Old Times in the Colonies & The Story of Liberty. Charles Carleton Coffin
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day a baron arrests a burgher, and imprisons him in Rochester Castle, claiming that he is his slave, whereupon the people seize their arms, surround the castle, and set the prisoner at liberty.
Every individual in the kingdom is taxed — every child, every man and woman. A child must pay so much, a grown person more. A tax-collector comes to John Walter's house. Walter earns a living by laying tiles on the roofs of houses. The people call him the Tiler, or Tyler, and instead of pronouncing his full name — John Walter, the tiler — call him Wat Tyler. He has a daughter, just growing to womanhood.
"She must pay a full tax," says the collector.
"No; she is not a woman yet," the mother replies.
"I'll soon find out whether she is a woman or not," the tax-collector answers, and rudely insults the girl.
"Help! help!" The,mother shouts the words, and her husband comes in with a club.
"What do yon mean by insulting my daughter?"
The collector is a ruffian; having insulted the daughter, he lifts his hand to give the father a blow, when down comes the cudgel upon the fellow's head, crashing the skull, and scattering his brains about the room. The news spreads. The people join the Tyler. They are ready for insurrection. They seize their swords, bows and arrows, and clubs.
"Let us march to London and see the king," they shout. From all the towns of Kent they come, one hundred thousand or more. They attack the houses of the knights, lords, and nobles. They swarm into Canterbury, and pillage the palace of the archbishop, who lives in great state, and to whom a large portion of the taxes are paid. there is great excitement in London. The young king, his mother, and many of the nobles take refuge in the Tower, for the news has reached them that the insurgents are arresting all the high-born men and women they can find. They seize Sir John Newton, threaten him with death if he will not do as they command, and send him to the king, desiring Richard to meet them at Blackheath, just out of London. The king is brave. He will go and see them. He leaves the Tower in his barge, with the barons. The boatmen pull at the oars, and in a short time they reach the multitude, who, upon seeing the barge, set up a great shout.
"I have come at your request. What do you desire?" the king asks.
There is a great outcry — all speaking at once; and the barons, fearing an archer may draw his bow and shoot the king, advise him to return to the Tower. This angers the crowd. "To London! to London!" they shout; and the multitude, barefooted, bareheaded, armed with clubs, surge on toward Southwark. They are on the south side of the river, while the largest part of the city is on the north side, and there is only one bridge. The citizens raise the draw, and the excited rabble cannot cross the Thames. The rich merchants of London own beautiful villas on the south side, and the hungry, ragged, excited multitudes ransack the houses, destroying property, and committing great havoc. The people of London sympathize with the people of Kent, for they, too, are groaning under the taxes.
"We will let down the drawbridge, and permit them to come into the city. We will show them that we are their friends, and then they will be quiet," the Londoners say to each other.
The drawbridge is lowered, and the great black crowd pours across the bridge. the people give bread and wine and liquor, which excite the insurrectionists all the more. they rush to the Palace of Savoy, owned by the Duke of Lancaster, bring out all the the furniture — the tables, chairs, the silver plate — heap all in a pile, and set it on fire. They do not steal the silver. One man undertakes to secrete a silver cup, but the others pitch him upon the fire.
"We are here in the cause of truth and righteousness,not as thieves," they say.
What shall the king do? He cannot fight the insurgents, for he has only four thousand troops. This is what his councillors advise him:
"It is better to appease them by making a show of granting what they desire than to oppose them; for if you oppose them, all the common people of England will join them, and we shall be swept away."
The next morning the king meets Wat Tyler and some of the leaders at Mile End, in a meadow,and grants what they desire. lie sets his clerks to making out charters for the towns, abolishing taxes, and granting privileges never before enjoyed. Most of the people are satisfied, and return to their homes; but some, still thirsting for revenge against the Archbishop of Canterbury, make their way to the Tower, seize the archbishop and some of the priests, drag them into the Tower yard, and chop off their heads, which they place upon poles, and carry them, dripping with blood, through the streets.
Richard hears of what is going on, mounts his horse, and rides out to meet the rioters. He rides boldly up to Wat Tyler, who draws a knife; but before lie can use it, the Mayor of London whips out his sword and runs it through Wat's body, and the rioter tumbles to the ground. Wat's followers rush up, but Richard looks them calmly in the face.
"Come, my friends, I will be your leader," he says.
It is a brave speech for a boy of fifteen to mate; but the men of Kent like Richard's pluck, and lower their spears. The king's troops come galloping upon the field, ready to draw their swords.
"You must not harm them. Let them go peacefully to their homes," Bays Richard; and the people, feeling that the young king is their friend, return to their homes.
But the barons are determined that the people shall not have their freedom. The bishops are angry over the death of the archbishop, and demand that punishment shall be meted out, not to those who were instrumental in putting him to death, but upon all the people — in the revoking of the charters which Richard has just granted. What can the boy do? Are not the barons, lords, bishops, and great men wiser than himself! He cannot stand alone against them; he complies with their demands, but recommends Parliament to give the people their freedom.
"Give them their freedom!" the barons exclaim. "Never will we be deprived of the service which they owe us."
"Doctor Wicklif's pernicious doctrines are at the bottom of all this," the bishops, the monks, and friars exclaim.
The Lords pass a law, which the bishops think will put an end to the mischief, in which the sheriffs are ordered to put all heretics in prison until they justify themselves before the bishops. The only appeal from the Bishops' Court is to the Pope, who is sewing men up in sacks and casting them into the sea. The Commons will not consent to such a law, and so the Magna Charta begins to protect the people.
The Pope sells a fat office to an Italian. The office is an abbot's position in the bishopric of Wells; but the bishop of that diocese does not relish it, nor do the other bishops, for the next ship may bring other Italian vagabonds to plunder the people. They join in declaring that the right of appointment belongs to the king, and not to the Pope, whereupon the Pontiff, who pitches offending into the sea, excommunicates them; that is, he threatens to shut them out of heaven if they do not ask his pardon. Perhaps the bishops think that a man who tortures cardinals to death because he suspects that they are working against him, who sells offices in the Church to the highest bidder, even though he be Pope, may not, after all, hold the keys of heaven, for they persuade Parliament to pass this law:
"All persons who recognize the Pope at Rome as being in authority superior to the king shall forfeit their lands,and all their property, and have no protection from the king."