← This is History: History’s Greatest Fails
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- [00:01]
Dan Jones
Hello again. Dan here.
- [00:02]
Honor Raven
And if you caught last week's episode, you'll know there's something very exciting happening in the world of this Is History. We've just launched our brand new Patreon channel and with it, a new way to experience the show like never before. It's called this Is History. Royal Favorite. Royal Favorite gets you the weekly bonus episodes ad free listening, early access, but also a whole lot more like access to the official this Is History chat room where I and the team will be dropping in throughout the season. You'll get to vote on topics for our episodes, join in on listener polls and discussions, and unlock exclusive extras all season long. I'll be doing a special Ask Me Anything for our Royal Favorite subscribers next month and five lucky question askers will get a signed copy of my book, Henry v. Head to patreon.com thisishistory to start your free trial today and join in the fun. That's patreon.com thisishistory now on with the episode.
- [01:12]
Dan Jones
The four little girls on the ramparts of the castle giggle with delight. The streets below them are thronging with people. Londoners of all ages and ranks have come out on this summer's afternoon, and they're in party mood. People are yelling and cheering, blowing flutes and trumpets and banging drums. They're having a whale of a time as they prepare for a sight most have never seen before. It's July, 1377, and the whole country is preparing to celebrate the coronation of a new Plantagenet king, Richard ii. These little girls, dressed as angels sent from heaven, have a special role in the festivities. The castle they're perched in isn't a real fortress, though. If they look across the city rooftops, they can see one of those. The Tower of London bristles menacingly on the skyline. This one is an elaborate stage built just for fun. But it's central to the pageantry of the coronation parade. When the new king, also only 10 years old, rides past on his way to Westminster, the girls are going to scatter delicate flakes of gold leaf to make it look like heaven is throwing glittering confetti on the new monarch and his kingdom. They've been well coached for their big moment, just like all the other street performers, musicians and actors who are lining London's streets. They aren't going to mess up. But can the same be said for the king who's about to be crowned? Richard II is going to become the youngest king of England for more than 160 years. No amount of glitter and confetti can cover for the fact that this is a very dangerous situation. I'm Dan Jones and from Sony Music Entertainment. This is history Season 7 of A Dynasty to Die For Episode 2 Death and Taxes.
- [03:43]
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- [04:15]
Dan Jones
Here's a question for you child psychologists out there. Knowing what we do these days about brain development in childhood, how healthy do we think it is for a person's mental development to make them a king at the age of 10? 10? That sounds like a rhetorical question or a bit of random snark, but I'm serious, because I reckon it's impossible to understand Richard ii, the chaos that engulfs his reign and his relationship with his cousin and contemporary Henry Bolingbroke, if we don't consider the legacy of Richard's first experiences as king for his long term state of mind. But first, let's get back to that coronation with Richard riding along Cheapside as it rains. Confusing. Down below at street level, Richard looks around him in wonder. He's mounted on a huge war horse, which snorts proudly as it clocks along Cheapside, London's central thoroughfare. As one chronicler puts it, the city is decked with so many banners of gold and silver and silk, and with so many other devices to delight the the mind that you might have thought you were seeing the actual triumphs of the Caesars. This, young Richard may well reflect, is exactly what being a king is supposed to feel like. A few weeks ago, he missed the funeral procession of his grandfather Edward iii, ceding pride of place to his overbearing uncle John of Gaunt. It looked familiar, one dangerous, tantalising moment, that Gaunt was considering a bid for the throne himself. But he's mercifully thought better of that idea. It's still not so long since the horrors of Gaunt's grandfather Edward II's reign. He's decided to stay loyal and do his duty from beside the throne rather than on it. So now Richard is the center of attention. His beloved tutor, the war hero Sir Simon Burley, is marching in front of him, holding his sword and, well, look at this. There's a castle up ahead