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From Chronicles of England, France and Spain and the Surrounding Countries, by Sir John Froissart, Translated from the French Editions with Variations and Additions from Many Celebrated MSS, by Thomas Johnes, Esq; London: William Smith, 1848. pp. 647-669.

CHAPTER LXX. — DURING THE WAR, THE RICH CITIZENS OF GHENT ARE SUBJUGATED BY THEIR SOLDIERS. — PHILIP VON ARTAVELD IS MADE GOVERNOR OF GHENT.

WHEN the news was carried to Ghent that Arnoul le Clerc was slain, and his men defeated, many began to take alarm, and to say among themselves, “Our affairs go very badly: by degrees, they will kill all our captains and men: we have done ill to make this war upon the earl our lord, for by little and little he will destroy us. The hatreds of Gilbert Matthew and John Lyon are now falling upon us, and we have too long followed the opinions of John Lyon and Peter du Bois; they have driven us into this war, and brought on us the hatred of our lord to such a degree that we shall never be admitted to mercy, nor obtain a peace. It will be better that twenty or thirty should suffer than a whole city.”

This was the conversation of several when together in private, from their dread of the ill-intentioned who were of another way of thinking, and were daily adding to their power, though at the beginning they were but poor workmen scarcely worth a groat. They had now plenty of gold and silver; for, when in want, they complained to their leaders, who willingly listened to them, and gave them advice by pointing out to them the richest men in the town, and saying, — “Go to such and such persons, and tell them we want to speak to them.” They directly went, and those they sought were afraid to refuse following them. On their arrival, they were told the good town of Ghent was in want of money to pay their soldiers, who were aiding to guard and preserve their rights and franchises, and that it was necessary the workmen should live. They raised instantly among themselves the sum demanded; for, had they refused, they would have been put to death, on pretence of being traitors to the good town of Ghent, and indifferent to its honour or profit.

Thus did these wicked people become masters of the town, and continued so as long as the war lasted against their lord. In truth, if the rich men and nobility of the town were beaten by such rods, one cannot pity, nor any way excuse them, for they were the primary cause of all this mischief. When the earl of Flanders sent thither his bailiff to do justice on some wicked persons, could they not have remained steady and have assisted him in this act, seeing the rebels were then in very small numbers? But it appeared they were quite indifferent whether the affair turned out well or ill, or if they had war or peace. They must have been sensible, that if they made war on their lord, the ill-intentioned would be their masters and lords of the town, and that they could not turn them out when they pleased. It would happen to them as to John de la Faucille, who, by dissembling and quitting the town of Ghent to live in Hainault, imagined he should be clear of all the wars in Flanders, as well as of those against his lord by the town of Ghent, of which he was a native, and that nothing would be required from him: but in this he was mistaken, so that it caused his death; which was a pity, for John de la Faucille was in his time a wise and able man. But in those days none could trim between the lords and the townsmen, for they were too clear-sighted; and though he knew how to advise others very well, yet in regard to himself he managed things badly. I do not know, for a truth, if he were guilty of all the charges on which he was examined by sir Simon Rain in the castle of Lille, but his judges, with his adverse fortune, turned against him, so that he died: and thus it happened to all the leaders in Ghent, and those who encouraged them in their rebellion against their lord. Many others of Ghent perished, who I hope were blameless.

When Peter du Bois saw Ghent thus weakened in her captains and soldiers, and deserted by her allies; that the principal inhabitants began to tire; he suspected they would readily 648 give up the war, but that, whatever peace or treaty they should enter into with the earl, there would not be any possibility for him to save his life. He therefore called to his recollection John Lyon, who had been his master, and with what art he had worked; he saw plainly he could not do every thing himself, not having sufficient weight nor knowledge to govern the town; neither did he wish for the principal command, being solely desirous of leading every mad enterprise: he, in consequence, turned his thoughts to a man, of whom the city of Ghent had not any suspicions, one of sufficient prudence, though his abilities were unknown, for until that day they had not paid any attention to him: his name was Philip von Artaveld, son of Jacob von Artaveld, who had ruled over all Flanders for seven years. Peter du Bois had heard it related by his master, John Lyon, and the old people of Ghent, that the whole country was never so well governed, feared, loved and honoured as during the time of Jacob von Artaveld’s reign, which lasted for seven years: the inhabitants added, that if Jacob von Artaveld were alive, things would not be in the state they are now in: they should have a peace according to their wishes, and the earl would be too happy to forgive them.

These words made an impression on Peter du Bois: he recollected that Jacob von Artaveld had left a son called Philip, a handsome and agreeable man, to whom the queen of England, when she was at Ghent and during the time of the siege of Tournay, had stood godmother, and who, from respect to her, had been christened Philip. Peter du Bois came one evening to Philip’s house, who resided with his mother, maintaining themselves honourably on their rents. Peter, having arranged in his own mind what he should say, thus opened the matter and the cause of his coming: “If you will listen to me, and follow my advice, I will make you the greatest man in Flanders.” “How will you do this?” replied Philip. “I will tell you how,” said Peter: “you shall have the sole government of Ghent: for we are at this moment in the utmost want of a leader of a good name and fair character: by this means we shall rouse the men of Ghent, through remembrance of your father’s fame; for every one says that Flanders was never so flourishing, nor so much feared, as during his lifetime. I will easily place you, if you be willing, in his situation; and, when there, you will govern according to my advice until you shall find yourself master of the business, which you will soon acquire.” Philip, who was arrived at manhood, and naturally wished to advance himself in honour and wealth more than he then possessed, replied, — “Peter, you offer me great things; and, if I be placed in the situation you say, I swear on my faith, that I will never act without your advice.”

Peter asked, — “Can you be cruel and proud? for a great man among the commonalty, and in particular among such as we shall have to do with, will not be thought any thing worth if he be not feared and dreaded, and at times renowned for his cruelty. It is thus the Flemings wish to be governed; and, among them, men’s lives should be no more valued, nor should they have more pity shown to them, than swallow or larks, which are caught in the proper season for the table.” — “By my troth,” answered Philip, “I know well how to act this part.” “All then goes well,” said Peter. “You are just such a one as I want, and the chief I look for.” On saying this, he took leave and departed to his own house. Night passed, and day returned, when Peter du Bois went to a square where there were upwards of four thousand of his followers and others, assembled to hear the news, to discuss how matters ought to be carried on, and who should be the governor of the town.

The lord de Harzelle was there, who chiefly conducted the affairs of Ghent, but he would not undertake to do any thing out of the town: some named him for governor: others were also nominated. Peter, who was listening attentively, having heard many names, raised his voice and said, “Gentlemen, I have paid every attention to all you have said, and firmly believe you have been induced, through your love and affection for the honour and wealth of the town of Ghent, to propose such who are worthy to have a share in the government of this city; but I know one who in no way is thinking of it, and if he would undertake the government, there could not be any one found of greater abilities, nor of a more propitious name.” Peter du Bois was called upon to name him, which he did by saying, “It was Philip von Artaveld, who was christened at the font of St. Peter’s in Ghent by that noble queen of England, Philippa, who was his godmother at the time when his father, Jacob von 649 Artaveld, was at the siege of Tournay with the king of England, the duke of Brabant, the duke of Gueldres and the earl of Hainault; which Jacob von Artaveld, his father, governed the town of Ghent and the country of Flanders better than has ever been done since, from all I hear from those inhabitants who have it strong in their memories: Flanders had been for some time lost, if through his sense and good fortune he had not regained it. Now, it behoves us to love the branches from such a valiant man, in preference to any other person.” No sooner had Peter du Bois done speaking than the idea of Philip von Artaveld filled every one’s mind, and encouraged them so much that they unanimously cried out, “Let him be sought for: we will not have any one but him for our governor.” “No, no,” said Peter du Bois: “we will not send for him: it will be much better we go to his house, for we do not at present know how he will take it. We ought not by any means to suffer him to excuse himself from accepting it.”

At these words, those present took the road to Philip’s house, followed by many others who had been informed of their intentions. When they arrived there, the lord de Harzelle, Peter du Bois, Peter la Nuitée. and about ten or twelve of the principal tradesmen, addressed him, saying, “that the good town of Ghent was in the greatest danger for want of a chief, with whom alliances might be formed both at home and abroad, and that all ranks of people in Ghent had given him their voices and chosen him to be their sovereign; for the good remembrance of his name, and the love they had borne to his father, made him more agreeable to them than any one else. For which reasons they entreated him affectionately to take on him the government of the town, with the management of their affairs both within and without, and they would swear to him obedience and loyalty as completely as to their lord. They likewise engaged to bring every one, how great soever he might be, under his obedience.”

Philip, after hearing every thing they had to say, made the following prudent reply: “Gentlemen, you require great things from me; and I should imagine you have not weighed the matter so maturely as it ought to have been, when you offer me the government of Ghent. You say, the affection your ancestors had for my father has been your great inducement: when he had performed for them every service in his power, they murdered him. If I should accept the government in the manner you request, and be afterwards murdered, I shall gain but a miserable recompense.” “Philip,” said Peter du Bois, who caught at these words which seemed to make his choice doubtful, “what has passed cannot now be amended: you will act from the advice of your council, and by thus continuing you will ever be so well advised that all mankind shall praise you.” Philip answered, “I should never wish to act otherwise.” They then elected him; and, conducting him to the market-place, he was there sworn into office; the mayors, sheriffs, and rulers of companies were also sworn to obey him.

