English History in the Secondary School

C. B. NEWTON, Editor.

IV. VARIOUS PHASES OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES.

A Prologue on Mannerisms.

One of the best-known professors in Princeton Theological Seminary, some years ago, was locally famous for his curious mannerisms. It was said that at certain crises in his lectures he would put his watch in his mouth, to the huge delight of his class. But one is a great teacher in spite of one’s mannerisms, not because of them, and with most of us peculiarities in the class-room greatly detract from and handicap our usefulness as teachers. I am moved to a friendly word of warning at this point because we are approaching the time of year when subtle and imperceptible class-room peculiarities are apt to creep upon us unawares. The first freshness of the year’s work has worn off, “the daily round, the common task” is perhaps beginning to tell on us. Little ruts of expression, little oddities of speech or manner begin to creep upon us unawares. Only eternal vigilance—vigilance tempered, however, with humor and a due sense of proportion—will save us from the danger of establishing some unhappy mannerism which may grow into a beam in comparison with some of the motes we see in our pupils’ eyes!

I remember having this brought home to me very forcibly, some years ago, when I had an unusual opportunity of seeing myself as others saw me in the class-room. A lad with an unusual gift of caricature, took off several teachers at an informal evening gathering. After recognizing, with considerable amusement, clever take-offs of several of my colleagues, I suddenly recognized, with equal amusement, myself! In a flash I recognized an unnecessary trick of speech into which I had fallen, hitherto all unconsciously. There were other mannerisms, apparently harmless, but I saw in an instant how useless and objectionable the trick of speech was; and I inwardly blessed the boy for revealing it to me. I have never once used it since. More than this, I was put on my guard, and I have since caught myself at some seedling idiosyncrasy, which I was able to weed out before it took root.

It may be that some teachers are immune from this danger, but I believe it is a real one with most of us, and—“let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall!”

As to the Fourteenth Century.

In addition to the great conflict which occupies an important position on the stage of the fourteenth century, there are several important and interesting phases of this period which have much to do with the development of the English nation. The growth of trade, the development of national spirit, and, above all, the breaking up of villeinage and the social and religious unrest of the last half of the century are all signs of the times well worth noting. So far as I know there is no illuminating fiction to help the laggard imagination to picture the days of Wat Tyler, John Ball and John Wyclif. But there is Langland’s “Piers the Plowman’s Dream,” there are Chaucer’s vivid word pictures of the life of his day, and there is much about the life and work of Wyclif. On this last subject the quotation in Beard’s “Introduction,” pp. 221-230, is very full, but contains too much detail for the average school boy or girl. Green, pp. 235-244, contains much that may be used in notes. The close connection between Lollardry and the prevailing social unrest is well brought out by Green.

Care must be taken, however, not to attribute the root of this social unrest to the religious teachings of Wyclif. Undoubtedly the shortage of laborers produced by the great plague, and the unsettled political conditions of the time were more important factors in the breaking up of villeinage and the shifting of the lower strata of society than the preaching of the Lollards. The causes of the peasant revolt and of the upheaval of ancient custom are discussed very lucidly by Green, pp. 244-255 and pp. 255-260.

The points to be emphasized, it seems to me, are the great facts of the overturning of the old system of employing labor, and the fact of the brief Protestant movement. The former was a permanent change, wrought by the currents which move slowly, but mightily, in the history of every nation; the latter was the blazing up of a light that was to die back into darkness, that was only a forerunner of the Reformation of the future. The emancipation of the serfs has no parallel in any modern emancipation of slaves. It was not brought about by acts of parliament, but rather in spite of them. The old system was outworn and was sloughed off amid the throes of natural development. Feudalism, like Charles II, was an “unconscionable time a-dying,” but, like Charles, too, it died a natural, not a violent, death.

One other phase of the fourteenth century not to be forgotten is the beginning of the English language in anything like its modern form, and the beginning of English literature with Chaucer. Out of the conflict between French and Anglo-Saxon which set in with the Norman Conquest there at last emerged, two hundred years later, the new English language, with its Teutonic foundations and its Latin-Gallic adornments. From this time on the English language, ever growing, but always English, is the general language of England.

The Fifteenth Century.

