city, on a rising hill most capable of fortification, both
for the site and form thereof. Her walls, though of the old
edition, were competently strong, and well repaired."!

When the Civil War broke out, a city enjoying such natural
advantages was of course much coveted by the partisans of

* " Worthies," Exeter, p. 273.
f " Church History," Book vii., 293.

300 The Life of Fuller.

either side, but faithful to her old motto, Exeter remained
staunch, true and loyal to the cause of " Church and King,"
and her four gates were frequently shut against the foe. The
Earl of Stamford, at the head of the Parliamentarians,
attacked it, and contrived to maintain a garrison there
(Oct., 1642), which contributed not a little to the successes
of the following year. After the loss of the battle of
Stratton, where the Earl held the chief com mand, hehast-
ened to Exeter with the news of his defeat, and expecting
a siege, destroyed all the houses in the suburbs, and ordered
the trees on the walls, and in the northern and southern Hays
to be cut down. After the capture of Bristol (July 24, i643),Sir
John Berkeley was sent by Charles I. to hold the command
in Devonshire, and take measures for blockading Exeter.
About the middle of the following month Prince Maurice
came with his army before Exeter, and found Sir John
Berkeley besieging the city, with his guards close to the gates.
The siege continued till after the loss of the Parliamentarian
garrison on the north coast, when the Earl of Stamford, after
an eight months' siege, was induced to surrender, which con
siderably diminished the power of the Parliamentarians in
the west. Sir John Berkeley was then made Governor, to
the great joy of the major part of the citizens, who were
zealous Royalists "deservedly appointed," as Fuller says.
From this time and throughout the war, Exeter was the
principal garrison and chief hope of the Royalists, after
this, its ninth siege in its history

Exeter being regarded as a place of great security,
and the Governor of the city being a man in
whom confidence could be safely placed, the Queen,
then far advanced in pregnancy, was sent there, and

The Queen's Arrival at Exeter. 301

was joyfully received by the citizens, who conducted her to
Bedford House. The " ever faithful" city was regarded as not
only one of the strongest garrisons belonging to the Royal
ists, but was conveniently situated in case a retreat was
necessary to France, a contingency not to be overlooked, as
she lay under a charge of high treason, for conveying money
and arms into England. The Queen had left Oxford, April
17, 1644, and was escorted on her journey by her husband the
first day, which proved the last time the King ever saw her.
The Queen who had rested one night at Bath — that
charming old Roman city, with its mineral springs, destined
one day to be the centre of gaiety and fashion — on her way,
and was suffering from the effects of rheumatic fever,
caught in the previous summer's campaign, arrived at Exeter
on May day. Here she took up her quarters at Bedford
House, a large secluded and quiet mansion, occupied as the
residence of the Governor. This old building had been a
Dominican convent, which Edward IV. had made his head
quarters when in Exeter, and at the dissolution of the mon
asteries, had been conferred upon John Russell, afterwards
Earl of Bedford, Lord- Lieutenant of Devon, a family much
enriched, especially at Tavistock, with lands and buildings
originally belonging to the Church. This dwelling-house
having been pulled down, the site was covered by the pre
sent Bedford Circus, from which there is an outlet into
Southernhay, where the theatre stands, and from which, too,
another one has quite recently been made into High-street
itself, which certainly has not improved the appearance of
that famous and picturesque street, whatever convenience
it may be for traffic, although the new arcade is a decided
success, erected on the site of the old Grammar School-

302 The Life of Fuller.

The Mayor and Corporation voted the Queen a sum of
two hundred pounds the day after her arrival " as a testimonie
of the respect of the cittie unto her Matie- nowe in this
cittie," which was gratefully accepted by her. As the city
was threatened with a blockade, the Queen was much per
turbed at the prospect of being besieged, till she was re
assured by a demonstration of the strength of the place, on
the part of the citizens, and by the personal influence of the
Governor. Here, then, at Bedford House the whilom
Convent of the Black Friars, the Queen held her court,
and, according to Clarendon, recovered her spirits to the
reasonable convalescence. Her physician arrived in attend
ance at the end of May, and on Monday, June i6th, 1644,
she gave birth to a princess, her fourth child. The good
people of Exeter were ever afterwards proud of this cir
cumstance, as it was the only case of a Royal birth having
taken place in their city. In the old Guildhall may still be
seen Sir Peter Lely's portrait of the Duchess of Orleans, it
having been presented by Charles II. to the Corporation of
Exeter, in 1672, as a souvenir of his sister's connection with
the old city, and a very good picture it is.

Meanwhile, the forces of the Earl of Essex were drawing
closer to the beleaguered city, and the more so, that it now
harboured, so they called her, a Popish Queen. In vain she
sought the permission of their leader to retire to Bath or
Bristol until after her recovery, and she therefore determined,
although it was only a little more than a fortnight after the
birth of her child, to flee from the city, to which, such being
the position of the King's affairs, he could not bring an
army to its relief. The royal infant was entrusted to the
care of Lady Dalkeith, on the understanding that she

Birth of the Princess Henrietta. 303

should be removed elsewhere in case of a siege taking place.
Strict directions were also given to the Governor, Sir John
Berkeley, not to overlook the necessities of the Princess,
come what might. She then left the city, speeding west
wards. We read of her first reaching Okehampton, on
July ist, whence she made her way to Plymouth. Her
next refuge was Pendennis Castle, at the entrance of the
river Fal, in Cornwall, whence she escaped to France, in a
Dutch vessel, sent by the Prince of Orange to fetch her.

The news of the birth of the Princess reached the King
at Buckingham, who sent off an immediate despatch that
she should be baptised in the Cathedral Church at Exeter,
according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of
England. The ceremony was performed accordingly in the
Cathedral, on Sunday, July 2ist, by Dr. Laurence Burnell,
Chancellor and Canon Residentiary, and it is said that a
font, under a rich canopy of state, was purposely erected in
the body of the church. These preparations, under the
•circumstances, an attack being imminent, had to be made
in great haste. The name given to the child was Henrietta
Anne, after her famous grandfather and her aunt,
the Cathedral register of her baptism running thus :
"" Henrietta, daughter of our Soveraigne Lord, King Charles
and our gracious Queene Mary, was baptized the 2ist Jul),
1644." The sponsors of the child were Sir John Berkeley,
the Lady Poulett, of Hinton St. George, and the Lady
Dalkeith, who were personal friends of Fuller, and he was
often in their company. Berkeley, who heartily enjoyed the
society of our author, was the son of Sir Maurice Berkeley,
likewise devoted to the King's cause. This family was a
younger branch of the Berkeleys, of Berkeley Castle, whose

304 The Life of Fuller.

head was George Lord Berkeley, one of Fuller's most
munificent patrons. Besides Lady Poulett, other members
of the family, with whom Fuller had been intimate since
1639, were present in the city at this time. Sir John Poulett
and his eldest son were assisting Prince Maurice at Lyme
Regis, but they don't appear to have acquired much glory.

Lady Annie Dalkeith — the great beauty of those times —
had been designated by the Royal mother as the principal
guardian of the young Princess. This lady was one of the
''numerous and beautiful female kindred" of the Bucking
ham family, being the daughter of Sir Edward Villiers, the
Governor of Munster. Her husband was Robert Lord
Dalkeith, who became ninth Earl of Morton, 1648. To use
Fuller's expression, this lady was matched with " little more
portion than her uncle's smiles," the forerunner of some
good office or honour to follow on their husbands. The
Queen was entirely under the care of Lady Dalkeith during
her stay in Exeter, and she was unremitting in her guardian
ship of the young child for many years. Fuller was
" planted " in the Royal household through her instrumen
tality. This lady, owing to her beauty and the romantic
surroundings of her companionship, became celebrated in
verse by Waller, and also by the poet Herrick, in a sonnet
to Lady Mary Villars :

" For my sake, who ever did prefer
You above all those sweets of Westminster ;
Permit my book to have a free accesse
To kisse your hand, most dainty governesse."

Not many days after the baptismal ceremony, on Friday,
July 26th, the King, who was in pursuit of the forces under
the Earl of Essex, came to Exeter from Honiton, and with

King Charles I. at Exeter. 305

him also Prince Charles. He was informed that the Queen had
left the city before his arrival there. There came out to
meet him Prince Maurice, Sir John Berkeley, the Governor,
the Earl of Bristol, and Lord Poulett, and at the gates the
Mayor, Aldermen, and many burgesses came to welcome
him. He lodged at the Royal head-quarters, Bedford House,
and here for the first time he saw the young Princess, then
about six weeks old.

This loyal city was naturally delighted to welcome their
Sovereign, and mindful of his " many gracious favours to
the city," not only attended him, but the Corporation voted
a sum of ,£500 to be presented to him, and ;£ioo to Prince
Charles "as a testimony of the citties service and the joy of
his Majestie's presented here." Money was also given to the
Royal servants, and a rate levied for the repairs of the city
walls. The next day the King left the city, after reviewing
Prince Maurice's troops, and holding a council of war. He
pursued the Earl of Essex into Cornwall, where, being hard
pressed, the greater part of his army were compelled to sur
render (Sept. ist), and on the lyth, the King returned to
Exeter with the ' spoils he had captured. Once more he
took up his quarters at Bedford House, and on this occasion
he made suitable arrangements for the permanent establish
ment of his daughter's household.

It was about July in this year that our author took leave
of active service under Lord Hopton, with a view to settling
in the city. No doubt this alteration of his prospects was
due to the King, who was interesting himself in his future,
and who certainly held him in very great respect. And so,
in acknowledgment of his loyalty and worth, and in token of
services rendered to the good cause, he received from the

u

306 The Life of Fuller.

King, " during his stay at Exeter," the complimentary
appointment of tutor or chaplain to the young Princess, an
appointment which was also associated (if we may take
Fuller's words) with Lady Dalkeith. "There was, un
doubtedly," says Mr. Bailey, " some policy on the King's
part in selecting our hero for this merely nominal office.
Fuller had been brought up at the feet of eminent divines,
and was known for his staunch fidelity to the principles of
his faith, for devotion to the Church, and for ability to give
an answer to those who demanded a reason of the hope
which was in him ; and the connections of such a divine
with the household of the Princess, would be one testimony
to the King's intention of educating the child in the faith of
the Church of England. The appointment would also tend
to disprove the rumours of the King's attachment to the
Roman Catholic Faith — rumours, which were then, as here
tofore, injuring his prospects." The words of Fuller's
biographer are ; " Her royal father's intendment being, as
he had educated the rest of his princely issue, to have her
brought up in the Protestant religion " (p. 33). There are
other testimonies to the King's carefulness in this respect.
Thus Pe're Cyprien, of Gamache, afterwards the tutor and
spiritual adviser of the Princess, says that his Majesty would
have the child kept " continually in the Protestant religion ;
to counteract the ideas which several of his subjects enter
tained that he had himself a leaning towards Popery, and in
the firm belief which he held, that salvation was not excluded
from the Protestant or Catholic religion, and that one may
be saved in either." This enabled Fuller, two or three years
after this time, to vouch for the King's Protestantism, in
opposition to the opinion of many persons. " His gracious

Marks of Royal Favour. 307

Majesty hath been suspected to be Popishly inclined. A
.suspicion like those mushrooms which Pliny recounts
among the miracles in nature, because growing without a
root. Well — he hath passed his purgation — a bitter morn
ing's draught hath he taken down for many years together.
See the operation thereof : his constancy in the Protestant
religion hath not only been assured to such who were
jealous of him, but also, by God's blessing, he daily grows
greater in men's hearts, pregnant with the love and affection
of his subjects."

To Fuller's loyal heart and nature, this new chaplaincy,
taken in connection with other Royal favours, must have
been highly gratifying. " It pointed only at his merit"
says the Life, " which indeed was as much as the iniquity
of those times would afford to any the most deserving
personage" (p. 34). The King, further "to signify his
approbation of the Doctor's excellent worth," offered Fuller
a more substantial appointment. He pressed upon him
" a patent for his presentation to the town of Dorchester,
in Dorsetshire, a living valued to be worth .£400 per annum"
(p. 34). This living had been in the incumbency of Rev.
John White, who was styled " the Patriarch of Dorchester."
He was the grandfather of Charles and John Wesley, and
was a man of great piety and sound learning, with a luminous
grasp of Holy Scripture and great facility in expounding it.
It is said that during these civil wars he had lost his library,
and retired to London, where he became Minister of the
Savoy, but " when the war was over he returned to Dor
chester." This kind offer — this mark of Royal favour — our
author saw fit to decline. He preferred to remain at Exeter,
connected with the household of, and in close attendance

u 2

308 The Life of Fuller.

upon, the infant Princess. Besides, he had no intention ot
burying himself in the country, but his ultimate intention
was to come up to the metropolis, with the view of com
pleting his literary compositions. As his biographer puts it,
" London was in his eye." And so, whatever other argu
ments may have weighed with him, the King's offer was
politely declined.

The King stayed in Exeter about a week, taking his final
departure about September 23rd, previous to which he left
an order upon the Excise revenues for the expenses of his
daughter's household. In this household Fuller had now a
place, and he remained in personal attendance upon his
young charge during the two years the Princess remained in
the city. From his own words we gather that he ate the
King's bread for a much longer period He had been
specially " designed to attend on her, to instil into her
tender mind (if God had pleased to continue her with safety
within the limits of this kingdom) the principles and belief
of the English Catholic Church." Lady Dalkeith also dis
charged her responsibilities with great fidelity. Soon after
this, the King, on his way to Oxford, after fighting a battle
with Waller at Andover, relieved Donnington Castle, and
Basing House. But Waller and Essex joining their forces,
a second battle was fought at Newbury, which was hotly
contested. In this battle Fuller says of his old comrades,
" The Cornish, though behaving themselves valiantly, were
conceived not to do so well, because expected to have done
better." They returned in " a pace slower than a flight, and
faster than a retreat."

After all these excitements, the good city of Exeter was
glad of the rest, which it enjoyed for about a year. This

Chaplain to the. Princess. 309

was also most grateful to Fuller, who was glad of this lull in
the storm, to devote himself to his professional pursuits and
literary studies. He preached regularly every Lord's Day
to " the truly loyal citizens," and by the assiduous discharge
of his duties he won the goodwill of its Mayor and Corpora
tion. The only fault they had to find was that the good
Doctor too often spoke of the probability of the discourse
he was then preaching being his last. But the times were
stirring and uncertain. On August 6th, being " Observance
Day," it fell to his lot to lead the devotions of the citizens
on the anniversary of the defeat of the rebels in that city,
in the reign of Edward VI. In his Church History, Fuller
says, " It is an high day in the almanac of Exeter, good
cheer, and (thereby I justly guess) their great gratitude being
annually observed with a public sermon to perpetuate the
memory of God's mercy unto them." We find our author
thus praying during his absence from the House of God,
" being in the spirit on the Lord's Day," in his Personal
Meditations : " Lord — Thy servants are now praying in the
Church, and I am here staying at home, detained by necessary
occasions, such as are not of my seeking, but Thy sending,
my care could not prevent them, my power could not re
move them. Wherefore, though I cannot go to Church,
there to sit down at Table with the rest of Thy guests, be
pleased Lord to send me a dish of their meat hither, and feed
my soul with holy thoughts. Eldad and Medad, though stay
ing still in the camp (no doubt on just cause) yet prophesied
as well as the other elders. Though they went not out to
the Spirit, the Spirit came home to them. Thus never any
dutiful child lost his legacy for being absent at the making
of his father's will, if at the same time he were employed about

310 The Life of Fuller.

his father's business. I fear too many at Church have
their bodies there, and their minds at home. Behold, in
exchange, my body here, and my heart there. Though I
cannot pray with them, I pray for them. Yea, this comforts
me ; I am with Thy congregation, because I would be
with it." (x.)

Besides the discharge of his ministerial functions, he
found learned leisure to pursue those literary works, which
at that time he had " on the anvil." The compilation of
the Worthies of England took up a good deal of his time,
" not minding the cloud impending over the city." It was-
at this period he was engaged in composing, from time to-
time, that richly devotional manual, with the somewhat
ambiguous title, " Good Thoughts in Bad Times," full of
sweet— bitter reflections. In these he seems to make known
his very inmost thoughts, and they contain passages which
tend to illustrate his history. Many of his illustrations are
borrowed from a soldier's life, and these quaint moralisings
throw some light on the life and times of the beleagured
citizens. They consist of personal meditations, Scripture
observations, historical applications, and mixt contempla
tions.

"Whilst at Exeter," says Mr. Russell in his " Memorials,"
" Dr. Fuller's society was much sought (and by many of the
titled Royalists). It is said that ' Old Doctor Vilvain of
that city was pleasantly rallied by the Governor of Exeter,
for inviting him so often, or detaining him so long from the
society of others, as a cornholder, that hoardeth up the
grain, to enhance the market and make a dearth.' " But it
seems the Doctor had some uncommon manuscripts with a
curious museum • and being of a generous disposition, as his

Chaplain to the Princess. 311

benefactions in that city may testify, notwithstanding his
sufferings in those distracted times, as also of courteous
comportment and communicative conversation, they were
mutually agreeable to each other. John Digby, Earl of
Bristol, offered to retain Fuller in his household, if he would
go over and reside with him in France, protesting that while
he was master of a loaf, Fuller should have half of it.
But this offer he declined, 'for he loved liberty before the
whole loaf,' as he did a similar one at another time from the
venerable and most munificent Morton, Bishop of Durham
(to whom is attributed an anonymous treatise on the Nature
of God), whose liberality has found a place in the pages of
honest Isaak Walton, there to survive (we may trust) to
distant ages, the opening of his dialogue in the " Complete
Angler" being borrowed from that work. Touching the
charge that the Earl was a Papist, Fuller says : " The worst
I wish such who causelessly suspect him of Popish inclina
tions is, that I may hear from them half so many strong
arguments for the Protestant religion as I have heard from
him, who was, to his commendation, a cordial champion
for the Church of England."* Digby retired to France, on
the surrender of Exeter, where he met with due respect in
foreign, which he missed in his native, country.

There may have been also a patriotic reason for declining
this kind offer, which, virtually, meant expatriation. Fuller
never approved of this desertion of one's native country,
which he, as a true-born Englishman, not only ioved too
well to leave, notwithstanding its unhappy distractions, but
which he felt it his duty to serve with all his powers. -'This

Worthies," Warwick, p. 124

3 1 2 The Life of Fuller.

running into the wilderness was but a bankrupt trick to
defraud the Church and Commonwealth of their creditors, to
both of which they stood bound." In fact, Fuller always
urged his friends to remain at their posts. In one of his
" Good Thoughts in Worse Times," he asks, " Do any intend
willingly (without special cause) to leave this land, so to
avoid that misery which their sins, with others, have drawn
upon it? Might I advise them, better mourn in, than
move out of, sad Zion." Fuller, therefore, preferred to
remain at Exeter. Among his friends he now reckoned the
Earl of Carlisle, and George Lord Berkeley ; the latter name
he thus gratefully records : " At this day there flourisheth
many noble stems sprung thereof, though George Lord
Berkeley, Baron Berkeley, Lord Mowbray, Seagrave, Bruce,
be the top branch of this family : one who hath been so
signally bountiful in promoting these and all other my
weak endeavours, that I desire to be dumb if ever I forget
to return him public thanks for the same." ("Worthies,"
Yorkshire, 222.) Leaving matters martial for the present,
we contemplate Fuller in the more congenial light of Author
and meditative Divine.

Whilst at Exeter in 1645, our author found a fitting
opportunity of publishing this first of a series of meditations,
very suitable to those disturbed times, under the title of
" Good Thoughts in Bad Times," which was followed in
1647 with m's " Good Thoughts in Worse Times." This
book is most interesting, both from a literary and
antiquarian point of view, not only by reason of its contents
and authorship, but as being the first book printed in the city,
Fuller, alluding to it as " the first fruits of Exeter press."
There was no daily Telegram in those days; no weekly

First Fruits of Exeter Press. 313

Exeter and Plymouth Mail. It was printed by Thomas
Hunt of that city, and the Thoughts contained about 250
pages, which made a volume small enough for the pocket,
for which it was intended. It was the first book which our
author put out, after a considerable interval, for a literary
man, possibly owing to the distracted life he had led as a
" Wandering Divine," or it may have been, as he says in
this book, " Once in the mind never to write more, for fear
lest my writings at the last day prove records against me."
<{ Here it is greatly to be regretted," says Mr. Russell in
his " Memorials," " in spite of the beauties with which his
* Good Thoughts ' abound, that they are in some instances
unhappily degraded by a quaintness that is never so much
out of place as in religious meditations. In like manner the
bidding prayers of Bishop Andrewes savour as well of his
defects as of his excellencies." (P. 155.)

Fuller, one of the most gallant and courteous of men
and who was courted as an accomplished and agreeable
companion, thus dedicates this Manual of Meditation to
his patroness, the beautiful Lady Dalkeith, Lady-Governess
to Her Highness the Princess Henrietta : " Madam, — It is
unsafe in these dangerous days for any to go abroad
without a convoy, or, at the least, a pass. My book hath
both in being dedicated to your Honour. The Apostle
saith, who planteth a vineyard and eateth not of the fruit
thereof. I am one of your Honour's planting, and could
heartily wish that the fruit I bring forth were worthy to be
tasted by your judicious palate. Howsoever, accept these
grapes, if not for their goodness, for their novelty ; though

* Mixt Contemplations, xxv.

3*4 The Life of Fuller.

not sweetest relished, they are soonest ripe, being the first
fruits of Exeter press, presented unto you. And if ever
my ingratitude shall forget my obligation to your Honour,
these black lines will turn red, and blush his unworthiness.
that wrote them. In this pamphlet your Ladyship shall
praise whatsoever you are pleased but to pardon. But I
am tedious, for your Honour can spare no more minutes
from looking on a better book, her infant Highness, com
mitted to your charge. Was ever more hope of worth in a
less volume ? But O ! how excellently will the same, in
due time, be set forth seeing the paper is so pure, and your
Ladyship the overseer to correct the press ! The con
tinuance and increase of whose happiness here and hereafter
is desired in his daily devotions, who resteth, your Honour's,
in all Christian service, THOMAS FULLER."

In this little devotional manual— it may be formed after
the model of Donne's " Devotions and Meditations," or
Bishop Hall's " Occasional Meditations "—we are admitted
into the innermost thoughts and feelings of our quaint and
witty author. There are to begin with twenty-five
" Personal Meditations," illustrating principally his own
chequered career. Next we have the same number of
" Scriptural Observations," which tend to elucidate some of
the difficulties of the sacred text. These are again followed
by the same number of " Historical Applications," where
episodes in history are happily and witilly applied, either to
his own self-edification, or the circumstances of the times.
Nineteen " Scripture Observations " follow these, and after
them again come nineteen "Meditations on the Times.'5
These are followed by nineteen " Meditations on all kinds
of Prayer," and seventeen "Occasional Meditations." We

Good Thoughts in Bad Times. 315

then find, in two sets of fifty each, " Mixt Contemplations
on these times." No doubt many, if not most, of these
topics, formed illustrations, which the preacher used in his
sermons. They are, as Mr. Russell says, the most
characteristic of Fuller's writings. " In them we have a
living portrait of their author, both as a politician and a
Divine."

As might have been expected, many of these devout
musings have not only reference to the " bad times " in which
our author lived, but his own personal participation in
them. Take the very first as a specimen, expressing
gratitude for his hairbreadth escapes in the late campaign ;
" Lord — How near was I to danger, yet escaped ! I was.
upon the brink of the brink of it, yet fell not in ! They are
well kept who are kept by Thee. Excellent Archer ! Thou
didst hit thy mark in missing it ; as meaning to fright, not
hurt me. Let me not be such a fool as to pay my thanks
to blind Fortune, for a favour which the eye of Providence
hath bestowed upon me. Rather let the narrowness of my
escape make my thankfulness to Thy goodness the larger,
lest my ingratitude justly cause, that whereas this arrow
but hit my hat, the next pierce my head." Again, in the
second, he says : " Lord, when Thou shalt visit me with a
sharp disease, I fear I shall be impatient, for I am choleric
by my nature, and Render by my temper, and have not been
acquainted with sickness all my life-time. I cannot expect
any kind usage from that which hath been a stranger unto
me. . . . Teach me the art of patience whilst I am
well, and give me the use of it when I am sick. In that
day either lighten my burden, or strengthen my back.
Make me, who so often in my health have discovered my

3 1 6 The Life of Fuller.

weakness, presuming on my own strength, to be strong in
sickness when I solely rely on Thy assistance."

What would Fuller have done in these days of musical
services, when, if the priest's part be not inflected or in
toned, it must at least be monotoned ? " Lord," he says,
" my voice by nature is harsh and untunable, and it is vain
to lavish any art to better it. Can my singing of Psalms be
pleasing to Thy ears, which is unpleasant to my own ? Yea,
though I cannot chant with the nightingale, or chirp with
the blackbird, I had rather chatter with the swallow, yea,
rather croak with the raven, than be altogether silent.
Hadst Thou have given me a better voice, I would have
praised thee with a better voice. Now, what my music
wants in sweetness, let it have in sense, singing praises
with understanding. Yea, 'Lord, create in me a new heart
(therein to make melody), and I will be contented with my
old voice, until, in Thy due time, being admitted into the
choir of Heaven, I have another more harmonious be
stowed upon me."

Fuller was a dear lover of peace ; and he not only never
wearied of singing his Eirenicon, but ever prayed " for the
peace of Jerusalem." "Lord," he says (xiv.), "when
young, I have almost quarrelled with that petition in our
Liturgy, 'Give peace in our time, O Lord': needless to
wish for light in noonday : for then peace was plentiful, no
fear of famine, but a suspicion of a surfeit thereof. And
yet how many good comments was this prayer then capable
of ! ' Give peace,' that is, continue and preserve it ; ' give
peace,' that is, give us hearts worthy of it, and thankful for
it : 'in our time,' that is, all our time ; for there is more
besides a fair morning to make a fair day. Now I see the

Good Thoughts in Bad Times. 317

mother had more wisdom than her son. The Church
knew better than I how to pray. Now I am better in
formed of the necessity of that petition. Yea, with the
daughters of the horseleech I have need to cry, ' Give,
give peace in our time, O Lord' " (Prov. xxx. 15).

We have a personal meditation (xvi.) on his own absent-
mindedness, consequent on his scholarly habits, which was
growing upon him. " Lord, when I am to travel, I never used
to provide myself till the very time ; partly out of laziness,
loth to be troubled till needs I must ; partly out of pride,
as presuming all necessaries for my journey will wait upon
me at the instant. (Some say this is scholar's fashion, and
it seems by following it I hope to approve myself to be one.)
However, it often comes to pass my journey is finally
stopped, through the narrowness of time to provide for it.
Grant, Lord, that my confessed improvidence in temporal,
may make me suspect my providence in spiritual matters.
Solomon says, * Man goeth to his long home.' Short pre
paration will not fit for so long a journey. Oh let me not
put it off to the last, to have my oil to buy, when I am to
burn it ; but let me so dispose of myself, that when I am to
die, I may have nothing to do but to die."

Touching the putting off of repentance, and the intention
of correlating it with some particular date, our author per
tinently observes : " Lord, I do discover a fallacy, where I
have long deceived myself, which is this : I have desired to
begin my amendment from my birthday, or from the first
day of the year, and from some eminent festival, that so my
repentance might bear some remarkable date. But when
those days were come, I have adjourned my amendment to
some other time. Thus, whilst I could not agree with

318 The Life of Fuller.

myself when to start, I have almost lost the running of the
race. I am resolved thus to befool myself no longer. I
see no day but to-day ; the instant time is always the fittest
time. In Nebuchadnezzar's image, the lower the members,
the coarser the metal ; the farther off the time, the more
unfit. To-day is the golden opportunity, to-morrow will be
the silver season, next day but the brazen one, and so long,
till at last I shall come to the toes of clay, and be turned
to dust. Grant, therefore, that to-day I may hear Thy voice.
And if this day be obscure in the Calendar, and remarkable
in itself for nothing else, give me to make it memorable in
my soul, thereupon, by Thy assistance, beginning the re
formation of my life."

We will give one more " Personal Meditation " about
daily prayer (xxi.) : "Lord, I confess this morning I re
membered my breakfast, but forgot my prayers. And as I
have returned no praise, so Thou mightest justly have
afforded me no protection. Yet Thou hast carefully kept
me to the middle of this day; entrusted me with a new
debt before I have paid the old score. It is now noon ;
too late for a morning, too soon for an evening sacrifice.
My corrupt heart prompts me to put off my prayers till
night, but I know it too well, or rather too ill, to trust it.
I fear if till night I defer them, at night I shall forget them.
Be pleased, therefore, now to accept them. Lord, let not a
few hours the later make a breach ; especially seeing (be it
spoken, not to excuse my negligence, but to implore Thy
pardon) a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday.
I promise, hereafter, by Thy assistance, to bring forth fruit
in due season. See how I am ashamed the sun should
shine on me, who now newly start in the race of my devo-

Good Thoughts in Bad Times. 319

tions, when he, like a giant, hath run more than half his
course in the heavens."

Most of Fuller's " Historical Applications " refer to the
disordered condition of the times, and between the lines
we may often read some political purpose latent. Speaking
of the summits of the Welsh mountains, from which shep
herds might have discoursed, though parted by valleys, he
says : " Our Sovereign and the members of his Parliament
in London seem very near agreed in their general and
public professions. Both are for the Protestant religion-
can they draw nearer? Both are for the privileges of
Parliament; can they come closer? Both are for the
liberty of the subject ; can they meet evener ? And yet,
alas ! there is a great gulf and vast difference betwixt
them, which our sins have made ; and God grant that our
sorrow may seasonably make it up again." (iii.)

Speaking of Henry VII.'s Chapel at Westminster, he
breaks out with a parenthetic wish : " God grant I may
once again see it, with the saint who belongs to it, our
Sovereign, there in a well conditioned peace." (vi.)

Of almshouses he thus writes : " We are likely neither in
bye-ways or hedges to have any works of mercy till the
whole kingdom be speedily turned into one great hospital,
and God's charity only able to relieve us." And again ;
" Now he who would formerly sue his neighbour for pedibus
ambulando, can behold his whole field lying waste, and must
be content. We see our goods taken from us, and can
say nothing j not so much as seeking legal redress, because
certain not to find it." And of the ruin of many houses of
prayer ; " How many churches and chapels have been laid
waste in England by this woful war I And which is morc

320 The Life of Fuller.

(and more to be lamented), how many living temples of the
Holy Ghost (Christian people) have been cruelly and cause
lessly destroyed!" (vii.) In all these Meditations our
author justifies God in His doings, counsels moderation,
and urges a prayerful attitude for Church and country.

We could multiply quotations, but enough have been
given as specimens of these meditations, which we can well
believe proved a comfort to many, and a solace to the
beleaguered citizens of the ever faithful city. It may seem
strange that a book of this character, meditative, should
have been composed at such a busy, not to say bellicose
period ; but extremes meet, and no doubt thoughtful minds
turned for inward peace as a set-off against these outward
distractions. At such times the soul falls back on itself,
and, in the spirit of the text appended to the original
edition, a man will love " to commune with his own
heart and be still," and gain that inward peace which
passeth understanding.

In connection with these Good Thoughts the following
is related by Oldys : " We have seen an account or descrip
tion of a collection of moral and divine contemplations
written seemingly in a woman's hand, by either the said
Princess Henrietta Maria (Anne) as it was said, or for her
use (among the MS. collection of the late Mr. T. Coxeter),
having on its blue Turkey leather cover the two first letters
of her name in cypher, surrounded with palm branches, and
crowned with a coronet, in which there are several of the
curious thoughts of this book"

And upon this passage, Miss Strickland has the following
remarks, " The baby-Princess had the honour of frequently
giving audience to her loving and faithful chaplain, the Rev.

