CHIVALRY.
A.D. 1378-1380
Edmund, Earl of Cambridge.--Thomas of Woodstock.--Richard's young
cousin, Henry of Bolingbroke.--A boy king in France.--Richard and
Henry Bolingbroke.--French incursions into the Isle of Wight.--Curious
story of the Scotch borderers.--Their strange ideas of the grace of
God.--Nature of the royal government.--The House of Commons.--Luxury
and extravagance of the nobility.--Wars.--Modes of
warfare.--Mining.--Besieging engines.--The Duke of Lancaster's
sow.--Gunpowder.--Story of the Welsh knight, Evan.--Siege of
Mortain.--Situation of the castle.--Evan's hostility to the
English.--Hatred of the English against Evan.--John Lamb.--John Lamb
arrives at Mortain.--His reception by Evan.--State of the
siege.--Curious manners and customs.--John Lamb accomplishes his
purpose.--Death of Evan.--Interview between John Lamb and the
governor of the castle.--The knights loved fighting for its own
sake.--Their love of glory.--Story of De Langurant.--His men.--He
challenges the governor of the castle to single combat.--Encounter
of the knights.--Use of lances.--Manner in which such combats were
fought.--Result of the combat between De Langurant and Bernard.--De
Langurant refuses to surrender.--His fate.--Intolerable tyranny of
the nobles in those days.--Oppression of the tax-gatherers.--Richard's
helplessness.
Besides his uncle John, Duke of Lancaster, Richard had two other
uncles, who each acted an important part in public affairs at the
commencement of his reign. They were,
1. His uncle Edmund, who was the Earl of Cambridge, and
afterward Duke of York. Of course he is sometimes called, in
the histories of those times, by one of these names, and
sometimes by the other.
2. His uncle Thomas. Thomas was born in the palace of
Woodstock, and so was often called Thomas of Woodstock. He
was the Earl of Buckingham, and afterward the Duke of
Gloucester.
Besides these uncles, Richard had a cousin just about his own age, who
afterward, as we shall see, played a very important part indeed in
Richard's history. This cousin was named Henry Bolingbroke. He was the
son of Richard's uncle John, the Duke of Lancaster. He and Richard
were now both about eleven years of age; or rather, Richard was
eleven, and his cousin Henry was about ten.
Of course, Richard was altogether too young to exercise any real
control in respect to the government of the country. Every thing was,
consequently, left to the Parliament and the nobles. His uncles
endeavored to assume the general direction of affairs, but there was
nevertheless a strong party against them. There were no means of
deciding these disputes except by the votes in Parliament, and these
votes went one way and the other, as one party or the other, for the
time being, gained the ascendency. Every one watched very closely the
conduct of Richard's uncle John. He was the next oldest son of Edward
the Third, after Edward, the Prince of Wales, Richard's father. Of
course, if Richard were to die, he would become king; and if he
himself were to die before Richard did, and then Richard were to die
before he grew up and had children of his own, then his son, Richard's
cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, would be entitled to claim the kingdom.
Thus, while Richard remained unmarried and without heirs, this Henry
Bolingbroke was in the direct line of succession, and, of course, next
to Richard himself, he was, perhaps, the most important personage in
the kingdom. There was, it is true, another child, the grandchild of
an older uncle of Richard's, named Lionel; but he was very young at
this time, and he died not long afterward, leaving Henry Bolingbroke
the only heir.
It is curious enough that, a year or two after this, the French king
died, and was succeeded by his son, a boy of about twelve years of
age. This boy was Charles the Sixth. He was crowned in France with
ceremonies still more splendid and imposing in some respects than
those which had been observed in London on the occasion of Richard's
coronation. Thus the hopes and fears of all the millions of people
inhabiting France and England respectively, in regard to the
succession of the crown and the government of the country, were
concentrated in three boys not yet in their teens.
Of course, Richard and his cousin Henry Bolingbroke were rivals from
the beginning. Richard and his friends were jealous and suspicious of
Henry and of his father, and were always imagining that they were
wishing that Richard might die, in order that they might come into his
place. Thus there was no cordial friendship in the family, nor could
there be any. Of the other nobles and barons, some took sides in one
way and some in the other. The boys themselves, both Richard and
Henry, were too young to know much about these things; but the leading
barons and courtiers formed themselves into parties, ranging
themselves some on one side and some on the other, so as to keep up a
continual feeling of jealousy and ill-will.
