Part 3

With all these exactions when the times were ripe for an outbreak, you may be sure England was soon in a fever of excitement. Collectors’ processes began to be resisted, and they and their posses driven away by force. One day a rough collector went into the house of a man in Dartford, Kent, named Walter, a tyler by trade. Demanding his tax the collector insisted, in spite of the mother’s denial, that the eldest daughter was over fifteen years of age, and at last, to settle the dispute, he made an insulting proposition and laid hands on the girl. The screams of the mother and children brought the father running from his shop, hammer in hand, and seeing his daughter struggling in the arms of the man, he smashed his brains out with the hammer, regardless of the royal coat-of-arms. Walter himself had worn that uniform, for he had been a brave campaigner in France. The deed was done, and his life was forfeit. Instead of shrinking from the consequences, he placed himself at the head of his neighbors, who now gathered around him. His hammer had struck the percussion cap to the mine long prepared.

In another part of Kent there was another outbreak. A noble claimed a runaway bondsman and shut him up in Rochester Castle. The people stormed the castle and delivered the prisoner-slave to a double freedom. Couriers now went through all England bearing calls to rise, couched in rude rhymes which tell at once of the lowly state of the masses and of the art of those who called to arms. One ran thus:

“John Ball greeteth you all, And doth for to understand he hath rung your bell, Now, right and might, will and skill, God speede every dele.”

There were several other leaders, and some of the proclamations were issued anonymously. They ran thus:

“Help truth and truth shall help you. Now reigneth pride in place and covetise [covetousness] is counted wise, and lechery withouten shame, and gluttony withouten blame. Envy reigneth with treason, and sloth is taken in great season. God do bote! for now is time.”

“Jack Carter prays you all that ye may make a good end of that ye have begun, and do well and aye better and better. For at the even men heareth the day.”

“Truth hath been set under a lock, and falseness and guile reigneth in every stock. True love is away that was so good and clerks [priests] for wealth work us woe. God do bote for now is tyme.

[signed] “JACK TREWMAN.”

These unmistakable references to preparations already made, help us to understand how it was that almost in a day Wat Tyler found himself at the head of a hundred thousand men marching on London. One force under a leader named Jack Straw, came by Canterbury, which threw open its gates, as “the whole town was of their sort,” and they gutted the palace of the archbishop, who had ground the face of the poor by assuming a monopoly of all the grinding of grain in his district, on which he had placed excessive toll.

There is something very pathetic in this movement on London. They would appeal to the young king himself, and not to the selfish dukes, his uncles, who guarded him and misgoverned the realm. The son of the Black Prince, the defender of England, and, so long as he lived, the protector of the people against the cruelty of the nobles, should hear their appeal and do them right. It was said the boy king was no better than a prisoner in his uncles’ hands; peradventure they might deliver him and themselves by the same blow. All the way to London they made everybody they took swear allegiance to Richard. But all the lawyers they captured they hung, as the instruments of oppression, the contrivers of technicalities by which freedmen had been re-enslaved.

And thus they settled down on Blackheath, before London, June 12, 1381. Panic had gone before them. John, the Duke of Lancaster, fled to Scotland, deserting the young king he had overruled with no gentle hand. All the knights and nobles about the king threw themselves into the tower. The king’s mother, the widow of the Black Prince, hearing of the disturbance in her country home, made brave by a mother’s fear, hastened to London, passing through the camp of the insurgents unhurt and with honor; she kissed Walter Tyler and Jack Straw and took their devotion to her son.

In the general panic Richard was the only man in England equal to the emergency. Man! He was only sixteen, but at about that age his father had won his spurs at Cressy. He took boat on the Thames and rowed down to the insurgents’ camp. The Archbishop of Canterbury and some ministers were with him, and when Tyler asked the king to land and talk with them, promising respect and loyalty, this prelate prevented him, thus confirming the stories of the king’s duress. The rescue of their sovereign became their first object. They marched on the city, and the sympathizing citizens threw open the gates.

Lancaster’s stately Savoy Palace was soon in flames; also the Marshalsea and the King’s Bench Temple, the dwellings and offices of the hated lawyers. But one of their number who undertook to carry off a silver tankard from the destruction was immediately drowned in the Thames. “We are no thieves and robbers; we are not nobles and bishops; we are honest workingmen, come to deliver the king and ourselves,” said Tyler. The next day they captured the tower, took the archbishop, the royal treasurer, and the commissioner of the poll-tax, and cut off their heads as traitors on Tower Hill.

The king, now delivered from his court, sent word to Tyler that he would meet them at Mile-End, just out of London, to hear their grievances. The knights of the Tower and the guards wanted to gather a force and attack the mob, but the king rode out unarmed, with a few companions, to this historic appointment.

