Such was the end of Thomas Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, in the 67th year of his age, after he had presided over the church of England above twenty years.

In whatever point of light we view this extraordinary man, he is equally the object of our admiration.

His industry, and attention were astonishing. When we consider him as a scholar, his learning was so profound; and the treatises, which he wrote, were so numerous, that we cannot conceive he had any time for business. And yet when we consider the various scenes of active life, in which he was engaged—in the council—in the convocation—in the parliament—in his diocese—and even in his own house, where he had a constant resort of learned men, or suitors; we are surprized how he procured time for study.

He never indeed could have gone through his daily employments, had he not been the best oeconomist of his time.

He rose commonly at five o'clock; and continued in his study till nine: These early hours, he would say, were the only hours he could call his own. After breakfast he generally spent the remainder of the morning either in public, or private business. His chapel-hour was eleven; and his dinner-hour twelve. After dinner he spent an hour either in conversation with his friends; in playing at chess; or in, what he liked better, overlooking a chess-board. He then retired again to his study, till his chapelbell rang at five. After prayers, he generally walked till six, which was, in those times, the hour of supper. His evening meal was sparing. Often he eat nothing: and when that was the case, it was his usual custom, as he sat down to table, to draw on a pair of gloves; which was as much as to say, that his hands had nothing to do. After supper, he spent an hour in walking, and another in his study, retiring to his bed-chamber about nine.

This was his usual mode of living, when he was most vacant; but very often his afternoons as well as his mornings, were engaged in business. To this his chess-hour after dinner was commonly first assigned, and the remainder of the afternoon, as the occasion required. He generally however contrived, if possible, even in the busiest day, to devote some proportion of his time to his books, besides the morning. And Mr. Fox tells us, he always accustomed himself to read, and write in a standing posture; esteeming constant sitting very pernicious to a studious man.

His learning was chiefly confined to his profession. He had applied himself in Cambridge to the study of the Greek and Hebrew languages; which tho esteemed at that time as the mark of heresy, appeared to him the only sources of attaining a critical knowledge of the scriptures. He had so accurately studied canon-law; that he was esteemed the best canonist in England: and his reading in theology was so extensive, and his collections from the fathers so very voluminous, that there were few points, in which he was not accurately informed; and on which he could not give the opinions of the several ages of the church from the times of the apostles. ‘If I had not seen with my own eyes, says Peter Martyr, I could not easily have believed, with what infinite pains and labour, he had digested his great reading into particular chapters, under the heads of councils, canons, decrees, &c.’

His parts were solid, rather than shining; and his memory such, that it might be called an index to the books he had read; and the collections he had made.

Henry the eighth had such an opinion of him, as a casuist, that he would often say, ‘He could have no difficulty, while Cranmer was at his elbow.’ And indeed we cannot better account for the constant regard, which that capricious monarch shewed him, than by supposing, it proceeded from the opinion the king had of the archbishop's being so useful to him. It was not an unusual thing for Henry to send him a case of conscience at night (and Henry's conscience was very often troubled) desiring an answer the next morning. On such slender notice, we are told, the archbishop would often collect the opinions of twenty, or thirty writers on the subject; and within the limited time would send all the extracts, together with his own conclusion on the whole.

Henry, who was deeper in school-divinity, than in any other kind of learning, would take great pleasure also in disputing with the archbishop; and notwithstanding the roughness of his manners, would often indulge that sort of familiarity, which emboldened those about him, to use freedom with him. The archbishop at least was seldom under any difficulty on that head; while the king on his part always paid much deference to the primate's learning, and abilities, (tho the primate was the only person to whom he did pay any deference) and would sometimes do it at the expence of those, who thought themselves on an equality with the most learned. The bishop of Winchester in particular the king would sometimes delight to mortify; and to set him on the wrong side of a comparison with the archbishop.—We have an instance preserved.

The king once engaged the two prelates in a dispute on the authority of the apostolical canons; in which he himself bore a part. The archbishop sustained the negative. As the dispute proceeded, the king, either sensible of the primate's superiority, or affecting to appear so, cried out, ‘Come, come, bishop Winchester, we must leave him, we must leave him: He is too old a truant for either of us.’

He was a sensible writer; rather nervous, than elegant. His writings were entirely confined to the great controversy, which then subsisted; and contain the whole sum of the theological learning of those times.

His library was filled with a very noble collection of books; and was open to all men of letters. ‘I meet with authors here, Roger Ascham would say, which the two universities cannot furnish.’

At the archbishop's death the greater part of his original MSS. were left at his palace of Ford near Canterbury; where they fell into the hands of his enemies.

In the days of Elizabeth, archbishop Parker, who had an intimation, that many of them were still in being, obtained an order from Lord Burleigh, then secretary of state, in the year 1563, to search for them in all suspected places; and recovered a great number of them. They found their way afterwards into some of the principal libraries of England; but the greatest collection of them were deposited in Bennet-college in Cambridge.