the extent of it, and in spite of all ignorance and mismanagement,
it was certain to produce wealth. The standard of comfort among
all classes was improving, though there was nothing like what we
should now speak of as luxury. The furniture used, even in the
houses of the rich, was still rude. Things which are now found
everywhere, and taken as matters of course, were then valuable
rarities--beds, bedsteads, and rich clothing were frequently left
by will. The lists of moveables, on which taxes were paid, are
exceedingly meagre. A stool or two, a chest, and a few metal pots,
constituted the ordinary supply of furniture. In the houses of
the very rich, art had indeed begun to show itself. The payments
of Henry III. to foreign artists for paintings in his house are
mentioned. Intercourse with the French, and especially with
the Spaniards, tended to increase these more luxurious habits.
Carpets had always been used by Eastern people, and the Moors
had introduced the custom in Spain. Thus, on the marriage of
Edward I., before the arrival of Eleanor of Castile, her brother,
the Archbishop of Toledo, made his appearance. The hangings
of his chamber excited the wonder of the people, and Edward,
always inclined to ostentation, had the rooms of the bride elect
similarly decorated. This is said to have been the introduction
of carpets to England; but still the usual covering of the floor
was rushes. There is frequent mention of payments for rushes for
the King’s chambers. In the matter of clothes the same change is
observable. The extravagant court of Edward II. is said to have
introduced parti-coloured garments. In Edward III’s reign, wealth
had so increased in all ranks that it was found necessary to pass
sumptuary laws, sharply dividing classes by the dress they were
allowed to wear, and to confine silk and the finer woollen cloths
to the higher ranks, for the sake perhaps of the English wool
manufactures. In Richard II.’s reign, extravagance went still
further. With his Queen, Anne of Bohemia, came in the awkward
habit, soon adopted by all classes, of wearing long shoes, called
cracowys or pykys, which required to be tied with silver chains
to the knee before the wearer could move.[79] And Stowe says that
Richard himself wore a garment made of gold, silver, and precious
stones, worth 3000 marks. At the same time the rich built more
comfortable houses. Castles ceased to be mere places of defence.
They were at once strongholds and handsome dwelling-places. Warwick
and Windsor castles may be looked on as fair specimens of the more
magnificent buildings of the time. Meanwhile, though among the few,
and on special occasions, splendour was found, houses, even in the
streets of considerable towns, such as Colchester, the tenth city
of the empire, were still built of mud. In Edward III.’s reign,
it was still necessary to issue frequent orders for the cleansing
of the streets of London, that his courtiers might not get into
difficulties as they moved from Westminster to the City. Filth
accumulated in the narrow by-lanes; and, as in the East, crows
were held sacred as the only scavengers. Pavement there was none,
and lanterns were hoisted from the top of Bow Church, to guide
the wayfarer through the paths of the heaths that surrounded the
metropolis.
[Sidenote: Food.]
Barbaric profusion in the matter of food made up for the want of
substantial comforts. At the coronation of Edward I., 380 head of
cattle, 430 sheep, 450 pigs, 18 wild boars, 278 flitches of bacon,
and 20,000 capons, was the amount of food provided. The conduits
ran wine, and hundreds of knights, who attended the great nobles,
let their horses run free, to be the prize of the first captor. In
1399, at a Christmas feast of Richard II., there were daily killed
twenty-eight oxen and 300 sheep, beside numberless fowl. Richard
of Cornwall, at his marriage, is said to have invited 30,000
guests; while we are told that the usual household of Richard II.
numbered 10,000. But though at these great festivals there was
vast abundance of meat, at other times, especially at the Church
fasts, fish, often of the coarsest sort, was eaten. The wife of
Simon de Montfort ate the tongue of a whale dressed with peas,
and a porpoise dressed with furmenty, saffron and sugar. Enormous
quantities of herrings were consumed, spoken of as Aberdeens; in
six days of March, Eleanor de Montfort’s household consumed no less
than 3000. Her meals were diversified by dog-fish, stock-fish,
conger eels, and cod. Wine was drunk in great quantities,
frequently mixed with honey. Hops, though known in Flanders, had
not been introduced; the beer which was largely consumed was made
of any grain, and seasoned with pepper.
[Sidenote: The House of Commons.]
