Part 6

It hath also been, and is now grown to a common opinion, that in reward of this service done, by the said William Walworth against the rebel, King Richard added to the arms of this City, (which was argent, a plain cross gules) a sword or dagger, (for so they term it) whereof I have read no such record, but to the contrary. I find that in the fourth year of Richard the second in a full assembly made in the upper chamber of the Guildhall, summoned by this William Walworth, then Mayor, as well of Aldermen as of the common Council in every ward, for certain affairs concerning the king, it was there by common consent agreed and ordained, that the old seal of the office of the Mayoralty of the city being very small, old, unsuitable, and uncomely for the honour of the city, should be broken, and one other new should be had, which the said Mayor commanded to be made artificially, and honourable for the exercise of the said office thereafter in place of the other: in which new Seal, besides the images of Peter, and Paul, which of old were rudely engraven, there should be under the feet of the said images, a shield of the arms of the said City perfectly graved, with two lions supporting the same with two sergeants of arms, on either part one, and two tabernacles, in which above should stand two Angels, between whom above the said images of Peter and Paul, shall be set the glorious virgin: this being done, the old seal of the office was delivered to Richard Odiham Chamberlain, who brake it, and in place thereof, was delivered the new seal to the said Mayor to use in his office of Mayoralty, as occasion should require. This new seal seemeth to be made before William Walworth was knighted, for he is not here entitled Sir, as afterwards he was: and certain it is that the same new seal then made, is now in use and none other in that office of the Mayoralty, which may suffice to answer the former fable, without shewing of any evidence sealed with the old seal, which was the Cross, and sword of Saint Paul, and not the dagger of William Walworth.

WAT TYLER IN LONDON (1381).

Froissart's description of the Peasants' Revolt is one of our main sources of information concerning this important event, and seems likely to be fairly accurate. He himself was, of course, an aristocrat, and was in no way disposed to be favourable to the "wicked rebels"; but he seems anxious to represent their case as fairly as possible, although he is plainly out of sympathy with the ideas and arguments of the rebels. It is noteworthy that the rising was almost simultaneous in many parts of the country, but its chief headquarters were in Kent, one of the most prosperous counties in the kingdom, where actual distress was least likely to be prevalent; and it is probable that the peasants in this county had benefited to no small extent by the economic changes which succeeded the Pestilence of 1349, and had improved both their material conditions and their intellectual outlook. The ideas of liberty which formed the motive of the revolt were somewhat vague, but were strengthened by numerous concrete instances of injustice and injury; and the concentration of the insurgents upon London forms one of a long series of indications of the importance of the city as the determining factor in vital issues.

=Source.=—Froissart's _Chroniques_.

In the mean season there fell in England great mischief and rebellion of the common people, by which deed England was at a point to have been lost without recovery....

It was a marvellous thing, and of poor foundation, that this mischief began in England, and to give ensample to all manner of people, I will speak thereof as it was done, as I was informed, and of the incidents thereof. There was an usage in England, and yet is in divers countries, that the noblemen have great franchises over the commons, and keep them in servage, that is to say, their tenants ought by custom to labour their lords' lands, to gather and bring home their corn, and some to thresh and to fan, and by servage to make their hay and to hew their wood and bring it home. All these things they ought to do by servage, and there be more of these people in England than in any other realm. Thus the noblemen and prelates are served by them, and specially in the counties of Kent, Essex, Sussex, and Bedford. These unhappy people of these said counties began to stir, because they said they were being kept in great servage, and in the beginning of the world, they said, there were no bondmen, wherefore they maintained that none ought to be bond, without he did treason to his lord, as Lucifer did to God.... And of this imagination was a foolish priest in the county of Kent, called John Ball, for which foolish words he had been three times in the Bishop of Canterbury's prison: for this priest used oftentimes on the Sundays, after mass, when the people were going out of the minster, to go into the cloister and preach, and made the people to assemble about him, and would say thus: "Ah, ye good people, the matters goeth not well to pass in England, nor shall not do till everything be common, and that there be no villains nor gentlemen, but that we may be all united together, and that the lords be no greater masters than we be. What have we deserved, or why should we be kept thus in servage? We be all come from one father and from one mother, Adam and Eve: whereby can they say or show that they be greater lords than we be, saving by that they cause us to win and labour for that they dispend.

