THE REIGN OF RICHARD II.
Accession of the King--Attitude of John of Gaunt--Patriotic
Government--Insurrection of the Peasantry--John Ball--The
Poll-tax--Wat Tyler--The Attack on London--The Meeting
at Mile End--Death of Wat Tyler, and Dispersion of the
Insurgents--Marriage of the King--Expedition of the Bishop of
Norwich--Death of Wycliffe--Unpopularity of Lancaster--He Retires
to Spain--Gloucester Attacks the Royal Favourites--Committee of
Reform--The Lords Appellant--The Wonderful Parliament--Richard
sets Himself Free--His Good Government--Expedition to
Ireland--Marriage with Isabella of France--The King's
Vengeance--Banishment of Hereford and Norfolk--Arbitrary
Rule of the King--His Second Visit to Ireland--Return of
Hereford--Deposition and Murder of Richard.
Richard II. was only eleven years of age at the time of his grandfather's
death. He was the sole surviving son of the popular Black Prince, his
elder brother having died before his father left Guienne. Richard,
therefore--called Richard of Bordeaux, from being born there--was brought
up as the heir-apparent by his mother, Joan of Kent, and his uncles, in
the most luxurious indulgence, and in the most extravagant ideas of his
royal rank. This was a fatal commencement for the reign of a boy, and it
was made still more so by the extreme popularity of his father, whose
memory was idolised both as the most renowned warrior of his time, and
as the advocate of the people against the stern measures of Edward III.
All these things combined to spoil a naturally good and affectionate
disposition.
Richard ascended the throne on the 22nd of June, 1377, his grandfather
having died the day before. While the old king still lay on his
death-bed, a deputation of the citizens of London had waited on the
juvenile prince at Shene, where he was living, and offered him their
lives and fortunes. They entreated him to come and take up his residence
in the Tower amongst them. Richard gave a gracious reply in assent, and
the next afternoon made his entrance into the capital. Three weeks were
spent in performing the obsequies of the late king, and in preparing for
the coronation of the present. This took place on the 16th of July.
The day after the coronation the prelates and barons met in council
to arrange the form of government during the king's minority. They
avoided appointing a regent in order, as is supposed, that they might
not have to elect the Duke of Lancaster, the celebrated John of Gaunt,
the king's uncle, who had long been suspected of aspiring to the crown,
and who was, moreover, an unpopular personage. They therefore chose
nine councillors--namely, three bishops, two earls, two barons, and two
knights--to assist the chancellor and the treasurer. Not one of the
king's uncles was included, not even the Earl of Cambridge, afterwards
made Duke of York, who was indolent and of slight capacity, and therefore
not much to be feared; nor the Earl of Buckingham, afterwards Duke of
Gloucester, who was bold and turbulent, but much more popular than either
of his brothers. Contrary to general expectation, Lancaster appeared to
acquiesce in the arrangement without a murmur, and retired with all his
attendants to his castle of Kenilworth, as if about to devote himself
to the pursuits of private life. But he had taken care to secure the
appointment of some of his staunch cavaliers in the council, and, in
reality, he and his brothers were the ruling powers in the state. Amongst
the leading members of the council were the Bishops of London, Carlisle,
and Salisbury, the Earls of March and Stafford, Sir Richard Devereux, and
Sir Hugh Segrave.
The Commons had acquired now so much consideration and boldness, that
they petitioned the king on this occasion to be admitted to assist
the barons in nominating the royal council during the minority; which
petition, though it was not complied with, received a civil answer. They
further represented the necessity of their being summoned every year,
as entitled by the law of Edward III., and before they dissolved they
appointed two citizens as treasurers to receive and disburse the moneys
granted by them to the Crown. These treasurers were John Philpot and
William Walworth, citizens of London.
The Commons did not conceal their suspicions of the Duke of Lancaster.
They uttered very plain language regarding him, and this language did
not fail to rouse his ire. When the Archbishop of Canterbury recommended
Richard to the affections of his people, and called on Parliament to
assist in advising how the enemies of the realm might best be opposed,
the Commons replied that they could not themselves venture to answer so
important a question, but begged to have the aid of twelve peers, naming
the Duke of Lancaster expressly as "my lord of Spain."
The moment that the king had assented to this the Duke arose, bent his
knee to the king, and said, with much anger, that the Commons had no
claim to advice from him. They had charged him with nothing short of
treason--him, the son of a king, and one of the first lords of the realm,
a man of a family not only closely allied to the throne, but noted for
its faith and loyalty. It would, indeed, be marvellous, he said, if he,
with more than any other subject in the kingdom to lose, should be found
a traitor. He resented the imputation indignantly, called on his accusers
to stand forth, and declared that he would meet them like the poorest
knight, either in single combat, or in any other way that the king might
appoint.
This extraordinary demonstration created a great sensation. The lords
and prelates crowded round him, entreating him to be pacified, "for no
mortal being could give credit to such imputations." The Commons pointed
to the fact that they had named Lancaster as their principal adviser,
and finally the duke allowed himself to be appeased. But it was clear
that the Commons were strongly against him. The majority consisted of the
very men who had been opposed to him in 1376; and their speaker was Sir
Peter De la Mare, the man whom he had imprisoned for his activity on that
occasion.
Another blow aimed at the aspiring duke was through his patronage of
the late king's mistress, the notorious Alice Perrers. Lancaster had
procured her return from banishment, and protected her. But he was now
fain to abandon her, seeing the stormy state of the political atmosphere,
and consented even to sit on a committee of the House, with four other
peers, to try her for soliciting causes in the king's courts for hire
and reward, and for having procured from the late king the revocation of
the appointment of Sir Nicholas Dagworth to an office in Ireland, and a
full pardon of Richard Lyons, who had been convicted by the Commons of
various misdemeanours. The beautiful, clever, and unscrupulous Alice was
now finally banished, with forfeiture of all her lands, tenements, goods,
and chattels.
The enemies more immediately in view when the Parliament was summoned
were the French and Spaniards. Taking advantage of the reign of a minor,
the French refused to renew the truce which had expired before the
death of the late king; they drew close their alliance with Enrique
de Trastamare, who resented the assumption of the title of King of
Castile by the Duke of Lancaster. They united their fleets and ravaged
the English coasts. Richard only ascended the throne in June, and in
August the whole of the Isle of Wight was in the possession of these
foreigners, with the exception of Carisbrooke Castle. They laid waste the
island, burnt the towns of Hastings and Rye, and attacked Southampton
and Winchelsea. Winchelsea made a successful resistance, and the Earl of
Arundel, falling on the combined fleet before Southampton, repulsed it
with great loss. But marauders of other nations flocked to the fleets
of the French and Spaniards, and committed much devastation both on our
ships at sea and on our coasts. The maritime districts of Kent and Sussex
suffered severely, and a fleet even ascended the Thames and burnt the
greater part of Gravesend.
To check these several inroads Parliament granted supplies which,
however, from the empty condition of the Treasury, were obliged to be
borrowed in advance from the merchants. With these funds a fleet was
raised, and put under the command of the Duke of Lancaster, who passed
over to Brittany, besieged the town of St. Malo, where he lay for some
weeks, and then returned to England without effecting anything, to the
grievous disappointment of the people. Meantime the Scots, instigated by
the French, broke the truce, and attacked the castle of Berwick, which
they took. They burned Roxburgh, and made incursions into the northern
counties. Being repulsed, and Berwick having been retaken by the Earl of
Northumberland, they united with the French and Spaniards at sea, and
under one John Mercer, they swept the German Ocean, and seized all the
ships in the port of Scarborough.
These tidings produced great alarm and indignation in London, and John
Philpot, the stout alderman lately appointed one of the treasurers for
the Commons, seeing that nothing was done by the Government effectually
to check these marauders, fitted out a small fleet at his own expense,
put to sea without waiting for any commission from the authorities,
and, coming up with the united fleet, gave battle, and after a
desperate conflict succeeded in capturing sixteen Spanish ships, with
all the vessels carried off from Scarborough, and John Mercer himself.
