THE LIFE
of

GALEACIUS CARACCIOLUS,

MARQUIS OF VICO.

            GALEACIUS CARACCIOLUS was born at Naples, in the year 1517. His father's name was CALANTONIUS, de­scended of the ancient and noble family of the Caraccioli, of Capua; his mother was descended of the noble family of the Caraffi, whose brother was afterwards POPE PAUL 4:

            His father was very careful of his education in his Thouth; and being well known to, and in favor with, the EMPEROR CHARLES 5:, he requested him to entertain this his son in his service, which the Emperor willingly did, and liked him so well, that shortly after he made him his Gentleman-Sewer; in which place he demeaned himself so well, that he won the favor of the Nobility, and the rest of the Court, and grew to be of special account with the Emperor himself: and indeed few were to be compared with him for innocency of life, elegancy of manners, sound judgment, and knowledge of many things.

            His father also, being desirous to continue his name, and advance his house, provided for him a wife, a lady of noble birth, called VICTORIA daughter to the Duke of Nuceria. By this wife he had six children, four sons and two daughters. But GOD intending to advance him to a higher dignity than that to which he was born, was pleased in mercy, by degrees, to reveal himself and his truth to him. The first beginning of it was this:­

            There lived about this time in Naples, a noble Spaniard, called JOHN WALDESSO, who, having some knowledge of the truth of the Gospel, especially in the doctrine of Justi­fication, used often to confer with and instruct divers other noblemen in points of Religion, confuting the false opinion of our inherent justification, and the merit of good works. Many of these noblemen began to discern the truth, amongst whom was one JOHN FRANCIS, a kinsman to GA! EAC1US. He, discoursing often with GALRACIUS, began to convince him of the vanity of worldly privileges, of the true means of our justification, of the excellency and power of GOD’s word, and of the folly of most of the Popish superstitious.

            At this time, PETER MARTYR was a public preacher at Naples, whose holy life, and copious teaching, made him very famous. Hereupon GALEACIUS was content, at CISARTA'S motion, to go and hear his sermon, yet not so much out of a desire to learn, as to hear so famous and learned a man. PETER MARTYR, at this time, was showing, out of 1 Cor. 2:, the weakness and deceitfulness of man`s reason in spiritual things, and the power and efficacy of GOD’s word in those men in whom the LORD works by his SPIRIT.

            This, by the grace of GOD, wrought so wonderfully in GALEACIUS, (as he often confessed to his friends,) that from that hour he resolved to forsake his former pleasures, and to set himself to seek true happiness: and for that end, he read the Scriptures every day, as the fountain whence it must be drawn; and chose such company, by whose life and conference he might be edified in true religion. This being observed in Naples, his old com­panions were much amazed; some judged it melancholy, others esteemed it plain folly. But the more courageously this worthy servant of CHRIST went on in the ways of godliness.

            His father was much displeased, seeing how the honor and advancement of his house were likely to be eclipsed; and therefore he often and sharply chid him with his fatherly authority; to prat away his melancholy conceits.  This much grieved him, being always very submissive and obedient to his parents. His wife VICTORIA also Though a wise, kind; and dutiful wife; yet would by, no means yield to his motion; for the change of her religion; and, therefore; was always soliciting him with complaints, tears, kind entreaties; and all other ways which a wife could use to her husband.

            It was also a great temptation to him, that almost all the Nobility about Naples, being of familiar acquaintance with him; often resorted to him, to draw him forth tb his old sports and pleasures. And his office, sometimes calling him to the Court, was a great trouble to him; for there he heard of any thing rather than of religion. Seeing his friends had forsaken him; and he had no hope of a Reformation in Naples, he resolved to forsake his country; and to seek for CHRIST and his religion wheresoever he might find them.

            But herein he met with many grievous combats: for as often as he looked upon his aged father, who dearly loved him, and whom he respected with all duty and re­verence, so often he was struck to the heart with unspeak­able grief, to think of leaving him Such like reasonings as these he had in his Heart: 11 What 1 must I forsake my loving father, or else I cannot have GOD to be my fattier Must I fail in my duty to him, if I perform my duty to GOD? Shall I hereby bring his hoary hairs -with sorrow to the grave? Shall I bring an obloquy upon him; and my whole kindred? Shall I be the cause of his death, who would (if need were) redeem my life with his own? Yet must I rather hazard his life,; than cast my poor soul into hell." And no less was he grieved in respect of his wife, having no hope that she would go with him. She was in the prime of her Thouth, a lady of great birth, fair, wise; and modest; but her love and loyalty to him passed all, which filled him with these reasonings: to Shall I thus suddenly leave my dear wife, the only joy of my heart in this world, my companion; the augmenter of my joy, and lesser of my woe? Shall I thus leave her for ever Shall I deprive myself of her, and thereby of all others also, and of all comfort of a conjugal life? Alas! poor lady! What will become of her and her little ones, when I am gone a What will she do but weep and wail, and pine away with grief? Yet must I, for CHRIST's sake, resolve to leave her, and all, to follow CHRIST."

            Whilst he meditated on these things, he Thought be heard and saw his wife singing, and weepings and running after him. These Thoughts tormented him the more; because he durst impart them to none, lest they should have hindered his departure. The Thoughts of his chil­dren, also, extremely augmented his grief. They were children worthy of such noble parents: they were young, and therefore not apprehensive what it was to want a father: he loved them tenderly. When, his wife did put the youngest in his arms to play with; how did it cut him to the heart; and what ado had he to refrain from tears! How did he in himself thus reason: " Shall I leave these to the wide world, as Though they had never been my children? To be a father is a comfort; but to be a father of no children, and yet to have children, is a misery? And Thou, poor orphans, what will become of Thou when I am gone? Thour lot is hard, to be fatherless, while Thour father is yet living. What can Thour great birth now help Thou? By my departure Thou will lose all honor, livelihood, and dignity; yeas hereby Thou shall be exposed to infamy, reproach, and slander, that Thou shall curse the time that ever Thou had me for Thour father."

            Many other were the temptations with which he con­flicted, Though inferior to these: as his leaving the company of so many noblemen, his kindred and acquaintance; the loss of his honorable office at court; the quitting for ever his native soil, the fruitful Italy, to undertake a long and tedious journey; the casting himself into exile, poverty, shame, and other miseries: and the abandonment of so fine a seat, the garden and orchard whereof exceeded all others in Italy, and to see which; there daily resorted many strangers out of all parts. Yet resolved he (through GOD’s grace) to leave all and follow CHRIST.

            According to this holy resolution, making his mind known only to a few, they vowed to accompany him in his voluntary exile; yet, most of these, when they came to the borders of Italy, and began seriously to consider what they left behind them, and what they went to, returned back again to the vomit of their pleasures.

            GALEACIUS, seeing himself forsaken of those by whose society he hoped to have enjoyed much comfort in a strange country, notwithstanding all this, prepared for his departure; and, finding his opportunity, on the 2Oth of March, 1551, and in; the thirty-fourth year of his age, he departed from Naples, as if he had intended going to the Emperor's Court, whither indeed he went, attending his office for a short time and then, bidding adieu to the Court, and all worldly pleasures, he went straight to Geneva. Here he associated himself with CALVIN, and submitted to his instruction, who most kindly entertained him; and this their mutual love continged to their lives end.

            When the news of his fixing at Geneva came to the Emperor's court, and to Naples, it cannot be imagined how strangely it affected all that heard it; but above all, his own friends and family, where nothing was to be heard but lamentations, tears, and complaints; yet was the old Marquis most affected of all others, foreseeing hereby the ruin of his estate and family. But the violence of his sorrow being once over, he began to think by what means he might recover him again; and, for that end, sent a cousin of his, who was most dear to GALEACIUS, with letters to Geneva, full of authority, protestations, com­plaints, and loving entreaties to return home again, for the comfort of his aged father, the reviving of his for LORD wife and distressed children, and the unspeakable joy of all his kindred.

            This gentleman coming to Geneva, found GALEACIUS in a mean house, which he had taken for his use: But how sad was the meeting! It was spent in nothing but embraces, sighs, and tears; yea, it so exceeded, that for divers hours they could not speak; till at length the gen­tleman, hoping and longing to recover his friend, delivered his letters to which he  added obtestations, entreaties, persuasions, and exhortations, all mingled with many tears, that he would respect the ruin of his house, the grief of his old father, and the desperate condition of his wife and children, and would remedy all by, his return into Italy.

            But GALEACIUS, without delay, returned him this an­swer: that be knew all this which he had said to be true; yet withal, he would have him know that he had done nothing rashly; that he had consulted with GOD, by whose grace he was moved hereunto; and by the same grace had his eyes opened to discern the truth, and to see the super­stitions of Popery. He told him also that he had well weighed the reproaches and miseries which had attended this change: but, said he, seeing one of these must needs be chosen, either to stay at home with a burdened conscience, or else to leave house, lands, family, country, yea, and all the world's glory, thereby to obtain liberty to serve the-LORD purely according to his word, I resolve of two evils to choose the less, and rather to shut my eyes against the splendor of worldly glory, than that the sight of them should hinder me from following the call Of CHRIST."

