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WIT  AND  WISDOM 

OF  THE 

REV.  SYDNEY  SMITH; 

I 

BBIN»  I 

SELECTIONS  PROM  HIS  WRITINGS,  i 

AKD  PAS8AOE8  OF   HIS  H 

LETTERS  AND  TABLE  TALK. 

With  Notes,  and  a  BiograpliJcal  Memoir, 

By  evert  a.  DUYCKINCK 

A  Portrait,  after  0.  Stewart  Vewton, 

AND  AN  AUTOGRAPH  LETTER. 

In  One  Volume,  12mo,  Cloth,  Price  tlJ25. 


The  chief  writings  of  the  Bey.  Stdxst  Smith  are  indaded  in  the  origiiial 

Englith  editions  in  eight  octaro  rolamea.  llieae  are  Us  "Two  Volames  of  Sermoiis,'' 
1809 ;  the  Collection  of  hie  *«  Works,"  (embracing  articles  from  the  Edinburgh  Review, 
the  Plymley  Letters,  and  other  Papers)  4  Tols.,  1839-^0 ;  a  poedramoos  woliime,  **  Sermons 
preached  at  St  Paul's,"  &e.,  1846 ;  **  Elementury  Sketches  of  Moral  Phfloaophy,  delirered 
at  tfie  Royal  Instttation,"  pabliahed  in  1850.  To  tfiese  are  to  be  sdded,"  Letters  on  Aaer- 
ican  Debts,'*  1843 ;  **  A  Fragment  on  the  Irish  Roman  Catholic  Chnrdi,**  1845 ;  Letters  on 
RaOway  ICanagement  and  other  topics  to  the  Morning  Chronicle ;  Articles  in  the  Edia- 
bnrgh  Review  not  collected  fai  his  »  Works" ;  mmeroos  Sketches  and  Essays  printed  in 
tiie  *'  Memoirs,"  by  his  daughter.  Lady  Holland ;  and  the  eztenstre  series  of  *«  Letters," 
edited  by  Mrs.  Anstin.  These  haTe  mainly  famished  dw  material  of  the  piesent  TotanM. 
In  the  preparation  of  the  Table  Talk,  Memoir,  and  Notes,  many  eollateral  soorces  hMe 
been  drawn  npon. 

The  most  important  of  Sydney  Smith's  Writings  will  here  be  fbond  given  entire ;  while 
the  selection  generally  presents  the  most  characteristic  passages  of  his  **  li^  and  Wisdom" 
from  the  iHiole.  Momeroos  Miscellanies,  of  mneh  interest,  are  inchided  wliidi  are  not  tr 
be  met  with  in  any  prerions  collection  of  tho  antiior's  worici. 


ContentB. 

BiooBAFHiGAi.  Mbmois,  by  the  Editor. 

Abtigias  fbom  thb  Edikbuboh  Bxtixw,  (hidadiiiff  the  Pi^>en  on 

Female  Edncntifm.  Profps-Honil  Edacation.  Nodc«>s  of  America,  £e.,  dec.) 

SxBTCHEs  OF  MoRAi<  PHILOSOPHY,  (inclodmg  the  EssftTB  on  the  CondiKl 

of  the  UnderxtHudtns ;  on  Wit  and  Hamor,  &cl,  Sic.) 

The  Pbtbr  Pltmlbt  Lettebs. 

Passages  fbom  Sebmoks. 

Speeches  on  the  Bbfobm-Bili..    Thb  Baixot. 

Lettebs  ok  Amebican  Debts. 

Passages  fbom  Lettebs  ox  the  Ecclbsiabtioal  Commisbiox. 

A  Fbagmbnt  oif  the  Ibish  Romah  Cathouc  Chubch. 

Lettebs  on  Bailwat  Management. 

Chabacteb  of  Sib  James  Mackintosh  and  of  Fbancis  Hoensb. 

Pbactical  Essays,  &c. 

Passages  fbom  Lettebs. 

Tabt,w  Tat,k.  Pf.r«ov*t..  &r..  &<-. 


Table  Traits,  with  Something  on  them.    By 

Dr.  Doran,  AathoTof  '*  Habits  and  Men/'  &c.,  iso,     12mo., 
cloth.     Price  $1  25.     Half  calf,  or  mor.  ex.,  $2  25. 

BILL   or  FARE. 
The  Lemmd  of  AmphitryoB^ A  Prologue. 
DUt  and  Bigestion.^Watet.— Broakfut, 
Coin,  Broad,  &».— Tea— Coffeo>-GhoeoUto. 
Tho  Old  Coffoo  HoQM.— The  Frenoh  Cafti. 
The  Ancient  Cook  and  hie  Art 
The  Modern  Cook  and  his  Soienoe. 
Pen  and  Ink  Bketohee  of  Coreme. 
Dinner  Traita.«-The  MatoriaU  Ar  Dimiog. 
A  Light  Dinner  for  Two.— Saaoee. 
The  Parasite. 
Table  Traits  of  Utopia  and  the  Golden  A^ 


The  Making  and  Marrimr  of  Wine. 
Imperial  Drinkers,  and  Ineidenta  in  G«P> 


Table  Traits  of  ifngUnd  in  the  Earij 
Table  TraiU  of  the  Last  Centnry.  [Times. 
"Wine  and  Water.  [of  it 

The  Birth  of  the  Yine,  and  what  has  come 


tiana 
iern 


-An  Incident  of  TrareL 
A  few  odd  Classes  of  Wine.       [Bgrptia 
The  Tables  of  the  Ancient  and  Mod( 
The  Diet  of  the  Saints  of  Old. 
The  Bridal  and  Banquet  of  Ferques. 
The  Support  of  Modern  Saints. 
The  CiMars  at  Table. 
Their  Majesties  at  Meat. 
English  Kings  at  their  Tables. 
Strange  Banqnets-The  Castellan  Yon  Coney 
Authors  and  their  Dietetics. 
The  Liquor-loring  Laureates. 
Sapper. 


Nearly  every  page  contains  something  amusing,  and  you  may  shut  the  book  in  the 
middle,  and  open  it  again  after  a  twelremonth's  interral,  without  at  all  compromising 
its  power  of  affording  enjoyment.— 7%e  London  THnuo. 

Habits  and  Men,  with  Remnants  of  Record 

touching  the  Makers  of  both.  By  Dr.  Doran,  author  of 
"  Table  Traits,"  &c.,  &c.  12mo.,  cloth,  $1.  Half  calf,  or 
mor.  extra,  $2  00. 


Between  You  and  Me.  [to  it 

Man  Manners,  and  a  Story  with  a  Moral 

Adonis  at  Home  and  Abroad— Pt  I.— Pt  IL 

Remnants  of  Stage  Dresses. 

Three  Acts  and  an  Epilogue. 

The  Tiring-Bowers  of  Ciaeens  ^  La  Mode 

in  her  Birth-place." 
Hats,  Wigs  and  their  Wearers. 
Beards  and  their  Bearers.-^words. 
Glores,  B— s,  and  Buttons.— Stockings. 
"  Masks  and  Faces." 
Puppets  for  Grown  Gentlemen. 
Touching  Tailors. 
The  Tailors  Meamued  by  the  Poets. 
Sir  John  Hawkwood,  the  Heroic  Tailor. 


Why  did  the  Taikn  ohooee  St  William  tm 

their  Patron  ? 
George  Dfirfling,  the  Martial  Tailor. 
Admiral  Hobson,  the  Naral  Tailor. 
John  Stow,  the  Antiquarian  Tailor. 
John  Speed,  the  Antiquarian  Tailor, 
Samuel  Pepys,  the  Official  Tailor. 
Richard  Ryan,  the  Theatrical  Tailor. 
Paul  Whitehead,  the  Poet  Tailor. 
Moms,  of  "  Merchant  Tailors.*' 
Chapters  on  Beaux. 
The  Beaux  of  the  Olden  Time. 
Beau  Fielding— Beau  Nash. 
The  Prince  de  Ligne— Beau  Brummel. 
Doctors  Ready  Dressed— Odd  Fashions. 


This  is  one  of  the  most  amusing  and  erudite  books  of  the  day,  abounding  in  anecdote 
tnd  queer  stories  of  the  dress  of  different  acres,  of  kings  and  queens,  poets,  statesmen, 
tailors,  &c.    The  sketches  of  the^  **  tiring-bowen  '*  of  queens,  of  Paul  Whitehead,  the 


poet  tailor;  of  Beau  Nash,  and  Beau  Fielding,  are  rich  in  lore,  and  are  pioduoed  fai 
sparkling  Mtjlt*— Boston  Courier. 

The  Lives  of  the  Queens  of  England  of  the 

House  of  Hanover.     By  Dr.  Dor  an.  2  vols.,  12mo.,  cloth,  $2. 
Half  calf,  or  mor.  extra,  $4  00. 

CONTENTS. 
Sophia  Dorothea,  Wife  of  George  I.  I  Charlotte,  Wife  of  George  IIT. 

Caioline  Wilhelmiua  Dorothea,   Wife  ofl  Caroline  of  Brunswick,  Wife  of  Geerge  IT. 
George  IL  I 

Dr.  Doran  has  arailed  himself  of  the  ample  material  scattered  through  personal  me- 
moirs, pamphlets,  periodicals,  and  other  fugitire  literature  of  the  time,  with  the  the- 
roughness,  quick  eye  for  humor,  and  appreciation  of  the  picturesque,  wnioh  charaeter- 
lae  his  other  amusing  works. 


KNIGHTS  AND   THEIR   DAYS. 


KNIGHTS 


\5     •^■^ 


;   :  I 
A  N  D      T  H  E  I  R     >D  A  Y  S 


BY    DR.    DO  RAN 

▲XTTHOR   OF  "LIVSS   OF  THK   QUXXNS  OF  CNOlKAifD  OF  THE   H0U8S  OP  UAMOVKMf** 
"table  TKAITS,"  "  HAB1T8  AND  MEN,"  ETC. 


"  Oh,  'tis  a  brave  profession,  and  rowards 
All  loss  we  meet,  with  double  weight  of  glory." 

SHiRLsr  (The  Gentleman  of  Venice.) 


REDFIELD 

.34BEEKMAN   STREET,  NEW  YORK 
1856 


gH^mmmmi^ri^^mtm 


tn  nw  Ton 

mm  LIBRAftT 


r'r"^ 


TO 

CM 

ifi,  PHILIPPE  WATIER,  ESQ. 

