The life & death of Mr. Joseph Alleine, late teacher of the church at Taunton, in Somersetshire, assistant to Mr. Newton whereunto are annexed diverse Christian letters of his, full of spiritual instructions tending to the promoting of the power of Godliness, both in persons and families, and his funeral sermon, preached by Mr. Newton.

CHAP. II. A Brief Relation of his early setting forth in the Christian Race, from his Childhood: Also some Memorials of his Industrious and Prosperous pur∣suit of Learning, and of his singular Piety during his Abode in the University. Written by an Eye-Witness thereof.

MR. Joseph Allein, Born in the Devizes in Wiltshire, in the Year 1633. During his Child-hood, shewed forth a singular sweetness of Disposition, and a remarkable Dili∣gence in every thing he was then imployed about. The first observable Zeal of Religion that appeared in him, was in the eleventh year of his Age, about which time he was noted to be very diligent in private Prayer, and so fixed in that Duty, that he would not be disturbed, or moved by the coming of any Person accidentally into the places of his Retirement. This and other Fruits of a Serious and Gracious Spirit, were the common observation of the Family. From this time forward, the whole course of his Youth, was an even-spun thred of Godly Conversation, which was rendered more amiable, by his sweet and pleasant deportment towards all he conversed with. While he thus openly began to run his Christian Race, his Brother Mr. Edward Allein, a worthy Minister of the Go∣spel departed this Life: Whereupon he earnestly desired to be brought up in Preparation, to succeed him in the Work of the Ministry. Which good Motion, his Father gladly hearkned unto, and speedily prepared to putit in Execution. Such was his great diligence at School, that he redeemed for his Book, the time allotted for Recreation. In the space of about four years, he attained to very good knowledge in the Latin and Greek Tongues, and was by his School-Master, adjudged fit for University-Studies. After which, he abode some time with his Father in the Country, where a worthy Minister

of the Place read Logick to him: And when he was about sixteen years Old, he was placed in Lincoln Colledge in Oxford.

He had not been long in the University, but a Wiltshire Place becoming void in Corpus Christi Colledge, he was cho∣sen SCHOLAR of that House: The Pregnancy of his Parts, assuring all that his own MERITS were the SOLE FRIENDS, the ONLY MANDAMUS which brought him in.

Being entered and setled, he gave both early and constant Proofs, of his indefatigable Industry; Signalizing thereby his love to Learning, and evidently Demonstrating how much he abhorr'd to be found a Drone in such a Hive. He esteem∣ed a Colledge an otherguess place than a VICTUALING HOUSE, and coming into this with a Nobler design, than onely to TAKE COMMONS: He thought himself happy in nothing so much, as the advantage he had gain'd for the best Aquists.

I have known too many, who in the very Places which they have got by their Parts, have lost the Parts which got them their Places; and peradventure had been excellent excellent Scholars, had they never had those Incouragements to be so, which they unhappily won from their Competitors. For Idleness enervates the strength of Nature, and makes those Loggs that might have been Mercuries; but this Person was none of those. He quitting himself so well at the Election, was but a Pledge and Earnest of his doing better afterwards. He made it appear to all observing him, that when he stood, he stood not so much for a Place, as for the Accomplishments by his future studiousness attainable in it, demeaning himself like one, who even in the dayes of his Vanity, well understood how prophane a thing it was to live in a School of Learning, no otherwise than as if it were a Sanctuary for Lasiness, or a Place priviledg'd with nothing else but Leave and Opportu∣nity to eat the Founders Bread, with no other sweat of the Brow, than what's provok'd in a Ball Court.

Never had Learning a truer Drudge since she kept House in Oxford. At her Work, he was both day and night, think∣ing all time too little, no pains too much that he spent in her Service: When but a School-Boy (as I have heard) he was

observed to be so studious, that he was known as much by this Periphrasis [The Lad that will not play] as by his name: And sure I am, when in the University, he was so generously and ingeniously bookish, that he deserved to be called, The Scholar, who by his good will would do nothing else but Pray and Study.

Courteous he was, and very civil to all Acquaintance: But if they came to visit him at Studying times, though they were sure enough to find him within, yet withal so busie general∣ly with better Company, as to have no leisure to let them in. And if at this they were moved, and murmured, and went away offended with him, he cared not. That notable Prin∣ciple of Joachimus Fortius, which shut him up, bearing him out, and being his relief in all such Cases, Viz. Better it is that they should wonder at thy rudeness, than thou shouldest lose thy time; for only one or two will take notice of that, but all Posterity would be sensible of this.