"They are clothed in velvet and camlet furred with grise, and we be vestured with poor cloth: they have their wines, spices, and good bread, and we have the rye, the bran, and the straw, and drink water: they dwell in fair houses, and we have pain and travail, rain and wind in the fields: and by that that cometh of our labours they keep and maintain their estates: we be all called their bondmen, and, without we do readily them service, we be beaten: and we have no sovereign to whom we may complain, nor that will hear us, nor do us right. Let us go to the king, he is young, and show him what servage we be in, and show him how we will have it otherwise, or else we will provide us of some remedy; and if we go together, all manner of people that be now in any bondage will follow us to the intent to be made free; and when the king seeth us, we shall have some remedy, either by fairness or otherwise."

Thus John Ball said on Sundays, when the people issued out of the churches in the villages: wherefore many of the mean people loved him, and such as intended to no goodness said, how true; and so they would murmur one with another in the fields, and in the ways as they went together, affirming how John Ball said truth.

Of his words and deeds there was much people in London informed, such as had great envy at them that were rich and such as were noble; and then they began to speak among them, and said how the realm of England was right evil governed, and how that gold and silver was taken from them by them that were named noblemen: so thus these unhappy men of London began to rebel, and assembled them together, and sent word to the foresaid counties that they should come to London, and bring their people with them, promising them how they should find London open to receive them, and the commons of the city to be of the same accord, saying how they would do so much to the king that there should not be one bondman in all England.

This promise moved so them of Kent, of Essex, of Sussex, of Bedford, and of the counties about, that they rose and came towards London to the number of 60,000. And they had a captain called Walter Tyler, and with him in company was Jack Straw and John Ball: these three were chief sovereign captains, but the head of all was Walter Tyler, and he was indeed a tiler of houses, an ungracious patron. When these unhappy men began thus to stir, they of London, except such as were of their band, were greatly affrayed. Then the Mayor of London and the rich men of the city took counsel together, and when they saw the people thus coming in on every side, they caused the gates of the city to be closed, and would suffer no man to enter into the city. But when they had well imagined, they advised not so to do, for they thought they should thereby put their suburbs in great peril to be brent; and so they opened again the city, and there entered in at the gates in some places a hundred, two hundred, by twenty or thirty; and so when they came to London, they entered and lodged: and yet, of truth, most of their people could not tell what to ask or demand, but followed each other like beasts. In like wise these villains and poor people came to London, a hundred miles off, sixty mile, fifty mile, forty mile, and twenty mile off, and from all counties about London, but the most part came from the counties before named, and as they came they demanded ever for the king.

The gentlemen of the counties, knights and squires, began to doubt when they saw the people began to rebel; so the gentlemen drew together as well as they might.

This rebellion was well known in the king's court ere any of these people began to stir out of their houses; but the king nor his council did provide no remedy therefor, which was great marvel.

In the morning on Corpus Christi Day King Richard heard mass in the Tower of London, and all his lords, and then he took his barge with the Earl of Salisbury, the Earl of Warwick, the Earl of Oxford, and certain knights, and so rowed down along the Thames to Rotherhithe, where were descended down the hill 10,000 men to see the king and speak with him. And when they saw the king's barge coming, they began to shout, and made such a cry, as though all the devils of hell had been among them. And they had brought with them Sir John Newton, to the intent that, if the king had not come, they would have stricken him all to pieces, and so they had promised him. And when the king and his lords saw the demeanour of the people, the best assured of them were in dread; and so the king was counselled by his barons not to take any landing there, but so rowed on down the river. And the king demanded of them what they would, and said how he was come thither to speak with them, and they said all with one voice: "We would that ye should come aland, and then we shall show you what we lack." Then the Earl of Salisbury answered for the king, and said: "Sirs, ye be not in such order nor array that the king ought to speak with you." And so with these words no more was said: and then the king was counselled to return to the Tower of London, and so he did.

And when the people saw that, they were inflamed with ire, and returned to the hill, where the great band was, and then showed them what answer they had, and how the king was returned to the Tower of London. Then they all cried out: "Let us go to London," and so they took their way thither: and in their going they beat down abbeys and houses of advocates and of men of the court, and so came into the suburbs of London, which were great and fair, and there beat down divers fair houses, and specially they brake up the king's prisons, as the Marshalsea and others, and delivered out all the prisoners that were within: and then they did much hurt; and on the bridge foot they threatened them of London because the gates of the bridge were closed, saying how they would bren all the suburbs and so conquer London by force, and slay and bren all the commons of the city. There were many within the city of their accord, and so they drew together and said: "Why do ye not let these good people enter into the city? They are our fellows, and that that they do is for us." So therewith the gates were opened, and then these people entered into the city, and went into houses and sat down to eat and drink. They desired nothing but it was incontinent brought to them, for every man was ready to make them good cheer, and to give them meat and drink to appease them.

