RICHARD II: THE PEASANTS’ REVOLT
The situation culminated in the next reign in the Revolt of the Peasants of 1381. Into the long controversy over the causes and character of this rising we cannot enter at this moment, but very briefly stated, the history of the revolt may be summarised like this. In the first place, it is clear that the old theory which saw the cause of the revolt in a supposed attempt by landlords to reimpose the conditions of serfdom after having first abandoned them is no longer tenable. It seems rather that in this, as in many other revolts, the motive of the movement was not so much a blank despair as a certain hopefulness. It is not in the depth of the night that social revolutions occur, but with the first gleam of dawn. The economic results of the Black Death had already brought a considerable improvement in the lot of the agricultural labourer, and it was the disappointment that this improvement had not been spread more equally among the masses, or proceeded more rapidly, that provoked the impatient peasants to rebellion. The insurgents were mainly those who had not yet been able to establish their position as free labourers, and their hatred was principally directed against the lawyers and the stewards who kept manorial records. Wherever possible the rebels destroyed the manorial rolls which contained the legal evidence of their servitude. The parochial clergy seem to have viewed the movement with considerable sympathy, although the higher ecclesiastics were markedly indifferent. It is now clear, moreover, that the ideas of the early reformer Wyclif played very little part in the movement, although it is certainly true that there were active agitators who were preaching a somewhat crude form of communism. Several independent risings occurred in different parts of the country, and one body of rebels was welcomed by the mass of the Londoners who were at odds with the mayor. A serious massacre took place in the streets of the city, and the rebels beheaded John Cavendish,1 Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Treasurer.
It is very difficult to find any clear results of the revolt. Indeed, the latest opinion tends to lay stress upon the ineffectiveness of the whole movement. It was one of the very few occasions in English history when a definitely social, as distinct from a political, revolution, was proposed, and its failure was immediate and complete. Fortunately, the natural movement towards the emancipation of villeins, which had long been in progress, continued as before the revolt, and during the following century a great silent revolution slowly took place. The majority of the populace who had been serfs gradually acquired economic independence. Lords of manors who could no longer find servile labour, either leased their lands to free labourers (or to labourers who were soon to become free), or else tacitly conceded to their peasants the benefits of ownership in their holdings. This latter process is truly remarkable, and deserves close attention from students of legal history. Through the machinery of custom, which was always a powerful influence for experiment or change in the middle ages, the rightless villein slowly acquired customary property rights in the land he worked. For a long time the common law refused to recognise this process, and it was to the courts of equity that the customary tenant, or copyholder as he was later called, looked first for protection.1 In the early seventeenth century Sir Edward Coke took up the cause of the copyholders, and finally extended to them the protection of the common law courts. In this way those sweeping and violent social revolutions which occurred in Switzerland and France were avoided in English history through the slow adaptation of the law to new social conditions, no doubt assisted by the lack of a precise definition of property, while the willingness to tolerate for a time a few anomalies helped to accomplish by peaceful means the great task of transforming the ancient serfdom into a class of free workers.
Throughout this period we find the steady growth of the legal profession and the development of a remarkable series of law reports called “Year Books” which we shall describe later. Then, too, Parliament becomes more definite in its composition and gradually takes its place as the ultimate court in the land, as a national legislature, and as a representative body which could give voice to the feelings of the nation when the ministers of the Crown incurred its dissatisfaction.
Richard II (1377-1399) is one of the most picturesque and puzzling figures in English history.2 The troubles in his reign (apart from the Peasants’ Revolt) were ultimately of a dynastic character, turning upon the conflicting claims of the Houses of York and Lancaster to succeed. Richard’s tactless policies gave an opportunity to the House of Lancaster to steal a march upon the Yorkists, and the result was the deposition, and soon the mysterious death, of Richard II in 1399.
THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY: THE PROBLEM OF ENFORCEMENT
SUMMARY
Henry IV, who began the line of Lancaster in 1399, together with his descendants, Henry V and Henry VI, were all under the same disability, that is to say, kings by a doubtful title. They were therefore dependent to a large extent upon the series of family alliances and political factions which had placed them upon the throne, and in consequence we have what has been called the “Lancastrian experiment”. The experiment seems to have consisted in associating a fairly large body of nobles with the daily business of government, and so the chief characteristic of the fifteenth century is the important place occupied by the Council.
THE IMPORTANCE OF THE COUNCIL
“Practically the first public utterance of the new dynasty was its founder’s pledge to be governed by the counsel of the ‘Sages and Ancients of the Realm’, and when, three-quarters of a century later, the line had ended in violence and exile, the last echo of its departed polity was heard in Fortescue’s plea for more ‘counsel’. Time after time, Parliament prayed for ‘sufficient counsel’, and as often did Henry IV inform them of the names of his advisers and swear them to be upright and true; later, in the troublous times of his grandson, it is still the Council which was the storm centre, the Council’s dissensions which raged round the child King’s throne, and the Council’s collapse, which eventually wrought his ruin. To appreciate how intimately the fortunes of the Council were bound up with those of the nation itself, it is well to consider how widely its ramifications spread throughout the body-politic; Parliament, Chancery, Exchequer, law courts—all these still remained so closely connected with the parent body, as represented by the group of men nearest the King, that it is difficult to determine at what period, and to what extent, one should regard them as separate institutions. This interpenetration of the various government departments by the Council can be regarded as the administrative aspect of the growing political supremacy of the Crown. For centuries the Crown was steadily gathering strength and building up a political unity out of the discordant elements of feudalism. One King was to be felt at work throughout the realm, and as the task