bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025_split huggingface dataset:
The Jewel-Harding Controversy
Authors: Milward Peter S.J. 
Published: November 2007

I cannot oucrslipp some without manifest iniury. that descrue to haue their names enrolled in the first rancke of valiant Confuters: worthy men, but subiect to imperfections, to errour. to mutual reproofe; some more, some lesse, as the manner is. Harding, and lewell, were our Aeschines, and Demosthenes: and scarsely any language in the Christian world, hath affoorded a payre of aduersaries, equiualent to Harding, and lewell; two thundring and lightning Oratours in Jiuinity.These words, occuring as they do in Gabriel Harvey's Pierces Supererogation (1593), cannot but sound strange to modern ears. The language is, of course, somewhat peculiar, as we might expect from a contemporary of Shakespeare's, and in particular from so pedantic a writer as Gabriel Harvey. But apart from that, the reference of his words—with their apparently exaggerated praise—seems oddly misplaced. If he had spoken of More and Tyndale, or even of Whitgift and Cartwright, his praise might have appeared more intelligible. But who today has heard of Jewel or Harding, at least in terms of literature? Neither of them receives so much as a mention in The Oxford Companion to English Literature, or even in Baugh's voluminous Literary History of England, no doubt because they are regarded as belonging to a brief episode in ecclesiastical history. Yet Harvey speaks of them, in openly literary terms, as “two thundring and lightning Oratours in diuinity,” and even dares to compare them with the great Athenian orators, Aeschines and Demosthenes. So the question arises: Was he merely deluding himself with a spirit of exaggeration—a spirit not unknown in Shakespeare's England? Or was he, after all, recording a widespread feeling among Shakespeare's contemporaries which has somehow vanished like a bubble on the river of time?
Compromise in Early Stuart Parliaments: The Case of the Short Parliament of 1640
Authors: Cope Esther S. 
Published: November 2007

King Charles I's dissolution of the Short Parliament, 5 May 1640, proved politically disastrous. Six months later he was forced to call another Parliament, which immediately launched an attack on his councillor, the early of Strafford. Within two years civil war had broken out. The dissolution of the Short Parliament came only the day after Charles had sent to the Commons a message, apparently offering a compromise in the dispute whether his supply or their grievances should be handled first. The Commons discussed the King's offer all day and finally adjourned, requesting permission to resume their debate the next morning, thus making it possible for negotiations to continue. His Majesty, however, closed the door to further discussion and ended the Parliament. No compromise was concluded.The idea of compromise, or “the arrangement of a dispute by concessions on both sides,” was not foreign to the Englishmen of the early seventeenth century. The words, compromise, mediate, compound and its substantive composition, all appear in the O.E.D. with sixteenth or early seventeenth-century dates. Nor were they divorced from the context of Parliament. When early seventeenth-century Englishmen thought of Parliament, they thought of an assembly where King, Lords, and Commons met and together served the interests of both King and subject. Although ideally these interests were not supposed to conflict, procedures existed to facilitate agreement within Parliament. The King might communicate with the two Houses through his councillors, while the Commons used their Speaker and the Lords relied upon various of their own number to voice concerns to his Majesty.
Charles Dickens As Artist and Reformer
Authors: Meldrum Ronald M. 
Published: November 2007

“Girl number twenty … give me your definition of a horse,” ordered Mr. Thomas Gradgrind, “a man of realities, a man of facts and calculations.” Mr. Gradgrind, master of a pragmatic school devoted to teaching facts in Mr. Josiah Bounderby's model industrial community, Coketown, was, like most of Charles Dickens' schoolmasters, rather narrow in his conception of what school should and might be. No doubt the shortcomings and lack of uniformity of the schools with which Dickens was familiar tended to sour him generally on the topic of education. Of course, Dickens was too clever to wish for utter uniformity or conformity in education. In a speech November 5, 1873. he said:
I don't like that sort of school — and I have seen a great many such in these latter times — where the bright childish imagination is utterly discouraged, and where those bright childish faces, which it is so very good for the wisest among us to remember in after life, when the world is too much with us early and late, are gloomily and grimly scared out of countenance; where I have never seen among the pupils, whether boys or girls, anything but little parrots and small calculating machines.
The Shropshire Muster-Master's Fee
Authors: Hamilton Charles L. 
Published: November 2007