with pretty little girls his own age beaming from the turrets. As Richard's horse goes by, the girls blow their palms and a light snow of gold flakes flutters down. Then they throw flowers. Finally, they run daintily down from the battlements to street level, fill golden cups with wine flowing from pipes concealed in the castle walls, and hand drinks around to the royal party. This is just one of countless magnificent spectacles Richard is treated to as he makes his way to Westminster Abbey to be crowned. Throughout London's streets and squares, people were competing to see who could show the most enthusiastic, enthusiastic reverence, writes a chronicler. It's almost too good to be true. And maybe it is too good to be true, because if Richard looks very carefully about him, he'll see that beneath the surface of all this splendor lie worrying signs. One is right here on Cheapside, not far from the glorious castle, is a fountain gushing wine. But the spout from which the wine is flowing has been dressed with something odd. It's a fake head. If Richard looks closely, he'll see the head has the face of a man called Sir Robert Belknap, one of the two most senior judges in England, a man closely linked with royal policy for the last 30 years. The head's mouth is gaping grotesquely, so Belknap seems to be constantly vomiting wine amid the bright colours and blaring music of the procession. Belknap's fake puke head is only a little thing, but once the streets have been cleared, the castles have been dismantled and the revellers have gone to bed, hatreds curdling just below the surface of Plantagenet politics will remain. The day after his parade through London, Richard's actual coronation takes place. It's one of the first Plantagenet coronation services we can reconstruct in detail, because several sources, including the chronicler Thomas of Walsingham, make detailed accounts of it. Here are some snippets of what Richard hears during the ceremony. When the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury, asks the whole congregation if they're willing to obey this young boy without compulsion, they all shout as one that they are. When Sudbury anoints Richard with holy oil, he tells him it will cause blessings to penetrate his innermost heart, so that he receives invisible gifts from God and reigns forever in heaven after he dies. When Richard has the crown put on his head and the ring of office put on his finger, he's told that he is the author and stabilizer of Christianity and the faith. You will reign in glory with the King of Kings. It goes on and on like this for hours. Now, of course, in a ceremony like a coronation, this is the vibe. There's a very serious religious element. Even today, the anointing of a king is a sacred act deemed too holy to be seen by the eyes of anyone except the archbishop and the new monarch. But a coronation is also an analogy. It's a symbolic ritual that confers political power, but it's not meant to be taken absolutely literally. Yes, the king is special, but he also has to be a sensible human being. I think it's asking a lot of a 10 year old in any era to have them appreciate that subtle distinction. And judging by the way Richard acts for the rest of his reign, he never quite understands. He takes the mystical side of kingship completely to heart. And why wouldn't he? He's told as a kid he's been anointed and ordained by God and no one but God ought to be allowed to tell him what to do. During all Richard's early brushes with politics, his appearance at the good parliament in 1376, his coronation in 1377, everyone seems to tell him the same thing. He's a gift from God, heaven sent. He's set apart from all other mortals, semi divine. He's the chosen one. Nothing that happens to him afterwards quite manages to convince him otherwise.
- [11:19]
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- [11:21]
Dan Jones
Is History, back in what now actually.
- [11:23]
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Feels like the Middle Ages. Naturally, all my accounts were worked out on an abacus. My scripts were written with quill on parchment, and I sent them over to my producer, Honor Raven. It was a slow, overwhelming and lonely process with so many different hats to wear and so much to do with so little time. If only I'd had Shopify as my business partner to get me started and help me keep up with the pace. Finding the right tool that not only helps you out, but simplifies everything can be such a game changer for millions of businesses. That tool is Shopify. Turn your big business idea into With Shopify on your side, sign up for your $1 per month trial and start selling today at shopify.co.uk cell23try. Go to shopify.co.uk cell 23try.