In this manner was Philip von Artaveld made sovereign of Ghent. He acquired great popularity at the commencement; for he spoke to every one who had any business with him politely and prudently, so that he was beloved by all. He gave a part of the revenues which the earl of Flanders had in Ghent as his inheritance to the lord de Harzelle, out of affection to him, and to enable him the better to support his rank; for he had lost every thing he possessed without the walls of the town.

We will now for a time leave these affairs of Flanders, and speak of those of England and Portugal.

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CHAPTER LXXI. — A WAR BETWEEN THE KINGS OF CASTILLE AND PORTUGAL.

YOU have before heard related the death of king Henry of Castille, and that his eldest son, don John, was crowned in his stead. His queen also, who was daughter to king Peter of Arragon, was crowned with him. A war broke out between king Ferdinand of Portugal and the king of Castille on certain disputes between them; but principally on account of the two daughters of Peter king of Castille, who were married in England; the eldest, Constance, to the duke of Lancaster, and Isabella to the earl of Cambridge. The king of 650 Portugal declared, that it was unjust and illegal in the king of Castille to disinherit, without cause, his two cousins; and that it was not becoming that two noble ladies of such high birth should be disinherited from their rights: it was also improper that this affair should become old and forgotten, so that these ladies would never be able to regain their possessions: that for him, who was one of the nearest relations they had, he would never consent to it, both for the love of God and his desire to maintain justice, to which every good Christian should incline. He sent therefore his defiance to the king of Castille, whom all Spain had crowned; and the king of Portugal made war upon him for the reasons above mentioned. Don John defended himself valiantly, and ordered to the frontiers and to his garrisons numbers of men at arms, to oppose his enemies, so that he lost nothing at the breaking out of hostilities. He had with him some of the ablest and most prudent of French chivalry, who assisted him greatly by their arms and advice; such as the bègue de Villaines, sir Peter his son, sir John de Bergettes, sir William de Lignac, sir Walter de Puissac, the lord de la Tande, sir John and sir Tristram de Roye, and many more, who had gone to Spain on the departure of the earl of Buckingham from Brittany; for the king of France, who had great connections and of a long standing with the king of Castille, had sent them thither.

The king of Portugal, on finding this, thought it advisable to send ambassadors to England to the king and his uncles, to request succours from them, that he might be able to carry on a successful war against the king of Castille. He called to him one of his knights, a valiant and prudent man, as well as a great lord, called John Ferrande, and told him his intentions in these words: “John, you will carry these credential letters to England. I cannot send thither a more able ambassador than yourself, nor one who is better informed of all my affairs: you will therefore commend me to the king, on presenting these letters, and let him know that I am supporting the rights of my cousins, his aunts, for their inheritance of Castille and Spain; and that I have already waged war against him, who, through the influence of France, has taken possession of it; but that I am not sufficiently strong in myself, nor have I resources to oppose him, nor to conquer such heritages as Castille, Galicia and Seville. For which reason, I entreat him to send me his fair uncle the duke of Lancaster, with his wife and daughter, my cousins, and a number of men at arms and archers. On their arrival hither, we will carry on such a war, if it should please God, that we will recover their inheritances.” “My lord,” replied the knight, “with pleasure will I carry your message.” He was not long before he embarked on board a strong vessel fit for the voyage, and sailed from the harbour of Lisbon; when, having favourable winds, he arrived at Plymouth the same day and same tide that the earl of Buckingham returned thither, with part of his fleet, from Brittany.

The English had unfortunately lost at sea three of their ships, full of men and stores, and had been so much separated by contrary winds, that they arrived, not without great danger, in three different ports of England. The earl of Buckingham was rejoiced at the arrival of the Portuguese knight, whom he most graciously received. On his inquiring after news, he told him enough, as well of Spain as of Portugal. They continued their journey together until they came to the good city of London, where the king was. On the earl of Buckingham’s arrival, the city of London entertained him magnificently. He went to Westminster to wait on the king, who was there with his two uncles, the duke of Lancaster and earl of Cambridge, and took the knight from Portugal with him, whom he presented to the king and to his brothers.

When the king and the above-named lords were made acquainted with the subject of his coming, they seemed to be much pleased, and paid him great respect. He delivered his letters to the king, who read them in the presence of his uncles; for you must know the king did nothing without the advice of these uncles, being at that time very young. The knight was questioned, notwithstanding the letters he had brought with him, on the subject of his coming from Portugal: his answers were prudent and proper, according to the propositions which have been mentioned before. When the lords had fully heard all he had to say, they said, — “Many thanks to our fair cousin the king of Portugal, who, to serve us, has made war on our adversary. What he requires is but reasonable, and he shall be speedily succoured. The king will consider in what manner he shall arrange this business.” 651 No further conversation passed. The foreign knight, having brought such agreeable tidings to the duke of Lancaster and earl of Cambridge, was much feasted, and dined with the king. He remained about fifteen days, and until a week before the feast of St. George, with the king and his uncles. Sir Robert de Namur was also there, who had come to do homage to the king for what he possessed in England. The parliament was also summoned to meet at Westminster, as well on account of this embassy from Portugal as upon the affairs of Scotland, the truce between the two countries ending the first of June.

The prelates and barons of England held may councils to consider this business: they were not for sending the duke of Lancaster to Portugal, some saying it was a long voyage for him, and that they might repent of his going, for the Scots were making great preparations to invade England. It was at last determined that the duke of Lancaster, who was well acquainted with Scotland and its inhabitants, should go to the borders, and learn what were the intentions of the Scots; for of all the barons of England he knew best how to conduct a treaty, and the Scots would do more for him than for any other person. They likewise resolved that the earl of Cambridge should embark for Portugal with five hundred spears and as many archers; and if the duke of Lancaster could manage the Scots, and, without dishonouring England, conclude a truce for three years, he might go likewise, if the king approved of it in council, abut August or September, to Portugal to reinforce the army of his brother. There was another reason why the duke of Lancaster ought to remain in England: the king had sent ambassadors, with the duke of Saxony and the archbishop of Ravenna, to the emperor of Germany, to demand his sister in marriage and to obtain his answer; for there had been great negotiations on this subject for upwards of a year. The bishop of St. David’s and sir Simon Burley were the ambassadors, on the part of England, to assist and bring it to a conclusion.

The king and his lords agreed to this determination, when the parliament broke up. Lists were made out of those barons and knights who were to accompany the earl of Cambridge to Portugal.

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CHAPTER LXXII. — THE EARL OF CAMBRIDGE SAILS FOR PORTUGAL. — THE DUKE OF LANCASTER GOES TO THE BORDERS OF SCOTLAND, TO MAKE A TRUCE WITH THE SCOTS.

THE duke of Lancaster, having made his preparations, left the king and his brothers. On taking leave of the earl of Cambridge, he swore to him, by his faith, that on this return from Scotland, he would speedily follow him to Portugal, if no hindrance which he could not then foresee happened in England to prevent him. On this, the duke departed, taking the road to Scotland, and attended only by those of his household. In this parliament, the earl of Northumberland was appointed lieutenant of all Northumberland, the bishopric of Durham, and as much of Wales as to the banks of the Severn: he therefore left London for those parts, but it was about fifteen days after the departure of the duke of Lancaster.

The earl of Cambridge took leave of the king and his brother the earl of Buckingham, to complete the forces for the expedition he had undertaken to command. He made his rendezvous at Plymouth, where he was the first who arrived, bringing with him his lady Isabella and his son John, whom he intended carrying with him to Portugal. The earl of Cambridge was accompanied by many noblemen, such as sir Matthew Gournay constable of the army, the canon de Robesart, sir John Newcastle, sir William Beauchamp marshal of the army, the souldich de l’Estrade, the lord Botreaux, the lord de Charlton, sir William Helmon, sir Thomas Symon, sir Nicholas Windsor, sir John Carteret and several others. There were also men at arms to the amount of five hundred, and as many archers. These lords and their men came to Plymouth, where they quartered themselves and in the adjoining villages. They loaded their vessels by little and little; but no horses were to be embarked, as the voyage was too long from England to Lisbon. The Portuguese knight was with them, intending to accompany them to his country. They remained upwards of three weeks on the coast, getting ready their provision and stores, and waiting for favourable weather.

The duke of Lancaster continued his journey towards Scotland until he came to Berwick, 652 which is the last town in that part of England. When arrived there, he halted, and sent a message to Scotland to acquaint the barons he was come thither to ride the borders, as had always been customary; and, if they were desirous of doing the same first, they had best to inform him of it, otherwise he well knew what he was to do. The duke’s herald rode to Edinburgh, where king Robert of Scotland, the earl of Douglas, the earl of Mar, the earl of Moray and all the principal barons of Scotland were assembled. They had heard the duke of Lancaster was come to treat with them, and had thus assembled in the chief town of Scotland, where the herald met them.