In the Elizabethan re-organization of the English militia the muster-master was given the responsibility of supervising the training and inspecting the equipment of the trained bands in each county. As an ex-professional captain, he supposedly provided the experience in military matters lacking among those who served in the county lieutenancy and commanded the militia.In The Muster-Master, a pamphlet written probably by Gervase Markham around 1630, unstinting tribute is paid the Elizabethan muster-masters. Confronted with an unprecedented threat from abroad as well as occasional domestic rebellion, “the state elected so many old and experienced captains and approved officers in the wars, as might furnish every county in the kingdom with one able and sufficient commander” who would instruct the bands, inspect their armor and equipment and certify all defects to the commissioners of muster. These tasks were “faithfully and skillfully performed, not by inferiors, or petty officers, which knew no more but the bare A.B.C. of war: but by such as had run through every grammar rule thereof; such as had borne the office of captain by desert and not from private letters, gaudy clothes, or lustful employments; such as have their wounds in their faces, chasing the enemy, not such as have whole skins by running away, which they now call a violent retiring.”Not for long, however, did this situation last. By the time of the Armada the Council unwisely shifted the burden of paying the muster-masters on to the counties while the office itself became part of the lord-lieutenant's patronage. Commenting on the rising opposition to paying the muster-master's fee in the early Jacobean period, Boynton writes that the “main complaint was apparently that, subject to the Council's formal approval, the office was venal. Not that there was anything unusual in that; but the lord-lieutenants often retained this piece of patronage for their own clients, so that the county paid but had no say in the matter.” The author of The Muster-Master was deeply troubled by the results attendant on the lord-lieutenant's monopoly of military patronage in the county.
The Crown and the Aristocracy in England, 1450-1509
Authors: Lander J. R. 
Published: November 2007

Traditionally the later Middle Ages in England have received a notoriously bad press from historians. In 1878 the great Stubbs threw his immense prestige behind the statement “the most enthusiastic admirer of medieval life must grant that all that was good and great was languishing even to death” and, for good measure condemned the fifteenth century as “a worn-out helpless age that calls for pity without sympathy, and yet balances weariness with something like regrets.” A decade after Stubbs wrote these sounding cadences an Oxford cleric, W. Denton, published a book crammed with pessimistic utterances so extreme that they were very nearly caricature. The country was impoverished because its soil was exhausted. The very people were morally inferior to their ancestors, the nobility as a class were as physically degenerate as they were ill-educated. Power had become concentrated in the hands of too few: a minority so powerful as to be almost the peers of the king himself. The rest of the nobility encumbered with debt, due to the cost of war and personal extravagance, had lost their former and legitimate influence.Even those who derided these wild extravagances continued to regard the wretched century with immense distaste. As the tale went the premature Lancastrian Constitutional Experiment collapsed into near-anarchy, followed by the constitutional backsliding of the Yorkists and Henry VII: a “despotism” wholly alien to English political conditions, but mercifully of short duration.
The Inconveniences of Long Intermissions of Parliament and a Remedy for Them
Authors: Cope Esther S. 
Published: November 2007

