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God, the tenderest love to his parent, still greater to him who had taken her to himself.

His other cause of trouble, was the little reformation wrought by the divine judgments. So melancholy a prospect did much move him, raised many fad reflections in his mind, and made him conclude, that the time of complete deliverance was not yet come. He very pathetically represents his feelings in several meditations on the occalion.

In fliort, these apprehensions of the decay of piety stirred up anew, in Mr. Bonnell's mind, his former desires of dedicaring himself entirely to God, and quitting all fecular business. For this purpose he refolved to part with his present employment. This he at length effected to his fatisfaction, after a variety of delays, and much time spent in negotiating a matter, which he judged of the last importance.

In the year 1693, [the fortieth of his age] while this tedious affair was transacting, Mr. Bonnell entered into the marriage state. The lady he made choice of was Jane, daughter of Sir Albert Conyngham ; with whom he had for some years before entertained the ftrictest friendthip; as finding her temper and manner of life well suited to his own; and that the posseffed all those amiable qualities most to be defired and prized in the conjugal alliance. In this happy choice he begged God's direction, that every thought of his mind, and every step he thould take, might be over-ruled by his providence: that providence, to whote conduct and disposal he had long before refigned up himself and all his concerns, and whose motions he was determined, without the least reluctancy, to follow.

He continued in the married ftate for five years and five months : but the latter part of the time it pleased God to allow him but little health; the last year especially, when his disorders returned more frequently, and with greater violence than before; so as to stagger his resolutions of entering in

ly orders, thus far at least, that if he took upon him the sacred function, he would apply himself to the duties of it only so far as he was able, but without undertaking a parochial cure.

But all his desires in this respect were at length interrupted by that fatal fickness, which brought him to his end. In April 1699, he was

seized with a malignant fever, which then reigned very much in Dublin; his head was fo much affected by it that he had not the constant command of his thoughts, so defirable in those extremities : he had, however, at his last moments, some intervals of reason; and they were spent in those heavenly exercises wherein every good man would breathe out the fervours of a faithful soul : and which, no doubt, were to his, the blissful beginnings of endless praises above.

He died April 28, 1699, in the forty-sixth year of his age, and his body lies interred in St. John's church, Dublin : he left only one child, a daughter, since deceased.

He was master of all the accomplishing as well as necessary parts of learning : had thoroughly digested the Greek and Roman authors ; understood the French language perfectly, and had made good progress in the Hebrew. In philosophy and oratory he exceeded most of his contemporaries of the university; and applied himself, with great fuccess, to the mathematics and music. In the course of his studies he read several of the fathers :

: among his private papers some parts of the Greek fachers were found, particularly Synefius, translated by him into English. He read books of devotion with a very fenfible pleasure : but the Holy Scriptures



were his constant, unremitted ftudy. He read them, he thought of them; nay, he prayed over them ; abundance of his meditations taking their immediate rise from those pallages of scripture which he then read. Few better understood or praclised the arts of genteel conversation, and none more industriously avoided all discourse that looked affected and vain, or any way seemed to tend to the enhancing his own nierit: he feldom talked with any but he gained upon them: and had a peculiar art of obliging. His abilities for business rendered him univerfally esteemed: those who were obliged to attend him, were so received as if it had been his duty to wait on them.

It was his great study to give every one eale and dispatch ; and none knew what delays ineant where he was concerned or had power to remove them.

But these, though excellent in themselves, are things of an inferior nature, when compared with his piety towards God, his justice and charity to man, his fobriety and temperance with respect to himtelf.

The love of God was the first and greatest law of his foul. He had noble thoughts of christianity; and never refle&ed on the wonderful compaffion of God in fending his Son to die for us, without the strongest emotions of thankfulness.

His humility was most exemplary, and as it took the earliest root in his heart, it appeared in all his words, his actions, and his very countenance.

He was meek and patient in an high degree, and justly esteemed pride both the parent of most of our disorders, particularly of anger, impatience, and revenge; and the sting of all affliction which can befal human creatures. He constantly laboured after an unconcerned inditference to the world : he had constant prayers in his family, and was a regular attendant at those of the church : where the unseasonable falutations, wherein too many allow themselves, in ‘time of divine service were always a trouble to him. He had an high esteem for the liturgy of our church, not in the least abated by the great fervour of his private prayers. His charity, like that of heayen, rejoiced in doing good to all. He had a true concern both for the bodies and fouls of men ; and by his bounty to the one, he often made way for success to his charitable endeavours on the other. He was continually dispersing good books among young people, his clerks, tervants, and poor families, which he feconded with such instructions delivered with kindness and concern, as could not fail of leaving lasting impressions upon many of them. By the exactest computation, that his most intimate friends could make, he gave away the eighth part of his income to the poor ; and {ome years, when objects were numerous, saved nothing at all. When he heard that any had spoken reflectingly of him, he was hardly ever known to resent it: so much had grace in him got the mattery of nature, that the fole use he made of flanders and reflections, was, to examine himself—If he had never been guilty of detra&tion towards others; or, at leaft, heard them censured without striving to justify them : if he had, then he hoped what he then fuffered, was all the punishment which God. designed him for it: and if so, he cheerfully embraced it.