The herald punctually executed his message. He was favourably listened to, and had a friendly answer from the Scots barons, who said, they would willingly hear what the duke had to propose. The herald brought back with him passports for the duke and his people, to last as long as they should remain on the borders and during the parleys. The herald, having received these assurances, came back to Berwick and related what he had done. Upon this, the duke departed from Berwick, leaving all his stores in that town, and took the road to Roxburgh, where he lay. On the morrow, he was lodged in the abbey of Melrose on the Tweed, which divides the two kingdoms of Scotland and England. The duke and his attendants remained there until the Scots were come to Lambir-law, three short leagues off. On their arrival, they signified it to the duke, when immediately negotiations were begun between the Scots and English, and which lasted for upwards of fifteen days.

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CHAPTER LXXIII. — THE POPULACE OF ENGLAND REBEL AGAINST THE NOBILITY.

WHILE these conferences were going forward, there happened in England great commotions among the lower ranks of the people, by which England was near ruined without resource. Never was a country in such jeopardy as this was at that period, and all through the too great comfort of the commonalty. Rebellion was stirred up, as it was formerly done in France by the Jacques Bons-hommes, who did much evil, and sore troubled the kingdom of France. It is marvellous from what a trifle this pestilence raged in England. In order that it may serve as an example to mankind, I will speak of all that was done, from the information I had at the time on the subject.

It is customary in England, as well as in several other countries, for the nobility to have great privileges over the commonalty, whom they keep in bondage; that is to say, they are bound by law and custom to plough the lands of gentlemen, to harvest the grain, to carry it home to the barn, to thrash and winnow it: they are also bound to harvest the hay and carry it home*. All these services they are obliged to perform for their lords, and many more in England than in other countries. The prelates and gentlemen are thus served. In the counties of Kent, Essex, Sussex and Bedford, these services are more oppressive than in all the rest of the kingdom.

The evil-disposed in these districts began to rise, saying, they were too severely oppressed; that at the beginning of the world there were no slaves, and that no one ought to be treated as such, unless he had committed treason against his lord, as Lucifer had done against God: but they had done no such thing, for they were neither angels nor spirits, but men formed after the same likeness with their lords, who treated them as beasts. This they would not longer bear, but had determined to be free, and if they laboured or did any other works for their lords, they would be paid for it.

A crazy priest in the county of Kent, called John Ball, who, for his absurd preaching, had been thrice confined in the prison of the archbishop of Canterbury, was greatly instrumental in inflaming them with those ideas. He was accustomed, every Sunday after mass, as the people were coming out of the church, to preach to them in the market place and assemble a crowd around him; to whom he would say, — “My good friends, things cannot go on well in England, nor ever will until every thing shall be in common; when there 653 shall neither be vassal nor lord, and all distinctions levelled; when the lords shall be no more masters than ourselves. How ill have they used us! and for what reason do they thus hold us in bondage? Are we not all descended from the same parents, Adam and Eve? and what can they show, or what reasons give, why they should be more the masters than ourselves? except, perhaps in making us labour and work, for them to spend. They are clothed in velvets and rich stuffs†, ornamented with ermine and other furs, while we are forced to wear poor cloth. They have wines, spices, and fine bread, when we have only rye and the refuse of the straw; and, if we drink, it must be water. They have handsome seats and manors, when we must brave the wind and rain in our labours in the field; but it is from our labour they have wherewith to support their pomp. We are called slaves; and, if we do not perform our services, we are beaten, and we have not any sovereign to whom we can complain, or who wishes to hear us and do us justice. Let us go to the king, who is young, and remonstrate with him on our servitude, telling him we must have it otherwise, or that we shall find a remedy for it ourselves. If we wait on him in a body, all those who come under the appellation of slaves, or are held in bondage, will follow us, in the hopes of being free. When the king shall see us, we shall obtain a favourable answer, or we must then seek ourselves to amend our condition.”

With such words as these did John Ball harangue the people, at his village, every Sunday after mass, for which he was much beloved by them. Some who wished no good declared it was very true, and murmuring to each other, as they were going to the fields, on the road from one village to another, or at their different houses, said, “John Ball preaches such and such things, and he speaks truth.”

The archbishop of Canterbury, on being informed of this, had John Ball arrested, and 654 imprisoned for two or three months by way of punishment; but it would have been better if he had been confined during his life, or had been put to death, than to have been suffered thus to act. The archbishop set him at liberty, for he could not for conscience sake have put him to death. The moment John Ball was out of prison, he returned to his former errors. Numbers in the city of London having heard of his preaching, being envious of the rich men and nobility, began to say among themselves, that the kingdom was too badly governed, and the nobility had seized on all the gold and silver coin. These wicked Londoners, therefore, began to assemble and to rebel: they sent to tell those in the adjoining counties, they might come boldly to London, and bring their companions with them, for they would find the town open to them, and the commonalty in the same way of thinking; that they would press the king so much, there should no longer be a slave in England.

These promises stirred up those in the counties of Kent, Essex, Sussex and Bedford, and the adjoining country, so that they marched toward London; and, when they arrived near, they were upwards of sixty thousand. They had a leader called Wat Tyler, and with him were Jack Straw and John Ball: these three were their commanders, but the principal was Wat Tyler. This Wat had been a tiler of houses, a bad man, and a great enemy to the nobility. When these wicked people first began to rise, all London, except their friends, were very much frightened. The mayor and rich citizens assembled in council, on hearing they were coming to London, and debated whether they should shut the gates and refuse to admit them; but, having well considered, they determined not to do so, as they should run a risk of having the suburbs burnt‡.

The gates were therefore thrown open, when they entered in troops of one or two hundred, by twenties or thirties, according to the populousness of the towns they came from; and as they came into London they lodged themselves. But it is a truth, that full two-thirds of these people knew not what they wanted, nor what they sought for: they followed one another like sheep, or like to the shepherds of old, who said they wee going to conquer the Holy Land, and afterwards accomplished nothing. In such manner did these poor fellows and vassals come to London from distances of a hundred and sixty leagues§, but the greater part from those counties I have mentioned, and on their arrival they demanded to see the king. The gentlemen of the country, the knights and squires, began to be alarmed when they saw the people thus rise; and, if they were frightened, they had sufficient reason, for less causes create fear. They began to collect together as well as they could.

The same day that these wicked men of Kent were on their road towards London, the princess of Wales, mother to the king, was returning from a pilgrimage to Canterbury. She ran great risks from them; for these scoundrels attacked her car, and caused much confusion, which greatly frightened the good lady, lest they should do some violence to her or to her ladies. God, however preserved her from this, and she came in one day from Canterbury to London, without venturing to make any stop by the way. Her son Richard was this day in the Tower of London: thither the princess came, and found the king attended by the earl of Salisbury, the archbishop of Canterbury, sir Robert de Namur, the lord de Gommegines, and several more, who had kept near his person from suspicions of his subjects who were thus assembling, without knowing what they wanted. The rebellion was well known to be in agitation in the king’s palace, before it broke out and the country people had left their homes; to which the king applied no remedy, to the great astonishment of every one. In order that gentlemen and others may take example, and correct wicked rebels, I will most amply detail how this business was conducted.

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*  And to hew their wood and bring it home. — Lord Berners.

†  Lord Berners says “chamlet furred with grise,” the skin of the weazle or martin. The word in Froissart is camocas, which D. Sauvage is at a loss to understand, and proposes to alter to camelos, camlet; thus confirming Lord Berners’ translation. — ED.

‡  According to Lord Berners and D. Sauvage they did at first shut the gates, but afterwards being in fear for the suburbs they caused them to be re-opened. — ED.

§  Lord Berners exactly agrees with D. Sauvage, and differs materially in the relation of the distance the rebels travelled. Lord Berners translates lieues miles, I apprehend correctly. “In lykewise these villains and poor people came to London a hundred myle off, lx myle, l myle, xl myle, and xx myle off, and fro’ all countries about London, but the most part came fro’ the countries before-named.” — ED.

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CHAPTER LXXIV. — THE POPULACE OF ENGLAND COMMIT MANY CRUELTIES ON THOSE IN OFFICIAL SITUATIONS. — THEY SEND A KNIGHT AS AMBASSADOR TO THE KING.

ON Monday preceding the feast of the Holy Sacrament, in the year 1381, did these people sally forth from their homes, to come to London to remonstrate with the king, that all might be made free, for they would not there should be any slaves in England. At Canterbury, they met John Ball (who thought he should find there the Archbishop, but he was at London), Wat Tyler and Jack Straw. On their entrance into Canterbury, they were much feasted by every one, for the inhabitants were of their way of thinking; and, having held a council, they resolved to march to London, and also to send emissaries across the Thames to Essex, Suffolk, Bedford, and other counties, to press the people to march to London on that side, and thus, as it were, to surround it, which the king would not be able to prevent. It was their intention that all the different parties should be collected together on the feast of the Holy Sacrament, or on the following day.

Those who had come to Canterbury entered the church of St. Thomas, and did much damage: they pillaged the apartments of the archbishop, saying as they carrying off different articles, — “This chancellor of England has had this piece of furniture very cheap: he must now give us an account of the revenues of England, and of the large sums he has levied since the coronation of the king.” After they had defrauded the abbey of St. Vincent, they set off in the morning, and all the populace of Canterbury with them, taking the road towards Rochester. They collected the people from the villages to the right and left, and marched along like a tempest, destroying every house of an attorney or king’s proctor, or that belonged to the archbishop, sparing none.