It was the increasing wealth of the country, especially of the
mercantile classes, which had caused their introduction to
Parliament. Thither they came with all the exclusive notions
which their trade traditions had fostered. They were as careless
of the class below them as the Barons. Indeed, it would be true
to say that the feeling of the House of Commons was completely
aristocratic. One part of it was of necessity entirely so: the
knights of the shire, originally the representatives of the lower
baronage, were elected in the county court, which was the general
meeting-place of all freeholders, whether they held immediately
from the crown or not. Consequently, the baronial freeholders
became merged in the lesser freeholders, and the class of gentry
was created. Many things had tended to the increase of that class.
The breaking up of great properties, the division of property
among younger children, and alienation, had increased the number
of freeholders. The statute “Quia Emptores,” intended as a check
upon subinfeudation, had really increased alienation by authorizing
it. The smaller estates, thus separated from the large baronies,
had to be worked to profit, and could not be regarded merely as
means of military or political influence. There thus had arisen
an industrial as well as a military class of landholders. The
representatives of towns, also elected upon a writ directed to
the Sheriff, were, if not at first, certainly soon after elected
in the county courts. This similarity of election united the two
classes in feeling; and the smaller baronies, small landowners, and
burghers, formed the body of representative Commons, aristocratic
in feeling in accordance with the origin of the more aristocratic
part of the class. It is thus that we find the Commons regarding
the Barons as their natural leaders, not joining the crown against
them as in France. Edward III., in his difficulties with Stratford,
had tried to produce this combination, but had failed; and the
Commons joining with the Barons, had insisted on the restoration
to favour of that prelate. And thus, too, we find the Commons
without sympathy with the demands of the rebels in Wat Tyler’s
insurrection. They had, indeed, certain grievances of their own,
on which they were always petitioning, such as the encroachments
of the King’s purveyors, and the too great authority, sometimes
misused, of the sheriffs. But apart from these particular wrongs,
they may be regarded as siding as a whole with the Barons.
[Sidenote: Opposition to the church.]
In their hatred to the Church they made common cause with all
classes. The peculiar position which the submission of John had
given the Popes in England was the primary cause of this dislike.
Annates, or first-fruits, had been early demanded, but the great
grievance, as we have seen, was Provisors. Against this assumption
of authority, which forestalled the rights of the patrons, there
was the strongest feeling. The exactions of the Pope had been
strongly spoken of in the Statute of Carlisle in the end of
Edward’s I.’s reign. Edward II., like other weak princes, had
yielded to this assumption. But in Edward III.’s reign, a series of
enactments were passed, each one stronger than the last, against
the interference of the Papacy. In 1343 the Statute of Carlisle had
been read, and it was enacted that no more Papal instruments should
be allowed in England. In 1344, the penalty of exile was pronounced
against all provisors. By a Statute of the 25th year of Edward
III.’s reign, it was ordained that “kings and all other lords
were to present unto benefices, of their own or their ancestor’s
foundation, and not the Pope of Rome.” If the Pope interfered
the matter was to come into the King’s hands, and penalties were
enacted. In the 38th year of his reign these enactments were all
confirmed and strengthened by the Statute of Provisors, by which
the introduction of Papal Bulls and Briefs was forbidden. The
strife, as we have seen, was continued in Richard II.’s reign,
and finally completed in the 16th year of that King, by a statute
declaring the freedom of the crown of England, which was in earthly
subjection to no realm, and pronouncing the penalties of the
Præmunire against all who should purchase or procure any Bulls from
the Court of Rome; any who were guilty of this should be put out of
the King’s peace, and forfeit all their property. In Edward III.’s
reign, also, the annual tribute, or census, as it was called, of
a thousand marks was left unpaid. At the end of Edward I.’s reign
17,000 marks had become due. Edward II. paid this, and continued
throughout his reign to discharge the debt. Edward III. was again
strong enough to refuse the payment, and in 1366, Urban V. demanded
the arrears of thirty-three years. The King laid the matter before
his Parliament, and an instrument was drawn up in the name of the
King, Lords, and Commons, declaring that John had acted without the
advice of his realm, and that any demand for the money would be
resisted to the utmost. It was not again claimed. But it was not
against the Roman Church only that the popular feeling had been
aroused. The Church itself had become unpopular. The wealth and
idleness of the older monastic orders, the spiritual encroachments
and licentious lives of the new mendicant orders, had excited
popular anger. The charges against them are humorously summed
up in the Song of the Order of Fair-ease, a description of an
imaginary order, to which each existing class of monks subscribes
a characteristic or two. The monks of Beverley give the habit
of deep drinking, in which they are joined by the Black Monks;
the Hospitallers dress well and amble fairly on grey palfreys;
the Secular Canons are the willing servants of the ladies; the
Grey Monks are given to licentiousness; while the Friars Minor,
whose order is founded on poverty, will never lodge with a poor
man so long as there are richer men to be found. In the same way
the constant interference of the consistory courts was the cause
of popular complaint. “Yet there sit somnours, six or seven,
misjudging all men alike, and reach forth their roll: herdsmen hate
them, and every man’s servant, for every parish they put in pain.”