^^  IN  MBMOBT   OF  MEBRT  NIOHTS  AKD  DATS  KBAB  HST2  AlTD  THB 

^      •  M08BLLB, 

X 

QQ  THIS    LITTLE   VOLUME 

^^  X»  fnffcrfbeH 

BT  HIS  TBBT   »IIfOBBB  FBIBHI>, 

THE  AUTHOB. 


?< 


CONTENTS. 


A  FBAQMENTASY  PBOLOGUB PAQB      9 

THK   TBAINIKG   OF  PAOBS 30 

KNIGHTS   AT   HOME 36 

LOVE   IN  CHEVALIEBS,   AND   CHBVALIEB8   IK   LOVB 61 

DUELLING,   DEATH,  AND   BUBIAL .      .' 65 

THE   KNIGHTS  WHO   '' GBEW   TIBED   OF   IT" •      .      .      78 

FEHALB   KNIGHTS  AND  JEANNE  DABG  ...........       104 

THE   CHAMPIONS   OF  CHBISTENDOM  •      •      .      .   118 

SIB  GUT  OF  WABWICK,  AND  WHAT  BBFBLL  HIX 183 

GABTEBIANA 148 

FOBBIGN  KNlGHTS  OF  THE  GABTBB •     .      •     .      170 

THE  POOB  KNIGHTS  OF  WINDSOB,  A^D  THBIB  DOINGS 184 

THE   KNIGHTS  OF  THE   SAINTB   AMPOULB 194 

THE   OBDEB  OF  THB   HOLT   GHOST 200 

JACQUES  DB   LBLAING 208 

THE  FOBTUNE8  OF  A  KNIGHTLY  FAXILT    ..........  2S8 

THE   BBCOBD   OF   BAMBOUILLET 263 

SIB  JOHN  fIlstaff       . 276 

STAGS   KNIGHTS 295 

STAGB  LADIES,  AND  THB  BOMANCB  OF  HISTOBY 312 


8  CONTENTS. 

THE  KINGS  OF  BNOLAND  AS  KNIGHTS  ;  TKOM  THB  NORMANS  TO  THE 

8TUABT8 PAGE  329 

"THB  INSTITUTION  OF  A  GHNTLBMAN" 351 

THB  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS;   THB  STUABT8 358 

THB   SPANISH. HATCH 364 

THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS;   FBOM  STUABT  TO  BBUNSWICK  375 

RECIPIENTS   OF  KNIGHTHOOD         .      .      .      .      .^ 388 

RICHARD   CARR,   PAGE,   AND  OUT  FAUX,   B8QUIBB 410 

ULRICH  VON   HUTTEN 420 

SHAM   KNIGHTS 439 

PIECES   OF  ARMOR        . .      455 


THE 

KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 


A  FRAGMENTARY   PROLOGUE. 

"La  bravonre  est  une  quality  inn^,  on  ne  se  la  donne  pas." 

Napolbon  L 

Br.  Lingabb,  when  adverting  to  the  sons  of  Henry  U.,  and 
their  knightly  practices,  remarks  that  although  chivalry  was  con- 
sidered the  school  of  honor  and  prohity,  there  was  not  overmuch 
of  those  or  of  any  other  virtues  to  he  found  among  the  memhers 
of  the  chivalrous  orders.  He  names  the  vices  that  were  more 
common,  as^  he  thinks,  and  prohably  with  some  justice.  Hallam, 
on  the  other  hand,  looks  on  the  institution  of  chivalry  as  the  best 
school  of  moral  discipline  in  the  Middle  Ages :  and  as  the  great 
and  influential  source  of  human  improvement.  "  It  preserved," 
he  says,  "  an  exquisite  sense  of  honor,  which  in  its  results  worked 
as  great  effects  as  either  of  the  powerful  spirits  of  liberty  and  re- 
ligion, which  have  given  a  predominant  impulse  to  the  moral  sen- 
timents and  energies  of  mankind." 

The  custom  of  receiving  arms  at  the  age  of  manhood  is  supposed, 
by  the  same  author,  to  have  been  established  among  the  nations 
that  overthrew  the  Roman  Empire ;  and  he  cites  the  familiar  pas- 
sage from  Tacitus,  descriptive  of  this  custom  among  the  Germans. 
At  first,  little  but  bodily  strength  seems  to  have  been  required  on 
the  part  of  the  candidate.  The  qualifications  and  the  forms  of 
investiture  changed  or  improved  with  the  times. 


10  THE  KNIGUTS   AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Li  a  general  sense,  chivalrj,  according  to  Hallam,  may  be  re- 
ferred to  the  age  of  Charlemagne,  when  the  Caballarii,  or  horse- 
men, became  the  distinctive  appellation  of  those  feudal  tenants 
and  allodial  proprietors  who  were  bound  to  serve  on  horseback. 
When  these  were  equipped  and  formally  appointed  to  their  mar- 
tial duties,  they  wei*e,  in  point  of  fsud,  knights,  with  so  far  more 
incentives  to  distinction  than  modem  soldiers,  that  each  man  de- 
pended on  himself,  and  not  on  the  general  body.  Except  in  certain 
cases,  the  individual  has  now  but  few  chances  of  distinction ;  and 
knighthood,  in  its  solitary  aspect,  may  be  said  to  have  been  blown 
up  by  gunpowder. 

As  examples  of  the  true  knightly  spirit  in  ancient  times,  Mr. 
Hallam  cites  Achilles,  who  had  a  supreme  indifference  for  the 
question  of  what  side  he  fought  upon,  had  a  strong  affection  for  a 
friend,  and  looked  at  death  calmly.  I  think  Mr.  Hallam  over-rates 
the  bully  Greek  considerably.  His  instance  of  the  Cid  Ruy 
Diaz,  as  a  perfect  specimen  of  what  the  modern  knight  ought  to 
have  been,  is  less  to  be  gainsaid. 

In  old  times,  as  in  later  days,  there  were  knights  who  acquired 
the  appellation  by  £ivor  rather  than  service ;  or  by  a  compelled 
rather  than  a  voluntary  service.  The  old  landholders,  the  Cabal- 
larii, or  Milites,  as  they  came  to  be  called,  were  landholders  who 
followed  their  lord  to  the  field,  by  feudal  obligation :  paying  their 
rent,  or  part  of  it,  by  such  service.  The  voluntary  knights  were 
those  ^^  younger  brothers,"  perhaps,  who  sought  to  amend  their 
indifferent  fortunes  by  joining  the  banner  of  some  lord.  These 
were  not  legally  knights,  but  they  might  win  the  honor  by  their 
prowess ;  and  thus  in  arms,  dress,  and  title,  the  younger  brother 
became  the  equal  of  the  wealthy  landholders.  He  became  even 
their  superior,  in  one  sense,  for  as  Mr,  Hallam  adds: — "The 
territorial  knights  became  by  degrees  ashamed  of  assuming  a  title 
which  the  others  had  won  by  merit,  till  they  themselves  could 
challenge  it  by  real  desert" 

The  connection  of  knighthood  with  feudal  tenure  was  much 
loosened,  if  it  did  not  altogether  disappear,  by  the  Crusades. 
There  the  knights  were  chiefly  volunteers  who  served  for  pay : 
all  feudal  service  there  was  out  of  the  question.  Its  connection 
with  religion  was,  on  the  other  hand,  ipuch  increased,  particularly 


A  FRAGMENTARY  PROLOGUE.  11 

among  the  Norman  knights  who  had  not  hitherto,  like  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  looked  upon  chivalric  investiture  as  necessarily  a  religious 
ceremony.  The  crusaders  made  religious  professors,  at  least,  of 
all  knights,  and  never  was  one  of  these  present  at  the  reading 
of  the  gospel,  without  holding  the  point  of  his  sword  toward  the 
l)ook,  in  testimony  of  his  desire  to  uphold  what  it  taught  by  force 
of  arms.  From  this  time  the  passage  into  knighthood  was  a  sol- 
emn ceremony ;  the  candidate  was  belted,  white-robed,  and  ab- 
solved after  due  confession,  when  his  sword  was  blessed,  and 
Heaven  was  supposed  to  be  its  director.  With  the  love  of  Grod 
was  combined  love  for  the  ladies.  What  was  implied  was  that 
the  knight  should  display  courtesy,  gallantry,  and  readiness  to 
defend,  wherever  those  services  were  required  by  defenceless 
women.  Where  such  was  bounden  duty — but  many  knights  did 
not  so  understand  it — there  was  an  increase  of  refinemient  in 
society;  and  probably  there  is  nothing  overcharged  in  the  old 
ballad  which  tells  us  of  a  feast  at  Perceforest,  where  eight  hun- 
dred knights  sat  at  a  feast,  each  of  them  with  a  lady  at  his  side, 
eating  off  the  same  plate ;  the  then  fashionable  sign  of  a  refined 
friendship,  mingled  with  a  spirit  of  gallantry.  That  the  husbands 
occasionally  looked  with  uneasiness  upon  this  arrangement,  is  illus- 
trated in  the  unreasonably  jealous  husband  in  the  romance  of 
"  Lancelot  du  Lac ;"  but,  as  the  lady  tells  him,  he  had  little  right 
to  cavil  at  all,  for  it  was  an  age  since  any  knight  had  eaten  with 
her  off  the  same  plate. 

Among  the  Romans  the  word  virtue  implied  both  virtue  and 
valor — as  if  bravery  in  a  man  were  the  same  thing  as  virtue  in 
a  woman.  It  certainly  did  not  signify  among  Roman  knights  that 
a  brave  man  was  necessarily  virtuous.  Li  more  recent  times  the 
word  gallantry  has  been  made  also  to  take  a  double  meaning,  im- 
plying not  only  courage  in  man,  but  his  courtesy  toward  woman. 
Both  in  ancient  and  modem  times,  however,  the  words,  or  their 
meanings,  have  been  much  abused.  At  a  more  recent  period, 
perhaps,  gallantry  was  never  better  illustrated  than  when  in  an 
encounter  by  hostile  squadrons  near  Cherbourg,  the  adverse  fac- 
tions stood  still,  on  a  knight,  wearing  the  colors  of  his  mistress, 
advancing  from  the  ranks  of  one  party,  and  challenging  to  single 
combat  the   cavalier  in  the  opposite  ranks  who  was   the  most 


12  THE   KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR  PAYS. 

deeply  in  love  with  his  mistress.  There  was  no  lack  of  adversa- 
ries, and  the  amorous  knights  fell  on  one  another  with  a  fiuy 
little  akin  to  love. 