It was a memorable scene, and a poetic coincidence. The day was the anniversary of that other demand for rights from King John. Just one hundred and sixty-six years before Magna Charta has been wrung from a king at Runnymede. Now the boy king and the peasant leader meet to treat on equal terms. Justice levels all distinctions. The graceful, delicate and beautiful descendant of the Plantagenets and the rough, unkempt, Celto-Saxon artisan—the personification of the two armies at Hastings—the types of the extremes of English civilization; extremes destined to draw nearer together through centuries of civil war, of martyrdoms for free thought and speech, of sufferings and defeats, ever bravely and persistently renewed by generation after generation of laborers on the one side: through discrownings, beheadings and gradual curtailment of royal power on the other. Two chief agencies were to draw these extremes together—gunpowder and printer’s ink. The one to blow feudalism off the earth and put an end to baronial domination—the other to unlock the storehouses of thought and introduce the rule of mind, to the permanent limitation of those other two classes of tyrants: priests and kings. The despised class, represented by the ruder of these two “high contracting parties,” is to rise by slow and stormful evolution: the slave to become freeman—the freeman, yeoman—the yeoman, citizen—the citizen, an elector of rulers; out of all to be evolved that splendid, conservative, expansive power of England, the Middle Class. Happy England! that the two extremes stood that day and thereafter not as antagonists but as treaty-makers.

Richard found the Toussaint l’Overteur of that day prepared with very distinct and well-grounded grievances, though not numerous or unreasonable. He asked—

First—The abolition of slavery.

Second—Limitation of rent of land to fourpence an acre.

Third—Liberty to buy and sell in all markets and fairs, without favoritism or toll.

Fourth—Pardon for what they had done in order to obtain this interview.

The young king, more just than well-informed, more generous than politic, promised it all, and said he would immediately cause franchises and letters of pardon and emancipation to be drawn up under the royal seal. Great shouts of joy went up—premature shouts indeed!

During all that day and succeeding night thirty clerks were busy drawing up the charter of freedom and amnesty for every parish and township; and the next day the great body of the insurgents marched home, the king’s proclamation in their hands, the king’s banners over their heads, and in their hearts such joy as the children of Israel felt when Miriam’s timbrel rang out its triumph over the Red Sea.

Well if this had been the end of it; but there was to be a dark and bloody finale for Richard and Walter. Walter Tyler and many of the Kentish men remained behind, dissatisfied with the terms of the writs. We do not know the causes of Tyler’s refusal to accept the charters. Perhaps he foresaw what must and did come: that as soon as this pressure was removed from the young king, and his evil counselors again got control, all that had been given to the people would be withdrawn, and he wanted guaranties of fulfillment, just as the barons had done with John. However it was, we only know that the King and his attendants riding through Smith Fields the next day, chanced upon Tyler and his followers. Tyler rode out alone to speak with the king, and the mayor of London reproached him for approaching the king uninvited. Hot words followed, and the mayor stabbed Tyler dead, in sight of all his men.

Instantly thousands of arrows were drawn to let fly on the king and his party. Well for him had they sped and ended his unhappy career there, with the crown of emancipator upon it, instead of the failure, disgrace, and violent death that were to terminate it. Putting spurs to his horse he rode directly into the midst of the angry mob. “I will be your captain! Follow me!” he cried. This seemed to their simple-minded loyalty the obtaining of the end for which they had come out, and they followed the boy with docility to the fields at Islington, where a considerable force of royal troops was met. The king restrained the courage which now returned redundantly to the nobles and forbade the slaughter they were anxious to begin, dismissing the peasants to their homes.

And now the nobility began their revenge everywhere, and the embers of resistance were again blown into flames here and there. Green sketches the stamping-out of the fire:

“The revolt, indeed, was far from being at an end. A strong body of peasants occupied St. Albans. In the eastern counties 50,000 men forced the gates of St. Edmondsbury and wrested from the trembling monks a charter of enfranchisement for the town. Sittester, a dyer of Norwich, headed a strong mass of the peasants, under the title of the ‘King of the Commons,’ and compelled the nobles he had captured to act as his meat-tasters, and to serve him during his repast. But the warlike Bishop of Norwich fell lance in hand on the rebel camp and scattered them at the first shock. The villagers of Billericay demanded from the king the same liberties as their lords, and on his refusal threw themselves into the woods and fought two hard fights before they were reduced to submission.”

For many years there were camps of refuge of these outlawed peasants in forests and upon lonely islands—Englishmen exiles in their own country for the cause of human rights.