Presentation Copy to the Princess. 321

Thomas Fuller, who during his attendance on her wrote
several of his beautiful little tracts, full of quaint stories,
for her use. He had them printed in loyal but suffering
Exeter. The first of these is supposed to be ' Good
Thoughts in Bad Times.' One day there was a little
festival among the sad circle of the loyal ladies" in the
besieged city, when the little Princess gave audience in the
arms of her governess and godmother, Lady Dalkeith, and
received a copy of this work, for her use and early training
in the reformed Catholic Church of England, from the
venerable hands of its best historian, as ' the first fruits
of Exeter Press' This is told in her ' Lives of the Stuart
Princesses.' "

There can be no question this habit of meditation, or in
terior recollection, was a very decided characteristic of Fuller.
We remember Aubrey's story of him when quite a boy, which
shows he was " the father of the man." The art of medita
tion is too much neglected in these busy days, but there can
be no question that its results are most beneficial. In fact,
no one can possibly imagine how useful it is for deepening
the interior life, till it has been fully tried. Fuller was both
thoughtful and observant ; this is stamped on his features :
and we doubt not was evidenced in his very carriage. The
elder DTsraeli has observed that the faculties, whatever
they may be, are considerably enlarged by this habit. In
those days of sundered friends and parted acquaintances, he
was often forced to turn "solitariness into society." "A
Christian's eyes," Fuller would say, " ought to be turned
inward, and chiefly reflected on himself. Yet how many are
there whose home is always to be abroad. It is a tale of the
wandering Jew, but it is too much truth of many wandering

x

322 The Life of Fuller.

Christians, whose thoughts are never resident on their own
souls, but ever searching and examining of others. These
say not with the soldiers ' And what shall we do ? ' but are
questioning always as St. Peter is of John, ' And what shall
this man do ? '" These " Thoughts " were composed in
moments of solitariness, which encouraged meditation. He
comments upon Matt. iv. n : "There is no purgatory con
dition between hell and heaven ; but instantly, when out
devil, in angel. Such is the condition of every solitary soul.
It will make company for itself. Grant, therefore, that my
soul, which ever will have some, may never have bad
company." Again, he quaintly observes, " One may make
himself three, offender, accuser, judge, so that he should
never be less alone than when alone, being always in the
company of heavenly discourses in himself." In his " Essay
on Books," one of his maxims is, " Proportion an hour's
meditation to an hour's reading of a staple author. This
makes a man master of his learning, and dis-spirits the book
into the scholar." He again alludes to the advantages
of meditation in his sermon " The Snare Broken," " Had
people this art of entertaining a time to discourse with
themselves, it would prevent much mischief. Thou mayest
divide thy soul into several parts, and thou mayest discourse,
if thou wilt, with every faculty — with thy understanding,
memory, fancy, and the several affections of thy soul. Ask
that question of thy understanding which Philip asked
of the eunuch, ' Understandest thou what thou readest ? '
Call your understanding to account whether you understand
what you read or not. Ask thy fancy that question which
Achish once propounded to King David, ' Where hast thou
been roving all this day?' Bring thy fancy to account

Royalist Reverses. 323

Ask that of thy memory which the master did of the unjust
steward, ' Give an account of thy stewardship.' Ask thy
memory, what good thou hast treasured up. When thou
findest thyself transported with mirth, ask thy soul that
question God did to Sarah, ' Why laughest thou ? ' When
thou seest the passion of anger grow too violently upon
thee, ask of it that question God did to the prophet Jonah,
•* Dost thou well to be angry ? ' "

Meantime matters were not looking bright for the
Royalist cause. In the spring of 1645, Lord Hopton had
returned to Bristol, where he was visited by Prince Charles,
who subsequently went on to Barnstaple, described as a
'" miraculously fortified town." During August (the Battle
of Naseby having been fought June i4th, 1645), Prince
Charles visited Exeter, with the view of settling some
•dispute there, and took up his headquarters in the city,
where he remained till September i5th. Soon after his
departure, the Parliamentarian forces (under Fairfax and
Waller) suddenly approached the city. The "dainty
.governess," the Lady Dalkeith, made an attempt to escape
with her charge, the young princess, now about twelve
months old, but without success, so that they were
compelled to remain and endure the rigours of the siege.
The Clubmen of Devonshire at this crisis declared for the
Parliament, which did not improve the prospects of the
King; and Fairfax, everywhere victorious, prepared to
invest Exeter. Fuller has preserved reminiscences of his
intercourse with the disorderly troops of Goring who were
compelled to retreat to the city, Dr. Pearson being with
them, "This day casually I am fallen into a bad company and
know not how I came hither, or how I get hence. I was

X 2

3 2 4 The Life of Fuller.

not wandering in any base by-path, but walking in the
highway of my vocation, wherefore, Lord, Thou that
calledst me hither, keep me here. Stop their mouths
that they speak no blasphemy, or stop my ears that I hear
none ; or open my mouth soberly to reprove what I hear."
Making Mary Autree (Heavitree) his headquarters, Fairfax
began his investment by erecting garrisons on the East side,
but was much impeded by the inclemency of the weather.
Meantime, Prince Charles was mustering his forces at
Okehampton, on the western escarpment of Dartmoor, on
the river Okement, another strong place with a castle, and
holding the main road to Plymouth, through Lydford, only
eight miles distant, where was a castle and a place naturally
strong, made stronger by earthworks, commanding also the
high road into Cornwall.

Fairfax marched against the Prince, fortifying this strong
position in the valley of the Okement, " Castrum preno-
bile de Okehampton," as William of Worcester calls it, now
lying in ruins, but turned southwards and took Dartmouth,
the quaint and picturesque town at the mouth of that
beautiful river, which has been called the English Rhine.
On his return, he summoned the garrison, which was now
almost entirely surrounded, to surrender (Jan. 27th, 1647),
but the Governor, Sir John Berkeley, replied that they could
not in honour do so, while they were in no worse con
dition, and had less probable hope of relief from the Prince.
The occupation of the western side now completed the
investment of the city.

During this winter the inhabitants'seem to have suffered
much from the want of provisions, and it was at this time
the following remarkable occurrence took place, recorded

Strange Incident of the Siege. 325

by Fuller in his " Worthies of England " :* " When the city
of Exeter was besieged by the Parliament forces, so that
only the south side thereof towards the sea was open unto
it, incredible numbers of larks were found in that open
quarter, for multitude like quails in the wilderness, though
(blessed be God) unlike them both in cause and effect, as not
desired with man's destruction, nor sent with God's anger,
as appeared by their safe digestion into wholesome nourish
ment. Hereof I was an eye and mouth witness. I will save
my credit in not conjecturing any number ; knowing, that
herein, though I should stoop below the truth, I should
mount above belief; they were as fat as plentiful, so that
being sold for two pence a dozen and under, the poor (who
could have no cheaper, as the rich no better meat) used to
make pottage of them, boiling them down therein. Several
natural causes were assigned hereof, (i) That these fowl,
frightened with much shooting on the land, retreated to the
seaside for their refuge. (2) That it is familiar with them in
cold winters (as that was) to shelter themselves in the most
southern parts. (3) That some sort of seeds were lately
sown in these parts, which invited them thither for their
own repast. However, the cause of causes was Divine
Providence, thereby providing a feast for many poor people,
who otherwise had been pinched for provision."

Events in the west now followed in quick succession.
Leaving Waller in command of the besieging force at
Exeter, Fairfax went to meet the King's troops under the
command of Lord Hopton, whose army had been reinforced
by levies from Cornwall. They had marched 7000 strong

* Worthies of England, vol. ii., p. 304.

326 The Life of Fuller.

from Stratton to Torrington in one day, expecting to be
joined with other troops from Barnstaple, and stores for the
relief of Exeter, which did not come. Fairfax engaged
Hopton, having the advantage of numbers, at Torrington,.
and gained a victory (Feb. i9th). "The stand of pikes,""
as Fuller says, "being oft-times no stand, and the footmen,
so fitly called, as making more use of their feet than their
hands. Torrington Church, which was used as a powder
magazine, was blown up, destroying many on both
sides, especially Royalists, and Lord Hopton's banner was
captured among the spoils, which bore this loyal device,.
' I will strive to serve my sovereign King.' The de'bris
of the royal forces fled, but rallied again on the
Cornish side of the river Tamar, which divides the two-
counties of Devon and Cornwall, about 6000 in number,
chiefly cavalry. They were hotly pursued as far as Trura
(now the seat of the new Cornish bishopric), where pro
posals of surrender were made (March 6th). Honourable
mention was made of Lord Hopton, " whom we esteem and
honour above any of your party," in these proposals, which
being of such a character, Lord Hopton finding he could
not assist the King any further, determined to accept these
honourable conditions, and March i4th the whole army was.
disbanded." Thus, as Fuller said, " The King's cause verged
more and more westward, until it set in Cornwall."

Fairfax returned to the siege of Exeter. Fuller was
still preaching to the beleaguered citizens with " great satis
faction and content ; " but the fall of the city was imminent.
The good doctor received a token of the good feeling of its
citizens towards him just before its surrender. On the
aist March the Chamber bestowed on him the Bodleian

Bodleian Lecturer. 327

Lectureship, which was in their gift. This lectureship had
been founded by a brother of Mr. Bodley (Sir Thomas) who
gave the famous library to Oxford — Dr. Laurence Bodley,
formerly Canon of Exeter. This Canon had left ^400 to
the Mayor and Corporation of Exeter, to be invested in
lands, bringing in £20 per annum, to provide a preacher to
preach every Sunday in Exeter as they might direct. There
are many notices in the ./4^-book of the city touching this
lectureship. The following are some of the minutes,
29th Nov., 1643. "Mr. Henry Painter, having neglected
the lecture, is dismissed, and Mr. William Fuller appointed."
And 21 st March, 1645-6. " Whereas Mr. William Ffuller,
dark, about two yeers since was elected to preach the
lecture heretofore founded by Dr. Bodlie, who hath now
lefte this cittie, it is this day approved by xiii. affirmative
votes that the grante made to hym shall ceasse, which is
intimated by Sir John Berkeley, Knight, our Governor,
to be the desire of the said Mr. William Ffuller. Also, this
Mr. Thomas Ffuller, Bachelor of Divinitie, according to the
direction of the foresaid Doctor Bodley to have and
exercise the same att the will and pleasure of the Maior
and Comon Counsell of this Cittie and noe longer."

As long as the Royalists held the city, Fuller retained his
position as Bodleian Lecturer. In that capacity, and not
long before the surrender of the city, our divine preached
one of his most effective and earnest discourses, which was
listened to with much interest by the Mayor (Mr. Cooper)
and Corporation, to whom he dedicated it. In this dedica
tion he says, " I must acknowledge my engagement unto
you to be great. Is not Exeter a little one ? and my
soul shall live, where I safely anchored in these tempestuous

328 The Life of Fuller.

times : it is a high advancement in this troublesome age
for one with a quiet conscience to be Preferred to life and
liberty : it fared better with me : for whilst her infant
Highness (on whose soul and body God crowd all blessings,
spiritual and temporal, till there shall be no room to receive
more), though unable to feed herself, fed me, and many
more of her servants. Other accommodations were be
stowed upon me by your liberality." He prays for his
friends that God Himself would " stand watchman at the
gates of your city to forbid the entrance of anything
that may be prejudicial unto you, and give full and free
admittance to whatsoever may tend to the advancement
of your happiness both here and hereafter."

The sermon is entitled " Fear of loving the old light," and
is founded upon Revelations ii., 5 : "And will remove thy
candlestick out of his place except thou repent." Speaking
of the Church of Ephesus referred to in the text, he avers
that "no church in this world can be free from faults.
Even Ephesus, the best of the seven, had somewhat amiss
in it. As long as there be spots in the moon, it is vain to
expect anything spotless under it." " Here," says Mr.
Russell, " as in his sermon of Reformation, he remarks upon
the folly of looking for perfection in a church. He notices
the sovereignty of the Divine will in visiting some with the
light of the Gospel, and passing by others." He it is that
vouchsafed the Gospel unto unrepenting Corazin and
Bethsaida, and denied it to Tyre and Sidon ; bestowed it on
unthankful Capernaum, and withheld it from Sodom, which
would have made better use of it. God alone it was who
forbad Paul to preach the Word in Asia ; yea, when he
assayed to go into Bithynia, the Spirit suffered him not, but

Propagation of the Gospel in foreign Parts. 329

he was diverted with a vision, " Come over to Macedonia
and help us."

Discussing the conversion of the heathen, he deals with
the results of the missionary enterprises of his days.
" We shall find more impressions and improvement of the
Gospel in these latter ages on Paganism. I have not heard
of many fish (understand me in a mystical sense) caught in
New England ; and yet I have not been deaf to listen, nor
they I believe dumb to tell of their achievements in that
kind. I speak not this (God knoweth my heart) to the
disgrace of any labourers there, being better taught than to
condemn men's endeavours by the success : and am so
sensible how poorly our ministry prevaileth here at home
on professed Christians, that I have little cause and less
comfort to censure their preaching for not taking effect upon
Pagans. The fault is not in the religion, but in the profes
sion of it, that of late we have been more happy in killing
of Christians than happy in converting of Pagans;" and
alluding to the " favourable inclination " of the Gospel to
verge westwards, he says : " This putteth us in some hopes
of America, in God's due time; God knows what good
effects to them our sad war may produce : some may be
frighted therewith over into those parts (being more
willing to endure American than English savages), or out
of curiosity to see, necessity to live, frugality to gain, may
carry religion over with them into this barbarous country.
Only God forbid we should make so bad a bargain as
wholly to exchange our Gospel for their gold, our Saviour
for their silver, fetch thence lignum vitce and deprive
ourselves of the Tree of Life in lieu thereof. May not
their planting be our supplanting, their founding in Christ

330 The Life of Fuller.

our confusion; let them have of our light, not all our
light ; let their candle be kindled at ours, ours not removed
to them."

As to the objection that there was no danger of the
departure of the Light which was then daily increasing,
preaching, like silver in the reign of Solomon, being so
plentiful that it was nothing accounted of, he replies : " As
all is not gold that glitters, so all is not light that shines,
for glow-worms and rotten wood shine in the dark. Fire
brands also do more harm with their smoke than good with
light. Such are many incendiaries, which without either
authority of calling, or ability of learning, invade the
ministerial function. Whose sermons consist only of two
good sentences, the first as containing the text, and the last,
which must be allowed good in these respects, because it
puts an end to a tedious, impertinent discourse. Notwith
standing all pretended new lights and plenty of preaching,
I persist in my former suspicion."

Then reminding his hearers of that place where they
would need no candle, and sermons should cease, and God
alone be the text, the hallelujahs of saints and angels being
the comment upon it, he concludes : " And now I am to
take my final farewell of this famous city of Exeter. I have
suffered from some for saying several times that I thought
this or this would be my last sermon, when afterwards I
then preached again. Yet I hope the guests are not hurt,
if I bring them in a course more than I promised, or they
expect. Such would have foreborne their censures had they
consulted with the Epistle to the Romans. In xv. 33, the
Apostle seems to close and conclude his discourse : ' Now
the God of peace be with you all. Amen.' And yet

Rendition Articles. 331

presently he beginneth afresh, and continueth his Epistle a
whole chapter longer. Yea, in xvi. 20, St. Paul takes a
second solemn vale : * The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ
be with you all. Amen.' And, notwithstanding, still he
spins out his matter three verses further, till that full
and final period, verse 27 : 'To God the only wise be
glory through Jesus Christ, for ever. Amen.' Thus loath
to depart is the tune of all loving friends ; so same I plead
for myself so often taking my farewell, wherein if any were
deceived, none I am sure were injured."

Soon after this the garrison, seeing no hope of relief, and
straitened for provisions, capitulated. This was March
3ist, 1646, on the renewed summons from Fairfax. Fair
and honourable terms were the basis of the negotiations.
Fuller mentions, with lively satisfaction, that the loyalty of
the inhabitants (of the ever faithful city) was unstained and
unsullied in this siege. In the preface to the life of
Andronicus, Mr Nicholls states that " Fuller's services were
of great importance in procuring favourable terms for the
garrison and the inhabitants."

The Princess and her household (which included her
chaplain, Dr. Fuller) are the first persons alluded to in the
Articles (4th) drawn up by six Commissioners on either
side ; " That the Princess Henrietta, and her governess, with
her household, shall have full liberty to pass with their
plate, money, and goods within twenty days after the con
clusion of this treaty (when she shall desire) to any place
within the continent of England or dominion of Wales, at
the election of the governess, and these to remain until
His Majesty's pleasure be further known touching her
settling ; and that the governess shall have liberty to send

332 The Life of Fuller.

to the King to know his pleasure herein ; accordingly to
dispose of Her Highness within the aforesaid limitation of
places ; and that fit and convenient carriages be found for
their passage at reasonable rates." Then Article 5 stipu
lated for the preservation of the Cathedral and churches,
which was much insisted on. The next that the gover
nors, lords, and clergymen, gentlemen, &c., " should march
out with colours flying," others being of a similar character,
which Fuller considered as " very honourable and com
prehensive for the conscience and estates of all concerned.''
The governor and his troops marched out, April i3th, when
the city was taken possession of by the enemy, with all the
honours of war,1 and dispersed. Fuller spoke of these
Articles in the following terms : " I must not forget the
Articles of Exeter, whereof I had the benefit, living and wait
ing there on the King's daughter, at the rendition thereof ;
articles which, both as penned and performed, were the
best in England, thanks to their wisdom who so worthily
made, and honesty who so well observed them."

Fuller remained a few weeks longer, when he resigned his
lectureship and left the city he had taught so wisely and
loved so well ; a restful haven, full of sweet and bitter
memories. His royal charge, the young princess, after a
time was by Lady Dalkeith taken across to France, where
she fell into other hands. To Fuller, unfortunately, there
succeeded a very different tutor in the person of Pe're
Cyprien, the Capuchin friar. She was a girl of 16, when at
the Restoration she visited London. Like her mother she
was fond of intrigues, and she was considered at the French
Court the fairest princess in Christendom, and one of the
vvi ttiest women in France. She married in 1 66 1 the Duke

The Princess Henrietta Leaves Exeter. 333

of Orleans, brother of the French King, but after an unhappy
life, she died at the early age of 26. The city of Exeter did
not forget her, and the Chamber voted her .£200 at the
Restoration, for purchase of plate, which was presented to
her in the name of the city. Her portrait now adorns the
walls of the Guildhall, although it is hung in a very bad
light

334 Tht Life or Fuller.

CHAPTER XVII.

UNSETTLED AND TROUBLOUS TIMES.

" This nation is scourged with a wasting war. Our sins were
ripe; God could no longer be just if we were prosperous.
Blessed be His name that I had suffered my share in the
calamities of my country. Had I poised myself so politicly
betwixt both parties, that I had suffered from neither, yet could
I have taken no contentment in my safe escaping. . . . It is
therefore some comfort that I draw in the same yoke with my
neighbours, and with them jointly bear the burden which our
sins jointly brought upon us."— (J/«r/ Contemplations, xvi.)

|E must now accompany the whilom and witty
tutor of the Princess Henrietta and Ex-Court
Chaplain from Exeter lo the metropolis. Things
were going from bad to worse. Times were in
deed bad, and out of joint. Politically, the Royalist cause
was fast waning, and the monarchy was tottering to its
destruction. The Church fared little better, ecclesiastically
and socially all was confusion and disorder. "England
doth lie desperately sick of a violent disease in the bowels
thereof," wrote Fuller. And here is his picture of the
morals of the day. " We have," he said, " taken the saint-
ship from those in heaven, but have no more holiness in
ourselves here on earth. What betwixt the sins which
brought this war, and the sins which this war hath brought,
they are sad presages of ' belter times? Never was God's
name more taken in vain by oaths and imprecations. The
Lord's Day, formerly profaned with mirth, is now profaned

Unsettled Times. 335

with malice, and now as much broken with drums as
formerly with tabor and pipe. Superiors never so much
slighted, so that what Nabal said sullenly and (as he applied
it) falsely, we may say sadly and truly, ' There be many
servants now-a-days that break away every one from his
master/ Killing is now the only trade in fashion, and
adultery never more common, so that our nation (in my
opinion) is not likely to confound the spiritual whore of
Babylon, whilst corporal whoredom is in her everywhere
•committed, nowhere punished. Theft so usual that they
have stolen away the word of stealing and hid it under the
name of plundering. Lying both in word and print grown
epidemical, so that it is questionable whether guns or
printing (two inventions of the same country and stand
ing), do more mischief in this kingdom. It is past ' covet
ing of our neighbours houses,' when it is come to violent
keeping of them. He, therefore, that doth seriously consider
the grievousness and generality of these sins, will rather con
clude that some darkness of desolation than any 'great
light ' is likely to follow upon them." And again, writing
three years later, " Vice, these late years, hath kept open
house in England."

The articles connected with the " rendition " of the good
and faithful city of Exeter to the Parliamentarian forces
under Fairfax, provided our divine (included in the terms
under the head clergymen) with a safe conduct to London.
This enabled him to be an eye-witness of the dismal state
of the country through which he journeyed, as well as
that of the metropolis itself, He passed by the scenes of
former labours, and his former refuge, the stronghold of
Basing, then a heap of ruins. His journey to town must

336 The Life of Fuller.

have been very melancholy to one of his loving and
patriotic nature, seeing on all sides the disjecta membra of
this internecine warfare. His horizon was gloomy in the
extreme, and everything seemed against him. The Royal
cause was completely lost, the King himself was practically
a captive. The liturgy and Book of Common Prayer, the
living voice of his " dear mother," the Church of England,
had been prohibited, both in public and private ; and the
same Parliamentary ordinance, which had abolished
Episcopacy and silenced the Church's voice in the
Prayer Book, established the Presbyterian form of Church
polity, and sanctioned extempore prayer. Church and
Monarchy therefore (and in this country they will always stand
or fall together), both lay in the dust, and the political out
look was of the gloomiest. Fuller must have noticed great
changes since his three years' sojourn in the Royalist camp.
His own prospects were anything but bright. Without pre
ferment; without any chance of professional employment for
the present in the National Church, without means, and for
the time almost friendless, he set his face to go to London,
yet hardly knowing whither he went. What kind of a
welcome would he get there ? Would his old friends receive
him now that he had declared so emphatically for Church and
King ? Would his congregation and parishioners of the Savoy
recognise their former pastor and popular minister of happier
days ? Like the patriarch of old he went up, full of faith it
may be, but low in spirits and much depressed.

Our author found a temporary home with his publisher,
John Williams, arriving at his house about the end of May.
Williams may have had some balance in hand as the results
of the sale of his two very popular works the " Holy War "

The Savoy Re-visited. 337

and the "Holy State." "No stationer ever lost by me,"
Fuller says in another place : and no doubt there must have
been something due to him, which would in all probability
have been forestalled by debts, contracted in this unsettled
period, and which item figures largely in the various
petitions for composition. That of our author's is still
extant at the Record office, but there is nothing to show
the state of his monetary affairs, or literary prospects, at the
time.

When Fuller visited the Savoy, he found his former
hearers dispersed, and the parish much changed, socially
and ecclesiastically. He may be said to have "come to
his own, but his own received him not." The pulpit of the
Savoy Chapel was occupied by one Mr. Bond, formerly of
Exeter, before Fuller's time, and previously to his accept
ance of the Bodleian lectureship there; so he and the
Doctor may be said to have exchanged pulpits all this time.
Bond was a native of Dorchester, evidently possessed con
siderable powers as a popular preacher, though a setter
forth of " strange positions, rebellious conceits, and reli
gious cantings; and on his return to his lectureship at
Exeter was rewarded with a piece of plate for his services.
But for Fuller there was no return to his Savoy preferment.
Fuller, it may be, was reflecting his own thoughts as to his
desolate condition when he wrote about Josiah Shute, the
rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, "the most precious Jewell
that was ever shown or seen in Lombard Street," in the
following terms : " He was for many years, and that most
justly, highly esteemed of the parish ; till in the beginning
of our late civil wars, some began to neglect him, distasting
wholesome meat well dressed by him, merely because their

Y

3 38 The Life of Fuller.

mouths were out of taste by that general distemper which
in his time (he died 1640) was but an ague, afterwards
turned to a fever, and since is turned to a frenzy in our
nation. I insist hereon the rather for the comfort of such
godly ministers, who now suffer in the same nature wherein
Mr. Shute did before. Indeed, no servant of God can
simply and directly comfort himself in the sufferings of
others (as which have something of envy therein) ; yet may
he do it consequentially in this respect, because thereby he
apprehends his own condition herein consistent with God's
love and his own salvation, seeing other precious saints
taste with him of the same affliction, as many godly ministers
do now-a-days, whose sickles are now hung up as useless
and neglected, though before these civil wars they reaped
the most in God's harvest." ("Worthies, Yorkshire,"
p. 211).

As to the relations between pastor and people, Fuller has
some very pertinent remarks : " Some clergymen who have
consulted God's honour with their own credit and profit
could not better desire for themselves than to have a
Lincolnshire church, as best built ; a Lancashire parish, as
largest bounded ; and a London audience, as consisting of
most intelligent people" And again : " Protestants in some
kind serve their living ministers as Papists their dead saints :
for aged pastors, who have borne the heat of the day
in our Church,- are justled out of respect by young
preachers, not having half their age, nor a quarter of their
learning and religion. Yet let not the former be dis
heartened, for thus it ever was, and will be, — English
Athenians, all for novelties, new sects, new schisms, new
doctrines, new disciplines, new prayers, new preachers."

Praters: Preachers. 339

He thus speaks with contempt of those who were put
into the priest's office of the ejected clergy during the inter
regnum without a university education, or proper training ;
"How many now-a-days (1655), without any regret, turn

pr jeadiers without any commission from the Church ! It

is suspicious on the like occasion, some would scarce follow
Bilney to the stake, who run so far before him into the pulpit."
And again on the same topic he writes, anent the case of
Paul and Barnabas being solemnly separated for the min
istry (Acts xiii. 15); "They behaved not themselves in
God's house during the exercise of God's ordinances like
some spiritual clowns now-a-days, whose unreverend de
portment bewrays their ignorance: but so decently they
demeaned themselves, that they struck the beholders into a
reverent opinion of their persons, and conjecture at their
profession to be preachers of God's Word." Like Hooker
(who regarded the reading the lessons as part of preaching,
and the most important part too), he speaks very highly of
the written Word : " Some conceive that the ^m& preached
is as much holier than the Word read as the pulpit is
higher than the desk. But let such know that he which
doth not honour all, doth not honour any of God's
ordinances."

Fuller's opinion with regard to preachers may be gathered
from these words : " None are to preach but such as are
lawfully called thereunto. The rulers of the synagogue gave
a license to Paul and Barnabas, who intrude not without
their leave or desire. How many now-a-days (1654),
despight of the rulers of the synagogue, the undoubted
patron, the lawful incumbent, the guardians of the Church

Y 2

340 The Life of Fuller.

publicly chosen — storm the pulpit by their mere violence,
without any call or commission thereunto."

Again : " Should such a person appear, commencing per
saltum, complete in all sciences and languages, so that all
the tongues which departed from Babel in a confusion,
should meet in his mouth in a method, it would give assur
ance to others that these his gifts came down from the
Father of Lights, if willingly submitting to the examination
and ordination of such, to whom it properly doth belong.
Otherwise, if amongst all other gifts, the essential grace of
humility be wanting, it will render the rest suspected from
what fountain they do proceed.

" But let us survey what gifts those are, which generally
are most boasted of by opposers in this point. God is my
witness, I speak it without bitterness or any satyrical reflec
tion. Are they not for the most part such as may be
reduced to boldness, confidence, memory, and volubility of
tongue? Might they not truly say of many of their
sermons what the sons of the Prophets said of their axe
(2 Kings vi. 5), ' Alas ! it's borrowed ' — venting chiefly the
notes and endeavours of others. But grant their gifts
never so great, graces so good, parts so perfect, endow
ments so excellent, yet mere gifting without calling makes
not a lawful preacher." (" Hist. Camb.," p. 94.)

Want of charity, however, was the chief failing of the
preachers of his time. " In my father's time," he writes,
"there was a Fellow of Trin. Coll., Cambridge (Joseph
Mede), a native of Carlton, in Leicestershire, where the
people (thorow some occult cause) are troubled with a
wharling in their throats, so that they cannot plainly pro
nounce the letter r. This scholar, being conscious of his

The Anglican Pulpit. 341

infirmity, made a Latin oration of the usual expected
length without an r therein ; and yet did he not only select
words fit for his mouth, easy for pronunciation, but also
as pure and expressive for signification, to show that men
might speak without being beholding to the dog's letter.
Our English pulpits for these last eighteen years (1642 —
1660) have had in them too much caninal anger, vented by
snapping and snarling spirits on both sides. But if you bite
and devour another (saith the Apostle, Gal. v. 15), take
heed ye be not devoured one of another. Think not that
our sermons must be silent if not satirical, as if divinity did
not afford smooth subjects enough to be seasonably insisted
on in this juncture of time (1660) ; let us try our skill whether
we cannot preach without any dogletter or biting word ;
the art is half learned by intending, and wholly by serious
endeavouring it."

In his occasional Meditations he says, "Our age (1647)
may seem sufficiently to have provided against the growth of
idolatry in England. Oh, that some order were taken for
the increase of CHARITY ! It were liberty enough if for the
next seven years all sermons were bound to keep residence
on this test, "Brethren, love one another" (vii., p. 210).
Clarendon speaks of the numbers of ministers who preached
from their favourite text in Judges v. 23, "Curse ye Meroz,"
&c., touching which Fuller remarks, " If it were a city, new
queries are engendered where it is to be placed. For the
exact position thereof we refer the reader to those of our
learned divines, which in these unhappy dispensations have
made that text so often the subject of their sermons."
(Pisgah Sight, ii.)

How sad it is that in all ages of the Church, ministers

342 The Life of Fuller.

have been prone to forget that beatitude, " Blessed are the
peace makers," and instead of looking upon the Gospel as.
an elprjviKov have made it an arena of strife, being
carried away with that bitterest of all enmities, the odium
theologicum"

Soon after his arrival in town, Fuller set about
endeavouring his composition for his estates, which no-
doubt mainly occupied the few months he remained in
London. This was a very delicate matter, and according
to the articles agreed upon at the rendition of Exeter (xii)
it was stipulated that the composition should not exceed
two years' value of any man's real estate : and for personal
or similar proportion, " which composition being made,
they shall have indemnity for their persons and enjoy their
estates, and all other immunities, without the payment of
any fifth." To arrive at the desired consummation our
author penned the following document about May :
" To ye Honorable Comittye at Goldsmythes' Hall.
"Your petitioner Thomas Fuller, late of ye Savoy in
London, and since attendant in Exeter on ye Princess
Henrietta, beeing there present at ye rendition of ye
Citty.

" Requesteth that late coming to this Cittye, and now
lodging at ye Croune in Pauls' Churchyeard, hee may
have ye benefit of Exeter Articles, to endeaour his
composition, according to same articles confirmed by
ordinance of Parliament, until ye expiration of ye four
monethes, from ye date of those articles, and he
shall, &c.
" Regd. pximo Junij, 1640.

" THOMAS FULLER."

Official Composition. 343

Touching this document, it would seem that Fuller did
not write the word honourable, which the clerk inserted,
also it was addressed first of all by him to the Haberdashers.
The word Crown is also " writ large," as if to show the
writer's lingering loyalty for the then falling Monarchy.
Other peculiarities may also be detected in this letter,
which no doubt effected its purpose.

All this time Fuller was endeavouring " to be restored
to the exercise of his profession on terms consisting with
his conscience." The Savoy chaplaincy had slipped out
of his grasp, but he was trying to secure the lectureship of
St. Clement's, Eastcheap (with the concurrence of the
parishioners) which he actually did obtain the following
year. It was impossible to get a living, such was the
temper of the times, and Fuller would not, we may
believe, certainly consent to give up the use of the liturgy.
The penalty for using it was ^£5 for the first time, ;£io for
the second, and a year's imprisonment for the third. Fuller,
therefore, was thrown back on other resources, and to his
pen and literature. He refers to his straitened means in
the following meditations, " How shall God make my bed,
who have no bed of my own to make ? Thou fool ! He
can make thy not having a bed to be a bed unto thee,"
instancing Jacob's sleep on the ground. And again, " Small
are my means on cash. May I mount my soul the higher
in heavenly meditation, relying on Divine Providence. He
that fed many thousands with ' five loaves/ may feed me and
mine with the fifth part of that one loaf, which once was
mine." This last fraction has reference to an order whereby
the sequestrators had the power of setting part one fifth
(not more) of the sequestered estates for the use of delin-

344 The Life of Fuller.

quents' wives and children. But inasmuch as Clergymen
were not mentioned, they were supposed to be outside the
order, which Fuller much complained of, averring that,
" Covetousness will wriggle itself out at a small hole."
This led to much altercation, and when they were paid,
the fifths were paid at sixes and sevens. Walker says when
paid, they were at the rate of tens and twelves.

During this time also, while living under his publisher's
roof, he took up his pen the more vigorously, as he was
debarred the carrying on the duties of his clerical profession.
He fell back on literature, stirring up that gift that was in
him, intending to spend the residue of his days in compos
ing useful books and edifying stories. Here he published
his Exeter sermon, and brought out another edition of his
" Good Thoughts" He also published a little work, intend
ing it as a lampoon upon the bad times, called " Andronicus ;
or, the Unfortunate Politician. Shewing Sin, Slowly
Punished. Right, Surely Rescued." Two editions of this
popular work appeared the same year, and the third in
1649, and it is the only work of Fuller's which was ever
translated into a foreign language. There is a Dutch
edition to be seen at the British Museum, dated Amsterdam,
1659, which no doubt, was owing to the exertions of some
of the cavalier refugees in Holland, whither many had
betaken themselves, "Lately written in English by the
Reverend, learned, and ingenious Dr. Thomas Fuller, Court
Preacher to Charles L, King of Great Britain, H.L.M.,
Translated by Johannes Crosse." This curious work, which
the Dutch edition entitles "Andronicus, or Unfortunate
Subtilty : containing a true account of the short but cruel
and tyrannical Government, sudden downfall and fearful

The Profane State. 345

death of Andronicus Comnenus, Emperor of Constanti
nople," was embodied in the 1648 edition of the " Profane
State," where, without the preface and index it has remained
ever since. It is to be found in one of Pickering's reprints.
It is the supposed life of the Grecian Emperor Androni
cus Comnenus, who reigned from A.D. 1163 to 1185.
The biography was printed in a small-sized volume, under
two hundred pages, and divided into six books, with a full
index. Mr. Nicholls, one of Fuller's editors, thus gives
his reasons why he thus expanded his brief memoir and
published it at the time he did. " During these four years
of active service in the war (1643-46) he had ample
opportunities of becoming acquainted, through friends and
foes, with the views of both the belligerent parties : and
knew many clever men whose culpable cupidity was then
excited, and who did not attempt to dissemble their
eagerness to derive personal profit and aggrandisement from
our national convulsions. He was induced therefore to
enlarge this article, and with all the appendages of a true
historical narrative, to form into a kind of Menippean satire
on the ambition, avarice, cruelty, and other destructive vices
which had then sufficiently developed themselves in the
leading characters of the Republican movement. It has
been regarded by moderate men of every party as a
salutary and reasonable warning to all those who were engaged
in ambitious unpatriotic projects, during that distressing
season of domestic warfare. In reference to many curious
events which subsequently occurred, Fuller's broad
intimation proved to be eminently prophetic : but in none
of his anticipatory delineations was he afterwards accounted
to have been more felicitous, than in the speech of

346 The Life of Fuller.

Andronicus on the eve of his being elected to be join*.
Emperor with the youthful Alexis Comnenus, which might
have been purposely indited a pattern for that of Cromwell,
when he reluctantly declined the faintly-proffered sovereignty
of these realms, and with much apparent coyness accepted
the Protectorate. Other then uncontemplated coincidences,
will be obvious to everyone who is acquainted with the
historical records of those times of civil discord (Nicholl's.
Holy State, p. 400).