A  knight  thus  slain  for  his  love  was  duly  honored  by  his  lady 
and  contemporaries.  Thus  we  read  in  the  history  of  Gyron  le 
Courtois,  that  the  chivalric  king  so  named,  with  his  royal  cousin 
Melyadus,  a  knight,  by  way  of  equerry,  and  a  maiden,  went  to- 
gether in  search  of  the  body  of  a  chevalier  who  had  fallen  pour 
les  beaux  yeux  of  that  very  lady.  They  found  the  body  pictu- 
resquely disposed  in  a  pool  of  blood,  the  unconscious  hand  still 
grasping  the  hilt  of  the  sword  that  had  been  drawn  in  honor  of 
the  maiden.  "  Ah,  beauteous  friend  !*'  exclaims  the  lady,  "  how 
dearly  hast  thou  paid  for  my  love !  The  good  and  the  joy  we 
have  shared  have  only  brought  thee  death.  Beauteous'  friend, 
courteous  and  wise,  valiant,  heroic,  good  knight  in  every  guise, 
since  thou  has  lost  thy  youth  for  me  in  this  manner,  in  this  strait, 
and  in  this  agony,  as  it  clearly  appears,  what  else  remains  for  me 
to  suffer  for  thy  sake,  unless  that  I  should  keep  you  company? 
Friend,  friend,  thy  beauty  has  departed  for  the  love  of  me,  thy 
flesh  lies  here  bloody.  Friend,  friend,  we  were  both  nourished 
together.  I  knew  not  what  love  was  when  I  gave  my  heart  to 
love  thee,"  &c.,  &c,  &c.  "  Young  friend,"  continues  the  lady, 
"  thou  wert  my  joy  and  my  consolation :  for  to  see  thee  and  to 
speak  to  thee  alone  were  sufficient  to  inspire  joy,  &c.,  &c.,  &c. 
Friend,  what  I  behold  slays  me,  I  feel  that  death  is  within  my 
heart"  The  lady  then  took  up  the  bloody  sword,  and  requested 
Melyadus  to  look  after  the  honorable  interment  of  the  knight  on 
that  spot,  and  that  he  would  see  her  own  body  deposited  by  her 
"  friend's"  side,  in  the  same  grave.  Melyadus  expressed  great 
astonishment  at  the  latter  part  of  the  request,  but  as  the  lady  in- 
sisted that  her  hour  was  at  hand,  he  promised  to  fulfil  all  her 
wishes.  Meanwhile  the  maiden  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  dead 
knight,  held  his  sword  to  her  lips,  and  gently  died  upon  his  breast. 
Gyron  said  it  was  the  wofullest  sight  that  eye  had  ever  beheld ; 
but  all  courteous  as  Gyron  was,  and  he  was  so  to  such  a  remark- 
able degree  that  he  derived  a  surname  from  his  courtesy,  I  say 
that  in  spite  of  his  sympathy  and  gallantry,  he  appears  to  have 
had  a  quick  eye  toward  making  such  profit  as  authors  could  make 


A  pragmeKtaby  prologue.  18 

in  those  days,  from  ready  writing  upon  subjects  of  interest  Be- 
fore another  word  was  said  touching  the  interment  of  the  two 
loyers,  Gjron  intimated  that  he  would  write  a  ballad  upon  them 
that  should  have  a  uniyersal  circulation,  and  be  sung  in  all  lands 
where  there  were  gentle  hearts  and  sweet  voices.  Gyron  per- 
formed what  he  promised,  and  the  ballad  of  ^  Absdlon  and  Gesala," 
serves  to  show  what  very  rough  rhymes  the  courteous  poet  oould 
employ  to  illustrate  a  romantic  incident. '  Let  it  be  added  that, 
however  the  knights  may  sometimes  have  failed  in  their  truth, 
this  was  very  rarely  the  case  with  the  ladies.  When  Jordano 
Bruno  was  received  in  his  exile  by  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  he  requited 
the  hospitality  by  dedicating  a  poem  to  the  latter.  In  this  dedica- 
tion, he  says :  ^'  With  one  solitary  exception,  all  misfortunes  that 
flesh  is  heir  to  have  been  visited  on  me.  I  have  tasted  every  kind 
of  calamity  but  one,  that  of  finding  false  a  woman's  love.'' 

It  was  not  every  knight  that  could  make  such  an  exception. 
Certainly  not  that  pearl  of  knights.  King  Arthur  hioiself. 
What  a  wife  had  that  knight  in  the  person  of  Guinever  ?  Nay, 
he  is  said  to  have  had  three  wives  of  that  name,  and  that  all  of 
them  were  as  faithless  as  ladies  well  cotdd  be.  Some  assert  ihat 
the  described  deeds  of  these  three  are  in  fact  but  the  evil-doings 
of  one.  However  this  may  be,  I  may  observe  summarily  here 
what  I  have  said  in  reference  to'  Guinever  in  another  place.  With 
regard  to  this  triple- lady,  the  very  small  virtue  of  one  third  of  the 
whole  will  not  salubriously  leaven  the  entire  lump.  If  romance 
be  true,  and  there  is  more  about  the  history  of  Guinever  than  any 
other  lady — she  was  a  delicious,  audacious,  winning,  seductive, 
irresistible,  and  heartless  hussy;  and  a  shameless!  and  a  bare- 
faced! Only  read  ''Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac!"  Yes,  it  can  not  be 
doubted  but  that  in  the  voluminous  romances  of  the  old  day,  there 
was  a  sprinkling  of  historical  facts.  Now,  if  a  thousandth  part  of 
what  is  recorded  of  this  heart-bewitching  Guinever  be  true,  she 
must  have  been  such  a  lady  as  we  can  not  now  conceive  of.  True 
daughter  of  her  mother  Venus,  when  a  son  of  Mars  was  not  at 
hand,  she  could  stoop  to  Mulciber.  If  the  king  was  not  at  home, 
she  could  listen  to  a  knight.  If  both  were  away,  esquire  or  page 
might  speak  boldly  without  fear  of  being  unheeded ;  and  if  all 
were  absent,  in  the  chase,  or  at  tlie  fray,  there  was  always  a  good- 


14  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

looking  groom  in  the  saddle-room  with  whom  Ghiinever  cotdd  con- 
rerse,  without  holding  that  so  to  do  was  anything  derogatory.  I 
know  no  more  merry  reading  than  that  same  ton-weight  of 
romance  which  gpes  by  the  name  of  "  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac."  But 
it  is  not  of  that  sort  which  Mrs.  Chapone  would  recommend  to 
young  ladies,  or  that  Dr.  Camming  would  read  aloud  in  the  Duke 
of  Argyll's  drawing-room.  It  is  a  book,  however,  which  a  grave 
man  a  little  tired  of  his  gravity,  may  look  into  between  serious 
studies  and  solemn  pursuits — a  book  for  a  lone  winter  evening  by 
a  library-fire,  with  wine  and  walnuts  at  hand ;  or  for  an  old-fash- 
ioned summer's  evening,  in  a  bower  through  whose  foliage  the  sun 
pours  his  cuiieUy  as  gorgeously  red  as  the  Burgundy  in  your  flask. 
Of  a  truth,  a  man  must  be  "  in  a  concatenation  accordingly,"  ere 
he  may  venture  to  address  himself  to  the  chronicle  which  tells  of 
the  "  bamboches,"  "  fredaines,"  and  "  bombances,"  of  Guinever  the 
Frail,  and  of  Lancelot  du  Lac. 

We  confess  to  having  more  regard  for  Arthur  than  for  his 
triple-wife  Guinever.  As  I  have  had  occasion  to  say  in  other 
pages,  "  I  do  not  like  to  give  up  Arthur  I"  I  love  the  name,  the 
hero,  and  his  romantic  deeds.  /I  deem  lightly  of  his  light  olove 
bearing.  Think  of  his  provocation  both  ways!  Whatever  the 
privilege  of  chivalry  may  have  been,  it  was  the  practice  of  too 
many  knights  to  be  faithless.  They  vowed  fidelity,  but  they  were 
a  promise-breaking,  word-despising  crew.  On  this  point  I  am 
more  inclined  to  agree  with  Dr.  Lingard  than  with  Mr.  Hallam. 
Honor  was  ever  on  their  lips,  but  not  always  in  their  hearts,  and 
it  was  little  respected  by  them,  when  found  in  the  possession  of 
their  neighbor's  wives.  How  does  Scott  consider  them  in  this 
respect,  when  in  describing  a  triad  of  knights,  he  says, 

"  There  were  two  who  loved  their  neighbor's  wives. 
And  one  who  loved  his  own." 

Yet  how  is  it  that  knights  are  so  invariably  mentioned  with  long- 
winded  laudation  by  Romish  writers — always  excepting  Lingard 
— when  they  desire  to  illustrate  the  devoted  spirit  of  olden  times  ? 
la  it  that  the  knights  were  truthful,  devout,  chaste.  God-fearing  ? 
not  a  jot  I  Is  it  because  the  cavaliers  cared  but  for  one  thing,  in 
the  sense  of  having  fear  but  for  one  thing,  and  that  the  devil  ? 


A   PRAGMENTABY  PROLOGUE.  15 

To  escape  from  being  finally  triumplied,  oyer  by  the  Father  of 
Evil,  they  paid  largely,  reverenced  outwardly,  confessed  unre- 
servedly, and  were  absolved  plenarily.  That  is  the  reason  why 
chivalry  was  patted  on  the  back  by  Rome.  At  the  same  time  we 
must  not  condenm  a  system,  the  principles  of  which  were  calcu- 
lated to  work  sach  extensive  ameliorations  in  society  as  chivalry* 
Christianity  itself  might  be  condenmed  were  we  to  judge  of  it  by 
the  shortcomings  of  its  followers. 