- [12:19]
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- [12:52]
Dan Jones
As all this anointing and insane brainwashing is going on, Richard's cousin, Henry Bolingbroke is watching proceedings intently. Although he's not quite the center of attention, he has an important role in this coronation too. It comes at the feast which follows the main ceremony. Here, Henry deputizes for his father, John of Gaunt, by carrying a magnificent ceremonial sword known as Cortana. This is the sword of mercy. It has a blunt tip to symbolize the restraint that kings are supposed to exercise from time to time. It's rumoured to have once belonged to England's last Saxon king, the sainted Edward the Confessor. Holding it aloft is an important job. It's quite tiring, though it's not as tiring as actually being the king. Henry may be quite glad he only has to carry Cortana while Richard is being lifted up and put down and dressed and undressed and crowned and uncrowned. All that tires Richard out so much he has to go for a nap in his bedroom. At one point we can only speculate, but if Henry has any sense, he can't be too envious that he doesn't have to go through all that. And even if he doesn't think like that, when the coronation ceremony and parading and feasting is taking place, then Henry surely does in the weeks and months that follow the great shindig. Because once the crowning is all done and it's time to get down to business, it's clear that the kingdom which Richard is now God given, king of, is in a right old mess. The first sign that things are going terribly comes a little over a year after the coronation. During that time, government has sort of muddled along with a makeshift arrangement in place to take account for Richard's youth. There's no regent. Instead, a council of advisors handles day to day policy. The leading nobles, John of Gaunt and the king's other uncle, Thomas of Woodstock, pitch in with their ideas. Richard himself is gatekept by the knights of his chamber, led by his beloved tutor, Simon Burley. That setup is fine in theory, and there are no serious ructions over who's the biggest swinging dick among all the advisors. But in autumn 1378, when a parliament is called to try and get some tax money, it's clear that people are just as angry as they were Back at the good Parliament, maybe more so, the Commons are furious. They have to approve royal requests for tax, but they say previous grants of money have been wasted, campaigns in France have come to nothing and the cost, cost of defending the Scottish border and the military base at Calais are through the roof. Meanwhile, the lords who are supposed to be overseeing government aren't happy at taking all this blame for things going wrong when they say they don't have enough money. Even the monks of Gloucester Abbey who are hosting the Parliament complain because the out of towners who've descended on their monastery for a month won't stop playing football on their lawns. Amid all this grumbling, taxes are granted, but by the spring of the next year, the money is all spent. There's literally nothing left in the treasury and the Council is only avoiding a total shutdown of government by borrowing from nobles and pawning Richard's crown jewels to wealthy merchants. Things get worse and worse, and by the start of 1380, it's obvious that the coronation of the fresh faced young king, glorious saviour that he was supposed to be, has done the square root of bugger all for England's woes. The realm is still broke and still facing major foreign policy crises. French warships have started raiding towns on England's south coast. Nearly a quarter of a million pounds has been spent on war since the start of Richard's reign and there's nothing whatsoever to show for it. The last English fleet sent out to try and clear the channel of enemies turned into a disastrous booze cruise. The sailors and soldiers drank themselves stupid and the ships ran aground on rocks and sank. In 1380, yet more parliaments are called yet again. The council wants money and and yet again, they don't seem to be spending it wisely. At one of these parliaments, the Commons argue that the King is coming up to the age of 14, not far off the age that Edward III was when he became King. And it's about time that Richard was given more of a say in goings on. It's a sign of just how desperate things are that this basic moaning turns into actual policy. In 1380, the council is dissolved and the running of the country is handed over to the teenage king, along with just five officers of state to help him, led by a new chancellor, the mild mannered, diligent, elderly Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury. To try and shore up the dreadful finances, the Parliament also grants a new form of tax, which is designed to get everyone into England to literally buy into the defence of the realm. It's called a poll tax and it's levelled at a flat rate of 4 pence per head on everyone in the country. A teenage king who's been taught he's God's gift to mankind in charge, a realm under attack with ministers apparently too corrupt or incompetent to defend it, and now a poll tax. It doesn't take a genius to predict that this might not be a recipe for a new glorious era in Plantagenet history, but the trouble that erupts the following summer is wilder than anything England has ever seen before.