            His kinsman was much astonished at this answer, yet had nothing to reply; considering that his resolution was not grounded on the will of man, but upon the holy word of GOD; therefore, with a sorrowful heart he held his tongue, and after a while took his leave. When he came near Naples, there was much running to hear good news; but when he had delivered his heavy message, the sorrow of them all was redoubled upon them; and the rather, because the Emperor had published an edict, wherein he proclaimed GALEACIUS guilty of high treason, and confis­cated his goods, making him and his posterity incapable of inheriting his father's Marquisate. This made the old man, notwithstanding his great age, go to the Emperor, and sue to him, that his son's falling from the Church of Rome might not prejudice his posterity, but that himself only might bear the punishment of his fault: but before he entered upon this journey, he dispatched a messenger with a letter, wherein he charged his son to meet him at a certain time at Verona, hoping, if he could speak with him, that he could recall him from the society of the heretics of Geneva. GALEACIUS having received this letter, and taken advice upon it, purposed not to disobey. He therefore basted to Verona, where he found his father; who received and used him kindly, aid, after salutations, assailed him with all the arguments he could invent to draw him home again. GALEACIUS humbly answered, that his body and estate were his father's, but his conscience belonged to the LORD; adding, that he could not embrace that motion, without making shipwreck of a good conscience; and therefore he humbly entreated his father, that he would not urge him to respect estate and family, more than Gob's glory, and his own soul's health.

The old Marquis, seeing the unmoveableness of his son, yet enjoined him to stay there till he had been with the Emperor. This GALEACIUS consented to; but so soon as ever he understood that the Emperor had granted his father's request, he, with a joyful heart, returned to Geneva; and being there, he considered how, to employ himself for the public good; for which end, he devised how to settle the discipline of the Italian church in that city, which was now much increased py a confluence of families who fled thither from the bloody Inquisition.

            About this time, CALVIN was sent to Basle about matters of religion; with whom, at his request, GALE­ACIUS went, and there met with CELSUS, descended of a noble family, of the Earls of MARTINENGO in Italy, lately (through GOD’s mercy) escaped out of the mire of Popish superstition. CELSUS, by the persuasion of GALEACIUS, went with him to Geneva, where they joined, and, by the help of CALVIN, established a form of discipline for the Italian Church, and CELSUS was chosen the first Pastor thereof; in which place he performed the office of a faithful and vigilant watchman, and had Elders joined as assistants to him. The principal of the Elders was GALE­ACIUS himself, by whose authority and diligence the' Church was preserved in peace and unity.

            In 1555, GALEACIUS'S uncle, PAULUS QUINTUS, was made Pope, Hereupon the old Marquis wrote to him again, commanding him to meet him at Mantua, sending him money for his journey: this he obeyed, and went thither, where his father entertained him with more than ordinary kindness. Then he told him, that he had pro cured of his uncle, the Pope, a dispensation for him, whereby he might freely live in any city within the Vene­tian territories, without being molested for his religion; he told him that hereby he would be a greater solace to his old age, than his absence had been a grief; earnestly entreating that he would gratify him in his request, and beseeching him not to reject so great a favor; telling him, that hereby he might recover his honors, estate, friends, and estimation,

            GALEACIUS was wonderfully perplexed with this motion, considering the proffers, and promises, and authority of his father, which he knew not well how to deny, nor yet how to embrace; the rather, because he wanted the advice of his faithful friend CALVIN. Being in this per­plexity, be durst not rely upon his own understanding; but, retiring, betook himself to fervent prayer: and the LORD answered his prayers, directing him in the way he should choose; for he considered that this was to forsake the ordinary means of the true word and sacraments, and to live in a place where there was nothing but idolatry, He farther saw, that SATAN'S policy herein was to entangle him again in the cares of the world, and the pleasures of Italy, and to dazzle his eyes with sensual delights, that by degrees the power of godliness might decay in him,

            Hereupon he besought his father not to draw him to that, which afterwards he might have cause to repent of, by making him a prey to the Papists, who held it for a maxim, `s That faith was not to be kept with heretics; "there­fore," said he,’1 it is better that I should live in this poor estate, than that I should endanger my life, and my whole posterity." The Marquis, being silenced hereby, returned with a heavy heart to Naples, and GALEACIUS to Geneva; where he was received by his friends, and the whole Church, with exceeding rejoicing for his safe return.

            During these occurrences, his wife VICTORIA burned in hearty affection towards him, and vehemently longed for his company, so that she never ceased writing to him, beseeching him to return again to her and his children. And when letters prevailed not, she earnestly desired him to meet her in some city within` the territories of the Venetians: this request he yielded to, hoping to prevail with her to leave her superstitions, and to come with him to Geneva. The place where they were to meet, was Laesina, a city in Dalmatia, a hundred miles by water from Vicum. Thither he went; but she came not accord­ing to promise, but sent two of her eldest sons to meet him there. Their sight and company was most acceptable to him, but being disappointed in his expectation of meet­ing with his wife, he sent them back, and returned to Geneva; whither, after a few days, came letters from his wife, craving pardon for her former failing, and beseeching him once more to come to that place, where, without fail, she vowed to attend him.

Accordingly, in WS, he came again to Laesina, where he understood that many of his friends, together with his wife, had intended to have met him, but that a mariner of Venice had disappointed them; hereupon he resolved to go to Vicum, relying on the LORD'S protection.

            When he came to his father's castle, it cannot be ex­pressed how great joy the whole family was filled with; but above all others, his wife, hoping that now she had recovered her dear Lord, the only comfort of her life.  Within a few days all this joy was turned into mourn­; when he made known his constant resolution to persevere in his religion, and that he would rather die

Ian be drawn from it. Yet in the midst of these mourn­ pgs, which almost broke his heart, he comforted himself m the LORD; entreating his wife, in a loving and earnest manner, to go and live with him, as the law of GOD and nature required, and promising her, that she should have her religion, to live as she pleased. But she flatly an­swered him, (Though with many tears,) that she would never go with him to Geneva, and that she would not live with him so long as he was entangled with those heresies; yea, so violent she was, that she denied him that duty which a wife is bound by all laws to yield to her husband; saying, that she was expressly forbidden by her, Confessor to do it, upon the pain of excommunication. Even this he bore with invincible constancy; but withal told her, that if she denied him that, which by the law of GOD she owed him, he would sue out a divorce against her: notwithstanding which, she still persisted in her ob­stinacy, rather choosing to break GOD’s command, than her Confessor's. He therefore resolved to depart, re­peating his former protestation, and so bade her to take it as his last warning.

            The day of his departure being come, he went to his father to take his leave, whose former love was now turned to fury, so that he gave him his farewell with many a heavy curse, which the LORD turned into a blessing. Having passed this, he came into the hall where his wife, children, and many of his near kindred and friends were. Nothing was heard but sighs and cries; nothing seen but tears and wringing of hands; his wife embracing, and taking him about the neck-, beseeching him, with loving speeches, that he would pity himself, her, and his children, and not so willingly cast them all away; his young chil­dren all upon their knees, with arms stretched out, hands holden up, and faces swollen with tears, crying unto him tq have pity upon them, and not to make them fatherless but their time: his kindred, with heavy countenances and watery eyes, looked on him, and Though, through grief, they could not speak, yet every look and gesture was a loud cry, and strong entreaty, for his stay amongst them. Unutterable was the grief of them all, and un­speakable was the temptation that he felt in this agony, when he must either leave JESUS CHRIST, or these his friends for his sake. Yet, above all, there was one most lamentable sight, which would have broken a heart of flint. Amongst his children he had one daughter, of twelve years old, who, catching fast hold about his knees, held him so hard, that he could by no means shake her off, and his fatherly affections would not suffer him to hurt her. He labored to be loose, but she held the faster. He went forwards, but she trailed after, crying to him, not to be so cruel to her his child, who came into the world by him.

            This so wonderfully affected him, being a’man of a most loving and tender nature, that, as he often related, his heart was ready to burst in sunder: but being armed with a divine fortitude, he broke away, and so leaving that heavy house, he hastened to the sea-side, and taking ship, presently caused them to hoist sails towards Lmsina. But it much pierced his heart, when, on looking back, he saw his wife, children, and kindred, standing on the shore, who, when their cries could be no longer heard, ceased not to look after the ship, so long as it was in sight; neither could he refrain from looking at them again, so long as he could discern them; and remembering all the former passages of his father's curses, his wife's tears, and children's cries, it brought from him many a heart­ breaking sigh. Yet the spiritual strength and courage of his mind were constant and invincible: so that, after a while, he beaded the knees of his heart to the eternal FATHER in heaven, giving him most hearty thanks, that he had furnished him with grace to withstand and conquer SATAN in so perilous a conflict.

            His safe arrival at Geneva brought, *, to the whole Church there, especially to the Italian congregation; amongst whom he lived with unspeakable content in his private and quiet life. And after a few years, he began to find in himself some reasons which inclined him to think of entering into a married condition; and the rather because he never heard from his wife, nor found any re­lenting in her, nor remorse for' her former obstinacy. This his purpose he communicated to CALVIN, desiring his advice in a case of so great importance; whose answer was, that it was most convenient, if he could, to abstain from marriage. GALEACIUS told him that be could not abstain, and gave him many weighty reasons which inclined him to marriage.

