Chapter XIX - England Under Richard the Second

by Charles Dickens

　　Richard, son of the Black Prince, a boy eleven years of age,succeeded to the Crown under the title of King Richard the Second.The whole English nation were ready to admire him for the sake ofhis brave father. As to the lords and ladies about the Court, theydeclared him to be the most beautiful, the wisest, and the best -even of princes - whom the lords and ladies about the Court,generally declare to be the most beautiful, the wisest, and thebest of mankind. To flatter a poor boy in this base manner was nota very likely way to develop whatever good was in him; and itbrought him to anything but a good or happy end.

　　The Duke of Lancaster, the young King's uncle - commonly calledJohn of Gaunt, from having been born at Ghent, which the commonpeople so pronounced - was supposed to have some thoughts of thethrone himself; but, as he was not popular, and the memory of theBlack Prince was, he submitted to his nephew.

　　The war with France being still unsettled, the Government ofEngland wanted money to provide for the expenses that might ariseout of it; accordingly a certain tax, called the Poll-tax, whichhad originated in the last reign, was ordered to be levied on thepeople. This was a tax on every person in the kingdom, male andfemale, above the age of fourteen, of three groats (or three four-penny pieces) a year; clergymen were charged more, and only beggarswere exempt.

　　I have no need to repeat that the common people of England had longbeen suffering under great oppression. They were still the mereslaves of the lords of the land on which they lived, and were onmost occasions harshly and unjustly treated. But, they had begunby this time to think very seriously of not bearing quite so much;and, probably, were emboldened by that French insurrection Imentioned in the last chapter.

　　The people of Essex rose against the Poll-tax, and being severelyhandled by the government officers, killed some of them. At thisvery time one of the tax-collectors, going his rounds from house tohouse, at Dartford in Kent came to the cottage of one Wat, a tilerby trade, and claimed the tax upon his daughter. Her mother, whowas at home, declared that she was under the age of fourteen; uponthat, the collector (as other collectors had already done indifferent parts of England) behaved in a savage way, and brutallyinsulted Wat Tyler's daughter. The daughter screamed, the motherscreamed. Wat the Tiler, who was at work not far off, ran to thespot, and did what any honest father under such provocation mighthave done - struck the collector dead at a blow.

　　Instantly the people of that town uprose as one man. They made WatTyler their leader; they joined with the people of Essex, who werein arms under a priest called Jack Straw; they took out of prisonanother priest named John Ball; and gathering in numbers as theywent along, advanced, in a great confused army of poor men, toBlackheath. It is said that they wanted to abolish all property,and to declare all men equal. I do not think this very likely;because they stopped the travellers on the roads and made themswear to be true to King Richard and the people. Nor were they atall disposed to injure those who had done them no harm, merelybecause they were of high station; for, the King's mother, who hadto pass through their camp at Blackheath, on her way to her youngson, lying for safety in the Tower of London, had merely to kiss afew dirty-faced rough-bearded men who were noisily fond of royalty,and so got away in perfect safety. Next day the whole mass marchedon to London Bridge.

　　There was a drawbridge in the middle, which William Walworth theMayor caused to be raised to prevent their coming into the city;but they soon terrified the citizens into lowering it again, andspread themselves, with great uproar, over the streets. They brokeopen the prisons; they burned the papers in Lambeth Palace; theydestroyed the Duke of Lancaster's Palace, the Savoy, in the Strand,said to be the most beautiful and splendid in England; they setfire to the books and documents in the Temple; and made a greatriot. Many of these outrages were committed in drunkenness; sincethose citizens, who had well-filled cellars, were only too glad tothrow them open to save the rest of their property; but even thedrunken rioters were very careful to steal nothing. They were soangry with one man, who was seen to take a silver cup at the SavoyPalace, and put it in his breast, that they drowned him in theriver, cup and all.

