More plentiful than hope."
Punctilious about forms, yet no formalist—thinking much of Lent, Ember weeks, and Church rites, yet not to the neglect of spiritual religion—and loving his parish as he loved his relatives, Herbert of course deemed Nonconformists to be interlopers. Yet, what Nonconformist will not forgive him the harshness of his judgment, considering the purity of his spirit, and the elevation of his soul, and how he did all things for the Master's honour? This cast of sentiment repeated itself in many devout Anglicans, who in a measure conformed to ecclesiastical changes, or resolutely suffered loss for conscience' sake. Nor was sympathy with the tone of Herbert's hymns wanting even amongst contemporary Puritans. Baxter said: "I must confess after all, that next to the Scripture poems, there are none so savoury to me as Mr. George Herbert's. I know that Cowley and others far excel Herbert in wit and accurate composure; but, as Seneca takes with me above all his contemporaries, because he speaketh things by words, feelingly and seriously, like a man that is past jest, so Herbert speaks to God, like a man that really believeth in God, and whose business in the world is most with God—heart-work and heaven-work make up his books."[445] Thus it was that under diverse forms of polity and worship holy chords in those two hearts vibrated in unison with each other.
Hammond.
Dr. Hammond's piety, elsewhere illustrated in this work, is largely extolled by his biographer.[446] His devotional habits, which were characteristic of the age, are particularly recorded. "As soon as he was ready (which was usually early), he prayed in his chamber with his servant, in a peculiar form composed for that purpose; after this he retired to his own more secret devotions in his closet. Betwixt ten and eleven in the morning, he had a solemn intercession in reference to the national calamities; to this, after a little distance, succeeded the morning office of the Church, which he particularly desired to perform in his own person, and would by no means accept the ease of having it read by any other. In the afternoon he had another hour of private prayer, which on Sundays he enlarged, and so religiously observed, that if any necessary business or charity had diverted him at the usual time, he repaired his soul at the cost of his body; and, notwithstanding the injunctions of his physicians, which in other cases he was careful to obey, spent the suppertime therein. About five o'clock the solemn private prayers for the nation, and the evening service of the Church returned. At bed-time his private prayers closed the day; and, after all, even the night was not without its office, the 51st Psalm being his designed midnight entertainment."
Thomas Fuller, already so often noticed, had nothing of the poetical pensiveness of Herbert, nothing of that unearthly tone of thought which was so real in the Salisbury canon, nothing either of the High Churchmanship of Dr. Hammond, yet he cordially loved the Church of England. Moderate, orthodox, and Catholic, he allowed to others the liberty which he claimed for himself, whilst he bewailed the divisions of the times in which he lived, not as many did, because he wanted all to think like him, but because he saw that men would not peaceably allow one another to exercise the right of private judgment. The piety of Fuller was that of thorough conscientiousness, so well expressed by himself when he told the Triers "he could appeal to the Searcher of Hearts that he made a conscience of his very thoughts." With his conscientiousness—which really seemed to cover the whole field of evangelical and practical religion—there was associated the faculty of wit, which gave even to his religion a character of humour. In his book on the Holy State, he says of the "Faithful minister," "he will not use a light comparison to make thereof a grave application, for fear lest his poison go further than his antidote"; but, he himself adds, "that fork must have strong tines wherewith one would thrust out nature." In that very chapter, animadverting on affected gravity, he remarks: "when one shall use the preface of a mile to bring in a furlong of matter, set his face and speech in a frame—and to make men believe it is some precious liquor, their words come out drop by drop—such men's vizards do sometimes fall from them not without the laughter of the beholders. One was called 'gravity,' for his affected solemnness, who, afterwards, being catched in a light prank, was ever after, to the day of his death, called 'gravity-levity.'" Fuller could not help being humorous. He could not tell the most mournful story without enlivening it with some sort of sally; but religion so influenced him that he never indulged in ill-natured satire—never raised a blister on the skin by the touch of a scorching sarcasm. With such a temperament, added to unfeigned piety and unfeigned benevolence, "it was as natural that he should be full of good-tempered mirth as it is for the grasshopper to chirp, or the bee to hum, or the birds to warble in the spring breeze and the bright sunshine. His very physiognomy was an index to his natural character. As described by his contemporaries, he had light flaxen hair, bright blue and laughing eyes, a frank and open visage."[447] And 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 forced on Herbert's sedate countenance.
Dalston.
The character of Sir George Dalston, as given by Jeremy Taylor in richly coloured words, deserves to be included in any portrait gallery of his contemporaries. "He was indeed a great lover of, and had a great regard for, God's ministers, ever remembering the words of God: 'Keep my rest, and reverence my priests'; he honoured the calling in all, but he loved and revered the persons of such who were conscientious keepers of their 'depositum—that trust' which was committed to them; such which did not for interest quit their conscience, and did not, to preserve some parts of their revenue, quit some portions of their religion. He knew that what was true in 1639 was also true in 1644, and so to '57, and shall continue true to eternal ages; and they that change their persuasions, by force or interest, did neither behave well nor ill, upon competent and just grounds; they are not just, though they happen on the right side. Hope of gain did by chance teach them well, and fear of loss abuses them directly. He pitied the persecuted; and never would take part with persecutors; he prayed for his prince, and served him in what he could; he loved God, and loved the Church; he was a lover of his country's liberties, and yet an observer of the laws of his king....
"And now, having divested himself of all objections, and his conversation with the world, quitting his affections to it, he wholly gave himself to religion and devotion; he awakened early, and would presently be entertained with reading; when he rose, still he would be read to, and hear some of the Psalms of David; and, excepting only what time he took for the necessities of his life and health, all the rest he gave to prayer, reading, and meditation, save only that he did not neglect, nor rudely entertain, the visits and kind offices of his neighbours. But in this great vacation from the world he espied his advantages; he knew well, according to that saying of the Emperor Charles V.—'Oportet inter vitæ negotia et diem mortis spatium aliquod intercedere;' there ought to be a valley between two such mountains, the businesses of our life and the troubles of our death; and he stayed not till the noise of the bridegroom's coming did awaken and affright him; but, by daily prayers twice a day, constantly with his family, besides the piety and devotion of his own retirements, by a monthly communion, by weekly sermons, and by the religion of every day, he stood in precincts, ready with oil in his lamp, watching till his Lord should call."[448]
Quarles.
The poet Quarles—whose quaint emblems symbolize not only the quaintness of his piety, but the quaintness of much besides belonging to his age—suffered as a Royalist and an Episcopalian; and indeed his death appears to have been hastened by the persecution which he suffered. The hues of his religious experience are best conveyed by preserving the phraseology of his devoted widow.[449] "He expressed great sorrow for his sins, and when it was told him that his friends conceived he did thereby much harm to himself, he answered: 'They were not his friends that would not give him leave to be penitent.' His exhortations to his friends that came to visit him were most divine; wishing them to have a care of the expense of their time, and every day to call themselves to an account, that so when they came to their bed of sickness, they might lie upon it with a rejoicing heart. And, doubtless, such an one was his, insomuch that he thanked God that whereas he might justly have expected that his conscience should look him in the face like a lion, it rather looked upon him like a lamb; and that God had forgiven him his sins, and that night sealed him his pardon; and many other heavenly expressions to the like effect. I might here add what blessed advice he gave to me in particular, still to trust in God, whose promise is to provide for the widow and the fatherless, &c. But this is already imprinted on my heart, and therefore I shall not need here again to insert it."