Then the captains, as John Ball, Jack Straw, and Wat Tyler, went throughout London, 20,000 with them, and so came to the Savoy on the way to Westminster, which was a goodly house, and it pertaineth to the Duke of Lancaster. And when they had entered, they slew the keepers thereof, and robbed and pillaged the house; and when they had so done, then they set fire on it, and clean destroyed and brent it. And when they had done that outrage, they left not therewith, but went straight to the fair hospital called St. John's, and there they brent house, hospital, minster, and all. Then they went from street to street and slew all the Flemings that they could find in church or in any other place, there was none respited from death.

And they brake up divers houses of the Lombards, and robbed them and took their goods at their pleasure, for there was none that durst say them nay. And they slew in the city a rich merchant called Richard Lyon, whom before that time Wat Tyler had served in France; and on a time this Richard Lyon had beaten him, while he was his varlet, which Wat Tyler then remembered, and so came to his house and strake off his head, and caused it to be borne on a spear-point before him all about the city....

The Saturday the king went to Westminster and heard mass in the church there, and all his lords with him; and then he leapt on his horse, and all his lords, and so the king rode toward London; and when he had ridden a little way, on the left hand there was a way to pass without London.

The same morning Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, and John Ball had assembled their company together in a place called Smithfield, where every Friday there is a market of horses; and there were together all of one affinity more than 20,000, and yet there were many still in the town, drinking and making merry in the taverns, and paying nothing, for they were happy that made them best cheer.

And therewith the king came the same way unaware of them, for he had thought to have passed that way without London, and with him forty horse.... The mayor of London came to the king with twelve horsemen well armed under their coats, and so he broke the press and saw and heard how Wat Tyler demeaned himself, and said to him: "Ha, thou knave, how art thou so hardy in the king's presence to speak such words? It is too much for thee to do so." Then the king began to chafe and said to the mayor: "Set hands on him." And while the king said so, Tyler said to the mayor: "A God's name, what have I said to displease thee?" "Yes, truly," quoth the mayor, "thou false knave, shalt thou speak thus in the presence of the king, my natural lord?" And with these words the mayor drew out his sword and strake Tyler so great a stroke on the head, that he fell down at the feet of his horse, and as soon as he was fallen, they environed him all about, whereby he was not seen of his company. Then a squire of the king alighted, called John Standish, and he drew out his sword and put it through Wat Tyler's body, and so he died.

Then the ungracious people there assembled, perceiving their captain slain, began to murmur among themselves and said: "Ah, our captain is slain, let us go and slay them all;" and therewith they arrayed themselves on the same place in manner of battle, and their bows before them. Then the king began a great deed; howbeit, all turned to the best: for as soon as Tyler was on the earth, the king departed from all his company, and all alone he rode to these people, and said to them: "Sirs, what aileth you? Ye shall have no captain but me: I am your king: be all in rest and peace." And so the most part of the people that heard the king speak and saw him among them, were shamefast and began to wax peaceable and depart.

LONDON LICKPENNY (EARLY FIFTEENTH CENTURY).

This poem is generally ascribed to John Lydgate, a disciple of Chaucer, but the authorship is doubtful. Whatever its poetical merit may be, it is full of interest as a picture of contemporary life in London, and the description of the adventures of the poor countryman, endeavouring to obtain legal justice in the metropolis, lacks neither pathos nor humour.

=Source.=—_Minor Poems of Lydgate_, edited by Halliwell, p. 103.

To London once my stepps I bent, Where trouth in no wyse should be faynt, To Westmynster-ward I forthwith went, To a man of law to make complaynt, I sayd, "For Marys love, that holy saynt! Pity the poore that wold proceede;" But for lack of mony I could not spede.

And as I thrust the prese amonge, By froward chaunce my hood was gone, Yet for all that I stayd not longe, Tyll to the kyngs bench I was come. Before the judge I kneled anone, And prayd hym for Gods sake to take heede; But for lack of mony I myght not speede.

Beneth them sat clarkes a great rout, Which fast dyd wryte by one assent, There stoode up one and cryed about, Rychard, Robert, and John of Kent. I wyst not well what this man ment, He cryed so thycke there indede; But he that lackt mony myght not spede.

