Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England 190315331X, 9781903153314

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Oliver

Some sixty years before the advent of the printing press, the first political pamphlets about parliament circulated in the city of London. Often vitriolic and satirical, these handwritten pamphlets reported on a trilogy of parliamentary victories against the crown known as the Good, the Wonderful, and the Merciless Parliaments. The first pamphlets point to the existence of a market of readers hungry for news of parliament as well as to the emergence of public opinion as a political force. This book reconstructs the lives of the political pamphleteers as well as the political landscape of late fourteenthcentury England, giving particular emphasis to the large group of bureaucrats living in London to which Geoffrey Chaucer belonged. Dr Clementine Oliver is Associate Professor of History at California State University, Northridge. Cover: The execution of Chief Justice Robert Tresilian in 1388 by order of the Merciless Parliament. Miniature c. 1475 by Maître d’Antoine de Bourgogne from a Flemish illuminated manuscript of Jean Froissart’s Chronicles, MS Fr. 2645 f. 238 v (Bibliothèque nationale de France).

PARLIAMENT AND POLITICAL PAMPHLETEERING IN FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND

A timely and significant book ... changing the landscape of political history and culture... a vindication of a striking argument about the ability of the medieval chattering classes to write, read, and hear pamphlets long before the arrival of printing. Persuasive and compelling.  W.  Mark Ormrod, Professor of History, University of York.

PA R L I A M E N T AND POLITICAL PA M P H L E T E E R I N G IN FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND

YORK MEDIEVAL PRESS Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge IP12 3DF (GB) and 668 Mt Hope Ave, Rochester NY14620-2731 (US) www.boydellandbrewer.com

YORK MEDIEVAL PRESS

Clementine Oliver

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England

Some sixty years before the advent of the printing press, the first political pamphlets about parliament circulated in the city of London. Often vitriolic and satirical, these handwritten pamphlets reported on a trilogy of parliamentary victories against the crown known as the Good, the Wonderful, and the Merciless parliaments. The first pamphlets point to the existence of a market of readers hungry for news of parliament as well as to the emergence of public opinion as a political force. This book reconstructs the lives of the political pamphleteers as well as the political landscape of late fourteenth century England, giving particular emphasis to the large group of bureaucrats living in London to which Geoffrey Chaucer belonged. Dr Clementine Oliver is Associate Professor of History at California State University.

YORK MEDIEVAL PRESS York Medieval Press is published by the University of York’s Centre for Medieval Studies in association with Boydell & Brewer Limited. Our objective is the promotion of innovative scholarship and fresh criticism on medieval culture. We have a special commitment to interdisciplinary study, in line with the Centre’s belief that the future of Medieval Studies lies in those areas in which its major constituent disciplines at once inform and challenge each other.

Editorial Board (2005–2010): Professor J. G. Wogan-Browne (Dept of English and Related Literature) Dr T. Ayers (Dept of History of Art) Professor P. P. A. Biller (Dept of History) Dr J. W. Binns (Dept of English and Related Literature) Dr Gabriella Corona (Dept of English and Related Literature) Professor W. M. Ormrod (Chair, Dept of History) Dr K. F. Giles (Dept of Archaeology)

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England

Clementine Oliver

YORK MEDIEVAL PRESS

©  Clementine Oliver 2010 All rights reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner The right of Clementine Oliver to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published 2010 A York Medieval Press publication in association with The Boydell Press an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9  Woodbridge  Suffolk IP12 3DF  UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue  Rochester  NY 14620  USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com and with the Centre for Medieval Studies, University of York ISBN  978 1 903153 31 4

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view these images please refer to the printed version of this book.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The publisher has no responsibility for the continued existence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Printed in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

CONTENTS List of Illustrations Acknowledgments Abbreviations 1 Where Do Pamphlets Come From?

vi ix xi 1

2 The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlet

29

3 The Making of a Political Pamphleteer

56

4 Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament

84

5 Conspiracy Theories

117

6 From London’s Streets, 1388

142

7 The End of the Merciless Parliament

174

8 Afterword

185

Appendix: A comparison of the Historia mirabilis parliamenti and the Parliament Rolls

196

Bibliography Index

209 225

ILLUSTRATIONS 1. MS Bodl. Rolls 9, first sheet. Reproduced by kind permission of Bodleian Library, University of Oxford. 2. Detail of Gordan MS, including title. Reproduced by kind permission of John Gordan III.

58 190

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view these images please refer to the printed version of this book.

vi

For my parents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The research for this book began at Berkeley, in a history department that now lingers primarily in memory. My strongest memory is of Robert Brentano, and I am fortunate to be able to share the pleasure of his memory with Jason Glenn and Jay Rubenstein. At this Berkeley of times past I sat in on Steven Justice’s first (and always riveting) lectures on Chaucer, and was allowed to read Writing and Rebellion before it was in print. It is little wonder that the story I tell here takes place in the late fourteenth century. This book is about the birth of political pamphleteering before print. But at its heart, it is really the story of several scholars taking an interest in a minor figure who wrote a minor text (which I believe has large implications) about a dramatic but ultimately overshadowed event that took place during the troubled reign of Richard II. Thomas Fovent will likely never be a household name (and the author of the account of the Good Parliament still has no name at all), but ­Caroline Barron’s unwavering interest and generous assistance in Fovent’s world and work made it possible to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was his life, and perhaps help to give him a place alongside other late ­fourteenth century London authors. There would be no book at all about parliament and the origins of political pamphlets were it not for W. M. Ormrod. Though I had not yet made his acquaintance when I first sent him my research in rough form, he was kind enough to read it and offer suggestions. And he has been kind enough with his time and extensive knowledge of political life in the fourteenth century to see this project through to the end. I wish to thank my editor at York Medieval Press, Jocelyn Wogan-Browne, for her kind assistance and patience with my many questions. I wrote chapters one and two while a joint post-doctoral fellow at the ­California Institute of Technology and the Huntington Library. At Caltech, John Brewer gave encouragement at a critical juncture in my research, and he has remained caring to the project’s conclusion. Preliminary drafts of chapters one and three were presented at the California Medieval History Seminar at the Huntington Library, and I am grateful to the participants for their comments. Earlier versions of chapters two and three have been published in New Medieval Literatures 6 and Viator 38, no. 1, respectively. Some of the information on Thomas Fovent included in chapters three and eight will be published in a forthcoming issue of Historical Research. I would like to thank the editors of these journals for their permission. All of my colleagues at California State University, Northridge, offered their support, and several took the time to read and comment on chapter ix

Acknowledgments one. Merry Ovnick’s generosity however goes far beyond this, for she is the benefactor of the index for this book. Many other scholars have helped a great deal along the way. Gwilym Dodd, Matthew Giancarlo, Robert Hanning, Pamela Robinson, Christopher Whittick offered their expertise and their time. John Gordan III kindly allowed me to view and photograph his manuscript of the Historia, and further shared all of the information he could find on the manuscript’s provenance. I would like to thank Andrew Galloway for making Fovent’s text accessible, particularly to me, in a beautifully rendered translation. I have relied on it a great deal in writing this book, as on his willingness to answer questions and exchange research via email. I also came to rely on the emails of a Carolingianist. Courtney Booker read and responded at the drop of a hat, and I am grateful for his willingness to be pulled centuries from his home, as well as for his occasional incensement. Robert Stein suggested the possibility of including the work of Walter Benjamin in the conclusion. Rael Lewis helped with this section in particular, but he also endured the writing of this book these many years. I am appreciative of the patience of my husband, Chase Rummonds, and the impatience of our son, Sebastian Rummonds. They have provided the very two best reasons to finish. This book is dedicated to my parents, Fäggie R. Oliver and Curtis F. Oliver. Few are fortunate to have parents both of whom, in their own ways, understand the importance of the past’s role in shaping the present. This book is far more the result of their work than it is my own, and I am grateful for their continued and unconditional support.

x

ABBREVIATIONS CCR CFR CPR EETS EHR KC ODNB PROME RP SR TNA TRHS WC YLS

Calendar of Close Rolls Calendar of Fine Rolls Calendar of Patent Rolls Early English Text Society English Historical Review Knighton’s Chronicle 1337–1396 Oxford Dictionary of National Biography The Parliament Rolls of Medieval England Rotuli Parliamentorum Statutes of the Realm The National Archives (Public Record Office) Transactions of the Royal Historical Society The Westminster Chronicle 1381–1394 Yearbook of Langland Studies

xi

CHAPTER ONE

Where do Pamphlets Come From?

In the year 1641, pamphlets flew off the London presses like a flurry of snow. Some pamphlets were pro-Puritan tracts attacking the authority of the church, while others countered with satirical sermons intended by their Royalist authors to portray their adversaries as buffoons. Several used pornographic or scatological imagery to slander public figures. Scores of pamphlets reported on the massacres and atrocities of the Irish rebellion with a sensationalist flair, telling tales of rape and murder committed by the papists in Ireland. Many more advocated for the cause of the Long Parliament against Charles I’s personal rule.1 And in so doing, some brought the past to bear on the present. One pamphlet in particular recounted the ruthless proceedings of another parliament in opposition to another king centuries before. First printed as An Historical Narration of the Manner and Forme of that Memorable Parliament, which Wrought Wonders. Begun at Westminster 1386 in the Tenth Year of the Reigne of King Richard the Second, it was rapidly reprinted with a supplementary account of Richard II’s life and death under a slightly different title, and once more in a much abridged form in ‘the yeare of much feare, 1643’.2 1

2

On the sudden increase of printed pamphlets in 1641, see J. Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern England (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 202–75; and D.  Zaret, Origins of Democratic Culture: Printing, Petitions, and the Public Sphere in Early-Modern England (Princeton, 2000), pp. 174–217. See also T. Watt, Cheap Print and Popular Piety (Cambridge, 1991); and A. Fox, Oral and Literate Culture in England, 1500–1700 (Oxford, 2000). Examples of pamphlets published in 1641 can be found in the collection of George Thomason; see Catalogue of the Pamphlets, Books, Newspapers, and Manuscripts Relating to the Civil War, the Commonwealth, and Restoration, Collected by George Thomason, 1640–1661, 2 vols. (London, 1908). The first printing from 1641 is entitled An Historical Narration of the Manner and Forme of that Memorable Parliament, which Wrought Wonders. Begun at Westminster 1386 in the Tenth Yeare of the Reign of King Richard the Second, and attributes authorship to Thomas Fannant. There survive twenty-eight copies in library archives. The second printing with a supplementary account of the life and death of Richard the Second is entitled A True Declaration of that Memorable Parliament which Wrought Wonders, and twenty-one copies survive. This version contains a reproduction of Renold Elstrack’s engraved portrait of Richard II, originally produced for Henry Holland’s Basiliwlogia (1618). The 1643 printing is entitled A True Declaration of

1

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England It was an acerbic, vitriolic, and satirical text in keeping with the tastes of the day, and by all appearances it seemed to be a contemporary work as the prose made ample use of the vocabulary of seventeenth-century politics – words like ‘commonwealth’, ‘public affairs’, ‘confederates’, ‘citizens’ and ‘conspirators’ are peppered throughout. Despite the tone of its language it was not a seventeenth-century text, for its author had been dead for some 237 years. It was a ghost of parliaments past come to rally support for John Pym and the parliamentarians. The pamphlet’s title page attributes authorship to Thomas Fannant, but there was no such person – the writer’s real name was Thomas Fovent, and he wrote his pamphlet in Latin sometime shortly after 3 June 1388. Unsurprisingly, he wrote it for much the same reason as those later pamphleteers who backed the cause of the Long Parliament, for he believed parliament was the most effective way to expose and correct the rampant corruption of Richard II’s administration. Originally titled Historia siue narracio de modo et forma mirabilis parliamenti apud Westmonasterium anno domini millesimo CCCLXXXVJ, regni vero regis Ricardi secundi post conquestum anno decimo, Fovent’s pamphlet is a scathing narrative of the treason trials of 1388. These trials, better known to history as the Merciless Parliament, were the ruthless conclusion of the greatest political scandal of Richard II’s reign, culminating in a purge of the administration and the execution of eight prominent government officials, thereby setting in motion a power struggle that would result in the unravelling of the young king’s rule by the century’s close. Fovent’s narrative begins with an account of the many acts of fraud and treachery committed by the Ricardian faction from late 1386 to late 1387, when they are formally accused of treason by a coalition of magnates known as the Appellants, the name earned by their introduction of a procedural novelty – the first parliamentary appeal of treason.3 Next follows one of the most enthralling accounts of this or any parliamentary trial, for Fovent paints a dramatic picture of the proceedings as they unfold inside parliament, where the accused desperately maintain their innocence before a house packed with spectators. He then follows the action onto London’s streets, there watching the prisoners plead for their lives as they are dragged through the mob to the place of their execution, and reporting that the city’s neighbourhoods became littered with the flesh of the condemned.

3

that Memorable Parliament which Wrought Wonders, and only three copies have been catalogued. All three versions are available in their entirety on Early English Books Online. A. Rogers, ‘Parliamentary Appeals of Treason in the Reign of Richard II’, The American Journal of Legal History 8 (1964), 95–124; J. G. Bellamy, The Law of Treason in England in the Later Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1970); and A. Musson and W. M. Ormrod, The Evolution of English Justice: Law, Politics, and Society in the Fourteenth Century (New York, 1999), 107–9. For a discussion of the Appellants’ legal strategy, see chapter six below and the references cited therein.

2

Where do Pamphlets Come From? This book is only partly about Fovent’s pamphlet – it is far more about the nascent political sphere of late fourteenth century England.4 It considers how individuals such as Fovent navigated the political landscape, and how politics did (and did not) affect the seemingly ordinary lives of those who lived and worked in the capital city of London. It discusses why certain individuals opted to participate in the rather extraordinary political debates of the day, the ambitions of and opportunities for those who were determined to eviscerate in writing corrupt government officials, as well as the audience for their political texts. While I trace the interplay between London and national politics in this period through a trilogy of parliamentary trials, all of which took place at Westminster, and the texts produced in London reporting on these trials, this book inevitably is also about the intersections between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries. To phrase it another way, I suggest here that the time is now long past due for a reassessment of the established boundaries between the late medieval and early modern worlds.5

Political life after the Black Death As in the seventeenth century, English people in the late fourteenth century experienced rapid, successive, and often violent changes to the structure of their local and extended society, and many of these changes had a profound impact on the shape of politics. The Black Death of 1348–9, together with successive outbreaks of the plague in the subsequent two decades, killed at least one third and perhaps as much as one half of England’s population – it is nearly impossible to overstate the impact of this disease on the lives of those who survived as well as on the next several generations, though not all of the consequences were categorically negative.6 After the Black Death and 4 5

6

On the development of the political sphere in the late fourteenth century, see my discussion of the Habermasian public sphere below, p. 24. Such a reevaluation is already taking place from across the traditional early modern divide, often with the intention of examining lingering medieval literary practices in the age of print. See for example the essays in The Uses of Script and Print, 1300–1700, ed. J. Crick and A. Walsham (Cambridge, 2003); D. McKitterick, Print, Manuscript, and the Search for Order, 1450–1830 (Cambridge, 2003); and W. Kuskin, Symbolic Caxton: Literary Culture and Print Capitalism (Notre Dame, 2008). The effect of the dramatic population decline after the Black Death on the economic and social structure of England has long been the subject of debate. See J. Hatcher, ‘England in the Aftermath of the Black Death’, Past & Present 144 (1994), 3–35; The Black Death in England, ed. W. M. Ormrod and P. Lindley (Stamford, 1996); C. Platt, King Death: The Black Death and its Aftermath in Late Medieval England (London, 1996); S. J. Payling, ‘Social Mobility, Demographic Change, and Landed Society in Late Medieval England’, Economic History Review 45 (1992), 51–73; and D. Aers, ‘Justice and Wage-Labor after the Black Death: Some Perplexities for William Langland’, in The Work of Work: Servitude, Slavery, and Labor in Medieval England, ed.

3

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England along with the dramatic decrease in population, labour became scarce, and as a consequence wages rose steadily. When the landholding classes could no longer afford to manage their vast estates directly, land became readily available for lease by tenants, many of whom were of peasant origin, and the rural economy shifted from the more traditional manorial system to a marketplace characterized by wage labour. With this economic shift there emerged several newly affluent social groups as well as a more complex and certainly more flexible system of social relations. Perhaps the most striking example of this new type of flexible social arrangement was the development of the affinity, a not strictly hierarchical association of followers attached to the king or to a magnate that radically changed the way individuals participated in political society in late fourteenth century England.7 I discuss the impact of the Ricardian affinity on politics and political consciousness in chapter five. To talk about the emergence of the political sphere in late fourteenth century England is neither an anachronism nor does it deny the importance of developments in later periods. While direct involvement in the governance of the realm and in the formulation of government policy was restricted to a privileged few, nevertheless politics mattered to a great many outside the ranks of the nobility. English people were keenly aware of the impact of this highly centralized administration on their daily lives, and they watched the government’s activities with great interest.8 Many were quick to criticize the crown and the administration if either should overreach the limits of their jurisdiction or act counter to the welfare of the realm. The articulation of the government’s responsibility to the polity was sharpest during moments of crisis and confrontation with the crown, such as the Good Parliament of 1376, and this and comparable expressions of dissatisfaction with the administration had their roots in the Hundred Years War and the expectations built up by the spectacular military successes in the early years of Edward III’s reign. The Hundred Years War greatly influenced the shape of politics from its very beginning, although many of the domestic consequences were surely unforeseen by a king who succeeded in uniting the nobility as never before and propelled England onto the European stage with victories against the French at Crécy and Poitiers. It is a commonplace if not a cliché to observe that

7

8

A. J. Frantzen and D. Moffat (Glasgow, 1994), pp. 169–90. Also, more generally, see C. Dyer, Standards of Living in the Later Middle Ages: Social Change in England, 1200– 1520 (Cambridge, 1998); and J. Hatcher, Plague, Population and the English Economy 1348–1530 (London, 1977). On the affinity in late medieval England, see C. Given-Wilson, The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity (New Haven, 1986), p. 203; C. Carpenter, ‘The Beauchamp Affinity: A Study of Bastard Feudalism at Work’, EHR 95 (1980), 513–18; P. Strohm, Social Chaucer (Cambridge MA, 1989), p. 25; W. M. Ormrod, Political Life in Medieval England, 1300–1450 (New York, 1995), pp. 51–6; and S. Walker, The Lancastrian Affinity (Oxford, 1990), pp. 41–2. Ormrod, Political Life in Medieval England, pp. 1–17.

4

Where do Pamphlets Come From? Edward’s wars contributed to the centralization of the state and to the formation of England’s national identity. These wars cost a great deal of money that could only be raised via taxation, and with the increase of direct (and often regressive) taxes, in addition to the indirect subsidies levied on the lucrative wool trade, there came a further expansion of the administration that had been put in place in the time of Edward I. Furthermore, as these wars were fought with the claim of expanding the king’s territorial rights abroad, and not in response to foreign military aggression, they required justification to the large number of men recruited into military service from the ranks of the yeomen and gentry.9 Beginning in the late 1340s, the crown boosted interest in the wars by showing them in the enchanting light of chivalric culture, most notably through the foundation of the Order of the Garter.10 Around this same time rumours began to circulate throughout the country about impending coastal attacks by French fleets and a plot to eradicate the English language. All of these factors contributed to a new discourse of national identity that involved a collective notion of the government’s responsibility to the polity. For the purposes of the present discussion, it is enough to keep in mind that Edward’s wars helped to reinforce parliament as a regular, indispensable and central part of the machinery of government, though very soon it would be recast as a forum for exposing to the public the failings of this very same government as well as that of his successor, Richard II. By the onset of the Hundred Years War, the parliamentary Commons played a central and undisputed role in any grant of taxation to the crown. G. L. Harriss framed his landmark study of the origins of national taxation in terms of public finance and parliament, thereby emphasizing the notion of consent granted by the polity through this representative institution.11 However, parliament was much more than the body responsible for granting or withholding tax revenue, for the Commons submitted or adopted petitions on matters of public concern or pertaining to special interests from all corners of the realm. (While it is generally thought that private or ‘singular’ petitions as such fell into disuse in the late fourteenth century in preference to common petitions, Gwilym Dodd has argued that this simply was not the case, particularly as

9

10

11

G. L. Harriss, King, Parliament, and Public Finance in Medieval England to 1369 (Oxford, 1975), pp. 314–20; and Ormrod, Political Life in Medieval England, pp. 95–8. On the Hundred Years War and the formation of English national identity, see M. ­McKisack, The Fourteenth Century (Oxford, 1959), pp. 147–51; and M. Prestwich, ‘Why did Englishmen Fight in the Hundred Years War?’ Medieval History 2:1 (1992), 58–65. H. E. L. Collins, The Order of the Garter, 1348–1461: Chivalry and Politics in Late Medieval England (Oxford, 2000), pp. 86–106; J. Vale, Edward III and Chivalry (Woodbridge, 1982), pp. 42–94; M. Keen, Chivalry (New Haven, 1984); and C. Oliver, ‘The Order of the Garter and the Development of England’s Cultural Identity’ (unpublished paper, University of California at Berkeley, 1991). Harriss, King, Parliament, and Public Finance.

5

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England receivers and triers for handling private petitions still were being appointed in the fifteenth century. Interestingly enough, David Zaret has looked to the practice of private petitioning in the seventeenth century for the origins of the public sphere.12) In this as in all matters of business, parliament depended on the staff of chancery clerks who were responsible for drafting the writs of summons for the convening of parliament, as well as the writs of expense for the knights and burgesses at the close of the session. These clerks received and enrolled the petitions, and forwarded them on for hearing before the king and council in the case of common petitions, or to the judges and law officers appointed as triers in the case of singular petitions. The clerk of parliament (always a chancery clerk) compiled the official record of the proceedings, drafted the statutes that resulted from the petitions, and occasionally left some trace of his own political sympathies in the composition of these (and perhaps other) records.13 By the 1340s, parliament routinely (though not exclusively) convened at Westminster, situated on the outskirts of London, three miles west from the city centre – travel between the two places was typically via a short barge trip along the Thames for the fixed price of two pence. With a post-plague population of approximately 35,000 residents, London was the largest metropolitan area in the country and the centre of much of the nation’s commercial activity in the wool trade.14 While most parliamentary historians do not much emphasize locale, the city had a great influence on the character of parliamentary politics and on the political culture of the many bureaucrats and civil servants who worked in the departments of the state located at or near Westminster. As of 1339, the exchequer and the central judicial court of the common bench were a permanent fixture of Westminster, and soon thereafter followed the chancery, the privy seal, the court of the king’s bench, and

12

13

14

G. Dodd, Justice and Grace: Private Petitioning and the English Parliament in the Late Middle Ages (Oxford, 2007), pp. 156–87; and D. Zaret, ‘Petitions and the “Invention” of Public Opinion in the English Revolution’, American Journal of Sociology 6 (1996), 1497–555. T. F. Tout calculates the number of the chancery staff at 120 clerks in this period (Chapters in the Administrative History of Mediaeval England: the Wardrobe, the Chamber and the Small Seals, 6 vols. (Manchester, 1928), III, 445). See also Tout’s ‘Household of the Chancery and its Disintegration’, in Essays in History Presented to Reginald Lane Poole, ed. H. W. C. Davis (London, 1927), pp. 46–85; A. F. Pollard, Evolution of Parliament (London, 1926), pp. 73–4; and B. Wilkinson, The Chancery under Edward III (Manchester, 1929), pp. 81, 84. Population estimates for post-plague London are based on the poll tax returns of 1377. Cited in B. Hanawalt, Growing up in Medieval London (Oxford, 1993), p. 24; also D. M. Palliser, ‘Urban Society’, in Fifteenth Century Attitudes: Perceptions of Society in Late Medieval England, ed. R. Horrox (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 132–49 (p. 133). See also B. Megson, ‘Mortality among London Citizens in the Black Death’, Medieval Prosopography 19 (1998), 125–33. On London in this period, see C. Barron, London in the Later Middle Ages: Government and People, 1200–1500 (Oxford, 2004).

6

Where do Pamphlets Come From? the office of works. Many other government jobs were located at the eastern edge of London, at the custom house or the Tower of London.15 Between the city walls and Westminster, in the area known as Farringdon Without, was the Temple where the lawyers took up their residence (some four hundred common lawyers practised their trade at Westminster each year), near to the households of the chancery clerks with whom they occasionally competed in sports at Fickett’s field.16 By the late 1370s, this neighbourhood at the western edge of the city would also include the residence of the clerks of the privy seal located on the Strand. Within the city walls, just north of St Paul’s Cathedral on Paternoster Row, were located the craftsmen who laboured in the city’s early manuscript-book trade and the legal scriveners who drafted bills, deeds or wills in exchange for a fee (undoubtedly some of these scriveners moonlighted as lawyers).17 Lastly, there were the city clerks employed at the Guildhall, the centre of the city’s government, who may have felt some kinship with the clerks who worked for the crown.18

Civil servants and the ‘literary underground’ of late medieval London Though their exact functions differed one from another just as their employers and patrons differed, this extended professional and clerical class to a man made their living by their ability to write. Some achieved enduring recognition through their writing, often of a literary sort, such as Geoffrey Chaucer (customs officer at the port of London from 1374 to 1386), Thomas Usk (onetime scrivener for a prominent London political party) and William Langland (also thought to be a scrivener), and later Thomas Hoccleve (life-

15 16

17

18

On the history of the office of works, see J. H. Harvey, ‘The Medieval Office of Works’, The Journal of the British Archaeological Association 6 (1941), 20–87. A. G. Rosser, Medieval Westminster, 1200–1540 (Oxford, 1989), p. 37; and T. F. Tout, The Beginnings of a Modern Capital: London and Westminster in the Fourteenth Century, Proceedings of the British Academy 11 (London, 1923), p. 20. N. Ramsay, ‘Scriveners and Notaries as Legal Intermediaries in Later Medieval England’, in Enterprise and Individuals in Fifteenth-Century England, ed. J. Kermode (Gloucester, 1991), pp. 118–31; C. P. Christianson, ‘Evidence for the Study of London’s Late Medieval Manuscript-Book Trade’, in Book Production and Publishing in Britain, 1375–1475, ed. J. Griffiths and D. Pearsall (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 87–108; C. P. Christianson, ‘A Community of Book Artisans in Chaucer’s London’, Viator 20 (1989), 207–18; and K. Kerby-Fulton and S. Justice, ‘Langlandian Reading Circles and the Civil Service in London and Dublin, 1380–1427’, New Medieval Literatures 1 (1998), 59–83 (p. 66). R. Bird, The Turbulent London of Richard II (London, 1949), p. 32; C. Barron, The Medieval Guildhall of London (London, 1974); and Barron, London in the Later Middle Ages, pp. 173–98.

7

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England long clerk of the privy seal).19 Other members of this bureaucratic class made up a significant part of the audience for these authors, though perhaps only informally – they were not the wealthy individuals who in the early fifteenth century commissioned costly manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales or Gower’s Confessio amantis, but the earliest listeners who gathered to hear recitations of Chaucer’s Troilus, and the initial readers of the many revisions of Langland’s Piers Plowman.20 More anonymous than the members of a coterie or a circle because of their number (already in this period there were 120 clerks and lesser personnel employed in the chancery alone), all the members of this audience of civil servants and bureaucrats could hardly know one another by face, though perhaps they could be linked by fewer than six degrees of separation.21 While they were not consumers in the strict sense of the word, for they did not have the income needed to acquire the finished manuscripts, they were nevertheless the informal literary market of late medieval England. They lived, learned and worked near one another, they frequented the same taverns along King Street in Westminster, they were granted first access to the writing of their fellow civil servants, and they understood the legalese and the inside jokes in Langland’s work as well as the allusions to the chancery in the anonymous Richard the Redeless.22 They were subject to the daily turbulence of city life and city politics, but their jobs kept them sharply focused on 19

20

21

22

K. Kerby-Fulton, ‘Langland and the Bibliographic Ego’, in Written Work: Langland, Labor, and Authorship, ed. S. Justice and K. Kerby-Fulton (Philadelphia, 1997), pp. 113–17; T. F. Tout, ‘The English Civil Service in the Fourteenth Century’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Manchester 3 (1917), 185–214; and T. F. Tout, ‘Literature and Learning in the English Civil Service in the Fourteenth Century’, Speculum 4 (1929), 365–89. On book manuscripts and their owners, see D. Pearsall, ‘Introduction’, in Book Production and Publishing in Britain, 1375–1475, ed. J. Griffiths and D. Pearsall (Cambridge, 1989), p. 7; and M. Richardson, ‘The Earliest Known Owners of Canterbury Tales MSS and Chaucer’s Secondary Audience’, Chaucer Review 25 (1990), 17–32. On public readings of Chaucer’s work, see J. Coleman, Public Reading and the Reading Public in Late Medieval England and France (Cambridge, 1996), chapter 6. On Langland’s audience, see Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Langlandian Reading Circles’, 59–83; and A. Middleton, ‘The Audience and Public of Piers Plowman’, in Middle English Alliterative Poetry and its Literary Background, ed. D. Lawton (Cambridge, 1982), pp. 101–23. In ‘Langlandian Reading Circles’, p. 78, Kerby-Fulton and Justice refer to Langland’s audience as a coterie, though they suggest that this group was ‘geographically defined but too large for face-to-face intimacy …’. In ‘Langland and the Bibliographic Ego’, pp. 116–17, Kerby-Fulton conversely describes Langland’s audience as ‘very small indeed’ and suggests that the members of this circle ‘were likely to be acquainted’. On Westminster taverns, see Rosser, Medieval Westminster, pp. 123–5. On the education of chancery clerks, see Tout, ‘The English Civil Service in the Fourteenth Century’; Richardson, ‘The Earliest Known Owners of Canterbury Tales MSS and Chaucer’s Secondary Audience’, pp. 18–21; and Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Langlandian Reading Circles’, p. 66.

8

Where do Pamphlets Come From? events at the national level.23 While these civil servants have been established as an enthusiastic audience for vernacular literature, there can be little doubt that they were just as eager to read the more ephemeral accounts of parliamentary politics. To emphasize the importance of the bureaucrats and civil servants who worked in the central administration and watched the political events of the day unfold around them has the unintended consequence of making late medieval government at the centre seem clean and sanitized, and almost woefully modern, unless of course one reads Hoccleve’s complaints about life at the privy seal, and then it seems all too woefully human.24 Nevertheless it is little wonder that at the turn of the twentieth century, constitutional historians, among the foremost of whom was William Stubbs, proposed that the central importance of parliament in the English government was the outcome of the progressive development of the institution during the medieval period and beyond.25 T. F. Tout’s definitive study of the history of the medieval administration gave focus to the Stubbsian constitutionalist narrative by his detailed examination of the everyday workings of the household offices, the chancery, exchequer and privy seal, and their role in the political developments and crises of the period.26 Tout proposed specifically that the great departments of state located at Westminster were responsible for instituting both baronial and constitutional limits on the crown and the household. Beginning about the mid-twentieth century, however, K. B. McFarlane and his students abandoned entirely the older Stubbsian view in favour of an examination of how politics worked at the level of the nobility, the most powerful members of medieval society. The result was a preoccupation with what McFarlane described as ‘bastard feudalism’ – the personal contractual relationship between a lord and his followers that specified paid service, as

23

24

25

26

P. Strohm, Theory and the Premodern Text (Minneapolis, 2000), pp. 3–19; D. Pearsall, ‘Langland’s London’, in Written Work: Langland, Labor, and Authorship, ed. S. Justice and K. Kerby-Fulton (Philadelphia, 1997), pp. 185–207; and C. Barron, ‘William Langland: A London Poet’, in Chaucer’s England: Literature in Historical Context, ed. B. A. Hanawalt (Minneapolis, 1992), pp. 91–109. Hoccleve, La male regle, in Hoccleve’s Works: The Minor Poems, ed. F. J. Furnivall, EETS ES 61 (Oxford, 1892); E. Knapp, The Bureaucratic Muse: Thomas Hoccleve and the Literature of Late Medieval England (University Park, 2001); and M. Richardson, ‘Hoccleve in his Social Context’, Chaucer Review 4 (1986), 313–22. On the lives of clerks in the privy seal, see A. L. Brown, ‘The Privy Seal Clerks in the Early Fifteenth Century’, in The Study of Medieval Records: Essays in Honour of Kathleen Major, ed. D. A. Bullough and R. L. Story (Oxford, 1971), pp. 260–81. W. Stubbs, The Constitutional History of England in its Origin and Development, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1887–1891). For a thoughtful commentary on Stubbs’s work, see R. Brentano, ‘The Sound of Stubbs’, Journal of British Studies 6:2 (1967), 1–14. Tout, Chapters.

9

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England opposed to the traditional tenurial bond.27 McFarlane repeatedly called attention to the use and influence of political power at the very top of the social hierarchy to build the networks of indentured retainers indispensable to warfare, local rule and estate management. The work of McFarlane’s students subsequently dimmed the spotlight on the history of the representative institution and de-emphasized the role played by the Commons in national politics in favour of an inquiry into how politics operated in the localities where the landholders held their bases of power. The flight of inquiry from Westminster and the surrounding city of London to the countryside dismissed the importance of parliament and the great influence of urban social and intellectual networks on the broader (and enduring) political culture.28 While it would be a fool’s errand to resurrect the older Whiggish interpretation of parliament’s history as the steady march of progress, there remain important and revealing connections between late medieval and early modern parliaments, and it would be equally foolish to ignore them. These connections do not lie in the development of the institution per se, but in the shared imagination of the institution’s potential and in the way that later generations reused the articulation of this potential to make the case for parliament’s authority. This shared imagination necessarily revolves around some of parliament’s most exceptional moments, such as the spectacular but fleeting and ultimately failed attempts to place a check on the cronyism habitually practised by the crown in its collusion with the London merchant capitalists in the later Middle Ages. From this perspective, it is not nearly as important that in 1376 the Commons in parliament triumphed over the crown as it is that someone wrote about it, for here is the kindling to fuel the imagination that burned brightly during the 1380s, and to re-ignite it again in the 1640s.

27

28

The term was coined by Charles Plummer in 1885, but rehabilitated by McFarlane in the 1940s. For a summary of the historiographical debate regarding Bastard Feudalism, see M. Hicks, Bastard Feudalism (London, 1995). K. B. McFarlane, The Nobility of Later Medieval England, The Ford Lectures for 1953 and Related Studies (Oxford, 1973); and K. B. McFarlane, England in the Fifteenth Century: Collected Essays (London, 1981). The study of lordship and patronage in the later Middle Ages has undergone considerable revision in recent decades. See C. Richmond, ‘After McFarlane’, History 68 (1983), 46–60; R. H. Britnell and A. J. Pollard, The McFarlane Legacy (New York, 1995); and R. Horrox, ‘Service’, in Fifteenth-Century Attitudes: Perceptions of Society in Late Medieval England, ed. R.  Horrox (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 61–78. For a critical assessment of McFarlane’s influence, see E. Powell, ‘After “After McFarlane”: The Poverty of Patronage and the Case for Constitutional History’, in Trade, Devotion and Governance: Papers in Later Medieval History, ed. D. J. Clayton, R. G. Davies and P. McNiven (London, 1994), pp. 1–16.

10

Where do Pamphlets Come From?

Reformist dreams and the Modus tenendi parliamentum One of the best examples of a parliamentary text that captured the imagination of reformers in both the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries is the Modus tenendi parliamentum.29 Much like the anonymous account of the Good Parliament of 1376 contained in the Anonimalle Chronicle, after decades of scrutiny the Modus still puzzles scholars. It is a daringly reformist treatise that outlines parliamentary procedure along an egalitarian scheme and provides that the acts and records of the institution should be made accessible to the public. It has no official credibility as a manual or handbook, and neither the authorship nor the exact date of Modus are known for certain. It may have been composed in the early part of the fourteenth century around the time of Edward II’s deposition, or in the later fourteenth century around the time of the Good Parliament.30 In striking parallel with the Anonimalle account of the Good Parliament, scholars concur that it is likely the work of a chancery clerk. Yet as the Modus contains only an idealized description of parliamentary procedure, and not an accurate one, it remains difficult to determine why it was written in the first place or whether it was actually intended for use in the pursuit of parliamentary reform. Most recently Kathryn Kerby-Fulton and Steven Justice, building on the work of Nicholas Pronay and John Taylor, have argued that the Modus was a strategic text to be consulted in moments of crisis or conflict – such as the parliaments of 1376, 1386 and 1388.31 (Whether or not the Modus was actually composed in the later fourteenth century, as Kerby-Fulton and Justice argue, is somewhat beside the point, for the manuscript evidence demonstrates that it was circulated and read at this time.) Kerby-Fulton and Justice empha29 30 31

For the text and translation of the Modus tenendi parliamentum, see Parliamentary Texts of the Later Middle Ages, ed. N. Pronay and J. Taylor (Oxford, 1980). On the difficult question of dating the Modus and the origins of the text, consult the citations in n. 32 below. K. Kerby-Fulton and S. Justice, ‘Reformist Intellectual Culture in the English and Irish Civil Service: The Modus tenendi parliamentum and its Literary Relations’, Traditio 53 (1998), 149–203; and Parliamentary Texts of the Later Middle Ages, ed. Pronay and Taylor. See also W. C. Weber, ‘The Purpose of the English Modus tenendi parliamentum’, Parliamentary History 17 (1998), 149–77; J. Taylor, ‘The Manuscripts of the “Modus Tenendi Parliamentum” ’, EHR 83 (1968), 673–88; N. Pronay and J. Taylor, ‘The Use of the Modus tenendi parliamentum in the Middle Ages’, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 47 (1974), 11–23; G. O. Sayles, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum: Irish or English?’ in England and Ireland in the Later Middle Ages: Essays in Honour of Jocelyn Otway-Ruthven, ed. J. F. Lydon (Dublin, 1981), pp. 122–52; V.  H. Galbraith, ‘The Modus tenendi parliamentum’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institute 16 (1953), 81–99; J. S. Roskell, ‘A Consideration of Certain Aspects and Problems of the English Modus tenendi parliamentum’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 50 (1968), 411–42; and M. V. Clarke, Medieval Representation and Consent (London, 1936).

11

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England size precisely those clauses of the text that most clearly articulate constitutional principles, such as chapter thirteen, where the line of reasoning is put forth that the king is obligated to attend parliament, but that his refusal to do so should have no effect on the validity of the assembly’s proceedings.32 They suggest that these principles might be invoked in the case of a stalemate between the crown and parliament, and they take into account the ownership of the Modus by key players in parliamentary crises, such as Thomas Mowbray. Mowbray was one of the junior Appellants involved in the Merciless Parliament, and there is strong evidence to suggest that the Appellants consulted the Modus when they composed the famous statement regarding the superiority of the law of parliament over all other laws, for their argument bears a striking resemblance to chapter fifteen in the Modus, which states that no English justice has the authority to judge in parliament unless he is explicitly directed to do so by the king together with the peers of the realm.33 Similarly, they endorse G. H. Martin’s analysis that the duke of Gloucester and Bishop Arundel cited the Modus during the course of the Wonderful Parliament in an attempt to force Richard II’s attendance.34 KerbyFulton and Justice furthermore argue the probability that the Appellants were introduced to the Modus by Geoffrey Martin, a prominent chancery clerk noted by Thomas Fovent for his role in the Merciless Parliament. Thus these scholars see the Modus as an integral part, if not a product, of a community of civil servants interested in promoting parliament’s authority. They make a convincing case for tying the Modus to the political interests of this particular milieu, and I would only add that, as with Fovent’s Historia on the eve of the English Revolution, late sixteenth and early seventeenth century parliamentarians such as Sir Edward Coke found the Modus compelling because it did such a very good job of historicizing their claims of an ancient constitution which challenged the encroaching sovereignty of the crown, so compelling in fact that it was published under parliament’s authority in 1641.35

32 33

34 35

For the text of Chapter XIII of the Modus along with an English translation, see Parliamentary Texts of the Later Middle Ages, ed. Pronay and Taylor, pp. 72, 85. Parliamentary Texts of the Later Middle Ages, ed. Pronay and Taylor, pp. 73, 86. On the statement regarding the superiority of the law of parliament, see below, chapter two, p. 46, n. 45. H. Knighton, Knighton’s Chronicle, 1337–1396, ed. and trans. G. H. Martin, Oxford Medieval Texts (Oxford, 1995), pp. 356–7, nn. 1, 2. C. Hill, Puritanism and Revolution: Studies in Interpretation of the English Revolution of the 17th Century (London, 1958); Parliamentary Texts of the Later Middle Ages, ed. Pronay and Taylor, pp. 51–9.

12

Where do Pamphlets Come From?

Good, Wonderful and Merciless But it was not the articulation of reformist ideals alone that captured the hearts and minds of writers and readers in the later fourteenth century, for the Good, the Wonderful and the Merciless parliaments were three acts in a political drama that gripped contemporaries because it threatened to topple those opportunists who had climbed to power primarily by their wealth and on the backs of the third estate, and who made no shortage of enemies in the process. Beginning in 1376, parliament put some of the most notorious public figures of the period on trial, individuals infamous for their influence, their capital and their close relationship with the crown. These men were either merchant capitalists themselves or agents who fostered ties between the government and London’s mercantile elite, often to the exclusion of the nobility and at the expense of the Commons. The commercial world played by its own set of rules, and these rules were designed to maximize the profits enjoyed by the privileged few who controlled the lucrative wool and wine trades.36 The revenue generated by these merchant capitalists proved irresistible to the crown, and both Edward III and Richard II did all they could to ensure their continued access to the money, promoting the interests of this group over the traditional concerns of the nobility and without regard for the principles of sound fiscal policy. The Good, the Wonderful and the Merciless parliaments exposed the avariciousness of the commercial world for all to see and threatened statesanctioned violence as a final recourse against corrupt officials who believed that somehow they would not be held accountable for their actions. It was the very spectacle of corruption put on view that captured the imagination of those writers who recorded the events of these three parliaments, and as a consequence their reports encouraged the perception of parliament as the institution best capable of guarding against government malfeasance through regulation and oversight. The criticisms of the government voiced in these accounts fall outside the inherited historical framework which views all opposition to the crown as either Lancastrian or baronial. They point instead to a reform movement located in Westminster itself – to the army of bureaucrats, civil servants and government functionaries who looked to parliament as the centre of their world and whose experience of the ‘political demimonde’ of 36

S. L. Thrupp, The Merchant Class of Medieval England (Ann Arbor, 1948); P. Nightingale, ‘Capitalists, Crafts, and Constitutional Change in Late Fourteenth-Century London’, Past & Present 124 (1989), 3–35; P. Nightingale, A Medieval Mercantile Community (New Haven, 1995); Bird, Turbulent London; E. M. Carus-Wilson and O.  Coleman, England’s Export Trade, 1275–1547 (Oxford, 1963); T. H. Lloyd, The English Wool Trade in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1977); and W. M. Ormrod, ‘Finance and Trade under Richard II’, in Richard II: The Art of Kingship, ed. A. Goodman and J. Gillespie (Oxford, 1999).

13

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England London fuelled their hostility towards London’s powerful merchant oligarchy.37 Believing that parliament was the only means to restore good government to England, Thomas Fovent was one of several conspicuous voices advocating reform and decrying corruption. This voice in turn encouraged seventeenth-century parliamentarians to contextualize their case against Charles I in order to show that it was the king himself who was outside the law because of his suppression of this representative institution, and so they unearthed the relics of their own reformist legacy. The republication of these first parliamentary reports bridges one of the great divides between these two worlds – the world before print, and the world after – a distinction that has assisted in obscuring for us the objectives of these writers in a way that it did not for seventeenth-century parliamentarians.

Bills and broadsides, pamphlets and poems Already by the last quarter of the fourteenth century, London seemed to Langland a chaotic and relentlessly commercial environment where greed ruled and where one always had to be on guard against hucksters and cheats. Purveyors of all sorts routinely indulged in petty fraud – brewers watered down their ale, victuallers used false weights, drapers stretched cloth for sale to customers, and moneylenders loaned counterfeit or clipped coins to their borrowers.38 But money was not the only thing exchanged between denizens of the city, for information was also available on the level of the street itself or in comparably social spaces such as taverns.39 Much of this information was oral, some was symbolic, but as scholars recently have demonstrated, a surprising amount of it was offered in writing. Most of this writing was in English, in the form of bills, libels and schedules posted on the doors of St Paul’s or Westminster, in the letters written to the rebels of 1381 under the pseudonyms of Jack Miller, Jack Carter and Jack Trewman, and in the numerous Lollard tracts circulated during the heresy trials of Wyclif’s most prominent followers in 1382 (not to mention official government statutes and ordinances which were proclaimed by the sheriff and subsequently posted in a public place for all to see).40 The examples grow ever more numerous by the

37 38

39 40

See below in chapter three, p. 80, n. 61. William Langland, Piers Plowman: The C-Text, ed. Derek Pearsall (Exeter, 1994), 6.215–45; Barron, ‘William Langland, a London Poet’, pp. 96–7; and Pearsall, ‘Langland’s London’, pp. 187–97. Strohm, Theory and the Premodern Text, p. 10. For a discussion of bills, libels and schedules, see W. Scase, ‘ “Strange and Wonderful Bills”: Bill-Casting and Political Discourse in Late Medieval England’, New Medieval Literatures 2 (1998), 225–47 (p. 237). On the broadside campaign supporting Wyclif’s followers, see S. Justice, Writing and Rebellion: England in 1381 (Berkeley, 1994), p.

14

Where do Pamphlets Come From? late fifteenth century when both Yorkist and Lancastrian supporters waged a war of negative publicity against one another through leafleting campaigns, the most notorious instance involving five severed dogs’ heads left on Fleet Street, each of their mouths holding a bill of complaint against the duke of York.41 Of course evidence for the dissemination of such short texts comes to us merely by chance – they were never intended to last forever, and we know about them only because they were expressly prohibited by law and occasionally copied by chroniclers into longer histories.42 That we know about them at all should correct a longstanding misperception about the communicative practices of late medieval dissidents, reformers and inquiring city dwellers alike. We typically do not think of the city before print as making great use of ephemeral texts, but such ephemera were an effective way to reach an urban audience. Just one copy could be circulated among a looseknit group of likeminded civil servants, political sympathizers or religious nonconformists scattered across the square mile of the city. And a satirical or out-and-out spiteful broadside posted on the gates of the city or the doors of a church would surely catch the attention of readers who passed by.43

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43

29. On Lollard texts, see A. Hudson, The Premature Reformation: Wycliffite Texts and Lollard History (Oxford, 1988). In Bale’s Chronicle, as printed in Flenley, Six Town Chronicles, p. 144; cited in V. G. Scattergood, Politics and Poetry in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1971), pp. 25–6 and Scase ‘ “Strange and Wonderful Bills” ’, p. 236. For the text of the poem ‘The Five Dogs of London’ (1465), see R. H. Robbins, Historical Poems of the XIVth and XVth Centuries (New York, 1959), pp. 189–90. Scattergood, Politics and Poetry in the Fifteenth Century, p. 30; Scase, ‘ “Strange and Wonderful Bills” ’; Justice, Writing and Rebellion, p. 29; and R. M. Wilson, The Lost Literature of Medieval England (London, 1952), pp. 198–202. On the prohibition of libels, see W. Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, 1272–1553 (Oxford, 2007), pp. 133–4, 143. In Merchant Class of Medieval London, Sylvia Thrupp estimates the rate of English literacy at a remarkable 50 per cent in this period (pp. 155–8). The consensus among scholars is somewhat more conservative, though medievalists generally make the case for a high rate of literacy during this period. See M. T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record: England 1066–1307, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1993); N. Orme, Education and Society in Medieval and Renaissance England (London, 1973); J. W. Adamson, ‘The Extent of Literacy in England in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries: Notes and Conjectures’, The Library 4th s. 10 (1929), 163–93; M. B. Parkes, ‘The Literacy of the Laity’, in The Medieval World, ed. D. Daiches and A. Thorlby (London, 1973), pp. 555–77; Justice, Writing and Rebellion, pp. 13–66; L. R. Poos, A Rural Society after the Black Death (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 280–8; M. Aston, ‘Lollardy and Literacy’, in her Lollards and Reformers: Images and Literacy in Late Medieval Religion (London, 1984), pp. 193–217; Hudson, The Premature Reformation, pp. 180–208; and J. A. Hoeppner Moran, The Growth of English Schooling 1340–1588: Learning, Literacy, and Laicization in Pre-Reformation York Diocese (Princeton, 1985). Early modernists tend to offer conservative estimates of literacy through the sixteenth century – see in particular D. Cressy, Literacy and the Social Order: Reading and Writing in Tutor and

15

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England However, conceiving of any discrete and handwritten text specifically as a pamphlet (and not just as a bill or tract) is problematic if for no other reason than it is hard to reconcile pamphleteering with the technological limitations of the late fourteenth century publishing trade. Until very recently, it was thought that there survived only one manuscript of Fovent’s Historia, MS Bodleian 9, acquired by the Bodleian Library about 1607.44 While its unannotated appearance indicates that it was unlikely to be the original manuscript (hinting that there must have existed at least one other autograph copy if not other copies), one manuscript alone fails to conjure the image of a text intended for widespread dissemination, no matter how short it may be. However, as I will discuss at the book’s end, the probability of the Historia’s circulation now seems somewhat greater with the recent discovery of an unknown manuscript dating from the second quarter of the fifteenth century, and found in the private collection of John Gordan III in Manhattan, New York.45 Nevertheless one might wonder about the size of the audience for a work composed in Latin – the Historia would have a more limited readership than something written in English, such as the letters written to the rebels of 1381, or even Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde. Here it is important to note that Fovent too belonged to the world of bureaucrats, civil servants and government functionaries who lived and worked in London (as I shall demonstrate in chapter three). This was not just his world, but his audience for the Historia, and such men were trilingual, and could certainly read Latin. (For example, John Gower wrote in all three languages, Latin, French and English.) In the late fourteenth century, English would have been an odd choice for writing an account of the events of 1388. English was the language of rebels, Lollards and poets. Anglo-Norman was for keeping government records such as the parliament rolls, and might well have been a tempting linguistic choice for writing about parliament – indeed this is the language of the account of the Good Parliament contained in the Anonimalle Chronicle. Latin however was still the predominant language for recording history, and this was certainly one of Fovent’s intentions.46 His readers would have understood his choice of

44

45

46

Stuart England (Cambridge, 2006). Fox however describes early modern England as a ‘literate culture’ in Oral and Literate Culture in England, pp. 11–50. See also F. Madan and H. H. E. Craster, Summary Catalogue of Western Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, 7 vols. (Oxford, 1895–1953), II, pt 1, p. 557 where the manuscript is listed as Bodleian Miscellaneous MSS 2963, though it is the same manuscript. On the identification and provenance of this manuscript, see C. Oliver, ‘New Light on the Life and Manuscripts of a Political Pamphleteer: Thomas Fovent’, Historical Research 83: 219 (2010), 60–8. Of course there are many important exceptions to this linguistic division, such as the chronicles written in Anglo-Norman in this period (including the Anonimalle Chronicle). As Given-Wilson explains: ‘Most of the chronicles of this period were written in Latin, although a substantial (and growing) minority were written

16

Where do Pamphlets Come From? language, and this perhaps makes the Historia a ‘learned’ or ‘insider’ text of sorts (as is also true of many texts written in English in this period). But as I have already suggested, these civil servants formed an important part of the broad literary market of late medieval London, particularly when it came to parliamentary politics. As Gwilym Dodd observes, they too were the primary audience for poems about parliament written in English and composed in the early fifteenth century, such as Richard the Redeless, Mum and the Sothsegger and the poems in the Digby 102 manuscript.47 In one sense, the case for calling the Historia a pamphlet is based on its republication some 250 years later as a pamphlet – the Historia was on the cutting edge of a movement that spanned the centuries. But in another sense, the Historia itself makes the case for its status as a pamphlet, and not just by its brief format. The text itself is not addressed to a patron or to a circle of friends, but to readers wishing to avoid adversities, scandals and the dangers and burning torments of death, a warning to all those who believed they were exempt from obeying the ordinances and statutes enacted by parliament.48 It was, like many later printed pamphlets, both topical and somewhat scurrilous. Furthermore there is some indication that Thomas Fovent’s readership may well have been familiar with the genre, for when Usk wrote the Testament of Love (1385–1387), he thought to describe his work as a ‘leud pamflet’, though here Usk elected to swathe his politics in a thin veil of ‘florid

47 48

in the vernacular. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, this usually meant Anglo-Norman (the informal written language of the upper classes), but by the mid-fifteenth century it almost invariably meant Middle English.’ C. Given-Wilson, Chronicles: The Writing of History in Medieval England (London, 2004), pp. xiv, 137–52. See also W. M. Ormrod, ‘The Use of English: Language, Law and Political Culture in Fourteenth-Century England’, Speculum 78:3 (2003), 750–87. See also the ‘French of England Project’ website: www.fordham.edu/frenchofengland/. G. Dodd, ‘Changing Perspectives: Parliament, Poetry and the “Civil Service” under Richard II and Henry IV’, Parliamentary History 25:3 (2006), 299–322. The first two sentences of the Historia are as follows: ‘Ex quo more diurnitates longeue a labili humanorum memoria presencia fataliter absorbeant, de quibusdam dudum fortuniis in Anglia de miro motis posteribus scripto redigere instans me racio monet, licet pueriliter, aggrediar in processu. Nec meminisse pigeat talia memorie committere que quisquis si diligens perlector animaduerterit speculum in parte habere poterit aduersitates et scandala, mortisque pericula et torrida cruciacula facilius euitandi.’ He soon gets to the heart of the matter: ‘Tandem quid, inquit, accidit? Predicti inprouidi consiliarii cum ceteris eorum commilitonibus propter predicta parliamenti patefacta et ordinata iracundie facibus inflammantur.’ Thomas Favent, Historia siue narracio de modo et forma mirabilis parliamenti apud Westmonasterium anno domini millesimo CCCLXXXVJ, regni vero regis Ricardi secundi post conquestum anno decimo, per Thomam Favent clericum indictat. Edited from a manuscript in the Bodleian Library, in Camden Miscellany 14, ed. M. McKisack (London, 1926), pp. 1–2.

17

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England art-prose’.49 Anne Middleton has made the case that Usk wrote the Testament first and foremost for an audience of clerks or ‘textworkers’, those who, like Usk himself, were highly literate and who were employed by the government or by select private parties as record keepers or to write up documents.50 As I shall discuss in greater detail, such ‘textworkers’ were writers and readers of pamphlets and alliterative poetry alike. Interestingly, Joel Fredell argues that many of the first pamphlets in Middle English were in fact poems, though by Caxton’s time the term ‘pamphlet’ will come to be the standard name for a small book.51 The word ‘pamphlet’ comes from a popular twelfth-century Latin poem entitled Pamphilus, seu de amore, which tells the love story of Pamphilus and Galatea. The poem was familiarly referred to by a diminutive form of the name of the protagonist, ‘Pamphi-let’, perhaps because of its small size. Pamphilet thus became a generic term for a short book or a work of modest size, and it is used this way as early as 1344 in Richard de Bury’s Philobiblon. However, Fredell raises the enchanting possibility that the designation ‘pamphlet’ carried traces of its amatory origins into the later fourteenth century, and was associated with the circulation of love lyrics and other secular poems, not altogether unlike Orlando’s bills suspended from trees in As You Like It. Fredell observes that the term ‘pamphlet’ is broadly used in Middle English – not only do we find it in Usk’s Testament of Love (where the word seems to retain its amorous connotations), but also in the early fifteenth century poem Mum and the Sothsegger (1370: ‘Yit is there a paire of pamphilettz of prelatz of the royaulme/ Yn the bottume of the bagge’), in Hoccleve’s Balade to the Duke of York (49: ‘Go, little pamfilet, and straight thee dresse’) and Regement of Princes (2060: ‘Þough

49

50 51

For Usk’s use of ‘leud pamflet’, see The Testament of Love, in The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. W. W. Skeat, 7 vols. (Oxford, 1897), VII, bk 3, ch. 9, ln. 54, as cited as the second entry in Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd edn, s.v. ‘pamphlet’. Strohm’s description of the Testament of Love as ‘florid art-prose’ is in ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer in the 1380s’, in Literary Practice and Social Change, ed. L. Patterson (Berkeley, 1990), pp. 83–112 (p. 98). For a more complete view of Usk’s politics as a writer, see P. Strohm, Hochon’s Arrow: The Social Imagination of FourteenthCentury Texts (Princeton, 1992), pp. 145–60; M. Turner, Chaucerian Conflict: Languages of Antagonism in Late Fourteenth-Century London (Oxford, 2007), pp. 93–126. A. Middleton, ‘Thomas Usk’s “Perdurable Letters”: The Testament of Love from Script to Print’, Studies in Bibliography 51 (1998), 63–116 (pp. 68–9). For what follows, see J. Fredell, ‘ “Go litel quaier”: Lydgate’s Pamphlet Poetry’, The Journal of the Early Book Society 9 (2006), 51–73. In this article and in notes 3–12, Fredell contrasts pamphlets with the better-known ‘booklets’ of the period as discussed by P. Robinson, ‘The “Booklet”: A Self-Contained Unit in Composite Manuscripts’, Codicologica 3 (1980), 46–69; R. Hanna, Pursuing History: Middle English Manuscripts and their Texts (Stanford, 1996), pp. 21–34; and J. Boffey and J. Thompson, ‘Anthologies and Miscellanies: Production and Choice of Texts’, in Book-Production and Publishing in Britain, 1375–1475, ed. J. Griffiths and D. Pearsall (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 279–315.

18

Where do Pamphlets Come From? þat þis pamflit/ Non ordre holde … I can do no bet’), and in Lydgate’s Churl and Bird, where the poet uses the term pamphlet and ‘little quire’ interchangeably. Like Fovent’s Historia, some of these poems still survive as discrete works in their original pamphlet form, such as Mum, as well as poems with distinctly Lollard themes such as Jack Upland, and Friar Daw’s Reply found with Upland’s Rejoinder written in the margins.52 Fredell further suggests that the responses to Piers Plowman – Pierce the Ploughman’s Crede, the Plowman’s Tale and Richard the Redeless – first circulated as pamphlets, as did Richard Maidstone’s Concordia, a ‘souvenir programme’ commemorating Richard II’s reconciliation with London. And while the idea remains controversial, perhaps Chaucer envisioned the Canterbury Tales as a series of pamphlets come together in an edited collection, for several of the tales appear in isolation throughout the fifteenth century.53 However while these various kinds of ephemeral writing bear some relationship to one another, Fovent’s pamphlet was not an alliterative poem, or a letter meant to foment a rebellion, or an anonymous bill posted at Westminster ridiculing Archbishop Neville of York, or a statement of Lollard theology advocating the disendowment of the church.54 His pamphlet was about parliament. By 1641 pamphlets about parliament were everywhere. But before 1376, no parliament had attracted such widespread interest or had been written about with such urgency. These writings were issued in the hope of building on the relatively new role played by this institution in redressing the escalating corruption of highly placed officials and hangers-on with close ties to the crown. Some accounts were the work of chroniclers so captivated with the novelty of the proceedings that they (or their rubricators) named the parliaments according to their outcome, one ‘de parliamento facto Londoniis quod bonum pluribus vocabatur (the parliament held at London which is called good by many)’, and another ‘parliamentum sine misericordia (the Merciless Parliament)’, filling the leaves of their histories with impassioned narratives of the trials and transcriptions of the official parliamentary records side by side.55 But a few reports of the trials were written as discrete texts by design – pamphlets – that endorsed the proceedings as the only means to

52

53

54 55

The single manuscript of Mum is British Library, MS Additional 41666, fols. 1a–19b; Jack Upland is British Library, MS Harley 6641 (fifteenth century); Friar Daw’s Reply and Upland’s Rejoinder exist only in Bodleian Library, MS Digby 41. See Fredell, ‘ “Go litel quaier” ’, p. 55, nn. 21, 23, 24. On this controversial point Fredell cites D. Silva, ‘Some Fifteenth-Century Manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales’, in Chaucer and Middle English Studies in Honour of Rossell Hope Robbins, ed. B. Rowland and L. A. Duchemin (London, 1974), pp. 153–63. Justice, Writing and Rebellion, p. 83. T. Walsingham, The St Albans Chronicle: The Chronica Maiora of Thomas Walsingham, volume 1, 1376–1394, ed. and trans. J. Taylor, W. Childs and L. Watkiss, Oxford Medieval Texts (Oxford, 2003), p. 2; and KC, p. 414. Fovent’s pamphlet however

19

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England restore good government, no matter how vigorously the accused maintained their innocence or how desperately the condemned pleaded for their lives. The institution itself seemed to invite this sort of impassioned response not only by its newfound power to expose the government’s backroom deals to the public, but by the release of the official records of the proceedings by the very clerks who kept them.56 These records are themselves discrete texts, and both the official and unofficial reports often seem in dialogue with one another, each one informing and influencing the next. Surely this is because civil servants for whom parliament was the centre of their world wrote them both.

Parliament and the man in the street Much of the inspiration for this book comes from T. F. Tout’s 1926 article, ‘The English Parliament and Public Opinion, 1376–1388’.57 Tout isolates these twelve years as a vital period in the history of the institution precisely because they are bounded by the Good and Merciless parliaments at either end. In his view, these two parliaments make up the most significant challenges to the crown’s autocratic tendencies before the advent of the Lancastrian dynasty. Though the successes were fleeting in the immediate context of both Edward’s and Richard’s reigns, they expounded precedents relied on by future generations of parliamentarians and at the same time proved instrumental in establishing a permanent place for the institution in the governance of the realm. If nothing else, the lack of pity showed by parliament in 1388 in the execution of Richard’s closest confidant and mentor, Sir Simon Burley, knight of the garter, effectively demonstrated that the king could no longer afford to disregard the law of parliament. It was a painful lesson, but one not lost on Richard, for in the very next parliament he strove to win over the Commons in the hopes of currying favour against his adversaries. However it is not simply as chapters in the history of the English constitution that Tout emphasizes the importance of the Good, the Wonderful and the Merciless parliaments. It is because 1376 marked the first occasion when chroniclers recorded the proceedings at length, signifying that parliament was at last the centre of the public’s attention – as Tout himself phrased it,

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seems to be the origin of the name Mirabilis parliamenti or ‘Wonderful Parliament’. On this see below, chapter four, p. 87, n. 11. On the accessibility of official government records, see Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, pp. 154–5, and ‘Langlandian Reading Circles’, p. 79. T. F. Tout, ‘The English Parliament and Public Opinion, 1376–88’, in Historical Studies of the English Parliament, ed. E. B. Fryde and E. Miller (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 299–317 (pp. 311–12).

20

Where do Pamphlets Come From? ‘Parliament was beginning to interest the man in the street’.58 Indeed the very names these writers attached to these three parliaments attest to their newsworthiness, for the designations ‘Good’, ‘Wonderful’ and ‘Merciless’ likely were common currency among the chattering classes before they were written in ink. This certainly seems to have been the case in 1376, for Walsingham specifically describes this parliament as that ‘which is called good by many’, suggesting the appellation ‘Good’ was already in widespread use at the time.59 Thus for these twelve years parliament was news, the trials capturing the interest of the public as never before and compelling chroniclers (but not chroniclers alone) to break their longstanding silence and report on the proceedings for their readers. Tout regards Fovent’s Historia as one of the most important tracts written about parliament from this period, remarking that ‘it paints in turgid colour scenes that are hard to imagine from the cold records’.60 He views such reports as evidence that parliament and public opinion were closely aligned in this period, believing that the true strength of the institution depended upon its ability to tap into the widespread indignation at the collusion and misconduct perpetrated by government officials. He proposes that without the support of public opinion parliament was powerless, riddled by factionalism and therefore subject to easy manipulation by the crown.61

The many publics and the imagined community of late fourteenth century England In all of Tout’s work, the phrase ‘public opinion’ denotes the shared or popular response of the public to the government scandals of Edward’s and Richard’s reigns.62 Here then it is important to consider the nature of the ‘public’ of late fourteenth century England. When Tout uses the word public, it seems to include as its base those with at least some degree of economic

58 59 60 61

62

Tout, ‘Parliament and Public Opinion’, p. 301. Walsingham, St Albans Chronicle, 1376–1394, p. 2. Tout, ‘Parliament and Public Opinion’, p. 322. For a different interpretation of the origins of public opinion in fourteenth-century England, see J. R. Maddicott, ‘The County Community and the Making of Public Opinion in Fourteenth-Century England’, TRHS 5th s. 28 (1977), 27–43 (p. 42). D. McCulloch and E. D. Jones offer a traditionalist assessment of the rise of popular and public opinion in ‘Lancastrian Politics, the French War, and the Rise of the Popular Element’, Speculum 58 (1983), 95–138. See also I. M. W. Harvey, ‘Was there Popular Politics in Fifteenth-Century England?’ in The McFarlane Legacy, ed. R. H. Britnell and A. J. Pollard (New York, 1995), pp. 155–75; and C. Ross, ‘Rumour, Propaganda and Popular Opinion during the Wars of the Roses’, in Patronage, the Crown and the Provinces in Later Medieval England, ed. R. A. Griffiths (Gloucester, 1981), pp. 15–32.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England standing in their community, perhaps yeomen, who presumably have some ability to read. At its broadest, he means it to refer to the middle strata of society. However in the course of a book-length discussion about the expression and circulation of ideas about parliament in post-Black Death England, it is necessary to be more specific than this. Parliamentary politics was of central importance to several different groups mentioned in this book – the population of civil servants and government functionaries who lived and worked in London; the London mercantile community; the urban crowds. These are the publics of the political pamphlets studied here – they are the groups to which the authors of these texts either belonged or which they addressed (civil servants and government functionaries), opposed (merchant capitalists), and observed in the course of their daily lives (urban crowds). To this list of publics one might add both the county communities and the lower clergy who were becoming politically active in this period, though neither of these groups is particularly visible in the London-centred texts and documents examined in this book. All of these groups had a stake in parliamentary politics and participated in political action and discourse in the space of the city (even if only as an audience for the trials and executions of 1388). All had different and often conflicting agendas. But all imagined themselves belonging to the ‘community’ or public of late medieval England, in part because the available political language of the day made it possible to do so. The articulation of a common or public interest is prevalent in political documents and texts of the later fourteenth century, and ‘community’ has long been a preoccupation of political historians who discuss the theory and practice of representation and consent in this period, especially as it relates to taxation.63 The idea of ‘the community of the realm’ had become much more inclusive over the course of the later Middle Ages – in 1311 when the Ordinances restraining Edward II’s rule were passed, the community of the realm still meant the barons alone, but within a short time this was no longer the case.64 The claim to speak on behalf of the whole community was made both by those with a great deal of political power and by those who wished to resist this power, such as the rebels of 1381 who declared themselves the trew communes.65 It is also found in Anglo-Norman political poems such as 63

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Harriss, King, Parliament, and Public Finance, pp. 1–26; Ormrod, Political Life in Medieval England, p. 33; M. Prestwich, ‘Parliament and Community’, in English Politics in the Thirteenth Century, ed. M. Prestwich (New York, 1990), pp. 129–45, and his ‘Parliament and the Community of the Realm in Fourteenth-Century England’, in Parliament and Community: Papers Read before the Irish Conference of Historians, Dublin, 27–30, May 1981, ed. A. Cosgrove and J. I. McGuire (Belfast, 1983), pp. 5–24. J. Ferster, Fictions of Advice: The Literature and Politics of Counsel in Late Medieval England (Philadelphia, 2000), pp. 15–21. The Anonimalle Chronicle, 1333 to 1381, ed. V. H. Galbraith (Manchester, 1927), p. 139. On this point see Justice, Writing and Rebellion, pp. 172–3. On the idea of ‘common profit’, see also K. Robertson, The Laborer’s Two Bodies: Labor and the ‘Work’ of the

22

Where do Pamphlets Come From? ‘Against the Kings Taxes’ (dating from about 1340), where the king is advised not to go to war unless ‘the community of his realm consent to it’.66 This assertion of commonalty often relied on something akin to smoke and mirrors, or as Emily Steiner describes it, ‘the blurring of the particular to convey a larger agency, a peculiar tendency to designate and obscure’.67 Importantly for the association between parliament and the public, commonalty was specifically linked to the representative function of parliament, and we find it asserted in parliamentary texts like the Modus, which states that the Commons speaks for ‘the whole community of England and not the magnates because each of these is at parliament for his own individual person, and for no one else’.68 Commonalty is heard in Peter de la Mare’s famous assertion that he would not speak before the lords in parliament until all of his colleagues who had been shut out were present.69 Nevertheless the assertion made by a particular group in parliament, or even by the parliamentary Commons as a whole, to speak for the community of the realm was understood to be a political fiction of sorts.70 This was because the parliamentary Commons itself was not a homogeneous group – it was made up of various constituencies, such as the knights of the shire, who represented the interests of the landowning gentry, as well as burgesses and citizens from towns who often acted in the interests of the mercantile community. Furthermore, some historians argue that members of the Commons

66

67

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Text in Medieval Britain, 1350–1500 (New York, 2006), pp. 78–118. On the idea of complaint and clamour in this period, see Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, pp. 54–110. Anglo-Norman Political Songs, Anglo-Norman Texts XI (Oxford, 1953), pp. 105–15. Discussed in Ferster, Fictions of Advice, p. 18. On the dating of the poem, see C. Revard, ‘Scribe and Provenance’ and J. Scattergood, ‘Authority and Resistance: The Political Verse’, both in Studies in the Harley Manuscript: The Scribes, Contents, and Social Contexts of British Library MS Harley 2253, ed. S. Fein (Kalamazoo, 2000), pp. 21–110, 163–201. E. Steiner, ‘Commonalty and Literary Form in the 1370s and 1380s’, New Medieval Literatures 6 (2003), 199–221. See also A. Middleton, ‘The Idea of Public Poetry in the Reign of Richard II’, Speculum 53 (1978), 94–114 (p. 112); M. Giancarlo, ‘Piers Plowman, Parliament, and the Public Voice’, in YLS 17 (2003), 135–74; J. Watts ‘The Pressure of the Public on Later Medieval Politics’, The Fifteenth Century 4: Political Culture in Late Medieval Britain, ed. L. Clark and C. Carpenter (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 159–80, and most recently his ‘Public or Plebs: The Changing Meaning of “The Commons”, 1381–1549’, in Power and Identity in the Middle Ages: Essays in Memory of Rees Davies, ed. H. Pryce and J. Watts (Oxford, 2007), pp. 242–60; and M. Nolan, Lydgate and the Making of Public Culture (Cambridge, 2005). Parliamentary Texts of the Later Middle Ages, ed. Pronay and Taylor, p. 90. W. M. Ormrod shows that the Commons made important steps in this direction in the 1320s and accordingly dates the Modus to these years. See Ormrod’s ‘Agenda for Legislation, 1322–c.1340’, EHR 105 (1990), 1–33. Anonimalle, pp. 83–4; discussed in chapter two below. Middleton, ‘The Idea of Public Poetry in the Reign of Richard II’.