On their arrival at Rochester, they were much feasted, for the people were waiting for them, being of their party. They advanced to the castle, and seizing a knight called sir John de Newtoun, who was constable of it and captain of the town*, they told him that he must accompany them as their commander in chief, and do whatever they should wish. The knight endeavoured to excuse himself, and offered good reasons for it, if they had been listened to; but they said to him, “Sir John, if you will not act as we shall order, you are a dead man.” The knight seeing this outrageous mob ready to kill him, complied with their request, and very unwillingly put himself at their head. They had acted in a similar manner in the other counties of England, in Essex, Suffolk, Cambridge, Bedford, Stafford, Warwick and Lincoln, where they forced great lords and knights, such as the lord Manley, a great baron, sir Stephen Hales, and sir Thomas Cossington, to lead and march with them. Now, observe how fortunately matters turned out, for had they succeeded in their intentions they would have destroyed the whole nobility of England: after this success, the people of other nations would have rebelled, taking example from those of Ghent and Flanders, who were in actual rebellion against their lord. In this same year the Parisians acted a similar part, arming themselves with leaden maces†. They were upwards of twenty thousand, as I shall relate when I come to that part of my history; but I will first go on with this rebellion in England.

When those who had lodged at Rochester had done all they wanted, they departed, and, crossing the river, came to Dartford, but always following their plan of destroying the houses of lawyers or proctors on the right and left of their road. In their way, they cut off several men’s heads, and continued their march to Blackheath, where they fixed their quarters: they said they were armed for the king and commons of England. When the citizens of London found they were quartered so near them, they closed the gates of London-bridge: guards were placed there by orders of sir William Walworth, mayor of London, and several rich citizens who were not of their party; but there were in the city more than thirty thousand who favoured them.

Those who were at Blackheath had information of this: they sent, therefore, their knight to speak with the king, and to tell him, that what they were doing was for his service, for 656 the kingdom had been for several years wretchedly governed, to the great dishonour of the realm and to the oppression of the lower ranks of the people, by his uncles, by the clergy, and in particular by the archbishop of Canterbury, his chancellor, from which they would have an account of his ministry. The knight dared not say nor do any thing to the contrary, but, advancing to the Thames opposite the Tower, he took boat and crossed over. While the king and those with him in the Tower were in great suspense, and anxious to receive some intelligence, the knight came on shore: way was made for him, and he was conducted to the king, who was in an apartment with the princess his mother. There were also with the king his two maternal brothers, the earl of Kent and sir John Holland, the earls of Salisbury, Warwick, Suffolk, the archbishop of Canterbury, the great prior of the Templars in England, sir Robert de Namur, the lord de Vertain, the lord de Gommegines, sir Henry de Sausselles, the mayor of London and several of the principal citizens.

Sir John Newtoun, who was well known to them all, for he was one of the king’s officers, cast himself on his knees and said, — “My much redoubted lord, do not be displeased with me for the message I am about to deliver to you; for, my dear lord, through force I am come hither.” “By no means, sir John, tell us what you are charged with: we hold you excused.” “My very redoubted lord, the commons of your realm send me to you to entreat you would come and speak with them on Blackheath. They wish to have no one but yourself; and you need not fear for your person, for they will not do you the least harm: they always have respected and will respect you as their king; but they will tell you many things, which, they say, it is necessary you should hear; with which, however, they have not empowered me to acquaint you. But, dear lord, have the goodness to give me such an answer as may satisfy them, and that they may be convinced I have really been in your presence; for they have my children as hostages for my return, whom they will assuredly put to death, if I do not go back.”

The king replied, “You shall speedily have an answer.” Upon this, he called a council to consider what was to be done. The king was advised to say, that if on Thursday they would come down to the river Thames, he would without fail speak with them. Sir John Newtoun, on receiving this answer, was well satisfied therewith, and, taking leave of the king and barons, departed: having entered his boat, he recrossed the Thames, and returned to Blackheath, where he had left upwards of sixty thousand men. He told them from the king, that if they would send on the morrow morning their leaders to the Thames, the king would come and hear what they had to say. This answer gave great pleasure, and they were contented with it: they passed the night as well as they could; but you must know that one-fourth of them fasted for want of provision, as they had not brought any with them, at which they were much vexed, as may be supposed.

At this time, the earl of Buckingham was in Wales, where he possessed great estates in right of his wife, who was daughter of the earl of Hereford and Northampton; but the common report about London was, that he favoured these people: some assured it for a truth, as having seen him among them, because there was one Thomas very much resembling him, from the county of Cambridge. As for the English barons who were at Plymouth making preparations for their voyage, they had heard of this rebellion, and that the people were rising in all parts of the kingdom. Fearful lest their voyage should be prevented, or that the populace, as they had done at Southampton, Winchelsea and Arundel, should attack them, they heaved their anchors, and with some difficulty left the harbour, for the wind was against them, and put to sea, when they cast anchor to wait for a wind.

The duke of Lancaster was on the borders, between la Morlane‡, Roxburgh and Melrose, holding conferences with the Scots: he had also received intelligence of this rebellion, and the danger his person was in, for he well knew that he was unpopular with the common people of England. Notwithstanding this, he managed his treaty very prudently with the Scots commissioners, the earl of Douglas, the earl of Moray, the earl of Sutherland, the earl of Mar and Thomas de Vesey. The Scotsmen who were conducting the treaty on the part of the king and the country knew also of the rebellion in England, and how the populace were 657 rising everywhere against the nobility. They said, that England was shaken and in great danger of being ruined, for which in their treaties they bore the harder on the duke of Lancaster and his council.

We will now return to the commonalty of England, and say how they continued in their rebellion.

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*  “John de Newtoun was constable of this castle (Rochester) anno 2 king Richard.” — Hasted’s Kent, vol. ii. p. 13.

†  Lord Berners and D. Sauvage read iron, though the latter in a note says that the Chronicles and Annals of France say lead. — ED.

‡   “La Morlane.” Lambir-law. — Macpherson’s Geog. Illust. of Scotland.

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CHAPTER LXXV. — THE COMMONALTY OF ENGLAND ENTER LONDON, WHERE THEY COMMIT MANY CRUELTIES AND OUTRAGES. — THEY PUT TO DEATH THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY AND SEVERAL OTHERS.

ON Corpus Christi day king Richard heard mass, in the tower of London, with all his lords, and afterwards entered his barge, attended by the earls of Salisbury, Warwick and Suffolk, with other knights. He rowed down the Thames towards Rotherhithe, a manor belonging to the crown, where were upwards of ten thousand men, who had come from Blackheath to see the king and to speak to him: when they perceived his barge approach, they set up such shouts and cries as if all the devils in hell had been in their company. They had their knight, sir John Newtoun, with them; for, in case the king had not come and they found he had made a jest of them, they would, as they had threatened, have cut him to pieces.

When the king and his lords saw this crowd of people, and the wildness of their manner, there was not one among them so bold and determined but felt alarmed: the king was advised by his barons not to land, but to have his barge rowed up and down the river. 658 “What do ye wish for?” demanded the king: “I am come hither to hear what you have to say.” Those near him cried out with one voice, — “We wish thee to land, when we will remonstrate with thee, and tell thee more at our ease what our wants are.” The earl of Salisbury then replied for the king, and said, — “Gentlemen, you are not properly dressed, nor in a fit condition for the king to talk with you.”

Nothing more was said; for the king was desired to return to the Tower of London, from whence he had set out. When the people saw they could obtain nothing more, they were inflamed with passion, and went back to Blackheath, where the main body was, to relate the answer they had received, and how the king was returned to the Tower. They all then cried out, “Let us march instantly to London.” They immediately set off, and, in their road thither, they destroyed the houses of lawyers, courtiers, and monasteries. Advancing into the suburbs of London, which were very handsome and extensive, they pulled down many fine houses: in particular, they demolished the prison of the king called the Marshalsea, and set at liberty all those confined within it. They did much damage to the suburbs, and menaced the Londoners at the entrance of the bridge for having shut the gates of it, saying, they would set fire to the suburbs, take the city by storm, and afterwards burn and destroy it.

With respect to the common people of London, numbers were of their opinions, and, on assembling together, said, — “Why will you refuse admittance to these honest men? They are our friends, and what they are doing is for our good.” It was then found necessary to open the gates, when crowds rushed in, and ran to those shops which seemed well stored with provision: if they sought for meat or drink, it was placed before them, and nothing refused, but all manner of good cheer offered, in hopes of appeasing them.

Their leaders, John Ball, Jack Straw and Wat Tyler, then marched through London, attended by more than twenty thousand men, to the palace of the Savoy, which is a handsome building on the road to Westminster, situated on the banks of the Thames, belonging to the duke of Lancaster; they immediately killed the porters, pressed into the house and set it on fire. Not content with committing this outrage, they went to the house of the knights-hospitalers of Rhodes, dedicated to St. John of Mount Carmel, which they burnt, together with their hospital and church. They afterwards paraded the streets, and killed every Fleming they could find, whether in house, church or hospital: not one escaped death. They broke open several houses of the Lombards, taking whatever money they could lay their hands on, none daring to oppose them. They murdered a rich citizen called Richard Lyon, to whom Wat Tyler had been formerly servant in France; but, having once beaten this varlet, he had not forgotten it, and, having carried his men to his house, ordered his head to be cut off, placed upon a pike, and carried through the streets of London. Thus did these wicked people act like madmen; and, on this Thursday, they did much mischief to the city of London.