Unto the common place I yode thoo, Where sat one with a sylken hoode; I dyd hym reverence, for I ought to do so, And told my case as well as I coode, How my goods were defrauded me by falshood. I gat not a mum of his mouth for my meed, And for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, Before the clarkes of the chauncerye, Where many I found earnying of pence, But none at all once regarded mee. I gave them my playnt uppon my knee; They lyked it well, when they had it reade: But lackyng money I could not be sped.

In Westmynster hall I found out one, Which went in a long gown of raye; I crowched and kneled before hym anon, For Maryes love, of help I hym praye. "I wot not that thou meanest," gan he say: To get me thence he did me bede, For lack of mony I cold not speed.

Within this hall, neither rich nor yett poore Wold do for me ought, although I shold dye. Which seing, I gat me out of the doore, Where Flemynges began on me for to cry, "Master, what will you copen or by? Fyne felt hattes, or spectacles to reede? Lay down your sylver, and here you may speede."

Then to Westmynster-Gate I presently went, When the sonn was at hyghe pryme; Cookes to me, they tooke good entente, And proffered me bread, with ale and wyne, Rybbs of befe, both fat and ful fyne. A fayre cloth they gan for to sprede; But wantyng mony I myght not then speede.

Then unto London I dyd me hye, Of all the land it beareth the pryse: Hot pescodes, one began to crye, Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse; One bad me come nere and by some spyce, Peper and safforne they gan me bede, But for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Then to the Chepe I began me drawne, Where mutch people I saw for to stande; One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne, An other he taketh me by the hande, "Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land;" I never was used to such thyngs indede, And wantyng mony I myght not spede.

Then went I forth by London stone, Throughout all Canwyke streete; Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone; Then comes me one cryed hot shepes feete; One cryde makerell, ryster grene, an other gan greete; One bad me by a hood to cover my head, But for want of mony I myght not be sped.

Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe; One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye; Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape; There was harpe, pype, and mynstrelsye. "Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!" some began crye; Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for their mede; But for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Then into Corn-Hyl anon I yode, Where was mutch stolen gere amonge; I saw where honge myne owne hoode, That I had lost amonge the thronge: To by my own hood I thought it wronge, I knew it well as I dyd my crede, But for lack of mony I could not spede.

The taverner took mee by the sleeve, "Sir," sayth he, "wyll you our wyne assay?" I answered, that can not mutch me greve, A peny can do no more then it may, I drank a pynt and for it dyd paye; Yet sone a hungerd from thence I yode, And wantyng mony I cold not spede.

Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate; And one cryed, "hoo! go we hence!" I prayd a barge man, for God's sake, That he wold spare me my expence. "Thou scapst not here," quod he, "under ij. pence; I lyst not yet bestow any almes dede." Thus lackyng mony I could not speede.

Then I convayd me into Kent; For of the law wold I meddle no more; Because no man to me tooke entent, I dyght me to do as I dyd before. Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore, Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede! For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.

WHITTINGTON'S SECOND MAYORALTY (1406).

Richard Whittington was the son of a Gloucestershire knight, and was born in 1350. The familiar stories of his roadside adventure in Highgate and of his fortune-making cat are, in common with many other delightful and picturesque incidents of history, rejected by historians; but he is certainly a great and famous man, even when his story is robbed of these interesting particulars. He was four times Mayor, and his justice and patriotism became proverbial. He vigorously opposed the admission of foreigners to the freedom of the City; he was exceedingly generous, and performed many deeds of charity. The following account of his second election to the highest dignity of the City illustrates the form and manner in which the appointment was made in the Middle Ages.

=Source.=—Riley's _Memorials_, p. 565.

On Wednesday, the Feast of the Translation of St. Edward the King and Confessor [October 13], in the 8th year etc., John Wodecok, Mayor of the City of London, considering that upon the same day he and all the Aldermen of the said city, and as many as possible of the wealthier and more substantial Commoners of the same city, ought to meet at the Guildhall, as the usuage is, to elect a new Mayor for the ensuing year, ordered that a Mass of the Holy Spirit should be celebrated, with solemn music, in the Chapel annexed to the said Guildhall; to the end that the same Commonalty, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, might be able peacefully and amicably to nominate two able and proper persons to be Mayor of the said city for the ensuing year, by favour of the clemency of Our Saviour, according to the customs of the said city.