place them only upon those objects that can deserve and satisfy them; which be sure nothing here below can do. And therefore I cannot but look upon your present condition to be the best you can be in here; because, being free from the cares and incumbrances of this silly world, you may better apply your mind, as I do not question but you do, to those more solid and substantial joys which are above, and not to be fetched from thence without the continual exercise of ourselves in the contemplation of them, longing after them, and believing and hoping for them; which your retirement from the world cannot but give you great opportunities to do, far greater than they can easily have who are continually engaged in the bustles and snares here below. Upon which consideration I doubt not but you are not only satisfied with it, but thankful to Almighty God for your present estate, and employ your thoughts wholly how to manage it to your best advantage, by devoting yourself wholly to meditation and prayer, making up what you want in the public by your private devotions, and contriving how to do the most good in that state of life to which it hath pleased your heavenly Father to call you; which, that you may do, and so be happy for ever, is the hearty prayer of Your affectionate friend and servant, London, Jan. 23, 1681. 36. Richard Hooker to Archbishop Whitgift, describing the feelings with which he began his Treatise on the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. MY LORD, -When I lost the freedom of my cell, which was my college, yet I found some degree of it in my quiet country parsonage. But I am weary of the noise and opposition of this place [the Temple]; and, indeed, God and nature did not intend me for contention, but for study and quietness. And, my lord, my particular contests here with Mr. Travers have proved the more unpleasant to me, because I believe him to be a good man; and that belief hath occasioned me to examine mine own conscience concerning his opinions. And to satisfy that, I have consulted the holy Scriptures, and other laws both human and divine, whether the conscience of him, and others of his judgment, ought to be so far complied with by us as to alter our frame of Church government, our manner of God's worship, our praising and praying to him, and our established ceremonies, as often as their tender consciences shall require us. And in this examination I have not only satisfied myself, but have begun a treatise in which I intend the satisfaction of others, by a demonstration of the reasonableness of our laws of ecclesiastical polity; and therein laid a hopeful foundation for the Church's peace; and so as not to provoke your adversary, Mr. Cartwright, nor Mr. Travers, whom I take to be mine (but not mine enemy)—God knows this to be my meaning. To which end I have searched many books, and spent many thoughtful hours; and I hope not in vain, for I write to reasonable men. But, my lord, I shall never be able to finish what I have begun, unless I be removed into some quiet parsonage, where I may see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, and eat my own bread in privacy and peace: a place where I may, without disturbance, meditate my approaching mortality, and that great account which all flesh must give at the last day to the God of all spirits. This is my design; and as these are the desires of my heart, so they shall, by God's assistance, be the constant endeavours of the uncertain remainder of my life. 37. Bp. Jeremy Taylor to John Evelyn, Esq. (after a pleasant Visit to his Correspondent at Say's Court.) April 16, 1656. HONOURED AND DEAR SIR,-I hope your servant brought my apology with him, and that I am already pardoned or excused in your thoughts, that I did not return an answer yesterday to your friendly letter. Sir, I did believe myself so very much bound to you for your so kind, so friendly reception of me in your Tusculanum, that I had some little wonder upon me when I saw you making excuses that it was no better. Sir, I came to see you and your lady, and am highly pleased that I did so, and found all your circumstances to be an heap and union of blessings. But I have not either so great a fancy and opinion of the prettiness of your abode, or so low an opinion of your prudence and piety, as to think you can be any ways transported with them; I know the pleasure of them is gone off from their height before one month's possession, and that strangers and seldom-seers feel the beauty of them more than you who dwell with them. I am pleased, indeed, at the order and cleanness of all your outward things; and look upon you not only as a person, by way of thankfulness to God for His mercies and goodness to you, specially obliged to a great measure of piety, but also as one who, being freed in great degrees from secular cares and impediments, can, without excuse and alloy, wholly intend what you so passionately desire-the service of God. But now I am considering yours, and enumerating my own pleasures, I cannot but add that, though I could not choose but be delighted by seeing all about you, yet my delices were really in seeing you severe and unconcerned in these things; and now in find ing your affections wholly a stranger to them, and to communicate with them no portion of your passion but such as is necessary to him that uses them or receives their ministries. Sir, I long truly to converse with you; for I do not doubt but that in those liberties we shall both go bettered from each other. I am, in great heartiness and dearness of affection, dear sir, Your obliged and most affectionate friend and servant. 38. John Evelyn, Esq., of Says Court, to Samuel Pepys, Esq. Wotton, August 9, 1700. THE Confirmation of your health under your own hand, and that I still live in your esteem, revives me. There could nothing come more welcome to me: it brings me the tenderest instances of your friendship, and what I shall ever value, your counsel. Indeed, I am not a little sensible that more thought and less motion, or stirring, than usual, had been safer for me since I came hither. And though, at present, the indisposition under which I laboured be much abated, yet the apprehension of its return makes me take hold of your kindness in offering me the receipt of the barley-water, and the method of preparing it. Meantime, be assured, I am not without those serious reflections you so Christianly suggest. The scantiness, mutability, and little satisfaction of the things of this world, after all our researches in quest of something we see worth our pains, but are, indeed, the images only of what we pursue,―warn me (so much nearer my period) that my sand runs lower than yours, that there is another and a better state of things which concerns us, and for which I pray God Almighty to prepare us both. Epictetus has an excellent and useful illustration in order to this readiness: "When the master of the vessel," says he, "calls on board the passengers he set on shore to refresh a little, they should continually be mindful of the ship and of the master's summons, and leave their trifling and gathering cockle-shells-nay, all impertinences whatever-mind the signal, and run to the ship. The warning is in general; but if thou be a man in years, stray not too far, lest thou be left behind, and lose thy passage." This alarm, friend, is constantly in my thoughts, intent upon finishing a thousand impertinences, which I fancy would render my habitation, my library, garden, collections, and the work I am about, complete; at si gubernator vocaverit ad navem (if the master calls on board), we must leave them all. Thus the philosophers but we have better advice from the divine oracles to be upon our watch, and within call. Sweet was that, you know, which always sounded in St. Jerome's ears, "Surgite, mortui, et venite ad judicium," (Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment); and this gives check and alloy to all the imaginary satisfactions we think to find in the things of this life. Let you and I, therefore, settle our necessary affairs, and pray we may not be surprised: an easy comfortable passage is that which it remains for us to beg of God; and for the rest, to sit loose to things below. I have, I thank God, made my will since I came here, and look upon all other accessions with indifference; and though I bait now and then upon an innocent diversion, am not idle as to other improvements: inutilis olim ne videar vixisse (may I not hereafter appear to have lived altogether unprofitably). Let us both be ready to leave them when the Master calls. And with this meditation, by you |