Towards evening, they fixed their quarters in a square called St. Catharine’s, before the Tower, declaring they would not depart thence until they should obtain from the king every thing they wanted, and have all their desires satisfied; and the chancellor of England made to account with them, and show how the great sums which had been raised were expended; menacing, that if he did not render such an account as was agreeable to them, it would be the worse for him. Considering the various ills they had done to foreigners, they lodged themselves before the Tower. You may easily suppose what a miserable situation the king was in, and those with him; for at times these rebellious fellows hooted as loud as if the devils were in them.

About evening, a council was held in the presence of the king, the barons who were in the Tower with him, sir William Walworth the mayor, and some of the principal citizens, when it was proposed to arm themselves, and during the night to fall upon these wretches, who were in the streets and amounted to sixty thousand, while they were asleep and drunk, for then they might be killed like flies, and not one in twenty among them had arms. The citizens were very capable of doing this, for they had secretly received into their houses their friends and servants, properly prepared to act. Sir Robert Knolles remained in his house, guarding his property, with more than six score companions completely armed, who would have 659 instantly sallied forth. Sir Perducas d’Albreth was also in London at that period, and would have been of great service; so that they could have mustered upwards of eight thousand men, well armed. But nothing was done; for they were too much afraid of the commonalty of London; and the advisers of the king, the earl of Salisbury and others, said to him, — “Sir, if you can appease them by fair words, it will be so much the better, and good humouredly grant them what they ask; for, should we begin what we cannot go through, we shall never be able to recover it: it will be all over with us and our heirs, and England will be a desert.” This council was followed, and the mayor ordered to make no movement. He obeyed, as in reason he ought. In the city of London, with the mayor, there are twelve sheriffs*, of whom nine were for the king and three for these wicked people, as it was afterwards discovered, and for which they then paid dearly.

On Friday morning, those lodged in the square before St. Catherine’s, near the Tower, began to make themselves ready; they shouted much, and said, that if the king would not come out to them, they would attack the Tower, storm it, and slay all in it. The king was alarmed at these menaces, and resolved to speak with them; he therefore sent orders for them to retire to a handsome meadow at Mile-end, where, in the summer time, people go to amuse themselves, and that there the king would grant them their demands. Proclamation was made in the king’s name for all those who wished to speak with him to go to the above-mentioned place, where he would not fail to meet them.

The commonalty of the different villages began to march thither; but all did not go, nor had they the same objects in view, for the greater part only wished for the riches and destruction of the nobles, and the plunder of London. This was the principal cause of their rebellion, as they very clearly showed; for when the gates of the Tower wee thrown open, and the king, attended by this two brothers, the earls of Salisbury, of Warwick, of Suffolk, sir Robert de Namur, the lords de Vertain and de Gommegines, with several others, had passed through them, Wat Tyler, Jack Straw and John Ball, with upwards of four hundred rushed in by force, and running from chamber to chamber, found the archbishop of Canterbury, whose name was Simon†, a valiant and wise man, and chancellor of England, who had but just celebrated mass before the king: he was seized by these rascals, and beheaded. The prior of St. John’s suffered the same fate, and likewise a Franciscan friar, a doctor of physic, who was attached to the duke of Lancaster, out of spite to his master, and also a serjeant at arms of the name of John Laige‡. They fixed these four heads on long pikes, and had them carried before them through the streets of London: when they had sufficiently played with them, they placed them on London Bridge, as if they had been traitors to their king and country.

These scoundrels entered the apartment of the princess, and cut her bed, which so much terrified her that she fainted, and in this condition was by her servants and ladies carried to the river side, when she was put into a covered boat, and conveyed to the house called The Wardrobe §, where she continued that day and night like a woman half dead, until she was comforted by the king her son, as you shall presently hear.

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*   “Twelve sheriffs.” — Froissart is mistaken, as there are only two sheriffs, and twenty-six aldermen, including the mayor.

The aldermen were originally chosen for one year; but, in1354, “it was ordained that they should not be removed without some special cause.” — Stowe’s History of London.

†  “Simon de Sudbury.” — His name was Tibold; but he took the name de Sudbury from the place of his birth.

‡  “Laige.” — Leg. — Hollingshed.

§  The King’s Wardrobe was at this time in Carter-lane, Barnard’s Castle-ward. For further particulars, see Stowe’s History of London.

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CHAPTER LXXVI. — THE NOBLES OF ENGLAND ARE IN GREAT DANGER OF BEING DESTROYED. — THREE OF THE PRINCIPAL LEADERS OF THE REBELS ARE PUNISHED, AND THE REST SENT BACK TO THEIR HOMES.

WHEN the king was on his way to the place called Mile-end, without London, his two brothers, the earl of Kent and sir John Holland, stole off and galloped from his company, as did also the lord de Gommegines, not daring to show themselves to the populace at Mile-end for fear of their lives*.

On the king’s arrival, attended by the barons, he found upwards of sixty thousand men assembled from different villages and counties of England: he instantly advanced into the midst of them, saying in a pleasant manner, “My good people, I am your king and your lord: what is it you want? and what do you wish to say to me?” Those who heard him answered, “We wish thou wouldst make us free for ever, us, our heirs and our lands, and that we should no longer be called slaves, nor held in bondage.” The king replied, “I grant your wish: now, therefore, return to your homes and the places from whence you came, leaving behind two or three men from each village, to whom I will order letters to be given sealed with my seal, which they shall carry back with every demand you have made fully granted: and, in order that you may be the more satisfied, I will direct that my banners shall be sent to every stewardship, castlewick, and corporation.” These words greatly appeased the novices and well-meaning ones who were there, and knew not what they wanted, saying, “It is well said: we do not wish for more.” The people were thus quieted, and began to return towards London.

The king added a few words, which pleased them much: “You, my good people of Kent, shall have one of my banners; and you also of Essex, Sussex, Bedford, Suffolk, Cambridge, Stafford, and Lincoln, shall each of you have one; and I pardon you all for what you have hitherto done; but you must follow my banners, and now return home on the terms I have mentioned.” They unanimously replied they would. Thus did this great assembly break up, and set out for London. The king instantly employed upwards of thirty secretaries, who drew up the letters as fast as they could; and, having sealed and delivered them to these people, they departed, and returned to their own counties.

The principal mischief remained behind: I mean Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, and John Ball, who declared, that though the people were satisfied, they would not thus depart; and they had more than thirty thousand who were of their mind. They continued in the city, without any wish to have their letters, or the king’s seal; but did all they could to throw the town into such confusion that the lords and rich citizens might be murdered, and their houses pillaged and destroyed. The Londoners suspected this, and kept themselves at home, with their friends and servants, well armed and prepared, every one according to his abilities.

When the people had been appeased at Mile-end Green, and were setting off for their different towns as speedily as they could receive the king’s letters, king Richard went to the Wardrobe, where the princess was in the greatest fear: he comforted her, as he was very able to do, and passed there the night.

I must relate an adventure which happened to these clowns before Norwich, and to their leader, called William Lister, who was from the county of Stafford. On the same day, these wicked people burnt the palace of the Savoy, the church and house of St. John, the hospital of the Templars, pulled down the prison of Newgate, and set at liberty all the prisoners. There were collected numerous bodies from Lincolnshire, Norfolk, and Suffolk, who proceeded on their march towards London, according to the orders they had received, under the direction of Lister.

In their road they stopped near Norwich, and forced every one to join them, so that none of the commonalty remained behind. The reason why they stopped near Norwich was, that the governor of the town was a knight called sir Robert Salle: he was not by birth a gentleman, but, having acquired great renown for his ability and courage, king Edward had 661 created him a knight: he was the handsomest and strongest man in England. Lister and his companions took it into their heads they would make this knight their commander, and carry him with them, in order to be the more feared. They sent orders to him to come out into the fields to speak with them, or they would attack and burn the city. The knight, considering it was much better for him to go to them than that they should commit such outrages, mounted his horse, and went out of the town alone, to hear what they had to say. When they perceived him coming, they showed him every mark of respect, and courteously entreated him to dismount, and talk with them. He did dismount, and committed a great folly: for, when he had so done, having surrounded him, they at first conversed in a friendly way, saying, “Robert, you are a knight, and a man of great weight in this country, renowned for your valour: yet, notwithstanding all this, we know who you are: you are not a gentleman, but the son of a poor mason, just such as ourselves. Do you come with us, as our commander, and we will make so great a lord of you that one quarter of England shall be under your command.”

The knight, on hearing them thus speak, was exceedingly angry; he would never have consented to such a proposal; and, eyeing them with inflamed looks, answered, “Begone, wicked scoundrels and false traitors as you are: would you have me desert my natural lord for such a company of knaves as you? would you have me dishonour myself? I would much rather you were all hanged, for that must be your end.” On saying this, he attempted to mount his horse; but, his foot slipping from his stirrup, his horse took fright. They then shouted out, and cried, “Put him to death.” When he heard this, he let his horse go; and, drawing a handsome Bordeaux sword, he began to skirmish, and soon cleared the crowd from about him, that it was a pleasure to see. Some attempted to close with him; but with each stroke he gave, he cut off heads, arms, feet, or legs. There were none so bold but were afraid; and sir Robert performed that day marvellous feats of arms. These wretches were upwards of forty thousand; they shot and flung at him such things; that had he been clothed in steel instead of being unarmed, he must have been overpowered: however, he killed twelve of them, besides many whom he wounded. At last, he was overthrown, when they cut off his legs and arms, and rent his body in piecemeal. Thus ended sir Robert Salle, which was a great pity; and, when the knights and squires in England heard of it, they were much enraged.