            CALVIN foresaw that many would be scandalized, be­cause few only understood the doctrine of divorce, and fewest of all knew, the circumstances of this particular fact; and thereupon he told him at last, that if he would go to PETER MARTYR, and ask his opinion, and the opinions of the learned Divines of Rhaetia and Switzer­land, and request of them, after mature deliberation, to set down their judgments, and the reasons thereof, in writing, for his own part he would subscribe unto them, and yield him what liberty they Thought fit in this matter; always provided, that he should submit and stand to their judgments in this case.

This GALEACIUS willingly assented to, desiring nothing more than to find out what the LORD by his word, and by the voice of his servants, should prescribe to him; and ac­cordingly he wrote to these Divines and Churches, who, meeting. together, and seriously debating the case, and weighing all circumstances, at last unanimously resolved, that he might, with a safe conscience, leave his former wife, who had first deserted him, and be married to another; and this their opinion they confirmed by Scrip­ture, Fathers, Councils, and by the Civil Law. This answer being returned to GALEACIUS, he, still taking the consent of the Church along with him, sued out a divorce, and had it legally by the magistrate granted unto him.

            After this, advising with his friends, he began -to think of, disposing of himself in marriage, wherein he sought not so much after riches, beauty, and birth, as for a fit com­panion of his life, with whom he might comfortably spend the remainder of his days; and serve GOD cheerfully till the coming of his LORD: and the Providence of GOD pro­vided him such a wife, a widow that came from Roan for religion's sake, who was well reported of for piety, modesty, and many excellent qualities, and about forty years of age. GALEACIUS, considering her fitness in many respects, married her in the year 156O, in the forty-third year of his age; and they lived together many years after, with much comfort and excellent agreement, so that the great afflictions of his former life were now fully recom­pensed with a life full of contentment and Christian joy.

            His next care was to unburden himself of all worldly cares, prescribing to himself a moderate and frugal course of life. His attire was plain; and he that might in his own country have been attended by many servants, did often walk the streets alone; yea, he disdained not often to go into the market, and provide his own necessaries, and sometimes would buy and carry home fruits, herbs, roots, and such other things; esteeming this course of life, together with freedom of religion, better than the Marquisate of Vicum: yet under this mean attire was shrouded such gravity and majesty of deportment, that any wise observer might easily discern that he came of a noble race.

            His chief converse was with the Italians of his own Church, in whose eyes his humble mind, and friendly con­versation, made him honorable. Besides his noble birth and princely education, he was affable, courteous, and friendly to all men; wise, discreet, and very eloquent. As his memory was exceeding good, so his smooth style, and his easy, quiet, and seemly delivery, made his speech most graceful to all that heard him. With poor men, if they were godly, he would converse as familiarly as if they had been his equals. He was of a free and liberal heart: no poor or distressed man did ever desire his assistance, but he would presently reach out to them his helping hand; and the loss of his former estate never troubled him, bait when he had not to give to charitable uses.

            It was his joy and delight to be lending and giving to those that wanted: prisoners, and distressed persons, did often taste of his bounty: he visited the sick, and his presence and Christian exhortations were very comfortable to them: Every day he joined with the Church in their public service: he never omitted to hear sermons, show­ing wonderful devotion and reverence to the word of GOD: he daily read a portion of the holy Scriptures: as an Elder of the Church, he carefully observed, and inquired into, the manners and lives of professors, encouraging the good, and admonishing offenders: where he saw, or heard of any dissensions amongst neighbors, he was exceedingly careful to compose them. He wholly dedicated himself and all his abilities to the advancement of GOD’S glory, and the edification of his Church.

            But after a long calm, GOD raised up new storms, yet further to try his patience: for, first, he fell sick of a grievous disease, wherewith he was exceedingly tor­mented night and day, so that he could scarcely get any sleep: then there Came to Geneva a nephew of his, bring­ing him letters from his former wife and his eldest son; persuading him yet at length to return to his native country, and former religion; and giving him hope that thereby he might advance his youngest son to the place of a Cardinal. But the soul of this worthy gentleman was much wounded heart, as abhorring those profane dignities; and to show his distaste of the motion, he burnt the letters before the messenger's face, and withal, not designing to answer them by writing, he by word of mouth returned a grave, wise, and zealous answer.

            Being delivered from this tempter, his sickness in­creased upon him: his pain was grievous, but he bore it with heroic courage; as the pains increased, so his faith and patience increased; and as the "outward man perished, so the inward man was renewed day by day" He found unspeakable comfort and sweetness in his prayers to the LORD; and would often say, that in the midst of his prayers his soul seemed to be ravished, and to taste of the blessed joys of heaven, and as the suffer­ing of CHRIST abounded in him, so the consolations of CHRIST abounded much more. The physicians spared no pains, and his loving and tender wife was never absent from him; but all was in vain, the time of his dissolution drawing on; he therefore wholly sequestered himself from any more care of his body. He took his farewell of his wife, and of all his Christian friends, saying, a He would lead them the way to heaven." His heart and Thoughts were all in heaven, and he cried to JESUS CHRIST, that as he had sought him all his life, so now he would receive and acknowledge him as his own. And so, in the presence of his friends, whilst the Ministers were exhorting and praying with him, he peaceably and quietly gave up his spirit into the hands of his merciful GOD, and faithful Creator, in the year 1592, about the seventy­ fourth year of his age.

            Perhaps it would be wrong to suffer this Life of the excellent GALEACIUS CARACCIOLUS to pass again through the. Press, without a cautionary intimation, that, (notwithstanding the high veneration which every Protestant must feel for one who made so many sacri­fices for his religion, and for the eminent Reformers under whose advice and sanction he acted, and after making large allowances for the very peculiar character of the circumstances in which be was placed, and of the times in which he lived;) it may well be doubted whether he did not greatly err, if not in the original abandonment of his family, yet, at least, in suing, on such grounds, for a formal Divorce, and in marrying a second wife during the life of his first.

            Would not the cause of GOD, and of the Reformation, have been more honored by his standing at his post, and patiently suffering for righteousness' sake the worst possible consequences of such a determination? Or, at all events, would not this distinguished man, if really bound in conscience to separate himself from his dearest connections, have evinced more strikingly the " singleness of his eye" and the integrity of his heart, by refraining from a second marriage, under circumstances which made its propriety (even if its lawfulness could be conceded) exceedingly dubious?

 

THE LIFE
OF
BERNARD GILPIN.

            BERNARD GILPIN was born in the year 1517, about the middle of the reign of HENRY VIII. His forefathers had been seated at Kentmire-Hall, in Westmoreland, from the time of King JOHN. EDWIN GILPIN, his father, had several children, of whom BERNARD was one of the youngest. From a child he was inclined to a contemplative life, being Thoughtful, wise, and serious. At the age of sixteen, he was entered upon the foundation at Queen's College, in Oxford.

            As he had determined to apply himself to divinity, he made the Scriptures his chief study; and set himself with great industry upon gaining a thorough knowledge off the Greek and Hebrew languages. He was soon taken notice of, as a young man of good parts and considerable learning; and loved for a remarkable sweetness in his dis­position, and sincerity in his manners. At the usual time, be took the degree of Master of Arts, and about the same time was elected Fellow of his college. He had not been long settled in his Fellowship, before, at the desire of CARDINAL Wo7.SEY, he removed to CHRIST-Church, lately erected.

King HENRY VIII. was now dead; and his young suc­cessor began in earnest to support that cause, which his father had only so far encouraged, as it contributed to break a yoke which sat uneasy upon him. Under this Prince's patronage, PETER MARTYR went to Oxford, where he read Divinity-Lectures.

            The Papists, who were immediately in a flame, were very solicitous to engage MR. GILPIN to side publicly with them; and the most pressing applications were accord­ingly made. But they found his inclination rather led him to stand by, an unprejudiced observer; and to em­brace truth, whether he found her amongst Protestants or Papists. But such importunity was used with him, that at length he yielded, and appeared the next day against PETER MARTYR. But he soon found his adver­sary's arguments too strong for him. We need not therefore wonder, if the disputation was speedily over Mr. GILPIN gave up his cause with that grace which always attends sincerity.

            Having been thus staggered, the first step he took, after he had implored the divine assistance, was to recol­lect the substance of what had passed in this controversy; and of those points, in which he had been hardest pressed, he resolved to enter into a stricter examination. The result was, (Though after a considerable time,) that he cordially embraced the Protestant doctrine.

He continued at Oxford till the thirty-fifth year of his age. About that time the vicarage of Norton, in the diocese of Durham, falling vacant, a presentation passed in his favor, which bears date, November, 1552. But before he went to reside, he was appointed to preach before the King, who was then at Greenwich: for it was then ordered, that none should be presented unto any benefice in the donation of the Crown, till he had first preached before the King, and thereby passed his judg­ment and approbation.

The reigning vice of that age, as its historians inform us, was avarice, or more properly, rapine. In the room of law and justice, gross bribery and wrong were com­mon; in trade, grievous extortions and frauds: every where, and every way, the poor were vexed Mr. GILPIN Thought it became him to take notice of these evils accordingly he made the avarice of the times his subject; freedom, to censure corruption, in whatever rank of men he observed it.

