A few years before the date at which we have now arrived, one Thomas Denyes, a trusted servant of the Earl of Oxford, seems to have caused his master some little inconvenience by falling in love with a lady who resided in the neighbourhood of Norwich. We regret that we cannot inform the reader who she was. All that we know is that her Christian name was Agnes, which was at that time popularly corrupted into Anneys and frequently confounded with Anne, and that she was an acquaintance of John Paston’s. With John Paston, accordingly, the earl thought it best to communicate, and in doing so earned for himself the heartfelt gratitude of Denyes by one of those small but truly gracious acts which reveal to us better than anything else the secret of the power of the English aristocracy. The lady seems not to have given her admirer any great encouragement in his suit. She had property of her own worth 500 marks, and could have had a husband in Norfolk with land of 100 marks value, which was more than Denyes could offer her. But the Earl of Oxford requested John Paston to intercede with her in behalf of her wooer, promising her that if the marriage took effect the Earl would show himself liberal to them both. He further offered, if it would be any satisfaction to her, to go himself into Norfolk and visit her.[139.1]
This intercession was effectual, and the lady became the wife of Thomas Denyes. It was a triumph of love and ambition to a poor dependant on a great earl. But with increase of wealth, as others have found in all ages, Denyes experienced an increase of anxieties and of business also. A suit in Chancery was commenced against him and his wife by a gentleman of the name of Ingham, who considered himself to have a claim on the lady’s property for a considerable sum of money. Ingham’s son Walter was active in procuring the subpœna. But Denyes, strong, as he believed, in a great lord’s favour, conceived a plan by which he might either interrupt the [140] suit or revenge it on the person of Walter Ingham. On the 11th of January 1454—just about the time the queen and Buckingham were making those vain attempts to introduce his child to the notice of the unhappy king—when, consequently, it was still uncertain whether York or Somerset would have the rule, and when lawless persons all over the country must have felt that there was more than usual immunity for bad deeds to be hoped for,—Thomas Denyes wrote a letter in the name of the Earl of Oxford to Walter Ingham, requiring his presence at the earl’s mansion at Wivenhoe, in Essex, on the 13th. This letter reached Ingham at Dunston, in Norfolk, and he at once set out in obedience to the summons. Walter Ingham waylaid. But as he was nearing his destination, on the 12th, he was waylaid by a party in ambush hired by Denyes, who beat him so severely upon the head, legs, and back that he was maimed for life, and compelled to go on crutches for the rest of his days. Ingham complained of the outrage to the Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Kemp, who sent a sergeant-at-arms to arrest Denyes at Lincoln’s Inn; but he at first refused to obey the arrest. Shortly afterwards, however, he was committed to the Fleet prison; and Ingham, with the favour of the cardinal and the Earl of Oxford, who utterly repudiated the act of his dependant, presented a petition to Parliament that he should not be admitted to bail or mainprise until he had been tried for the outrage and all actions between him and Ingham had been fully discussed and settled.[140.1]
The Earl of Oxford seems to have been thoroughly incensed, and not without reason, against a servant who had so abused his trust. Cardinal Kemp, as chancellor, was not less righteously indignant; and a bill was actually passed through the House of Peers in accordance with the prayer of Ingham’s petition. Yet it is difficult to understand why the punishment of the wrong committed was not left to the operation of ordinary criminal law. The case, perhaps, affected too seriously the honour of a nobleman, and the discretion to be allowed to a retainer. But whatever may have been the cause, poor Denyes now becomes positively an [141] object for compassion—all the more so because his chief feeling in the matter was not a selfish one. Denyes and his wife in prison. Besides imprisoning Denyes himself in the Fleet, the cardinal and the Earl of Oxford threw his wife into the Counter, and afterwards sent her to Newgate, where she suffered the discomforts of a gaol apart from her husband, although she was then with child. ‘Which standeth too nigh mine heart,’ is the brief expression in which he conveys his feelings to John Paston, while apparently he was expecting to hear that his wife was either dead or prematurely delivered; for the treatment she had met with brought on the pains of labour long before the right time had come. Denyes, however, made friends with the warden of the Fleet prison, who contrived in some manner to make interest for her with her gaoler, so that afterwards she was rather better treated, and at last admitted to bail.[141.1]
Poor Denyes was in dread of still further evils arising out of the case when he wrote these facts to John Paston. The bill against him had already passed through the Lords, and he was in fear that it might pass through the Commons also, which we afterwards learn that it did not.[141.2] His adversary, moreover, was bent upon revenge; ‘for Ingham,’ he said, ‘lieth, beside that, to take away my wife’s daughter out of Westminster,[141.3] to make an end of my wife if he can, and also to arrest my servants, that I dread that she nor I shall have no creature to attend us ne help us; and such malice have I never heard of here before. And it is told me that beside that they will despoil, if any good they can find of mine in Norwich or Norfolk, and imprison my servants there.’ All this he urgently implored Paston to prevent to the best of his ability. And it must be said that John Paston, although he considered himself little bound to Denyes, except in so far as he had promoted his marriage at the Earl of Oxford’s solicitation, on this occasion stood his friend. He wrote a letter to the earl urgently interceding for the unhappy wife; and though it [142] seems probable the letter that he first wrote was not actually sent, we may fairly presume that he either devised a second to the same effect, or used his influence otherwise to the same end. Certain it is that he made some effort for which Denyes was beyond measure grateful.[142.1]
‘The cardinal is dead and the king is relieved.’ Such were the last words of a postscript which Denyes appended to his first melancholy letter, complaining of his own and his wife’s imprisonment. A rumour apparently had been spread that the king’s health was beginning to improve; for which, as we shall see, there was very little foundation. Death of Cardinal Kemp. But it was perfectly true that Cardinal Kemp, Archbishop of Canterbury and Chancellor of England, was dead. Little as we know, beyond a few broad facts of his career, whereby to judge his real character and aims, it is certain that he was an accomplished statesman. A follower originally of Cardinal Beaufort,—the man who of all others could serve two masters, Rome and England, with the least degree of repugnance, and of whom the best that can be said is, that he never scrupled to betray the former in what appeared to be the interest of the latter,—Kemp was, perhaps, as honest a specimen of the political churchman as an essentially bad system could produce. The clergy, however, were really needed as statesmen; few laymen had the ability, learning, or education to enable them to do the essential work of the nation; and Kemp was one who had gained for himself, by his own talents, the highest position to which a subject could aspire in England, not only in the realm but in the Church.