The first statute to become law during the Long Parliament of the 1640s was the Triennial Act, the act “for preventing Inconveniences happening by the long intermission of parliaments.” The statue was enacted in extraordinary circumstances. Ambiguously phrased, substantially amended, and ultimately supported as a means to other ends, the act provided no real solution to the problems which had given it birth. Had it done so, it most assurredly would have failed to pass. The strange tale of the genesis and passage of this act is the subject of this article.The Triennial Act developed from a bill for annual parliaments introduced by William Strode, MP for Beeralston, Devonshire, on 24 December 1640. Strode's was the first bill for that purpose actually to be introduced since James Stuart had acceded to the throne in 1603. The idea that there should be annual parliaments was not, however, new. Twice during the reign of Edward III statutes providing for yearly meetings of parliament had been enacted. Although these measures were not observed, they had not been forgotten. They had coexisted over the centuries with the belief that the summoning and dissolving of Parliaments was an indisputable prerogative of the Crown and were cited from time to time when men became anxious about subjects' liberties. Sir Francis Bacon reports that during the debate in the Privy Council in 1615, the earl of Exeter “insisted upon a speech of the Lo. Cooke's that there was a law inforce to require a Parliament to be holden every year for redress of the people's grievances.” There is, however, little evidence that Englishmen prior to 1640 believed that the confirmation of these statutes, or enactment of other measures to that effect, was of prime importance.
Maori and Pakeha in New Zealand Historiography: Preoccupations and Progressions
Authors: Gough Barry M. 
Published: November 2007

Rudyard Kipling thought New Zealand “last, loneliest, least.” No so its historiography. New Zealand can claim an inspired corps of scholars who are probing various aspects of the past. Austin Mitchell, scholar and parliamentarian, whimsically wrote, “New Zealand is one of the few countries having more books than history.” Amusing as this perception is, the fact remains that historians of the New Zealand experience have been pouring out an incredible stream of work—in theses, articles, and books; and this flow is not likely to be dammed in the future, as more adventuresome scholars investigate aspects of class, race, ethnicity, community, health, and related matters. A glance at the available bibliographies provides proof of the swelling stream of writing. The New Zealand Journal of History, which began publication in 1967, ranks as the principal, but by no means only, periodical publishing New Zealand history. The maturity of this journal as a vehicle for New Zealand-related scholarship is a testament to how national history has come into its professional phase, and added sophisticated perspectives and techniques to previous studies which in times past, as in other nation-states, sometimes bordered on the antiquarian.The recent, 1981, publication of the Oxford History of New Zealand, edited by W.H. Oliver with B.R. Williams and comprising contributions from sixteen scholars, has been widely praised as a new look at the national experience, though reviewers note an internal preoccupation and an inadequate attention to external relations. Neither Japan nor Pearl Harbor is mentioned. The preoccupations and progressions are with New Zealand's society, its anxieties, conflicts, and apprehensions. Gone is the day of lauding the British connection; independence and nationhood mean self-examination even at the possible expense of introspection.
“Barbarous Ignorance and Base Detraction”: The Struggles of Michael Drayton
Authors: Duchemin Parker 
Published: November 2007

When Michael Drayton began work on Poly-Olbion, his vast poetic description of England and Wales, he committed himself to a course of action which was seriously to endanger his career. Drayton's reputation as a poet was injured by his faith in that strange, unfashionable poem, and he found himself increasingly out of touch with the main literary developments of his time. In his old age, fortunately, it led him to compose much of his most original and delicately beautiful poetry. The significance of Poly-Olbion in Drayton's life and art, however, has seldom been understood by the poet's biographers and critics, who have usually regarded it either as a charming eccentricity or as an unfortunate deviation from his true line of development. To Drayton, however, Poly-Olbion was his major work, innovating, he believed, a major new genre. When the first part was published in 1612, he boasted “My Poeme is genuine, and first in this kinde”; ten years later, bitter and depressed at its failure but determined to press on, he still proudly proclaimed that “it was a new cleere way, never before gone by any.” On its fortunes he was prepared to stake his literary reputation, and, as events were to prove, his commitment to “this strange Herculean toyle” (PO, 30:342) lasted well over thirty years.Northop Frye has written that the epic, as Renaissance critics understood it, “is not a poem by a poet, but that poet's poem: he can never complete a second epic unless he is the equal of Homer, and hence the moment at which the epic poet chooses his subject is the crisis of his life. To decide to write an epic … is an act of considerable courage, because if one fails, one fails on a colossal scale.” The decision to write a poem on the scale of Poly-Olbion, whether “epic” in the strict sense of the word or not, involved Drayton in a similar risk. The spectres of ridicule and detraction haunted him for the rest of his life, and only his growing conviction of the political and literary importance of his magnum opus enabled him to continue writing.
The Strange Death of Liberal England: Fifty Years After
Authors: Stansky Peter 
Published: November 2007