            He began, first, with the Clergy. He was sorry, he said, to observe among them such a manifest neglect of their function. To get benefices, not to take care of them, was their endeavor: half of them were pluralists or non-residents; and such could never fulfill their charge. He was shocked, he said, to hear them quote human laws against GOD’s word: if such laws did exist, they were the remains of Popery, and the King would do well to repeal them. While men's consciences would permit them to hold as many livings as they could get, and dis­charge the duties of none, it was impossible that the Gospel could have any success in England.

From the Clergy he turned to the Court; and observing that the King was absent, he was' obliged to introduce that part of his sermon which he had designed for him, by saying, that it grieved him to see those absent, who for example's sake ought to have been present. He had heard other Preachers likewise remark, that it was com­mon for them to be absent. Business might perhaps be their excuse; but he could not believe that serving GOD would ever hinder business. If he could, he said, he would make them hear in their chambers; but however he would speak to their seats, not doubting but what he said would be carried to them.

"Thou," said he, "great Prince, are appointed by GOD to be the Governor of this land: let me then here call upon Thou in behalf of Thour people. It is in Thour power to redress them; and if Thou do not, the neglect must be accounted for. Take away pluralities and non-residence; oblige every Pastor to hold but one benefice; and, as far as Thou can, make every one do his duty. Thour Grace's eye looking through Thour realm would do more good than a Thousand preachers. The land is full of idle Pastors; it would be good if Thour Grace would send out surveyors, to see how benefices are bestowed. And I must tell Thour Grace, that all this is owing to Thou, for taking no_ more notice of these things. For my part, I will do my duty; I will tell Thour Grace what abuses prevail, and pray to GOD that he will direct Thour heart to amend them."

            He next addressed himself to the Magistrates and Gentry. They all, he told them, received their honors, their power, and their authority, from GOD, who ex­pected they would make a proper use of such gifts; and would certainly call them to an account for the abuse of them. But he saw so much ambitious striving for them at Court, that he was afraid they did not all consider them in their true light.-" Let me then," said lie, " call upon Thou who are Magistrates, and put Thou in mind, that if the people are debtors to Thou for obedience, Thou are debtors to them for protection. If Thou deny this, they must suffer; but GOD will assuredly espouse their cause against Thou.-And now, if we search for the root of all these evils; what is it but avarice:' This it is that makes the bad Nobleman, the bad Magistrate, the bad Pastor, and the bad Lawyer."

            Thus this pious man began his ministry; and such was the sense he had of that plainness and sincerity which became it: as he Thought nothing his interest, but what was also his duty, hope or fear never swayed him. He considered himself in some degree chargeable with those vices which he knew were prevailing, and failed not to rebuke them. MR. GILPIN's plainness was well received, and recom­mended him to the notice of many persons of the first rank; particularly to SIR FRANCIS RUSSELL and SIR ROBERT DUDLEY, afterwards Earls of Bedford and Leicester. MR. GILPIN, having now stayed as long in LONDON as his business required, and having received a general license for preaching, repaired to his parish, and imme­diately entered upon the duties of it. He failed not, as occasion required, to use the King's license in other parts of the country; but his own parish he considered as the place where his chief care was due. Here he made it his principal endeavor to dissuade from those vices which he observed most prevalent. He seldom handled contro­verted points; being afraid, lest, endeavoring to instruct, he might only mislead. For, however resolved he was against Popery, he yet saw not the Protestant cause in its full strength; and was still scarcely, settled in some of his religious opinions. This gave him great uneasiness.

            At length, quite unhappy, he wrote to Bishop TUNSTALL an account of his situation. The Bishop told him, that, in his opinion, he could not do better than put his parish into the hands of some person in whom he could confide, and spend a year or two in Germany, France, and Hol­land; by which means he might have an opportunity of conversing with some of the most eminent Professors on both sides of the question. He acquainted him also, that his going abroad at this time would do him a con­siderable service; for, during his confinement, he had written two or three books, particularly one upon the LORD's-Supper, which he had a desire to publish; and as this could not be done so conveniently at home, he would be glad to have it done under his inspection at Paris.

            This letter gave MR. GILPIN much satisfaction; it just proposed his own wish; only he had one objection to the scheme,-he was afraid it might prove too expensive. But as to that, the Bishop wrote, that MR. GILPIN's living would do something, and he would supply the deficiency.

            This, however, did not remove the difficulty of Mr. GILPIN's notions of the pastoral care that were so strict, that he Thought no excuse could justify non-residence for so considerable a time. He could not, therefore, think of supporting himself with part of the income of his living. However, abroad he was determined to go; and resolved, if he stayed the shorter time, to be frugal of the little money he had, and leave the rest to the Bishop's gene­rosity. Having resigned his living, therefore, to a person with whose abilities he was well acquainted, he set out for LONDON, to receive his last orders from the Bishop, and to embark; which he did without delay.

            Upon his landing, he went immediately to visit his brother GEORGE, who was at suing his studies there. And having stay with his brother, he went to Louvaine, to settle for some time. He made frequent, Antwerp, Ghent, Brussels, and other p            ~

Countries; where he spent a few weeks ­of any reputation, whether Papists or Protestants. But he made Louvaine his place of residence, for which city he always expressed a more than common affection.

            What endeared Louvaine most to a scholar, was the noble seminary there established. It consisted of many colleges, in each of which philosophy was taught by two Professors, who read two hours each morning. The scholars had the rest of the day to commit to writing what they heard. At the time when MR. GILPIN was at Louvaine, it was one of the chief places for students in divi­nity. Some of the most eminent Divines, on both sides, resided there; and the most important topics of religion were discussed with great freedom. He now began to have juster notions of the doctrine of the reformation. He saw things in a clearer and a stronger light; and felt a satisfaction in the change he had made, to which he had hitherto been a stranger.

While he was thus pursuing his studies, he and all the Protestants in those parts were suddenly alarmed with news of King EDWARD'S death, and Queen MARY'S acces­sion, in whom the signs of a persecuting spirit already appeared. This bad news came, however, attended with one agreeable circumstance; BISHOP TUNSTALL's release from the Tower, and re-establishment in his bishopric.

            Soon afterwards MR. GILPIN received a letter from his brother GEORGE, entreating him to. come immediately to Mechlin. When he came thither, he found that his brother had received a letter from the Bishop, informing him, that he had found a benefice of considerable value vacant in his diocese, which he wished be could persuade his brother BERNARD to accept. But this he absolutely principal endeavor to dissuade from those vices which he observed most prevalent. He seldom handled contro­verted points; being afraid, lest, endeavoring to instruct, he might only mislead. For, however resolved he was against Popery, he yet saw not the Protestant cause in its full strength; and was still scarcely settled in some of his religious opinions. This gave him great uneasiness.

            At length, quite unhappy, he wrote to BISHOP TUNSTALL an account of his situation. The Bishop told him, that, in his opinion, he could riot do better than put his parish into the hands of some person in whom he could confide, and spend a year or two in Germany, France, and Hol­land; by which means he might have an opportunity of conversing with some of the most eminent Professors on both sides of the question. He acquainted him also, that his going abroad at this time would do him a con­siderable service; for, during his confinement, he had written two or three books, particularly one upon the’LORD'S-Supper, which he had a desire to publish; and as this could not be done so conveniently at home, he would be glad to have it done under his inspection at Paris.

            This letter gave MR. GILPIN much satisfaction; it just proposed his own wish; only he had one objection to the scheme,-he was afraid it might prove too expensive. But as to that, the Bishop wrote, that MR. GILPIN's living would do something, and he would supply the deficiency.

            This, however, did not remove the difficulty of Mr. GILPIN's notions of the pastoral care were so strict, that he Thought no excuse could justify non-residence for so considerable a time. He could not, therefore, think of supporting himself with part of the income of his living. However, abroad he was determined to go; and resolved, if he stayed the shorter time, to be frugal of the little money he had, and leave the rest to the Bishop's gene­rosity. Having resigned his living, therefore, to a person with whose abilities he was well acquainted, he set out for LONDON, to receive his last orders from the Bishop, and to embark; which he did without delay.

            Upon his landing, he went immediately to Meehlin, to visit his brother GEORGE, who was at that time pur­suing his studies there. And having stayed a few weeks with his brother, he went to Louvaine, where he resolved to settle for some time. He made frequent excursions to Antwerp, Ghent, Brussels, and other places in the Low Countries; where he spent a few weeks among those of any reputation, whether Papists or Protestants. But he made Louvaine his place of residence, for which city he always expressed a more than common affection.

            What endeared Louvaine most to a scholar, was the noble seminary there established. It consisted of many colleges, in each of which philosophy was taught by two Professors, who read two hours each morning. The scholars had the rest of the day to commit to writing what they heard. At the time when MR. GILPIN was at Louvaine, it was one of the chief places for students in divi­nity. Some of the most eminent Divines, on both sides, resided there; and the most important topics of religion were discussed with great freedom. He now began to have juster notions of the doctrine of the reformation. He saw things in a clearer and a stronger light; and felt a satisfaction in the change he had made, to which he had hitherto been a stranger.