He was a most fincere, faithful, and zealous friend, and had all those qualities which could render friendthip desirable; firmness and resolution, integrity and openness, prudence and candour, generosity and love. He declined no trouble or hazard to serve his friends; he assisted, he advised them in all their difficulties and doubts. He had one property of a true friend very rarely to be met with, which was, always to deal plainly with those he loved, and tell them what he disliked in their conduct. But this he did in such a manner, with such tenderness, as by his reproofs to oblige the reproved, and fix theni the faster to his friendship. In a word, all his friends and relations, all who desired or needed his help, he studied to alist and relieve; treating them with the most obliging civility; comforting them when in affliction or trouble ; reproving them when in fin : fupplying them when in want; and all this with the single view to the conscientious discharge of his own duty; and that by all the services he was able to do them, he might engage them in the service of his great master, and make them his fellow candidates for everlasting blessedness. Thus we have given a sketch, though very imperfect, of this truly great

those a lawfull

We doubt not it will be sufficient to convince every rational mind, that his piety and goodness were of a strain rarely to be met with; and that the more we make him our rule and pattern, both in religious and civil life, the nearer we shall come to perfection. Let us then endeavour to live the life of the righteous, as we hope like him to meet with an happy end.



YEAR 1608; Being a Character and History of the Bishops during the Reigns of Queen

ELIZABETH, and King James ; and an additional Supply to Dr. GODwin's Catalogue. By Sir John HARRINGTON, Kt. Written for the private Use of Prince Henry. NUMBER VIII.- -BATH AND WELLS.

(Continued from page 13.)

BISHOP BARLOW. THE *HE next I am to write of is Bishop Barlow, of whom my authour ini

this booke faith little ; in the Latin Treatise there is somewhat more; and I will add a word to both. Bath (as I have noted before) is but a title in this Bishoprick, so as for many yeeres Bath had the name, but Wells had the game : but yet that one may know they be sisters, your Highnesse shall understand that this game I speak of which was one of the fairest of England, by certain booty play between a Protector and a Bishop (I suppose it was a Tietak) was like to have been lost with a why not, and to use rather another mans word than mine own to explain this metaphor : thus faith the latine relation of him. He was a man no less godly then learned, but not fo remarkable in any thing as in his fortunate offspring, for which Niobe and Latona might envy them, happy in his own children, more in their matches (to let passe his sonnes, of whom one is now Prebend in Wells, and esteemed most wortliy of such a father). He had five daughters whom he bestowed on five most worthy men, of which three are Bishops at this hour, the other for their merit are in mens expectation designed to the like dignity hereafter. Howbeit (faith he) in one thing this Prelate is to be deemed unfortunate, that while he was Bilhop his Sea received fo great a blow, losing at one clap, all the rents and revenues belonging to it. Thus he, and soon after he tells that for his marriage, he was deprived, and lived as a man banisht in Germany. Here is his praise, here is his dispraise. If he were deprived for a lawfull act, no marvel if he be deprived for an unlawful : fith then my authour compares his felicity with that of Niobe, I will alfo compare his misfortune with Pelens, making Ovids verse to serve my turn in changing byt a word or two.

Fælir of Natis fælir et conjuge Barlow,
Et cui si demas spoliati crimina templi
Omnia contigerunt ; hoc tanto crimine fontem

Accepit profugum patriu Germanica tellus, But God would not suffer this morfell to be quite swallowed, but that it choaked the feeders ; to say nothing in this place, but how the Protector was foretold by a poet, that he should lose his head.

Æßatis Sedes qui facras diruis ædes,

Pro certo credes quod Cephas perdere debes, I speak now anely of the spoile made under this Bifhop: scarce were five yeeres paft after Baths ruines, but as fast went the axes and hammers to work at Wells. The goodly hall covered with lead (because the roof might seem too low for fo large a room) was uncovered, and now this roofe reaches to the skie. The chapel of our lady late repaired by Stillington a place of great reverence and antiquity, was likewife defaced, and such was their thirst after ļead (I would they had drunk it fcalding) that they took the dead bodies of bishops out of their leaden coffins, and caft abroad the carcases scarce throughly putrified. The statues of braffe, and all the ancient monuments of kings, benefactors to that goodly Cathedral Church, went all the fame way, fold as my authour writes to an Alderman of London, who being then rich, and by this great bargain, thinking to have increast it, found it like aurum Tholonofum; for he to decayed after, no man knew how, that he brake in his majoralty. The ftatues for kings were fhipt for Bristoll, buť disdaining to be banisht out of their own country, chose rather to lie in St. Georges Channel, where the ship was drown'd. Let Atheists laugh at such losses, and call them mischances į but all that truly fear God will count them terrible judgements.