On the Saturday morning, the king left the Wardrobe, and went to Westminster, where he and all the lords heard mass in the abbey. In this church, there is a statue of our Lady in a small chapel, that has many virtues and performs great miracles, in which the kings of England have much faith. The king, having paid his devotions and made his offerings to this shrine, mounted his horse about nine o’clock, as did the barons who were with him. They rode along the causeway to return to London; but, when they had gone a little way, he turned to a road on the left to go from London.

This day, all the rabble were again assembled, under the conduct of Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, and John Ball, to parley at a place called Smithfield, where, every Friday, the horse-market is kept. They amounted to upwards of twenty thousand, all of the same sort. Many more were in the city, breakfasting and drinking Rhenish and Malmsey Madeira wines, in taverns and at the houses of the Lombards, without paying for anything; and happy was he who could give them good cheer. Those who were collected in Smithfield had the king’s banners, which had been given to them the preceding evening; and these reprobates wanted to pillage the city this same day, their leaders saying, “that hitherto they had done nothing. The pardons which the king has granted will not be of much use to us: but, if we be of the same mind, we shall pillage this large, rich, and powerful town of London, before those from Essex, Suffolk, Cambridge, Bedford, Warwick, Reading, Lancashire, Arundel, Guildford, Coventry, Lynne, Lincoln, York, and Durham shall arrive; for they are on the road, and we know for certain that Vaquier† and Lister will conduct them hither. If we now plunder the city of the wealth that is in it, we shall have been beforehand, and shall not repent of so doing; but, if we wait for their arrival, they will wrest it from us.” To this opinion all had agreed, when the king appeared in sight, attended by sixty horse. He was 662 not thinking of them, but intended to have continued his ride without coming into London: however, when he came before the abbey of St. Bartholomew, which is in Smithfield, and saw the crowd of people, he stopped, and said he would not proceed until he knew what they wanted; and, if they were troubled, he would appease them.

The lords who accompanied him stopped also, as was but right, since the king had stopped; when Wat Tyler, seeing the king, said to his men, “Here is the king: I will go and speak with him: do not you stir from hence until I give you the signal.” He made a motion with his hand, and added, “When you shall see me make this sign, then step forward, and kill every one except the king; but hurt him not, for he is young, and we can do what we please with him; for, by carrying him with us through England, we shall be lords of it without any opposition.” There was a doublet-maker of London, called John Ticle, who had brought sixty doublets, with which some of the clowns had dressed themselves; and on his asking who was to pay, for he must have for them thirty good mares, Tyler replied, “Make thyself easy man; thou shalt be well paid this day: look to me for it: thou hast sufficient security for them.” On saying this, he spurred the horse on which he rode, and, leaving his men, galloped up to the king, and came so near that his horse’s head touched the crupper of that of the king. The first words he said, when he addressed the king, were, “King, dost thou see all those men there?” “Yes,” replied the king: “why dost thou ask?” “Because they are all under my command, and have sworn by their faith and loyalty to do whatever I shall order.” “Very well,” said the king: “I have no objections to it.” Tyler, who was only desirous of a riot, answered, “And thinkest thou, king, that those people and as many more who are in the city, also under my command, ought to depart without having had thy letters? Oh no, we will carry them with us.” “Why,” replied the king, “so it has been ordered, and they will be delivered out one after the other: but, friend, return to thy companions, and tell them to depart from London: be peaceable and careful of yourselves, for it is our determination that you shall all of you have your letters by villages and towns, as it had been agreed on.”

As the king finished speaking, Wat Tyler, casting his eyes around him, spied a squire attached to the king’s person bearing his sword. Tyler mortally hated this squire; formerly they had had words together, when the squire ill-treated him. “What, art thou there?” cried Tyler: “give me thy dagger.” “I will not,” said the squire: “why should I give it thee?” The king, turning to him, said, “Give it him, give it him;” which he did, though much against his will. When Tyler took it, he began to play with it and turn it about in his hand, and, again addressing he squire, said, “Give me that sword.” “I will not,” replied the squire; “for it is the king’s sword, and thou art not worthy to bear it, who art but a mechanic; and, if only thou and I were together, thou wouldst not have dared to say what thou hast for as large a heap of gold as this church.” “By my troth,” answered Tyler, “I will not eat this day before I have thy head.” At these words, the mayor of London, with about twelve more, rode forward, armed under their robes, and pushing through the crowd, saw Tyler’s manner of behaving: upon which, he said, “Scoundrel, how dare you thus behave in the presence of the king, and utter such words? It is too impudent for such as thou.” The king then began to be enraged, and said to the mayor, “Lay hands on him.”

Whilst the king was giving this order, Tyler had addressed the mayor, saying, “Hey, in God’s name, what I have said, does it concern thee? what dost thou mean?” “Truly,” replied the mayor, who found himself supported by the king, “does it become such a stinking rascal as thou art to use such speech in the presence of the king, my natural lord? I will not live a day, if thou pay not for it.” Upon this, he drew a kind of scimetar‡ he wore, and struck Tyler such a blow on the head as felled him to his horse’s feet. When he was down, he was surrounded on all sides, so that his men could not see him; and one of the king’s squires, called John Standwich§, immediately leaped from his horse, and, drawing a handsome sword which he bore, thrust it into his belly, and thus killed him.

His men, advancing, saw their leader dead, when they cried out, “They have killed our captain: let us march to them, and slay the whole.” On these words, they drew up in a sort of battle-array, each man having his bent bow before him. The king certainly hazarded 663 much by this action, but it turned out fortunate; for, when Tyler was on the ground, he left his attendants, ordering not one to follow him. He rose up to these rebellious fellows, who were advancing to revenge their leader’s death, and said to them, “Gentlemen, what are you about? you shall have no other captain but me: I am your king: remain peaceable.” When the greater part of them heard these words, they were quite ashamed, and those inclined to peace began to slip away. The riotous ones kept their ground, and showed symptoms of mischief, and as if they were resolved to do something.

The king returned to his lords, and asked them what should next be done. He was advised to make for the fields; for the mayor said, “that to retreat or fly would be of no avail. It is proper we should act thus, for I reckon that we shall very soon receive assistance from London, that is, from our good friends who are prepared and armed, with all their servants in their houses.” While things remained in this state, several ran to London, and cried out, “They are killing the king! they are killing the king and our mayor.” Upon this alarm, every man of the king’s party sallied out towards Smithfield, and to the fields whither the king had retreated; and there were instantly collected from seven to eight thousand men in arms.

Among the first, came sir Robert Knolles and sir Perducas d’Albreth, well attended¶; and several of the aldermen, with upwards of six hundred men at arms, and a powerful man of the city called Nicholas Bramber, the king’s draper, bringing with him a large force, who, as they came up, ranged themselves in order, on foot, on each side of him. The rebels were drawn up opposite them: they had the king’s banners, and showed as if they intended to 664 maintain their ground by offering combat. The king created three knights; sir William Walworth, mayor of London, sir John Standwich, and sir Nicholas Bramber. The lords began to converse among themselves, saying, “What shall we do? We see our enemies, who would willingly have murdered us if they had gained the upper hand.” Sir Robert Knolles advised immediately to fall on them, and slay them; but the king would not consent, saying, “I will not have you act thus: you shall go and demand from them my banners: we shall see how they behave when you make this demand; for I will have them by fair or foul means.” “It is a good thought,” replied the earl of Salisbury.

The new knights were therefore sent, who, on approaching, made signs for them not to shoot, as they wished to speak with them. When they had come near enough to be heard, they said, “Now attend: the king orders you to send back his banners, and we hope he will have mercy on you.” The banners were directly given up, and brought back to the king. It was then ordered, under pain of death, that all these who had obtained the king’s letter should deliver them up. Some did so; but not all. The king, on receiving them, had them torn in their presence. You must know, that from the instant when the king’s banners were surrendered, these fellows kept no order; but the greater part, throwing their bows to the ground, took to their heels and returned to London.

Sir Robert Knolles was in a violent rage that they were not attacked, and the whole of them slain; but the king would not consent to it, saying, he would have ample revenge on them, which in truth he afterwards had.

Thus did these people disperse, and run away on all sides. The king, the lords, and the army returned in good array to London, to their great joy. The king immediately took the road to the Wardrobe, to visit the princess his mother, who had remained there two days and two nights under the greatest fears, as indeed she had cause. On seeing the king her son, she was mightily rejoiced, and said, “Ha, ha, fair son, what pain and anguish have I not suffered for you this day!” “Certainly, madam,” replied the king, “I am well assured of that; but now rejoice and thank God, for it behoves us to praise him, as I have this day regained my inheritance, and the kingdom of England, which I had lost.”