But  even  Mr.  Hallam  is  compelled  at  last,  reluctantly,  to  confess 
that  the  morals  of  chivalry  were  not  pure.  After  all  his  praise 
of  the  system,  he  looks  at  its  literature,  and  with  his  eye  resting 
on  the  tales  and  romances  written  for  the  dehght  and  instruction 
of  diivalric  ladies  and  gentlemen,  he  remarks  that  the  "  violation 
of  marriage  vows  passes  in  them  for  an  incontestable  privilege  of 
the  brave  and  the  fair;  and  a&  accomplished  knight  seems 
to  have  enjoyed  as  undoubted  prerogatives,  by  general  consent  of 
opinion,  as  were  claimed  by  the  brilliant  courtiers  of  Louis  XV." 
There  was  an  especial  reason  for  this,  the  courtiers  of  Louis  XV. 
might  be  anything  they  chose,  provided  that  with  gallantry  they 
were  loyal,  courteous,  and  munificent.  Now  loyalty,  courtesy,  and 
that  prodigality  which  goes  by  the  name  of  munificence,  were  ex- 
actly the  virtues  that  were  deemed  most  essential  to  chivalry. 
But  these  were  construed  by  the  old  knights  as  they  were  by  the 
more  modem  courtiers.  The  first  took  advantages  in  combat  that 
would  now  be  deemed  disloyal  by  any  but  a  Muscovite.  The 
second  would  cheat  at  cards  in  the  gaming  saloons  of  Versailles, 
while  they  would  run  the  men  through  who  spoke  lightly  of  their 
descent.  So  with  regard  to  courtesy,  the  knight  was  foil  of 
honeyed  phrases  to  his  equals  and  superiors,  but  was  as  coarsely 
arrogant  as  Menschikoff  to  aii  inferior.  In  the  same  way,  Louis 
XIV.,  who  would  never  pass  one  of  his  own  scullery-maids  with- 
out raising  his  plumed  beaver,  could  address  terms  to  the  ladies 
of  his  court,  which,  but  for  the  sacred  majesty  which  was  supposed 
to  environ  his  person,  might  have  purchased  for  him  a  severe  cas- 
tigation.  Then  consider  the  case  of  that  "  first  gentleman  in  Eu- 
rope," George,  Prince  of  Wales :  he  really  forfeited  his  right  to 
the  throne  by  marrying  a  Catholic  lady,  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  and  he 
freed  himself  unscrupulously  from  the  scrape  by  uttering  a  lie. 


16  THE'  KMIOHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

And  80  again  with  monifioenoe ;  the  greater  part  of  these  knighta 
and  courtiers  were  entirely  thbughtless  of  the  value  of  money. 
At  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  for  instance,  whole  estates 
were  mortgaged  or  sold,  in  order  that  the  owners  might  outshine 
all  competitors  in  the  brilliancy  and  quality  of  their  dress.  This 
sort  of  extravagance  makes  one  man  look  glad  and  all  his  relatives 
rueful.  The  fact  is  that  when  men  thus  erred,  it  was  for  want  of 
observance  of  a  Christian  principle ;  and  if  men  neglect  that  ob- 
servance, it  is  as  little  in  the  power  of  chivalry  as  of  masonry  to 
mend  him.  There  was  ''  a  perfect  idea"  of  chivahy,  indeed,  but 
if  any  knight  ever  realized  it  iu  his  own  person,  he  was,  simply, 
nearly  a  perfect  Christian,  and  would  have  been  still  nearer  to 
perfection  in  the  latter  character  if  he  had  studied  the  few  simple 
rules  of  the  system  of  religion-  rather  than  the  stilted  and  un- 
steady ones  of  romance.  The  study  of  the  latter,  at  all  events, 
did  not  prevent,  but  in  many  instances  caused  a  dissoluteness  of 
manners,  a  fondness  for  war  rather  than  peace,  and  a  wide  distinc- 
tion between  classes,  making  aristocrats  of  the  few,  and  villains  of 
the  many. 

Let  me  add  here,  as  I  have  been  speaking  of  the  romance  of 
^  Lancelot  du  Lac,"  that  I  quite  agree  with  Montluc,  who  after 
completing  his  chronicle  of  the  History  of  France,  observed  that 
it  would  be  found  more  profitaUe  reading  than  either  Lancelot  or 
Amadis.  La  Noue  especially  condemns  the  latter  as  corrupting 
the  manners  of  the  age.  Southey,  again,  observes  that  these 
chivalric  romances  acquired  their  poison  in  France  or  in  Italy. 
The  Spanish  and  Portuguese  romances  he  describes  as  free  from 
all  tsanU  In  the  Amadis  the  very  well-being  of  the  world  is  made 
to  rest  upon  chivalry.  "  What  would  become  of  the  world,*'  it  is 
asked  in  the  twenty-second  book  of  the  Amadis,  "  if  Grod  did  not 
provide  for  the  defence  of  the  weak  and  helpless  against  unjust 
usurpers  ?  And  how  could  provision  be  made,  if  good  knights 
were  satisfied  to  do  nothing  else  but  sit  in  chamber  with  the  ladies  ? 
What  would  then  the  world  become,  but  a  vast  community  of 
brigands  ?" 

Lamotte  Levayer  was  of  a  different  opinion.  ^  Les  armes,"  he 
gays,  when  commentiog  upon  chivalry  and  arms  generally ;  ^  Les 
armes  detruisent  tons  les  arts  excepte  ceux  qui  favorisent  la  gloire." 


A   FRAGMENTARY   PROLOGUE.  17 

In  Geimanj,  too,  where  chiyaJry  was  often  turned  to  the  oppres- 
sion of  the  weak  rather  than  employed  for  their  protection,  the 
popular  contempt  and  dread  of  "  knightly  principles"  were  early 
illustrated  in  the  proverb,  "  Er  will  Bitter  an  mir  werden,"  He 
wants  to  play  the  knight  over  me.  In  which  proverb,  knight 
stands  for  oppressor  or  insulter.  In  our  own  country  the  order 
came  to  be  little  cared  for,  but  on  different  grounds. 

Dr.  Nares  in  his  "  Heraldic  Anomalies,"  deplores  the  fact  that 
mere  knighthood  has  fallen  into  contempt.  He  dates  this  from 
the  period  when  James  I.  placed  baronets  above  knights.  The 
hereditary  title  became  a  thing  to  be  coveted,  but  kmghts  who 
were  always  held  to  be  knights  bachelors,  could  not  of  course  be- 
queath a  title  to  child  or  children  who  were  not  supposed  in  her- 
aldry to  exist.  The  Doctor  quotes  Sir  John  Feme,  to  show  that 
Olibion,  the  son  of  Asteriel,  of  the  line  of  Japhet,  was  the  first 
knight  ever  created.  The  personage  in  question  was  sent  forth  to 
battle^  after  his  sire  had  smitten  him  lightly  nine  times  with  Ja- 
phet's  falchion,  foiled  before  the  flood.  There  is  little  doubt  but 
that  originally  a  knight  was  simply  Knechi,  servant  of  the  king. 
Dr.  Nares  says  that  the  Thanes  were  so  in  the  north,  and  that 
these,  although  of  gentle  blood,  exercised  the  offices  even  of 
cooks  and  barbers  to  the  royal  person.  But  may  not  these  offices 
have  been  performed  by  the  "  unter  Thans,"  or  deputies  ?  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  observe,  subsequently,  on  the  law  which  deprived 
a  knight's  descendants  of  his  arms,  if  they  turned  merchants ;  but 
in  Saxon  times  it  is  worthy  of  observation,  that  if  a  merchant 
made  three  voyages  in  one  of  his  own  ships,  he  was  thenceforward 
the  Thane's  right-worthy,  or  equal. 

Among  the  Romans  a  blow  on  the  ear  gave  the  slave  freedom. 
Did  the  blow  on  the  shoulder  given  to  a  knight  make  a  free-ser- 
vant of  him  ?  Something  of  the  sort  seems  to  have  been  intended. 
The  title  was  doubtless  mainly  but  not  exclusively  military.  To 
dub,  from  the  Saxon  word  duhhan^  was  either  to  gird  or  put  on, 
"  don,"  or  was  to  $trike,  and  perhaps  both  may  be  meant,  for  the 
knight  was  girt  with  spurs,  as  well  as  stricken,  or  geichlagen  as 
the  German  term  has  it. 

There  was  striking,  too,  at  the  unmaking  of  a  knight.  His 
heels  were  then  degraded  of  their  spurs,  the  latter  being  beaten 

2 


18  THE   KNIGHT9  AKD  THEIR  DAYS. 

or  chopped  away.  "  His  heels  deserved  it,"  says  Bertram  of  the 
cowardly  ParoUes,  ^^  his  heels  deserved  it  for  usurpiog  of  his  spurs 
80  long.''     The  sword,  too,  on  such  occasions,  was  broken. 

Fuller  justly  says  that  ^'  the  plainer  the  coat  is,  the  more  ancient 
and  honorable."  He  adds,  that  '^two  colors  are  necessary  and 
most  highly  honorable:  three  are  very  highly  honorable;  /owr 
commendable ;  fivt  excusable ;  more  disgraceftd."  He  must  have 
been  a  gastronomic  King-at-Arms,  who  so  loaded  a  ^  coat"  with 
fish,,  flesh,  and  fowl,  that  an  observer  remarked,  ^4t  was  well 
victualled  enough  to  stand  a  siege."  Or  is  the  richest  ooloring, 
but,  as  Fuller  again  says,  ^^  Herbs  veH^  being  natural,  are  better 
than  O."  He  describes  a  "  Bend  as  the  best  ordinary^  being  a 
belt  athwart,"  but  a  coat  bruised  with  a  bar  sinister  •is  hardly  a 
distinction  to  be  proud  of.  If  the  heralds  of  Grcorge  the  Second's 
time  looked  upon  that  monarch  as  the  son  of  Count  Kdnigsmark, 
as  Jacobite-minded  heralds  may  have  been  malignant  enough  to 
do,  they  no  doubt  mentally  drew  the  degrading  bar  across  the 
royal  arms,  and  tacitly  denied  the  knighthood  conferred  by  what 
they,  in  such  foolish  case,  would  have  deemed  an  illegitimate  hand. 

Alluding  to  reasons  for  some  bearings.  Fuller  tells  us  that, 
"  whereas  the  Earls  of  Oxford  anciently  gave  their  '  coats'  plain, 
quarteriy  guUs  and  or,  they  took  afterward  in  the  first  a  mvXi^  or 
itar-argenty  because  the  chief  of  the  house  had  a  falling-star,  as 
it  was  said,  alighting  on  his  shield  as  he  was  fightidg  in  the  Holy 
Land." 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  when  treating  of  precedency.  Fuller 
places  knights,  or  "soldiers"  with  seamen,  civilians,  and  physi- 
cians, and  after  saints,  confessors,  prelates,  statesmen,  and  judges. 
Knights  and  physicians  he  seems  to  have  coni^dered  as  equally 
terrible  to  life ;  but  in  his  order  of  placing  he  was  led  by  no  par- 
ticular principle,  for  among  the  lowest  he  places  "  learned  writers," 
and  "  benefactors  to  the  public"  He  has,  indeed,  one  principle, 
as  may  be  seen,  wherein  he  says,  "  I  place  first  princes,  good  man- 
ners obliging  all  other  persons  to  follow  them,  as  religion  obliges 
me  to  follow  Grod's  example  by  a  royal  recognition  of  that  original 
precedency,  which  he  has  granted  to  his  vicegerents." 