These things were, I will not say done, I will say at least suffered by this Bithop; but I doubt not but he repented hereof, and did pernance also in his banishment in sacco di cinere. But some will say to me, why. did he not fue to be restored to his Bishoprick at his return, finding it vacant, but rather accepted of Chichester : I have alked this question, and I have received this answer, by which I am half perswaded, that Wells also had their prophecies as well as Bath, and that this Bishop was premonftated (that I may not say predeftinate) to give this great wound to this Bishoprick. There remain yet in the body of Wells Church, about 30 feet high, two eminent images of stone fet there as is thought by Bishop Burnel that built the great hall there in the raigne of Ed. 1. but most certainly long before the raigne of H. 8. One of these images is a king crowned, the other is of a bithop mitred. This king in all proportions refembling H. 8. holdeth in his hand a child falling, the bishop Hath a woman and children about him. Now the old men of Wells had a tradition, that when there should be such a king, and such a bishop, then the Church should be in danger of ruine. This falling child they say was King Edward; the fruitfull bishop, they affirmed was Doctor Barlow, the Vol. III. Churchm. Mag. Oct. 1802.


firit first maried Bishop of Wells, and perhaps of England. This talk being rife in Wells in Queen Maries time, made him rather affect Chichester at his return than Wells, where not onely the things that were ruined, but those that remained serv'd for records and remembrances of his facriledge.

Or BISHOP THOMAS GODWIN. Of Bishop Gilbert Bourn I can add nothing, and of the other Gilbert but a word, that he was a good jufticer, as faith the same author, nisi quantenus homo uroris conjugis importunitate impulfis a veri uc recti tramite aberrarit, saving that sometimes being ruled by his wife, by her importunity he swerved from the rule of justice and sincerity, especially in persecuting the kindred of Bourn his predecessor. The fame went that he died very rich, but the same importunate woman caried it all away, that neither Church nor poore were the better for it. But for Doctor Godwin of whom I am to speak, I must with my authors leave add a word of mine own knowledge. He came to the place as well qualified for a Bishop as might be, unreprovably without fimonie, given to good hospitality, quiet, kind, affable, a widdower, and in the Queen's very good opinion, Non minor est virtus quam querere parta 'tueri, if he had held on as clear as he entred, I thould have highly extold him : but see his misfortune that first lost him the Queen's favour, and after forc't him to another mischief. Being as I said, aged, and diseased, and lame of the gout, le maried (as some thought for opinion of wealth) a widdow of London. A chief favourite of that time (whom I am sorry to have occafion to name again in this kind) had laboured to get the mannor of Banwell from this Bishoprick, and disdaining the repulse, now hearing this intempestive mariage, took advantage thereof, caused it to be told the Queen (knowing how much the misliked such matches) and instantly pursued the Bishop with letters and mandats for the mannor of Banwell for 100 yeeres. The good bishop not expecting such a sudden tempest, was greatly perplext, yet a while he held out and indured many sharp metlages from the Queen, of which my self carried him one, delivered me by my Lord of Leicetter, who seemed to favour the Bishop, and millike with the Knight for molesting him, but they were soon agreed like Pilat and Herod to condemn Chrilt. Never was harmless man fo traduced to his soveraign, that he had maried a girle of twenty years old, with a great portion, that he had conveyed half the Bishoprick to her, that (because he had the gout) he could not stand to his mariage, with such scotts to make him ridiculous to the vulgar, and odious to the Queen.

The good Earl of Bedford happening to be present when these tales were told, and knowing the Londoners widdow the Bishop had maried, said merrily to the Queen after his dry manner, Madam, I know not how much the woman is above twenty, but I know a sonne of hers is but little under forty; but this rather mar'd then mended the matter. One said, Majus peccatum habet. Another told of three forts of mariage, of God's making, as when Adam and Eve two young folks were coupled, of man's making, when one is old, and the other young, as Joseph's mariage, and of the Devill's making, when two old folks marry not for comfort, but for covetousness, and such they said was this. The conclusion to the premisses was this, that to pacifie his persecutors, and to save Banwell, he was fain with Wilscombe for 99 yeeres (I would it had been

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