Works of Joseph Hall, Character 3 – Character 9
Of the Faithfull man.
HIs eies hauehave no other obiects, but abſent and inuiſible; which they ſee ſo cleerly, as that to them, ſenſe is blinde: that which is preſent, they ſee not: if I may not rather ſay, that what is paſt or future, is preſent to them. Herein he exceeds all others, that to him nothing is impoſſible, nothing difficult, whether to beare, or vndertake. He walkes eueryevery day with his Maker, and talkes with him familiarly, and liues euer in heauen, and ſees all earthly things beneath him: when he goes in, to conuerſe with God, he weares not his owne clothes, but takes them ſtill out of the rich Wardrobe of his Redeemer, and then dare boldly preaſe in and challenge a bleſſing. The celeſtiall ſpirits doe not ſcorne his company, yea, his ſeruice. He deales in theſe worldly affaires as a ſtranger, and hath his heart euer at home: without a written warrant he dare doe nothing, and with it any thing. His warre is perpetuall, without truce, without intermiſſion; and his victorie certaine: he meets with the infernall powers, and tramples them vnderunder feet. The ſhield that he euer beares before him, can neither be miſſed, nor pierced; if his hand be wounded, yet his heart is ſafe: he is often tripped, ſeldome foyled; and if ſometimes foyled, neuer vanquiſhed. He hath white hands, and a cleane ſoule, fit to lodge God in, all the roomes whereof are ſet apart for his Holineſſe: Iniquitie hath oft called at the doore, and craued entertainment, but with a repulſe; or if ſinne of force will be his tenant, his Lord hee cannot. His faults are few, and thoſe hee hath, God will not ſee. Hee is allied ſo high, that hee dare call God Father, his Sauiour Brother, heauen his patrimonie, and thinkes it no preſumption to truſt to the attendance of Angels. His vnderſtanding is inlightened with the beames of diuine truth; God hath acquainted him with his will; and what he knowes, hee dare confeſſe: there is not more louelove in his heart, than libertie in his tongue. If torments ſtand betwixt him and Chriſt, if death, he contemnes them; and if his owne parents lie in his way to God, his holy careleſneſſe makes them his foot-ſteps. His experiments hauehave drawne forth rules of confidence, which he dares oppoſe againſt all the feares of diſtruſt: wherein he thinks it ſafe to charge God with what he hath done; with what he hath promiſed. Examples are his poofes, and inſtances his demonſtrations. What hath God giuen, which he cannot giuegive? What hauehave others ſuffered, which he may not bee enabled to endure? Is hee threatened baniſhment? There he ſees the deare Euangeliſt in Pathmos. Cutting in peeces? he ſees Eſay vnderunder the ſaw. Drowning? he ſees Ionas diuing into the liuing gulfe. Burning? he ſees the three Children in the hot walke of the Furnace. Deuouring? he ſees Daniel in the ſealed denne amids his terrible companions. Stoning? hee ſees the firſt Martyr vnderunder his heape of many graue-ſtones. Heading? loe there the Baptiſts necke bleeding in Herodias platter. He emulates their paine, their ſtrength, their glory. He wearies not himſelfe with cares; for he knowes hee liues not of his owne coſt: not idlely, omitting meanes, but not vſing them with diffidence. In the midſt of ill rumors and amazements, his countenance changeth not; for he knowes both whom hee hath truſted, and whither death can leade him. He is not ſo ſure he ſhall die, as that he ſhall be reſtored; and out-faceth his death with his reſurrection. Finally, he is rich in workes, buſie in obedience, cheerefull and vnmoued in expectation, better with euils, in common opinion miſerable, but in true iudgement more than a man.
Of the Humble-man.