In the mean time, the French began to retaliate for the invasions of
their country which the English had made, by planning invasions of
England in return. One expedition landed on the Isle of Wight, and
after burning and destroying the villages and small towns, they laid
some of the large towns under a heavy contribution; that is, they made
them pay a large sum of money under a threat that, if the money was
not paid, they would burn down their town too. So the citizens
collected the money and paid it, and the French expedition set sail
and went away before the government had time to send troops from
London to intercept them.
The French, too, besides invading England themselves on the south,
incited the Scotch to make incursions into the northern provinces, for
Scotland was then entirely independent of England. A curious story is
related illustrating the religious ignorance which prevailed among the
common people of Scotland in those days. It seems that some
remarkable epidemic prevailed in 1379 in the northern part of England,
which was extremely fatal. Great numbers of people died. The Scotch
sent messengers across the border to ascertain what the cause of the
sickness was. The English people told them that they did not know what
the cause was. It was a judgment from God, the nature and operation of
which was hidden from them. They added, however, this pious sentiment,
that they submitted themselves patiently to the dispensation, for they
knew "that every calamity that could befall men in this world came
from the grace of God, to the end that, being punished for their sins,
they might be led to repent and reform their wicked lives."
The messengers went home, and reported to the Scottish borderers that
the English people said that the plague came from the grace of God,
not being able, it would seem, to remember the rest of the message. So
the priests arranged a form of prayer, addressed to certain saints,
which was to be said by the people every morning. This prayer implored
the saints to deliver the people from the grace of God, and the
dreadful plagues which were sent by it upon men. The form was this:[G]
[Footnote G: The form was in Latin. We give here the English of it.]
The head of the family would first say, "Blessed be," and the others
would respond, "The Lord."
Then the head of the family would say,
"God and Saint Mango,
Saint Romane and Saint Andro,
Shield us this day from God's grace, and
the foul death that Englishmen die of."
And all the others would say "Amen."
Thus they considered the grace of God as an evil which they were to
pray to be delivered from.
Indeed, the common people at this time, not only in Scotland, but
throughout England, were in a state of great ignorance and
degradation. The barons, and knights, and soldiers generally looked
down with great contempt upon all who were engaged in any industrial
pursuits. In the country, the great mass of those who were employed in
tilling the ground were serfs or slaves, bought and sold with the
land, and at the disposal, in almost all respects, of their haughty
masters. The inhabitants of the towns, who lived by the manufacturing
arts or by commerce, were more independent, but the nobles, and
knights, and all who considered themselves gentlemen looked down with
something like contempt upon these too, as, in fact, their
successors, the present aristocracy of England, do at the present
day, regarding them as persons in a very mean condition, and engaged
in low and ignoble pursuits. Still, the industrial classes had
increased greatly in wealth and numbers, and they began to have and to
express some opinion in respect to public affairs. They had
considerable influence in the House of Commons; and the government
was, in a great measure, dependent upon the House of Commons, and was
becoming more and more so every year. It is true, the king, or rather
the great lords who managed the government in his name, could make war
where they pleased, and appoint whom they pleased to carry it on.
Still, they could not assess any tax except by the consent of the
Commons, and thus, in carrying on any great operations, they were
becoming every year more and more dependent on the public sentiment of
the country.
The country began to be very much dissatisfied with the management of
public affairs within two or three years after the commencement of
Richard's reign. Large sums of money were raised, and put into the
hands of Richard's uncles, who spent it in organizing great
expeditions by land and sea to fight the French; but almost all of
these expeditions were unsuccessful. The people thought that they
were mismanaged, and that the money was squandered. Some of the nobles
expended immense sums upon themselves. In the case of one expedition
that put to sea from the southern coast of England, the nobleman who
commanded it had twenty-five vessels loaded with his own personal
property and baggage, and that of his servants and attendants. This
man had fifty-two new suits of apparel, made of cloth of gold,
immensely expensive. The fleet was wrecked, and all this property was
lost in the sea.
A great many of the expeditions that were fitted out in England were
for the purpose of carrying on wars in Brittany and Aquitaine, in
France, for the benefit exclusively of the nobles and knights who
claimed possessions in those countries; the mass of the people of
England, at whose expense the operations were carried on, having no
interest whatever in the result. The worst of it was, that in these
wars no real progress was made. Towns were taken and castles were
stormed, first by one party and then by the other. The engraving
represents the storming of one of these towns, and, being copied from
an ancient picture, it shows truthfully the kind of armor and the mode
of fighting employed in those days.