There is a brief notice of Andronicus himself in our
author's history of the Holy War, where he records that
the usurper succeeded his cousin Alexis, whom he strangled.
;' A diligent reader, and a great lover of St. Paul's Epistles,,
but a bad practiser of them : who (rather observing the
devil's rule, that it is the best way for those who have been
bad to be still worse) fencing his former villainies by
committing new ones, and held by tyranny what he had
gotten by usurpation : till having lived in the blood of
others, he died in his own, tortured to death by the headless
multitude, from whom he received all the cruelties which
might be expected from servile natures when they com
mand." These full details into which Fuller entered were,
however, taken " from the black copy of his wicked
actions."

There are some, who have risen from the perusal of this
and his other stories, with the regret that Fuller did not
(from finding subsequently professional employment as a
preacher) pursue his intention of writing more of these
entertaining and felicitous stories, to which, especially at
this break in his official career, he seems to have fully
determined to devote himself.

The Life of Andronicus. 347

Before giving a few extracts from this remarkable work,
which attained such sudden and deserved popularity, we
will give the preface to the original edition, containing, as it
does, much of personal interest :

" We read of King Ahasuerosh, that having his head
troubled with much business, and finding himself so indis
posed that he could not sleep, he desired the Records to be
called for, and read unto him, hoping thereby to deceive the
tediousness of the time (an honest fraud), and that the
pleasant passages in the Chronicles would either invite
slumber unto him, or enable him to endure waking with
less molestation.

" We live in a troublesome and tumultuous age : and he
needs to have a very soft bed who can sleep soundly now-
a-days amidst so much loud noise, and many impetuous
rumours. Wherefore it seemeth to me both a safe and
cheap receipt to procure quiet and repose to the mind,
which complains for want of rest, to prescribe unto it the
reading of History. Great is the pleasure and profit hereof.
Whereupon until such times as I shall by God's providence^
and the Authority of my superiors, be restored to the open,
exercise of my profession, on terms consisting with my
conscience (which welcome minute I do heartily wish, and
humbly wait for : and will greedily listen to the least wisdom
sounding thereunto), it is my intent, God willing, to spend
the remnant of my days in reading and writing such stories
as my weak judgment shall commend unto me for most
beneficial.

" Our English writers tell us of David, King of the Scots,
that whilst he was a prisoner in a cave in Nottingham
Castle he, with his nails (carved, shall I say ? or) scratched

348 The Life of Fuller.

out the whole history of our Saviour's passion in the wall.
And although the figures be rough and rude, yet in one
respect they nre to be compared unto, yea, preferred before
the choicest pieces and most exact platforms of all en
gravers, bein:r done at such disadvantages, cut out of a
bare rock, without any light to direct him, or instrument to
help him, besides his bare hands.

"The application of the Story serves me for manifold
uses. First, here I learn, if that princes, then meaner
persons, are b >und to find themselves some honest employ
ment. Secondly, that in a sad and solitary condition,
a Calling is a Comfortable companion. Thirdly, when men
want necessari s, fit tools and materials, the work that they
do (if it be any degree passable) deserves, if not to be
praised, to be jardoned. Which encourageth me to expect
of the charitV !e reader favour for the faults in this tract
committed, wK :i he considers the author in effect banished
and bookless, : vd wanting several accommodations requisite
to the compk-t ig an history.

" Noah, to iii ke an essay whether 'the waters were abated
from the face f the earth ' before he would adventure to
expose the wh »le fraught of his A.rk to danger, dispatched
a dove to ma1. • discovery, and report unto him the con
dition of the v, "-id, intending to order himself accordingly.
A deep delu;^ hath lately overflowed the whole kingdom
to the drow:i! ig of many, and dangering of all. I send
forth this sn\\;l treatise to try whether the swelling
surge and bo::ing billows in men's breasts (flowing from
the distance '•. ; their judgments, and difference in their
affections) beg now to assuage, and whether there be a
dry place for is my innocent dove safely to settle her-

The Unfortunate Politician. 349

self. If she find any tolerable entertainment, or indifferent
approbation abroad, it will give me encouragement to
adventure a volume of a more useful subject and greater
concernment in the view of the world. (Probably referring
to his ' Church History.') Thine in all Christian offices,
THOMAS FULLER."

We will now present our readers with one or two sketches
of this remarkable book, which may partly explain its rapid
popularity. It begins thus : " Alexius Comnenus, only son
of Manuel Comnenus, succeeded his father in the empire of
Constantinople 1179. A child he was in age and judgment :
of wit too short to measure an honourable sport, but lost
himself in low delights. He hated a book, more than a
monster did a looking-glass, and when his tutor endeavoured
to play him into scholarship, by presenting pleasant authors
unto him, he returned, that learning was beneath the
greatness of a prince, who, if wanting it, might borrow it
from his subjects, being better stored ; for, saith he, if they
will not lend me their brains^ PH take away their heads. Yea,
he allowed no other library than a full-stored cellar,
resembling the butts to folios, barrels to quartos, smaller
runlets to less volumes, and studied away his time, with base
company, in such debauchedness."

Here is a gloomy picture of the body politic. " The
body of the Grecian State, at this time, must needs be
strangely distempered under such heads. Preferment was
only scattered among parasites, for them to scramble for it.
The Court had as many factions as lords, save that all their
divisions united themselves in a general viciousness, and
that Theodorus, the patriarch, was scoffed at by all as an
antic, for using goodness when it was out of fashion : and

35° The Life of Fuller.

was adjudged impudent for presuming to be pious alone by
himself."

This is a portrait of Xene, Alexius' mother, the regent
Empress. " But he could not be more busy about his war
than Xene was employed about her wantonness, counting in
life all spilt that was not sport, who, to revenge herself on
envious death, meant in mirth to make herself reparation
for the shortness of her life. That time, which fheth of
itself, she sought to drive away with unlawful recreations, and
though music did jar, and mirth was profaneness, at this
present time, when all did feel what was bad, and fear what
was worse, yet she, by wanton songs (panders to lust), and
other provocations, did awaken the sleepy sparks of her
corruption into a flame of open wickedness." On the other
hand, we have a more pleasing picture of Anna, the
Empress. " Daughter she was to the King of France, being
married a child (having little list to love, and less to aspire)
to the young Emperor Alexius, whilst both their years put
together could not spell thirty. After this she had time too
much to bemoan, but none at all to amend her condition :
being slighted and neglected by her husband. Oft-times being
alone (as sorrow loves no witness), having room and leisure
to bewail herself, she would relate the chronicle of her
unhappiness to the walls, as hoping to find pity from stones,
when men proved unkind to her. Much did she envy the
felicity of those milkmaids, which each morning pass over
the virgin dew and pearled grass, sweetly singing by day,
.and soundly sleeping at night, who had the privilege freely
to bestow their affections, and wed them which were high
in love, though low in condition, whereas royal birth had
denied her that happiness, having neither liberty to choose

The Unfortunaie Politician. 351

nor leave to refuse, being compelled to love, and sacrificed
to the politic ends of her potent parents."

This is a description of what Andronicus (now possessed
of power) did for Constantinople. " Thus all Constantinople
was brought within the compass of her walls, as she remains
at this day, not like many ill-proportioned cities of Europe,
which groan under over-great suburbs, so that the children
overtop the mother, and branch themselves forth into out-
streets, to the impairing of the root, both weakening and
impoverishing the city itself. He bestowed great cost in
adorning the porphyry throne, which a usurper did provide
and beautify for a lawful prince to sit upon. He brought
fresh water, a treasure in that place, through a magnificent
aqueduct into the heart of the city, which, after his death,
was spoiled out of spite (as private revenge in a furious fit
oft impairs the public good), people disclaiming to drink of
his water, who had made the streets run with blood. His
benefactions to the Church of Forty Martyrs amounted to
almost a new founding thereof, intending his tomb in that
place, though it was arrant presumption in him, who had
denied the right of sepulture to others, to promote the
solemnity thereof unto himself."

The following is a graphic account of the fate of
Andronicus : — " Two heavy iron chains were put about his
neck, in metal and weight different from those he wore be
fore, and laden with fetters and insolencies from the soldiers
who in such war seldom give scant measure, he was
brought into the presence of Isaacius. Here the most
merciful and moderate contented themselves with tongue
revenge, calling him dog of uncleanness, goat of lust, tiger
of cruelty, religion's ape, and envy's basilisk. But others

352 The Life of Fuller.

pulled him by the beard, twitched his hair left by age on
his head, and proceeding from depriving him of ornamental
excrements, dashed out his teeth, put out one of his eyes,
cut off his right hand : and thus maimed, without surgeon
to dress him, man to serve him, or meat to feed him, he
was sent to the public prison amongst thieves and
robbers."

All these were but the beginning of evil unto him. Some
days after, with a shaved head, crowned with garlick, he was
set on a scabbed camel, with his face backward, holding the
tail thereof for a bridle, and was led clean through the city.
All the cruelties which he, in two years and upwards, had
committed upon several persons, were now abbreviated and
epitomised on him in as large a character as the shortness
of time would give leave, and the subject itself was capable
of: they burnt him with torches and firebrands, tortured
him with pincers, and threw abundance of dirt upon him."

We must draw a veil over this picture, and hasten to his
end.

" After multitudes of other cruelties, tedious to us to
rehearse, and how painful then to him to endure, he was
hanged by the heels between two pillars. In this posture
he put the stump of his right arm, whose wound bleeded
afresh, to his mouth, so to quench, as some suppose, the
extremity of his thirst with his own blood, having no other
moisture allowed him, when one ran a sword through his
back and belly, so that his very entrails were seen, and
seemed to call, though in vain, on the bowels of the
spectators to have some compassion on him. At last with
much ado, his soul, which had so many doors opened for ity
found a passage out of his body into another world."

Greater London.

353

Speaking of his stature, our author says "he was higher
than the ordinary sort of men. He was seven full feet in
length, if there be no mistake in the difference of measure :
and, whereas often the cockloft is empty in those which
nature hath built many stories high, his head was sufficiently
stored with all abilities."

It is supposed that our author had London in view in
picturing the prosperity of Constantinople "enjoying happi
ness so long, that now she pleaded prescription for
prosperity."

" Because living in peace time out of mind, she conceived
it rather a wrong to have constant quiet denied, than a
favour from heaven to have it continued unto her. Indeed
she was grown sick of a surfeit of health, and afterwards
was broken with having too much riches. But instead of
honest industry and painful thrift, which first caused the
greatness of the city, now flowing with wealth, there was no
thing therein but the swelling of pride, the boiling of
lust, the fretting of envy, and the squeezing of oppression,
so that, should their dead ancestors arise, they would be
puzzled to see Constantinople for itself, except they were
directed thereto by the ruins of St. Sophie's temple. True,
it was some years since, upon a great famine, some hopes
were given of a general amendment, during which time
riot began to grow thrifty, pride to go plain, gluttons to
fast, and wantons were starved into temperance. But
forced reformation will last no longer than the violent
cause thereof doth continue. For soon after, when plenty
was again restored, they relapsed to their former badness :
yea, afterwards became fouler for the purge, and more
wanton for the rod, when it was removed."

z

354 The Life of Fuller.

Although Fuller was one of the most moderate of men,
he thus writes of those who belonged to neither party :
" Neuters are of that lukewarm temper, which heaven and
hell doth hate. . . . They hoped, though the vessel of the
State was wracked, in the private fly-boat of neutrality
to waft their own adventure safe to the shore. Whoever
saw dancers on ropes so equally to poise themselves, but
at last they fell down and brake their necks ? "

We do not know, nor can we glean from his writings, how
long our author remained in London, which in those troub
lous times could not have been the most pleasant place in
the world. Some time would have been spent in effecting
his composition, which was no easy task, and in trying to
get clerical duty, which in those proscribed days of the
Anglican Liturgy was a matter of considerable difficulty.
Besides this, an ordinance had passed both Houses (De
cember nth) to put out of the city for two months all
" delinquents," i.e., Royalists and Papists, of which there was
an extraordinary confluence.

Things being thus unpleasant in the metropolis, having
arranged with his publisher about his books being brought
out — new works, and fresh editions — we are not surprised to
learn that when we next hear of him (January, 1647), he is
far away from the city's strife and turmoil, and near his old
home in Northamptonshire. Under the well-known hos
pitable roof of Edward Lord Montagu, a gentleman of
great position, and in the confidence of Parliament, and not
far from our author's birthplace, Fuller, homeless and dis
tressed, spiritless and troubled, found a welcome asylum
and warm reception in the retirement of Boughton House.
Here, then, he spent his Christmas, which, if not a merry

JBoughton House. 355

one, was at all events quiet and restful ; supported by the
sympathy of the old friends of his youthhood, and cheered
with the prospect of better times.

Two deaths had occurred in this family which now re
ceived our author, since he had been there. They were
that of his old literary associate, Christopher Montagu, who
died in 1641, " that he might not be entangled in the evils
to come." The old baron, too, who had fallen under the
displeasure of the Parliament in 1642, was taken prisoner
at Boughton House. Clarendon describes him as "a
person of great reverence, being above fourscore years, and
of great reputation." At first it was arranged for him to
have been consigned, as his prison, to the house of his
daughter, the Countess of Rutland ; but this he refused, as
she was busily engaged in the Parliament cause, which was
irksome to him. Ultimately he was lodged in the prison of
the Savoy, where he died June i5th, 1644. Fuller thus
alludes to his death : " To have no bands in their death
(Ps. Ixxiii. 4.) is an outward favour many wicked have,
many godly men want; amongst whom this good lord, who
died in restraint in the Savoy, on the account of his loyalty
to his Sovereign. Let us not grudge him the injoying of
his judgment, a purchase he so dearly bought and truly
paid for." (" Worthies, Northampton," p. 292.) He it was
who said to his daughter-in-law, whose Puritanism caused
her to disparage the Liturgy, which was daily read in his
household, " Daughter, if you come to visit me, I will never
ask you why you come not to prayers : but if you come to
cohabit with me, pray with me, or live not with me."

Fuller was not unmindful of the kind hospitality which
he had received from this noble family, which he much

Z 2

356 The Life of Fuller.

needed, and was so grateful to him. His acknowledgment
was made some four years after to a son of the old baron,
in the dedication of the " Plan of Jerusalem " ; " Who when
I was feeble, an exile, a nobody (/>., undone and good for
nothing), was the first to take care of me, to receive me
under his roof, to restore me by his munificence to my
former self, and (as the sum of all) to provide generously
for the education of my darling boy, the solitary hope of my
old age."

This timely retreat at Boughton House in his jaded and
dejected state, and his return to his own native air and
hospitable scenes and surroundings of former times, seems
to have restored our author to his "former self." The
mansion was well placed in a spacious park, covered with
avenues of trees ; it was richly wooded, watered with
streams, and the grounds were of an undulating character —
a sylvan retreat, calculated to inspire peace and induce
repose. It belongs to the Duke of Buccleuch (the lineal
descendant of the first Lord Montagu), and is situated on
the road to Stamford, three miles to the north of Kettering.
The old house, which was much smaller than the present
one, which has been arranged in the French manner, con
tains many portraits of the Montagus who were Fuller's
contemporaries. The park extends up to the village of
Weekley — in which parish Boughton is — which is about a
mile distant from the house. This was the parish church
of the Montagus, and in the parochial registers are to be
found many of the baptisms, marriages, and deaths of this
family. It is just possible, Fuller, complying as far as he
could with the law, may have preached in this church ; but
there was no "preacher's book" in those days, as the

King Charles in Northampton. 357

ministers were under the protection of the lord of the
manor, Lord Montagu.

Our author, during his stay at Boughton House, was once
more brought into the neighbourhood of royalty, and not
far from the person of his beloved Sovereign. The King
had been brought by the Commissioners to Holmby House
in Northamptonshire, and was right loyally received. So
much so, that Fuller at this time wrote of the King that he
daily "grew greater in men's hearts, pregnant with the
love and affection of his subjects." Lord Montagu was in
close attendance on the King during the four months he
spent at the mansion, passing his time in study, hawking,
with occasional visits to Lord Spencer's house at Althorp
for games at bowls. Upon the King's arrival he made a
request (which had been before refused) for the attendance
of two or more of his chaplains, " for the exercise of his
conscience, and the assistance of his judgment, in deciding
upon the present differences respecting religion." In the
list of names furnished by the King himself was Dr. Sheldon
and " Dr. Fuller " (this was probably the Dean of Ely, who
at that time was busy in London about his composition),
but the royal request was refused.

Among Fuller's friends at this time we may mention a
sister of Lord Montagu, Frances, Countess of Rutland,
who was making her old home again in Boughton House,
which was then a safer retreat than Belvoir Castle, the seat
of her husband, the Earl. Our author for many years,
especially during their sojourn in London, was well known
to the Countess, who possessed not her father's spirit, but
strong royalist proclivities, which prompted her to befriend
Dr. Fuller, and other eminent royalist clergymen. Amongst

358 The Life of Fuller.

these, also a friend of his, was the venerable Bishop of
Durham, Dr. Thomas Morton; of him Fuller records that
" in the late long Parliament the displeasure of the House
of Commons fell heavy, upon him, partly for subscribing the
Bishop's protestations for their votes in Parliament, partly
for refusing to resign the seal of the bishopric, and baptising
a daughter of John, Earl of Rutland, with the sign of the
cross; two faults which, compounded together, in the
judgment of honest and wise men, amounted to a high
innocence ? This infant was one of the daughters of Frances
Montagu. He was imprisoned for six months, and on his
release became the charge of the Earl and Countess of
Rutland, at Exeter House. "He solemnly professed,"
added Fuller, " unto me (pardon me, reader, if I desire
publicly to twist my own with his memory, that they may both
survive together), in these sad times to maintain me to live
with him, which courteous offer, as I could not conveniently
accept, I did thankfully refuse. Many of the nobility
deservedly honoured him, though none more than John,
Earl of Rutland, to whose kinsman, Roger, Earl of Rutland,
he formerly had been chaplain." This aged Bishop, who
had befriended many good men, and raised the tomb in
Westminster Abbey to Casaubon, died in 1659.

It was under the hospitable roof of this Northampton
shire retreat that our author wrote his deservedly popular
work and pious treatise, which he called, in his fondness for
alliteration, "The Cause and Cure of a Wounded Conscience"
(1646), which contains an analysis of his mental depression,
after the manner of Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy."
It is dedicated to the Right Honourable and Virtuous Lady
Frances Manners, Countess of Rutland, sister of Edward,

Cause and Cure of a Wounded Conscience. 359

the second Lord Montagu of Boughton, touching which
pleasing surrounding and scenery one writes : " Some of his
most touching and beautiful utterances seem to owe much
of their charming power to his own happy sense of harmony
between the beauty of nature and loveliness of grace.
Surrounded by the quiet joys of an unfolding Creation, he
looks as if he could feel nothing but love for his bitterest
foes : and now he murmurs forth his devout thoughts, the
very thoughts which he bequeaths to us for ' the cure of the
wounded conscience.' "*

The dedication runs as follows, and is very Fullerian in
form and feeling : " Madam, by the judicial law of the
Jews, if a servant had children by a wife which was given
him by his master, though he himself went forth free in his
seventh year, yet his children did remain with his master as
the proper goods of his possession. I ever have been, and
shall be, a servant to that noble family, whence your
Honour is extracted. And of late in that house I have been
wedded to the pleasant embraces of a private life, the fittest
Wife and meetest helper that can be provided for a student
in troublesome times : and the same hath been bestowed
upon me by the bounty of your noble brother, Edward
Lord Montagu : wherefore, what issue soever shall result
from my mind, by his means most happily married to a
retired life, must of due redound to his honour as the sole
proprietary of my pains during my present condition. Now
this book is my eldest offspring, which, had it been a son
(I mean had it been a work of masculine bigness and
beauty), it should have waited as a Page in dedication to

* " Worthies, York," p. 229.
* " Homer of Old English Writers."

360 The Life of Fuller

his honour. But finding it to be of the weaker sex, little
in strength and low in stature, may it be admitted (Madam)
to attend on your Ladyship, his honour's sister. I need
not remind your Ladyship how God hath measured outward
happiness unto you by the cubit of the sanctuary — of the
largest size, so that one would be posed to wish more than
what your Ladyship doth enjoy. My prayer to God shall be
that, shining as a pearl of grace here, you may shine as a
star of glory hereafter."

A sustained gravity, as befits the subject, marks this
much-esteemed work, our author remarking, that as it
would be out of keeping to wear gaudy clothes at a funeral,
so in "this sad subject" he had endeavoured "to decline
all light and luxurious expressions." The work consists of
twenty-one separate dialogues, well constructed and con
nected together, which contain many beautiful and soothing
passages, familiar to most.

Mr. Russell, in his comments on this work, evidently
claims Fuller as Calvinistic in his tendency, if not teaching.
" Let those who object to what some ignorantly call even
yet solifidianism and fatalism, as being doctrines of licen
tiousness, mark the following passage : ' Sorrow for sin
exceeds sorrow for suffering, in the continuance and dura-
bleness thereof: the other, like a landflood, quickly come,
quickly gone ; this is a continual dropping or running river,
keeping a constant stream. My sms, saith David, are ever
before me; so also is the sorrow for sin in the soul of a
child of God — morning, evening ; day and night ; when
sick, when sound ; feasting, fasting ; at home, abroad — ever
with him. This grief beginning at his conversion ; con"
tinueth all his life ; endeth only at his death."

Antinomian Heresy. 361

After glancing at the Antinomian error of many in those
days, who were utterly opposed to all marks of sincerity,
counting it needless for preachers to propound, or people to
apply them, he proposes the following test : " Art thou
careful to order thy very thoughts, because the infinite
Searcher of the hearts doth behold them ? Dost thou freely
and fully confess thy sins to God, spreading them open in
His presence without any desire or endeavour to deny,
dissemble, defend, excuse, or extenuate them? Dost thou
delight in an universal obedience to all God's laws, not
thinking with the superstitious Jews, by overkeeping the
fourth commandment to make reparation to God for break
ing all the rest? Dost thou love their persons and preaching
best who most clearly discover thine own faults and corrup
tions unto thee ? Dost thou strive against thy vindictive
nature, not only to forgive those who have offended thee,
but also to wait an occasion with humility to fasten a fitting
favour upon them? Dost thou love grace and goodness
even in those who differ from thee in point of opinion in
civil controversies ? Canst thou be sorrowful for the sins
of others, no whit relating unto thee, merely because the
glory of a good God suffers by their profaneness ?" On signs
of sincerity in repentance he says : " As I will not bow to
flatter any, so I will fall down as far as truth will give me
leave, to reach comfort to the humble to whom it is due.
Know to thy further consolation, that where some of these
signs truly are, there are more, yea, all of them, though not
so visible and conspicuous, but in a dimmer and darker
degree. When we behold violets and primroses to fairly
flourish, we conclude the dead of the winter is past, though
as yet no roses or July flowers appear, which long after lie

362 The Life of Fuller.

hid in their leaves, or lurk in their roots ; but in due time
will discover themselves. If some of these signs be above
ground in thy sight, others are underground in thy heart ;
and though the former started first, the other will follow in
order; it being plain that thou art past from death unto
life, by this hopeful and happy spring of some signs in thy
heart."

He thus points the moral of a wounded conscience by the
example of Adam : " When Adam had eaten the forbidden
fruit he tarried a time in Paradise, but took no contentment
therein. The sun did shine as bright, the rivers ran as
clear as ever before, birds sang as sweetly, beasts played
as pleasantly, flowers smelt as fragrant, herbs grew as fresh,
fruits flourisht as fair, no punttilio of pleasure was either
altered or abated. The objects were the same, but Adam's
eyes were otherwise : his nakedness stood in his light : a
thorn of guiltiness grew in his heart before any thistles
sprang out of the ground : which made him not to seek for
the fairest fruits to fill his hunger, but the biggest leaves to
cover his nakedness. Thus a wounded conscience is able
to unparadise Paradise itself." (P. 27.)

Fuller urges the continuance of prayer and of reading
the Scriptures, in spite of inward deadness of heart, that in
due time discomfort may be removed ; and the sure result
of a steadfast adherence to the appointed aids. He com
mends the discreet use of confession of sin to some godly
minister, who, by absolution, may pronounce and apply pardon
to the afflicted spirit.

But whilst the sincerity of our faith may be surely proved
and known by its effects, as the life of a tree by its fruit,
in despair, or rather, when we are strongly tempted to it

Devotional Manuals. 363

(and no, or but few, sincere Christians are there but will be
so tempted), it is our only resource to " look upwards to a
gracious God " then " it is not thy faith but God's faith
fulness thou must rely upon : casting thine eyes downward
on thyself, to behold the great distance betwixt what thou
deservest and what thou desirest, is enough to make thee
giddy, stagger, and reel into despair." This true broken-
heartedness is that which all need, and which a thorough
self-knowledge would impart to all, to all who know the
mystery of redemption, and whose hearts are all touched
by it. And how can those esteem the physician who know
not their own wounds? He Himself said, "To whom
little is forgiven, the same loveth little." It is not for
sinners proudly to refuse the comfort of this truth. "

This excellent manual concludes with this poetical
passage : " Music is sweetest near or over rivers, where the
echo thereof is best rebounded by the water. Praise for
pensiveness, thanks for tears, and blessing God over the
floods of affliction, makes the most melodious music in the
ear of Heaven."

Fuller was not long in preparing, in his rural retreat,
for the press another devotional manual, reflecting his own
mentally depressed state, and taking its complexion from
the perturbations of the times. It is not dedicated, as the
author remarks : " Dedications begin now-a-days to grow out
of fashion." But in his remarks to the " Christian reader "
he laments over the " worse times " which form his gloomy
subject : " How many thousands know as little why the
sword was drawn, as when it will be sheathed. Indeed
(thanks be to God), we have no more house burnings, but
many heart burnings ; and though outward bleeding be

364 The Life of Fuller.

stanched, it is to be feared that the broken vein bleeds
inwardly, which is more dangerous." Under these circum
stances he considered that controversial writing (sounding
somewhat of drums and trumpets) did but make the wound
the wider. " Meditations are like the minstrel, the prophet
called for (2 Kings, iii. 15) to pacify his mind discomposed
by his passion." On this account he "adventures on
this treatise " — a smaller treatise — as the most innocent and
inoffensive manner of writing, and putting off for the
present his larger-sized promised work on Church History.

These " Good thoughts in Worse Times " are like those
written and published as the "First Fruits of Exeter
Press," divided into four sets of twenty in each — " Personal
Meditations," "Scriptural Observations," " Meditations on
the Times, and all sorts of Prayers " ; in all a hundred
exactly.

Turning to his " Personal Meditations," we find him
saying of himself : " These last five years have been a wet
and woeful seedstime to me, and many of my afflicted
brethren. Little hope have we as yet to come again to our
own homes ; and in a literal sense how to ' bring our
sheaves,' which we see others daily carry away on their
shoulders. I have endeavoured, in these distemperate
times, to hold up my spirits and steer them steadily. A
happy peace here, was the port whereat I desired to arrive.
Now, alas, the storm grows too sturdy for the pilot Here
after all the skill I will use, is no skill at all, but even let my
ship sail whither the winds send it. This comforts me
that the most weather-beaten vessel cannot properly be
seized on for a wrack which hath any quick cattle remain
ing therein. My spirits are not forfeited to despair, having

Strictures 011 the Times. 365

one lively spark of hope in my heart, because God is even
where He was before."

Alluding to his seeking peace, and illustrating his position
from David's history, he says : " Peace did long lie
languishing in this land. No small contentment that, to
my poor power, I have prayed and preached for the
preservation thereof. Seeing, since it is departed, this
supports my soul, I having little hope that peace here
should return to me. I have some assurance that I shall
go to peace hereafter." He prays that God in due time
would send " such a peace in this land, as Prince and
people may share therein." And he concludes boldly :
" May I die in that Government, under which I was born,
where a monarch doth command."

In his " Scripture Observations " the following passage
occurs in " Prayer may preach " ; " When before sermon I
pray for my Soveraign and master, King Charles of Great
Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, in all
causes and over all persons, and some (who omit it them
selves) may censure it in me for superfluous. But never
more need to teach men the King's title, and their own
duty, that the simple may be informed, the forgetful
remembered thereof, and that the affectedly ignorant, who
will not take advice, may have all excuse taken from them.
Wherefore, in pouring forth my prayers to God, well may I
therein sprincle some by-drops for the instruction of the
people."

Fuller's views on the course of events are seen in his
" Meditations on the Times." " There was not long since
a devout but ignorant Papist dwelling in Spain. He per
ceived a necessity of his own private prayers to God, be-

366 The Life of Fuller.

sides the Pater-nosters, Ave Maries, &c., used, of course, in
the Romish Church. But so simple was he that how to
pray he knew not, only every morning humbly bending his
knees, and lifting his eyes and hands to heaven, he would
deliberately repeat the alphabet. ' And now,' said he, * O,
good God, put these letters to spell syllables, to spell words,
to make such sense, as may be most to Thy glory and my
good.' In these distracted times, I know what generals to
pray for; God's glory, truth and peace, his Majesty's honour,
privileges of Parliament, liberty of subjects, &c. But when
I descend to particulars, when, how, by whom I should
desire these things to be effected, I may fall to that poor
pious man's A. B. C. D. E., &c."

Our author's " Observations on all kinds of Prayers," are
very characteristic ; " of groans which never knew their own
meaning" he says that " God knows the meaning, and that He
understood those Sighs, which never understood themselves.
Ejaculations are short prayers darted up to God on
emergent occasions; their principal use is against the
fiery darts of the devil. In extemporary prayer, what we
most admire, God least regardeth, namely the volubility of
the tongue. He gives such prayers their full dues, and
frees them from a causeless scandal." He exalts the Lord's
Prayer, which, " in this age we begin to think meanly of."
He concludes, " Oh, let us not set several kinds of prayer
at variance betwixt themselves, which of them should be
most useful, most honourable. All are most excellent at
several times. No ordinance so abused as prayer. Prayer
hath been set up against preaching, against catechising,
against itself. See how St. Paul determines the controversy
Trdarj Trpoo-eux?? witn a11 manner of prayer (so the Geneva
translation) and supplication in the spirit."

Archbishop Us s her. 367

This, then, was the great period of Fuller's literary
activity, when he was debarred from preaching, and un
officially correlated in regard to his sacred profession. Not
withstanding that he was cut off from his books and manu
scripts, he contrived to collect materials for, and push on the
compilation of, his celebrated Church History. Pie also
published a translation of Archbishop Ussher3 s A?inales,
with whom he was on very friendly terms. Ussher was
chosen preacher of Lincoln's Inn, in June, 1646, and while
he was in London the most eminent divines were wont to
resort to him as to a father. It was there, too, that our
author, his partner in misfortune, again met the prelate, who
gave him valuable assistance in his compilation of the
Church History. In the early portion of that work, Fuller
refers to his "engagement" with Ussher as to the religion
of the early British, saying that from him he had "borrowed
many a note." Fuller also acknowledges that his " wares "
were from the " storehouse of that reverend prelate, the Cape
merchant of all learning." He says further, " Clean through
this work, in point of chronology, I have with implicit faith
followed his computations, setting my watch by his dial,
knowing his dial to be set by the sun. Long may he live
for the glory of God, and good of His church. For whereas
many learned men, though they be deep abysses of know
ledge, yet (like the Caspian sea, receiving all and having no
outlet) are loth to impart aught to others, this bright sun is
as bountiful to deal abroad his beams, as such dark dales as
myself are glad and delighted to receive them."* We are
told that Archbishop Ussher intended to publish a third part
of his " Chronicle," but death put an end to his design.
* Book ii. 150.

368 The Life of Fuller.

CHAPTER XVIII.

ROYALIST EXILE, AND MENDICANT DIVINE (1647-49).

"How do many (exiles in their own country) subsist now-a-days
on nothing : and wandering in the wilderness of want (except
they have manna miraculously from Heaven) they have no meat
on earth from their own means. At what ordinary, or rather
extraordinary, do they diet, that for all this have cheerful faces,
light hearts 'and merry countenances? Surely some secret
comfort supports their souls. Such never desire but to make
one meal all the days of their lives on the 'continual feast' of a
good conscience. The fattest capons yield but sad merry
thoughts to the greedy glutton in comparison of those delightful
dainties which this dish daily affords such as feed upon it."-
(Meditations on the Times, viii.)

|T was hard times now with the Royalist partisans,
and especially the divines and clergy, with their
livings in the hands of the opposite party, and
their tithes sequestrated. They had to lead a
wandering life, and vagabond existence. With the Patriarch
of old, " they went out not knowing whither they went " ;
with the great Apostle they might truly say " in journeyings
often." This was pre-eminently the case with our author.
The time came for him to leave the hospitable retreat and
charming surroundings of Boughton House, and to seek a
fresh asylum amongst those patrons of the ejected clergy,
the munificent laity of the day, scattered up and down the
land, endeavouring to find employment outside, but not un
suitable to, his clerical profession. Thus he writes of him-

Wandering Divine. 369

self : " How do many exiles in their own country subsist
now-a-days of nothing, wandering in a wilderness of want
(except they have manna miraculously from heaven) they
have no meat on earth from their own means. At what
ordinary, or rather, extraordinary, do they diet, that for all
this have cheerful faces, light hearts, and merry countenances ?
Surely some secret comfort supports their souls. Such
never desire but to make one meal all the days of their
lives on the ' continual feast ' of a good conscience." (Prov.
xv. 15.) Alluding to the statute against wandering scholars
(1388), he says: "Indeed, I have ever beheld begging
scholars as the most improper objects of charity : who must
be vicious, or else cannot be necessitous to a mendicant
condition. But since, I have revoked my opinion, the
calamity of this age falling so heavily on scholars, that I am
converted into, a charitable conceit of such who beg the
charity of others."