23

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England often acted as mouthpieces for the lords, and so their agenda was not always their own.71 Various factional interests threatened to undermine parliament’s potential to act as a check on the crown. Accordingly the reformist agenda was often cast in terms of the intertwinedness of parliament and the public good, and this union was reinforced by other discursive sites, such as those parliamentary reports that both shaped and gave voice to public opinion.

The Habermasian public sphere However our understanding of public opinion has changed from the one employed by Tout’s generation, primarily because of the impact of the theorist Jürgen Habermas’s The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere on the study of political society. Habermas offers a very different definition of public opinion, one that is circumscribed by socio-economic class, print technology and historical epoch, and one that has very little to do with the public per se – it is the critical-rational debate between private individuals about the nature of political governance. As Habermas himself makes clear, public opinion is not concomitant with an ‘outraged’ or ‘informed public’. Instead, it is the opinion of private individuals expressed publicly. Additionally, the development of public opinion depends upon the emergence of the public sphere in the eighteenth century, which he describes as ‘the sphere of private people come together as a public’.72 Thus the public sphere often seems more of an abstract concept than a cluster of identifiable physical spaces. It is the realm where the critical-rational debate takes place among bourgeois citizens that mediates between the authority of the state and society. Of course the great frustration expressed by the countless scholars wishing to apply this theory to their own fields of study is the classification of the public sphere as an exclusively bourgeois development of the modern period. Nevertheless it is useful to reconsider the Habermasian model of public opinion in the context of a discussion of late fourteenth century pamphleteering, for in many ways it accurately describes the purpose of political writing in this period while at the same time it helps us to recognize these texts as the direct ancestors of later printed pamphlets. Admittedly, the application of a Habermasian framework to the practice of political writing in late

71

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H. G. Richardson, ‘The Commons and Medieval Politics’, TRHS 4th s. 28 (1946), 21–45; and G. O. Sayles, The King’s Parliament of England (New York, 1974), pp. 122–6. J. Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a ­Category of Bourgeois Society (Cambridge MA, 1989), pp. 2–27. See also Habermas, ‘The Public Sphere: An Encyclopedia Article (1964)’, New German Critique 3 (1974), 49–55.

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Where do Pamphlets Come From? fourteenth century England first requires detaching the category of public opinion from its dependence on the socio-economic class of the bourgeoisie as well as from the eighteenth-century marketplace of print. But then scholars have been chipping away at the limits of the public sphere for the last twenty years (virtually since The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere was translated into English in 1989), so at the very least this strategy has lost its shock value.73 Early modernists have stretched it back in order to take into account sixteenth-century political discourse.74 I hope only to stretch it a little further to include the activity of writers such as Thomas Fovent. Whereas Habermas contends that the eighteenth-century marketplace of print (specifically newspapers) played a central role in fostering the public debate over the nature of governance, it seems to me that late fourteenthcentury practitioners of what Justice and Kerby-Fulton term ‘parliamentary reportage’ were not content to wait for the arrival of the printing press. Already by 1376, someone thought to record the debates among the parliamentary Commons over the crown’s request for a grant of subsidy.75 Whoever the writer, he wrote by hand. Late fourteenth century England had no press, and only the most rudimentary of literary marketplaces, much of it located around St Paul’s in London. But the city did have an audience eager for news of parliament, just as it had a handful of writers who recounted the events of these parliamentary trials in vivid detail. Fovent is one such writer, and his short account of the Merciless Parliament of 1388 promotes parliament as the solution to certain corrupt practices that had become commonplace in England’s government.76 Therefore central to my reading of Fovent is the

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Habermas and the Public Sphere, ed. C. Calhoun (Cambridge MA, 1989); and B. Robbins, The Phantom Public Sphere (Minneapolis, 1993). A. Halasz, The Marketplace of Print: Pamphlets and the Public Sphere in Early Modern England (Cambridge, 1997); D. Zaret, ‘Religion, Science, and Printing in the Public Spheres of Seventeenth-Century England’, in Habermas and the Public Sphere, ed. Calhoun; Zaret, Origins of Democratic Culture; Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern England, pp. 26, 274; J. Raymond, ‘The Newspaper, Public Opinion, and the Public Sphere in the Seventeenth Century’, in News, Newspapers and Society in Early Modern Britain, ed. J. Raymond (London, 1999), pp. 109–40; and S. Achinstein, Milton and the Revolutionary Reader (Princeton, 1994), pp. 3–26. See also the essays in Print and Power in France and England, 1500–1800, ed. D. Adams and A. Armstrong (Aldershot, 2006). A recent notable exception to the use of Habermas by early modernists is C. Condren, Argument and Authority in Early Modern England: The Presupposition of Oaths and Offices (Cambridge, 2006); P. Lake and S. Pincus, ‘Rethinking the Public Sphere in Early Modern England’, Journal of British Studies 45 (2006), 270–92. See also J. Peacey, Politicians and Pamphleteers: Propaganda during the English Civil Wars and Interregnum (Ashgate, 2004), pp. 313–32. Here I am referring to the account of the Good Parliament contained in the Anonimalle Chronicle and discussed in chapter two below. Ferster, Fictions of Advice, pp. 22–4.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Habermasian distinction that his pamphlet belongs to the category of public opinion; it does not just inform it. The Historia is an opinion piece that covers a range of contemporary political issues such as the popular desire for good and regulated government and the widespread concern over the influence of corruption on the judicial system. I offer only one caveat – I would never accuse Fovent of voicing a reasoned opinion. The Historia is best described as a passionate and vitriolic political tract, and so, perhaps like Robert Darnton’s Grub Street pamphleteers who helped to take down the Old Regime, Fovent’s authorial voice was born of ‘visceral hatred’.77 This too is a type of public opinion, and it is an important one because it mirrors the often tempestuous and passionate nature of politics. Public opinion and political discourse have a history that bridges the divide between the world of print and the world before. It is a history intimately linked to the birth of the representative institution itself and exemplified by the work of a late medieval political pamphleteer, much as Tout described it in 1926. If we look at the medieval political landscape through the Habermasian lens, we see a flat, unchanging plane where public and private are one and the same.78 But if we look at the political landscape through Fovent’s eyes, it appears both varied and complex, made up of many different voices contributing to an impassioned political debate about government corruption on the one hand, and reform and regulation on the other. We see that late medieval London was a place where politics mattered, where political events captured the attention of a disparate population, and where individuals exchanged political opinions and ideas.

City reading In the introduction to his book on pamphlets in early modern Britain, Joad Raymond asks ‘What is a pamphlet?’79 The answer Raymond supplies is wonderfully detailed, tracing the evolution of the term in the late sixteenth century as it acquires the taint of ‘slander or scurrility’. At its simplest, a pamphlet is a short text printed in quarto format – a quarto is a printer’s

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R. Darnton, ‘The High Enlightenment and the Low-Life of Literature’, in his The Literary Underground of the Old Regime (Cambridge MA, 1982), pp. 1–40 (p. 40). Both James Masschaele and Wendy Scase voice similar criticisms regarding the limitations of the Habermasian public sphere and the exclusion of the Middle Ages. Masschaele focuses on the public space of the medieval marketplace as an important setting for a range of political activities (‘The Public Space of the Marketplace in Medieval England’, Speculum 77 (2002), 419–21) while Scase (‘ “Strange and Wonderful Bills” ’, pp. 226–7) examines the practice of medieval bill-casting as it contributed to the reification of the public political domain. Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern England, pp. 4–26.

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Where do Pamphlets Come From? term referring to a book made from sheets of paper folded twice, and thus smaller than a more expensive book or folio made of sheets folded only once. A pamphlet is therefore an inexpensive little book of sorts, generally on contemporary subjects ranging from politics to religion, and, by 1588, viewed by the crown as dangerous, particularly when it espoused pro-Catholic sentiments.80 While subject matter plays a central part in his taxonomy, Raymond’s answer relies equally on the technology of print and the developing marketplace where, for mere pennies, booksellers sell to curiosity-seekers and Counter-Reformers alike the little ‘pamflettes’, ‘trifles’ and ‘treaties’ so reviled by Queen Elizabeth. More significantly, Raymond makes the case that pamphlets helped to change the role of printing in society, transforming print into a powerful medium for swaying the public. By the end of the seventeenth century, pamphlets were the primary means of communicating a political argument to the public at large, and thus an indispensable part of political life. I contend that this process was first set in motion by the political reformers of 1376. In conjunction with the question of ‘What is a pamphlet?’ we might then also ask, ‘Where do pamphlets come from?’ In the last decades of the fourteenth century, pamphlets come from the city, or more precisely from the urban experiences of Westminster clerks and their fellow civil servants. Long before the introduction of the salon or the coffee house to European society, Hoccleve slogged his way home from the privy seal after a brief respite at a Westminster tavern, Usk congregated with the Northampton faction at Willingham’s Tavern, and Chaucer strolled down Friday Street, past an inn displaying a curiously familiar set of arms. All three of these London exploits are recounted by Paul Strohm in an essay describing the symbolic aspects of urban spaces, and I would append to this list Fovent standing amongst the crowd at Tyburn in 1388 and watching the execution of the former mayor of London.81 Pamphlets thus come from those individuals who existed in something of a netherworld between the city and the national government, and who were simultaneously fascinated and outraged by the corruption of both. They come from those who watched the parliamentary trials with a special interest, because the outcome affected their work and their lives. For the many clerks, scribes and functionaries whose days were preoccupied with the routine workings of government and government documents, these trials gave them the opportunity to use their skills to depict the judgments

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In 1588, the crown established a system for monitoring Catholic texts, proclaiming that royal officers should search out Catholic libels, books, and pamphlets along with those responsible for their distribution. Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering, p. 9, cites P. L. Hughes and J. F. Larkin, Tudor Royal Proclamations, 3 vols. (London, 1964–69), III, 13–17. Strohm, Theory and the Premodern Text, pp. 3–19.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England against the accused as the inevitable consequence of unchecked greed. These writers are the ancestors of the pamphleteers who littered the streets with reports of the proceedings of parliament in 1641.82 Their story begins with the Good Parliament.

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Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern England, pp. 151, 202.

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CHAPTER TWO

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlet

It was desperation that drove the government in 1376 to call parliament into session after a hiatus of some two years, for the crown was strapped with debt and this was the only way to raise the money required to continue the war against the French. Edward III was now too old to maintain direct involvement in the military enterprise he had started nearly forty years earlier, and his widely admired son the Black Prince lay on his deathbed at Kennington and would not live to see the conclusion of the parliament. Under the direction of the king’s next eldest surviving son, John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, the crown had begun to reevaluate the increasingly costly war with France, deciding to cut short recent losses by negotiating a truce that provided for a key English stronghold in Normandy to be handed over to the enemy. Both the truce and Lancaster himself were viewed with suspicion by a broad segment of the population who had either prospered from the benefits of the earlier successful campaigns or who had simply grown up with the war and believed wholeheartedly that the French were their enemy, and many Englishmen likely interpreted Lancaster’s very involvement in the diplomatic negotiations finalized at Bruges in 1375 as a sign that Edward’s age of chivalry was coming to a close. Of more immediate concern to those who viewed the government’s policies with growing apprehension was the current status of Calais. The wool staple had been re-established at Calais in 1370 after a temporary suspension the year before, meaning that once again all wool intended for export to Flanders must pass through this locale. In previous years the revenue from the staple had been used to pay for the defence of the town, but as merchants now had the ready opportunity to purchase from the government licences to evade the staple altogether, the crown was stuck with the expense of some £8,000 per annum for the fortification of Calais. This expenditure signalled to some a gross mismanagement of funds on the part of the administration, and distress over the widespread evasion of the staple coupled with the suspicion that Lancaster was now running the show fuelled questions, accusations and criticisms regarding the administration. 29

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England 28 April was the first day of the Good Parliament, but it proved unremarkable because too many representatives were delayed in their arrival to begin the proceedings. A political showdown was set in motion on the next day when Chancellor Knyvet gave his opening speech before the full parliament assembled in the Painted Chamber, requesting a grant of additional subsidies to help finance the war with France, the customary tenth from the clergy and fifteenth from the Commons. Knyvet’s speech was formulaic enough, outlining the standard causes for the summons of parliament, including the defence of the realm against the king’s enemies and the necessity of continuing the war with France. But the Commons were not in a giving mood, and they sequestered themselves in the chapter house for several days to debate the validity of Knyvet’s request, taking an oath of loyalty to one another to ensure their collective stance.1 One question in particular seemed to hang in the air of the meeting room as a dark cloud signalling the impending storm: where had all the money gone?

Behind closed doors The Commons’ debate took place behind closed doors and away from the possible interference of interested parties, but nevertheless someone wrote down what was said there as part of a description of the Good Parliament. This description is contained in the Anonimalle Chronicle originating from St Mary’s York and it is quite unlike any other account of any preceding parliament.2 I am not the first to argue that a different type of writing appeared in 1376, for scholars have long studied reports of the Good Parliament by Thomas Walsingham and in the Anonimalle because they tell more about what happened in this parliament than anything written before. But whereas Walsingham repeatedly indulges in malicious attacks on the duke of Lancaster, the Anonimalle is of particular importance because it reads like an impartial eyewitness account. Nevertheless it poses certain challenges to a discussion of its seemingly objective viewpoint, not the least of which is the author’s anonymity. While some have tried to unravel this mystery, as yet no one has asked why it was written in the first place, probably because most assume it to be simply a testament to the exciting nature of the proceedings. Here I

1

2

The Good Parliament records do not clearly give the dates, and the exact number of days for which the Commons held their debates in the chapter house has been disputed. See in particular J. G. Edwards, The Commons in Medieval English Parliaments, The Creighton Lecture in History 1957 (London, 1958), pp. 36–8. The editor, V. H. Galbraith, explains the origins of the chronicle’s title on the first page of his preface. The name of the parliament of 1376, the so-called Good Parliament, first appears in Walsingham, where it is described as ‘de parliamento facto Londoniis quod bonum a pluribus vocabatur’. St Albans Chronicle, p. lxxi.

30

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets will suggest a different intention – it was written to serve the growing interest of civil servants, reformers, and malcontents in parliament as the primary means to address government corruption. There is no doubt that the Good Parliament was a newsworthy event, for the Commons’ determination to expose the misconduct of the current administration was nearly unprecedented in its resolve. They led the charge in a spectacular attack on the excesses and misconduct of Edward III’s government, making public the recent military debacles and the shady financial deals of a discredited court once famous for waging profitable campaigns against the French. Edward’s influential mistress, Alice Perrers, was one of a small group of courtiers singled out for blame, accused of using her position to take advantage of an aging king as the crown teetered on the brink of insolvency.3 When the session wrapped up some ten weeks later, a network of six associates had been put on trial, comprising the chamberlain William Latimer, John Neville, steward of the household from 1371, William Elys, collector of customs at Yarmouth, the merchant Richard Lyons, and fellow Londoners Adam Bury and John Pecche.4 The Commons moreover held steadfast to the very end, refusing to meet the request for a subsidy to the crown and agreeing to only a brief extension of the customs on wool – it seemed to many a cause for celebration.

The mouse’s never-ending tale From the perspective of a parliamentary historian, there is nearly an excess of novelty about the Good Parliament, including the first identifiable Speaker of the Commons, Sir Peter de la Mare, and the first use of the procedure of impeachment against a government official. While some of these innovations foretold the evolution of the institution itself, in the immediate aftermath of the Good Parliament an intractable Lancaster soon erased many of the Commons’ reformist victories against the crown. The council of nine instituted by parliament to oversee the government was summarily dismissed, and the Commons’ eloquent leader Peter de la Mare was imprisoned in Nottingham Castle. In the following and aptly named Bad Parliament of 3 4

W. M. Ormrod, ‘The Trials of Alice Perrers’, Speculum 83:2 (2008), 366–96. See also Ormrod’s ‘Alice Perrers and John Salisbury’, EHR 123 (2008), 379–93. ‘Edward III: Parliament of 1376, Text and Translation’, ed. W. M. Ormrod, in The Parliamentary Rolls of Medieval England, ed. C. Given-Wilson, P. Brand, A. Curry, R. E. Horrox, G. Martin, W. M. Ormrod and J. R. S. Phillips, CD-ROM version (Leicester, 2005), items 15–47. Adam Bury did not appear in parliament to answer the charges against him. Three minor figures were additionally tried, including Henry de Medbourn, a clerk who worked for Latimer, and two Londoners by the name of John De Leycestre and Walter Sporier. The only mention of their trials however is in the parliament records for 1377, PROME, 1377, items 90, 92.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England 1377, the pendulum swung in the opposite direction when the Commons conceded the grant of the first ever poll tax. Opposed by only a handful of shire knights who hoped to secure de la Mare’s release, Lancaster saw to it that those impeached in the Good Parliament were formally pardoned, though some such as Richard Lyons would meet a far more gruesome end at the hands of his fellow Londoners during the Peasants’ Revolt.5 It was perhaps in response to the abject failure of the Bad Parliament of 1377 to continue the reforms of the Good that the poet William Langland thought to include the so-called rat fable in the B-text of Piers Plowman. Langland’s satirical portrait of a parliament of rats and mice that, after much talk, concludes it best not to place a bell on the cat because only the cat can bring order to the misrule of the rodents has long been the subject of scholarly debate regarding what it says about Langland’s view of representative government (though most scholars do agree that the cat stands in for Lancaster).6 Does the figure of the mouse that persuades the assembly of rodents that they need the cat to keep them in line represent Langland’s support of royal absolutism as Anna Baldwin argues?7 Or, as J. J. Jusserand first suggested over a century ago, does the inclusion of this allegory of parliament in the B-text demonstrate Langland’s support of the parliamentary Commons?8 Most recently Gwilym Dodd has proposed that Langland’s topical inclusion of the rat fable expresses the poet’s specific disappointment in the ineffectiveness of the parliament of January 1377 to back the reform programme and is not a generalized attack on the institution of parliament itself.9 Dodd’s argument is laid out with care and close attention to the parallels between the great number of unresolved grievances voiced in the common petitions of 1376 and many of the issues raised in the poem – such as maintenance, the various sources of the crown’s revenue, and the corruption of royal councillors – suggesting the possibility that the Bad Parliament’s outcome prompted the poet ‘to take 5 6

7

8

9

For the background to the parliament and its aftermath, see G. Holmes, The Good Parliament (Oxford, 1975). Matthew Giancarlo provides a summary of the vicissitudes of scholarly opinion regarding the meaning of the rat fable in Parliament and Literature in Late Medieval England (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 180–1. See also his discussion of the ‘Marriage of Meed’ and Alice Perrers in the same chapter, pp. 190–202. The connection between the rat fable in Piers Plowman and Bishop Brinton’s sermon of 1376 is discussed in a provocative but unpublished paper by P. Bunnie-Luv, ‘On Belling Cats and Catching Rats: Fables about Parliament in 1376’. A. Baldwin, The Theme of Government in Piers Plowman (Cambridge, 1981), pp. 15–20. See also A. Gross, ‘Langland’s Rats: A Moralist’s View of Parliament’, Parliamentary History 9:2 (1990), 286–301. J. J. Jusserand, Piers Plowman: A Contribution to the History of English Mysticism (New York, 1894), pp. 109–112. See also E. M. Orsten, ‘The Ambiguities in Langland’s Rat Parliament’, Mediaeval Studies 23 (1961), 216–39. G. Dodd, ‘A Parliament Full of Rats? Piers Plowman and the Good Parliament of 1376’, Historical Research 29:203 (2006), 21–49.

32

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets up the reforming mantel himself’ and give voice to these popular complaints in his work.10 Nevertheless I suspect the rat fable will continue to stir debate among Langland scholars precisely because it is a portrait of a debate; Langland perhaps recognized that the parliamentary process was often inconclusive because the debate was never-ending, for the institution could always undo what was done before. Yet the poet also grasped that the very phenomenon of the debate over governance was of interest to contemporaries, just as the author of the Anonimalle account understood the very same. Thus, as has been argued of the Peasants’ Revolt itself, the true revolution initiated by the Good Parliament was neither constitutional nor immediately political, but textual and communicative – it marked the first production and circulation of discrete parliamentary reports.11 Prior to 1376, one would be hard pressed to find any sort of description of the private debates among the members of the Commons in the chapter house at Westminster, much less purported excerpts of their speeches. Before 1376, it seems that no writer thought to record any aspect of parliamentary procedure in any significant detail. It had simply never been done but, as would become apparent in the years to come and with the ensuing political crises of Richard II’s reign, subsequent writers would build unquestioningly on this newfound interest in parliament, even as this interest evolved into a political stance that helped give rise to public opinion.

An author is found and lost again In his introduction to the 1927 edition of the Anonimalle Chronicle, V. H. Galbraith states plainly what is assumed by any careful reader of the narrative, for he observes that the description of the Good Parliament is not the work of the Anonimalle chronicler.12 His judgment that the account is simply too vivid in its application of detail and knowledge of parliamentary procedure to have been composed by a Yorkshire monk and in addition that the character of the prose is entirely different from most other parts of the chronicle is indisputable. However, aside from making some sharp observations regarding the specific features of the Good Parliament report, Galbraith here refrains from speculating as to the identity of the author, though he did believe much of it to be the work of an eyewitness. His comments spurred other scholars to try to solve the puzzle of the author’s identity, and the first to do so was A. F. Pollard, who in 1938 proposed that the author was someone employed in the 10 11 12

Dodd, ‘A Parliament Full of Rats?’, p. 36. On the textual and communicative practices used by the rebels of 1381, see Justice, Writing and Rebellion, pp. 13–66. For Galbraith’s initial discussion of the authorship of the Anonimalle, see his introduction, particularly pp. xxxvi–xlvi.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England chancery, perhaps the under clerk of parliament assigned specifically to the Commons.13 By virtue of the nature of his appointment, such a clerk might be the only one of the chancery staff to witness the heated debates among the knights of the shire that took place in the privacy of the chapter house, and the record of these debates is unique to the Anonimalle.14 Pollard builds his case for such an author on the long-standing association between York and the chancery – York traditionally supplied chancery with many of its clerks, and the connection between the two places explains how an eyewitness account of parliament came to be included in a Yorkshire chronicle.15 The opinion that the author was a chancery clerk is widely accepted because it is almost surely correct. Such an individual would possess the vocational familiarity with both parliamentary procedure and technical language that together distinguish this report from the description of the Good Parliament found in Walsingham’s so-called ‘Scandalous Chronicle’.16 Moreover I propose that the identification of such an author would place the impetus for the production of parliamentary reports squarely with that class of government functionaries who arguably had a professional stake in the effectiveness of the institution to bring about government reform. Nevertheless there remains the lingering mystery of who actually wrote the account. Pollard 13 14

15

16

A. F. Pollard, ‘Authorship and Value of the Anonimalle Chronicle’, EHR 53 (1938), 577–605. Tout dates the regular appointment of an under clerk of parliament from Edward III’s reign, though by 1388 he was called clerk of the Commons. See Tout, Chapters, III, 448. See also H. G. Richardson and G. Sayles, ‘The King’s Ministers in Parliament, 1272–1377’, EHR 47 (1932), 377–97 (p. 396). It should be said that some have raised doubts that the Anonimalle was actually composed at York, for the chronicle makes only a few references to events at St Mary’s. In 1928, J. G. Edwards suggested in his review of Galbraith’s edition of the Anonimalle that the occasional references to the priory of Guisborough in the chronicle’s later sections might indicate that this part of Anonimalle was copied from a Guisborough chronicle. See EHR 43 (1928), 103–9. Antonia Gransden also thinks there is no clear evidence to demonstrate the chronicle was composed at York – see Historical Writing in England (Ithaca, 1974), p. 111. While this further complicates Pollard’s hypothesis in particular, it would lend strength to my conjecture that the report of the Good Parliament was intended to circulate more generally. But Taylor, writing after these scholars, is quite convinced (and convincing) that the later section of the Anonimalle from 1369 to 1381 was composed at York; English Historical Literature, pp. 142–144, 260. The so-called ‘Scandalous Chronicle’ was first published as a part of the Chronicon Angliae, ed. E. M. Thompson, Rolls Series 64 (London, 1874), pp. 68–146. Much of the confusion surrounding Walsingham’s historical writing as it appears in the Rolls Series has now been clarified by the publication of a new edition of the Chronica maiora. This is The St Albans Chronicle, 1376–1394, ed. J. Taylor, W. R. Childs and L. Watkiss (Oxford 2003). For the ‘Scandalous Chronicle’, see now The St Albans Chronicle, pp. 2–124. For a reassessment of Walsingham’s work as a writer, see J. G. Clark, ‘Thomas Walsingham Reconsidered: Books and Learning at Late-Medieval St. Albans’, Speculum 77:3, 832–60.

34

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets long ago ventured to guess at the author’s identity, suggesting John Scardeburgh to be the most likely candidate. Scardeburgh was working as under clerk of parliament perhaps as early as 1373 and was possibly the holder of a prebend in the chapel of St Mary’s York, and thus he seemed a good fit. Almost fifty years later John Taylor rejected Pollard’s nomination of Scardeburgh on the grounds that the existing records were not sufficient to establish Scardeburgh’s relationship to York (John Scardeburgh was a common name and there were too many in the contemporary records with connections to York ever to be sure who was who), though Taylor himself similarly believed the inclusion of the Good Parliament report in the Anonimalle was in all probability the result of some sort of chancery link.17 It is striking however that, despite a difference of opinion as to the author’s identity, neither scholar believes the report found its way to York by chance, and this is because both assume it was written as a part of a chronicle. I believe otherwise. I think the account of the Good Parliament was written as an independent text, a piece of parliamentary reportage intended for circulation as it was. By chance or by a now untraceable network of readers between Westminster and York the report fell into the right hands, for the Anonimalle compiler knew a good source when he read it. As I will come to explain, a close reading of the text suggests this to be the most plausible interpretation, but this reading has received only modest support in recent years. Why should this be the case?

A chronicler compiles his source material The answer lies in the pages of the Anonimalle, for the later section of the chronicle contains not one but two exceptional narratives of historical events, the second being the highly prized description of the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381. The two narratives are both eyewitness accounts originating from London, and as they coexist in the same chronicle Pollard and Taylor do not rule out the possibility that they are the work of a single author who wrote some formerly longer account spanning these years, his original prose forever spoiled by the clumsy interjections of the Yorkshire compiler. They are not alone, for Galbraith initially suggested that the Anonimalle compiler had copied the narratives of the Good Parliament and the Peasants’ Revolt out of some London chronicle. Each scenario – the first that the Good Parliament narrative was part of a longer work by a chancery clerk writing most probably for York, the second that it together with the account of the Peasants’ Revolt was lifted by a Yorkshire compiler or copyist from a lost London 17

J. Taylor, English Historical Literature in the Fourteenth Century (Oxford, 1987), pp. 204–5. See also his article, ‘The Good Parliament and its Sources’, in Politics and Crisis in Fourteenth-Century England, ed. J. Taylor and W. Childs, pp. 81–96.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England chronicle – precludes thinking of the parliamentary narrative as a once freestanding report. Documented freestanding reports of parliament from the late fourteenth century are admittedly few in number and, as the above review of the scholarship cautions, the consensus is that the description of the Good Parliament was excerpted from some unidentified chronicle by the compiler of the Anonimalle.18 However, upon closer examination, the Anonimalle betrays no evidence of the existence of such a chronicle. In point of fact the Good Parliament narrative in the Anonimalle reads as a discrete report with a discernible beginning and ending, giving it very much the appearance of a self-contained piece. The report begins by declaring the exceptional length of the parliament – ten weeks altogether – and next recites the names of those nobles present, and gives a total of 280 for the number of knights, esquires, citizens, and burgesses in attendance.19 From this moment forward, the entirety of the report tells of the events as they unfold inside Westminster, giving particular attention to the Commons and their leader, Sir Peter de la Mare. The report concludes with Richard Lyons – the London merchant impeached by parliament for profiting excessively from loans made to the crown – imprisoned in the Tower of London, and so the parliament ends. The Good Parliament report is unconnected to the larger narrative of the Anonimalle except by the rather strained interjection of the compiler, who interrupts the report to relate a bit of popular hearsay regarding Richard Lyons. He tells the story of how Lyons sent a barrel full of gold to the Black Prince in the hopes of obtaining his goodwill, but from his deathbed the Prince refused the bribe, responding that he supported the Commons in their work to rid the kingdom of the influence of such extortionists.20 This was the extent of the Black Prince’s involvement in the parliament, for he died on 8 June, nearly a month before the session came to a close. It is a tale worthy of Walsingham in its blatant use of gold to distinguish between right and wrong, and unsurpris-

18

19

20

Fovent’s Historia is the only parliamentary description I know of in its original freestanding format. Like the account of the Good Parliament, other parliamentary reports must be isolated from the chronicles where they were routinely incorporated into the historical narrative. Kerby-Fulton and Justice recognize the narratives of the parliaments of 1376, 1386, 1388, 1397 and 1399 as probably having once been freestanding accounts; ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 154. Given-Wilson suggests that brief tracts or pamphlets were becoming increasingly common in this period, and describes both the description of the Good Parliament in the Anonimalle and the ‘Process’ of the Merciless Parliament of 1388 found in the Westminster Chronicle as belonging to this category; C. Given-Wilson, ‘Adam Usk, the Monk of Evesham and the Parliament of 1397–8’, Historical Research 66:161 (1993), 329–35 (p. 333). In reality a somewhat smaller number would have actually attended, as not all would have had an official reason to be present. See Holmes, The Good Parliament, pp. 107–8; and PROME, 1376, Introduction. Anonimalle, p. 92.

36

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets ingly it is repeated nearly verbatim in the so-called ‘Scandalous Chronicle’.21 But while it is typical fare for the scandal-mongering Walsingham, in the Anonimalle it is nothing more than a rupture in the report, and it is the only moment the narrative breaks away from the parliamentary proceedings. Perhaps the Anonimalle compiler thought the report as it stood too subtle in its morality or simply too technical for his readers. He halfheartedly tried to make it fit the standard definition of political scandal, imitating the style of so many chroniclers. Fortunately he lacked both Walsingham’s ambition and flair, and the report remained very much as it was initially composed, a seemingly institutional account of the Commons’ attack on the crown. The strongest argument for the Good Parliament report having been lifted from some missing chronicle is its mere proximity in the Anonimalle to the description of the Peasants’ Revolt, just as one ancient bone fragment discovered near another might be part of the skeleton of some prehistoric thing. But while Galbraith and Taylor suggest that both narratives may be the remains of a single larger text, they simultaneously propose another sort of author for the account of the Peasants’ Revolt – not someone who worked in the chancery, but someone in young Richard II’s entourage.22 This of course carries with it the implication that each narrative was the work of a different author. Putting aside this contradiction, the real problem with connecting the two narratives to a single author is textual – certainly both events take place in London or thereabouts, and certainly both narratives read like eyewitness accounts and therefore are judged reliable sources of information, but this is where the similarities end. The most striking if not downright peculiar thing about the Good Parliament report is that it refrains from passing judgment. Conspicuously absent are the slanderous remarks, character assassinations, and hyperbolic praise so characteristic of historical writing in this period. There are criminals, to be sure, but there are no villains. And Sir Peter de la

21 22

Walsingham, The St Albans Chronicle, pp. 18–20. Galbraith initially suggested Thomas Hoccleve, clerk of the privy seal, as the possible author of the Peasants’ Revolt account; Anonimalle, p. xlii. However some forty years later Galbraith reevaluated the evidence and wrote an article suggesting William Pakington, keeper of the king’s wardrobe, to be a far better candidate primarily because of his purported authorship of a chronicle mentioned by the Tudor antiquary, John Leland, in his Collectanae. It should be noted that he never suggested Hoccleve or Pakington to be the author of the description of the Good Parliament. See V. H. Galbraith, ‘Thoughts about the Peasants’ Revolt’, in The Reign of Richard II: Essays in Honour of May McKisack, ed. F. R. H. Du Boulay and C. M. Barron (London, 1971), pp. 46–57. Taylor however found Galbraith’s suggestion of Pakington as unlikely, preferring Hoccleve as an ‘interesting possibility’; Taylor, English Historical Literature in the Fourteenth Century, pp. 277–83, 319. Of Pakington, however, Justice remarked, ‘Galbraith’s suggestion was incautious, but it is not clear to me that it deserves the drubbing it has received’; Justice, Writing and Rebellion, p. 49, n. 114.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Mare is far more the model parliamentarian than the hero.23 There is no interpolation of the events, and no attribution to the divine, for it is constructed so as to allow the Commons to speak for themselves as they make their case against the accused. The same cannot be said of the description of the Peasants’ Revolt, for as the events of 13–15 June unfold, one cannot help but feel the writer’s distress as he laments the destruction caused by the rebels to parts of the city. He makes it known to the reader that after the rebels burnt to the ground several of the shops on Fleet Street, Londoners feared there would never be another house built there to the detriment of the beauty of the street, and he describes the damage to the beautiful priory of St John’s Hospital as a horrible piece of destruction. But more than his alarm at the ruin of London’s landmarks, he repeatedly tries to capture the state of mind of all those caught up in the events, telling of the king’s great distress, and of the shame of his councillors who failed to advise him. He writes of the hideous cries and horrible tumult that arose in the city, of God’s vengeance which the rebels would suffer for parading through the street to Westminster Abbey with Archbishop Sudbury’s head on a pole, of Wat Tyler’s rude and villainous manner, and of how the rebels fell to the ground among the corn like beaten men after Tyler was beheaded. The prose is not simply more colourful than the Good Parliament report, but it is also far more experiential, for the author’s viewpoint shapes the narrative as he recounts with great distress the heaps of corpses lying in the squares.24 It is not just the absence of dead bodies that distinguishes the parliamentary report from the Peasants’ Revolt narrative, nor is it simply a matter of style, but rather it is a disparity of intention that suggests each to be the work of a different author. The Peasants’ Revolt narrative looks back on the widespread confusion and terror of 13–15 June when the rebels assailed the city. The Good Parliament report seeks to exploit for the future the attack on the crown by the Commons in order to stake a new claim for the institution of parliament in the governance of the realm, perhaps trying to achieve for the long term what the parliament itself failed to do in the months that followed. Here for the first time parliament is depicted as the appropriate forum in which to confront, expose and correct the many ills of the administration before the watchful eyes of the Commons. The Commons boldly initiate the call for reform, and with unflinching determination they not only discuss the

23

24

John of Malvern’s continuation of the Polychronicon reports that there were songs composed to celebrate de la Mare’s heroism, but none of these seem to have survived. Polychronicon, viii, 385; Walsingham, Chronicon Angliae, p. 392. This reference is found in The St Albans Chronicle, 1376–1394, p. 90 n. 132. On the incorporation of Walsingham’s work into the continuation of the Polychronicon, see The St Albans Chronicle, pp. lx–lxii. Anonimalle, pp. 140–50.

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The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets urgent need to find a solution to the insolvency of the government, but they talk back to the crown and the administration, maintaining that the grant of an additional subsidy now comes with the price of accountability. Even the briefest review of Peter de la Mare’s words as they are recorded in the Anonimalle indicates that the report was written both to legitimize and publicize this debate. Accordingly, as much as the account contained in the Anonimalle is a record of the proceedings, it is also far more strategic than scholars have deemed it, for it makes calculated choices about what to emphasize and what to suppress, and these choices shaped the way individuals would imagine and write about parliament in years to come.

A parliamentarian is born From the report’s beginning, the reader is never out of earshot of the Commons as they gathered in the chapter house at Westminster to discuss the merit of Chancellor Knyvet’s request for a grant of an additional subsidy to support the war. Immediately upon entering the chapter house, the Commons unanimously swore an oath of loyalty to one another, and proceeded to speak in turn on the causes of the government’s impoverishment, asserting that Lord Latimer and Richard Lyons profited in an extortionate manner from loans made to the crown and the evasion of the staple at Calais. Latimer was not an easy target – he had enjoyed a successful military career in the 1360s, returning from Brittany to court at the end of the decade to become steward of the household in 1368 and chamberlain in 1370. In his position as chamberlain he managed a significant portion of the king’s personal finances and was free from the oversight of the treasurer. The Commons believed him guilty of abusing the office for his own personal gain by brokering unnecessary loans to the crown at excessive rates of interest and arranging for the sale of licences to merchants to evade the staple at Calais, thereby eliminating a significant source of revenue earmarked for the defence of this town. He was further charged with negligence resulting in the loss of two fortresses entrusted to his care overseas, namely Bécherel and Saint-Sauveur, though the evidence for his guilt in this instance amounted to little.25 Richard Lyons was Latimer’s accomplice in these financial schemes, a London merchant capitalist and city alderman who had made a good deal of money as a vintner and hoped to exploit his relationship with the court to increase his wealth by loaning money to the crown and using his post as collector of the wool subsidy at customs to manipulate the lucrative wool

25

Both Taylor and Holmes express their doubts regarding the truth of these charges. See Taylor, Historical Literature, p. 200; and Holmes, The Good Parliament, p. 133.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England trade for his own benefit.26 The other notorious individual singled out by the Commons for attack was the king’s mistress, Alice Perrers, accused by the Commons of siphoning off thousands of pounds from the royal coffers. De la Mare repeatedly demanded (and won briefly) her removal from court, but here she is hardly portrayed as the wanton harlot who consorts with magicians that Walsingham makes her out to be, and the Anonimalle omits any mention of the patriarchal ordinance enacted by this parliament prohibiting women from bringing lawsuits to the king’s court by way of maintenance.27 In the privacy of the chapter house, one knight after another approached the lectern and spoke to his colleagues of the reasons for the crown’s insolvency. The first speaker, an unnamed knight from the south, outlined the grievances with the administration, arguing that the revenue from taxes had been wasted and misspent, and that certain individuals at court had profited from their positions to the detriment of the king and kingdom. A second knight followed up these accusations by pointing out that the wool staple was removed from Calais in contradiction to parliament’s order, and that Latimer and Lyons were profiting greatly from the arrangement while the king now was forced to spend £8,000 for the town’s defence. Before yielding the floor to the next speaker, the knight declared the only solution to be the return of the staple to Calais. A third knight then counselled his colleagues to seek the cooperation and advice of the Lords before proceeding to make their case before parliament.28 After several more days of deliberating in private, the Commons nominated Sir Peter de la Mare to state their case before the Lords in parliament, for he had proven instrumental in the formulation of their complaints and shown himself to be a persuasive spokesman.29

26

27 28 29

For the specifics of the charges brought against Lyons, see Holmes, The Good Parliament, pp. 109–14. For a detailed account of Lyons’ career as a merchant, see A. R. Myers, ‘The Wealth of Richard Lyons’, in Essays in Medieval History Presented to Bertie Wilkinson, ed. T. A. Sandquist and M. R. Powicke (Toronto, 1969), pp. 301–29. For Walsingham’s portrayal of Perrers, see St Albans Chronicle, pp. 42–52. For the ordinance, see PROME, 1376, item 45. This is the first reference to the request for an intercommuning committee in the Anonimalle. See J. G. Edwards, The Commons in Medieval English Parliaments. Who were these outspoken knights of the shire? The Anonimalle does not even give their names and so the author of the account could not have been one of them. George Holmes however fills in the blanks, explaining that over half the knights of the shire were in fact real knights, many of whom were familiar with the court and had fought in military expeditions against the French. He estimates that there were seventy-two knights of the shire who sat in this parliament, and perhaps as many as one hundred and sixty representatives from cities and boroughs, though only fifty-six of their names are known. (We might recall that the Anonimalle reports the total number of the knights, esquires, citizens, and burgesses present to be two hundred and eighty.) The knights seem to have taken the lead in formulating the attack on the crown, but we know more about the political motivations of the burgesses who sat in this parliament from the content of the common petitions, for

40

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets Despite his prominence, de la Mare remains an obscure figure in the account.30 He is identified correctly as the steward of the earl of March, but there is no mention made of his appearance, or why he chose to involve himself in the attack on the court, or what he thought of the duke of ­Lancaster’s antagonism towards him, but only of what he said. His words are described as ‘wise’, but there is no explanation given for the fierceness of his attack on the crown – it is as though he is without interiority. While the omission of this sort information coupled with a predilection for the details of parliamentary procedure lends weight to the argument that this is a report written by a chancery clerk who had only a utilitarian interest in de la Mare, it has unfortunately led some scholars to suppose (incorrectly) that de la Mare was acting in parliament as the mouthpiece for the earl of March.31 (March was an enthusiastic military commander and, like the Commons, he too was greatly distressed by the recent loss of Brittany to the French and seems to have held Lancaster at least partially responsible for the government’s anaemic military policy. He was nominated by the Commons first to serve on the intercommuning committee and then on the council elected by parliament to oversee the government, suggesting they believed him sympathetic to their reformist agenda.) De la Mare however was no puppet, and while he and March were on the same side in the attack on the crown, there is no evidence of de la Mare’s subordination to March or to anyone else during the Good Parliament. The Anonimalle shows quite the opposite situation, for it reveals that the grievances voiced by de la Mare before parliament were widespread among the Commons, and that during the debates in the chapter house, the Commons reached a consensus among themselves regarding their agenda before they sought the cooperation of the Lords.32 This unique glimpse into the secret world of the Commons’ debate is certainly what sets the report apart from the scant previous descriptions of parliament. Never before had a reader eager for news of parliament been allowed to eavesdrop on the representatives of the shires as they indignantly

30

31

32

several address the concerns of the merchant community in London and elsewhere in England; Holmes, The Good Parliament, pp. 107–8, 134–9. For the details of de la Mare’s career, see J. S. Roskell, ‘Sir Peter de la Mare, Speaker for the Commons in Parliament in 1376 and 1377’, Nottingham Mediaeval Studies 2 (1958), 24–37. See Holmes, Good Parliament, p. 449; Roskell, ‘Sir Peter De la Mare’, p. 30 and The Commons and their Speakers in English Parliaments, 1376–1523 (Manchester, 1965), pp. 119–20; and T. F. T. Plucknett, ‘The Impeachments of 1376’, TRHS 5th s. 1 (1951), 153–64 (pp. 157–8). McKisack and Harriss both stress that the initiative for the attack came from the Commons and not from the March circle. See McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 393; G. L. Harriss, ‘The Formation of Parliament, 1272–1377’, in The English Parliament in the Middle Ages, ed. R. G. Davies and J. H. Denton (Manchester, 1981), pp. 29–60 (p. 58).

41

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England dissected the dismal state of their government and pointed the finger at a small network of corrupt courtiers and capitalists. In truth this is not a record of the Good Parliament as a whole – it trails off some six weeks before parliament’s end – but a record of the Commons’ role in the attack on the crown, and this is precisely why Pollard thought it to be the work of an under-clerk assigned to the Commons.33 The report takes great pains to stress the unity of the Commons’ initiative even at that moment when it was on the verge of breaking down, for de la Mare insisted he would not speak until all of his colleagues who had been shut out of parliament were brought inside, though it took some two hours to search them all out. The report makes no attempt to mask the novelty of their actions, for Lancaster reminded de la Mare that by custom only two or three members of the Commons might be admitted at a time. De la Mare however held his ground before the duke, and by this show of resistance he demonstrated that such customs are hollow in the face of a united front. The Commons relentlessly pursued their case against Latimer and Lyons, on 19 May calling the former treasurers Bishop Brantingham and Sir Richard Scrope before parliament to testify. Scrope promptly pointed the finger at Latimer and Lyons for charging the crown a premium of 10,000 marks on a loan of 20,000 made in 1374 when two other citizens of London, Adam Francis and William Walworth, had offered the treasurer a loan of 15,000 marks to be repaid from customs without an additional premium. But more striking than the Commons’ insider knowledge of the crown’s finances (a knowledge that Tout, Justice and Kerby-Fulton all suggest hints at a working relationship between the Commons and the clerks) is the record of their words, particularly the speeches made by de la Mare before parliament.34 In regards to the accusation that Latimer and Lyons had profited excessively by the brokerage of royal debts, de la Mare asserted that ‘when our Lord the king had borrowed great sums of gold and money from archbishops, bishops, 33

34

The greatest snag in Pollard’s hypothesis is one which he overlooks, and that is the narrator’s use of the first person in a passage recounting the request for the assignment of the bishop of Exeter and Sir Richard Scrope to the Commons: ‘Et quaunt ils furount venuz et assis entre les comunes, comencerount de parler de lour mater et dire a les seignours qils ne vodrount plusours poyntz dire en parlement avaunt qe le evesqe de Excestre et sire Richard Lescrope furount iurrez et assignez a vous …’, Anonimalle, p. 88. This makes it sound as if the passage were written by a member of the Commons, but J. G. Edwards points out that this occurs only in a passage reporting indirect speech, and so it might have been only ‘an unconscious inadvertence’. Edwards, The Commons in Medieval English Parliaments, p. 17. I am inclined to agree with Edwards’ assessment that this was a slip on the part of the author. Tout was the first to argue that the Commons’ attack on Latimer and Lyons demonstrated an insider’s knowledge of the administration. See Chapters, III, 297. KerbyFulton and Justice similarly believe that the Commons received assistance from the clerical staff of Westminster in preparing their attack on Latimer, Lyons and their associates. ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 155.

42

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets abbots and priors, citizens, and burgesses, and merchants, Lord Latimer and Richard Lyons bargained with each of them to have their tallies and gave them a much smaller sum where otherwise they should have received nothing. And this was done by deception for their own profit, so that they took tallies from several people by bargaining and paid to them for a thousand pounds only half this amount …’.35 Perhaps the Commons obtained the information regarding the repayment of royal debts from someone on the inside of the administration, or perhaps this complaint first emerged in private petition to parliament.36 Or possibly those persons cheated by Latimer and Lyons made the fraud the talk of the town. Regardless of the source of this accusation, de la Mare made the situation clear enough, that Latimer and Lyons were guilty of using their connections with the court to purchase the crown’s longstanding debts at discount, making a profit for themselves by receiving full payment for the debt from the exchequer.37 It is not simply the shocking nature of these charges or the undigested quality of de la Mare’s speeches that conveys the force of the Commons’ resolve and the strength of their case. Walsingham characterized de la Mare as possessed of a divine eloquence, but in the Anonimalle de la Mare was quick to reckon himself a fool, a rhetorical move meant to suggest that anyone might have said these things because the truth of the accusation was plain to all. Nevertheless he proceeded to make the case without faltering, and his address carried the infectiousness of a reformer’s zeal as the Commons cried out together for the arrest of Lyons and Latimer.38 De la Mare transformed parliament into a bully pulpit for reform, and he did so by the power of his language, suggesting the true potential of this representative institution to capture the imagination of a public longing for the prosperity and military successes of years gone by. On 24 May, after the Commons had debated in private for several more days on how best to proceed with their case, de la Mare made his most 35

36 37 38

‘ “… qe la oue nostre seignur le [Roy] avoist apprompte graunt somme dore et dargent des ercevesqes et evesqes, abbes et priours, citisayns et burgeys et marchaundes, le seignour de Latymer et Richard Liouns barganerent ovesqes les unes de eux pur avoir lour tailles et les donere pluis petite somme ou autrement rien ne deveroient avoir; et ceo fuist fait par sutilte a lour profit et issint pristerent taillies de plusours gentz par bargayne et paierent a les unes pur mille li., d li …” ’, Anonimalle, p. 87. PROME, 1376, Introduction. On the brokerage of royal debts, see Holmes, The Good Parliament, pp. 77–8, 113–14. The text here reads, ‘Adonqes toutz les comunes crierent a une voyce: “Monsire le duk, ore vous purrez bien vere et entender qe le seignur de Latymere et Richard Liouns ount falsement fait pur avoir les avauntages a lour oeps demesne, par qay nous prioms de remedy et redresse et qe le dit Richard poet estre arreste et mys en garde tanqe nostre seignur le roy et le conseil de parlement ount dit lour volunte de luy.” ’ This is one of the most electric moments in the parliament. Anonimalle, p. 90.

43

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England forceful allegations before the Lords in parliament, proclaiming that ‘we have declared to you and to all the council of parliament the many trespasses and extortions made by various people, and we have had no remedy, and no one around the king wishes to tell him the truth, nor loyally nor profitably counsel him, but always with deceit and mocking and to procure their own profit …’.39 Perhaps the writer knew this speech was one for the ages, for it was a searing indictment of the government’s failings, an affirmation of the Commons’ role in exposing the perennial corruption of the court and their right to restitution, and the espousal of parliament as the place for exposing the truth. Perhaps this writer believed that others would want to know what de la Mare had said, for his words crystallized the convictions of both a frustrated polity and those civil servants who worked in and around Westminster into an unyielding demand for reform. The very ability of the Commons to enact their reformist agenda depended on this discourse, and this would make them an object of satire, an easy target for the likes of Langland whose own concept of the ‘comune profit’ was at odds with what he regarded as their self-serving interests.40 The orthodox view of the great achievement of this parliament is the invention of the process of impeachment by the Commons in maintaining their case against Latimer, a procedure made use of in 1383, 1386 and again in 1388.41 McKisack however observes that it is not entirely clear that Latimer and Lyons were guilty of any serious wrongdoing, for the financial situation of these last years of Edward III’s reign was dire enough that Latimer and his associates might have been genuine in their efforts to find a stopgap measure to the continual shortfall of funds.42 Regrettably for those legal historians concerned with the origins of impeachment, the Anonimalle abridges the

39

40 41

42

‘ “… et nous dioms qe nous avoms declare a vous et a tute le conseil de parlement diverses trespas et extorciouns faitz par diverses gentz et nous ne oieoms poynt de remedy, ne nulle ne ad entour le roy qe luy voet dire la veritee, ne loialment ne profitablement voet conseilere, mes toutz iours de iapery et mokery et procurere lour profite …” ’, Anonimalle, p. 90. N. Lassahn, ‘Langland’s Rats Revisited: Conservatism, Commune, and Political Unanimity’, Viator 39 (2008), 127–55. On the origins of impeachment see M. V. Clarke, Fourteenth Century Studies, ed. L. S. Sutherland and M. McKisack (Oxford, 1937), pp. 242–71; B. Wilkinson, Studies in Constitutional History of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries (Manchester, 1937), pp. 82–107; and T. F. T. Plucknett, ‘The Origin of Impeachment’, TRHS 4th s. 24 (1942), 47–71 and ‘Impeachments of 1376’, pp. 153–64. For an intriguing discussion of the relationship between the impeachments of 1376 and the appeals of 1388, see J.  G. Bellamy, ‘Appeal and Impeachment in the Good Parliament’, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 39:99 (1966), 35–46. For a consideration of impeachment outside parliament, see G. Lambrick, ‘The Impeachment of the Abbot of Abingdon in 1368’, EHR 82 (1967), 250–76; and A. J. Prescott, ‘The Accusation against Thomas Austin’, in P. Strohm, Hochon’s Arrow, pp. 161–78 (pp. 171–2). McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 391.

44

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets details of Latimer’s trial and records instead a different but no less historically significant achievement. It carefully documents the stages leading up to the impeachment of Latimer and then Lyons as the Commons built their case – on 12 May a general accusation was made against the king’s councillors, and Latimer and Lyons were identified as the primary culprits in the scheme to defraud the crown. Both were next accused of the unauthorized sale of licences to merchants wishing to avoid the wool staple, of profiting grossly from loans made to the king, and of brokering royal debts. On 19 May the former treasurer Sir Richard Scrope and the Londoners William Walworth and John Pyle testified against Latimer and Lyons, and this testimony incited the Commons to call for Latimer’s arrest. On 24 May de la Mare demanded the removal of the chancellor, the treasurer and Alice Perrers, and he additionally requested the appointment in parliament of a new council to oversee the government. On 26 May Latimer was further charged with the losses of Bécherel and Saint-Sauveur to the French and shortly thereafter his impeachment trial began, though the outcome was increasingly certain with each new revelation documented in the report. When at last it is clear the Commons will not let up their ‘clamour’ (as it is described in the parliament roll) against him, the Anonimalle relates that Latimer requested legal council (he seems to have been allowed some legal advice), and that the charges against him be put in writing (he probably did not get this).43 In a last-ditch effort to stall the proceedings, he cannily protested that there was no prosecutor – to whom would he respond? The answer was perhaps an artful piece of improvisation, for the Commons insisted on maintaining the charges in common.44 We can only guess at the inspiration for the Commons’ reply, but the groundwork had been laid on 12 May when de la Mare stood before parliament and read aloud from a book of statutes (perhaps a copy of the nova statuta as suggested by KerbyFulton and Justice), announcing before all the Lords and Commons that the removal of the staple from Calais ‘was done against the statute made about it in parliament, and what was done in parliament by statute could not be

43

44

I strongly disagree with J. G. Edwards’ interpretation of this passage in his review of Galbraith’s edition of the Anonimalle (EHR 43, pp. 106–7), for I do not see any way to read the author’s tone as sympathetic to Latimer. On the contrary, I sense a note of pleasure in recounting Wykham’s response to Latimer’s request for a delay in the proceedings: ‘Mes sire William de Wikam evesqe de Wyncestre dist avaunt les seignours qe ceo ne covendroit poynt davoir conseil ne iour qare nulle ne savoit ses faites demesne sil bien come il savoit mesmes et purceo resone serroit de respoundre saunz autre avysement et saunz prolongacione de iour.’ Anonimalle, p. 93. Accordingly, Edwards’ passing suggestion that the parliamentary report might be based on information provided by Latimer’s clerk, Henry de Medbourne, seems entirely unwarranted. On ‘clamour’ in this parliament, see Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, 1272–1553, pp. 63–4. PROME, 1376, items 24–29.

45

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England undone without parliament’. Does this not also foretell the Appellants’ declaration in 1388 that ‘such a crime cannot be adjudged other than in parliament, and by no law other than the law of parliament’?45 De la Mare’s performance was not simply a step in the evolution of the constitution as Tout suggested long ago, but something far more culturally significant – it demonstrated that if one invoked a sacred knowledge of the power and authority of this institution, there was little the crown could do to argue.46 But the true crime in question would prove to be of greater import than the removal of the staple from Calais or the loaning of money to the government for profit, and this was the unregulated relationship between London merchant capitalists and the crown. For a brief but celebrated moment, the Commons found their calling in the attempt to expose this relationship for what it was – crass, corrupt and against the laws of parliament. It was Latimer who had granted Lyons and his cohort of merchant capitalists an entrée to the court – entrepreneurs such as John Pyle, mercer and longtime London alderman who would give evidence against Lyons during the trial proceedings in order to save his own skin, John Pecche, vintner, alderman, and onetime mayor of London accused by the Commons of acquiring from the crown a monopoly in the sale of sweet wines in the city for the purpose of increasing the price, and Adam Bury, London alderman and mayor of Calais from 1370 to 1376, who was charged with embezzling money intended for the defence of the town.47 Latimer and Lyons in particular were attacked for using their relationship with the crown to erode the monopoly held by the staplers on the lucrative wool trade by arranging for the sale of licences to merchants wishing to evade the staple at Calais, a practice which 45

46

47

For de la Mare’s possible use of the nova statuta, see Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, pp. 155–7. De la Mare’s famous declaration in parliament reads as follows: ‘Et sire Peirs respondist qe ceo fuist encontre la ley Dengleterre et encontre lestatute ent fait en parlement, et ceo qest fait en parlement par estatute ne serra poynt defait saunz parlement et ceo vous moustra par lestatute escript. Et le dit sire Peirs avoit une liver des estatutes prest sur luy et overa le liver et luyst lestatute avaunt toutz les seignours et comunes issint qil ne purroit estre dedist.’ Anonimalle, p. 86. Does this not also foretell the Appellants’ declaration in 1388 that ‘such a crime cannot be adjudged other than in parliament, and by no law other than the law of parliament’? Compare with the Appellants’ statement in 1388: ‘Qe en si haute crime come est pretendu en cest appelle, qe touche la persone du roi nostre dit seignour, et l’estate de tout soun roialme, perpetre par persones qe sont peeres du roialme, ovesqu autres, la cause ne serra aillours deduc q’en parlement, nepar autre ley que ley et cours du parlement …’, PROME, February 1388, Part 3 (p. iii-236). Tout, Chapters, III, 297. On the idea ‘that political reform could have the force of spiritual reformation’, see Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 153. For an analysis of the charges against Lyons’ London associates, see Holmes, The Good Parliament, pp. 109–14. For the impact of the Good Parliament on London politics, see Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 17–29.

46

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets surely provoked the London stapler William Walworth to testify before parliament that in 1374 he had offered to lend 15,000 marks to the crown without the charge of a premium, presumably in return for enforcement of the staple. Here was a situation that would be repeated again in the Merciless Parliament – a prominent London capitalist accused of abusing his lucrative relationship with the crown for excessive profit was betrayed at last before parliament not by his enemies, but by his friends and associates. Certainly the merchant capitalists knew this was the price they must pay for their own amnesty, and the surrender of Richard Lyons in 1376 and Nicholas Brembre in 1388 did not signal a reversal of fortune for the merchant capitalist party but only a momentary loosening of their grip on the machine of city politics. At its heart then, this and the other so-called crisis parliaments that followed in the early years of Richard II’s reign were efforts to curtail the influence of the London capitalists on the government by those in opposition for whatever reason – the knights of the shire who believed the association between the London capitalists and the crown to be the cause of the government’s insolvency, members of the landowning nobility who felt themselves alienated from their traditional political influence over the court and the king’s council by the intrusion of the capitalists, and the non-victualling crafts and the disenfranchised of London who would come to be represented by the political party of John Northampton. Strange bedfellows were made during these parliamentary trials, such as the makeshift alliance between some of the very wealthiest members of the nobility and the Northampton party, as various factions whose interests often conflicted with one another would join together to upset the capitalists’ stranglehold on the government.48 Parliament was the only place for the opposition to voice its concerns to any effect, a place where these temporary alliances could be formed under the pretext of the public interest, and where, with the assistance of chancery clerks such as Geoffrey Martin in 1388, the prosecutors traced the trail of the money as it led ever closer to the king himself.49 The London capitalists were kingmakers of a sort, and though with the Good Parliament they suffered a brief setback, upon the coronation of Richard II in 1377, a new and perhaps even more ambitious generation drew around the ten-year-old king.50 Those reforms begun in 1376 were mostly abandoned 48

49 50

It seems that John of Gaunt lent his support to Northampton only after the Good Parliament. See Bird, Turbulent London, p. 26. But as will be discussed in subsequent chapters, the Lords Appellant were quick to align themselves with the Northampton party in their attack on Nicholas Brembre, former mayor of London and wealthy merchant capitalist. On Martin’s role in the Merciless Parliament, see chapter four, p. 98, below. This group included Nicholas Brembre, William Walworth and John Philipot. Bird identifies as members of the capitalist party after 1377 the names of certain individuals who would come to dominate city commerce and politics by the end of the fourteenth century, including Nicholas Exton, Adam Karlille, William Venour, John

47

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England by the government once again under Lancaster’s control, though John Wyclif gave new force to the popular complaints against the papacy included in the communes petitions, authoring radical theological treatises which found brief support with Lancaster. It is tempting to see the reformist agenda as carried out on the ground (albeit in a far more sadistic fashion) in 1381 by rebels in London who targeted select members of the affluent classes, including Lancaster and Lyons, with acts of violence, and by the election of Northampton as mayor in the autumn of that year, who quickly embarked on a programme attacking the trade monopolies and political power base of the merchant oligarchy. Though discontent spread like wildfire in the late fourteenth century, nevertheless each of these events remains startlingly isolated in its complexity. But Langland well knew that there was little one could do against the pervasive influence of capital on the system, except to write about it. Just as money circulated, so might texts (albeit on a far more limited scale), and the Anonimalle account of the Good Parliament surely outlines a programme for future use, optimistically broadcasting a solution to the private financial deals struck between the crown and the capitalists that, however temporary it proved, would be used again and again until Richard II was old enough to refuse it.51 De la Mare and the Commons had been careful throughout to insist on the full cooperation of the nobility in their attack on Latimer, Lyons, Perrers and their associates, calling for a handpicked delegation of twelve lords to consult with them on the charges during the very first days of the proceedings – an instance of the occasional but not infrequent intercommuning between the Lords and Commons during which the Anonimalle clearly reports that the Commons took the initiative, presenting their case to the delegation and the Lords granting their assent.52 On 24 May, after he demanded the discharge of the corrupt councillors, on behalf of the Commons and before the full parliament de la Mare requested the appointment of a permanent council of nine to oversee the government. This is the first time such a council is sworn in before parliament, and it is the Anonimalle and not the parliament roll that carefully preserves the names of these councillors (Simon Sudbury the archbishop of Canterbury, Bishop Courtenay of London, Bishop Wykeham of Winchester, the earls of Arundel, March and Stafford, Lord Percy, Sir Guy Brian and Sir Roger Beauchamp), now agents of parliament in the pursuit of

51

52

Frossh, John Hadle, Adam St Ives and later Richard Whittington; Bird, Turbulent London, p. 29. Though the conflict between the king and the parliamentary appointed commission of 1386 was very much at the heart of the Merciless Parliament, by 1389 Richard assumed a far more cooperative relationship with the parliamentary Commons and soon after declared his independence as a ruler. On the significance of the Commons’ role in the intercommuning committee, see Edwards, The Commons in Medieval English Parliaments.

48

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets reform. The parliament roll however gives the ordinance of their jurisdiction, specifying among other things that the councillors were forbidden to accept gifts or rewards while on the job.53 The council was surely rendered ineffective by the time of Lancaster’s attack on Wykeham in the autumn of 1376, but this did not make the experiment a complete failure. A similar commission would be appointed by parliament in 1386 during the impeachment of the chancellor of England, Michael de la Pole, and though its jurisdiction over the government was also deliberately undermined by Richard and his associates, the authority invested in such a ruling body by parliament had penetrated the public consciousness to the extent that its subversion was now regarded by many as a crime in its own right.54 I would suggest that by the careful documentation of the names of the councillors as well as the description of their instatement into office, the report in the Anonimalle hoped to foster the perception of this council as an extension of parliament’s authority entrusted with the task of completing the process of reform initiated in 1376.55

Censoring the official record It is useful to compare the Anonimalle report to the parliament roll (the official government record of the proceedings) because while they are very different records of the same event, they are each (very likely) the work of chancery clerks.56 Among the many striking variances between the parliament roll of 1376 and the Anonimalle is the omission in the roll of the name of Peter de la 53

54

55

56

On the significance of swearing in the new councillors before parliament, see J. F. Baldwin, The King’s Council in England During the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1913), pp. 118–20; Plucknett, ‘The Impeachments of 1376’; and McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 390. On the prohibition against gifts to the councillors, see PROME, 1376, items 10, 11. This is especially true of Fovent’s interpretation of the relationship between the commission appointed by the Wonderful Parliament of 1386 and the events of the Merciless Parliament of 1388. See chapter four, pp. 92–6, below. J. F. Baldwin long ago suggested much the same thing, remarking that the inspiration for parliamentary control of Richard II’s councils probably came from 1376 (King’s Council in England During the Middle Ages, p. 120). On the council appointed by parliament in 1376 see Tout, Chapters, III, 299–300. Compare with the council appointed by parliament in 1386 as discussed by W. M. Ormrod, ‘Government by Commission: The Continual Council of 1386 and English Royal Administration’, Peritia 10 (1996), pp. 303–21 (p. 307). The terms of the 1386 commission suggest that parliament attempted to tweak the commission’s jurisdiction in order to safeguard against the mistakes of 1376, when the council appointed then was so soon rendered ineffective. The general content and form of the rolls of parliament for the later Middle Ages can be dated from 1341, and Ormrod suggests that the standardization of the rolls might be attributed to Thomas Drayton, clerk of parliament for much of the 1340s. See W. M. Ormrod, ‘On – and Off – the Record: The Rolls of Parliament, 1337–1377’,

49

Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Mare as the Speaker of the Commons, the significant abridgment of Chancellor Knyvet’s opening speech which leaves out his request for a grant of taxation, and the attribution of the appointment of the intercommuning committee to the crown and not the Commons.57 Without the narratives provided by Walsingham and the Anonimalle, we would know almost nothing about the leadership role played by the Commons in the Good Parliament, and it goes without saying that the history of the office of the Speaker would look quite different. W. M. Ormrod has suggested that the omissions in the parliament roll might have made this official version of the proceedings more agreeable to the crown. He qualifies this assessment however with a discussion of the 140 common petitions for 1376, demonstrating that the inclusion of select private bills in this section suggests a liberality or ‘creative contribution’ on the part of the clerks whose job it was to enrol the petitions – he goes so far as to suggest that in the context of the political crisis of 1376, these parliamentary clerks were all the more willing to assist the Commons in the articulation of their grievances and formation of their agenda.58 And their grievances were famously plentiful if not occasionally reflective of the puritanical concerns and reactionary leanings of the comfortable classes, such as complaints against vagrants, foreign merchants and gold-digging widows, as well as a request for the enforcement of the statute of labourers and greater restrictions on the autonomy of craft guilds. Other petitions were more in keeping with the parliamentary agenda, specifically the call for annual parliaments and the reform of the election of the knights of the shire. Many however clearly reflected private and local business interests, including an objection to the export of woollen yarn from Wiltshire, Bristol, Somerset, Gloucester and Dorset on the grounds that it should be processed into cloth domestically, and such petitions certainly owed their adoption to the assistance of the parliamentary clerical staff.59 It must be said that the parliament rolls overall for the late fourteenth century exhibit no consistent political stance on the part of chancery clerks – sometimes the record betrays their support for the Commons’ programme, and sometimes the record is censored to reflect the interests of the crown.60 But if the Anonimalle is read against the parliament roll of 1376, the former begins to look like a deliberate

57 58 59 60

Parliamentary History 23:1 (2004), 39–56 (p. 41). On the development of the rolls see PROME, General Introduction. PROME, 1376, items 1–3, 8. Ormrod, ‘On – and Off – the Record’. See also PROME, 1376, Introduction. PROME, 1376, items 52–211. Both the influence of the clerical staff on the selection of the private petitions for adoption by the Commons and the variable nature of the political character of the parliament rolls are very much Ormrod’s points. He additionally refers to the work of D. Rayner, ‘The Forms and Machinery of the “Commune Petition” in the Fourteenth Century’, parts I and II in EHR 56 (1941), 198–233, 549–570. For an analysis of the motivations behind the 1376 petition against vagrants, see A. Middleton, ‘Acts

50

The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets attempt to fill in the gaps of the official record by telling of the Commons’ initiative and determination. Tout was the first to observe that chancery clerks were instrumental in drafting the charges against the accused during the course of the Good and Merciless parliaments, providing the accusers with an insider’s knowledge of the workings of the administration and taking special care to always emphasize the pre-eminence of the law of parliament over all other laws. Tout was also the first to argue that these parliaments captured the interest of public opinion as never before, demonstrated by the marked increase of parliamentary descriptions in the chronicles from the years 1376 to 1388.61 Here I would like to bridge these observations and suggest that if we accept Pollard and Taylor’s hypothesis that the Anonimalle report was written by a clerk in the chancery, he probably wrote it as part of a campaign for public opinion waged by such clerks on parliament’s behalf. Chancery clerks and the other functionaries who occupied the many government offices attached to Westminster made their living by writing after all, and if they had assisted the Commons in making their case, why not also try their hand at publicizing the fruits of their labour? (I am not the only one to attribute this motive to chancery clerks, for Kerby-Fulton and Justice suggest much the same thing in their discussion of the influence of the Modus tenendi parliamentum on the Good Parliament and their examination of early Langlandian reading circles, pointing out that the Westminster offices were the source of many of the official and unofficial accounts of parliament that ended up in chronicles.)62 The parliament roll was not the place to expound on such victories precisely because it was an official record of the proceedings – chancery clerks would have to rely on other channels, though perhaps it was only the occasional renegade clerk brimming with literary ambitions who composed such detailed reports.63 A clerk who aspired to reach a wider readership might have believed he had much to gain from publicizing the proceedings of the Good Parliament, for the Commons’ attack was directed primarily at individual government ministers such as Latimer and courtiers in the household such as Alice Perrers accused of misappropriating government funds, and not at the administrative system at Westminster, which emerged from the crisis unscathed and free from conciliar oversight.64 As much as the Good

61 62 63 64

of Vagrancy: The C Version “Autobiography” and the Statute of 1388’, in Written Work, ed. S. Justice and K. Kerby-Fulton, pp. 236–40. Tout, Chapters, III, 297, 448–9, and ‘The English Parliament and Public Opinion, 1376–88’. See Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, pp. 154–5, and ‘Langlandian Reading Circles 1380–1427’, p. 79. On the typically ‘cursory’ nature of the parliament rolls in recording opposition to the crown see PROME, General Introduction. Regarding the Commons’ general satisfaction with the performance of the chancery and the exchequer, see Tout, Chapters, III, 306.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Parliament exposed the weakness of the government’s financial and military policy, it was a vote of confidence for the Westminster offices, and in particular for those chancery clerks upon whom the Commons depended to assist their case.