　　The young King had been taken out to treat with them before theycommitted these excesses; but, he and the people about him were sofrightened by the riotous shouts, that they got back to the Towerin the best way they could. This made the insurgents bolder; sothey went on rioting away, striking off the heads of those who didnot, at a moment's notice, declare for King Richard and the people;and killing as many of the unpopular persons whom they supposed tobe their enemies as they could by any means lay hold of. In thismanner they passed one very violent day, and then proclamation wasmade that the King would meet them at Mile-end, and grant theirrequests.

　　The rioters went to Mile-end to the number of sixty thousand, andthe King met them there, and to the King the rioters peaceablyproposed four conditions. First, that neither they, nor theirchildren, nor any coming after them, should be made slaves anymore. Secondly, that the rent of land should be fixed at a certainprice in money, instead of being paid in service. Thirdly, thatthey should have liberty to buy and sell in all markets and publicplaces, like other free men. Fourthly, that they should bepardoned for past offences. Heaven knows, there was nothing veryunreasonable in these proposals! The young King deceitfullypretended to think so, and kept thirty clerks up, all night,writing out a charter accordingly.

　　Now, Wat Tyler himself wanted more than this. He wanted the entireabolition of the forest laws. He was not at Mile-end with therest, but, while that meeting was being held, broke into the Towerof London and slew the archbishop and the treasurer, for whoseheads the people had cried out loudly the day before. He and hismen even thrust their swords into the bed of the Princess of Waleswhile the Princess was in it, to make certain that none of theirenemies were concealed there.

　　So, Wat and his men still continued armed, and rode about the city.Next morning, the King with a small train of some sixty gentlemen -among whom was Walworth the Mayor - rode into Smithfield, and sawWat and his people at a little distance. Says Wat to his men,'There is the King. I will go speak with him, and tell him what wewant.'

　　Straightway Wat rode up to him, and began to talk. 'King,' saysWat, 'dost thou see all my men there?'

　　'Ah,' says the King. 'Why?'

　　'Because,' says Wat, 'they are all at my command, and have sworn todo whatever I bid them.'

　　Some declared afterwards that as Wat said this, he laid his hand onthe King's bridle. Others declared that he was seen to play withhis own dagger. I think, myself, that he just spoke to the Kinglike a rough, angry man as he was, and did nothing more. At anyrate he was expecting no attack, and preparing for no resistance,when Walworth the Mayor did the not very valiant deed of drawing ashort sword and stabbing him in the throat. He dropped from hishorse, and one of the King's people speedily finished him. So fellWat Tyler. Fawners and flatterers made a mighty triumph of it, andset up a cry which will occasionally find an echo to this day. ButWat was a hard-working man, who had suffered much, and had beenfoully outraged; and it is probable that he was a man of a muchhigher nature and a much braver spirit than any of the parasiteswho exulted then, or have exulted since, over his defeat.

　　Seeing Wat down, his men immediately bent their bows to avenge hisfall. If the young King had not had presence of mind at thatdangerous moment, both he and the Mayor to boot, might havefollowed Tyler pretty fast. But the King riding up to the crowd,cried out that Tyler was a traitor, and that he would be theirleader. They were so taken by surprise, that they set up a greatshouting, and followed the boy until he was met at Islington by alarge body of soldiers.

　　The end of this rising was the then usual end. As soon as the Kingfound himself safe, he unsaid all he had said, and undid all he haddone; some fifteen hundred of the rioters were tried (mostly inEssex) with great rigour, and executed with great cruelty. Many ofthem were hanged on gibbets, and left there as a terror to thecountry people; and, because their miserable friends took some ofthe bodies down to bury, the King ordered the rest to be chained up- which was the beginning of the barbarous custom of hanging inchains. The King's falsehood in this business makes such a pitifulfigure, that I think Wat Tyler appears in history as beyondcomparison the truer and more respectable man of the two.

　　Richard was now sixteen years of age, and married Anne of Bohemia,an excellent princess, who was called 'the good Queen Anne.' Shedeserved a better husband; for the King had been fawned andflattered into a treacherous, wasteful, dissolute, bad young man.