We have seen that Lord Montagu was one of the first
who befriended our wandering Divine. Others also are
mentioned, who possibly gave, about this time, protection
and relief to the poor clergy, a temporary shelter to those
upon whom — as the whilom staunch supporters of Church
and King, with tongue, pen,, and means — this political storm
of internecine warfare beat most pitilessly. Thus Fuller
thus writes to Mr. Thomas Rich, of Sunning, Berks, in
1655: "You are, sir, the Entertainer-General of all good
men. Many a poor minister will never be wholly sequestered
whilst you are living, whose charity is like to the wind,
which cannot be seen, but may be felt." This patron had
made a considerable fortune in the Turkey trade, and like
Fuller was an exceedingly corpulent person. He not only

A A

370 TJie Life of Fuller.

liberally assisted the poor clergy, but furnished Prince
Charles with funds. Again, Fuller says, in his dedication
of Ruth to Lady Ann Archer, in 1654, quoting the verse
"none communicated with me concerning giving and
receiving but ye only " : * " Should I apply the same in rela
tion of myself to your ladyship, I should be injurious to the
bounty of many of my worthy benefactors. However (not
exclusively of others, but) eminently I must acknowledge
you a great benefactor of my studies." Another of Fuller's
patrons was Mr. Thomas Adams, Lord Mayor of London,
1646, who had in 1632 founded a professorship of Arabic
in Cambridge, "ka man of great length in his extraction,
breadth in his estate, and depth in his liberality," and
" deservedly commended for his Christian constancy in all
conditions."

Among his other patrons may be mentioned Dr.
Hammond, and Bishop Jeremy Taylor. Both these eminent
Divines were much respected. Dr. Hammond was the
learned commentator on the Scriptures " well versed in all
modern pamphlets touching Church Discipline," and is de
scribed by Fuller as " the tutelar angel to keep many a
poor Royalist from famishing ; it being verily believed that
he yearly gave away more than ^200." His friendship
" had an especial place for sequestered divines, their
wives and orphans, for young students in the Universities,
and also those divines that were abroad in banishment."
Jeremy Taylor, the celebrated preacher, and author of " Life
of Christ," "The Golden Grove," "Holy Living and
Dying/' was also a great friend of the ejected clergy, and

* Phil, iv., 15.

Wandering Divine. 371

being so trustworthy, much of the private contributions
passed through his hands. There is a good story told of
this marvellous prelate. Once preaching before Laud, the
Archbishop remarked that it was " too good a sermon for
such a young Divine ! " to which the preacher made the
rejoinder " that if he lived, he would easily cure that fault."
His learning, too, was so prodigious that it was said
at his death, that if it had been bequeathed to the
whole of his diocese, each of his clergy would then be richly
endowed. Besides these patrons of the poor clergy, we may
mention Thomas Palmer, the sequestered minister of St.
Bride's, Fleet Street, and Dr. Scarborough, who, on leaving
Oxford, 1647, practised in London, where his hospitable
board was " always accessible to all learned men, but more
particularly to the distressed Royalists, and yet more particu
larly to the scholars ejected out of either of the Universities."
Other friends of the ejected Royalist clergy were Dr.
Warner, Bishop of Rochester, John Crane, a Cambridgeshire
worthy, William Chappell, Milton's College tutor at Christ
College, Bishop of Cork and Ross, who, coming over here
to escape the rebellion, says Fuller, " rather exchanged than
eased his condition, such the woefulness of our civil wars.
He died Anno 1649, and parted his estate almost equally
betwixt his own kindred and distressed ministers, his
•charity not impairing his duty, and his duty not prejudicing
his charity " ; then there was Dr. Warmistry, Fuller's asso
ciate, the Dean of Worcester, who lived mostly in London,
distributing alms collected from the Royalists to the clergy.
The Dean was chief confessor to loyal martyrs, a constant
and indefatigable visitor and comforter of sick and dis
tressed cavaliers. He was also a great preacher.
A A 2

3 y 2 The Life of Fuller.

But Fuller's chief benefactor was Sir John D'Anvers, who
for many years treated our Divine with the most generous
bounty ; a name, unfortunately, mixed up with the Regicides
at a subsequent period of our history, and therefore not in
good odour with the Royalists. However, at this period
he was very kind to Dr. Fuller, with whom he had pro
bably been acquainted in his native county. Whether our
author applied to him for assistance remains in obscurity;
but this is quite clear, that Sir John encouraged him with
favour and patronage ; and being of the same school of
thought — the moderate section — and a favourer of Epis
copacy, from this epoch a close intimacy sprung up between
the two, which considerably relieved our author from his
temporary embarrassments.

It must be borne in mind that the portrait-sketch given of
Sir John, drawn by Clarendon, belongs to a later period of
the history ; but at the time we are writing he was, as far
as we can gather, loyal to Church, if not to King. It should
therefore be read in connection with the event which
generated it. Our author's intimacy with Sir John, who,
leaving his office in the King's household, joined the
Parliamentary forces, attained to some eminence in that
party, and painted as black as he has been by Clarendon,
Bates, and others, has been much discussed. But it must
be remarked that very often the social intercourse of families
remained uninterrupted during these civil wars, in spite of
those political feuds and theological animosities which
divided the nation into two hostile camps, and moreover a
good deal of courteous civility obtained even among
opponents. At all events, Fuller seems to have had a good
opinion of his benefactor, towards whom he evinced lively

Sir John D'Anvers. 373

feelings of gratitude for his protection. Besides this, the
" Worshipful " Knight, by an annual and ample exercise
of bounty, raised our author's fortunes at a time when
they were, as he himself expresses it, not only tottering,
but actually prostrate (non modo nutantes sed plane
jaeentes). These particulars are set out in the dedica
tion of his " Pisgah Sight " to Sir John's son, and
a friend.

Sir John D'Anvers seems to have been a jovial, open-
hearted man, one who could enjoy a good joke and hearty
laugh. In appearance he was very fair, of a beautiful
complexion, small but intelligent eyes, a well formed nose,
slightly retrouse, a round face and open forehead. What
ever their political relationships, or even theological
proclivities, may have been, no doubt there was much
in common between the two men, if they were not
altogether kindred spirits. Fuller did not probably hold
the office of " chaplain " to his household, though he may
have preached occasionally in his private chapel, but he
would be a frequent visitor, not to say resident, and a very
pleasant companion at all times. We can well imagine our
witty Divine's spirits rising under the genial influences, and
the depression of spirits and melancholy wearing off, would,
such was his fund of humour and inexhaustible good
nature, become the life and soul of the party, keeping the
table in fits of laughter. If, after the manner of Coleridge's
" Table Talk," the witticisms of this quaint Divine — the
outcome of the feast of wit and flow of soul — had been
taken down, what a fund of entertaining anecdotes, pun
ning alliterations, piquant sayings, and interesting repartee,
we should have had, for it has been well said Fuller was

374 The Life of Fuller.

" Formed by his converse happily to stir
From grave to gay."

One of Fuller's ardent admirers writes : " How delightful
must have been the conversation of Fuller, varied, as it
was, with exuberance of knowledge, enlivened with gossiping,
chastened by good sense, and sparkling with epigram-
matical sharpness of wit, decorated with all its native
fantastical embroidery of humorous quaintness ! We verily
declare for ourselves, that if we had the power of resus
citating an individual from the dead to enjoy the pleasure
of his conversation, we do not know anyone on whom our
choice would sooner fall than Fuller."* Fuller, no
doubt, knew full well how to comport himself both in
grave and gay hours in the household of his protector.
He himself says of such positions : " God's prophets
are no lumber, but the most profitable stuff wherewith
an house can be furnished. Landlords prove no losers
by such tenants (though sitting rent-free), whose dwelling
with them pays for their dwelling with them.f Sir John
D'Anvers lived at Chelsea, of whom saith John Bates, in
his Lives of the Regicides, " Though he lived some years in
his disloyalty without repentance, yet, drawing near the
time of his death, I have cause to believe that he
repented of the wickedness of his life : for that then
Mr. (now Dr.) Thomas Fuller was conversant in his
family, and preached several times at Sir John Danvers,
his desire, in Chelsea Church : where I am sure all that
frequented that congregation will say he was instructed to

* "Retrospective Review," ii, 51.
t Pisgah ii. 161.

The Metropolitan Pulpit. 375

repent of his misguided and wicked consultations, in having
to do with the murder of that just man, the King ;" thus
proving himself a model chaplain after George Herbert's
pattern.

It was at this time Fuller was bestirring himself to take
a more energic part in public matters, and becoming more
eager to resume the active duties of his profession. Jeremy
Taylor was calling public attention to the freedom of the
silenced clergy in his Liberty of Prophesying, and was doing
his utmost to restore them to their official responsibilities.
Fuller's friends and patrons, such as the Montagus and
Danvers, were also busily engaged in pushing him forward,
till at last we find him obtaining employment. Once again,
we find our Divine in possession of a metropolitan pulpit, —
the pulpit he loved so well, — preaching to a London
audience. But we must not forget the altered condition of
London life in these two hundred years. The metropolitan
pulpit had more weight in those days than it has now, both
in London and the provinces, and that is why there was
such a contention between the two rival political parties to
secure the city churches, and " tune the pulpits." The in
fluence was incalculable, and went far towards deciding the
political problems of the day. In fact, London was then
more to England at large, what Paris has always been to
France.* Now we have changed all this. The City
churches, except in a few remarkable instances.

* The London of Whittington, surrounded by its grey walls,
two miles and a quarter in length, has been described as a small,
compact town— smaller, for instance, than the modern Jerusa
lem — smaller than Hyde Park. Modern London is a vast
congeries of cities, towns, boroughs, hamlets, and villages, which

376 The Life of Fuller.

are nowhere; some have been pulled down, and the
audiences are to be found in the principal centres of sub
urban life. London, too, has become a congeries of
suburbs ; it is a county rather than a city, and no one can
tell where it begins and where it ends ; its population, too,
has grown out of all proportions, and equals that of a small
kingdom. But we are talking of the London of 1647, when
it was compact, not an overgrown city — a measurable com
munity ; and the word fitly spoken would make itself heard
and felt through the town. It was the end of March of that
year when our Divine preached with such acceptance, that
h* became lecturer of St. Clement's, East Cheap. This was
the first of those many lectures which Fuller held from time
to time, for which he was indebted to his friends, merchants
and residents, who had not forgotten him. The rector
of this parish, Benjamin Stone, appointed by Laud in 1637,
appears to have been ejected and imprisoned, and finally
sent to Plymouth, driven away by the political troubles of
the period. During his absence, the churchwardens managed
the temporalities, and the entries in the vestry book make
it probable that the services of the church were during this
time entirely discharged by various lecturers. In the vestry
minute book there is an entry, dated July 22, 1647, to the

threaten to fill up the valley of the Thames from Hampton
Court to Gravesend. Still, there are those who believe that the
London of 1881 is as small as the London of 1381. According to
a great wit, London is a place bounded on the south by Pall
Mall, on the north by Piccadilly, on the west by St. James's
Street, and on the east by the Haymarket. Within the bills of
mortality there are, of course, other Londons. There is the
commercial London, the mercantile London, the literary Lon
don, the art London, and above all the political London. Every
one of these is a world to those sojourning therein.

City Lecturer. 377

effect that the tithes should be kept by the churchwardens,
and paid to such ministers as should be appointed ': " Paid
for four sermons preached by kMr. ffuller, ooi. 06. 08.,"
sermons from eminent divines being then paid at the rate of
a lawyer's fee in modern times. Fuller is said to have
preached also a lecture on the Thursday afternoon, at St.
Bride's, Fleet Street, but the books of this parish were
destroyed, or lost, in the great fire of 1666. Probably he
also was permitted to preach again in these churches about
or after 1652, as also at the Mercer's Chapel, for he com
memorates that company among his benefactors subse
quently in his "Church History." These city lecturers,
among whom we find the name of Pearson as well as
Fuller, were due to the parishioners in vestry assembled,
and did not imply compliance with the times. The
Puritan party were therefore hoisted by their own petard.
For, in opposition to Laud's measures to promote con
formity, an ordinance had been passed in 1641, authorising
the paiishioners "to set up a lecture, and to maintain an
orthodox minister at their own charge, to preach every
Lord's day when there is no preaching, and to preach one
day in every week when there is a weekly lecture." About,
this time Fuller became Lecturer of St. Clement's, and after
wards the old clergy, who had been ejected, began to
avail themselves of this ordinance, which thus cut both
ways ; and in this way upwards of forty London churches,
which in 1648 were without any settled pastorate, became
.gradually filled with them. Our Divine was probably one of
the first of " the old Cavalier parsons " who was again, to his
great satisfaction, enabled to resume the active duties of that
profession so dear to his heart, by means of a decree of his

3 7 8 The Life of Fuller.

political opponents. Fuller would seem to have retained
his connection with St. Clement's in the two following years,
1648-9, for citations from his sermons during those two
years are extant, as well as during the preceding year, when
he began his ministrations. And although the names are
not specified, no doubt Fuller's name would be covered in
the following entry in the parish accounts for 1648 : " Paid
diverse ministers for preachinge 22 Sabbath daies, beginige
the 1 2th of Nov., 1648. — 0.22. oo. oo." Besides which,
there were the Wednesday afternoon lectures, which our
Divine always delivered. This proves that Fuller's sus
pension did not last long, for he tells us he was silenced by the
prevailing faction. Indeed he informs us in his Dedication of
his Sermon on Assurance: " It hath been the pleasure of the
present authority (to whose commands I humbly submit) to
make me mute, forbidding me, till further order, the exercise
of my public preaching : wherefore I am fain to employ my
fingers in writing, to make the best signs I can, thereby to
express, as my desire to the general good, so my particular
gratitude to your honour (Sir John Danvers)."

In addition to these lectures we find from a passage in
his Appeal, that Fuller was also lecturing at St. Dunstan's
East, and it was here that the following laughable incident
took place in connection with his wonderful memory, which
even by that time had become remarkable. We have it
from Fuller himself in his Church History in a rejoinder to
his great antagonist, Dr. Peter Heylin, who had written
thus of our author : " If our author be no better at a pedi
gree in private families than he is in those of kings and
princes, I shall not give much for his art of Memory, for his
History less, and for his Heraldry just nothing." To this

The Art of Memory. 379

Fuller replied, writing in 1659, " When I intend to expose
them to sale, I know where to meet with a franker
chapman. None alive ever heard me pretend to the art
of memory, who, in my book (" Holy State ") have decreed it
as a trick, no art, and indeed is more of fancy than memory.
I confess, some ten years since, when I came out of the
pulpit of St. Dunstan's East, one (who since wrote a book
thereof) told me in the vestry, before credible people, that he,
in Sydney College, had taught me the art of memory ; I re
turned unto him that it was not so : for I could not remember
that I had ever seen his face, which I conceive was a
real refutation." This certainly was a Roland for his
Oliver. Who these credible people were, we are not told,
possibly the churchwardens, or sidesmen, or some leading
persons in the congregation, came into the vestry, as was
usual in those days, to pay their respects to the Doctor,
but, whoever they were, they must have keenly relished the
joke.

We must not, however, suppose that Fuller was not
grateful for his splendid endowment of a good memory
(apart from any memoria technica) which he undoubtedly
had, for he concludes thus : " However, seeing that a natural
memory is the best flower in mine, and not the worst in the
animadvertor's (Dr. Heylin's) garden, let us turn our com
petitions herein unto mutual thankfulness to the God ot
heaven," and, " thankfulness to God for it," he says else
where, " continueth the memory."

In his chapter on " Memory " in his Holy State, Fuller
says : " It is the treasure house of the mind, wherein the
monuments therefrom are kept and preserved. Plato makes
it the mother of the muses. Aristotle sets it one degree

380 The Life of Fuller.

further, making experience the mother of arts, memory the
parent of experience. Philosophers place it in the rear of
the head, and it seems the mine of memory lies there, be
cause there men naturally dig for it ; scratching for it when
they are at a loss. This, again, is two-fold : one the simple
retention of things, the other regaining them when forgotten.
After illustrating, by the Bee, his contention that the brute
creatures equal if not exceed man in a bare retentive memory,
he says that artificial memory is rather a trick than an art,
and more for the gain of the teacher than profit of the
learners. Like the tossing of a pike, which is no part of the
postures and motions thereof, and is rather for ostentation
than use, to show the strength and nimbleness of the arm,
and is often used by wandering soldiers as an introduction
to beg. Understand it if the artificial rules, which at this
day are delivered by memory-mountebanks, for sure an art
thereof may be made, wherein as yet the world is defective,
and that no more destructive to natural memory than
spectacles are to eyes, which girls in Holland wear from
twelve years of age."

These are some of \\\z plain rules which our author insists
on : " Soundly infix in thy mind what thou desirest to re
member. What wonder is it if agitation of business jog that
out of thy head which was there rather tacked than fastened?
Whereas those notions that get in by violenta possessio will
abide there till ejectio firma, sickness or extreme age, dis
possess them. It is best knocking in the nail over night, and
clinching it the next morning. Overburthen not thy memory
to make so faithful a servant a slave. Remember, Atlas
was weary. Have as much reason as a camel, to rise when
thou hast thy load full. Memory, like a purse, if it be over-

£/. Clement's, Eastcheap. 381

full that it cannot shut, all will drop out of it. Take heed
of a gluttonous curiosity to feed on many things, lest the
greediness of the appetite of thy memory spoil the digestion
thereof. Marshal thy motions unto a handsome method.
One will carry twice more weight, trussed and packed up in
bundles, than when it lies untowardly flapping and hanging
about his shoulders. Things orderly fardled up under
heads are most portable."

He also gives other plain rules : " Sport not thy memory
with thine own jealousy, nor make it bad by suspecting it.
Adventure not all thy learning in one bottom, but divide it
betwixt thy memory and thy notebooks. Moderate diet
and good air preserve memory" ; but what air is best he does
not define ; " some say a pure and subtle air is best, another
commends a thick and foggy air. For the Pisans, sited in
the fens and marshes of Arnus, have excellent memories, as if
the foggy air were a cap for their heads."

How long our Divine held the lectureship of St. Clement's,
and what was the duration of prohibition from preaching,
which assuredly was levelled against him about this time,
seems involved in some obscurity, but his anonymous
biographer informs us in what spirit, and with how much con
scientiousness he recommenced his ministrations. " A
living was not the design of the good doctor, who knew how
incompatible the times and his doctrine must needs be.
However, as he had private opportunities, he ceased not to
assert the purity of the Church of England, bewailing the
sad condition into which the grevious abominable sins of
the nation had so far plunged it as to make it more miser
able by bearing so many reproaches and calumnies grounded
only upon its calamity. But some glimmering hopes of a settle-

382 The Life of Fuller.

ment and understanding betwixt the King and the pretended
Houses appearing, the pious doctor betook himself to
earnest prayers and petitions to God that He would please
to succeed that blessed work, doing that privately as a
Christian, which he might not publicly do as a subject, most
fervently imploring in those families where his person and
devotions were alike acceptable, the blessing of a restora
tion on his afflicted Church, and its defenceless defender the
King" (pp. 37-8).

We can well imagine Fuller's difficulty at this time. He
was too pronounced a churchman, he was too prominent a
divine, he was too popular a preacher, he was too methodi
cally orthodox, though moderate a theologian, to hold his ano
malous position as lecturer long. Attracted by the fame of his
preaching, select and rapt audiences would gather round the
well-known and deservedly popular lecturer at St. Clement's
on Wednesday mornings, and St. Bride's on Thursday
afternoons, as we have remembered to have seen gather
round Melvill, and heard used to come from all parts to hear
Watts Wilkinson in the last generation, on Tuesday morn
ings, at the Golden Lectureship of St. Margaret's, Lothbury,
in the City, hard by the Exchange. There they would listen
to his eloquent addresses, and recognise the true ring of his
doctrine as a fearless exponent of the Catholic doctrines of
his beloved Mother, the National Church, in which he had
been brought up, and the patriotism of his aspirations for
his country, the loving allegiance towards his sovereign lord,
King Charles, of glorious memory. But he was too out
spoken for the times, and his Royalist proclivities were too
well ascertained. The Parliamentarian party, with its two rival
factions of Independents and Presbyterians — struggling for

Malignant Ministers. 383

mastery in its womb — took knowledge of him ; that he was
among them, but not of them. They remembered his
whilom influence at the Savoy, when minister thereof, his
flight to Oxford, his enthusiasm at Basing, his influence at
Exeter, as Court-chaplain, and tutor to a scion of the Royal
house. They knew his stubborn implacable character as a
" Church and King" man. This could not be endured, a
popular Royalist preacher, in spite of his influential friends,
and so they got him silenced. He had to thank the rendition
Articles of Exeter that nothing worse followed his so great
freedom of speech, and potential utterance. We have Fuller's
own words to this effect (in a preface to a sermon of 1 64 1 ) : —
" We read how Zechariah, being struck dumb, called for
table books thereon to write his mind, making his hands to
supply the defect of his mouth ; it hath been the pleasure of
the present authority (to whose commands I humbly submit)
to make me mute, forbidding me till further order the
exercise of my publick preaching." It is evident that Fuller
had given offence, and was one of the malignants referred to
in the following gravamen, addressed to the House of Com
mons (December 25th, 1647) — if the House really sat on
Christmas-Day — in reference to "countenancing of malignant
ministers in some parts of London, where they preach and
use the Common Prayer Book contrary to the ordinance of
Parliament ; and some delinquent ministers were invited,
and did preach on this day, being Christmas Day. The
House upon debate ordered that the committee for plun
dered ministers have power given them to examine and
punish churchwardens, sequestrators, and others that do
countenance delinquent ministers to preach, and to commit
them if they see cause."* This, of course, referred to public
* Rushworth vii. 944.

384 The Life of Fuller.

ministrations, for he might do that privately as a Christian,
which he could not do publicly as a subject. But this drove
our Divine to officiate and preach amongst those families
which gave him and other of his brethren the protection and
privilege of doing so. Thus Evelyn says in his diary (March
1 8th, 1648-9): — "Mr. Owen, a sequestered and learned,
minister, preached in my parlour ; he gave us the blessed
Sacrament, now wholly out of use in the parish churches, on
which the Presbyterians and fanatics had usurped."

London, at this time, was full of many ejected clergymen,
who had been driven from their cures as parish priests, their
livings sequestrated, and had made their way up to town,
drawn thither by their common misfortunes. We do not
kno\v if they sunk so low as many of the ex-cures in France
have done, who to the number of scores and hundreds may
be met with in Paris driving cabs, and as conductors of
omnibuses, but they had to get their living as best they
could, some by teaching and keeping schools, or in other
ways, many being supported by the bounty and liberality of
wealthy Royalists, who relieved them privately. Among
these worthies we again meet with Dr. William Fuller, Dean
of Ely, who was well known to our Divine, and many others
of his contemporaries. He was then a great sufferer for the
Royal cause, and helped, being in London at that time, his
son-in-law, Dr. Walton, who had come up from Oxford to
proceed with his work, the Polyglot, or many-language d
Bible, which had been projected at that University, being
also assisted by the advice of the learned and religious Dr.
Ussher, Primate of Ireland, and with the permission therein
of Dr. Juxon, Bishop of London. The Dean signed this
work as a coadjutor. Our Divine in 1655, adding this

Character of Dean Fuller. 385

c< excellent work," which was published in 1657, "happily
performed as it is worthily undertaken." Dean Fuller died
two years later, aged 79, and was buried at St. Vedast
(which has become somewhat notorious for the ritualistic
persecution of its rector, Mr. Dale), in Foster Lane, where
a decent monument was raised to his memory by his
daughter, Jane Walton.

The character of Dean Fuller has been given in the fol
lowing eulogistic terms : " He was famous for his prudence
and piety, was an excellent preacher, and without doubt he
would have risen higher, had it not been for the iniquity of
the times." And Lloyd says of him " that he was a general
scholar, well skilled in his own and former times, a good
linguist: those languages which parted at Babel in confusion
met in his soul in a method : a deep divine, a grave man,
whose looks were a sermon, and affable withal. Such a
pattern of charity himself, and so good a preacher of it, that
he was (with S. Chrysostom) called the poor man's
preacher."

Our author, with more learned leisure than usual, betook
himself to his literary labours and pen with redoubled energy.
His anonymous biographer says " he presently recom
menced his laborious enterprise (i.e. his " Worthies "), and
by the additional help of books, the confluence and resort of
learned men (his acquaintance) to their fleecing and tyran
nical Courts and Committees newly erected, it made such a
progress that from thence he could take a fair prospect of
his whole work." Again, " that desired affair (the agree
ment of the King and Parliament) went on slowly and un
certainly, but so did not the Doctor's book : for having
recommended the first to the Almighty wisdom, he stood

B B

386 The Life of Fuller.

not still expecting the issue, but addressed himself to his
study, affording no time but the leisure of his meals (which
was short) to the hearing of news, with which the minds and
mouths were full employed by the changeableness of the
army, who played fast and loose with the King and Parlia
ment, till in conclusion they destroyed both." *

During this time Fuller was engaged also on his Church
History, the first three books of which were mainly writ
ten in the reign of Charles I.

It was at this period of his life that Fuller, prohibited
from the exercise of his public preaching, published some
of his smaller sermons, the first being his Sermon of
Assurance, which he had preached in Cambridge in 1633.
It was "exposed to public view (1647) by the importunity
of his friends," and the preacher gave his style as late
Lecturer of Lombard Street. Speaking of this place, having
critically examined the register and examined into the
circumstances of the case, he tells us of the finding
(Feb. 1 6th, 1647) of a coffin and a corpse, underneath
two skeletons, both complete and unconsumed. "Had
this happened," he says, "in the time of Popery, what a stock
had been here to graft a miracle upon." He dedicates this
Sermon on Assurance to that " honourable and nobly ac
complished Knight, Sir John D'Anvers," in the following
terms : " Wherefore I am fain to employ my fingers in writing
to make the best signs I can, thereby to express as my
desire to the general good, so my particular gratitude to
your honour. May this treatise but find the same favour
from your eye as once it did from your ear^ and be as well

* "Life," pp. 36-8-9.

Sermon of Assurance. 387

accepted when read as formerly when heard. And let this
humble dedication be interpreted a weak acknowledgment
of those strong obligations your bounty hath laid upon me.
Well may you taste the fruits of that tree whose roots your
liberality hath preserved from withering. Sir, these hard
times have taught me the art of frugality, to improve every
thing to the best advantage : by the same rules of thrift this
my dedication, as returning thanks for your former favour,
so begs the continuance of the same. And to end, as I
began, with the example of Zechariah, as his dumbness was
but temporary, so I hope by God's goodness and the favour
of my friends, amongst whom your honour stands in the
highest rank, the miracle may be wrought, that the dumb
may speak again, and as well by words publicly profess, as
now by his hand he describes himself, your servant in all
Christian offices, Thomas Fuller."

In his address "To the Christian Reader" we get a
glimpse, not only of our author's relations to the " powers
that be," but his prospects about his future predicatorial
career. " I shall be short," he says, " in my ad
dresses unto thee : not only because I know not thy
disposition, being a stranger unto thee, but chiefly
because I am ignorant of my own present condition,
remaining as yet a stranger to myself. Were I restored
to the free use of my Function, I would then request the
concurrence of thy thanks with mine to a gracious God
the Giver, and honourable Persons the dealers, of this great
favour unto me. Were I finally interdicted my calling, with
out hope of recovery, I would bespeak thy pity to bemoan
my estate. But, lying as yet in the Marshes between Hope
and Fear, I am no fit subject to be condoled for, or con-
B B 2

388 The Life of Fuller.

gratulated with. Yet it is no piece of Popery to mantain
that the prayers of others may be beneficial, and available
for a person in my Purgatory condition. Which moves
me to crave thy Christian suffrages that I may be rid of my
present torment on such terms as may tend to God's glory,
mine own good, and the edification of others. However
matters shall succeed, it is no small comfort to my conscience
that in respect of my Ministerial Function I do not die
Felo-de-se, not stabbing my profession by my own laziness,
who hitherto have and hereafter shall improve my utmost
endeavours, by any lawfnl means to procure my restitution.
When the Priests would have carried the ark after David, David
forbad them to go further. < If,' said he, ' I shall find favour
in the eyes of the Lord, He will bring me again, and show me
both it and His habitation. But if He thus say, I have no
delight in thee : behold, here am I, let Him do to me as
seemeth good unto Him.' Some perchance would persuade
me to have my pulpit carried after me, along with me to my
private lodgings : but hitherto I have refrained from such
exercise as subject to offence, hoping in due time to be
brought back to the pulpit, and endeavouring to compose
myself to David's resolution. And if I should be totally
forbidden my Function, this is my confidence: ft&,\. that great
pasture of God's Providence, wherein so many of my Pro
fession do daily feed, is not yet made so bare by their biting
but that, besides them and millions more, it may still com
fortably maintain thy friend and servant in Christ Jesus,
Thomas Fuller."

Our Divine takes his text from n Peter, i., TO., " Wherefore
the rather, brethren, give diligence to make your calling and
election sure," a well-known controversial passage. Refer-

Sermon of Assurance. 389

ring to the description of curious but needless points, he
wittily compares them to Ehud's dagger, " short, but
sharp : and although it be now fallen into a lame hand
(the unworthiness of the Preacher in this place) to manage
it, yet, enforced with the assistance of God's arm, it may
prove able to give the deadly blow to four Eglon sins
tyrannizing in too many men's hearts ; (i) Supine negligence
in matters of Salvation ; (2) Busy meddling in other men's
matters ; (3) Preposterous curiosity in unsearchable mys
teries ; (4) Continual wavering, or Scepticalness concerning
our calling and election.

" Supine negligence is despatched in those words give dili
gence. This grace of Assurance is unattainable by ease and
idleness. Busy meddling in other men's matters is destroyed
by the particle your. Each one ought principally to intend
his own assurance. Preposterous curiosity is stabbed with
the order of the words calling and election, not election and
calling. Men must first begin to assure their calling, and
then ascendendc argue and infer the assurance of their election.
Continual wavering is wounded under the fifth rib in con
clusion of my text sure. We will but touch at the three first
and land at the last (man's apprehension concerning his
assurance) as the chief subject of our ensuing discourse."
The sermon deals with the momentous question ' Am I His,
or am I not ? '

The discourse treats of this topic with great tenderness
and charity, and admirably illustrates the scriptural sound
ness of his views. The grace of assurance he shows had
been subject to the extremes of fanaticism and Romanism.
But in opposition to the former Fuller shows from his text
that the assurance of our " calling and election " may be

390 The Life of Fuller.

attained in this life without any miraculous revelation. On
the other hand, he insists that those cannot enter into its
enjoyment who make Christianity a life of worldly confor
mity, or luxurious ease. " Christianity," he observes, " is a
laborious profession. Observe God's servants clean through
the Scriptures resembled to men of painful vocations : to
Racers, who must stretch every sinew to get first to the
goal : to Wrestlers a troublesome employment, so that I am
unresolved whether to recount it amongst toils or exercises
(at best it is but a toilsome exercise) : to Soldiers, who are in
constant service and daily duty, always on the guard against
their enemies. Besides, we ministers are compared to Shep
herds, a painful and dangerous profession amongst the Jews :
to Watchmen, who continually wake for the good of others ;
so that, besides the difficulties of our Christian calling, we
are encumbered with others which attend our Ministeiial
function."

To those who made this assurance " to be the very being?
essence, life, soul, and formality of faith itself/' our Divine
charitably says, " Far be it from me, because dissenting from
their opinions to rail on their persons, and wound with
opprobrious terms the memories of those which are dead ;
rather let us thank God for their learned and religious writ
ings left behind them, knowing that the head of the know
ledge of this age stands on the shoulders of the former, and
their very errors have advantaged us into a clearer discovery
of the truth in this particular." (Pp. 5, 10.)

The next sermon we have to notice is one on " Content-

. ment," which was preached in Sir John D'Anvers' private

chapel, and belongs to the year 1648. It is upon the short

text (i Timothy vi., 6) " Godliness with contentment is great

Sermon of Contentment. 391

gain." This sermon is one of the least known and rarest
of Fuller's works, nor is a copy to be found in the British
Museum. It is for Fuller a very short one, preached to a
small but select auditory in a small chapel, and its author
calls it Zoar, for is it not a little one ? The preaching of
this sermon in the knight's "private chapell" throws some
light upon our author's relationship with Sir John, who must
have opened his pulpit to his friend a Royalist clergyman of
ecclesiastical status, rather than to his Parliamentarian
preachers. It was not intended for publication, but owing
to the importunities of his patron he had it printed. " Good
was the counsel which laash (Joash) gave Amaziah
(2 Chron. xxv., 19), " Abide now at home," especially in our
dangerous days, when all going is censurable for gadding
abroad without a necessary vocation. But the next
" mainest motive " which put him on that public adventure
was the consideration of " my engagements to your noble
bounty, above my possibility of deserving it. The Apostle
saith it is the part of a good servant (Tit. ii., 9) /xr/ avriXiyovra.^
1 not answering again.' I must confess myselfe your servant,
and therefore it ill beseemed me to dislike or mutter against
anything you was pleased I should doe. Thus desiring the
continuance and increase of all spiritual and temporal
happiness on your honour, I commend you to the Almighty.
— T.F." *

As the writer cannot meet with a copy of this sermon, | he
must be indebted to Mr. Bailey for this account of it, which

* Bailey's Life, p. 423.

t Since writing the above, the author has procured a transcript
of the only copy, that at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, through
the courtesy of the librarian, Mr. Pearson.

