The death of Henry, which happened in the year 1547, opened a new scene. On producing his will, it appeared, that sixteen of the leading men of the kingdom were appointed regents. They were restrained by many limitations; but under these, a majority were allowed to govern the kingdom as they thought fit. This happy clause overturned all the rest. Henry had composed the regents, as equally as he could, of both parties in religion; and hoped, that by keeping things, during his son's minority, in the same hesitating situation, in which he had left them, he might prevent their running into extremes. But it happened otherwise. A majority plainly inclined to the protestant cause, either from conscience, or interest; and they thought themselves fully authorized by the precept of the will, to govern the kingdom as they thought fit. The earl of Hertford, the king's uncle, was created duke of Somerset, and chosen protector. The other regents immediately became cyphers.

The archbishop, tho placed at the head of the regency, rarely interfered with state affairs; and gave little interruption to the ambition of his compeers. In ecclesiastical matters he took the lead: and every thing, that was done, in this department, during Edward's reign, may be considered as done by his authority.

But it would interfere too much with the nature of such a work as this, to enter into a minute detail of all the changes, which were made in religion. Such a detail appears more properly in works appropriated to these inquiries^*. Here it is proposed only to illustrate the character of this excellent prelate; and it will be enough to touch so far on the changes he made, as to throw a proper light on his wisdom, prudence, learning, moderation, and sirmness.

The first step he took, regarded the settlement of the supremacy; a point, which he had exceedingly at heart, as the foundation of every thing else. He formally therefore petitioned the young king, that as he had exercised the office of archbishop under his father, he might be permitted to exercise it under him: and he would perform no episcopal duty, till his new licence was made out.—This example, he proposed should be inforced on the clergy.

Thus authorized he proceeded to the affairs of religion. But before any thing was done, he thought it right to shew the necessity of doing something: and to this purpose a general visitation was made. Abuses of all kinds were inquired into—corrupt doctrines; corrupt practices; superstitious ceremonies; the lives of the clergy; and the manners of the laity, The visitors had authority to proceed a step farther. In flagrant cases a few censures were passed; and a few injunctions given. The idea was to restrain, rather than to abolish, the old system.

Among other things it was thought expedient to suspend preaching. Amidst the licence of the times, no species of it deserved more reproof, than that which had gotten possession of the pulpit. Many of the monks had been secularized; and bringing with them into their churches their old monastic ideas, the popular divinity of those times was, if possible, more opposite to scripture, and more offeasive to common sense, than it had ever been in the darkest reign of popery. In the room of preaching, a book of homilies was published, and ordered to be read in churches. The use of scripture also was allowed; and that the people might have an explanation of it at hand, the commentary of Erasmus was authorized.—These changes had great efficacy; moderate as they appeared, and aiming rather to undermine the foundations of popery, than to overturn them by any open assault.

The minds of the people indeed were, in a good degree, prepared for them; and it is said, nothing contributed more to loosen their prejudices, than a popular paper, which was published, about the close of the late reign, intitled, The supplication of the poor commons to the king. It was levelled chiefly at the ignorance, and immorality of the Romish clergy; and being written in a masterly manner; and interspersed with a variety of lively anecdotes, it was much read; and tended greatly to give the people just ideas of the clerical office. Among other stories the following very curious one is related. ‘A certain court-chaplain, who had great preferment, observed, as he was travelling, a church upon a fair hill, beset with groves, and fields, the green meadows lying beneath on the banks of a river, garnished with willows, poplars, and alders. He was mightily taken with the place, and calling out to his servant, Robin, said he, this benefice standeth pleasantly. I would it were mine. Why, Sir, said his servant, it is your's; and immediately named the parish—If your highness had so many swine in this realm, as you have men, would you commit the keeping of them to such swine-herds, as did not know their swine-cots, when they saw them?’

The dread, in which the Romish clergy were at that time thrown, from what had been already done, is strongly expressed in the following language. ‘These dumb dogs have learned to fawn upon them, who bring them bread; and to be wonderful frisky when they are cherished: but if they be once bid to couch, they draw the tail between their legs, and get them strait to their kennel: and then, come who will, they stir no more, till they hear their fire pope cry out, hey, cut, or long tail. So afraid are they of stripes, and lest they should be tied up so short, that they cannot range abroad; nor worry, now and then, a lamb.’

Then follows a long account of their rapacity, of which many instances are given. Among others, we are told, ‘it was no rare thing to see poor people beg at Easter, to pay for the sacrament, when they receive it. Nor is it less common to see men beg for dead bodies, that they may pay the priest's dues. It is not long since, in the city of London, a dead body was brought to the church to be buried; being so poor, that it was almost quite naked. But these charitable men, who teach us, that it is one of the works of mercy to bury the dead, would not bury this dead corps, without their dues. So they caused it to be carried into the street, till the poor people, who dwelled there, begged so much as the dues came to.’

The apostrophe of these suppliants to the king was very noble, and spirited. ‘If you suffer Christ's poor members to be thus oppressed, expect the righteous judgment of God for your negligence. Be merciful therefore to yourself, as well as to us. Endanger not your own soul by the suffering of us poor commons. Remember that your hoar hairs are a token, that nature maketh haste to absolve your life. Defer not then, most dread sovereign, the reformation of these enormities. For the wound is even unto death. Whoredom is more esteemed than wedlock. Simony hath lost its name. Usury is lawful gains. What example of life do the people shew this day, which declares us more to be the people of God, than Jews, and Mahometans?’

The leaders of the popish party easily saw the tendency of the primate's measures; and gave them what opposition they were able. The Bishop of Winchester never appeared in a more becoming light, With equal firmness, and plausibility he remonstrated. ‘The commencement of a minority, he said, was not a time to introduce novelties. To alter the religion of a country was a serious business; and required the utmost deliberation. No act of legislature, he observed, had yet passed; and it was great presumption to publish things under the king's name; with which, it was well known, neither he, nor the protector, were at all acquainted. But even if bare decency were consulted, it was very offensive to all sober men to see the wisdom of ages cancelled in a few months.—The paraphrase of Erasmus, he remarked, was written at a time, when the pen of that writer was very licentious. It contained many points of doctrine, which, he presumed, the protestants themselves would not willingly inculcate; and he would maintain, that it contradicted the homilies in many particulars. As for the homilies, tho he did not doubt their being well intended, yet they were certainly very inaccurate compositions; and ran into length on many curious points of doctrine, which tended rather to mislead, than to inform the people.—For himself, he said, he was careless of all consequences, which the freedom of his speech might draw upon him. The last scene of his life was now on the stage; and he only wished to conclude it properly.’

There was an energy, and greatness in this language, superior to any thing, that had ever fallen from Gardiner: and if that had been the last scene of his life, we must have acknowledged the dignity of it's conclusion. In his objections also there was more than a shew of reasoning; and the promoters of reformation had but an indifferent ground for a defence. They answered with the plainness and simplicity of honest men (which was the best defence they could make), that they were assured their amendments were right on the whole; and that if some things were objectionable, these too should be amended, as soon as possible.

This was a better answer; and more in the spirit of reformation, than their replying, as they afterwards did, to the arguments of Winchester, by throwing him into prison. This violent measure may well be reckoned among the errors of those times. The archbishop indeed does not appear to have had any hand in this affair. It issued solely from the council; and was intended probably to remove Winchester from the parliament, which was then about to be assembled. In every light, political or religious, it was a harsh, discordant measure; and very unworthy of the liberal cause, which it was intended to serve.