RICHARD II. A.D. 1377--1399.
These were not very good times in England. The new King, Richard, was
only eleven years old, and his three uncles did not care much for his
good or the good of the nation. There was not much fighting going on
in France, but for the little there was a great deal of money was
wanting, and the great lords were apt to be very hard upon the poor
people on their estates. They would not let them be taught to read;
and if a poor man who belonged to an estate went away to a town, his
lord could have him brought back to his old home. Any tax, too, fell
more heavily on the poor than the rich. One tax, especially, called
the poll tax, which was made when Richard was sixteen, vexed them
greatly. Everyone above fifteen years old had to pay fourpence, and
the collectors were often very rude and insolent. A man named Wat
Tyler, in Kent, was so angry with a rude collector as to strike him
dead. All the villagers came together with sticks, scythes, and
flails; and Wat Tyler told them they would go to London, and tell the
king how his poor commons were treated. More people and more joined
them on the way, and an immense multitude of wild looking men came
pouring into London, where the Lord Mayor and Aldermen were taken by
surprise, and could do nothing to stop them. They did not do much
harm then; they lay on the grass all night round the Tower, and said
they wanted to speak to the king. In the morning he came down to his
barge, and meant to have spoken to them; but his people, seeing such
a host of wild men, took fright, and carried him back again. He went
out again the next day on horseback; but while he was speaking to some
of them, the worst of them broke into the Tower, where they seized
Archbishop Simon of Canterbury, and fancying he was one of the king's
bad advisers, they cut off his head. Richard had to sleep in the
house called the Royal Wardrobe that night, but he went out again on
horseback among the mob, and began trying to understand what they
wanted. Wat Tyler, while talking, grew violent, forgot to whom he
was speaking, and laid his hand on the king's bridle, as if to
threaten or take him prisoner. Upon this, the Lord Mayor, with his
mace--the large crowned staff that is carried before him--dealt the
man such a blow that fell from his horse, and an attendant thrust him
through with a sword. The people wavered, and seemed not to know
what to do: and the young king, with great readiness, rode forward
and said--"Good fellows, have you lost your leader? This fellow was
but a traitor, I am your king, and will be your captain and guide."
Then he rode at their head out into the fields, and the gentlemen,
who had mustered their men by this time, were able to get between
them and the city. The people of each county were desired to state
their grievances; the king engaged to do what he could for them, and
they went home.
Richard seems to have really wished to take away some of the laws that
were so hard upon them, but his lords would not let him, and he had as
yet very little power--being only a boy--and by the time he grew up
his head was full of vanity and folly. He was very handsome, and he
cared more for fine clothes and amusements than for business; and his
youngest uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, did all he could to keep him
back, and hinder him from taking his affairs into his own hands. Not
till he was twenty-four did Richard begin to govern for himself; and
then the Duke of Gloucester was always grumbling and setting the
people to grumble, because the king chose to have peace with France.
Duke Thomas used to lament over the glories of the battles of Edward
III., and tell the people they had taxes to pay to keep the king in
ermine robes, and rings, and jewels, and to let him give feasts and
tilting matches--when the knights, in beautiful, gorgeous armor, rode
against one another in sham fight, and the king and ladies looked on
and gave the prize.
Now, Richard knew very well that all this did not cost half so much as
his grandfather's wars, and he said it did not signify to the people
what he wore, or how he amused himself, as long as he did not tax them
and take their lambs and sheaves to pay for it. But the people would
not believe him, and Gloucester was always stirring them up against
him, and interfering with him in council. At last, Richard went as
if on a visit to his uncle at Pleshy Castle; and there, in his own
presence, caused him to be seized and sent off to Calais. In a few
days' time Thomas, Duke of Gloucester, was dead; and to this day
nobody knows whether his grief and rage brought on a fit, or if he
was put to death. It is certain, at least, that Richard's other two
uncles do not seem to have treated the king as if he had been to
blame. The elder of these uncles, the Duke of Lancaster, was called
John of Gaunt--because he had been born a Ghent, a town in Flanders.
He was becoming an old man, and only tried to help the king and keep
things quiet; but Henry, his eldest son, was a fine high-spirited
young man--a favorite with everybody, and was always putting himself
forward--and the king was very much afraid of him.
One day, when Parliament met, the king stood up, and commanded Henry
of Lancaster to tell all those present what the Duke of Norfolk had
said when they were riding together. Henry gave in a written paper,
saying that the duke had told him that they should all be ruined, like
the Duke of Gloucester, and that the king would find some way to
destroy them. Norfolk angrily sprang up, and declared he had said no
such thing. In those days, when no one could tell which spoke the
truth, the two parties often would offer to fight, and it was believed
that God would show the right, by giving the victory to the sincere
one. So Henry and Norfolk were to fight; but just as they were
mounted on their horses, with their lances in their hands, the king
threw down his staff before them, stopped the combat, and sentenced
Norfolk to be banished from England for life, and Henry for ten years.
Not long after Henry had gone, his old father--John of Gaunt--died,
and the king kept all his great dukedom of Lancaster. Henry would
not bear this, and knew that many people at home thought it very
unfair; so he came to England, and as soon as he landed at Ravenspur
in Yorkshire, people flocked to him so eagerly, that he began to think
he could do more than make himself duke of Lancaster. King Richard
was in Ireland, where his cousin, the governor--Roger Mortimer--had
been killed by the wild Irish. He came home in haste on hearing of
Henry's arrival, but everybody turned against him: and the Earl of
Northumberland, whom he had chiefly trusted, made him prisoner and
carried him to Henry. He was taken to London, and there set before
Parliament, to confess that he had ruled so ill that he was unworthy
to reign, and gave up the crown to his dear cousin Henry of Lancaster,
in the year 1399.
Then he was sent away to Pontefract Castle, and what happened to him
there nobody knows, but he never came out of it alive.