It will be very reasonably asked why I should consent, though upon a sort of challenge, towrite even a popular essay in English history, who make no pretence to particularscholarship and am merely a member of the public. The answer is that I know just enoughto know one thing: that a history from the standpoint of a member of the public has notbeen written. What we call the popular histories should rather be called the anti-popularhistories. They are all, nearly without exception, written against the people; and in themthe populace is either ignored or elaborately proved to have been wrong. It is true thatGreen called his book "A Short History of the English People"; but he seems to have thoughtit too short for the people to be properly mentioned. For instance, he calls one very largepart of his story "Puritan England." But England never was Puritan. It would have beenalmost as unfair to call the rise of Henry of Navarre "Puritan France." And some of ourextreme Whig historians would have been pretty nearly capable of calling the campaign ofWexford and Drogheda "Puritan Ireland."But it is especially in the matter of the Middle Ages that the popular histories trample uponthe popular traditions. In this respect there is an almost comic contrast between thegeneral information provided about England in the last two or three centuries, in which itspresent industrial system was being built up, and the general information given about thepreceding centuries, which we call broadly mediæval. Of the sort of waxwork history whichis thought sufficient for the side-show of the age of abbots and crusaders, a small instancewill be sufficient. A popular Encyclopædia appeared some years ago, professing amongother things to teach English History to the masses; and in this I came upon a series ofpictures of the English kings. No one could expect them to be all authentic; but the interestattached to those that were necessarily imaginary. There is much vivid material incontemporary literature for portraits of men like Henry II. or Edward I.; but this did notseem to have been found, or even sought. And wandering to the image that stood forStephen of Blois, my eye was staggered by a gentleman with one of those helmets with steelbrims curved like a crescent, which went with the age of ruffs and trunk-hose. I am temptedto suspect that the head was that of a halberdier at some such scene as the execution ofMary Queen of Scots. But he had a helmet; and helmets were mediæval; and any old helmetwas good enough for Stephen.