The secret history of these negotiations at Rome is unknown, and will probably never be revealed, but subsequent events point strongly to the intervention of Beaufort influence. The key to the whole matter is to be found in a quarrel which began some years later between the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury. The Bishop of Winchester was no stranger to Martin V.; indeed, the Pope had every reason to be grateful to one who had had no small share in his election, for it was the arrival of Henry Beaufort at Constance, when the College of Cardinals could come to no decision, that turned the tide in favour of Oddo Colonna. An intimacy probably sprang up between the two, and the Pope was anxious to bestow a Cardinal’s hat on his friend, but this Henry V. refused to allow. We hear no more of Beaufort’s ecclesiastical ambitions during the rest of this reign, but when troubles and disturbances began to surround the Court of the younger Henry, then Beaufort was to the fore. He had not lost touch with the Court of Rome, and it cannot be doubted that his handiwork may be seen in a letter which in 1427 the Pope wrote to Archbishop Chichele. Martin V. had exalted ideas as to the importance of the papal power, and on this occasion he wrote in severe terms with regard to the existence of the statute of Præmunire, which limited his powers in England. Chichele was not blind to the meaning of this attack, which blamed him for placing patriotism to his country before loyalty to his Church.[1102] In his reply he did not beat about the bush, but plainly told the Pope that both the Duke of Gloucester and he himself had been maligned, if His Holiness regarded them as hostile to him in any way whatsoever. He added that were he able to undertake the journey he would gladly visit Rome, and explain the evil intentions of that faction which was attempting to drive him from his See.[1103] It was useless for the Pope to retort with increased anger that Chichele had no right to introduce the name of his ‘beloved son Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester,’ as no charge had been made against him.[1104] The inference is obvious. The faction of which the Archbishop complained was clearly the Beaufort party, else Gloucester would not have been mentioned as sharing the brunt of the attack made upon him. Chichele had not the unlovely graces and deceptions of diplomacy, and he retorted frankly to the spirit and not to the letter of the papal communication that he had received.
Moreover, the Pope was at the same time harassing the Duke on the same subject. In a letter, dated October 13 of this same year, he complained bitterly of the ill treatment and imprisonment which his Nuncio and Collector, John de Obizis, had experienced in England, and he declared that he understood that the Protector was the instigator of these proceedings. Beaufort had doubtless stirred up this cause of quarrel, and was also at the bottom of the demands with which the letter concluded. Martin asserted that the King had promised to call a Parliament to consider ‘the execrable statute against ecclesiastical liberty,’ and urged Gloucester, as next in importance to the King, to use his influence on the side of repeal.[1105] Thus was Humphrey drawn into the quarrel, and though it would seem that he tried to pacify the Pope by releasing the papal collector,[1106] there are no signs that he abandoned his old friend Chichele on the question of Præmunire. The tone of the papal letter addressed to the Protector, though couched in civil language, contains a decided threat, especially when we remember that the case of Jacqueline’s divorce was still pending at Rome. It is therefore impossible to doubt from the evidence before us that the attack on Humphrey and the offenceless Archbishop was the work of the Bishop of Winchester, meant to serve his own personal ends, and to gratify his political ambitions in England.
The excuse and foundation for this attack on Archbishop Chichele are not far to seek. The Bishop of Lincoln had been recently translated to the See of York by papal provision, and had been indicted for accepting this promotion under the statute of Præmunire. However, he had come to terms with the Lords of the Council, and in return for a promise to stay all proceedings against him and to reappoint him to the See of Lincoln, he had agreed to renounce all claims to the See of York, and to do his utmost to expedite the cause of the Duke of Gloucester at the Court of Rome, the cause being the divorce of Jacqueline, as yet undecided.[1107] This action on the part of the Council had enraged the Pope and annoyed Beaufort, the former because the statute of Præmunire had been employed to curb his power in England, the latter because it spoke of the influence which his rival had over the Council. Moreover, the Bishop had no desire to see the objectionable statute made use of against himself, for he had just been nominated a Cardinal for the second time,[1108] and was looking for a favourable opportunity to accept the honour without incurring the penalties of the law, penalties which would incur not only loss of power in the kingdom, but also the forfeiture of all those worldly possessions which he loved so dearly. He therefore used this opportunity for his advantage, and urged the Pope to attack Chichele, and through him Gloucester, who, with characteristic cunning, was not mentioned in the accusing letter.