The  Romans  are  said  to  have  established  the  earliest  known* 
order  of  knighthood ;  and  the  members  at  one  time  wore  rings,  as 


A   FBAQMENTART  PROLOGUE.  19 

a  mark  of  distinction,  as  in  later  times  knights  wore  spurs.  The 
knights  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  were  members  of  a  modem 
order,  whose  sovereigns  are  not,  what  they  would  have  themselves 
considered,  descendants  of  the  Caesars.  If  we  only  knew  what 
our  own  Round  Table  was>  and  where  it  stood,  we  should  be  en- 
abled to  speak  more  decisively  upon  the  question  of  the  chevaliers 
who  sat  around  it  But  it  is  undecided  whether  the  table  was  not 
really  a  house.  At  it,  or  in  it,  the  knights  met  during  the  season 
of  Pentecost,  but  whether  the  assembly  was  collected  at  Winches- 
ter or  Windsor  no  one  seems  able  to  determine ;  and  he  would 
impart  no  particularly  valuable  knowledge  even  if  he  could. 

Knighthood  was  a  sort  of  nobility  worth  having,  for  it  testified 
to  the  merit  of  the  wearer.  An  inherited  title  should,  indeed, 
compel  him  who  succeeds  to  it,  to  do  nothing  to  disgrace  it :  but 
preserving  the  lustre  is  not  half  so  meritoriotis  as  creating  it. 
Enights  bachelors  were  so  called  because  the  distinction  was  con- 
ferred for  some  act  of  personal  courage,  to  reward  for  which  the 
offspring  of  the  knight  could  make  no  daim.  H^  was,  in  this  re- 
spect, to  them  as  though  he  had  been  never  married.  The  knight 
bachelor  was  a  truly  proud  man.  The  word  knecht  simply  implied 
a  servant,  awom  to  continue  good  service  in  honor  of  the  sover- 
eign, and  of  Grod  and  St.  Greorge.  "  I  remain  your  sworn  ser- 
vant" is  a  form  of  epistolary  valediction  which  crept  into  the  letters 
o(  oAer  orders  in  later  times.  The  manner  of  making  was  more 
theatrical  than  at  the  present  time ;  and  we  should  now  smile  if 
we  were  to  see,  on  a  lofty  scaffold  in  St.  Paul's,  a  city  gentleman 
seated  in  a  chair  of  silver  adorned  with  green  silk,  undergoing  ex- 
hortation &om  the  bishop,  and  carried  up  between  two  lords,  to  be 
dubbed  under  the  sovereign's  h^nd,  a  good  knight,  by  the  help  of 
Heaven  and  his  patron  saint. 

In  old  days  belted  earls  could  create  knights.  In  modem  times, 
the  only  subject  who  is  legally  entitled  to  confer  the  honor  of 
chivalry  is  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland;  and  some  of  his 
"  subjects"  consider  it  the  most  terrible  of  his  privileges.  The  at- 
tempt to  dispute  the  right  arose,  perhaps,  frc»n  those  who  dreaded 
the  exercise  of  it  on  themselves.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  vexata  questio  was  finally  set  at  rest  in  1823,  when 
the  judges  declared  that  the  power  in  question  undoubtedly  resided 


20  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  PAYS. 

in  the  Lords  Lieutenant,  since  the  Union,  as  it  did  in  the  viceroyB 
who  reigned  vicariously  previous  to  that  period.  According  to 
the  etiquette  of  heraldry,  the  distinctive  appellation  "  Sir^  should 
never  be  omitted  even  when  the  knight  is  a  noble  of  the  first  he- 
reditary rank.  "  The  Bight  Honorable  Sir  Hugh  Percy,  Duke 
of  Northumberland,"  would  have  been  the  proper  heraldic  defining 
of  his  grace  when  he  became  Knight  of  the  Grarter,  for  it  is  a  rule 
that  ^*  the  greater  dignity  doth  never  drown  the  lesser,  but  both 
stand  together  in  one  person." 

A  knight  never  surrendered  his  sword  but  to  a  knight.  ^'  Are 
you  knight  and  gentleman  ?"  asked  Suffolk,  when,  four  hundred 
years  ago,  he  yielded  to  Regnault:  '^I  am  a  gentleman,"  said 
Begnault,  '^  but  I  am  not  yet  a  knight."  Whereupon  Suffolk  bade 
him  kneel,  dubbed  him  knight,  received  the  accustomed  oaths,  and 
then  gave  up  his  old  sword  to  the  new  chevalier. 

Clark  considered  that  the  order  was  degraded  froih  its  exdn- 
sively  military  character,  when  membership  was  conferred  upon 
gownsmen,  physician,  burghers,  and  artists.  He  considered  that 
civil  merit,  so  distinguished,  was  a  loss  of  reputation  to  military 
knights.  The  logic  by  which  he  arrives  at  such  a  conclusion  is 
rather  of  the  loosest.  It  may  be  admitted,  however,  that  the  mat- 
ter has  been  specially  abused  in  Germany.  Monsieur  About,  that 
clever  gentleman,  who  wrote  "  Tolla"  out  of  somebody  else's  book, 
very  pertinently  remarks  in  his  review  of  the  fine-art  department 
of  the  Paris  Exhibition,  that  the  difference  between  English  and 
German  artists  is,  that  the  former  are  well-paid,  but  that  very  few 
of  them  are  knights,  while  the  latter  are  ill-paid  and  consequently 
ill-clothed ;  but,  for  lack  of  clothes,  have  abundance  of  ribands. 

Dr.  Nares  himself  is  of  something  of  the  opinion  of  Clark,  and 
he  ridicules  the  idea  of  a  chivalric  and  martial  title  being  given  to 
brewers,  silversmiths,  attorneys,  apothecaries,  upholsterers,  hosiers, 
tailors,  &c.  He  asserts  that  knighthood  should  belong  only  to 
military  members :  but  of  these  no  inconsiderable  number  would 
have  to  be  unknighted,  or  would  have  to  wait  an  indefinite  time 
for  the  honor  were  the  old  rule  strictly  observed,  whereby  no  man 
was  entitled  to  the  rank  and  degree  of  knighthood,  who  had  not 
actually  been  in  battle  and  captured  a  prisoner  with  his  own 
hands.     With  respect  to  the  obligation  on  knights  to  defend  and 


A   FRAGMENTARY  PROLOGUE.  21 

maintain  all  ladies,  gentlewomen,  widows,  and  orphans ;  the  one 
class  of  men  maj  be  said  to  be  just  as  likelj  to  fulfil  this  obliga- 
tion, as  the  other  class. 

France,  Italy,  and  Grermany,  long  had  their  forensic  knights, 
certain  titles  at  the  bar  giving  equal  privileges ;  and  the  obliga- 
tions above  alluded  to  were  supposed  to  be  observed  by  these 
knights — who  found  esquires  in  their  clerks,  in  the  forensic  war 
which  they  were  for  ever  waging  in  defence  of  right.  Unhappily 
these  forensic  chevaliers  so  often  fought  in  defenoe  of  wrong  and 
called  it  right,  that  the  actual  duty  was  indiscriminately  performed 
or  neglected. 

It  has  often  been  said  of  "  orders"  that  they  are  indelible.  How- 
ever this  may  be  with  the  clergy,  it  is  especially  the  case  with 
knights.  To  whatever  title  a  knight  might  attain,  duke,  earl,  or 
baron,  he  never  ceased  to  be  a  knight.  In  proof  too  that  the  latter 
title  was  considered  one  of  augmentation,  is  cited  the  case  of  Louis 
XI.,  who,  at  his  coronation,  was  knighted  by  Philip,  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy. "  K  Louis,"  says  an  eminent  writer  (thus  cited  by  Dr. 
Nares),  "  had  been  made  duke,  marquis,  or  earl,  it  would  have 
detracted  from  him,  all  those  titles  being  in  himself." 

The  crown,  when  it  stood  in  need  of  the  chivalrous  arms  of  its 
knights,  called  for  the  required  feudal  service,  not  from  its  earls 
as  such,  but  from  its  barons.  To  every  earldom  was  annexed  a 
barony,  whereby  their  feudal  service  with  its  several  dependent 
duties  was  alone  ascertained.  ^  That  is,"  says  Berington,  in  his 
Henry  11.,  "  the  tenure  of  barony  and  not  of  earldom  constituted 
the  legal  vassal  of  the  crown.  Each  earl  was^  at  the  same  time  a 
baron,  as  were  the  bishops  and  some  abbots  and  priors  of  orders." 

Some  of  these  barons  were  the  founders  of  parish  churches,  but 
the  terms  on  which  priest  and  patron  occasionally  lived  may  be 
seen  in  the  law,  whereby  patrons  or  feudatarii  killing  the  rector, 
vicar,  or  derk  of  their  church,  or  mutilating  him,  were  condemned 
to  lose  their  rights ;  and  their  posterity,  to  the  fourth  generation, 
was  made  incapable  of  benefice  or  prelacy  in  religious  houses. 
The  knightly  patron  was  bound  to  be  of  the  same  religious  opin- 
ions, of  course,  as  his  priest,  or  his  soul  had  little  chance  of  being 
prayed  for.  In  later  times  we  have  had  instances  of  patrons  de- 
termining the  opinions  of  the  minister.     Thus  as  a  parallel,  or 


22  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  PATS. 

rather  in  contrast  with  measures  as  thej  stood  between  Sir  Knight 
and  Sir  Priest,  may  be  taken  a  passage  inserted  in  the  old  deeds 
of  the  Baptist  chapel  at  Oulney.  In  this  deed  the  managers  or 
trustees  injoiaed  that  ^'  no  person  shall  ever  be  chosen  pastor  of 
this  church,  who  shall  differ  in  his  religious  sentiments  from  the 
Bev.  John  Gibbs  of  Newcastle.  It  is  rather  a  leap  to  pass  thus 
from  the  baronial  knights  to  the  Baptist  chapels,  but  the  matter 
has  to  do  with  mj  subject  at  both  extremities.  Before  leaving  it 
I  will  notice  the  intimation  proudly  made  on  the  tombstone  in 
Bunhill  Fields  Cemetery,  of  Dame  Mary  Page,  relict  of  Sir 
George  Page.  The  lady  died  more  than  a  century  and  a  quarter 
ago,  and  although  the  stone  bears  no  record  of  any  virtue  save 
that  she  was  patient  and  fearless  under  suffering,  it  takes  care  to 
inform  all  passers-by,  that  this  knight's  lady,  'Mn  sixty-seven 
months  was  tapped  sixty-six  times,  and  had  taken  away  two  hun- 
dred and  forty  gallons  of  water,  without  ever  repining  at  her  case, 
or  ever  fearing  its  operation."  I  prefer  the  mementoes  of  knight's 
ladies  in  olden  times  which  recorded  their  deeds  rather  than  their 
diseases,  and  which  told  of  them,  as  White  said  of  Queen  Mary, 
that  their  "  knees  were  hard  with  kneeling." 