His Appetite to his Business being that to him, which Al∣larms in their Chambers are wont to be to others; seldom it was that he could be found in Bed after four in the Morning, though he had stayed up on the same occasion on which he then rose, till almost One over-night.

For though whilst Junior Scholar, he obtained many weekly SLEEPING DAYS for others, yet in many years he could hardly vouchsafe himself so much as one.

And as thus he begrudg'd himself his Rest, so thus also his ve∣ry Food: It being as familiar with him to give away his Com∣mons (at least) once, as with any others to eat theirs twice a day. As if he who was never satisfied how many Volumns soe∣ver he devoured, had looked upon it as a kind of gluttony, to eat that Meal, the time of eating which might without preju∣dice to Health, have been better spent upon a Book. Porphy∣ries Wish, viz. That he were able to live without eating, and drinking at all, that so he might be wholly taken up about nobler things, Is sure the with of thousands in the Leardned World. Certain I am it was his, and that if Piety would have suffered him, and they had not been such dears Friends, he would have fallen out with God, for tying his Soul to such a Body, as could not subsist without (what he would often call no better than time-consuming things) Meat, and Drink, & Sleep.

That this his laborious Studiousness, was as delightful and pleasant to him, as the highest Voluptuousness can be to the most sensual Sot; I conclude not onely from the constancy of it, but from his charging Matrimony, to which afterwards he became a Subject, with no greater tyranny, than the neces∣sity which it laid upon him, of being kinder sometimes unto himself, than he was wont to be in Oxford. For being Mar∣ried, an intimate Friend of his of the same Colledge, who had thoughts of changing his Condition, wrote to him, and (in a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 manner) desired of him an Account of the Incon∣veniences of Marriage; to whom he returned this pleasant (but very significant) Answer. Thou wouldest know the Inconve∣niences of a Wife, and I will tell thee; First of all, whereas thou risest constantly at four in the Morning, or before, she will keep thee till about six. Secondly, Whereas thou usest to study fourteen Hours in the day, she will bring thee to eight or nine. Thirdly, Whereas thou art wont to forbear one Meal a day at least for thy Studies, she will bring thee to thy Meat: If these be not Mischiefs enough to afright thee, I know not what thou art.

Through his Industry (with God's Blessing on it) he ex∣ceedingly prospered in his Studies, and quickly appeared a no∣table Proficient. He would often say, he chiefly affected rati∣onal Learning, valuing Skill in Languages, onely for the sake of things, and those things most, which were of all most like∣ly to improve his Judgment. And the truth of his words was sufficiently evident: For all that knew him, knew him to be as good a Linguist, so as smart a Disputant, and an excellent Philosopher. When he performed any Academical Exercises, either in the Hall, or in the Schools; he seldom or never came off without the Applause, or (at least) Approbation of all, but the envious; who also themselves, even by their very Detractions, in spight of their Teeth, commended him; there being to the Ingenuous, no surer sign almost of his ha∣ving acquitted himself well, than that such, as they could not endure it should be said so.

Certain I am, his pregnant Parts, and early Accomplish∣ments, were so much taken notice of in the Colledge, that so soon almost as he was but Batchellor of Arts, he was even com∣pelled to Commence a Tutor; and presently intrusted (to

speak within compass) with as great a number of Pupils as any in the House. Some of his Scholars are now Graduates in Divinity, and singular Ornaments of that flourishing Soci∣ety, (as Mr. John Rosewel, B. D. Mr. Nicholas Horseman, B. D. &c.) others of them, who left the University, have not gone without considerable preferments in the Church, (as Mr. John Peachil, lately Lecturer at St. Clements Danes, with∣out Temple-Bar; Mr. Christopher Coward, Prebendary of Wells, &c.) And I make no question but all of them (which are yet alive) honour his memory, and will at any time be ready to express the grateful sense which they retain of the advan∣tage they received from his prudent instructions and pious Examples.