The details of the struggle are, from Gloucester’s point of view, unimportant, as his name was sedulously excluded from the later stages of the controversy. Blustering epistles and the threat of an interdict shook Chichele’s resolution, but the nation stood firm, and beyond the personal satisfaction of having caused the Archbishop considerable anxiety, Martin gained nothing by his interference.[1109] Not so the Beaufort faction. The compromise with regard to the See of York was finally settled by the appointment of John Kemp, Bishop of London, a man who had made some show of friendship for Gloucester,[1110] but who was to join the party of his opponents before very long; besides this, the Bishop of Winchester was ultimately enabled, by means of the influence exercised on Bedford, to accept the cardinalate without incurring the penalties of Præmunire.
In connection with this episode in the struggle between Gloucester and Beaufort, a correspondence, which took place between Humphrey and the Pope in the year 1424, may have some bearing. The Duke complained that one, Simon da Taramo, papal collector in Ireland, had been traducing him to the Pope, and he had also exchanged letters with Simon on the subject. Simon declared that he had a complete answer to the charge,[1111] but he had undoubtedly meddled in Jacqueline’s divorce suit, and seemingly had made unauthorised promises in the name of Gloucester, possibly at the instigation of Beaufort.[1112] It is likely, though no definite opinion can be given on the subject, that this complaint made by Humphrey had some connection with the later attack on Archbishop Chichele, and that the intrigues of Beaufort were first levelled direct at his chief rival, and then diverted into fresh channels in an attempt to reach this rival through his friend and supporter. In detail the story is obscure, but the deduction is obvious. Regardless of the national spirit, which had asserted the independence of the Anglican branch of the Church Catholic from undue papal interference from the very earliest days of English history, Beaufort had entered into alliance against the long-established ecclesiastical liberties of England; he had disregarded the patriotic scruples of other great Englishmen, and had embarked on a policy in which patriotism was subordinated to private interest. Are we to blame Humphrey if he tried to prevent the government of the kingdom from falling into the hands of such an one as this? On the other hand, Gloucester himself had adopted a line of action in accordance with the accredited policy of England, he had shown himself the upholder of a method of procedure in which orthodoxy refused to yield to patriotism, even as earlier he had caused Martin V. to complain of his lack of energy in procuring the Archdeaconry of Canterbury for another papal nominee.[1113] This attitude was not chosen with any idea of gaining popularity in the kingdom, for he did not thrust his share in the quarrel to the front, and was content to limit his action to quiet, unobtrusive resistance to papal claims.[1114]
Later in life we see Gloucester’s interest in matters ecclesiastical exemplified in his relations to the Council of Basel.[1115] On July 4, 1437, he wrote a letter to the Council telling them of the excellent manner in which their emissaries had conducted themselves in England, and of the despatch with which he had secured an audience for them.[1116] Though strife was running high at the time between Pope and Council, their disputes had not yet reached the last extremity, so we cannot deduce from this evidence that Humphrey supported the Council against the Pope. Probably he was slow to withdraw the sympathy he felt for the Council, for we find a letter written to him in the following February by Eugenius IV., setting forth the reasons of his action in summoning the Council to sit at Ferrara,[1117] which would lead one to believe that he was trying to convert his correspondent to his views. However, there seems no reason to doubt that Gloucester’s hereditary orthodoxy led him to follow the example of the English King, who protested strongly against the action of the Council in refusing to acknowledge the Pope,[1118] and at a later date referred to the ‘rageous demenyng of theyme of Basyle.’[1119]
Humphrey’s ecclesiastical interests were mainly devoted to the monastic foundations of England. He was a member of the Fraternity of St. Edmund at Bury;[1120] it was to him that the Priory of Launceston appealed when, in 1430, there arose a dispute on the election of their Prior,[1121] and from him also the Prior of Binham Abbey sought support when the Bishop of Norwich found cause of complaint against that foundation.[1122] In this last case Wheathampsted, the famous Abbot of St. Albans, had acted as intermediary between the Prior and the Duke, since Bynham was a cell of St. Albans, and it was with this man, and the Abbey over which he ruled, that Gloucester had the most intimate connection of all.