- [19:17]
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- [19:52]
Dan Jones
It's a fine day at the start of June in 1381 when Sir Robert Belknap, one of the two most senior judges in England, rides to the town of Brentwood in Essex to hold a court. It promises to be a spicy one. As he rides through the streets of the town with his staff, he sees sullen faces staring at him. People spit, spit and jeer. As he rides past, a window opens and someone shouts an insult. Even the dogs that lope around the rubbish piles don't seem happy to see him. Not that Belknap is too bothered. He's been around the block during his 30 year legal career. He's no stranger to difficult cases, and he's used to being insulted. After all, it was only four years ago that a group of miserable Londoners made an effigy of his head and jammed it on a wine fountain at King Richard's coronation. Made it look like he was bundering Pinot Noir all over the place. Belknap chuckles at the memory. If you don't like being called a see you next Tuesday. The Chief justice of the Court of Common Pleas is not the job for you. Even so, Brentwood does seem unusually hostile today. It sounds like the reports that have been coming in from Essex might well be right. The place is seething, maybe on the brink of serious disorder. Last year the government, in their wisdom, decided to go to Parliament and ask for a poll tax levied at 4 pence a head on everyone in England, including peasants who normally never pay a penny. It wasn't the first time these Guys had monkeyed around with the tax system. There have been a couple of similar experiments in the last few years, all done in the name of a teenage king who probably doesn't have the first clue what's going on. But this tax in particular has been hugely unpopular. Tax collectors up and down England have been telling the same story. People don't want to pay. There's mass evasion. And in the last couple of weeks, some of the sessions to collect the tax have turned really ugly. There are stories of tax collectors jamming their hands up young girls skirts to check if they're old enough to pay up. There have been brawls as angry villagers turn on the officials, which then makes jobs. For judges like Belknap, tax evasion is a crime. Insulting and beating up tax collectors, which is what's been happening, is also a crime. So now Belknap has to go to places like Brentwood, already stirred up, and start handing out fines and hangings. Two days ago, this town refused en masse to hand over a single penny. Today, they're going to have to face the music. Belknap turns the corner that leads to the courthouse, and suddenly all the confidence he's been feeling about nipping this tax rebellion in the bud starts to drain away. Outside the building, there's a crowd of at least a hundred angry looking townsfolk. Some of them are armed with farm tools, signs and forks and sticks. Others are holding weapons that look even more dangerous. Longbows, daggers, even a sword or two. This isn't just an angry mob. Some of this lot are veterans of the wars in France. A yell goes up when the crowd spots him. Summoning his most commanding tone, Belknap stops and addresses the crowd. He tells them he's here to see that justice is done for the disgraceful scenes that took place in this town when the royal tax collectors were here. He says he'll be calling up townsmen to serve on a jury and that they'll get to the bottom of what's been going on. He tells them. Well, he tells them nothing else at all. Because before he can finish speaking, the people of Brentwood have mobbed him, dragged him from his horse and taken him prisoner. In three decades of royal service, Belknap thought he'd seen it all. He hadn't. The leader of the townsfolk gets right up in the judge's face. There'll be no jury assembling today, he tells him. Nor any day afterwards. And there'll be no tax getting paid either. What's going to happen now is that Sir Robert is going to get back on his horse and ride out of Brentwood the way he came, or his head really will be stuck on a fountain. He can tell all those lords what happens when they mess with the honest folk of England. Or actually, on second thoughts, maybe he doesn't need to tell them. Because in a few days the honest folk of England have a surprise coming. In two weeks time, there'll be tens of thousands of them marching on London. They've heard there's a young king who's been sent by God to save the realm from disaster. It's about time he showed himself to his good people. The true Commons in person. The summer of 1381 is going to be a riot. If you're not with the rebels, you're against them. And if you're against them, then you'd better start praying. Because the true commons of England are in the mood for blood and only their teenage King Richard has the power to stop them. But that's for next time on this Is History. We hope you enjoyed this episode.
- [26:03]
Honor Raven
Now, I want to hear from you over at this Is History's new Patreon. It's where you can keep the Plantagenet party going. And this week we want to hear your thoughts on child kings and queens. Because surely Richard II wasn't the only kid to have a great time on a medieval throne. If you're already a this Is History royal favourite on Patreon, get cracking. We're keen to hear what you think.
- [26:28]
Dan Jones
And if you're not yet a member.
- [26:30]
Honor Raven
Now'S the perfect time to jump in. You can become a this Is History royal favorite member today to join the discussion, plus get all the other great benefits of being a subscriber. Learn more at patreon. Com thisishistory. We would love to see you there.