A full year had now elapsed, since the archbishop's disputation at Oxford, and condemnation for heresy. During this interval the Spirit of persecution, with a fiery sword in one hand, and a cross in the other, was let loose in all its terrors. The progress however of this violent reign marks only the Almighty's ordinary mode of providence. When the christian religion was first preached, the malice of its enemies immediately arose, as if to try, and prove it; and seal its truth by the blood of its martyrs. And now when religion was restored, after so long an age of darkness, the providence of God seemed to direct in the same manner that it should be purified and proved by persecution.

Among the numbers, at this time, who died for their religion, were the bishops of London and Worcester; who were delivered over to the secular arm under a commission from Pole the cardinal-legate.

As they were carried to the stake, they passed under the window of the prison, in which the archbishop was confined; and looked up for a parting view. The archbishop was engaged at that time, in a conference with a Spanish friar; but hearing a tumult in the street, he came to the window. They were not yet out of sight. He just lifted up his eyes and hands, and sent after the venerable sufferers, a fervent ejaculation for God's assistance in this last great trial.

More ceremony however was thought necessary in the primate's case, than had been used in theirs. Pole's authority was not sufficient. A commission therefore was sent for to Rome.

In virtue of this commission, the archbishop was convened before the bishop of Gloucester, to whom it was delegated, on the 12th of September, 1555. His books, and opinions; his marriage, and invasion of the privileges of the sovereign pontiff, were all summarily recapitulated; and he was cited to appear at Rome in eighty days, and answer for himself. As he did not appear in that time, he was declared contumacious; and a commission was dispatched to England, to degrade, and deliver him over to the secular arm.

Many of our historians exclaim loudly at the absurdity of declaring him contumacious for not appearing at Rome; when it was well known, that, during the whole time, he was detained a prisoner at Oxford. And, no doubt, the thing bears the face of absurdity. But it would be endless to censure, and deride, all the formalities of law, which are pertinaciously retained in every country, after the real use hath expired.

The ceremony of his degradation was performed by Thirlby bishop of Ely.

Thirlby, in Cranmer's better days, had been honoured with his particular friendship, and owed him many obligations. Besides those of greater value, in the way of preferment, ‘there was nothing he was master of, (we are informed) which was not at Thirlby's command. Jewel, plate, instrument, map, horse, or any thing else, tho a present from the king, if his friend once took a fancy to it, the generous archbishop would immediately give it him. And tho many times the doctor for civility's sake would instantly refuse it; yet Cranmer would send it him the next day by a special message. Insomuch that it grew into a proverb, that Dr. Thirlby's commendation of any thing to my lord of Canterbury, was a plain winning or obtaining it.’

As this man therefore had long been so much attached to the archbishop, it was thought proper by his new friends, that he should give an extraordinary test of his zeal. For this reason the ceremony of the degradation was committed to him. He had undertaken however too hard a task. The mild benevolence of the primate, which shone forth with great dignity, tho he stood drest in all the mock pageantry of canvas robes, struck the old apostate to the heart. All the past came throbbing into his breast; and a few repentant drops began to trickle down the furrows of his aged cheek. The archbishop gently exhorted him not to suffer his private affections to overpower his public. At length, one by one, the canvas trappings were taken off, amidst the taunts, and exultations of Bonner, bishop of London, who was present at the ceremony. The archbishop made some hesitation when they took his crozier out of his hands; and appealed as others had done, to the next general council.

Thus degraded, he was attired in a plain frieze-gown, the common habit of a yeoman at that time; and had, what was then called, a town's-man's cap, put upon his head. In this garb, he was carried back to prison; Bonner crying after him, ‘He is now no longer my lord! —He is now no longer my lord!’

Full of that indignation, which public wrongs, not private, inspired, he wrote a letter from his prison to the queen; in which he expostulated with her for sinking the dignity of the crown of England to such a degree, as to have recourse to foreigners for justice on her own subjects. He shewed her, with great force of reason, the many inconveniences, which arose from thus submitting to a foreign yoke; and opened the designs of the clergy, who had introduced, he told her, this slavery again, with the sole view of establishing themselves in their ancient independent state. He put her in mind also of the oath she had taken to her own kingdom; and of the oath which she had taken to the pope; and begged her to consider, whether there was not some contradiction between them.—He concluded with telling her, that he thought it his duty to enter his protest against the destructive measures, which her government was then pursuing.

This letter was carried to the queen by the bailiffs of Oxford. She immediately put it into the hands of cardinal Pole; with whom she seems, on all occasions, to have left the disposal of her conscience. Pole in a letter, dated from St. James's, Nov. 6, 1555, answered it at full length. His very elaborate discourse on this occasion makes the 89th article of Mr. Strype's appendix.

From the time of Cranmer's degradation, the behaviour of the popish party towards him, was totally changed. Every one, who now approached him, put on an air of civility, and respect. Elegant entertainments were made for him. He was invited frequently by the dean of Christ-church to parties at bowls; an exercise, of which he had always been fond: and no liberty, or indulgence, which he could desire, was denied. In the midst of these amusements, he was given to understand, that the queen was greatly disposed to save him: but that she had often been heard to say, she would either have Cranmer a catholic, or no Cranmer at all—that, in short, they were authorized in assuring him, that if he would only conform to the present changes in religion, he might, if he pleased, assume his former dignity—or, if he declined that, he might enjoy a liberal pension in retirement.

Among all the instances of diabolical cruelty we scarce find a greater than this. The whole rage of the popish party seemed to be centered against this upright man. His soul they had damned: his body they were determined to burn; and to compleat their triumph, they wanted only to blast his reputation. With this view, these wicked arts were put in practice against him; which succeeded, alas! too well. Cranmer, who was sufficiently armed against the utmost rage and malice of his open enemies, was drawn aside by the delusions of his false friends. After the confinement of a full year within the melancholy walls of a gloomy prison, this sudden return into social commerce dissipated the firm resolves of his soul. A love of life, which he had now well mastered, began insensibly to grow upon him. A paper was offered him, importing his assent to the tenets of popery; and in an evil hour his better resolutions giving way, he signed the fatal snare.