392 The Life of Fuller.

he wishes gratefully to acknowledge. He (Fuller) says in
the verse preceding his text, ". St. Paul sets forth the world
ling's prayer, creed and commandments, which is their daily
desire, belief, and practise, and all contained in three words
— gain is godliness, but the text countermines their opinion
or raiseth our antiposition to break down their false conceit,"
most elegantly crossing and inverting their words. " Take
notice," he continues promptly, " of the unaffected elegancy
of the Apostle, how clearly and naturally, with a little
addition, he turns the worldling's Paradox into a Christian
Truth. Though sermons may not laugh with light expres
sions, yet it is not unlawful for them to smile with delightful!
language, alwaies provided that the sweetness of the sawce
spoile not the savouriness of the meat. 'The Preacher sought
to find out acceptable or pleasant words,' that so his sound
matter might be more welcome to his auditors."

The sermon is as quaintly divided as the former. He
says that his text presented his auditors with (i) a Bride,
" Godliness" ; (2) with a Bridesmaid, " Contentment " ; (3)
with her Great Portion, " Gain " ; and (4) with the present
payment thereof, down on the nail " is." Godliness and Con
tentment he beautifully likens to Saul and Jonathan, " lovely
and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they are not
divided. These twin graces always go together." The dis
course abounds with passages of interest. He refers to the
wild religious extravagancies of the sects of that time.
" Ask the tenacious maintainer of some new upstart opinions
what Godliness is, and he will answer it in the zealous de
fending with limb and life of such and such strange tenets,
which our fathers perchance never heard of before ; yea,
which is worse, such a person will presume so to confine

Sermon of Contentment. 393

Godliness to his opinion as to ungodly all others who in
the least particular dissent from him. Oh ! if God should
have no more mercy on us, than we have charity one to
another, what would become of us ? Indeed, Christ termeth
His own a little flock. 'Fear not, little flock.' (Luke xii.,
13.) But if some men's rash and cruel censures should be
true, the number of the Godly would be so little it would not
be a flock."

In the sermon on " Assurance " he had pointedly cen
sured those who spent much precious time in needless dis
putes, "the conclusions thereof are both uncertain and
unprofitable," and he also here condemns the same class.
{ ' It is a true but sad consideration how in all ages men with
mor.e vehemency of spirit have stickled about small and un
important points than about such matters as most concern
their salvation. So that I may say (these sorrowful times
having tuned our tongues to military phrases) some men
have lavished more powder and shot in the defence of some
sleight outworks which might well have been quitted without
any losse to Religion than in maintaining the main platform
of piety, and making good that Castle of God's service , and
their own salvation. Pride will be found upon enquiry the
principal cause hereof."

As to the vital efficacy of Church ceremonies, etc., his old
opinions had undergone no change. " As for all particular
forms of Church government, Ceremonies, and outward
manner of divine worship, most of them admitting of altera
tions upon emergencies, and variation according to
circumstances of time, place, and persons (though these be
more or less ornamental to godlinesse, as they neerer or
further off relate to Divine institution). Yet it is erroneous

394 The Life of Fuller.

to fixe or place the life or essence of godlinesse therein : we
conclude this point with the words of St. Peter : — ' Of a
truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons.' But
in every nation he that feareth Him and worketh righteous
ness, is accepted with Him : yea, in one and the same nation he
that feareth Him and worketh righteousness, of what Sect,
Side, Party, Profession, Opinion, Church, Congregation,
soever he be, is accepted with Him, as having true godliness
in his heart, which, with contentment, is great gain."

The following is a specimen of our author's peculiar
eloquence : — " Great gain : of what ? Let Saint Paul
himself, who wrote this Epistle, tell us, when he cast up his
audit, what profit he got by the profession of Piety. 'In
labours more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons
more frequent, in deaths oft ! ' Where is the gain all this
while ? Perchance it follows. We will try another verse :
' In journey ings often, in perils of water, in perils of
robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the
heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in
perils in the sea, in perils amongst false brethren ! ' Where
is the gain all this while ? You will say, these were but the
Apostle's adventures, his rich return (slow, but sure) will
come at last. Once more we must try. * In wearinesse and
painfulnesse, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fast
ings often, in cold and nakedness.' The further we go the
less gain we find. Cushai said unto David ' May all the
enemies of my lord the king be as the young man Absalom
is.' But if this be given : * May all the enemies of God and
goodness have plenty thereof,' it will never sink into a
worldling's head that godliness is gain. Whilst the grandees
of piety are found so poore, Eliah begging food of a

Character of his Wit. 395

widdow, Peter without gold or silver, our Saviour himself
' not having where to lay his head.' "

From a perusal of these extracts it will be seen that in
Fuller's discourses there was, as usual, plenty of wit,
wrapped up in " delightful language," but with him it was
always the vehicle of practical divinity. In his case, wit was
invariably allied to its sister wisdom ; and, in the witticisms
he indulges in, no one can detect the slightest soupgon of
irreverence and want of devotion. To use his own words,
he " never wit-wantoned it with the Majesty of God." Craik
avers that there is not to be found in Fuller's writings
probably neither an ill-natured nor a profane witticism. It
is the sweetest-blooded wit that was ever infused into man
or book. And how strong and weighty, as well as how
gentle and beautiful much of his writing is." The author
of the Holy State could never be profane. In that work
there is more than enough to free our author from any
suspicion of levity or irreverence, and to him might fairly be
applied Rosaline's words of Biron ; —

"A merrier man,

Within the limits of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal."

"Harmless mirth," says Fuller, "is the best cordial
against the consumption of the spirits. Wherefore jesting is
not unlawful if it trespasseth not in quality, quantity, or
season." " It is good to make a jest, not to make a trade
of jesting." " Jest not with the two-edged sword," he says
(/xcx^at/aav StVro/xov) of God's word." " Will nothing please
thee to wash thy hands in but the font ? or to drink healths
in but the church chalice ?" " And know the whole art is
learnt at the first admission, and profane jests will come

396 The Life of Fuller.

without calling." " Wanton jests make fools laugh, and wise
men frown." " Scoff not at the natural defects ot any,
which are not in their power to amend. Oh ! 'tis cruelty
to beat a cripple with his own crutches." " Let not thy
jests, like mummy, be made of dead men's flesh." And
again, " It is unnatural to laugh at a natural." " No time
to break jests when the heart-strings are about to be broken."
Of the character entitled, " A Faithful Minister," he would
" not use a light companion to make thereof a grave appli
cation, for fear lest his poison go further than his antidote."
Again he says, " Indeed, reasons are the pillars of the
fabric of a sermon, but similitudes are the windows which
give the best lights." He avoids such stories whose men
tion may suggest bad thoughts to his auditors. Thus the
philosopher Bacon and Fuller are on this subject in the
fullest accord.

Archdeacon Churton was rather hard on our preacher
in calling him " the jester," for his jokes are often full of true
wit. Lloyd's judgment upon our author was that he was not
so skilled where to spare his jests, as where to spend.
Though Fuller's wit was mainly under his direction, yet on
some occasions he certainly did come " within measurable
distance " of the limits laid down for the province of harm
less mirth. He may have sometimes offended both in
quantity and quality, even if his sallies were always " in
season." The ingenuous reader will, however, very readily
make allowance for their cheerful-minded favorite, who has
repeated his opinion that besides entailing a " vigorous
vivacity," an ounce of mirth, with the same degree of grace,
will serve God more, and more acceptably, than a pound of
sorrow. Fuller invariably commended those of a cheerful

Opinions of his IVit. 397

spirit, and it is not therefore singular that among such men
almost the whole of his intimate acquaintances are to be found.

Fuller's exuberant wit and piety went hand in hand. He
is therefore classed with Bishop Earle, La Fontaine, and
others, who, as the richest in wit and humour, were also the
simplest and kindest hearted of men. Thus their piety
never suffered on account of their cheerfulness and wit,
but rather commended it ; for, to quote Addison's words,
" they make morality appear amiable to people of gay dis
positions, and refute the common objection against religion,
which represents it as only fit for gloomy and melancholy
tempers."

But to return to what Fuller's biographer says of his
preaching : " For his ordinary manner of teaching, it was in
some kind different from the usual preacher's method of
most ministers in those times, for he seldom made an excur
sion into the handling of common places, or drew his
subject-matter out at length by any prolixly continued
discourse. But the main frame of his public sermons, if
not wholly, consisted (after some brief and genuine resolu
tion of the context, and explications of the terms where
need required) of notes and observations, with much variety
and great dexterity drawn immediately from the text, and
naturally without restraint, issuing and flowing, either from
the main body or from the several parts of it, with some
useful application annexed thereunto ; which, though either
of them long insisted upon, yet were wont with that vivacity
to be propounded and pressed by him, .as well might, and
oft did, pierce deep into the hearts of his hearers, and not
only rectify and clear their judgments, but have a powerful
work also on their affections." (P. 80.)

398 The Life of Fuller.

It was the preacher's opinion that, if surprised with a
sudden occasion, a good minister would count himself to be
rather excused than commended, if premeditating the bones
of his sermon he clothes his flesh extempore. Fuller was
scrupulously careful in preparing for the pulpit, on which
account he appears to have approved of preaching the same
sermon often, preferring, like Dean Colet, the meat well
done, to that half raw and fresh from the spit. His biog
rapher tells us that " in spite of his prodigious memory, it was
not Fuller's habit to quote many Scriptures, finding it
troublesome to himself, and [supposing it would be to his
auditors also ; besides deeming it the less needful in regard
that his observation being grounded immediately on the
Scripture he handled, the necessary consequence, thence de
duced, seemed to receive proof sufficient from it." " Heap
ing up of many quotations," said Fuller, himself free from
a vice of his day, " smacks of a vain ostentation of
memory."

Nor must we omit to mention that although to a modern
audience, which wearies of a sermon over a quarter of an
hour, Fuller's sermons would seem of inordinate length,
these were remarkably short for his age. As now it is all
music, so then it was all preaching, and the " hour glass "
was often turned again. Yet he himself says, the faithful
minister " makes not that wearisome which should ever be
welcome." Wherefore his sermons are of an ordinary
length, except on an extraordinary occasion. What a gift had
John Halsebach, Professor at Vienna, in tediousness, who
to expound the prophet Esay to his auditors, read twenty-
one years on the first chapter, and yet finished it not." *
* "Holy State," p. 66.

Death of King Charles the Martyr. 399

CHAPTER XIX.

" REGICIDE, AND THE JUST MAN'S FUNERAL5' (1649).

" Honour to their memories is more certaine, being sometimes
paid them very abundantly, even from those who formerly were
so niggardly and covetous, as not to afford them a good word in
their life-time.

Defunctus amabitur idem.

So such as rail at, revile, curse, condemne, persecute, execute
pious people, speake other language of them, when such men
ix&ti passed the Purgation of Death, and confesse them faithfull
and sincere servants of God."— AM Redeviwts (Epistle to the
Reader).

Praise to our God ! not cottage hearths alone

And shades impervious to the proud world's glare,
Such witness yield : a monarch from his throne
Springs to his Cross and finds his glory there."

KEBLE.

JE again find the efforts of Fuller's friends success
ful, and he was allowed the exercise of his
public profession once more, and resumed the
duties of his sacred calling. But this permission
was given, and liberty was regained at a very gloomy, if
not the gloomiest, period in the annals of this country. Our
author himself characterised it as "the midnight of misery!"
and he tell us in his "Mixt Contemplations" that "it was ques
tionable whether the law should first draw up the will and
testament of dying divinity, or divinity should first make a
funeral sermon for expiring law. Violence stood ready to
invade our property ; heresies and schisms to oppress our
religion." The King and Parliament could not come to

4oo The Life of Fuller.

terms, and having been taken prisoner, Charles was brought
from the Isle of Wight up to London. Here he underwent
the mockery of a trial, for his doom was a foregone con
clusion. The spirit of regicide was abroad, which found its
expression and concrete embodiment in the " Commons "
House of Parliament ; the ungodly and worldling had it all
their own way.

"Having received in himself (says Fuller, in his "Church
History") the sentence of death, Dr. Juxon, Bishop of
London, preached privately before him on the Sunday
following, January 28th; his text, Romans ii, 16, "In the
day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus
Christ, according to my gospel."

Next Tuesday, January 3oth, being the day of his dis
solution, in the morning alone he received the Communion
from the hands of the said bishop, at which time he read for
the second lesson, the twenty-seventh chapter of St. Matthew,
containing the history of the death and passion of our
Saviour. Communion ended, the King heartily thanked
the Bishop for selecting so seasonable and comfortable a
portion of Scripture — seeing all human hope and happiness
are founded on the sufferings of our Saviour. The Bishop
modestly disavowed any thanks due to himself, it being done
merely by the direction of the Church of England,* whose

*" True son of our dear Mother, early taught

With her to worship and for her to die,
Nurs'd in her aisles to more than kingly thought,

Oft in her solemn hours we dream thee nigh,
For thou did'st love to trace her daily lore,

And where we look for comfort or for calm,
Over the self-same lines to bend, and pour

Thy heart with hers in some victorious psalm.

Death of King Charles the Martyr. 401

Rubric appointed that chapter the second morning lesson
for the thirtieth of January.

His hour drawing nigh, he passed through the park to
Whitehall. As he always was observed to walk very fast,
so now he abated not any whit of his wonted pace. In his
passage, a sorry fellow (seemingly some mean citizen) went
abreast along with him, and in an affront often stared his
Majesty in the face, which caused him to turn it another
way. The Bishop of London, though not easily angered,
was much offended hereat, as done out of despiteful design,
to discompose him before his death, and moved the captain
of the guard he might be taken away, which was done ac
cordingly." (Vol. III., pp- 563-4.)

"Before his own gate at Whitehall," says Baxter, "they
erected a scaffold, and before a full assembly of people be
headed him : wherein appeared the severity of God, the
mutability and uncertainty of worldly things, and the fruits
of a sinful nation's provocations, and the infamous effects
of error, pride and selfishness." (" Life," i., 63.)

We take the following graphic description of the death of
this saint-king and martyr, " our own, our royal saint," the
unfortunate Charles I., from Dr. Lingard's pages : " About
two o'clock the King proceeded through the long gallery,
lined on each side with soldiers, who, far from insulting the
fallen monarch, appeared by their sorrowful looks to sym"
pathize with his fate. At the end, an aperture had been
made in the wall, through which he stepped at once upon

And well did she thy loyal love repay ;

When all forsook, her Angels still were nigh,
Chain'd and bereft, and on thy funeral way,
Straight .to the Cross she turned thy dying eye."

KEBLE.
c c

402 TJie Life of Fuller.

the scaffold. It was hung with black : at the further end
were seen the two executioners, the block and the axe ;
below appeared, in arms, several regiments of horse and
foot, and beyond, as far as the eye was permitted to reach,
waved a dense and countless crowd of spectators. The
King stood collected and undismayed amidst the apparatus
of death. There was in his countenance that cheerful in
trepidity, in his demeanour that dignified calmness which
had characterized, in the hall of Fotheringay, his royal grand
mother, Mary Stuart. It was his wish to address the people;
but they were kept beyond the reach of his voice by the
swords of the military, and therefore confining his discourse
to the few persons standing with him on the scaffold, he
took, he said, that opportunity of denying, in the presence
of God, the crimes of which he had been accused. It
was not to him, but the Houses of Parliament, that the war
and all its evils should be charged. The Parliament had
first invaded the rights of the Crown by claiming the com
mand of the army, and had provoked hostilities by issuing
commissions for the levy of forces, before he had raised a
single man. But he had forgiven all, even those, whoever
they were (for he did not desire to know their names) who
had brought him to his death. He did more than forgive,
he prayed that they might repent. But for that purpose
they must do three things : they must render to God His
due by settling the Church according to the Scripture ; they
must restore to the Crown those rights which belonged to it
by law ; and they must teach the people the difference be
tween the Sovereign and the subject; those persons could
not be governors who were to be governed ; they could not
rule, whose duty it was to obey. Then, in allusion to the

Death of King Charles the Martyr. 403

offer formerly made him by the army, he concluded with
these words : " Sir, it was for the liberties of the people that
I was come here. If I would have assented to an arbitrary
sway, to have all things changed according to the power ot
the sword, I needed not to have come hither; and therefore
I tell you (and I pray God it be not laid to your charge)
that I am the martyr of the people.'*

Having added, at the suggestion of Dr. Juxon, " I die a
Christian according to the profession of the Church of
England, as I found it left me by my father," he said,
addressing himself to the prelate, " I have on my side a
good cause and a gracious God."

Bishop : " There is but one stage more ; it is turbulent
and troublesome, but a short one. It will carry you from
earth to heaven, and there you will find joy and comfort."

King : " I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible
crown."

Bishop : " You exchange an earthly for an eternal crown
• — a good exchange."

" His speech ended, he gave that small paper (some four
inches square, containing heads whereon in his speech he
intended to dilate) to the Bishop of London."*

Being ready, he bent his neck on the block, and, after a
short pause, stretched out his hands as a signal. At that
instant the axe descended : the head rolled from the body,
and one deep dismal groan, a groan which is said by
bystanders to have been something dreadful, beyond human
imagination, burst from the multitude of the spectators.
But they had no leisure to testify their feelings : two troops

* Fuller's " Church History," iii., p. 564.
C C 2

404 The Life of Fuller.

of horse dispersed them in different directions. One good
man, Dr. Fell, after seeing that sight, went home and died.

A man in a vizor performed the office of executioner ;
another, in a like disguise, held up to the spectators the
head streaming with blood, and cried out: "This is the
head of a traitor." (Jan. 3oth, 1649.)

Such was the end of the unfortunate Charles Stuart ; " an
awful lesson," says Dr. Lingard, "to the possessors of royalty,
to watch the growth of public opinion, and to moderate
their pretensions in conformity with the reasonable desires

of their subjects The men who hurried him to

the scaffold were a small faction of bold and ambitious
spirits, who had the address to guide the passions and
fanaticism of their followers, and were enabled through them
to control the real sentiments of the nation. Even of the
Commissioners appointed to sit in judgment on the King,
scarcely one half could be induced to attend his trial, and
many of those who concurred in his condemnation sub
scribed the sentence with feelings of shame and remorse :
But so it always happens in revolutions : the most violent
put themselves forward ; their vigilance and activity seem
to multiply their number, and the daring of the few wins the
ascendancy over the indolence or the pusillanimity of the
many."*

The corpse, embalmed and coffined in lead, which
was followed by the Duke of Richmond, the Marquis
of Hertford, the Earl of Southampton, and the Earl of
Lindsey (to three of whom Fuller was not unknown), was
buried a few days after in St. George's Chapel at Windsor,

* Lingard's " History of England," vol. viii., 120.

Funeral of King Charles the Martyr. 405

and he who in his life was called the White King, from his
great purity and because he had been crowned, at his own
desire, in white robes, had his coffin, as it passed to the
chapel, covered with snow which fell at that time.

This is not the time to discuss the character of Charles,
but even Hallam, in his "Constitutional History," who
charges the Martyr-King with want of sincerity, is bound to
add, " Few personages in history, we should recollect, have
had so much of their actions revealed and commented upon
as Charles. It is, perhaps, a mortifying truth that those who
have stood highest with posterity have seldom been those
who have been most accurately known." But we may pray
with our Church, " that according to the example of this
God's blessed martyr, we may press forward to the prize of
the high calling before us, in faith and patience, humility
and meekness, mortification and self-denial, charity and con
stant perseverance to the end." (ii., 229.)

It was intended to use the burial service of the Church
over the body, but this, says Fuller, who was not an eye
witness, but received his account from the Duke of Rich
mond himself, the governor refused. "Coming into the
Castle, they showed," writes Fuller, " their commission to
the governor, Colonel Wichcot, desiring to inter the corpse
according to the Common Prayer Book of the Church of
England: the rather because the Parliament's total remitting
the manner of the burial to the duke's discretion, implied a
permission thereof. This the governor refused, alleging, it
was improbable the Parliament would permit the use of what
so solemnly they had abolished, and therein destroy their
own act."

" All things being then in readiness," with which words,

406 The Life of Fuller.

•
concludes Fuller his " Church History," — " the last sheet

of my history " he calls it — " Friday, February 9th, the
Corpse was brought to the vault, being borne by the soldiers
of the Garrison. Over it a black velvet /terse cioth, the
four labels whereof the four Lords did support. The Bishop
of London stood weeping by, to tender that his service
which might not be accepted. There was It deposited in
silence and sorrow in the vacant place in the vault (the
herse-cloth being cast in after it) about three of the clock
in the afternoon, and the lords that night (though late)
returned to London." (Book xi., 238.)

Fuller wrote this last sheet of his History from the mouth
of the Duke of Richmond, " his grace endeavouring to be
very exact in all particulars." ("Appeal " ii., 430.)

Within two days of the funeral, the House of Lords and
office of King were abolished by votes of the Commons.
By taking the life of Charles his enemies exalted his fame.
The execution of a King was a thing unheard of, and
Royalist and Presbyterian alike stood aghast. The mass of
his subjects, forgetting the mistakes he might have made,
only remembered that he had been illegally condemned, and
that free institutions seemed to have fallen with him. The
Church, which, throughout his many negociations with the
Puritans, he had ever striven to maintain, styled him her
Martyr •, and the Cavaliers well nigh worshipped his memory.
Fuller was indeed violently affected by this terrible deed.
Its first effect on him was to cause him to surcease from his
literary labours, and in particular the compilation of his
" Worthies " was abruptly abandoned. It is said that "such
an amazement struck the loyal pious Doctor when he first
heard of that execrable design intended against the King's

Effects of the King's Death. 4

person, and saw the villainy proceed so uncontrollably, that
he not only surceased, but resolved to abandon that luckless
work (as he was then pleased to call it) ; " For shall I write,"
said he " of the ' Worthies of England,' when this horrid act
will bring such an infamy upon the whole nation, as will
ever cloud and darken all its power, and suppress its future
rising glories." Fuller's grief at this tragic event must
have been very intense, judging from the numerous and
touching references to it in his various works.

To the very last he remained staunch and loyal to the
King and his cause. And he makes a most pointed allusion
to this fact in a powerful figure with which he illustrates his
unchangeable attitude thereto, in reply to one of Peter
Heylin's sarcasms. "My loyalty did not rise and fall with
his Majesty's success, as a rock in the sea doth with the
ebbing and flowing of the tide. I had more pity, but not
less honour, for him in his deepest distress." Fuller's bio
grapher thus touches on his devotion and loyalty, and his deep
grief at the King's death. : " But when, through the seared
impiety of those men, that parricide was perpetrated, the
good Doctor deserted not his study alone, but forsook
himself too. Not caring for nor regarding his con
cerns (though the Doctor was none of the most providential
husband by having store beforehand) until such time as his
prayers, tears, *and fasting, having better acquainted him with
that sad dispensation, he began to revive from that dead
pensiveness to which he had so long addicted himself."
(Pp. 39, 40.) He once more found solace in his pen, and
renewed his literary labours, putting out another joint edition
of his "Good Thoughts," which their popularity demanded,
and the then condition of the country called for and warranted

408 The Life of Fuller.

It was no doubt to alleviate his'great grief, and externalize
his thoughts, on the death and execution of his beloved
Sovereign, that he composed a sermon thereon. This ser
mon was published after delivery at the close of this sad
year, and was intended to be a vindication of the Divine
Providence in the misfortunes and deaths of good men. It
was entitled The Just Man's Funeral, and although the
King's name is not mentioned, it was generally understood
to refer to his death, and to be accentuated by recent
sorrowful events, being preached, as the title-page states,
"before several persons of Honour and Worship." The ser
mon, which when published had a black border round it,
was publicly delivered in Chelsea Church owing to D'Anvers'
influence, who seems to have come very badly out of the
affair touching the king's condemnation and execution, and
earning for himself the soubriquet of " the regicide " from the
part he took, or was supposed to have taken, in it. This
sermon is based on the text, Ecclesiastes vii., 15, "All
things have I seen in the days of my vanity; there is a just
man that perisheth in his righteousness, and there is a
wicked man who prolongeth his life in his wickedness."

In the explication of Solomon's remarks, he marshals
his thoughts under four heads, to prove (i) That it is so, (2)
Why it is so, (3) What abuses wicked men make because it is
so, (4) What uses good men should make because it is so.
Very characteristic of the preacher is the commencement.
" The world is a volume of God's works, which all good people
ought studiously to peruse. Three sorts of men are to
blame therein ; first, such as observe nothing at all, seeing
but neither marking nor minding the daily accidents that
happen ; with Gallic, the secure deputy of Achaia, they care

The Just Marts Funeral. 409

for none of tliese things. Secondly, such as observe nothing
observable. These may be said to weed the world. If any
passage happeneth which deserves to be forgotten, their jet
memories (only attracting straws and chaff unto them) regis-
tereth and retaineth them : fond fashions and foolish
speeches is all that they charge on their account, and only
empty cyphers swell the notebooks of their discoveries.
Lastly, such who make good observations but no applica
tions. With Mary they do nQt ponder things in their heart,
but only brew them in their heads, and presently breathe
them out of their mouths, having only a rational under
standing thereof (which renders them acceptable in company
for their discourse), but never suffering them to sink into
their souls, or make any effectual impression on their lives."
In this sermon Fuller touches upon the various senses of
the term righteous, as applied to men in this life, " intention
ally, desiring and endeavouring after righteousness with al
their might ; comparatively in reference to wicked men ; impu-
tatively having the righteousness of God in Christ imputed
unto them : inhesivdy, having many heavenly graces and
holy endowments, sincere thoughts not perfect. He ob
serves that good men of all others are most envied and
maligned, having the fiercest adversaries to oppose them.
With the most in this world it is quarrel enough to hate a
good man because he is a good man. Righteous men, as
they have more enemies, so they are themselves less wary
than other men, as being less suspicious, whilst wicked men,
partly out of policy, more out of guiltiness, sleep like
Hercules with their club in their hand, stand always on
their guard, and are jealous of their very shadows. And
again, the righteous are given unwisely indeed to hope

410 The Life of Fuller.

that their very innocency will suffice without other means
for their protection. Lastly, the righteous man is restricted
in his use of means, preferring to die many times rather
than to save himself once by unwarrantable ways."

Under the second head he asserts that the wicked make
religion itself a cloak and a weapon. " Yea, we may ob-
erve in all ages that wicked men make bold with religion,
and those who count the practice of piety a burden find the
practice thereof an advantage, and, therefore, be the matter
they manage never so bad (if possible) they will intitle it to
be God's cause. Much was the substance in the very shadow
of St. Peter, which made the people so desirous thereof as
he passed by the streets. And the very umbrage of religion
hath a sovereign virtue in it. No better cordial for a dying
cause than to overshadow it with a pretence that it is God's
cause ; for, first, this is the way to make and keep a great
and strong party. No sooner the watchword is given
out, for God's catise, but instantly, ' GAD, behold a troop
cometh,' of many honest but ignorant men, who press to be
listed in so pious an employment. These may be killed
but cannot be conquered, for till their judgments be other
wise informed, they will triumph in being overcome, as con
fident, the deeper the wounds got in God's cause gape in
their bodies, the wider the gates of heaven stand open to re
ceive their souls. Besides, the pretending their cause is
God's cause will in a manner legitimate the basest means in
pursuance and prosecution thereof, for though it be against
God's word to do evil that good may come thereof, yet this
old error will hardly be beaten out of the heads and hearts
of many men, that crooked ways are made direct, by being
directed to a straight end ; and the lustre of a bright cause

Funeral Sermon on the King. 411

will reflect a seeming light on very deeds of darkness used
in tendency thereunto. This hath been an ancient stratagem
of the worst men (great politicians) to take piety in their
way, to the advancing of their designs. The priests of Bel
were but bunglers which could not steal the meat of the idol,
but they must be discovered by the print of their footsteps.
Men are grown more cunning thieves nowadays. First,
they will put on the shoes of him they intend to rob, and
then steal, that so their treadings will tell no tale to their
disadvantage. They will not stride a pace, nor go a step,
nor stir a foot, but all for God's cause, all for the good and
glory of God. Thus Christ Himself was served from His
cradle to His cross ; Herod, who sought to kill, pretended to
worship, and Judas kissed Him who betrayed Him." There
can be no mistake respecting the people here pointed
at. Everyone is aware who those were that always had re
ligion in their mouths, the men who acted any
part indicated by policy and expediency, the men
who brought the King to the scaffold, and were
branded ever after with the name of " regicide." With
further reference to his own times he says, under the last
head, " It is also the bounden duty of all pious people, in
their several distances and degrees, to improve their utmost
for the preservation of dying innocency from the cruelty of
such as would murder it. But if it be impossible to save it
from death, so that it doth expire, notwithstanding all their
cares to the contrary, they must then turn lamenters at the
funeral thereof. And if the iniquity of the times will not
safely afford them to be open^ they must be dose mourners
at so sorrowful an accident. O, let the most cunning
chyrurgeons not begrutch their skill to unbowel, the richest

4 1 2 The Life of Fuller.

merchants not think much of their choicest spices to em
balm, the most exquisite joiner make the coffin, the most
reverend divine the funeral sermon, the most accurate
marbler erect the monument, and most renowned poet in
vent the epitaph to be inscribed on the tomb of Perishing
Righteousness. Whilst all others, well wishers to goodness in
their several places, contribute to their sorrow at the solemn
obsequies thereof, yea, as in the case of Josiah his death,
let there be an Anniversary of Mourning kept in remem
brance thereof. However, let them not mourn like men
without hope, but let them behave themselves at the inter
ment of his righteousness as confident of the resurrection
thereof, which God in His time will raise out of the ashes :
it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power ; it is sown in
disgrace, it shall be raised in glory." Referring to the King,
our preacher adds, " Solomon, speaking of the death of an
ordinary man, saith, * the living will lay it to heart.' But when
a righteous man is taken away, the living ought to lay it to
the very Heart of their heart, especially if he be a Magistrate
or Minister of any note. When the eye-strings break, the heart
strings hold not out long after, and when the seers are taken
away, it is a sad symptom of a languishing Church or Com
monwealth."

In this proposal for an " Anniversary of Mourning " we
have the first public indication of a national and annual
fast-day, to be kept as a sad memorial of the death of the
Martyr King, which was afterwards appointed by authority
for January 301(1, in each year

It very soon began to be kept by Archbishop Ussher
among the clergy, and Evelyn the diarist, among the laity,
the service used being that printed in our own Prayer Books,

King Charles the Martyr's Day. 413

until recently, but which has now disappeared with all the other
so-called State services, e.g., Gunpowder Treason, and the
Restoration of the Royal Family, with the exception of that
for Accession Day, the 2oth of June, the day on which our
beloved Sovereign began her happy reign. It is entitled "A
Form of Prayer, with Fasting, to be used yearly on the
thirtieth of January, being the day of the martyrdom of the
blessed King Charles the First, to implore the mercy of
God, that neither the guilt of that sacred and innocent
blood, nor those other sins, by which God was provoked to
deliver up both us and our King into the hands of cruel and
unreasonable men, may at any time hereafter be visited upon
us or our posterity."

" And yearly now, before the Martyrs' King,

For thee she offers her maternal tears,
Calls us, like thee, to His dear feet to cling,

And bury in His wounds our earthly fears.
The Angels hear, and there is mirth in Heaven,

Fit prelude of the joy when spirits won
Like thee to patient Faith, shall rise forgiven,

And at their Saviour's knees thy bright example own."

Thus concludes our great Christian poet of the
Nineteenth Century, the saintly Keble, author of the
" Christian Year," in his poem on King Charles the Martyr,
composed before the service (which had not, it is true, the
sanction of Convocation), had been eliminated with a
view to its discontinuance, from our Book of Common
Prayer, by the authority of the State ; " Given at our Court
at St. James's this seventeenth day of January, 1859, in the
twenty-second year of our Reign, by Her Majesty's com
mand.— S. H. WALPOLE."

414 T/te Life of Fuller.

This very pointed sermon, upon this pointed text was
publicly preached by Fuller in the private chapel of Sir John
Danvers, at Chelsea, where he had preached that unusually
quaint sermon, commented upon in our last chapter, " On
Contentment." It is another and more observable instance
of his integrity, in that he preached it before one, under
whose roof he had been so often welcomed, and who was,
presumably, one of the misguided regicides who signed the
King's death-warrant. But it was a very bold proceeding,
and must have made the Preacher apprehensive of a renewed
suspension, if not of being interrupted by some of the audi
tors, who may have had crypto-sympathies with the young
nascent republic.