Returning triumphantly to London after this most brilliant achievement,
he was received, as he deserved, with enthusiastic acclamation by his
fellow-citizens, but was severely reprimanded by the royal council for
having dared to make war without regal permission. So offensive was it to
the routine of that day that a man without orders should save his country.
Nothing having been done by the regularly appointed commanders except the
usual feat of spending the money, a new Parliament was summoned. This
met at Gloucester on the 20th of October, 1378. The Commons objected
to a fresh subsidy, as well they might, seeing that the last had
produced no advantage; but, being answered by Sir Richard Scrope, the
steward of the household, that it was indispensable, they insisted on
permission to examine the accounts of the treasurers, which was granted
under protest that it was not by right, but by favour, and should not
be drawn into a precedent. They next requested to be furnished with a
copy of the enrolment of the tenths and fifteenths which they had last
granted, to learn how they had been raised, which, as money was wanted,
was also conceded under protest. Finally, they proposed that six peers
and prelates should come to their chamber to consult with them on these
matters--an evidence that the Lords and Commons at that time regularly
occupied separate houses. This was declined by the great men of the Upper
House, who, however, professed their readiness to meet, by committee,
with a committee of the Commons.
The Commons having obtained the necessary accounts and documents, went
leisurely and deliberately to work; and though the impatient Government
repeatedly urged them to dispatch, they still proceeded with all
sedateness and care, showing that the popular body was growing sensible
of its real powers. Having discovered that the whole of the supplies had
been duly but fruitlessly spent, they granted a fresh impost on wool,
wool-fells, and skins, for the pressing services of the State.
Another army was raised, and placed under the command of the Earl of
Buckingham. He passed over to Calais, whence in the summer of 1380 he
marched with 2,000 cavalry and 8,000 infantry, through the very heart of
France, pursuing the old accustomed ravages, through Picardy, Campagne,
Orleannais, and on to Brittany. The Duke of Burgundy, with a far greater
army, hovered in the vicinity of this handful of men; but, remembering
the past result of conflict with small armies of the English, he kept
aloof.
By the time that Buckingham reached Brittany, Charles V. died, and
Charles VI., a minor, like the King of England, succeeded in the autumn
of that year. The Bretons, now thinking that, a mere boy being on
the throne of France, they could protect themselves, grew impatient
of the burdensome presence of the English. De Montfort, who had found
a friendly refuge in England, was averse from treating his old allies
with ingratitude; but the people accused the English of rapacity and
haughtiness--and, no doubt, with cause enough, if we are to judge by
the general proceedings of the English in France--and would not cease
their demands till the count had transferred his alliance to the
regency which governed France during the minority. This accomplished,
the people expressed every impatience to be rid of Buckingham and his
army, and as soon as the following spring allowed of his embarking, he
took his leave, having escaped the hostility of the natives only by
the bravery of his troops and the supplies of provisions from home.
The English returned home denouncing bitterly the ingratitude of the
Bretons; and this was the unsatisfactory termination of their long
and expensive exertions to maintain the independence of Brittany. The
only possession which we retained in that province was the port of
Brest, which Richard had received from De Montfort in exchange for an
equivalent estate in England. Calais and Cherbourg--obtained from the
King of Navarre--Bordeaux and Bayonne were still towns in the hands of
the English, affording tempting avenues of approach to every quarter of
France, and incitements to future expeditions.
But at this moment events were approaching which demanded all the efforts
of the Government to maintain domestic order. In various countries
of Europe the advance of society, and, though slow, of trade and
manufactures, had begun to produce its certain effect upon the people.
They no sooner ate of the tree of knowledge than they perceived that they
were naked--naked of liberty, and property, and every solid comfort.
They were in a great measure serfs and bondsmen, transmitted with the
estates from proprietor to proprietor, like the chattels and the live
stock. The haughty aristocracy looked upon them as little better than the
beasts; and, addicted to continual wars with each other or with foreign
countries, made use of the miserable people only as soldiers for those
wars or as slaves to cultivate their lands. The wretched sufferers were
ground by domestic exactions, and pillaged and burnt out continually in
some of the countries by invading armies. Nothing could be more terrible
than their condition; and when they began to perceive all its horrors,
and to endeavour to rise above them, their imperious masters trod them
down again with harsh and often terrible ferocity.
But wherever towns grew and trade sprang up, there numbers became, by
one means or other, free. In England every man who could contrive to
live a year and a day in any town became a free man. The very wars which
had desolated Europe had tended to awaken a spirit of independence; the
soldiers who served in different countries picked up intelligence by
comparing various conditions of men. The constant demands of Government
for money inspired those who had to furnish it with a sense of their own
importance. The example of the freedom and superior comfort in towns
stimulated the inhabitants of the country to grasp at equal benefits.
Flanders, as the earliest manufacturing and trading country, had, as
we have seen, speedily become democratic; had expelled its ruler, and
had now maintained a long career of independence. At this moment it was
waging a most sanguinary and determined war, not only against its own
earl, but against the whole forces of Burgundy and France, led by Philip
van Artevelde--the son of Jacob, the stout old brewer of Ghent--and by a
relentless citizen, Peter Dubois.
Once more in France insurrection had broken out, headed by the burghers
and people of the towns, excited against the tax-gatherers, and had
spread from Rouen to Paris, where it was raging. And now the same
convulsion, originating in the same causes, had reached England; and
simultaneously in Flanders, France, and this country, the people were in
arms against their Government and nobles.
It has been supposed that the preaching of Wycliffe had no little
effect in rousing this storm in England, and there can be no doubt of
it. The people, once made acquainted with the doctrines of human right,
justice, and liberty abounding in the Bible, and pervading it as its
very essence, could only regard the knowledge as a direct call from God
to rise, rend the bondage of their cruel slavery, and assume the rank
of men. This light, this wonderful knowledge, coming too suddenly upon
them, made them, as it were, intoxicated, and overthrew all restraint
and tranquillity of mind. They felt their wrongs the more acutely by
perceiving their rights, and how basely they had been deprived of them
by men professing this religion of truth, justice and humanity. Such
was the case on the preaching of Luther in Germany afterwards, and it
was the case here now. Occasionally a nobleman had suddenly emancipated
the whole of the villeins on his domain in return for a fixed rent to
be paid by them; but this process was slow and uncertain, and extremely
exciting to those who witnessed this emancipation, remaining themselves
in bondage. Thus all classes of the people were in a restless state. The
freemen just above these serfs, and especially those on the coast, who
had been plundered and burnt out by the enemy, were full of bitterness
from their sufferings, and disposed to regard the tax-gatherer as little
short of a demon. Few, except the working order of the clergy, who lived
and laboured amongst them, treated them like human beings.
Imagine, then, this state of things, and a priest like John Ball of
Kent coming amongst them on Sundays as they issued out of church in the
villages, and saying to them as Froissart thus reports him: "Ah, ye
good people, matters go not well to pass in England, nor shall do, till
everything be common, and that there be no villeins nor gentlemen, but
that we be all united together, and that the lords be no greater masters
than we. What have we deserved, or why should we be kept thus in bondage?
We all come from one father and mother, Adam and Eve. Whereby can they
show that they are greater lords than we be? saving by that they cause
us to win and labour for that they dispend. They are clothed in velvet
and camlet, furred with ermine, and we are vestured with poor cloth. They
have their wines, spices, and good bread, and we have the drawing out of
the chaff, and drink water. They dwell in fair houses, and we have the
pain and travel, rain, and wind in the fields; and by that which cometh
of our labours they keep and maintain their estates. We be called their
bondmen, and without we do willingly their service we be beaten; and we
have no sovereign to whom we can complain, nor that will hear us, nor do
us right. Let us go to the king--he is young--and show him what bondage
we be in, and show him how we will have it otherwise, or else we will
provide us of some remedy; and if we go together, all manner of people
who be now in any bondage will follow us, to the intent to be made free;
and when the king seeth us we shall have some remedy, either by fairness
or otherwise."