[Sidenote: Wicliffe.]
To crown all, the doctrine itself of the Church had begun to be
questioned. In 1360, the name of Wicliffe first becomes prominent.
His first attack was upon the mendicant orders, who had contrived
to get into their hands much of the education of the country. From
this time onwards he continually waged war against the abuses of
the Church. The clergy, he urged, should be poor, in imitation
of Christ. This doctrine he carried out by the establishment
of an order of poor priests. With regard to the Sacrament, he
appealed to common sense; and while not yet ready to attack the
doctrine of Transubstantiation, upheld that the elements taken
were really bread and wine. But his great work was neither his
assault on the wealth of the clergy, nor his attack on their
doctrine, but the translation of the Bible into English, which
was, in fact, an appeal to private judgment in opposition to
ecclesiastical authority. His influence was very widespread. His
poor priests worked largely among the lower orders, and his view
of the necessity of poverty for the clergy was so in harmony with
the feelings of the day, that it met with ready acceptance. As has
been mentioned, the Church was too strong for him. He was obliged,
when the support of John of Gaunt failed him, to make some sort
of recantation, and retire to his living of Lutterworth. But his
disciples are said to have numbered a third of the population of
England, and when, as was inevitable, social and political views
were added to their religious doctrines, they became an object of
dread, not only to the Church, but also to the Government.
[Sidenote: The lower classes.]
It is perhaps in the lower commons that social change is most
obvious. The great insurrection of Wat Tyler is a sign of something
more than mere temporary discontent. Agricultural villeinage was
disappearing, and giving birth to a new class almost peculiar
to England, the free but landless labourer. The existence of
this class first comes prominently into notice in the Statute of
Labourers. In the terrible pestilence of the Black Death which
had ravaged England, a third, perhaps a half, of the population
had been carried off. Labour became scarce. The labourers took
the opportunity of making what we should now call a strike for
higher wages. Such a demand, however consonant with economical
principles, was quite repugnant to the feelings of that age, when
prices were a constant matter of legal enactment. The Statute of
Labourers, stating in its preamble that servants, taking advantage
of the necessities of their masters, would not serve except for
excessive wages, enacted that every able-bodied man should be
bound to serve any one who required him at the old wages under
pain of imprisonment; and that every master giving more than the
old wages should forfeit thrice the sum he had offered. Such an
ordinance could not be kept; but strenuous efforts were made to
insist upon it, and again and again in some form or other it was
re-enacted. But whether successful or not, it shows the existence
of labour for wages, and of a rising knowledge on the part of the
labourers of the value of their work. Several causes combined to
create this labouring class. The early form of agricultural society
may be roughly described as a village of serfs lying round the
manor-house of their lord. Each serf had his share in the common
fields of the village, and was bound to join in the cultivation of
his lord’s domain or manor farm. For the simple farming at that
time prevalent this forced labour was sufficient; and the lord
valued his serfs more for military purposes than as agricultural
labourers. As subinfeudation and alienation went on, the holders of
small properties were obliged to work their land to better profit.
The alienations also were chiefly made from the lord’s domain, but
it was not usual to part with serfs. Consequently, their number
increased, while the domain land diminished; there were more hands
than the lord could employ, and the tenant working for profit could
therefore find labour among the surplus serfs who would work for
wages. A change in the character of war took place at the same
time. The insular condition of England made the feudal arrangement
with its limited term of service inconvenient; in the highest
ranks, therefore, military service was changed to scutage or money
payment, and a large number of dependants became less desirable
than money; proprietors were willing to work their farms with fewer
servants and to receive money rent instead of service. There were
thus at work the two principles which broke down villein labour;
labour paid by wages, and land held for money rent. The change in
war had another effect. Armies were raised by contract with some
great lord. The payment was beyond the ordinary agricultural wages.