Of pamphlets and other short texts Fortunately, the suggestion that we read the Anonimalle as part of a public relations campaign for parliament does not rest on its supposed authorship so much as the type of record I believe it to be, and such records were not always a product of the chancery. So what was it? The answer depends on the response to another question – what was a ‘Process’? A ‘Process’, or processus in Latin, is the name given to a document contained in the Westminster Chronicle by the chronicle’s author, and it is a narrative record of the judicial proceedings of the Merciless Parliament – ‘composed in French after the manner of those employed in the king’s service about the court at Westminster’.65 As Barbara Harvey so persuasively argues in the introduction to the Oxford edition of the chronicle, the ‘Process’ was probably written for John Burton, keeper of the rolls in chancery, for use in compiling the official parliament roll. (How this document found its way to the Monk of Westminster is another matter entirely. Harvey suggests substantial ties between Westminster Abbey and John Scarle, the clerk of the parliament, much like the purported ties between York and John Scardeburgh in the case

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‘Sequitur modo processus et execucio dicti parliamenti secundum modum curialium apud Westmonasterium in obsequio domini regis famulancium Gallico sermone conscriptus, prout plane sequitur post premissa.’ The Westminster Chronicle, 1381–1394, ed. L. C. Hector and B. F. Harvey (Oxford, 1982) pp. 278–80. For Harvey’s discussion of the ‘Process’, see the introduction, xlvi–li. That the ‘Process’ of 1388 is said by the Monk of Westminster to have been written in French ‘after the manner of those employed in the king’s service about the court at Westminster’, suggests a further point of comparison with the account of the Good Parliament contained in the Anonimalle. Because the Anonimalle chronicle was composed in French, it is tempting to assume that the original report of 1376 was perhaps also written in the French of the civil service, and I am inclined to do so. However Galbraith suggested that this source might have been originally composed in English because of the sporadic occurrence of English words and phrases such as ‘ease termes’ and ‘en ease gard’ and the same has been said of the account of the Peasants Revolt. See Galbraith’s introduction, p. xxxiv. I would point out that many of these phrases occur in the quotation of direct speech, and furthermore that the occasional use of English reveals nothing about the language of the text – clerks were multilingual, and while they might have used French for record keeping, they undoubtedly spoke English. Fovent furthermore intersperses the Latin of the Historia with the occasional English phrase for the sake of realism.

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The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets of the Anonimalle Chronicle. The pervasive inclusion of such official and semiofficial documents in chronicles from this period suggests to me however that a compiler or copyist did not have to be all that well connected to get his hands on these records. On the contrary, perhaps the chancery was only too happy to hand them out to those who expressed some interest in obtaining them.) The description of the ‘Process’ given by the Monk of Westminster makes it out to be a semi-official document, one written from the inside and therefore reflecting what Harvey describes as a bias towards the Appellant cause, though I would characterize it instead as simply adopting an institutional stance on the proceedings. If the Westminster Chronicle’s ‘Process’ was simply a part of the parliamentary record keeping for 1388, it is unlikely to have been unique, and very probably there were other semi-official narratives of other parliaments, particularly of the parliamentary trials. Given-Wilson suggests this to have been the case in 1397–8, at the parliament where after a ten-year interlude Richard II exacted his revenge against the senior Appellants. Given-Wilson compares Adam Usk’s and the Monk of Evesham’s notably similar accounts of this parliament and concludes that both chroniclers had relied on some third source, a short tract or pamphlet neutral in tone that contained only a report of this parliament. He equates this lost parliamentary tract with the account of the Good Parliament in the Anonimalle and the ‘Process’ of the Merciless Parliament in the Westminster Chronicle, proposing that the 1397–8 report was also the work of an eyewitness, probably some chancery clerk particularly well versed in parliamentary procedure.66 G. H. Martin similarly notes that Henry Knighton copied into his chronicle a semi-official digest of the arraignment of Michael de la Pole in the Wonderful Parliament of 1386, and Martin describes this French document as analogous to the Monk of Westminster’s ‘Process’, thereby suggesting that the production of such texts was perhaps routine in the case of parliamentary trials.67 There are striking similarities in particular between the reports of 1376, 1388 and 1397–8 – all three of these reports are characterized by familiarity with parliamentary procedure and ease with parliamentary language; all three quote various speeches and replies made in parliament; all three concentrate on the case against the accused; all three end with the formulaic phrase ‘and so ended the parliament’, which is also the way the parliament rolls often end. Perhaps then all three of these parliamentary reports are best viewed as belonging to the same category of semi-official narratives composed by some

66

67

Given-Wilson, ‘Adam Usk, the Monk of Evesham and the Parliament of 1397–8’, pp. 329–35. On the use of parliamentary tracts by chroniclers generally, see also Given-Wilson, Chronicles: the Writing of History in Medieval England, pp. 174–7. KC, p. 363, n. 4. I would qualify Martin’s evaluation of this source by pointing out that it lacks the narrative quality of the Monk of Westminster’s ‘Process’.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England unknown clerk for use in compiling the parliament rolls – in other words perhaps each was a ‘Process’ of the parliament. Unfortunately we know frustratingly little about the vagaries of parliamentary records in this period aside from what has been copied in some chronicle or saved in an abbey archive for some chronicler’s eventual use.68 Kerby-Fulton and Justice observe that the parliament rolls themselves become more descriptive by the fourteenth century’s end, as though now ready-made for inclusion in the chronicles, but we still do not know exactly what was involved in producing these records in the first place.69 We can rely a little on these chronicles to be ‘collecting points’ (as Andrew Galloway has characterized them) for such records, but then we are left to try to make these embedded records tell from where they came.70 But the utility of categories can also tempt us to sort texts into tidy piles to which they never really belonged. A ‘Process’ of course is not necessarily a product of the chancery as the Monk of Westminster implies. It might also be among other things a category of parliamentary reportage, to which any sort of (semi-) official or unofficial document belonged. Though this book is predicated (in part) on the idea that in 1388 Thomas Fovent wrote a pamphlet, this is not what he called his Historia. In his opening sentence he describes his text as a processus, suggesting that he understood this category to be available for general use while at the same time exploiting the notion that, from the perspective of the reading public, there were no official or unofficial texts – one good read celebrating a parliamentary victory over the corruption of the court was as compelling as another.71 It was the Anonimalle account that 68

69 70

71

WC, pp. xlviii–li. I suspect the diligence of Richardson and Sayles has given us the false sense of security that we know all there is to know about the technicalities of parliamentary record keeping. See H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, The English Parliament in the Middle Ages (London, 1981). The same might be said of J. G. Edwards’ The Second Century of the English Parliament (Oxford, 1979). For a more sober assessment of the limits of our knowledge of record keeping, albeit one made long ago, see T. F. T. Plucknett, ‘Parliament’, in The English Government at Work, ed. J. F. Willard and W. A. Morris, 3 vols. (Cambridge MA, 1940–50), I, 90–4. Given-Wilson’s more recent assessment of our knowledge of parliamentary record keeping reinforces the limits of our knowledge regarding the compilation of the parliament rolls, as well as the imperfection of the rolls as accounts of the proceedings: PROME, General Introduction. Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 154. A. Galloway, ‘The Literature of 1388 and the Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, in The Letter of the Law, ed. E. Steiner and C. Barrington (Ithaca, 2002), pp. 67–104 (p. 83). The first line of Fovent’s Historia is cited in chapter one above, p. 17, n. 48. The uses of the word processus in this period are many, varied, and multi-lingual. I would suggest that in addition to the technical definition given by the Monk of Westminster, there is the possibility that Fovent also plays off one of the many meanings available in Middle English, namely a ‘narrative discourse’ or ‘written treatise’. On this see also Galloway’s note on the first page of his translation of Fovent’s Historia in The Letter of the Law, p. 231.

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The Good Parliament and the First Political Pamphlets opened the door to this kind of writing, providing both a template for parliamentary advocacy and a warning against the influence of London capitalists. Once the door was opened, both the sincere and the satirical came rushing out.

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CHAPTER THREE

The Making of a Political Pamphleteer

In the autumn of 1387, reacting to the increasing influence of certain courtiers on King Richard II, a coalition of magnates known as the Appellants formally accused five of Richard’s favourites of treason.1 Finding himself deprived of the support of much of his constituency, Richard acceded to a parliamentary hearing against the accused and, on 3 February 1388, parliament convened in the White Chamber at Westminster to decide the fate of several of Richard II’s most prominent supporters. As parliament began, the Lords Appellant entered the hall arm in arm, each wearing robes of gold cloth, and together genuflected to the king. The hall of parliament was filled with the great mass of spectators, but the accused were nowhere to be found, except for Nicholas Brembre, former mayor of London, who had been captured several days before. Geoffrey Martin, the clerk of the crown, stood in the midst of parliament and read out loud the articles of appeal against the accused. This took him two hours, and when he had finished, there was not a dry eye in the house, for all those who listened were stricken with grief at the things they heard. We know of these tears shed in parliament on this day because this scene is recorded in the Historia siue narracio de modo et forma mirabilis parliamenti apud Westmonasterium anno domini millesimo CCCLXXXVJ, regni vero regis Ricardi secundi post conquestum anno decimo, a pamphlet composed shortly after the close of the Merciless Parliament. This pamphlet begins with an account of the activities of the Ricardian faction from late 1386 to late 1387, drawn from the parliamentary articles of appeal against the accused. Next follows a dramatic narrative of the parliamentary trials of the Ricardians in 1388, culminating 1

These magnates were the king’s uncle, Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester; Richard Fitzalan, earl of Arundel and Surrey; Thomas Beauchamp, earl of Warwick; Thomas Mowbray, earl of Nottingham; and John of Gaunt’s son Henry Bolingbroke, earl of Derby. The five principal people accused by the Appellants were Robert de Vere, duke of Ireland; Michael de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, chancellor of England from 1383–86; Alexander Neville, archbishop of York; Nicholas Brembre, mayor of London from March 1377 to October 1378, and from October 1383–86; and Robert Tresilian, chief justice of the king’s bench.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer with the execution of those condemned, and these trials and executions are the focal point of the pamphlet. This narrative of the proceedings against the Ricardians is both precise and detailed and certainly reads like an eyewitness account, suggesting that the author himself was one of the many spectators who packed the hall of parliament. Furthermore, the author’s tone is both didactic and ruthless, leaving little room for doubt that he approved wholeheartedly of the condemnation of the accused. The pamphlet ends with the dissolution of parliament on 3 June 1388.

Who was Thomas Fovent? Who wrote this late fourteenth century political pamphlet? In its standardized form, the author’s name is recorded in modern bibliographies as Thomas Favent, but we find him in the administrative records of the late fourteenth century as Thomas Fovent.2 But who was Thomas Fovent? Fovent’s Historia mirabilis parliamenti, the only text we can ascribe to his authorship, was brought to the general attention of medieval scholars by May McKisack’s 1926 edition published in the Camden Miscellany. McKisack’s edition was based on the only known manuscript of the Historia, MS Bodleian 9, acquired by the Bodleian Library about 1607.3 In her introduction to her 1926 edition

2

3

I have elected to refer to the author of the Historia by his name as it is typically found written in the administrative records of the late fourteenth century, that is as ‘Fovent’. However, he remains ‘Favent’ in the citations to the Historia, for this reflects the standard bibliographic listing. See Summary Catalogue of Western Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, where the manuscript is listed as Bodleian Miscellaneous MSS 2963, though it is the same manuscript. This manuscript is a small roll made up of four parchment membranes stitched together, and it measures 108 in. × 11⅛ in. The length of each of the first three sheets is 32 inches; the fourth sheet is 12 inches long. It has illuminated capitals throughout, and the handwriting seems to date from the late fourteenth century. The manuscript’s full title is not original to the narrative itself and was added subsequently by a rubricator, for it misleadingly refers to the parliament of 1386, the so-called Wonderful Parliament. McKisack observed that this manuscript clearly is not the author’s original draft; not only is the text free from corrections, but there are both grammatical errors and incorrect dates. She concludes that it was copied by a scribe whose Latin was rather poor. While technically speaking the manuscript is a roll, McKisack thought it best to describe the Historia as a ‘political pamphlet’ because of the topical and scurrilous nature of the contents. A recent translation of the Historia by Andrew Galloway is available in the appendix to The Letter of the Law: Legal Practice and Literary Production in Medieval England, ed. E. Steiner and C. Barrington (Ithaca, 2002). Galloway’s translation undoubtedly will draw greater attention to the Historia and thereby encourage further consideration of the Historia’s relationship to the politics of the period. See also Galloway’s ‘The Literature of 1388 and the Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, in The Letter of the Law: Legal Practice and Literary Production in Medieval England, ed. Steiner and

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

1.  MS Bodl. Rolls 9, first sheet. Late fourteenth century manuscript of the Historia mirabilis parliamenti.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer of the Bodleian manuscript, McKisack gave us what biographical information she could about the author: Of the writer little is known. He is probably to be identified with the Thomas Favent, who was clerk of the diocese of Salisbury, who in 1394 received a papal indult to choose his own confessor,4 and in 1400 received a ratification of his estate in the church of Dinton.5 Now Dinton was within two miles of Fovant, Wiltshire, and the immediate tenant of the manor was Cicely [sic] Fovent, abbess of Shaftesbury, who was certainly kinswoman of Thomas. We might safely write his name as Fovent and recognize his connection with a Hampshire territorial family of some note.6

McKisack also distinguished Fovent’s narrative from all other accounts of the Merciless Parliament, for as she explained, ‘the contents of the Historia are more in the nature of a political pamphlet than of a chronicle’.7 Prior to completing this edition of the Historia, McKisack showed the manuscript to T. F. Tout, who included a brief summary of Fovent in his 1926 article, ‘Parliament and Public Opinion’. Tout reprised much of the bibliographic information McKisack would include in her introduction to the Historia, but he overlaid this information with an interpretive stratum that established Fovent’s place within the inherited political blueprint of Richard’s reign. Tout imagined Fovent to be ‘a clerk attached to the household of one of the lords appellant’ but, lacking further biographical details, he did not hazard to guess at the exact nature of Fovent’s position or activities. The single fact that led Tout to suppose that Fovent must have been affiliated with the Appellants in one capacity or another was the ‘ratification of his estate’ in the church of Dinton in 1400, as first observed by McKisack in her introduction. Tout concluded that ‘this last grant suggests a disturbance of Thomas in the quiet holding of his benefice, such as would naturally result in the later years of Richard II’s reign in the case of a violent Lancastrian partisan’.8 A violent Lancastrian partisan: this is who Tout believed to be the author of the Historia. McKisack also thought Fovent a partisan, for she charac-

4

5

6 7 8

Barrington, pp. 67–104, for a discussion of Fovent’s text as it compares to other records of the treason trial. The responsibility for the translations of the Historia that appear here is mine, but they have been made in consultation with Galloway’s edition. I would like to acknowledge my debt to Galloway for his skilful translation of this often difficult text. Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland: Papal Letters, ed. W. H. Bliss and J. A. Twemlow, 14 vols. (London, 1902), IV, 495. Citation is McKisack’s. Calendar of Patent Rolls, 1399–1401 (London, 1895–1909), p. 138. This reads 30 March 1400, Westminster: ‘Thomas Fouent, parson of the church of Donyngton [Dinton], in the diocese of Salisbury. By p.s.’ McKisack in Favent, Historia, p. vi. McKisack in Favent, Historia, p. vi. Tout, ‘The English Parliament and Public Opinion’, pp. 311–12.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England terized the Historia as possessed of a lively ‘partisan spirit’, describing its author as a ‘political propagandist’.9 McKisack and Tout’s characterization of Fovent as an Appellant propagandist has remained until quite recently the final word on him, echoed again and again in essays describing the sources for the period and in biographies of Richard II.10 But the overtly political and vitriolic tone of the Historia itself is not the central issue in this reading of Fovent. Tout’s assessment of him as a partisan is based on a tangle of issues that includes, but is by no means limited to, the political extremism of Richard II’s reign, the function of public opinion in shaping the political landscape of late ­fourteenth century England, the relationship between narrative and propaganda, and finally, this little matter of the ratification of Fovent’s benefice by the crown in 1400. It is precisely this array of issues, each so radically different in size and scope, that is concealed within Tout’s tidy epithet, ‘violent Lancastrian partisan’. But Fovent was no Lancastrian partisan. Nor is the Historia a partisan document. In order to demonstrate this I will first address the simplest issue, the problem of the ratification of Fovent’s benefice. This is the one detail of his biography that confirmed for Tout that our pamphleteer was indeed a Lancastrian sympathizer. Tout read Fovent’s Historia as a pro-Appellant document, and so Tout posited a ‘disturbance of Thomas in the quiet holding of his benefice’ that reflected the inevitable fate of an Appellant booster, an anti-royalist propagandist whose sentiments had been brought to the attention of Richard  II. As a political agitator, Tout supposed, Fovent would necessarily have been penalized by Richard’s administration at some point for rousing public sentiment against the king’s court. Tout did not elaborate on the details, but he evidently inferred that Fovent’s benefice must have

9 10

McKisack in Favent, Historia, p. vi. See most recently, J. Taylor, ‘Favent, Thomas’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, ed. H. C. H. Matthew and B. Harrison, 60 vols. (Oxford, 2004), IXX, 163. Taylor says of Fovent’s Historia: ‘The treatise itself is a highly partisan piece of writing. Its purpose was to justify the action of the Lords Appellant in seeking to condemn certain of Richard’s supporters in the parliament of 1388.’ See also Taylor, English Historical Literature in the Fourteenth Century, p. 207. Similarly Antonia Gransden writes of Fovent: ‘Some chronicles were deliberate attempts at propaganda. An early example is almost certainly Thomas Favent’s tract on the Merciless Parliament of 1388 … The strength of its bias in favour of the Appellants indicates that it was composed to justify their harsh acts.’ Gransden, Historical Writing in England, p. 185. See also N. Saul, Richard II (New Haven, 1997), p. 125. Saul refers to Fovent as ‘the pro-Appellant propagandist, who in the late 1380s wrote a tract on those lords’ behalf’. Only Andrew Galloway departs from this well-worn path in his recent assessment of Fovent’s pamphlet. Galloway breathes new life into the Historia by characterizing it as ‘satirical narrative’, suggesting that Fovent’s work is indicative of ‘the intense satirical energy that the challenge of legal and political authority unleashed’; Galloway, ‘The Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, p. 84.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer been revoked around 1397 or so, when Richard II began exacting his revenge against the opposition of 1388. Richard’s campaign to purge the opposition from his kingdom was neither successful nor long lived, for by September 1399 Henry IV had usurped the throne from his uncle, putting an end to Richard’s ‘tyranny’ – Richard’s attempt to regain control of his administration by desperate measures and reckless tactics that ran roughshod over the common rights of his subjects. By late March 1400, the date of the entry of Fovent’s ratification in the Patent Rolls, Henry IV was safely ensconced on the throne. Tout simply assumed that Henry’s new administration considered it an appropriate move at this juncture to reward ‘Lancastrian partisans’ who had helped to stir up opposition to Richard’s administration. At this point, Fovent’s benefice was duly restored to him, a reward for his long-suffering allegiance to the Appellants and their cause of undermining ­Richard’s supporters. Tout believed of Fovent that his life followed the course of any political partisan’s life – his fortune would rise and fall with the political tides.

Fovent’s climb up the ecclesiastical ladder But this was not the case. Fovent never suffered any recriminations for writing the Historia, for the ratification of his estate in Dinton in 1400 had nothing to do with his political activity in 1388. An examination of the records of Fovent’s ecclesiastical holdings between 1390 and 1404, the year of his death, reveals only a steady climb up the ecclesiastical ladder. I will begin with an account of his holdings in Salisbury diocese. As recorded in the register of John Waltham, bishop of Salisbury from 1388 to 1395, Fovent was granted his first benefice in 1390, at the church of Berwick St Leonard, in the deanery of Chalke, located in Wiltshire.11 In 1393, as McKisack stated, he received an indult to choose his own confessor.12 In 1394, Bishop Waltham conducted a visitation of the parishes, and at

11

12

The Register of John Waltham, Bishop of Salisbury 1388–1395, ed. T. C. B. Timmins (Woodbridge, 1994), p. 76. Entry 552: ‘Institution of M. Thomas Fovent, clerk, to ch. of Berwick St Leonard (Berewyck sancti Leonardi), vac. by death of M. John Gyldon; patrons, abbess and conv. Shaftesbury. Salisbury, 29 Dec. 1390.’ (Berwick St Leonard is about five miles, as the crow flies, from the town of Fovant, Wiltshire, presumably from where the family took its name.) Though I would have liked to have discovered Fovent’s name in an earlier bishop’s register, the obstacles proved too great. According to David M. Smith’s Guide to Bishops’ Registers of England and Wales (London, 1981), p. 190, the register for Robert Wyvil (1330–1375) is ‘very confused in arrangement’. It is unpublished, but place indexes have been compiled and are available in the Wiltshire County Record Office. Papal Letters, IV, 495. Entry for November 1393 reads: ‘[Indults to the underwritten persons to choose their confessors, who shall hear their confessions and give them

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England this time Fovent was still at Berwick St Leonard, now clearly identified as rector of the church.13 The benefice of Berwick St Leonard, like that of Dinton, was supported by the patronage of the Abbess and Convent of Shaftesbury, where his sister Cecily Fovent was a nun. In 1398, Cecily was elected abbess of Shaftesbury.14 In 1399, she effected her brother’s institution to the church of Donhead St Andrew.15 Fovent remains here only briefly – later the same year, by the process of exchange with the parson of another parish, he is advanced to Dinton church.16 Thomas’s move to Dinton was clearly Cecily Fovent’s handiwork, for Dinton church was also under the patronage of the Abbess and Convent of Shaftesbury, and the church carried with it a generous annuity of £22.17 In 1400, Fovent’s holdings at Dinton were indeed ratified by the crown, but this was not, as Tout believed, the result of a break in his benefice caused by political activities that transpired some twelve years prior.18 Instead it was a simple confirmation of the transaction that had taken place a few months before, the crown acknowledging that he now held a minor estate in Dinton. It was the means of his institution at Dinton – the exchange of benefices with John Hereford – that necessitated the ratification to take place. Contrary to what Tout thought, there never transpired a ‘disturbance’ in Fovent’s holdings, for he had never incurred any penalties for his Historia. Fovent’s eccle-

13

14

15

16

17

18

absolution, enjoining a salutary penance.] Thomas Fovent, clerk, of the diocese of Salisbury.’ This is McKisack’s source. Register of John Waltham, p. 133. Visitation of Chalke Deanery, April 11th, 1394. Entry 973 l: ‘Berwick St Leonard (Berewyk Leonardi): Thomas Fovent, R.; William the chapl.; John Dawe, Walter Burstak, Ralph Dawe, and John Dawe, [sic] parishioners.’ Victoria History of the County of Dorset, ed. W. Page and R. B. Pugh (London, 1908), p. 79. Thomas Fovent’s will confirms that Cecily Fovent, abbess of Shaftesbury, was not just a kinswoman as Tout believed, but his sister; TNA, PROB 11/2A. This institution is found in a nineteenth-century index of Wiltshire institutions complied by Sir T. Phillipps, Institutiones clericorum in comitatu Wiltoniae, ab anno 1297 (Middle Hill, 1825), p. 85. The institutions are arranged chronologically, with the name of the benefice, patron and incumbent, and the reason for the vacancy if it was noted. The entry for 1399 reads: ‘Institution of Thomas Fovent to the church of Dunhed St Andraae by the patronage of Abb. Shaston [Shaftesbury].’ Phillipps, Institutiones clericorum in comitatu Wiltoniae, p. 85. The entry for 1400 reads: ‘Institution of Thomas Fovent permut. Cum Johannes Hereford to the church of Donyngton by patronage of Abb. Shaston.’ John Hereford was instituted to Dinton by patronage of Abb. Shaftesbury in 1399, just prior to Fovent’s institution. Regarding the value of the benefices, see Nonarum Inquisitiones in Curia Scaccarii, 1341 (Great Britain: Exchequer, 1807), p. 170. Donhead St Andrew is valued about £16. CPR 1399–1401, p. 138. The entry for 30 March 1400, Westminster, reads: ‘Thomas Fouent, parson of the church of Donyngton, in the diocese of Salisbury. By p.s.’ This is McKisack’s source. Though Fovent is listed here as parson, his will makes it clear that he was acting as rector (TNA, PROB 11/2A). Regarding his vicar at Dinton, see n. 19 below.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer siastical career reflected only the routine promotion from benefice to benefice, helped along by the patronage of his kinswoman, Dame Cecily, abbess of Shaftesbury. He retained the generous benefice at Dinton until his death in 1404.19 In light of this new information, there are two questions that should be addressed concerning Fovent’s supposed Appellant partisanship. The first is why Tout believed that Fovent’s Historia would inevitably mark him an antagonist to Richard’s court and make him a target for retribution. The second question is how Fovent avoided getting into trouble for disseminating an anti-royalist tract. Though these two questions seem to contradict each other, taken in tandem they begin to unravel the issues behind Tout’s characterization of Fovent as a ‘violent Lancastrian partisan’. The first question hinges on the perceived political extremism of Richard II’s reign, as well as the historiographical tradition surrounding Ricardian politics, for Tout thought the factional nature of politics in this period made unmediated participation in politics a perilous enterprise. The second question hinges on our understanding of the role of public opinion in shaping the political landscape of late fourteenth century England, and asks us, in particular, to reconsider the relationship between propaganda and public opinion in this period. These questions lead us to re-examine not only our understanding of the political world of late medieval England, but also the historiography of political writing for this period. Tout’s estimation of Fovent as a partisan was no more than an attempt to reconcile the polemical tone of his work with the scant records of his life. The Historia invites this sort of reading precisely because its purpose is not entirely clear. As an independent political tract, not part of a chronicle or corpus, it leaves us without a context for interpreting Fovent’s writing. Fovent is not Walsingham, not Knighton, not Gower, not Langland – he writes neither as a monastic historian nor as a public poet.20 The Historia is a curiosity in that it is an independent account of a specific political event. In this respect, the Historia is nearly unique among late fourteenth century political narratives, but its uniqueness is not commented on by those scholars who have discussed Fovent’s work – they seem to shy away from making too much of 19

20

Phillipps, Institutiones clericorum in comitatu Wiltoniae, p. 90. As of 1403, Fovent still held the benefice at Dinton, for the entry for 1403 reads: ‘Institution of Johnannes Neweman, p.m. Roberti Arkylby to the vicarage of Donyngton by the patronage of Thomas Fovent, Rector.’ (Arkylby was instituted to Dinton in 1393 by the patronage of Thomas Banastre de Eltisle. See Phillipps, p. 78.) Fovent died in 1404 (TNA, PROB 11/2A). Galloway, however, while characterizing Fovent’s satirical style as ‘ironic Christian allusion’, demonstrates that Fovent’s writing shares a particular thematic quality with both Knighton and Gower, something Galloway describes as a broad preoccupation with ‘the menacing and unreliable nature of pity as a political and legal instrument’. See Galloway, ‘The Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, p. 68.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England the Historia’s distinct form. In lieu of directly engaging the Historia’s fervour or analysing its structure, scholars succumb to the temptation of confusing the Historia with the event it describes. By this I mean that scholars grant the Historia a dual charge – it is at once a source of facts about the Merciless Parliament and at the same time an archetype of the sort of political partisanship that defined the Merciless Parliament.21 In essence, when scholars read the Historia, they read it within the context of the received history of the Merciless Parliament, never outside it.

The received history of the Merciless Parliament The received history of 1388 includes two sets of key players, the nobles or Appellants on the one hand, and Richard II and his supporters – be they called favourites or courtiers or royalists – on the other. Tout and McKisack regarded the Historia as Appellant propaganda because they saw the Merciless Parliament as a contest between two factions, Richard’s court party and the Lords Appellant. As McKisack noted, Fovent’s Historia is thoroughly preoccupied with the proceedings of the Merciless Parliament. The Historia is also sharply critical of Richard II’s administration. But this does not necessarily mean that Fovent wrote the Historia in the service of the Appellants. This alone is not enough to affix to the Historia the label of Appellant propaganda. In the months preceding the Merciless Parliament, as the Appellant case against Richard’s supporters gained momentum, the conflict between the Ricardian faction and the Appellants grew in scope and size, embroiling countless secondary political players in the drama, attracting the attention of all those who were connected to the government in one way or another, introducing a multitude of convictions, concerns and agendas into the event known as the Merciless Parliament. If Fovent’s Historia is read outside the confines of the two-party Ricardian/Lancastrian framework, a framework that this crisis had outgrown by 1388 in any case, then his criticisms of Richard II’s court, as well as his fascination with parliamentary proceedings, become not so much pro-Appellant propaganda as the makings of an independent political position. Indeed, Fovent wastes few words of praise on the Appellants themselves, concentrating his efforts instead on promoting parliament as the institution

21

Furthermore, it is an archetype of the typically ambivalent relationship between the historian and narrative, particularly political narrative. Both McKisack and Tout say again and again of the Historia that it is both an accurate and detailed source that provides information about the proceedings of the Merciless Parliament not available in any other sources from the period. Nevertheless, they caution us that the Historia is riddled with bias.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer most capable of reforming England’s government.22 Thus the real drawback of labelling the Historia propaganda is that it absolves us from addressing the difficult question of his purpose – of whom he imagined to be his audience, of what his own political interests were. If Fovent is considered a propagandist, then he is no more than an industrious partisan, a commonplace character in the political landscape of his day. But his agenda was significantly more complex than this. Tout unquestionably regarded the Historia as political propaganda, describing it as ‘a deliberate effort to educate public opinion to take up the baronial cause’.23 At the same time he expounded upon precisely what Fovent’s real purpose was in writing the Historia, to engage a readership who believed their interests were tied directly to the government of the realm. But can the Historia be both Appellant propaganda and an impassioned appeal to public opinion? To ask the same question in slightly different terms, we might wonder whether Fovent really wrote his Historia in the service of the Appellant party, or whether he wrote the Historia for readers like himself, politically minded Englishmen who were curious about parliamentary politics. Here I ask that we draw a distinction between propaganda and the work of a political pamphleteer. Tout however saw no distinction between the two, primarily because he formulated the relationship between the rise of public opinion and parliament to underscore partisanship as the dominant political discourse of the period. As I noted in chapter one, Tout believed public opinion was inexorably linked to the emergence of parliament as a significant forum for resolving political crises in late fourteenth century England – the Good, Wonderful and Merciless parliaments were victories against the crown that reflected public sentiment. But popular as the outcomes of the Good, Wonderful and Merciless parliaments may have been, Tout did not view them as victories of, by and for the people of England. He saw the conclusion of each of these parliaments as a baronial triumph against the royal prerogative, a triumph achieved by whipping up public sentiment for the baronial cause through the effective circulation of propaganda. In other words, opinion was something to be won, not something to be informed. However I will argue that partisanship was not the only political mode available to Fovent. Partisanship was incidental to the circulation of public opinion, a fact of life perhaps, but hardly its significance.24 A non-partisan

22

23 24

Over the course of the Historia, Fovent mentions the Appellants by name rather infrequently, and though Gloucester and Arundel are named far more than the other three Appellants, Fovent gives few details about them, directly praising their actions only twice. Such treatment is consistent with Fovent’s view of the Merciless Parliament as a parliamentary victory, not as an Appellant coup. Tout, ‘Parliament and Public Opinion’, p. 310. Steven Justice explores the subject of censorship and danger in this period in an unpublished paper entitled ‘ “Secret Poetry”, 1399–1430’.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England reading of Fovent demands that we understand the process of engaging the public as a viable and important political activity in its own right, one with ramifications that extend far beyond the programme of the baronial ranks. There is a significant difference between the dissemination of Appellant propaganda – as Tout perceived Fovent’s Historia – and engaging the public sphere – the process of appealing to the imagined ‘public’ – but Tout did not draw this distinction. He regarded those who courted public opinion, all those who wrote about parliament, as participating in partisan politics. Certainly, as a discrete political text, the Historia seems all the more vitriolic, all the more charged, for standing alone. Tout and McKisack considered the craft of a pamphleteer as necessarily clandestine because a pamphleteer operates outside a defined textual practice – the Historia’s textual isolation makes it seem all the more partisan in that Fovent’s authorial voice is not grounded in the chronicle tradition. And because the political landscape of late fourteenth century England is understood to be fragmented by factional affiliation, both scholars have assumed that there existed no indeterminate space in which to receive and read the Historia. Thus Tout and McKisack saw Fovent’s Historia as existing only within the network of factional affiliations that defined the Merciless Parliament. The Historia has never been examined as a textual position in its own right, for subsequent scholars remained content to lump it in with the Appellant cause.

The perilous world of Ricardian politics Of course the real obstacle to making a case for the existence of non-partisan political discourse in late fourteenth century England is that scholars have always believed Ricardian politics to be perilous by nature, particularly in 1388. Though Tout discussed the importance of public opinion to the parliamentary victories of 1376 and 1386, known as the Good and Wonderful parliaments respectively, by 1388 the stakes of the political contest had been raised – being on the losing side this time cost participants their lives. By the close of the Merciless Parliament, five men had been convicted of treason, condemned for the crime of accroaching to themselves royal power, and several other lesser offenders – four members of the king’s household, two prominent officials and five judges – were impeached.25 Some of those convicted escaped, some were spared their lives, many were granted the luxury of having their

25

Those impeached from the king’s household were Simon Burley, John Beauchamp, John Salisbury and James Berners. Their fate was shared by Thomas Usk and John Blake, functionaries both, and the judges Robert Belknap, John Holt, Roger Fulthorp, William Burgh and John Cary, along with John Lokton, sergeant-at-law.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer estates preserved for their heirs, but eight were executed.26 Indeed Fovent himself took careful note of those who lost their careers, their property and their lives during the parliamentary proceedings.27 Given the Merciless Parliament’s outcome, one is certainly justified in wondering whether a political system so fragmented by factionalism could actually sustain a readership of politically minded individuals. In the treacherous months that surrounded the Merciless Parliament, it seemed quite likely that any polemical writer, and thus any readership, would be drawn into the fray, compelled to side with one faction or another. And this is precisely the Historia’s true significance, for whether or not it was a partisan text, the fact that the Historia was intended for circulation lends Fovent’s pamphlet a seditious quality. The advent of the Historia signified absolutely that parliament had become the focus of public opinion. It also signified that an unquantifiable, unknowable and ultimately uncontrollable readership was being enticed by political discourse to partake in the scrutiny of Richard II’s court. Thus Tout assumed that Fovent incurred political disfavour not just for his anti-Ricardian views, but for the very act of pamphleteering because, regardless of his political orientation, disseminating any sort of political writing in 1388 was a fundamentally clandestine proposition. In the end, perhaps the problem for Tout was not so much what Fovent said, but how he said it. We have been too quick to assume that it was dangerous for someone like Fovent to write about politics in 1388, and for this I am sure that Geoffrey Chaucer is to blame. Scholars have long portrayed Chaucer as a consummate political moderate, a genius of self-preservation, artfully advancing his career without risking his neck – a model public poet. As Tout characterized Chaucer’s conduct during 1388, ‘the permanent official generally went on his way without much regard to politics. Chaucer was too prudent to be a politician and perhaps prided himself on his aloofness.’28 Chaucer’s prudence, along with his poetry, have each contributed to Thomas Fovent’s reputation as a political partisan, and this is because it is impossible to reflect on the implications of public writing and reading during Richard II’s reign without reference to Chaucer.

26 27

28

Those executed were Brembre, Tresilian, Burley, Beauchamp, Salisbury, Berners, Usk and Blake. For example, consider Fovent’s account of the dismissal of several prominent officers from the royal household in the Historia, pp. 13–14, and cited below in chapter 5, p. 137 n. 51. Fovent is consistently well informed regarding the names and ranks of all those minor players caught up in the political contest between the Ricardians and the Appellants. Tout, ‘Parliament and Public Opinion’, p. 313.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England

Who was Geoffrey Chaucer? Who was Geoffrey Chaucer? To begin with, Chaucer was an accomplished civil servant.29 In 1374, Edward III appointed him controller of the wool customs and subsidy at the port of London, a position he held for the next twelve years. In 1386, Chaucer was elected to parliament as knight of the shire for Kent, and so he sat in parliament during the impeachment of England’s chancellor, the early parliamentary victory against Richard II’s administration known as the Wonderful Parliament. He also served as justice of the peace for Kent from 1385 to 1389, one of a sixteen-member commission that conducted inquests into a wide variety of felonies. And from 1389 to 1391, he was appointed Clerk of the King’s Works, a post that has been described by one scholar as ‘no sinecure’, for it required a great deal of hard work.30 In this capacity, Chaucer was responsible for the construction and maintenance of such properties as the Tower of London and Westminster Palace, and his duties ranged from record keeping to the acquisition of materials and supplies.31 Though the position was not exactly glamorous, the Clerk of the Works was important, and Chaucer would not have been rewarded with the clerkship unless he had shown himself over the years to be a skilled and able administrator. But despite the demands of these various positions, Chaucer still found the time to write the Canterbury Tales, a project that he began around 1388. Anne Middleton makes the case that Chaucer’s Franklin, along with much of the poetry of Gower and Langland, signified a new literary sensibility that was distinct from the courtly style, a sensibility Middleton terms ‘public poetry’. She observes that Chaucer, Gower and Langland were ‘commoners to a man’, and their own circumstances inevitably influenced their decision as poets to reject the ideals of chivalric literature in favour of common experience as their terrain. At its best, Middleton believes that public poetry epitomized a ‘middle way’, ‘serving its highest function as peacemaker, and as an interpreter of the common world’.32 Leaving aside the question of how Chaucer’s Canterbury pilgrims succeed in effecting this mediating sensibility, I want to examine how we have determined and distributed the possible options for participating in the public sphere in the late fourteenth century. 29 30 31 32

On this point, see also J. Mead, ‘Chaucer and the Subject of Bureaucracy’, Exemplaria 19:1 (2006), 39–66; and D. Carlson, Chaucer’s Jobs (New York, 2004), pp. 1–31. Chaucer Life-Records, ed. M. M. Crow and C. C. Olson (Oxford, 1966), p. 473. On Chaucer’s duties as clerk of the works see Chaucer Life-Records, p. 473. Middleton defines public poetry as ‘a coherent set of ethical attitudes towards the world – experientially based, vernacular, simple, pious but practical, active … Its most characteristic concern is the turning of worldly time, that essential middleclass commodity, to “common profit.” ’ See ‘The Idea of Public Poetry in the Reign of Richard II’, p. 112.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer In other words, I would argue that the ‘middle way’ was not the only way of appealing to the public in 1388. Paul Strohm contends that Chaucer took the ‘middle way’ in his life as well as in his poetry. He has argued that Chaucer was not only a public poet, but he was a public figure as well, a civil servant whose livelihood depended on the goodwill of the crown, but who well understood that his future as a poet might be jeopardized by the factional politics that dominated the system of patronage upon which poets like himself and Gower depended. Both Middleton and Strohm regard Chaucer as espousing the sensibilities of a moderate – Middleton sees this political sensibility as manifesting itself in the mediating functions of Chaucer’s poetry, while Strohm believes Chaucer showed himself to be a political moderate in his civil service career as well as in his craft, for Chaucer carefully balanced his political allegiances so as not to leave himself too dependent on the patronage of the crown.33 But what exactly does Strohm mean when he describes Chaucer as a moderate? In late fourteenth century England, unlike early twenty-first century Britain or America, moderation does not translate into a clearly defined centrist political platform. During Richard II’s reign, moderation was at best a programme for negotiating the many political pitfalls of the Ricardian world – in essence, Strohm views Chaucer as necessarily, admirably and successfully cautious both in words and deeds, for he never promoted himself at the expense of manoeuvrability. The implication of Chaucer’s moderation is that where he succeeded in negotiating the dangers of factional alliances, others failed.

The tragic case of Thomas Usk And perhaps the greatest failure of all in the 1380s was Thomas Usk. Strohm shows Usk as falling headlong into the factionalist traps of London politics, grabbing hold of the hard-earned opportunity to join a side instead of following Chaucer’s cautious example of tempering his political ties.34 Chaucer

33

34

Strohm maintains that Chaucer was too smart to put all his eggs in one basket: ‘Part of Chaucer’s success may have been based on an ability to mobilize in his political choices those qualities that readers have found in his literary choices, including even-handedness and receptivity to opposed points of view. … Chaucer was true not only to his own characteristic moderation but to the presupposition of bastard feudalism when he tempered his loyalty to the king with a second, Lancastrian tie …’, Strohm, Social Chaucer, pp. 40–1. Regarding Chaucer’s seeming political cautiousness as an author, see M. Turner, ‘Politics and London Life’, in A Concise Companion to Chaucer, ed. C. Saunders (Oxford, 2006), pp. 13–33. See also Chaucerian Conflict, where Turner argues for an unidealized reading of Chaucer – one which acknowledges the social conflict and antagonism she sees present throughout his work. Strohm, Social Chaucer, p. 84.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England was certainly the more successful writer of the two, for Usk’s only significant work was the Testament of Love, a vernacular text composed sometime in the mid-1380s. Strohm sees Chaucer’s success, and so Usk’s failure, as inexorably linked to the way each writer negotiated the networks of factional affiliation that dominated London in the 1380s. In essence, Strohm asks whether it was possible for any writer in late fourteenth century England, and more specifically in late fourteenth century London, to write outside the politics of factionalism. The answer, of course, is no – no public life, no public voice, no public writing was untainted by factional affinity – but Strohm insists that Chaucer managed successfully to negotiate the factionalism that delineated both London’s political landscape and the politics of writing in this period, whereas Usk’s personal affiliations would in the end cost this writer his life. Thomas Usk was a contemporary social climber with whom Fovent was quite familiar, for Fovent’s Historia provides us with information about Usk not found in any other narrative source from this period, referring to him as Sergeant-at-Arms of the king (a position of minor consequence to which he was appointed in 1385).35 But if Fovent also knew Usk as the author of the Testament of Love, the Historia betrays no sign of such familiarity. Fovent quite likely regarded Usk as no more than an infamous Londoner of shifty allegiance, a political opportunist if ever there was one. Usk had spent the early 1380s working for John Northampton’s party – Northampton was mayor of London from 1381 to 1383, and he ran on a wildly popular platform that advocated dismantling the monopoly of fishmongers in London.36 (The price of food was always an issue in city politics, and it was Northampton’s intention that by abolishing the monopoly of the sale of fish, this essential commodity would be in greater supply and therefore less expensive.) Though he is a background figure of sorts, Northampton nevertheless plays an important part in this story of London politics and political writing, and I will mention him again in later chapters. While his own tenure as mayor was brief, he was certainly not forgotten by his fellow Londoners and left his mark on the city for years to come, his name and his radical legacy serving as a rallying cry for all those who were disgruntled with the political status quo and the power of the merchant capitalists. Northampton was unquestionably a polarizing figure, for while he spoke for many with reformist aspirations and seemed genuinely to care for the poor, he became increasingly ruthless towards his

35

36

Favent, Historia, p. 19: ‘Fuit enim Usk serviens regis ad arma …’. See R. Waldron, ‘Usk, Thomas’, ODNB, LVI, 2–4. On the office of the Sergeant-At-Arms, see GivenWilson, Royal Household, pp. 11–13, 21–2. For a fuller assessment of Northampton’s politics, see Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 63–85. See also P. Strohm, ‘Northampton, John’, ODNB, XLI, 127–8.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer opponents during the latter part of his term, and this led to his defeat and subsequent downfall in 1384.37 Thomas Usk was first hired by Northampton’s party as a scrivener, a secretary employed to draft bills, but he was soon engaged in tasks more integral to the party cause, such as canvassing various guilds for Northampton’s re-election campaign. Northampton’s challenger for the mayor’s office was Nicholas Brembre, leader of the merchant capitalist party in London and an ardent royalist. Brembre defeated the incumbent Northampton in the election of 1383, and there followed several months of civil disturbance in London instigated by Northampton and his followers. In the summer of 1384, Usk was arrested by Brembre for his part in the agitation, and soon after, hoping to save his own neck, Usk switched allegiance from Northampton’s faction to Brembre’s, selling his old boss out in the process.38 Usk was the key witness in the trial against Northampton that took place later that summer, giving his testimony in the form of a written appeal that detailed the conspiracy by Northampton and his associates against Brembre’s government. His eventual reward for his testimony against Northampton was a job that placed him at

37 38

Regarding Northampton’s policies aimed at relieving poverty, see Barron, London in the Later Middle Ages, pp. 277–8. Caroline Barron’s recent discovery of Usk’s name in the records of the Goldsmiths’ Company has shed new light on Usk’s career and political affiliations. Usk was appointed as clerk of the Goldsmiths’ Company in early 1382, during the first year of Northampton’s mayoralty. (It was perhaps Nicholas Twyford, goldsmith and alderman of Farringdon Ward, who got Usk his job.) In the early 1380s, the goldsmiths were allied with Northampton, and this was particularly true of the ­goldsmith Adam Bamme, who served as sheriff from 1382–3, when Northampton was mayor. The Goldsmiths’ Company records suggest that Usk was initially close to Bamme. (Usk names Bamme along with his other former associates in his appeal against Northampton, written in the summer 1384.) Paul Strohm proposes that Usk’s political about-face was not exceptional, for Strohm believes that Bamme and the other goldsmiths were also in the process of distancing themselves from Northampton by this time, and that Usk was following Bamme’s lead. (Strohm suspects that Bamme became disillusioned with Northampton after John of Gaunt refused to help Northampton following his electoral defeat in October of 1383, and that Northampton’s strong-arm tactics during the second year of his mayoralty had already alienated many of his supporters.) The Goldsmiths’ Company accounts also provide evidence that Usk was a widower, and that his wife might have died prior to his writing the Testament of Love in 1384–5. See Wardens’ Accounts and Court Minute Books of the Goldsmiths’ Mistery of London, 1334–1446, ed. L. Jefferson (Woodbridge, 2003); C. M. Barron, ‘New Light on Thomas Usk’, The Chaucer Newsletter 25:2 (2004), 1. Paul Strohm’s comments were made in a session on Thomas Usk at the New Chaucer Society Conference, New York, July 2006. Marion Turner considers how the association with the Goldsmiths’ Company shaped Usk’s writing in ‘Usk and the Goldsmiths’, New Medieval Literatures 9 (2008), 139–77. For Usk’s career see also Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, pp. 83–112; Middleton, ‘Thomas Usk’s “Perdurable Letters” ’; T. Usk, Testament of Love, ed. G. W. Shawver (Toronto, 2002), pp. 7–23.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England the fringes of power, for in September of 1387, the king appointed him undersheriff of Middlesex.39 But any benefits Usk hoped to gain from betraying his former associates and aligning himself with the Ricardian faction were relatively short lived, for Usk was tried, convicted and hanged for treason in the Merciless Parliament of 1388, his head placed atop Newgate for all to see.40 The Appellants had targeted Usk as an ardent and dangerous royalist who used his appointment as under-sheriff of Middlesex to fabricate indictments against the king’s enemies. But Strohm implies that the Appellants singled out Usk for impeachment in 1388 not because Usk had picked the wrong side, but because he kept picking sides – an inconstant factionalist was unquestionably a factionalist of the most dangerous sort. Usk’s political affiliations were determined by nothing more than a shifting set of circumstances, and partisan politics makes no allowance for contradiction. As Strohm concludes of Usk, ‘To poor, erratic, overardent Usk, Chaucer must have remained an elusive and constantly frustrating example, with his calmer and broaderbased and ultimately more successful attitude towards both the politics and poetics of faction.’41 The repoliticization of Chaucer’s career by scholars such as Strohm has informed our general understanding of the relationship between writers, readers and politics in late fourteenth century England. Strohm asks, ‘Did Chaucer need to be so cautious?’42 Strohm, pointing to Usk’s destruction at the hands of the Appellants as evidence, believes the answer is yes. I believe the answer is no – Chaucer only needed to be so cautious as to avoid being Usk, Brembre or any of the other more conspicuous Ricardian factionalists. Certainly, Chaucer was a king’s man, for he worked at jobs that were granted by the goodwill of the crown, but he was not specifically Richard’s man. Thomas Usk, on the other hand, was not even Richard’s man. This label was reserved for those higher up the ladder, men like Brembre – Richard’s favourites. Usk was simply a convenient fall guy for the court party, targeted by the Appellants as much for his conflicting loyalties as for his activities as a Ricardian factionalist, and thus the official records of the Merciless Parliament label Usk as a faux et malveise (false and wicked) person.43 Judged a turncoat to the very end of his days, there can be little dispute that when it came to his personal advancement, Usk displayed a marked lack of shrewdness, typically reacting to circumstances that were not of his own making, as opposed to conducting himself though the network of factionalist associations with some degree of foresight. But I would suggest that Chaucer’s

39 40 41 42 43

Sharpe, Calendar of Letter-Books, pp. 316–17. Favent, Historia, p. 20. Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, p. 112. Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, p. 94. PROME, February 1388, part 2, Article XXVI (p. iii-234). Also cited in Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, p. 87.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer prudent conduct was not the only alternative model available to Usk. Instead, we must consider the overt, if not imprudent, politicism of Fovent’s Historia. Strohm’s assessment of the impact of faction on the lives of writers leads us to anticipate, much as Tout did, that when Richard reasserted his authority in 1389, or when in 1397 he sought revenge against the Appellants, the Ricardian faction would have condemned Fovent as a political agitator. But no such condemnation ever took place. There are two possible reasons for this. The first is that, despite Tout and McKisack’s assessment of the Historia as pro-Appellant propaganda, the Historia was not actually politically inflammatory enough to get its author into trouble. The second possibility is that the Historia belonged to another category of writing, a category that operated outside the scope of the factional networks – the category of public opinion. The web of factionalism in which Usk found himself caught was precisely the political structure that the Historia hoped to render insignificant, for Fovent intended his pamphlet to reach a readership more public than partisan. And though the Historia is every bit concerned with the ‘common good’, Fovent’s public was not the public of Middleton’s poets, for the Historia displays no interest in mediation. Fovent’s public had a keen interest in parliamentary proceedings and was hungry for vitriol. Fovent knew this because he wrote the Historia for people like himself. Fovent was a bureaucrat, not a partisan. His life, particularly his political life, was not mercurial, not clandestine, not cautious. It was out in the open.

Day jobs Given these circumstances, Fovent’s career was more like Chaucer’s than we might have suspected. As mentioned above, Chaucer worked as a customs officer in the port of London from 1374 to 1386, serving as controller of the wool custom and wool subsidy. During the years from 1391 to 1395, Fovent too was a customs officer in the port of London, and the records of his appointment in the Fine and Patent rolls disclose that he was assigned to collect the duties on tunnage and poundage.44 In this capacity Fovent was responsible for collecting the duty levied by parliament on all goods that

44

Calendar of Fine Rolls Preserved in the Public Records Office, 22 vols. (London, 1911–62), XI, 3. Entry for 8 Dec. 1391, Westminster: ‘[The like commissions to the following in the ports and places named] Richard Odiham and Thomas Fovent, clerk, in the port of London and all ports and places from there on either side of the Thames as far as Gravesende, and there, on the Essex side as far as Tillebury, and there. By bill of the treasurer.’ CFR, XI, 104. Entry for 13 Nov. 1393, Westminster: ‘[Commission during pleasure to … and to deliver the moneys forthcoming therefrom at the receipt of the Exchequer. The like to the following …] Richard Odiham and Thomas Fovent,

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England entered the country through the port of London except for wool, wool-fells and leather, these items being subject to the wool or ‘ancient’ custom. The proceeds from the duty on tunnage and poundage collected at the port of London alone might exceed £6,000, not a negligible sum, but nowhere near the amount garnered by means of the wool customs and subsidy, which averaged £18,000 per annum during Richard’s reign.45 Originating in the midfourteenth century, this more modest source of revenue from the tunnage and poundage was intended to help finance the defence of English shipping from the French threat.46 Through the third quarter of the fourteenth century, the subsidy was granted for wartime emergencies with the specific consent of the merchants of the realm, or the so-called ‘estate of merchants’, who were consulted either informally or in special councils that met separately from parliamentary sessions. By 1386, however, tunnage and poundage had become a regular source of revenue for the crown and was by then always granted by parliament in session, thereby signalling the end of the estate of

45

46

in the port of London and all ports and places thence on either side of the Thames as far as Gravesende, and there, and on the Essex side as far as Tillebury, and there.’ CPR 1391–96, p. 448. Entry for 11 July 1394, Westminster: ‘Appointment, during pleasure, of William Waddesworth as controller of Richard Odiham and Thomas Fovent, clerk, collectors in the port of London and all places thence on the Thames as far as Gravesend and Tillebury, inclusive, of the subsidy of 3s. on each tun of wine, and 12d. on every pound of other merchandise, except wools, hides, and woolfells. By bill of treasurer.’ (On 1 Dec. 1395, Fovent is replaced by Henry Cokeham; CFR, XI, 163.) Olive Coleman outlines the arrangement of customs officers in the port of London as follows: ‘In London the volume of business (and possibly the demands of patronage) meant that separate appointments usually had to be made in three sectors, the cloth and petty customs, the tunnage and poundage and the wool customs and subsidy. Under Richard twelve persons were appointed to the first, fifteen to the second, and fifteen to the last, the same man occasionally serving in more than one sector.’ O. Coleman, ‘Collectors of Customs in London Under Richard II’, Studies in London History Presented to Philip Edmund Jones, ed. A. E. J. Hollaender and W. Kellaway (London, 1969), pp. 181–94 (p. 183). Coleman’s article provides an excellent overview of the importance of customs to the realm during Richard II’s reign. For a list of those appointed as collectors of customs in London under Richard II, see Coleman’s Appendix, p. 194. Crow also provides a table of officials at the London customs from 1374–1387; see Chaucer Life-Records, pp. 153–6. Olive Coleman gives the proceeds collected at the port of London as ‘something in the region of £3,000’. See Coleman, ‘Collectors of Customs in London’, p. 184. However more complete records are now available in The Enrolled Customs Accounts (PRO, E356, E372, E364) 1279/80–1508/09 (1523/24) Part 2: E356/5, E356/6, E356/7 (part 1), ed. S. Jenks, List and Index Society 306 (London, 2005). The entries pertaining to Fovent, along with the amounts collected at the port of London during the period of his appointment, are found on pages 521, 523, 528, 532, 533. See also Ormrod’s ‘The Origins of Tunnage and Poundage’, cited in the note directly below. For what follows on the history of the Tunnage and Poundage, see W. M. Ormrod, ‘The Origins of Tunnage and Poundage: Parliament and the Estate of Merchants in the Fourteenth Century’, Parliamentary History 28:2 (2009), 209–27, as well as his earlier ‘Finance and Trade under Richard II’, pp. 155–86.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer merchants as a political force distinct from parliament itself. Prior to 1386, the collection of tunnage and poundage was often assigned to specially appointed officials or tax farmers in order to speed up the provision of fleets needed for the defence of the seas. With its transformation into a more or less permanent source of crown revenue renewed annually by parliament, the administration of tunnage and poundage merged with the structure of the regular customs system as a whole. As I discuss below, the Wonderful Parliament of 1386 ushered in a general period of reform for customs, and so the ideal collector might now be thought of as an individual who was at once loyal to the crown, deferential towards parliament, and most of all accountable to the public interest.47 Nevertheless there remains the question of how exactly Fovent got his job as a customs officer. The entry in the Calendar of Fine Rolls may offer a clue, for it indicates that Fovent’s appointment was warranted by bill of the treasurer. This in itself is hardly unusual, for nominating individuals to such posts was part of the regular business of the treasurer. However, as Gwilym Dodd recently noted, the treasurer at this time was John Waltham, bishop of Salisbury, and Dodd has suggested there was some local and more personal connection between the bishop and the clerk, for Waltham’s diocese included the parish of Berwick St Leonard along with most of Wiltshire and Dorset. Dodd describes Waltham as having ties to the Appellants as well as being a close associate of the earl of Arundel’s brother Thomas, and Dodd suggests that Waltham’s initial sympathy for the Appellant cause may have influenced Fovent’s account of the Merciless Parliament.48 However it is important to keep in mind that Waltham’s own career was politically complex, and I think it difficult to ascribe Appellant sympathies to a man who became a close friend and valued advisor of the king from April 1390, when he attended a

47

48

Chaucer Life-Records, p. 150. Though Crow refers to this as the petty subsidy, it is nevertheless the same office that Coleman refers to as tunnage and poundage. As stated in the CPR entry cited above for 11 July 1394, the subsidy for this year was fixed at 3s. on each tun of wine and 12d. on every pound value of other merchandise. Dodd, ‘Changing Perspectives’, p. 314 n. 63. While Dodd is certainly correct in suggesting that Waltham was responsible for Fovent’s appointment to customs, this connection does not necessarily imply that Fovent was by extension an Appellant partisan. It should also be noted that Waltham became bishop of Salisbury as a direct result of the papal translations of bishops made at the end of the Merciless Parliament. Fovent condemns these translations in a biting passage in his Historia, arguing that Urban VI’s motives were purely monetary, and that the Commons’ debates on this matter in parliament were ignored. (See Favent, Historia, p. 22.) It is doubtful that Waltham would have approved of such an opinion, and therefore it seems unlikely that he ever read Fovent’s account. For an extensive discussion of these translations along with an assessment of Fovent’s narrative, see R. G. Davies, ‘The Episcopate and the Political Crisis in England, 1386–88’, Speculum 51 (1976), 675–90. On Waltham’s career, see R. G. Davies, ‘Waltham, John’, ODNB, LVII, 184–6.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England meeting of the king’s council and renewed his involvement in the government. Richard then appointed him treasurer in May 1391. As treasurer, Waltham showed himself committed to reforming the collection of export duties, and so Fovent’s appointment to customs should be seen as part of a programme of reforms typical of Waltham’s earlier work as keeper of the rolls of chancery where he introduced innovations aimed at increasing efficiency.49 Waltham remained treasurer until his death in 1395, and Fovent’s appointment to customs was terminated in that year. Whereas Fovent’s job at the port of London was insignificant enough to fall outside the Ricardian patronage system, those appointed to collect the wool customs and subsidy received their positions in reward for personal and financial service to Richard II. This was because throughout the 1380s the crown typically used the revenue from the wool customs as security against which to raise cash, and loans made to the crown by both the city of London and by individuals were thus repaid out of customs receipts.50 Thus the crown typically granted the appointment to members of London’s political and mercantile elite, and it was not unusual for the post to be occupied by an individual who might, at one time or another, also occupy the office of mayor.51 Indeed, Nicholas Brembre, collector of the wool custom and subsidy at the port of London through most of the 1370s and 1380s, was just such an individual. Brembre was one of Richard II’s most loyal henchmen, mayor of London from March 1377 to October 1378, and again from October 1383 to 1386, a prominent merchant capitalist who worked tirelessly to oppose John Northampton’s reformist efforts in London. And while the wool collectors were of a different league from someone like Fovent, nevertheless Fovent would have rubbed shoulders with such folk, men who were part of Richard’s personal entourage like Brembre, as he would with men like Chaucer, a king’s man in the abstract, rewarded for his loyalty to the crown with the job of controller.