The Abbey of St. Albans was one of the most fashionable monastic establishments in England. Queen Joan was accustomed to visit it from her palace at Langley; the Duchess of Clarence—Gloucester’s sister-in-law—was its friend and patroness, and was received into its Fraternity; Cardinal Beaufort visited it more than once, and was received with processions and rejoicings as befitted a prince of the Church; the Earl of Warwick, too, was here nursed by the monks through an attack of tertian fever.[1123] But Gloucester was the most consistent visitor of all; we have frequently seen him entertained by the monastery; he and his two wives were admitted to the Fraternity, and at one time he resided at the Manor of the Weald, on the hill close by, which at the present time practically corresponds to the parish of St. Stephen’s.[1124] From time to time he gave costly presents to the Abbey, and even in 1436 these had assumed considerable proportions. He had made eight distinct presentations, mostly of vestments and hangings for the altar, culminating in the gift of a shrine with a figure of the Virgin bearing her Son in her arms in the centre, and several figures grouped around standing on an ornamental pedestal, all surmounted by the Crucifixion, with the Virgin and St. John standing on either side.[1125]
Besides gifts to the Abbey, Humphrey gave some of his goods into the keeping of the monks, and at the time of his death many of his jewels were found in their hands.[1126] The presents were not all on his side; we find many entries in the accounts of the monastery recording payment made to the Duke and to his retainers at the time when the renewal of the charter of the Abbey was procured through his mediation with the King.[1127] Soon after this Wheathampsted resigned the Abbey, but before long Humphrey was summoned as chief patron to adjudicate between the late Abbot and his successor, John Stoke, since they had quarrelled over the former’s right of maintenance out of the revenues of the Abbey.[1128] After the retirement of Wheathampsted there is no recorded visit of Gloucester to the Abbey; he seems to have been there for the last time to celebrate the renewal of the Charter in 1440; but he did not forget the monastery of his choice, and less than four years before his death he bequeathed to it the alien Priory of Pembroke, in return for which masses were to be said for his soul and for that of Eleanor his wife.[1129]
As we have seen, it was in St. Albans Abbey that Gloucester found his last resting-place, in a tomb built for him before his death by Abbot Stoke at the considerable cost of £433, 6s. 8d.[1130] The tomb is still to be seen at the south side of the shrine of St. Alban, and though considerably mutilated on the north face, it still remains a very fine specimen of Perpendicular workmanship. It bears Humphrey’s arms with supporters, and the canopied niches above have once held figures, still to be seen on the south side, but impossible to identify, more especially as they seem to have been moved from their original places. It is possible that they are meant to represent the royal benefactors of the Abbey, most of whom would be in some way related to Humphrey. In 1703, while digging a grave for Mr. John Gape, the vault of the tomb was discovered, and the Duke’s body was found ‘preserved in a kind of pickle’ and enclosed in coffins of lead and wood.[1131] The tomb and body became thenceforth one of the sights of the place, and Lady Moira recounts that in 1747 she ‘took from the skull of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, in his vault at St. Albans Abbey a lock of hair which was so perfectly strong that I had it woven into Bath rings.’[1132] Others were no more particular about spoiling the dead than Lady Moira, and in 1789 only the lead coffin and bones were left,[1133] and even some of the last have been removed, and are to be found in the possession of private persons. There are still some of the remains of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, lying in the vault in which they were reverently laid by those who knew and who loved him, and there still may be seen the faded remains of a picture of the Crucifixion painted on the wall at the foot of the coffin.