　　There were two Popes at this time (as if one were not enough!), andtheir quarrels involved Europe in a great deal of trouble.Scotland was still troublesome too; and at home there was muchjealousy and distrust, and plotting and counter-plotting, becausethe King feared the ambition of his relations, and particularly ofhis uncle, the Duke of Lancaster, and the duke had his partyagainst the King, and the King had his party against the duke. Norwere these home troubles lessened when the duke went to Castile tourge his claim to the crown of that kingdom; for then the Duke ofGloucester, another of Richard's uncles, opposed him, andinfluenced the Parliament to demand the dismissal of the King'sfavourite ministers. The King said in reply, that he would not forsuch men dismiss the meanest servant in his kitchen. But, it hadbegun to signify little what a King said when a Parliament wasdetermined; so Richard was at last obliged to give way, and toagree to another Government of the kingdom, under a commission offourteen nobles, for a year. His uncle of Gloucester was at thehead of this commission, and, in fact, appointed everybodycomposing it.

　　Having done all this, the King declared as soon as he saw anopportunity that he had never meant to do it, and that it was allillegal; and he got the judges secretly to sign a declaration tothat effect. The secret oozed out directly, and was carried to theDuke of Gloucester. The Duke of Gloucester, at the head of fortythousand men, met the King on his entering into London to enforcehis authority; the King was helpless against him; his favouritesand ministers were impeached and were mercilessly executed. Amongthem were two men whom the people regarded with very differentfeelings; one, Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice, who was hated forhaving made what was called 'the bloody circuit' to try therioters; the other, Sir Simon Burley, an honourable knight, who hadbeen the dear friend of the Black Prince, and the governor andguardian of the King. For this gentleman's life the good Queeneven begged of Gloucester on her knees; but Gloucester (with orwithout reason) feared and hated him, and replied, that if shevalued her husband's crown, she had better beg no more. All thiswas done under what was called by some the wonderful - and byothers, with better reason, the merciless - Parliament.

　　But Gloucester's power was not to last for ever. He held it foronly a year longer; in which year the famous battle of Otterbourne,sung in the old ballad of Chevy Chase, was fought. When the yearwas out, the King, turning suddenly to Gloucester, in the midst ofa great council said, 'Uncle, how old am I?' 'Your highness,'returned the Duke, 'is in your twenty-second year.' 'Am I somuch?' said the King; 'then I will manage my own affairs! I ammuch obliged to you, my good lords, for your past services, but Ineed them no more.' He followed this up, by appointing a newChancellor and a new Treasurer, and announced to the people that hehad resumed the Government. He held it for eight years withoutopposition. Through all that time, he kept his determination torevenge himself some day upon his uncle Gloucester, in his ownbreast.

　　At last the good Queen died, and then the King, desiring to take asecond wife, proposed to his council that he should marry Isabella,of France, the daughter of Charles the Sixth: who, the Frenchcourtiers said (as the English courtiers had said of Richard), wasa marvel of beauty and wit, and quite a phenomenon - of seven yearsold. The council were divided about this marriage, but it tookplace. It secured peace between England and France for a quarterof a century; but it was strongly opposed to the prejudices of theEnglish people. The Duke of Gloucester, who was anxious to takethe occasion of making himself popular, declaimed against itloudly, and this at length decided the King to execute thevengeance he had been nursing so long.

　　He went with a gay company to the Duke of Gloucester's house,Pleshey Castle, in Essex, where the Duke, suspecting nothing, cameout into the court-yard to receive his royal visitor. While theKing conversed in a friendly manner with the Duchess, the Duke wasquietly seized, hurried away, shipped for Calais, and lodged in thecastle there. His friends, the Earls of Arundel and Warwick, weretaken in the same treacherous manner, and confined to theircastles. A few days after, at Nottingham, they were impeached ofhigh treason. The Earl of Arundel was condemned and beheaded, andthe Earl of Warwick was banished. Then, a writ was sent by amessenger to the Governor of Calais, requiring him to send the Dukeof Gloucester over to be tried. In three days he returned ananswer that he could not do that, because the Duke of Gloucesterhad died in prison. The Duke was declared a traitor, his propertywas confiscated to the King, a real or pretended confession he hadmade in prison to one of the Justices of the Common Pleas wasproduced against him, and there was an end of the matter. How theunfortunate duke died, very few cared to know. Whether he reallydied naturally; whether he killed himself; whether, by the King'sorder, he was strangled, or smothered between two beds (as aserving-man of the Governor's named Hall, did afterwards declare),cannot be discovered. There is not much doubt that he was killed,somehow or other, by his nephew's orders. Among the most activenobles in these proceedings were the King's cousin, HenryBolingbroke, whom the King had made Duke of Hereford to smooth downthe old family quarrels, and some others: who had in the family-plotting times done just such acts themselves as they now condemnedin the duke. They seem to have been a corrupt set of men; but suchmen were easily found about the court in such days.

