wards Archbishop) Sancroft, to whom he gave practical proof of his gratitude as soon as it lay in his power. But there is no doubt that he was reduced to great straits at Paris, a stronger proof of which could not be found than in the fact that he was on the point of selling his books to meet his exigencies. Cosin was an enthusiastic book collector, and his library was ‘one of the choicest collections of any private person in England’ (Evelyn). Happily he was spared this sacrifice by the occurrence of the Restoration. Upon this event he returned to England and resumed his preferments. It is thoroughly characteristic of the man that, as he had been the first to suffer for his principles in the rebellion, he was the first to avow them openly at the Restoration. While other men were, as Pepys terms it, ‘nibbling at the Common Prayer,’ waiting timidly to see which way the wind would blow, Cosin, as dean of Peterborough, ‘in the year 1660, about the end of July, revived the ancient usage [in Peterborough Cathedral], and read divine service first himself, and caused it to be read every day afterwards, according to the old laudable use and custom, and settled the church and quire in that order wherein it now (1685) continues’ (Kennet, Register, p. 229). Cosin, however, did not remain long at Peterborough. On 2 Dec. 1660 he was consecrated bishop of Durham at Westminster Abbey, his friend and kind helper in adversity, and now his domestic chaplain, Sancroft, preaching the consecration sermon. He now began that course which deservedly won for him the reputation of being one of the greatest prelates of his own, or indeed of any age. This reputation he won not so much as a preacher or a writer, though he was great as both. But his preaching cannot be compared with that of Jeremy Taylor or Barrow or South; nor can his writings be compared with those of Pearson or Stillingfleet or Brian Walton. His strength lay in his administrative powers. He always had the clearest and most definite conception of the position of the English church, and was deterred by no obstacles from making good that position. His personal influence was immense, and that influence was no doubt enhanced by his splendid munificence. Hence the diocese of Durham, from being exceptionally backward, soon became exceptionally forward under his rule, and mainly owing to his energy. He gathered around him men of a kindred spirit, who worked loyally under him, and upon whom, like most strong men, he left a permanent impression, which survived long after his death.
The bishop of Durham was prince of the palatinate as well as bishop of the diocese, and Cosin was as well fitted to sustain the former as the latter character. His reception into the see was enthusiastic. ‘The confluence,’ he writes to Sancroft, ‘and alacritie, both of the gentry, clergie, and other people, was very greate; and at my first entrance through the river of Tease there was scarce any water to be seene for the multitude of horse and men that filled it when the sword that killed the dragon was delivered to me with all the formality of trumpets and gunshots and acclamations that might be made.’ (This was the tenure on which the bishops held the manor of Sockburn.) ‘I am not much affected with such showes; but, however, the cheerfullness of the country in the reception of their bishop is a good earnest given for better matters which, by the grace and blessing of God, may in good time follow here among us all.’ ‘The country’ had no reason to be disappointed. No doubt Cosin spoke truly when he said he was ‘not much affected by such showes,’ for he was personally a plain, homely man. Nevertheless he was, both in mind and appearance, admirably adapted to play the part that was required of him. With a tall, handsome, and erect person, he possessed a commanding character, such as befitted the temporal as well as the spiritual ruler of the county palatine. He at once held ‘a solemne confirmation,’ at which a vast number of catechumens were presented, as was natural, seeing that the arrears of twenty years had to be made up. He then held a synod of the clergy, determining, he says, ‘to put them in order, if by any fayre means I can.’
But meanwhile, besides the affairs of his diocese, the affairs of the church at large had to be settled; and in the settlement of them Cosin took a leading part. In 1661 the Savoy conference, ‘to advise upon and review the Book of Common Prayer,’ was held. Cosin was a constant attendant, and the part which he took, both at this conference and at the convocation which immediately followed it, is exceedingly characteristic. At the conference he showed himself, as Baxter, after some depreciation of him, owns, ‘excellently well versed in canons, councils, and fathers;’ and, ‘as he was of rustick wit and carriage, so he would endure more freedom of our discourse with him, and was more affable and familiar than the rest.’ He earnestly endeavoured to effect a reconciliation with the presbyterians, but in vain.
At the convocation in November 1661 Cosin's proposals were all in favour of making the services more in accordance with the ancient liturgies. There was no inconsistency in this. As a staunch churchman he yearned