Of Gloucester’s personal appearance we have little information. No contemporary gives us any description of him, and though we have some fairly authentic portraits, they are not sufficiently definite to give a clear conception of his personality.[1134] The utmost we can be sure of is that he had a somewhat emaciated face, and was clean shaven. His countenance, so far as we can know it, bears no sign of his individuality, and we must fall back on the scanty notices of the chroniclers for a description of his character. Later generations regarded Humphrey almost as a saint; he is eulogised in the pages of Camden;[1135] all the virtues he obviously lacked are attributed to him by Holinshed;[1136] Hall and Sandford unite in calling him the father of his country;[1137] his biographer, John Cooper, not to be outdone, declares that he was a ‘miracle of wisdom and goodness.’[1138] There seems to have been no divided opinion on the subject, probably due to his undoubted popularity with the people, and a writer who was perhaps born soon after the Duke’s death speaks of his ‘honourable fame and of his ‘liberalite.’[1139] Amongst his contemporaries, too, there is no lack of praise for his merits, though the unrestrained style of later centuries is modified. Mathieu de Coussy declares him to be the wisest, most powerful, and best loved prince in all England,[1140] and even Waurin, the follower of the Duke of Burgundy, turns aside from his account of the quarrel of Gloucester and Duke Philip, to say, ‘car pour verité, sans personne blasmer, il estoit prince de grant virtu, large, courtois sage et très vaillant chevallier de corps, hardy de ceur.’[1141] Wheathampsted, his friend and supporter, was possibly biassed in his favour when he says:
It cannot be doubted that Humphrey had many knightly qualities, and that there are many actions in his life which may be regarded as creditable, if not great. His personal character was spoilt by an entire lack of concentration and purpose. He had no philosophy of life, and no substitute for one. He accepted certain canons of policy and conduct, but could not live up to them, and this weakness was entirely due to the taint in his moral character which made him the victim of his passions. A weakness in itself, this indulgence drained all the life-blood from his actions, and increased year by year his inability to carry out a set purpose. He became more and more a producer of high-flown phrases, which sounded large and meant little owing to the lack of power behind them. This was especially evident in those sporadic bursts of energy during the last few years of his life, and there is much truth in the verdict of Pope Pius II., who declared him to be more suited to a life of letters and lust than to a life of arms, and accused him of never justifying his vast pretensions and of caring more for his life than for his honour.[1143] This unfavourable summary of his character was provoked by Humphrey’s actions in Hainault, and therefore was made under circumstances most unfavourable to him, and at a moment when his conflict with the canon law would colour the judgment of a papal writer. Nevertheless, Pius II. with unerring instinct placed his finger on the weak spot in the Duke’s character, and laid stress on just that element which spoilt his whole life.
