After a successful administration, the protector Somerset, unhappily assuming too much consequence, exposed himself to an envious party, which had long been collecting against him. It was formed under the machinations of the Earl of Warwick, afterwards duke of Northumberland; a man totally unprincipled; guided only by his ambition; and equally versed in the arts of attaching a party, and supplanting a rival. All the protector's friends, one after another, he drew from him by specious pretences; and when he made his first grand movement in the secession to Ely house, he had the pleasure to look round the assembly, and see, that scarce one man of consequence was absent, except the archbishop of Canterbury.

Him no arts of seduction could allure. He knew Northumberland's bad designs; and Somerset's honest meanings. Each had ambition: but while that of Somerset was gratified with a few trivial trappings, Northumberland's dark schemes threatened ruin to the empire.

Nor was the primate merely neutral in this affair. He wrote to the seditious chiefs at Ely-house with such a spirit, as shook their resolutions; and would have broken the confederacy, had it been headed by a less daring leader, than the duke of Northumberland. It appears from the primate's letter, that he was more intimately acquainted with those secret springs, which governed their motions, than they could have wished, or supposed.

But altho the primate's remonstrance probably checked Northumberland's designs, as his first manoeuvres seem evidently marked with irresolution; yet he gave way only to attack with greater vigour: and, in the end, Somerset, tho allied to the crown, shrouded by the affection of his prince, the favour of the people, and his own innocence, was unable to grapple with the pernicious arts of this subtle rival; and was brought to the scaffold for the foibles, and inaccuracies of his life, which were magnified into crimes.

After the duke of Somerset's death, the archbishop had no weight in public affairs. Northumberland was as little the patron of religion, as he had hitherto been of public peace; and tho he found it convenient to make protestantism his profession; yet all men knew, that, neither it, nor any species of religion, had possession of his heart.

The archbishop and he were never on terms. Often would Cecil say, ‘Your grace must temporize with this man, or we shall do nothing.’ As often would the primate answer, ‘He would endeavour to do his utmost.’ But the integrity of his heart generally faltered in the attempt.

It was a difficult matter indeed, to keep terms with Northumberland. The archbishop had every reason to think him as much his own private enemy, as the enemy of the public. The ears of the young king were continually beset with the duke's insinuations: and tho Edward was not forward in listening to any stories against the primate; yet enough was said to weaken all the counsels, and defeat all the plans, which he proposed.

Among the many mortifications, which he met with from Northumberland, it went nearest his heart to see the little care, that was taken in filling vacant fees, and other great benefices of the church. His own recommendations of proper persons had little weight; and he was grieved to find all those low interests prevailing, which would of course introduce great indifference among the ministers of religion. It was the constant endeavour of Northumberland to keep the king, as little as possible acquainted with business of every kind; and as much out of the way of those, who were likely to give him information. Among all the old ministers, none but Cecil had access to the cabinet—Cecil, whose courtly arts carried him to the very limits of sincerity—perhaps rather beyond them. With him the archbishop intrusted a list of such persons, as he thought most proper to succeed to any vacancy; and the wary minister, by observing opportunities, obtained preferment for many of them.

The last affair of a public nature, in which the archbishop was engaged, during this short reign, was the exclusion of the princess Mary, in favour of Lady Jane Grey. Friend as he was to the reformation, he opposed this violent measure with all his might; and pleaded the oath he had taken in favour of the princess. The whole power of Northumberland had no weight with him. The king himself, who had been wrought into a thorough conviction of the utility of excluding his sister, assailed him with every argument, that tenderness, and affection could suggest. The primate's constancy at length gave way; and he consented to hear the matter explained by the judges of the realm. The judges of the realm with great learning shewed him, that his late oath could not lawfully bind him. The archbishop modestly professed his ignorance of law; and took a new one: while the friends of his memory wish they had any veil to throw over his conduct in this discreditable affair; which became afterwards indeed a source of the deepest affliction to himself.

Northumberland's great plan was now matured. The king, who had thus far been an instrument, became, from this time, an incumbrance; and was laid aside with as little ceremony, as if he had been an actor in a drama. Thus at least run the suspicions of history.

The king's death was a very sincere affliction to the archbishop, not only as a public calamity; but as a private loss. The archbishop was his godfather, and loved him with a parent's affection; and tho his high station would not allow him to take any part in the prince's education, yet Cheke, and all his other tutors, thought themselves in some degree accountable to the archbishop; and used to acquaint him with the progress of their royal pupil. We have a letter from Dr. Cox still preserved; in which he tells the archbishop, in the language of the times, ‘that the prince discovered great towardness, and all honest qualities: that he should be taken as a singular gift of God: that he read Cato, Vives, and Esop; and that he conned very pleasantly.’

Erasmus's character of him is rather curious. Erasmus seems to have known little more, than that he was a very modest boy. But as he was a king likewise, the panegyrist thought it proper to cloath his sentiment (for he had but one) in great pomp, and variety of expression. ‘Senex, juvenis convictu, factus sum melior, ac sobrietatem, temperantiam verecundiam, linguae moderationem, modestiam, pudicitiam, integritatem, quam juvenis a sene discere debuerat, a juvene senex didici.’