especial care that none shall be recommended to the bishop, until, after long and diligent examination, there is an evidence on the part of the candidate of a heartfelt desire to surrender himself to God. The Church requires that he should-it does not seem that the minister has any right to make a smaller demand. If all that is done by the pastor, be merely to examine the candidates in the Catechism, as a matter of form, and, after a few answers given, the certificate is signed, cases must frequently occur where improper persons will be confirmed; but if the pastor uses all diligence to examine, to instruct, to warn, and to exhort, if he has many interviews with his young people, as unquestionably should be the case, not only for examination, but for exhortation,- he will very rarely be at a loss to discover who ought, and who ought not, to be admitted to this rite. And he should never, under any circumstances, through fear or favour, give a certificate of fitness when his conscience assures him that he would act wrongly.

The minister is not unfrequently, indeed, placed in very trying circumstances with reference to confirmation, when he feels himself bound to declare a candidate unfit. It was my lot to be so placed, not very long after I entered upon my cure. Notice was forwarded to me by the bishop, that he would hold a confirmation at the parish church. This notice was sent so long before the appointed day, that I had abundance of time to converse with the candidates, and to arrive at a tolerably fair acquaintance with their proficiency in religious knowledge, and with the state of their religious feelings. I used to assemble them in several classes, never exceeding eight in each. I invariably commenced our meetings with prayer, and reading a portion of the Bible, which I endeavoured to explain in the simplest language. I then examined them, not merely in the Catechism, but in Scripture history, and as to their views of some of the leading doctrines of the Gospel: after this, I used to converse for a short time privately with each, that I might become more fully acquainted with their characters.

There were nine candidates on the occasion referred to, to whom I could not conscientiously give tickets, one of whom was the only daughter of the lay-rector; a person, as I have already stated, by no means favourable to my ministry, but who took every occasion, in public and private, to represent me as an enemy to the Church, and to thwart my projects for the improvement of the parish. A man of no religious principle, his family was conducted with an entire abhorrence of any thing approaching to what was termed Methodism. There was generally a party on the Sunday, by which the servants were prevented from attending Divine service, and he very seldom was present himself. Of very low origin, and extremely illiterate, he had amassed a large fortune in trade; and having purchased an estate in the neighbourhood, and with it the great tithes of the parish, he had been appointed a magistrate, somewhat to the annoyance of the neighbouring gentry. His aim was to get into good society; and with this view he spared no expense in the mode of his entertainments, or in the sums paid for the instruction of his daughter,- his only child, and his idol. Masters of every kind were procured at the highest price; her education was of the first class; she played, danced, sang; she was conversant with one or two modern languages: but she was utterly deficient in religious knowledge. I was requested to examine the young lady at home, and not at the regular time appointed by me at the vestry-room. To gratify the father, I complied with the request; but found her entirely ignorant of the first principles of religion. Her governess was a foreigner, and seemed quite as uninformed on the subject as herself. I called frequently, in the hope of making some serious impression on her mind, but in vain; she talked of the day of confirmation as if it were a mere holyday. I felt that I

was put in a position of no ordinary difficulty. I resolved, however, to refuse the ticket testifying that I was satisfied with her fitness; and by God's grace I kept to my resolution. This, as might be supposed, gave unspeakable offence. The father knew no bounds to his indignation. He desired me, in the most imperious manner, to leave the house. He wrote off immediately to the vicar, complaining of my conduct, declaring that I was doing incalculable injury to the parish, and urging my removal from the cure as soon as possible. It is hardly necessary to say, that the vicar returned an answer to this complaint in the spirit of a Christian minister. The day of confirmation arrived, and, to my astonishment, the lay-rector's daughter appeared among the candidates; the tickets had been delivered to one of the bishop's attendants at the door of the church; and how she contrived to pass without one, or whether she obtained one from another quarter, I cannot say. She approached the communion-table, and was confirmed; while the father, who was near, looked at me with an air of the most imperious triumph. The ceremony concluded, the bishop took his leave; and I returned home, thanking God I was not to blame in the matter, and convinced at the same time that I had now the influence of an implacable enemy to contend against, and that every step I moved would be watched narrowly with no very friendly eye.