The earl himself received a mark a day, the common foot-soldier,
3d. or 4d., and the archer, 6d.[80] Anxious to fulfil his contract,
the leader would not be careful to inquire whether he was enlisting
serfs or not. On his return from a war, the well-paid soldier would
be unwilling to fall back into a state of serfdom. He swelled the
ranks of wage-paid labour. Again, the residence of a year and a day
uninterrupted within the limits of a borough gave freedom. Serfs,
seeing the advantage of money payments, fled thither and became
free. Again, the Church, in whose eyes all men were equal, would
not refuse to admit them within its ranks; a serf could thus become
a priest or monk, and withdraw himself from his lord’s power. On
the same principle, the Church constantly urged the manumission
of serfs. To all these causes was now added the disarrangement of
labour consequent on the Black Death. With a general demand for
labour all superfluous hands would find easy employment, perhaps
at a considerable distance from their old homes. With a sufficient
supply himself, the lord would not waste time or money to redeem
them. We thus see how there may have been a vast number of free
labourers in England. The Statute of Labourers, destroying their
freedom of bargain, attempted, though with but partial success, to
force these free labourers back into a semi-servile condition. But
they had now joined the ranks of freemen, such as the small farmers
of Kent, and the unincorporated artisans of towns. The spirit of
equality fostered by the teaching of the mendicant friars, who had
reached England in Henry III.’s reign, and who took up their abode
among the poor city populations, was still further increased by the
teaching of Wicliffe and his poor priests.
“When Adam delved and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?”
a doggerel couplet frequent in the mouths of the insurgents of
1382, shows how the lessons of the Bible made public by Wicliffe’s
translation could be turned in the same direction. The feeling that
it was the plebeian archer, and not the lordly man-at-arms, who
had won the great victories in France, and the success with which,
during the last half century, the smaller trade corporations had
in the cities forced themselves into an equality with the great
ones, all led to the same democratic feeling. The lower freemen
made common cause with the villeins. They had all felt the heavy
pressure of the tax-gatherer. The popular songs of the day are full
of wretchedness. One, said to belong to the reign of Edward I. or
II., speaks thus--
“To seek silver for the King, I sold my seed, wherefore my land
lies fallow and learns to sleep. Since they fetched my fair cattle
in my fold, when I think of my old wealth I nearly weep; this
breeds many bold beggars. There wakes in the world consternation
and woe, as good is it to perish at once, as so to labour.”[81] The
democratic outbreak of Wat Tyler was the consequence.
[Sidenote: The nobility.]
While the two sections of the commons were thus rising in social
position, a change had also taken place in the character of the
nobility. It may be roughly characterized as the change from
feudalism to chivalry.[82] Many of the same causes which had
conduced to the freedom of the labourer had tended to loosen the
territorial system on which the ancient strength of the nobility
rested. Especially had the voluntary character of military service
dealt heavy blows at the practical side of feudalism. Soldiering
was no longer the necessary duty of every man; but the military
spirit remained, and to the bulk of the aristocracy fighting became
a pastime. The subordination of proprietors gave place to a sort
of system of freemasonry, to which all knights were admitted.
Knighthood made its holder any man’s equal for actual military
purposes. It was no longer the great noble, but the good soldier,
who was the commander. Manny, Chandos, Knowles, all of them simple
knights, were the generals to whom Edward III. trusted. As an
amusement war was decked with ostentatious ornament. This is the
period of showy tournaments, of armorial bearings, and of grotesque
vows, like that of the young knights who attended Edward with black
patches over their eyes. It is this chivalrous aspect of war which
explains the short-lived character of Edward’s expeditions. But it
had a more important effect. Importance in the country became a
more personal matter; partly from love of show, partly to produce
respect, great men began to surround themselves, not with feudal
followers, but with paid retainers. To these they granted liveries.
It was a point of honour among these retainers to stand by each
other and by their chief. Quite in the beginning of Richard II.’s
reign, the Commons petitioned against these liveries and the bands
of maintainers,[83] who upheld each other in illegal actions. Thus
great households, and by degrees factions, were formed, and things
were ready for the great outbreak of faction fighting, which ended
in the destruction of the old nobility in the Wars of the Roses.
[Sidenote: Literature.]
The feeling of national life, which is one of the characteristics
of the time, had shown itself in literature. Public transactions
were still carried on in French or Latin; but it will be remembered
that as early as the Provisions of Oxford it had been found
necessary to publish any important proclamation in English as well.