Equally to the point is the sketch given by an anonymous chronicler who wrote in England, one that bears the impress of truth from its obvious impartiality, and sums up the situation in the best possible manner. ‘Duke Humphrey excelled all the princes of the world in knowledge, in comeliness of appearance and in fame, but he possessed an unbalanced mind, was effeminate and given over to sensual pleasures, a tendency which vitiated all his actions, prompted though they were by his many other good qualities. Moreover, he did not desist from his sensual indulgences either at this present time (the time of his marriage to Eleanor), or in the future, for which he received his due reward.’[1144] There could be no juster estimate of the man. That he had exhausted himself by indulgences, even as early as his twenty-fifth year, is established by the testimony of his physician Kymer,[1145] though too much emphasis may be laid on this dietary, for Humphrey was probably passing through a stage very common to young men in his position. To expect strict morals from him in the age in which he lived is to create a public opinion which did not exist, and we must remember that both his brothers Thomas and John left illegitimate children. Nevertheless, much of that instability of character which wrecked his life may be traced to indulgence in his besetting sin, an indulgence which seemed excessive even to his contemporaries, and it may well have been with his great patron in his mind that Lydgate penned the words:
We must not gather from Humphrey’s volatile nature that he had no strong affections; even as he had a hatred of the Duke of Burgundy, so had he, in spite of his infidelities, a strong affection for his second wife. He did not forget her even after her disgrace, and set out on his last journey to Bury in the hope of obtaining her release from prison. She had been his evil genius since the day he met her among the ladies of Jacqueline. Ambitious and haughty, she had mixed in affairs of state,[1147] she had performed illegal acts, the effects of which were felt by her husband, and in her disgrace she brought the heaviest blow that had yet fallen upon him. She left no legitimate issue, but she may have been the mother of the two children who called Humphrey father. The son, Arthur, was one of those arrested at Bury, but neither before nor after this is there any trace of him.[1148] Of the daughter we know more. In accordance with her father’s classical tastes she was named Antigone, and in 1437 she married Henry Grey, Earl of Tankerville, a peer of no importance, who was never summoned to Parliament.[1149] Their son dropped the title, and the last of the line married the daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.[1150] Antigone survived her husband, and a year after his death we find her the wife of Jean d’Amancier, Esquire of the Horse to Charles VII of France.[1151] It is a strange paradox that Humphrey’s daughter should marry a man in the service of the King with whom he had advocated an endless war.
Besides incontinence, there are other blots on the Duke’s private character, and they also had their influence on his public career. If he was not habitually oppressive, he was none the less rapacious. His expenses as a prince who loved display, and a patron who kept many scholars in his service, were very great, and he never lost an opportunity of adding to his rent-roll, or of securing money by other more dubious methods. We have seen him accepting a heavy bribe from the Abbey of St. Albans for his services in securing for them a renewal of their charter; in his earlier days he had accepted another bribe from the Earl of Berkeley for his good offices with Henry V. in obtaining the Castle of Berkeley for that Earl;[1152] he tried to use his powerful position and the value of his protection to induce the Prior of Ely to disburse money for the Hainault campaign;[1153] and the Cinque Ports, of which he was Warden, had to pay him in hard cash for the renewal of their charter from the King.[1154] His rapacity in an age which produced Cardinal Beaufort was not unique, yet it shows a lack of restraint, and explains how much the tendencies of his private character moulded his career as a statesman.
Together with rapacity Humphrey harboured a pride which dictated many of his most unfortunate actions, and this pride was closely connected with an impetuosity which led him to discard wisdom for the pleasures of the moment. In battle he exposed himself to every danger, and even his epistolary style became infected with this characteristic, for in speaking of Simon da Taramo he alludes to the ‘venomous suggestion of this second Judas.’[1155] All through his life Gloucester was governed by his emotions, and he always obeyed the impulse of the moment, were it good or bad. Thus his love of order and his disgust at any kind of outrage so possessed him when he discovered that his retainers had been poaching at St. Albans, that he seized the nearest weapon to his hand and belaboured one of the wretched criminals as he sat in the stocks.[1156] Indeed the secret of the Duke’s character lay in the preponderating influence his emotions possessed over every action of his life. This partly explains his unstable nature, and accounts for his high-flown ideas and ill-considered plans, but when the power of the emotion had passed, all the vitality had gone from his undertakings. His emotions took him to Hainault, and their reaction produced his failure; his emotions produced those fitful attacks on his great rival Beaufort, but were not enough to construct for him a definite policy. The energy of his life all went to waste, because there was no strength of will to control his impressionable nature. Yet there were times when this impetuosity led to good results as well as to ill. It helped him to quell all tentative efforts at sedition, it kept him going in his warlike undertakings when they were not too prolonged; above all, it enabled him to broaden his interests, and to embrace the life of a patron of letters as well as that of a soldier and a politician. Yet sometimes he was able to restrain his ardour. During the Côtentin expedition he showed unexpected determination, and on occasions he could try persuasion when force was useless. The man who could burst into fits of rage under the influence of political disappointment, and jeopardise the safety of his country for the whim of the moment, could also stoop to argue with an irate prelate, and ‘doff his cap’ to the Bishop of Norwich when interceding for the liberties of the Prior of Binham.[1157]