This honest John Ball, having got this great gospel of freedom into his
head, could not be prevailed on to be quiet. The archbishop shut him up
for some months in prison, but on coming out he went about saying the
very same things. "And these people," says Froissart, "of whom there be
more in England than in any other realm, loved John Ball, and said that
he said truth." In the beginning of the world, they said, there were no
bondmen; wherefore they maintained none ought to be bound, without he
did treason to his lord as Lucifer did to God. But they said they could
have no such battle, because they were "neither angels nor spirits," but
men formed in the similitudes of their lords; adding, "Why, then, should
we be kept under so like beasts?" And they declared they would no longer
suffer it; they would be all one, and if they laboured for their lords,
they would have wages for it.
[Illustration: JOHN WYCLIFFE.
(_From the portrait in King's College, Cambridge._)]
This was all only too true; but a truth coming too suddenly, and more
than they could bear, or were disciplined to win, or, if won all at once,
to maintain. And these poor people did not know that even now there was
growing up that power amongst the people, in the shape of Parliament,
which should gradually and securely fight their battles, and establish
all their desires. Even now the Commons had reached the presence of the
king and the nobles, and stood there boldly declaring their rights, and
putting an ever-growing restraint on regal and aristocratic licence.
In the Parliament which met in January, 1380, the Commons complained
loudly of the extravagance of the expenditure. They demanded that the
king's council should be dismissed; that the king should govern only by
the aid of the usual Crown officers--the chancellor, treasurer, privy
seal, chamberlain, and steward of the household; and that these ministers
should be chosen by Parliament. These unexampled demands were all
granted; a committee of finance was appointed, to consist of Lords and
Commons; and such a concession as had never yet been made was granted,
and three representatives of cities--two aldermen of London and one of
York--were put upon it. In the autumn, being informed that the subsidies
which they voted were inadequate to defray the debts of the State, they
pronounced the demand for more money "outrageous and insupportable."
This was bold language; the result was, of the many schemes to meet the
difficulty, the fatal poll-tax, which threw the country into a general
convulsion. This was a tax of three groats per head on every male and
female above fifteen years of age. In towns it was to be regulated by the
rank and ability of the inhabitants, in order to render it easier to the
poor, so that no person should pay less than one groat, nor more than
sixty, for himself and wife.
This poll-tax was the drop to the full cup. The people were already
groaning under the continued exactions for the French wars, and this tax
drove them to desperation. What added gall to its bitterness was that
it was farmed out to some of the courtiers, who again farmed it out to
foreign merchants, whose collectors proceeded with a degree of harshness
and insolence which irritated the people beyond endurance. It was soon
discovered that the amounts which came into the treasury would by no
means reach the sum calculated upon. Commissions were then issued to
inquire into the conduct of the collectors, and to enforce payment in
cases where favour had been shown, or where due payment had not been made.
The people soon grew obstinate, and declared boldly they would not pay.
Hereupon the commissioners treated them very severely, and they again,
on their part, resenting this severity, began secretly to combine for
resistance, and proceeded to chase away, wound, or even kill the officers
of the law.
One of these commissioners, Thomas de Bampton, sat at Brentwood in Essex,
and summoned the people of Fobbing before him. They declared that they
would not pay a penny more than they had done. Bampton then menaced
them, and ordered his sergeant-at-arms to arrest them. But they drove
him and his men away. Whereupon Sir Robert Belknap, the chief justice
of the Common Pleas, was sent into Essex to try the recusants; but they
denounced him as a traitor to king and country, made him glad to get
away, and cut off the heads of the jurors and clerks of the commission,
which they stuck upon poles, and carried through all the neighbouring
towns and villages, calling on the people to rise. In a few days the
commons of Essex were in a general insurrection, and had found a leader
in a vagabond priest, who called himself Jack Straw.
They attacked the house of Sir Robert Hales, the Lord Treasurer of
England, who was also Prior of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.
Ample provision had just been made for a chapter-general of the order,
and there was in the house abundance of meats, wines, cloths, and other
things for the knights brethren. The people ate up the provisions, drank
the wine, and destroyed the house.
They then sent letters and messengers into all the neighbouring counties,
and not only the peasantry of Kent, but of Norfolk and Suffolk, were
soon up in arms. But the incident which caused the whole immediately to
break into flame was this:--One of the collectors of the tax at Dartford,
in Kent, went to the house of one Wat Tyler, or Walter the Tyler, who,
Froissart says, was "indeed a tyler of houses, an ungracious patron."
He demanded the tax for a daughter of Wat, who the mother contended
was under fifteen, the age fixed by the law. The insolent tax-gatherer
declared he would prove that, and was proceeding to the grossest outrage,
when Wat came running in at the outcries of the wife and daughter, and
knocked out the scoundrel's brains with his hammer. The neighbours
applauded Wat's spirit, and vowed to stand by him; "for," says the
chronicler, "the rude officers had in many places made the like trial."
The news of this exciting occurrence, and the insurrection of the men
of Kent, spread rapidly over the whole country, from the Thames to the
Humber; through Hertford, Surrey, Sussex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridge,
and Lincoln. In every place they chose some leader, whose assumed names
still remain in their letters and proclamations, as Jakke Milner, Jak
Carter, and Jak Treweman. They were invited by the letters from Kent to
march to London, where "the Commons should be of one mind, and should do
so much to the king that there should not be one bondman in all England."
They are reported soon to have mustered 60,000 from the counties round
London, making free with houses and provisions as they marched along.
But the great stream appears to have come from Kent and the south. One
of their first visits was to Sir Simon Burley, the guardian of the king,
at Gravesend. Sir Simon had claimed a man living in that town as his
bondman, in spite of the legal plea set up that he had resided there
more than a year and a day. He demanded 300 pounds of silver for the
man's freedom; but this was refused, and Sir Simon sent his prisoner
to Rochester Castle. The men of Kent, now joined by a strong body from
Essex, marched on Rochester, took the castle by surprise, and not only
liberated this man, but other prisoners.
At Maidstone Wat Tyler was elected captain of the insurgent host, and the
democratic preacher, John Ball, its chaplain, who took for the text of
his first sermon the good old rhyme--
"When Adam dolve, and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?"
Wat Tyler and his host entered Canterbury on the Monday after Trinity
Sunday, 1381, where John Ball denounced death to the archbishop, who
had often imprisoned him: luckily, however, he was absent. But they
broke open the archbishop's house; and, as they carried out the wealthy
pillage, they said, "Ah! this Chancellor of England hath had a good
market to get together all this riches. He shall now give an account of
the revenues of England, and the great profits he hath gathered since the
king's coronation."
They struck terror into the monks and clergy of the cathedral; did much
damage to it and the church of St. Vincent, as is said; compelled the
mayor and aldermen to swear fidelity to King Richard and the Commons
of England; cut off the heads of three wealthy men of the city; and,
followed by 500 of the poor inhabitants, advanced towards London. By the
time they reached Blackheath, joined by the streaming thousands from all
quarters, the insurgents are said to have numbered 100,000 men.
Into the midst of this strange, rude, and tumultuous host, suddenly, to
her astonishment and terror, came the king's mother, on her return from a
pilgrimage to Canterbury. "She was," says Froissart, "in great jeopardy
to have been lost, for the people came to her chaise and did rudely use
her, whereof the good lady was in great dread lest they should have dealt
rudely with her damsels. Howbeit, God kept her," and being excused with a
few kisses, and with offers of protection, she got to London as fast as
she could, and to her son in the Tower, with whom there were the Earl of
Salisbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Hereford, and other
noblemen and gentlemen.
