Tho it might be supposed, that the queen's death would have weakened the popish cause, yet we do not find, that it produced any such effect. Many remarked, that after the first heat of the rupture with Rome, the king had been gradually returning towards it; and that, with regard to all the doctrines of popery, he was, at this time, more zealous, than he had ever been: and they accounted for it very plausibly by observing, that as his passions began to cool, the religious fear took more possession of him.

The popish party, it is certain, at this period assumed unusual spirits; and thought they had influence enough to obtain any point.

One morning the primate was surprized with a message from the king, who lay off Lambeth in his barge, and wished immediately to speak with him. As he came on board, the king called out, "I can now inform you, who is the greatest heretic in Kent:" and ordering the barge to row gently up the river, he seated the archbishop by him, and produced a large book, which, he said, contained an accusation of several of the Kentish ministers against their diocesan.

The archbishop, who was not very present in the article of surprize, gazed first at the king, and then at the book, and could not, in some minutes, collect an answer. The king bad him not be distressed: "I consider the affair, said he, merely as a combination of your enemies; and as such I shall treat it."

Commissioners were soon after appointed to examine the evidence against the primate; and at the head of the board the king, with his usual indelicacy, placed the primate himself. The archbishop was shocked at this designation; and could barely be prevailed on to appear once at the opening of the commission. It sufficiently shewed however, how the king stood affected; and saved the archbishop's advocates the trouble of any laboured defence. Each of the accusers endeavoured with what art he was able, to withdraw himself from a business, which was likely to bring him so ungrateful a return.

The chief contriver of this whole affair was the bishop of Winchester, who with great assiduity, had collected a variety of passages from sermons, and other discourses in which it was supposed, the archbishop had shewn more regard to the new learning (as protestantism was called) and the professors of it, than the laws then in force allowed.

Among other agents whom Winchester employed, he drew over by his insinuating arts, two persons, who were very nearly connected with the archbishop himself; Dr. Thorndon, suffragan of Dover, and Dr. Barber, a civilian. Each of them had been promoted by the archbishop, and held an office under him; and both had been always treated by him on the footing of intimate friends. Barber even lived in his house; and had a pension settled on him, that he might be ready with his advice on every occasion. When the proofs therefore of this consederacy were put into the primate's hands, we may suppose his astonishment on finding a letter from each of these persons, containing a variety of matter against him, which his familiarity, and unreserved freedom with them, had easily furnished.

Soon afterwards, when these two persons happened both to be with the archbishop, at his house at Beckesburne; "Come your ways with me, said he, leading them into his study; I must have your advice in a certain matter." When he had carried them to a retired window in the room, "You twain, he resumed, be men, in whom I have had much trust; and you must now give me some council. I have been shamefully abused by one or twain, to whom I have shewed all my secrets, And the matter is so fallen out, that they have not only disclosed my secrets; but also have taken upon them to accuse me of heresy; and are become witnesses against me. I require you therefore to advise me, how I shall behave myself to them. You are both my friends; what say you to the matter?"

Whether they had any suspicion of the archbishop's meaning, does not appear: As the question however was put, they could not avoid pronouncing with great severity against such villany. The primate then drawing the letters from his bosom, "Know you, said he, these papers, my masters?—You have condemned yourselves. God make you both good men. I never deserved this at your hands. If such men as you, are not to be trusted, there is no fidelity to be found. I fear my left hand will accuse my right." Having said this, he added, after a pause, that they might rest assured, he would take no steps to punish their baseness; but he thought it fit to discharge them from his service.

The king however treated the archbishop's accusers with more severity; and threw many of them into prison. This alarming Gardiner, he wrote a letter to the primate in the following abject style.

‘Gentle father, I have not borne so tender a heart towards you, as a true child ought to bear; tho you never gave me occasion otherwise; but rather by benefits provoked me to the contrary. I ask mercy of you with as contrite a heart, as ever David asked of God.—I desire you to remember the prodigal child. I am full sorry for my fault; heartily confessing my rashness, and indeliberate doings. Forgive me this fault; and you shall never hereaster perceive, but that at all times I shall be as obedient, as ever was child to his natural father. I am your's, and shall be your's; and that truly while I live. Good father, I have given myself unto you, heart, body, and service. And now remember that I am your true servant.’

This letter, tho it appears from Winchester's future life, to have been a mere artifice, so wrought on the gentle nature of the primate, that hearing the king was resolved to lay Winchester's letters before the house of lords, he went to him, and at length prevailed on him, not to give the bishop any further trouble; but to let the matter drop.

The event of this accusation checked the ardour of the archbishop's enemies for some time; but it revived again in about two years, on the death of Charles Brandon duke of Suffolk.