A ball was given in the town by the county members one night during the week after confirmation, at which the lay-rector attended, accompanied by his daughter, who but a few days before had sworn to renounce the pomps and vanities of the world. It was her first appearance at a public ball. Dressed in all the extravagance of fashion, and certainly an elegant and fashionable girl, she attracted the notice of a young officer, who was stationed at a neighbouring town-a man of the most dissolute habits, though of a high familyand with him actually eloped before the ball was concluded. The wretchedness of the father, when the discovery was made, may readily be conceived; he was nearly frantic with rage and alarm. He was carried home and put to bed, and seized with a violent brain-fever. His life was for many weeks considered in imminent danger. The fugitives eluded all pursuit. He was a young man of family, as I have said, but totally destitute of principle. He had seen her at some races a few weeks before, and had resolved to carry her off; all therefore was prepared by him for the elopement. The unhappy girl never returned to the house of her father. He would never see her again; nor did he ever mention her name. Her room was kept locked up; and during his illness, all her books, instruments, and drawings, were carefully removed. She died, in less than two years, of a broken heart, caused by the ill treatment of him who was regarded as her husband; sinking into the grave without a friend to soothe her dying pillow. She breathed her last while her betrayer was immersed in scenes of unhallowed revelry. What change may have been wrought on her heart before she was called away, is known to the Searcher of hearts alone; but more utter ignorance on religious subjects I have never witnessed, even in the poorest and most illiterate, than in this unhappy girl. The effect on the father was not evanescent. He recovered in time his bodily health; but he retired from society. He was a widower; he never appeared in public, not even at church; and to repeated inquiries at his gate, the same answer was returned, that he had no wish to see or converse with me. He was a stranger to the comforts of religion. He had built his happiness on a sandy foundation. A nephew, to whom his wealth was left, was the only one admitted to his society.

Did I act right in refusing the ticket? I cannot doubt that I did. Often have I felt grateful that I had strength to oppose the wishes of a person so

influential as the father; often have I prayed for this child of misery, that a new heart might be given her, and a right spirit implanted within her, and that she might be led a humble suppliant to the throne of grace. She resided in a far-distant county, or I should have endeavoured to visit her; many were the inquiries I made, but I never could learn in what frame of mind she died.

Such is the affecting detail of an occurrence, the circumstances of which are now perfectly vivid to my mind, though many years have intervened since it took place. I have felt by it more and more convinced of the necessity of making confirmation a very serious and important matter. My notions on the subject have been often regarded as too strict; I have been reasoned with again and again. My views of the limits of worldly conformity have been represented as calculated to prejudice the youthful mind against religion. But I have gone on the same principle with which I set out, of diligent examination of candidates, not only as to their knowledge of religion, but as to how far it is influencing the heart; and I may yet bring forward another circumstance connected with this same confirmation, which has been to my mind a source of unspeakable comfort. I am ill qualified, indeed, to give advice to my brethren in the ministry; yet would I urge on every brother the necessity of doing all in his power to improve a time of confirmation for the spiritual benefit of his flock; of those advanced in years, by bringing before them the vows they once made; and of the younger branches, by seeking to impress them forcibly with a sense of the solemn promises which they are about to make. It is a golden opportunity, not to be let slip. It may, in the dispensations of mercy, be the turning-point in many an individual's life; that period to which he shall look back with gratitude and satisfaction in this present world, and which will be vividly present to the thoughts even through a joyous eternity; when He who called them by his grace on earth shall exalt them to the participation of never-ending glory.

Biography.

THE LIFE OF ROBERT GROSSETESTE, OR GROSTHEAD, BISHOP OF LINCOLN.*

OUR blessed Lord, when he founded his Church upon a rock, promised that the gates of hell never should prevail against it. And, truly, well has he redeemed his pledge. For ever since he first collected his little band of followers at Jerusalem, and bade them go forth preaching the glad tidings of salvation throughout the world, he has preserved to himself a people— very frequently but a small remnant—but still a people formed to declare his praise. And while the Church has often been corrupted with heresy, and assailed by determined hostility, yet neither persecution from without, nor apostacy within, has been able entirely to overthrow her bulwarks. The ark, though tossed by many unquiet billows, has still floated safely on the wide ocean, bearing a precious freight, even those whom the Lord had himself shut in. In what are commonly called the middle ages, true religion was probably at its lowest ebb. Learning had declined, and the doctrines of the papacy, now well-nigh matured, overspread the kingdoms of Europe with a gloom like the shadow of death. But even then there were a few chosen men whom the Lord regarded as his own; just as in the darkest night there is always some faint gleam of light, some stars shining • Much information respecting this prelate will be found in Fox, vol. i.; and Milner, cent. xiii.

occasionally with watery ray between the heavy driving clouds. Such a one was the celebrated Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln in the thirteenth century; of whom I proceed to give an account, which will, I trust, be not uninteresting to my readers.