At Blackheath John Ball frequently addressed the assembled multitudes
on his old and favourite topics of the rights and equality of men. We
must bear in mind that this man and his doctrines have been described
by his enemies. He appears to have been a thorough democrat or Chartist
of his day, drawing his opinions from the literal declarations of the
gospel that God is no respecter of persons; and these new and startling
ideas being addressed to the inflamed minds of ignorant and oppressed
people, they immediately applied them in their own way, and declared that
they would have no more lords, barons, and archbishops, but simply the
king and the Commons of England. They are said to have committed great
atrocities on their way from different counties, pillaging the manors
of their lords, demolishing the towns, and burning the court rolls.
They swore to be true to the king, and to have no king of the name of
John, this being aimed at John of Gaunt, their standing aversion, who
was regarded as the author of this tax, because he exercised authority
over his nephew. They also swore to oppose all taxes but fifteenths, the
ancient tallage paid by their fathers.
That many outrages were committed is most probable: such must be
inevitable from so general a rising of an uneducated and oppressed
populace smarting under generations of wrongs. But we shall most fairly
judge them by their own public demands presented to the king, which
we shall presently see were most wonderfully simple, reasonable, and
enlightened for such a people, under such exasperating circumstances.
The harangues of John Ball are described as working the insurgent army
into the wildest excitement, and the admiring people are said to have
declared that he should be the Primate and Chancellor of England, this
officer at that time being almost always a prelate.
At the taking of the castle of Rochester, the mob had compelled the
governor, Sir John Newton, to go along with them; and now they sent
him up the river in a boat to go to the king at the Tower as their
messenger. He was to inform the king of all that they had done or meant
to do for his honour; to say that his kingdom had for a long time been
ill-governed by his uncles and the clergy, especially by the Archbishop
of Canterbury, his chancellor, from whom they would have an account of
his administration of the revenue. Sir John, coming to the Tower, was
received by Richard graciously; and he then told the people's desire,
assuring the king that all he said was true, and that he dared do no
other than bring the message, for they had his children as hostages, and
would kill them if he did not return.
After some consultation the king informed Sir John that in the morning he
would come and speak to the people. With this message Sir John joyfully
departed, and the vast crowd are said to have received the message of the
king's coming with great satisfaction.
[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF RICHARD II.]
The next morning, being the 12th of June, the king, attended by a
considerable number of the lords of the court, descended the river in his
barge. At Rotherhithe he found 10,000 men on the river banks awaiting
his coming, with two banners of St. George and sixty pennons. So soon
as they saw the king they set up one universal cheer. This was no doubt
meant as a hearty welcome; but the king and his courtiers being all in a
state of panic--for the council, it is stated, were perfectly paralysed
by their fears--the boisterous acclamation struck the royal party as
frightful yells. "The people," says Froissart, "made such a shout and cry
as if all the devils in hell had been among them." Instead of landing,
the courtiers advised the king to draw off. The people cried to the king
that, if he would come on shore, they would show him what they wanted;
but the Earl of Salisbury replied, saying, "Sirs, ye be not in such order
or array that the king ought to speak to you;" and with that the royal
barge bore away up the river again.
At this sight the crowd were filled with indignation. They had hoped
that now they should bring to the royal ear all their grievances; and
there can be little doubt that if the king had shown the spirit which
he afterwards did, and boldly and courteously put his barge within good
hearing, and listened to and answered their complaints, all that followed
might have been prevented. But being now persuaded that the great lords
about him would not allow the king to hold fair and open audience with
them, "they returned," says Froissart, "to the hill where the main
body lay"--for this was only a deputation, the hill being most likely
Greenwich Park--and there informed the multitude what had taken place.
On hearing this the enraged host cried out with one voice, "Let us go to
London!" "And so," continues Froissart, "they took their way thither;
and on their going they beat down abbeys and houses of advocates and men
of the court, and so came into the suburbs of London, which were great
and fair, and beat down divers fair houses, and especially the king's
prisons, as the Marshalsea and others, and delivered out the prisoners
that were therein." They broke into the palace of the archbishop at
Lambeth, regarding him as the enemy of the nation, and burnt the
furniture and the records belonging to the chancery.
As the men of Kent advanced through Southwark, the men of Essex advanced
along the left bank of the river, destroyed the house of the lord
treasurer at Highbury, and menaced the north of London.
When the men of Kent arrived at London Bridge they found it closed
against them, and they declared that if they were not admitted they
would burn all the suburbs, and, taking London by force, would put every
one to death. The people within said, "Why do we not let these good
people in? What they do they do for us all!" and thereupon they let down
the centre of the bridge, which Walworth, the mayor, had had drawn up.
[Illustration: ONE OF WYCLIFFE'S "POOR PRIESTS" PREACHING TO THE PEOPLE.
(_See p._ 462.)]
"Then these people entered into the city, and went into houses, and sat
down to eat and drink. They desired nothing but it was incontinently
brought to them, for every man was ready to make them good cheer, and to
give them meat and drink to please them. Then the captains, as John Ball,
Jack Straw, and Wat Tyler, went throughout London, and 20,000 men with
them, and so came to the Savoy, in the way to Westminster, which was a
goodly house, which appertained to the Duke of Lancaster; and when they
entered they slew the keepers thereof, and robbed and pillaged the house,
and then set fire to it, and clean burnt and destroyed it."
This palace of John of Gaunt's was the most magnificent house in London.
The mob, having thus shown their hatred of him, went to the house of the
Knights Hospitallers in Clerkenwell, which had been lately built by Sir
Robert Hales, the grand prior of the Order and Treasurer of the kingdom,
whose house they destroyed at Highbury. It is only fair to bear in mind
that in destroying these noble houses, the people disclaimed any idea of
plunder. Their objects were, as they asserted, to punish the traitors to
the nation, and obtain their own freedom from bondage. They published a
proclamation forbidding any one to secrete any booty. They hammered out
the plate, and cut it into small pieces. They beat the precious stones
to powder, and one of the rioters having concealed in his bosom a silver
cup, was thrown with his prize into the river.
In the morning (June 14), the sight from the Tower was by no means
cheering. The multitude was clamouring for the heads of the chancellor
and treasurer, whom they regarded as main authors of all the exactions
and ill-treatment they had received, and preventing the entrance of
any provisions till their demand was conceded. Presently a message was
brought them from the king that if they would quietly retire to Mile
End, then having plenty of open land, "where the people of the city did
disport themselves in the summer season," he would meet them there and
listen to their requests. Anon the gates were thrown open, the drawbridge
was lowered, and Richard, attended by a few unarmed followers, rode on
amid the throng. Arriving at Mile End, he found himself surrounded by
60,000 petitioners. On the way Richard's half brothers, the Earl of Kent
and Sir John Holland, had taken alarm and ridden off, leaving this youth
of sixteen in a cowardly manner in such circumstances. But Richard on
this occasion displayed a bravery and a discretion which, had they been
uniformly exhibited, must have produced a prosperous reign.
According to Froissart, in the night, while they lay asleep on Tower
Hill, the king had been advised by Sir William Walworth and others to
make a sally and slay them in their sleep; for, as he observes, there
were not one in twenty in harness, and as they were drunken, they might
be killed like so many flies. These counsellors represented that the
citizens of London could easily do this, as they had their friends ready
in arms secreted in their houses, and that there were Sir Robert Knowles
and Sir Perdiccas d'Albret, the famous Free Company captains, with 8,000
more that might be mentioned. But the Earl of Salisbury and "the wise men
about the king gave better and more humane advice." And now that the king
spoke face to face with them, behold, all their demands resolved them
into these four:--1, The abolition of bondage; 2, The reduction of the
rent of land to fourpence the acre; 3, The liberty of buying and selling
in all fairs and markets; 4, A general pardon for the past offences.