Up till that time the languages of the nobility and of the common
people had been distinct. From that time onwards they begin to
blend. This, as it happens, can be very well observed. Geoffrey of
Monmouth wrote a Latin Chronicle of England in 1130. Before the
end of the century it was versified by two writers; one wrote for
the nobles and the aristocracy, the other for the common people.
Master Wace, a native of Jersey, translated Geoffrey for Henry II.
into Norman-French. Layamon, who wrote about 1180, translated it
into a language which may be fairly called Anglo-Saxon, although
of a somewhat degraded type. We have here a perfect division of
the languages. But about the middle of the next century the same
work was translated by Robert of Gloucester. In his language there
is a much nearer approach to English, and a considerable number of
French words are easily to be traced. Some fifty years afterwards,
Robert Mannyng, or De Brunne, again rewrote the Chronicle; and
again the further introduction of French words is striking. We have
thus means of testing, as it were, at three different points, the
process of amalgamation that was going forward. The Court language
still continued to be French, but French not much like the language
of France, and it was ceasing to be thoroughly understood by the
bulk of the people. By the time that Chaucer wrote, he could laugh
at English-French. His Prioress spoke Cockney-French,
“After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe.”
And in recommending English writing, he says,--“Certes there ben
some that speke thyr poysy mater in Frensche, of whyche speche
the Frensche men have as good a fantasye as we have in hearing of
Frensche mennes Englyshe.” This indeed was to be expected. From
the Conquest the language of schools had been French; but in 1356,
John of Cornwall had begun a change in this habit, and taught Latin
translation by means of English, and not French. The consequence,
as described by Trevisa, was, their “avauntage is, that thei
lerneth her gramer in lasse tyme than children were wont to do;
desavauntage is, that now children of gramer scole kunneth no more
Frensch than her lifte heele.” Other signs also point to this
change. Latin had ceased to be the language of public documents in
the reign of Edward I. In 1362, in answer it appears to a petition
from the Commons, the opening address delivered in Parliament
was in English, and the Commons’ debates in English also. At the
same time it was ordered that English should be the language of
courts of law, because the French tongue was too much unknown.
But it was not till the reign of Richard III. that the statutes
and rolls of Parliament were written in English. It is probable
that Parliamentary business continued to be carried on in both
languages for some time longer. In 1381 English seems to have been
generally used. There were thus during this period extant three
languages for literary purposes--Latin, the language of learned men
and historians; French, an acquired Court language, in which most
of the legends of chivalry and lengthened rhyming chronicles were
produced; and the gradually rising English language, which, as the
popular tongue, was chiefly employed in songs and political satire.
The earliest form of English poetry was alliterative,--metrical,
but without rhyme, and depending for its effect upon a certain
number of words in each couplet beginning with the same letter. But
rhyme, and not only rhyme, but very easy and varied metres, were
introduced as early as the reign of Henry III. Not unfrequently
both principles were blended, and rhyme and alliteration occur
together. Latin was also employed, we must suppose by the clergy,
in satirical songs. All classical metres were then discarded, and
Latin was used as a rhyming language. There are some instances also
of verses, partly in one language, partly in the other. It may be
worth while to give an instance of two of these various metres.
Thus a verse of a song shortly after the battle of Lewes runs
thus:--
“Sire Simond de Mountfort hath swore bi ys chyn,
Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn,
Shulde he never more come to is yn,
Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other gyn
To help of Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou be ever trichard,
Trichen shalt thou never more.”
This is rhyme, the rhythm is free, and there is a refrain. In
the following verse, from a satire on the consistory courts,
alliteration and rhyme go together:--
“Ther sitteth somenours syexe other sevene
Mysmotinde men alle by here evene,
Ant recheth forth heore rolle;
Hyrd-men hem hatieth, ant uch mones hyne,
For everuch a parosshe heo polketh in pyne,
Ant clastreth with heore colle.”
The next specimen, from a song on the venality of judges, shows how
Latin was adapted to modern versification:--
“Sunt justitiarii,
Quos favor et denarii
alliciunt a jure;
Hii sunt nam bene recolo
Quod censum dant diabolo
et serviunt hii pure.”
While in the next verse is shown the mixture of two languages; it
is drawn from a song against the King’s taxes:--
“Une chose est countre foy, unde gens gravatur
Que la meyté ne vient al roy, in regno quod levatur
Pur ce qu’il n’ad tot l’enter, prout sibi datur,
Le pueple doit le plus doner, et sic sincopatur.
Nam quæ taxantur, regi non omnia dantur.”