The man who is governed by his emotions is seldom worthy of respect, but he has a charm which is all his own. This charm Gloucester undoubtedly possessed. Though in many ways a sore trial to Bedford, he did not lose his brother’s affection till an impetuous outburst produced a quarrel, which was never healed. All through the Hainault trouble the French Regent had borne with his brother, and his letters had shown affection even when they found fault. Even after the Parliament of Leicester he had manifested a tactful feeling for his brother’s tastes, and had sent him a beautifully adorned volume from the famous royal library of France.[1158] Others who had been brought into close contact with Duke Humphrey were warm in their praise of him; Wheathampsted and his St. Albans friends were faithful to him even after his death.[1159] The Bishop of Bayeux spread glowing reports of his generosity and kindliness throughout Italy, as is attested by more than one Italian humanist,[1160] and his personal charm exerted a strong influence on such men as Piero del Monte. This last spoke in warm terms of the happy intercourse he had had with the Duke of Gloucester while in England,[1161] and it was not therefore mere fulsome flattery which made Lapo da Castiglionchio declare that in conversation he was courteous and kind, and in every walk of life affable and genial.[1162] We have more than one indication of the goodness of Humphrey’s heart, apart from the possibly suspect statements of admirers, and it was no mere caprice that made him befriend the unhappy Queen Joan, who was left to eke out a life of honourable detention totally neglected by all the other prominent personages in the kingdom.
As we turn the last page of Humphrey’s political life, it is with a feeling of regret that we remember his career. We see brilliant abilities and immense possibilities for useful work all thrown away because the fire of genius burnt only in fitful gleams. Moral stamina was denied to an otherwise promising character, and the concentration which might have moulded his life’s work into a useful policy was lacking. He had done nothing to carry England further along the high-road to strength and fame, he had lived in a decadent age and had been overwhelmed by the spirit of his times. Yet his life was not in vain. No man has left a greater mark on the progress of English thought than this Duke Humphrey, and in the realm of ideas, whither we must now follow him, he did the good work he failed to do in the realm of action.
No period of English history is less romantic than that in which Humphrey of Gloucester’s life was cast. Apart from the fleeting glories of Agincourt, there is no outstanding event of transcendent interest, no episode of which Englishmen may be honourably proud. A disastrous and ill-conducted war abroad, bitter political dissensions at home, a feeble regency followed by a still feebler King, personal ambitions rampant, patriotic and unselfish action lost under the enervating influence of a false idea of foreign conquest, a nation that had outgrown its strength, a nobility that knew not the meaning of honour or disinterestedness—such was the state of England during the first half of the fifteenth century. This chaotic state was only to be wiped out by a long and disastrous civil war, yet working underneath all this seething mass of lost ideals there were forces which were to influence the formation of modern England as it emerged from this state of transition. It may be said that in one sense every age is one of transition, that the history of the world is the story of a great development, in which the old order is ever changing, giving place to the new; nevertheless we can note the spirit of change more clearly in some periods than in others. Gloucester lived at a time when the mind of man was broadening into a new phase of intellectual development. Already Petrarch had lived and died, declaring that he stood on the confines of two eras, looking back and looking forward; already Italy had realised that the long sleep of the Middle Ages was over; already that movement, which for lack of a better name we call the Renaissance, had begun. The traditional scholarship and the hereditary superstition which had dominated the Dark Ages was being superseded; a new field of human knowledge had been opened for Western Europe when Greek ceased to be an unknown tongue with the advent of Chrysoloras; the true meaning of that prophecy which had sprung from the lips of Joachim of Flora was dawning on men’s minds—‘the Gospel of the Father is past, the Gospel of the Son is passing, the Gospel of the Spirit is yet to be.’ A spirit of uneasiness was abroad, a spirit which proclaimed the emancipation of man from the bonds of ignorance and tradition, a spirit which was to proclaim his individuality, and to break down the trammels which had restrained the assertion of self. Morally, as well as legally, man was passing from status to contract.