There is little in England’s story during the fifteenth century which is memorable or striking. The brief glories of Agincourt, to be sure, inflated the national pride, but whatever the splendors of Henry V’s reign, they were swallowed up in the gloom and disaster of the following decades—the loss of French possessions, the helplessness of the crown, the turbulence of the nobles, the cruel strife of the Roses, the selfish reign of Edward IV, and the monstrosity of Richard III. No new light in literature or religion, no really great name in statecraft appears—nothing until the end of the century, when the first rays of the renaissance were beginning to lighten the horizon, to relieve the dullness and darkness of this profitless century. It has always seemed to me the proverbial dark hour before the dawn.

The Wars of the Roses.

In spite of their inglorious and useless character, the Wars of the Roses have, undoubtedly, considerable historical significance. The comparative situation of the crown and of the nobility before and after this strife is very striking. In the forties we find the king financially and politically weak, the barons wealthy from the spoils of France, strong in their armed retainers, and unbridled in their turbulence and arrogance. In the eighties all this is changed; the king is supreme, the baronage at his mercy. The change is easy to account for—the contrast in character between Henry VI and Henry VII accounts in part for it; but the bloody struggle which decimated the ranks and exhausted the resources of the nobility was evidently the main cause of their humiliation.

As to the Wars of the Roses themselves, I think many text-books lack clarity in bringing out the fact that rather than a straggling war there was a distinct series of conflicts, which makes this peculiar civil strife not a war, but literally the Wars of the Roses. Some such outline as follows is of practical use in bringing out this fact in the class-room:

First—Beginning of the wars, 1455. First battle of St. Albans, Richard of York triumphant. Armed truce of five years.

Second—Outbreak brought on by intrigues of Queen Margaret, 1460-1461; battles of Northampton, Wakefield (only Lancastrian success; Richard killed), second St. Albans, and Towton. Triumph of the new Duke of York, Richard’s son, Edward, now crowned Edward IV.

Third—After nearly decade of peace, revolt headed by Warwick. Brief restoration of throne to poor Henry VI; battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury. Return of Edward IV.

Fourth—Final struggle, victory of Henry Tudor, 1485, Bosworth Field.

Such an outline brings out plainly the intermissions in the wars, and the happenings during these considerable stretches of time (much longer than the periods of fighting) can be filled in very easily.

Foundations of the Tudor Absolutism.

In the opening chapter of James Gairdner’s “Henry the Seventh” (Macmillan), the author gives a brief and interesting account of the early life of Henry VII which brings out both the uses of adversity which moulded his character, and the pedigree which, if heredity means anything, must have been one of the causes of the Tudor personality.

The facts that Henry’s grandmother, Katharine, widow of Henry V, was a French princess, that his grandfather was a Welsh knight, and that his mother was lineally descended through John of Gaunt from Edward III are both interesting in themselves and of importance in connection with his claims to the throne. Finally his marriage with Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV, was of vast importance in helping to end the long feud and to establish beyond all question the royal supremacy of subsequent kings.

The structure of the Tudor absolutism, then, so carefully reared by Henry VII, had two very substantial foundations, first in the king’s own position by heredity, marriage and character; second, in the demoralization of the barons. On those foundations the new king began building after 1485 according to methods of his own, or by means already invented. By shrewd economy and rather unregal thrift; by the heavy fines for which the Court of the Star Chamber was so useful; by following Edward IV’s illustrious example in levying benevolences, with the expert help of Cardinal Morton; by politic relations at home and abroad, Henry built financial power and made himself master of the barons.

General Notes.

The pathetic figure of Henry VI, such a contrast to his immediate successors, is portrayed with simplicity and charm, pp. 296-297 of Cheyney’s “Readings.” Speaking of Henry VI naturally suggests the close of the Hundred Years’ War, and tempts me to refer again to Joan of Arc. There is a particularly sympathetic and charming account of her in the November (1909) “St. Nicholas”—an account which more than one “grown up” must have read with delight.

It is well to make clearer than most text-books do just what “benevolences” were. This may be done by making them concrete rather than by definition. The extract from Fabyan’s “Chronicle” in the “Readings,” pp. 300-301, does this excellently. For concreteness, too, Henry VII’s diary quoted at some length in the “Readings” gives an intimate view of Henry, one would hardly expect of a mere account book. It contains a quaint mingling of expenditures of state and the smallest items, from £12,000 “for the king’s wars,” to 2s. “to a woman for a rede rosae.”

The beginnings of printing, and especially the pioneer work of Caxton, are not only of immense interest as an invention, but of immense importance as one of the great mediums of spreading abroad the new ideas which were about to flood Europe. Green, as usual, is very full of interesting information, the gist of which is useful for notes on this subject, pp. 295-299.