I  will  add  one  more  incident,  before  changing  the  topic,  having 
reference  as  it  has  to  knights,  maladies,  and  baptism.  In  1660, 
Sir  John  Floyer  was  the  most  celebrated  knight-physician  of  his 
day.  He  chiefly  tilted  against  the  disuse  of  baptismal  immersion* 
He  did  not  treat  the  subject  theologically,  but  in  a  sanitary  point 
of  view.  He  prophesied  that  England  would  return  to  the  prac- 
tice as  soon  as  people  were  convinced  that  cold  baths  were  saie 
and  useful.  He  denounced  the  first  innovators  who  departed  from 
immersion,  as  the  destroyers  of  the  health  of  their  children  and  of 
posterity.  Degeneracy  of  race,  he  said,  had  followed,  hereditary 
diseases  increased,  and  men  were  mere  carpet-knights  unable  to 
perform  such  lusty  deeds  as  their  duly-immersed  forefathers. 

There  are  few  volumes  which  so  admirably  illustrate  what 
knights  shovld  be,  and  what  they  sometimes  were  not,  as  De  Join- 
ville's  Chronicle  of  the  Crusades  of  St.  Louis — that  St.  Louis, 
who  was  himself  the  patron-saint  of  an  order,  the  cross  of  which 
was  at  first  conferred  on  princes,  and  at  lafet  on  perruquiers.  The 
faithful  chronicler  rather  profanely,  indeed,  compares  the  royal 


A   FRAGMENTARY  PROLOGUE.  28 

knight  with  God  himself.  "As  God  died  for  his  people,  so  did 
St.  Louis  oflen  peril  his  life,  and  incurred  the  greatest  dangers,  for 
the  people  of  his  kingdom."  After  all,  this  simile  is  as  lame  as  it 
is  pro&ne.  The  truth,  nevertheless,  as  it  concerns  St.  Louis,  is 
creditable  to  the  illustrious  king,  saint,  and  chevalier.  ^Jn  his 
conversation  he  was  remarkably  chaste,  for  I  never  heard  him,  at 
any  time,  utter  an  indecent  word,  nor  make  use  of  the  devil's 
name ;  which,  however,  now  is  very  commonly  uttered  by  every 
one,  but  which  I  firmly  believe,  is  so  far  from  being  agreeable  to 
God,  that  it  is  highly  displeasing  to  him."  The  King  St.  Louis, 
mixed  water  with  his  wine,  and  tried  to  force  his  knights  to  follow 
his  example,  adding,  that  "  it  was  a  beastly  thing  for  an  honorable  • 
man  to  make  himself  drunk."  This  was  a  wise  maxim,  and  one 
naturally  held  by  a  son,  whose  mother  had  often  declared  to  him, 
that  "  she  would  rather  he  was  in  his  grave,  than  that  he  should 
conmiit  a  mortal  sin."  And  yet  wise  as  his  mother,  and  wise  as 
her  son  was,  the  one  could  not  give  wise  religious  instructors  to 
the  latter,  nor  the  latter  perceive  where  their  instruction  was  illogi- 
cal. That  it  w€t$  so,  may  be  discerned  in  the  praise  given  by  De 
Joinville,  to  the  fact,  that  the  knightly  king  in  his  dying  moments 
"called  upon  God  and  his  saints,  and  especially  upon  St.  James, 
and  St.  Genevieve,  as  his  intercessors*^ 

It  is  interesting  to  learn  from  such  good  authority  as  De  Join- 
ville, the  manner  in  which  the  knights  who  followed  St.  Louis 
prepared  themselves  for  their  crusading  mission.  "  When  I  was 
ready  to  set  out,  I  sent  for  the  Abbot  of  Cheminon,  who  was  at 
that  time  considered  as  the  most  discreet  man  of  all  the  White 
Monks,  to  reconcile  myself  with  him.  He  gave  me  my  scarf,  and 
bound  it  on  me,  and  likewise  put  the  pilgrim's  staff  in  my  hand. 
Instantly  afler  I  quitted  the  castle  of  Joinville,  without  even  re- 
entering it  until  my  return  from  beyond  sea.  I  made  pilgrimages 
to  all  the  holy  places  in  the  neighborhood,  such  as  Bliecourt,  St 
Urban,  and  others  near  to  Joinville.  I  dared  never  turn  my  eyes 
that  way,  for  fear  of  feeling  too  great  regret,  and  lest  my  courage 
should  fail  on  leaving  my  two  fine  children,  and  my  fair  castle  of 
Joinville,  which  I  loved  in  my  heart."  "One  touch  of  nature 
makes  the  whole  world  kin,"  and  here  we  have  the  touch  the  poet 
speaks  of.     Down  the  Saone  and  subsequently  down  the  Rhone, 


24  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATB. 

the  crasaden  flock  in  ample  vessels,  but  not  lai^  enough  to  contain 
their  steeds,  which  were  led  bj  grooms  along  the  banks.  When  all 
had  re-embarked  at  Marseilles  and  were  fairly  out  at  sea,  *^  the  cap- 
tain made  the  priests  and  deiks  mount  to  the  castle  of  the  ship,  and 
chant  psalms  in  praise  of  God,  that  he  might  be  pleased  to  grant 
us  a  prosperous  voyage/*  While  they  were  singing  the  Veni 
Creator  in  full  chorus,  the  mariners  set  the  sails  ^  in  the  name  of 
God,"  and  forthwith  a  favorable  breeze  sprang  up  in  answer  to 
the  appeal,  and  knights  and  holy  men  were  speedily  careering 
over  the  billows  of  the  open  sea  very  hopeful  and  exceedingly 
sick.  "  I  must  say  here,"  says  De  Joinville,  who  was  frequently 
so  disturbed  by  the  motion  of  the  vessel,  so  little  of  a  knight,  and 
so  timid  on  the  water  as  to  require  a  couple  of  men  to  hold  him  as 
he  leant  over  the  side  in  the  helpless  and  unchivalrous  attitude  of 
a  cockney  landsman  on  board  a  Boulogne  steamer — ^'  1  must  say," 
he  exclaims — sick  at  the  very  reminiscence,  '^that  he  is  a  great 
fool  who  shall  put  himself  in  such  dangers,  having  wronged  any 
one,  or  having  any  mortal  sins  on  his  conscience ;  for  when  he 
goes  to  sleep  in  the  evening,  he  knows  not  if  in  the  morning  he 
may  not  find  himself  under  the  sea." 

This  was  a  pious  reflection,  and  it  was  such  as  many  a  knight, 
doubtless,  made  on  board  a  vessel,  on  the  castle  of  which  priests 
and  clerks  sang  Veni  Oreator  and  the  mariners  bent  the  sail  "  in 
the  name  of  God."  But  whether  the  holy  men  did  not  act  up  to 
their  profession,  or  the  secular  knights  cared  not  to  profit  by  their 
example,  certain  it  is  that  in  spite  of  the  saintly  services  and  for- 
1  malities  on  board  ship,  the  chevaliers  were  no  sooner  on  shore, 
than  they  fell  into  the  very  worst  of  practices.  De  Joinville, 
speaking  of  them  at  Damietta,  remarks  that  the  barons,  knights, 
and  others,  Who  ought  to  have  practised  self-denial  and  economy, 
were  wasteful  of  their  means,  prodigal  of  their  supplies,  and  ad- 
dicted to  banquetings,  and  to  the  vices  which  attend  on  over-luxu- 
riant living.  There  was  a  general  waste  of  everything,  health 
included.  The  example  set  by  the  knights  was  adopted  by  the 
men-at-arms,  and  the  debauchery  which  ensued  was  terrific.  The 
men  were  reduced  to  the  level  of  beasts,  and  wo  to  the  women  or 
girls  who  fell  into  their  power  when  out  marauding.  It  is  singular 
to  find  De  Joinville  remarking  that  the  holy  king  was  obliged  "  to 


A  FRAGMENTARY  PBOLOQTTE.  26 

wink  at  the  greatest  liberties  of  his  officers  and  men."  The  pio- 
tare  of  a  royal  saint  Thinking  at  lust,  rapine,  and  murder,  is  not  an 
agreeable  one.  '^  The  good  king  was  told,"  sajs  the  fieuthful  chroni- 
cler, ^^  that  at  a  stone's  throw  round  his  own  pavilion,  were  deveral 
tents  whose  owners  made  profit  by  letting  them  out  for  infamous  pur- 
poses." These  tents  and  tabernacles  of  iniquity  were  kept  by  the 
king's  own  personal  attendants,  and  yet  the  royal  saint  winked  at 
them !  The  licentiousness  was  astounding,  the  more  so  as  it  was 
practised  by  Christian  knights,  who  were  abroad  on  a  holy  purpose, 
but  who  went  with  bloody  hands,  unclean  thoughts,  and  spiritual 
songs  to  rescue  the  Sepulchre  of  Christ  from  the  unworthy  keep- 
ing of  the  infidel.  Is  it  wonderful  that  the  enterprise  was  ulti- 
mately a  failure  ? 