The prelates and lawyers gathered around Richard with their sophisms and technicalities, to show him he had done an unlawful thing with his proclamations of emancipation and clemency; the barons backed the constitutional arguments up with fierce threats about this “royal usurpation,” insomuch that Richard within two weeks recalled and canceled all his charters, and let loose the unrestrained arrogance of the nobles on the people. So many and such unwarranted executions took place that Parliament subsequently granted an act of indemnity to the savage perpetrators, who, it says, “made divers punishments upon the said villeins and other traitors without due process of law, but only to appease and cease the apparent mischief.” All manumissions were declared void. But Richard submitted to the Parliament the proposition to abolish slavery if Parliament would lend its sanction. The lords and gentlemen replied, “The serfs are our chattels, and the king can not take our property from us without our consent. And this consent we have never given, and never will give were we all to die in one day.” Had Richard insisted on keeping faith with the lower classes of his subjects, had he placed his crown and life in the scale against human slavery, he would have gone into history as the Great Emancipator of Englishmen, or as Freedom’s Greatest Martyr. Either destiny was preferable to the ignominious end he did meet. He was a man for an emergency, but not a statesman for one of the world’s great crises. But in a boy of sixteen were not his conduct and his attempt at a great deed wonderful?

It is a curious thing to reflect on that Abraham Lincoln, in a government of constitutional law and in a position of very limited powers, could with a stroke of the pen decree emancipation, while Richard, a ruler of almost absolute powers in an age of ill-defined authority and much lawless administration, could not take the chains off one of his subjects.

At this distance it is difficult to determine just how much influence the only servile uprising of England had upon the emancipation of her serfs. It at least stamped a wholesome dread of the laboring classes into the selfish souls of the nobles, a dread that had much influence on the contentions of succeeding reigns, and raised the common people in importance. Slavery did not disappear for over two centuries; “Good Queen Bess” got her much gain by selling her subjects for slaves in the West Indies. But if “they never die who perish in a good cause,” the blood of Walter the Tyler aided the cause of human liberty, and he ought to be canonized as one of her martyrs, instead of being treated as the violent and bloody rioter that most historians make him.

[To be continued.]

ANECDOTES IN SERMONS.—The fashion which once prevailed of introducing historical anecdotes into addresses from the pulpit, is illustrated by the following extract from a sermon by the martyr Bishop Ridley: “Cambyses was a great emperor, such another as our master is; he had many lord-deputies, lord-presidents, and lieutenants under him. It is a great while ago since I read the history. It chanced he had under him, in one of his dominions, a briber, a gift-taker, a gratifier of rich men; he followed gifts as fast as he that followed the pudding; a hand-maker in his office, to make his son a great man; as the old saying is, ‘Happy is the child whose father goeth to the devil.’ The cry of the poor widow came to the emperor’s ear, and caused him to flay the judge quick, and laid his skin in his chair of judgment, that all judges that should give judgment afterward should sit in the same skin. Surely it was a goodly sign, a goodly monument, the sign of the judge’s skin. I pray God we may once see the sign of the skin in England.”

PHYSIOLOGY.

Physiology is a science, because it embodies a collection of general principles and ascertained truths relating to a particular subject, and is called a natural science because these truths are founded on observation. The word “physiology” is derived from two Greek words meaning a discourse about nature; but it is used in a restricted sense, and is the science of the functions of the different parts of any living body. Thus we have animal and vegetable physiology, while the former is divided into human and comparative. The first of these divisions relates only to man, while the other reviews the entire animal kingdom.

Our object is to teach some of the simple truths of human physiology; such as may be intelligible without any extended knowledge of other sciences. It must be remembered, however, that a more thorough and complete study of physiology can not be undertaken without a considerable acquaintance with such sciences as mechanics, hydraulics, optics, etc., without which the action of the muscles, the circulation of fluids, and vision can not be properly and fully comprehended.

Whenever a piece of mechanism, designed for some particular use, is brought under our notice, and we wish to understand its manner of working, we naturally inquire about its structure; for without some knowledge of how its component parts are put together, and by what means it is put in motion, we can not hope to understand how it performs the part which we see it do. Such is the case, for example, with a watch or steam engine; their parts must be carefully studied in order that their workings may be fully understood.

Hence, it will be observed from what has been said, that it is impossible to study the uses of various parts of the body without some knowledge of anatomy, this being that branch of knowledge which treats of structure.

In order that anatomy may be studied the organs must be dissected.

The words “anatomy” and “dissection” have the same literal meaning, the former being derived from the Greek language, and the latter from the Latin, meaning to cut apart or separate. But anatomy is employed to signify the science of structure in living bodies, and dissection is used to denote the unravelling or laying bare the parts of the body, by means of which anatomy is studied.

