Songs and sayings flew out of the rebellion like sparks from a fire. ‘Jack Trueman would have you know that falseness and guile have reigned too long. Truth has been put under a lock. Falseness reigns in every flock … Sin spreads like the wild flood, true love, that was good, is fled, and the clergy work us woe for gain … Whoever does wrong, in whatever place it fall, does a wrong to us all … With right and with might, with skill and with will; let might help right, and skill go before will, and right before might, so goes our mill aright … The commons is the fairest flower that ever God set on an earthly crown.’
The consequence of the revolt was unease and even dread. A chronicler, recording troubles eleven years after the events here related, remarked that ‘men all over England were sure that another general insurrection was at hand’. For more than two centuries the fear most expressed by the authorities was that of local rebellion. A revolt of the masses could trigger disaster for the state. Sporadic revolts after 1381 did indeed take place, often in the form of ‘rent strikes’ against oppressive landlords. In the face of unbearable tensions, however, attempts were made to appease and accommodate the demands of the peasants. No further poll tax was ever exacted, not at least in the medieval period. The slow abolition of serfdom, and the rising prosperity of those in work, created a sense of freedom that had found one manifestation in the revolt. It also encouraged a greater relaxation of the old feudal order.
The living standards of the agricultural workers improved perceptibly over a generation. Real wages grew, despite the attempts at legislation prohibiting any such rise, and a poem such as ‘How the Ploughman learned the Paternoster’ reveals the profusion of meat, fish and dairy products in the households of the labourers:
November: At Martinmas I kill my swine
December: And at Christmas I drink red wine.
Life expectancy also rose. The historians of dress have noted that clothing became brighter, and more luxurious, and jewellery more evident, in the latter years of the fourteenth century.
The king himself had passed a test of fire. He had confronted, and defeated, the first and last popular rebellion in English history. His later behaviour suggests that his belief in himself, and in the essential divinity of kingship, was thereby redoubled. At the age of fifteen he was truly a king whose presence alone was enough to command large crowds of people into obeying his will. He was 6 feet (1.8 metres) in height, with blond hair and a round, somewhat feminine face; he had flared nostrils, prominent cheekbones and heavy eyelids. John Gower, at the beginning of the king’s reign, described him as ‘the most beautiful of kings’ and the ‘flower of boys’. He may have been indulging in a little flattery, but the chroniclers of the period were at one in emphasizing Richard’s beauty. He looked the part.
His manner, however, was considered to be abrupt. He was inclined to stammer, when he was excited, and he flushed easily. His temper was somewhat uncertain, and he was always quick to assert his royal dignity. His words to the rebels of Essex, whether he actually uttered them or not, are in that sense characteristic. Other accounts of his speech and behaviour tend to corroborate them. ‘I am a king,’ he said to one earl, ‘and your lord. I will continue to be king. I will be a greater lord than ever I was before, in spite of all my enemies.’ His anger was terrible, just like that of his Plantagenet ancestors. He once drew his sword on the archbishop of Canterbury, and would have killed him had he not been restrained. One chronicler, known only as ‘the monk of Evesham’, described him as being extravagant in dress and imperious in temper; he was frightened of war and preferred to spend the night ‘carousing with friends’ and indulging himself in ‘unmentionable’ ways. This has often been taken as an allusion to Richard’s possible homosexuality, but to a monk many things may be unmentionable.
The emphasis on his royalty meant that he cared deeply for ceremony and for spectacle. He enjoyed dressing up. On one occasion he wore a costume of white satin on which were hung cockle-shells and mussel-shells plated in silver; his doublet was adorned with orange trees embroidered in gold thread. He loved to preside at tournaments, but he was not so enthusiastic about true battles. One of his relatives, Thomas of Lancaster, declared at a later date that ‘he is too heavy in the arse, he only asks for drinking and eating, sleeping, dancing and leaping about’. The medieval texts often refer to ‘leaping about’ without explaining what is meant by it. Thomas of Lancaster went on to say, according to the chronicler Froissart, that ‘this is no life for men-at-arms who ought to win honour through deeds of arms and put their bodies to work’.