49 50

51

On Waltham’s work as an administrative reformer, see Tout, Chapters, III, 442, 461. Coleman characterizes the relationship between the crown and the London customs as a ‘quid pro quo about which the crown had little choice for as long as it made a habit of borrowing from London and Londoners’. Coleman, ‘Collectors of Customs in London’, p. 183. As Coleman observes, ‘Of the fifteen collectors during the reign seven passed the mayoral chair [Adam Bamme, Nicholas Brembre, Nicholas Exton, John Hadley, John Philipot, William Venour, John Warde], three were mayors of the staple at Westminster [Brembre, Exton and Hadley], two were mayors of the staple at Calais [Hadley and Philipot], nine represented the City in parliament [Bamme, Brembre, Exton, Hadley, Andrew Neuport, Richard Northbury, John Organ, Philipot, Venour], at least ten were aldermen … The wool collectors were thus close to the purse strings of the government and of the City whilst many of them were also wealthy businessmen.’ Coleman, ‘Collectors of Customs in London’, p. 184.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer The politics of customs appointments had shifted over the course of Richard’s reign, and operations at the port of London had undergone a degree of reform by the time of Fovent’s appointment. In the mid-1380s, the Commons in parliament had become increasingly aware of the abuses encouraged by the patronage system, and the attempt to clean up the government’s operations was felt not only at the top, with the impeachment of Chancellor Suffolk in 1386, but by those nearer to the bottom, the controllers of customs. In the Wonderful Parliament of 1386, the Commons presented a petition in parliament requesting ‘that all the controllers of the kingdom’s ports who hold their office for the term of life by grant of the king, because they perpetrate great oppressions and extortions against the people in their offices, be dismissed and removed; and that no such office be granted for the term of life in time to come’.52 Chaucer was, of course, controller of the wool custom and subsidy at precisely this point. He also sat in this very parliament as knight of the shire for Kent, a situation that must have made the Commons’ petition seem all the more inopportune. But little action was taken as a result of this petition, for Richard replied to the Commons’ petition that ‘these controllers would be examined by his council, and that those found to be good should remain in their office, and that the others would be removed’.53 However, there is no evidence that anyone was removed from the office of controller as a result of this petition, for there were many of Richard’s men still to be found in customs after 1386.54 Nevertheless, Chaucer tendered his resignation of the controllership in December of 1386, a move often considered politically savvy because it was intended to distance him from the Ricardian faction.55 And perhaps Chaucer’s decision was prescient, for at least one of Richard’s most prominent supporters who remained in his post at the port of London after 1386, the often noted Nicholas Brembre, did slip into the quicksand of factional affiliation and was executed for treason in the Merciless Parliament. The Commons’ petition of 1386 reveals that the customs offices were both hot spots for graft and other corrupt practices and hotbeds of precisely the sort of factional activity that had come to dominate both the city of London and Richard’s government in the 1380s. The Commons in parliament knew this, Chaucer knew it, and Fovent himself undoubtedly knew it. 52

53

54 55

‘Item, priont les communes: qe toutz les contrerollours es portes du roiaume qe ont lour offices a terme de vie du grant le roi, a cause q’ils font grauntz oppressions et extorcions a poeple en lour offices, soient repellez et adnullez; et qe nulle tiel office soit graunte a terme de vie en temps avenir.’ PROME, 1386, item 32. Mentioned in Chaucer Life-Records, p. 269. ‘Le roi voet qe les persones soient examinez devant son conseille et qe ceux qi serront trovez bons demoergent avant en lour offices, et qe les autres soient remoevez.’ PROME, 1386, item 32. Mentioned in Chaucer Life-Records, p. 269. Chaucer Life-Records, p. 269. Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, p. 93.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Fovent’s appointment to customs did not overlap with Chaucer’s, but they may well have been acquainted with one another – during Fovent’s tenure at the port of London, Chaucer served as Clerk of the King’s Works and in 1391 oversaw extensive repairs to the wool quay where he had worked for twelve years, and where Fovent then worked. The wool quay was the centre of operations for customs at the port of London, located on one of the many wharves on the north bank of the Thames between the Tower of London and London Bridge. Customs operated from several buildings along the quay, one housing the wool custom, one the cloth custom and alien petty custom, another for the tunnage and poundage offices that doubled as a storage area for goods, and a house to accommodate those merchants who did regular business at the port.56 Though Fovent was responsible for collecting tunnage and poundage, his job at the port of London would have put him in close proximity with a wide range of notorious figures – the wool quay fell under the long shadow of London’s merchant culture. The sort of transactions that took place around the customs houses, the point of entry into England for great quantities of merchandise, undoubtedly included many backroom deals, as merchants would try to move their commodities through the port while paying as little in tariffs as they could possibly arrange. But the port was also important for maintaining influence over the machine of London politics, for while the appointments to customs were, in principle, a reward for loyal service to the crown, men like Nicholas Brembre probably regarded their offices as an opportunity to exercise some leverage over the broader London merchant community. The port was thus a juncture of local and national politics, but at the same time the men who worked there, though appointed by the crown, operated more within the matrix of the London political landscape – the crown, a priori, gave them their legitimacy, but it was their relationship to the city of London that gave them their power, and they likely arrogated the authority of their appointments for their own benefit. Along with Nicholas Brembre, several other sometime mayors of London, including John Philipot, William Walworth and Nicholas Exton, held the position of collector of the wool custom and subsidy. Exton was mayor of London in 1387 and so was directly confronted with the struggle between Richard and the Appellants that preceded the Merciless Parliament as the two parties vied with one another for the city’s support. Philipot and Walworth, like Brembre, were prominent merchant capitalists who opposed the Northampton party in London. And, like Brembre, both Philipot and Walworth had stood with Richard II at Smithfield against Wat Tyler during the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381. All three had been knighted by the king for their service. 56

See Crow’s description of the port of London, Chaucer Life-Records, p. 171. Crow refers to the cloth custom and alien petty custom as simply the petty custom. He likewise refers to the tunnage and poundage as the petty subsidy.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer Thus in the late 1380s and early 1390s, the port of London was very much under the direction of prominent merchant capitalists who were also prominent Ricardians because of their close financial relationship to the crown. This clique drifted in and out of the port of London, in and out of London’s political offices, in and out of national politics, and in and out of the Historia. These men, such as Brembre, formed the political matrix of Fovent’s world. He never worked with Brembre at the port of London, for Brembre was executed in 1388, three years before Fovent’s appointment to customs. Nor do I think that Fovent was sympathetic to Brembre’s politics, nor that he even liked Brembre. Nevertheless, Brembre, Chaucer and Fovent all occupied the same milieu at one time or another, though it would be something of a stretch to say they ran in the same circles. And this milieu had much more to do with London, with the interplay of London politics and national politics, and with the civil servants whose jobs brought them into close contact with both the crown and this city, than with the Appellant faction. For men such as these, politics was their daily bread. Specifically we know that Fovent held his post as collector of the petty subsidy with Richard Odiham, a middling player in London politics throughout the 1380s. Odiham was City Chamberlain for most of this period, and he was every bit a Brembre supporter, as is made clear by his run-in with John Northampton after Northampton’s electoral defeat by Brembre for the mayor’s office in October 1383. As mentioned above, Northampton was tried and convicted for encouraging seditious uprisings in London against Brembre and his supporters shortly after Brembre’s election. According to a deposition taken at Northampton’s trial in August of 1384, ‘The day after the election he [Northampton] ill-treated Richard Odiham, the City Chamberlain, so that he stood in danger of his life on account of his support of Brembre’.57 Thus Fovent’s fellow appointee at customs had been closely tied to the royalist camp in the 1380s. At the very least, Fovent’s appointment makes it clear that he knew some people who knew some people. And even though, from the records of his appointment to customs, the earliest I can place him in London is 1391, it is certain that he was in the city by the late 1380s, for the Historia appears to be an eyewitness account and contains several references to London poli-

57

Bird, Turbulent London, p. 82. This deposition against Northampton is from the same trial at which Thomas Usk turned state’s evidence against his old boss, Northampton, a move that transformed Usk into a card-carrying member of the Ricardian faction. See also in Bird, Appendix IV, p. 135, ‘Transcript of part of Coram Rege Rolls 507 – being one of the inquisitions taken at the trial of John de Northampton’: ‘Et quia Ricardus Odiham camerarius londonie eis in hoc contrarexit percussus erat in dicto crastino ibidem et male tractatus et stetit in periculo vite sue et omnia hec videns dictus Iohannes Norhampton …’.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England tics.58 His appointment as collector of the duty on tunnage and poundage, however, was part of yet another reformist wave, a post-1388 attempt to clean up customs, to rid it of corruption, if this were possible. Fovent’s appointment indicated a change from local burgesses to civil servants in the London customs, a clear shift away from the patronage appointments that were routinely made during the first half of Richard II’s reign.59 In conjunction with this shift, the administration of customs fell under the jurisdiction of the centralized government and thus no longer remained solely in the hands of London merchants.60 And while here I have argued that Fovent’s appointment as a customs official was part of a wave of government reformers sweeping into customs, nevertheless there is evidence enough to suggest that he, like Usk, was well acquainted with the ‘political demimonde’ of London politics.61 And this is something to consider – that Fovent watched the Merciless Parliament as a Londoner, often viewing the participants in this national contest from a local perspective. Fovent’s Historia is not as politically naive a document as those scholars who regard it as Appellant propaganda would have us believe. And this is because Fovent himself was not a politically naive man. No bureaucrat in the 1380s and 1390s could afford to be so naive as unequivocally to declare support for one faction or another. And this is precisely Strohm’s point about Usk – such affiliations would inevitably cost one his career, if not his life. Those who were factionalists in the extreme, men like Usk and Brembre, were factionalists first and foremost in the matrix of London politics, and in 1388 these men found themselves condemned not just for their connection to the crown, but for their urban affiliations. Fovent was no Appellant 58 59

60 61

For a detailed discussion of the Historia’s relationship to the London landscape, see chapter 6, below. Coleman, ‘Collectors of Customs in London’, p. 193. On the administration and reform of customs in this period generally, see A. Steel, ‘The Collectors of the Customs in the Reign of Richard II’, in British Government and Administration: Studies Presented to S.B. Chrimes, ed. H. Hearder and H. R. Lyon (Cardiff, 1974), pp. 27–39, as well as his older ‘The Collectors of the Customs at Newcastle-upon Tyne in the Reign of Richard II’, in Studies Presented to Hilary Jenkinson, ed. J. C. Davies (Oxford, 1957), pp. 390–413. See also S. H. Rigby, ‘Boston and Grimsby in the Middle Ages: An Administrative Contrast’, Journal of Medieval History 10 (1984), 51–66, as well as ‘The Customs Administration at Boston in the Reign of Richard II’, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 58 (1985), 12–24. Steel, Coleman and Rigby offer different explanations for the appointment of royal clerks to customs in this period. Rigby in particular argues that the corruption of the merchant class was not the issue so much as was a shift in the government’s bullion policy. He contends that these clerks were responsible for enforcing bullion legislation intended to alleviate the crown’s shortage of coin. See ‘The Customs Administration at Boston’, pp. 16–17. On this point see Ormrod, ‘Finance and Trade under Richard II’, pp. 167–8. As Strohm has characterized Usk’s experience in ‘Usk and Chaucer: Politics and Poetics’, p. 84.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer propagandist. If he were, he would never have been appointed to London customs by the crown. At the same time, his literary career was hardly as circumspect as Chaucer’s. He was a civil servant and as such he worked alongside other civil servants and other politicians, and somewhere along the way developed a keen interest in parliamentary politics. It seems very likely that he was not atypical, that other civil servants and bureaucrats would have shared his interest in national politics, that they would view parliament as the centre of their political world because this was the institution that gave the Commons of the realm a voice in creating the policy that governed their jobs and their lives. This was his milieu, his audience for the Historia. And though his appointment to the port of London put him in close proximity with onetime Ricardian factionalists, this does not mean that he understood politics only in terms of faction. Rather, he regarded the Merciless Parliament as an opportunity to voice his opinion, and as such the Historia transcends the politics and poetics of faction. Unlike public poetry, public opinion need not mediate – conflict was its raison d’être.62

A family of parliamentarians? Though Thomas’s sister Cecily had effected his advance to the benefice in Dinton, he seems to have remained in London throughout much of the 1390s, as is revealed by records of a protracted lawsuit against one William Wolaston.63 Whether he took another job during these years, and what else, if 62 63

However Marion Turner suggests that such conflict is equally present in Chaucer’s work. See Turner, Chaucerian Conflict, pp. 1–7. Calendar of Close Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office: Richard II, 6 vols. (London, 1914–27), VI, p. 235. Entry for 13 Dec. 1397, Westminster: ‘To the ­sheriffs of London. Order by mainprise of Robert Richard Kays (sic) and Henry Asshburne of Derbyshire and John Rate of Lincolnshire to set free William Wolaston of London, imprisoned at suit of Thomas Fovent for that he and Henry “Williamservant Wolaston” at the parish of St Sepulchre without “Westsmythefeld” bar London conspired together and indicted the said Thomas for taking the said William at Westminster by force of arms, imprisoning and evil entreating him, keeping him in prison there four days, and delivering him without warrant to the warden of the Flete prison contrary to law and custom of the realm, and falsely and maliciously procured that the said Thomas was taken and imprisoned in the marshalsea prison until he was acquitted before the king in his court.’ [sic] CCR Richard II, VI, p. 289. Entry for 18 April 1398, Westminster: ‘Memorandum of a like mainprise (under a pain of 100 marks), mutatis mutandis, made by Robert Sapirton and Henry Assheburne of Derbyshire, Walter Coke and Robert Bernes of London for William Wolaston in regard to Thomas Fovent clerk.’ CCR Henry IV, 5 vols. (London, 1927–38), I, p. 514. Entry for 6 April 1402, Westminster: ‘To Thomas de Rempston knight constable of the Tower of London, or to his lieutenant. Order by mainprise of John Neuporte of Kent, John Kighele of Lancashire, John Preston and John Brenchesle, both of Southwerke, to set free William

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England anything, he wrote while in London remains a mystery. But there is another piece to this biographical puzzle that should be taken into account. Thomas came from a well-situated family in the south of England. His father Robert Osegood alias Fovent (d. 1377) was from the town of Fovant in Wiltshire, but seems to have moved to Shaftesbury in the 1350s shortly after his marriage to Margery Platel, Thomas’s mother. (Presumably it was after the move to Shaftesbury that the family name changed from Osegood to Fovent.) While it is difficult to know how much Thomas’s family influenced his political orientation, it is nevertheless worth noting that his father, Robert, was elected mayor of Shaftesbury in 1355, and represented the borough in parliament that same year. And it seems parliament was something of a legacy for this family, for Thomas also had an older brother named Robert who represented Shaftesbury in parliament in 1390.64 Robert Fovent sat in parliament for only one term, but interestingly this was the parliament that saw the reintroduction of legislation prohibiting livery and maintenance. Such issues, issues of corruption and reform, were woven into the lives of this family. If I were to conclude anything definitive about Fovent’s politics at this point, I would say that he, much like Tout and McKisack, was enamoured of parliamentary victories. He did not write the Historia as Appellant propaganda because he knew that he did not have to, for despite the political dominance of the Ricardian and Appellant factions in 1388, there was some leeway to operate within the bureaucratic milieu as an independent political voice. His sympathies were unquestionably with the Appellants, for he believed

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Wollaston, the king’s former writ to have him in chancery notwithstanding; as they have mainperned in chancery that he shall do or procure no hurt or harm to Thomas Fovent clerk. This mainprise was taken by the chancellor.’ Though I am unable to say much about the precise significance of this lawsuit, or about the identity of William Wolaston, I have discovered two mentions of Wolaston in the Calendar of Close Rolls. The first is from CCR Richard II, VI, p. 207. Entry for 25 July 1397, Westminster: ‘To the sheriffs of London. Writ of supersedeas, and order by mainprise of John Halle of Sussex, William Reyners of Yorkshire and John Pakwode of Warwickshire to set free John Narrauke, if taken by virtue of a writ under the exchequer seal at suit of William Wolaston for debt.’ The second is from CCR Henry IV, I. Entry for 16 June 1401, Westminster: ‘To the same. [William Gascoigne and his fellows, justices appointed to hold pleas before the king.] Like order [by writ of nisi prius] to cause an inquisition whereupon William Wolaston rector of “Bokenamferie” [Buckenham, Norfolk] has put himself to be taken before the said justices or one of them, before one of the justices of the Common Bench, John Cokayn chief baron of the exchequer or the justices of assize in Norffolk.’ However there is also a William Wolaston listed as an unbeneficed clergyman in the London taxation records of the clergy for 1380 and 1381; A. K. McHardy, The Church in London 1375–1392, London Record Society 13 (London, 1977), pp. 18, 21. Thomas’s brother Robert is the subject of a fairly detailed entry by L. S. Woodger in The House of Commons, 1386–1421, ed. J. S. Roskell, L. Clark and C. Rawcliffe, 4 vols., History of Parliament (Stroud, 1992), III, 113–14. I have relied on this entry for the information regarding Thomas’s parents and siblings.

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The Making of a Political Pamphleteer they represented the possibility of bringing about reform of the government. But he also understood that the real mechanism for achieving reform was parliament, and that the relationship between parliament and the public had come to constitute a real political force. Unlike Usk, Fovent never presented himself as a factionalist. Nor did he style himself a propagandist. He was simply a parliamentary pamphleteer intent on disseminating this victory against the crown to a circle of politically minded readers eager for reform – most likely his fellow civil servants. And no matter how fragmented by factionalism the political landscape might have appeared in 1388, nevertheless late medieval politics did make allowances for public opinion, probably because it had no other choice. Factionalism was a participatory politics of one sort, public opinion another. Once politics became accessible to social climbers such as Usk, it was accessible to all, to partisans and reformers alike. Some would choose to align themselves with one party or the other, and some would choose to voice their dissent and look to parliament to protect their interests. Public opinion was an inevitable by-product of the sort of politics that was at the centre of the contest between the Appellants and the Ricardians. Thomas Fovent saw his opportunity and took it.

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CHAPTER  FOUR

Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament

The first thing to know about Thomas Fovent’s pamphlet is that the title is not his own. Historia siue narracio de modo et forma mirabilis parliamenti apud Westmonasterium anno domini millesimo CCCLXXXVJ was added by a rubricator or scribe to the Bodleian Library manuscript of the pamphlet soon after it was completed, for the title is in a late fourteenth century hand. Though richly descriptive, the title is misleading, for Fovent’s subject is not the parliament of 1386 but another parliament altogether, the so-called Merciless Parliament of 1388. The rubricator however seems to have taken this title from the prefatory section of the pamphlet describing the outcome of the Wonderful Parliament of 1386. No more than eight lines of Fovent’s text recount the proceedings of this parliament in which Michael de la Pole, the chancellor of England, was impeached for what Fovent describes as usurpations and extortions, though the actual charges brought against the chancellor fall under the rubric of fiscal corruption or dereliction of duty.1 The next twenty lines of the text are concerned with the establishment of a commission by ‘ordinance and statute’ with wide-ranging powers to oversee the business of government for the term of one year. Fovent here includes the language of the statute stipulating that offences against the commission were punishable in the first instance by

1

‘In quo quidem parliamento predictus Michael de la Pole, cancellarius Anglie, racione usurpacionum suarum et extorcionum, dimissus est officio, uniusque anni circulo relegandus in carcere detruditur de Wyndesore, omniaque sua immobilia per huiusmodi reciprocaciones deuorata pro mulcta confiscantur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 2. For the background to the parliament and its aftermath, see J. S. Roskell, The Impeachment of Michael de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk, in 1386 (Manchester, 1984); J. J. N. Palmer, ‘The Parliament of 1385 and the Constitutional Crisis of 1386’, Speculum 46 (1971), 477–90; J. J. N. Palmer, ‘The Impeachment of Michael de la Pole in 1386’, Bulletin of the Institute for Historical Research 42 (1969), 96–101; and J. Sherborne, ‘The Defence of the Realm and the Impeachment of Michael de la Pole in 1386’, Politics and Crisis in Fourteenth-Century England, ed. J. Taylor and W. Childs (Gloucester, 1990), pp. 97–116.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament forfeiture and in the second instance by penalty of life and limb.2 This commission is much more important to Fovent’s narrative than the impeachment of Michael de la Pole, for his recurring characterization of it as the instrument of parliament’s authority to oversee the task of government reform further suggests that he crafted his pamphlet to advocate the reformist agenda, and not simply to mirror the politics of partisanship.3 While Fovent writes very little about the impeachment of de la Pole, historians have long regarded the Wonderful Parliament as the first significant political defeat suffered by Richard II, sparking the bitter feud between the Ricardian faction and the Appellants that would come to shape the ruinous course of the king’s reign. This view is partly influenced by the colourful account in Knighton’s Chronicle of the notorious showdown that took place at Eltham between Richard on the one side, and his uncle, the duke of Gloucester, and Thomas Arundel, bishop of Ely, on the other.4 This confrontation of late October 1386 culminated with Gloucester and Arundel threatening the king with deposition should Richard persist in his refusal to cooperate with parliament. Just days before, in parliament, the chancellor had made the critical error of asking the Commons to grant an exorbitant tax of four fifteenths to fund the increasingly unpopular war with France. The Commons had not only refused to grant this extraordinary sum, but together with the Lords in parliament called for de la Pole’s dismissal from office. Richard baulked at this demand, for de la Pole was both a staunch loyalist and a close friend, and Knighton reports the king responded ‘he would not dismiss the humblest of his kitchen staff from his post at their behest’.5 Richard’s defiance however was short lived, for he yielded before the threats from Gloucester and Arundel, returning from Eltham to Westminster and dismissing de la Pole from office on 23 October. The Commons were now free to proceed with the chancellor’s impeachment. The parallels between the parliaments of 1376 and 1386 are striking in the outline of events, though perhaps less so in the details. In both instances prominent government officials were removed from office and charged with corruption. However the parliamentary attack on de la Pole was not just an imitation of the first, but an attempt to build on the precedent set by the Good 2

3

4 5

‘Et si quis dicte ordinacioni contravenire regem excitauerit, pro prima vice vallata fuerat pena confiscacionis omnium bonorum; pro secunda, vero, truncacio membri amissioque vite.’ Favent, Historia, p. 2. For a discussion of the politics of partisanship in the late fourteenth century and my refutation of the longstanding classification of Fovent as a partisan propagandist, see above, chapter three. KC, pp. 354–62. ‘Rex inde motus mandauit eis ut de hiis tacerent et de negociis parliamenti procederent atque ad expedicionem festinarent, dicens se nolle pro ipsis nec minimum garcionem de coquina sua ammouere de officio suo.’ KC, p. 354.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Parliament, for 1386 was only the second time that the Commons had initiated impeachment proceedings.6 As for the tenor of the proceedings in 1386, unfortunately we do not have a detailed narrative of the Commons’ role in the impeachment of de la Pole, nor can we identify an outspoken leader in the mould of Peter de la Mare. This is not to say that the impeachment of de la Pole might not have been every bit as spectacular as the impeachment of William Latimer in the Good Parliament, only that we are left to guess at the details as they are conspicuously absent from the parliament roll.7 The official parliamentary records of the impeachment contain little more than the seven articles drawn up against de la Pole, three charging him with peculation in office and four charging him with dereliction of duty. The impeachment records further include de la Pole’s reply to his accusers that he had been singled out unfairly, that other officials equally were to blame, and that he was being held to an unusually high standard of conduct. In the end de la Pole was found guilty on the charges of peculation alone, imprisoned for some six weeks at Corfe castle, and by Thomas Walsingham’s account he was set free in time to spend Christmas with Richard at Windsor.8 In light of both the paucity of detailed records of the impeachment and the mildness of the sentence (particularly when compared to the fate of those persons tried in the Merciless Parliament), it is unsurprising that Fovent devotes considerably more attention to what parliament did next. But here again he writes comparatively little – a list of the names of the commissioners and the mention of ‘a certain ordinance and statute’ granting them the power to execute all business of the king and kingdom. Rather we must turn to Henry Knighton and the Monk of Westminster to learn that the Commons were not satisfied by de la Pole’s impeachment alone, for they wanted to ensure that their government would henceforward adopt a more proficient course. To this end, on 19 November parliament appointed for the term of one year ‘a great and continual council’. This council was given the licence and power to reduce the expenditure of the king’s household, to investigate the dispensation of all royal grants of land made over the course of the last ten years, and to curb the influence of Richard’s friends on the king’s household

6

7

8

On the question of whether the Commons initiated the impeachment proceedings, see Saul, Richard II, pp. 159–60; and J. L. Leland, ‘Knights of the Shire in the Parliament of 1386: A Preliminary Study of Factional Affiliation’, Medieval Prosopography 9:1 (1988), 89–103. PROME, 1386, items 6–17. On the composition and tenor of the parliament rolls generally, see Ormrod, ‘On – and Off – the Record’, pp. 39–56. Ormrod observes that the official record was often compiled so as not to obstruct the crown’s interests more than absolutely necessary. A fuller narrative of the Wonderful Parliament may once have existed in the Westminster Chronicle, but it is now absent from the leaves. WC, p. 166 n. 3. Walsingham, St Albans Chronicle, p. 800.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament and the administration.9 While the majority of the fourteen lords appointed to the council were not overtly hostile to the king, nevertheless the scope of the authority granted by parliament to the commission, if only for the term of one year, was unprecedented.10 Richard’s hands were now tied, and he withdrew from Westminster for a period of eight months and travelled around the countryside, mostly through the north and north-west midlands, barnstorming these districts in the hopes of building support for the royalist cause while he waited for the council’s term to expire. It was a stinging defeat for the crown and the first of many strikes at Richard’s prerogative over the next two years. It is one of those small historical ironies that the parliament of 1386 may have got its name from the erroneous title of Fovent’s pamphlet, for this is the first known written use of the designation mirabilis parliamenti.11 Therefore in one sense the title of Fovent’s pamphlet is a mistake (as are the titles of many medieval manuscripts), as his pamphlet is not about what happened in the Wonderful Parliament at all, but about what happened afterwards. But in another sense, the title is exactly right. The Historia mirabilis parliamenti does begin in 1386, but not with the parliamentary proceedings, which unlike the parliament of 1388, Fovent did not witness. The pamphlet begins instead with what he first read about the Wonderful Parliament – a number of semi-official documents that were released into circulation in association with de la Pole’s impeachment and the appointment of the reform commission. As I will explain, almost everything Fovent writes in those twenty lines on the reform commission can be traced back to one particular semi-official document, though given both the number of semi-official documents released after the close of the Wonderful Parliament and Fovent’s own predilection for such documents, it is not much of a leap to assume that

9

10 11

On the appointment and authority granted the reforming commission of 1386, see Ormrod, ‘Government by Commission: The Continual Council of 1386 and the English Royal Administration’, Peritia 10 (1996), 303–21. For various assessments of the political sympathies of the commissioners, see Saul, Richard II, pp. 162–3; R. G. Davies, ‘Alexander Neville, Archbishop of York, 1374–1388’, Yorkshire Archaeological Journal 47 (1975), 87–101; McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 446; A. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility (New York, 1974), pp. 106–7; and J. W. Dahmus, ‘Thomas Arundel and the Baronial Party under Henry IV’, Albion 16 (1984), 134–6. See D. Clementi, ‘Richard II’s Ninth Question to the Judges’, EHR 86 (1971), 96–113. The Historia marks the earliest identifiable written use of the designation Mirabilis Parliamenti, commonly translated as Wonderful Parliament and typically associated with the parliament of 1386. Of course Fovent’s rubricator may have used this designation for the parliament of 1386 because it was already in widespread use at the time. Interestingly, Henry Knighton’s rubricator applies the title Parliamentum apud Westmonasterium operans mira (a parliament at Westminster which worked wonders) to the session of 1388, typically the ‘Merciless Parliament’. The mistake suggests the possibility that Knighton’s rubricator was familiar with Fovent’s Historia, and may have had it in mind when mislabelling this parliament. See KC, p. 430.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England he read others too. This is important because such semi-official documents informed Fovent’s thinking about parliamentary reform, and thus they too should be categorized as early instances of parliamentary reportage. Perhaps more importantly, after uncovering the influence of semi-official documents on Fovent’s text, I have come to believe that this is where he first got his idea for a pamphlet (or as he calls it, a ‘Process’). To put it plainly, Fovent got the idea to write a pamphlet from these short, discrete documents released between the Wonderful and Merciless parliaments, and though he does not make use of them all, these documents served as a point of departure for an open discussion about parliamentary reform. This is why his pamphlet begins with 1386. And these documents are where his pamphlet comes from. This chapter will suggest how semi-official documents inspired Fovent to write his pamphlet, and will furthermore study how his use of these documents reveals his uniquely bureaucratic sensibilities. The next chapter will show how both official and semi-official documents ultimately became his obsession.

1386: Document leaks Judging from the evidence preserved in the chronicles of Henry Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, reports of de la Pole’s impeachment and particularly the appointment of the reform commission circulated widely, bringing news of the events to the communities of the realm. Specifically, there are three semi-official documents pertaining to either the impeachment or the commission that are reproduced in the chronicles as well as in the occasional episcopal register. The first of these three documents appears in Knighton’s Chronicle, and it is described by G. H. Martin as an edition of the ‘Process’ against de la Pole, comparable to the ‘Process’ of the Merciless Parliament copied in the Westminster Chronicle.12 The ‘Process’ in Knighton’s Chronicle is in French, and appears to be a digest of the 1386 impeachment produced for distribution, for it contains nothing more than the text of the nine charges brought against de la Pole. Martin observes that de la Pole’s answers to the charges and the Commons’ replies have been stripped from this ‘Process’, whereas they directly follow the articles of impeachment in the parliament roll.13 The second of these documents from 1386 seems to have had the widest circulation, for it is reproduced with slight variations in both Knighton and the Westminster Chronicle, and was also copied in several episcopal regis-

12 13

KC, pp. 362–68. For a discussion of this particular category of semi-official documents, see above, chapter two, p. 52. PROME, 1386, items 6–17.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament ters.14 It is the text in French of the parliamentary ordinance appointing the members of the reform commission and outlining the commission’s jurisdiction. (The appointment of the commission was first issued as an ordinance by letters patent on 19 November, and subsequently enacted as a statute on 1 December, partly in response to the Commons’ request that formal penalties be applied to those who contravened the commission’s authority. The text of the ordinance is not included in the records on the parliament roll for 1386.)15 In both Knighton and the Westminster Chronicle, the text of the ordinance is immediately followed by the second part of the statute enacting the commission, thereby suggesting the use of some generally available or widely copied semi-official document that contained the ordinance coupled with this second section of the statute. It should be noted that the text of the ordinance varies slightly in the chronicles, whereas the text of the statute in both chronicles is nearly identical, indicating perhaps that Knighton and the Monk of Westminster used slightly different copies of the same semi-official digest circulated in conjunction with the appointment of the reform commission.16 More importantly however, as presently we shall see, this is the semiofficial text of the ‘ordinance and statute’ that Fovent too seems to have made use of in the beginning of his pamphlet. Finally, the last of these three documents from the Wonderful Parliament is reproduced in Knighton alone, and it is the text in French of Richard’s letters

14

15

16

KC, pp. 372–80; and WC, pp. 166–76. For the copies in episcopal registers, see Wykeham’s Register, ed. T. B. Kirby, 2 vols. (London, 1896), II, 396–400; and R. G. Davies, ‘Some Notes from the register of Henry de Wakefield, Bishop of Worcester, on the Political Crisis of 1386–1388’, EHR 86 (1971), 547–58. For the letters patent, see CPR 1385–9, p. 244. For the text of the statute, see The Statues of the Realm, 11 vols. (London, 1810–1828), II, 39–43. On the distinction between an ordinance and a statute generally, see Stubbs, Constitutional History of England, II, 614. For the reason that this particular ordinance was subsequently issued as a statute, see Clementi, ‘Richard II’s Ninth Question to the Judges’, p. 102. As Barbara Harvey notes, the text of the 1386 ordinance and statute was recited during the pardons granted at the end of the Merciless Parliament of 1388; WC, p.  167 n. 4. However, the text of the ordinance and statute is not recorded in the parliament rolls for 1388, but simply referred to by way of abridgment: ‘et pur celle cause, et pur eschuer tielx perils et meschiefs pur temps avenir, estoit fait par estatut en le dit parlement certeine ordenance, et une commissioun as diverses seignours, pur le bien, honour et sauvete du roy, sa regalie, et de tout son roialme, les tenures de quelles commissioun et estatut cy ensuent, Richard, etc., come, etc.’ PROME, 1388 February, Part 1, item 37 (p. iii–248). Harvey also suggests that the Monk of Westminster obtained his copy of the 1386 ordinance and statute from a source that contained several other documents pertaining to 1388, including the ‘Process’, the king’s questions to the judges, and the articles of Appeal. Such a source does not survive, but an analogous source exists in the Westminster archives that seems to have been composed by or for John Burton, keeper of the rolls of chancery between 1386 and 1394. See WC, pp. xlviii–xlix.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England patent containing the terms of the conditional subsidy granted by parliament contingent upon the appointment of the commission. (Copies of the letters patent joining the grant of subsidy to the appointment of the commission were issued for every county at the Commons’ request on 28 November, suggesting the Commons intended that the terms of the conditional subsidy be broadly publicized.) The provisions of the subsidy are also summarized in large part in the parliamentary records for 1386, but the letters patent are copied in full in Knighton, suggesting that the chronicler may have used the copy issued for proclamation in the county of Leicestershire. While all three of the aforementioned texts share many of the characteristics of official government documents in language, content and formula, nevertheless it is clear that the first two at least are semi-official editions because of the ways that they deviate from the official records.17 However, as is the case with the Anonimalle account of the Good Parliament discussed previously, it is unclear whether such semi-official documents were drafted initially as a part of standard record keeping, and perhaps as an afterthought made use of as parliamentary reports. In other words, while we still do not know why such semi-official documents were produced in the first place, nor are we able to identify the names of the chancery clerks who produced them, nevertheless these texts tell us something about the availability of news of parliament to Tout’s ‘man on the street’.18 Accordingly the identification of these documents establishes two important points regarding the practice of disseminating information about the Wonderful Parliament. The first is obvious enough – chancery clerks made a number of variant copies of the documents pertaining to de la Pole’s impeachment and the reform commission, whether for purposes of standard record keeping or otherwise. The second point is only slightly more of a leap – the reproduction of these documents in the chronicles and episcopal registers demonstrates that these copies were circulating openly from the capital to the provinces. The establishment of these two points leads to the more interesting

17

18

As noted, the ‘Process’ against de la Pole contains only the charges against him, and not his answers or the Commons’ replies as recorded on the parliament rolls; PROME, 1386, items 6–17 (pp. iii–216–20). While the statute issued in 1386 appointing the commission begins the text of the ordinance, and so is similar to the text copied into both Knighton’s Chronicle and the Westminster Chronicle, nevertheless there are subtle variances; SR, II, 39–43. John Scarle was clerk of parliament from 1384 to 1394, responsible for keeping the parliament rolls. John Scarborough was under clerk of parliament, also known as clerk of the Commons, under Richard II. However, we do not have the evidence necessary to attribute the production of these semi-official documents to either the keeper of the rolls or to the clerk of the Commons. Such documents might have been produced by any number of the one hundred and twenty clerks employed in the chancery in this period. On the relationship between chancery clerks and parliament, see Tout, Chapters, III, 447–53.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament problem of why these semi-official documents were released in the first place (though admittedly this leaves aside the more difficult problem of whether all these documents were deliberately produced for this purpose).19 To put the question directly, why was it so easy for chroniclers as well as minor functionaries such as Fovent to get their hands on these texts? This question can be answered in part by recalling the public nature of both de la Pole’s impeachment and the appointment of the reform commission. To begin, the issue of the letters patent of 28 November and the publication of the statute of 1 December demonstrate the Commons’ determination to have the extensive powers granted the reform commission recognized throughout the realm. (The commission’s statutory authority proved particularly hateful to Richard, and Clementi argues that this statute was a central motivation in framing one of Richard’s infamous questions to the judges, an episode discussed below.)20 Nevertheless if the commission were to accomplish the desired reform of the government over the course of the next twelve months (and precisely because the king had restricted its term to twelve months, it was destined to failure), it would require popular support for its directives, particularly as Richard only grudgingly acceded to the transfer of power at the expense of his prerogative. The textual evidence preserved in the chronicles suggests that chancery clerks in particular were directed to make the scope of the commission’s authority and mandate as widely known as possible, and they did so in the only way they knew how, by drafting and releasing various copies of the parliamentary ordinance. That there was a desperate need for the reform commission was of course demonstrated by the ‘Process’ against de la Pole. Therefore, just as was the case with the ‘Process’ of the Good Parliament of 1376 contained in the Anonimalle Chronicle, the semi-official documents released into circulation following the Wonderful Parliament helped to publicize both the chancellor’s impeachment and the appointment of the commission, thereby gaining popularity for the reformist cause as it was set forth by parliament.21 The dissemination of these documents indicates that there was a widespread desire to have the Wonderful Parliament seen as a victory for those who believed that parliament was the institution most capable of bringing about government reform, and not simply as another contest between the 19

20 21

While it cannot be conclusively demonstrated that such semi-official texts were written for dissemination, these texts do however contain exactly the sort of unambiguous information about parliament that chancery clerks might want made public. On the circulation of such semi-official texts, see also Lassahn, ‘Langland’s Rats Revisited’, p. 135 n. 14. Clementi, ‘Richard II’s Ninth Question to the Judges’, pp. 96–113. The need to publicize the appointment of the reform commission was all the more necessary in light of the failed but far reaching attempts at government reform undertaken in the parliament of 1385. See Palmer, ‘The Parliament of 1385 and the Constitutional Crisis of 1386’, pp. 477–90.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England court party and a faction of magnates. Accordingly, the fight over who was to determine the future course of the government transpired not only in the chambers of Westminster or in Eltham Palace, but out in the open. It was a war of publicity waged through short documents intended to persuade various communities of readers that the work of parliament was in the best interests of the kingdom – in their own best interests – for parliament had rooted out the corruption in the administration and set about restoring integrity and fiscal solvency to the government. This is clearly how Fovent read the official and semi-official documents that fell into his hands, as weapons against the wicked, and it is precisely from these documents that Fovent took his cue. They are the missing link, for they demonstrate that the origins of late medieval political pamphleteering can be traced back to the activities of those anonymous chancery clerks who released these short texts for circulation. This is because Fovent did not just read these discrete texts, nor did he simply copy them into some chronicle – he wrote back. All that was required to make the leap from semi-official document to pamphlet was a little imagination and a lot of vitriol. As we shall see, the Historia suggests that Fovent had both.

The parliamentary commission and the Ricardian shadow government It seems then that brief reports of parliament’s activities in 1386 were common enough, though admittedly it would be too much to say that a nascent civil servant such as Fovent was inundated with news. And while this is not the first parliament for which we have evidence of reports, nor just the second, the greater than ever number of semi-official and official documents copied into the chronicles dating from 1386 suggests the emergence of a burgeoning textual culture centred specifically around parliament.22 This is why Fovent begins his story in 1386, building on and thereby transforming this textual culture of parliamentary reportage. The traces of his pamphlet’s origin – the semi-official document containing the ordinance and statute appointing the reform commission – are mere snippets buried here and there in the first section, and they are easy to overlook in favour of Fovent’s outrage at the course of events, as I did for many years, especially when compared to the

22

While the account of the Good Parliament of 1376 is certainly one of the earliest examples of parliamentary reportage, it is not necessarily the very first instance. See, for example, H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, ‘The Parliament of Carlisle, 1307 – Some New Documents’, EHR 53 (1938), 425–37. On early descriptions of parliament, see also Taylor, English Historical Literature, pp. 195–8. On those documents circulated in an attempt to sway public opinion during Edward III’s contest with John Stratford (one of which is described by Tout as a ‘party pamphlet’), see Tout, ‘The English Parliament and Public Opinion’, pp. 299–301.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament chroniclers’ full transcriptions of the 1386 documents. Nevertheless the traces are there. To begin our scrutiny of this first section of the pamphlet, it is striking that, given the overall brevity of the Historia, Fovent lists all of the names of the appointees to the reform commission.23 Moreover, he also gives us the sum and substance of the commission’s directive, reporting that the commission of 1386 was granted jurisdiction by parliament to order and execute all the business of the government, thereby averting reckless rebellions. And, as previously mentioned, he notes that anyone who disobeyed the commission’s authority was punishable in the first instance by the forfeiture of his goods, and in the second instance by penalty of life and limb.24 And so with a warning for those who would contradict the commission’s authority, he brings his brief narration of the Wonderful Parliament to a close – he tells us that parliament disposed of all things for the best, and then dissolved, everyone returning to their homes.25Much of this information is lifted from some copy of the same semi-official text used by the chroniclers Henry Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, but here instead Fovent weaves the text of the document carefully into his own narrative, emphasizing the scope of the authority that parliament had temporarily wrested from the king, and betraying his documentary source only by the use of the phrase ‘ordinance and statute’. However, given that he cites this text sparingly, we may wonder whether we can be certain that Fovent had a copy of the same semi-official text of the ordinance and statute as did the chroniclers. Yet his inclusion of the list of the names of the commissioners coupled with the statutory penalties for those who disobeyed the commission’s authority supports precisely this conclusion, for this text is Fovent’s best possible source for both pieces of

23

24

25

But unremarkable given that Fovent supplies names repeatedly throughout the Historia. Such details seem to capture his attention. Fovent correctly names the commissioners: the archbishop of Canterbury (William Courtenay), the archbishop of York (Alexander Neville), the bishop of Ely/chancellor of England (Thomas Arundel), the bishop of Winchester (William of Wykeham), the bishop of Hereford/ treasurer of England (John Gilbert), the bishop of Exeter (Thomas Brantyngham), the abbot of Waltham (Nicholas Morice), Lord John de Waltham, keeper of the privy seal, the duke of York (Edmund Langley), the duke of Gloucester (Thomas of Woodstock), the earl of Arundel (Richard), Lord Cobham, Lord Richard Scrope, and Sir John Devereux. Favent, Historia, p. 2. ‘… quod isti, virtute huius commissionis, et cuiusdam ordinacionis et statuti, plenam potestatem regis et parliamenti in hac parte adipiscentes, redigendo corrigerent stolida precordia rebellium ac ordinare, consulere, et terminare omnia negocia regis et regni, annalibus iudiciis seqentibus, tactis evangeliis spondentes se predicta bene et fidelitur seruaturos. Et si quis dicte ordinacioni contravenire regem excitauerit, pro prima vice vallata fuerat pena confiscacionis omnium bonorum; pro secunda, vero truncacio membri amissioque vite.’ Favent, Historia, p. 2. ‘Sic disponentes omnia pro meliori, ruptoque parliamento, omnes iter pergentes illico redierunt ad propria.’ Favent, Historia, p. 2.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England information.26 Beyond this, however, it is impossible to say whether Fovent had copies of the two other identifiable documents from 1386, for though there is little question that they were in circulation, they have left no discernible mark on his pamphlet. But, as we shall soon discover, he unquestionably had several other semi-official documents dating from 1387 and 1388. Unfortunately, as was the case in 1376, it seems that the good work of the Wonderful Parliament was soon undone. All those documents released in association with the reform commission are nearly palpable at this point in Fovent’s narrative, for he writes that the arch-royalists (a faction comprising Robert de Vere, duke of Ireland; Michael de la Pole, chancellor of England from 1383 until his impeachment in 1386; Alexander Neville, archbishop of York; Nicholas Brembre, ex-mayor of London; and Robert Tresilian, chief justice of the king’s bench) were inflamed against the commission by the very publication of parliament’s acts. As Fovent tells it, as soon as parliament’s ordinances were disseminated, these arch-royalists – referred to here as improvident or myopic councillors – buzzed around the king and spoke to him disdainfully of the ordinances.27 Incited to action by the publication and dissemination of the parliamentary ordinances, these arch-royalists began to assemble themselves into a rival council, and with the co-option of Richard to their ranks, this rival council posed a serious threat to the commission operating out of Westminster.28 Here it is worth noting that this is not the only time that Fovent refers to these arch-royalists as councillors. Just prior to launching into his narrative of the Wonderful Parliament, Fovent lists the names of those who made up the inner circle of the Ricardian faction (Neville, de Vere, de la Pole, Tresilian and Brembre), describing them as gubernatores et proximi conciliarii regis – in essence, privy councillors to the king. Fovent does not restrict his use of council or councillors to the commission that was appointed by the Wonderful Parliament to reform the government. Council is here also a rhetorical device, a 26

27

28

While the commissioners’ names are also included near the end of the parliamentary records for 1386 (PROME, 1386, item 18), the language of the ordinance and statute is not, nor have I discovered any evidence to suggest that Fovent used the parliamentary records of 1386 to compose his pamphlet. Similarly, the statutory penalties for those who defied the commission’s authority are mentioned in the parliamentary records for 1388 in Article XVII of the appeal, but neither the names of the commissioners nor the terms of the commission are recorded in the official records for 1388; PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XVII (p. iii–232). Accordingly, the semi-official text of the ordinance and statute containing both pieces of information is most likely Fovent’s source. ‘Predicti inprouidi consiliarii cum ceteris eorum commilitonibus propter predicta parliamenti patefacta et ordinata iracundie facibus inflammantur. Mox spretis ordinacionibus parliamenti, assidue circa regem glomorantes …’, Favent, Historia, pp. 2–3. ‘… et plus solito simulando ipsum subumbrantes, corde concinnabant dolos erga omnes …’, Favent, Historia, pp. 2–3.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament motif that he uses to organize the complex political relationships with which he must contend. By referring to Richard’s cohort as councillors, or more precisely as improvident councillors, Fovent is formalizing these otherwise informal relationships, and he does this because he regards these relationships as more political than personal.29 Moreover, identifying members of the Ricardian faction as either inprouidi consiliarii or proximi conciliarii likely resonated with Fovent’s bureaucratic milieu. Most importantly, by formalizing the political ambitions of the Ricardian faction, Fovent establishes the locus of his narrative as the institution of parliament – just as the Wonderful Parliament impeaches de la Pole for neglecting the duties of his office, so too must parliament remove the king’s improvident councillors and replace them with men more qualified for the job. As Fovent tells it, although the Ricardian faction did not relinquish control without a fight – again he refers to them as regis consiliarios – nevertheless parliament proceeded to appoint to the commission men of the highest virtue, namely the archbishop of Canterbury, the archbishop of York, the bishop of Ely, the bishop of Winchester, the bishop of Hereford, the bishop of Exeter, the abbot of Waltham, John Waltham, the duke of York, the duke of Gloucester, the earl of Arundel, John Cobham, Richard Scrope and John Devereux.30 Beyond placing the appointment of the commissioners squarely under parliament’s jurisdiction, Fovent uses the commission to lend the events leading up to the Merciless Parliament a certain equilibrium. The configuration of the events is as follows: under the administration of Richard’s improvident councillors (Neville, de Vere, de la Pole, Tresilian and Brembre) the nation is led to wrack and ruin; in the parliament of 1386, the Wonderful Parliament, Chancellor de la Pole is impeached and a ‘great and continual council’ is set up to oversee the government and set things right; undaunted by the measures enacted by parliament, the Ricardian faction regroups as a shadow council, and together with Richard they conspire to regain control of the government from the commissioners. Parliament is thus at the centre of

29

30

Given-Wilson takes quite the opposite tack in Royal Household, p. 203. He describes the relationship between Richard and the members of his faction as an affinity: ‘The king’s affinity, like that of any other lord, is best envisaged as a series of concentric circles. At the centre, naturally, stood the king himself, the focus of service and loyalty. The inmost circle comprised those most intimately attached to the king … but what distinguished them was their status and/or their personal relationship with the monarch.’ Given-Wilson captures here the informality of the political arrangement, an arrangement that was more personal than professional. ‘Nichilominus predictos ceteros regis consiliarios protunc non inquietarunt, sed in eodem parliamento, mutuo consensus regis, dominorum omnium, justiciariorum, et communium, commissum fuerat subscriptis procerioribus dominis regni …’, Favent, Historia, p. 2.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England this configuration, surrounded on all sides by the Ricardian faction.31 I believe this reading was first suggested to Fovent by the semi-official documents released after the Wonderful Parliament, enticing him to speak out on parliament’s behalf. It was these few documents from 1386 that made his pamphlet imaginable in the first place, and thus such texts are a central preoccupation of his writing and his world, for, as we shall see, they suggested new possibilities for parliamentary advocacy while at the same time presenting ever greater opportunities for conspiracy and corruption.

Were the parliament rolls riddled with bias? Fovent next turns to other documents to construct an account of the activities of the Ricardian faction between late 1386 and late 1387, the period during which they tried to regain control of the government from the commissioners. Here his prose becomes ever more colourful, for he writes that Richard’s cohort, at the suggestion of the devil, carried out unprecedented acts of fraud and treachery as they endeavoured to hand over the commissioners and their associates to a traitor’s death.32 Despite its dramatic flair, his account of the factionalist operation is not exactly unique to the Historia – nearly everything Fovent has to say regarding the activities of the Ricardian faction he has lifted from the articles of appeal against the appellees as they are recorded in the parliament rolls of 1388, the official records of the Merciless Parliament. Fovent neither openly admits nor plainly denies his use of this source – he betrays his use of the document as if by accident by his use of the legalistic phrase sub forma que sequitur.33 He writes that the Ricardian faction conspired against the members of the continual council ‘under the following form’, and this phrase is then followed by an abridged version of the Appellant charges 31 32

33

To reiterate the point, Fovent thus regards the commission as an extension of parliament. ‘Quorum pretextu inueterati dierum malorum, suadente diabolo, qui fine suorum non obliuiscitur, inique perpetrancium clandestinis eorum consiliis per multifarias et inauditas fraudes et prodiciones hec omnia nitebantur exinanire, dictosque commissarios cum ceteris adherentibus traditorum morti tradere sub forma que sequitur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 3. ‘Under the pretext of all these things I have just described, and under the pretext of the council’s secret manoeuvrings, the devil, never unmindful of their intentions, encouraged them [the Ricardians], through fraud and deception, to work to eliminate all these things [the parliamentary ordinances] and to hand over the commissioners to a traitor’s death.’ Barbara Harvey discusses a variant of this phrase in the introduction to the Westminster Chronicle. The Monk of Westminster uses the phrase sub qua forma – ‘under what legal forms’ – several times in the chronicle before either citing a source or indicating the presence of a source. See WC, p. lxix. Henry Knighton also uses the phrase in forma que sequitur before introducing the articles of appeal into his chronicle. KC, p. 452.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament against the appellees as they are recorded in the parliament rolls, each charge being denoted by the word item. Thus Fovent had some version of the articles of appeal in his possession, but chose neither to copy the appeal into the Historia nor to conceal its presence. Fovent’s editorial decision is striking, for it is quite distinct from those chroniclers who transcribe such records in full into the leaves of their histories. But it also calls into question historians’ longstanding practice of describing such official records as the parliament rolls as a neutral record of the Merciless Parliament. As I shall explain, Fovent’s use of the articles of appeal demonstrates that such official documents were neither written nor read as neutral records of the proceedings, as we historians too often regard them, but as a part of a broader public discourse on parliament’s place in the governance of the realm, of which Fovent’s pamphlet is also a part. That we might better understand Fovent’s own innovative repurposing of such records, it is first helpful to review how historians have traditionally viewed them. Because the parliament rolls are the official record of parliament, historians tend to privilege these records over texts such as the Historia, a text that has long been considered a partisan document.34 For example, in McKisack’s introduction to the 1926 edition of the Historia, she determines the relative accuracy and inaccuracy of Fovent’s text vis-à-vis the parliament rolls. In her footnotes to the Historia, McKisack cross-references Fovent’s version of the offences of the appellees with the articles of the appeal as they appear in the parliament rolls. By corroborating Fovent’s narrative with the parliament rolls McKisack demonstrates that Fovent has got the facts right – he is an accurate source, albeit one with an axe to grind – but here McKisack’s scrutiny of the Historia seems to stop. McKisack readily points out that Fovent probably had access to some version of the articles of the appeal, and that he probably obtained these records from Geoffrey Martin, the clerk of the crown, but McKisack overlooks Fovent’s unique method for incorporating the records into his text, and instead she elects to verify Fovent’s narrative against the official record.35

34

35

G. H. Martin calls for a reconsideration of narrative sources for the period in his essay ‘Narrative Sources for the Reign of Richard II’, in The Age of Richard II, ed. J. L. Gillespie (New York, 1997). Martin believes the records have been privileged long enough. As McKisack explains Fovent’s possible use of the parliamentary records: ‘Favent’s chronology seldom coincides exactly with that of the Parliament roll, though the divergences (indicated in foot-notes) are not great. On the other hand, his accuracy in recording such subjects as the punishments inflicted on the Judges and the amount of the allowances awarded to them suggests that he must have had access to some records of the Parliament, possibly to the rolls themselves. The source of his information may have been Geoffrey Martin, one of the two clerks of the Crown, who is mentioned in the Historia, and who was evidently in favour with the Appellants.’ Favent, Historia, p. viii.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England The difficulty with this traditional historical approach is that the parliament rolls might well be the most biased source of them all.36 Though perhaps seldom done, it is certainly not inaccurate to characterize the official parliamentary records for 1388 as the Appellant history of the Merciless Parliament, and this is most true of the section of the rolls that contains the appeal against members of the Ricardian faction. It is precisely some version of this section that Fovent used to narrate the activities of the Ricardian faction between late 1386 and late 1387. It is also this section that McKisack used to crossreference Fovent’s account of the Ricardian operation. As McKisack notes in her preface, the appeal was drafted with the help of Geoffrey Martin, clerk of the crown, and he was well rewarded for the job by the Lords Appellant, for Martin was granted holdings in Stamford that had been seized from Michael de la Pole as a consequence of his condemnation.37 It was undoubtedly Martin’s expertise in parliamentary procedure and administrative record keeping that had helped score the Appellants their winning strategy against the Ricardian faction. And of course the appeal that Martin helped to draft was subsequently incorporated into the official records.38 In other words, the books were cooked. The collaboration between Geoffrey Martin and the Appellants should not fool us into thinking that the Appellants were themselves proto-parliamentarians. Rather we must be clear that they viewed the institution of parliament as simply a means to an end, an expedient remedy to the rampant corruption that plagued Richard’s administration. When the time came to prosecute members of the Ricardian faction for what might best be described as selfaggrandizement and dereliction of duty, the Appellants were confronted with an obstacle regarding procedure – there existed no precedent for the hearing of an appeal in parliament.39 The Appellants responded to this snag accordingly: In the case of so high a crime as is involved in this appeal, a crime that touches our lord the king and the kingdom, a crime perpetrated by persons who are peers of the realm and others, such a crime cannot be adjudged other than in parliament, and by no law other than the law of parliament.40 36

37 38 39

40

W. M. Ormrod discusses the composition and tenor of the parliament rolls in ‘On – and Off – the Record’, pp. 39–56. For a discussion of the rewriting of the parliament rolls by Richard in 1398, see F. Grady, ‘The Generation of 1399’, in The Letter of the Law, ed. E. Steiner and C. Barrington (Ithaca, 2002), pp. 202–29. CPR 1385–9, p. 513 as noted in McKisack’s preface to the Historia. Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 178. As McKisack explains: ‘Though the appeal, or accusatio, was an ancient and familiar process at common law, there was no precedent for its hearing in parliament.’ McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 455. ‘… qe en si haute crime come est pretendu en cest appelle, qe touche la persone du roi nostre dit seignour, et l’estat de tout soun roialme, perpetre par persones qe sont peeres du roialme, ovesqe autres, la cause ne serra aillours deduc q’en parle-

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament One need not be cynically minded to point out that while this argument appears to carve out new territory for parliament, such was hardly the Appellants’ motive. Nigel Saul has referred to this declaration as a ‘legal sleightof-hand’, for it implied that parliament had the authority to interpret the law as it saw fit.41 However the Appellants never intended this declaration to set a precedent for parliamentary jurisdiction over such matters and they were quick to repudiate any such interpretation.42 Instead they regarded parliament as the most effective instrument to gain control over Richard’s household and administration. The wrangling over procedure established only that procedure was at issue, not that parliament was now the court of last resort. Though if anyone were to have taken this declaration at face value, it would have been Fovent. While the Appellants certainly did not consider the Wonderful and Merciless parliaments as the loci of political activity, but rather as responses to more localized crises in Richard’s administration, Fovent viewed these parliaments as constitutive of a larger political consciousness, one preoccupied with the course of public affairs.43 This conception is reflected not only by Fovent’s selection of the Wonderful Parliament as his beginning, thereby establishing his interest in government regulation and reform, but also by his decision to edit the appeal against the Ricardian faction, something heretofore not done. Of course, as mentioned previously, using copies of parliamentary records to compile a narrative of the Merciless Parliament was hardly exceptional. Other writers too had access to copies of these records, and their reproduction in chronicles suggests they were a popular read, circulating with relative ease. Both the Westminster Chronicle and Knighton’s Chronicle contain the appeal against the Ricardians, the excerpt transcribed by each chronicler in the Anglo-Norman of government documents – although both chronicles were composed in Latin. At the very least, the inclusion of the text of the appeal in each of these chronicles reflects a concern for authenticity that, along with the transcription of other government documents, signifies an increasing interest in and desire for access to government process.44 Nevertheless, by preserving and disseminating a pristine record of the appeal, these chronicles reproduce not simply the official record, but the Appellant record of the proceedings.

41 42 43 44

ment, nepar autre ley qe ley et cours du parlement’, PROME, February 1388, Part 2 (p. iii–236). Saul, Richard II, p. 192. On this point see McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 465. Ormrod discusses the idea that just such a political consciousness developed around this time in Political Life in Medieval England, pp. 1–17. Both Knighton and Monk of Westminster made extensive use of documents in compiling their chronicles; see KC, pp. xxxii–xli; WC, pp. xliii–xlvi.

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Editing the official record However, as I have already observed, Fovent does not transcribe the appeal into the Historia. He edits it instead, and in so doing he confirms that his agenda is distinct from that of the Appellants, who hoped to establish parliament as an instrument to subordinate the crown, and from that of Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, who seemed to delight in transcribing records. Fovent’s relationship to parliament was different – just as he believed that the records of parliament lent themselves to interpretation, so too he viewed the institution itself as dynamic, as truly powerful in its own right. Thus it is only fitting that here we consider Fovent’s account of the crimes committed by the Ricardians, his version radically embellished, abridged and rearranged from the text of the original appeal, which contained thirty-nine articles in all.45   First, speaking with forked tongues, by means of ambition, adulation, subtle words, and flattery, they [the Ricardians] ensnared the innocent king by their poisonous conspiracy and their desires. And so he placed himself under their control, thinking that they would do all things for the best, and in the process they disregarded the council and decrees of the aforesaid commission at Westminster, in order to accomplish their treason.   Also, the king, persuaded by means of flattery and deception, enriched them and through them their hangers on in many ways under the pretext of receipts of brokerage, granting to the duke of Ireland [de Vere] the ransom for Jean de Blois, claimant to the duchy of Brittany. To others the king was persuaded to give ports, towns, land, and to others money that totalled 100,000 marks, and so they succeeded in enriching themselves at the expense of the king and kingdom. And these devourers thought nothing of the king or the state of the realm, plundering with their gluttonous brokerage receipts, they appointed incompetent captains to defend the ports and towns that had been granted to them, because of whose clumsiness at arms their forces were quickly attacked and destroyed, and some places fell into enemy hands, a thing which had never before happened.   Also, denigrating the dignity of the crown, contrary to their allegiance, whereas the king should exist in a free condition above all others, they made him swear and affirm that during his life, in prosperity and in adversity, he would use his power to maintain and defend them against all who stood against them and resisted them, and in order to do this they made him their captive.   Also, though it had been determined by ordinance of the preceding parliament that at certain intervals, whenever the opportunity presented itself, the king should confer with his commissioners at Westminster, the aforesaid slanderers (detractores) used their influence with the king to draw

45

For the full text of Fovent’s charges, the text of the appeal, and McKisack’s corresponding citations of the Parliament Rolls, see the Appendix below.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament him into the farthest recesses of the kingdom. This was to the great detriment of the faithful commissioners in whose hands rested the fate of the kingdom. And when the chancellor, treasurer, keeper of the privy seal, or any other of his commissioners travelled over hill and dale from Westminster to consult and advise the king, they found that they were unable to report any information to the king publicly or privately unless they were in the presence of the slanderers, and so, since the acts and councils of the commissioners were always reported by the detractors, they were able to avoid things that were contrary to their designs and increase those that were favourable.   What else? When they journeyed to Cheshire, Lancaster, and Wales, these same fools (prefati insipientes) retained lords, knights, esquires, and the commons who were able to take up arms, giving them golden signs of a simulated sun and silver crowns to join the retinue, proclaiming that they should rush to the king’s side from all directions and without hesitation in order that they might avenge him against Gloucester and Arundel, commissioners both, and Warwick, in view of the fact that they instigated the other commissioners to threaten them.   Also, disregarding the aforesaid ordinance, statute, and commission, they had the duke of Ireland made justice of Chester. Without hesitation, and without regard to right and wrong, he would return a judgment for a bribe, so that some who should be punished were set free; they carried off the goods of others, punishing others in their place.   Also, by procurement of these favourites (fautorum), and by means of brokerages and gifts of the tormentors, innocent people who were unwilling to adhere to their cause were harassed by false legal action. Many were fatigued by their journeys and aggravated by the excessive cost; some were intimidated by means of writ, some by threat of incarceration, and some by threat of death, all by having received the aforementioned signs of suns and crowns, joining their retinue.   Also, by charters of pardon and illegitimate letters patent, they set free robbers, brigands, and felons in order to join their retinue and aid in the destruction of the aforesaid commissioners.   Besides this, notwithstanding the fact that from time immemorial the land of Ireland belonged to the patrimony of the king of England, the duke of Ireland, wishing to be elevated without reason, was made king of Ireland, and to confirm this they sent royal letters to the pope.   Also, the aforesaid Nicholas Brembre, while in office as mayor of London for one day, snatched 22 people all of whom had been arrested and incarcerated in London’s Newgate prison for various offenses, some accused, some felons, and some chaplains. He took them, their arms bound, in the silence of night by force to a place called Foul Oak in Kent, and without the voice of a judge they were mercilessly allotted a capital sentence, and their blood ran in rivulets from their veins, except for one who escaped alive by means of some barely plausible excuse.   Also, the aforesaid slanderers, without the knowledge of the king, yet in his name, had it proclaimed in London that all these certain crafts of the city should swear to carry out their delusory intentions; by means of flattery

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England and deception they lured them to promise that they would maintain and defend the will and purpose of the king, and that they should be prepared, whenever Nicholas Brembre required it, to live and die with the king to the destruction of all those who were rebels or contrariants against his person or his regality.

If the Historia is at all pro-Appellant, it is so in this regard. Even a cursory review of these charges confirms that Fovent bore no love for the Ricardians, calling them names such as detractores and insipientes. But beyond Fovent’s contempt for the Ricardians, as I indicated above, the source of his allegations – the appeal against the Ricardians – was biased from the start, and it seems Fovent felt no real compulsion to shrug off the inherent prejudice of the Appellant document. Nevertheless, as his colourful language well shows, Fovent succeeded in personalizing this bias, the more so by transforming the appeal into narrative, for he has taken the charges against the Ricardians out of the legal context of the appeal and has presented them instead as a narrative of events. Of course the transformation of these charges from appeal to narrative means that the accused have been presumed guilty. But then, as Fovent well knew, composing the Historia shortly after the close of the Merciless Parliament, the Ricardians had in fact been found guilty of these charges.46 And whether Fovent’s sympathies lay with the Appellants or elsewhere, by mid-1388 few would dispute the fact that Richard’s administration had fallen into disrepute. During these months the Historia likely found itself a receptive readership. But if we consider Fovent’s editorial practices, it becomes apparent that he is engaged in something more than double jeopardy. By using the text of the appeal Fovent keeps his sights set squarely on parliament, even as he appears to do otherwise by recasting the charges against the Ricardians as an account of their conspiratorial activities. Even disguised as narrative, the text of the appeal returns us to Fovent’s true subject – parliamentary power – for the appeal remains a testament to parliament’s authority over the king’s administration. And, whereas the articles drawn up by the Appellants predominately accuse the Ricardians of accroaching to themselves royal power (par le dit accrochement),47 Fovent omits this transgression, instead charging the Ricard-

46

47

As McKisack explains, ‘Internal evidence suggests that the original composition was written almost immediately after the dissolution of the Merciless Parliament in June, 1388 … Favent makes no mention of the death of Suffolk in September, 1389, nor of that of the sometime Duke of Ireland in 1392, though had he written after these events he, like other chroniclers, could have added force to his argument by dwelling upon them as evidence of divine displeasure.’ Favent, Historia, p. vi. Charges 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16, 19, 22, 23, 34 and 35 in the Parliament Rolls. For example, compare the eleventh charge of the appeal with the wording of Fovent’s ninth charge. See Appendix.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament ians twice with disobeying the ordinance, statute and commission enacted by the last parliament.48 But more to the point, the real significance of Fovent’s editorial practices necessarily lies in his particular rendition of the charges against the Ricardians. We must ask ourselves why, of the thirty-nine articles, does he recount these eleven? Of course, this question is somewhat misleading, for as I have detailed in the appendix, these eleven charges are in fact an amalgamation of some twenty articles contained in the official appeal. And beyond this, as I will examine further, the remaining nineteen articles are also incorporated into various parts of the Historia. However, the lengthy section paraphrased above is set off from the rest of the Historia because Fovent introduces it as an orderly account of the Ricardian activities. Thus, here we have the real question – why has Fovent condensed these particular twenty articles from the appeal into eleven? I will begin with the most obvious reason behind Fovent’s methodology – these eleven charges were those Fovent deemed the most newsworthy. If they are not the sum of the most egregious offences, they are those calculated to enrage and excite Fovent’s readership simultaneously, for they epitomized precisely the sorts of abuse of power that had come to dominate the public discourse regarding the need for good governance.49 These popular complaints very often included the condemnation of livery and maintenance, as well as a concern for the subversion of justice – eight of Fovent’s eleven charges fall into these categories, all but the first, fourth and last. In essence, Fovent has produced a digest of the charges against the Ricardians, one that might be readily absorbed by a readership well-versed in the discourse of complaint and reform.50 But his distillation of the charges against the accused serves another (perhaps greater) purpose than simply fuelling the growing interest in government reform, for it is here in the narrative we first learn that Fovent writes for a London audience. This is because, while Fovent’s version of the appeal addresses the broad concerns of those readers who desired good governance on a national level, this section also exhibits his concern with local politics – two of the eleven charges concern the activities of the four-times mayor of London Nicholas Brembre. This is news of specific interest to Londoners, for though, as Pamela Nightingale explains in her book on the Grocers’ Company in London, whereas the Appellants viewed Brembre primarily as an influential supporter of the king, Fovent instead isolates the mayor’s more fantastic transgressions for dissemination – the judicial murders perpetrated

48 49 50

See the 4th and 9th of Fovent’s charges in the Appendix. See Ormrod, Political Life in Medieval England, pp. 64–5. For a thorough discussion of the genre of complaint in this period, see J. Coleman, Medieval Readers and Writers, 1350–1400 (New York, 1981), pp. 79–84.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England at Foul Oak, and the coercion of the London crafts.51 Interestingly enough, the wording of Fovent’s accusations against Brembre is nearly verbatim that of the appeal, and so the Appellants probably believed they had something to gain by including these particular allegations in their case against Brembre, allegations that painted him not just as an overzealous royalist, but as the most corrupt sort of elected official.52 And the Appellants did profit by this tactic, for few Londoners came to Brembre’s defence during the proceedings of 1388. While it may seem as though by specifying such wild accusations against Brembre (accusations scholars such as Pamela Nightingale regard as patently false), Fovent is plainly disseminating Appellant propaganda, nevertheless I believe just the opposite to be true.53 In drawing up the articles against Brembre, the Appellants were instead pandering to the political sensibilities of those who had much in common with Fovent and his readership – Londoners who objected to the outrageous abuses of power that transpired not just on a national level, but in their own city as well. The Appellants believed they needed the support of this constituency in order to secure Brembre’s condemnation.54 They did need it, for Brembre’s trial proved difficult – he fervently professed his innocence, denying the validity of the charges, and so the Appellants appointed a committee of twelve peers to investigate the evidence.55 Much to the Appellants’ dismay, these men declared Brembre innocent. Brembre was finally convicted on the testimony of mayor Nicholas Exton and the city aldermen – at the end it was those who knew him best who sealed his fate.56 The question that remains regarding Fovent’s rendition of the appeal is one of design – why has Fovent rearranged the charges against the Ricardians in this particular order? To begin with, it should be pointed out that the appeal itself was drafted in no clear order; rather the Appellants grouped the articles against the accused loosely according to theme.57 Nevertheless, Fovent 51 52 53

54

55

56 57

Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 315. See also Bird, Turbulent London, p. 90. See Appendix. Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 314. Bird however is open to the possibility that Brembre did commit the murders at Foul Oak: ‘If, however, the “Foul Oke”, where these executions are said to have taken place, was at Hatcham, it was little more than a mile from Brembre’s manor of Lewisham, which is, to say the least, an interesting coincidence.’ Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 89–90. This constituency likely included Northampton sympathizers and the company of mercers, who drafted a complaint against Brembre for the Appellants. For details on these relations, and on Fovent’s London politics, see chapter five, p. 126, below. Including the duke of York, the earls of Kent, Salisbury and Northumberland. For a review of Brembre’s trial, see Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 93–9, and Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 315–17. See Bird, Turbulent London, p. 94. On this point see Saul, Richard II, p. 191.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament has significantly reorganized the articles from their original grouping and he acknowledges his purpose for doing so from the start, for in his preamble to the charges he explains that the Ricardians conspired in the following ways to countermand the ordinances passed in the last parliament and to hand over the commissioners to a traitor’s death.58 Thus Fovent has crafted his version of the charges against the Ricardians in order to catalogue the Ricardian plot against the commissioners. Fovent explicitly portrays the Ricardians as conspiring against the commissioners at Westminster, whereas the existence of such a conspiracy can only be inferred from the articles drafted by the Appellants. For example, in the first of Fovent’s charges he uses the word conspiracionibus to describe the intentions of the Ricardians – the appeal itself contains no such reference. Similar embellishments occur throughout this section of the Historia: Fovent’s third charge tells how the Ricardians planned to crush their opposition; the fourth charge asserts that Ricardians wanted to know the actions of the commissioners in order to counteract them; the fifth charge tells how they plotted to avenge the king against Gloucester and Arundel, both of whom were members of the commission (commissarios); the sixth charge maintains that criminals were set free in order to join the ranks of this retinue and thereby aid in the destruction of the commissioners; the seventh charge similarly asserts that the Ricardians compelled people to join the king’s retinue by means of false legal proceedings.59 Unlike the examples cited above, the appeal itself refrains from alleging the existence of a Ricardian conspiracy against the political opposition, and perhaps this is because the Appellants believed it would be easier to convict the Ricardians as traitors than as conspirators.60 Fovent however had no such concern, and so he arranges the charges against the Ricardians roughly in chronological order to demonstrate that they were steadily amassing the necessary power to overthrow the council appointed by parliament in 1386. In other words, their crime is precisely their conspiracy against the council at Westminster. Therefore, in Fovent’s version, the constant promotion of de Vere reads like a steady siphoning off of power from the council at Westminster to the Ricardian ranks, for de Vere was primarily responsible for raising the Ricardian retinue in the north and north-west midlands. Likewise, Fovent here explains that Gloucester and Arundel were members of the commission at Westminster, and hence they along with Warwick – also a key player in

58 59 60

Favent, Historia, p. 3. For a complete comparison of Fovent with the text of the appeal, see Appendix. See C. D. Ross, ‘Forfeiture for Treason in the Reign of Richard II’, EHR 71 (1956), 560–75; and T. F. T. Plucknett, ‘State Trials Under Richard II’, TRHS 5th s. 2 (1951), 159–71.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England establishing the commission during the parliament of 1386 – were targeted by the Ricardians for destruction.61 Despite the scope of the thirty-nine articles drafted by the Appellants against the Ricardians, Fovent’s distillation of the articles of appeal comes closer to the heart of the matter. This is because, as Tout shrewdly observes of the royal agenda for the summer and autumn of 1387, the king had gathered his troops and devised his own makeshift administration for the purposes of thwarting the reform commission at Westminster.62 The Ricardians named in the appeal were all instrumental to the project of regaining the power that had been transferred to the commission by parliament, though, as the Historia makes clear, some were certainly more instrumental than others.63 Where the Appellants cast their net wide, Fovent’s objective was more specific – the Historia is an indictment of all those who endeavoured to undermine parliament’s authority to oversee the government of the realm.

