After the death of Edward, which happened in the summer of the year 1553, we find the archbishop engaged in all the irresolute measures, succeeding that period, till the settlement of Mary. With the commencement of her reign his troubles began.

When he observed the turn, which affairs were likely to take, one of the first things he did, was to order his steward to pay every farthing that he owed; saying, ‘In a short time perhaps we may not be able.’ When the accounts and receipts were brought to him, ‘I thank God, said he, I am now mine own man; and with God's help am able to answer all the world, and all wordly adversities.’

He was first assaulted, as is usual, by calumny, and invective. A thousand stories were propagated; which were founded commonly on some little known circumstance, or occurrence; and half the story being true, gave a degree of credit to the other half, which was false. Many of these reports he suffered to die away unnoticed; leaving his life and actions to confute them. But one, which concerned the interests of religion, he thought it proper to obviate in a public manner. The affair was this.

Mass, it seems, had been said in the cathedral church of Canterbury by some zealous priest, immediately on the change of government; and the report ran, that it had been done by the archbishop's order: as indeed, before any thing was legally altered, it could not well be supposed otherwise. Many people believed it, who were much hurt with it; and the primate was surprized to find, with what malicious expedition a story, so wholly opposite to the character he had ever maintained, could circulate not only among his enemies, but among his friends.

He determined therefore to stop it; and immediately drew up, and published, a declaration, in which he expressed his abhorrence of the mass as a species of idolatry—and professed his intire approbation of all the changes, that had been made in the last reign. This paper was considered, by the advocates for reformation, as an instance of true christian fortitude, well becoming the first protestant ecclesiastic. By worldly men, it was looked on as a piece of indiscrete, and intemperate zeal^*.

It was however more than the temper of the government could bear. The archbishop was called before the Star-chamber, severely questioned, and thrown into the Tower. The objected crime was treason: but his late bold declaration had, at least, precipitated the measure. The parliament made no difficulty in attainting him: and indeed his compliance in the affair of Lady Jane was a very justifiable foundation for an attainder.

This was a measure, which was little expected by the archbishop; and touched him nearer than any thing could have done. If he had suffered for his doctrines, he might have had the comfort of a good conscience; but to suffer as an evil-doer, was a mortification he could not bear.

It was true, indeed, that the queen had pardoned many, who were more concerned in the late settlement of the crown in favour of Lady Jane, than he had been. Few indeed, who were at all obnoxious, could be less so: and his services to Mary, in the time of her father, which were frequent, and disinterested, deserved surely a grateful remembrance. But his remonstrances, tho couched in the humblest, and most penitent language, had for some time, no effect. At length however he obtained his pardon; most probably because it was more agreeable to the genius of the government, that he should suffer for heresy, than for treason. On the former pretence, he was still confined.

He might however have avoided question either on one account, or the other; if he could have prevailed with himself to leave the kingdom; as many church-men had done. Even after his imprisonment, he might probably have found the means of an escape. Some indeed imagined, it was what his greatest enemies desired, as the easiest means of getting the disposal of the fee of Canterbury. But, from the beginning, he never would think of flight; and all the persuasions and tears of his friends were ineffectual. ‘Had I been in any other station, (he would say) except this, in which Providence hath placed me, I should certainly have fled. I approve the flight of others. If we are persecuted in one city, we are authorized to fly to another. But I am the only person in the kingdom, who cannot do it with decency. I have had the principal hand in all the changes of the last reign, and I cannot, without great impropriety, avoid appearing in their defence.’

The gloomy temper of the government, in the mean while, became wholly apparent. So much violence attended every proceeding, in which religion was concerned, that it was easy to foresee, no measures either of charity, or of decency, would be observed. The queen delighted in being called a virgin sent from heaven to revenge the cause of God. Under such a title nothing but bigotry, superstition, and all their dire effects, could be expected.

How well Gardiner, who was her chief minister, was qualified to correct the sternness of her temper, may be conceived from an anecdote, still preserved among the gross improprieties of those times. His almoner going one day to the Fleet-prison, then full of protestants, with a basket of bread from the bishop, forbad the keeper, at his peril, to give one morsel of it to any of the heretics: If you do, added he, ‘my Lord will certainly do you some shrewd turn.’

Rigorous however as Mary was in the affairs of religion, in state matters she was lenient enough. No blood was shed, but of those, whose offences placed them clearly beyond mercy.

The duke of Northumberland was the first victim; than whom no man ever suffered more unlamented.

The archbishop had the satisfaction to hear that his friend Sir Thomas Palmer, died in the protestant faith; tho he had been persuaded, with other state-prisoners, to hear mass.

Palmer was one of the best bred men of the age, in which he lived. To his accomplishments, both natural and acquired, he had added the advantages of foreign travel; which was rare in those days. His youth had been spent with too much licence; and he had been greatly misled by the insidious arts of Northumberland: but in other respects he was well esteemed; and in his latter life especially seems to have added the virtues of a christian to the accomplishments of a gentleman. ‘I have learned more (said he, as he stood on the scaffold) in a dark corner of the Tower, than in travelling round Europe.’ Then walking up to the ax, stained with the blood of Northumberland, who had just suffered, ‘I thank God, said he, I am not afraid to die.’