Humphrey felt the full force of this movement; his life was moulded thereby. His activity and many-sided energy found their origin in this new spirit. His fervid imagination, which led him into impossible projects, his love of display, above all, his desire to stamp his individuality on the politics of his country, all sprang from the new realisation which was vouchsafed to him—the realisation of his own individuality. In England, the new spirit was more manifest politically than in isolated individuals; the country was throwing off the feudal system, her merchants and traders were demanding the acknowledgment of their importance, peasants and townsmen alike were preparing for that long, uphill struggle which has culminated in the parliamentary system of the nineteenth century. Humphrey, with all his senses ready to receive the message of the Renaissance movement, did not, however, grasp its true significance in England. The friend of the struggling masses, he nevertheless had no real sympathy with the popular movement; he was cast far more in the Italian than in the English mould. Though devoid of the cunning, the lack of scruple, and the conscienceless criminality of Machiavelli’s Principe, he nevertheless in his ambitions anticipated the type. He practised the art of popularity; he tried to make the nation feel that he, and he alone, was essential to the welfare of the kingdom, that the success of his policy was the only safeguard of the state. He failed, and failed egregiously, but the idea was the same as that which inspired the Florentine secretary; he had the idea, but in that he had not the weight of personality necessary for the typical tyrannus, he failed. More than this, the Italian type was not suited to English methods of thought; England had not progressed far enough along the road of new ideas to welcome despotism as the salvation of the nation. What the Tudors accomplished was impossible to Humphrey, both on account of his nature and on account of the temper of the people.
The comparison of Humphrey to the Italian despot must not be followed on the same lines, as in the case of his great successor, John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester. The tyrannus who passed gaily and naturally from cold-blooded murder to the society of the philosophers and poets of his court, found no parallel in his career; violence and determined cruelty were not among his characteristics. Indeed these are later manifestations of the Renaissance movement, bastard products of a too self-centred individuality. In Humphrey the Renaissance was manifested in its first youth, and even then incompletely; it was not till after his death that the new ideas began to be fully understood in England; he led the van of the army which set out to conquer the realms of knowledge, and perished before possession was assured. In no other Englishman of the time do we find the same love of the ancient classics which characterised Gloucester. His father had given books to the University of Oxford, but only such as dealt with mediæval lore;[1163] the Duke of Exeter had studied at an Italian University, but there the traditions of mediævalism, based on a study of law, lasted long after Petrarch and Boccaccio had pointed to the past as the teacher of the future. Henry V. showed considerable interest in literature, and possessed numerous books.[1164] Not once, however, is there mention of a work of classical origin. That prolific versifier Lydgate translated the Psalms of David into ‘heroicall English metre’ for him, and thus they were sung in the royal chapel;[1165] the same writer dedicated his poem The Death of Hector to him, and it was at his request that this work was undertaken;[1166] the same is true of the Booke of the Nativitie of our Lady from the same unskilled pen.[1167] Hoccleve, too, wrote at the King’s bidding, and bore testimony to his master’s love of books, and his enjoyment of a ‘tale fresh and gay,’[1168] tastes which never extended beyond the ephemeral literature of a decadent age, though Hoccleve’s Regiment of Princes, which was dedicated to Henry when Prince of Wales, might boast of a distant classical ancestry.[1169] To Henry also Walsingham dedicated his Ipodigma Neustriæ[1170] and at his death we find him in possession of three books, the Chronicles of Jerusalem, the Voyage of Godfrey of Bouillon, and a copy of the Works of St. Gregory.[1171]