While he was thus pursuing his studies, he and all the Protestants in those parts were suddenly alarmed with news of King EDWARD'S death, and Queen MARY'S acces­sion, in whom the signs of a persecuting spirit already appeared. This bad news came, however, attended with one agreeable circumstance; BISHOP TUNSI'ALL's release from the Tower, and re-establishment in his bishopric.

            Soon afterwards MR. GILPIN received a letter from his brother GEORGE, entreating him to. come immediately to Mechlin. When he came thither, he found that his brother had received a letter from the Bishop, informing him, that he had found a benefice of considerable value vacant in his diocese, which he wished he could persuade his brother BERNARD to accept. But this he absolutely refused; for which he gave his reasons to the Bishop in the following letter.

            " Right honorable, and my singular good Master my duty remembered in most humble manner, pleases it Thour Honor to be informed, that of late my brother wrote to me, that in any wise I must meet him at Mech­lin. When we met, I perceived it was nothing else but to see if he could persuade me to take a benefice, and to continue in study at the. University: which 1:' I had known to be the cause of his sending for me, I should not have needed to interrupt my study to meet him; for I have so long debated that matter with learned men, especially with the holy Prophets, and most ancient and godly writers since CHRIST's time, that I trust, so long as I have to live, never to burden my conscience with having a benefice, and being absent from it. My brother said, that Thour LORDSHIP had written to him, that Thou would bestow one on me; and that Thour LORDSHIP Thought (and so did other of my friends, of which he was one) that I was much too scrupulous in that point. Whereunto I always say, if I be too scrupulous, (as I cannot think that I am,) the matter is such, that I had rather my con­science were therein a great deal too strait, than a little too large: for I am seriously persuaded, that I shall never offend GOD by refusing to have a benefice, and live away from it. He replied against me, that Thour LORDSHIP would give me no benefice, but what Thou would see dis­charged in my absence as well or better than I could dis­charge it myself. Whereunto I answered, that I would be sorry, if I Thought not there were many Thousands in England more able to discharge a cure than I find myself; and therefore I desire, they may both take the cure and the profit also, that they may be able to feed the body and the soul both, as I think all Pastors are bounden. As for me, I can never persuade myself to take the profit, and let another take the pains: for if he should teach and preach as faithfully as ever ST. AUSTIN did, yet should I not think myself discharged. And if I should strain my conscience herein, and strive with it to remain here, or in any other University, with such a condition, the unquietness of my conscience would not suffer me to profit in study at all.

            " And whereas I know well Thour LORDSHIP is careful how I should live, if GOD should call Thour LORDSHIP, being now aged, I desire Thou not to let that care trouble Thou: for if I had no other shift, I could get a lecture­ship, I know, shortly, either in this University, or at least in some Abbey hereby; where I should not lose my time. And this kind of life, if GOD be pleased, I desire before any benefice. And thus I pray CHRIST always to have Thour LORDSHIP in his blessed keeping.

" By Thour LORDSHIP's humble Scholar and Chaplain,
"Louvaine, Nov. 22, 1554.      

                                                                                                            "BERNARD GILPIN."

            MR. GILPIN, having got over this troublesome affair, continued some time longer at Louvaine, daily improving in religions knowledge. His own opinions he kept to himself, industriously endeavoring to make himself acquainted with the opinions of others, and the argu­ments upon which they were grounded.

            Having been now two years in Flanders, and having made himself perfect master of the controversy, he left Louvaine, and took a journey to Paris. Passing through a forest in his way thither, he was attacked by highwaymen; from whom, being very well mounted, he escaped to a cottage by the road-side. The thieves pursued him to the house, and declared they would pull it down, or set it on fire, if he did not immediately come out. The family was in great consternation; to quiet which he went out, and gave them his money.

            While MR. GILPIN stayed at Paris, he lodged with VAS­COSAN, an eminent Printer, to whom he had been recom­mended by his friends in the Netherlands. This learned man did him many friendly offices, and introduced hint to the most considerable men in that city than by the Curate, who received only a small part." Besides, he Thought one man's engrossing what in all reason belonged to two, perhaps three or four, agreed very ill with a Minister of CHRIST; and gave an example which tended more to the discredit of religion, than all the preaching in the world to its advancement.

            It was presently the popular clamor, that he was an enemy of the Church, and a scandalizer of the Clergy. " After I entered upon the parsonage of Easington," says he, in a letter to his brother, " and began to preach, I soon procured me many mighty and grievous adversaries, because I preached against pluralities and non-residence. Some said, all that preached that doctrine became heretics soon after. Others found great fault, because I preached repentance and salvation by CHRIST, and did not make whole sermons, as they did, about transubstantiation, purgatory, holy water, images, prayers to saints, and such like."

Thus, in short, he had raised a flame, which nothing but his blood could quench. Many articles were drawn up against him, and he was accused in form before the Bishop of Durham.

            The Bishop, taking care to press his accused friend in points only in which he knew him able to bear examina­tion, brought him off innocent; and dismissed the cause, telling the accusers, " He was afraid they had been too forward in their zeal for religion,-and that heresy was such a crime, as no man ought to be charged with but upon the strongest proof."

After some time he acquainted the Bishop, "That he must resign either his Archdeaconry or his parish;-that he would with the-greatest readiness do his duty in which soever his LORDSHIP Thought him best qualified for; but he was not able to do it in both." But the Bishop refusing to let him keep either of them singly, he resigned them both. During the time of his being thus unemployed, he lived with the Bishop as one of his Chaplains. The rectory of Houghton-le-Spring fell vacant before Easington and the archdeaconry were disposed of; and the Bishop, in a jocular way, made him an offer of all the three. He thanked the Bishop, and accepted Houghton.

            This rectory was so extensive, that it contained no less than fourteen villages: and having been as much neg­lected in that dark age, as the cures in the North then ordinarily were, Popery had produced its full growth of superstition in it. Scarcely any traces of true Christianity were left. Nay, what little religion remained, was even Popery itself corrupted. How entirely this barba­rous people were excluded from all means of better infor­mation, appears from hence, that in that part of the kingdom King EDWARD'S proclamations for a change of worship had not even been heard of at the time of that Prince's death.

            Such was the condition of the parish of Houghton, when it was committed to MR. GILPIN's care;-a waste so miserably uncultivated, that the greatest industry seemed but sufficient to bring it to any kind of order. He was grieved to see ignorance and vice so prevail; but he did not despair. He implored the assistance of GOD; and his sincere endeavors met with it. The people crowded about him, and heard him with attention, per­ceiving him to be a teacher of a different kind from those to whom they had hitherto been accustomed.

            Upon his taking possession of Houghton, it was some mortification to him, that he could not immediately reside. His parsonage-house was gone entirely to decay; and some time was required to make it habitable. Part of it was fitted up as soon as possible for his reception: but he continued improving and enlarging it, till it became suitable to his hospitable temper, a proper habitation for a man who never intended to keep what he had to himself.

Soon after, a stall in the Cathedral of Durham was vacant, which the Bishop urged MR. GILPIN to accept, telling him, " that there lay not the same objection to this as to the Archdeaconry,-and that he could have no reasonable pretence for refusing it." But MR. GILPIN told the Bishop, " that by his bounty he had already more wealth than, he was afraid, he could give a good account of. He begged therefore he might not have an additional charge; but that his LORDSHIP would bestow this prefer­ment on one by whom it was more wanted.'

            Though he lived now retired, and gave no offence to the clergy, their malice, however, still pursued him. His care and labor were a standing satire upon their negli­gence and sloth; and it was the language of their hearts, "By so living Thou reproachest us." So they were deter­mined, if possible, to extinguish a light which showed them to such disadvantage.

            By their unwearied industry such a number of articles were, in a short time, got together, as, it was eagerly imagined, could not but crush him. He was soon there­fore formally accused; and brought once more before the Bishop of Durham. How the Bishop behaved we are not particularly informed; but it is certain that MR. GILPIN was acquitted.

            His enemies succeeded, however, in part; for the Bishop's favor to him from this time visibly declined. This was not less than MR. GILPIN expected, nor more than he was well provided for. He acknowledged his great obligations to the Bishop; and would have given up any thing to have him satisfied, except his conscience. But a good conscience he was resolved not to part with for any friend upon earth.

            Convinced how impossible it was to work up the Bishop of Durham's zeal to the height they wished, they were determined to try what could be done elsewhere. Thirty-two articles were accordingly drawn up against him, and laid before BIsxoP BONNER of LONDON. He at once took fire; extolled their laudable concern for reli­gion; and promised that the heretic should be at a stake

in a fortnight MR. GILPIN's friends in LONDON trembled for his safety, and instantly dispatched a message,-that he had not a moment to lose.