In 1935 in New York the publishing house of Harrison Smith and Robert Haas published George Dangerfield's The Strange Death of Liberal England. Now, fifty years later, the book is as vital, if not more so, as when it was first published. It was quite appropriate that the book, and its author, were celebrated last Spring at a meeting of the Pacific Coast Conference on British Studies at San Luis Obispo in California, quite close to Santa Barbara where Dangerfield lives overlooking the Pacific ocean. Even nicer, perhaps, is that in this year we shall see Halley's Comet again, which Dangerfield remembers having seen as a child, and being told that it would not appear again in his lifetime. The comet appears on the first page of the book (heralding the dazzling prose to come), observed by the Prime Minister, Herbert Henry Asquith, from the deck of the Admiralty yacht Enchantress, “to blaze forth the death of a king”: Edward VII.The Strange Death of Liberal England has had, eventually, a strong impact upon the historical profession, as well as something of an odd history. The original publishers quite soon went out of business and the book was not kept in print in America. It was published a year later in England for the first time by Constable, but in a slightly truncated form without the important epilogue on Rupert Brooke. Over the next twenty-six years it was a book known only, I believe, by a few, recommended by word of mouth and not, on the whole, given much attention by the historical profession or the reading public.
Kinship and Friendship: The Perception of Family by Clergy and Laity in Late Medieval London
Authors: Murray Jacqueline 
Published: November 2007

One of the most persistent and frustrating problems which the social historian faces is that of gaining access to private lives in the past. This is true for all periods, but it is especially so for the Middle Ages. There are some letters available, but they tend to be scarce and limited in nature. Another type of document which proves a useful means of entry into medieval life is the testament. The information it contains is often of an intensely personal nature and allows the reader to understand the testator's relationships with others.The wealth of information contained in testaments is only beginning to be fully exploited. In his article “Fifteenth and Sixteenth-Century Wills as Historical Sources,” Michael L. Zell has demonstrated the breadth of information which these documents contain and points the way to many areas of further investigation. The usefulness of testamentary evidence to trace inheritance patterns and the disposition of property is well established. Eleanor S. Riemer has used testaments from Siena to examine the economic position of women. W. K. Jordan used wills extensively in his three volume study of charity in urban and rural England. More recently, Joel T. Rosenthal employed them to study gift-giving patterns among the English aristocracy. Wills have been used as sources for the study of religious values and popular piety, as a means of investigating the patterns of epidemic disease, and of tracing the spread of literacy. Historians have also begun to use testamentary evidence in the investigation of family life. For the history of the English family, the use of testamentary evidence is just beginning.
The Prince's Mentor: A New Perspective on the Friendship between George III and Lord Bute during the 1750s
Authors: Bullion John L. 
Published: November 2007

