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.