The king with a smiling countenance assured them that all this was fully
granted them, and that if they would retire every one to his own county
and place, he would give one of his banners to those of each shire,
bailiwick, and parish to march home under; and that they should leave two
or three from each village to bring unto them copies of the charter he
would give them. On hearing this the people said, "We desire no more."
They became quite appeased, and began to draw off towards London. That
night thirty clerks were employed in making copies of this charter, which
were sealed and delivered in the morning.
But while the superior and better-disposed country people had attended
the king, Wat Tyler and Jack Straw, with the more turbulent and factious
portion of the insurgents, had remained behind. No sooner was the
king out of sight, than these treacherous fellows made a rush at the
Tower, and got possession of it, most probably through the perfidy or
perhaps panic of the garrison, for there were in the Tower, according to
Holinshed, 600 men-at-arms, and as many archers, while of these commons
and husbandmen many were provided only with sticks, and not one in a
thousand was properly armed. Here the insurgents got possession, as no
doubt was their grand object, of their designed victims, the Archbishop
of Canterbury, the chancellor; Sir Robert Hales, the treasurer; William
Appledore, the king's confessor; and Legge, one of the farmers of the
obnoxious tax, with three of his accomplices. All these they speedily
beheaded. The head of the archbishop was carried through the city on the
point of a lance, with the hat he wore nailed to the skull, that he might
be better known to the multitude, and it was set on London Bridge.
They ranged through all the apartments of the Tower, again came upon the
terrified mother of the king, pricked her bed with their swords to see if
any one was concealed in it, and saluted her with a few more kisses. The
poor lady fainted away, and was carried by her attendants to her house,
called "The Wardrobe in Carter Lane." Here the king on his return joined
her, and gave her comfort, trusting that all would now soon be over.
In the morning (June 15), Richard left the Wardrobe, and, after mass
at Westminster, rode through Smithfield at the head of sixty horsemen,
where he beheld a great throng of people in front of the abbey of St.
Bartholomew. He said he would go no farther till he knew what ailed them,
and that he would appease them again. It was Wat Tyler at the head of
20,000 insurgents. Wat had refused the charter sent to him, demanding
fresh conditions; and, when these were conceded in a second, demanded
still more; amongst other things, the total repeal of the forest or game
laws, and that all parks, waters, warrens, and woods should be common, so
that the poor as well as the rich should freely fish in all waters, hunt
the deer in the parks and forests and the hare in the fields.
On seeing the king stop, Wat Tyler said, "Sirs, yonder is the king; I
will go and speak with him. Stir not hence without I make you a sign; and
when I make you a sign, come on and slay them all except the king. He is
young; we can do with him as we please, and we will lead him with us all
about England, and so we shall be lords of all the realm without doubt."
Wat rode up to the king, and so near that the head of his horse touched
the flanks of that of the king. Then said Wat, "Sir king, seest thou
all yonder people?" "Yea, truly," said the king; "why dost thou ask?"
"Because," said Wat Tyler, "they be all at my commandment, and have sworn
to me faith and truth to do all that I will have them. And thinkest thou
that they, and as many more in London, will depart without thy letters?"
The king courteously assured him they should have them; and at this
point, says Froissart, Wat Tyler cast his eyes on an esquire of the king,
whom he hated on account of some words he had said. "Ah!" said he, "art
thou there? Give me thy dagger." The esquire refused, but the king bade
him give it, and with that Wat began to play with it, and said to the
esquire, "By my faith, I will never eat meat till I have thy head." At
this moment the mayor, Sir William Walworth, coming up with his twelve
horse, and hearing these words, and looking through the press, said, "Ha!
thou knave, darest thou speak such words in the king's presence?" Wat
gave a sharp answer, and Froissart says that the king said to Walworth,
"Set hands on him." Be that as it may, Walworth thrust a short sword into
Tyler's throat; or, as others say, struck him on the head with it or with
his mace. At all events, Walworth gave him the first blow, which was
speedily followed by one of the king's squires--Robert Standish, probably
the one with whom the altercation commenced--stabbing him in the abdomen.
Tyler wheeled his horse round, rode about a dozen yards, and fell to the
ground, where he soon expired.
On seeing him fall his followers cried out, "We are betrayed! They have
killed our captain!" and they put themselves in battle array, with their
bows before them.
With wonderful presence of mind Richard ordered his attendants to keep
back, and, riding confidently up to the people, said, "Sirs, what aileth
you? I will be your leader and captain. Follow me, I am your king;
Tyler was but a traitor; be ye at rest and peace." Then he rode back
to his company, who advised that they should draw off into the fields
near Islington. Thither many followed the king; and many, hoping no
good, quietly stole away. On coming into the fields, they beheld Sir
Robert Knowles, with 1,000 men-at-arms; and the insurgents, now fearing
the worst, got away as fast as they could, throwing down their bows,
and many kneeling to the king and imploring pardon. Knowles burned to
be allowed to charge and cut them down; but the king refused him this
indulgence, saying he would take his revenge in another way; which, in
truth, he afterwards did. He issued a proclamation, however, forbidding
any stranger to remain another night in the city on pain of death.
Such is the history of this remarkable insurrection as transmitted to us
with some slight variations by Froissart, Knighton, Walsingham, Stowe,
and Holinshed. While these things passed in London, various parts of
the country were equally agitated and overrun by the insurgents. In
the south the outbreak extended as far as Winchester, in the north as
far as Beverley and Scarborough. The nobility shut themselves up, and
neither stirred out to free themselves nor aid the king. So general and
simultaneous was the rising, that some supposed that it was concerted
and conducted by some able but invisible leaders much above Wat Tyler
and Jack Straw in influence and subtlety. When the mob was at Blackheath
there were rumours that the king's uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, was
seen disguised amongst them; but this was probably owing to some one
bearing a strong resemblance to the duke being there, or it may have
been got up by his enemies to injure him at court, as there were active
endeavours, about the same time, to alarm the king regarding Lancaster's
intentions, who was on the Borders treating with the Scots.
Only one man of distinction acted with the spirit which might have been
expected from the warlike baronage of England, and that was a churchman.
Henry Spencer, the young Bishop of Norwich, finding that the rebellious
peasantry would not listen to what he considered reason, buckled on
armour, mounted his steed and, at the head of a strong body of retainers,
attacked them in the field as they were pursuing their career of
depredation. He repeatedly surprised these marauding bodies, routed, and
slew them. His mode of dealing with them was summary and unique. After
every battle he sat in judgment on his prisoners, and, after giving
them absolution from their sins, had their heads struck off. By these
means he soon restored order in the counties of Norfolk, Huntingdon, and
Cambridge. When the news of Tyler's overthrow and the dispersion of the
insurgents spread through the country, and those who had shut themselves
up in castle and town hurried forth to show their deep loyalty to the
king, Spencer's work had long been done.
Richard himself, having stuck the heads of Wat Tyler and of numbers
of his compeers on London Bridge, was advised to undertake a progress
through the different quarters of his kingdom, to make all quiet and
secure. Numbers flocked to his standard, and at the head of 40,000 men
he advanced from place to place, issuing proclamations, recalling and
destroying the charters he had given, commanding the villeins to return
to their labours, and prohibiting, under severe penalties, any illegal
assemblies. In Kent and Essex Richard found some resistance; and it was
not until 500 of these unhappy creatures had been killed in Essex that
they gave way. According to Holinshed, 1,500 of the insurgents were
executed; amongst them Jack Straw, John Litster, and Westbroom, the last
two of whom had assumed the title of Kings of Norfolk and Suffolk.
When Parliament met it was announced to it that the king had revoked
all the charters he had been obliged to grant to the villeins; but
the chancellor suggested whether it would not be well to abolish
serfdom altogether. This, probably, was the view of the king's better
counsellors: it certainly was not his view of things on his journey; but
it met with the response which was inevitable at that day. The barons
declared that nothing should induce them to give up the services of their
villeins, and that they would resist with all their power either violence
or persuasion for that object; nay, were it even to save themselves from
general massacre, they must uphold the existing system. It was plain the
day for the extinction of serfdom was not yet come.