Then again, the prayers of those ministers who used the
prohibited Book of Common Prayer, were particularly
obnoxious, as in the case of Dr. Saunderson. Walton, in
his " Lives," tells the story that when he was reading the old
Church Prayers at Boothby Pagnell to his parishioners, the
soldiers "forced his book from him, or tore it, expecting extem
pore prayers." No doubt it would have gone hard with him,
but he was shrewd enough to follow the advice of some in
fluential members of Parliament, and did ^not read all the
prayers, or varied them in their sequence, thus throwing dust
in their eyes. It was thus the Royalist clergy, and those
who remained staunch members of the National Church,
had to be on their guard, and when they saw they were
watched and marked by the hired spies of persecution,
" being crafty, caught their hearers with guile." Whether
Fuller was annoyed or molested in any of his public pre-
dicatorial preachments we are not told, nor in what way
they were accentuated, if so manifested, but we have the

True Foundation. 415

following incident from his own pen. This is the paragraph :
" KEEP YOUR CASTLE. Soon after the King's death, I
preached in a church near London, and a person then in
great power, now (1660) levelled with his fellows, was pre
sent at my sermon. Now I had this passage in my prayer :
1 God, in due time, settle our nation on the true foundation
thereof.' The (then) great man demanded of me what I
meant by true foundation. I answered, that I was no
lawyer nor statesman, and therefore skill in such matters
was not to be expected from me.' He pressed me further to
express myself whether thereby I did not intend the King,
Lords and Commons. I returned that it was part of my
prayer to God, who had more knowledge than I had
ignorance in all things, and that He knew what was the true
foundation, and I remitted all to His goodness. When such
men come with nets in their ears, it is good for the preacher
to have neither fish nor fowl in his tongue. But, blessed be
God, now we need not lie at so close a guard. Let the
gent now know that what he suspected I then intended* in
my words ; and let him make what improvement he pleaseth
thereof."

Fuller's anonymous biographer quotes this as a very
excellent passage of the Doctor's, and as a "kind of his ex
periments in prayer, which were many and very observable :
God often answering his desires in kind, and that im
mediately when he was in some distresses : and God's
providence, in taking care and providing him in his whole
course of life, wrought in him a firm resolution to depend
upon Him, in what condition soever he should be : and he

* " Mixt Contemplations in Better Times," xl.

4i 6 The Life of Fuller.

found that providence to continue in that tenour to his last
end. Indeed, he was was wholly possessed with a holy fear
of, and reliance in, God." *

We find Fuller attending in August of this year (1649) the
death-bed of his old friend Dr. Richard Holdsworth, Dean
of Worcester, upon whom the tragic death of the King had
such a fatal effect, having been his chaplain at Hampton
Court, and the Isle of Wight.

His preaching was very acceptable, "and seems to have
produced a very deep impression, for when he preached
" the church rang not with the preacher's raving, but with the
hearers' groans." "Skill in school divinity and practicable
profitable preaching seldom agreed in one person : but if
ever they were reconciled to the height of any in our
nation," says Fuller, "it was in Holdsworth." He was im
prisoned, when the tide turned, in the Tower, in a small
room of which Laud betook himself, after receiving his
sentence of death, to desire his prayers in particular. These
two prelates had been fellow prisoners for a year and a half.
Laud was beheaded, but Holdsworth was released, and
waited on the King, who rewarded him with the Deanery ot
Worcester, and also offered him the Bishopric of Bristol.
Fuller was with him when he died, and was thus a witness
of " his pious life and patient death." He thus speaks of
him — " How eminent an instrument he was of God's glory
and the Church's good, is unknown to man, who in the least
degree were acquainted with his pious and profitable pains.
They knew him to be composed of a learned head, a
gracious heart, a bountiful hand, and (what must not be

* "Life," 97, 99-

Sermon Reporting. 4 1 7

omitted) a patient back, comfortably and cheerfully to en
dure much heavy afflictions as were laid upon him." Shortly
after his death, some twenty-one reputed sermons of his
were published, under the title of "The Valley of Vision/'
1651 • Fuller being induced to write one of his character
istic prefaces to the volume. He there regrets the Dean
left no works of his own, accounting for the fact thus : —
" rather it proceeded partly from his modesty, having his
highest parts in himself, and the lowest opinion ^/ himself,
partly from his judicious observations that the world nowa
days surfeits with printed sermons." The supposed manu
script of Holdsworth was scarcely legible, and it turned out
afterwards that our ingenuous doctor had been imposed upon,
only one sermon "The People's Happiness," being really his,
that preached, 1642,, on the anniversary of the King's in
auguration, which brought him into trouble, being printed by
command of the King, to whom it was dedicated.

Some clergymen know to their cost that, such is the law,
anyone has a right to take down their sermons, and print
them to their own profit. This is sucking their brains and
sweating their purses with a vengeance, but there is no help
for it. Thus it was with the sermons of the preachers of
those days. Fuller complains of the shorthand writers of
his age, who pretended to print his sermons on Ruth from
imperfect notes, " to their profit, but my prejudice." The
practice of taking notes of sermons of famous divines and
great preachers, in shorthand, was very prevalent. Earle
tells us of his " young rawgpreacher," that his "collections
of study are the notes of sermons, which, taken up at St.
Mary's, he utters in the country." And if he write brachi-
graphy, his stock is so much the better. Many of the

D D

4 1 8 The Life of Fuller.

divines of the period animadvert on the practice of " scrib
blers, stationers, and printers," who traded upon the names
of eminent theologians. But all this points to a state of
things long passed away, for who, except in the case of
Robertson's, of Brighton, was ever known to take shorthand
notes of modern sermons ; and is not this too often the
remark of our modern aesthetic congregations, " the shorter
the better." It may be very lamentable, but it is the fact
nevertheless.

Curate or Waitham Abbev. 419

CHAPTER XX.

INISTER OF WALTHAM — HOLY CROSS, OR ABBEY (1649-50).

"Providence, by the hands of my worthy friends, having
planted me for the present at Waitham- Abbey, I conceive that
in our general work of Abbies I owe some particular description
to that place of my abode. Hoping my endeavours therein may
prove exemplary to others (who dwell in the sight of remarkable
monasteries) to do the like, and rescue the observables of their
habitations from the teeth of time and oblivion." — (History of
Waitham Abbey, p. 7.)

|ETTER times and happier thoughts were now in
store for our old " Cavalier Parson, and wander
ing Divine." He had had a hard struggle in the
metropolis, and the opportunities for his literary
labours were often unceremoniously interrupted. Now all
was changed, and a welcome piece of preferment fell to his
lot, which gave him just what he wanted, a settled home, a
definite sphere, an opportunity of renewing his literary
avocations and study, and that quiet and repose which his
nature had so long desiderated. It restored him also to the
pleasures of a parochical charge, and the sweets of social
life. This was the perpetual curacy of Waitham Abbey, or
Waitham Holy Cross. The patron was the Earl of Carlisle'
whose attention had been attracted to Fuller before 1 649
and who became much attached to him subsequently. This
nobleman bestowed his living " voluntarily and desirously ''
upon the homeless parson, who was " highly beloved of that

D D 2

420 The Life of Fuller.

noble lord, and other gentlemen and inhabitants of the
parish." * This Earl of Carlisle was the son of the first gay
and profligate Earl, and at the breaking out of the civil war
had taken up the side of the King, and was present at the
battle of Newbury (1643), where he was wounded. He ap
pears to have gone over to the Parliamentary side in the
spring of the following year, and compounded for his estate.
He also seems to have been very liberal, " giving what he
could save from his enemies in largesses to his friends,
especially the learned clergy, whose prayers and good con
verse he reckoned much upon, as they did upon his
charities, which completed his kindness with bounty, as that
adorned his bounty with courtesy."

It is a fact worthy of remark that the right of patronage,
i.e., the right of next presentation to a vacant benefice, was
in the majority of cases, even in those troublous and un
settled times of the Civil War, retained by the original
holders. This says a great deal for the legal rights of
patronage, and the stability of even the temporal side or
accidents of spiritual things, in connection with the old
historical and National Church of our country. The exer
cise of this patronage on the part of the Earl of Carlisle was
in virtue of his holding the barony of Waltham and Sawley,
which enabled him to present Fuller to the vacant perpetual
curacy. Royalists and Roundheads alike, being the original
patrons, kept their rights, and exercised the privilege of
nominating to livings as a rule. Sometimes the Presbyterians
(and Essex at that time was very Presbyterian, and mostly
under that form of ecclesiastical polity) objected to the

Life," pp. 40-41.

Curate of Waltham Abbey. 421

selection, and we find Fuller complaining, under the Com
monwealth, that ministers were thrust into parishes against
the wishes of the patron. But, on the whole, there was less
unsettlement, under the circumstances, than might have
been expected. Certainly these livings at that time proved
an asylum to many of the eminent episcopal clergy, as
Fuller and Jeremy Taylor, saving them from the common
ruin, and possible dispersion of their order. Waltham Abbey,
now in the new diocese of St. Alban's (which has recently
been carved out of the old diocese of Rochester, its episco
pal jurisdiction being over the counties of Herts and Essex,
and the Bishop's residence being Danbury Palace, Chelms-
ford), was formerly in the diocese of Rochester, whose then
bishop, Dr. Warner, was remarkable for his able advocacy
of Episcopacy in the House of Lords, and his generosity to
the ejected clergy. He therefore became not only Fuller's
diocesan, but, as far as his influence permitted, his fast and
faithful friend.

Doubtless many of the ejected clergy were finding a
shelter in the houses of the aristocracy and landed gentry,
but Fuller's appointment to a legal benefice was exception-
ably fortunate. The exact date in which he was instituted
cannot be discovered from documentary evidence, nor, in
deed, do any available local sources throw any light upon
the subject. The customary signature of the newly inducted
incumbent is not forthcoming, nor do the old church
wardens' accounts exhibit any proof. Our Divine was
probably appointed in 1648, towards the end, or at all
events the beginning, of the year following. His appoint
ment is referred to in his " Pisgah-Sight," part of which was
published during that year, and one of the quaint maps

422 The Life of Fuller.

bears the inscription " Apud Waltham, 1649." In a manu
script in the British Museum, belonging, it would seem, to
the year 1650, and containing an account of certain Church
livings, mention is made of a " Mr. ffuller" under Walt-
ham, as being at that time the perpetual curate, and " an
able godly preaching minister," which terms point to a
continued residence among the parishioners on his part.
Every one, therefore, seems to have been delighted to have
had so able and witty a Divine in their midst, a residential
fact, as their neighbour. For Fuller was not only greatly
approved of by the patron who had made the selection, but
also much esteemed by the local celebrities, and other gen
tlemen of the parish. This, therefore, must have made the
incumbency very agreeable to him, as in his capacity of
Vicar he gave satisfaction to all alike, being a good all round
man, to Presbyterian as well as Churchman.

Besides presenting Fuller to Waltham Abbey, the Earl of
Carlisle made him also his private chaplain. In every way
this nobleman showed his appreciation of him, and with
such a genial and hearty nature as Fuller possessed, we are
not surprised to find grateful mention of him in our author's
publications, more particularly and publicly expressed in
the first of his literary offspring (« Pisgah-Sight "), which
emanated from his new parsonage and official residence at
Waltham. Fuller tells us there that the Earl set him over
the flock at Waltham when he had no fixed habitation, and
gave him a higher salary than that usually apportioned to the
benefice. For all which he prays, that his patron might
have the fivefold happiness of Benjamin in this life, and
everlasting happiness in the world to come.

The perpetual curacy of Waltham Abbey had been well

Ecclesiastical Triers. 423

endowed by the Earl of Norwich, being raised from eight
to one hundred pounds. But for this increase the Vicar
must have kept, as Fuller has it, more fast days than ever
were put in the Roman Calendar, and would have accen
tuated the saying anent the " difference between a curate and
a perpetual curate, that the one was an income straightened
and the other an income bent (incumbent)," a fact only too
patent to the majority of those whose names appear in the
eleven hundred and seventy-seven pages of Crockford. Yet
the gross amount of the revenues of the Abbey, when its
Abbots were mitred peers of the realm and spiritual barons
of Parliament, was upwards of one thousand pounds. It is
said that Fuller was not long left unmolested in his new
cure, but that before he had been settled in Waltham many
weeks, he was here once more called before the Triers, i.e.,
the local Ecclesiastical Board, or Committee of Sequestra-
tors, who examined and dispossessed such ministers as they
judged to be unfit on any ground. These gentlemen desired
some proof of our author's extraordinary memory, upon
which he promised them, if they would restore a certain
poor sequestered minister, never to forget that kindness as
long as he lived. " Tis true, gentlemen, that fame has given
me the report of a memorist, and if you please, I will give
you an experiment of it. Gentlemen" (said he), "I will give
you an instance of my good memory in that particular.
Your worships have thought fit to sequester an honest poor
but cavalier parson, my neighbour, from his living, and
committed him to prison ; he has a great charge of children
and his circumstances are but indifferent : if you please to
release him out of prison and restore him to his living, I
will never forget the kindness while I live." 'Tis said the

4-M The Life of Fuller.

jest had such an influence upon the committee, that they
immediately released and restored the poor clergyman.

The report goes that our author applied to the celebrated
John Howe for advice touching this ordeal, and Dr. Edmund
Calamy,in his "Memories of Howe," says, "Howe freely gave
him his advice which he promised to follow, and when he
appeared before them they proposed to him the usual ques
tion, whether he had ever had experience of a work of grace
in his heart : he gave this in for answer, that he could appeal
to the Searcher of hearts that he made conscience of his
very thoughts, with which answer they were satisfied, as
indeed they might well."

One of Fuller's predecessors at Waltham Abbey was
Bishop Hall, preferred thence from Suffolk by Lord Denny,
about whom our author writes (and the good effects of
his zealous labours were apparent when Fuller came into
the parish) : — "Here I must pay the tribute of my gratitude
to his memory, as building upon his foundation, beholding
myself as his great-grandchild in that place, three degrees
from him in succession, but oh ! how many from him in
ability. His little catechism hath done great good in that
populous parish, and I could wish that ordinance more
generally used all over England."*

Bishop Hall, the " English Seneca," who had been
beneficed at Waltham for twenty-two years, was not
unlike Fuller in genius and disposition. In Waltham
Abbey he had preached those charming Contempla
tions^ which are still perused by the Anglican Church
man with such delightful interest. He was one of the

* "Worthies."

Bishop Hall. 425

divines who represented our Church at the synod of Dort
(1619), and on his return from ill-health was successively
Dean of Worcester, Bishop of Exeter, and thence ' translated
to Norwich. He, too, with other Anglicans, felt the brunt
of the times, and, besides suffering in other ways, was
imprisoned with the protesting bishops. Like Fuller, he
saw " the sky thicken, and heard the winds whistle and hollo
afar off, and felt all the presages of a tempest." Fuller,
writing of Bishop Hall's illness at Dort, tells us in his Church
History that the Bishop was then " so far recovered, not to
say revived, that he hath gone over the graves of all his
colleagues there ; and what cannot God, and good air do ?
— surviving in health unto this day, three and thirty years
after, may well, with Jesse 'go amongst men for an old man
in these days ;' and living privately, having passed through
the bishoprics of Exeter and Norwich, hath now the oppor
tunity, in these troublesome times, effectually to practise
those precepts of patience and contentment which his pen
hath so eloquently recommended to others." Of his many
valuable writings Fuller has said, " Not unhappy at contro
versies, more happy at comments, very good in his character,
better in his sermons, best of all in his meditations."

In the History of " Waltham Abbey," our author says " it
was then (1655) "the inheritance of this Earl (his patron),
grandchild (by Honora, his daughter), of James Hay, Earl of
Carlisle, who married Margaret, daughter to Francis, Earl
of Bedford, by whom as yet he hath no issue ; for the
continuance of whose happiness my prayers shall never be
wanting." Among others of Fuller's works which he
patronised was "The Infants' Advocate" (1653), inscribed
to " this most bountiful patron." Elsewhere he says that

426 The Life of Fuller.

the shadow of the least of the in-escutcheons in his patron's
arms, with his favourable reflection, was sufficient to protect
and defend his weak endeavours. The History of Waltham
Abbey is dedicated to this same Meczenas, about whom
Fuller subsequently writes, « All will presume me knowing
enough of the orthography of his title, who was my patron
when I wrote the book (" Church History "), and whom I
shall ever whilst I live deservedly honour for his great
bounty unto me."* To Francis, Lord Russell, son to the
Right Hon. William, Earl of Bedford, Fuller dedicates the
fourth volume of his Pisgah Sight. « Far be it from your
Honour to be listed among those noblemen, of whom it may
be said, in a bad sense, that they are very highly descended,
as being come down many degrees from the worth and virtues
of their noble progenitors." Nor does our author fail, on
a fitting occasion, in his " Church History," to do honour
to the virtues of that tried and admirable person, Anne,
Countess of Bedford, " as chaste and virtuous a lady as any
of the English nation," the daughter indeed of an unhappy
parent, happy had her name been handed down to us only
as the mother of such a daughter."!

Waltham Abbey, or more correctly Waltham Holy Cross,
is situated in Essex, on the east side of the river Lea. Its
name was derived from the miracle-working rood or cross,
which being discovered in the West in the time of Cnut,
was transferred to Waltham, with which it was supposed to
surround its minister with a circumambient aroma of
sanctity. It must not be confounded with Waltham Cross,

* "Appeal" (1659.)
t (" Church History," bk. x.)

Iconoclastic Puritanism. 427

a village about a mile distant, where a large cross had been
erected by Eadward the Confessor, in memory of his consort
Eleanor — a monument which had received some rough
treatment at the hands of the iconoclastic Puritans, who
had also destroyed a stained glass window in the Abbey,
representing King Harold, besides doing other damage to
it. This action of the " deforming reformers " of the pre
vious reign was much censured by Fuller, who, commenting
on this iconoclastic spasm of zealotry, wrote in 1650, "No
zealot reformer (whilst Egypt was Christian) demolished the
Pyramids under the notion of Pagan monuments." Again,
while lamenting the destruction of Paul's Cross, he remarked
that while "idle crosses, standing only for show, were
punished for offenders, this useful one, which was guilty of
no other superstition save accommodating the preacher and
some about him with convenient places, might have been
spared, but all is fish which comes into the net of sacri
lege."* Fuller, who was " a great lover and preserver
(properties never parted) of antiquitiesv" affectionately
regarded this old Cross of Waltham in its depressed con
dition.

The river Lea — dear to the disciples of Isaac Walton — is
crossed two or three times before reaching Waltham Abbey.
No doubt, thereabouts, the great and complete Angler him
self, who has written such a charming work on his favourite
sport, often fished and threw the fly, and it is not unlikely
that in that locality the acquaintance of " my deservedly
honoured master," Isaac Walton, with Fuller may have
begun. These two men were not unlike ; in their dis-

" Worthies "—Kent, p. 72.

428 The Life of Fuller.

positions they were bright and cheery, their minds were
exceedingly active and industrious, and they both were
acquainted with the great Divines of the day. Both, too,
were fond of antiquarian lore, and if Fuller wrote his
Worthies, Walton wrote his Lives — which if they don't
include that of our author, is no disparagement to his friend,
who was not unworthy to stand by the side of Donne and
Sanderson. They both belonged to the same Church, and
were in great repute for their devotion to the Royal cause,
counting among their friends in common many of the ejected
clergy, and the adherents of the Monarchy. Besides, they
were both lovers of peace and quietude, and their respective
meditative treatises had the same blessed end — an eirenicon,
a message of peace to all parties in the body politic. On
this stream, mayhap, Fuller and Walton often met — to
whose piscatorial lore and culture, as an authority, our author
*ilways bowed — about which Fuller remarks that it " not only
parteth Hertfordshire from Essex, but also seven times
parteth from itself: whose septemfluous stream, in coming
to the town, is crossed again with so many bridges."

The town of Waltham was partly surrounded by rich
meadows, and partly by the great forest — portion of the
extensive Weald of Essex, " when, fourteen years since (in
1642, circiter), one might have seen whole herds of red and
fallow deer. But these late licentious years have been such
a Nimrod— such * an hunter ' — that all at this present are
destroyed, though I could wish this were the worst effect
which our woful wars have produced." The well-known
Epping Forest is now the only relic of this extensive forest.
The town was formerly within the perambulation of the
Weald, as its name Waltham implies. This is Fuller's

Description of Waltham. 429

description of the old town and neighbourhood : " The air
of the town is condemned by many for over moist and
aguish, caused by the depressed situation thereof : in con
futation of which censure we produce the many aged
persons in our town above three-score and ten years of age ;
so that it seems we are sufficiently healthful, if sufficiently
thankful for the same. Sure I am, what is wanting in good
air in the town is supplied in the parish, wherein as mam-
pleasant hills and prospects are, as any place in England
doth afford."* The streets are irregular and narrow, which
are adorned by many old and quaint buildings. A great
admirer of Fuller's, who visited the town as a pilgrim
would a shrine, remarked of it, " Everything about it looks
as if it had a sort of sympathy with his quaint, good-
natured, and witty spirit. Humorous turns, bo-peep
corners, unexpected street-vistas, architectural ' quips and
cranks/ queer associations, grotesque groupings — all
varieties in good-tempered unity, told of their former
pastor." The Abbey itself is, of course, the chief point of
interest, and is connected with Harold, under whose foster
ing care the original foundation developed into a considerable
monastery. It was to this shrine that the remains
of Harold, who had fallen on that fatal mound now shown
to the visitor in Battle Abbey, were finally conveyed and
buried. The foundation suffered much at the hands of
the Norman kings, but it was befriended by Stephen, and
re-founded and enlarged under Henry II. At the dis
solution of the larger monasteries it was entirely destroyed
except the nave, which escaped owing to its belong-

Hist. Waltham," p. 6.

430 The Lije of Fuller.

ing to the parishioners, and the land and revenues passed
into the hands of Sir Anthony Denny, one of the executors
of the King. The edifice underwent considerable restoration
during the reign of Queen Mary. But in Fuller's time the
sacred edifice was again much out of repair, and when
Charles I. visited the place in 1641, the Earl of Carlisle, who
entertained the King, requested him to grant a moderate toll
of cattle coming over the bridge (with their great drifts
(droves), doing muchdamag to the highways), and therewith
both the town might be paved, and the church repaired.
The King graciously granted it, provided it were done with
the privity and consent of a great prelate (not so safe to be
named as easy to be guessed), with whom he consulted on
all Church matters. But when the foresaid prelate (Laud)
was informed, that the Earl had applied to His Majesty before
addresses to himself, he dashed the design ; so that poor
Waltham Church must still be contented with their weak
walls and worse roof, till Providence secure her some better
benefactors." But in spite of its dilapidated condition, its
worthy minister, and ' painful and pious ' parish priest, found
there, Sunday after Sunday, that * best commendation of the
Church/ its being filled with a great and attentive congre
gation.*

Fuller thus describes the Abbey as existing in his time,
" a structure of Gothish (Gothic) building, rather large than
neat, firm than fair : very dark (the design of those days to
raise devotion) save that it was helped again with artificial
lights, and is observed by artists to stand the most exactly
east and west of any in England. The great pillars thereof

* '' History of Waltham," p. 22.

The Abbey Church. 431

are wreathed with indentings, which vacuities, if formerly
filled up with brass (as some confidently report), added much
to the beauty of the building. But it matters not so much
their taking away the brass from the pillars, had they but
left the lead on the roof, which is but meanly tiled at this
day."

The size of the edifice had been much reduced, the west
end only being the church. It may have been on the de
struction of the choir that the old central tower, with its
"five great tuneable bells," tumbled down. In the year
1558 the present square tower was erected, and the old bells,
which had been hung meanwhile on a framework in the grave
yard, had to be sold to raise money. This excited the remark
of Fuller that Waltham, which formerly had " steeple-less
bells, now had a bell-less steeple." The Earl and the parish
ioners bought six, which used to chime every four hours in
Fuller's time. The great bell was rung at 4 a.m. to rouse
the apprentices to their work, and again at 8 p.m. when the
work of the day (usque ad vtsperum, until the evening) was
ended. The treble bell was (during Fuller's pastorate) pur
chased by the maids and bachelors of his congregation for
^13 E2S. 8d., and another was purchased by the parish
about the same time. All this was, doubtless, done at
Fuller's suggestion, who was evidently very fond of belJ-
ringing and chiming from his frequent allusions to them.
He tells us in his time England was called " the ringing
island." Upon the south side of the church there was a side
chapel, with its separate altar, formerly our Lady's, now a
schoolhouse, and under it an arched charnel-house, the
fairest that ever I saw. Here a pious fancy could make a
feast to itself on these dry bones, with the meditation of

432 The Life of Fuller.

mortality." This Lady Chapel has never been restored, but
after many years of neglect, the main sacred building — one of
God's houses in the land — underwent a substantial restora
tion, and was in 1860 re-opened for Divine worship.

The parishioners, who were mostly poor, found their chief
occupation in tending the large herds of cattle, which de
pastured on the broad meadows which surrounded the
town. Fish was one of the chief commodities at the mar
ket, but its trade was insignificant owing to the contiguity
to the metropolis, because, as Fuller puts it, " the golden
market at Leadenhall made leaden markets in all places
thereabouts." But much gunpowder was made in the neigh
bourhood. " More powder," he says, " was made by mills
of late erected on the river Ley, betwixt Waltham and
London, than in all England besides." Fuller also adds
that it " is questionable whether the making of gunpowder
be more profitable or more dangerous, the mills in my
parish being five times blown up within seven years, but,
blessed be God, without the loss of any one man's life."

Waltham was not only the nearest mitred Abbey to Lon
don, but it had in former times entertained illustrious guests.
Hard by, at the house of " one Mr, Cressie," Cranmer was
introduced to Henry VIII., then returning from one of his
' progresses,' and it was then the future Primate broached the
subject of the possible post-futurum abolition of the Pope's
supremacy. Fuller tells* us that Cranmer came to the town
attended by two of his pupils, " the sons of Mr. Cressey, a
name utterly extinct in that town (where God hath fixed my
present habitation) long before the memory of any alive.

Church History," ch. v.

Robert Fuller, the last Abbot. 433

But consulting Weaver's Funeral Monuments of Waltham
Church (more truly than neatly by him composed), I find
therein this epitaph :

' Here lieth Jon and Jone Cressy,
On whose soulys Jesu hav mercy.' Amen.

It seems paper is sometimes more lasting than brass, all the
ancient epitaphs in that church being defaced by some
barbarous hands, who, perchance, one day may want a
grave for themselves."

This may account for the fact that Fuller was unable to
find the arms of the Abbey, which, he says, " appear in this
day neither in glass, wood, nor stone, in or about the town
or church thereof.* At last we have recovered them (unus
homo nobis] out of a fair deed of Robert Fuller's, the last
Abbot, though not certain of the metal and colours, viz.,
gules (as I conjecture), two angels (can they be less than or ?)
with their hands (such we find them in Scripture, Matt, iv.,
6), holding between them a cross argent, brought hither,
saith our antiquary, by miracle."

These passages abundantly prove that our author was
beginning to collect materials for writing " some particular
description " of his abode, and picturing himself Waltham
Abbey " in the olden time." Reflecting on the lives of the
Regulars of the old foundation, he drew a very vivid picture
of their " painful and pious " lives, which could turn " soli
tariness into society." " It would do one good even but to
think of their goodness, and at the rebound and second
hand to meditate on their meditations. For if ever poverty
was to be envied it was here." The refuge which they

* "Church History," ch. vi., 312.
E E

4 3 4 The Life of Fuller.

enjoyed, seemed to be the haven to which the moderate
men of his day might wish to repair.*

It was in this town that Foxe wrote his famous Book of
Martyrs, which, especially with its weird illustrations, has
done more to excite and stimulate the young Protestant
mind and apprehensions of this country, than any other book
in our language. There was a tradition that he wrote it in
a garret (which was pointed out) under the roof of the old
building opposite the south wall of the churchyard, and
which was once, it is said, his tenement. When the new
vicar came into residence, Foxe's descendants still lived in
the parish.

When a man is getting on, or up, in the world, there are
always plenty of people who would like to pull him down
again. Not only are there to be found detractors, who will,
if they can, take away a man's good name and character
(and a clergyman's character is the life of his life, as the
Lord Chief Justice has lately said), but there are those who
look with jealous and envious eyes on the successful ones.
Aristotle calls this somewhere in his Ethics " eirix<"peKOKia,"
which is a species of spitefulness, and we fear is not un
known to some even of the clergy. Be that as it may, we
find that Fuller's peaceful enjoyment of this well-earned pre
ferment began to excite the jealous envy of some of his
brethren, who were not so advantageously placed. Some
thought they detected a want of loyalty to the fallen
monarchy, or a lukewarm attachment to the National
Church, with its episcopal regimen. Dr. Heylin, his doughty
antagonist, advanced the direct charge that " he complied

* "Church History," bk. vi., 263.

Definition of a Trimmer. 435

with the times." This taunt has been often repeated, and
Hearne, the antiquarian and Bodleian librarian, said of his
anonymous life, " A great character of the Doctor is in it, yet
he was certainly a Trimmer" In other words, what the
great Halifax was in the political sphere (for he, too, was
called a Trimmer), that our Fuller was in the theological.
But Heylin's insinuations were not allowed to pass un
answered, and his reply is embodied in one of his most
characteristic works, the Appeal of Injured Innocence, pub
lished 1659. In this he exhibits the difficulties which beset
the path and dogged the steps of even the shrewdest of
the ejected clergy, under those critical circumstances, and
he not only illustrates his moderation of character, but ex
plains the kindliness, wherewith he was regarded by all
classes.

Fuller says that there is a sinful and sinless compliance
with the times. After having explained the former, he
passes on to the latter, which he says is lawful and neces
sary. Commenting on the text, " Serving the time " (Rom.
xii., n), he says the doctrine was true if the rendering were
false ; " though we must not be slaves and vassals, we may
be servants to the times." Lawful agreeableness with the
times was partly passive, partly active. Passive, consisting
in bearing and forbearing ; bearing, in paying the taxes im-
posed ; forbearing (i), by silence, "using no provoking
language against the present power," and (2) by " refraining
(though not without secret sorrow) from some laudable act
which he heartily desireth, but dares not do, as visibly de
structive to his person and estate being prohibited by the
predominant powers. In such a case a man may, to use
the apostle's phrase, Sta r^v e^eoTwo-ai/ dvay/o/v, " for the

E E 2

436 The Life of Fuller.

present necessity (i Cor. vii., 26) ; omit many things pleas
ing to, but not commanded by, that God who preferreth
mercy before sacrifice." Lawful compliance, again, was
active, doing what was enjoined "as being indifferent, and
sometimes so good that our own conscience doth or should
enjoin the same.3' In such a case, where there is a
concurrence of both together, it is neither dishonesty nor
indiscretion for one in himself to conceal his own inclinations,
and publicly to put his actions (as fasting, thanksgiving,
preaching, &c.) on the account of conformity to the times;
it being (as flattery to court so no less) folly to condemn
and reject the favour of the times — when it may be had
without the least violation— yea, possibly, with an improve
ment of our own conscience.

" I have endeavoured to steer my carriage by the com
pass aforesaid : and my main motive thereunto was, that I
might enjoy the benefit of my ministry, the bare using
whereof is the greatest advancement I am capable of in
this life : I know all stars are not of the same bigness
and brightness ; some shine, some only twinkle : and allow
ing myself of the latter size and sort, I would not willingly
put out my own (though dim) light in total darkness, nor
would bring my half talent, hoping by putting it forth to
gain another half talent thereby, to the glory of God, and
the good of others."

" But it will be objected against me, that it is suspicious
(at the least) that I have bribed the times with some base
compliance with them, because they have reflected so
favourably upon me. Otherwise, how cometh it to pass,
that my fleece, like Gideon's, is dry, when the rest of my
brethren of the same party are wet with their own tears ?

Apologia pro vita sua. 437

I being permitted preaching and peaceable enjoying of a
Parsonage ?

" I answer, First I impute this peacefulness I enjoy to
God's undeserved goodness on my unworthiness. 'He hath
not dealt thus with all my brethren,' above me in all respects.
God maketh people sometimes potius reperire quam invenire
gratiam, to find the favours they sought not for. If I am
one of them whom God hath made ' to be pitied of those
who carried me away captive ' (Ps. cvi. 46), I hope I shall
be thankful unto Him ; and others, I hope, will not be
envious at me for so great a mercy.

" Next, to the fountain of God's goodness, I ascribe my
liberty of preaching to the favour of some great friends
God hath raised up for me. It was not a childish answer,
though the answer of a child to his father, taxing him with
being proud of his new coat, ' I am glad,' said he, ' but not
proud of it.' Give me leave to be glad, and joyful in
myself, for my good friends ; and to desire and endeavour
their continuance and increase. ' A friend in the court '
hath always been accounted ' as good as a penny in the
council, as a pound in the purse.' Nor will any rational
man condemn me for making my addresses to, and im
provement of, them, seeing the Animadverter himself (as I
am informed) hath his friend in the Council ; and it is not
long sinc'e he had occasion to make use of his favour."

Having referred to the advantages which he derived
from the rendition Articles of Exeter, of which he had the
benefit, he adds, " Nor was it (though last named) least
casual of my quiet, that (happy criticism to myself as I may
call it) I was never formally sequestered, but went, before
driven away, from my living, which took off the edge of the

43S The Life of Fuller.

Ordinance against me, that the weight thereof fell but
slantingly upon me. Thus when God will fasten a
favour on any person (though never so unworthy) He
ordereth the concurrences of all things contributive
thereunto."

"All I will add is this, that hitherto (1659), and I hope
He who hath kept me will keep me — I speak it in the
presence of God — I have not by my pen or practice, to my
knowledge, done anything unworthily to the betraying of
the interest of the Church of England ; and, it it can be
proved, let my Mother Church ' not only spit in my face '
(the expression, it seems, of parents amongst the Jews,
when they were offended with their children for some mis
demeanour (Num. xii. 14), but also 'spue me out of her
mouth.' Some will say, ' Such a vaunt savoureth of a
Pharisaical pride.' I utterly deny it. For even the pub
lican, after he came from the confession in the Temple
' God be merciful to me a sinner' (Luke xviii., 13), had he
met one in the outward court, accusing and taxing him with
such particular sins whereof he was guiltless, would no
doubt have replied in his own just defence. And seeing I
am on my purgation in what the Schools termjustiaa causa
(though not persona], I cannot say less (as I will no more)
in my justification.