            The messenger did not surprise him. He had long been preparing himself to suffer for the truth, and he now determined not to decline it. It was in some sort, he Thought, denying his faith, to be backward in giving the best testimony to it. As it was the business of his life to promote religion, if he could better effect this by his death, it was his wish to die. He received the account therefore with great composure; and immediately after, calling up WILLIAM AIRAY, a favorite domestic, who had long served him as his almoner and steward, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, "At length," said he, cc they have prevailed against me. I am accused to the Bishop of LONDON, from whom there will be no escaping. GOD forgive their malice, and grant me strength to un­dergo the trial! " He then ordered Jris servant to provide a long garment for him, in which he might go decently to the stake; and desired it might be got ready with all expedition: "For I know not," said he, "how soon I may have occasion for it." As soon as his garment was provided, be used to put it on every day, till the Bishop's messengers apprehended him."

            His friends, in the mean time, failed not to interpose; earnestly beseeching him to provide for his safety. But he begged them not to press him longer upon that subject. " Be assured," says he, " I should never have thrown myself voluntarily into the hands of my enemies; but I am fully determined to persevere in doing my duty, and shall take no measures to avoid them." In a few days, the messengers apprehended him, and put an end to these solicitations.

            In his way to LONDON, it is said, he broke his leg, which put a stop for some time to his journey. The persons, in whose custody he was, took occasion thence to retort upon him an observation he would frequently make, "that nothing happens to us but what is intended for good;" asking him, whether he Thought his broken leg was so? He answered meekly, " He made no ques­tion but it was." And indeed so it proved: for before he was able to travel, Queen MARY died. Being thus providentially rescued, he returned to Houghton through crowds of people, who expressed the utmost joy, and praised GOD for his deliverance.

It was now his friend the Bishop of Durham's turn to suffer. He and some other Bishops, refusing the oath of supremacy, were deprived and committed to the Tower. But this severity soon relaxed. To the Bishop of Durham, especially, the government showed much lenity. He was recommended to the care of the Archbishop of Canter­bury; with whom he spent, in great tranquility, the short remainder of a very long life.

            Queen ELIZABETH judging MR. GILPIN a proper person for one of the void Bishoprics, she nominated him to that of Carlisle; and a Congo d'elire was sent down to the Dean and Chapter of that see Mr. GILPIN, who knew nothing of what was going forward, was greatly surprised at this unexpected honor; yet could not by any means persuade himself to accept it. Upon this DR. SANDYS, then Bishop of Worcester, who was intimately acquainted with him, wrote the following letter to him:.

a Ally much respected kinsman: regarding not so much Thour private interest, as the interest of religion, I did what I could, that the Bishopric of Carlisle might be secured to Thou; and the just character I gave of Thou to the Queen has, I doubt not, had some weight with her Majesty in her promotion of Thou to that see; which, not to mention the honor of it, will enable Thou to be of the utmost service to the Church of CHRIST.-I am not igno­rant how much rather Thou choose a private station: but if Thou consider the condition of the Church at this time, Thou cannot, I think, with a good conscience, refuse this burden; especially as it is in a part, of the kingdom where no man is Thought fitter than Thourself to be of service to religion. Wherefore I charge Thou before GOD, and as Thou will answer it to Him, that, laying all excuses aside, Thou refuse not to assist Thour country, and do what service Thou can to the Church of GOD; exhorting and beseeching Thou to be obedient to GOD’s call herein, and not to neglect the duty of Thour function. I commend both Thou and this whole business to the Divine Providence.

" Thour kinsman and brother,

" LONDON, April 4, 156O.    " EDWIN WORCESTER."

            This letter, notwithstanding the pressing manner in which it was written, was without effect Mr. GILPIN returned his thanks; but as for the Bishopric, he was determined, and he Thought for very good reasons, not to accept it. Nor could all the persuasions of his friends alter this resolution.  The year after his refusal of the Bishopric of Carlisle, an offer of another kind was made him, viz. that of the Provostship of Queen's-College in Oxford; but this also he refused, and sat down with one living, which gratified the utmost of his desires;-for he found that it afforded him as many opportunities of doing good as he was able to make use of.

The great ignorance which at this time prevailed over the nation, afforded a melancholy prospect to all who had the interest of religion at heart. And the very bad con­sequences of this ignorance turned the endeavors of all well-wishers to the progress of true religion upon the most probable methods to remove it. In this MR. GILPIN joined to the utmost of his abilities; and indeed, as was commonly Thought, beyond them. He resolved to build and endow a grammar-school, which his exact economy soon enabled him to accomplish.

            The effects of this endowment were quickly seen. His school was no sooner opened than it began to flourish, and to afford the agreeable prospect of a succeeding gene­ration rising above the ignorance and errors of their fore­fathers. That such might be its effects, no care on his part was wanting. He not only placed able masters in his school, but himself likewise constantly inspected it. And that encouragement might quicken the application of his boys, he always took particular notice of the most forward; he would call them his own scholars, and would send for them often into his study, and there instruct them himself.

            One method used by him to fill his school was a little singular. Whenever he met a poor boy upon the road, he would make trial of his capacity by a few questions; and if he found it such as pleased him, he would provide for his education. Nor did his care end here. From his school he sent several to the Universities, where, he main­tained them wholly at his own expense. To others, who were in circumstances to do something for themselves, he would give the farther assistance they needed. By these means he induced many parents to allow their children a liberal education, who otherwise would not have done it.

            Nor did MR. GILPIN think it enough to afford them the means of an academical education, but endeavored to make it as beneficial to them as he could. He still con­sidered himself as their guardian; and seemed to think himself bound to the public for their being made useful members of it. With this view he held a punctual corre­spondence with their tutors; and made the Thouths them­selves frequently write to him, and give him an account of their studies. Several of their letters, chiefly pre­served by having something of MR. GILPIN'S written upon their backs, still remain, and show in how great veneration he was held among them. So solicitous indeed was he about them, knowing the many temptations to which their age and situation exposed them, that, every other year, he generously made a journey to the Univer­sities, to inspect their behavior. In these good designs, he was for a while interrupted, by the rebellion which broke out in the North. He had observed the fire gather­ing before the flame burst out; and knowing what zealots would soon approach him, he Thought it prudent to withdraw. Having given proper advice therefore to his masters and scholars, he took the opportunity to make a journey to Oxford.

            The passages of MR. GILPIN'S life, already collected, are chiefly of a public nature; but to place him in a true light, it will be necessary to accompany him in his retire­ment, and take a view of his ordinary behavior.  When he first took upon him the care of a parish, he laid it down as a maxim, to do all the good in his power there. And indeed his whole conduct was only one straight line drawn to this point.

            The pastoral care he saw was much neglected: the greater part of the Clergy, he could not but observe, were scan­dalously negligent of it; accepting livings only with secular views; and even they who seemed more serious, too often, he Thought, considered it in a light widely different from its true one. Some, he observed, made it consist in asserting the rights of the Church, and the dignity of their function; others, in a strenuous opposition to the pre­vailing sectaries, and a zealous attachment to the estab­lished church-government; a third sort in examining the speculative points, and mystical parts of religion;--none of them in the mean time considering, either in what the true dignity of the ministerial character consisted, or the only end for which church-government was at all estab­lished, or the practical influence which can alone make speculative points worth our attention.

            The strange disorder of that part of the country where his lot fell, has already been observed. Amidst such ignorance, to introduce a knowledge of religion was a laborious work; as difficult as a first plantation of the Gospel. There was the same building to raise, and as much rubbish to clear away; for no prejudices could be stronger, and more alien to Christianity, than those which he had to oppose.

            He set out with making it his endeavor to gain the affection of his parishioners. To succeed in it, however, he used no servile compliances: his: behavior was free without levity, obliging without meanness, insinu­ating without art. He condescended to the weak, bore with the passionate, complied with the scrupulous. In a truly apostolic manner, he became all things to all men. By these means he gained mightily upon his neighbors, and convinced them how heartily he was their friend.

To this humanity and courtesy be added an unwearied application to the duties of his function. He was not satisfied with the advice he gave in public, but used to instruct in private;; and brought his parishioners to come to him with their doubts and difficulties. He had a most engaging manner towards those whom he Thought well­ disposed. Nay, his very reproof was so conducted, that it seldom gave offence; the becoming gentleness with, which it was urged made it always appear the effect of friendship. Thus laying himself out, in a few years he made a greater change in his neighborhood, than could well have been imagined.

            He was very assiduous in preventing all law-suits among them. His hall was often thronged with people who came to him about their differences., He was not indeed much acquainted with law; but he could decide equitably, and that satisfied them: nor could his Sove­reign's commission have given more weight than his own character gave him.

            He had a just concern for all under affliction; and was a much readier visitant at the house of mourning than at that of feasting. He was considered as a good angel by all in distress. When the infirmities of age came upon him, and he grew less able to endure exercise, it was his custom to write letters of consolation to such as were in affliction. He used to interpose, likewise, in all acts of oppression; and his authority was such, that it generally put a stop to them.

            Mean time it. grieved him exceedingly to see every where, in the parishes around him,. so much ignorance and.

superstition; occasioned by the very great neglect of the Clergy of those parts. The very bad consequences arising from this shameful remissness among the Clergy, induced MR. GILPIN to supply, as far as he could, what was want­ing in others. Every year, therefore, he used regularly to visit the most neglected parishes in Northumberland, Yorkshire, Cheshire, Westmoreland, and Cumberland. And that his own parish, in the mean time, might not suffer, he was at the expense of a constant assistant. In each place he stayed two or three days; and his method was, to call the people about him, and lay before them, in as plain a way as possible, the danger of leading wicked or even careless lives, explaining to them the nature of true religion, instructing them in the duties they owed to GOD, their neighbor, and themselves; and showing them how greatly true religion would contribute to their present as well as future happiness.