The king was now sixteen, and at this early age he was married to Anne
of Bohemia, who herself was only fifteen. She was the daughter of the
late Emperor of Germany, Charles IV., called Charles of Luxembourg at
the battle of Poitiers, where he attended his father, the old blind King
of Bohemia. Anne was thus granddaughter to the brave old blind monarch,
and sister to the Emperor Sigismund. As has almost universally been the
case with German princesses, there was a great boast and parade of the
illustrious ancestry of Anne, but no money whatever. Nay, Richard, or
rather the country, had to pay the expenses of her journey to England,
though it was made from the palace of one royal relative to that of
another, particularly the Dukes of Brabant and Flanders, and under their
escort. But, though possessed of high pedigree and without portion, Anne
was reckoned handsome, and was good-hearted and pious. The king became
deeply attached to her, and the English were extremely proud of her as
the Cæsar's (Kaiser's, or Emperor's) sister, of which they could never
speak enough. She lived only twelve years as queen; but she won the
affection of every one who came near her, was universally beloved, and
long lamented under the name of the "Good Queen Anne." Had she lived
as long as her husband, she would undoubtedly have preserved him from
alienating the love of his people, and perishing as he did.
England was at this moment about to undertake the support of the very
principles of freedom and popular independence in Flanders which it had
so sternly put down at home. Flanders, as the earliest manufacturing and
trading country, had, as we have seen, speedily displayed a democratic
spirit. It had expelled its ruler, who resisted, and endeavoured to
crush all tendency towards popular rights. Though Jacob van Artevelde,
the stout brewer of Ghent, had fallen, yet that high-spirited city had
maintained a long career of independence. Philip van Artevelde, the
son of Jacob, warned by the fate of his father, had, during his youth,
kept aloof from popular ambition, and adhered to a strictly private
life. But the people of Ghent becoming sorely pressed by the Earl of
Flanders, and its very existence being at stake, Philip, no longer able
to suppress the spirit of the patriot born with him, suddenly emerged
from his obscurity and put himself at the head of the populace. He was,
however, defeated and slain by the French at Rosbecque, but the Flemings
recovered themselves, and made a desperate resistance. At this time there
were two Popes--Clement VII., a Frenchman, and Urban VI., an Italian.
We have seen that on all occasions when there was only one Pope, he was
a zealous peace-maker; but this schism, with its two rival pontiffs,
naturally produced a fiery feud. The French Pope, Clement, was recognised
by France and its allies, Scotland, Spain, Sicily, and Cyprus. Urban was
supported by England, the people of Flanders, and the rest of Europe.
The two pontiffs launched their anathemas against each other, and roused
all their allies to assist their respective causes. France exerting
itself powerfully to give the ascendency to Clement, Urban entreated the
aid of England. The prominence which the Bishop of Norwich had assumed
in the Wat Tyler insurrection, and his prompt energy and success as a
general, drew the attention of Urban, and he sent to the martial bishop
extraordinary powers as his champion. The king and parliament gave their
consent; a fifteenth lately granted by the Commons was made over to the
prelate for the purposes of the enterprise, and he engaged to serve
against France for a year, with 2,500 men-at-arms and the same number of
archers.
Philip Artevelde, in his great need, had solicited the assistance of
England; but his ambassadors had most imprudently demanded at the same
time the payment of a debt which they alleged was of forty years'
standing. The Duke of Lancaster and the royal council had made themselves
merry over this unique mode of soliciting alliance in a crisis, and
refused to help them. But now it was determined to abet the people
of Ghent, as a means of upholding them, after their heavy defeat at
Rosbecque, against France.
[Illustration: COINS OF THE REIGN OF RICHARD II.]
Henry of Norwich passed over the Channel, took Gravelines by assault,
pursued the fugitives to Dunkirk, and entered the town in their rear.
He was speedily master of the coast as far as Sluys, and might have
struck a decisive blow at the French power in Flanders; but he was not
supported, though there was a numerous body of men-at-arms at Calais.
The Duke of Lancaster, whose own offers of leading this expedition had
been refused by Parliament, and who is said to have seen with chagrin
the success of his rival, was accused of preventing the advance of
these troops. The bishop, thus thwarted in the midst of his triumphs,
turned his arms against Ypres, to oblige the Ghentese; but the siege
was prolonged, and the King of France, at the entreaty of the Count of
Flanders, was approaching with a fine army. The men of Ghent retired; the
bishop made one furious assault, and then withdrew. He threw himself once
more into Gravelines, and, after holding it a short time, demolished its
fortifications, and returned to England.
That this campaign of the militant bishop did not equal the expectations
which his former demonstration had raised, appears partly owing to his
own precipitancy, but far more to the machinations of his powerful
enemies. Like most unsuccessful commanders, he fell under the censure
of the Government. He was accused before Parliament of having taken a
bribe of 18,000 francs to betray the expedition, and of having broken his
contract with the king by returning before the year of his engagement had
expired. Of the former charge he was cleared on full inquiry, but he was
condemned on the latter to forfeit all his temporalities till he had paid
the full damages to the king. Four of his principal knights were also
condemned to pay 20,000 francs into the treasury for having sold stores
and provisions to the enemy to that amount.
Not to interrupt the narrative of events which extend over into other
years, we may here note one of the most remarkable incidents of this
reign. This is the death of Wycliffe, who was struck with apoplexy while
performing public service in his parish church, and died on the last day
of the year 1384.
John Wycliffe had not only put in active motion the principles of Church
reform by his preaching, and his public defences against the attacks
of the authorities of the Church, but he had made those principles
permanent by the translation of the Bible. Not that Wycliffe's was the
first translation of the Scriptures into English; we know, for instance,
that Bede translated the Gospel of St. John, and finished the work on
his death-bed in 735. But these earlier translations of the Bible had
remained in the libraries of monasteries, and, by the little education of
the people, and the conservative vigilance of the Church, had been the
sole study of a few learned men. Wycliffe, by his position as teacher at
Oxford, had excited a wide interest and inquiry about the Scriptures;
by his patronage at court, and the persecutions of the prelates, they
had been made the subject of a vast curiosity, and this curiosity he
had taken care to gratify by multiplying copies through the aid of
transcribers, and by the "poor priests," the converts to his doctrines,
reading them and recommending them everywhere amongst their hearers. The
English Bible was never more to be a rare or merely curious book. It is
said that when the good Queen Anne's countrymen who attended her here
at the court were expelled by the Lancaster faction, they carried back
copies of Wycliffe's Bible and writings, which had been her favourite
reading; they thus fell into the hands of Huss and Jerome of Prague,
accompanied by the anti-papal doctrines of the great English reformer;
and in this manner arose in Bohemia the sect of the Hussites.
The chief value of Wycliffe's work consisted in his correction of abuses.
Numbers of his "poor priests," as they were called, traversed the nation,
as he had done, in their frieze gowns, and with bare feet, everywhere
proclaiming the doctrines of the Gospel, and denouncing the impositions
and vices of Popery. They held up the monks and priests of the time to
deserved scorn, and the people, feeling the sacred truth, flocked round
them, deserting those by whom they had been so long deluded and fleeced.