De  Joinville  himself,  albeit  purer  of.  life  than  many  of  his  com- 
rades, was  not  above  taking  unmanly  advantage  of  a  foe.  The 
rule  of  chivalry,  which  directed  that  all  should  be  fair  in  fight, 
was  never  regarded  by  those  chivalrous  gentlemen  when  victory 
was  to  be  obtained  by  violating  the  law.  Thus,  of  an  affair  on  the 
plains  before  Babylon,  we  find  the  literary  swordsman  complacently 
recording  that  he  "  perceived  a  sturdy  Saracen  mounting  his  horse, 
which  was  held  by  one  of  his  esquires  by  the  bridle,  and  fvhtle  he 
was  putting  his  hand  on  his  saddle  to  mount,  I  gave  him,"  says 
De  Joinville,  "  such  a  thrust  with  my  spear,  which  I  pushed  as 
far  as  I  was  able,  that  he  fell  down  dead."  This  was  a  base  and 
cowardly  action.  There  was  more  of  the  chivahx»us  in  what  fol- 
lowed: '^The  esquire,  seeing  his  lord  dead,  abandoned  master 
and  horse ;  but,  watching  my  motions,  on  my  return  struck  me 
with  his  lance  such  a  blow  between  my  shoulders  as  drove  me  on 
my  horse's  neck,  and  held  me  there  so  tightly  that  I  could .  not 
draw  my  sword,  which  was  girthed  round  me.  I  was  forced  to 
draw  another  sword  which  was  at  the  pommel  of  my  saddle,  and 
it  was  high  time ;  but  when  he  saw  I  had  my  sword  in  my  hand, 
he  withdrew  his  lance,  which  I  had  seized,  and  ran  from  me." 

I  have  said  that  this  knight  who  took  such  unfair  advantage  of  a 
foe,  was  more  of  a  Christian  nevertheless  than  many  of  his  fellows. 
This  is  illustrated  by  another  trait  highly  illustrative  of  the  princi- 
ples which  influenced  those  brave  and  pious  warriors.  De  Joinville 
remarks  that  on  the  eve  of  Shrove-tide,  1249,  he  saw  a  thing 


26  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

which  he  "  must  relate."  On  the  vigil  of  that  day,  he  tells  us, 
there  died  a  very  valiant  and  prudent  knight,  Sir  Hugh  de  Land- 
rioourt,  a  follower  of  De  Joinville's  own  banner.  The  burial  ser- 
vice was  celebrated ;  but  half-a-dozen  of  De  Joinville's  knights, 
who  were  present  as  mourners,  talked  so  irreverently  loud  that  the 
priest  was  disturbed  as  he  was  saying  mass.  Our  good  chronicler 
went  over  to  them,  reproved  them,  and  informed  them  that  "  it  was 
unbecoming  gentlemen  thus  to  talk  while  the  mass  was  celebrating." 
The  ungodly  half-dozen,  thereupon,  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter, 
and  informed  De  Joinville,  in  their  turn,  that  they  were  discussing 
as  to  which  of  the  six  should  marry  the  widow  of  the  defunct  Sir 
Hugh,  then  lying  before  them  on  his  bier!  De  Joinville,  with 
decency  and  common  sense  "  rebuked  them  sharply,  and  said  such 
conversation  was  indecent  and  improper,  for  that  they  had  too  soon 
forgotten  their  companion."  From  this  circumstance  De  Joinville 
tries  to  draw  a  logical  inference,  if  not  conclusion.  He  makes  a 
sad  confusion  of  causes  and  effects,  rewards  and  punishments, 
practice  and  principle,  human  accidents  and  especial  interferences 
on  the  part  of  Heaven.  For  instance,  after,  narrating  the  mirlli 
of  the  knights  at  the  funeral  of  Sir  Hugh,  and  their  disputing  as 
to  which  of  them  should  woo  the  widow,  he  adds :  "  Now  it  hap- 
pened on  the  morrow,  when  the  first  grand  battle  took  place, 
although  we  may  laugh  at  their  follies,  that  of  all  the  six  not  one 
escaped  death,  and  they  remained  unburied.  The  wives  of  the 
whole  six  re-married !  Tliis  makes  it  credible  that  God  leaves  no 
such  conduct  unpunished.  With  regard  to  myself  /  fared  little 
better,  for  I  was  grievously  wounded  in  the  battle  of  Shrove  Tues- 
day. I  had  besides  the  disorder  in  my  legs  and  mouth  before 
spoken  of,  and  such  a  rheum  in  my  head  it  ran  through  my  mouth 
and  nostrils.  In  addition  I  had  a  doable  fever  called  a  quartan, 
from  which  God  defend  us !  And  with  these  illnesses  was  I  con- 
fined to  my  bed  for  half  of  Lent."  And  thus,  if  the  married  knights 
were  retributively  slain  for  talking  about  the  wooing  of  a  comrade's 
widow,  so  De  Joinville  himself  was  somewhat  heavily  afflicted  for 
having  undertaken  to  reprove,,them !  I  must  add  one  more  inci- 
dent^ however,  to  show  how  in  the  battle-field  the  human  and 
Christian  principle  was  not  altogether  lost. 

The  poor  priest,  whom  the  wicked  and  wedded  knights  had 


A  FaAGMBNTARY  PROLOGUE.  27 

interrapted  in  the  service  of  the  mass  by  follies,  at  which  De  Join- 
vilie  himself  seems  to  think  that  men  may,  perhaps,  be  inclined  to 
laugh,  became  as  grievously  ill  as  De  Joinville  himself.  **  And 
one  day,"  says  the  latter,  "  when  he  was  singing  mass  before  me 
as  I  lay  in  my  bed,  at  the  moment  of  the  elevation  of  the  host 
I  saw  him  so  exceedingly  weak  that  he  was  near  fainting ;  but 
when  I  perceived  he  was  on  the  point  of  falling  to  the  ground,  I 
flung  myself  out  of  bed,  sick  as  I  was,  and  taking  my  coat,  em- 
braced him,  and  bade  him  be  at  his  ease,  and  take  courage  from 
Him  whom  he  held  in  his  hand.  He. recovered  some  little ;  but  I 
never  quitted  him  till  he  had  finished  the  mass,  which  he  completed, 
and  this  was  the  last,  for  he  never  celebrated  another,  but  died ; 
God  receive  his  soul !"  This  is  a  pleasanter  picture  of  Christiaa 
chivalry  than  any  other  that  is  given  by  this  picturesque  chronicler. 

Chivalry,  generally,  has  been  more  satirized  and  sneered  at  by 
the  philosophers  than  by  any  other  class  of  men.  The  sages 
stiginatize  the  knights  as  mere  boasters  of  bravery,  and  in  some 
such  terms  as  those  used  by  Dussaute,  they  assert  that  the  boasters 
of  their  valor  are  as  little  to  be  trusted  as  those  who  boast  of  their 
probity.  "  Defiez  vous  de  quiconque  parle  toujours  de  sa  probite 
comme  de  quiconque  parle  toujours  de  bravoure." 

It  will  not,  however,  do  for  the  philosophers  to  sneer  at  their 
martial  brethren.  Now  that  Professor  Jacobi  has  turned  from 
grave  studies  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  to  the  making  of  infernal 
machines  for  the  destruction  of  brave  and  helpless  men,  at  a  dis- 
tance, that  very  unsuccessful  but  would-be  homicide  has,  as  far  as 
he  himself  is  concerned,  reduced  science  to  a  lower  level  than  that 
occupied  by  men  whose  trade  is  arms.  But  this  is  not  the  first 
time  that  philosophers  have  mingled  in  martial  matters.  The 
very  war  which  has  been  begun  by  the  bftd  ambition  of  Russia, 
may  be  traced  to  the  evil  officiousness  of  no  less  a  philosopher  than 
Xeibnitz.  It  was  this  celebrated  man  who  first  instigated  a  Eu- 
ropean monarch  to  seize  upon  a  ciertain  portion  of  the  Turkish 
dominion,  whereby  to  secure  an  all  but  universal  supremacy. 

The  monarch  was  Louis  XIV.,,  to  whom  Leibnitz  addressed 
himself,  in  a  memorial,  as  to  the  wisest  of  sovereigns,  most  worthy 
to  have  imparted  to  him  a  project  at  once  the  most  holy,  the  most- 
just,  and  the  most  easy  of  accomplishment.     Success,  adds  the 


28  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

philosopher,  would  secure  to  France  the  empire  of  the  seas  and 
of  commerce,  and  make  the  French  king  the  supreme  arbiter  of 
Christendom.  Leibnitz  at  once  names  Egypt  as  the  place  to  be 
seized  upon ;  and  afier  hinting  what  was  necessary,  by  calling  his 
majesty  a  "  mirade  of  secresy,"  he  alludes  to  further  achievements 
by  stating  of  the  one  in  question,  that  it  would  cover  his  name 
with  an  immortal  glory,  for  having  cleared,  whether  for  himself 
or  his  descendants,  'Hhe  route  for  exploits  similar  to  those  of 
Alexander." 

There  is  no  country  in  the  memorialist's  opinion  the  conquest 
of  which  deserves  so  much  to  be  attempted.  As  to  any  provoca- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  Turkish  sovereign  of  Egypt,  he  does  not 
pause  to  advise  the  king  even  to  feign  having  received  cause  of 
offence.  The  philosophy  goes  through  a  resume  of  the  history 
of  Egypt,  and  the  successive  conquests  that  had  been  made  of,  as 
well  as  attempts  against  it,  to  prove  that  its  possession  was  account- 
ed of  importance  in  all  times ;  and  he  adds  that  its  Turkish  master 
was  just  then  in  such  debility  that  France  could  not  desire  a  more 
propitious  opportunity  for  invasion.  This  argument  shows  that 
when  the  Czar  Nicholas  touched  upon  this  nefarious  subject,  he 
not  only  was  ready  to  rob  this  same  "  sick  man,"  the  Turk,  but  he 
stole  his  arguments  whereby  to  illustrate  his  opinions,  and  to  prove 
that  his  sentiments  were  well-founded. 

"  By  a  single  fortunate  blow,"  says  Leibnitz, "  empires  may  be  in 
an  instant  overthrown  and  founded.  In  such  wars  are  found  the 
elements  of  high  power  and  of  an  exalted  glory."  It  is  unneces* 
sary  to  repeat  all  the  seductive  terms  which  Leibnitz  employs  to 
induce  Louis  XIV.  to  set  his  chivalry  in  motion  against  the  Turk- 
ish power.  Egypt  he  calls  "  the  eye  of  countries,  the  mother  of 
grain,  the  seat  of  commerce."  He  hints  that  Muscovy  was  even 
then  ready  to  take  advantage  of  any  circumstance  that  might  fa- 
cilitate her  way  to  the  conquest  of  Turkey.  The  conquest  of 
Egypt  then  was  of  double  importance  to  France.  Possessing 
that,  France  would  be  mistress  of  the  Mediterranean,  of  a  great 
part  of  Africa  and  Asia,  and  "  the  king  of  France  could  then,  by 
incontestable  right,  and  wi|h  the  consent  of  the  Pope,  assume  the 
title  of  Emperor  of  the  East."  A  further  bait  held  out  is,  that  in 
such  a  position  he  could  "  hold  the  pontiffs  much  more  in  his  power 


A   FBA6MENTABT  PROLOGUE.  29 

than  if  they  resided  at  Avignon/'  He  snms  ap  by  saying  that 
there  would  be  on  the  part  of  the  human  race,  "  an  everbisting 
reverence  for  the  memory  of  the  great  king  to  whom  so  many 
miracles  were  due !"  "  With  the  exception  of  the  philosopher's 
stone,"  finally  remarks  the  philosopher,  "  I  know  nothing  that  can 
be  imagined  of  more  importance  than  the  conquest  of  £g3rpt." 