            Having all the warmth of an enthusiast, Though under the direction of a very calm judgment, he never wanted an audience even in the wildest parts;. where he roused many to a sense of religion, who had contracted the most inveterate habits of inattention to every thing of a serious nature.  Wherever be came, he used to visit all the gaols and places of confinement; few in the kingdom having at that time any appointed minister. And by his labors, and affectionate manner of behaving, he reformed many very abandoned persons in those places. He would employ his interest, likewise, for such criminals, whose cases he Thought attended with any hard circumstances, and often procured pardons for them.

            There is a tract of country upon the border of North­umberland, called Reads-Dale and Tyne-Dale; of all barbarous places in the North, at that time the most bar­barous. Before the Union, this country was subject by turns to England and Scotland, and was the common theatre where the two nations were continually acting their bloody scenes. It was inhabited by a kind of desperate banditti, rendered fierce and active by constant alarms. They lived by theft; used to plunder on has sides of the barrier; and what they plundered from one side, they exposed to sale on the other.

            In this dreadful country, where no man would even travel that could help it, MR. GILPIN never failed to spend some part of every year. He generally chose the holidays of CHRISTmas for this journey, because he found the people at that season most disengaged; He had set places for preaching, which were as. regularly attended as the assize-towns of a circuit. If he came where there was a church, he made use of it; if not, of barns, or "any other large building; where great crowds of people were sure to attend him, some for his instructions, and others for his charity.

            This was a very laborious employment. The country was so poor, that what provision he could get, extreme hunger only could make palatable. The badness of the weather, and the badness of the roads, through a moun­tainous country, and at that season covered with snow, exposed him likewise often to great hardships. Some­times, he was overtaken by the night, the country being in many places. desolate for several miles together, and obliged to lodge out in the cold. At such times he would: make his servant ride about with his horses, whilst him­self on. foot used as much exercise as his age, and the fatigues of the preceding day, would permit. All this he cheerfully underwent;. esteeming such sufferings well, compensated by the advantages which might accrue from, them to his fellow-creatures.

            Our Saxon. ancestors bad a great aversion to the tedious forms of law. They chose rather to determine their disputes in a more concise manner, pleading generally with their swords. This custom still prevailed on the borders. These wild Northumbrians indeed went beyond their ancestors. They were not content with a duel each contending party used to muster what adherents -he could, and commence a kind of petty war; so that a pri­vate grudge would often occasion much bloodshed.

            It happened that a quarrel of this kind was on foot, when MR. GILPIN was at Rothbury in those parts. During the two or three first days of his preaching, the contending parties observed some decorum, and never appeared at church together. At length, however, they met. One party had been early at church, and just as MR. GILPIN began his sermon the other entered. They stood not long silent. Inflamed at the sight of each other, they began to clash their weapons, for they were all armed with javelins and swords. When the tumult in some degree ceased, MR. GILPIN proceeded: but again the combatants began to brandish their weapons, and drew towards each other Mr. GILPIN stepped from, the pulpit, went between them, and, addressing the leaders, put an end to the quarrel for the present,’but could riot effect an entire reconciliation. They promised him, however, that, till the sermon was over, they would make no more disturbance. He then went again into the pulpit, and spent the rest of the time in endeavoring to make them ashamed of what they had done. His discourse affected them so much, that they promised to forbear all acts of hostility while he continued in the country. And so much respected was he among them, that whoever was in fear of his enemy, used to resort where MR. GILPIN was, esteeming his presence the best protection.

            The disinterested pains he took among these barbarous people drew from them the sincerest gratitude; a virtue, perhaps, as frequently the growth of these natural soils,' as of the best cultivated.  How greatly his name was revered among them one instance will show. By the carelessness of his servant, his horses were one day stolen. The thief was rejoicing over his prize, when, by the report of the country, he found whose horses he had taken; he instantly came _trembling back, confessed the fact, returned the horses; and declared he believed the Devil would have seized him directly, had he carried them off, knowing them to have

been MR. GILPIN'S.

            One day, as he was preparing for his journey into these parts, he received a message from DR. BARNES, Bishop of Durham, appointing him to preach a visitation-sermon the Sunday following. He acquainted the Bishop with the necessity of keeping that appointment, begging his LORDSHIP would at that time excuse him. His servant informed him that the Bishop had received his message, but returned an answer. Concluding him therefore satis­fied, he set out on his journey, but to his great surprise, when he carne home, found himself suspended; some persons, through enmity to him, having put the Bishop upon this hasty step. A few days after, he received an order to meet the Bishop at Chester, a town in the diocese of Durham. Here many of the Clergy assembled, and Ma. GILPIN was ordered by the Bishop to preach that day before them. He made his apology; he had come wholly unprepared;-besides, he was suspended, and thereby excluded from the pulpit. The Bishop answered, that he took off the suspension. But MR. GILPIN still begged to be excused;-he had brought no sermon with him, and hoped none would be required from him. But the Bishop would take no excuse; telling him, that as he had been a Preacher so long, he must be able to say enough to the purpose without any previous meditation Mr. GILPIN persisting in his refusal, the Bishop at length grew warm, and required him, upon his canonical obedience, to go immediately into the pulpit. After a little delay he went up; and Though he observed several persons taking notes of what he said, he proceeded without the least hesitation.

            The Ecclesiastical Court of Durham was at this time very scandalously governed, being made indeed little better than an office for granting indulgences. The Bishop was a well-meaning, weak man; irresolute, and wholly in the hands of others. Every thing was managed by his relation, the Chancellor, whose irregularities were most notorious.

            The opportunity now afforded him, MR. GILPIN Thought no unfavorable one to open the Bishop's eyes; accord­ingly, before he concluded his sermon, he turned towards the Bishop, to whom he thus addressed himself:--" My discourse now, Reverend Father, must be directed to Thou. GOD has exalted Thou to be the Bishop of this diocese, and requires an account of Thour government thereof. A reformation of all those matters which are amiss in this church, is expected at Thour hands. And now, lest, per­haps, while it is apparent that so many enormities are committed every where, Thour LORDSHIP should make answer, that Thou had no notice of them given Thou, and that these things never came to Thour knowledge, behold, I bring these things to Thour knowledge this day. Say not then that these crimes have been committed by the fault of others without Thour knowledge; for whatever either Thourself shall do in person, or suffer through Thour con­nivance to be done by others, is wholly Thour own. There­fore, in the presence of GOD, his angels, and men, I pro­nounce Thou to be the author of all these evils: yea, and in that strict day of the general account I will be a witness to testify against Thou, that all those things have come to Thour knowledge by my means; and all these men shall bear witness thereof, who have heard me speak unto Thou this day."

            This freedom alarmed every one. As MR. GILPIN went out of the church, his friends gathered round him, kindly reproaching him, with tears, for what he had done:­" The Bishop," they said, " had now got that advantage over him which he had long sought after,-and if he had injured him before without provocation, what would he do now, so greatly exasperated? " MR. GILPIN walked on, assuring them, that if his discourse should do the service he intended by it, he was regardless what the consequence might be to himself.  During that day, nothing else was talked of. Every one commended what had been said, but was appre­hensive for the speaker. Those about the Bishop waited in silent expectation, when his resentment would break out.

After dinner, MR. GILPIN went up to the Bishop, to pay his compliments to him before he went home. "Sir," said the Bishop, 111 propose to wait upon Thou home myself."­This he accordingly did; and as soon as MR. GILPIN had carried him into a parlor, the Bishop turned suddenly, and seizing him eagerly by the hand, "Father GILPIN," said he to him, " I acknowledge Thou are fitter to be the Bishop of Durham, than I am to be Parson of this church of Thours.-I ask forgiveness for past injuries; forgive me, Father. I know Thou have enemies; but while I live Bishop of Durham, be secure, none of them shall cause Thou any further trouble."

Though MR. GILPIN was chiefly solicitous about the souls of those committed to his care, he omitted not to promote, as far as he could, their temporal happiness. What wealth he had, was entirely laid out in charities and hospitality. The value of his living was about X4OO a year; an income which, however considerable, was yet in appearance very disproportionate to the generous things he did. Indeed he could not have done them, unless his frugality had been equal to his generosity. In building a school, and purchasing lands for, the mainten­ance of a master and usher, he expended above.5OO. As there was so great a resort of young people to his school, that in a little time the town was not able to accommodate them, he put himself to the inconvenience of fitting up a part of his own house for that purpose, where he seldom had fewer than twenty or thirty children. Some of these were the sons of persons of distinction, whom he boarded at easy rates; but the greater part were poor children, whom he not only educated, but clothed and maintained. He was at the expense likewise of boarding in the town many other poor children, He used to bring several every year from the different parts where he preached, particularly Reads-Dale and Tytle­ Dale; which places he was at great pains in civilizing, and contributed not a little towards rooting out that bar­barism, which every year prevailed less among them.