The words “organ,” “organization,” and “organize,” are so convenient and necessary that we must know what they mean. The word “organ” signifies some part or parts of the body that have a particular use or function: thus, muscles are organs of motion, and nerves of sensation; the eye is the organ of sight, and the heart and blood vessels are the organs for circulating the blood. Now, any structure is said to be organized, or to have organization, that possesses the properties which distinguish a living body from one that never had life. Therefore we speak of the organic world as distinguished from the inorganic; the former includes plants and animals, the latter minerals, etc.

The nature of that mysterious principle which we call life is unknown to scientists. Yet we may know and understand many of those things which are believed by physiologists concerning life. Certain of them believe that life is a phenomenon that follows organization; or, in other words, that organization is the cause, life the result; while others contend that organization is the result of life. In the former life is produced by changes that take place in matter, under the influence of those forces of nature called heat, light, electricity, and chemism; by the latter theory all these forces are present and act under the influence of a potent force called life. This will be our belief: Life is a distinct endowment, capable of propagation, and superior to all other forces by which it is attended. Let us see by what means living bodies are distinguished from unorganized. Living bodies increase in size; so do minerals; the former by the addition of material throughout the tissue, the latter by outside additions. Organized bodies have a limited existence. All are subject to constant change, and to final dissolution. They all spring from a parent, and only originate in this method. The opposite characteristics belong to unorganized matter.

It has been the business of chemistry to determine the ingredients of the earth and atmosphere, by resolving them into what are called elements. By the word element we mean that which can not be resolved into any simpler form. For example, take a piece of chalk; by chemical action it can be divided into a gas called carbonic acid, and a solid called lime; therefore, it is known that chalk is a compound body. If we take a piece of iron or gold there is no process known by which we can resolve it into simpler form, and these are therefore elements. There are over sixty elements and many of them are found in the human body. All these elements are derived from unorganized matter, and the special conditions under which they are formed in organisms is due to the principle of life. The predominant elements that make up the human body are carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, while iron, potassium, sodium, phosphorous, calcium, exist in smaller quantity. These different elements are variously combined to form compounds, of which water is the most abundant, for it forms more than two-thirds of the entire weight of the body: water is a compound of hydrogen and oxygen. The principal organic compounds are albuminous, of which the white of the egg is a typical example; the gelatinous, or jelly-like compounds, including cartilage, oleaginous, or fatty compounds, and saccharine, or sugary compounds, such as starch. The first two contain nitrogen, hydrogen, oxygen, and carbon, while fat and starch are rich in carbon, but lack nitrogen. In tracing back the development of living matter to its simplest form, it is found to exist as specks without any definite shape or structure, or as granules of extreme minuteness, perhaps the ten thousandth part of an inch in diameter.

This elemental living matter is called protoplasm. Its simplest form is termed a cell, and the word is applied to little bodies varying much in form. Thus some cells are really little bags filled with fluid. Such are those in which the fat is deposited; others are disk like, others lengthened, while some so-called cells are simply masses of jelly.

Out of these organic compounds all the softer tissue of the body is formed, such as fibrous, muscular, cellular, and adipose tissue.

_Fibrous tissue_ consists of fine threads, arranged in various ways, to adapt it to some special use; some of these threads are elastic, others are wholly inelastic. These tissues of mixed character form what is called connective tissue, which is found throughout the body.

Fat is deposited in little cells situated in the connective tissue.

_Muscular tissue_, which forms the great bulk of the body, is easily recognized by its ruddy color, and it constitutes what is known as “flesh.” It is fibrous, and if these fibers be examined under the microscope there will appear, in those under the influence of the will, transverse markings, while the muscles not under the will-power lack these markings.

_Nervous tissue_ is that which superintends all the actions of the living body. It is accumulated in nerve centers of which the principal is the brain. It consists of minute cells in these nerve centers, and of delicate tubes filled with nervous matter throughout the organs of the body. Such tubes are called nerves.

_The skeleton_ is the frame-work of the body, and serves to support all the softer organs as well as to protect them. It is composed of bones which serve as attachments for the muscles.

_Bone_ is the firm tissue of the body, and to a certain degree is hard and brittle. If bone be burned its brittleness is very much increased, but if it be placed in acid it loses its brittle properties. Thus we see that bone is made of two entirely different materials. The one called “animal matter” is easily burned out, while the other called “mineral matter” resists the action of heat, but is quickly dissolved by acid. The mineral matter is a compound of lime. This it will be seen gives to the bones their rigidity. Bones are of various shapes and sizes, adapted to the work which they have to perform.