Paper trails Of course, the crimes allegedly perpetrated by the Ricardians go well beyond those eleven cited above, and if we follow Fovent’s narrative from this point forward we discover a veritable treasure trove of documents dating from late 1387 used to reconstruct the activities of the Ricardians in these months. Identifying the traces left by these documents is important, just as Fovent’s incorporation of such documents in his narrative is important, for these sources further demonstrate that his pamphlet was born of and steeped in the rich documentary culture of this period. As I shall discuss, there is substantial textual evidence to suggest that, in addition to some semi-official copy of the appeal, Fovent used three other sources to write this section of the Historia detailing the misconduct of the Ricardians.64 That he acquired and made use of these three other documents is only part of the point, for, as previously mentioned, both Knighton and the Monk of Westminster transcribed

61

62 63 64

On Warwick, see Saul, Richard II, p. 177. It is interesting to note that the other two Lords Appellant, Derby and Nottingham, do not appear until much later on in the Historia, on page 11 of McKisack’s edition. Tout, Chapters, III, 421. Tout, of course, read closely both Fovent and the Monk of Westminster. See chapter five, pp. 137–8, below. In the 1926 edition of the Historia, McKisack footnotes the entirety of Fovent’s account with the corresponding articles from the parliament rolls. It isn’t clear whether McKisack supposed that the appeal was Fovent’s only source for his composition, or whether she simply cited the corresponding articles from the parliament rolls in order to demonstrate Fovent’s credibility, but there is substantial textual evidence within the Historia itself to suggest that Fovent’s account is here derived from other sources.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament numerous documents into their chronicles.65 However, unlike the accounts in the chronicles, the Historia is not simply a patchwork of documents, for Fovent tries to incorporate all his sources seamlessly into a narrative predominately characterized by his own editorial voice. As a bureaucrat Fovent was not merely adept at distilling documents – he was proficient at reading between the lines. And, with his use of each new document, his preoccupation with the transmission and misappropriation of such texts seems to grow, as the full extent of the Ricardian conspiracy against the commission appointed by parliament unfolds in his pamphlet. As for the sources themselves, the first is disclosed by the preliminary phrase, ‘Cursu decliui temporis mala malis cumulando …’.66 Up to this point Fovent has presented the charges against the Ricardians in systematic fashion, for all but two are prefaced by the customary item, and the two exceptions are hardly notable.67 This particular accusation however provokes from Fovent a disparaging remark – in essence, things were going from bad to worse. What follows is yet another plot against the commissioners: With the decline of the times heaping evils upon evil, they sent letters under the king’s signet to the mayor of London that contained secret instructions. These letters were delivered by John Ripon, clerk, the tenor of which was to accomplish the destruction of the aforesaid three magnates, namely the duke and two earls, along with the rest of the commissioners. The commissioners were to be arrested and indicted in London and Middlesex for high treason and false conspiracy against the king, and so condemned and cruelly murdered as traitors, their descendants thus perpetually disinherited. All this was prejudicially ordained and contrived contrary to the aforesaid ordinance, commission and statute, and in derogation of the king’s prerogative and his crown. Moreover they caused and compelled the king against his will to assist them in their plan.68

65 66 67 68

On the transcription of documents by chroniclers generally, see Coleman, Medieval Readers and Writers, p. 50. Favent, Historia, p. 5. quid ultra and praeterea. ‘Cursu decliui temporis mala malis cumulando, litteras regias maiori ciuitatis Londonie Johanne Rypon clerico latore, cum quodam breui in dictis litteris inuoluto sub signeto regis occulte miserunt. Cuius tenoris una cum litterarum effectus fuit predictos tres proceres, scilicet ducem et duos comites, maxime, ceteros nichilominus commissarios super grandis [sic] prodicionibus et falsis conspiracionibus contra regem illatis, in Londonie etin comitatu Middlesexie indictari, deinde arestari, dampnari et crudeli morti traditorum tradi; et sanguinem eorum deinde in perpetuum exheredari, pro eo quod predicta ordinacio, commissio et statutum in derogacionem prerogatiue regis et sue corone per ipsos fuerunt preiudicialiter ordinata, ac excitando et ordinando regem ad ea, coacta voluntate, consentire.’ Favent, Historia, pp. 5–6.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England It is not that this charge is somehow more egregious than the others – it is hardly more outrageous than the alleged murders at Foul Oak, or the false arrest and extortion of innocent persons, or the coercion of the London crafts. But unlike the eleven charges cited above, this particular accusation against the Ricardians involved an extensive paper trail that included falsified documents, letters containing secret plans, letters sent by special courier and an affidavit. The Appellants obtained the particulars of this charge from John Blake’s confession. (Blake was a member of the king’s council, a lawyer brought in by Tresilian to draft Richard’s questions to the judges. It was for this that he was impeached and executed.) This charge appears not only in the appeal itself, but also in the transcriptions of the appeal in Knighton’s Chronicle and the Westminster Chronicle, though both chronicles contain the same curious modification of the text in that the section detailing Blake’s confession has been truncated.69 Fovent however repeats certain phrases taken from the text of Blake’s confession that are missing from these chronicles, and this establishes that Fovent used a document different from the one copied by Knighton and the Monk of Westminster.70 But was Fovent’s source simply a variant semi-official copy of the appeal itself, or was it perhaps some copy of Blake’s confession? Fovent gives us four good reasons to think that he is using a source different from the appeal. First, as noted above, this charge is bracketed from the other eleven by the prefatory phrase ‘cursu decliui temporis mala malis cumulando …’. Second, Fovent discloses the contents of the letters carried by John Ripon to great purpose, as indicated by the phrase ‘cuius tenoris una cum litterarum effectus fuit …’. Here again Fovent conveys the impression that he is interpreting some source for his reader. Third, Fovent proceeds to describe London’s response to the situation, reporting that ‘upon receipt of these letters, the mayor and aldermen of the city called a common council in order to determine the best course of action. They debated the pros and cons

69

70

In WC, p. 260: ‘leffect’ de quelle bille ensuit: “Ysemble pur le mieltz qe certeins etc.”, ut in confessione Blake, etc.’ In KC, p. 480: ‘lefait de quele bille ensuyt: Et semble pur le meult qe certeyns, etcetera. Vt en confessione Blake, etcetera.’ Cited in note 68 above. Such details are not included in either Knighton’s Chronicle or The Westminster Chronicle, for this is at the point where they both truncate the text. But this passage from the Historia does however closely correspond to text found in PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XXVI (p. iii–234): ‘L’effect de quelle bille ensuist: Semble pur le mielx qe certeins des seignurs, chivalers et communes del prochein parlement, les queux sont notoryment empechables, soient privement enditez en Loundres, ou en Middelsex’, de conspiracie et confederacie; c’estassavoir, de ceo qu’eux a certein jour illoqes fauxement et traiterousement conspireront entre eux, et soy confedereront, de faire en mesme le parlement un estatut et une commissioun encontre la regalie nostre seignour le roy, et en derogacioun de sa corone.’

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament of the matter until they came to this agreement, that they were unwilling to cooperate in any way nor did they wish this scheme to be carried out.’71 This detail regarding the common council is unique to the Historia, suggesting not only that Fovent was well-informed about city politics, but also that he has abandoned his initial source – the appeal – in favour of providing local coverage of the events.72 Fourth, Fovent does not hereafter resume his use of the appeal, for the accusations that follow not only seem to come from other sources, but concern other documents as well. While all the evidence points to the fact that this passage about the letters calling for the arrest and execution of the commissioners originated someplace other than the appeal, that Fovent had some copy of Blake’s confession is simply an educated guess. I suggest this because of how this passage reads in comparison with the accounts in Knighton’s Chronicle and the Westminster Chronicle – where these chronicles cut short their citation of Blake’s confession, Fovent continues on, but in a different direction from the appeal, relating instead the situation in London.73 From here he moves on again, to yet another conspiracy involving the transmission and interception of letters, and thus to the second of the three documents he uses dating from late 1387. This next section of the Historia begins with a warning couched in biblical language: ‘Soon evil begets even greater evil, and before long these evils drag 71

72

73

‘Mox maior et aldremannei dicte ciuitatis Londonie consilium congregauerunt in unum quid de hac materia esset faciendum: ac ipsi, racionibus factis pro et contra, condescendebant in unum; et bene subaudi quod noluerunt aliquo modo de huiusmodi facto intromittere nec mandatum illud voluerunt fieri executum.’ Favent, Historia, p. 6. McKisack however cites what she believes to be the corresponding event in Higden, IX, 104 (WC, p. 206): ‘Item xxviij die Octobris misit rex archiepiscopum Eboracensem et Michaelem de la Pole comitem Suffolkiae ad majorem et cives Londoniarum ad inquirendum ab eis, an essent inter se unanimes in civitate Londoniarum, et an ipsi vellent stare cum rege, si opus exposceret, aut non. Ad ista fuit eis responsum, quod illi forent unanimes et suo regi vellent obedire in omnibus prout sua regia majestas exigit et requirit ac secum tenere aliis potpositis quibuscumque.’ Though the language is similar, this passage describes a completely different event, ­Richard’s entrance into the city of London on 10 November 1387. Fovent describes this particular event on page 9 of the Historia. The Historia is thoroughly preoccupied with London politics, and in speculating where Fovent might have obtained Blake’s confession, I noted one name running through both the local and national political scene – John Ripon. As discussed below, Ripon was one of the witnesses to Richard’s infamous questions to the judges on 25 August 1387. According to Tout, ‘Ripon was a favourite clerk of the king and was sent to Rome to secure a divorce for the duke of Ireland.’ Tout, Chapters, III, 424 n. 1. Tout also tells us that upon his condemnation in 1388, Ripon was captured near Tutbury and thrown into the Tower. He was released in June of 1393. Tout, Chapters, III, 452 n. 3. The precise nature of Ripon’s connection to Fovent, if indeed there was a connection, has yet to be discovered. Nevertheless, as the person who carried the king’s letters to the mayor of London, Ripon seems a possible conduit of information.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England one down, and then a third evil transpires, and so forth …’.74 The greater evil in question is the correspondence between Richard II and the king of France from 1386 to 1387, some letters negotiating a truce between the two countries, the terms of which were not particularly favourable to the English, and some beseeching the king of France to aid Richard in the destruction of the commissioners. Though much of the information concerning the letters sent from Richard II to Charles VI appears in several of the articles in the appeal, Fovent adds a few significant details: These same fools, inflamed with temerity, sent letters by John Golafre to the king of France, the king’s adversary. … And as evidence that these things were true, many letters of safe-conduct (plura salua conducta), some from the king of France for our king, and some for his adherents, were produced by the commissioners into whose hands they had fallen and who are prepared to testify to this at whenever time. Besides these letters of that date, more of the king’s letters were intercepted from a messenger to the king of France, and these too are evidence.75

There are several curious differences between Fovent’s version of the story and the account outlined in the appeal. First, Fovent tells us that John Golafre, knight, carried these letters between Richard and the king of France. This is precisely the sort of detail that interests Fovent, for though he rarely refers to the principals by name, he frequently names the middling players. The Appellants, however, name someone else: ‘some were carried by Nicholas Southwell, groom of the king’s chamber, and others by other persons of lower rank, aliens as well as denizens …’.76 Golafre, then, is clearly one of the ‘persons of lower rank’ referred to in the appeal, but why does Fovent name him instead of Southwell?77

74 75

76

77

‘Praeterea quoniam malum generat peius et mox suo pondere aliud ad se trahit, et illud tercium et sic deinceps …’, Favent, Historia, p. 6. ‘… prefati insipientes temeritate inflammati, pro quinquenali treuga componenda apud Calesiam vel in partibus vicinis, litteras regias regi Francie aduersario, Johanne Golofre milite nuncio … Et pro euidenciori quod ista sunt vera, plura salua conducta [sic] a dicto rege Francie aduersario pro nostro rege illuc transmeando ceterorumque regi adherencium fuerunt istuc transmissa, que iam in manibus dictorum commissariorum edenda in testimonium huius quandocumque sunt parata. Adhuc alia dierum praeter ista littere regie a manibus latoris versus regem Francie dirigende surrepte fuerunt que adhuc testimoniales sunt.’ Favent, Historia, p. 6. PROME, February 1388, Part 3, Article XXIX (p. iii-234): ‘… avantditz Alexandre, erchevesqe d’Everwik, Roberd de Veer, duc d’Irland, et Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’, firent le roi envoier ses lettres de credence a son adversair le roi Fraunceis, ascuns par une Nicholas Southwell’, vadlet de soun chambre, et ascuns par autres persones de petit estat, sibien aliens come deniseyns …’. J. J. N. Palmer is of the opinion that the identity of the agent in question was Golafre. See England, France, and Christendom, 1377–99 (London, 1972), p. 108.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament To begin with, Golafre probably interested Fovent more than Southwell – Golafre was one of the chamber knights who profited from John Northampton’s fall, for he was granted a portion of the spoils of Northampton’s property.78 As I will discuss at length in chapter six, Fovent shows himself in the Historia to be a possible Northampton supporter, and perhaps Golafre earned Fovent’s enmity on this account. Interestingly, Knighton too names Golafre as the messenger who carried the king’s letters to the king of France, and he reports that these letters were seized by William Beauchamp, captain of Calais, who turned them over to Gloucester.79 But as far as the Appellants were concerned, Golafre was small fish, for though they issued an order for his arrest, he remained in France for the duration of the Merciless Parliament, and was later pardoned by Richard, remaining the king’s loyal knight until his death in 1396, at which time Richard arranged for his burial in Westminster Abbey.80 So why do both Fovent and Knighton mention Golafre? Both writers must have had the same source, some document providing detailed information about the material evidence gathered by the Appellants, information not contained in the appeal itself.81 While this particular document eludes further identification, nevertheless Fovent’s use of the unidentified text still tells us much about his purpose in writing his pamphlet, for it is clear that as much as Fovent is concerned with the alleged crimes of the Ricardians, he is equally preoccupied with the transmission and misappropriation of government documents. In many respects this was, for him, what the Merciless Parliament was really about, and he demonstrates his interest in this subject not only by straying from the text of the appeal when need be, but also by mentioning the existence of these other documents wherever he can, singling them out for additional commentary – he concludes this passage with a citation from scripture: ‘Whoever has ears for hearing let them hear’.82

78 79

80

81

82

McKisack, Fourteenth Century, pp. 437–8; CPR 1381–5, p. 468. KC, p. 406: ‘Eciam dominus Iohannes Golofre miles missus est a rege ad regem Francie cum litteris, set Willelmus Bewchampe capitaneus Calesie abripuit ab eo litteras et remisit in Angliam ad ducem Gloucestrie.’ On Golafre’s career, see N. E. Saul, ‘The Fragments of the Golafre Brass in Westminster Abbey’, Transactions of the Monumental Brass Society 15:1 (1992), 19–32; Saul, Richard II, p. 335; Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 163; and Palmer, England, France and Christendom, pp. 108, 119. As Saul explains it, in January of 1388 the Appellants ‘began the systematic amassing of evidence for use in the trials to come. On 14 January the ports were sealed and the constable of Dover ordered to collect “all writs, writings, orders and commands addressed from 20 November 1386 to 14 January 1388 … on behalf of the king … for passage of all who have passed from the realm overseas for whatever cause.” ’ Saul, Richard II, p. 190; CCR 1385–9, p. 388. ‘Qui habet aures audiendi audiat.’ Favent, Historia, p. 6; Matt. 11. 15.

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August 1387: Richard II’s questions to the judges Somehow the next charge against the Ricardians is even worse than the last, for Fovent begins the next section with a rather tongue-in-cheek reference to the parable of the vineyard: ‘Furthermore they laboured ever-watchful in the devil’s vineyard, their minds unwearied’.83 Here follows the third and final document that is the source for Fovent’s account of Richard II’s questions to the judges, an episode nearly as significant as the Merciless Parliament itself in that it produced a theory of the royal prerogative that explicitly denied parliament’s authority to oversee the government of the realm.84 As previously described, Richard spent much of 1387 in defiance of the commission appointed by parliament in 1386. In August of 1387, the king summoned the judges of the realm first to Shrewsbury and then to Nottingham in order to answer a series of ten questions generally designed to establish the liberties and prerogatives of the crown, but specifically intended to show that the parliamentary statute appointing the commission was derogatory to the prerogatives of the crown, and that those who had procured the statute should be punished as traitors. It was Chief Justice Tresilian, arch-royalist, who masterminded these meetings between Richard and the judges of the realm, and it was John Blake who drafted the document to which the judges affixed their seals. This document was further witnessed by nine of the king’s advisors, and though these two meetings were intended to be secret – Richard might thus produce this judgment at precisely the right moment – the incident was soon leaked to the Appellants, who now believed they were left with no other recourse but to confront the Ricardians head on. What eventually happened to the original document, the one to which the judges affixed their seals, is not known.85 The questions to the judges, along with their answers, were included in the appeal as further evidence of the gravity of the Ricardian conspiracy, and these were in turn copied by Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, though both chroniclers seem to have extracted the questions from the text of the appeal, moving them to an earlier place in their narratives in order to reflect the chronology of events.86 Fovent also transcribes a selection of the questions to the judges, editing them as he is inclined to do, but unlike Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, Fovent does not follow the chronology of events, for several of the events 83 84

85 86

‘Ulterius, in vinea diabolica infessatis mentibus laborantes et semper pervigiles …’, Favent, Historia, p. 7. On the significance of this judgment, see Tout, Chapters, III, 424; Saul, Richard II, pp. 174–5; and S. B. Chrimes, ‘Richard II’s Questions to the Judges’, Law Quarterly Review 72 (1956), 365–90 (pp. 365–71). Chrimes, ‘Richard II’s Questions to the Judges’, p. 385. PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XXV (p. iii–233). See also WC, pp. 196–7; and KC, pp. 395–401.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament mentioned earlier in the Historia actually took place after Richard’s meeting with the judges. Fovent is instead working thematically, for like the sections about the letters sent by the Ricardians to the mayor of London and to the king of France (letters that were sealed with the king’s signet) this section concerns the misuse of official government documents. As was the case with the previous two examples, Fovent’s version of the questions to the judges is slightly different from the version found in both the appeal and the chronicles. To begin with, the Historia gives the date of Richard’s meeting with the judges at Nottingham as 19 September 1387, as opposed to 25 August in the parliament rolls. (The meeting at Nottingham did in fact take place on 25 August, and evidence from the king’s itinerary suggests that the meeting at Shrewsbury took place on 21 August or thereabouts.)87 Furthermore, Fovent omits Tresilian from the list of judges and John Fordham, bishop of Durham, from the list of witnesses. But Fovent is careful to include John Cary, chief baron of the exchequer, who was present only at the Shrewsbury meeting: ‘In quorum omnium testimonium predicti justiciarii, una cum Johanne Cary tunc Barone Scaccarri, metu mortis iusto compulsi ut asseruerunt, sigilla sua presentibus apposuerunt’.88 How might we explain these differences? A scribal error would certainly account for the different date as well as the omission of Tresilian and Fordham for, as McKisack notes, the only known manuscript of the Historia is far too clean to have been the author’s copy.89 Nevertheless, I do not believe that these discrepancies originated with some copy of the Historia, for here again Fovent indicates that he is working from material evidence, introducing the questions to the judges with the phrase sub modo quo sequiter. Instead it seems likely that there existed more than one original judgment, one for each of the meetings at Shrewsbury and Nottingham. Or perhaps a subsequent version of the questions and answers was drafted in order to reconcile the differences in those present at the two meetings, for, as noted above, Cary was absent from Nottingham, but at this meeting there were present Roger Fulthorp of the common bench and John Lokton, sergeant-at-law, both absent from Shrewsbury.90 Fovent however gives no indication that he knew of the meeting at Shrewsbury, and it seems that he 87 88 89

90

Tout recreates Richard’s itinerary from February to November 1387 in Chapters, III, 419–20 n. 3. See also Saul, Richard II, p. 471. Favent, Historia, p. 7. Interestingly enough, this makes the judges look rather more innocent than do the parliament rolls. On the Bodleian manuscript see McKisack’s introduction to the Historia, pp. v–vi. McKisack suggests that the date of 19 September for Richard’s meeting with the judges is a scribal error, but I would be more inclined to think this about the omission of Tresilian from the list of judges, something she seems to have overlooked. See Tout, Chapters, III, 422–24; Saul, Richard II, p. 173; and Chrimes, ‘Richard II’s Questions to the Judges’, p. 371. Perhaps the date of some subsequent copy was 19 September.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England was simply trying to represent and reconcile another semi-official copy of the judgment that was in circulation with the copy that was contained in the appeal. It is not known why Richard met with the judges twice, though Clementi puts forth the most compelling theory, that the judges were being asked to confirm their decision regarding a set of complex issues that had in fact been under consideration since the autumn of 1386, when the conflict between Richard and the commissioners heated up.91 Interestingly, Fovent cites only questions one through five, the questions specifically relating to the establishment of the commission, thereby once again striking a balance between the overarching narrative concerning the Ricardian plot against the commissioners and Fovent’s own preoccupation with the misuse of official documents.92 From this point on, the Historia diverges from both the text of the appeal and the documentary evidence cited therein. The Historia now becomes every bit Fovent’s own creation, though this is not to suggest that henceforth he abandons his fascination with the use and abuse of official documents. On the contrary, the (sub)plots involving the misuse of documents by the Ricardians become all the more fantastic as Fovent’s concern with the corruption of official documents evolves into a concern with political corruption at large. The relationship between documents and politics is necessarily fluid, for the Historia alerts us to the fact that as much as the Merciless Parliament was about political power, it was also about the documents that had come to facilitate that power. In this regard, the Historia inadvertently makes us wonder whether the Ricardians would have been much of a threat to the old order if they had not had access to Richard’s signet, his personal symbol that he used to seal his written correspondences.93 Richard used the signet far more often than any of his predecessors who had typically directed their correspondences through the established bureaucratic offices, such as the chancery and privy seal.94 Thus Richard exercised direct and unchecked control over many traditionally bureaucratic procedures, and many of the Appellant articles against the Ricardians suggest that they used the signet to draft and send letters at will in the king’s name. Not only does Fovent note the significance of these letters sent sub signeto regis, but, as I will discuss in the next chapter, he amplifies it,

91 92

93 94

See Clementi, ‘Richard’s Ninth Question to the Judges, 1387’, pp. 111–12. Fovent edits questions 3 and 4 into a single point, but then these two questions were almost identically worded. There were ten questions in all. The questions not included in the Historia concern the king’s powers in relation to parliament more generally and the legality of the impeachment of de la Pole in 1386. On Richard’s use of the signet, see Tout, Chapters, IV, 343. On the control of the privy seal by the reform commission of 1386, see Ormrod, ‘Government by Commission’, pp. 310, 318–19; and A. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility (New York, 1974), p. 228.

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Reading and Writing about the Wonderful Parliament as the flurry of letters develops into a conspiracy best described as Pynchonesque.95 Just as significantly, the Historia also makes it clear that as much as the Merciless Parliament was about the five appellees, it was also about the smaller fish, the bureaucrats who drafted and carried these letters. For example, two of Fovent’s charges concerning Ricardian documents name the clerk John Ripon as a key player – it was Ripon who carried the letters sent under the king’s signet to the mayor of London, and Ripon’s name is furthermore listed as a witness to the judges’ answers. Though scholars have puzzled over why minor functionaries like Ripon were singled out by the Appellants for attack, Fovent tells us that Ripon was targeted for his role in precisely those activities Fovent mentions – carrying letters for the Ricardians and witnessing documents.96 In this way, the Historia makes explicit an important but often misconstrued aspect of the Appellant strategy, for they were resolved that bad bureaucrats would suffer their just desserts. Fovent is more than happy to comply, carefully recording the names of all those bureaucrats caught in the fray.97

1388: From news to opinion Given Fovent’s predilection for documents and the editorial practices discussed in this chapter, it seems clear that he wrote the Historia for a readership that was also characterized by an interest in the circulation and consumption of documentary culture. This might imply that he wrote for a rather limited audience – people like himself who had some bureaucratic training, who were literate in Latin, and who were keenly interested in parliamentary politics. Yet, as I have argued in chapter one, and as Steven Justice 95 96

97

Worthy perhaps of T. Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49 (Philadelphia, 1966). In The Royal Household and the King’s Affinity, Given-Wilson considers four of the king’s clerks who were singled out by the Appellants for attack during the Merciless Parliament: John Ripon, Henry Bowet, William Monkton and Geoffrey FitzMartin. Of these men Given-Wilson remarks: ‘None of them were household clerks, and it is not clear what their crimes were. Ripon had been responsible for negotiating Robert de Vere’s divorce at Rome in 1387, which may have been seen as a crime by the Appellants, and at least demonstrates his close association with the king’s principal favourite.’ Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 178. In the same vein, note what Fovent says about Blake’s conviction by the Appellants: ‘Denuo redientes ad huiusmodi tremebunda iudicia, ducti sunt ad parliamentum Thomas Usk et Johannes Blake, iiij die mensis Marcii, quarta quoque feria, qui duo, licet homines simplicis qualitatis fuissent attamen in premissis prodicionibus cum predictis potestatibus prout participes ambo afforciebantur … Fuit enim Blake annexus Tresylian qui pergens et rediens pro prodicionibus et materiis dictorum quinque dampnatorum complendis referendarius pluries reperiebatur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 19.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England and Kathryn Kerby-Fulton note in their work on reformist circles, the culture of parliamentary reportage had been building steadily since 1376, for semiofficial documents were simply the first wave of parliamentary reports.98 Furthermore, it seems that the bureaucrats and civil servants who participated in this culture of parliamentary reportage played an important part in the development of the political public sphere, for their livelihoods were often directly affected by policy set in parliament, and so they necessarily kept a close watch on parliamentary proceedings. By the time of the Merciless Parliament, this culture might no longer be described as small, for it should be kept in mind that the Historia was not so much a report as it was an opinion piece, and the demand for opinion itself might well have transcended this narrow cast. Though, as I have begun to suggest, Fovent’s opinion had everything to do with the relationship between these official (bureaucratic) documents and parliamentary politics. In the next chapter, I will examine the way Fovent uses the alleged crimes of the Ricardians, particularly those involving the misuse and misappropriation of official documents and letters, as an opportunity to decry corruption and advocate the need for government regulation through the institution of parliament.

98

Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 154.

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CHAPTER  FIVE

Conspiracy Theories These letters contained provocations to the king of France to seize his own way into England with a great host, to attack the aforesaid three lords and the other commissioners and all those authorizing or favouring the aforesaid ordinance, commission, and statute that was in derogation of the king’s and his rank’s prerogative, and to defeat and destroy them by wickedly handing them over to a cruel death, and, by consequence, the [English] people and language. Whoever has ears for hearing, let them hear.1

In the previous chapter, I observed in passing that the more egregious of the Ricardian plots against the commissioners provoked Fovent to ridicule the conspirators with allusions to scripture, as he does at the end of this passage. For a brief moment here he seems to address his readers directly, punctuating the revelation of secret letters sent by the Ricardians to the king of France with a remark that is at once indignant and incredulous: Qui habet aures audiendi audiat.2 Though such biting interjections are certainly colourful (particularly his description of the Ricardians labouring in the devil’s vineyard in connection with Richard’s meeting with the judges), these biblical references seem to appear almost reflexively, as if to brace the reader for the next revelation. But are they doing something more? Perhaps these allusions to scripture are not simply admonitory or mocking – as I suggested before, they typically appear in conjunction with offences involving the misappropriation, suppression and counterfeiting of government documents. Fovent clearly dislikes the misuse of official letters and documents, and this is because he supposes such documents to be the most consistent mechanism for exercising, and in the words of the Appellants, accroaching royal power. But what truly bothers Fovent about these documents – what provokes his ire and his commentary – 1

2

‘In quibus quidem litteris continebatur excitare regem Francie cum potestate magna arripere suum iter in Angliam, dictos tres dominos ceterosque commissarios atque omnes autorizantes vel fauentes predicta ordinacionem, commissionem et statutum fieri in derogacionem prerogatiue regis suique status debellare et destruere crudeli morti nequiter mansipando et, per consequens, gentem et linguam. Qui habet aures audiendi audiat.’ Favent, Historia, p. 6. Allusion perhaps to Matt. 11. 15, or Mark 4. 9, or Luke 8. 8, etc.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England is something besides the accroachment of power. It is the ability of the letters and documents to circulate, for the letters and documents generated by the Ricardians travelled far and wide, increasing the scope of the crisis by their very circulation. Consider again those letters sealed with Richard’s signet and sent by the Ricardians to London and France in the months when Richard toured the kingdom in the hopes of rebuilding his base of support. Fovent describes these letters as key instruments of the Ricardian conspiracy because they are so easily disseminated, making their way across the Channel, carrying secrets to the enemy, the king of France, unfolding the plot to murder the commissioners, until he exclaims that the English people and their language will be destroyed.3 Thus it was not only Richard who travelled around England in 1387, placing himself beyond the reach of the commissioners who sat at Westminster – the political crisis itself was itinerant, as Ricardian documents also travelled around the country, across the Channel and into foreign hands, making it all the more difficult for the commissioners to monitor the activities of the Ricardians. Of course, as I have suggested, Fovent himself, along with chroniclers such as Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, necessarily benefited from the circulation of official and semi-official documents, for they all used documents as sources for their respective narratives. Furthermore one must assume that Fovent hoped his own narrative would circulate across a fairly open readership. On the surface then, his concerns regarding the misuse of documents may seem a bit hypocritical, and this is perhaps why he is often labelled a propagandist, because his pamphlet was just another text in a war of words fought by two political factions. But it is not this at all. Rather his pamphlet is an exposition of the right and wrong way to use such documents. This is because he uses official and semi-official texts in order to engage in an open discussion of governance. At the same time he condemns the transmission of covert documents by the Ricardians, and more troubling to him still is the concealment of documents from public view. This is precisely the strategy adopted by Ricardians in the case of Richard’s questions to the judges, for they intended to keep the judgment secret until the time was ripe to strike against their adversaries. Fovent believes that the great danger posed by the Ricardians lies in their secrecy, and so he advocates transparency. More significantly, the distinctions between the possible uses (and abuses) of such documents point to the general problem of ferreting out corruption, or at its most basic level, the problem of locating those sites where corruption might otherwise advance unchecked. As we have seen, a letter sealed with the king’s signet is not always what it seems, for it might well conceal a conspiracy against top government officials. Ultimately the misappropriation

3

Favent, Historia, p. 6. The full text of the passage is cited above.

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Conspiracy Theories and misuse of government documents by the Ricardians point to the question of how to eliminate corruption from government, for it seems that the commissioners at Westminster were powerless to monitor the activities of an itinerant king and his coterie of roaming royalists. Fovent is well aware of this issue, and so the Historia reflects his fervent interest in parliament’s ability to regulate the political process effectively. And as I have argued, in this he was not alone, but simply building on the work of those anonymous chancery clerks who released those documents associated with the parliament of 1386. This vogue for parliament would only grow over the course of the next two decades as poets took up the cause of reform. At the beginning of Henry IV’s reign, John Gower produced a sombre recounting (as Andrew Galloway has characterized the poem) of the Merciless Parliament in his Chronica Tripertita, while about this same time other anonymous writers busied themselves with explicitly satirical works such as Richard the Redeless and Mum and the Sothsegger.4 These satirical poems in particular were doubtless inspired by Langland’s Rat Parliament, and Langland himself has been shown to be influenced by that same reformist culture of civil servants whose early parliamentary reports influenced Fovent’s pamphlet. Accordingly, I think it is right to characterize Fovent’s pamphlet as a small part of the larger struggle in these years to bring about a nascent political sphere, a struggle not only to engage in a public discourse about the nature of governance, but a fight to delineate the public space where his own pamphlet was to circulate in the city and beyond. Therefore, as we shall discover, Fovent’s interest in ferreting out corruption leads him away from parliament for a brief time, for many of the problems of corruption are beyond parliament’s jurisdiction, occurring in the marketplace, in the city, in the royal household, in private places concealed from the public watch, and in public spaces too boundless to regulate with any degree of success. He exposes to his readers the many instances of corruption perpetrated by the Ricardians in political, public and private spaces, describing the exchange of secret documents, the recruitment of armed retinues, the interdiction on the sale of goods to the Appellants and their supporters in the city, and the attempt to silence the many rumours that flew through London. And he was hardly alone in suffering bouts of paranoia, for a preoccupation with shadowy conspiracies seems widespread in England in the years after the Peasants’ Revolt, suggesting a shifting or evolving suspicion of documentary culture that was first articulated by the rebels in 1381.5 But this anxiety about the use and abuse of documents was no longer restricted to those rebels distrustful of clerkly culture, but had now spread to the clerkly class itself, 4 5

Galloway, ‘The Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, p. 85; and Grady, ‘The Generation of 1399’, pp. 204–7. A point made by S. Lindenbaum, ‘London Texts and Literate Practice’, in The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, ed. D. Wallace (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 284–309.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England as their jurisdiction over documentary culture was chipped away from both above and below. This same transformation might be seen in the shift from Wycliffite criticisms of ecclesiastical Latinate culture to the popular accusations against covins and coventicles where Lollard texts were thought to be read.6 In one sense, these suspicions and shifting concerns about the possible conspiratorial uses of texts help to define and articulate (and possibly co-opt) the public interest by popularizing the demand for transparency and accountability in the use of texts and documents. In the Historia itself, in the section between Fovent’s rendition of the documentary evidence against the Ricardians (discussed in the previous chapter) and the convening of the Merciless Parliament, Fovent touches on these many sites of corruption as he unravels the extent of the Ricardian conspiracy against the public interest. To follow him, we will retrace the sequence of events in late autumn of 1387 when, in the months after they had learned of Richard’s consultation with the judges, the Appellants pursued the Ricardians from London to the north. We will go from Harringay Park outside the city where Arundel camped his troops on 11 November, to the standoff between the Appellants and de Vere at Radcot Bridge on 20 December that spelled the end for the Ricardian faction. These events, as they are recounted by Fovent, will take us from the dark corners of the palace at Westminster to the first day of the Merciless Parliament.

Intercepting communications (or The Courier’s Tragedy) To begin, I will return to the lingering question of why the falsification and dissemination of documents provoked from Fovent biting allusions to scripture. The answer lies just a bit further on in his pamphlet, for none of the biblical references mentioned in the previous chapter are quite as striking as the one he produces in conjunction with the Historia’s most fantastic conspiracy, one involving yet again the transmission of letters by the Ricardians. This particular episode takes place just after Fovent’s account of Richard’s infamous consultation with the judges. According to Fovent, the Ricardians had constructed a renegade network of messengers to transport their nefarious communications throughout England. In order to bring down this network of Ricardian dispatchers, the Appellants sent out across the kingdom a legion of

6

Accusations regarding coventicles and covins are not particular to the last quarter of the fourteenth century, though they do reflect the same sort of concerns about the dangers posed by secrecy as those voiced by Fovent, suggesting a widespread anxiety regarding secret gatherings that probably dates from the Peasants’ Revolt. See Justice, Writing and Rebellion, p. 196 n. 14; Strohm, Social Chaucer, p. 24; and Strohm, Hochon’s Arrow, pp. 57–8.

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Conspiracy Theories intelligence gathering agents whose job it was to intercept all letters bearing the king’s signet: … the Duke of Gloucester, and the Earls of Arundel and Warwick, who, because they had suspected for the whole time that some of the evils happened through the actions of the aforesaid traitors (proditores) carefully arranged to have messengers and inspectors dispatched throughout every part of England, to seize the royal letters and to hold whoever might be carrying them, or to hold the person to whom they might have been written or sent, and these letters were publicized everywhere in England without delay.7

The Appellant intelligence-gathering operation was a complete success, for Fovent tells us they were thus able to unravel the whole plot of the conspirators.8 Interestingly, he does not relate the details of the plot – he is probably ignorant of the details, or perhaps he believes the act of plotting itself was dangerous enough to warrant a conviction. But he does make this seem the breakthrough in the Appellant case against the Ricardians: … and every meeting and strange plot of the reckless ones over the course of an entire year was learned about – glory to God in the highest, and peace to men of good will on earth – from letters that were intercepted. They understood that because of these actions the kingdom was just at the point of destruction, according to that evangelical saying – Every kingdom divided against itself, shall be destroyed – and so they applied a remedy …9

Clearly Fovent feels incensed by the audacity of the Ricardians, and the Christian allusions are expressions of his outrage at their audacity. More specifically, his response to the discovery of these letters gives us a clue to the purpose of the allusions to scripture in the Historia overall, for they act as a counterbalance to the misappropriation of letters and documents by the Ricardians. This is not to say that such biblical references do not serve as warnings to all those who might follow in the path of the Ricardians and 7

8 9

‘… scilicet ducis Gloucestrie et comitum Arundelli et Warwychi, qui per totum istud tempus postquam suspicabantur aliqua mala per dictos proditores contingere, ordinarunt miserunt caute per omnes partes Anglie nuncios et scrutatores ut omnes litteras regias et eorum portitores quoscumque, vel ad quoscumque directas vel missos, caperent et retinerent, eas ubicumque in Anglia indilate propalando.’ Favent, Historia, p. 8. Though the Appellants did seize letters as evidence against the Ricardians, I have found no other reference to this particular episode. ‘Quod ita gestum rerum probauit euentus, in tantum quod omne ipsorum improuidorum tocius anni consilium … nouerunt …’, Favent, Historia, p. 8. ‘… et prodiciosum propositum tenoribus litterarum repertarum – “Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus bone voluntatis” – perscrutati sunt et nouerunt et per modum faciendi considerarunt regnum fore in punctu perdicionis iuxta euangelicum dictum – Omne regnum in se diuisum desolabitur – apposuerunt remedium …’, Favent, Historia, p. 8. Fovent’s evangelical saying is from Matt. 12. 25.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England attempt to hijack the bureaucratic channels of government for their own gain. More obviously still, these biblical references and evangelical sayings clearly demonstrate that the ethical and moral definition of corruption as it operates in the Historia is derived primarily from Christian moral theology, as opposed to originating with some notion of civic virtue.10 But, most significantly, the allusions to scripture appear in conjunction with the passages describing the misappropriation of documents and letters because they help to reposition these letters in the Historia as evidence against the Ricardians. In essence, such evangelical sayings make it clear that the dissemination of such letters and documents by the Ricardians constituted a serious transgression. (It seems that the criminal nature of some of the other Ricardian activities, such as instigating false legal action against innocent people, is less ambiguous, and so does not require commentary.) At the same time, these references to scripture serve as a purification rite of sorts, recovering these letters from their corruption at the hands of the Ricardians and making the case for public scrutiny. The process of recontextualizing these letters is all the more important precisely because Fovent does not disclose much in the way of their contents. I suspect this is because he was not privy to the contents of these letters, or perhaps the letters themselves are not always inherently condemning or conspiratorial. Unlike the Appellants, who actually amassed the evidence against the Ricardians and thus presumably sifted through the contents of these documents and letters in order to build their case, Fovent often seems preoccupied with the very existence of these letters, and particularly with their circulation. He clearly believes that these letters, many sent under the king’s signet, were essential to the operations of Richard’s followers, for they helped to construct informal allegiances and networks, circulating among the members of Richard’s faction, presumably to achieve some specific political aim, and sinisterly mirroring the networks of readers and reformers in London who presumably formed the audience for his pamphlet. However the truth of the conspiracy before us is not quite as fantastic as Fovent would have it seem. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, in January of 1388 the Appellants began collecting evidence against the Ricardians, and so ordered the constable of Dover to seize all Ricardian letters and documents issued between November 1386 and January of 1388 ‘for passage of all who have passed from the realm overseas for whatever cause’.11 But these instructions were a far cry from the dragnet Fovent describes, and the collection of letters as evidence by the Appellants is entirely overlooked by both Knighton and the Monk of Westminster, suggesting that the particulars 10

11

A distinction examined and challenged in regards to Chaucer’s London by R. Evans, ‘The Production of Space in Chaucer’s London’, in Chaucer and the City, ed. A. Butterfield (Woodbridge, 2006), pp. 41–56. CCR 1385–9, p. 388, as mentioned in Saul, Richard II, p. 190.

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Conspiracy Theories of process were unremarkable.12 Regardless of whether Fovent has possibly overstated the conspiratorial threat posed by these letters, or exaggerated the number of inspectors sent by the Appellants across England, his version of events is nevertheless important because it demonstrates the particular significance that our pamphleteer placed on the transmission of such letters to the Ricardian strategy, and so it warrants further consideration. As Fovent describes the conspiracy, this renegade network of Ricardian messengers is likely to have appeared to be conducting business as usual, simply carrying letters to and from the king. But, as it happens, the Ricardians have successfully sabotaged the everyday bureaucratic activities of the government, subverting the system of communication in order to gain control of the crown. As fantastic a conspiracy as this might seem (and it is undeniably Fovent’s outbursts that make it seem so fantastic), it has a rather practical function within his narrative, for it illustrates his concerns about an unregulated system of government. Fovent suspects that under Ricardian rule, political transactions are inherently secret transactions, for though these transactions take place in plain view as the letters change hands, nevertheless the public is repeatedly denied access to the substance of these communications. Perhaps the most important detail in this episode is that after the Appellants seize the Ricardian letters they publicize the contents of the letters throughout England: … eas ubicumque in Anglia indilate propalando.13 If the Appellants truly did so, I think it is safe to assume that this was because they believed it would win them public support in their case against the Ricardians. But Fovent’s case is slightly different for, though he fiercely condemns the Ricardians, he is furthermore arguing for transparency – the secret business of Richard’s court must be revealed, all these letters and documents exposed to the regulating gaze of parliament and the public.

Public markets and the price of food In Fovent’s account, it is precisely the discovery of these letters that finally spurred the Appellants to action. They raised an army of two thousand men to fight against the Ricardians, and gave half the troops to Arundel’s command. Arundel proceeded to lead his men towards London, there to

12

13

The closest parallel in Knighton is the episode involving John Golafre, mentioned in the previous chapter, p. 111. ‘Similiter dicebatur quod quidam miles Anglie mittebatur domino Willelmo Bewchamp capitaneo Calesie cum litteris signetto regis signatis ut redderet ei uillam Calesie. Eciam dominus Iohannes Golofre miles missus est a rege ad regem Francie cum litteris, set Willelmus Bewchampe capitaneus Calesie abripuit ab eo litteras et remisit in Angliam ad ducem Gloucestrie.’ KC, p. 406. Favent, Historia, p. 8.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England confront the king and his supporters, for Richard had entered London on 10 November 1387 in the hope of securing the city’s allegiance. Interestingly, this is the only episode in the Historia that directly relates to the actions taken by the Appellants, for up to this point they have remained very much in the background of Fovent’s narrative, receiving only cursory acknowledgment as the opposition to the Ricardians. (Over the course of the Historia, Fovent mentions the Appellants by name rather infrequently and, though Gloucester and Arundel are named far more than the other three appellants, Fovent gives few details about them, directly praising their actions only twice. Such treatment is consistent with Fovent’s view of the Merciless Parliament as a parliamentary victory, not as an Appellant coup.) But the scenario that follows is worth careful consideration, not only because it reflects Fovent’s interest in the regulation of certain spaces and types of transactions, but because it reveals something of how Fovent’s political sympathies were shaped specifically by the city. On 13 November or thereabouts, Arundel and his troops camped just north of London, in Harringay Park, there awaiting reinforcements. Fovent tells us that Arundel exercised such discipline in his camp that ‘without injury to anyone did he and his men live, for all foodstuff and other necessities were sold there at competitive prices just as at a public market. And he was hardly able to contain the common people in their desire to stand with him to destroy these petty-lords (pseudominos) and their adherents.’14 This is pretty much the extent of the detail to be found in the Historia regarding the Appellants – Arundel is a good, admirable and popular leader because he subscribes to fair business practices. And it is precisely Fovent’s general reserve regarding the Appellants that makes this detail seem all the more curious. The sale of victuals was always a highly politicized issue in London. Indeed, long before the events surrounding the Merciless Parliament, complaints about the perils of London to the purse are to be found in the alliterative poem Winner and Waster (dated 1352), as well as in Langland’s Piers Plowman, where Langland denigrates the economic malpractice – Derek Pearsall’s term – of nearly every sort of purveyor from bakers to brewers to butchers.15 And so it is hardly surprising that this was an issue that could be used to gain political advantage over a rival faction. Indeed, a few lines down in the Historia, we learn that the Ricardians hoped to weaken significantly the Appellant forces by issuing a moratorium throughout London on the sale of food, armour and other necessities to Arundel and his men. According 14

15

‘… nemini iniuriando sed, ipse et sui omnes omnia victualia ceteraque necessaria pro competenti pecunia, sicud ut in foro, mercati sunt. Et vix plebeiam communitatem continere poterant quin votiuis desideriis cum eis surrexissent, dictos pseudominos cum adherentibus destructuri.’ Favent, Historia, p. 8. Pearsall, ‘Langland’s London’, pp. 187–8.

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Conspiracy Theories to Fovent, the conspirators obtained the authority to issue this ban ‘by the power of ancient letters patent in their keeping’ (virtute antiquarum litterarum patencium in manu).16 I would point out that here again Fovent calls attention to the misuse of documents by the Ricardians. The interdiction on the sale of goods to Arundel’s men in London is also noted by both the Monk of Westminster and Knighton, and makes up the bulk of Article XXXIV of the appeal against the Ricardians.17 Of course neither of the chronicles nor the appeal mention these ‘ancient letters patent’ – indeed, Article XXXIV of the appeal carefully notes that this proclamation was made ‘without the warrant of the king or his great council …’.18 Again, the preoccupation with the use and abuse of such letters and documents by the Ricardians is specific to Fovent. Furthermore, neither Knighton nor the Monk of Westminster describes how Arundel circumvented this interdiction by holding a makeshift market just outside the city limits. But far more than just being strategic, public markets and the sale of victuals in London were also central issues in mayoral politics throughout the 1380s. Aside from being targeted by the Appellants as an ardent royalist, Nicholas Brembre (one of the five principals accused by the Appellants) was also a powerful merchant capitalist in the city of London, head of the Grocers’ Company for much of the 1380s, mayor of London from 1377 to 1378 and again from 1383 to 1386. As mayor of London, Brembre worked tirelessly to further the economic advancement of his fellow grocers and merchant capitalists, primarily through a policy of securing trade monopolies for the guilds, for trade was unquestionably one of the burning issues of the day in London politics. Brembre’s greatest political opponent was John Northampton, mayor of London from 1381 to 1383. As I mentioned in chapter three, Northampton ran on a platform that promised to put an end to the unpopular monopoly of the fishmongers in London, thus opening the marketplace to competition. His cause was the clean-up of London politics and he worked to curb the political influence of the victuallers and merchant capitalists who so dominated the city. (Fittingly, part of his strategy against the merchant capitalists in an early bid for power included allegations that countless documents had been issued under the city’s common seal for private advantage. And the preoccupation with the misuse of documents was infectious, for Brembre in turn launched an attack over those civic documents that represented Northampton’s political interests.19 All of which suggests that Fovent’s preoccupation with the misuse

16 17 18 19

Favent, Historia, pp. 8–9. WC, p. 209; KC, p. 402; and PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XXXIIII (p. iii–235). ‘… sanz garant du roi ou de soun grant consail …’, PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XXXIIII (p. iii–235).The proclamation was made on 12 November 1387. Lindenbaum discusses this ‘discursive turbulence’ in ‘London Texts and Literate Practice’, p. 288.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England of documents may have had a London bent.) Unfortunately Northampton’s widespread attack on the merchant capitalists proved to be his eventual undoing, for he lost his bid for re-election in 1383 to Brembre. But, even after his electoral defeat, Northampton actively continued to oppose Brembre and the other merchant capitalists, instigating riots throughout the city. In the summer of 1384, Northampton was arrested and tried before king and council. Thomas Usk, once Northampton’s secretary, stood as witness against his former boss and Northampton was convicted and sent to prison for some six years. Usk’s extraordinary appeal against Northampton – a text written in his own hand that included fourteen articles charging Northampton with engaging in a wide range of conspiratorial practices against Brembre – speaks to the power of the documentary form to frame the partisan contest and may well have influenced the Appellants’ own documentary strategy against the Ricardians.20 As I will discuss at length in the next chapter, Fovent provides some evidence further on in the Historia to suggest that he himself was a Northampton supporter. This would certainly be in tune with his interest in and enthusiasm for the sale of goods at competitive prices at Arundel’s camp outside London. And, needless to say, though Northampton had been barred from London politics since 1384, his legacy lived on, for in the autumn of 1387 the Mercers’ Guild, long-standing supporters of Northampton, began an active campaign to destroy Brembre. To this end they allied themselves with the Appellants, submitting a petition against Brembre that detailed his criminal conduct, the tone of which likely informed the articles of appeal drafted against Brembre for the Merciless Parliament.21 The Mercers’ petition was written in English, an unusual choice for such a document, as most petitions from this period were composed in Anglo-Norman.22 Furthermore we have recently learned that this petition was copied out by someone well versed in vernacular literature, for Linne Mooney has shown that it was produced by Adam Pinkhurst.23 Pinkhurst is best known as Chaucer’s scribe, and copied early manuscripts of Gower and Langland, but he was also employed by the Mercers. Wendy Scase observes that the petition’s unusually large size (36 cm wide x 53.3 cm long) together with a hole in the centre of the top margin suggests that it was produced for display and was perhaps posted in the

20 21 22

23

See Strohm, Hochon’s Arrow, pp. 145–60; and Lindenbaum, ‘London Texts and Literate Practice’, 289–90. On the political motives of the mercers see Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 313; and Lindenbaum, ‘London Texts and Literate Practice’, pp. 290–1. The petition survives in the National Archives (TNA, SC 8/20/997). The text of the Mercer’s Petition is also printed in Rotuli Parliamentorum, ut et petitiones et placita in parliamento (London, 1832), III, 225–6. L. Mooney, ‘Chaucer’s Scribe’, Speculum 81 (2006), 97–138.

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Conspiracy Theories Guildhall or in Westminster Hall for others to see.24 Scase also points out that it was not the only petition against Brembre made for display, for the Mercer’s petition is bundled along with similar petitions (with similar holes in the top margin) from other guilds including the Cordwainers, the Saddlers, the Embroiderers, the Founders, the Armourers, the Painters, the Spurriers and the Bladesmiths. Together these petitions suggest a coordinated campaign on the part of the guilds against Brembre, probably begun in November of 1387 and perhaps encouraged by the Appellants as they worked to compile evidence for their case against the Ricardians. On 13 November, in anticipation of his own arrest, Brembre transferred his lands and property to trustees. Perhaps the Mercers and their allies hoped that by Brembre’s downfall the Merciless Parliament would put an end to the economic monopolies of the merchant capitalists in London. Indeed one of the last acts of the Merciless Parliament, passed on 14 May 1388, established complete freedom of trade for foreigners and denizens in victuals and all other goods and merchandise across the realm, a measure that Brembre would unquestionably have opposed, had he still been alive.25 Fovent, however, must surely have approved.

Gossip Perhaps the only thing more difficult to regulate than the circulation of documents or the sale of goods is the circulation of gossip. As discussed above, Fovent generally advocates greater regulation of the government and the marketplace, but when gossip about Richard’s favourites spread though London in November of 1387, he observes that the uncensored circulation of rumour and opinion carries with it a political power more potent than

24

25

Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, 1272–1553, pp. 67–77. On the dating of this petition, see Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 312; and PROME, February 1388, Appendix 1a. Turner also discusses this petition in Chaucerian Conflict, pp. 8–15. PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 29 (p. iii–247). On this matter the Monk of Westminster has much to say: ‘It was enacted in full parliament on 14 May that all persons in friendship with the English kingdom and all the king’s subjects throughout England were to be free to buy and sell in conformity with the statute of 9 Edward III, any privilege or statute notwithstanding. As a result, London and other cities in various parts of England lost their liberties, – indeed, for the matter of that, their privileges, as they deserved to do, for at the beginning of the parliament certain mercers, goldsmiths, drapers and other restless elements in the city of London presented in the parliament bills of complaint against the fishmongers and the vintners, whom they described as victuallers, unfitted in their judgment to control a city so illustrious.’ WC, p. 335.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England any show of force.26 The Ricardians made an attempt to put an end to the rumours circulating through London concerning their activities, for they too were well aware of the power of gossip, rumour and opinion to both build up and destroy a coalition of support. Thus Fovent reports that when it became clear that the Ricardians had lost the allegiance of the city of London to the Appellants, they took desperate measures to control the circulation of rumour regarding their actions: And they had it proclaimed through the city of London that no one, under penalty of confiscation of their goods, should either say anything sinister or shameful or promulgate anything by any means against the king or any of his adherents. Such things were almost impossible to hinder.27

Fovent was not the only one to take note of this proclamation, for the Monk of Westminster mentions it in passing, though in a considerably more neutral tone.28 And this proclamation certainly was not overlooked by the Appellants, for it appears in Article XXXV of the appeal, where Brembre is named as the person responsible for this declaration: ‘the aforesaid Nicholas Brembre … caused it to be proclaimed in the city of London that no person should be so bold as to speak or utter an evil word or comment against the said malefactors and traitors, on pain of forfeiting whatsoever they could forfeit to our lord the king; thus accroaching to themselves royal power’.29 Though the wording of this article is analogous to the citation above from the Historia, it essentially accuses Brembre of trying to hold the city of London against the Appellants. Perhaps the Appellants believed that parliament would disapprove of the specific attempt to exercise this sort of social control over the public. Fovent however seems to find the Ricardian effort to control the rumour and gossip regarding their actions laughable, as is to be expected given that he too is 26 27

28

29

On the power of gossip to shape the political world of late medieval England see P. Strohm, England’s Empty Throne (New Haven, 1998), p. 25. ‘Et per ciuitatem Londonie preconizari fecerunt quod nullus, sub pena confiscacionis bonorum, de rege nec de aliquibus suorum adherencium aliqua sinistra vel obprobria enarrare vel promulgare aliquo modo videatur. Quod quidem quasi impossibile fuerat impedire.’ Favent, Historia, p. 9. The actual proclamation was recorded in Letter-Book H, and is printed in A Book of London English 1384–1425, ed. R. W. Chambers and M. Daunt (Oxford, 1931), pp. 92–3. The proclamation is discussed by Turner, Chaucerian Conflict, pp. 8–11. ‘Item parum ante finem mensis Novembris jussu regis fuit proclamatum London’ quod nullus omnino loqueretur malum de hiis qui circa regem steterunt neque de hiis qui erant per dominos temporales jam noviter impetiti seu forsitan diffamati.’ WC, pp. 214–16. ‘Item, le avantdit Nicholas Brembre … fist proclamer en la cite de Londres qe nule persone serroit si hardy de parler ne soner parole ne mote de male des ditz mesfesours et traitours, sur pain de forfaiture de quanqe qe ils purroient forfaire envers nostre seignour le roi; encrochant ency a eaux roial poiare.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XXXV (p. iii–235).

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Conspiracy Theories clearly participating in the defamation of the Ricardians. But something of his tone suggests his delight in the power of gossip and rumour to counter social control, and the power of public opinion to turn the political tides.30 Indeed, in the parliament rolls we find two early cases involving Londoners (John Cavendish, fishmonger, and Walter Sibill) who were fined by parliament for defaming Chancellor de la Pole and Robert de Vere, both apparently widely disliked by the public long before they were formally accused by the Appellants.31 Nevertheless, the rather futile campaign by the crown to suppress slanderous rumour continued unabated, for the Cambridge statute of 1388 prohibits ‘false news, lies or such other false things’ to be said of the nobility and the great men of the realm.32 Of course, this was little more than a restatement of the Gloucester statute of 1378 against ‘devisors of false news, and of horrible and false lies’, made in the second year of Richard’s reign. We might conclude that the young king was beset with concerns over popular opinion from the very beginning.33

30

31 32 33

Chaucer seems to have had his own interpretation of the rumours circulating throughout the city in this period and the Ricardian attempt at muzzling speech, for Turner suggests these events influenced the House of Fame; or perhaps more specifically the House of Rumour; see Chaucerian Conflict, pp. 15–25. For a recent examination of the function of gossip in late medieval England, see S. E. Phillips, Transforming Talk: The Problem with Gossip in Late Medieval England (University Park, 2007); and S. Bardsley, ‘Sin, Speech, and Scolding in Late Medieval England’, in Fama: The Politics of Talk and Reputation in Medieval Europe, ed. T. Fenster and D. L. Smail (Cornell, 2003), pp. 145–64. PROME, 1384, items 11–15 (p. iii–185 ff.); and PROME, 1385, item 12 (p. iii–204). These cases are discussed by McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 437. SR, II, 59. SR, II, 9. These anxieties regarding rumour and gossip seem to have played out in the case of Thomas Austin, accused of speaking openly against the king. See Prescott, ‘The Accusations against Thomas Austin’. Inevitably, rumour worked to Richard’s advantage only after his death, as whispers spread throughout the country in the early years of Henry IV’s reign that Richard was still alive. See Strohm, England’s Empty Throne, pp. 106–8; P. McNiven, ‘Rebellion, Sedition, and the Legend of Richard II’s Survival in the Reigns of Henry IV and Henry V’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 76 (1994), 93–117; S. Walker, ‘Rumour, Sedition and Popular Protest in the Reign of Henry IV’, Past & Present 166 (2000), 31–65; and M. Aston, ‘Lollardy and Sedition, 1381–1431’, Past & Present 17 (1960), 1–44. For an overview of the power of rumour as a political force in later centuries, see Fox, Oral and Literate Culture in England, pp. 335–405. See also Ross, ‘Rumour, Propaganda and Popular Opinion during the Wars of the Roses’. We might also keep in mind that sometime in 1391, several years after the Merciless Parliament, Adam Bamme, then mayor of London, prohibited anyone in the city from talking about either Nicholas Brembre or John Northampton. Violators were to be thrown in Newgate prison for a year and a day. In Letter-Book H, f. 259 and reprinted in Memorials of London and London Life in the XIIIth, XIVth, and XVth Centuries, ed. H. T. Riley (London, 1868), pp. 526–7.

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Circle of deceit Once it was clear that the Ricardians had lost the support of London, the conflict between the two factions came to a head. Richard agreed to meet with the Appellants on 17 November at Westminster Hall, perhaps with the intention of coming to some resolution, but more likely hoping to buy himself and his supporters some time. It was at this meeting that the Appellants demanded that Richard’s closest supporters be brought to justice for their crimes and the king conceded to a hearing in the next parliament, now arranged to convene on 3 February. According to Fovent, in their audience with the king the Appellants spoke their case against the Ricardians as follows: ‘It is of consequence to the community of the realm that there are traitors who are always circling about you, who deserve to be removed and punished, since it is best that one should die for the people than that the whole nation should perish.’ And they further asked for security in coming and going from the king.34

Fovent’s depiction of this encounter between Richard and the Appellants at Westminster makes clear his discomfort with the power exercised by the Ricardians, and he uses precisely the same image used by Chris Given-Wilson and Paul Strohm to describe the arrangement of the king’s affinity or retinue – the circle.35 (Richard was the first king to develop a royal affinity, that loose association of followers retained by the king from outside the household that helped to increase his base of support among the landed gentry.) Fovent describes the Ricardians as always circling about Richard, not only displacing the Appellants from their traditional relationship with the king, but preventing their access to the power and privileges of the crown. And this is not the first time that Fovent has used this image, for near the beginning

34

35

‘ “Interest reipublicae quosdam proditores circa vos glomerantes merito reici et puniri, quoniam melius est ut quidam moriantur pro populo quam tota gens pereat.” Pecierunt eciam ut omnino secure veniendo et redeundo insimul colloquerentur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 10. Galloway translates circa vos glomerantes as ‘gathering around’ and ‘hanging around’, both of which seem to me to imply an inner circle of sorts. For his translation, see the appendix to The Letter of the Law, pp. 232, 239. Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 203; and Strohm, Social Chaucer, p. 25. See also Carpenter, ‘The Beauchamp Affinity’, pp. 515–16. For a general discussion of the development of the royal affinity, see G. L Harriss, ‘Introduction’, in K. B. McFarlane, England in the Fifteenth Century: Collected Essays (London, 1981); Walker, The Lancastrian Affinity, pp. 18–24; and N. B. Lewis, ‘The Organization of Indentured Retinues in Fourteenth-Century England’, TRHS 4th s. 24 (1945), 29–39.

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Conspiracy Theories of the Historia he describes the Ricardians as ‘buzzing around the king’.36 As he sees it, the circle constitutes a threat precisely because of its shape, for the circle forms a boundary around the king that cannot be penetrated by those on the outside. But the problem was not so much that the Ricardians kept in close proximity to their king, ‘always circling about him’, as it was that these men literally formed Richard’s private circle of supporters. Fovent is well aware of the political implications of this arrangement, for the royal affinity signified not only the expansion of an unregulated political structure, but also the privatization of the king’s court for the specific benefit of Richard and his supporters. Indeed, in this particular passage Fovent explicitly uses the images of public and private to differentiate between good and bad politics, for he writes that when the Appellants formally presented their appeal against the Ricardians to Richard at Westminster, the Ricardians, all of whom were present, ‘were at this time hiding in the dark corners of the palace, and in secret hiding places, just as Adam and Eve first hid from God, lying low and making themselves scarce, not having the heart to come forward’.37 With this remark, Fovent implies that Richard’s inner circle could not withstand the scrutiny of the Appellants, and I suspect that Fovent sees some fundamental correlation between the informality of their association with Richard, an association built on private relationships, and the dark corners of the palace where they lurk. He brings the public into play as a counterbalance to the shadowy nature of the Ricardian affinity, and he does so because he adamantly believes that only public disclosure can truly break apart this circle of supporters: ‘And in the meantime, the king took both parties with their goods and men under his protection until the following parliament, so that no one might molest another. This was publicly proclaimed throughout all England, and they (the Appellants) departed content.’38 As we have seen before, Fovent is careful to note that this proclamation was made publicly. Disclosure, publicity and parliament are all three intimately linked together in the political landscape of the Historia, for in Fovent’s narrative these three things constituted the heart of the opposition against the Ricardian faction. Without them the Appellants would have had no hope of victory against the Ricardians. 36 37

38

‘Circa regem glomorantes …’, Favent, Historia, p. 2. ‘[Ast allegata causa iterum, modo et forma quo prius apud Waltham Crois, super crimen lese maiestatis appellarunt dictos archiepiscopum, ducem, comitem, Tresilian et Brembre,] qui tunc temporis in obscuris palacii ergastulis et in latebrosis latibulis, velut Adam et Eua a Deo primitus, latitarunt et se absconderunt non habentes animum comperendi [sic].’ Favent, Historia, p. 10. ‘Medio vero tempore, rex ambas partes cum earum bonis et hominibus ad effectum quod nullus alterum inquietaret usque in sequens parliamentum sub sua speciali protectione suscepit, que vero continuo per partes Anglie publice proclamata fuerunt, et recesserunt consolati.’ Favent, Historia, p. 10.

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Badges Of course the Ricardians did not give up without a fight. Soon after the meeting at Westminster, de la Pole and Neville fled the scene, both heading overseas, while de Vere made his way north to Cheshire with letters from the king addressed to the sheriff and other authorities instructing them to raise an army to defend Richard against the Appellants. De Vere intended to lead this army south to London, but the Appellants quickly learned of his activities, and so they proceeded north from the city with their troops in order to cut off his approach. Fovent describes the confrontation between de Vere’s army and the Appellant army with great flourish, and it is undeniably the denouement of his narrative thus far: Next the aforesaid duke of Ireland, led by the devil, made his way through Chester, Lancaster, and Wales for the purpose of raising in the king’s name a new force numbering six thousand men from the retainers in those parts, without delay, to fight and destroy the aforesaid lords appellant, the proclamation of protection notwithstanding. They headed for London (at the king’s expense), the duke’s army making an insane racket, whose inane hope had filled their hearts, stupid and blind to God. But in the midst of this crazy rage, the vigorous and renowned Appellants were suddenly advised of all this, and quickly set forth surrounded by their army.39

Fovent goes on to report that when de Vere’s army met the Appellant troops at Radcot Bridge on 20 December 1387, de Vere’s men ‘stood as though they were leaderless, like some herd without a head, making no show of resisting or seizing the opportunity before them, but on the spot they were stripped of all their arms and goods, and they were given to the victors …’.40 Nevertheless de Vere managed to escape the scene unscathed, disappearing into the fog, eventually making his way overseas, never to stand trial. It is all too fitting that this armed showdown between the Appellants and de Vere was the Ricardians’ last stand before parliament convened. In many respects, this stand-off represents one of the key issues in the Merciless Parliament –

39

40

‘Verumptamen, prefatus dux Hibernie, ductore diabolo, ad partes Cestrie, Lancastrie, et Wallie iter arripiens, ibidem nouum genus potencie de ipsorum retencione prohibita usque ad sex milia hominum pugnancium nomine regis leuauit, non morose, ad debellandum et destruendum predictos dominos appellantes, non obstante proteccione, furibundo strepitu spreta pace expensis regis cum suo exercitu versus Londoniam tetendit, cuius vero stolida precordia deoque invisa spes pascebat inanis, dummodo de huiusmodi eius furibunda rabie memorati strenui appellantes in punctu temporis cerciorati extiterant.’ Favent, Historia, p. 11. ‘… tanquam acephalus et grex sine capite steterunt, nullam aut nullum occasionem vel vultum dantes resistendi, set protinus se ipsos cum omnibus eorum bonis et armis spoliatos, tanquam victos reddiderunt …’, Favent, Historia, p. 11.

132

Conspiracy Theories the repeated attempt by the Ricardians to back their policy of opposition to the commission at Westminster with force. The armed retinue was clearly the most menacing and powerful manifestation of the Ricardian affinity, and if the Appellants were to have their day in parliament, they knew that they had no choice but to confront de Vere’s troops head on. And with their challenge to Richard’s retinue, the Appellants additionally capitalized upon a popular grievance, for no other political issue had gained as much momentum with the English populace as the campaign to outlaw the distribution of livery badges to retainers. Indeed, throughout the Historia, Fovent has made no secret of his discomfort with the practice of distributing badges by the Ricardians. As I discussed in the previous chapter, three of Fovent’s eleven charges against the Ricardians concern the distribution of the king’s badge to men in Cheshire and north Wales, and the retaining of these men by means of bribery and coercion in order to build an armed force to destroy the commissioners appointed by parliament. Of course Fovent’s charges are based upon the articles of appeal that were drafted by the Appellants, but while the Appellants were concerned primarily with the unauthorized distribution of badges, Fovent is troubled by the ability of the Ricardians to build up an armed retinue by means of bribery, extortion and coercion. He furthermore makes it clear that the Ricardians raised this retinue in order to back their opposition to the commission at Westminster with a show of force, whereas the articles of the appeal do not go so far as to state their motivations for building up an army of retainers.41 Fovent clearly believes the Ricardian retinue posed a real threat to parliament’s ability to oversee the government of the realm. As he sees it, de Vere’s army of six thousand was not merely a danger to the Appellants – it was an attempt to subvert the public authority. That we might better understand the political significance of the debate over the distribution of livery badges to retainers and how this issue fits into Fovent’s own political position in the Historia, it is necessary to review the issue as it played out in the months directly preceding and following the Merciless Parliament. In the autumn of 1387, confronted with the growing opposition of the Appellants, Richard freely distributed badges of golden crowns to countless men in Chester and Wales. This badge made them members of the king’s retinue, and so Richard hoped to amass enough backers to intimidate the Appellants into giving up their attack against the Ricardian faction. The simple act of distributing livery badges made it quite easy for the crown to swell the party ranks with men whose only purpose was to make a show of force. Of course whether Richard truly intended to use these men to take back control of the government from the commissioners at Westminster remains 41

For a review of Fovent’s charges against the Ricardians as contrasted with the articles of the Appeal, see the Appendix, particularly the 5th, 7th, and 8th charges in the Historia as contrasted with articles XIX, XXIV, IX and X of the Appeal.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England open to speculation, but the fact that de Vere led an army against the Appellants in December of 1387 certainly suggests that the Ricardian retinue constituted no idle threat. As mentioned above, de Vere’s army was easily defeated by the Appellant troops, but the attempt to uphold the Ricardian cause by means of force certainly did not go unnoticed, just as the campaign to recruit men for the king’s retinue in the summer of 1387 had not been overlooked. In the wake of the Merciless Parliament, the Commons were confronted with the political implications of the policy of distributing badges to men for the purposes of building up an armed retinue, for nothing else could so rapidly transform the political landscape. Thus it seemed that by 1388, after the close of the Merciless Parliament, the practice of party patronage had moved in an uncomfortable direction, at least from the perspective of the Commons. And so the parliament that followed the Merciless Parliament just four months later, the Cambridge Parliament of 1388 (so-called because it met at Cambridge), introduced legislation intended to abolish all liveries (including badges and the lesser liveries of hoods) established since the first year of Edward III.42 The Commons had come to regard the distribution of livery to retainers as an overtly political act of national concern, particularly since a band of liveried retainers could quickly seize the political advantage, coercing individuals to align themselves with one faction or another. As Given-Wilson reminds us, this legislation prohibiting livery was introduced as a direct response to Richard’s use of livery badges to increase his own following, and thereby extend his political leverage, at moments when he was faced with significant opposition to his rule. Richard was widely suspected of using his retainers to accomplish other political abuses as well, such as influencing the outcome of parliamentary elections and securing the appointment of sheriffs who would represent the Ricardian interests in the localities.43 Thus the practice of distributing livery badges became a popular political controversy precisely because Richard had distributed his badge far and wide to bolster support in the months preceding the Merciless Parliament. In conjunction with the Cambridge Parliament’s petition prohibiting the granting of livery, the Commons also petitioned parliament for an ordinance prohibiting maintenance, the widespread practice of influencing the outcome of litigation by force, bribes, intimidating juries, or the like. Indeed, in Fovent’s version of the charges against the Ricardians, bribery, extortion and intimidation were 42

43

On the legislation proposed by the Commons to abolish the distribution of livery and badges in 1388, see A. Tuck, ‘Cambridge Parliament, 1388’, EHR 84 (1969), 225–43. As Tuck observes, the records for the Cambridge Parliament are incomplete. The parliament roll no longer exists, and there are only brief accounts in Knighton’s Chronicle (KC, pp. 506–26) and the Westminster Chronicle (WC, pp. 354–68). Fascinatingly, the Monk of Westminster’s account includes a semi-official document that is part of the roll of the common petitions for this parliament. For the statute prohibiting maintenance and restricting livery passed in May 1390, see SR II, pp. 74–5. Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 241.