This remarkable man was born about the year 1175, of obscure parentage, at Stradbrook in Suffolk. He was educated at Oxford; where, having become skilled in the Greek language, he made himself master of Aristotle he also acquired here some knowledge of Hebrew. But not content with the opportunities of study afforded him at home, he went upon the continent; and at Paris, then the most renowned seminary of learning in Europe, he perfected his knowledge of Hebrew and Greek, and became, as far as was possible in that age, a deeply-read theologian and distinguished philosopher. So great, it appears, was the fame of his acquirements, that he was supposed to. have been supernaturally assisted, and was set down by the people as a magician.

rance.

After his return to England, Grosseteste was made first archdeacon of Leicester, and then, in the year 1235, bishop of Lincoln. But though thus raised to posts of worldly dignity, he preserved always a humble deportment. While archdeacon, he thus addresses a correspondent:-"Nothing that occurs in your letters ought to give me more pain than your styling me a person invested with authority, and endued with the lustre of knowledge. So far am I from thinking as you do, that I feel myself unfit even to be the disciple of a person of authority; moreover, in innumerable matters which are objects of knowledge, I perceive myself enveloped in the darkness of ignoBut did I really possess the great qualities you ascribe to me, He alone would be worthy of the praise, and the whole of it ought to be referred unto him, to whom we daily say, Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy name give the glory.'" This lowliness was doubtless wrought in him by that God who, while he resisteth the proud, giveth grace unto the humble. With the same modesty, Grosseteste, when he became a bishop, used to subscribe himself, "Robert, by Divine permission, the poor minister of the church of Lincoln." The extent of that see was then much greater than even at the present day: but the new prelate, with characteristic zeal, bestirred himself in this vast field of labour. He made frequent visitations, preaching usually to the clergy, and requiring some of the Dominican or Franciscan friars to lecture to the people. The abuses which prevailed he anxiously endeavoured to reform; and though his doctrinal views were very confused, and his superstition great, yet his conduct was marked by a steady and consistent desire to promote what he deemed for the advantage of the Church. To the friars of the orders just named he was particularly partial. They had not been long instituted, and he thought he saw, in their superior learning and activity, sufficient proof that they were superior to the parish priests. He therefore encouraged their preaching; he selected them for his intimate associates; he held conferences with them on the Scriptures; and had at one time thoughts of himself entering the Franciscan order. This preference naturally awakened against him the envy and dislike of the parochial clergy of his diocese.

1

At length his eyes were in some degree opened to the real character of the friars, and he perceived that they were the willing instruments of the pope in unjustly extorting money. These demands the bishop determined strenuously to resist. And when, in 1247, two Franciscan friars presented themselves before him, and said that they were authorised by a papal bull to require six thousand marks from the diocese of Lincoln: "Friars," said the upright prelate, "with all reverence to his holiness be it spoken, the demand is as dishonourable as it is impracticable. The whole body," he added, with much shrewdness," of the clergy and people are concerned in it equally with me. For me, then, to give a definite answer in an instant to such a demand, before the sense of the kingdom is taken upon it, would be rash and absurd."

But he was still by no means aware of the utter depravity of the papal see, and of the futility of every attempt at reformation by its authority. To the pope he applied for power to correct the abuses of the religious orders; and in 1248 he obtained from the then pontiff, Innocent IV., letters for this purpose. But when he proceeded to act upon them, and to take into his hands the rents of the monasteries, in order the better to provide for the instruction of the people, he was met with the fiercest opposition, and obliged to travel to Lyons, where the pope then resided, to meet the accusations against him. Innocent, whose interest it was now made to support the monks, decided against the Bishop of Lincoln. "I relied," said the latter in astonishment, "on your letters and promises, but am entirely disappointed." "What is that to you?" replied the pope; "you have done your part, and we are disposed to favour them: is your eye evil, because I am good?" "O money," said the bishop, in a low but indignant voice, "O money, how great is thy power, especially at the court of Rome!" But all that he could do was to bear his testimony against the fagrant injustice with which he had been treated. He delivered, therefore, some copies of a sermon to the pope, and to some of the cardinals, in which he boldly exposed the abuses of the appropriation of churches to religious houses, the appeals of the monks to the pope, and the pope's dispensing power. His remonstrances, however, produced no effect; and he returned home so dispirited, as to be resolved to resign his bishopric. But as, on consideration, he felt that by such a step the Church would only be the more easily ravaged, he determined to abide at his post, and to do whatever good the misery of the times would allow.