　　The people murmured at all this, and were still very sore about theFrench marriage. The nobles saw how little the King cared for law,and how crafty he was, and began to be somewhat afraid forthemselves. The King's life was a life of continued feasting andexcess; his retinue, down to the meanest servants, were dressed inthe most costly manner, and caroused at his tables, it is related,to the number of ten thousand persons every day. He himself,surrounded by a body of ten thousand archers, and enriched by aduty on wool which the Commons had granted him for life, saw nodanger of ever being otherwise than powerful and absolute, and wasas fierce and haughty as a King could be.

　　He had two of his old enemies left, in the persons of the Dukes ofHereford and Norfolk. Sparing these no more than the others, hetampered with the Duke of Hereford until he got him to declarebefore the Council that the Duke of Norfolk had lately held sometreasonable talk with him, as he was riding near Brentford; andthat he had told him, among other things, that he could not believethe King's oath - which nobody could, I should think. For thistreachery he obtained a pardon, and the Duke of Norfolk wassummoned to appear and defend himself. As he denied the charge andsaid his accuser was a liar and a traitor, both noblemen, accordingto the manner of those times, were held in custody, and the truthwas ordered to be decided by wager of battle at Coventry. Thiswager of battle meant that whosoever won the combat was to beconsidered in the right; which nonsense meant in effect, that nostrong man could ever be wrong. A great holiday was made; a greatcrowd assembled, with much parade and show; and the two combatantswere about to rush at each other with their lances, when the King,sitting in a pavilion to see fair, threw down the truncheon hecarried in his hand, and forbade the battle. The Duke of Herefordwas to be banished for ten years, and the Duke of Norfolk was to bebanished for life. So said the King. The Duke of Hereford went toFrance, and went no farther. The Duke of Norfolk made a pilgrimageto the Holy Land, and afterwards died at Venice of a broken heart.

　　Faster and fiercer, after this, the King went on in his career.The Duke of Lancaster, who was the father of the Duke of Hereford,died soon after the departure of his son; and, the King, althoughhe had solemnly granted to that son leave to inherit his father'sproperty, if it should come to him during his banishment,immediately seized it all, like a robber. The judges were soafraid of him, that they disgraced themselves by declaring thistheft to be just and lawful. His avarice knew no bounds. Heoutlawed seventeen counties at once, on a frivolous pretence,merely to raise money by way of fines for misconduct. In short, hedid as many dishonest things as he could; and cared so little forthe discontent of his subjects - though even the spaniel favouritesbegan to whisper to him that there was such a thing as discontentafloat - that he took that time, of all others, for leaving Englandand making an expedition against the Irish.

　　He was scarcely gone, leaving the Duke of York Regent in hisabsence, when his cousin, Henry of Hereford, came over from Franceto claim the rights of which he had been so monstrously deprived.He was immediately joined by the two great Earls of Northumberlandand Westmoreland; and his uncle, the Regent, finding the King'scause unpopular, and the disinclination of the army to act againstHenry, very strong, withdrew with the Royal forces towards Bristol.Henry, at the head of an army, came from Yorkshire (where he hadlanded) to London and followed him. They joined their forces - howthey brought that about, is not distinctly understood - andproceeded to Bristol Castle, whither three noblemen had taken theyoung Queen. The castle surrendering, they presently put thosethree noblemen to death. The Regent then remained there, and Henrywent on to Chester.