HE is a friendly enemie to himſelfe: for though hee bee not out of his owne fauour, no man ſets ſo low a value of his worth as himſelfe; not out of ignorance, or careleſneſſe, but of a voluntarie and meeke deiectedneſſe. Hee admires eueryevery thing in another, whiles the ſame or better in himſelfe hee thinkes not vnworthily contemned: his eies are full of his owne wants, and others perfections. Hee loues rather to giuegive than take honour, not in a faſhion of complementall courteſie, but in ſimplicitie of his iudgement; neither doth hee fret at thoſe, on whom hee forceth precedencie, as one that hoped their modeſtie would hauehave refuſed; but holds his minde vnfainedly below his place, and is ready to goe lower (if need bee) without diſcontent. When he hath but his due, he magnifieth courteſie, and diſclaimes his deſerts. He can be more aſhamed of honour, than grieued with contempt; becauſe hee thinkes that cauſeleſſe, this deſerued. His face, his cariage, his habit, fauour of lowlineſſe without affectation, and, yet he is much vnderunder that he ſeemeth. His words are few and ſoft, neuer either peremptorie or cenſorious, becauſe hee thinkes both each man more wiſe, and none more faultie than himſelfe: and when he approcheth to the Throne of God, he is ſo taken vp with the diuine greatneſſe, that in his owne eies he is either vile or nothing. Places of publike charge are faine to ſue to him, and hale him out of his choſen obſcuritie; which he holds off, not cunningly to cauſe importunitie, but ſincerely in the conſcience of his defects. He frequenteth not the ſtages of common reſorts, and then alone thinkes himſelfe in his naturall element, when hee is ſhrowded within his owne walls. He is euer iealous ouer himſelfe, and ſtill ſuſpecteth that which others applaud. There is no better obiect of beneficence; for what he receiues, he aſcribes meerely to the bountie of the giuer; nothing to merit. He emulates no man in any thing but goodneſſe, and that with more deſire, than hope to ouertake. No man is ſo contented with his little, and ſo patient vnderunder miſeries, becauſe he knowes the greateſt euils are below his ſinnes, and the leaſt fauours aboue his deſeruings. He walkes euer in awe, and dare not but ſubiect eueryevery word and action to an high and iuſt cenſure. Hee is a lowly valley ſweetly planted, and well watered; the proud mans earth, whereon he trampleth; but ſecretly full of wealthy Mines, more worth than he that walkes ouer them; a rich ſtone ſet in lead; and laſtly, a true Temple of God built with a low roofe.
Of a Ʋaliant man.
HE vndertakes without raſhneſſe, and perſonnes without feare: hee ſeekes not for dangers; but when they finde him, hee beares them ouer with courage, with ſucceſſe. He hath oft-times lookt Death in the face, and paſſed by it with a ſmile, and when he ſees he muſt yeeld, doth at once welcome and contemne it. Hee fore-caſts the worſt of all euents, and encounters them before they come in a ſecret and mentall warre; and if the ſuddenneſſe of an vnexpected euill hauehave ſurprized his thoughts, and infected his cheekes with paleneſſe; he hath no ſooner digeſted it in his conceit, than he gathers vp himſelfe, and inſults ouer miſchiefe. Hee is the maſter of himſelfe, and ſubdues his paſſions to reaſon; and by this inward victorie workes his owne peace. He is afraid of nothing but the diſpleaſure of the Higheſt, and runnes away from nothing but ſinne: he lookes not on his hands, but his cauſe; not how ſtrong he is, but how innocent: and where goodneſſe is his warrant, he may be ouer-maſtered, he cannot be foiled. The ſword is to him the laſt of all trials, which he drawes forth ſtill as Defendant, not as Challenger, with a willing kinde of vnwillingneſſe: no man can better manage it, with more ſafetie, with more fauour: hee had rather hauehave his bloud ſeene than his backe; and diſdaines life vponupon baſe conditions. No man is more milde to a relenting or vanquiſht aduerſarie, or more hates to ſet his foot on a carcaſe. He had rather ſmother an iniurie, than reuenge himſelfe of the impotent: and I know not whether more deteſts cowardlineſſe or crueltie. He talkes little, and brags leſſe; and loues rather the ſilent language of the hand; to be ſeene than heard. He lies euer cloſe within himſelfe, armed with wiſe reſolution, and will not be diſcouered but by death or danger. He is neither prodigall of bloud to miſ-ſpend it idlely, nor niggardly to grudge it, when either God calls for it, or his Countrey; neither is hee more liberall of his owne life, than of others. His power is limited by his will, and he holds it the nobleſt reuenge, that he might hurt and doth not. He commands without tyrannie and imperiouſneſſe, obeyes without ſeruilitie, and changes not his minde with his eſtate. The height of his ſpirits ouer-lookes all caſualties, and his boldneſſe proceeds neither from ignorance nor ſenſeleſneſſe: but firſt he values euils, and then deſpiſes them: he is ſo ballaced with wiſdome, that he floats ſteddily in the midſt of all tempeſts. Deliberate in his purpoſes, firme in reſolution, bold in enterpriſing, vnwearied in atchieuing, and howſoeuer, happy in ſucceſſe: and if euer he be ouercome, his heart yeelds laſt.