'Tis true indeed, he had no advancement proportionable to his Merits whilst he staid amongst us: But if there were any thing to be blam'd for that, 'twas nothing else but his own Self-denyal. For a Chaplains place becoming void, he chose that before a Fellowship, which he knew well enough, in a little time, would of course, and by right, have been certainly his. And this choice having been made by him at first deliberately, he never after in the least repented, but rather often reflected on with a great deal of content and comfort. For he had alwayes such an huge affection for Pray∣er, that he and his Friend could hardly ever walk and dis∣course together, but before they parted (at his desire) they must also go and Pray together. And what a pleasure then may we think it was to him, twice a day to engage a whole Society, in so dear an Exercise, with a Let us pray! Frequent∣ly indeed have I heard him say, He prized the Imployment a∣bove that, which generally we reckoned much better Prefer∣ment, and look'd upon it as his honour and happiness.

And 'twas well with us that so he did, it being hardly possible that the duty of the place should have been by any discharged better than it was by him. We were not used to a great deal of Noise, vain Tautologies, crude Effusions, untelligible Sense, or mysterious Non-sence, instead of Prayer. His Spirit was serious, his Gesture reverent, his Words few, but premeditated and well weighed, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, so∣lid, and to the full expressive of his as truly humble as ear∣nest desire. He loathed the sawciness, which went by the

name of Holy Boldness, and drew near to God; not as if he had been going to play with his Mate, but as became a Crea∣ture overaw'd with the Majesty of his great Creator. He prayed with the Spirit, and the Understanding also; confes∣sed Sin with real Grief, inward Hatred, and Detestation; and beg'd the Mercies he came to beg, like one that felt the want and worth of what he beg'd, with Faith and Fervency, and true Importunity; his Affections working, but working rationally as well as strongly.

And this (as I doubt not it prevailed above) so it had on us the more powerful influence, because we found it to be no meer Religious Fit, but exactly agreeable to the habitual frame and disposition of the Man. 'Tis a shrewd reflection which Suidas makes on the Philosopher Sallust, (how truly I know not, he is neither civil nor just to some) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Sallust's carriage was strange to all men; For though when he read his Philosophy Lectures, he did it gravely and very solemnly; yet at other times he plaid the Child, and that most ridiculously. And there are too many, both Chaplains and Preachers, who justly merit as bad a Censure: Whilst Praying and Preaching, they appear demure, and mighty devout; yet take them out of their Desks, and Pulpits, and they are as light, as vain, and frothy; yea, extreamly disso∣lute as any others. But it was not so with this Person: For he was alwayes composed and serious, grave and reve∣rend, above his Age. He set God alwayes before him, and where-ever he was, laboured to live as in his Presence. It was his solemn business to be Religious, his great endeavour to walk by Rule; his main design in all his wayes, to approve himself unto his Father, which saw in secret, and his daily ex∣ercise to keep a Conscience void of offence, both towards God and towards man.

As for the pleasures and delights of Sin, he highly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and abhorred them; was so above them, that he could not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 them: Quam 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉 carere! How 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was it to him (as said once St. Austine) to want those 〈◊〉〈◊〉! And as for lawful delights and pleasures, although he did 〈◊〉〈◊〉 unto, and now and then solace a while, and

entertain himself with them, yet how little was his heart un∣to them, or was he (generally) taken with them! He was as formal in using them, as some Christians are in God's Ser∣vice; as they sometimes do pray, as if indeed they prayed not; and hear, as if they heard not; so he rejoyced in such things as these, as if indeed he rejoyced not. He looked up∣on them, compared with others, as upon his Righteousness, compared with Christ's, as very vanity, yea, dross and dung. His conversation being in Heaven, his sweetest Comforts, and most prised Refreshments, were Divine and Heavenly. His Soul took often a delightful prospect of Eternity, viewing the Regions of Bliss and Glory, looking wishly at (her Fathers Seat) the Mount of Joy, aspiriring after a nobler Mansion, and hugging her self in a comfortable perswasion, that it would not be long ere she should be in it. And hereupon as he little minded any Earthly glory, so he little minded or cared for the poor and empty delights of sense.

However, he was not morosly pious, nor did his Affection to God and Goodness, and the things Above, make him either a Timon or a Cynic; (It had not then been so true and genu∣ine, and of so right a kind as it was) Homilitical Virtue he as much excelled in as any other, and the decried Morality found ever with him very great respect, being recogniz'd as an integral part of his Religion.