[Illustration: STORMING OF A TOWN.]
Almost the only way of forcing a passage into a castle or fortified
town was by climbing over the walls by means of ladders, and
overpowering the garrison upon the top of them by main force, as
represented in the engraving. Sometimes, it is true, the besiegers of
a castle undermined the walls, so as to make them fall in and thus
open a breach. At the present day, mines dug in this way are blown up
by gunpowder. But people were little acquainted with the use of
gunpowder then, and so they were obliged to shore up the walls while
they were digging them by means of posts and beams, and these, after
the miners had withdrawn, were pulled out by ropes, and thus the walls
were made to fall down.
Great engines were sometimes used, too, to batter down the walls of
castles and towns. There was one kind of engine, used by the Duke of
Lancaster in one of his campaigns in France in the early part of
Richard's reign, which was called a _sow_. The sow was made in many
parts, at a distance from the place besieged, wherever a suitable
supply of beams and timber could be obtained, and then was brought on
carts to the spot. When it was framed together and put in operation,
it would hurl immense stones, which, striking the walls, made breaches
in them, or, going over them, came down into the interior of the
place, crushing through the roofs of the houses, and killing sometimes
multitudes of men. The sow was made, too, so as to afford shelter and
protection to a great number of persons, who could ride upon it while
it was drawn or pushed up near the walls, and thus reach a point where
they could begin to undermine the walls, or plant their ladders for
scaling them. The Duke of Lancaster caused one sow to be made which
would carry, in this way, one hundred men.
Gunpowder, however, began to be used about this time, though in a very
imperfect and inefficient manner. At one siege, namely, that of St.
Malo, a town on the northwestern coast of France, it is said that the
Duke of Lancaster had four hundred cannon. They were all, however, of
very little avail in taking the town.
The wars waged between the English and the French in these chivalrous
times were much more personal in their character than wars are at the
present day. In that period of the world, every great duke, or baron,
or knight was in some sense an independent personage, having his own
separate interests to look out for, and his own individual rights and
honor to maintain, to a degree far greater than now. The consequence
of this was, that the narratives of wars of those times contain
accounts of a great many personal incidents and adventures which make
the history of them much more entertaining than the histories of
modern campaigns. I will give one or two examples of these personal
incidents.
At one time, while the Duke of Lancaster was besieging St. Malo with
his four hundred cannon, there was a famous Welsh knight, named Evan,
known in history as Evan of Wales, who was besieging a castle
belonging to the English. The name of the castle was Mortain. It was
on the River Garonne, in the country of Aquitaine. The castle was so
strong that Evan had no hope of taking it by force, and so he invested
it closely on all sides, and sat down quietly waiting for the garrison
to be starved into a surrender.
The castle was near the river. Evan built three block-houses on the
three sides of it. One of these block-houses was on the edge of a rock
before the castle, on the river side. The second was opposite a
postern gate, and was intended particularly to watch the gate, in
order to prevent any one from coming out or going in. The third
block-house was below the castle, between the lower part of it and the
water. To guard the fourth side of the castle, Evan had taken
possession of a church which stood at some little distance from it,
and had converted the church into a fort. Thus the castle was
completely invested, being watched and guarded on every side. The
garrison, however, would not surrender, hoping that they might receive
succor before their provisions were entirely exhausted. They remained
in this condition for a year and a half, and were at length reduced to
great distress and suffering. Still, the governor of the castle would
not surrender.
It may seem strange that Evan, a knight from Wales, should be fighting
against the English, since Wales had some years before been annexed to
the realm of England. The reason was, that Evan's family had been
driven out of Wales by the cruelties and oppressions of the English.
His father, who had formerly been Prince of Wales, had been beheaded,
and Evan, in his infancy, had been saved by his attendants, who fled
with him to France. There he had been received into the family of the
French king, John, and, after he had grown up, he had fought under
John many years. The older he grew, the more his heart was filled with
resentment against the English, and now he was engaged, heart and
hand, in the attempt to drive them out of France. Of course, the
English considered him a traitor, and they hated him much more than
they did any of the French commanders, of whom nothing else was to be
expected than that they should be enemies to the English, and fight
them always and every where. Evan they considered as in some sense one
of their own countrymen who had turned against them.