There can be little doubt that John Ball, the preacher of Wat Tyler's
army, was one of these "poor priests" of Wycliffe, for it was only
three years before Wycliffe's death that this insurrection occurred, and
Wycliffe's apostles had been preaching everywhere amongst the people
for years. There is as little doubt that this preaching produced this
insurrection, as Luther's produced the "Peasants' War" afterwards in
Germany. The effect was perfectly natural that men, who for ages had been
trodden down as slaves and beasts of burden, hearing all at once that
"God had made of one blood all the nations of the earth," that He "was no
respecter of persons," and that they were called upon by Him to do to one
another as they would be done by, should review their position, and stand
astonished at its vast antithesis to the ordinances of Christianity. That
the people rebelled was not their fault, but that of the barons and the
Church, which, while professing the Gospel, had ignored every precept of
it in regard to the people. Now that the great and eternal principles
of political justice as well as saving faith contained in the Gospel
were once known, they never could be again taken away; they became the
heritage of the people. The Wat Tyler insurrection was put down, but
that which produced it could never be put down any more. The powerful
eloquence and holy lives of the preachers of Wycliffe were universally
confessed. Men of all ranks, from the royal Duke of Lancaster, to the
peasant, joined them, and acquired the name of Lollards. It is true that
John of Gaunt supported Wycliffe from selfish motives only, and deserted
him as soon as he began to attack the doctrine of Transubstantiation.
The inhabitants of London were especially warm adherents of the new
teaching. John of Northampton, one of the most opulent and distinguished
citizens, was a decided Lollard, and during the time of his being mayor,
particularly irritated the clergy, who drove a brave trade in pardons
and indulgences, by his active reformation of the vices of the people.
The Lords Hilton, Latimer, Percy, Berkeley, and Clifton, with many
other nobles, knights, and eminent citizens, became the protectors and
advocates of scriptural reform.
Richard had now reached the age of nineteen. The ability, address, and
bravery which he had displayed at the time of the insurrection raised
high hopes in the nation of the success of his future government. Time,
however, failed to realise these expectations. Richard was by no means
destitute of cleverness, but his mind was rather showy than solid. He
had been brought up in his boyhood in the south of France, at the
luxurious court of Bordeaux. He had early been imbued with the tastes of
Provence--music and poetry--rather than with politics and arms. After his
father's death his mother and half-brother had treated him with ruinous
personal indulgence, and instilled into his mind the most mischievous
ideas of his future greatness and royal authority. There is a striking
parallel between his education, his personal character, and his fate, and
those of Charles I. Both were fond of literature and the fine arts; both
had the strongest domestic attachments, and had been indoctrinated with
the most fatal ideas of the royal prerogative. Both were high-spirited,
chivalrous, and, necessarily, despotic; they were moulded to despotism
by their parents. Both had their favourites--Richard, De Vere and De la
Pole; Charles, Strafford and Buckingham. Both, while they were intensely
beloved by their own families and immediate associates, lost the
affections of their people by utterly despising their rights, and both
came to a tragic end.
When the Bishop of Norwich returned from his unfortunate expedition,
Lancaster concluded an armistice with France, in which the Scots were
included; but, as these reckless neighbours still continued the war, he
marched into Scotland in 1384, burnt the huts of which their towns were
composed, and--to destroy the retreats into which they always retired
on the approach of an English army--he supplied his troops, according
to Knighton, with 80,000 axes, with which they cut down the forests,
inflicting a most serious injury on the nation. Notwithstanding this
service, he found, on his return to London, that the suspicions of his
disloyalty were more rife than ever. While the Parliament was sitting
at Salisbury, a Carmelite friar, one John Latimer, put into the king's
hands the written particulars of a real or pretended conspiracy to place
the crown on the head of John of Gaunt. Richard was advised to show
this to Lancaster, who swore that it was false, and vowed to do battle
with any one who impeached his innocence. He insisted that the friar,
who persisted in his story, should be committed to safe custody; and,
accordingly, he was consigned to the care of Sir John Holland, the king's
half brother, but a secret ally of the Duke of Lancaster, who strangled
him in the night, it is said, with his own hands, and had him dragged
through the streets in the morning as a traitor.
No sooner did the armistice with France and Scotland expire in May, 1385,
than the French sent John of Vienne, formerly Governor of Calais, to
Scotland with an aid of 1,000 men-at-arms and 400,000 francs in gold,
and armour for the equipment of 1,000 Scottish knights and esquires,
to induce them to make an inroad into England. This armament arrived
in Scotland in the early summer, but the French knights, according to
Froissart, were greatly astonished at the rudeness of the country and
the hard living of the people. When they wanted to begin the campaign,
they complained that the Scots wanted to be paid for fighting their
own battles, and would not budge a foot till the 20,000 livres were
distributed amongst them. In short, it did not tend much to the mutual
satisfaction of their allies that the gay Frenchmen had come over. At
length, the forces being paid, the united army of France and Scotland
descended on Northumberland, and took three castles in the marches, but,
on the approach of the English, as rapidly retired. John of Vienne was
astonished at their retreat, allowing the enemy to pillage their country,
but they told him they did not pretend to make resistance to so powerful
a force; that all their cattle were driven into the woods and fastnesses;
that their houses and chattels were of small value; and that they well
knew how to compensate themselves. Accordingly, as Richard advanced
into Scotland by Berwick and the east coast, the Scots, accompanied by
the French, poured 30,000 men into England by the west, and, ravaging
Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire, collected a splendid booty, and
returned well satisfied to their country.
Richard was now, for the first time, at the head of an army against
a foreign enemy. He had before only led his forces against his own
peasantry. Marching into Scotland without being able to find any enemy,
he reduced to ashes Edinburgh, Dunfermline, Perth, and Dundee, and he was
about to perpetrate the same rigour on Aberdeen, when the news reached
him that the Scots were laying waste Cumberland, and John of Vienne was
besieging Carlisle. He then made a rapid counter-march, in order to
intercept them; but on the way another of his favourites, Sir Michael de
la Pole, infused some fresh suspicions into the king's mind regarding
Lancaster, and the following morning Richard angrily announced his
intention of returning home. In vain Lancaster protested against it; the
king persisted in his intention. He disbanded his army; and, on the other
hand, the Scots declaring that they found the heavy French cavalry of no
use in their desultory species of warfare, behaved with so much rudeness
to them, that they also returned home, much disgusted, says Froissart,
"with the country, and the manners of the inhabitants."
In the Parliament which met in November following, Richard confirmed
various honours which he conferred during the expedition. He was anxious
to allay the jealousies between his relatives and his favourites. He
therefore created his uncles, the Earls of Cambridge and Buckingham,
Dukes of York and Gloucester, with a new grant of lands of the annual
value of £1,000 each. Henry Bolingbroke, the son of Lancaster, and Edward
Plantagenet, the son of the Duke of York, he made Earls of Derby and
Rutland. But then he proceeded to heap similar honours and emoluments on
his favourites. Robert de Vere, a handsome young man of good family, but
of dissolute manners, he created Earl of Oxford, with the title of Duke
of Ireland--a title before unknown in England; and transferred to him
by patent, which was confirmed by Parliament, the entire sovereignty of
that island for life. He gave him in marriage his relative, the daughter
of Ingelram de Courcy, Earl of Bedford; but De Vere became deeply
enamoured of one of the queen's ladies of the bedchamber, a Bohemian, the
Landgravine of Luxembourg, and therefore allied to the Imperial family.
Not only the king but the queen favoured his suit, and obtained a divorce
and dispensation for his fresh marriage from the Pope. This transaction
gave deep offence to the English nation, for the rejected wife was the
granddaughter of Edward III. and Philippa of Hainault. Her uncles, the
Dukes of Gloucester, York, and Lancaster, were still more incensed.
Michael de la Pole, the other chief favourite, was created Earl of
Suffolk, with the reversion of the estates of the late earl on the death
of his widow and the queen. As Richard had no children, he, at the same
time, in order to cut off the hopes of the Duke of Lancaster, named
Roger, Earl of March, and grandson of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, his heir
to the throne.