Thus, at a time when the functions of royalty itself were suspended, the chancellor, the official keeper of the king’s conscience, was suddenly taken away; and in him England also lost her primate, always one of the most important members of the Council. The formation of a governing Council was now more important than ever; but the most pressing questions of all were the appointment of a new chancellor and of a new archbishop. Who was to take upon himself to nominate either the one or the other? The queen’s modest claim to be invested with the functions of her husband [143] had not been listened to by the Lords; but the powers as yet conferred upon the Duke of York were only to represent the king in Parliament.
It was upon the 19th of March that the Commons had pressed their petition for the establishment of a Council. Cardinal Kemp died on the 22nd. Deputation of Lords to the king. On the 23rd the Lords appointed twelve of their number as a deputation, headed by Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester, to ride to Windsor and endeavour, if possible, to lay the state of matters before the king. Their instructions were drawn up in six articles, but only two were to be communicated to the king if they found him unable to pay attention to what was said. These two were a mere assurance of anxiety to hear of his recovery, and that the Lords, under the presidency of the duke as his lieutenant, were using their best discretion in the affairs of the nation. If any response were made to these two articles, the deputation was then to tell him of the death of Cardinal Kemp, and ask to know his pleasure who should be the new archbishop and who should be appointed chancellor. They were to say that for the security of the Great Seals (there were at this time no less than three Great Seals used in the Chancery)[143.1] the Lords had caused them to be produced in Parliament, and after being seen by all the Lords they were enclosed in a coffer sealed by a number of the Peers present, and then laid up in the Treasury. Finally, they were to ask the king’s mind touching the establishment of a Council, telling him how much it was desired by the Commons, and suggesting the names of certain Lords and persons whom it was thought desirable to appoint as Councillors. All these matters, however, were to be communicated only to the king in the strictest privacy.[143.2]
The deputation returned two days after with a report of the total failure of their mission. They had waited on the king at Windsor just after he had dined, but could get from him no answer nor sign that he understood their message. The king’s imbecility. The Bishop of Winchester then told the king that the Lords had not dined, and that after they had they would wait on him [144] again. After dinner accordingly they were again with him, and tried all they could to elicit an answer; but the king was speechless. They then proposed that he should go into another room, and he was led between two men into his bedchamber. A third and last effort was then made to rouse him by every expedient that could be imagined; and when all else failed, a question was put to him which involved no more than a simple yes or no. Was it his Highness’s pleasure that they should wait on him any longer? A long pause was allowed in the hope that any mere physical difficulty might be overcome. A faint nod, even a shake of the head, would have been regarded with some degree of satisfaction. But it was all in vain. ‘They could have no answer, word ne sign; and therefore with sorrowful hearts, came their way.’[144.1]
It was now clear that the highest constitutional authority resided for the time in the Lords Spiritual and Temporal. The reader, imbued with modern notions of the power and prestige of the House of Commons, may possibly think that their votes, too, should have been consulted in the formation of a Government. Such a view, however, would be radically erroneous. The influence which the House of Commons has in later times acquired—an influence so great that, at times unhappily, Acts are even passed by Peers against their own sense of right and justice, in deference to the will of the Lower Chamber—is a thing not directly recognised by the constitution, but only due to the control of the national purse-strings. Strictly speaking, the House of Commons is not a legislative body at all, but only an engine for voting supplies. The Peers of the realm, in Parliament or out of Parliament, are, according to the constitution, the sovereign’s privileged advisers. A king may, no doubt, at any time call to him what other councillors he pleases, and the prerogative of the Lords may lie dormant for a very long period of time; but the Peers of the realm have, individually or in a body, a right to tender their advice upon affairs of state, which belongs to no other class in the community.
On the 27th of March, therefore—two days after the [145] report of the deputation that had seen the king at Windsor—the Lords took the first step towards the establishment of order and government, by electing Richard, Duke of York, as Protector and Defender of the realm. The Duke of York Protector. The title of Protector essentially implied an interim administrator during a period when the king, by legal or physical incapacity, was unable to exercise his regal functions in person. A Protector’s tenure of power was therefore always limited by the clause quamdiu Regi placeret. It was terminable by the king himself the moment he found himself able to resume the actual duties of royalty. Even a protectorship like that of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, instituted in consequence of the king being an infant, was terminated before the royal child was eight years old by the act of his coronation. The crowned and anointed infant became a king indeed, and therefore no longer required the services of a Protector; so from that day Duke Humphrey had ceased to wield any authority except that of an ordinary member of the Council. But, indeed, even during his protectorship, his powers were greatly circumscribed; and it had been expressly decided by the Council that he was not competent to perform an act of state without the consent of a majority of the other Lords. Richard, therefore, knowing that his powers would be limited, was most anxious that his responsibility should be accurately defined, that no one might accuse him thereafter of having exceeded the just limits of his authority. He delivered in a paper containing certain articles, of which the first was as follows:—