The effects of the intense personal and political relationship between the young George III and his “dearest friend,” the earl of Bute, are well known to scholars of eighteenth-century Britain. The prince's affection and respect raised Bute, an obscure though well-connected Scottish nobleman, to the highest offices of state and to the absolute pinnacle of power. The earl's instruction and advice governed George's reactions to men and measures from 1755 until 1763. Even after Bute's influence waned following his resignation as First Lord of the Treasury, the lingering suspicions at Whitehall and Westminster that the king still listened to him in preference to others complicated relations between George III, his ministers, and Parliament.This article examines the origins of the friendship between the king and the earl, and the features of it that strengthened and preserved their attachment during the 1750s. These are questions that have not engaged the attention of many students of the period. The long shadow the relationship cast over politics during the 1760s has intrigued far more historians than its beginnings. They have been content to leave efforts to understand that subject to Sir Lewis Namier, who was inclined toward making psychological judgments of eighteenth-century politicians, and John Brooke, who was compelled to do so by the demands of writing a biography of George III. Both of these men asserted that the personal and affectionate aspects of the connection between the prince and Bute far outweighed the political and ideological during its early years. Their arguments have evidently convinced historians of politics to pass over what made Bute “my dearest friend” and press on to matters they assumed to be more relevant to their interests. The concern of this essay is to demonstrate that this assumption is incorrect. It will show that political and ideological considerations were in fact utterly crucial to this friendship at its inception and throughout its development during the 1750s, with consequences which profoundly affected the political history of the first decade of George III's reign. A mistaken reliance on works by Namier and Brooke has prevented scholars from perceiving these realities. Thus it is necessary to begin by pointing out the serious flaws in their interpretations.
“Would I Could Give You Help and Succour”: Elizabeth I and the Politics of Touch
Authors: Levin Carole 
Published: November 2007

In 1462, in defense of the House of Lancaster, Sir John Fortescue wrote that Edward IV could not cure the king's evil, the disease scrofula, by touching the afflicted since to do so one must not only be a king but also a legitimate one. To touch one needed not only to be annointed with holy oil but the person must also be the legitimate heir. Lancastrians claimed that Edward IV could not touch since he was not the rightful king. Wrote Fortescue, he “wrongly claims to enjoy this wonderful privilege. Wrongly … [because] this unction is powerless because Edward had no right to receive it.” Sir John goes on to argue by analogy, and scornfully asks: “Would a woman who received ordination thereby become a priest?” Of course not. Continuing this line of argument, Fortescue adds that a usurper would not be the only one unable to cure by touch.Many duties likewise are incumbent on the kings of England in virtue of the kingly office, which are inconsistent with a woman's nature, and kings of England are endowed with certain powers by special grace from heaven, wherewith queens in the same country are not endowed. The kings of England by touch of their annointed hands they cleanse and cure those inflected with a certain disease, that is commonly called the King's Evil, though they be pronounced otherwise incurable. This gift is not bestowed on Queens.
Britain and American Railway Promoters In Late Nineteenth Century Persia
Authors: Galbraith John S. 
Published: November 2007

Within the last generation there has been a vast outpouring of scholarship on the characteristics of British imperial policy in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The older orthodoxy that the mid-Victorian years were dominated by a commitment to laissez faire and free trade has been demolished. In the new era scholars quarrel over how “imperial” was “informal empire.” This article is not intended to add to this controversy, but rather to provide insight into the character of British policy in one area, Persia, during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, with particular emphasis on American efforts to build railways and British responses to this attempted intrusion into an exclusive British-Russian sphere of influence.For both Russia and Britain Persia had great strategic significance. Like Afghanistan, “the walls of the Indian garden,” Persia was important primarily in relation to the defense of the Indian Empire. Russian expansion to the borders of Persia, a weak state, posed the threat that the country would fall under Russian influence and what had been a buffer would become a menace.British interest in Persia thus involved a strong strategic component which affected economic policy. Unlike Afghanistan it was seen as a promising market for British goods, particularly if transportation to the interior of Persia could be opened up on the Karun River and if British capital could be attracted to build a network of railways which could be a further basis for controlling the Persian economy and thus contributing to British influence at the Persian court. At the same time Britain was determined to thwart Russian plans for railways in the north which could be used to transport troops to the borders of Persia and eventually beyond. Each power assumed the malevolent intent of the other and each was determined to frustrate these foul plans.