Grosseteste was peculiarly alive to the importance of the pastoral charge. "I dare not," says he, in one of his letters," confer the care of souls on any man who will not sedulously discharge the office in person. The office itself is of the last importance; it requires a governor always resident, who applies himself to it with vigilance, prudence, diligence, and fervour; who preaches the word of the Lord in season and out of season; who exhibits himself an example of good works; who, when he gives salutary admonition, and is not regarded, can grieve and lament; who shakes his hands from holding bribes; who so evidently applies to pious uses the pecuniary fines which he receives from the punishment of faults, that he is perfectly free from all suspicion of selfishness and avarice

on that account; who is delighted when he can with a good conscience acquit the accused; whom no prejudice, passion, entreaty, or gift, or partiality, can divert from the path of rectitude; who delights in labour, and whose whole desire is to profit souls."

It was not likely that a bishop, animated with such principles, would easily yield to the abominable policy then pursued by the court of Rome, of thrusting into the richest benefices Italian ecclesiastics, who, ignorant of the language of the people, never intended to instruct them, but merely exacted their revenues. Accordingly, Grosseteste positively refused to allow these intruding foreigners in his diocese, and would cast the papal bulls with indignation from his hands, saying, that he should be the friend of Satan if he should commit the care of souls to such unmeet overseers. The pope, however, resolved to compel his obedience; and, on his declining to institute an Italian perfectly unacquainted with English to a valuable living in his diocese, he suspended him. But the sentence appears to have had little or no effect; for the bishop continued to exercise his functions, and to apply himself with his usual zeal to the better regulation of the clergy.

In 1253 a still more remarkable instance of his boldness occurred. Pope Innocent was desirous of preferring his nephew, an Italian youth, in the cathedral of Lincoln. He therefore directed the bishop, by "provision," as it was called, to secure to the young man the first canonry that should be vacant. This provision" consisted in the nominating an individual to a benefice before it was vacant, under the pretence of avoiding the evils which would result if a post were any length of time unfilled. Grosseteste refused to obey the pope's directions; who hereupon declared that any other appointment to the canonry in question should be null and void, and sent a peremptory mandate to enforce instant compliance with his will; suspending, after his usual custom, of his own mere authority, all rules and customs to the contrary. But the bishop was resolute, and, in an admirable epistle, while he preserved the greatest respect for the see of Rome, exposed in strong terms the sinfulness of the pope's conduct. Innocent was excited to the utmost fury at this new instance of fearless determination, and in a rage exclaimed, "What old doting, frantic wretch is this, so boldly and rashly to judge of my doings? By sweet St. Peter and Paul, were it not but that upon our own clemency and good nature we are restrained, we should hurl him down to such confusion, that we would make him an example to all the world. For is not the king of England our vassal, who would, at our pleasure and beck, imprison him and put him to utter shame ?" Some of the cardinals endeavoured to moderate their master's anger, and urged that it was not expedient for them to proceed against that bishop in such a rigorous manner. "For," said they, "to confess the truth to your holiness, it is but very truth that he affirmeth, neither can we condemn him therefore. He is a catholic man, yea, also a holy man, more holy and also religious than we ourselves; a man of excellent wit and excellent life; so as it is thought among all the prelates he hath not his better, nor yet his like. This is not unknown both to the French and English clergy uni

versally, neither can our contradiction prevail against him. The truth of this his epistle perhaps is known now to many, and shall stir up many against us: for he hath the name to be a quiet philosopher, and singularly learned in all the tongues, both Greek, Latin, and Hebrew; zealous in justice, a reader of divinity in the schools, a preacher amongst the people, a lover of chastity, and a persecutor of simony." They entreated the pope, therefore, to connive at Grosseteste's disobedience, for fear of exciting a tumult in the Church; for it was well known, they said, that one day a defection would arise from the Romish see. But Innocent paid no attention to their expostulations; he excommunicated Grosseteste, and nominated another to the bishopric of Lincoln. His rage, however, proved harmless: the bishop appealed to the tribunal of Christ, and disregarded the decree. And such was his credit and authority in the world, that he continued in unmolested possession of his dignity.