There was another circumstance which increased the hatred of the
English against Evan, and that was, that he had taken one of their
knights prisoner, and then refused to ransom him on any terms. The
English offered any sum of money that Evan would demand, or they
offered to exchange for him a French knight of the same rank; but Evan
was inexorable. He would not give up his prisoner on any terms, but
sent him to Paris, and shut him up in a dungeon, where he pined away,
and at length died of misery and despair.
In consequence of these things, a plot was formed in England for
assassinating Evan. A Welshman, by the name of John Lamb, was
appointed to execute it.
John Lamb set out from England, and crossed the Channel to France. He
was a well-educated man, speaking French fluently, and he was well
received every where by the French, for he told them that he was a
countryman of Evan's, and that he was going to Mortain to join him.
The French, accordingly, treated him well, and helped him forward on
his journey.
When he reached Mortain, he came into the presence of Evan, and,
falling on his knees before him, he said that he was his countryman,
and that he had come all the way from Wales to enter into his service.
Evan did not suspect any treachery. He received the man kindly, and
made many inquiries of him in respect to the news which he brought
from Wales.
John gave him very favorable accounts of the country, and spoke
particularly of the interest and affection which was every where felt
for him.
"The whole country," said he, "are thinking and talking continually
about you, and are anxiously desiring your return. They wish to have
you for their lord."
These and other flatteries quite won the heart of Evan, and he took
Lamb into his service, and appointed him to a confidential post about
his person.
For a time after this there were occasional skirmishes between the
garrison of Mortain and the besiegers, but, as the strength of the
garrison gradually failed, these contests became less and less
frequent, until at last they ceased entirely. The soldiers of Evan
then had nothing to do but to watch and wait until the progress of
starvation and misery should compel the garrison to surrender. There
was no longer any danger of sorties from the walls, and the besiegers
ceased to be at all on their guard, but went and came at their ease
about the castle, just as if there were no enemy near.
Evan himself used to go out in the morning, when the weather was fine,
into the fields in front of the castle before he was dressed, and
there have his hair combed and plaited a long time; for, like most of
the knights and gentlemen soldiers of those days, he was very
particular about his dress and his personal appearance. On these
occasions he often had nobody to attend him but John Lamb. There was a
place where there was a fallen tree, which formed a good seat, at a
spot which afforded a commanding view of the castle and of the
surrounding country. He used often to go and sit upon this tree while
his hair was combed, amusing himself the while in watching to see what
was going on in the castle, and to observe if there were any signs
that the garrison were going to surrender.
One morning, after a very warm night, during which Evan had not been
able to sleep, he went out to this place very early. He was not
dressed, but wore only a jacket and shirt, with a cloak thrown over
his shoulders. The soldiers generally were asleep, and there was
nobody with Evan but John Lamb. Evan sat down upon the log, and
presently sent John Lamb to the block-house for his comb.
"Go and get my comb," said he, "and comb my hair. That will refresh me
a little."
So John went for the comb. As he went, however, it seemed to him that
the time for the execution of his plan had come. So he brought with
him from the block-house a Spanish dagger, which he found there in
Evan's apartment. As soon as he reached Evan, who had thrown off his
cloak, and was thus almost naked and entirely off his guard, he
plunged the dagger into him up to the hilt at a single blow. Evan sank
down upon the ground a lifeless corpse. Lamb left the dagger in the
wound, and walked directly to the gate of the castle.
The guards at the gate hailed him and demanded what he wanted. He said
he wished to see the governor of the castle. So the guards took him
in, and conducted him into the presence of the governor.
"My lord," said Lamb, "I have delivered you from one of the greatest
enemies you ever had."
"From whom?" asked the governor.
"From Evan of Wales," said Lamb.
The governor was very much astonished at hearing this, and demanded of
Lamb by what means he had delivered them from Evan. Lamb then related
to the governor what he had done.
The first impression produced upon the governor's mind by the
statement which Lamb made was a feeling of displeasure. He looked at
the assassin with a scowl of anger upon his face, and said sternly,
"Wretch! you have murdered your master. You deserve to have your head
cut off for such a deed; and, were it not that we are in such great
straits, and that we gain such very great advantage by his death, I
would have your head cut off on the spot. However, what is done can
not be undone. Let it pass."