Of a Patient man.
THe patient man is made of a metall, not ſo hard as flexible: his ſhoulders are large, fit for a load of iniuries; which he beares not out of baſeneſſe and cowardlineſſe, becauſe he dare not reuenge, but out of Chriſtian fortitude, becauſe he may not: he hath ſo conquered himſelfe, that wrongs cannot conquer him; and herein alone findes, that victory conſiſts in yeelding. He is aboue nature, while he ſeemes below himſelfe. The vildeſt creature knowes how to turne againe; but to command himſelfe not to reſiſt being vrged, is more than heroicall. His conſtructions are euer full of charity and fauour; either this wrong was not done, or not with intent of wrong; or if that, vponupon miſ-information; or if none of theſe, raſhneſſe (though a fault) ſhall ſerue for an excuſe. Himſelfe craues the offenders pardon, before his confeſſion; and a ſlight anſwer contents, where the offended deſires to forgiue. He is Gods beſt witneſſe, & when he ſtands before the barre for truth, his tongue is calmely free, his forehead firme, and hee with erect and ſetled countenance heares his iuſt ſentence, and reioyces in it. The Iaylors that attend him, are to him his Pages of honour; his dungeon, the lower part of the vault of heauen; his racke or wheele, the ſtaires of his aſcent to glory; he challengeth his executioners, and encounters the fierceſt paines with ſtrength of reſolution, and while he ſuffers, the beholders pity him, the tormentors complaine of wearineſſe, and both of them wonder. No anguiſh can maſter him, whether by violence or by lingring. He accounts expectation no puniſhment, & can abide to hauehave his hopes adiourned till a new day. Good lawes ſerue for his protection, not for his reuenge; and his owne power, to auoid indignities, not to returne them. His hopes are ſo ſtrong, that they can inſult ouer the greateſt diſcouragements; and his apprehenſions ſo deepe, that when he hath once faſtned, he ſooner leaueth his life than his hold. Neither time nor peruerſneſſe can make him caſt off his charitable endeuours, and deſpaire of preuailing; but in ſpight of all croſſes, and all denials, he redoubleth his beneficiall offers of louelove. He trieth the ſea after many ſhip-wracks, & beats ſtill at that doore which he neuer ſaw opened. Contrariety of euents doth but exerciſe, not diſmay him; and when croſſes afflict him, he ſees a diuine hand inuiſibly ſtriking with theſe ſenſible ſcourges: againſt which hee dares not rebell, nor murmure. Hence all things befall him alike; and he goes with the ſame minde to the ſhambles, and to the fold. His recreations are calme and gentle; and not more full of relaxation than void of fury. This man onelyonly can turne neceſſity into vertue, and put euill to good vſe. He is the ſureſt friend, the lateſt and eaſieſt enemy, the greateſt conqueror, and ſo much more happy than others, by how much he could abide to be more miſerable.
Of the true Friend.
