"Virtute duce non sanguine nitor."[425]
But with all these high qualities, our notions of propriety are somewhat shocked at the open manner in which he kept his mistress Eleanor Cobham; but we can scarcely agree in the condemnation of the generality of historians for his marrying her afterwards, but regard it rather as the action of an honorable man, desirous of making every reparation in his power.[426] But the "pride of birth" was sorely wounded by the espousals; and the enmity of the aristocracy already roused, now became deeply rooted. Eleanor's disposition is represented as passionate and unreasonable, and her mind sordid and oppressive. Be this how it may, we must remember that it is from her enemies we learn it; and if so, unrelenting persecution and inveterate malice were proceedings ill calculated to soothe a temper prone to violence, or to elevate a mind undoubtedly weak. But the vindictive and haughty cardinal Beaufort was the open and secret enemy of the good duke Humphrey; for not only did he thwart every public measure proposed by his rival, but employed spies to insinuate themselves into his domestic circle, and to note and inform him of every little circumstance which malice could distort into crime, or party rage into treason. This detestable espionage met with a too speedy success. The duke, who was especially fond of the society of learned men, retained in his family many priests and clerks, and among them one Roger Bolingbroke, "a famous necromancer and astronomer." This was a sufficient ground for the enmity of the cardinal to feed upon, and he determined to annihilate at one blow the domestic happiness of his rival. He arrested the Duchess, Bolingbroke, and a witch called Margery Gourdimain, or Jourdayn, on the charge of witchcraft and treason. He accused the priest and Margery of making, and the duchess for having in her possession, a waxen figure, which, as she melted it before a slow fire, so would the body of the king waste and decay, and his marrow wither in his bones. Her enemies tried her, and of course found her and her companions guilty, though without a shred of evidence to the purpose. The duchess was sentenced to do penance in St. Paul's and two other churches on three separate days, and to be afterwards imprisoned in the Isle of Man for life. Bolingbroke, who protested his innocence to the last, was hung and quartered at Tyburn; and Margery, the witch of Eye, as she was called, was burnt at Smithfield. But the black enmity of the cardinal was sorely disappointed at the effect produced by this persecution. He reasonably judged that no accusation was so likely to arouse a popular prejudice against duke Humphrey as appealing to the superstition of the people who in that age were ever prone to receive the most incredulous fabrications; but far different was the impression made in the present case. The people with more than their usual sagacity saw through the flimsy designs of the cardinal and his faction; and while they pitied the victims of party malice, loved and esteemed the good duke Humphrey more than ever.
But the intriguing heart of Beaufort soon resolved upon the most desperate measures, and shrunk not from staining his priestly hands with innocent and honorable blood. A parliament was summoned to meet at St. Edmunds Bury, in Suffolk, on the 10th of February, 1447, at which all the nobility were ordered to assemble. On the arrival of Duke Humphrey, the cardinal arrested him on a groundless charge of high treason, and a few days after he was found dead in his bed, his enemies gave out that he had died of the palsy; but although his body was eagerly shown to the sorrowing multitude, the people believed that their friend and favorite had been foully murdered, and feared not to raise their voice in loud accusations at the Suffolk party; "sum sayed that he was smouldered betwixt two fetherbeddes,"[427] and others declared that he had suffered a still more barbarous death. Deep was the murmuring and the grief of the people, for the good duke had won the love and esteem of their hearts; and we can fully believe a contemporary who writes—
"Compleyne al Yngland thys goode Lorde's deth."[428]
Perhaps none suffered more by his death than the author and the scholar; for Duke Humphrey was a munificent patron of letters, and loved to correspond with learned men, many of whom dedicated their works to him, and received ample encouragement in return.[429] Lydgate, who knew him well, composed some of his pieces at the duke's instigation. In his Tragedies of Ihon Bochas he thus speaks of him:
"Duke of Glocester men this prynce call,
And not withstandyng his estate and dignitie,
His courage neuer dothe appall
To study in bokes of antiquitie;
Therein he hath so great felicitie,
Virtuously him selfe to occupye,
Of vycious slouthe, he hath the maistry.
And for these causes as in his entent
To shewe the untrust of all worldly thinge,
He gave to me in commandment
As him seemed it was ryghte well fittynge
That I shoulde, after my small cunning,
This boke translate, him to do pleasaunce,
To shew the chaung of worldly variaunce.
And with support of his magnificence
Under the wynges of his correction,
Though that I lacke of eloquence
I shall proceede in this translation.
Fro me auoydyng all presumption,
Louyly submittying every houre and space,
My rude language to my lorde's grace.
Anone after I of eutencion,
With penne in hande fast gan me spede,
As I coulde in my translation,
In this labour further to procede,
My Lorde came forth by and gan to take hede;
This mighty prince right manly and right wise
Gaue me charge in his prudent auyle.