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Conspiracy Theories precisely the tactics used by de Vere as justice of Chester to coerce litigants to take up arms in the king’s name.44 Without question, the Commons’ petition against livery and maintenance was every bit a protest against precisely these sorts of corrupt practices. The popular debate surrounding livery and maintenance makes clear the relationship between the Ricardian affinity and factional politics, and between public opinion and parliament. While the practice of retaining men was essential to the structure of the king’s affinity, it was at the same time inexorably linked to that darker side of the affinity, the political faction. The raison d’être of the Ricardian faction (indeed of any faction) was the advancement of the political and material interests of the group, and in pursuit of this goal the faction answered to no one and would stop at nothing, or so the Historia makes it seem in the cases cited above, such as the misappropriation of official letters and documents, the moratorium on the sale of victuals, the proclamation curtailing speech, and the widespread distribution of badges to raise an armed force. And in each of these instances, Fovent depicts the Ricardians not as traitors to the crown, but as traitors to the public interest and to parliament. Fovent was hardly alone in regarding factional politics as a threat to good governance, for the Commons’ petition prohibiting livery and maintenance, introduced in the Cambridge Parliament that sat from 10 September to 17 October 1388, indicates a growing interest in political reform.45 But in their desire for reform the Commons were not supported by the Appellants, for they were no reformers, nor, as I shall discuss in the next chapter, were they to prove effective statesmen.46 And so it seemed inevitable that the Commons’ 44

45

46

‘Item, predictam ordinacionem commissionem, et statutum pro frustra iudicantes, dictum ducem Hibernie in Justiciarium Cestrie ordinari fecerunt. Protinus, ipse cum ipsis aliquando ad dexteram, aliquando ad sinistram declinantes ad questum pecunie ordinem iudiciarium reciprocarunt, eos autem dignos pena dimiserunt, aliorum autem auferebant res, alios pro illis punientes. Item, per procuraciones fautorum, per brogagia et dona prime tortorum quosdam innoxios, nolentes eis adherere, quominus possint prosequi ius suum impedierunt immensis dilacionibus, itinerum fatigacionibus et costagiis multimodis aggrauando; quosdam vero per breuiregia, quosdam per incarceraciones, quosdam per mortis minas tribulatos, datis dictis signis solis et corone, penes ipsos retinuerunt.’ Favent, Historia, pp. 4–5. It is particularly telling that an unusually high number of the Commons who sat in this parliament had been reelected – 52 of the 248 members of parliament who were elected to the Cambridge Parliament had sat in the Merciless Parliament. This suggests some general consensus among the Commons that the Cambridge Parliament presented an opportunity to follow through on the work of reforming the government. See Tuck, ‘The Cambridge Parliament, 1388’, p. 227. The matter was reintroduced in the parliament that met in January of 1390. An ordinance was passed on 12 May that prohibited the wearing of livery by anyone who was not retained for life by proper indenture, and further prohibited anyone below the rank of banneret from distributing livery badges at all. See Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 239.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England petition prohibiting livery and maintenance met with opposition from the Lords in parliament, for the Lords clearly believed their interests would be threatened by such sweeping legislation. Richard however tried to capitalize on the conflict between the Lords and the Commons over this issue, offering to abolish his own livery if the Lords would do the same, and persuading both sides to agree to postpone the issue until the next parliament.47 Nevertheless, the petition against livery and maintenance, following so closely as it did on the heels of the Merciless Parliament, demonstrates the extent to which parliament had captured the imagination of political reformers, of all those who believed parliament provided the only effective way to address the ills of corruption in government and society. And it is precisely these sorts of corrupt practices – livery and maintenance – that Fovent emphasizes in his version of the events leading up to the Merciless Parliament, for along with the Commons, Fovent believed that parliament represented the only possibility for a government free of factional influences. His concerns are echoed at the beginning of the fifteenth century in the political poem Richard the Redeless (very likely a work of Chancery origins), for the poem contains a scathing indictment of the king’s practice of retaining – ‘signes/ that swarmed so thikke’ – suggesting that such visible signs of corruption had become so widely acknowledged and criticized that they were no longer a subject of grievance, but of satire.48

Purges After the Appellants defeated de Vere’s troops at Radcot Bridge, all hope of a compromise between the Ricardians and the Appellants was lost. On 30 December 1387, the Appellants entered the Tower with five hundred men, and there they confronted the king, for they were determined to impress upon Richard the serious nature of the business at hand. Richard had no alternative but to comply with their demands, and the trial in parliament of those Ricardians named in the appeal was set for 3 February 1388. But for some business the Appellants were not content to wait for parliament to convene, for they had seen the Ricardians slip the noose before, and so on 1 January the Appellants purged the royal household of all those they

47

48

Of course the Lords would not agree to abolish their own liveries. Richard’s offer succeeded only in opening the door for his own return to political power. See Tuck, ‘The Cambridge Parliament, 1388’, p. 235; and Strohm, Hochon’s Arrow, pp. 57–74. This particular line (Richard the Redeless, ln. 21) is cited by Strohm in his invaluable discussion of the literature of livery in Hochon’s Arrow, pp. 179–85. On the likely Chancery origins of the poem, see Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Langlandian Reading Circles’, pp. 78–80.

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Conspiracy Theories suspected of being too loyal to the king, sending away numerous courtiers and arresting certain key royal officers.49 The dismissal of so many prominent officers from the royal household was noted by both the Monk of Westminster and Knighton, but here again Fovent provides certain details omitted by the other chroniclers.50 It seems the organization of the royal household was of particular interest to Fovent, and the information that he includes in the Historia provides a clue to its particular importance: And because the time of the harvest was now at hand, right for cutting back thorns and uprooting weeds and thistles, by the king’s approval, with the mutual consent of all the aforesaid commissioners and appellants, they expelled many officers from the king’s household, for example, in the place of John Beauchamp, steward of the household, was substituted John Devereux, knight, one of the commissioners. And Peter Courtenay, knight, was appointed chamberlain in place of the said duke of Ireland. And the aforesaid John Beauchamp, Simon de Burley, vice-chamberlain, John Salisbury, chamber knight, Thomas Trivet, James Berners, William Elmham, and Nicholas Dagworth, knights, and the rest of the clerical officers, namely, Richard Medford, secretary, John Slake, dean of the chapel, John Lincoln, chamberlain of the exchequer, and John Clifford, clerk of the chapel, because they were considered to have been accomplices in the aforesaid crimes (because they had known about these things and had not spoken against them and because some of them wished them to happen), they were put under arrest and held in various prisons in England to be handed over to answer for their actions in parliament … And thus this squalid nest fixed in its tree was thoroughly shaken, its birds, wounded by their own filth, flying off hither and yon.51

49 50 51

J. L. Leland, ‘The Abjuration of 1388’, Medieval Prosopography 15:1 (1994), 115–38. WC, pp. 228–33; and KC, pp. 426–8. ‘Et quia opportune ad spinas, cardones et sizannia defalcanda et extirpanda tunc temporis instetit messis, ratihabicione regis mutuo consensu dictorum commissariorum omnium et appellatorum a domicilio regis plures officiarios expulerunt, videlicet, in locum Johannis Beauchamp, senescalli, Johannes Deuerose, miles, unus de commissariis subrogatur. Et Petrus de Courteney, miles, in camerarium regis, loco dicti ducis Hibernie ordinatur. Predictus vero Johannes Beauchamp, Simon de Bureley, sub-camerarius regis, Johannes Saresbury, hostiarius camere, Thomas Triuet, Jacobus Barens, Willelmus Elmham et Nicholaus Daggeworth, milites, et ceteri clerici officiarii, videlicet, Ricardus Metteford, secretarius, Johannes Slake, decanus capelle, Johannes Lincoln, camerarius scaccarii, et Johannes Clifford, clericus capelle, quia predictorum criminum tanquam participes, pro eo quod ea scientes et non contradicentes et quia quidam ea fieri volentes, diuersis Anglie carceribus usque in parliamentum ad imponenda responsuri sub aresto intrudi mandantur … Et sic squalorosus nidus fixus in arbore quadam quantocius conquassatur, cuius saucissimi sorde volucres dispersim vacillando euolarunt.’ Favent, Historia, pp. 13–14.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Fovent clearly believed that the officers of the king’s household presented a formidable obstacle to the commission’s ability to oversee the administration, and this is the only account of the dismissal of these officers that details the precise nature of their positions in the royal household.52 Here again, we have evidence that Fovent was consistently well informed regarding the names and ranks of all those minor players caught up in the political contest between the Ricardians and the Appellants, perhaps exhibiting a bureaucrat’s attention to detail. Furthermore, there is no question that Fovent considered these people important, and this is because Fovent believed their jobs were important, for these men formed the core of Richard’s personal administrative staff. According to him, four of the officers dismissed from the king’s household (Medford, the king’s secretary, along with Slake, Lincoln and Clifford) were clerks of the chapel royal. And without question, these clerks of the chapel were of particular consequence because Richard exploited them as his personal secretariat, reorganizing them as clerks of the signet office, and then using this office to take direct control of the machinery of government.53 Thus Fovent warns his readers that under the influence of the Ricardian faction, the institutional has become personal, and so the administration has become corrupt. Just as is the case with the Ricardian retinue, the king’s household is subject to corruption precisely because it has become organized around personal influence, and so too around the influence of factional politics. Once again, it seems that Richard’s personal control of the administration and the increasing use of the signet are the real issue at hand, for, as I have already discussed, so many of the passages in the Historia regarding the misappropriation and misuse of letters and documents by the Ricardians involve letters sent under the king’s signet. Needless to say, even a cursory review of Fovent’s account of the activities of the Ricardians shows Fovent consistently emphasizing the importance of the signet to their designs on the government. But I do not think we should worry ourselves with whether the signet was as vital to Richard’s personal exercise of power as Fovent would have us believe.54 My point is rather that Fovent regarded the signet as important precisely because he believed the day to day operations of the administration were important, and so here again we are peering at this political crisis through a bureaucratic lens. And his concerns regarding Richard’s direct intrusion into the workings of the administration were shared by many others, for if these officers of the king’s household had not been of some political consequence, they would not have been targeted by the Appellants.

52 53 54

Favent, Historia, p. 13, McKisack’s n. 2. Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility, pp. 66–7. Tout offers much the same opinion in Chapters, V, 229–30. Scholars such as Given-Wilson and Saul suggest that the significance of the signet to Richard’s personal administration in these years has been much overstated. See Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 183; and Saul, Richard II, pp. 125–9.

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Conspiracy Theories Furthermore the Commons similarly viewed the reform of the administration as an important part of their own agenda, for at the end of the Merciless Parliament they petitioned that letters under the signet or secret seal should not be used ‘to disrupt the law nor to damage the realm’.55

Corruption and its discontents After these officers were dismissed from the royal household, there remained only the matter of the judges who had met with Richard at Shrewsbury and Nottingham in August of 1387. With little fanfare, Fovent tells us that they were arrested without dispute to await their trial in parliament, and that Robert Charlton was appointed in place of Robert Belknap, and Walter Clopton was appointed in place of Robert Tresilian.56 It seems only fitting that Fovent mentions the arrest of the judges just before parliament begins, for of course their only crime was stating that parliament did not, in fact, have the authority to oversee and appoint Richard’s administration. This gets us to the heart of the matter, to the Merciless Parliament itself, for as Fovent writes: ‘And because the period of Lent, in keeping with the history of these things, was judged a suitable and acceptable time to punish and reform the delinquents as they deserved, the great parliament began on the second of February in this manner.’57 From this point on, the Appellants slip even further into the background of Fovent’s narrative, for they have served their purpose. And this is because their agenda was distinct from Fovent’s, distinct from parliament’s, and distinct from the Commons’. Whereas the Appellants simply wanted to destroy the power of the Ricardian faction, just as the Ricardians had wanted to destroy the commissioners, Fovent regards the faction itself as indicative of widespread corruption in politics and in public life. So too did the Commons 55

56

57

‘Item, qe les lettres du signet ne de secre seal le roi ne soient envoiez en destourbance de la ley, ne en damage du roialme.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 34 (p. iii–247). ‘In vigilia vero purificacionis beate Marie sequenti, in camera regis apud Westmonasterium, mutuo consilio omnium commissariorum predicti Robertus Bealknap, Johannes Holt. Rogerus Phulthorp, Willelmus Burgh, Johannes Locton, et Johannes Cary, officiis supponuntur. Ast arrestati sine disputacione aliquali usque alias imponendis responsuri iussu cancellarii obstipuentes et pauidi in turri intruduntur. Robertus vero Charelston, loco Bealknap, et Walterus Clopton, loco Tresylian, officiis iudicandi funguntur. Interum, oneratis et susceptis omnibus et iuramentis officio iudicandi incumbentibus, prandendi causa recesserunt.’ Favent, Historia, p. 14. ‘Et quoniam tempus quadragesimale iuxta eiusdem historiam tempus sit ydoneum et acceptabile delinquentes secundum merita corrigere et punire, inceptum fuit, igitur parliamentum grande secunda die mensis Februarii sequentis, in hunc modum.’ Favent, Historia, p. 14. Parliament actually began on 3 February.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England in the Cambridge Parliament of 1388, as they demonstrated by their petition to end the practice of livery and maintenance. Therefore it is important that we understand that Fovent’s Historia promotes parliament as the solution to these corrupt practices that had become far too commonplace, such as the distribution of badges, the monopoly on the sale of victuals, and the misuse of official letters and documents. As he sees it, parliament was the only institution with the power to regulate politics, the only viable alternative to the more unregulated types of political participation such as the Ricardian affinity that engendered corruption. Given this assessment, I find myself tempted to characterize Fovent as a reformer cut from the same cloth as the Commons who sat in the Good Parliament in 1376, or the poet John Gower, who explicitly talks about corruption in his work.58 But I think that Fovent was not quite so radical. This is because in the Historia he shows himself to be primarily interested in regulation, in using parliament to regulate the public sphere, to regulate in particular those places and spaces and transactions that seemed most susceptible to the influences of corruption. Of course his concerns overlapped with the occasional reformist impulses of the Commons, for the many common petitions associated with both the Good Parliament and the Cambridge Parliament demonstrate that the commonalty had come to regard parliament as a forum for voicing complaints against corruption in its many forms. The success of petitions both common and private often depended on framing the specific complaint as one of broad concern to the entire Commons and the communities they represented, a rhetorical strategy I would suggest Fovent similarly employs by touching on the many popular fears about corruption in public life discussed in this chapter.59 In this chapter, I have suggested some of the reasons that Fovent invested so much faith in parliament – because he regarded the alternatives as corrupt. 58

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On the many grievances voiced by the Commons in the Good Parliament, see McKisack, The Fourteenth Century, pp. 387–93; and Kerby-Fulton and Justice, ‘Modus tenendi parliamentum’, p. 153. See also chapter two, p. 50 above. On Gower see Coleman, Medieval Readers and Writers, pp. 126–56. As Coleman remarks on p. 133: ‘His poetry is a testament to the power of parliamentary sovereignty at the end of the fourteenth century.’ See also more recently Galloway, ‘Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’. Matthew Giancarlo describes the ‘univocal speech’ found in the common petitions in his Parliament and Literature in Late Medieval England, p. 68. See also Giancarlo’s discussion of the infamous Paunfield petition, pp. 222–8. This petition is also examined by G. Dodd, ‘Thomas Paunfield, the “heye Court of rightwisnesse” and the Language of Petitioning in the Fifteenth Century’, in Medieval Petitions: Grace and Grievance, ed. W. M. Ormrod, G. Dodd and A. Musson (York, 2009), pp. 222–41. On the subject of petitions and complaint generally, see Ormrod’s essay in the same volume ‘Murmur, Clamour and Noise: Voicing Complaint and Remedy in Petitions to the English Crown, c.1300–c.1460’, pp. 135–55. Dodd also considers the rhetoric of petitions in his Justice and Grace, pp. 290–302.

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Conspiracy Theories As I have previously mentioned, this preoccupation with corruption was not exactly new, for Fovent touches upon issues in his pamphlet that appear in texts reaching back to and ranging from the common petitions of 1376, to the alliterative poem Piers Plowman, to the letters sent by the rebels in 1381. (The one qualification I would make is that his pamphlet is most comparable to the common petitions not only in its rhetorical stance, but in that it seeks an explicitly political and institutional remedy to corruption.) At the same time, I must point out that there is one important luxury granted by corruption – corruption invites the participation of all sorts of people who would otherwise be excluded in the political milieu – including the participation of Fovent himself (something I think he would be loath to admit), and the participation of other more unsavoury characters. And from Fovent’s perspective, this type of political participation was too unregulated, too flexible, too slippery to be endorsed. Nevertheless, Fovent’s Historia invites participation in the political sphere because within his pamphlet the political discourse that surrounds the Merciless Parliament becomes explicitly public. His pamphlet serves as witness to the public’s interest because the document itself delineates a specific space for political narrative, a space that represents access to political information, and because of course his pamphlet was meant to circulate among readers in the city and beyond. And, despite his concern with the misuse and misappropriation of official documents, I believe that just as did those anonymous clerks who authored the Good Parliament report and the ‘Process’ of 1388, Fovent too understood that there was no longer such a thing as writing that was explicitly official or unofficial. Along these same lines, there were no official or unofficial political voices, for all the writing and all the voices mingled together in the political world. Fovent knew that his voice was as good as any, and so he too jumped into the fray.

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CHAPTER SIX

From London’s Streets, 1388 … therefore the great parliament was begun on the second day of the following February, in this manner. All of both estates, the magnates and illustrious men of the realm, gathered in the White Chamber at Westminster, and the king came and took his seat for the tribunal. The noblest five Appellants, whose merits of goodness increased from the beginning and resonated everywhere across the land, entered the hall with a great multitude, together in golden clothes and arm in arm, and in unison turned to the king, kneeling to him in salutation.1

Fovent’s description of the formal opening of the Merciless Parliament is very far from where he will take us as the trials proceed, to the gallows at Tyburn. I think he must relish the contrast, for even the most macabre moments of the parliamentary trials seem as delicious to him as the more stately ones. This chapter largely will consider Fovent’s account of the Merciless Parliament, giving particular attention to the way the city of London imprinted itself on his pamphlet. But first I would like to say something about the Appellants in their golden robes, their goodness resonating across the land. They have been set up to fail. These parliamentary trials will not turn out the way they intended. This is because when parliament first convened on 3 February, only one of those five Ricardians named in the appeal, Nicholas Brembre, was in custody. He was joined on 19 February by Robert Tresilian, who according to Fovent was found hiding in a house near Westminster. Tresilian was summarily arrested, forced to stand trial and executed, as was Brembre, but the other three appellees, de Vere, de la Pole and Neville, all

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‘… inceptum fuit, igitur parliamentum grande secunda die mensis Februarii sequentis, in hunc modum. Omnes utriusque status, proceres et egregii huius regni in alba aula regia apud Westmonasterium congregati, adueniente rege sedente pro tribunali, nobillissimi memorati quinque appellantes, quorum ubique terrarum propria resonent merita probitatis nitentes prosperis incoatis prospera cumulare, cum numerosa multitudine, una secta vestibus aureis, alterius amplexis brachiis, aulam intrarunt intuentes autem unanimiter genuflectando salutarunt regem.’ Favent, Historia, p. 14. As mentioned in the previous chapter, parliament actually began on 3 February 1388.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 made their escape.2 And, without question, de Vere was the one whom the Appellants really wanted. This was not simply because de Vere had helped Richard raise a retinue in Cheshire and north Wales, nor because of the crimes perpetrated by de Vere as justice of Chester, nor because de Vere had stood with an army against the Appellants in November of 1387. It was because de Vere had consistently received preferential treatment from Richard – in December of 1385 he was created marquis of Dublin and in October 1386 he was made duke of Ireland, receiving numerous grants of lands, castles and lordships during these years.3 He was the only one of the five appellees who truly fit the description of the king’s favourite, and while he was resented by nobles of ancient lineage such as Gloucester, Warwick, Nottingham and Derby, he was similarly viewed with great suspicion by the Commons for the extravagance of the king’s patronage at a time when their repeated demands for fiscal accountability had gained widespread attention and support. Michael de la Pole, on the other hand, was perhaps the Appellants’ foremost political opponent, and his trial in parliament for treason would have been something of a coup. Unfortunately for the Appellants, de la Pole too

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De Vere escaped to the continent, dying at Louvain in 1392. Richard brought his body back to England for burial in 1395. Michael de la Pole fled to Hull and then on to Paris, where he died on 5 September 1389. Neville went into exile in the Low Countries, but Urban VI translated him to St Andrews on 3 April. As Scotland was loyal to Clement VII, Neville had no hope of actually occupying the see, and seems to have remained on the continent (perhaps as a priest at Louvain), though the circumstances of his death remain obscure – see n. 6 below. Those tried in the Merciless Parliament fall into two groups in terms of legal process. The first group consists of those five appealed: Robert de Vere, Michael de la Pole, Alexander Neville, Robert Tresilian and Nicholas Brembre. All were convicted of treason, though only Brembre and Tresilian stood trial. As I discussed above in chapter four, p. 98, the Appellants faced certain challenges in bringing the accused to trial because there was no legal precedent for the hearing of an appeal in parliament. (The objection was raised that the appeal was a procedure used in civil law, but not used in common law. To this the Appellants made their famous declaration that ‘such a crime cannot be adjudged other than in parliament, and by no law other than the law of parliament’.) The second group consists of all those lesser offenders who were impeached by the Commons, a process dating back to the Good Parliament. Thomas Usk, John Blake and four of Richard’s chamber knights, Sir Simon Burley, Sir John Beauchamp, Sir John Salisbury and Sir James Berners, were all impeached and executed. The judges – Robert Belknap, John Holt, Roger Fulthorp, William Burgh, John Cary and John Lokton – were also impeached, but their lives were spared and they were exiled to Ireland. Thomas Tryvet, William Elmham, Nicholas Dagworth, king’s knights, and Nicholas Slake, Richard Medford, Richard Clifford and John Lincoln, king’s clerks, were all arrested and imprisoned, but no charges were levied against them, and they were released at the end of the parliament. On those fifteen forced to abjure Richard’s court, see Leland, ‘The Abjuration of 1388’. Regarding grants to de Vere, see for example CFR, X, 42; CPR 1381–5, pp. 442, 542; CPR 1385–9, pp. 7, 14, 69–70, 78–9, 115, 117, 123, 136; and Saul, Richard II, p. 182.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England escaped, making his way overseas to Paris where he died in September of 1389. (As I discussed previously, de la Pole had been removed from office as chancellor and impeached by parliament in 1386 – it is here that Fovent begins his pamphlet.) De la Pole’s trial would have been immensely popular with the Commons, for they certainly regarded the former chancellor as a notoriously disreputable official.4 Perhaps the least well-known of the accused, Alexander Neville, archbishop of York, seems nevertheless to have been a popular target if we are to judge from the libels complaining of oppression at the hands of the archbishop that were nailed to the chapter house at Westminster and the door of St Paul’s church.5 (Neville joined the inner circle of Richard’s supporters in August of 1385 when he accompanied the king on a military expedition to Scotland, and by April of 1386 he was a member of the king’s council.)6 Both de la Pole and Neville were condemned in absentia, but, as I shall explain in this chapter, without their trials, and without the trial of de Vere (and in the process of prosecuting the lesser offenders who did stand trial), the Appellants found themselves increasingly vulnerable to the pressures of both public and popular opinion. As a consequence of these pressures, the proceedings against Brembre and Tresilian became embroiled in issues other than those the Appellants intended, and the fate of the accused now hinged upon such diverse interests and concerns as the nature of the relationship between the city of London and the crown, the widespread

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Chroniclers tell wild tales of de la Pole’s various attempts at escape: ‘The earl of Suffolk, disguised as a trader, got as far as Calais and approached his brother, Sir Edmund de la Pole, keeper of the castle there, with a request for harbour. Sir Edmund, however, was afraid to take chances, and handed him over to the captain of Calais, by whom he was shortly afterwards brought back to England, but very early in his stay here he slipped away to his house in Hull.’ WC, p. 215. Walsingham embellishes further: ‘At this time Michael de la Pole, afraid of future retribution, fled secretly to Calais and took with him a knight called William atte Hoo. When he arrived there he changed his clothes and shaved off his beard, and then carried poultry with him as though he were selling it, until he arrived at the gates of Calais castle where his brother Sir Edmund de la Pole was commandant. However, he was not easily recognized by his brother because of his shabby clothes and his shaven beard.’ St Albans Chronicle, p. 841. See also KC, p. 419. This incident was supposed to have taken place in November 1387. Palmer has made short work of these tales of de la Pole’s thwarted escape to Calais, arguing that de la Pole went to Calais at this point to raise troops for the king, and furthermore that none of the king’s supporters abandoned him prior to de Vere’s defeat at Radcot Bridge on 20 December. See Palmer, England, France and Christendom, pp. 109–11. Discussed in Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, pp. 77–82. The sole surviving libel against Neville is preserved in the National Archives (TNA, C 49/9/22), and is reprinted by W. Illingworth, ‘Copy of a Libel against Archbishop Neville, temp. Richard II’, Archaeologia 16 (1812), 82–3. See also Justice, Writing and Rebellion, p. 29 n. 48. For Neville’s career, see Davies, ‘Alexander Neville, Archbishop of York, 1374– 1388’. See also Saul, Richard II, pp. 184–5.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 desire for political regulation and reform, and the demand for a legal system free of the influence of corruption. From the Appellants’ perspective, the Merciless Parliament was a failure not just because three of the appellees escaped trial. The Appellants themselves did not make it through the proceedings without suffering dissension within their own coalition. About midway through the trials (here I am stepping out of chronological sequence to prove my point) they broke rank over the issue of the condemnation of Sir Simon Burley, one of Richard’s chamber knights and one of several lesser offenders targeted by the Appellants for his proximity to the king. Burley had been in Richard’s service as chamberlain from the king’s infancy, promoted to vice-chamberlain in 1377, and as such was Richard’s constant and closest companion, having not only immediate access to Richard, but also controlling the access of others to the king. He was impeached in the Merciless Parliament, along with the three other chamber knights, Beauchamp, Berners and Salisbury. All four were accused by the Appellants of taking advantage of the king’s youth, turning him against the lords and peers of the realm, conspiring against the continual council, and aiding and abetting the five appellees in their treasonous designs.7 But Burley’s lengthy record of loyal service to the crown had won him many supporters, and so his impeachment was hardly an open and shut case. (‘He was a knight of the Garter, powerful and humane in his conduct and pleasing …’ writes Fovent with uncharacteristic charity.)8 Richard was not going to let his friend be condemned and executed without a fight, and Fovent tells us he was joined by ‘the queen, the earls of Derby and Nottingham, and the prior of St John, his uncle, and many others of the great lords in parliament laboured assiduously on behalf of his life’.9 (Here we learn that when

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For the articles of impeachment against the chamber knights, see PROME, February 1388, Part 3, First article, ff. (pp. iii–241–243). The Commons shared Fovent’s preoccupation with the abuse of royal documents, for the fourth charge against Burley related to the misuse of the great seal: ‘Item, la ou a darrein parlement tenuz a Westm’ Michel de la Pole, counte de Suff’ en plein parlement, pur diverses causes deshonestes par lui faitz encontre le roi et sa regalie, feust descharge del office de chanceller, et le grant seal le roi feust pris de lui; le dit Simond adonqes conestable de Dovorr’, acrochant a lui roial poair, par soun procurement et abettement lui fist reavoir le grant seal, pur ensealer le patent de Dovorr’ pur soun singuler profit: quelle feust subversioun de toute la ley du roialme, en grant desheritesoun de la corone du roi, sicome est contenu en la dite patent, quelle est de record en la chancellarie.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 3, Fourth article (p. iii–242). J. S. Roskell effectively refutes this accusation against Burley by pointing out that de la Pole took full and proper responsibility for the sealing of the Dover charter. Impeachment of de la Pole, pp. 87–90. ‘Sed quia miles fuerat de gartera, potens et humanus in gestura, gratusque …’, Favent, Historia, p. 21. ‘Rex, vero, regina, comes de Derby, de Notyngham et prior Sancti Johannis, suus auunculus, et plures alii in maiori parte dominorum parliamenti pro vita eius a

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England it came to Burley’s fate, the two junior Appellants, Derby and Nottingham, were far more conciliatory than their three older peers.) On the other side of the fight, the ‘indivisible trinity’ (indivisa trinitas) of Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick were determined to see Burley condemned, and in this they were joined by the Commons, who were equally eager for Burley’s conviction. Word of a popular rising in Kent reached the ears of parliament – it seemed the people of Kent were demanding Burley’s execution, perhaps in retribution for the number of Kentish men that Burley had imprisoned during the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381.10 On 5 May 1388 Burley was convicted by parliamentary process and executed at Tyburn. But this Appellant victory came at a price, for it had exposed a fissure in the Appellants’ coalition. We should not be surprised that the official record betrays no hint of this division among the Appellants, nor that it omits the difficulties they faced in securing the conviction of some of the accused.11 It is only when we turn to the unofficial reports (the Historia together with those accounts contained in Knighton and the Westminster Chronicle) that we discover the Appellant agenda was subsumed by the spectacle of the trial itself, by the various interests and interpretations of all those witnesses and spectators who watched the proceedings unfold. And for some who watched the Merciless Parliament, people like Fovent, the proceedings were an unqualified success. But this success had more to do with the nature of the spectacle itself rather than the Appellant strategy, for as a political spectacle the treason trials encouraged some to voice their own opinion against the ills of the government in

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parte alia assidue laborarunt.’ Favent, Historia, p. 21. According to the Monk of Westminster, the duke of York, the king’s uncle, offered to prove Burley’s loyalty by personal combat. WC, p. 329: ‘Thus on 27 April, the Duke of York rose in full parliament on behalf of Sir Simon Burley, who, he declared, had been in all his dealings loyal to the king and the realm; and to anybody who wished to deny or gainsay this, he would prove his point in personal combat. In reply the duke of Gloucester said that Burley had been false to his allegiance, and this he offered to prove, if need were, with his own sword-arm and without multiplying arguments.’ ‘Tumultus autem erat in populo et audiuit parliamentum quomodo plebeia communitas in diuersis Anglie partibus, puta in Cancia et in eius affinibus, pretextu huius Simonis sub silencio surrexisset …’, Favent, Historia, p. 21. McKisack remarks in a note to the text that ‘Burley had imprisoned a number of Kentish men in Rochester gaol during the Peasants’ Revolt.’ Her comment is based on evidence in the Anonimalle Chronicle, p. 136. J. J. N. Palmer includes in his appendices a discussion of a Commons’ petition from 1388, preserved only in Knighton’s Chronicle. Among other things, the petition complains of ‘rising and disturbance lately amongst the lesser people of the kingdom …’ (par le leue et rumour ore tarde aduenuz par lez petitez gentz de uostre dit realme), KC, pp. 442–3. Palmer persuasively argues that these risings are the same as said by Fovent to have taken place in Kent during Burley’s trial. England, France and Christendom, pp. 237–8. I will mention this Commons’ petition briefly in the next section of the book. On this point see Saul, Richard II, pp. 176–7. See also my discussion of the proAppellant bent of the parliament roll for 1388 above, chapter four, p. 98.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 writing. At the same time, it gave others the opportunity to settle old scores, and still others the opportunity to have their accusations against the accused heard at last. These popular accusations against those who stood trial soon drowned out the charges brought against the accused by the Appellants, and, while I do not believe the Appellants achieved a victory against the Ricardians, I do believe that some people enjoyed a momentary victory against their opponents and oppressors, such as the Northampton faction in London along with those people who bitterly recalled Chief Justice Tresilian’s cruelty against the rebels of 1381. Others still – Fovent in particular – enjoyed the victory as a demonstration of parliament’s supremacy.

A London artefact And yet, in the face of these many interests and agendas and interpretations, parliament too gave way, dissolving before onlookers as this spectacle spilled out onto the city streets where the trials of the accused played out in grim finality on the gallows at Tyburn. Therefore, in this chapter I will return to where I began in chapter one, to the city of London, where Fovent tells us the neighbourhoods were drenched with the flesh of the condemned (vicos carne inundantes).12 Here I will argue that Fovent’s scurrilous pamphlet is very much a product of the city. Like those anonymous chancery clerks who released semi-official documents, Fovent wrote about parliament and did so primarily for readers whose reformist politics were shaped first and foremost by their experience of London. This chapter is about the Merciless Parliament as an urban spectacle, the crowd on the streets an unruly version of the Commons in parliament, and Fovent’s text an artefact of the city, an innovative tract that re-imagined those semi-official documents made public by chancery clerks. To phrase it another way, this chapter is about how the spaces of the city and the birth of the pamphlet are inexorably intertwined. When we look at the Merciless Parliament from the level of the street, we discover that 1388 marked a watershed of sorts in the practice of parliamentary reportage. This is because Fovent’s text is one of at least two stand-alone accounts seemingly written for the public, the second being the ‘Process’ of the judicial proceedings contained in the Westminster Chronicle and originating from the chancery. To be clear, the ‘Process’ was not actually authored by the Monk of Westminster, but simply copied by him into the text of his chronicle along with several other documents and records pertaining to the trials (including the articles of appeal against the five principal Ricardians), all likely contained in one single parchment roll that was the Monk’s source.13 12 13

Favent, Historia, p. 19. As I mentioned at the end of chapter two, p. 52, Harvey suggests that the Monk obtained this source from John Scarle, clerk of parliament from 1384 to 1394 and

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The ‘Process’ As I mentioned in the second chapter, the Monk introduces the ‘Process’ by explaining that ‘Now follows the account, composed in French after the manner of those employed in the king’s service about the court at Westminster, of the process in this parliament and the execution of its judgments.’14 (Here I should note that the Monk of Westminster’s own account of the proceedings is far more detailed and lively than the ‘Process’, and I will discuss it concurrently with Fovent’s narrative of the trials.) This ‘Process’ is a very different sort of narrative from Fovent’s, for its tone is formal, stately and restrained. It is approximately 2,700 words in length, and the narrative focuses exclusively on the judicial proceedings between 3 February and 4  June. It provides a brief synopsis of the trials and judgments against the accused, beginning with Brembre and ending with the trial of one of the lesser offenders, Thomas Rushook, bishop of Chichester. (Rushook had been present at Richard’s infamous meeting with the judges at Nottingham, and was found guilty of having coerced the judges into drafting their decision.) The ‘Process’ certainly notes the protestations of innocence by Brembre and Burley, and so the consequent delays in rendering a guilty verdict in both their cases, but unlike the Historia it offers little in the way of courtroom drama. Furthermore it occasionally gets the chronology of events wrong, and, as Barbara Harvey notes, it is less circumspect than the parliament roll in recording the king’s frequent absences from the parliamentary proceedings. All in all it is a rather economical and passionless account of the Merciless Parliament. I am sure this ‘Process’ was meant to serve double duty. Harvey suggests it was used by the clerk of parliament to fill in the narrative when making up the official roll. But, as I have argued throughout this book, clerks also wrote such records with an eye to informing the public directly, and not simply to inform chroniclers such as the Monk of Westminster who presumably wrote for posterity.15 As a record intended for circulation, the ‘Process’ certainly speaks of parliament’s power, but sotto voce, without anger, without the scurrilousness of the Historia. Moreover it speaks with an institutional voice that

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pensioner of the abbey. Harvey makes the persuasive argument that the Monk’s source was a copy of a roll made by or for John Burton, keeper of the rolls of chancery. Of this source Harvey remarks: ‘As a text of Chancery origin it was probably available to the clerk of parliament when he made up the official roll and if so could have been used for the narrative of events in which the articles of the Appeal and those of the impeachment of Burley and his fellow accused are there set.’ WC, p. xlix. See WC, pp. xlvi–li, 280–96. I discuss the ‘Process’ briefly at the close of chapter two. A point also made by Given-Wilson, Chronicles: The Writing of History in Medieval England, p. 206.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 suggests a growing self-consciousness about its readership, as though in the tense political atmosphere of 1388 chancery clerks must take care not to reveal too much. (In this way it is quite different from the candid style of the Anonimalle account of the Good Parliament.) I will return to the ‘Process’ of the Merciless Parliament at the very end of this chapter.

A documentary craze In addition to these narrative accounts, several other semi-official documents pertaining to the treason trials of 1388 are found in the chronicles, including a letter sent by the Appellants to the mayor and citizens of London in late 1387, the London proclamation of the king’s protection of the Appellants and those named in the appeal, the aforementioned articles of appeal against the five principal Ricardians, the articles of impeachment against four chamber knights (Burley, Beauchamp, Salisbury and Berners), the sentences pronounced against the six judges indicted in parliament, the pardons granted at the conclusion of the parliament, and the oath taken by the Lords and Commons at the end of the parliament.16 All of these documents were likely released by chancery clerks, as was the case two years earlier in conjunction with the events of the Wonderful Parliament. However, judging from the evidence preserved in the chronicles, it seems that many more such semiofficial documents were made available in 1388. (No doubt some of these were released at the behest of the Appellants in a bid to win public support for their position. Harvey similarly argues for the existence of another short account that was produced by someone in Warwick’s circle in justification of the Appellant attack on the crown, and used by the Monk of Westminster in his narrative of the events from 11 November 1387 to 18 January 1388.)17 That there appears to have been something of a documentary craze in association with the treason trials is part of my argument, for, as I suggested in chapter one, Fovent’s pamphlet was just another report intended for a readership hungry for news of parliament.18 Of course the counterpart of my argument is that Fovent’s pamphlet stands apart from these semi-official documents and chancery reports because he wrote it as an opinion piece, an

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These documents were transcribed either by Knighton or the Monk of Westminster. See KC, pp. xxxviii–xxxix, 410–504; and WC, pp. xliii–xlvi, 236–306. WC, pp. lii–liii, 208–34. On the widespread influence of documentary culture in this period, see R. F. Green, ‘Medieval Literature and the Law’, in The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, ed. D. Wallace (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 407–31; see also Green’s Crisis of Truth: Literature and Law in Ricardian England (Philadelphia, 1999); and E. Steiner, Documentary Culture and the Making of Medieval English Literature (Cambridge, 2003).

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England immediate and direct response both to the semi-official texts he first read about parliament and to his experience of the events of 1388 as they unfolded in the city.

Show trials From the very beginning of Fovent’s account of the trials, a crowd of urban spectators seems to overrun the parliamentary proceedings. As Fovent describes the scene inside the White Chamber at Westminster (on 3 February) when the Appellants arrive dressed in gold, he reports that ‘There was a mass of people filling the hall even to the corners. But where do you suppose was to be found the aforesaid false lords and their adherents? There was only Nicholas Brembre, who had previously been captured and roughly thrown into the prison of Gloucester.’19 There is, in this remark, a stark contrast between the sentiment of wonder expressed at the presence of all these spectators – all these people – and Fovent’s quizzical disbelief at the absence of the accused. But, as Fovent soon makes clear, this parliament was every bit as much about those people who packed the hall to the corners as it was about the accused, and so from Fovent’s perspective the Merciless Parliament was a triumph for all those who watched. It demonstrated the true strength of public politics, effectively transferring real political power to parliament that was not soon to be reclaimed by the crown or the nobility. Inevitably the parliamentary proceedings were infused with the emotions of all those in attendance, as Fovent well illustrates with his account of the reading of the charges against the accused at the beginning of the trials on 3 February: Geoffrey Martin, clerk of the crown, stood in the midst of the parliament and for two hours rapidly read out the aforesaid articles. The hearts of some were struck with sadness because of the terrible things contained in the said articles; and the faces of many were swollen with the tears on their cheeks.20

Beyond this public outpouring of emotion, beyond this cathartic moment, this passage makes it clear that the Ricardians were understood not only to

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‘Una vero hominum congluuies inibi fuerat aule usque in angulos. Sed quid putas dictorum phendomenorum vel eorum adherencium pro tunc ibidem reperiebatur? Nicholaus vero Brembre, preantea deprehensus usque alias in carcerem de Gloucestre truciter trudi mandatur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 14. ‘Galfridus vero Martyn, clericus corone, in medio parliamenti lapsu duarum horarum predictos articulos festinanter lectitando antestetit. Quorundam vero corda concussa sunt mesticia propter inhorribilia in dictis articulis contenta. Et plures vultus turgidos dederunt cum lacrimis in maxillis.’ Favent, Historia, p. 15.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 have committed a crime against the public trust, but to have committed a crime against parliament. And in essence, the two have here become one – the public has become parliament just as parliament has become the public – for the boundary between spectator and participant seems to have been washed away by the tears that were shed. These are not the tears of an audience caught up in some melodrama. These are the tears of victims who will seek retribution against the accused. Retribution would be had of course, but I doubt it was achieved quite as the Appellants hoped. This is because, as Fovent tells us, the Appellants encountered opposition to their appeal in parliament right from the very start. On the third day of the proceedings, the chancellor protested before parliament in the name of the clergy that they refused to participate in the case against the accused, nor would they be present when any sentence involving bloodshed was passed.21 In confirmation of the clergy’s position, a protest was submitted in writing that was read out in public, declaring that they absented themselves ‘neither for reason of favour nor for fear of hatred nor for compensation, but because the sanctions of canon law and all the laws advise and compel clerks to refrain from such wickedness, and so they wished to observe these laws’.22 The clergy thus retired to the king’s chamber adjoining the hall. But the Appellants pushed on, demanding judgment against the accused, and though Richard was reluctant to continue, he finally relented. Given the absence of four of the appellees from parliament, the proceedings against them likely seemed an open and shut case. On 13 February, John Devereux, steward of the king’s household and the king’s representative, delivered judgment that Alexander Neville, Robert de Vere, Michael de la Pole and Robert Tresilian ‘should be drawn through the city of London from the Tower to Tyburn, then without delay hanged on the gallows, all their goods to be confiscated so that none of their successors might later take delight in them’.23 Nicholas Brembre,

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23

‘Cum ergo triduo contra dictos fugitiuos procedendum venissent, Anglie cancellarius, nomine Cleri, in pleno parliamento allegauit illos non posse ullomodo de huiusmodi causis intromittere neque interesse velle tempore quo aliquod iudicium sanguinis agitatur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 15. ‘… quod neque racione fauoris vel odii metu vel mercedis ista pretendebant, sed secundum quod canonum sancciones et omnia iura ab huiusmodi nephario clericos refrenare suadent et coartant, ea seruare volebant.’ Favent, Historia, p. 15. ‘Tandem, xjo die Februarii, cum nichil pro absentibus possit allegari quin gravis ipsa sentencia dampnacionis possit difinitiue ferri, predictus Johannes Deuerose, curie senescallus, locumque tenens regis, prefatos archiepiscopum, ducem, comitem et Tresilian adiudicavit a turri Londonie usque ad Tybourn per ciuitatem fore tractandos, deinde indilate furcis suspendendos et eorum omnia bona confiscari ut nec eisdem posteri gaudeant successores.’ Favent, Historia, p. 16. Here Fovent incorrectly gives the date of their sentencing as 11 February. In the parliament roll the sentencing takes place on 13 February.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England the only one of the five appellees in custody when parliament convened, was brought into parliament on 17 February to respond to the charges that had been drawn up against him.24

Witnesses for the prosecution It is at this point in the Historia that the proceedings erupt into a true courtroom drama, for Fovent reports that Brembre put up a good fight, demanding not only the advice of legal counsel but also the time to consider how best to respond to the charges brought against him.25 Brembre’s own defence was spirited: ‘Whosoever inflicts on me such charges, I attest that I am ready to fight him in the lists to prove these things false.’26 The Appellants responded in kind: ‘And to prove these things true, we offer and attest that we will fight you in the lists ourselves’, and they flung down their gauntlets at the king’s feet, and at the same time just like a fall of snow, the lords, knights, esquires, and commons all flung down their gauntlets, and in a loud voice declared: ‘And we too undertake this combat and will prove on your head that these things said against you are true.’ And by the king’s command, they departed for the day.27 24 25

26

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Fovent mistakenly records the date as 12 February for the start of Brembre’s trial. On the possible significance of this error, see n. 52 below. Fovent seems here to report that Brembre’s requests were granted: ‘And although what he sought was neither an equitable or customary thing, nay further against the rigor of the law, in so grave a criminal case we would have allowed the tiniest matter construably in his favour: had he begged in vain, it would have been imposed on him to answer the charges strictly.’ The translation here is Galloway’s, for he has offered corrections to the corruptions in the text and altered McKisack’s punctuation to make sense of the passage. He suggests that ‘Favent is seeking to show how lenient and just the proceedings against Brembre were, not the reverse.’ For Galloway’s translation, see the appendix to The Letter of the Law, p. 244 n. 16. The Latin reads as follows: ‘Cumque xijo die Februarii, qui prima dies Lune quadragesime, predictus Nicholaus Brembre comparuisset propositis coram eo certis articulis et perlectis, peciit ipse copiam et consilium et diem causa deliberandi se melius in responsione super eisdem; et licet neque equam nec usitatam rem desideravit, quinimmo contra rigorem iuris in tam graui causa criminali habuimus adiminicula colorabiliter in sui fauorem pro frustra postulasset, imponebatur ei strictim impositis respondere.’ Favent, Historia, p. 16. The competing accounts report that Brembre’s requests were denied. See, for example, the ‘Process’ in WC, p. 282 or the Monk of Westminster’s own account, p. 308. ‘ “Quidcumque imposuerit michi ista secum eadem fore falsa infra limites pugnaturum hic presens me attestor.” ’ Favent, Historia, p. 16. There are a couple of hints at this point in the text that indicate Fovent’s narrative of Brembre’s trial is not an eyewitness account. I discuss this possibility below and n. 52. ‘ “Et nos probando eadem fore vera tecum infra limites pugnaturos nosmet ipsos offerimus et attestamus,” suas sirotecas ad pedes regis proiciendo, at in punctu

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From London’s Streets, 1388 The proceedings had now reached a fevered pitch, and so the Appellants were forced to adopt another strategy. Fovent reports that the Appellants were not idle in the night, and the next day in parliament they brought in the crafts of the city of London, who accused Brembre of the many injuries and extortions (de pluribus iniuriis et extorcionibus) he had tortuously committed (tortuouse commissis) against them. These craftsmen swore by their souls that ‘they were not corrupted by hatred, or fear, or by either any favour or reward, nor did they denounce him out of malice, but they only accused him of the truth. And Brembre just stood there, struck by confusion.’28 As Fovent describes the scene, the real prosecutors here are not the Appellants at all – they are the citizens of London. Brembre was no longer being tried as a member of the Ricardian faction, nor was he being tried for the crimes alleged in the articles of the appeal. He was being tried for offences perpetrated while he was in office as mayor of London. It seems that the Appellants themselves had a rather erratic relationship with the citizens of London. Earlier in the Historia, prior to parliament’s convening, Fovent describes a showdown between the Appellants and the Londoners. Following their defeat of de Vere and his army at Radcot Bridge on 20 December 1387, the Appellants proceeded on to London in the hopes of there confronting the king. According to Fovent, Brembre ordered the gates of the city to be shut against the Appellants, setting a continual watch to guard the entrance to the city.29 For the moment, it seemed as though the whole of London was united against the Appellants, and so on 27 December they camped their army in Clerkenwell Fields, just outside the city walls. But rapidly the political tides shifted in their favour, for as news spread of de Vere’s defeat at Radcot Bridge, it became clear that the Ricardian cause was lost, and Brembre was unable to hold the city for Richard. Nicholas Exton, then mayor of the city, together with the aldermen went out to greet the Appellants on their arrival – perhaps seeking their fortunes with the side that now seemed most likely to win – and they pledged the Appellants their assistance. Fovent gives Gloucester’s reply to Exton and company as follows: ‘Now I know in truth that liars tell nothing but lies, nor can anyone prevent them from being told.’30 The Appellants then proceeded to enter the city, but the circumstances were hardly congenial. Nevertheless, I suspect that some of

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temporis, tanquam nix, undique in loco volabant cirothece ceterorum dominorum, militum, scutiferorum et communium viua voce dicencium, “Et nos manucapimus duellum probando dicta vera in caput tuum.” Et dicto cicius recessit rex pro die illa.’ Favent, Historia, p. 16. ‘Et cum artes ipse in animam suam iurassent non fore corruptas odio, metu, vel fauore alicuius vel munere, neque maliciose ea proponebant sed super vero ipsum accusabant, tunc stetit Brembre confuse tantum.’ Favent, Historia, p. 17. Favent, Historia, p. 12. ‘ “Nunc scio vere quoniam medacia mendaces referre referentes non est cuiquam prohibere.” ’ Favent, Historia, p. 12.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England the venom in Gloucester’s reply belonged to Fovent, for this exchange is not mentioned in the chronicles. Here Fovent exposes his disdain for not only the mayor and alderman, but for the entire class of merchant oligarchs to which Brembre and Exton belonged. To return to the Merciless Parliament, the question remains as to how the London crafts came to testify against Brembre. Unfortunately, here Fovent omits much of the proceedings, and what he leaves out reveals as much about his own politics as what he includes. It seems that Fovent would have his reader believe that the London crafts were Brembre’s true executioners, but this was not actually the case. Here we should compare his account to the Monk of Westminster’s more detailed narrative of Brembre’s trial in the Westminster Chronicle.31 According to the Monk of Westminster, after the charges against Brembre were read, ‘the king offered a large number of different arguments in exculpation of Sir Nicholas whom, he protested, he had never known to be a traitor or to be, as far as he himself was aware, guilty or chargeable in the terms of the articles’.32 Fovent reports that, at this, the Appellants and others flung down their gauntlets, and Brembre offered trial by combat, which was denied to him. To bring the proceedings to some conclusion, a commission of twelve lords was selected to investigate the charges against Brembre and determine his guilt. This commission included ‘the duke of York, the earl of Kent, the earl of Salisbury, and the earl of Northumberland, and others to make up the specified number’, but they came to the conclusion that Brembre was not guilty.33 Now desperate for Brembre’s conviction, the Appellants summoned two members from each of the London crafts, and this assembly was asked whether Brembre was guilty or not of the charges brought against him. The Monk of Westminster reports that they too failed to give the Appellants the answer they were looking for: ‘… after spending some time in needless chatter these people at length returned home with nothing accomplished’.34 Fovent however describes this very same group as having declared Brembre guilty

31

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34

In the case of Brembre’s trial in parliament, I do think we have reason to prefer the details of Monk of Westminster’s account over Fovent’s. Despite the fact that Fovent probably wrote his account soon after the close of parliament, I tend to agree with Harvey’s assessment that the Monk’s narrative of Brembre’s trial seems more complete, yet without the sort of elaboration that suggests exaggeration on the part of the author. See Harvey’s comments, WC, p. lxv. While I choose to believe the Monk’s account, I certainly do not overlook his animosity towards the London crafts. WC, p. 311. (This and all the translations that follow from the Westminster Chronicle are Hector and Harvey’s. For the Latin text, see page 310.) WC, p. 311. Nightingale suggests the members of this group were handpicked by the Appellants, and yet they still did not deliver the desired guilty verdict. Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 315. WC, p. 313. For the Latin, see p. 312.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 on all counts, remarking that ‘they were not corrupted by hatred, or fear, or by either any favour or reward, nor did denounce him out of malice, but they only accused him of the truth’.35 These two depictions of the London crafts – Fovent’s and the Monk of Westminster’s – could not be more different.36 In the Monk of Westminster’s more detailed account, even after the London crafts failed to deliver a guilty verdict the Appellants did not admit defeat. Next they brought in the mayor, Nicholas Exton, certain of the aldermen and the city recorder, William Cheyne. They were asked whether Brembre had knowledge of these treasons, and they replied that ‘they supposed he was aware rather than ignorant of them’. When further questioned by the Appellants, the recorder added that ‘anyone who, having knowledge of such matters, concealed instead of disclosing them, would be, and would deserve to be, punished by the loss of his life etc.’37 On the basis of this opinion, Brembre was condemned. Curiously, the city recorder, William Cheyne, was widely regarded as an associate of Brembre’s, as too was Nicholas Exton.38 To add insult to injury, six of the aldermen called to testify against Brembre belonged to the Grocers’ Company – Brembre, of course, was the company’s foremost member.39 Even his fellow grocers, for whom he had laboured so hard over the years to increase their wealth and power in the city, did not attempt to save him. How had Brembre come to be deserted by his longtime friends and associates? And why did the Appellants go to such great lengths to secure his conviction? For the Appellants, Brembre’s conviction was not simply a matter of saving face – the importance of London to the course of national politics was too great to let him slip through their fingers. They had targeted Brembre not simply because he was Richard’s friend, nor because of the alleged crimes he committed while in office as mayor, but because Brembre had attempted to hold London against them. (As mentioned above, Fovent reports that, as the Appellants advanced towards London in late December, ‘the aforesaid Nicholas Brembre, with a troubled and heavy countenance, ordered in the king’s name that continual watches be set day and night in order to prevent the five vigorous Appellants from passing through the gates of the city of London by armed force’.)40 35 36 37

38 39 40

Favent, Historia, pp. 16–17. Also discussed in Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, pp. 69–71. WC, p. 315. For the Latin text, see p. 314. It is worth emphasizing the Appellants’ desperation at this point in the proceedings, for to secure a guilty verdict, they seem to have changed the accusation from treason to misprision (or concealing one’s knowledge) of treason. Bellamy, Law of Treason, p. 221. Bird, Turbulent London, p. 94. Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 315; and Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 98–9. ‘Nichilominus predictus Nicholaus Brembre, vultu turgido et robusto, ad excludendum dictos quinque strenuous appellantes per omnes portas ciuitatis Londonie

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England But of even greater significance was Brembre’s financial relationship with the crown. Over the course of the 1380s, both Brembre and, under his direction, the city itself, had lent the government enormous amounts of money – in 1385, the city advanced the crown a total of £5,000, and Brembre himself loaned £666; in 1386, the city loaned out another £4,000; in 1387, Brembre seems to have helped finance Richard’s lengthy journey through the north and north-west midlands.41 It was the wool trade that enabled Brembre along with other members of the Grocers’ Company to advance the crown these large sums, for many of the offices in the wool customs were occupied by prominent grocers throughout the 1380s – these offices helped to reinforce the political influence of these men both nationally and locally, and furthermore they drew on the revenue collected from customs to repay the crown’s debt to them, thus ensuring the steady flow of money to the perennially cashstrapped royal household.42 The Appellants, of course, wanted very much to sever the financial relationship between men such as Brembre, the city and the crown, for it simply extended the influence of the Ricardian affinity throughout the local city government in London as well as over the lucrative wool trade, both arenas where the Appellants felt themselves to be increasingly excluded. To obtain Brembre’s conviction, the Appellants themselves became directly involved in the politics of the city, or more to the point, directly involved in the politics of the London crafts. Richard’s base of support in the city came primarily from the grocers and the fishmongers, led by Brembre and Exton respectively. The membership of both these guilds included the city’s wealthy merchant capitalists (generally referred to as victuallers by the opposition). In exchange for their support, Richard saw to it that the country’s economic and trade policies remained favourable to them, particularly in the case of

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armata vi dieque nocte continuas vigilias nomine regis fieri fecit.’ Favent, Historia, p. 12. For the sums loaned to the crown by the city and by Brembre, see Calendar of the Letter-Books Preserved among the Archives of the Corporation of the City of London at the Guildhall. Letter-Book H, ed. R. R. Sharpe (London, 1907), pp. 267, 293–4; and CPR 1385–89, pp. 121, 122, 240. For Brembre’s earlier loans to the crown, see also A. Steel, The Receipt of the Exchequer, 1377–1413 (Cambridge, 1954), pp. 142–3. On Brembre’s loan to Richard in 1387, see Tuck, Richard II and the English Nobility, pp. 110–11. After Brembre’s execution, the city stopped making loans to Richard for the next four years, perhaps because the merchant capitalists were now wary of the consequences of fiscal dealings with the government. But this only prompted Richard to confiscate the city’s liberties in 1392. The mayor and aldermen were imprisoned and London was ruled by a warden for several months, until the king received £10,000. The city’s liberties were then restored conditionally and the Londoners had to make another loan of £7,000 in August 1397. C. Barron, ‘The Quarrel of Richard II with London, 1392–7’, in The Reign of Richard II: Essays in Honour of May McKisack, ed. F. R. H. Du Boulay and C. Barron (London, 1971), pp. 173–201. Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 296–7.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 the wool trade. Many of the members of the Grocers’ Company were wool exporters, and they stood to benefit from restoring the wool staple to Calais, for this gave them a virtual monopoly over the export market.43 Their opposition in the city was drawn from the ranks of all of those whose economic interests conflicted with the victuallers and from the poor generally – all those who had supported John Northampton in the early 1380s in his fight against the monopoly of the fishmongers in the city, and power of the victuallers in general.44 Many members of the opposition also believed they stood to benefit from a domestic or home wool staple, for this would increase the supply of money into the country, and the smaller masters in the luxury trades, such as the mercers, embroiderers and goldsmiths, required an adequate supply of money for market transactions to occur.45 But the largest contingent of Northampton’s old supporters remained the mercers, and they were the ones most openly hostile to Brembre and Exton in the city. Thus it was to the mercers that the Appellants turned for support in November of 1387 and, in exchange, the mercers hoped that with the support of the Appellants they would be able to successfully reinstate a statute prohibiting victuallers – grocers, fishmongers and vintners all fell under this rubric – from holding city office.46 As discussed in the previous chapter, the mercers drew up a petition against Brembre detailing his alleged

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The wool staple was a town (or towns) designated the centre for the export and sale of wool to overseas markets. The staple was located at Calais from 1362 through 1382 with a short interruption from 1369–70. The controversy over the governmental granting of licenses to evade the compulsory export of wool from Calais throughout the 1370s was at the heart of the Good Parliament. However the crown continued to grant licences to evade the staple to select groups such as the merchants of Newcastle and Italians even after 1376. From 1383 to 1388, the staple was moved to Middleburgh in Zeeland because France had seized control of Flanders. The staple was restored to Calais following the Merciless Parliament. Lloyd, The English Wool Trade in the Middle Ages, pp. 210–56; E. Power, The Wool Trade in English Medieval History (Oxford, 1941), pp. 86–103; W. M. Ormrod, The Reign of Edward III (New Haven, 1990), pp. 190–6; F. Miller, ‘The Middleburg Staple 1383–88’, Cambridge Historical Journal 2 (1926), 63–6; and G. Dodd, ‘The Calais Staple and the Parliament of May 1382’, EHR 470 (2002), 94–103. See particularly Dodd’s discussion of the presence of the merchant community at the parliament of 1382 as noted in the parliament roll on page 100. On Northampton’s political program see Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, p. 85; Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 63–85; and Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 263–91. Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 279–80, 311, 322–3. Nightingale observes that the mercers eventually came to prefer the Middleburgh staple over a home staple, for the location at Middleburgh had facilitated a boom in cloth exports to Holland. One of Northampton’s most notable achievements while mayor of London was the successful introduction of a statute in 1382 prohibiting victuallers from holding office.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England criminal conduct against the citizens of London, and many of the accusations included in the mercers’ petition likely became the basis for the articles drawn up against Brembre by the Appellants.47 The mercers’ alliance with the Appellants had the effect of persuading Exton and the other victuallers that the opposition to Brembre and the Ricardians was gaining momentum in the city, and so they deemed it in their own best interests to abandon the royalist cause and side with the Appellants – with this in mind, Exton and the aldermen went out to greet the Appellants at Clerkenwell in December of 1387.48 And so the groundwork was laid for the Appellants to betray the mercers, for once they got rid of Brembre they had no intention of complying with the mercers’ demands to prohibit grocers, fishmongers and vintners from holding city office. And when the representatives of the London crafts refused to condemn Brembre in the Merciless Parliament (perhaps because they genuinely felt that, upon closer inspection, the charges against Brembre did not hold up, or perhaps because, as the Monk of Westminster implies, the London guilds typically never agreed on anything), Exton, the city recorder and the aldermen were all brought in to testify. Having been bought by the Appellants for the promise of restoring the wool staple to Calais, Brembre’s longtime associates summarily judged him guilty of the charges before them.49 Exton, like Brembre, was a Ricardian through and through, but he was also a pragmatist, and when he saw that there was little hope of saving Brembre, he sold his friend out. Why then does Fovent report that the representatives of the London crafts were responsible for Brembre’s conviction? I can think of two possible reasons. The first is admittedly more psychological – he wanted the London crafts to be the ones to find Brembre guilty, for this made the most sense to him in the context of London politics. Historically, of course, crafts such as the mercers, the goldsmiths, the drapers, the cutlers and the cordwainers were the ones that had been most vocal in their opposition to Brembre and

47 48 49

On the dating of this petition, see above, chapter five, p. 127 n. 24. This was after Brembre had ordered the gates of the city shut against the Appellants, as Fovent reports in the Historia, p. 12. The text of the Commons’ petition for 1388 reads as follow: ‘Item, prient les communes: qe l’estaple de leyns soit remue de Mideburgh’ tanqe a Caleys, parentre cy et le fest de Seint Michel proschein, ou a mesme le fest a darrein. Et qe le billion soit ensy a Caleys come il fuist paravant. Responsio: Le roi voet qe les seignours de son conseille, ove les grantz officers, eient poair par auctorite de parlement d’ordeiner pur remuer l’estaple a Caleys, ou en Engleterre, solonc ceo qe meutz lour semblera pur profit du roy et du roialme, parentre cy et le proschein parlement.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 41 (p. iii–250). The staple was indeed restored to Calais shortly after the Merciless Parliament. On the alliance formed between the Appellants and Exton see Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 313–14.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 to the merchant capitalists generally.50 More significantly, in the early 1380s, these crafts had formed Northampton’s base of support in the city, and it seems that, from Fovent’s perspective, the dispute over Brembre’s conviction in the Merciless Parliament was divided along these same factional (if not class) lines of the merchant capitalists on the one hand and John Northampton’s old supporters on the other, the latter drawn primarily from the city’s non-victualling misteries. The overwhelming majority of the London crafts were non-victualling, and so Fovent regarded the coalition of representatives called into parliament by the Appellants as Brembre’s true prosecutors. In other words, Fovent could conceive only of the London crafts to be the ones to find Brembre guilty. This makes it clear to us that Fovent viewed Brembre’s trial wholly from the perspective of London factional politics, as opposed to a contest between the Ricardians and the Appellants for control of England’s government. He was probably not the only one to have done so, for while it might seem as though with Brembre’s condemnation the Appellants had got their way, nevertheless in the process of attaining Brembre’s conviction the Appellants’ interests had been subsumed by a politics far more potent than their own – that of the city. The second possible reason for the discrepancies between Fovent’s and the Monk’s account might be a precondition for the first reason. This is that Fovent was not actually present for Brembre’s trial – perhaps his account is not actually an eyewitness account – and so he simply elected to identify the coalition of the London crafts as Brembre’s condemners. The problem with this is that there is a good deal of evidence within the text to suggest that his was a first-hand account, particularly the detailed description of the opening scene inside parliament as the Appellants kneel before the king, the clergy and laity take their respective places in the assembly, and the chancellor stands in full view of the crowd to make the opening speech, all conducted, as Fovent writes, ‘according to ancient parliamentary custom’.51 Furthermore, as I will discuss shortly, there is no doubt that he witnessed the execution of Brembre and Tresilian at Tyburn. Thus I suspect the truth is that Fovent was only sporadically present during the parliamentary proceedings, and that from 17 to 20 February, during Brembre’s trial and the capture of 50

51

The Monk tells us that the crafts seized the opportunity during the Merciless Parliament to petition against the influence of the merchant capitalists in city politics: ‘… at the beginning of the parliament certain mercers, goldsmiths, drapers and other restless elements in the city of London presented in the parliament bills of complaint against the fishmongers and the vintners, whom they described as victuallers, unfitted in their judgment to control a city so illustrious.’ Unlike Fovent, the Monk of Westminster shows no charity towards these crafts, describing them as ‘trouble-makers, with their wrong-headed new doctrines and their ill-natured behaviour’. WC, p. 335. Favent, Historia, p. 14. For McKisack’s assessment of the Historia as a first-hand account, see p. vii.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Tresilian, Fovent watched the action unfold on the streets of London.52 But does Fovent’s occasional absence from parliament make the Historia a less credible or less important source? On the contrary, Fovent makes it evident that the streets of London were very much the place to be, for, as the Historia dissolves the boundaries between parliament and the street – indeed between parliament and the public at large, Fovent reveals a dynamic political spectacle that is seemingly a far more accurate representation of the Merciless Parliament than any from either official record or chronicle.