The garrison did not derive any immediate advantage, after all, from
the death of Evan, for the French were so incensed by the deed which
John Lamb had perpetrated that they sent more troops to the spot, and
pressed the siege more closely than ever. The garrison was, however,
not long afterward relieved by an English fleet, which came up the
river and drove the French away.
The knights and barons of those days were not accustomed to consider
it any hardship to go to war against each other, but rather a
pleasure. They enjoyed fighting each other just as men at the present
day enjoy hunting wild beasts in the forest; and that chieftain was
regarded as the greatest and most glorious who could procure for his
retainers the greatest amount of this sort of pleasure, provided
always that his abilities as a leader were such that they could have
their full share of victory in the contests that ensued. It was only
the quiet and industrial population at home, the merchants of London,
the manufacturers of the country towns, and the tillers of the land,
who were impoverished and oppressed by the taxes necessary for raising
the money which was required, that were disposed to complain. The
knights and soldiers who went forth on these campaigns liked to go.
They not only liked the excitements and the freedom of the wild life
they led in camp, and of the marches which they made across the
country, but they liked the fighting itself. Their hearts were filled
with animosity and hatred against their foes, and they were at any
time perfectly willing to risk their lives for the opportunity of
gratifying these passions. They were also greatly influenced by a love
for the praise and glory which they acquired by the performance of any
great or brilliant feat of arms.
This led them often to engage in single personal combats, such, for
example, as this. There was a certain French knight, named De
Langurant: he was making an incursion into the English territories in
the neighborhood of Bordeaux. One day he was scouring the country at
the head of about forty troopers, armed with lances. At the head of
this troop he came into the neighborhood of a village which was in the
hands of the English, and was defended by an English garrison. When he
approached the village he halted his men, and posted them in ambush in
a wood.
"You are to remain here a while," said he. "I am going on alone before
the town, to see if I can not find some body to come out to fight me
in single combat."
The object of De Langurant in this plan was to show his daring, and to
perform a brave exploit which he might have to boast of, and glory
over afterward among his brother soldiers.
The men did as he had commanded them, and concealed themselves in the
wood. De Langurant then rode on alone, his lance fixed in its rest,
and his helmet glittering in the sun, until he reached the gate of the
town. Then he halted and challenged the sentinel.
The sentinel demanded what he wanted.
"Where is the captain of this garrison?" said the trooper. "I wish you
to go and find him, and tell him that Lord De Langurant is at the
gates of the town, and wishes to have a tilt with him. I dare him to
come and fight with me, since he pretends that he is such a valiant
man. Tell him that if he does not come, I will proclaim him every
where as a coward that did not dare to come out and meet me."
The name of the captain whom De Langurant thus challenged was Bernard
Courant. It happened that one of Bernard's servants was upon the gate,
near the sentinel, at the time this challenge was given. He
immediately called out to De Langurant, saying,
"I have heard what you have said, Sir Knight, and I will go
immediately and inform my master. You may rely upon seeing him in a
few minutes, if you will wait, for he is no coward."
Bernard was greatly incensed when he heard the impertinent and
boasting message which De Langurant had sent him. He started up
immediately and called for his arms, commanding, at the same time,
that his horse should be saddled. He was very soon equipped and
ready. The gate was opened, the drawbridge let down, and he sallied
forth. De Langurant was waiting for him on the plain.
[Illustration: KNIGHTS CHARGING UPON EACH OTHER.--This engraving
represents the manner in which knights rode to the encounter of each
other in single combat. They are each well protected with a helmet, a
shield or buckler, and other armor of iron, and are provided with lances
and other weapons. These lances were very long, and were made of the
toughest wood that could be obtained. The object of each combatant in
such an encounter is to strike his antagonist with the point of his
weapon so as either to pierce his armor and kill him, or else to throw
him off his horse by the shock and force of the blow. If a knight were
unhorsed, he lay generally helpless on the ground, being unable to rise
on account of the weight of his armor. Of course, in this situation he
was easily vanquished by his adversary.]