HIs affections are both vnited and diuided; vnited to him hee loueth; diuided betwixt another and himſelfe; and his owne heart is ſo parted, that whiles he hath ſome, his friend hath all. His choice is led by vertue, or by the beſt of vertues, Religion; not by gaine, not by pleaſure; yet not without reſpect of equal condition, of diſpoſition not vnlike; which once made, admits of no change, except hee whom he loueth, be changed quite from himſelfe; nor that ſuddenly, but after long expectation. Extremity doth but faſten him, whiles he, like a well-wrought vault, lies the ſtronger, by how much more weight he beares. When neceſſity calls him to it, he can be a ſeruant to his equall, with the ſame will wherwith he can command his inferior; and though he riſe to honor, forgets not his familiarity, nor ſuffers inequality of eſtate to work ſtrangeneſſe of countenance; on the other ſide, he lifts vp his friend to aduancement, with a willing hand, without enuy, without diſſimulation. When his mate is dead, he accounts himſelfe but halfe aliue; then his louelove not diſſolued by death, deriues it ſelfe to thoſe orphans which neuer knew the price of their father; they become the heires of his affection, and; the burthen of his cares. He embraces a free community of all things, ſaue thoſe which either honeſty reſerues proper, or nature; and hates to enioy that which would doe his friend more good: his charity ſerues to cloke noted infirmities, not by vntruth, not by flattery, but by diſcreet ſecrecy; neither is he more fauourable in concealement, than round in his priuate reprehenſions; and when anothers ſimple fidelity ſhewes it ſelfe in his reproofe, hee loues his monitor ſo much the more, by how much more hee ſmarteth. His boſome is his friends cloſet, where hee may ſafely lay vp his complaints, his doubts, his cares; and looke how he leaues, ſo he findes them; ſaue for ſome addition of ſeaſonable counſell for redreſſe. If ſome vnhappy ſuggeſtion ſhall either diſioint his affection, or breake it, it ſoone knits againe, and growes the ſtronger by that ſtreſſe. He is ſo ſenſible of anothers iniuries, that when his friend is ſtricken, he cries out, and equally ſmarteth vntouched, as one affected not with ſympathy, but with a reall feeling of paine: and in what miſchiefe may be preuented, he interpoſeth his aid, and offers to redeeme his friend with himſelfe; no houre can be vnſeaſonable, no buſineſſe difficult, nor paine grieuous in condition of his eaſe: and what either he doth or ſuffereth, he neither cares nor deſires to hauehave knowne; leſt he ſhould ſeeme to looke for thanks. If hee can therefore ſteale the performance of a good office vnſeene, the conſcience of his faithfulneſſe herein is ſo much ſweeter as it is more ſecret. In fauours done, his memory is fraile, in benefits receiued, eternall: he ſcorneth either to regard recompence, or not to offer it. He is the comfort of miſeries, the guide of difficulties, the ioy of life, the treaſure of earth; and no other than a good Angell cloathed in fleſh.
Of the Truly-Noble.
HE ſtands not vponupon what he borrowed of his Anceſtors, but thinkes hee muſt worke out his owne honour: and if hee cannot reach the vertue of them that gaue him outward glory by inheritance, hee is more abaſhed of his impotencie, than tranſported with a great name. Greatneſſe doth not make him ſcornfull and imperious, but rather like the fixed ſtarres; the higher he is, the leſſe he deſires to ſeeme. Neither cares he ſo much for pompe and frothy oſtentation, as for the ſolid truth of Nobleneſſe. Courteſie and ſweet affability can be no more ſeuered from him, than life from his ſoule; not out of a baſe and ſeruile popularity, and deſire of ambitious inſinuation; but of a natiue gentleneſſe of diſpoſition, and true value of himſelfe. His hand is open & bounteous, yet not ſo, as that he ſhould rather reſpect his glory, than his eſtate; wherein his wiſdome can diſtinguiſh betwixt paraſites and friends, betwixt changing of fauours and expending them. He ſcorneth to make his height a priuilege of looſeneſſe, but accounts his titles vaine, if he be inferiour to others in goodneſſe: and thinks he ſhould be more ſtrict, the more eminent he is; becauſe he is more obſerued, and now his offences are become exemplar. There is no vertue that he holds vnfit for ornament, for vſe; nor any vice which he condemnes not as ſordid, and a fit companion of baſenes; and whereof he doth not more hate the blemiſh, than affect the pleaſure. He ſo ſtudies, as one that knowes, ignorance can neither purchaſe honor, nor wield it; and that knowledge muſt both guide and grace him. His exerciſes are from his childhood ingenious, manly, decent, and ſuch as tend ſtill to wit, valor, actiuity: and if (as ſeldome) he deſcend to diſports of chance, his games ſhall neuer make him either pale with feare, or hot with deſire of gaine. Hee doth not ſo vſe his followers, as if he thought they were made for nothing but his ſeruitude; whoſe felicity were only to be commanded and pleaſe: wearing them to the backe, and then either finding or framing excuſes to diſcard them empty; but vponupon all opportunities lets them feele the ſweetneſſe of their owne ſeruiceableneſſe and his bounty. Silence in officious ſeruice is the beſt Oratory to plead for his reſpect: all diligence is but lent to him, none loſt. His wealth ſtands in receiuing, his honour in giuing: he cares not either how many hold of his goodneſſe, or to how few he is beholden: and if he hauehave caſt away fauours, he hates either to vpbraid them to his enemie, or to challenge reſtitution. None can bee more pitifull to the diſtreſſed, or more prone to ſuccour; and then moſt, where is leaſt meanes to ſollicite, leaſt poſſibility of requitall. He is equally addreſſed to warre and peace; and knows not more how to command others, than how to be his Countries ſeruant in both. He is more carefull to giuegive true honour to his Maker, than to receiue ciuill honour from men. Hee knowes that this ſeruice is free and noble, and euer loaded with ſincere glory; and how vaine it is to hunt after applauſe from the world, till he be ſure of him that moldeth all hearts, and powreth contempt on Princes; and ſhortly, ſo demeans himſelfe, as one that accounts the body of Nobility to conſiſt in Bloud, the ſoule in the eminence of Vertue.