The execution of justice The spectacle of the Merciless Parliament reaches new heights with the capture of Tresilian on 19 February, and Brembre’s trial temporarily is put on hold by the discovery of the infamous Chief Justice.53 As Fovent tells it, Tresilian was ‘above the gutters of a house next to the palace, hiding among the rooftops and watching the lords coming and going from parliament’.54 But the unlucky (infelix) Tresilian was spotted while hiding out, and guards were sent to apprehend him. The guards searched for Tresilian in vain, and resorted to threatening the head of the household with a dagger, warning him, ‘Show us where Tresilian is or your days are numbered!’ (‘Indica nobis ubi est Tresilian vel dies tui breues sunt.’) Trembling with fear, the father of the household proceeded to give up Tresilian’s hiding place, and the Chief Justice was discovered cowering under a round table, hidden by the tablecloth.55 The guards dragged him out by his heels and were shocked by the Chief Justice’s appearance: ‘He had on a mid-length tunic of old russet, like that of an old man, and his beard was stiff and scraggly, and his boots were

52

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Fovent’s possible absence from parliament for Brembre’s trial helps to explain his error in dating the start of the trial 12 February instead of 17 February. Furthermore, if Fovent were on the streets of London during Brembre’s trial and Tresilian’s arrest and execution, this would explain a curious slip in his report of Brembre’s reply to his accusers: ‘Respondisse enim legitur, “Quidcumque imposuerit michi ista secum eadem fore falsa infra limites pugnaturum hic presens me attestor.” ’ Here Fovent suggests he is relying on a written record of Brembre’s trial. While the evidence is terribly slight, I wonder if he is embellishing on the ‘Process’ here: ‘Et le dit Nichol profra de le defendre ovesqe soun corps, et fuist par parlement ouste.’ WC, p. 282. For other narratives of Tresilian’s execution, see also KC, p. 498; WC, pp. 310–13; and J. Froissart, The Chronicle of Froissart, ed. and trans. J. B. Berners, 6 vols., The Tudor Translations 27–32 (London, 1901–03), V, 25–8. In terms of gripping narrative, Fovent gives all three a run for their money. ‘… supra guttarium cuiusdam domus, annexi muro palacii ibidem, prospiciendi causa dominos eundo et redeundo a parliamento inter tegulas latitans …’, Favent, Historia, p. 17. ‘… sub quadam rotunda mensa que sui pretexti pro tunc pannis texebatur …’, Favent, Historia, p. 17.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 red with the soles of Joseph, so that his appearance was more like that of a pilgrim or beggar than a king’s justice.’56 Fovent’s description of Tresilian’s appearance is at once comical and venomous, and there can be little doubt that Fovent himself took some pleasure in the transmogrification of Tresilian from judge to beggar. With Tresilian’s capture and arrest this powerful figure, who once held sway over the fate of so many Englishmen, now found the tables turned on him, for the English Commons were now Tresilian’s judge and jury. As Chief Justice, Tresilian was a notorious public figure throughout England, hated by many not simply because, in 1385, he had been retained for life as one of Richard’s council, nor because he orchestrated Richard’s meeting with the judges at Shrewsbury and Nottingham (though this alone was certainly enough to motivate the Appellants to single him out for attack), but also for conduct that had transpired some seven years before, in the aftermath of the Peasants’ Revolt.57 Tresilian had been appointed to the office of Chief Justice on 22 June 1381, just one week after the brutal murder of Chief Justice John Cavendish by a group of rebels at Lakenheath. (After his execution, the rebels stuck Cavendish’s head on the end of a pike and carried it to Bury St Edmunds.)58 Tresilian’s first order of business in his new office was the punishment of the rebels, a task he seems to have performed with great zeal as Knighton tells us in his chronicle: Sir Robert Tresilian, the judge, was therefore sent out with a royal mandate to inquire after those who had broken the peace, and to punish them … And as the malefactors had vented their hatred upon judges, such as Sir

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‘Cuius collobium de vetere russeto fuerat medio tibie longum, sicut veterem hominem, barbam habens rigidam et robustam, caligisque indutus rubeis cum sotularibus Josephi, pocius apparens peregrinus vel mendicus quam justiciarius regis.’ Favent, Historia, p. 17. Galloway explains that in late medieval drama, Joseph was often the object of ridicule. See Galloway, The Letter of the Law, p. 246 n. 18. For the record of Tresilian’s retention, see CPR 1381–5, p. 531 cited in Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 164. Walsingham provides the grisly details in the St Albans Chronicle: ‘These men rampaged everywhere just as those in London had done, and they destroyed the homes and estates of magnates and lawyers, murdered apprentices at law, and after seizing Sir John Cavendish, Chief Justice of the realm, they beheaded him. Then to dishonour him, they impaled his head upon the pillory in the market square of Bury St Edmunds … When they arrived there, to signify the friendship that had existed previously between the prior and John Cavendish, and to deride each of these persons, they most shamefully brought the heads together in turn at the tops of the lances, first as if they were whispering to each other, then as though kissing. Finally, when they had had their fill of poking fun at them in this way, they again placed both heads upon the pillory.’ Walsingham, St Albans Chronicle: Volume I, 1376–1394, pp. 480–2. For Latin text, see facing pages. This passage goes a long way towards demonstrating the extent to which the Chief Justice, any Chief Justice, might become the popular target of violence and ridicule.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England John Cavendish, and such others as they could find … so he spared none, but repaid like with like. For anyone who appeared before him on that charge, whether justly or upon some accusation moved by hatred, was at once sentenced to death. And of others he ordered some to be beheaded, others to be hanged, others to be dragged though the cities and [hanged and] their quarters exposed in four places in the cities, still others to be disembowelled, and their bowels burned before them alive, and afterwards to be beheaded, and hacked into quarters, and their quarters exposed in four parts of the cities, according to their offenses and deserts.59

Knighton’s narrative suggests that in the popular imagination of late f­ ourteenth century England Tresilian was regarded a monster of cruelty. Tresilian’s reputation was not lost on Fovent, for the Historia provides the only detailed account of the Chief Justice’s execution, and many of the images in Fovent’s description seem to play off precisely the sort of cruel justice handed out by Tresilian to the rebels of 1381. As Fovent reports, it did not take long for the news of Tresilian’s capture to reach the Appellants: ‘The aforesaid five Appellants under false pretext rushed out of parliament without explanation of their departure, dumbfounding and alarming all of their supporters in parliament, many of whom got up and followed them out. And when at the gates of the palace they seized Tresilian, dragging him towards parliament, they [the guards who apprehended him] shouted out in a public voice “We hauet hym! We hauet hym!” ’60 Fovent’s use of the vernacular here not only lends the scene a certain verisimilitude, but furthermore implies that Tresilian’s arrest was something of a popular victory against the powers that be, for the words ‘we hauet hym!’ effectively jump off the page.61 This is the only moment in the Historia when Fovent writes in the vernacular, a literary act not without its significance, for, though these words certainly convey the impression that Fovent himself witnessed these events (that he was reporting something that he himself had heard), nevertheless there is an aspect of vengeance in both the words and the language that no reader could have overlooked. The vernacular here in the Historia is just as politicized as it was in 1381, in the chronicles that recorded the ­Peasants’

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KC, p. 241. For Latin text, see facing page. It seems Tresilian’s reputation improved little over the years, for as Knighton remarks upon Tresilian’s capture, ‘he had been a calculating man all his life, but this time his caution turned out to be the height of his stupidity’. KC, p. 499. Nigel Saul’s assessment of Tresilian’s character is hardly kinder. See Saul, Richard II, pp. 183–4. ‘… predicti quinque appellantes pretextu huius ex improuiso a parliamento recesserunt, non exprimentes eorum causam abeundi, obstupuerunt omnes qui adherant in parliamento, et turbati corde plures sequabantur eos, cumque ad portam palacii dictum Tresylian apprehendissent versus parliamentum ipsum producendo, publica voce propalarunt “We hauet hym! We hauet hym!” ’ Favent, Historia, p. 17. On Fovent’s use of the vernacular, see also L. Staley, Languages of Power in the Age of Richard II (Philadelphia, 2005), pp. 109–10.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 Revolt, though, once again, Fovent seems sympathetic to the popular ethos.62 This was the language of all those who had risen in 1381, and of all those who had suffered Tresilian’s justice in the months that followed, and thus it seems all too appropriate that English is the language that announces Tresilian’s capture, for these words might just as well have been shouted by the rebels of 1381 upon the capture of Chief Justice Cavendish. Once before parliament, Tresilian is asked to respond to the charges against him, but with little result: ‘it was as though he was struck mute and his heart was hardened to the very end, and he would not admit to anything’.63 Without delay, Tresilian is put on a hurdle and dragged through the streets of London to the Tower for his execution, his wife and daughters following him weeping and wailing. Naturally, a great crowd gathers, a countless multitude of lords and commoners. Fovent reports that on the way to the Tower, the hurdle on which Tresilian had been placed was frequently stopped to see if he would confess to the friar who accompanied him. Writing in the first person, Fovent discloses ‘alas, whatever confession he said to the friar his confessor is not publicly known, neither have we been able to search it out: the friars well looked after Tresilian, protecting his crimes’.64 With this remark, Fovent casts himself as a participant in the events, the eyes and ears of a crowd hungry for blood. Perhaps Tresilian was meant to confess his sins against the public at large, against all those who followed him through the streets of London. Soon enough, Tresilian is at the gallows, and at this juncture Fovent’s narrative takes on a rather fantastic quality: When he came to the place of Calvary in order to be done away with, he would not climb the ladder until he was beaten and whipped. So as he was forced to go up he said, ‘So long as I am wearing anything on me you will not be able to kill me’. Immediately he was stripped naked, and there were revealed amulets and signs painted like the signs of heaven; and the head of a devil painted, and the names of many of the demons were written there. These things were taken away, and he was hanged naked. And to ensure that he was dead, his throat was cut. And it became night. And he hung there until the morrow, and with permission to carry away the body

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On the importance of the vernacular during the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, see Justice, Writing and Rebellion. ‘… tanquam vero mutus obstupuit et induratum fuerat cor eius usque in extremis et noluit fateri commissa.’ Favent, Historia, p. 17. ‘Sed, prodolor, publice non confitebatur verumptamen que dixit suo confessori fratri nescitur, nec est nostrum scrutari; fraters vero bene gerebant Tresylian a delicto seruando.’ Favent, Historia, p. 18. I find it difficult to determine whether his remark about the friars is tongue-in-cheek. On the antifraternal satirical tradition, see P. R. Szittya, The Antifraternal Tradition in Medieval Literature (Princeton, 1986).

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England begged and obtained from the king by his wife, it was taken to Greyfriars and is buried there.65

It seems unnecessary to belabour the point that all of the physical details in this passage signify not simply Tresilian’s corruption, but the corrupt state of justice in England. Certainly, devils have appeared before in the Historia, but none quite as corporeal as these.66 The revelation of the demonic talismans and images on Tresilian’s person seems a logical progression from Fovent’s earlier description of the Chief Justice’s bedraggled appearance, for Tresilian’s corruption is unquestionably rooted in the most base sort of physicality – the Chief Justice was ultimately nothing but a fake, an impostor who owed his position and power to black magic. There is, of course, no other record of the discovery of these amulets and signs on Tresilian’s body, but then neither Knighton nor the Monk of Westminster linger at the gallows, for they are neither so morbid nor so populist in their approach. Perhaps the amulets and signs in Fovent’s account are nothing more than a transgressive fantasy of depravity and degradation – even so the fantasy echoes the many popular complaints regarding the corruption of justice in England.67 65

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‘Et cum ad caluarie locum peruenisset ut defungeretur, noluit scandere scalam sed fustibus et flagellis stimulatus ut ascenderet, dixit. “Dummodo aliqua feram circa me, mori non possum.” Mox spoliarunt eum et inuenerunt certa experimenta et certa signa depicta in eisdem ad modum carecterum celi; et unum caput demonis depictum, et plura nomina demonum inscripta fuerunt, quibus ablatis, nudus suspensus est. Et pro maiori securitate mortis, scissum est gurgulio eius. Et facta est nox; et pendebat usque in crastinum et, licencia petita et optenta a rege per uxorem pro corpore auferendo, ducebatur ad fratres minores et ibi humatur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 18. On the meaning of the word experimentum here, see D. C. Skemer, Binding Words: Textual Amulets in the Middle Ages (University Park, 2006), p. 196. On Tresilian’s execution, see also Evans, ‘The Production of Space in Chaucer’s London’, pp. 41–56; Galloway, ‘Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, pp. 84–5; and F. Grady, ‘St Erkenwald and the Merciless Parliament’, Studies in the Age of Chaucer 22 (2000), 193–7. On Tresilian as an early case of witchcraft, see G. L. Kittredge, Witchcraft in Old and New England (Cambridge MA, 1929), pp. 54–5; and R. Kieckhefer, European Witch Trials: Their Foundations in Popular and Learned Culture, 1300–1500 (Berkeley, 1976), p. 116. ‘Quorum pretextu inueterati dierum malorum, suadente diabolo, qui fine suorum non obliuiscitur …’, Favent, Historia, p. 3. ‘Ulterius, in vinea diabolica infessatis mentibus laborantes et semper pervigiles …’, Favent, Historia, p. 7. ‘Et cum hec et plura alia diabolica ymaginarentur proditores ipsi ad predicta ordinacionem, commissionem et statutum destruenda et eneruanda, mutuo consensu inter eos habito, iuramento affirmarunt hec omnia diabolica omnino servaturos.’ Favent, Historia, p. 7. ‘Verumptamen, prefatus dux Hibernie, ductore diabolo, ad partes Cestrie, Lancastrie, et Wallie iter arripiens …’, Favent, Historia, p. 11. Janet Coleman considers complaints against the corruption of the legal justice system one of the seven major categories of the literature of social unrest in late fourteenth-century England. See Coleman, Medieval Readers and Writers, pp. 65–7.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 Fovent well understood that the public could only be satisfied by such a revelation – they had, in a sense, earned it. The image of the Chief Justice stripped of his ragged clothes, repeatedly beaten, his body painted with pictures of demons, is perhaps the last laugh of a public who felt themselves increasingly marginalized by the influence of money and power on the system. And, regardless of the rhetoric employed by the Appellants in their appeal against the Ricardians, in the end the circumstances of Tresilian’s execution had little to do either with his association with the Ricardian faction or with Richard’s questions to the judges. Those spectators who watched Tresilian’s throat cut after he was hanged probably watched with vengeance in their hearts – they demanded blood in retribution for all those who had been brought before the Chief Justice’s bench in 1381, for all those who had been condemned without due process of the law.68 This was not the politics of parliament so much as it was the politics of the street, the crowd and the gallows.

An old rivalry is revisited The carnivalesque atmosphere does not stop with Tresilian’s execution, for the Historia now returns to the subject of Brembre’s fate. But Fovent’s narrative does not return inside the parliament hall, for the real action remained on London’s streets: ‘The next day, a similar sentence was pronounced against Brembre as against the previous four that were condemned; he was put on a hurdle and was dragged through the city from the Tower to Tyburn. Resting at certain intervals, showing great penitence, he asked for mercy from God and men, against whom he had committed great wrongs in time past, and many pitying him prayed.’69 Brembre’s repentant display provides a striking contrast to Tresilian’s recalcitrant silence, but then Brembre had a far more

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For a more conservative view of the significance of popular complaints against the justice system in the fourteenth century, see Musson and Ormrod, The Evolution of English Justice, particularly chapter 6, ‘Attitudes to Justice’. Foss summarizes the trials conducted by Tresilian against the rebels at St Albans: ‘He forced one jury of twelve to present the ringleaders, according to a list previously prepared; a second jury was next empanelled, who confirmed the finding of the first; and then the same course was adopted with a third jury. No witnesses appear to have been examined; but every party charged was condemned on the personal knowledge of these thirty-six men.’ E. Foss, The Judges of England; with Sketches of their Lives, and Miscellaneous Notices Connected with the Courts at Westminster, from the Time of the Conquest, 9 vols. (London, 1848–64), IV, 103. ‘Crastino vero data est sentencia contra Brembre similis priorum quatuor dampnatorum; et cum supra cratem a turri ad Tybourn per ciuitatem tractaretur, per interualla stadiorum requiescentes, maxime penitens fuit, et misericordiam clamans Deo et hominibus contra quos deliquit temporibus retroactis, et plures condolentes orabant pro eo.’ Favent, Historia, p. 18.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England intimate relationship with London than the Chief Justice – Brembre still had many powerful friends in London, and there were likely many who believed he had done much good for the city in his tenure as mayor.70 Thus the mood of contrition that coloured Brembre’s execution suitably reflected the ambivalence that surrounded his condemnation. The theme of penitence follows Brembre all the way to the gallows, for right before Brembre’s execution, the rope around his neck, someone in the crowd speaks up: And with the noose put on so that he might be hanged, he was asked by the son of Northampton whether he had in fact done justice to his father or not? For Northampton was once the mayor of the city of London, among all those who lived in that city outstandingly rich and powerful, and was greatly harassed by nefarious conspiracies and alliances devised by certain intimates of his who were like plagues bringing death, namely Brembre, Tresilian, and others, and was condemned to death, despoiled of his goods, and just barely escaped with his life. And Brembre confessed to having committed these things with a violent heart, through his arrogance, for not only was he unjust and without pity in his treatment of Northampton, but he had done these things for the sake of destroying Northampton. And begging pardon and forgiveness, he was hanged until dead and his throat was cut. Behold how good and pleasant it is to be raised up to honours!71

This is, without question, the single most important passage in the Historia, for this is the moment when Fovent’s own politics become clear. The incident is mentioned in no other account of the Merciless Parliament, and Fovent’s inclusion of it in the Historia unequivocally demonstrates that Fovent’s political sympathies lay with Northampton and his followers – this was the lens through which Fovent observed the events of 1388. John Northampton, mayor

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Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 316–17. Nightingale’s assessment of Brembre’s career and reputation is perhaps excessively positive, but nevertheless she persuasively argues that even upon his condemnation, Brembre might well have had as many supporters as detractors. ‘Et cum illaquearetur ut penderet, interogauit eum filius Norhampton si predicta suo patri alias per ipsum illata fueruntne iuritice facta. Fuit enim Norhampton quondam maior ciuitatis Londonie, dicior et potencior ciuis inter omnes qui fuerunt in ciuitate illa, et per quosdam familiares pestes mortiferos, Brembre scilicet Tresilian et alios, super quibusdam nephariis conspiracionibus et confederacionibus enormiter vexatus, deinde morti dampnatus, spoliatisque bonis, vix euasit superstes. Et de hiis confitebatur Brembre non pie nec iuste sed violenti animo destruendi causa Northamptoni [sic] per arroganciam infeliciter ista commisisse. Veniamque petens et laqueo pendens occubuit guttere scisso. Ecce quam bonum et iocundum est sublimari ad honores!’ Favent, Historia, p. 18. Ruth Bird considers Northampton ‘a man of position and of considerable, though not great wealth.’ Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 69–70. Bird describes Northampton’s personal assets on pages 7–13.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 of London from 1381 to 1383, was once Brembre’s chief political opponent in the city. The exchange between Northampton’s son and Brembre specifically refers to the events of 1383, when Brembre defeated Northampton’s bid for reelection. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, in the months following his electoral defeat, Northampton and his followers continued actively to oppose Brembre and the other merchant capitalists. Northampton asked John of Gaunt to obtain a royal writ ordering a new election, but Gaunt refused to intervene. In January of 1384, Northampton began organizing against the new mayoralty, instigating riots and disturbances throughout the city. Shortly thereafter, Northampton was brought before king and council and was ordered to keep the peace and hold no more meetings in London. But the ‘coventicles and confederacies’ of Northampton’s supporters were not so easily put down, and the armed riots continued. Brembre successfully arranged for Northampton’s arrest in February of 1384, and he was kept in custody until August when he stood trial at Reading before king and council. Thomas Usk, once Northampton’s secretary, testified against his former boss. Northampton was condemned to be hanged, drawn and quartered, his possessions forfeit to the crown, but the queen interceded on his behalf, and his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment.72 Some four years had passed since Northampton’s arrest, and it was Brembre who now stood trial. Thus the Merciless Parliament presented a fantastic opportunity for Northampton’s supporters to wrest power away from their long-standing political rivals. Just how much did Brembre’s execution really have to do with his rivalry with Northampton? Though the Appellants certainly had not targeted Brembre for his treatment of Northampton, they were perfectly willing to temporarily ally themselves with Northampton’s supporters, particularly the mercers, to help secure Brembre’s conviction.73 Thus I would argue that Brembre’s fate had everything to do with Northampton. It is important that we consider how Brembre’s conviction and execution was interpreted by the public at large, and the Historia unquestionably provides the best evidence of this. The crowd that witnessed Brembre repent in his final hour for his

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Nightingale, Merchant Class of Medieval London, p. 288. Bird argues that Brembre’s fate was unconnected with city politics: ‘But the Lords Appellant were in no sense the avengers of Northampton … Northampton is only mentioned in one account of Brembre’s trial and execution, and even here it is not suggested that Brembre was being punished for his treatment of him …’. The account in question is Fovent’s. Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 86–7. Nightingale takes the other extreme from Bird, entirely dismissing Fovent’s account of Brembre’s execution because Fovent was too much a Northampton supporter, remarking that ‘Biased chroniclers reported that at the end he [Brembre] expressed repentance for his treatment of Northampton.’ Nightingale seems here to pluralize for effect, for she cites only the Historia as evidence for her remark. Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 316.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England treatment of his greatest political rival must have been left with the impression that this was precisely why Brembre was executed. Certainly Fovent seems to think so, for he specifically mentions Brembre and Tresilian as the two persons most responsible for Northampton’s eventual downfall. There were a great many others who had equally opposed Northampton in the city, and certainly others who were far more responsible for his ruin than the Chief Justice, but only Tresilian and Brembre stood trial in 1388, and so these two are singled out by Fovent. Thus, as far as Fovent was concerned, the executions of Brembre and Tresilian represented a retribution of sorts for their unscrupulous opposition to Northampton and his followers. Among the crowd that followed Brembre through the streets to Tyburn to witness his execution, it is difficult to imagine that no one else shared Fovent’s interpretation of events. For what could be more poignant than a son seeking to clear his father’s name? The exchange between Northampton’s son and Brembre is calculated to leave the reader with the impression that here at last justice was being served. Though in parliament, Brembre staunchly maintained his innocence of the charges brought against him by the Appellants, at the gallows he willingly admitted to wrongdoing in his treatment of Northampton. This was Brembre’s final confession, these were his last words – that he had, in fact, conspired against his political rival some four years earlier. Brembre himself knew that though perhaps he owed his conviction to the Appellants, his execution would be the triumph of all his political opponents within the city. But, more importantly, this scene throws the rest of the Historia into relief, for it provides the key to some of the Historia’s more puzzling passages, such as Fovent’s curiously approving remark about the prices of the food and other necessities at Arundel’s encampment outside London in November of 1387. Fovent’s interest in fair market practices fits in nicely with Northampton’s platform of ending the monopoly of the fishmongers in London. Furthermore, Fovent’s imprecise rendition of Brembre’s trial in parliament is now made plainly transparent, for any Northampton sympathizer would naturally believe that the London guilds would have declared Brembre guilty on all counts. Thus, if the Historia reads at all as a pro-Appellant text, I believe this is only because, in 1388, the Appellants momentarily seemed to champion Northampton’s cause. From Fovent’s perspective, the Ricardians themselves were simply an extension of Brembre’s party of merchant oligarchs who controlled London politics throughout much of the 1380s.

A traitor’s fate Here we are given a brief respite from the ‘judgments of death’ (sanguinis iudicia), for in the space of a few short lines Fovent tells us that parliament turned its attention to the business of the kingdom, the Lords and Commons 168

From London’s Streets, 1388 giving authorization to a naval expedition to be commanded by Arundel.74 Following this, the king and the Appellants agree publicly that they will sit down to dinner to mend the ‘bitterness of heart’ (rancores cordium) between them. And then without missing a beat, the ‘fearful judgments’ (tremebunda iudicia) are resumed.75 So begins the second phase of the Merciless Parliament, the impeachment trials of those minor officials caught in the fray. (We might note that Fovent makes no distinction between the appellate process and impeachment. To him they are all just parliamentary trials, some ending with a truncated body.)76 Thomas Usk and John Blake are the first of those impeached. As mentioned in previous chapters, Usk is probably best known to us as the author of the allegorical and loosely autobiographical vernacular work The Testament of Love, and so his reputation is that of a minor author and a contemporary of Chaucer. But with Usk’s trial we have not left the matrix of London politics, for he also had a connection with Northampton – he was once Northampton’s secretary and an enthusiastic member of Northampton’s faction.77 To recount briefly, when Northampton was arrested for seditious activities in February of 1384, Brembre had Usk arrested and imprisoned in London. Once in prison, Usk began to reassess his association with the Northampton faction, and, believing that he had no other alternative, he worked to win the favour of his former political opponents. Usk drafted an appeal against Northampton that provided the evidence necessary to convict his former boss. Northampton was subsequently convicted of treason and thrown into prison at Tintagel, but Usk himself was pardoned of all offences. Given a second lease on life, Usk now sought favour and employment with the Ricardians. In the fall of 1387, as events were heating up between the Ricardians and the Appellants, Richard appointed Usk under-sheriff of Middlesex. But the appointment was not to prove so great a boon as it at first might have seemed, for now Usk attracted the attention of the Appellants. They regarded Usk’s appointment as strategic on the part of the Ricardians, for in his new

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Did this business about Arundel’s expedition occur on 21 February, as the Monk of Westminster himself writes (WC, p. 314), or on 10 March, as recorded in the ‘Process’ (WC, p. 286)? Fovent does not give us the exact date, though in his chron­ ology of events it comes before the trials of Blake and Usk on 4 March. For the grant of 10 March, see PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 11 (p. iii–244). In any case, the expedition was a failure. See Palmer, England, France and Christendom, pp. 130–4. Favent, Historia, p. 19. The legal challenges had proved too great and so they switched. Rogers, ‘Parliamentary Appeals of Treason in the Reign of Richard II’, pp. 103–4. Regarding the truncated bodies, Fovent tells us that Usk, Burley, Beauchamp, Berners and Salisbury were beheaded. For Usk’s career, see above, chapter three, p. 71 n. 38 and the references cited therein.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England post he could draw up false indictments and attainders against Gloucester and others.78 In December of 1387, just a few short months after he had successfully aligned himself with the Ricardians, Usk was arrested by the Appellants. This time it seems that he had no bargaining chip with which to obtain his freedom, for he was convicted of treason in parliament together with John Blake on 4 March. (Blake, of course, was the lawyer who was brought in to draft Richard’s infamous questions to the judges in August of 1387, though, according to Fovent, he was convicted simply for his association with Tresilian.) Of Blake’s role as an accomplice Fovent writes, ‘Blake was joined to Tresilian, for whom he was found to have acted as a referendary, coming and going in order to arrange the treachery and the communications among the five aforementioned condemned men.’79 Like Tresilian and Brembre before them, Blake and Usk were both dragged from the Tower to Tyburn and there hanged. Of Usk’s fate, Fovent reports: ‘But after he was hanged, Thomas Usk’s head was cut off and set on a pike on London’s Newgate for the benefit of the birds who would tear at it.’80 Fovent’s remark is both spiteful and brusque, as though the execution of this political opportunist could not have happened soon enough. His tone moreover provides a striking contrast to the Monk of Westminster’s rather compassionate account of Usk’s execution: Sentence of drawing and hanging was passed on 4 March in full parliament on John Blake and also on Thomas Usk, who met his death with great contriteness of heart and supreme penitence, reciting with the utmost piety, as he was drawn to the gallows, the Placebo and Dirige, the Seven Penitential Psalms, the Te Deum, Nunc dimittis, Quicumque vult, and other hymns that bear upon devotion in the hour of death. His contrition was an example to others to amend their lives by drawing back from evil and turning forthwith to good … To the very end he refused to admit having wronged John Northampton, of whom he maintained that every word was

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This is the substance of Article XXVI of the appeal against the Ricardians: ‘… et qe ceux faux arestes, enditementz, et atteyndres serroient faitz en Loundres, ou en Middelsex, et par celle cause firent une faux et malveise persone de lour covyne, Thomas Huske, d’estre southviscont de Midd’, qy par lour assent, procurement, et comandement, emprist qe les ditz faux enditementz et atteyndres serroient faitz et accomplies par la manere susdite.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 2, Article XXVI (p. iii–234). ‘Fuit enim Blake annexus Tresylian qui pergens et rediens pro prodicionibus et materiis dictorum quinque dampnatorum complendis referendarius pluries reperiebatur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 19. ‘Ast, truncato capite Thome Usk, postquam suspenditur, super Newegate Londonie volucrum rostribus lacerandum priuilegio mittitur.’ Favent, Historia, p. 20.

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From London’s Streets, 1388 true that he had spoken before the king in a council held at Reading in the previous year.81

The Monk’s narrative shares a common thread with Fovent’s earlier account of Brembre’s execution, for here again Northampton’s name is invoked at the very last. But unlike Brembre on the gallows, the Monk tells us that Usk showed no remorse regarding his betrayal of Northampton.82 Thus I suspect that in the case of Usk’s last words, Fovent’s silence is deliberate – reporting the denials of a political opportunist such as Usk would do little to vindicate Northampton. I think Fovent believed that Usk’s severed head prominently displayed upon Newgate was proof enough that he had chosen the wrong side.

Street perspective The Merciless Parliament had shaken London politics to its very core, and in the wake of the trials, the citizens of London petitioned parliament for a general pardon from any charge of treason or felony that might be brought against them.83 Northampton and two of his closest associates, the mercers John More and Richard Norbury, were the only three Londoners excluded from the pardon.84 In part, this was an attempt by the Appellants to distance themselves from the Northampton faction, for at this juncture the mercers and those other guilds hostile to Brembre had served their purpose and were now regarded by the Appellants as unsuitable political allies. But, considered from another perspective, the move to exclude Northampton and his associates from the general pardon reveals precisely just how much the events of the Merciless Parliament had to do with Northampton, and with the longstanding contest between the merchant capitalist and the Northampton faction in London. It was precisely because the executions of Brembre and 81 82 83

84

WC, pp. 315–17. For Latin text, see facing page. On the Monk’s account, see Strohm, ‘Politics and Poetics: Usk and Chaucer’, pp. 89–90; and Bird, Turbulent London, p. 87 n. 3. ‘Item, prient les communes: qe plese a nostre seignour le roi granter general pardoun a touz les citezeins de Londres, et a chescun de eux, de toutes maneres de tresons, felonies, et de toutes autres choses pur queux homme perderoit vie ou membre, ou forferroit terres ou tenementz, dont ils sont enditez, rettez, appellez, empeschez, ou accusez puis le primere jour d’Octobre l’an du regne nostre seignour le roi q’ore est sisme, tanqe a darrein jour de May l’an unzisme nostre dit seignour le roi.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 36 (p. iii–248). The pardon continues: ‘Le roi le voet, forspris John de Norhampton’, draper, John More, mercer, et Richard Northbury, mercer. Sauvant toutdys au roi touz maneres des forfaitures et eschetes eschuz ou avenuz par juggement, ou en autre manere, tanq’al meisme le darrein jour de May; issint qe chescun qe voet avoir et enjoier benefice du dit pardoun pursue ent sa chartre.’ PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 36 (p. iii–248).

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Usk, and to a lesser extent Tresilian, would be interpreted by Londoners as a victory for the Northampton faction that Northampton and his associates were excluded from the general pardon.85 This was every bit an attempt by the Appellants to reclaim control over the course of events. I believe the Historia itself is evidence that they did not succeed, for it stands as a record of the Merciless Parliament from the perspective of those outside the Appellants’ orbit, the Londoners who crowded the city streets to watch the political spectacle unfold. Indeed, the events of 1388 seem to have made an impression on the citizens of London, for in October of that year, the Londoners elected as their next mayor Nicholas Twyford, goldsmith, a onetime associate of Northampton and a former adversary of Brembre.86 Of course both Twyford and the goldsmith Adam Bamme, who served twice as mayor, from 1390 to 1391 and 1396 to 1397, had long distanced themselves from the Northampton camp, and now represented the new centrism in a city that seemed ready at last to move beyond the old rivalry between Brembre and Northampton. As noted earlier, there is an obvious reason for Fovent’s fascination with Brembre, Tresilian and those lesser officials connected with them – everyone else got away. De Vere, de la Pole and Neville all escaped overseas. Fovent, however, does not comment on their escape, and I suspect this was because he was uninformed, for the internal evidence suggests that he wrote the Historia immediately after parliament’s close.87 But I believe that, from Fovent’s vantage point, Tresilian and Brembre truly were at the centre of this political crisis for, of the five accused, they were the most high-profile, the most notorious, the most public figures indicted by the Appellants. Thus the Historia goes a long way towards undermining the commonly accepted interpretation of the Merciless Parliament as the culmination of the struggle between the court party and the Lords Appellant. Fovent watches (or pretends to watch) the scandal unfold not only inside parliament, but outside, on London’s streets. And given the complexity of both these locales, the Appellants never really stood a chance of maintaining control of the proceedings against the accused, try as they might. Accordingly, Fovent does not promote the convictions of the Ricardians as an Appellant victory. It is a parliamentary victory, and Fovent furthermore understands parliament’s work to be in the public interest, for the preservation of the public good. And, for some, it was moreover a victory against the merchant capitalists in London.

85 86

87

For a discussion of the exclusion of Northampton and friends from the pardon, see Nightingale, A Medieval Mercantile Community, p. 318. On Twyford’s political career and long-standing rivalry with Brembre, see WC, pp. 102, 370; Memorials of London, pp. 415–16; Nightingale, Medieval Mercantile Community, pp. 255–6, 289–90; Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 68–9, 98–100; and Strohm, Hochon’s Arrow, p. 11. McKisack in Favent, Historia, p. vi.

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From London’s Streets, 1388

True grit I will conclude this chapter by reminding us of that other short account of the Merciless Parliament that never speaks of the city or its factions, the ‘Process’ contained in the Westminster Chronicle. As the work of a chancery clerk, it focuses exclusively on the proceedings inside parliament, and so tells us nothing about the executions of Brembre, Tresilian or Usk. However its silence on these executions reinforces what is so special about Fovent’s text, for it is the city itself that infuses the Historia with passion. But is Fovent’s gritty urban narrative what distinguishes his work as a ‘pamphlet’, something more than just a processus? Here I know I am in danger of fuelling endless semantic quarrels over the term ‘pamphlet’. Still, I think the answer is yes. Fovent’s Historia is neither an anonymous nor semi-official document released by the chancery to inform public opinion. He freely editorializes in his account, voicing his own opinion in order to convince his fellow Londoners that parliament has avenged them for the many wrongs they have suffered at the hands of Brembre, Tresilian and their associates. In his description of the crowd that throngs into parliament and the crowd that gathers at Brembre’s execution, parliament is now a part of the cityscape, the point of departure for a macabre procession from the Tower to Tyburn.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

The End of the Merciless Parliament

The Merciless Parliament does not come to an end with Thomas Usk’s severed head set on London’s Newgate and neither does the Historia, though Fovent’s London narrative now draws to a close. Those persons who have yet to stand trial have little connection with London politics, and Fovent’s enthusiasm seems to wane as they are brought before parliament. First to be dispensed with are the men who met with Richard at Nottingham in August of 1387 to answer the king’s infamous questions to the judges. Fovent condenses the narrative of the proceedings against the judges (Robert Belknap, John Holt, Roger Fulthorp and William Burgh, tried together with John Lokton, sergeantat-law, and John Cary, chief baron of the exchequer), for he neglects to tell us that they first made their appearance on 2 March (before the impeachment trials of Usk and Blake), on which day the Commons demanded their immediate conviction.1 We learn only from the parliament roll that the judges argued before the Commons that their answers to Richard’s questions had been obtained by coercion, and they insisted that they had been threatened at various points by Neville, de Vere, de la Pole and Tresilian. (Later in the proceedings Thomas Rushook, bishop of Chichester and the king’s confessor, is also accused of participating in the coercion, and the articles of impeachment specifically charge him with intimidating the judges at Nottingham.)2 This disclosure seems to have given Lords in parliament reason for pause, for judgment in the case was postponed to allow for a thorough examination and further discussion of the matter. Fovent only writes of the sentencing that took place four days later when, on 6 March, the judges are condemned for ‘their council and judgment as previously noted against all the commissioners and their followers during that evil hour at Nottingham’.3 But our pamphleteer has not lost his taste for 1 2 3

PROME, February 1388, Part 3, pp. iii–238–40. PROME, February 1388, Part 3, membrane 11 (p. iii–241). Regarding Rushook’s fate, see n. 12 below. ‘Posterius in processu vj die Marcii sexta eciam feria, meminerunt in parliamento predictos justiciarios, Robertum Bealknap, Johannem Holt, Rogerum Fulthorp, Willelmum Burgh, Johannem Locton et Johannem Cary, baronem scaccarii, de

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The End of the Merciless Parliament controversy and the naked display of emotion, for he tells us that the clergy protested to the king regarding ‘the scandalousness of the death of judges’ (de scandelosa morte justicarii). Other churchmen and government officials soon joined the clergy in their protest, and ‘with a heavy heart and light foot, appeared in parliament presenting a tearful complaint’. Together they urged the king and Lords ‘that they cease and desist totally from the death of those judges present there and most bitterly weeping’.4 The Appellants along with many other ‘soft hearts’ (et cetera plura mollia corda) lent their voices to the chorus of sorrow and pity. The judges’ lives were spared by the king, but as for what will happen to them, Fovent promises he will return to this subject later on. On 12 March the four chamber knights – Burley, Beauchamp, Salisbury and Berners – were brought before parliament. I have already revealed that Burley’s trial similarly proved emotional and controversial, for he had many defenders among the nobility, and the Appellants themselves were divided on the issue of this venerable knight’s fate. The sum of all these emotionally charged trials seems to have taken its toll on the Commons, for Fovent reports that at this juncture, they grew weary with the proceedings against the accused.5 He notes that the Commons complained to the king that ‘they are tired of the great expense and length of their labour in parliament, and they anticipated that it was likely that all their long expectation in parliament would come to no result, so they asked the king to dismiss them so that they might freely leave parliament for their own business …’.6 Thus parliament is adjourned for Easter from 20 March until 13 April, at which point Burley’s trial resumes. But on 5 May, despite the many efforts to save his life, the once powerful Burley is condemned and executed. And, one week later, the three other chamber knights are similarly condemned. Like Burley, Beauchamp and Berners are beheaded at Tower Hill, but John Salisbury suffers the full penalty of treason – he is drawn from the Tower to Tyburn and there hanged. According to the parliament roll (as well as the ‘Process’ of 1388 in the Westminster Chronicle), the sentence of hanging was punishment for Salisbury’s role as agent in the peace negotiations between Richard and the king

4

5

6

eorum consilio et facto sicut prenotatur contra omnes commissarios et adherentes in mala hora Notynghamye …’, Favent, Historia, p. 20. ‘… graui corde et leui pede, in parliamentum comparuerunt lacrimabilem depromentes querimoniam … desisterent omnino et cessarent a morte justiciariorum horum ibidem presencium et amarissime plorancium …’, Favent, Historia, p. 20. On the place or absence of ‘pity’ in the various accounts of the Merciless Parliament, see Galloway, ‘The Literature of 1388 and the Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, pp. 75–90. ‘… quia dicta communitas tam longo tempore laboribus et expensis in parliamento fatigatur, et ut verisimile fuerat quod diutina eorum expectacio in parliamento nichil operaretur in effectu, pecierunt regem eos dimittere ut possint libere ad propria a parliamento recedere …’, Favent, Historia, p. 21.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England of France in 1387.7 On the same day in parliament, Sir Thomas Rushook, the bishop of Chichester and the king’s confessor, is condemned, ‘but on account of his dignity’ his life is preserved. Fovent writes that at this juncture the tone of the parliamentary proceedings turned sombre and businesslike: ‘Now loathing the horrible torments of the deaths of fellow Christians, they became mindful of other things for the good of the realm, considering the wars with the Scots and French, and considering the subsidy to the king for the next year, and the customs on wine and wool.’8 It is difficult to determine how much of this fatigue with the trials against the accused belongs to the Commons and how much of it belongs to Fovent himself, for perhaps he now shares their misgivings regarding the shedding of so much blood. In any case it is clear that he is eager to bring his narrative to an end, but not without first voicing his opinion on the subject of the papal translations of those bishops that had been condemned by parliament, namely Neville, Rushook and Fordham.9 (Along with Neville and Rushook, Fordham too had been present at Richard’s meeting with the judges at Nottingham, affixing his name as witness to the judge’s answers.) Even this ‘merciless’ parliament would not go so far as to sanction the execution of ecclesiastics, and so the problem of a suitable punishment for the bishops was left to be solved by Urban VI, whose ‘pliability’ (as Tout characterizes him) resulted in their relocation to less valuable sees. As a consequence, those bishops who had supported the Appellants were rewarded by transfer to the richer sees previously occupied by the condemned.10 This arrangement is something of which Fovent greatly disapproves, asserting that the translations of the condemned bishops were nothing more than an attempt by Urban VI to fatten his pockets with the substantial fees

7 8

9

10

PROME, February 1388, Part 3, p. iii–243; WC, p. 292 and n. 5; and Palmer, England, France and Christendom, p. 243. See also Ormrod, ‘Alice Perrers and John Salisbury’. ‘Cum autem abhominarent huiusmodi horribilia tormenta mortis suorum Christianorum meminerunt cetera regni commoda; puta de guerra Scotorum et Francorum, puta de regis subsidio, unius anni circulo, de vino et lanis leuando.’ Favent, Historia, p. 22. Interestingly, it is out of this subsidy that the Appellants are granted the sum of £20,000 in reward of their efforts. PROME, February 1388, Part 1, item 36 (p. iii–248). Neville, archbishop of York, was by this time already in exile in the Low Countries. (see chapter six, p. 143 n. 2.) As mentioned above, Rushook, bishop of Chichester, had been present at Richard’s meeting with the judges at Nottingham and was accused of having coerced the judges into drafting their decision. Fordham, bishop of Durham, was also present at Richard’s meeting with the judges. Given-Wilson remarks of Fordham, ‘He was already unpopular, the rebels demanded his head and plundered his wine cellar in the Strand, and in 1386 he was forced to resign the treasurership on the same day that de la Pole resigned the chancellorship. In 1388 he was expelled from the court and translated (demoted, in effect) to Ely.’ GivenWilson, Royal Household, p. 177. Tout, Chapters, III, 436.

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The End of the Merciless Parliament incurred at each stage in the series of translations.11 His editorial remarks on the subject are so scathing that I am sure he must have been present in parliament for the ensuing debate. With more than a touch of bitterness he reports that the Commons voiced their opposition because the translations seemed purposely calculated to make up for a tax that the pope had tried unsuccessfully to collect from the English clergy. Of Urban VI’s intentions, Fovent explains that ‘he shrewdly recalled, therefore, that something could come to him through certain translations of Bishops. … And thus by this manner transmuting alternately one into the place of another he provided by canon law for himself the first taxes through translations.’ The Commons further objected to so much money leaving the kingdom, but they were powerless to halt the arrangements since the clergy refused to contradict the pope in this matter – ‘their argument did not prevail in parliament since the clergy had not spoken against the pope’s mandate’.12 Nevertheless Fovent takes one last opportunity to decry what he regards as a corrupt practice, protesting the fact that parliament is not able to exercise greater control over such procedures. On the last day of the month of May, three remaining knights associated with the royal household (Thomas Trivet, William Elmham and Nicholas Dagworth) together with three clerks of the king’s chapel (Richard Medford, John Slake and John Lincoln), all of whom had close ties to Richard, were released from custody after promising to appear in the next session of parliament to answer charges against them.13 Now there remained only one loose

11

12

13

As Tout notes: ‘Cal. Pap. Reg. Let. iv. 268–269, shows that Urban was well paid by the beneficiaries for their translation to richer sees.’ Tout, Chapters, III, 436 n. 2. See also A. B. Steel, Richard II (Cambridge, 1941), p. 164. ‘Caute igitur recoluit per quasdam translaciones episcoporum aliqua posse sibi euenire … et sic alternatim unum in locum alterius transmutando, dictorum episcopatuum primas taxa per huiusmodi translaciones, de iure canonum sibi prouidebat.’ Regarding the Commons’ reaction: ‘nec preualuit eorum altercacio in parliamento quoniam huic ordinacioni pape non contradixit Clerus.’ Favent, Historia, p. 22. As previously mentioned, Neville was translated from York to St Andrews but was unable to occupy the see because it paid allegiance to the pope in Avignon. As a result, Thomas Arundel went from Ely to York, John Fordham went from Durham to Ely, Walter Skirlaw went from Bath and Wells to Durham and Ralph Erghum went from Salisbury to Bath and Wells; John Waltham was promoted to the see of Salisbury. Davies, ‘The Episcopate and the Political Crisis in England of 1386–1388’. Regarding Rushook’s fate Davies notes that he was first exiled to Ireland in June 1388 along with the judges, and was only translated to the bishopric of Kilmore in Ireland some time in 1389. It should be noted that the papal translations were actually made on 3 April, but it seems they were not discussed by the Commons in parliament until the second session after Easter. They had been in custody since on or about 1 January. The parliament roll is silent regarding their fate, but record of the release of the knights from the Tower of London is found in CCR 1385–9, pp. 397–8. The Monk of Westminster further corroborates Fovent’s observations; WC, p. 338 and more vaguely in the ‘Process’, p. 286. The clerks of the king’s chapel were similarly released from the Tower on 4

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England thread, for the judges whose lives were spared on 6 March had yet to be sentenced. (Fovent had said earlier that he would come back to this, which perhaps suggests that he might have written this last section as the proceedings unfolded.) With little in the way of commentary, he reports that the judges were exiled to the Irish towns of Drogheda, Dublin, Waterford and Cork, though he meticulously notes the restrictions placed on their liberty, for none were permitted to travel beyond a two- or three-mile limit outside the towns chosen for their banishments.14 This last bit of business dispensed with, we arrive at the denouement. With great vehemence Fovent declares, ‘Behold these men who did not hold God in their sights! You who read, examine how evil things, begun upon an evil foundation, can scarcely come to any good conclusion! Wherefore, in every work remember the outcome.’15 (I find this remark slightly ambiguous. Perhaps ‘these men’ refers only to the judges, and Fovent is taking one last stab at them because their lives were spared. Or perhaps he is referring to everyone condemned by parliament, and this is the moral of the story.) On 3 June, oaths were renewed, and the archbishop of Canterbury ‘with the candle lit’ (accensa candela) excommunicated all who would contravene or impede the acts of this parliament, and then ‘he extinguished the candle’ (extinguendo candelam). The next day parliament dissolved, and the crisis had come to a joyous conclusion. ‘… we are free, thanks to God’, exclaims Fovent at the very end.16

The recovery of royal power It is not known how many months after these events the Merciless Parliament acquired its name. The name makes its first appearance in Knighton’s Chronicle – he writes that ‘it was called the parliament without mercy, for mercy was granted to none without the consent of the Lords’, but here Knighton simply seems to be identifying a description already widely in use.17 Unlike the ‘Good’ or the ‘Wonderful’ parliaments before it, the appellation ‘Merciless’ intimates that this time the parliamentary victory against the crown came at

14

15

16 17

June: CCR 1385–9, p. 414. On Elmham and Trivet, see Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 164; on Slake, Lincoln and Medford, p. 176. Robert Belknap and John Holt were exiled to Drogheda, Roger Fulthorp and William Burgh to Dublin, John Cary and John Locton to Waterford and Rushook to Cork. Favent, Historia, p. 23; PROME, February 1388, Part 3, Article xvi (membrane 8/p. iii–244). ‘Ecce homines qui non proposuerunt Deum ante conspectum suum! Qui legis scrutare quomodo mala, malo inchoata principio, vix est ut ullo bono peraguntur exitu! Adhuc in omni opere memento finis.’ Favent, Historia, p. 24. ‘… et nos liberati sumus; Deo gratiarum acciones’, Favent, Historia, p. 24; Ps 123:7. KC, p. 414: ‘… et uocatur parliamentum istud “parliamentum sine misericordia” nec alicui misericordiam faceret sine consensu dominorum.’

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The End of the Merciless Parliament too high a price and parliament itself was tarnished by the vindictive and perhaps unjust nature of the trials. After the Merciless Parliament was over, the Appellants enjoyed a brief period of control over the government, though Gloucester and Arundel in particular proved the most committed to continuing on with their coup. Accordingly, they made some attempt to set the government on a straight course, reversing the policy of patronage that Richard had pursued throughout the 1380s by recovering much of the property that had been given to members of the Ricardian faction, reducing the size of the royal household and adopting a more aggressive stance against England’s foreign enemies, particularly France. Gloucester and Arundel were also the two most eager to continue the war with France, but in this they enjoyed little success and were eventually forced to abandon their strategy. However it is another short text from the provinces that tells us of the growing unpopularity of the Appellants during the period of their attack against the Ricardians. Henry Knighton’s account of the Merciless Parliament includes a unique copy of a petition addressed to the king and lords of the realm (in French), originating from the political community of the shires and voicing popular discontent.18 The petition, drawn up in May of 1388, catalogues common grievances against the conduct of royal officials in the counties, the manipulation of the justice system by retainers and ‘maintainers of quarrels’ (meistymours [sic] de querelles), the excessive granting of pardons by means of the privy seal or the great seal, the misappropriation of tax revenue and the failure of the war effort against France. Complaining of the length of the treason trials and threatening rebellion if nothing is done to avert ‘other losses and perils likely to come’ (lez damagez et perilles semblables aduenere), the petition censures the struggles between the various factions at court as counterproductive to the pursuit of peace, justice and fiscal responsibility.19 Such complaints are representative of the widespread dissatisfaction with the lack of real reform undertaken by the Appellants as they assumed responsibility for the government. While they made some attempt to set the government on a straight course

18

19

KC, pp. 442–50. Scase considers this petition in Literature and Complaint in England, pp. 80–1. As Scase notes, Claire Valente has argued that the petition was written earlier in the decade and was simply recirculated at this date; C. Valente, Theory and Practice of Revolt in Medieval England (Aldershot, 2003), p. 169 n. 30, p. 185 n. 67. Galloway discusses the possible interpretation of this document as hostile to the Appellants in his ‘Politics of Pity in Gower’s Confessio amantis’, p. 81. See also Palmer, England, France and Christendom, pp. 136–7, 237–8; J. R. Maddicott, Law and Lordship: Royal Justices as Retainers in Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century England, Past & Present Supplement 4 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 67–8. See particularly: ‘… pur le peple qe se leua ne saueyt altre chose faire forsque aretter gouernours de uostre counsayle, appellantz lez pluis graundez de uostre consayle traytours a uous et a la roialme come gentz qe bien ne sauoient ne resone.’ KC, p. 444.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England in the months following the trials, reducing the size of the royal household and renewing the war against France, they showed themselves ill prepared to eliminate the sort of corrupt practices that the Commons found so objectionable, and popular support for their programme began to slip away. Indeed the opportunity soon presented itself for Richard to regain power. In the very next parliament after the Merciless Parliament – the Cambridge Parliament that sat from 10 September to 17 October 1388 – the Commons introduced a petition prohibiting the distribution of livery and the practice of maintenance. (It is no surprise that the abovementioned petition in Knighton’s Chronicle also underscores the complaint against the influence of livery and maintenance on the justice system, for this was the Commons’ cause célèbre.) Richard grandly seized the initiative in the Cambridge Parliament and offered before the full house to abolish his own livery if the Lords would abolish theirs, demonstrating that he now understood how to turn the tide of opinion in his favour. In the months following the Cambridge Parliament, Richard worked to win over the two junior Appellants, Nottingham and Derby, who had split with the ‘indivisible trinity’ of Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick over Burley’s fate in the Merciless Parliament.20 On 3 May 1389, Richard announced that he now intended to assume full control of the government of the realm. The next day, the king dismissed many of those officials who had been appointed by the Appellants, and Gloucester and Arundel themselves were removed from the council. But even before Richard’s announcement, the lesser members of the Ricardian faction had begun to make their way back to court, including the king’s clerks Richard Medford and John Lincoln, and the chamber knight Nicholas Dagworth. Sir John Golafre, named by both Fovent and Henry Knighton as guilty of transporting Ricardian letters to the king of France, was appointed constable of Wallingford Castle in the spring of 1389.21

The faithful Commons With the return of minor court figures such as Golafre it was as though the work of the Merciless Parliament was erased, and Richard achieved nearly a decade of relatively stable rule.22 But, of course, the Merciless Parliament 20 21 22

On Richard’s newfound alliance with Derby and Nottingham, see Saul, Richard II, p. 203. On Golafre’s career, see chapter four, p. 111 n. 80. Both McKisack and Saul are careful to mention John of Gaunt’s return to court as a stabilizing influence on Richard. See McKisack, Fourteenth Century, p. 464; and Saul, Richard II, pp. 202, 240–2. T. F. Tout described the years 1389–95 in particular as ‘the period of compromise’. Tout, Chapters, III, 454–95. However this is not to say that these years were without incident. On the quest for peace with France, see Palmer, England, France and Christendom, pp. 142–79; on Richard’s conflict with London, see

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The End of the Merciless Parliament was not erased from Richard’s memory, for there it must have festered until he was able to enact his own purge in the ‘Revenge Parliament’ of 1397. This was a grotesque parody of the Merciless Parliament in which the three senior Appellants were themselves appealed of treason for their actions of a decade ago, in 1387 and 1388. After Richard had Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick arrested without warning (and under elaborately false pretences) on 10 or 11 July 1397, the king called parliament for 17 September for the treason trials of the three Appellants. The irregular atmosphere of this parliament did not escape the notice of the chroniclers, for they record that it met in a temporary wooden building in the palace yard, as Westminster Hall was undergoing renovation.23 Furthermore, many of the lords arrived at parliament accompanied by bands of armed retainers intended for the king’s protection, though the presence of retinues was in contradiction of established parliamentary practice. And a great number of the Commons were novices who had never before sat in parliament, and who, without previous experience, were perhaps less willing to oppose the king – the sham was disclosed when Arundel famously challenged his accusers ‘Where are the faithful Commons? … The faithful Commons of the kingdom are not here; if they were, they would without doubt be on my side, trying to help me from falling into your clutches.’24 Arundel’s words

23

24

Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 102–9; Barron, ‘The Quarrel of Richard II with London 1392–7’, pp. 173–201; C. Barron, ‘Richard II and London’ in Richard II: The Art of Kingship, ed. A. Goodman and J. Gillespie (Oxford, 1999), pp. 152–4; and on the 1393 rising in Cheshire, see Saul, Richard II, pp. 219–21. As noted by Walsingham in the Annales Ricardi Secoundi, p. 209; in the Continuatio Eulogii, III, 373; and by the Monk of Evesham in Vita Ricardi Secundi, p. 137. For a discussion of the various chronicle accounts of the Revenge Parliament (along with translations of many of these accounts), see C. Given-Wilson, Chronicles of the Revolution (Manchester, 1993), pp. 3–11, 54–96; R. Mott, ‘Richard II and the Crisis of 1397’, in Church and Chronicle in the Middle Ages: Essays Presented to John Taylor, ed. I. N. Wood and G. A. Loud (Oxford, 1991), pp. 165–77; Taylor, English Historical Literature, pp. 175–94; Gransden, Historical Writing in England, pp. 157–93; and L. D. Duls, Richard II in the Early Chronicles (The Hague, 1975), pp. 71–97. Arundel’s words are found in the Monk of Evesham’s Vita Ricardi Secundi, p. 143, and in The Chronicle of Adam Usk, p. 28. The translation is from the Vita Ricardi Secundi in Given-Wilson, Chronicles of the Revolution, p. 59. The similarity of the two chronicle accounts is more than coincidental and is discussed below. On the presence of armed retainers as noted by the chroniclers, see Annales Ricardi Secoundi, pp. 208–9; Chronicle of Adam Usk, pp. 22–4; and Vita Ricardi Secundi, p. 140. See also Given-Wilson, Royal Household, pp. 222–3; G. Dodd, ‘Getting away with Murder: Sir John Haukeston and Richard II’s Cheshire Archers’, Nottingham Mediaeval Studies 46 (2002), 102–17; R. R. Davies, ‘Richard II and the Principality of Chester, 1397– 9’, in The Reign of Richard II: Essays in Honour of May McKisack, ed. F. R. H. Du Boulay and C. Barron (London, 1971), pp. 268–70; and J. L. Gillespie, ‘Richard II’s Cheshire Archers’, Transactions of the Historical Society of Lancashire and Cheshire 125 (1974), 1–39. On the inexperience of the Commons, see J. S. Roskell, L. Clark and

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England were of no avail and he was beheaded at the Tower on Friday 21 September. On the Monday following, Gloucester was called, but he did not appear, for he had been murdered while he was imprisoned in Calais under Mowbray’s guard. On 28 September, Warwick was brought before parliament where he immediately confessed his guilt and begged the king for mercy, and so he was banished for life to the Isle of Man. The legal preparations for the trials had been laid on 5 August, when the eight ‘Counter-Appellants’ assembled before the king at Nottingham Castle to formally appeal the lords of treason.25 The Revenge Parliament signalled the beginning of the end of Richard, and the history of Richard’s final years on the throne has been told by many, including William Shakespeare.26 I will recall only a small piece of the telling, the well-known short narrative of the Revenge Parliament from which Arundel’s speech comes to us. This narrative is reproduced with some variation by Adam of Usk and the Monk of Evesham in their respective chronicles, and I single it out among all the accounts of Richard’s last years because Given-Wilson has argued that this narrative too was originally written as a pamphlet by a chancery clerk.27 (And so I first mentioned it in connection with the Anonimalle account of the Good Parliament.) Unlike Fovent’s Historia, this account of the Revenge Parliament does not delight in parliament’s power to expose corruption and punish traitors, but rather bares its illegitimacy, portraying the proceedings against the accused as a clear perversion of justice.28 This is made clear by the menacing presence

25

26

27 28

C.  Rawcliffe, The House of Commons: 1386–1421, 4 vols. (Stroud, 1992), I, 197–208; and Given-Wilson, Royal Household, p. 248. On Gloucester’s death, see J. Tait, ‘Did Richard II Murder the Duke of Gloucester?’ Historical Essays by Members of the Owens College, Manchester, ed. T. F. Tout and J. Tait (Manchester, 1902), pp. 193–216; A. E. Stamp, ‘Richard II and the Death of the Duke of Gloucester’, EHR 38:150 (1923), 249–51; R. L. Atkinson, ‘Richard II and the Death of the Duke of Gloucester’, EHR 38:152 (1923), 563–4; and H. G. Wright, ‘Richard II and the Death of Gloucester’, EHR 47:186 (1932), 276–80. The Counter-Appellants were the earls of Rutland, Kent, Huntington, Somerset, Nottingham and Salisbury, along with Thomas Despenser and Sir William Scrope. The most thorough accounts are Saul, Richard II, pp. 366–434; and Given-Wilson, Chronicles of the Revolution, pp. 11–52. Saul also discusses Shakespeare’s Richard II in his history, pp. 1–5. For a reconsideration of the historical significance of ­Richard’s downfall, see also J. L. Leland, ‘1399: A Royal Revolution Reversed’, Essays in Medieval Studies 21 (2004), 63–78. Given-Wilson, ‘Adam Usk, the Monk of Evesham and the Parliament of 1397–8’. However I do think Fovent expresses a certain awareness that, with the execution of Burley in 1388, parliament may have gone too far in its pursuit of justice: Historia, pp. 20–1. Of course my interpretation of the tone of this account of the Revenge Parliament differs substantially from that of Given-Wilson. He argues that this account ‘is by no means critical of Richard. On the contrary, he acts judicially, mercifully and with deliberation.’ Given-Wilson, ‘Adam Usk, the Monk of Evesham and the Parliament of 1397–8’, p. 334. At the same time, I do not read the account as a ‘Lancastrian hand-out’.

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The End of the Merciless Parliament of the king’s Cheshire archers, who draw back their bows when disorder breaks out among the Commons; by the coercion of the prelates, who are not allowed to withdraw from the criminal proceedings as they have in times past and are forced to appoint a spokesman who will consent to the shedding of blood; by Richard’s refusal to disclose the names of those fifty persons excepted from general pardon of all those who might be implicated in this conspiracy against the crown. The most enthralling passages in the account describe Arundel bravely defending himself against his accusers, as he proclaims before parliament, ‘I see it clearly now: all those who accuse me of treason, you are all liars. Never was I a traitor.’ When Arundel declares that the faithful Commons ‘are grieving greatly for me’, John Bussy (the speaker of the Commons and a long-standing supporter of Richard) hotly replies, ‘Look, lord king, at how this traitor is trying to stir up dissension between us and the Commons who have stayed at home.’29 Perhaps Arundel’s words planted a seed of doubt in Bussy’s mind, for it seems that the speaker’s reaction betrays a certain misapprehension regarding the proceedings – would there be widespread opposition in the months to come? (Bussy might have been relieved to know that such opposition would not come until the summer of 1399, when great numbers of supporters joined Henry Bolingbroke as he made his way through central and eastern England after his landing at Ravenspur in early July.30) When all of these incidents are taken together, I think this brief account suggests to us that Richard was after something more than just revenge. He wanted security. He seemed to believe that bending parliament to his will would help to secure his rule against his adversaries, and so the Cheshire archers bent their bows at the Commons. But, of course, manipulating parliament alone was not enough, for there were those who witnessed the proceedings, those who recorded and those who carried the news of the trials to the city and the provinces. In this sense, the very act of reporting Arundel’s furious insistence that this parliament was a sham was a small act of dissension on the part of our anonymous pamphleteer, for it rescued the defiant voice of the accused from obscurity.31 And the preservation of this account in two chronicles suggests that it was circulated widely. 29

30

31

Vita Ricardi Secundi, pp. 140–3; and Chronicle of Adam Usk, pp. 22–8. The translation is from the Vita Ricardi Secundi, in Given-Wilson’s Chronicles of the Revolution, p. 59. As Given-Wilson notes, at another moment the account offers Bussy rare praise: ‘… Lord John Bussy, a knight from Lincolnshire and a man of undoubted discretion and enormous eloquence …’. See Vita Ricardi Secundi, in Chronicles of the Revolution, p. 65. Support for Henry was particularly strong in London where the citizens were still stinging from a forced loan of £7,000 to the crown; Bird, Turbulent London, pp. 106, 109–13. The parliament roll does not record Arundel’s defence. Instead, he is nearly silent in the official records: ‘Le quel counte d’Arundell’, nientcontresteant la repel

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Many histories of Richard seem to suggest that this king was his own undoing – overreaching, rapacious, too indulgent of his courtiers – and that his final and fatal mistake was to exile Bolingbroke and deprive him of his rightful inheritance, for this is what led to his deposition in 1399.32 Though I do find several of these psychological interpretations convincing, the pamphlets I have discussed have persuaded me otherwise – as they are meant to – that parliament was ultimately Richard’s undoing.33 Certainly parliament had shown itself open to gross manipulation in this period, and perhaps the sharpest examples of this manipulation occurred precisely in 1397 and 1399.34 But when I suggest that parliament was the ruin of Richard, I mean something greater than the narrowly defined institution; I mean the institution as it was described by these proto-pamphleteers, for it seems that, by capturing with immediacy the volatile, emotional, often macabre nature of the parliamentary trials of 1388 and 1397, they exposed the fact that Arundel’s ‘faithful Commons’ had never really existed (and so could not be relied upon), while at the same time their writing fixed the ‘faithful Commons’ in both the popular and rhetorical imagination as a weapon against the crown.

32

33

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des pardoun et chartre susditz, ne disoit, n’autre chose voiloit dire, sinoun q’il demaunda allouance des chartre et pardoun suisditz.’ PROME, September 1397, Part 2, p. iii–377. I am thinking in particular of the carefully constructed psychological portraits of Richard II in Steel, Richard II and in Saul, Richard II. But on what contributed to Richard’s downfall, see also C. Barron, ‘Tyranny of Richard II’, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 41 (1968), 1–18; C. Barron, ‘The Deposition of Richard II’, in Politics and Crisis in Fourteenth Century England, ed. J. Taylor and W. Childs (Gloucester, 1990), pp. 132–49; G. O. Sayles, ‘Richard II in 1381 and 1399’, EHR 94 (1979), 820–9; and J. Taylor, ‘Richard II’s Views on Kingship’, Proceedings of the Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society 14 (1971), 189–205. Of course in the most literal sense, Richard’s later troubles with parliament began in early 1397, with the petition presented by Haxey in the January parliament of that year. See A. K. McHardy, ‘Haxey’s Case, 1397: The Petition and its Presenter Reconsidered’, in The Age of Richard II, ed. J. L. Gillespie (Stroud, 1997), pp. 93–114; and Saul, Richard II, pp. 368–70. On this point see M. Giancarlo, ‘Murder, Lies and Storytelling: The Manipulation of Justice(s) in the Parliaments of 1397 and 1399’, Speculum 77:1 (2002), 76–112.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Afterword Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let’s choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so – for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke’s, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. (Richard II, Act III, scene ii, 145)



With these oft quoted prophetic lines of verse, Shakespeare ensured that Richard II’s end would not be forgotten, even by those who did not make a habit of reading the history of dead kings. At a distance of nearly two hundred years from the events that are the subject of his play, Shakespeare moved (and still moves) his audience to feel sorry for Richard, a sentiment that I doubt was shared by many of the king’s contemporaries, even by those who remained staunchly loyal to their king. For it seems that only two of the chronicles that narrate Richard’s fall from power do so with unmistakable pathos. Jean Creton, a Frenchman who was an eyewitness to the events, describes Richard in his ‘Metrical History’ as ‘humbled and miserable’ and a ‘pity to behold’ when the king was surprised by the earl of Northumberland while making his way from Conway to Rhuddlan in August of 1399. ‘I know in truth I am lost’, says Richard upon seeing Northumberland’s forces amassed on the road.1 And the author of the Cronique de la Traison et Mort de Richart Deux Roy Dengleterre describes the knight who dealt Richard his ‘death-blow’ as weeping beside the royal corpse, crying ‘Alas! What is it that we have done? We have murdered him who has been our sovereign lord for

1

This translation of Jean Creton’s ‘Metrical History’ is found in Given-Wilson’s invaluable Chronicles of the Revolution, p. 147.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England the space of twenty-two years.’2 In the case of the Traison et Mort, this sorrow is purely a work of fiction, for the story of Richard being slain by a gang of armed knights is uncorroborated by any other account, and scholars have given far more weight to the various chronicle accounts of Richard starving to death at Pontefract.3 Nevertheless both Creton’s more credible ‘Metrical History’ and the Traison et Mort were drawn upon by Samuel Daniel for his The First Fowre Bookes of the Civile Warres, published in 1594. Daniel’s work in turn seems to have influenced Shakespeare’s play.4 Both of these contemporary French sources are notable exceptions to the English accounts of Richard’s deposition (including those expressing loyalty to the king), for Richard was not the sort of figure who engendered the sympathy of English chroniclers. Of course, Richard’s deposition and murder did pose a great many problems for the ‘generation of 1399’, as Frank Grady has described some of those texts produced immediately after Henry’s assumption of the throne. These include the previously mentioned poems Mum and the Sothsegger and Richard the Redeless, as well as John Gower’s Chronica tripertita. Grady observes that all three of these Lancastrian poems either dispense with, or in the case of Mum abruptly curtail, the dream-vision so typical of Ricardian alliterative verse such as Piers Plowman and Gower’s earlier Vox clamantis. Furthermore all three of these poems are broadly characterized by their preoccupation with parliamentary activities and legal documents in their most literal (and therefore unallegorized) forms, and so Grady suggests that the authors of these poems well understood that the careful management of parliament and parliamentary reportage was an essential part of the Lancastrian programme. Thus Grady vividly characterizes these poems as expressing an ‘insidethe-beltway’ ethos, and upon reflection I cannot help but wonder if earlier independent accounts of parliament such as the Historia, or perhaps those many ‘official’ documents leaked just prior to the Merciless Parliament, had taught this new ‘generation of 1399’ the importance of spin.5 Of course, as Paul Strohm reminds us, part of the difficulty faced by Lancastrian legitimizers was that Richard would not stay dead. Rumours that the king was still alive began to circulate widely in 1401–2, and these rumours resurfaced with 2

3 4

5

For this translation of the Traison et Mort, see also Given-Wilson’s Chronicles of the Revolution, p. 234. For an evaluation of the accounts provided by these two ­chroniclers, see Given-Wilson’s introduction, pp. 1–13. On the various chronicle accounts of Richard’s starvation, see Given-Wilson, ­Chronicles of the Revolution, p. 51 and Saul, Richard II, p. 426. Saul, Richard II, pp. 3–4. On Shakespeare’s sources, Saul cites William Shakespeare, King Richard II, ed. Peter Ure (London, 1961), pp. xxx–lvii. Shakespeare’s primary source for the play seems to have been Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicles. See also Charles R. Forker’s introduction to William Shakespeare’s King Richard II (Arden, 2002), pp. 140–4, 152–8. Grady, ‘Generation of 1399’, p. 223.

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Afterword persistence throughout the next decade, flourishing not just among Richard’s old supporters, but also among those Strohm characterizes as ‘middling citizens’.6 Though such rumours perhaps betray a certain anxiety about the deposition of a king, or a certain disappointment regarding the deposer, I am not sure that they betray pity or concern for Richard himself. Rather I believe that pity for the king whose crown slips from his grasp is Shakespeare’s unique contribution to the Ricardian legacy.