The king remained the whole day with his mother. The lords retired to their own houses. A proclamation was made through all the streets, that every person who was not an inhabitant of London, and who had not resided there for a whole year, should instantly depart; for that, if there were any found of a contrary description on Sunday morning at sun-rise, they would be arrested as traitors to the king, and have their heads cut off. After this proclamation had been heard, no one dared to infringe it; but all departed instantly to their homes, quite discomfited. John Ball and Jack Straw were found hidden in an old ruin, thinking to steal away; but this they would not do, for they were betrayed by their own men. The king and the lords were well pleased with their seizure: their heads were cut off, as what that of Tyler, and fixed on London bridge, in the place of those gallant men whom they had beheaded on the Thursday¥. The news of this was sent through the neighbouring counties, that those might hear of it who were on their way to London, according to the orders these rebels had sent to them: upon which they instantly returned to their homes, without daring to advance further.

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*  Lord Berners, who in this agrees with D. Sauvage, says the king sent them away —(“put them out of his company.”) I do not understand why Mr. Johnes has represented them as running away privily. — ED.

†   “Valquier,” — probably Walker.

‡   “Badelaire,” — a short and broad backsword, being towards the point like a Turkish scymitar. — Cosgrave.

§   “Standwich.” Lord Berners calls him Standysshe; Stowe, Cavendish.

¶  In one of my MSS. there is the following addition:

“Sir Robert de Namur, sir Robert Knolles, and sir Perducas d’Albreth were very angry that these wicked people so easily escaped, for they had put the town into great alarm for three days. Sir Henry de Sausselles, a young knight from Hainault who had accompanied sir Robert de Namur, asked why some revenge was not had for having kept the town in such alarm. Sir Robert, upon this, asked him if he had been frightened: ‘Yes, by God, was I, very much; why should I conceal it? And was not you?’ ‘No, by my troth, I was not; but if the king had not been here with us, we should have run great risk.’ ”

¥  From the forementioned MS.

“This same week was James Lister taken, who had murdered sir Robert Salle. He and twelve others were executed with him. Thus were these traitors punished. There are some who say, that John Ball and his accomplices were strictly examined before they were put to death, and then owned that persons of the highest rank and power had incited them to act as they had done. The king kept this confession secret in his own mind, and returned thanks to God for his happy issue out of this danger. Very many were astonished that the duke of Lancashire, during all this rebellion, remained out of the kingdom, settling general matters on the borders of Scotland.

“The king sent orders to the earl of Northumberland, that if the duke of Lancaster should attempt to enter any fortified town or castle, the gates should be shut against him. The king made the said earl his lieutenant of all the borders towards Scotland. Many noblemen and others were surprised at this, for it would seem as if the king suspected the duke of being implicated with the rebels. But it was admitted, on all sides, that he was inculpated without any grounds; for the first thing the rebels did, on entering London, was to march to the palace of the Savoy, and totally destroy and burn it. Now this did not show that he was friendly to their cause. They also put to death several who were attached to him.”

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CHAPTER LXXVII. —  A TRUCE BETWEEN THE ENGLISH AND THE SCOTS. — THE DUKE OF LANCASTER REMAINS IN SCOTLAND DURING THE REBELLION IN ENGLAND.

WE will now speak of the truce which the duke of Lancaster, who had remained on the borders of Scotland during the time of this rebellion in England, was negotiating with the earl of Douglas and other barons on the part of Scotland. The Scots were as well informed as the duke of the situation of England, though he did not take any notice of it to them, but went on with the treaty as if England were in perfect peace. The business was so ably conducted by the commissioners on each side that a truce was made, for three years, between the two kingdoms.

When this treaty was concluded, the lords of the two countries visited each other with much respect. The earl of Douglas said to the duke of Lancaster, — “My lord, we were well informed of the rebellion of the populace in England, and what peril the kingdom was in from that event: we therefore look on you as a valiant and prudent man, for having so frankly continued your negotiations without ever taking the least notice of it; and we offer you, should you think them necessary, five or six hundred spears, which you will find ready and at your service.” “By my faith,” replied the duke, “fair gentlemen, I thank you much for your gallant offer, which I do not refuse; but I imagine his majesty must have been so advised that all will turn out well. However, I wish to have passports from you, for myself and people, to go to your country, and reside there, should there be occasion, until all these troubles be appeased.” The earls of Douglas and Moray, who had full powers from the king, immediately complied with his request. They then took their leave, and each party separated: the Scots returned to Edinburgh, and the duke, with his attendants, to Berwick, thinking to enter the town, where he had left all his baggage; but sir Matthew Redmayne, the governor, refused him entrance, and closed the gates against him. He told him he acted by orders from the earl of Northumberland, at that time lord warden of the county of Northumberland and of all these parts, who had forbidden him to open the gates, and that he could do no otherwise.

The duke was much vexed on hearing these words, and thus answered, “How, Matthew Redmayne, is there any one in Northumberland greater than I? Who has thus denied my entrance where I have left my baggage? from whence come such orders?” “By my faith, my lord, my orders are from the king, and what I do is very much against my will; but do it I must; and I entreat of you, for God’s sake, to excuse me, for I am strictly enjoined, on my honour and life, not to suffer you, or any of your people, to enter this town.” You may suppose the duke of Lancaster was much astonished and enraged at these orders; not so much with the knight, but with those who had given them; for when he had been labouring for the good of England, they were so suspicious of him that they had refused him admittance into the first town of England, on his return from Scotland. He supposed that great fault had been found with him: however, he did not open his thoughts or intentions further, and no longer pressed the knight. He saw no success could come from it, for the knight would never have acted as he had done if he had not had express commands: he therefore changed the subject of conversation, and asked sir Matthew if he had heard any news from England. He answered, — “None, except that the country was in confusion, and that the king had written to the principal towns, barons and knights of this country to be ready to come to him the moment he should send for them, strictly forbidding, under pain of losing their heads, all governors and captains of towns and castles in Northumberland to suffer any one whatever to enter their places; and be assured they will punctually obey. But, with regard to the common people who are in rebellion about London, I know nothing I can depend on to relate to you, except that the officers in Suffolk, Lincoln, Cambridge, Stafford, Bedford and Norfolk have sent information that the commonalty under their command are very eager affairs should turn out ill, and that there should be confusion in the kingdom.” “And in our counties,” said the duke, “of Derby and Leicester, there is not any commotion?” “My lord,” replied the knight, “I have not heard that they have behaved so outrageously as those of Lincoln and others.”

The duke, having mused a little, took leave of the knight, and returned by the road he had come to Roxburgh Castle, where he was gladly received by the governor, whom he had placed there. The duke now weighed all matters, not knowing how affairs were going on in England, nor by whom he was beloved or hated, and whether he should signify his situation to the barons of Scotland, and entreat of them to send him an escort of men at arms, according to the passport they had given. He followed this last plan, and sent to the earl of Douglas at Dalkeith. The earl was greatly rejoiced at receiving the duke’s letter, and much feasted the messenger. He instantly informed the earl of Moray and his brother the earl of Mar, of the business, and directed that without fail they and their men should be ready and mounted within three days at Lambir-law. These lords, on receiving this intimation, summoned their people and nearest friends, and came to Lambir-law, where they found the earl of Douglas. They then rode on together, amounting, in the whole, to full five hundred spears, to the abbey of Melrose, nine small leagues from Roxburgh. The barons of Scotland met the duke of Lancaster on their road, when they embraced each other, and showed every token of being glad at meeting. They continued their journey to Edinburgh in company, conversing all the way. This was the capital of the kingdom, and where usually the king resided: it has a strong castle and fair harbour; but the king was at that time absent, being in the Highlands on a hunting party. To pay greater honour to the duke of Lancaster, the earl of Douglas and the Scots barons delivered up to him the castle of Edinburgh, for which he was very thankful: and he resided there until he had received intelligence from England, which, however, was not so soon as he wished.

Now see how evil-minded persons and deceivers take on them to prate without any knowledge of facts. It was commonly reported through England, during the time of the rebellion, that the duke of Lancaster had become a traitor to his lord and king, and had turned to the Scots party. But this was soon known to be contrary to the truth: however, these wicked people, in order to stir up the commonalty, and to create confusion in the realm, had spread abroad such reports, which were acknowledged at their executions, by Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, John Ball, Walker and Lister, who had been the chief leaders of the rebels in England, and who had intended to have had five parts of the kingdom under their command. They had a particular hatred to the duke of Lancaster, as they showed on their entrance into London; for they instantly went and burnt the fine palace of the Savoy, not leaving an utensil nor beam unburnt. In addition to this, they had published all over England that he had turned to the side of Scotland; for which, in several parts, they had reversed his arms, as if he had been a traitor. This was so severely punished that those who had done such things lost their heads.

We will now relate what vengeance the king of England took on his rebellious subjects during the time the duke of Lancaster was in Scotland.

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CHAPTER LXXVIII. — KING RICHARD JOURNEYS THROUGH ENGLAND FROM TOWN TO TOWN, PUNISHING THOSE WHO HAD BEEN PRINCIPALS OR ACTIVE IN THE LATE REBELLION. — THE DUKE OF LANCASTER RETURNS FROM SCOTLAND TO ENGLAND.

