One of the most interesting passages—and a touching one it is, too—in the writings of Roger Ascham is that in “The Schoolmaster,” in which he describes a visit he paid to the home of Lady Jane’s parents in Leicestershire in 1550. She was then little over thirteen years old. It gives us a glimpse of the girl-life of the period in a high rank of society, and deserves to be quoted in full.
“Before I went into Germany,” says Ascham, “I came to Broadgate, in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble Lady Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholden. Her parents, the Duke and Duchess, with all the household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber, reading Phædon Platonis, in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccaccio.
“After salutation and duty done with some other talk, I asked her why she would leave such pastime in the park?
“Smiling, she answered me, ‘I wis all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas, good folk! they never felt what true pleasure meant.’
“‘And how came you, madam,’ quoth I, ‘to this deep knowledge of pleasure, and what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many women but very few men have attained thereunto?’
“‘I will tell you,’ quoth she, ‘and tell you a truth which perchance you will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that God ever gave me is that He sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand or go, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing anything else, I must do it as it were in such weight, measure, and number—even so perfectly as God made the world—or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, presently, sometimes, with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways which I will not name for the honour I bear them; so without measure misordered that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must go to Mr. Elmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing whiles I am with him. And when I am called from him I fall on weeping, because whatsoever I do else but learning is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles unto me.’
“I remember this talk gladly,” Ascham adds, “both because it is so worthy of memory, and because, also, it was the last talk that ever I had and the last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady.”
However learning might flourish in the upper circles of society, it seems to have languished in the schools and among the people. But efforts were made in the direction of popular education, and more grammar schools it is said were founded in the latter part of Henry VIII.’s reign than in the three hundred years preceding.
Music was practised by all classes. Erasmus, who saw much of England in the beginning of the sixteenth century, speaks of the English as the most accomplished in the skill of music of any people. “It is certain,” says Mr. Chappell, “that the beginning of the sixteenth century produced in England a race of musicians equal to the best in foreign countries, and in point of secular music decidedly in advance of them.”
Henry VIII. was a great patron of music, and, more than that, he was himself a composer and performer. He played well on both the virginals and the lute, and could sing at sight. But to sing at sight was a common accomplishment amongst gentlemen; so common, indeed, that inability to do so was looked on as a serious drawback to success in life. Homes were rendered cheerful by the singing of madrigals and other part music. The first collection of songs in parts that was printed in England belongs to the year 1530.