With this nobleman the king had preserved, through life, a friendship, of which it was not thought his heart was susceptible; and on hearing of his death, he pronounced a short eulogy on his memory, which was beyond the most laboured panegyric. The news was brought to him in council: "God rest his soul! (said the king, with much emotion:) he was an honest man. I have known him long; and never knew him speak a bad word behind the back of any man." Then turning round the board, with a sarcastic air, "Of which of you, my lords, added he, can I say as much?"

The duke's amiable manners had long engaged the esteem of the archbishop; whose virtues, in return, were equally admired by the duke. A very sincere friendship subsisted between them; and it was thought the persuasive arguments of the primate had drawn the duke to think favourably of the reformers, whose friend and patron, he was generally esteemed.

Tho the duke had ever been a cautious man; and interfered little in public affairs; yet considering his favour with the king, the popish party thought his death of great advantage to their cause. They conceived, that it might both weaken the protestant interest; and tend also to lessen the king's regard for the primate.

Elated with these hopes, the bishop of Winchester, and his emissaries, beset the king, now yielding to age and infirmity; and endeavoured to awaken his religious fears. ‘In vain might wise laws struggle with heresies, if the patrons of those heresies were above law. Of his majesty alone redress could be had. He was God's vicegerent to rectify the abuses of the times; and might be assured, the sword was not put into his hands in vain: he was accountable for the trust.’

From hints they proceeded to plainer language; and at length, in direct words, informed the king, that while the archbishop sat in council, nothing effectual could be consulted about religion. They prayed his majesty therefore to give leave for the primate to be sent to the Tower; and it would then be seen, how ample a charge against him would appear.—The king pondered, and consented.

That very evening, as it grew dark, Henry sent for the archbishop to Whitehall. He was walking pensively in a long gallery, when the archbishop entered. ‘My lord of Canterbury, said the king, I have given permission to have you sent to the Tower. Some lords of council have dealt with me to that purpose. They have grievous things to lay to your charge, which they dare not utter, while you have free admission to the board.’

The archbishop expressed his readiness to have his conduct inquired into, in whatever manner the king thought fit: and offered to go, with great alacrity, to the Tower, till he had fully answered the accusations of his adversaries.

The king interrupting him, as his manner was, with a burst of vociferation, expressed his surprize at the primate's simplicity: but immediately softening his voice, told him, that it was much easier to keep him from the Tower; than to deliver him out of it. ‘You will be sent for, said he, in the morning, by the council; and dealt with haughtily. If the lords talk of committing you, desire you may first hear your accusers. If they deny this, appeal to me; and take this ring; which you may shew them as a token.’

At eight the next morning, the archbishop was accordingly called before the council; and was kept some time, standing at the door. Being admitted, he punctually followed the king's directions; and when the lords insisted on sending him to the Tower, he appealed to the king, who had taken the affair, he told them, into his own hands. As he said this, he produced the ring, which was a token very well known.

Every one present was confounded; and the lord Russel starting up, cried out, with an oath, ‘I told you, my lords, how it would be; and that the king would never suffer him to be committed.’

When the affair was brought before the king, he made a short business of it. Striding haughtily round the room, and throwing an eye of indignation first on one, and then on another; "I thought, said he, I had a discreet council; but I see I am deceived. How have ye handled here my lord of Canterbury? What made ye of him? a slave; shutting him out of the council chamber among serving men.—I would have you to understand, by the faith I owe to God, (laying his hand solemnly on his breast) that if a prince can be beholden to a subject, I am to my lord of Canterbury; whom I account as faithful a man towards his prince, as ever was prelate in this realm: and one to whom I am sundry ways beholden: and therefore he that loveth me, will regard him."

Having said this he strode out; and left the lords endeavouring which should apologize to the primate in the highest strain of compliment. The next day the king sent several of them, as was customary with him after such dissentions, to dine with the archbishop at Lambeth.

There is something singular in this whole affair. It is difficult to say, whether Henry was at first in earnest, and afterwards changed his resolution; or whether he took this method to check the forwardness of the archbishop's enemies.

While this scene was acting in the council, a part of the fame plan was preparing in parliament. There Sir John Goswick, in a studied harangue, accused the archbishop of being an upholder of heretical opinions; with which he had greatly infected the county of Kent. Henry being informed of this motion, called a gentleman in waiting, and sent Sir John this message: ‘Tell that varlet Goswick, that if he do not presently reconcile himself to my lord of Canterbury, I will punish him for the example of others. What knows he of my lord's preaching in Kent? Was not he, at that time, in Bedfordshire?’—The message was very intelligible; and had its full effect.