"Thus have I represented to the reader with the true
complexion of my cause ; and though I have not painted
the face thereof with false colours, I hope I have washed
from it the foul aspersion of temporizing or sinful agreeable-
ness with the times, which the Animadvertor causelessly
casts upon it.

" So much," adds he, " for my outward carriage in refer-

Appeal of Injured Innocence. 439

ence to the times : meantime, what the thoughts of my
heart have been thereof, I am not bound to make a dis
covery to my own danger. Sure I am, such who are ' peace
able and faithful in Israel' (2 Sam. xx. 19) may nevertheless
be mourners in Zion (Isaiah Ixi. 3), and grieve at what
they cannot mend, but must endure. This also I know,
that that spoke in the wheel which creaketh most, doth not
bear the greatest burthen in the cart. The greatest com-
plainers are not always the greatest sufferers ; whilst as
much, yea, more, sincere sorrow may be managed in secret
silence, than with querulous and clamourous obstreperous-
ness : and such who never print nor preach satires on the
times, may make elegies on them in their own souls." *

There are many passages which are to be found scattered
up and down in our author's writings, about this time, which
are very much in the same strain with the foregoing remarks,
and with which they naturally connect themselves. From
a few extracts it may be gathered that he did not always
endeavour to conceal his real principles. These bifurcated
citations prove the general freedom accorded to reputed
Royalists during the interregnum, and they exhibit our
hero to be what he is supposed to typify, "that stout
Church-and-King man." Many of them are to be found in
the u Pisgah Sight," one of his most carefully digested and
critically arranged works, published the year after the exe
cution of King Charles, and the others are taken from his
"Church History," published later on. Thus he says, of
the death of Absalom, that " It was Joab which despatched
him with three darts through his heart. Wherein, through

Appeal," p. I, ch. xxv.

44° The Life of Fuller.

a treble orifice, was discovered disobedience to his parent,
treason to his prince, and hypocrisy to his God ; pretending
a sacrifice, and intending a rebellion." And he adds, of
Absalom's tomb, that it consisted of " a great pit to hold,
and a great heap of stones to hide, a great traitor under it.
May they there lie hard and heavy on his corpes, and
withal (if possible) sink down his rebellious example from
ever having a resurrection ! No methodical monument but
this hurdle of stones was fittest for such a causer ot
confusion."

Elsewhere, of Absalom's pillar, he remarks : " Pilgrims at
this very day, passing by the place, use every man to cast a
stone upon it, and my request to the reader is, if ever he
should go thither, that when he hath first stood himself and
satisfied his own revenge, he would then be pleased to cast
one more stone upon that heap, in my name, to express my
detestation of so damnable a rebellion. Rebellion," he adds,
" though running so at hand is quickly tired, as having rotten
lungs, whilst well breathed Loyalty is best at a long course."
There are also other glances at his own times in the same
book. He refrains from giving the title " Holy Land " to
Palestine, " lest while I call the land holy, this age count
me superstitious." " Such as take down our church before
fully furnished to the setting up of a new, making a
dangerous breach for profaneness and atheism to enter in
thereat. No such regnum for Satan, as in the interngnum
between two religions."

He alludes to the Rechabites as constantly dwelling in
tents — " so to entertain all turnings of the times with less
trouble to themselves. Provident birds, only to perch on
the boughs, not to build their nests on that tree which they

Fuller's Friends. 441

suspected would suddenly be cut down, foreseeing, perchance,
the captivity of Babylon. Indeed, in all fickle times (such
as we live in), it is folly to fix on any durable design, as in
consistent with the uncertainty of our age, and safest to pitch
up tent-projects ) whose alteration may be with less loss, and
a clear conscience comply with the change of the times."

We perceive his agitation of mind under certain emergent
circumstances, as in his description of Issachar (whose re
semblance to an ass should not, he says, depress the tribe
too low in our estimation : the strength of his back, not the
stupidity of his head, gave the occasion thereunto) where he
says that the inhabitants were men that had " understand
ing of the times to know what Israel ought to do "
(i Chron., xii, 32), and then exclaims : " Oh, for a little ct
Issachar's art in our age to make us understand these intricate
and perplexed times, and to teach us to know what we
ought to do, to be safe with a good conscience."*

Our biography has to do more with Fuller than his
friends, and therefore our space does not permit us to do
more than give the names, and sketch very briefly the
histories of some of Fuller's principal friends, with whom he
was a frequent and welcome guest, during the pleasant
time he spent at Waltham, the Cure which gave our author
such a quiet home, and undisturbed lettered ease.

The first to notice will be the Earl of Middlesex. Here
Fuller enjoyed the friendship of Lionel Cranfield, second
son of Lionel the displaced and unjustly persecuted
Lord Treasurer of James. Fuller " was frequent in his
house at Copt Hall " — a mansion now no more, but whicl?

*Book ii, 158.

44 2 The Life of Fuller.

derives an interest from its having been erected by Abbot
Fuller, and since enlarged and occupied by Sir Thomas
Heneage and others. The house also possessed a long
gallery "as well furnished " says Fuller, uas most; more
proportionable than any in England." Its chapel, moreover,
was beautified with the richly painted glass windows, which
were afterwards removed and placed in the chancel windows
of St. Margaret's, Westminster. This nobleman died in
1651, and was succeeded by his younger brother Lionel, the
third Earl, who seems to have been very fond of his parish
priest. Knowing his pastor's love of literary pursuits, and
his hard lot in being a " library-less scholar," this Earl, by
a rare generosity, bestowed upon him the remains of his
father's library at Copt Hall. This welcome gift is gratefully
and graciously acknowledged in his Dedication of his first
book of "Pisgah Sight," which is inscribed to his kind patron.
In one part of this dedication he says " And this hath God,
by your bounty, equivalently restored unto me what ' the
locusts and the palmer-worm have devoured,' so that now I
envy not the Pope's Vatican for the numerousness of books
and variety of editions therein : enough for use, being as
good as store for state, or superfluity for magnificence.
However, hereafter I shall behold myself under no other
notion than as your lordship's library keeper, and conceive
it my duty not only to see your books dried and rubbed (to
rout those moths which would quarter therein) but also to
peruse, study, and digest them, so that I may present your
Honour with some choice collections out of the same, as
this ensuing History (Reign Henry VIII.) is for the main
extracted thence, &c."

There is also another passage which shows Fuller's

Fuller's Neighbours. 443

intimacy with this noble family. " Some three years since,"
he says (about 1656), "walking on the Lord's Day into the
park at Copt Hall, the third son (a child in coats) of the
Earl of Dorset desired to go with me, whereof I was un
willing, fearing he should straggle from me, whilst I meditated
on my sermon, and when I told him, if he went with me he
would lose himself, he returned : ' Then you must lose
yourself first, for I will go with you.'" Fuller relates this
episode for the purpose, illustrating "this rule I always
observe, when meddling with matters of law ; because I my
self am a child therein, I will ever go with a man in that
faculty, such as is most eminent in his profession, a cujits
later e non discedam, &c,, that if he lose me he shall first lose
himself."

Fuller was also intimate with another nobleman in Essex :
Robert, the " pious old Earl of Warwick," the Admiral
under the Long Parliament. He held the presentation to
many livings in this county. Besides being noted for
integrity of character and manliness of bearing, he was " of
a pleasant and companionable wit and conversation, of an
universal jollity."

Here also he enjoyed the friendship of Sir Henry Wroth,
of Durance (near Ponder's End) or Durands. This seat
had been in the possession of that family from the reign of
Henry IV., by the marriage of John Wroth, to Matilda, the
daughter of Thomas Durand. Sir Henry's great-grandfather
was much esteemed by Edward VI., who died in his arms.
He fled in the next reign to Germany, but returned and was
restored to his possessions, when the terrors of Romanism
were at an end. " It was almost observable," relates Fuller,
"that the family of this man, who went away from his

444 The Life of Fuller.

conscience, was the only family in Middlesex, out of all
those mentioned by Morden, which was not extinct in his

time.

Perhaps the most intimate and truly paternal of all
Fuller's friends was Matthew Gilly, Esq., ofWaltham. To him
he thus dedicates the tenth book of his " Church History "
(section n.), "Solomon saith, l and there is a friend that is
nearer than a brother? Now though I have read many
writers on the text, your practice is the best comment which
hath most truly expounded it unto me. Accept this, there
fore, as the return of the thanks of your respectful friend."

Edward Palmer, Esq., was also another of Fuller's
parishioners and tried friends. He was an accomplished
scholar, and became Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge,
1614, succeeding Andrew Downes.

At Cheshunt he enjoyed also the friendship of Sir Thomas
Dacres. Fuller makes mention of a lively picture of
Cranmer, which he had seen at Sir Thomas Dacre's house,
done, as I take it, by Hans Holbein. To Cheshunt, also,
belonged William Robinson, Esq., of the Inner Temple,
who likewise patronised our author's works. This anecdote
may interest those whose minds are somewhat exercised
about the component elements of our present Court of
Final Appeal, which succeeded (per incuriam) the High
Court of Delegates in 1832. After relating an anecdote of
Sir Edward Coke (who said that he never knew a Divine
meddle with a matter of law, but therein he committed
some grave error), Fuller, presuming that " you lawyers are
better Divines than we Divines are lawyers," states that
having cause to suspect his own judgment in that particular
section of Church Hhtory wherein was so much of law he

His Social Popularity. 445

submitted it to his patron's. Among others of Fuller's
friends we may mention Robert Abdy, Esq., of London and
Albyns, Essex; and William Cooke, Esq., of Gidea Hall,
near Romford; Sir Thomas Trevor, of Enfield ; and R.
Freeman, Esq., of Aspeden, Herts.

These facts speak for themselves, and show that Fuller's
official life must have had most charming social surround
ings. The intimate way in which he addresses his friends
and neighbours points to a parochial residence of a very
agreeable character. His biographer tells us that he had
the happiness of a very honourable, and that very numerous
acquaintance, so that he was no ways undisciplined in the
arts of civility, yet he continued semper idem, which con
stancy made him always acceptable to them."* And another
contemporary notice observes that he " was so good com
pany, that happy the person that enjoyed him, either citizens,
gentlemen, or noblemen, he removing up and down out of
an equanimous civility to his many worthy friends that he
might so dispense his much desired company among them,
that no one might monopolise him to the envy of others, "t

With regard to his general bearing towards his friends
and neighbours, his unknown biographer writes thus : " To
his neighbours and friends he behaved himself with that
cheerfulness and plainness of affection and respect as deser
vedly gained him their highest esteem. From the meanest
to the highest he omitted nothing what to him belonged in
his station, either in a familiar correspondency or necessary
visits, never suffering entreaties of that which either was

" Life," p. 69.
t" Lloyd, "524.

446 The Life of Fuller.

his duty or in his power to perform. The quickness of his
apprehension, helped by a good nature, presently suggested
unto him (without putting them to the trouble of an innuendo)
what their several affairs required, in which he would spare
no pains, insomuch that it was a piece of absolute prudence
to rely upon his advice and assistance. In a word, to his
superiors he was dutifully respectful, without neglect or un-
sociableness, and to his inferiors (whom indeed he judged
Christianly none to be) civilly respectful, without pride or
disdain."*

" He was so engaging," says another, " and had such a
fruitful faculty of begetting wit in others when he exerted
it himself, that he made his associates pleased with their
own conversation as well as his ; his blaze kindled sparks
in them till they admired at their own brightness ; and when
any melancholy hours were to be filled up with merriment
it was said in the vein he could sometimes descend to, that
the doctor made everyone Fuller.^ In other words, our
facetious Divine was, as Falstaff puts it, " Not only witty
in himself, but the cause that wit is in other men." That
wit, whose essence is its conciseness, as Shakespeare says :
" Brevity, is the soul of wit,

And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes."

Hamlet ii., 2.

* " Life," PP- 74-5-
t Biog. Brit, iii., 2057.

/ Fullers ' ' Pisgah- Sight of Palestine" 447

CHAPTER XXL

FULLER'S " PISGAH-SIGHT OF PALESTINE" (1650)

"It is safest for such (waverers) to insert conditional clauses
in their prayers, if it may stand with God's good will and
pleasure, used by the best men (not to say the best of bests) in
their petitions, Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou cans' t make me clean.
Such wary reservations will not be interpreted in the Court of
Heaven, want of faith, but store of humility, in such particulars
where such persons have no plenary assurance of God's pleasure.
Yea, grant the worst, that God never intended the future con
versions of the Jews, yet whilst He hath not revealed the
contrary (as in the case of Samuel's mourning for Saul} all
men's charitable desires herein cannot but be acceptable to the
God of Hza.vzn"—(Pisgah-Stght) Land of Canaan, p. 201.

10THING strikes us more in the life of Fuller than
his indomitable literary industry. Under the
most untoward as well as more favourable cir
cumstances, with his books or libraryless, we
find him collecting materials for present or future works, if
not engaged in actual composition. Whether as the popu-
ar minister of the Savoy chapel, or as Cavalier Parson with
the King at Oxford, or at the siege of Basing-house, or
Exeter, or again as the popular lecturer of some city churchb
or the beloved parish priest at Waltham, it is still the same
well-sustained character. We see not only the painful and
pious preacher, but the plodding and industricus authcr
A list of his many voluminous works, issuing from the press
at regular intervals year by year, show a concentrated power
of composition, which is truly marvellous and surprising. It
is not easy to be at once an active parochi al clergyman, and

448 The Life of Fuller.

affect the role of an author. Waltham was indeed a most
congenial sphere in more ways than one, and there was, so
to speak, an aroma of literature about it. This literary fame
of his new parish seems to have attracted his notice,
charmed his sentiment, and stimulated his energies. He
dwells upon the fact with peculiar pride and satisfaction-
Thus in his Infants' Advocate, dedicated to his parishioners,
he says, " For first the book of Mr. Cranmer (after Arch
bishop of Canterbury and martyr), containing the reasons
against Henry the Eighth and his marriage with Queen
Katherine, Dowager, was compiled in our parish, whilst the
said Cranmer retired hither (in the time of a plague at
Cambridge) to teach his pupils. Thus did Waltham give
Rome the first deadly blow in England, occasioning the
Pope's primacy to totter therein, till it tumbled down at
last. The large and learned works of the no less religious
than industrious Mr. Foxe, in his ' Book of Martyrs,' was
penned here, leaving his posterity a considerable estate, at
this day possessed by them in this parish. What shall I
speak of the no less pleasant than profitable pains of
Reverend Bishop Hall (predecessor in my place), the main
body of whose books bears date from Waltham."

It was here, then, that our author devoted himself with
recreated enthusiasm to the composition and publication of
some ' worthy books,' which became correlated with the same
locality. The mantle of -his illustrious predecessors fell on
no unworthy shoulders, and Fuller himself added to the
literary laurels of his parish.

The first great work which he published, connected with
Waltham, was an entertaining description of the Holy Land,
not that he would call it by that name, as some might think

A Pisgah-Sight of Palestine. 449

it savoured of superstition. It was entitled " A Pisgah-
Sight of Palestine, and the Confines thereof, with the History of
the Old and New Testament acted thereon, by Thomas Fuller
B.D." It is dated Waltham Abbey, July ;th, 1650, and is a
large folio of some 800 pages, but has been reprinted by
William Tegg, London, 1869.

It is supposed that the work had been planned as far back
as when our author was at Broad Windsor composing his
Holy War, of which Palestine was its principal theatre.
Indeed, the 1 8th chapter of that work bears the very same
title as this bigger work does — "A Pisgah-Sight, or Short
Survey of Palestine in General" — one of Fuller's fascinating
chapters about which Professor Rogers remarks in his Essay,
—"What in other hands would have proved little more than
a bare enumeration of names, sparkles with perpetual wit,
and is enlivened with all sorts of vivacious allusions." The
happy selection of the name of this new work was a most
felicitous one, but for a time the title was undecided, and
we find it entered in Stationers' Hall, dated April i5th,
1649, as " a booke called a Choragraphicall Coment on the
History of the Bible, or the description of Judaea, by Thomas
Fuller, B.D." Perhaps his manuscript and collected topica
may have fallen into the hands of the Sequestrators, and sub
sequently were returned to him about the time of his settling
in his new home, which would account for his utilising them
at once without further delay, putting off for the time his
more ambitious work, which he was composing, on the
" Ecclesiastical History of Great Britain." This is his own
account of the matter : " So soon as God's goodness gave
me a fixed habitation, I composed my ' Land of Canaan, or
Pisgah-Sight.' "

F F

450 The Life of Fuller.

After his dedication to the Right Honble. Esme Stuart,
Earl of March and Darnley, he has a few words to say " To
the Reader "—in which he sets out the reasons why his
promised Church History had not appeared.

After alluding to the substitution of Leah for Rachel at
the end of Jacob's seven years' servitude, he continues :
" Many have long patiently waited that I should now, accord
ing to my promise, set forth an Ecclesiastical History, who
now may justly complain that their expectation is abused,
finding their Changeling in the place thereof. And should I
plead with Laban the custom of the country, that it is not
fashionable to give the younger before the first-born
(Gen. xix, 26), should I allege for myself that this book, con
taining matter of more ancient date, ought to precede the
other, yet this, like Laban's answer, will be taken rather as a
sly evasion than solid satisfaction. " And again, referring to his
promise, he says : " true it is we have no wars at this instant,
yet we have rumours of wars, and though the former only
doth destroy, the latter also doth distract. Are their gloomy
days already disclouded (to use my own expression in my
promise), or rather, is it not true in the Scriptnre phrase,
that the clouds return after the rain (Eccles. xii, 2) ? Indeed,
I am sorry I cannot say so much in my own defence, and
should account myself happy if all other breaches were made
up, and I only to be punished for my breach of promise ;
which, notwithstanding all the difficulties of the subject, and
distractions of our days, I hope in God, in competent time
to effect, might but my endeavours meet with a quiet resi
dence and proportionable encouragement for such under
takings."

He thus quaintly concludes : " Meantime, accept of these

A Pisgah-Sight of Palestine. 45 1

my labours, which, by God's blessing, and the bounty of my
friends, are brought into the light ; useful, I hope, for the
understanding of the Scriptures. What I have herein per
formed, I had rather the reader should tell me at the end of
the book than I tell him at the beginning. For the manifold
faults therein, I doubt not but that the ingenious reader
(finding in Palestine six cities of refuge, by God's own ap
pointment for the safeguard of such as slew one unawares
without malice prepense (Josh, xx, 9), will of his own bounty
build a seventh in his own bosom for my protection when
guilty of involuntary mistakes in so great a work. If thou
reapest any profit thereby, give God the glory ; to whose
protection thou art committed by, thine in Christ Jesus,
Thomas Fuller."

The completion of the Pisgah-Sight was made about the
autumn of 1650, nearly twelve months after it had been
registered. The cause of the delay was doubtless the en
graving of the plates, which in those days was as slow pro
ducing as quaint. Of these the title page is the most artistic,
but we need hardly caution the reader not to judge of them
from a nineteenth century standpoint. The art of engraving
lias much improved even in our own days, but what strides
it has made during two centuries these quaint, not to say
grotesque, pictorial efforts will enable us to judge. How
would our author (who took almost as much interest in the
maps of his engraver, as he did in the letter-press of his own
hand) have revelled in the marvellous art productions of our
age — this age of the Art Journal, brought to such perfection
under the masterful conduct of my friend Mr. S. C. Hall,
during the last half century — in these days of illustrated
papers, as the " Graphic " and the " Illustrated " (with their

F F 2

452 The Life of Fuller.

wonderful Christmas numbers), of comic papers, as " Punch "
and " Judy," and the maps of Wyld and Stanford.

How would Clein (for that was the name of Fuller's
principal engraver) have craned his neck in delightful
astonishment over the etchings, engravings, oleographs, or
chromos of this artistic and hyper-aesthetic nineteenth
century. One sight of these humble, but then very success
ful pictures, will well make a man reckon up his artistic
" mercies " in these so-called prosaic days ! This Francis
Clein was a native of Nostoch, and became connected with
the tapestry works of Mortlake, in the county of Surrey,
which were established by James I, in 1616, with which
establishment he became connected as a designer of new
patterns. Clein picked up his art-skill in Copenhagen, and
subsequently at Venice, where he met Sir Henry Wotton,
through whose influence he was invited by Prince Charles
to England. Here he was liberally entertained by King
James, who sent the artist back to the King of Denmark
with a letter, described by Fuller " for the form thereof, I
conceive not unworthy to be inserted, transcribing it with
mine own hand." Returning the year following to this
country, he was pensioned in ^100 per annum, which was
duly paid him till the breaking out of the civil wars, when
the manufactory at Mortlake was destroyed, Holland
House contains specimens of his painting, and so does
Petworth of his designs. Clein had a son, who assisted him
in making drawings for a pictorial edition of Virgil and
^Esop (Ogilby's), which were published about the time of
Pisgah. Clein's style is supposed to be like that of
Hollar, and having spent his last days in Waltham, died
in the year 1658 ; but his son died eight years before him.

Fuller's Engravers. 453

Another of Fuller's "gravers" was J. Goddard, who is
credited with the plate which contains the armorial bearings
of those intimate friends of the author's, who so kindly en
couraged him in his literary undertakings. And in the
address to the reader, as we have already seen, our author
makes the assertion, and couples it with a grateful acknow
ledgment that, but for the assistance of his numerous patrons,
he could not possibly have composed so expensive and
difficult a work. And he subsequently (1659) made the
remark, with reference to such and similar difficult under
takings, that "of late some useful and costly books, when
past their parents' power to bring them forth, have been
delivered to the public by the midwifery of such dedications."
"(Appeal.)" On the top of the plate the upper row is occupied
by Fuller's favorite patrons.

Another of these "gravers" was Rob, Vaughan, who signs
seven of the maps. He lived at Waltham, and although an
indifferent illustrator, seems to have been on very good
terms with his parish priest ; and they both worked their
jokes into the plates ; as, for instance, where one place is
jocularly called " Fuller's field." Vaughan's enthusiasm for
his art no doubt incited Fuller to do what lay in his power
to encourage him in his work. Fuller's other assistant
" gravers " were W. Marshall, P. Cross, and J. Fuller.
Eight of the maps are without signatures, but four were
executed by the first of these, who is said to have been a
laborious artist : three, by Cross, whose work is not well
spoken of; and the plate description of the Jewish dresses
was cut by the last named, though he was no relation of our
author's. Oldys suggests that he may have been a son, or
other kinsman, of Isaac Fuller, the history painter, if not

454 The Life of fuller.

himself. Isaac Fuller was a man of some note in his time,
and was " much employed to paint the great taverns of
London." At Oxford is still to be seen some of his work,
including his portrait by himself, and his Altar-piece at
Magdalen College is celebrated by Addison.

Some have supposed that our author himself held the
graving tool at times, but there is nothing to prove this.
Indeed, a discrepancy appears in more than one case
between the letter-press of the author, and its accompanying
illustration. Whatever suggestions he may have made, and
doubtless he made many, he left this externalised digital
expression to the manual labour of the workman. Besides,
in some places he censures or excuses, as best he can,
oversights and blunders. Thus, in the Map of Judah, an
objection is raised to Goddard's engraving of the Dead
Sea. " Would it not affright one to see a dead man walk ?
and will not he in like manner be amazed to see the Dead
Sea moving? Why have you made the surface thereof
waving, as if, like other seas, it \ve«re acted with any tide ? "
" I will not score it,'' replies Fuller, " on the account of the
Graver, that it is only lasdvia or ludicrum cceli, the over
activity of his hand. In such cases the flourishes of the
Scrivincr are no essential part of the bond : but behold
Mercator's and other authors' maps, and you shall find
more motion therein than is here by us (us, we gravers)
expressed." (Book v, 166.)

Fuller also amusingly answers another objection : " The
faces of the men which bear the great bunch of grapes are
set the wrong way ! For being to go south-east to Kadesh-
Barnea, they look full west to the Mediterranean Sea."
"Yon put me in mind," replied Fuller, "of a man who,

Map of Palestine. 455

being sent for to pass his verdict on a picture, how like it
was to the person whom it was meant to resemble, fell a
finding fault with the frame thereof (not the Limner's, but
the Joiners work), that the same was not handsomely
fashioned. Instead of giving your judgment on the map
(how truly it is drawn to represent the tribe), you cavil at
the History-Properties therein, the act of the Graver not the
Geographer. Yet know, Sir, that when I checkt the Graver
for the same, he answered me, that ' it was proper for Spies,
like Watermen and Ropemakers, for surety sake, to look
one way and work another.'" And this same simile is used
by Fuller of the Romanizing clergy of the reign of John,
" Looking at London, but rowing to Rome : carrying Italian
hearts in English bodies."

No doubt these maps and engravings very much en
hanced the costliness of the work,* for not only were these
arts in their very infancy, they were on that account the
more expensive to produce. Besides a very large map
of Palestine and the two plates already referred to, there
are twenty-seven double-paged maps, all closely filled,
illustrating each of the tribes, the City of Jerusalem, sur
rounding nations, Jewish dresses, and idols. The different
Biblical events are depicted in the places where they are
reported to have^happened, and remind one of the story of
the Cambridge undergraduate, who, being called upon to
draw a map of the Holy Land, after making a straggling
outline, and putting the capital, Jerusalem, in the centre,

* To get a good idea of these engravings, the plates in the
old folio edition of 1650 should be inspected. This edition is
both scarce and costly, and the writer has consulted the folio in
possession of his own family, being one of its heir-looms.

456 The Life of Fuller.

placed a big asterisk close by, referring to a footnote,
which informed the examiners, with N.B., that this was the
exact spot where the poor man fell among thieves. Thus
the progress of the Israelites into Canaan is pictorially
delineated ; a ship in a storm off Joppa, and a big whale,
represent Jonah's history ; the cities of refuge are marked
by fugitives making their way there, followed by avenging
pursuers ; the four cities of the plain are in flames ; Moses
" views the prospect o'er " from Pisgah's lofty top (which
looks like one of the tors of Dartmoor) ; even " middle
earth " is given. The different cities, towns, and villages
are marked with walls, coronets, double circles, turrets,
asterisks, banners and little flags, and the camp of the
chosen people is pourtrayed by the tents of the various
tribes, ranged geographically according to the points of the
compass, with the Tabernacle in their midst ; Moses is seen
pointing to the brazen serpent ; and the whole map bristles
with every imaginable quaint and weird device, which our
author calls " History-properties." We can well imagine
how his child-patrons must have revelled in these eccentric
pictures, and the delight the children of the period (if their
parents could afford so costly a work) must have expe
rienced in these object-lessons. This was indeed teaching
through the eye, and must have proved most attractive to
the youthful student on Horace's principle —

" Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quas sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus."

(Hor. Art Poet. 180.)

or that of Herodotus (i. 8) —

" arm yap rvyxavcL dv^pcoTrotcrt eovra aTriarorepa
or Seneca's —

Object-lessons 457

" Homines amplius oculis quam auribus credunt."

(Ep. vi.)

And our author to the same effect : " Nor can knowledge
herein be more speedily and truly attained, than by particular
description of the tribes, where the eye will learn more in an
hour from a map, than the ear can learn in a day from a
discourse" But with regard to these plates Fuller gravely
cautions the reader, " For the further management
of our scale of miles we request the reader not to extend it,
therewith to measure all the properties or History-pictures
in our maps (for then some men would appear giants, yea,
monsters many miles long), expecting him rather to carry a
scale in his own eyes for surveying such portraitures. Nor
would I have the scale applied to cities drawn in perfpro]-
spective." Adding, " Yea, in general, I undertake nothing
in excuse or defence of those pictures, to be done accord
ing to the rule of art, as none of my work, ornamental,
not essential to the maps : only this I will say, that emi-
nency in English Gravers is not to be expected till their
art be more countenanced and encouraged." And again :
" Such towns as stand on tiptoes (as one may say) on the
very umstroke or on any part of the utmost line of any
map (unresolved in a manner to stay out or come in), are
not to be presumed placed according to exactness, but
only signify them there or thereabouts." And referring
to any discrepancies, he adds : " Such motes not being
before the sight, but in the corner of the eye, will little, if
at all, hinder the light of a geographical truth. Surely, as
in the strictest law of horse racers, some waste of weight is
allowed to the riders ; so methinks some favour ought to be
afforded an author in measuring and making many maps,

458 The Life of Fuller.

were it but for the shaking of his weary hand in so tedious
a work."*

In the opening chapter of the first book he begins by
asserting his design from causeless cavils, in which he
likens his condition to the Israelites at Kadesh-Barnia
(Numb, xiii, 23-8), "who were much pleased with the
report that the spies brought of the fruitfulness of the
country, until they told them of Ahiman, Sheshai, and
Talmai, the three sons of Anak, which quite appalled their
courage, and " deaded " their desire thereof. In the like
manner, whilst I am invited with several pleasing considera
tions, and delightful motives, to adventure on this work,
three giant-like objections, which must be encountered, do
in a manner dishearten me from further proceeding. For
some will lay to my charge that the description of this
country —

(1) Hath formerly been done by many.

(2) Cannot perfectly be done by any.

(3) If exactly done, is altogether useless, and may be
somewhat superstitious.

To the first cavil Fuller makes answer that it "is not
planted particularly against my endeavours, but is levelled
against the industry of all posterity, in any future design.
Solomon saith there is no new thing under the sun (Eccles.
i, 9). Except, therefore, men were gods to create new
subjects to write upon, groundless is the first exception
against us. It never disheartened St. Luke to write his
Gospel, for as much as many had taken in hand to set it
forth before. Yet the former endeavours of many in the

* Book I. ch. xvi.

Cavils Answered. 459

same matter, argue the merit of the work to be great. For
sure there is some extraordinary worth in that face which
hath had so many suitors. Wherefore, although we cannot,
with Columbus, find out another new world, and bring the
first tidings of an unknown continent or island, by us dis
covered, yet our labours ought not to be condemned as
unprofitable, if setting forth an old subject in a new edition
enlarged and amended. This I dare say, though many
have written discourses without maps, and more maps
without discourses, and some both (yet so that three tribes
are joined in one map), none have formerly in any tongue
(much less in English) presented us with distinct maps and
descriptions together."

With regard to the second cavil, he replies, " I could
wish that the objection also lay against the work in hand,
<ind might not also equally be enforced against other liberal
undertakings : for he that holds a reed in one hand to mete
the topography, and an hour-glass in the other to measure
the chronology of the Scripture, shall meet with as many, if
not more, uncertainties in the latter, as in the former. And
yet the learned pains of such as labour therein, justly merit
commendation. If all conjectural results should be cast out
for weeds, few herbs would be left in the gardens of most
arts and sciences. St. Paul hath a passage, " We know in
part and we prophesy in part" (i Cor. xiii, 9), which is a
good curb for our curiosity ; and the same apostle hath a
precept, " Prove all things ; hold fast that which is good "
(i Thess. v, 21), which is as good a spur for our diligence.
As for the difference betwixt geographers, they ought not to
make us careless to follow any, but careful to choose the
best; except with the sluggard's drowsy fancy we tune

460 The Life of Fuller.

the Alarums to our industry to be Lullabies to our
laziness."

Answering the last objection, he says, " It matters not
to any man's salvation to know the accurate distance
between Jericho and Jerusalem : and he that hath climbed
to the top of Mount Libanus is not, in respect of his- soul,
a hair's breadth nearer to heaven. Besides, some conceive
they hear Palestine saying to them, as Samuel to Saul, en
deavouring to raise him from his grave, ' Why hast thou
disquieted to bring me up ? ' (i Sam. xxviii. 15.) De
scribing this country is but disturbing it, it being better
to let it sleep quietly, entombed in its own ashes. The
rather because the New Jerusalem is now daily expected
to come down (Rev. xxi. 10), and then corporal (not
to say carnal) studies of the terrestrial Canaan begin to
grow out of fashion with the more knowing sort of
Christians."

" It is answered, though these studies are not essential to
salvation, yet they are ornamental to accomplish men with
knowledge, contributing much to the true understanding of
the history of the Bible. Remarkable is that passage of the
Apostle — Acts xvii. 26, 'And hath made of one blood all
nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and
hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds
of their habitation,' wherein we may see Divinity, the Queen,
waited on by three of her principal ladies of honour, namely
skill in —

" (i) Genealogies : concerning the persons of men and
their pedigrees ; ' of one blood all nations.'

"(2) Chronology: in the exact computation 'of the
times afore appointed.'

Dedication of the Pisgah-Sight. 461

"(3) Geography : measuring out the limits of several
nations, ' and the bounds of their habitations.'