Henry V., however, had no interest in the new learning which heralded the Renaissance; his interests were confined to the productions of inferior court poets, and works on theological questions. Indeed theology, together with law, was the staple diet of the mediæval scholar. Humphrey’s originality lay in the fact that he looked to the works of the Greeks and early Romans for his mental food, and therein showed the distinction which lay between the old and new learning. It was to Greece and her literature that both Petrarch and Boccaccio had stretched out their hands, to the literature of an age which had passed out of the ken of the mediæval scholar. Students during the Dark Ages had known of Aristotle only through incomplete and erroneous Latin translations, Plato was to them but a name, most of the works of Cicero were lost, and only the later writers of decadent Rome were really familiar to them. The new movement taught that the secret of progress was to be found by enlarging the mental horizon, and by looking back to the great writers who had written before the advent of Christianity, and who taught the gospel of the goodliness of humanity—a gospel entirely unknown under the sway of the scholastic theologians. As by degrees a knowledge of Greek philosophy spread over Europe, men began to realise that there was a goodliness in life which they had not hitherto imagined. A love of beauty, a love of nature, a respect for humanity, were all found in the works of the Greek authors, and these were the ideas that revolutionised the mental attitude of the Western world. All this realisation of self, which we have found so strongly developed in Humphrey, was borrowed from ancient Greece; modern individualism is but a reversion to an earlier civilisation. All the grandeur and the joy of life and its surroundings flooded the imaginations of the new scholars; a definite basis from which to leap into the future was secured; the past was invoked to give birth to the future.
Thus the encouragement of scholars and the patronage of authors was not the distinguishing mark of the Renaissance; it was the nature of the studies thus encouraged which gave a tone to the movement; the Humanists—the students of the litteræ humaniores—were the heralds of the new era. Humphrey stood almost alone amongst the Englishmen of his time in encouraging the new kind of learning. Cardinal Beaufort, it is true, brought back Poggio Bracciolini, famous as a Humanist, and as a diligent searcher after the lost writings of classical days, from the Council of Constance, but he did not show any real appreciation of the movement which was mirrored in his great follower, and though he supplied books for the Cathedral Library at Canterbury, he himself seems to have had but little respect for classical studies.[1172] Poggio, though he soon tired of the somewhat chilling atmosphere of England, did not sever all connection with his English patron, and during the last year of the Cardinal’s life wrote to him two letters calling himself his ‘servitor et antiquus familiaris.’[1173] However, his impression of the intellectual life of England was not very favourable, and in later life he was accustomed to descant more on the wealth and the wonderful eating power of Englishmen, than on the men of learning he met during his sojourn in this country. As to the scholars, such as they were, he declared that they showed their learning in dialectics and disputations such as the old schoolmen had loved, not in a love of the doctrines of the new learning.[1174]
Nor was Bedford any more imbued than his uncle with the spirit of the new learning, though he showed considerable taste for artistically adorned manuscripts, and collected a library at Rouen, of which the basis was the fine collection of books which Charles V. had made at Paris. His tastes were almost entirely confined to works studied by the old schoolmen, and to French translations of Latin or late Greek authors. Thus we find a treatise by the Greek medical writer Galen on the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, another man of medicine, and a work by the Arabian astronomer Aboo-l-Hassan on the stars—both translated into French—amongst his books, not to mention that most beautiful Salisbury Breviary, which will always rank amongst the marvels of fifteenth-century French art.[1175] The only book of genuine classical interest which we find in his possession was a French translation of Livy, and this he presented to his brother Humphrey as more suited to his tastes than to his own.[1176]