While England was sacrificing her best blood and trea sure in schemes of foreign aggrandizement, which, had they proved successful, would have degraded her into the rank of a dependent province, the government at home was distracted by intestine disputes. The Cardi nal of 'Winchester, who was a man of abilities, but of an intriguing and aspiring character, had obtained an ascendency in the English council, and employed all his authority in counteracting the designs of his nephew the protector. The Duke of Gloucester, on the other hand, by his generosity and affable manners, had acquired great and deserved popularity ; but his open and hasty temper enabled his rival to gain many advantages over him, and at last to accomplish his destruction. Their sentiments were particularly opposite with regard to af fairs in France. The Cardinal had always encouraged every proposal of accommodation, while the high-spirit ed Gloucester would not relinquish the high pretensions of his brothers, and still entertained hopes of prevailing over the enemy. But he was over-ruled in all his mea sures, and the war with France was left to languish through neglect and want of succours ; and a truce for twenty•two months was soon after concluded by the in fluence of the Cardinal. This measure was followed by another still more hostile to the authority of Gloucester.
Henry had now come of age, but had given no indica tions of a capacity, or even of a desire, to hold the reins of government. It was, therefore, easy to foresee, that his reign would prove a perpetual minority; and the Car dinal taking advantage of the king's situation, resolved to raise up a more powerful opponent to the protector in the person of the queen. For this purpose, he had fixed upon Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Regnicr, titular king of Sicily, Naples, and Jerusalem, and niece of the French monarch. She was a princess entirely without fortune, but was highly accomplished both in body and mind. She possessed great resolution and penetration, and was every way qualified to supply the defects and 'weaknesses of her intended husband. This match was opposed by the Duke of Gloucester, who proposed a daughter of the Count of Armagnac, hut he had not suf ficient influence to carry his point ; and the Earl of Suf folk, after negotiating the truce with France, was cm powered by the council to make proposals of marriage to the Sicilian princess. These were immediately accept ed ; and Suffolk, on his return, was raised to the rank of Duke, and received the thanks of parliament for his ser vices.
The queen at once entered into all the measures of the cardinal and his party ; and her first authority was em ployed in removing Gloucester from the council board. His enemies had taken every opportunity to thwart his opinions, and to wound his happiness. They first en deavoured to render him odious in the eyes of the pub lic, whose favour he possessed in a high degree, by ac cusing his Duchess of witchcraft. It was pretended that she, in concert with Sir Roger Bolingbroke, a priest, and one Margery Jordan of Eye, a reputed witch, had made a waxen figure of the king, which they melted before a slow fire. As the wax dissolved, the king's strength was sup posed to waste, and, upon its total dissolution, his life was to he at an end. This absurd accusation was listened to by the credulous king, and the duchess and her asso ciates were brought to trial. Neither their innocence nor her rank could save them. They were pronounced guilty. The duchess was condemned to public penance, and perpetual imprisonment ; Bolingbroke was hanged ; and the woman was burnt. The public, however, were sensible that this violence arose entirely from the malice of the Duke's enemies, and, instead of taking part against the perpetrators of these imaginary crimes, as was their usual practice, they pitied the unhappy sufferers, and in creased their esteem and affection towards the generous and persecuted Gloucester. The death of this prince
was almost a necessary consequence to these proceed ings. His enemies knew well, that he could never for give such cruel injuries, and they had reason to dread the effects of his resentment. They therefore rosolved to free themselves from their danger, by his destruction. A parliament was summoned to meet at St Edmonds bury, which was at some distance from the scene of his popularity, where he was accused of treason, and thrown into prison. But on the day appointed for his trial, he was found dead in his bed. Though his enemies en deavoured to convince the people that he died a natural death, and exposed his body to public view, to spew that there were no marks of outward violence, yet no one doubted but that he had fallen a victim to their ven geance. His uncle the, cardinal survived him only a few weeks, and, it is said, testified the utmost remorse for his unnatural crime.
The murder of Gloucester covered the king and queen with universal odium ; and the Duke of Suffolk, who was now raised to the office of prime minister, and was deep ly concerned in that crime, partook also of the general hatred attending it. The popular discontent was farther increased by their arbitrary measures. They managed all things with unlimited authority ;' they disgusted the nobility by their overbearing pride, and the people by their oppressions. The murmurings of the people had become so loud and unequivocal, that Suffolk, sensible that he had become an object of public hatred, endea voured to allay the storm that was gathering around him, by boldly resisting its fury. He rose in his place in the House of Peers, took notice of the public discontent, and complained, that, after his long services both at home and abroad in maintaining the honour of his native country, for which he had been rewarded by his sovereign with the highest honours and distinctions, he should be expo sed to its ingratitude and resentment. But this chal Icngc, instead of silencing his enemies, served rather to provoke them ; and the commons immediately sent up to the House of Peers an accusation of high treason against him, divided into several articles. These arti cles, however, were adopted without inquiry, and were founded entirely upon the popular clamours. They con sisted chiefly in charging him with having designs upon the crown; and with being the cause of the English loss es in France. Such a charge was easily refuted; and i the commons themselves soon became sensible of its fu tility, and sent up a new charge of misdemeanors. They accused him of procuring exorbitant grants from the crown, of embezzling the public money, and of perverting public justice,—charges much more probable, and not so easily eluded. The king, alarmed at the prosecution of a favourite minister, summoned all the peers into his presence, and called upon Suffolk for his defence. That nobleman denied the charge, but submitted to the king's mercy. henry, in order to allay the public discontent, banished him the kingdom for five years. This irregu lar proceeding, it was easily seen, was intended to screen the favourite ; and, as he still possessed the queen's con fidence, it was supposed that he would soon be restored to his former credit and power. But his enemies were determined that he never should return. He was inter cepted in his passage to France, his head was struck off on the side of the long boat, and his body cast into the sea.