The Pisgah Sight of Palestine is divided into five books,
of which the first is prefatory, and treats of the general
description of Judaea. This book contains fifteen chapters,
the last touching how the different qualities of places in our
maps are distinguished by their several characters, and is
dedicated to his child-patron the Right Honourable Esme
Stuart, Earl of March and Darnley, Lord Leighton, son and
heir to the illustrious James, Duke of Richmond and
Lennox. Referring to the present incapacity of his patron
deriving instruction from the book, he adds that " until such
time as your lordship's judgment can reap profit from our
descriptions herein, may your eyes but take pleasure in the
maps which are here presented unto you." After some quaint
conceits on the family name and ancestry, Fuller concludes :
" But I grow tedious in a long letter to a little lord, and
therefore turn my pen into prayers that Christ would be
pleased to take you up into his arms (whose embraces are
the best swaddling clothes, as to straighten, so to strengthen
you in the growth of grace), to ' lay his hands upon you and
bless you,' that you may ' grow in stature and favour with
God and man,' the daily desire of your Lordship's humble
orator, THO. FULLER." Speaking of his innocence, Fuller
beautifully remarked (a sentiment which attracted the notice
of Charles Lamb, who inserted it among the specimens from
the writings of Fuller), " Yea, some admiring what motives
to mirth infants meet with in their silent and "solitary smiles,
have resolved (how truly I know not) that then they
converse with angels, as indeed such cannot among mortals
find any fitter companions." The second and largest-book,

462 The Life of Fuller.

which is occupied with the tribes, and contains fourteen
chapters (the last being on the land of Moriah, with a fine
plate) is dedicated to the Right Honourable Henry Lord
Beauchampe, son to the Right Honourable William, Mar
quess of Hertford. The third book treats of the city of
Jerusalem, and King Solomon's Temple (a subject
dear to all free and accepted Masons), and contains
four chapters, the last chapter a most interesting
one, dealing with Zorobabel's temple, in twelve sections
(the ninth being on "the Action of Christ in the
Temple," and the tenth the " Acts of the Apostles in the
Temple "), and is dedicated to the Right Honourable John,
Lord Ros, son of the Right Honourable, John, Earl of
Rutland. The fourth book contains seven chapters, and is
devoted to Mount Libanus and adjacent countries, the
tabernacle, clothes (with pictures of same), ornaments, vest
ments, and idols of the Jews (with a very graphic plate,
showing the Pantheon, Sive Idola Judeorum}. This part is
dedicated to the Right Honourable Francis, Lord Russell,
son to the Right Honourable William, Earl of Bedford. The
fifth book contains two chapters, the first on the " Objections
Answered Concerning this Description," and the latter
" Ezekiel's Visionary Land of Canaan," and deals with a
miscellaneous assortment of topics, so arranged that the
former books might be, as the author says, more pleasant
and cheerful in the lection. The objections are set out in
a continuous dialogue between Philologus and Alethseus.
This last book is dedicated to the Right Honourable John,
Lord Burghley, son to the Right Honourable John, Earl of
Exeter. In his dedicatory epistle he alludes to his birth
place. "Now the first light which I saw in this world was

Conversion of the Jews. 463

in a benefice conferred on my father by your most honour
able great-grandfather, and therefore I stand obliged in all
thankfulness to your family ; yea, this my right hand, which
grasped the first free air in a manor to which your lordship
is heir apparent, hath since been often catching at a pen to
write something expressive of my thankfulness, and now at
last dedicates this book to your infant honour. Thus, as my
obligation bears date from my birth, my thankfulness makes
speed to tender itself to your cradle." Alluding to the ob
jection that his lordship was " infra-annuated " to be the
patron of a book in the first acceptation thereof, he has a
sly hit at the Church of Rome : " If they (Roman Catholics)
do, I refer them to a story confessed by their champion,a child
not fully five years old, consecrated Archbishop of Rheims
by Pope John the Tenth, since which time some children of
small age (but great birth) have been made Cardinals,
though long since their Church of Rome had been off the
hooks, had it no stronger hinges."

This book concludes with a beautiful Prayer for the
Conversion of the Jews, which had been considered in
the 4th, 5th, and 6th section of the last chapter " of the
general calling of the Jews : of the present obstructions to
the calling of the Jews " : and " how Christians ought to
behave themselves, in order to the Jews' conversion." On
this subject Mr. Russell observes, *" Fuller, and according
to him the majority of the learned in his day, were
against the opinion that the Jews would be put again in
possession of their ancient territory. The negation of
this opinion he grounds upon the ninth chapter of Amos,

Memorials of Life and Works," p. 176.

464 The Life of Fuller.

as interpreted in the fifteenth chapter of the Acts. The
opinion of the general conversion of the Jews he shews
to be conformable to Scripture, and j:o have been main
tained in the first four centuries."

He proceeds to treat "of the hindrances that opposed
their conversion. The first he notices is " our want of
civil society with their nation. There must be first con
versing with them before there can be converting of them.
The Gospel doth not work (as the weapon-salve) at distance,
but requires some competent familiarity with the persons of
probationer-converts. Whereas the Jews being banished
out of England, France and Spain are out of the call
of the Gospel and ken of the sacraments in those
countries." This was a degree of genuine liberality beyond
the age in which Fuller wrote. Tempora mutantur. Our
generation has seen the Jews admitted to the Great Council
of the nation, and such is the anomalous condition of things
they might even vote on measures concerning the National
Church itself, and perhaps they did vote on the Public:
Worship Regulation Act. Be that as it may, the Jews were
then (1650) under the ban of those laws which forbad theiij
setting foot upon our shores : and this state of utter out
lawry they could not escape even by an appeal to Cromwell,
who long deliberated on this point, but would not, or at
least, did not, commit himself to a measure in his time so
unpopular as the mere toleration of the Jews.

He notices also the scandal of image- worship in the
Church of Rome, " and to speak out the plain truth the
Romanists are but back-friends to the Jews' conversion,
chiefly on this account, because the Rabbins generally
interpret Dumah (especially on the burden of Dumah :

Conversion of the Jews. 465

Isa. xxi, n.) or Edom to be Rome, and Edomites Romans,
in their expositions on the Old Testament. And therefore
all those passages have (by order, no doubt, from their
superiors) been lately purged out and expunged the Vene
tian edition of the Rabbins;* yea, there is a constant
tradition, current time out of mind, that after the
destruction of the city of Rome, their nation shall be
put in a glorious condition. No wonder, then, if cold
and dull the endeavours of the Romanists for the con
version of the Jews, who leave that task to be performed
by Moses and Elias, whom the Papists fondly fancy,
shall, toward the end of the world, personally appear, and
by their powerful preaching persuade the Jewish nation
unto the Christian religion." He adverts to the great joy
of the godly Jews at the conversion of Cornelius, and
probable expectation of the Scriptures themselves being
better understood, when both Jew and Gentile shall unite
their labours to the illustration of them. But upon what
ever subject our Author treated, his piety was always
ready to edify the heart, as his industry was incessant to
instruct the mind of his readers. Witness his admirable
chapters on the " Land of Moriah," and on " The
Mysteries ot Mount Calvary."

Strange ideas now-a-days obtain on the subject of property,
especially Church and landed property. We have lived to
see a sister Church disestablished, and, as to our country,
the prophets tell us that the landlords will be disestablished
before the parsons, the reverse of the prediction some
twenty years ago. " Some there are in our own age," say

* Set forth by Daniel Bambergius.
GG

466 The Life of Fuller.

Mr. Russell, "who hold no kind of property sacred except
their own, that is private property. The property of the
Church, they tell us, is the property of the State, and the
property of the State is the property of the people,* so that
if the Parliament do but alienate, there can be neither
wrong nor robbery." " Indeed," says Dr. Fuller, " some hold
that under the Gospel the sin of sacrilege cannot be com
mitted. If so, it is only because nothing under the Gospel
hath been given to God's service, or because God hath
solemnly disclaimed the acceptance of any such donations;
which, when, and where it was done, will be hardly pro
duced. If this their position be true, we have cause, first,
to rejoice in regard that God and His members are now-a-
days grown so rich that they need not addition of human
gratuities to be bestowed on them ; secondly, we can con
gratulate the felicity of our above former ages being not in
a capacity of committing the sin of sacrilege, to which those
were subject who lived before the time of our Saviour ;
lastly, we may silently smile to see how Satan is defeated,
having quite lost one of his ancient baits and old tempta
tions : men now-a-days being secured from this sin, and put
past a possibility of being guilty thereof. But before we go
thus far, let us first be sure we go on a good ground, other
wise it is the highest sacrilege itself, and to deny that
(which formerly was a grevious) to be any transgression."!

In the compilation of this exhaustive and painful work
our author had in his hands and used, among other aids
Jerome, Adrichomius, Villepandus, Bochart, Breidenbachius,

* " Memorials," p. 178.
t Pp. 403, 404

The Holy Land. 467

of Mentz, Brochardus (who travelled in the Holy Land in
1283), Sandys, or Sands (the traveller whose famous Eastern
journey was made in 1600, and of whose description of the
Holy Land Fuller speaks so admiringly), Morison, Biddulph
(a late English divine), and Bunting's "Travels of the
Patriarchs." Of ancient authors, Josephus takes the first
place. " Pardon a digression," says he, " in giving a free
character of his writings, whereof, next Holy Writ, we have
made most use in this book. Notwithstanding all these
his faults, the main bulk of his book deserves commenda
tion, if not admiration ; no doubt at the first compiled, and
since preserved, by the special providence of God, to reflect
much light and lustre upon the Scriptures."

He also quotes the Rabbins, and laid Pliny under con
tribution. And as to the spirit in which our author
utilized the labours of those who had gone over the same
ground, the following quotation will show : " We intend a
little, both upon the commodities and countries, of such as
hither (to Tyre) resorted. For though I dare not go out of the
bounds of Canaan to give these nations a visit at their own
homes, yet, finding them here within my precincts, it were
incivility in me not to take some acquaintance of them.
In setting down of their several places I have wholly fol
lowed (let my candle go out in a stink when I refuse to confess
from whom I have lighted it) Bochartus in his ' Holy
Geography.' "

His treatment of the work, and the design itself, is quite
original — we were tempted to say, Fullerian. Our author
gives this account of his literary production : " Our work in
hand is a parcel of geography, touching a particular descrip
tion of Judsea : without some competent skill wherein, as

G G 2

468 The Life of Fuller.

the blind Syrians, intending to go to Dothan, went to
Samaria (u Kings vi, 19) ; so ignorant persons discoursing
of the Scripture, must needs make many absurd and dan
gerous mistakes. Nor can knowledge herein be more
speedily and truly attained than by particular description
of the tribes, when the eye will learn more in an hour from
a map than the ear can learn in a day from discourse, and,
if there were any fear of superstition, his works might go
the way of the Ephesian conjuring books (Acts xix., ic),
and not all the water of Kishon, of Jordan, of the Red, of
the Dead, of the Middleland Sea should serve to quench
the fire, but all be reduced to ashes."

This marvellous production is now over two hundred years
old; but, in spite of fresh investigations, recent explorations
on a grand scale, and more modern researches, it still holds
its own against all comers, and is even now a book of refer
ence, as luminous and sprightly as it is useful. It is worthy
to stand on the same shelf as that truly delightful and
brilliant book of Dean Stanley* on Palestine and Syria, with
its very picturesque diction. As a proof of its popularity,
fresh editions of the work were soon called for. And our
author refers to its success with honest pride and satisfac
tion, when he was jeered at by Dr. Heylin for sallying forth
into the Holy Land, when he should have been endeavour-

* ' ' Fuller's pages are more fruitful of healthy influence than those
of Stanley. Brilliant as Stanley is, he lacks steady, Christian
warmth ; and is very unlike Fuller, in that he so often makes his
reader feel the presence of a subtle scepticism. Dear old
Fuller, thine eye was single, and had too much the nature of
Divine light in it to be dazzled or touched with the least uneasi
ness before the face of inspired truth." (Christopher's " Homes
of English Divines," p. 179.)

Fuller's Style. 469

ing a Church History (his adversary, perhaps, not liking this
popularity, as he himself had lately put out a descriptive
account of the same in his Microcosmography, which he may
have wished to look upon as his own preserves). Fuller
tells his critic that he can brook all such sarcastic remarks,
" seeing (by God's goodness) that my book hath met with
general reception, likely to live when I am dead ; so that
friends of quality solicit me to teach it the Latin language."*

The very peculiar and attractive style of Fuller had no
doubt much to do in deserving and securing this popularity.
Some of their details — especially the chronological — are of
the driest character, yet his pen lights them up, and makes
them sparkle with verve and wit by a quaint fancy and luxu
rious facetiousness, brimming over at times, and hardly
patient of being confined within reverent and duly subor
dinated limits, befitting the sacred profession of the author.
We seem spell-bound by some literary wizard, and are
riveted with the pictorial phantasmagoria and verbal trans"
formation scenes, which delight the eye and ravish the
imagination.

One writer says, speaking of this work : " No one could
have expected the lavish display of every kind of wit and
drollery which is to be found in the book. His fancy fer
tilized the very rocks and deserts ; the darkest and dreariest
places he illumines and renders cheerful with his never-fail-
humouring." } Another says that this book is a felicitous
illustration of Fuller's strong point — sacred story ; '-'and
no work of his better displays the riches of his mind, or the
plenitude and fertility of its images."

* « Appeal," Pt. i., 317-
!• Knight's " Cabinet Portrait Gallery," vii., 16.

4 7 o The Life of Fuller.

But our readers by this time must be anxious for a few
brief excerpts, as specimens of the lively spirit and witty
pleasantry of the work. We cannot do better than quote
some two or three citations, which are very apposite. The
Septenary Number : " Seven years was this Temple in
building. Here some will behold the sanctity and perfec
tion of the Septenary Number, so often occurring in Scrip
ture, whilst we conceive this the best reason why just seven
years were spent on the building thereof, because it could
not be ended in six, nor accomplished within a shorter com
pass of time."* The Beautiful Gate : " We will wait on the
reader into the Temple, first requesting him to carry com
petent money, and a charitable mind along with him, for, as
we shall enter into the Eastern gate (commonly called
* Beautiful ') we shall be sure to meet there with many
creeples and beggars of all sorts, as proper objects of his
liberality. Here daily lay that lame man on whom St.
Peter, though moneyless, bestowed the best alms he could
give, or the other receive, even the use of his limbs." t
Jerusalem : "As Jerusalem was the navel of Judaea, so the
Fathers make Judaea the middest of the world, whereunto
they bring (not to say how) those places of Scripture. 'Thou
hast wrought salvation in the midst of the earth.' Indeed,
seeing the whole world is a round table, and the Gospel
the food for men's souls, it was fitting that this great dish
should be set in the midst of the board, that all the
guests round about might equally reach unto it ; and Jeru
salem was the center whence the lines of salvation went out

* iii., 362.
t iii., 426.

Sacred Cities. 471

into all lands."* " Modern Damascus is a beautiful city.
The first Damask-rose had its root here, and name hence.
So all Damask silk, linen, poulder, and plumbs, called
Damascens. Two things at this day are most remarkable
among the inhabitants : there are no Lawyers amongst them,
no Advocates, or Solicitors of causes, no compacts being
made for future performance, but weigh and/^y, all bargains
being driven with ready money. Secondly, physicians hero
are paid no fees, except the patient recover his health." {

" The once famous city of Capernaum, Christ's own city.
Note by the way that Christ had three cities which may be
called His own (if seven contended for Homer, well may
three be allowed to Christ) ; Bethlehem, where He was
bora ; Nazareth, where conceived and bred ; and Caper
naum, where He dwelt — more than probably in the house of
Simon Peter. This Capernaum was the magazine of Christ's
miracles. Here was healed the servant of that good centu
rion, who, though a Gentile, out-faithed Israel itself. Here
Simon Peter's wife's mother was cured of a fever: and here
such as brought the man sick of the palsy, not finding a door
on the floor, made one on the roof (love will creep, but faith
will climb where it cannot go), let him down with cords, his
bed bringing him in, which presently he carried out, being
perfectly cured. Here also Christ restored the daughter of
Jairus to life, and in the way, as He went (each parenthesis
of our Saviour's motion is full of heavenly matter, and His
obiter more to the purpose than our tier) He cured the
woman of her flux of blood, with the touch of His garment.

* Hi., 315-
t iv., 9.

472 The Life of Fuller.

But, amongst all these and more wonders, the greatest was
the people of Capernaum, justly occasioning our Saviour's
sad prediction, ' And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted/
£c. O sad strapado of the soul, to be hoised up so high, and
then cast down suddenly so low, enough to disjoint all the
powers thereof in pieces !* Capernaum at this day is a poor
village, scarce consisting of seven fishermen's cottages."

Bethlehem. — "But what gave the greatest lustre to Bethle
hem (Bethlehem in Hebrew is ' The house of Bread,' princi
pally so called in reference to Christ, the Bread of Life, who, in
fulness of time, was here to be born) was that Jesus Christ,
the Prince of Peace (Isaiah ix, 6), was born herein of the
Blessed Virgin Mary, in a time of peace, to procure and
establish a peace betwixt God and man, man and angels,
man and man, man and his own conscience, man and other
creatures. Public the place of his birth, an inn (Luke ii, 7)
(every man's house for his money), and poor the manner
thereof, so defeating the Jews' towering fancies of a temporal
king, who long looking to see their Messiah sitting on a
throne, would rather stumble at Him than stop to behold
Him lying in a manger. The first tidings of the Lamb of
God, by intelligence of angels, is told to poor shepherds
watching their flocks by night (Luke ii. 8), whilst the priests,
the pretended shepherds of Israel, were snorting on their
beds of security. The place of this apparition not being far
from the tower of Eder (or the tower of flocks), where Jacob
sometimes pitched his tent (Gen. xxxv, 21-22) and kept
cattle, and where Reuben defiled his father's concubine."
Again, " As for their conceit that anti-Christ should be born

* ii., 109.

Fuller's Field. 473

in Chorazin^ I take it to be a mere monkish device, to
divert men's eyes from seeking him in the right place where
he is to be found."

We are tempted to make two more extracts from this
interesting work. " Fuller's Field must not be forgotten,
where they stretched and dried their clothes, which they
had washed at the brook of Kedron. But all the soap used
here by men of that trade could not scour the indelible stain
of impiety out of the credit and conscience of King Ahaz,
who, in the highway of the Fuller's Field (Isaiah vii., 12),
peevishly refused a sign which God graciously proffered unto
him. And men's several behaviour in matters of this kind
deserved to be marked. For it was (i) commendable in
Gideon (Jud. vi., 21) and Hezekiah (Isaiah xxxviii, 22}
humbly requesting a sign for further strengthening of their
weak faith; (2) pardonable in Zacharias (Luke i, 18) crav
ing one out of a mixture of infidelity, therefore granted him
in loving anger, his dumbness serving as well to correct as
confirm him ; (3) damnable in the Jews, who, out of pride
and presumption in a daring way (Mat. xvi, i), and in
Herod, who, out of curiosity, expected (Luke xxiii, 9) a
sign from Christ, and therefore denied him. But most of
all in Ahaz, in whose nostrils the very perfumes of heaven
scented ill, because preferred unto him, refusing to accept a
sign so freely tendered unto him."*"

The conclusion of this third book is a sly hit against the
Pope and some relics : — " For Vespasian and Titus his son,
Roman emperors, anno Dom. 72, razed the temple, and
utterly confounded all the utensils thereof. Indeed, they

* Book, in., c. i., sec, 13.

4/4 The Life of Fuller.

were first carried in triumph to Rome, but what afterwards
became of them is altogether unknown. It is no sin to
conceive that their property was altered, and they either
converted to coin, or turned to plate for the use of the
emperor or his favourites. Sure none are known to remain
in specie at this day, and one may wonder that no impudent
relic-monger hath produced a golden feather of a cherub's
wing, or a knob, flower, bowl, or almond of the seven-
branched candlestick, Saving pretended since Christ's time
to improbabilities of as high a nature. Strange that no
Pope hath gotten a piece of Aaron's mitre or breast-plate
to grace his wardrobe, or a parcel of the manuscript com
mandments, written by God's finger, to adorn his Vatican.
But Divine providence hath utterly razed all foundations for
superstition to build upon, in the total abolition of these
holy ornaments. And if those reasonable witnesses of
God's truth were by His permission overcome, and killed by
the beast when they had finished their testimony (Rev. xi, 7).
no wonder if these senseless and inanimate types, having
served their generation, the truth being come, were finally
extinguished. Nor have I ought else to observe of those
holy utensils, save that -they were made of pure gold, and
yet the Apostle is bold to term them and all other legal
ceremonies beggarly elements (Gal. iv, 9), so debasing
them in comparison of Christ, the Author of grace, and Giver
of eternal life."

We have given sufficient specimens of Fuller's sprightly
style and quaint allusions to send our readers to the work
itself, and if they cannot procure a folio copy (now rare and
costly) to get the reprint by Tegg, An admirer thus writes
of the Pisgak : " His book really answers to its title. He

Topographical Determinations. 475

might be thought to have seen the ' Good Land,' so graphic
are some of its sketches, so lively his observations, and so
pleasantly does he keep the eyes and hearts of his hearers.
He is as painstaking, acute, discriminating and cautious as
Dr. Robinson himself, but where this tedious doctor is as
dull, dry, and monotonous as if he had never seen Palestine
from a nearer point than the United States, and was merely
describing it from a leaden model to a school of American
Surveyors, our old Fuller is all life and buoyancy, enticing
you by his company into long rambles over scenes which he
knows all about, upon which he looks lovingly, about which
he talks charmingly, and which he really photographs upon
your very soul by the light of his genial wit and hallowed
fancy. His wit, however, is never out of tune with pure
and simple faith : his intellectual brightness never loses its
devout warmth, nor does any affectation of science ever
mar the loveliness of his meek and reverent spirit."*

The vagueness in the topography of this work was a
source of much anxiety to our author, but the rough and
ready way in which he settles some of these topogra
phical problems is very amusing. Thus the first syllable of
Gadara is to him argument enough for placing it in Gad !
When distances are in his original authorities stated
variously, he " umpires the distance by pitching on a middle
number betwixt both. For instance, Seiglerus makes it
14,000 paces or 14 miles betwixt Zidon and Tyre (eminent
marts, and, therefore, the distance beween them might be
notoriously known), whilst Vadianus makes it 200 furlongs,
or 20 miles. Here to part the distance equal we have

" Homer of English Writers," p. 179.

476 The Life of Fuller.

insisted on 17 miles." Dibon, which the author finds some
times assigned to Reuben (Josh, xiii, 17), sometimes to
Gad (Numb, xxxii, 34) is similarly treated. " Some," he
says, " make them different and distant cities, which, in my
apprehension, is to set up two marks and have to hit the right
one. For seeing these two tribes confine together, and
both lay claim to Dibon (like the two mothers challenging
the living child), we have only instead of a sword made use
of pricks, settling it equally in the bounds of both" Heshbon,
said in Scripture to be sometimes in Reuben, sometimes in
Gad, is also inserted " so equally between these tribes as
partially in both, totally in neither." With regard to the
locality of the disputed altar Ed, our author, following the
customs of those very devout and Sabbatical Jews, who, when
the Sabbath or seventh day was transferred to the Lord's
day or first day of the week (Sunday), kept both Saturday
(a custom partially followed in the Eastern Church) and
Sunday holy, observing both ex nimia cautela, for more cer
tainty erects " two altars, one on each side of the river,
leaving it to the discretion of the judicious reader to accept
or refuse which of them he pleaseth."

Other hints are thrown out as to the vagueness of the
then geographical knowledge by such expressions as that
the distance between Cyprus (about which we have heard
so much of late) and the Continent " cannot be great if it
be true what Pliny reports, that whole herds of deer used
to swim over thither." Flags and banners are seen floating
over many of the towns and cities on the maps to indicate
that their position is conjectural, "one side of which flags
humbly confesseth our want of certainty, the other as
earnestly craveth betUT information." He often confesses his

Character of Fuller's Wit. 477

want of exact topographical knowledge, and promises that
all errors should be amended in his second edition (" God
lending me life to set it out"), where he would give thanks
to any reader convincing him of error, " or else let him
conclude my face of the same metal with the plate of these
maps."

Much of our author's writing and reasoning is very quaint
and peculiar, and has earned for itself the sobriquet (for
want of a better) of Fullerian. Professor Rogers thus
refers to it (and the quotation is also given, from the diffi
culty of access to the original essay in the Edinburgh Review,
1851) : " If it be inquired what was the character of his wit,
it must be replied, it is so various, and assumes so many
different shapes, that one might as well define wit itself; and
this, seeing the comprehensive Barrow has contented himself
with an enunciation of its forms, in despair of being able to
include them all within the circle of a precise definition, we
certainly shall not attempt. Suffice it to say, that all the
varieties recorded in that singularly felicitous passage are
exemplified in the pages of our author. Of his wit, as of
wit in general, it may be truly said, that sometimes it lies
in pat allusion to a known story, or in seasonable applica
tion of a trivial saying, or in forging an apposite tale ; some
times it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage
from the ambiguity of their sense, or the affinity of their
sound ; sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of humorous
expression ; sometimes it lurketh under an odd similitude ;
sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer,
in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly
diverting or cleverly retorting a question ; sometimes it is
couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a

478 The Life of Fuller.

lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible
reconciling of contradiction, or in acute nonsense ; some
times a scenical representation of persons and things, a
counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture, passeth for
it ; sometimes an affected simplicity, sometimes a presump
tuous bluntness giveth it being ; sometimes it riseth only from
a lucky hitting upon what is strange ; sometimes from a crafty
wresting obvious matter to the purpose. Often it consisteth
in one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly
tell how. Its ways are unaccountable and inexplicable,
being answerable to the numberless rovings of fancy, and
'windings of language.' Of all the preceding varieties of
wit, next to the ' play with words and phrases,' perhaps
Fuller most delighted in ' pat allusion to a known story' :
in ' seasonable application of a trivial saying ' ; in 'a tart
irony and affected simplicity ' ; in the ' odd similitude,' and
' the quirkish reason.' "

"In all respects," says Mr. Bailey, "the 'Pisgah Sight'
was worthy of Fuller's sacred calling. An ardent antiquary, he
carried his favourite pursuit into his profession. To him, as
to his contemporary, Browne, of Norwich, * the Ancient of
Days' was the Antiquary's truest object." The Pisgah
reverently sprang from his affection for the Bible : for (to
use his own expression) next to God the Word, he loved
the Word of God. Hence, as has been well said, the work
is mainly illustrative of the Bible, with which book it often
ranged in the homes of the time. Scripture is reverently
used as the chief authority. " Let God be true and every
man a liar," says Fuller in one place. " I profess myself a
pure Leveller, desiring that all human conceits (though built
on most specious bottoms) may be laid flat and prostrated,

Fuller's Cotemporaries. 479

if opposing the Written Word"* No other of his books
evince so deep an acquaintance with the sacred volume.
He has probably extracted every topographical verse, besides
very many others. Like his friend, he was " an exact text-
man, happy in making Scripture expound itself by parallel
passages." " Diamonds," he would say " only cut dia
monds." Hence the Pisgah has been called the exactest of
his works. Orme says this is one of the most curious books
ever written on the Scriptures, and incidentally illustrates a
number of passages of Scripture. " The learning which he
brings to bear on his descriptions is not only exact, but
deep."!

This work of Fuller's brought him into connection with
t\vo learned men of that time, one was the celebrated Dr.
Lightfoot, and the other a Scotch minister, John Baillie, of
Glasgow. The former had been engaged in a similar work
to Fuller's for some years past, but our author had the start-
of him. In his " Harmony," part ist, he refers to the progress
he had made in a " Chorographical description of Canaan
from the Writings of the Jews, and prepared at great Pains,"
he says, " I went on in that work a great while, and that
with much cheerfulness and content : for methought a Tal-
mudical survey and history of the Land of Canaan (not omit
ting Collections to be taken up out of the Scripture and other
\vriters), as it would be new and rare, so it might not prove
unwelcome nor unprofitable to those that delighted in such
u subject. But at last I understood that another Workman, a
far better Artist than myself, had the Description of the Land

* Book v., 170.
t Bailey's Life, p. 483.

480 The Life of Fuller.

tf Israel, not only in hand, but even, in the press: and was
so far got before me in that travail, that he was almost at the
journey's end when I was but little more than setting out.
Here it concerned me to think what I had to do. It was
grievous to me to have lost my labour, if I should now sit
down : and yet I thought it wisdom not to lose more in pro
ceeding further when one in the same subject, and of far
more abilities in it, had got the start so far before me. And
although I supposed, and at least was assured, even by that
Author himself (my very worthy and learned friend) that we
should not thrust nor hinder oneanother any whit at all, though
we both went at once in the perambulation of that land,
because he had meddled with that Rabinick way that I had
gone : yet when I considered what it was to glean after so
clean a reaper, and how rough a Talmudical pencil would
seem after so fine a pen, I resolved to sit down, and stir no
more in that matter till time and occasion did show me more
encouragement thereunto than as yet I saw. And thus was
my promise fallen to the ground, nor by any carelessness or
forgetfulness of mine, but by the happy prevention of another
hand, by whom the work is likely to be better done."* And
again, in his Descriptio?i of the Temple in the Life of the
Saviour, Lightfoot says, " When I had spent a good large
time and progress in that Work I found that I was happily
prevented in that subject by a more Learned and Acute
Pen (Lightfoot's note is " Mr. Thomas Fuller, B.D."), which,
though it went not in the same way in that Work as I had
done, yet was it so far before me, both in progress and ac
curacy, that I knew it would be lost labour for me to pro
ceed further."!

* Lightfoot's Works, Vol. i., 559.
t Works, Vol. i., 1048.

Dr. John Lightfoot. 481

This work came out in 1650. Respecting the "Choro-
graphy " Strype's appendix to the Life of Lightfoot says
"The unhappy chance that hindered the publishing this
elaborate piece of his, which he had brought to pretty good
perfection, was the edition of Dr. Fuller's PisgaKs Sight.
Great pity it was that so good a book should have done so
much harm. For that book handling the same matters and
preventing his, stopped his resolution of letting his labours
see the light. Though he went a way altogether different
from Dr. Fuller, and so both books might have shown their
faces together in the world. "*

Fuller also himself alludes to the learned labours of his
brother Divine : " As for the remainder of the vessels of the
Temple, with the manifold traditions concerning them, the
reader is referred to the learned pains of my industrious
friend, Mr. John Lightfoot, who, as I understand, intends
an extire treatise thereof. Far be it from me that our pens
should fall out, like the herdsmen of Lot and Abraham, < the
land not being able to bear them both that they
might dwell together.' (Gen. xiii., 6.) No such want of room
in this subject, being of such latitude and receipt that
both we and hundreds more busied together therein,
may severally lose ourselves in a subject of such capacity,
the rather because we embrace several courses in this
our description : it being my desire and delight to stick
only to the written Word of God, whilst my worthy friend
takes in the choicest Rabbinical and Talmudical relations,
being so well seen in those studies that it is questionable
whether his skill or my ignorance be the greater therein." |

* Vol. i, p. 12.

| " Pisgah- Sight," Book iii.., p. 95.
H H

482 The Life of Fuller.

Fuller, also alluding to Lightfoot's brilliant acquirements,
speaks of him as one " who for his exact nicety in Hebrew
and Rabbinical learning hath deserved well of the Church
of England.''

It is to this good feeling between these two painful and
charitable Divines, Southey alludes in his " Doctor," where
he says, " Lightfoot was sincere in the commendation which
he bestowed upon Fuller's diligence and his felicitous way
of writing. And Fuller on his part rendered justice in the
same spirit to Lightfoot's well known and peculiar erudition.'1*

The other Divine that Pisgah brought our author into
notice with was Professor Robert Baillie, Principal of Glas
gow University, who had been in London (1643) attending
the assembly of Divines (Scotchmen being very popular
then, and often asked to preach). As a rule, Fuller didn't
like Scotchmen, but the following letter from Dr. Baillie's
Letters and Journals shows he was appreciated north of the

Tweed :—

For Mr. THOMAS FOWLER.
REVEREND SIR,—

Having latelie, and but latelie, gone through your Holy
Warr and Description of Palestine, I am fallen so in love with
your pen that I am sorry I was not before acquaint with it, and
with yourself, when from 1643 to 1647, I lived at Worcester
House, and preached in the Savoy, that then, when I had some
credite there, I might have done my best endeavours to have
done your pleasure. You seem to promise an Ecclesiastick
Storie : it were a pity, but it should be hastened. However, I
am one of those who would gladlie consent to the burning of
many thousand volumes of unprofitable writers, that burthens
and harms the world ; yet there are some pens whom I wish
did write much, of which yours is one. Mr. Purchase, in his

Southey's " Doctor," vol. ii., p. 38.

Professor Baillie. 483

Pilgrims, from the intelligence he had by English and Dutch
travellers and merchants, together with the printed treatise of
some late Italian, Spanish, and French writers, gave us a very
good account of the world, the whole universe, the present con
dition of it, as in his time. I conceave no man were fitter than
you to let us know, in a handsome, fyne, and wyse way, the
state of the world as now it stands. If the Lord would put it in
your heart to mend it, and give yow encouragement for such a
performance, if yow would put out one part of it, were it the
present state of Asia, I trust it should be so accepted of judicious
men, that you should have from many all desirable encourage
ment, for the perfyting of the rest. Your cartes are very neatly
and singularly well done ; yow would not be spareing of them.
I wish in your Palestine, yow added some more, as one or two
of Chaldasa, because of many scriptures relating to Nineve,
Babylon, Ur, &c,; the voyage of Paul ; some cartes of the present
state, joyned with those of the old scripturall state, as of Egypt,
Jerusalem, &c. For these and the like happy labours, we at so
great distance can but encourage yow with praise, love, and
prayers to God, which you shall have, I promise yow, from me,
as one who very highly pryses the two wrytes I have seen of
your hand, and judges by these that the rest yow have done, or
shall doe, will be of the same excellence. The Lord bless yow
and all your intentions. So prays,

Your verv loveing1 and much honouring brother,

R.B.

Glasgow in Scotland, August 22nd, 1654.

No answer can be found to this pithy and shrewdly critical
letter, which we are sure Fuller would have quaintly
answered with his usual politeness. We have described at
somewhat a great length this most important and exhaustive
of our author's works. But enough has now been said, we
trust, to demonstrate the intrinsic merit of his " Pisgah-
Sight," both from the internal evidence of the work itself,
and the external testimony of its author's numerous friends,
critics, contemporaries, confreres, and collaborateurs.

END OF VOL. I.

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Puller, Morris Joseph
The life, times and
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