AFTER the executions of Tyler, Jack Straw, John Ball, William Lister, Walker and several others at London, the people being appeased, the king resolved to visit his bailiwicks, castlewicks and stewardships, in order to punish the wicked and to recover the letters of pardon which had been forced from him, as well as to place the realm in its proper situation. The king issued a secret summons for a certain number of men at arms to assemble at a fixed place, on a particular day, which was done. They amounted to five hundred spears and as many archers. When they were thus assembled, the king set out from London, attended only by his household, and took the road to Kent, for in that quarter the rebellion had first broken out.

These men at arms followed the king, but did not accompany him. The king entered the county of Kent, and came to a village called Comprinke*, when he had the mayor and all 667 the men of the village called before him. On their being assembled in an open space, the king ordered one of his council to remonstrate with them, how much they had erred against him, and that they had nearly thrown England into desolation and ruin; and because this mischief must have had some advisers who had encouraged them in their wickedness, and it must be supposed that all were not equally guilty, it was better that the ringleaders should suffer than the whole: his majesty demanded that those should be pointed out who had been so culpable, under pain of incurring his indignation for ever, and being considered as traitors.

When those present heard this harangue, and saw that the innocent might escape, by pointing out the guilty, they looked at each other, and then said: “My lord, here is one by whom this town was first put into confusion and excited to rise.” He was immediately seized, and hanged; as were seven others. The letters patent which had been granted were demanded back: when they were given up, the king’s officers tore them in pieces before their eyes, and cast them away, and then said, — “We command all ye who are here assembled, in the king’s name, and under pain of death, to depart, every one peaceably to his own home; and that you never rebel more against the king, nor against his ministers. By the punishment which has been inflicted, your former evil deeds are pardoned.” The people cried out with one voice, “God bless the king and his good council.” They acted in the same manner at Propinke†, Canterbury, Sandwich, Germanie‡, Conculle§, and in the different parts of England where the people had rebelled; so that upwards of fifteen hundred were beheaded or hanged.

The king was advised to send for his uncle the duke of Lancaster, then in Scotland, as every thing was now quieted. He sent thither a knight of his household, called sir Nicholas Carnefelle. The knight set off, and continued his journey until he came to Edinburgh, where he found the duke and his attendants, who were very happy to see him, and entertained him handsomely. He delivered his credential letters from the king; and the duke made preparations to obey them, as was right, for he was very desirous to return to England and his estates. On setting out for Roxburgh, he took his leave of the barons of Scotland, and thanked them for the honour and comfort they had given him, by maintaining him in their country the time he had wished to stay there. The earls of Douglas and Moray, with all the Scottish knights, escorted him as far as the abbey of Melrose, but did not cross the Tweed. The duke went to Roxburgh, from thence to Newcastle on Tyne, then to Durham and York; and, in all the towns and cities through which he passed, the inhabitants were drawn up to receive him.

At this period a gallant knight of England departed this life, sir Guiscard d’Angle, earl of Huntingdon and tutor to the king. He was buried with great pomp in the church of the Augustin friars. His funeral was attended by the king, the princess his mother, his two brothers, and by great numbers of prelates, barons and ladies of England. In truth, the gallant knight was very deserving of it, for he possessed all the virtues which a knight at that time ought to have: he was gay, loyal, gallant, prudent, secret, generous, bold, determined and enterprising. Thus died sir Guiscard d’Angle.

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*   “Comprinke.” It is so in lord Berners. Q. if not Ospringe. See additions at the end of this chapter.

†  Q. if not Rochester.

‡  “Germanie.” Q.

§  “Conculle.” Q.

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ADDITIONS, FROM A MS. IN THE HAFOD LIBRARY.

WHEN these first examples had been made on the leaders of the rebellion in London, St. Alban’s, Norwich, Suffolk and Glocester, the king determined to visit the whole of his kingdom, which he had not done since his coronation. His officers of justice had collected a body of evidence respecting the late rebellion from the confessions of those who had been beheaded. The king, when he set out, took the road towards Canterbury, under a pretext of a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas of Becket: he was attended by the earls of Salisbury, Suffolk and Devonshire, and travelled in great array. He remained two days at Rochester; for Sir John Newtoun, whom these wicked people had forced to be their captain, had, by the king’s command, made exact researches after the first instigators of this mischief. 667 He had found out some of the most culpable, who, without form of law, had their heads cut off and placed on the gates and bridge, and their quarters hung on the gibbet. The king departed from Rochester and came to Ospringe, where four were executed. He came thence to Canterbury; but why should I make a long story of it? There were put to death, in the different towns and bailiwicks, upwards of five hundred rebels; for they were eager in accusing each other.

During this progress of the king, which he continued far into his realm, several of the great barons, such as the earls of Warwick and Kent, sir John Holland, sir John Beauchamp, spoke to the king and to the earl of Salisbury, in favour of the duke of Lancaster; as did also the Londoners. The king readily consented that two knights should be sent to the duke, for him to return into England and to his presence; for that he would not listen to any complaints against him or his other uncles. The earl of Northumberland was commanded to go himself in search of him.

The two knights journeyed on until they arrived at Newcastle on Tyne, where they found the earl of Northumberland. He had been informed of their coming, and received them handsomely. They produced their letters, when he took from the packet that was addressed to him; and, having read it through, was much pleased with the commission to seek the duke of Lancaster; for he had heard the duke was very angry with him. He therefore wrote letters of excuse; and, when these two barons met, peace was made between them. They returned together to England, and found the king arrived at his manor of Eltham, a few miles from London. At this time also, the earl of Buckingham came back from Wales, and went to Pleshy, where he resided as formerly. The king and his uncles dissembled their sentiments of each other for some time; but at last it broke out, as you will hear in the continuance of this history.

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CHAPTER LXXIX. — THE DUKE OF LANCASTER CONCEIVES ANGER AGAINST THE EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, FOR THE REFUSAL OF ADMITTANCE INTO BERWICK.

WHEN the duke of Lancaster was returned from Scotland, and had explained to the council the truce he had negotiated between the two kingdoms, he did not forget to mention how sir Matthew Redmayne, governor of Berwick, (though he blamed not that knight) had shut the gates of Berwick against him, by orders from the earl of Northumberland. It was such an act, he said, as he could never forgive; and thus spoke of it, with the intent to see if the king his nephew would own it. This the king did, but it seemed to the duke as if it were faintly. The duke was appeased for that time; but he waited for the feast of our Lady at mid-August, when the king was to hold a solemn court at Westminster. There were at this court great numbers of the nobles and barons of England; the earls of Northumberland and Nottingham, with many barons from the north. The king created, this day, the young earl of Pembroke, sir Robert Mowbray, sir Nicholas Twiford and sir Adam François, knights. He did so because he intended, after the feast, to march towards Reading, Oxford, and through those parts of the country, to punish the rebels in the same manner as he had done in Kent and in other counties.

During this feast, and after the dinner, high words passed between the duke of Lancaster and the earl of Northumberland. The duke said, — “Harry Percy, I did not think you was so great a man in England, that you would dare to order any cities, towns or castles, to be shut against the duke of Lancaster.” The earl respectfully answered, “My lord, I do not deny the knight’s act at Berwick: but I was ordered by strict commands of my lord the king, who sits there, on my honour and under pain of death, not to suffer any one, lord or otherwise, to enter the cities, towns or castles of Northumberland, if he were not an inhabitant of those places; and the king, if he please, or the lords of his council, may make my excuses: for they well knew you were in Scotland, and you ought to have been excepted out of these orders.”

“How, earl of Northumberland,” replied the duke, “do you think it was necessary there should have been a reservation in regard to me? who am uncle to the king, and who have 669 my inheritance to guard, which, next to the king’s, is the greatest, and who for the good of the realm have made this journey into Scotland? Your answer does not excuse you from having much wronged my honour, in thus giving credit to the reports in circulation that I wished to commit treason with the Scots, by shutting against me the king my lord’s towns, and in particular that in which my provision and stores were. For which reasons I tell you, you have ill behaved; and for the blame you have thus cast on me, and to clear myself in the presence of my lord the king, I throw down my glove: take it up if you dare.” Upon this, the king stepped forth and said, — “Fair uncle of Lancaster, whatever had been done I avow as my orders. Take up your glove, and recal your words. I must excuse the earl of Northumberland; for strictly, and on his life, did we order him to keep every town close shut that was on the borders of Scotland: and know, that our kingdom was in such confusion and peril, when you were in those parts, that it could not support itself. It must, therefore, have been through the fault of the secretary, or the neglect of our council; for, in truth, you ought to have been excepted. I therefore beg of you, and will, that you lay aside your ill humour: I take all on myself, and clear the earl of Northumberland.”

The earls of Arundel, Salisbury, Suffolk, Stafford and Devonshire, cast themselves on their knees to the duke, and said, — “My lord, you hear how amicably the king speaks to you: you ought to condescend to what he requests.” The duke, who was much inflamed, said, “I will not say more about it.” He was silent a short space, when, raising the barons, and thanking them, he said: “Fair gentlemen, there is not one of you, if such an affront had happened to him, who would not have been as much angered as I am; but since the king wishes otherwise, it is but right that I should comply.”

Peace was made between the duke of Lancaster and the earl of Northumberland by means of the king and the barons, who interceded for it. On the second day, the king began his journey, as before mentioned, attended by five hundred spears and as many archers, through different counties, where he executed justice on the ill-intentioned and on those who had rebelled against him.

We will now leave the king of England, and speak of his uncle, the earl of Cambridge, and of his voyage to Portugal.

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