　　All this time, the boisterous weather had prevented the King fromreceiving intelligence of what had occurred. At length it wasconveyed to him in Ireland, and he sent over the Earl of Salisbury,who, landing at Conway, rallied the Welshmen, and waited for theKing a whole fortnight; at the end of that time the Welshmen, whowere perhaps not very warm for him in the beginning, quite cooleddown and went home. When the King did land on the coast at last,he came with a pretty good power, but his men cared nothing forhim, and quickly deserted. Supposing the Welshmen to be still atConway, he disguised himself as a priest, and made for that placein company with his two brothers and some few of their adherents.But, there were no Welshmen left - only Salisbury and a hundredsoldiers. In this distress, the King's two brothers, Exeter andSurrey, offered to go to Henry to learn what his intentions were.Surrey, who was true to Richard, was put into prison. Exeter, whowas false, took the royal badge, which was a hart, off his shield,and assumed the rose, the badge of Henry. After this, it waspretty plain to the King what Henry's intentions were, withoutsending any more messengers to ask.

　　The fallen King, thus deserted - hemmed in on all sides, andpressed with hunger - rode here and rode there, and went to thiscastle, and went to that castle, endeavouring to obtain someprovisions, but could find none. He rode wretchedly back toConway, and there surrendered himself to the Earl ofNorthumberland, who came from Henry, in reality to take himprisoner, but in appearance to offer terms; and whose men werehidden not far off. By this earl he was conducted to the castle ofFlint, where his cousin Henry met him, and dropped on his knee asif he were still respectful to his sovereign.

　　'Fair cousin of Lancaster,' said the King, 'you are very welcome'(very welcome, no doubt; but he would have been more so, in chainsor without a head).

　　'My lord,' replied Henry, 'I am come a little before my time; but,with your good pleasure, I will show you the reason. Your peoplecomplain with some bitterness, that you have ruled them rigorouslyfor two-and-twenty years. Now, if it please God, I will help youto govern them better in future.'

　　'Fair cousin,' replied the abject King, 'since it pleaseth you, itpleaseth me mightily.'

　　After this, the trumpets sounded, and the King was stuck on awretched horse, and carried prisoner to Chester, where he was madeto issue a proclamation, calling a Parliament. From Chester he wastaken on towards London. At Lichfield he tried to escape bygetting out of a window and letting himself down into a garden; itwas all in vain, however, and he was carried on and shut up in theTower, where no one pitied him, and where the whole people, whosepatience he had quite tired out, reproached him without mercy.Before he got there, it is related, that his very dog left him anddeparted from his side to lick the hand of Henry.

　　The day before the Parliament met, a deputation went to thiswrecked King, and told him that he had promised the Earl ofNorthumberland at Conway Castle to resign the crown. He said hewas quite ready to do it, and signed a paper in which he renouncedhis authority and absolved his people from their allegiance to him.He had so little spirit left that he gave his royal ring to histriumphant cousin Henry with his own hand, and said, that if hecould have had leave to appoint a successor, that same Henry wasthe man of all others whom he would have named. Next day, theParliament assembled in Westminster Hall, where Henry sat at theside of the throne, which was empty and covered with a cloth ofgold. The paper just signed by the King was read to the multitudeamid shouts of joy, which were echoed through all the streets; whensome of the noise had died away, the King was formally deposed.Then Henry arose, and, making the sign of the cross on his foreheadand breast, challenged the realm of England as his right; thearchbishops of Canterbury and York seated him on the throne.

　　The multitude shouted again, and the shouts re-echoed throughoutall the streets. No one remembered, now, that Richard the Secondhad ever been the most beautiful, the wisest, and the best ofprinces; and he now made living (to my thinking) a far more sorryspectacle in the Tower of London, than Wat Tyler had made, lyingdead, among the hoofs of the royal horses in Smithfield.

　　The Poll-tax died with Wat. The Smiths to the King and RoyalFamily, could make no chains in which the King could hang thepeople's recollection of him; so the Poll-tax was never collected.