‘Let’s choose executors and talk of wills’ But what of Thomas Fovent’s end? At least one line of the above verse from Shakespeare’s Richard II applies to Fovent as well, for we are left with little more than to watch him ‘choose executors and talk of wills’. Fovent’s will has been digitized and made readily available by the National Archives’ DocumentsOnline, and this document establishes that he died in 1404.7 It is unlikely that he was very old when he died, perhaps in his forties, for his sister Cecily and his brother Robert both outlived him by many years. (Robert lived until at least 1426, when his name was last recorded as a witness to a property conveyance in Shaftesbury, and Cecily died in 1423.)8 Nevertheless, Fovent lived long enough to see Richard’s deposition in 1399 and perhaps heard stories of the king’s slow starvation in Pontefract, or the rumours that Richard was still alive in Scotland.9 What did our pamphleteer think? We cannot know his response, as no other political writing has been attributed to his pen. His will was sealed at the hospital of St Mary near London (St Mary’s Bishopsgate) and so it seems that Fovent did live out his life as a Londoner. Perhaps the city had caught hold of him, for his will hints that he had at least one relationship of a personal nature. Fovent named a woman, Christina Bechefont, as supervisor of the executors of his estate, Nicholas Chamberleyn and Roger Copeland. She was also to receive the residue of all goods after his debts had been paid. As it was unusual for a woman to be named as supervisor over the executors of an estate, this suggests that he and Christina had a close relationship. Unfortunately the will provides no further clues regarding the identity of Christina or his executors and their names have yet to be discovered elsewhere. 6

7 8 9

Strohm, England’s Empty Throne, p. 107; and S. Walker, ‘Remembering Richard: History and Memory in Lancastrian England’, in The Fifteenth Century IV: Political Culture in Late Medieval Britain, ed. L. Clark and C. Carpenter (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 21–32. The National Archives’ DocumentsOnline, PROB 11/2A. L. S. Woodger, ‘Robert Fovent’, in The House of Commons, 1386–1421, III, 113–14. On the various chronicle accounts of Richard’s starvation, see n. 3 above. On the rumours that Richard was still alive in Scotland, see Strohm, England’s Empty Throne, pp. 106–8.

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England Fovent’s will establishes that he was a man of no small means when he died. The bequests made in the will are around £65; this of course does not include the value of any property that he might have owned.10 The careful preparations he made for his own death resulted in a small irony nonetheless, one that would not have been lost on a writer whose own prose tended towards biting satire. His pamphlet is notable for many things, but the description of Chief Justice Robert Tresilian’s trial and execution is perhaps the most fantastic of scenes.11 At the conclusion of this lurid account, Fovent reports that Tresilian’s wife begged King Richard for permission to take her husband’s body, and that Tresilian was buried at Greyfriars. Thomas Fovent too was buried at Greyfriars, as he requested in his will. According to the list of burials compiled by a friar of the house about 1526, Fovent’s final resting place in the Chapel of St Francis was alongside Robert Tresilian.12

The pamphlet Wars of the Roses In the decades and centuries after Richard’s reign, short political texts were ‘as common as dust’, as Steven Justice has described the prevalence of posted broadsides in the fifteenth century.13 Indeed, by 1450, the posting of libels and bills had become so widespread that the crown issued a proclamation

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11 12

13

In 1396, Fovent and a partner, Thomas Tollarton, also a clerk, evidently purchased or became the mortgagees on some business property on Thames Street in the parish of St Dunstan in the East, for we have a deed releasing them from claims against the property for a period of twelve years; London Metropolitan Archives, Husting Roll 125 (35). In addition, CFR, XII, 222–3, contains an order to the escheator of Essex dated 18 July 1404 regarding the lands of Thomas Fovent, clerk; however no equivalent record survives in the Calendar of Inquisitions Post Mortem. There is an entry regarding land in Essex associated with Thomas’ brother Robert and his wife Margaret in the Patent Rolls for 16 April 1388: ‘Licence, for 40s. paid in the hanaper, for Robert Fouent of Shaftesbury and Margaret his wife, to enfeoff Thomas Fouent and John Dene, chaplain, of a third part of the manor of Plumbergh by Hokkele, co. Essex, held in chief, and for the feoffees, after seisin had, to grant the said third part to the said Robert and Margaret and the heirs of the said Robert, in fee.’ CPR 1385–9, p. 427. This manor was Margaret’s property, and Thomas and John Dene, perhaps a clerical associate, seem to have been acting as trustees for Robert for the purpose of switching its descent from the Herring heirs (Margaret’s father’s family) to Robert’s heirs. Thomas Fovent’s interest in the property likely would have ceased once the transaction was complete, and therefore this particular manor is distinct from any land he might have owned in Essex at the time of his death. See above, chapter six, p. 160. C. L. Kingsford, The Grey Friars of London (Aberdeen, 1904), p. 96; and for a map of the burials, see E. B. S. Shepherd, ‘The Church of the Friars Minors in London’, Archaeological Journal 59 (1902), 238–87. Justice, Writing and Rebellion, p. 77. On this point Justice cites V. J. Scattergood, Politics and Poetry in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1971), pp. 25–6.

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Afterword in London and Middlesex prohibiting the publication and circulation of such texts.14 Curiously, it seems that Fovent’s Historia was recopied about this time, for there exists another little-known manuscript of the Historia mirabilis parliamenti written in a hand dating from the second quarter of the fifteenth century (and found in the private collection of John Gordan III in Manhattan, New York).15 Though we do not know why this copy of the Historia was made, or the exact year of its making, I would speculate that it was one of the many texts produced in association with the duke of Suffolk’s impeachment trial in early 1450.16 The unpopular duke of Suffolk was the grandson of Michael de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, who, of course, is mentioned in the Historia in conjunction with his own impeachment in the Wonderful Parliament of 1386 and as one of the appellees in the Merciless Parliament. As a recycled text, the Historia might no longer have carried quite the sting it had in 1388, especially when compared with the many copies of the charges of treason against 14 15

16

Scase, Literature and Complaint in England (Oxford, 2007), pp. 133–4, where she cites Rymer, ed., Foedera, xi. 268. On the identification and provenance of this manuscript, see Oliver, ‘New Light on the Life and Manuscripts of a Political Pamphleteer: Thomas Fovent’. The manuscript was first noticed by De Ricci in his Census, but there it was listed under a different title and of anonymous authorship; S. De Ricci, Census of Medieval and Renaissance Manuscripts in the United States and Canada, 2 vols. (New York, 1935–7), II, 1684. The Gordan manuscript measures 104 in. × 11⅛ in. It comprises five sheets stitched together: the length of each of the first three sheets is 21 inches; the fourth sheet is 29 inches long; the fifth sheet is 12 inches long. It is complete with the exception of two lines that have been dropped at the very end of the first sheet. Proper names are occasionally misspelled, such as ‘Bealknamp’ for ‘Bealknap’. The handwriting is clear and unchanging to the manuscript’s end, though the hand seems somewhat inferior compared with that of the Bodleian scribe. Certainly the layout of the text is not as neat, for there is no right-hand margin to speak of – the text runs nearly all the way to the edge. Furthermore the manuscript decorations were never completed, though care was taken to leave space for them throughout. Interestingly enough, the arrangement of the blank spaces left for the unfinished decorations is identical to the spacing of the pen-flourished initials and paragraph marks in the Bodleian MS, suggesting the possibility that the Gordan scribe used the Bodleian MS as his model. The Gordan manuscript hand shows influences of Secretary; and I am indebted to Pamela Robinson for her assistance with dating the Gordan manuscript to the second quarter of the fifteenth century. The manuscript’s current descriptive title – Succincta de facinoribus Alexandri Nevyle Archiepiscopi Eboracensis; Rob. De Veer, Ducis Hiberniae; Mich. De La Pole, Com Suff., Cancellarii Angliae; Rob. Tresyllan, Capitalis Justiciarii, et Nich. Brembre, militis, Consiliariorum intimorum Rich. II Regis et de eorum poenis Historia – was added in a sixteenth-century hand to the outside of the roll by someone who had no knowledge of the original source. On the many verses and bills attacking Suffolk that circulated about this time, see Scattergood, Politics and Poetry in the Fifteenth Century, pp. 157–65; Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, pp. 121–9; and McCulloch and Jones, ‘Lancastrian Politics, the French War, and the Rise of the Popular Element’, pp. 117–21.

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2.  Detail of Gordan MS, including title. Mid-fifteenth-century manuscript of Thomas Fovent’s Historia.

To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Afterword Suffolk that were in circulation at this time.17 But evidently Fovent’s Historia had not lost its relevance, and its reappearance suggests that it was better known or more widely circulated than previously thought. Scholars have long observed that the ensuing wars between Lancastrians and Yorkists were fought with short texts, particularly ballads and broadsides. However in the collaborative work of D. McCulloch and E. D. Jones, as well as that of C. D. Ross, those texts associated with the rise of the ‘popular element’ or ‘popular opinion’ during the Wars of the Roses are categorized as propaganda pieces, much as McKisack and Tout categorized Fovent’s Historia as propaganda many decades ago.18 More recently Adam Fox and Wendy Scase have reconsidered the proliferation of broadsides and libels in the later fifteenth century, and Scase in particular argues that such works should be viewed as part of a longer tradition of political discourse that deliberately imitated and responded to earlier examples of clamour and complaint dating back to the fourteenth century and beyond. Similarly, the recycling of the Historia in the mid-fifteenth century suggests a conscious continuation of the practice of political pamphleteering that developed during the Ricardian period with the Good, Wonderful and Merciless parliaments, but somehow this connection to an earlier textual practice has become lost to us in the process of differentiating one historical period from the next.19

‘To write history thus means to cite history’20 I return to where this book began, with the printing of Fovent’s Historia in the seventeenth century. As I mentioned in chapter one, it was published in three slightly different versions in the years 1641 and 1643 and was perhaps

17 18

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Scase, Literature and Complaint in England, p. 123. Ross, ‘Rumour, Propaganda and Popular Opinion During the Wars of the Roses’, pp. 14–32; and McCulloch and Jones, ‘Lancastrian Politics, the French War, and the Rise of the Popular Element’. A notable exception is offered by P. Croft, ‘Libels, Popular Literacy and Public Opinion in Early Modern England’, Historical Research 68 (1995), 266–85. On the later fifteenth century, see Fox, Oral and Literate Culture in England, pp. 299–334. See also Scase on the sixteenth-century printing of the late medieval Lollard treatise, The praier and complaynte of the plowman. Scase discusses the significance of recycling ‘an old complaint’, emphasizing the fact that the text was ‘no new thing’ helped to place it within the ‘complaint tradition’: Literature and Complaint in England, pp. 155–6. See also Marc Bloch’s discussion of the boundaries between past and present in The Historian’s Craft, trans. P. Putnam (New York, 1962), pp. 35–47. W. Benjamin, Arcades Project, trans. H. Eiland and K. McLaughlin (Cambridge MA, 1999) (N11, 3), p. 476. Paraphrased in V. R. Schwartz, ‘Walter Benjamin for Historians’, American Historical Review 106:5 (2001), 1738. The next line of this passage from Benjamin’s Arcades Project is of import: ‘It belongs to the concept of citation, however, that the historical object in each case is torn from its context.’

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England released in anticipation of the trial of one of Charles I’s principal counsellors, Archbishop William Laud.21 Laud was impeached for high treason by the Long Parliament on 18 December 1640 as the chief architect of the crown’s most unpopular religious and secular policies, but he languished in the Tower for some years until he was finally brought to trial in 1644. The proceedings against Laud dragged on for six months with little result and, like the earl of Strafford before him, Laud was ultimately executed by a bill of attainder in January 1645.22 A torrent of pamphlets was unleashed in London against Laud while he was imprisoned in the Tower, and it is quite possible that Fovent’s account of the Merciless Parliament was printed at this time precisely because it offered Laud’s attackers an example of a more successful parliamentary treason trial. The forty-nine copies of Fovent’s pamphlet dating from 1641 that survive in library archives suggest a sizeable print run, and it surely reached an audience far larger than Fovent could have imagined in 1388.23 As it was published by an unlicensed printer who presumably scoffed at the prohibitions against libels and pamphlets, it is impossible to say just which of the several fly-by-night print shops in London was responsible for the work.24 Furthermore I can only speculate as to whether the 1641 pamphlet was made from the Bodleian manuscript which had been deposited there in 1607. Might someone have gone to the Bodleian precisely to look for such historical artefacts that spoke of parliament’s power in previous centuries? Perhaps then the resurrection of Fovent’s text in 1641 was a street-level part of a more general political campaign that Janelle Greenberg has termed ‘radical ancient constitutionalism’, or it fell into the pattern of use of medieval texts such as the Modus tenendi parliamentum and the Mirror of Justices by seventeenthcentury radicals to encourage parliamentary resistance to royal authority. Greenberg argues persuasively ‘that medieval history lent itself to the most radical of early modern political causes’. While her work challenges exten21 22

23 24

For a detailed account of the rise and fall of Archbishop Laud, see A. Milton’s entry ‘Laud, William (1573–1645)’ in ODNB, XXXII, 655–70. Laud’s trial followed the unsuccessful impeachment proceedings against the earl of Strafford in the spring of 1641. On the Strafford and Laud trials, see most recently D. A. Orr, Treason and the State: Law, Politics, and Ideology in the English Civil War (Cambridge, 2002). Both Strafford and Laud were executed by a bill of attainder. For a lively account of the failure of Strafford’s impeachment trial, see also the review by C. S. Lerner, ‘Impeachment, Attainder, and a True Constitutional Crisis: Lessons from the Strafford Trial’, The University of Chicago Law Review 69:4 (2002), 2057–101. On the many pamphlets attacking Laud and Strafford, see Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering, p. 196. See chapter one, p. 1 n. 2. See Raymond, Pamphlets and Pamphleteering, on London stationers and the licensing system, pp. 66–71; on the collapse of censorship in 1640 which coincided with the imprisonment of Laud, the nominal head of the licensing system, see p. 41 n. 44. See also Peacey, Politicians and Pamphleteers, pp. 132–62.

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Afterword sive recent scholarship that either regards the use of medieval history in the early modern period as essentially conservative, or as simply irrelevant to the development of the ancient constitution, nevertheless perhaps Greenberg’s argument best captures the motives of those who deployed such medieval texts as the Modus in defence of the parliamentarian opposition to the Stuart crown.25 No matter that recent scholarship frames the outcome as radical or conservative, the reappearance of such medieval texts in the 1640s unquestionably affirmed for seventeenth-century parliamentarians that their opposition to the crown had a long and venerable history, thereby reflecting what Greenberg has characterized as a ‘sense of history that assumed the presence of the past as well as its pastness …’.26 Another way we might think of this use of the past – the recycling in the 1640s of medieval texts about parliament – is in terms of the ‘Now of recognizability’.27 This is Walter Benjamin’s phrase as it appears in his Arcades Project, and it is particularly applicable in the case of the seventeenth-century publication of the Historia mirabilis parliamenti if we consider the 1641 pamphlet as an object, and not just as an historical narrative from centuries past. The objects or the material traces of the past are central to Benjamin’s concept of history precisely because he believed that history decomposes into images and not into narratives, and these images show us both the facts and the artefacts of the past made accessible to all. As an object, I would suggest that Fovent’s pamphlet is something of a time traveller, appearing in a ‘lightning flash’ (as scurrilous and fleeting objects are wont to do), bringing the past crashing into confrontation with the present and so making the past knowable or recognizable even on the level of the street. This sudden confrontation between the past and the present is an important process for Benjamin, because it results in the dialectical freeze or ‘dialectics at a standstill’ – that moment in which an image from the past unexpectedly appears to guide the present to take action.28 It was Benjamin’s hope that the shock of suddenly encountering the past in the present would jolt the dreaming collective into

25

26 27 28

Greenberg, Radical Face of the Ancient Constitution (Cambridge, 2001), p. 5. Greenberg sees her argument as challenging the work of J. G. A. Pocock, Glenn Burgess, Paul Christianson, Mark Goldie and Quentin Skinner, among others. On the many schools of thought regarding the origins of the ancient constitution, see her introduction ‘The Long Shadow of Edward the Confessor’, pp. 2–11. On page 3 of this introduction, Greenberg allies herself with medievalists such as J. C. Holt, R. W. Southern and Patrick Wormald, who locate the origins of the ancient constitution in the tenth, eleventh and twelfth centuries. On the ‘revolutionary potential’ of medieval texts during the 1640s, see her chapter 5. Greenberg, Radical Face of the Ancient Constitution, p. 35. See for example Benjamin, Arcades Project (N3, 1) and (N9, 7), p. 463. Benjamin, Arcades Project (N 2a, 3), p. 462. See also M. Pensky, ‘Method and Time: Benjamin’s Dialectical Images’, in The Cambridge Companion to Walter Benjamin, ed. D. S. Ferris (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 177–98 (pp. 193–5).

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Parliament and Political Pamphleteering in Fourteenth-Century England a political awakening.29 More specifically, he believed that the force of this encounter between past and present would ‘open a very particular heretofore closed chamber of the past. Entry into this chamber coincides exactly with political action.’30 In this way, I propose that the unexpected appearance of Fovent’s pamphlet in 1641 acted as an invitation to enter into the chambers of the Wonderful and Merciless parliaments.

Now-time What do we now know? In this book I have suggested that the first political pamphlets are urban artefacts formed by the intersection of parliament and the clerkly culture of those civil servants who lived and worked in the city of London in the late fourteenth century. As is true of any artefact, these short texts are the product of particular moments in time, specifically that moment when the so-called Good Parliament demonstrated the institution’s potential as a weapon against the crown in 1376, or, perhaps more chillingly, that moment when the zeal for reform spilled onto the streets with the blood of those executed in 1388. I have also suggested that the writers and readers of these pamphlets worked with government and other official documents in their everyday lives, and so the earliest political pamphlets were likely written in response to or in dialogue with such official government documents as the parliament rolls. While the late medieval world of clerks and documents might seem insular and exclusive, in the environment of the city it was anything but, for such ‘textworkers’ exchanged political writing and ideas across an urban landscape that was marked by transactions of all sorts. It was perhaps this gritty context for the exchange of news and information about parliament – a context quite distinct from the closed space of the court – that encouraged Fovent to set his opinion and ideas on parchment without fear of reprisal. It is in fact the obvious lack of fear coupled with selfrighteous outrage in Fovent’s writing that most obviously indicates the emergence of the political sphere in this period, for Fovent must have believed that there existed a space (be it abstract or physical) for the circulation of overtly political writing in his city. I have also argued against reading Fovent’s Historia as pro-Appellant propaganda, primarily because the evidence that I have presented demonstrates otherwise, for I have shown Fovent to be a civil servant with a political sensibility quite distinct from that of the Appellants. Furthermore, I believe 29 30

S. Buck-Morss, The Dialectics of Seeing: Walter Benjamin and the Arcades Project (Cambridge MA, 1991), p. 219. Cited in the translation of R. Tiedemann, ‘Dialectics at a Standstill: Approaches to the Passagen-Werk’, trans. G. Smith and A. Lefevere in Walter Benjamin, Arcades Project, p. 944.

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Afterword ‘propaganda’ simply is not a useful descriptive, for it masks the subtleties of Fovent’s editorial process and his creative use of official documents in constructing his narrative. More significantly, ‘propaganda’ oversimplifies the rich and complex nature of the political consciousness of late fourteenthcentury England; by its use we do ourselves an injustice, for not only does it obscure the myriad of political opinions that circulated throughout England in this period, but also it obscures the emergence of the political public sphere. What can we know from the Historia’s publication in 1641? I suspect that the political pamphleteers of the seventeenth century were willing to listen to the past in ways that we perhaps are not; that the seventeenth century was willing to accord to the past the power of its technological advances instead of denying it the requisite complexity; that the seventeenth century was willing to make use of the inherent political connections between the present and the past instead of emphasizing only the breaks and ruptures. Though the Historia was very much a product of late medieval scribal culture, by keeping the designation ‘pamphlet’ we not only perpetuate the spirit of Fovent’s work, but we acknowledge the inherent connections between the medieval and early modern worlds. To borrow a phrase from David Aers, the Historia is ‘a whisper in the ear of Early Modernists’.31 Still, one might ask of this book, ‘Why go to all this trouble to redeem a propagandist?’ Here is my answer. By Fovent’s redemption, by his reading, we too can hear the political world of the late fourteenth century whispering to us.

31

D. Aers, ‘A Whisper in the Ear of Early Modernists’, in Culture and History 1350– 1600: Essays on English Communities, Identities, and Writing, ed. D. Aers (Detroit, 1992), pp. 177–202.

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APPENDIX A comparison of the Historia mirabilis parliamenti and the parliament rolls Here follows a comparison of Fovent’s version of the charges against the Ricardians with the articles of appeal drafted by the Appellants and copied into the official record of the Merciless Parliament. On the left-hand pages are the charges against the Ricardians as they appear in Fovent’s Historia. On the right-hand pages are the corresponding articles of the appeal from the parliament rolls that Fovent has edited for his Historia. The corresponding text is in bold. For a translation of this passage, see p. 000 above. Historia In primis, eorum serpentini oris colloquiis, ambicionibus, adulacionibus, laciuiis verbis, et blandimentis indolem regem obcecarunt in tantum quod omnibus eorum venenosis conspiracionibus et desideriis illaqueatus, ratificando adherebat, putans ipsos omnia disponere pro meliori; dictorumque commissariorum apud Westmonasterium consilia et proposita tanquam pro prodicione abhorrerunt. [McKisack cites Article XVII. RP, iii, 232.]

Item, rex predictorum blandiciis et simulacionibus amore percussus, eos ac per eos pretextu brogagii recepti eorum affines diversimode ditauit, dando dicto duci Hibernie Johannem Bloys, captiuum heredem Britannie, ut asseruit, ac quibusdam ceteris castra, villas, terras, quibusdam vero iocalia et pecunias que omnia summe extenderunt C.M. marcarum in graue dispen196

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Parliament Rolls Primerement, Thomas, duc de Gloucestr’, conestable d’Engletere, Henry, count de Derby, Richard, count d’Arundell et de Surr’, Thomas, count de Warrewyk, et Thomas, count Mareschall’, appellont et diount qe Alisaundre, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, et Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’, faulx traitours et enemys du roi et du roialme, veantz la tendresse del age de nostre dit seignour le roi, et la innocencie de sa roial persone, lui firent entendre come pur verite tantz des fauxes choses, par eux countre leaute et bone foi imaginez et controvez, qe entierement eux lui firent de tout a eux doner soun amour et ferme foi et credence, et haier ses loiaux seignours et lieges, par queux il deust de droit plus avoir este governe. Et auxint enchrochaunt a eux real poar, en deffranchisauntz nostre dit seignour le roi de sovereignite, emblemissauntz et amenussauntz sa roiale prerogative et regalie, lui firent si avaunt obeiser q’il fust jure d’estre governe, counsaille, et demesne par eux, par vertue de quele serement eux lui ount si longement tenuz en obeisantz de lours faulxes appensementz, ymaginacions et faitz, qe les meschiefs, inconveniens, deseases, et destrucciouns contenuz es articles si apres ensuiantz sunt avenuz, come sunt overtement en partie a monstrer et declarer, pur profit nostre seignour le roi, et de tout soun roialme. Article I. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 230. Item, les ditz traitours Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Alisaundre, erchevesqe d’Everwik et Michel de la Pole, comte de Suff’, par counseil et abette de Robert Tresilian’ et Nicholas Brembre susdites, encrochantz as eux roial poair, firent deliverer John de Blois, heir de Bretaigne, q’estoit prisoner et tresore a nostre dit seignur le roi et a son roialme, sanz assent de parlement et de 197

Appendix dium ipsius regis et regni. Nec ab hoc deuoratores ipsi statum regis nec regni ponderarunt, sed sic viuendo, sic deuastando gulosis brogagiis receptis, in dictis castris et villis insufficientes capitaneos instituerunt, quorum insolercia armata vis eorundem penitus est destruita, quorumdam vero in manus inimicorum denique sunt surrepta, que a tempore cuius memoria non existit perantea non videbantur. [McKisack cites Articles XXIII, V, VII and VIII. RP, iii, 230, 232.] (Richard II granted the ransom of Jean de Blois to de Vere on 23 March 1386. The ransom was not collected until December 1387.)

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Appendix grand conseil du roi, et sanz garant, en grand afforcement del adversair de Fraunce, et en grant arrerissement du roi et du roialme, et encontre l’estatutz et ordenances avauntditz faitz en ledarrein parlement. Article XXIII. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 232. Item, par le dit encrochement les avauntditz Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, et Michel de la Pole, counte de Suff’, par assent et consail de dit Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, ount fait qe nostre seignour le roi, saunz assent de roialme, ou desert de eux, lour ad done par lours abbettementz diverses seignouries, chasteaux, villes, et manoirs sibien annexes a sa corone come autres, sicome la terre d’Irland et de Okeham, ove le forest d’icele, et aultres terres qe furrunt al seignour d’Audele, et autres grauntz terres au dit Robert Veer duc d’Irland, et as autres diversement; parount ils sount grauntment enriches, et le roi est devenuz povre, et n’ad dount il se purra sustenir, et porter le charges de roialme, si noun par imposicions, taxes, ou tributes mettre et prendre sur soun poeple, en desheritesoun de sa corone, et en defesance du roialme. Article V. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 230. Item, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, counte de Suff’ et Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, par assent et counseil de dit Nicholas Brembre, faulx chivaler de Loundr’, encrochantz a eux roial poar, ount fait qe nostre dit seignour le roi lour ad done tresgrauntz somes d’or et d’argent sibien de ses biens et jeaulx propres, come des biens et tresore de roialme, sicome des dismes et quinzimes, et autres taxes grauntez asz diverses parlementz pur estre exploitez en defense et saufgarde de roialme, et autrement: quele somme amounte a .c. mille marcz et plus; sicome au dit Robert Veer, duc d’Irland, et autres diversement. Et outre ceo, plusours bones ordenances et purposes faitz et ordeinez en parlementz, sibien pur les guerres come en defense de roialme, ount ils desturbez, en grant arerissement de roi et de roialme. Article VII. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 230. Item, par le dit encrochement, et pur grantz dounes et brogage q’ils ount pris, les avauntditz Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’, et Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, ount fait qe diverses persones nientsuffisantz et non covenablez ount le garde et governance de diverses seignouries, chastelx, et paiis de guerre, come en Gyane, et ailours sibien decea le meer come dela, paront le poeple et paiis d’ycelx parties, lieges et loiaux a nostre dit seignour le roi, pur la greindre partie sount destruz, et graundes seignouries de novel renduz as mains et en possession des enemys saunz assent de roialme; quelx ne furrunt unqes es mains des enemys puis le conqest d’ycelx, sicome il est es marches d’Escoce aillours, en deshertesoun

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Item, denigrantes statum regie dignitatis contra eorum ligeanciam, ubi rex solus pro ceteris liberecondicionis existeret, virtute cuiusdam affirmacionis iuramenti ut viribus sue vite et regalis potencie in prosperis et adversis eos sustentaret et defenderet contra omnes aduersantes et resistentes fecerunt ipsum subiugalem. [McKisack cites Article II. RP, iii, 230.]

Item, ubi ex predicti parliamenti ordinacione cum suo commissariorum consilio apud Westmonasterium temporibus intermediis et oportunis interesset, persuasionibus ipsorum detractorum ad remociores regni ambages in nocumentum ipsorum fidelium commissariorum, in quorum manu vigencia regni pro tunc residebat, dictum regem duxerunt. Nichilominus cum pluries Anglie cancellarius, thesaurarius et custos priuati sigilli, alternisve vicibus cum ipsorummet commissariis quidam alii a Westmonasterio per montes et valles suum iter versus regem arripientes de ipsorummet actis et consiliis nisi in presencia ipsorum detractorum vel assignatorum referendo vel informando clam nec palam aliqua regi reuelarent et sic semper actis et consiliis ipsorum commissariorum per ipsos reportatis contraria euitare et concordancia cumulare propriis materiis facilius per hec potuerunt. [McKisack cites Articles XVI, XXI. RP, iii, 231, 232.]

Quid ultra? Cum versus partes Cestrie, Lancastrie et Wallie gressus suos arriperent prefati insipientes itinerando omnes per partes dominos, milites, armigeros et communes arma portare potentes, signis aureis soli simulatis 200

Appendix del corone du roi, et grant arrerissement du roialme, sicome de Harpedene, Craddok, et autres diversement. Article VIII. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 230. Item, la ou le roi n’est tenuz de faire nulle serement envers nulles de ses lieges si noun le jour de son coronement, ou pur commune profit de lui et de soun roialme, les avauntditz Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, et Michel de la Pole, counte de Suff’, faulxz traitours et enemys de roi et de roialme, ount fait lui jurrier et assurer envers eux q’il les maintiendra et sustendra a vivre et morier ove eux. Et issint, la ou le roi doit estre de frank condicion plus qe nulle autre de soun roialme, ils lui ount mys plus en servage, encontre son honour, estat, et regalie, et encontre lour liegeance, come traitours a lui. Article II. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 230. Item, pur afforcer lour ditz traiterouses purposes, les ditz Alisaundre, erchevesqe d’Everwik, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, comte de Suff’, Robert Tresilian’, et Nicholas Brembre, sovent firent le roi soi esloigner en les plus loingtimes parties du roialme, a cause qe les seignours assignez par les ditz ordenance, estatut, et commissioun ne purroient counseiler ovesqe luy des busoignes du roialme, en destourbance et defesance del purport et effect des ordenance, estatut et commissioun avauntdites, a grand arrerissement du roi et du roialme. Article XXI. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 232. Item, les avauntditz Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, counte de Suff’, Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, par assent et consail de Robert Tresilian, faulx justice, et Nicholas de Brembr’, faulx chivaler de Loundr’, par lour faulx coveine ne suffrerent pas les graundes de roialme, ne les bones consaillers le roi, parler ne aprocher au roi, pur lui bien counsailler, ne le roi parler a eux forqe en le presence et le oier des ditz Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’, Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, par assent et counsail de Robert Tresilian, faulx justice, et Nicholas Brembre, faulx chivaler de Loundr’, ou en presence de ascune de eux a meins, a lour volunte et solonc lour taille et chose q’ils voloient, [en rebetant] les graundes, et les bones counseillers le roi de lour bone volunte vers lour seignour liege, et acrochauntz a eux roial poar, seignourie, et sovereinite sur la persone le roi, a graund deshonour et peril de roi, de la corone, et de soun roialm. Article III. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 230. Item, pur acomplier le dite haute tresoun, les ditz meffesours et traitours, Alisaundre, erchevesqe d’Everwyk, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, comte de Suff’, par assent et counseil des ditz Robert Tresilian’, et 201

Appendix argenteisque coronis pro retencione datis, undique costagiis regis indeliberate retinue runt ut parati ineundo vindicarent maxime dictos ducem Gloucestrie, comitem Arundelli, commissarios, et comitem Warwychi pro eo quod ad eorum proposita infringenda ceteris commissariis propensius insteterunt. [McKisack cites Articles XIX, XXIV. RP, iii, 232, 233.] (Richard’s ‘gyration’ lasted from February 1387 to November 1387. He travelled to Chester in mid-July 1387.)

Item, predictam ordinacionem commissionem, et statutum pro frustra iudicantes, dictum ducem Hibernie in Justiciarium Cestrie ordinari fecerunt. Protinus, ipse cum ipsis aliquando ad dexteram, aliquando ad sinistram declinantes ad questum pecunie ordinem iudiciarium reciprocarunt, eos autem dignos pena dimiserunt, aliorum autem auferebant res, alios pro illis punientes. [McKisack cites Article XXII. RP, iii, 232.] (De Vere was made justice of Chester on 8 September 1387.)

Item, per procuraciones fautorum, per brogagia et dona prime tortorum quosdam innoxios, nolentes eis adherere, quominus possint prosequi ius suum impedierunt immensis dilacionibus, itinerum fatigacionibus et costagiis multimodis aggrauando; quosdam vero per breuiregia, quosdam per incarceraciones, quosdam per mortis minas tribulatos, datis dictis signis solis et corone, penes ipsos retinuerunt. [McKisack cites Article XXII. RP, iii, 232.] 202

Appendix Nicholas Brembre, firent le roi aler ovesqe ascuns des eux parmye son roialme pur la greindre partie, et es parties de Gales, et firent le roi faire venir devant luy les seignurs, chivaliers, esquiers, et autres bones gentz des ditz parties, sibien des citees et burghes come des autres lieux, et les firent estre liez, ascuns par lour obligaciouns, et ascuns par lour serementz, a nostre seignur le roi, d’estre ovesqe luy encontre touz gentz, et de acomplier le purpose du roi: quel purpose du roi estoit a cel temps, de acomplier les voluntees et purposes de les avantditz mesfesours et traitours, par lour faux ymaginaciouns, coveyns et acrochementz susditz. Queux seurtees et serementz estoient faitz encontre les bones lois et usages de la terre, et encontre le serement du roi, a grand arrerissement et deshonour du roi et du roialme. Article XIX. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 232. Item, les ditz traitours, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Alisaundre, erchevesqe d’Everwik, Michel de la Pole comte de Suff’, Robert Tresilian et Nicholas Brembre, firent le roi de faire grande retenance de novel des diverses gentz, et de doner as eux diverses signes autrement qe ne soleit estre d’auncien temps par ascuns des rois ses progenitours, al effect pur avoir poair pur perfourner lour faux treson avauntdite. Article XXIV. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 233. Item, le dit Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, par counseil et abbette des ditz mesfesours et traitours, Alisaundre, erchevesqe d’Everwik, Michel de la Pole comte de Suff’, Robert Tresilian’, et Nicholas Brembre suisdites, acrochant a luy roial poair, sanz commissioun du roi ou autre garant suffisant usuele se fist justice de Cestre, et par luy et ses deputez tenoit illoeqes touz maneres des plees, sibien communes plees come plees de la corone, et sur ceo renderount jugementz et firent ent execucioun, et auxi fist faire diverses briefs originalx et judicielx estre enselez du grant seal le roi en ycelles parties use. Et issint, par tiel acrochement de poair real, il fist sourdre et lever ovesqe luy grande partie des gentz de toute la paiis, ascuns par tielx briefe moultz hidouses et manasables, ascuns par emprisonementz de lour corps, ascuns par seisine de lour terres, et autrement en moultz maneres deshonestes, par colour del dit office: et ceo tout pur guerroier et destruer les ditz seignours et autres loialx lieges nostre seignour le roi, en defesance du roi et de tout son roialme. Article XXII. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 232. Item, par le dit encrochement les avauntditz Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’, Robert Tresilian, faulx justice, et Nicholas Brembre, faulx chivaler de Loundr’, ount fait, qe diverse gentz ount este destourbez de la commune lei d’Engletere, et mys a graundes delaies, perdes, et costages; et estatuz et juggementz droiturelment sur causes necessares faitz et renduz en parlementz, reverses 203

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Item, fures, predones et felonicos de eorum furto felonia et ceteris delictis, per perdonacionum cartas et patentes illegitime deliberatos, ad destruendum predictos commissarios et eis adherentes retinuerunt.

Praeterea, non obstante quod temporibus memorie lapsis terra Hibernie ad patrimonium regis Anglie spectare dinoscebatur, predictus dux Hibernie, volens sublime exaltari sine fundamento, dicte terre Hibernie creatus est in regem, pro confirmacione cuius littere regie summo pontifici misse fuerunt. [McKisack cites Article XI. RP, iii, 231.]

Item, predictus Nicholaus Brembre una dierum in officio maioritatis Londonie regnans, xxij homines, quosdam appellatos, quosdam felonicos, licet capellanos, pretextu diuersarum transgressionum arrestatos et incarceratos a Nywegate Londonie noctis sub silencio manu forti surripuit. Ast ligatis lacertis in Canciam usque ad locum Fouloke vulgariter nuncupatum, ducti, torrida sua ferocitate sine strepitu iudicii immisericorditer rubris venarum

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Appendix et adnulles par procurement des ditz mesfesours et traitours. Et ceo par cause des graundes dounes et brogages par eux resceux en celle parte, en tresgrand arrerissement du roi et du roialme. Article IX. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 231. Item, les avauntditz Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’, Robert Tresilian, faulx justice, et Nicholas Brembre, faulx chivaler de Loundres, encrochantz as eux poar roial come faulx traitours a roi et a roialme, ount fait et consaille nostre dit seignour le roi de graunter chartres de pardoun de horribles felonies et tresons, sibien encontre l’estat du roi come de partie: laquele chose est encountre la lei et le serement du roy. Article X. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 231. Item, la ou la graunt seignourie et la terre d’Irland sont et ount este de temps dont memoire ne court parcel del corone d’Engletere, et les gentz d’ycelle terre d’Irland par tout le temps avauntdit ount este lieges sanz meene au roi nostre seignour et a ses reaux progenitours rois d’Engleterre; et nostre seignour et ses nobles progenitours rois d’Engletere, en toutes lour chartres, briefs, lettres, et patentz, et auxi en lours sealx, en augmentacion de lour nouns et de lour roialte, les ount fait nomer seignours d’Irland; les avauntditz Robert, duc d’Irland’, Alexander, ercevesqe d’Everwyk, Michel de la Pole, counte de Suff’, come faulx traitours a roi, par le dit encrochement ount fait et counsaille, qe nostre dit seignour le roi, en quanqe en lui est, ad grante, assentu, et pleinement soi acorde qe Robert de Veer, duc d’Irland, soit fait roi del dit terre d’Irland. Et pur accomplier ceste malveise purpos, les avauntditz traitours ount counsaille et exite qe nostre seignour le roi ad envoie ses lettres a nostre seint piere le pape, de grantier, ratifier, et confermer lour traitouruse purpos, sanz scieu ou assent de soun roialme d’Engletere et de la dite terre d’Irland, en desseverance de la liegeaunce du roi parentre la dite roialme d’Engletere et la dit terre d’Irland, et en descres del honurable noune du roi nostre seignour avantdit, et en overte deshertesoun de sa corone du roialme d’Engletere, et plein destruccioun des loiaulx lieges du roi nostre dit seignour, et de sa dite terre d’Irland. Article XI. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 231.

Item, la ou par la graunt chartre, et autres bones leis et usages de roialme d’Engletere – Nulle homme ne serra pris, enprisone, ne mys a mort, saunz dewe processe de lai – le avauntdit Nicholas Brembre, faulx chivaler de Loundr’, par le dit encrochement prist par nuyt certeins persons hors de la prisone de Newgate, chapelains et autres, jesqe al noumbre de .xxij., auscuns enditeez, auscuns appelles de felonie, et auscuns provours en cas

205

Appendix riuolis capitalem per ipsum sorciendo sentenciam strictim occubuerunt, uno gracia excepto qui colorali excusacione tutus euasit. [McKisack cites Article XII. RP, iii, 231.]

Item, quidam dictorum detractorum, licet illesa innocentia regis, nomine tamen ipsius, statuto tempore Londoniam versarunt, ibidem certas artes dicte ciuitatis, declaratis coram eis dilusoriis eorum intencionibus et propositis, per blandimenta et simulaciones dictas artes in viscum ipsorum induxerunt, faciendo ipsos iurare quod voluntatem et propositum domini regis et eorum obseruarent, sustinerent et defenderent, parati quandocumque per dictum Nicholaum Brembre requisiti fuerint vi et armis omnes inobedientes et contrarientes regi et regie potestati viuendo et moriendo vindicare. [McKisack cites Article XXXIII. RP, iii, 235.] (This incident probably took place on 5 October 1387. See Letter-Book H, 314–15.)

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Appendix de felonie, et auscuns pris et enprisonez illoeqes par cause de suspeccioun de felonie, et les amesnoit hors de Loundr’ en le counte de Kent a une lieu qe est appelle le Foul Oke, et illeoqes encrochaunt a lui roial poar come traitour a roi, saunz garrant ou processe de lai les fist estre decollez touz, sauf un qi estoit appelle de felonie par un provour, le quel il lessoit voluntierment aler a large a mesme le temps. Article XII. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 231. Item, le avantdit Nicholas Brembre, faux chivaler de Loundres, par assent et consail des ditz Alexaundre, erchevesqe d’Everwik, Roberd de Veer, duc d’Irland, Michel de la Pole, count de Suff’ et Robert Tresilian, faux justice, encrochant a eaux roial poiar, come devant, fist qe ascuns de eaux venderont a Londres en propres persones et sanz l’assent ou savoir de roi illoqes overtment en noune de roi fist touz les craftes de dit cite de Loundres estre jurez a tenir et perfourner diverses matiers nient honests, sicom est contenuz en le dit serment q’est de record en la chauncellerie: et entre autres, qe la volunte et purpose du roi tiendrent et sustiendrent a lour poiar encontre touz ceaux qe sount ou serront rebbeaux ou contrariantz encontre sa persone, ou sa regalie; et prestes serront a vivere et morrer ove nostre dit seignur le roi, pur destruer touz ceaux qe ount purposes, purposent, ou purposeront tresoun encontre nostre dit seignour le roi en ascune maner: et qe prestes serront, et prestment viendront a lour maire qe lors estoit, ou qe apres cel temps serroit, quant et a quel hore q’ils serroient requis, pur resister tant come la vie lour dure a touz ceaux qe purposent ou purposeront encontre nostre dit seignour liege, en ascuns des pointes susditz. A quel temps le roi, par malveis informacioun de ditz mesfesours et traitours, et par la faulx respounce des ditz justices, fermement tenoit les ditz seignours et autres qi estoient del assent de faire les avauntditz ordinance, estatut, et commissioun estoient rebelles a lui, ses enmys, et ses traitours, et quel informacioun alors estoit desconuz as gentz de Loundres. Et ency semble qe par tiels parols obscures en le dit serment contenuz, l’entent des ditz mesfesours et traytours estoit de exciter les avauntditz gentz de Loundres d’estere et fere lour poiare a destruer les leaux seignours susditz. Article XXXIII. PROME, February 1388, part 2, 235.

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INDEX

Aers, David  195 Anonimalle Chronicle account of Good Parliament  11, 16, 30, 35–6, 44–6, 48–9, 50, 52, 54, 90 account of Peasants’ Revolt  35, 37, 39, 42 authorship  33–5, 37, 41, 51 de la Mare in  39, 41, 43 appeal against Ricardians  2, 56, 125–6, 128, 149 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  96–7, 99–106, 109–11, 131, 133 records of  98, 108 Appellants alliance with Mercers  126–7, 157–8 articles of appeal  102, 104, 106, 128 assume control of government  179 and city of London  128, 153–4 conflict with Ricardians  64, 83, 85 failure of  142, 145, 147, 151, 159, 172, 180 gather evidence for appeal  111, 120–3 and Geoffrey Martin  98 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  53, 64, 65 n.22, 82, 124, 139, 142 and John Northampton  157, 167–8, 171 and John Waltham, bishop of Salisbury  75 and king’s clerks  115 meeting with Richard II  130–1 names of  53 origins of name  2 public and popular opinion  144 pursuit of Ricardians  120, 132, 134, 136–7 and received history of 1388  64 reconciliation with Richard II  169 Richard II’s revenge against  53, 73, 181 and Simon Burley  145, 175 strategy in Merciless Parliament  46, 98–9, 105, 126, 128, 149, 151



and Thomas Fovent  59, 61, 64, 102 and Thomas Usk  72, 169, 170 and trial of Nicholas Brembre  152–8 unpopularity of  179 see also Arundel, Richard Fitzalan, earl of; Derby, Henry, earl of; Gloucester, Thomas of Woodstock, duke of; Nottingham, Thomas Mowbray, earl of; Warwick, Thomas Beauchamp, earl of Arcades Project  193 Arundel, Richard Fitzalan, earl of alliance with Gloucester and Warwick  146, 180 commission of 1386  95, 105 encampment outside London  125–6, 168 gathers troops against Ricardians 120 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  65 n.22, 101, 121, 124–5 naval expedition authorized by parliament  169 in Revenge Parliament  181–3 Richard II’s revenge against  181 role in government after Merciless Parliament  179 war with France  179 Arundel, Thomas, bishop of Ely commission of 1386  93 n.23, 95 and confrontation with Richard II at Eltham  85 and John Waltham  75 promotion to York  177 n.12 Bad Parliament  31, 32 Baldwin, Anna  32 Bamme, Adam  172 Beauchamp, Sir John  137, 145, 149, 175 Beauchamp, Sir Roger  48 Beauchamp, Sir William  111 Bechefont, Christina  187 Bécherel  39, 45 Belknap, Sir Robert  139, 174

225

Index Benjamin, Walter  193 Berners, Sir James  137, 145, 149, 175 Berwick St Leonard, church of  61, 62, 75 Black Death  3–4 Black Prince, see Edward, Prince of Wales Blake, John  108, 109, 112, 169–70, 174 Bolingbroke, Henry of, see Derby, Henry, earl of Brantingham, Thomas, bishop of Exeter 42, 95 Brembre, Nicholas and Appellants  155–6 articles of appeal against  104, 128 collector of wool custom and subsidy  76, 78 execution  165–8, 171 factionalism  80 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti 101–2, 103–4, 158–9, 168, 172, 173 loans to crown  156 mayor of London  76, 79, 125 and Merciless Parliament  56, 77 milieu  79 rivalry with John Northampton  71, 78, 79, 125–6, 159, 166–7, 168, 172 trial of  104, 142, 144, 151–3, 158 in Westminster Chronicle  148, 151, 154–5 Brian, Sir Guy  48 Bristol  50 Brittany  41 Bruges  29 Burgh, William  174 Burley, Sir Simon  20, 137, 145–6, 148, 149, 175, 180 Burton, John  52 Bury, Adam  31, 46 Bussy, Sir John  183 Calais  29, 39, 40, 45, 46, 111, 157, 158, 182 Cambridge Parliament  134, 135, 140, 180 Cambridge statute  129 Canterbury Tales  19, 68 see also Chaucer, Geoffrey Cary, Sir John  113, 174 Cavendish, John, fishmonger  129 Cavendish, Sir John, chief justice  161, 162, 163 Chamberleyn, Nicholas  187

Charles I  1, 14, 192 Charles VI, of France  110 Charlton, Robert  139 Chaucer, Geoffrey career and civil service  68–9, 73 Clerk of the King’s Works  78 literary contemporaries  7–8 political prudence  67, 69, 72 resignation as controller  77 Cheshire/Chester  101, 132, 133, 135, 143, 183 Cheyne, William  155 Chronica tripertita  119, 186 Clementi, D.  91, 114 Clerkenwell Fields  153, 158 Clifford, John  137, 138 Clopton, Walter  139 Cobham, Lord John  95 Coke, Sir Edward  12 Commons  23–4 clamour of  45, 191 community of the realm, idea of 22–3 speaking with one voice  22–4 Concordia  19 Copeland, Roger  187 Cork  178 Courtenay, Sir Peter  137 Courtenay, William as archbishop of Canterbury  95 as bishop of London  48 Crécy  4 Creton, Jean  185, 186 Cronique de la Traison et Mort de Richart Deux Roy Dengleterre  185–6 Dagworth, Sir Nicholas  137, 177, 180 Daniel, Samuel  186 Darnton, Robert  26 De Blois, Jean  100 De Bury, Richard  18 De la Pole, Michael, earl of Suffolk and Appellants  143–4 death of  102 n.46 and duke of Suffolk  189 escape  132, 142, 144 n.4, 172 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  84–5, 87, 95, 144 holdings in Stamford  98 impeachment of  49, 77, 85–6, 91, 95 judgement against in Merciless Parliament  151

226

Index in Knighton’s Chronicle  53, 86, 88 news of impeachment  88, 91 public opinion  129 threats against judges  174 in Westminster Chronicle  86, 88 De la Pole, William, duke of Suffolk 189, 191 De Vere, Robert, earl of Oxford and Appellants  143 escape  132, 143 n.2, 172 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti 100–1, 105, 132 judgement against  151 public opinion  129 Radcot Bridge  120, 132, 133, 136, 153 raises army  132, 133–4, 135 threats against judges  174 Derby, Henry, earl of defense of Simon Burley  145–6, 180 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  106 n.61 usurps throne  61, 183, 184 Devereux, Sir John  95, 137, 151 Dinton  59, 61, 62, 63, 81 Dodd, Gwilym  5, 17, 32, 75 Donhead St Andrew  62 Dorset  50, 75 Drogheda  178 Dublin  143, 178 Edward I  5 Edward II  11, 22 Edward III  13, 29, 31, 68 Edward, Prince of Wales  29, 36 Elmham, Sir William  137, 177 Eltham Palace  85, 92 Elys, William  31 English Language  14, 16, 162–3 Evesham, Monk of  53, 182 Exton, Nicholas  78, 104, 153–8 passim factionalism  63, 83, 135, 139 see also partisanship Farringdon Without  7 Flanders  29 Fordham, John, bishop of Durham  113, 176 Foul Oak  101, 104, 108 Fovant, Wiltshire, town of  59, 82 Fovent, Cecily  59, 62, 81 Fovent, Robert  82

Fovent, Thomas  2 benefice of  60 biographical  57, 59, 82, 187 and bureaucrats  16, 73, 95, 115–16 customs officer  73, 75, 77, 78, 79, 80 ecclesiastical positions  61–3 as eyewitness  27, 87, 159–60, 163, 172 and John Northampton  126, 166–8 London career  73, 75–6, 78–9, 92 and parliament  2, 14, 19, 21, 81, 82, 95, 96, 99, 102, 119, 139–40, 147, 172 partisanship  59–61, 63–6, 80–1, 83, 100, 104 and politics  3, 67, 82, 102, 131, 133, 135, 138, 141, 163, 166 reformer  14, 80, 88, 119, 140, 147, 154, 176–7 use of vernacular English  162 uses and misuses of documents 87–8, 89, 91, 92, 93–4, 96–7, 98, 100, 103, 104, 106–9, 111, 113–15, 118–23, 125, 138 variant name, Fannant  2 variant name, Favent  57 will of  187–8 as writer  25–6, 54, 63, 88, 92, 97, 102–4, 105, 107, 115, 147, 162, 176, 195 Fox, Adam  191 France  29, 30, 85, 111, 118, 179, 180 Francis, Adam  42 Fredell, Joel  18–19 Fulthorp, Sir Roger  113, 174 Galbraith, V. H.  33, 35, 37 Galloway, Andrew  54, 119 Gilbert, John, bishop of Hereford  95 Given-Wilson, Chris  53, 130, 134, 182 Gloucester (place)  50 Gloucester prison  150 Gloucester, Thomas of Woodstock, duke of alliance with Arundel and Warwick 146, 180 assumes control of government  179 commission of 1386  95, 105 confrontation with Richard II at Eltham  85 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  65 n.22, 101, 105, 124 murder of  182

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Index and Nicholas Exton  153 Richard II’s revenge against  180–1 war with France  179 Golafre, Sir John  110–11, 180 good governance  103, 135 Good Parliament chronology  30 common petitions  32, 48, 50, 140 Commons in  30, 31, 36, 39, 41, 42–4, 50, 140 council appointed by  48–9 knights of the shire, see Commons in narratives of  30 and public opinion  13, 20–1, 31, 51, 65, 194 see also Anonimalle Chronicle Gordan, John III  16 government regulation  13, 26, 99, 116, 124, 127, 140, 145 Gower, John  16, 68, 119, 126, 140 Grady, Frank  186 Greenberg, Janelle  192–3 Greyfriars  164, 188 Guildhall  7, 127 Habermas, Jürgen  24–6 Harringay Park  120, 124 Harriss, G. L.  5 Harvey, Barbara  52, 53, 148, 149 Henry IV, see Derby, Henry, earl of Historia mirabilis parliamenti  54, 56 Appellant propanganda  61, 64–6, 80, 82, 104, 194 authorship  57 Biblical citations  111, 117, 120–2 fifteenth-century manuscript  188–90 as London text  147, 173 MS Bodleian 9  16, 57–8 origins of title  84, 87 pamphlet in the seventeenth century  1–2, 191–4 preoccupation with political corruption  2, 14, 26, 82, 92, 114, 116, 118–20, 122, 138, 139–41, 177 and public opinion  27, 66, 73 Hoccleve, Thomas  7, 9, 18, 27 Holt, John  174 Hundred Years War  4–5, 29 impeachment Good Parliament  31, 44–5, 86 Merciless Parliament  145, 169

Wonderful Parliament  68, 85–6, 95 Ireland  1, 101, 143 John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster  29, 30, 41, 42, 49, 167 control of government  31–2, 48 Jones, E. D.  191 Jusserand, J. J.  32 Justice, Steven  11–12, 25, 42, 45, 51, 54, 115 Kennington  29 Kent  68, 77, 101, 146 Kerby-Fulton, Kathryn  11–12, 25, 42, 45, 51, 54, 116 Knighton’s Chronicle Commons’ petition of 1388  179–80 dismissal of royal household  137 earl of Arundel  125 impeachment of de la Pole  86, 88 narrative of Merciless Parliament 146, 178 questions to the judges  112 Robert Tresilian  161–2, 164 showdown at Eltham  85 text of appeal  99, 108, 109 use of documents  89–90, 93, 100, 106–7, 111, 118 Knyvet, Chancellor  30, 39, 50 Lancaster (place)  101, 132 Lancaster, John, duke of, see John of Gaunt Lancastrian poetry  186 see also Mum and the Sothsegger, Richard the Redeless, Chronica tripertita Langland, William  7, 8, 63, 68 ‘comune profit’  44, 48 critical of economics  124 description of London  14 see also Piers Plowman Latimer, William, Lord  31, 39, 40, 48, 51, 86 trial with Lyons  42–6 Laud, Archbishop William  192 Lincoln, John  137, 138, 177, 180 livery and maintenance  82, 103, 134–6, 140, 180 see also retainers Lokton, John  113, 174 Lollards  14, 16, 19, 120

228

Index London  101, 107, 147, 160 circulation of gossip  127–9 circulation of news in  14–15, 25 crafts  7, 47, 101, 104, 108, 153, 154, 155, 156, 158, 159 factionalism  69–70, 73, 77, 157–9, 166–8, 171 government functions  6–7 grocers  103, 125, 155, 156, 157, 158 literary market  7–9, 17, 29 merchants/mercantile class/ capitalists  10, 13, 14, 22, 36, 39, 46, 47, 55, 70–1, 76, 78–9, 80, 125–6, 127, 156, 165, 168, 172 political culture of bureaucrats and civil servants  6, 16, 22, 27, 81, 103, 147, 194 politics, 3, 7, 26, 69, 70, 76, 79, 80, 109, 125, 126, 144, 155, 158, 168, 169, 171, 174 port of  7, 68, 73, 74, 76, 77, 78–9, 81, 130 price of food  124–5 seen by Langland  14, 24 Tower of  7, 36, 68, 78, 136, 151, 163, 165, 170, 173, 182, 192 wool quay  79 Lydgate, John  19 Lyons, Sir Richard  31, 32, 39, 40, 42–6 attempt to bribe the Black Prince  36, 48 trial with Latimer  42–6 Maidstone, Richard  19 maintenance  32, 40 see also livery and maintenance March, Edmund Mortimer, earl of  41, 48 Mare, Sir Peter de la  23, 36, 39, 40–6, 48, 86 eloquence  43–4 first Speaker of Commons  31, 40 imprisonment  31–2 proposes council  48 Martin, G. H.  12, 53, 88 Martin, Geoffrey  12, 47, 56, 97, 98, 150 McCulloch, D.  191 McFarlane, K. B.  9–10 McKisack, May  44, 57, 73, 82, 97, 98, 113, 191 on Fovent as partisan  59–66 passim Medford, Richard  137, 138, 177, 180

Mercers’ Petition against Brembre 126–7, 157–8 Merciless Parliament aftermath  180 and citizens of London  171 description of  2, 64, 66 and factionalism  66–7, 159, 167, 171–2 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  25, 75, 80, 99, 111, 124, 142, 146–7, 150, 172 origins of name  178 as political spectacle  146–7, 160 and public opinion  13, 20–1, 65, 116, 141 received history  65 as urban spectacle  147, 149, 160, 165 Middlesex  72, 107, 169, 189 Middleton, Ann  18, 68–9 Mirror of Justices  192 Modus tenendi parliamentum  11 as a reformist text  11–12, 51 Mooney, Linne  126 More, John  171 Morice, Nicholas, abbot of Waltham  95 Mowbray, Thomas, see Nottingham, earl of Mum and the Sothsegger  17, 18, 119, 186 Neville, Alexander, archbishop of York escape  132, 143, 172 judgement against in Merciless Parliament  144, 151, 176 libels against  19, 144 member of commission of 1386  93 n.23, 95 papal translation of  176–7 and Richard II  144 threats against judges  174, 176 Neville, John  31 Newgate  72, 101, 170, 171, 174 Nightingale, Pamela  103, 104 Norbury, Richard  171 Normandy  29 Northampton, John  47–8, 70–1, 76, 79, 111, 125–6, 157, 159, 166–8, 170, 171, 172 faction  27, 47, 71, 78, 147, 157, 159, 171–2 son of  166, 167, 168 Northumberland, Sir Henry Percy, earl of  154

229

Index Nottingham (place)  31, 112, 113, 139, 148, 161, 174, 176, 182 Nottingham, Thomas Mowbray, earl of defence of Simon Burley  145–6 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  106 n.61 and murder of Gloucester  182 reconciliation with Richard II  180 Nova statuta  45 ‘Now of Recognizability’  193–4 Odiham, Richard  79 Ormrod, W. M.  50 Osegood, Robert, see Fovent, Robert pamphlets authors and audiences  22 bills, broadsides, libels  14–15 definition of  26–7 discrete parliamentary reports  16, 19, 20, 33, 36, 48, 51, 53, 63, 66, 88, 182 see also Parliament, semi-official documents fifteenth century  188 and Good Parliament  28 as London texts  28, 147 origins of  17–19, 53 and parliament  18, 20, 50–1, 182 see also parliamentary reportage Process  52–4, 88, 91, 141, 147–9, 173 and Revenge Parliament  182 satire  54 seventeenth-century political  1, 14, 19, 195 Paris  144 Parliament rolls 1376  48–52 1388  96, 97, 98, 99, 174 and bias  97–8 Parliament activities of chancery clerks  6, 47, 51, 90–1, 92, 119, 147 development of  5 intercommuning committee  41, 48, 50 and London  6 names of  19, 20, 87, 178 reformist agenda  13, 24, 27, 31, 48, 91, 99, 119, 135–6, 139, 145 semi-official documents  53, 87, 88, 90, 91–2, 96, 108, 116, 118, 149, 173 shared imagination of  10, 43, 184

Parliamentary reportage  25, 88, 92, 116 partisanship  59–61, 63, 66 Pearsall, Derek  124 Peasants’ Revolt  14, 16, 22, 32, 33, 48, 78, 119, 146, 161 letters to rebels  14, 16 Pecche, Sir John  31, 46 Percy, Sir Henry  48 Perrers, Alice  31, 40, 45, 48, 51 Philipot, John  78 Philobiblon  18 Pierce the Ploughman’s Crede  19 Piers Plowman  8, 19, 32, 124 rat parliament  31–3, 119 Pinkhurst, Adam  126 Platel, Margery  82 Plowman’s Tale  19 Poitiers  4 political life in the late fourteenth century  3 political sphere in the late fourteenth century  3, 4, 119, 141 Pollard, A. F.  33, 34, 35, 42, 51 Pontefract  186, 187 Process, see under pamphlet Pronay, Nicholas  11 public opinion and Jürgen Habermas  24–6 in late fourteenth century England 63 origins  27, 33 and parliament  21, 33, 51, 83 and propaganda  63, 65 and T. F. Tout  20–2, 26, 51, 65–6 ‘public poetry’  68 public sphere and Jürgen Habermas  24–6 in late fourteeth century  66, 68, 116, 140 Pyle, John  45, 46 Pym, John  2 Radcot Bridge  120, 132, 136, 153 Raymond, Joad  26–7 Reading  167, 171 retainers  133–5, 136, 179 see also livery and maintenance Revenge Parliament  53, 181–2 Ricardians articles of appeal  98, 99, 103, 104, 105, 106, 114, 147, 149, 165 charges against in Historia mirabilis

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Index parliamenti  98, 99, 100–6, 112, 125, 134 circling about Richard  130–1 conspiracy against parliamentary commission  96, 105–6, 110, 138, 139 and Geoffrey Chaucer  77 in the Historia mirabilis parliamenti  2, 56–7, 94–5, 111, 116, 123, 131, 135, 138, 150–1, 168, 172 lesser members  180 and London  124, 128, 158 names of  56 n.1, 94 and public opinion  83 pursuit by Appellants  120, 123, 132 rumors about  128–9 and Thomas Usk  72, 169–70 transmission of letters by  108, 113, 115, 117–18, 138 see also Brembre, Nicholas; de la Pole, Michael, earl of Suffolk; de Vere, Robert, earl of Oxford; Neville, Alexander, archbishop of York; Tresilian, Robert Richard II and Appellants  56, 64, 78, 85, 130, 132, 136, 151, 169 assumes control of government  180 confrontation with Gloucester  86 coronation  47 correspondence with king of France 110, 176 corruption and scandal  2, 21, 98, 102, 179 deposition and death  61, 182, 184, 185–6, 187 gyration (tour/absence from court) 87, 101, 118, 156, 202 and improvident councillors  94–6 inner circle/affinity/favourites  56, 64, 72, 76, 77, 86, 96, 122, 127, 130, 131, 133–5, 138, 143, 144, 156, 161, 177 and John Golafre  111 and John Waltham  75–6 king’s household  136–8 king’s signet  107, 113–15, 118, 121–2, 138–9 and London  19, 124, 127, 153, 155–6 and Michael de la Pole  86 and Nicholas Brembre  76 and Peasants’ Revolt  78



political crises  33, 47, 85, 99, 102 questions to/meeting with the judges 91, 108, 112–14, 117, 118, 120, 139, 148, 161, 165, 170, 174, 176 relations with parliament  5, 12, 20, 56, 68, 72, 77, 85, 99, 184 revenge on Appellants  53, 61, 73, 180, 181–3 and Robert de Vere  143 royal household  136–9 rumours after death  186–7 and Simon Burley  20, 145 Richard the Redeless  8, 17, 19, 119, 136, 186 Ripon, John  107, 108, 115 Ross, C. D.  191 Rushook, Thomas, bishop of Chichester 148, 174, 176 St Paul’s Cathedral  7, 14, 25, 144 Saint-Sauveur  39, 45 Salisbury, bishop of, see Waltham, John Salisbury, Sir John  137, 145, 149, 175 Salisbury, William Montagu, earl of  154 Saul, Nigel  99 Scardeburgh, John  35, 52 Scarle, John  52 Scase, Wendy  126, 127, 191 Scotland  144, 187 Scrope, Sir Richard  42, 45, 95 Shaftesbury  59, 62, 82, 187 Shakespeare, William  182, 185, 186, 187 Shrewsbury  112, 113, 139, 161 Sibill, Walter  129 Slake, John  137, 138, 177 Somerset  50 Southwell, Nicholas  110–11 Stafford, Hugh, earl of  48 Steiner, Emily  23 Strafford, Thomas Wentworth, earl of 192 Strohm, Paul  27, 69, 71–3 passim, 80, 130, 186–7 Stubbs, William  9 Sudbury, Simon, archbishop of Canterbury  38, 48 Taylor, John  11, 35, 37, 51 Testament of Love  17, 18, 70, 169 see also Usk, Thomas The First Fowre Bookes of the Civile Warres 186

231

Index Tintagel  169 Tout, T. F. on administration and parliament  9, 20, 21, 42, 46, 51, 106 public opinion  20, 21, 26, 51, 66 sees Fovent as partisan  59–67 passim, 73, 191 view of Chaucer  67 Tower Hill  175 Tresilian, Robert burial  188 capture and arrest  142, 160–1, 162 execution of  159, 163–4, 165, 172 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  94, 95, 113, 168, 172, 173, 188 and John Blake  108, 170 judgement against  151 in Knighton’s Chronicle  161–2 and magical amulets  164 questions to the judges  112, 174 and rebels of 1381  147, 161 trial of  144, 163 Trivet, Sir Thomas  137, 177 tunnage and poundage  73–5, 78, 80 Twyford, Nicholas  172 Tyburn  27, 142, 146, 147, 151, 159, 165, 168, 170, 173, 175 Tyler, Wat  38, 78 Urban VI, Pope  176–7 Usk, Adam  53, 182 Usk, Thomas  7, 17–18, 27, 69–73, 80, 126, 167, 169–71 and John Northampton  71, 126, 167, 170–1 victualers  124–6 Vox clamantis  186 Wales  101, 132, 133, 143 Walsingham, Thomas  21, 30, 36–7, 40, 43, 50, 63, 86 ‘Scandalous Chronicle’  34, 37 Waltham, John, bishop of Salisbury  61, 75, 76, 95 Walworth, William  42, 45, 47, 78 Warwick, Thomas Beauchamp, earl of alliance with Gloucester and Arundel  146, 180 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  101, 105, 121

publicizes Appellant position  149 Revenge Parliament  182 Richard II’s revenge against  181 Waterford  178 Westminster Abbey  38, 52, 111 Westminster Chronicle dismissal of royal household  137 execution of Thomas Usk  170 impeachment of de la Pole  86, 88 London gossip  128 narrative of Merciless Parliament  146 questions to the judges  112 text of appeal  99, 108, 109 trial of Brembre  154–5, 158 use of documents  89, 93, 100, 106–7, 118 see also pamphlets, Process Westminster Hall  127, 130, 181 Westminster Palace  68, 120 Westminster, government offices  6–7, 13–14, 51–2, 101 Wiltshire  50, 59, 61, 75 Winner and Waster  124, 141, 186 Wolaston, William  81 Wonderful Parliament aftermath  94 dissemination of news  90–1 in Historia mirabilis parliamenti  84–6, 87, 93, 94–5, 99 in Knighton’s Chronicle  53 Modus tenendi parliamentum  12 political reform  13 and public opinion  20–1, 65 reform commission of 1386  49, 86–7, 88–90, 91, 93–4, 100, 104–5, 107, 112, 119 reform of customs  75, 77 role of Commons in  85 view of historians  85 wool customs  68, 74, 76, 156 wool staple  29, 39, 40, 45–6, 157–8 Wyclif, John  14, 48 Wykeham, William, bishop of Winchester  48, 49, 95 York  34, 35, 52 York, Edmund of Langley, duke of  95 Zaret, David  6

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spine 23mm A 6 May 2010

Oliver

Some sixty years before the advent of the printing press, the first political pamphlets about parliament circulated in the city of London. Often vitriolic and satirical, these handwritten pamphlets reported on a trilogy of parliamentary victories against the crown known as the Good, the Wonderful, and the Merciless Parliaments. The first pamphlets point to the existence of a market of readers hungry for news of parliament as well as to the emergence of public opinion as a political force. This book reconstructs the lives of the political pamphleteers as well as the political landscape of late fourteenthcentury England, giving particular emphasis to the large group of bureaucrats living in London to which Geoffrey Chaucer belonged. Dr Clementine Oliver is Associate Professor of History at California State University, Northridge. Cover: The execution of Chief Justice Robert Tresilian in 1388 by order of the Merciless Parliament. Miniature c. 1475 by Maître d’Antoine de Bourgogne from a Flemish illuminated manuscript of Jean Froissart’s Chronicles, MS Fr. 2645 f. 238 v (Bibliothèque nationale de France).

PARLIAMENT AND POLITICAL PAMPHLETEERING IN FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND

A timely and significant book ... changing the landscape of political history and culture... a vindication of a striking argument about the ability of the medieval chattering classes to write, read, and hear pamphlets long before the arrival of printing. Persuasive and compelling.  W.  Mark Ormrod, Professor of History, University of York.

PA R L I A M E N T AND POLITICAL PA M P H L E T E E R I N G IN FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND

YORK MEDIEVAL PRESS Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge IP12 3DF (GB) and 668 Mt Hope Ave, Rochester NY14620-2731 (US) www.boydellandbrewer.com

YORK MEDIEVAL PRESS

Clementine Oliver