He was of as sweet a disposition, and of as highly civil a conversation, as a man (subject to the common frailties of humane nature) almost could be. He had scarce a gesture which did not seem to speak, and by a powerful and charm∣ing Rhetcrick, affect all whom he conversed with. Were it not that so many other moral Perfections and Excellencies besides that, it might as truly be said him, as, by the Historian, was of the Emperour, in respect of his clemency, That he was Totus ex comitate, made up as it were of nothing else but Courtesie and Affability.

For a Friend, I think I may safely say, He was one of the truest that ever Person had interest in; and withal, as plea∣sant as a serious Christian could well wish. He loved not rashly, but where he loved, he loved intirely; and who ever came to be entertained in his Affections, were sure to find a warm Lodging: There was no more but only one thing,

which he thought too much for any, for whom he thought not his Love too good. He could not sin (knowingly, and willingly) for any Friend he had on Earth. When Lelius in the presence of the Romane Consuls, (who after thecondemnation of Tiberius 〈◊〉〈◊〉, pursued all that had been for∣merly intimate with him) came to enquire of Caius Blosius, his chiefest Friend, what he was willing to have done for 〈◊〉〈◊〉: He answered, All things: What all things, repli∣ed Lelius? Suppose he had willed you to burn our Temples, would you have done it at his request? I know, said Blosius, he could never command it; but if he had, I had obeyed him. I confess this Friend did never dare to be such a Friend, or any thing like him: But Usque ad Aras, so far as lawfully and conscientiously he might do any thing, he stuck at no∣thing wherein he might serve, pleasure, or gratifie them he lov'd.

And yet his love was not ingrossed by his Friends onely; for whilst to them he shewed himself friendly, good nature as well as Christianity, obliged him to be kind to all, and (ac∣cording to his ability) to the Poor bountiful. He was too frugal to throw away his Charity, yet not so covetous as to with-hold it when he met with Objects to whom 'twas due. He did not think the little he had so much his own, as that his necessitous Brethren might not claim a part in it; and therefore gave them as if he had been paying Debts, and not bestowing Alms. But of all most admirable was his affection to the Souls of others, and his desire to do good to them. This indeed was most conspicuous, and seemed to shew,

Velut inter Ignes Luna minores.

Much like the Moon appearing bigger, and shining brighter than the other Stars. The sage Pythagoras, I remember, gave this very mystical, but wise advice unto his Scholars, (〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉) By no means to eat their own Brains; intending by it, (as 'tis conceived) that they should not keep their Reason (of which the Brains is an immediate Instrument) unto themselves, but still employ it for the

advantage of others. And sure this Person did forbear to eat, but by his abstinence, fed many others with his Brains, i. e. his inlightned, improved Reason. Some there are, to my knowledge, who at this day do verily think, they should never have found the way to live, to live for ever, if he had liv'd unto himself. Eminent was his charity to the poor Prisoners in Oxford, Goal; among whom first (as the reverend Mr. Perkins did at Cambridge) of his own 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he began to Preach, and held on constantly (〈◊〉〈◊〉 he re∣mained in Town) once a fortnight, for a year and upwards, encouraging them to give attendance on his Ministry, by a considerable allowance of Bread (that week he preached) at his proper cost and charges. Frequent visits also was he us'd to make at other times, to other persons in the World that were but mean and low; his main design (together with the relieving of their temporal wants) being to assist their Souls, and help them forward in their way to Heaven. And indeed, in all his Converses, where-ever he was, he was like Fire, (as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was used to say of 〈◊〉〈◊〉) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; Warming, Refreshing, Quick∣ning all that were about him, and kindling in them the like zeal for God and goodness, which he had in himself. Who∣ever they were that came to visit, or to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with him, it was their own fault if they got not by him so much good, as to be for ever the better for him. It was hardly pos∣sible to be in his company, and not to hear such things from him, as, if well weighed, might have been enough to make one out of conceit with Sin, and in love with Vertue, as long as one lived. Though he did not say (as Titus once) yet by his actions, we may judge he thought that he had even quite lost a day, when none had gained somewhat by him. He lived as if he had been quickned with that saying, (which I have somewhere met with in Tertullian) Quid prodest esse, quod esse non prodest? To what purpose is it to live, and not to live to some good purpose.

But this was that (this ardent love to the Souls of men) that quickly depriv'd us of his company, it carried him down into the Countrey, where, how he demeaned and carried him∣self, let others speak.