His mortal race, however, was now nearly over; he was soon to be freed from the persecution of ungodly men, and to be safely landed on those shores where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." In the summer of the same year, 1253, he was seized with a mortal disease. And now he saw in a still clearer light the enormities of the popedom. "I am convinced," was his dying testimony, "that both the pope, unless he amend his errors, and the friars, except they endeavour to restrain him, will be deservedly exposed to everlasting death." "Christ," he said, conversing with his chaplains, "Christ came into the world to save souls; ought not he, then, who takes pains to ruin souls to be denominated antichrist? Our God built the universe in six days, but he laboured more than thirty years to restore man when fallen. Is not, then, the destroyer of souls the antichrist, and the enemy of God?" He went on to reprobate the arts used by the friars in amassing money for the crusades, and said that he had seen documents authorised by the pope, promising that those who had by their wills left money for this purpose should be dealt with in judgment according to the sum they had given. It was with many tears that he uttered these words, deeply lamenting the evils he exposed. And then, his voice having failed him, he breathed out his last sigh for the miserable condition of the Church. He died at Buckden Palace, Oct. 9th, 1253; and was buried in his own cathedral of Lincoln; Boniface, archbishop of Canterbury, attending his funeral. Innocent received the news of his death with savage exultation: "I rejoice," said he, "and let every true son of the Roman Church rejoice with me, that my great enemy is removed." And then he ordered letters to be written to King Henry III., requiring him to take up the bishop's body, to cast it out of the church, and burn it. But it does not appear that this miserable purpose of revenge was ever executed. For Innocent himself died the next year, and is reported to have suffered much torment of conscience for his atrocious conduct towards Grosseteste. The superstitious spirit of the times attributed this to a vision or dream, in which the bishop is said to have summoned the wicked pope to judgment.

His character is thus given by a contemporary

historian: "The holy Bishop Robert departed this world which he never loved, and which was always to him as a place of banishment. He was the open reprover both of my lord the pope and of the king, and the censurer of the prelates, the corrector of monks, the director of priests, the instructor of the clergy, the supporter of scholars, the preacher to the laity, the punisher of incontinence, the diligent investigator of various writings, and, lastly, he was the scourge of lazy and selfish Romans, whom he heartily despised. In the supply of the temporal table, liberal, copious, polite, cheerful, and affable. In the spiritual table, devout, humble, and contrite. In the episcopal office, diligent, venerable, and indefatigable."

In estimating Grosseteste as a theologian, we must, as I have already observed, acknowledge that he was much under the influence of the superstition of the times. He does not appear fully to have understood the great doctrine of justification; yet, that with deep humility he confessed himself a miserable sinner, and sought acceptance through the Redeemer's merits, is abundantly proved by his works. His temper was irascible, and the natural constitution of his mind zealous and persevering; but it cannot be doubted that he earnestly desired to walk with God, and that the habitual holiness of his life might well rebuke those who enjoy much clearer light. He was "eloquent," it has been observed of him," and mighty in the Scriptures, fervent in spirit, speaking and teaching boldly the things of the Lord; though, like Apollos, he sometimes needed an Aquila and Priscilla to expound to him the way of God more perfectly." His works are numerous; but it is to be regretted that he often employed himselfin translating authors of doubtful authority, and of little service. The reader may be glad to see some of Grosseteste's notions on the subject of Divine grace. "Grace," says he, "is that good pleasure of God, whereby he is pleased to bestow upon us what we have not deserved; and the gift is for our advantage, not his. Wherefore it is very clear that all the good we possess, whether it be natural, or freely conferred afterwards, proceeds from the grace of God; because there is no good thing the existence of which he does not will; and for God to will any thing, is to do it; therefore there can be no good of which he is not the Author. He it is who turns the human will from evil, and converts it to good, and also causes it to persevere in the same. Nevertheless, man's free will operates in this matter as the grain shoots by an external germinative power, and by the heat of the sun, and the moisture of the earth. For if it were impossible that we should turn from the evil and be converted to the good, we should not be commendable in so doing, nor so we be ordered to do so. And, again, if we could do this without the grace of God, there would be no propriety in praying to God for it, nor would our success depend upon his will. A will to do good, by which a man becomes conformed to the will of God, is grace freely given. The Divine will is grace; and grace is then said to be infused, when the Divine will begins to operate upon our will."

I close here the account of this extraordinary man. Had he lived two centuries later-had he seen the

Matthew Paris.