The Duke of Lancaster thus, after repeatedly avowed suspicions of his
designs on the throne, now so markedly cut off, found it most agreeable
to retire awhile from court; and no fairer plan could present itself
than that of prosecuting his claims on the crown of Spain, in which his
brother, the Earl of Cambridge, had been so unsuccessful. John, the
newly-chosen King of Portugal, had sent to invite him to come over and
support him against their common enemy, the King of Spain. Nothing could
be more agreeable to Lancaster, and Richard was equally glad to have him
out of the way. One-half of the year's supply was devoted to the purposes
of this expedition. Twenty thousand men were mustered, and before John
of Gaunt and Constance, his wife, Princess of Spain, set out, the king
presented him with a crown of gold, as confident that he would wear
it; and the queen presented one also to the duchess. The fleet sailed
from Plymouth in July, 1386, and the duke arriving safely in Portugal,
his eldest daughter, Philippa, was married to the king. During the
first campaign the duke carried all before him; but the second summer
consumed his army by its heat, and compelled him to retire to Guienne.
But by successful policy he now managed to become reconciled to the
King of Spain, and married his second daughter to the son and heir of
that monarch. Thus John of Gaunt, though destined never to wear a crown
himself, was the father of two queens. His duchess Constance made over
her claims on the Spanish throne to her daughter Catherine, and their
descendants reigned over Spain for many generations. For himself, he
received 200,000 crowns to defray the expenses of the expedition, and an
annuity was settled on him of 100,000 florins, and the same amount on the
duchess.
[Illustration: _From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum._
_Reproduced by André & Sleigh, Ld., Bushey, Herts._
TOURNAMENT AT ST. INGLEVERE, NEAR CALAIS.
IN THIS TOURNAMENT THREE FRENCH KNIGHTS, THE CHALLENGERS, HELD THE LISTS
FOR THIRTY DAYS AGAINST ALL COMERS FROM ENGLAND AND ELSEWHERE. AMONG THE
ENGLISH KNIGHTS WAS SIR JOHN HOLLAND, HALF-BROTHER TO RICHARD II.]
While the Duke of Lancaster was absent, the restless Duke of Gloucester
became more assuming and imperious towards the king than Lancaster
had ever been. He fomented the jealousies of the nobles, insisted on
remodelling the government, and reduced the king to a mere automaton.
At the same time the French, also taking advantage of the great duke's
absence, contemplated a formidable invasion of the island. Their
preparations were on the most extensive scale, both in men and ships. The
army is said to have exceeded 100,000 men; and their vessels in the port
of Sluys, it was vaunted, could, if placed side by side, have bridged
the whole Channel. The nobility and gentlemen of France seemed every one
burning with desire to avenge the injuries and defeats they had so often
suffered from the English. The news of this stupendous armament spread
dismay through the country; troops were assembled, beacons erected, and
the Earl of Arundel was appointed high admiral, with orders to destroy
the ships of the enemy the moment they landed, and leave the inhabitants
to lay waste the country before them, and then deal with them at
leisure. But the fate of this armada was the same as that which has
regularly attended all yet directed against the British isles. It was
dispersed by a terrible tempest; the army was disbanded; and the Earl of
Arundel, executing his commission with great vigour, took 160 vessels,
laden chiefly with wine, relieved the garrison of Brest, and then,
proceeding to the port of Sluys, destroyed all the ships there, and laid
waste the country round to the distance of ten leagues.
[Illustration: JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER.
(_From a painting on glass in All Souls' College, Oxford._)]
After this brilliant issue of the threatened danger, the nation was all
gaiety and rejoicing. But the factious Gloucester resolved that his
royal nephew should not rejoice long. He collected his partisans, and
determined to drive the king's favourites from office. They contended
that the people were so fleeced by the tax-gatherers, that the landowners
could not collect their rents, and that the ministers and their officers
embezzled the public moneys. The first on whom they meant to open their
charge was the chancellor, De la Pole, the new Earl of Suffolk. The
chancellor opened the Parliament which met at Westminster, in October,
1386, with a bold announcement; the king, he said, was resolved to punish
the French for their menaced invasion, by passing over at the head of a
suitable armament, and carrying the war into France. He requested them to
take into consideration the necessary supplies for so great a national
enterprise. But the Lords and Commons met this by a joint petition for
the dismissal of the ministers and members of council, and especially
of the chancellor. The king, much enraged, at first contemplated--what
was long afterwards so fatally done by Charles I.--seizing the leaders
of the opposition, but, finding that he should not be supported in this
out of doors, he retired to his palace at Eltham, and, then, giving way,
drove to town, dismissed the obnoxious ministers, and made the Bishop of
Hereford treasurer. But this concession, so far from appeasing Gloucester
and his adherents, only made them feel surer of their real object. They
impeached the chancellor, and, though they could prove little against
him, they caused him to be imprisoned during the king's pleasure, and
fined. So long as the Parliament sat, Suffolk suffered his sentence; but
as soon as it was dissolved the king liberated him.
Emboldened by this second success, the opposition proposed to establish a
committee, with authority to reform the Government. The king indignantly
declared that he would never consent, but would dissolve the Parliament.
But again the Commons coolly presented to him the statute by which
Edward II. had been deposed, and at this significant hint the king
gave way, and signed a commission, appointing a council of fourteen
persons--prelates and peers--including the three great officers of state,
all of Gloucester's faction, except Neville, Archbishop of York. They
were empowered to inquire into everything in the household, the ministry,
the courts of law, and the condition of the people. Gloucester was at the
head, and the king, now nearly twenty-one years of age, was virtually
deposed. The whole sovereign prerogative lay in the council, and for
twelve months--the term assigned to this junto--Richard was nothing.
It was not to be expected that a young monarch of Richard's quick
feelings could tamely acquiesce in such a tyrannic tutelage as this. His
favourites did their part in stimulating him to resistance. At the close
of the session of Parliament he entered a protest against this invasion
of the royal prerogative, and began to seek the means to break up this
irksome circle of control. He sounded the sheriffs of the counties,
but they had been appointed by his uncles, and he found them in their
interest. He therefore set out on a sort of royal progress, and used
every endeavour to make himself popular with his subjects. Wherever he
came he marked his arrival by some act of grace. The gentlemen of the
county and the burghers of the principal towns were invited to his court,
and were received with the utmost affability. This won greatly upon them,
and there was a general avowal of a determination to stand by him and
the royal authority. He went to York, to Chester, to Shrewsbury, and
thence to Nottingham. At the two latter places he held councils of the
judges, and took their opinion on the conditions which the Parliament had
forced upon him. Here the judges, who in those days were not independent
of the Crown as they are at present, proved as subservient to the king
as Parliament had shown itself subservient to the aristocratic faction;
declared that the commission was wholly subversive of the constitution;
that those who introduced the measure, or induced the king to consent
to it, were liable to capital punishment; that all who compelled him to
observe it, or prevented his exercise of his rights, were traitors; that
the king, and not the Lords and Commons, had the power to determine the
order in which questions should be debated in Parliament; that it was for
the king to dissolve Parliament at pleasure. Still more: that the Lords
and Commons had no power to impeach the king's ministers, officers, or
justices; that those who introduced and passed the statute of deposition
of Edward II. were traitors; and that the judgment against the Earl of
Suffolk was unconstitutional and invalid altogether.
This sweeping judgment, which annihilated the power of Parliament, and
made the Crown all but independent, was signed and sealed by the judges,
in the presence of the Archbishops of York and Dublin, the Bishops of
Durham, Chichester, and Bangor, the Duke of Ireland, the Earl of Suffolk,
and two other counsellors.
Armed with this potent instrument, Richard prepared to take vengeance on
his dictators. He determined to arrest the chief of his opponents, and
send them to be judged before the very men who had thus prejudged them.
Thomas Usk was appointed sub-sheriff of Middlesex; a bill of indictment
was prepared; Sir Nicholas Brember, who had been three times Mayor of
London, undertook to influence the city, and even swore in different
companies "to stand to the death for the king." The commission was to
expire on the 19th of November, and on the 10th Richard entered London
amidst the acclamations of the people. The mayor and principal citizens
wore the royal livery of white and crimson, and a vast crowd attended him
to St. Paul's, and thence to his palace of Westminster.