            For the maintenance of poor scholars at the Universi­ties, he yearly set apart £6O. This sum he always laid out, and often more. His common allowance to each scholar was about £1O a year, and which for a sober Thouth was at that time a very sufficient maintenance: so that he never maintained fewer than six. By his will it appears, that at his death he had nine upon his list; whom he took care to provide for, during their stay at the University.

            Every Thursday, throughout the year, a very large quantity of meat was dressed wholly for the poor; and every day they had what quantity of broth they wanted. Twenty-four of the poorest were his constant pensioners. Four times in the year, a dinner was provided for them, when they received from his steward a certain quantity of corn, and a sum of money; and at CHRISTmas they had always an ox divided among them. Wherever he heard of any distress, whether in his own parish, or in any other, he was sure to relieve it. In his walks abroad he would frequently bring home with him poor people, and send them away clothed as well as fed. He took great pains to inform himself of the circumstances of his neigh­bors, that, the modesty of the sufferer might not prevent his relief.

            But the money best laid out was, in his opinion, that which encouraged industry. It was one of his greatest pleasures to make up the losses of his laborious neigh­bors, and prevent their sinking under them. If a poor man had lost a beast, he would send him another in its room; or if any farmer had had a bad year, he would make him an abatement in his tithes. Thus, as far as he

was able, he took the misfortunes of his parish upon him­self; and, like a true shepherd, exposed himself for his flock. Of all kinds of industrious poor, the was most forward to assist those who had large families. Such never failed to meet with his bounty, when they wanted to settle their children in the world.

            In the distant parishes where he preached, as well as in his own neighborhood, his generosity and benevolence were continually showing themselves; particularly in the desolate parts of Northumberland: " When he began his journey," says an old manuscript of the Life of him, " he would have ten pounds in his purse; and at his coming home he would be twenty nobles in debt, which he always paid within a fortnight after." In the gaols he visited, he was not only careful to give the prisoners proper in­structions, but used to purchase for them likewise what necessaries they wanted.

            Even on the public road, be never let slip an oppor­tunity of doing good. Often has he been known to take.

off his cloak, and give it to an half-naked traveler. And when he has had scarcely money enough in his pocket to provide a dinner, yet would he give away part of that little, or the whole, if he found any who seemed to stand in need of it.-Of this benevolent temper, the following instance is preserved. One day, returning home, he saw, in a field, several people crowding together; and judging that something more than ordinary had happened, he rode up, and found that one of the horses in a team had sud­denly dropped down, which they were endeavoring to raise, but in vain, for the horse was dead. The owner of it seeming much dejected with his misfortune, and de­claring how grievous a loss it would be to him, MR. GILPIN bade him not to be disheartened: " I'll let Thou have," says he, " honest man, that horse of mine," pointing to his servant's.--"~ Ah! master," replied the countryman, " my pocket will not reach such a beast as that."-" Come, come," said Mr. GILPIN, " take him, take him; and when I demand my money, then Thou shall pay me."

            His hospitable manner of living was the admiration of the whole country. He spent in his family, every fort­night, forty bushels of corn, twenty bushels of malt, and a whole ox; besides a proportionable quantity of other kinds of provision. Strangers and travelers found -a cheerful reception. All were welcome that came; and even their beasts had so much care taken of them, that it was said, " If a horse was turned loose in any part of the country, it would immediately make its way to the Rector of Houghton's."

            Every Sunday, from Michaelmas till Easter, was a sort of public day with him. During this season, he expected to see all his parishioners and their families. For their reception he had three tables: the first for gentlemen; the second for husbandmen and farmers; and the third for day-laborers.-This piece of hospitality he never omitted, even when losses, or a. scarcity of provision, made its continuance difficult to him. " If Thou should, as Thou threaten," says he in a letter to his old enemy, Chancellor BARNES, " give out a sequestration of my benefice, Thou shall do me a greater favor than Thou are aware of. For at this time I am run in no small debt. I want likewise provision of victuals. Where I have had against Michaelmas six or seven fat oxen, and five or six fat cows, I have now neither cow nor ox, but must seek all from the shambles. A sequestration given out, I may with honesty break up house for a space, which will save me twenty or thirty pounds in my purse. But I trust Thou will think better of this matter." And even when he was absent, no alteration was made in his family ex­penses: the poor were fed as usual, and his neighbors entertained.

Towards the latter part of his life; MR. GILPIN went through his duty with great difficulty. His health was much impaired. The extreme- fatigue which he had un­dergone, during so many years, had quite broken his constitution. Thus he complains in a letter to a friend " To sustain all these travels and troubles I have a very weak body, subject to many diseases; by the monitions whereof I am daily warned to remember death. My greatest grief is, that my memory is quite decayed; my sight and hearing fail; with other. ailments, more than I can well express."

            While he was thus struggling with an advanced age, and much impaired constitution, there happened a very unfortunate affair, which entirely destroyed his health. As he was crossing the market-place at Durham, an ox ran at him, and pushed him down with such violence, that it was imagined the bruises be received would have occasioned his death. He lay long confined; and Though he again got abroad, he never recovered even the little strength he had before, and continued lame as long as he lived.

But sickness was not the only distress which the de­clining years of this excellent man had to struggle with. As age and infirmity began to lessen that influence he once had, the malice and opposition of his enemies pre­vailed more. Of what frivolous pretences they availed themselves, and with what temper he bore it, the follow­ing letters will show.

            " I am very sorry, MR. WREN, to hear that, to maintain an evil cause, Thou should make an untrue report of me. I am very glad, however, that the two other false reports, if it be as Thou say, were not raised by Thou: one, that I should make the marriage of ministers unlawful; the other, that I should make their children bastards. Whereas certainly it is known, that long ago I was accused before BISHOP TUNSTALL, for speaking in favor of Priests' marriage: since which time I have never altered my mind; but in my sermons in this country, Northumberland, Westmoreland, Cumberland, Yorkshire, and Lancashire, I have, as opportunity served, spoken in defense of Priests' marriage. And allowing their mar­riage, I trust no man will believe that I should make their children bastards.

            " Thou say, I am called hypocrite: I know I am so of divers. How they will answer GOD’s law therein, I leave to their own conscience. But verily, for my own part, I can thank them; for, when I hear it, I trust in GOD, I gain not a little thereby in studying clearly to subdue that vice. And I suppose very few preachers in England have preached oftener against it than, I; and that, as I trust, with a clear conscience.

            "But to make an end, it is time, good MR. WREN, both for Thou and me, (age and sundry diseases, messengers of death, giving us warning,) more diligently to search our own faults, and to leave off from curious hearkening and espying of other men's. I pray Thou read ST JAMES, the latter part of the third chapter, and there learn from whence comes contentious wisdom. And this, I beseech Thou, remember, that it is not long since GOD did most mercifully visit Thou with great sickness. At that time, I doubt not, Thou lamented sorely Thour duty forgotten in Thour life past: and for the time to come, if GOD would restore Thou to Thour health, I trust Thou promised a godly repentance. Good MR. WREN, if Thou have somewhat forgotten that godly mind, pray to GOD to bring it again; and being had, keep it. Pray in faith, and ST. JAMES says, GOD - will heal Thou; whom I beseech evermore to, have Thou in his blessed keeping.

" Thour loving friend to his power;

"BERNARD GILPIN."

            " After my most hearty and due commendations; having heard that SIR WILLIAM MITCHELL, one of Thour brother's Executors, reported of me in sundry places, that I withhold from him great sums of money, and I know nothing wherefore; I heartily beseech Thou, seeing that Thou are joined Executor likewise, that Thou will let me know, by this hearer, if ynu can find any thing in any writings or accounts of Thour brother, that can be lawfully demanded of me, and, GOD willing, it shall be paid ere I be much older. If, as I believe, I be debtor for nothing else, saving the sixteen books, whereof I know no price, I have given this bearer, my servant, such instructions, that he will either satisfy Thou, or I will make return of the books.-I pray Almighty GOD to have Thou ever in his blessed keeping.

" Thour loving friend to his power,

" BERNARD GILPIN."

            About the beginning of February, in the year 1583, he found himself so weak, that he was sensible his end was drawing near. He told his friends, and spoke of his death with that happy composure which always attends the conclusion of a good life. He was soon after confined to his chamber. His senses continued perfect to the last. Of the manner of his taking leave of the world, we have this' account.

            A few days before his death, he ordered himself to be raised in his bed, and his friends, acquaintance, and de­pendents, to be called in. He first sent for the poor, and beckoning them to his bed-side, he told them, that he was going out of the world, and he hoped they would be his witnesses at the great day, that he had endeavored to do his duty among them: above all things, he exhorted them to fear GOD, and keep his commandments; telling them; if they would do this, they could never be left comfortless.

He next ordered his scholars to be called in; then his servants; and then sent for several persons, who had not heretofore profited by his advice according to his wishes, and upon' whom he imagined his dying words might have a better effect. His speech began to faulter before he had finished his exhortations. The remaining hours of his life he spent in prayer, and in broken conversations with some select friends; mentioning often the consolations of Christianity,-declaring they were the only true ones,­ and that nothing else could bring a man peace at the last He died on the 4th of March, 1583, in the sixty-sixth year of his age.