Of the good Magiſtrate.
HE is the faithfull Deputy of his Maker, whoſe obedience is the rule whereby he ruleth: his breſt is the Ocean whereinto all the cares of priuate men empty themſelues; which as he receiues without complaint and ouerflowing, ſo hee ſends them forth againe by a wiſe conueyance in the ſtreames of iuſtice: his dores, his eares are euer open to ſuters; and not who comes firſt ſpeeds well, but whoſe cauſe is beſt. His nights, his meales are ſhort and interrupted; all which he beares well, becauſe he knowes himſelfe made for a publike ſeruant of Peace and Iuſtice. Hee ſits quietly at the ſterne, and commands one to the top-ſaile, another to the maine, a third to the plummet, a fourth to the anchor, as hee ſees the need of their courſe and weather requires; and doth no leſſe by his tongue, than all the Marriners with their hands. On the Bench he is another from himſelfe at home; now all priuate reſpects of bloud, alliance, amity are forgotten; and if his owne Sonne come vnderunder tryall, hee knowes him not: Pity which in all others is wont to be the beſt praiſe of humanity, and the fruit of Chriſtian louelove, is by him throwne ouer the barre for corruption: as for Fauour, the falſe Aduocate of the gracious, he allowes him not to appeare in the Court; there only cauſes are heard ſpeake, not perſons: Eloquence is then only not diſcouraged, when ſhe ſerues for a Client of truth: meere narrations are allowed in this Oratory, not Proems, not excurſions, not Gloſſes: Truth muſt ſtrip her ſelfe, and come in naked to his barre, without falſe bodies, or colors without diſguiſes: A bride in his Cloſet, or a letter on the Bench, or the whiſpering and winks of a great neighbour, are anſwered with an angry and couragious repulſe. Diſpleaſure, Reuenge, Recompence ſtand on both ſides the Bench, but he ſcornes to turne his eye towards them; looking onelyonly right forward at Equity, which ſtands full before him. His ſentence is euer deliberate and guided with ripe wiſdome, yet his hand is ſlower than his tongue; but when he is vrged by occaſion either to doome or execution, he ſhewes how much he hateth mercifull iniuſtice: neither can his reſolution or act be reuerſed with partiall importunitie. His forehead is rugged and ſeuere, able to diſcountenance villany, yet his words are more awfull than his brow, and his hand than his words. I know not whether he be more feared or loued, both affections are ſo ſweetly contempered in all hearts. The good feare him louingly, the middle ſort louelove him fearefully, and only the wicked man feares him ſlauiſhly without louelove. He hates to pay priuate wrongs with the aduantage of his Office; and if euer he be partiall, it is to his enemy. He is not more ſage in his gowne, than valorous in armes, and increaſeth in the rigour of diſcipline, as the times in danger. His ſword hath neither ruſted for want of vſe, nor ſurfetteth of bloud, but after many threats is vnſheathed, as the dreadfull inſtrument of diuine reuenge. He is the Guard of good lawes, the Refuge of innocency, the Comet of the guilty, the Pay-maſter of good deſerts, the Champion of iuſtice, the Patron of peace; the Tutor of the Church, the Father of his Countrey, and as it were another God vponupon earth.