The knights were both mounted on furious chargers; and, after a moment's
pause, during which they eyed each other with looks of fierce defiance,
they put spurs to their horses, and the horses began to gallop toward
each other at the top of their speed. Each of the knights, as he
advanced, had one end of his lance supported in its rest, while he
pointed the other directly toward his antagonist, with a view of
striking him with it as he rode by, watching, at the same time, the
terrible point which was coming toward him, in hopes to avoid it if
possible, and, if not, to bear up against the blow so firmly as not to
be unhorsed. The lances were very long, and were made of very solid
wood, but the chief momentum of the blow which they were intended to
give came from the end of them being supported in a rest, which was
connected with the saddle in such a manner that the whole impetus of the
horse, as it were, was communicated to the lance, and this impetus was
so great, that if a lance struck in such a manner that it could not
glance off, and did not overthrow the man, but met with a solid
resistance, it was often shivered to atoms by the shock. This happened
in the present case. The lances of both combatants were shivered at the
first encounter. The riders were, however, uninjured. The horses
wheeled, made a short circuit, and rushed toward each other again. At
the second encounter, Bernard brought down so heavy a blow with a
battle-axe upon the iron armor that covered De Langurant's shoulder,
that the unfortunate trooper was hurled out of his saddle and thrown to
the ground.
As soon as Bernard could rein in his horse again and bring him round,
he galloped up to the spot where De Langurant had fallen, and found
him attempting to raise himself up from the ground. At the same time,
the horsemen whom De Langurant had left in the wood, and who had been
watching the combat from their place of ambush, seeing their master
unhorsed, began to put themselves in motion to come to his rescue.
Bernard, who was a man of prodigious strength, reached down from his
horse as he rode over his fallen enemy, and seized hold of his helmet.
His horse, in the mean time, going on, and Bernard holding to the
helmet with all his force, it was torn off from its fastenings, and De
Langurant's head was left unprotected and bare.
Bernard threw the helmet down upon the ground under his horse's feet.
Then drawing his dagger, he raised it over De Langurant's head, and
called upon him to surrender.
"Surrender!" said he. "Surrender this instant, or you are a dead man."
The men in ambush were coming on, and De Langurant hoped they would be
able to rescue him, so he did not reply. Bernard, knowing that he had
not a moment to spare, drove the dagger into De Langurant's head, and
then galloped away back through the gates into the town, just in time
to avoid the troop of horsemen from the ambush, who were bearing down
at full speed toward the spot, and were now just at hand.
The gates of the town were closed, and the drawbridge was taken up the
moment that Bernard had entered, so that he could not be pursued. The
horsemen, therefore, had nothing to do but to bear away their wounded
commander to the nearest castle which was in their possession. The
next day he died.
* * * * *
While the barons and knights were thus amusing themselves at the
beginning of Richard's reign with fighting for castles and provinces,
either for the pleasure of fighting, or for the sake of the renown or
the plunder which they acquired when they were fortunate enough to
gain the victory, the great mass of the people of England were taxed
and oppressed by their haughty masters to an extent almost incredible.
The higher nobles were absolutely above all law. One of them, who was
going to set off on a naval expedition into France, seized, in the
English sea-port which he was leaving, a number of women, the wives
and daughters of the citizens, and took them on board his ship, to be
at the disposal there of himself and his fellow grandees. For this
intolerable injury the husbands and fathers had absolutely no remedy.
To crown the wickedness of this deed, when, soon after the fleet had
left the port, a storm arose, and the women were terrified at the
danger they were in, and their fright, added to the distress they felt
at being thus torn away from their families and homes, made them
completely and uncontrollably wretched, the merciless nobles threw
them overboard to stop their cries.
Taxes were assessed, too, at this time, upon all the people of the
kingdom, that were of an extremely onerous character. These taxes were
_farmed_, as the phrase is; that is, the right to collect them was
sold to contractors, called farmers of the revenue, who paid a certain
sum outright to the government, and then were entitled to all that
they could collect of the tax. Thus there was no supervision over them
in their exactions, for the government, being already paid, cared for
nothing more. The consequence was, that the tax-gatherers, who were
employed by the contractors, treated the people in the most oppressive
and extortionate manner. If the people made complaints, the government
would not listen to them, for fear that if they interfered with the
tax-gatherers in collecting the taxes, the farmers would not pay so
much the next time.
Richard himself, of course, knew nothing about all these things, or,
if he did know of them, he was wholly unable to do any thing to
prevent them. He was completely in the power of his uncles, and of the
other great nobles of the time. The public discontent, however, grew
at last so great that there was nothing wanted but a spark to cause it
to break out into a flame. There was such a spark furnished at length
by an atrocious insult and injury offered to a young girl, the
daughter of a tiler, by one of the tax-gatherers. This led to a
formidable insurrection, known in history as Wat Tyler's insurrection.
I shall relate the story of this insurrection in the next chapter.