Leibnitz  enters  largely  into  the  means  to  be  employed,  in  order 
to  insure  success ;  among  them  is  a  good  share  of  mendacity ;  and 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  spirit  of  the  memorial  and  its 
objects,  touching  not  Egypt  alone,  but  the  Turkish  empire  gene- 
rally, had  been  well  pondered  over  by  the  Czar  before  he  made 
that  felonious  attempt  in  which  he  failed  to  find  a  confederate. 

The  original  of  the  memorial,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been 
presented  to  Louis  XIV.  judt  previous  to  his  invasion  of  Holland 
— and,  as  some  say,  more  with  the  intention  of  diverting  the  king 
from  his  attack  on  that  country,  than  with  any  more  definite 
object — was  preserved  in  the  archives  of  Versailles  till  the  period 
of  the  great  revolution.  A  copy  in  the  handwriting  of  Leibnitz 
was,  however,  preserved  in  the  Library  at  Hanover.  Its  contents 
were  without  doubt  known  to  Napoleon  when  he  was  meditating 
that  Egyptian  conquest  which  Leibnitz  pronounced  to  be  so  easy 
of  accomplishment ;  a  copy,  made  at  the  instance  of  Marshal  Mor- 
tier  for  the  Boyal  Library  in  Paris,  is  now  in  that  collection. 

The  suggestion  of  Leibnitz,  that  the  seat,  if  not  of  universal 
monarchy,  at  least  of  the  mastership  of  Christendom,  was  in  the 
Turkish  dominions,  has  never  been  forgotten  by  Russia ;  and  it  is 
very  possible  that  some  of  its  seductive  argument  may  have  in- 
fluenced the  Czar  before  he  impelled  his  troops  into  that  war, 
which  showed  that  Russia,  with  all  its  boasted  power,  could  neither 
take  Silistria  nor  keep  Sebastopol. 

But  in  this  fragmentary  prologue,  which  began  with  Lingard 
and  ends  with  Leibnitz,  we  have  rambled  over  wide  ground. 
Let  us  become  more  orderly,  and  look  at  those  who  were  to  be 
made  knights. 


80  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 


THE   TRAINING  OF  PAGES. 

"  What  callest  thou  Page  ?    What  is  its  humor  ? 
Sir ;  he  is  Nobilia  ephAus,  and 
Puer  regiuSy  student  of  Knighthood, 
Breaking  hearts  and  hoping  to  break  lances." — Old  Play, 

I  HAVE  in  another  chapter  noticed  the  circumstance  of  knight- 
hood conferred  on  an  Irish  prince,  at  so  early  an  age  as  seven 
years.  This  was  the  age  at  which,  in  less  precocious  England, 
noble  youths  entered  wealthy  knights'  families  as  pages,  to  learn 
obedience,  to  be  instructed  in  the  use  of  weapons,  and  to  acquire 
a  graceful  habit  of  tending  on  ladies.  The  poor  nobility,  especially, 
found  their  account  in  this  system,  which  gave  a  gratuitous  educa- 
tion to  their  sons,  in  return  for  services  which  were  not  considered 
humiliating  or  dishonorable.  These  boys  served  seven  years  as 
pages,  or  varlets — sometimes  very  impudent  varlets — and  at 
fourteen  might  be  regular  esquires,  and  tend  their  masters  where 
hard  blows  were  dealt  and  taken — for  which  encounters  they 
"  riveted  with  a  sigh  the  armor  they  were  forbidden  to  wear." 

Neither  pages,  varlets,  nor  household,  could  be  said  to  have  been 
always  as  roystering  as  modem  romancers  have  depicted  them. 
There  was  at  least  exceptions  to  the  rule — if  there  was  a  rule 
of  roystering.  Occasionally,  the  lads  were  not  indifferently  taught 
before  they  left  their  own  homes.  That  is,  not  indifferently  taught 
for  the  peculiar  life  they  were  about  to.  lead.  Even  the  Borgias, 
infamous  as  the  name  has  become  through  inexorable  historians 
and  popular  operas,  were  at  one  time  eminently  respectable  and 
exemplarily  religious.  Thus  in  the  household  of  the  Duke  of 
Gandia,  young  Francis  Borgia,  his  son,  passed  his  time  '^  among 


THE  TRAINING   OP  PAGES.  31 

the  domestics  in  wonderful  innocence  and  piety."  It  was  the  only 
season  of  his  life,  however,  so  passed.  Marchangy  asserts  that 
the  pages  of  the  middle  ages  were  often  little  saints ;  but  this 
could  hardly  have  been  the  case  since  "  espi^gle  comme  un  page," 
"  hardi  comme  un  page,"  and  other  illustrative  sayings  have  sur- 
vived even  the  era  of  pagedom.  Indeed,  if  we  may  beheve  the 
minstrels,  and  they  were  oflen  as  truth-telling  as  the  annalist,  the 
pages  were  now  and  then  even  more  knowing  and  audacious  thaa 
their  masters.  When  the  Count  Ory  was  in  love  with  the  young 
Abbess  of  Farmoutier,  he  had  recourse  to  his  page  for  counsel. 

"Hola !  mon  page,  veneas  me  conseiller, 
L'amoar  me  berce,  je  ne  puis  sommeiller ; 
Comment  me  prendre  pour  dans  ce  convent  entrer?" 

How  ready  was  the  ecstatic  young  scamp  with  his  reply  :— 

"  Sire  il  fant  prendre  quatorze  chevaliers, 
Et  tons  en  nonnes  il  vous  les  faut  habiller. 
Puis,  d  nnit  close,  k  la  porte  il  faut  hearter." 

What  came  of  this  advice,  the  song  tells  in  very  joyous  terms,  for 
which  the  reader  may  be  referred  to  that  grand  collection  the 
"  Chants  et  Chansons  de  la  France." 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Kenelm  Digby,  who  is,  be  it  said  in 
passing,  a  painter  of  pages,  looking  at  his  object  through  pink- 
colored  glasses,  thus  writes  of  these  young  gentlemen,  in  his 
"  Mores  Catholici." 

"  Truly  beautiful  does  the  fidelity  of  chivalrous  youth  appear 
in  the  page  of  history  or  romance.  Every  master  of  a  family  in 
the  middle  ages  had  some  young  man  in  his  service  who  would 
have  rejoiced  to  shed  the  last  drop  of  his  blood  to  save  him,  and 
who,  like  Jonathan's  armor-beaver,  would  have  replied  to  his  sum- 
mons :  '  Fac  omnia  quae  placent  animo  tuo ;  perge  quo  cupis ;  et 
ero  tecum  ubicumque  volueris.'  When  Gyron  le  Courtois  re- 
solved to  proceed  on  the  adventure  of  the  Passage  periUeuXy  we 
read  that  the  valet,  on  hearing  the  frankness .  and  courtesy  with 
which  his  lord  spoke  to  him,  began  to  weep  abundlmtly,  and  said, 
all  in  tears,  ^  Sire,  know  that  my  heart  tells  me  that  sooth,  if  you 
proceed  further,  you  will  never  return ;  that  you  will  either  perish 
there,  or  you  will  remain  in  prison;  but,  nevertheless,  nothing 


82  THE   KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  BATS. 

shall  prevent  me  going  with  jou.  Better  die  with  jon,  if  it  be 
Grod's  will,  than  leave  you  in  such  guise  to  save  my  own  life ;' 
and  so  saying,  he  stepped  forward  and  said,  *  Sire,  since  you  will 
not  return  according  to  my  advice,  I  will  not  leave  you  this  time, 
come  to  me  what  may.'  Authority  in  the  houses  of  the  middle 
ages,"  adds  Mr.  Digby,  "  was  always  venerable.  The  very  term 
seneschal  is  supposed  to  have  implied  '  old  knight,'  so  that,  as  with 
the  Greeks,  the  word  signifying  '  to  honor,'  and  to  '  p&y  respect,' 
was  derived  immediately  from  that  which  denoted  old  age,  vpen^svi^ 
being  thus  used  in  the  first  line  of  the  Eumenides.  Even  to  those 
who  were  merely  attached  by  Uie  bonds  of  friendship  or  hospitality, 
the  same  lessons  and  admonitions  were  considered  due.  John 
Francis  Picus  of  Mirandola  mentions  his  uncle's  custom  of  fre- 
quently admonishing  his  friends,  and  exhorting  them  to  a  holy  life. 
'  I  knew  a  man,'  he  says, '  who  once  spoke  with  him  on  the  subject 
of  manners,  and  who  was  so  much  moved  by  only  two  words  from 
him,  which  alluded  to  the  death  of  Christ,  as  the  motive  for  avoid- 
ing sin,  that  from  that  hour,  he  renounced  the  ways  of  vice,  and 
reformed  his  whole  life  and  manner.' " 

We  smile  to  find  Mr.  Digby  mentioning  the  carving  of  angels 
in  stone  over  the  castle-gates,  as  at  Vincennes,  as  a  proof  that 
the  pages  who  loitered  about  there  were  little  saints.  But  we 
read  with  more  interest,  that  "  the  Sieur  de  Ligny  led  Bayard 
home  with  him,  and  in  the  evening  preached  to  him  as  if  he  had 
been  his  own  son,  recommending  him  to  have  heaven  always  be- 
fore his  eyes."  This  is  good,  and  that  it  had  its  effect  on  Bayard, 
we  all  know ;  nevertheless  that  chevalier  himself  was  far  from 
perfect. 

With  regard  to  the  derivation  of  Seneschal  as  noticed  above, 
we  may  observe  that  it  implies  "  old  man  of  skilL"  Another  word 
connected  with  arms  is  "  Marshal,"  which  is  derived  from  Mar, 
"  a  horse,"  and  Schalk,  "  skilful,"  one  knowing  in  horses  ;  hence 
"Mar^chal  ferrant,"  as  assumed  by  French  farriers.  Schalk, 
however,  I  have  seen  interpreted  as  meaning  "servant."  Earl 
Marshal  was,  originally,  the  knight  who  looked  after  the  royal 
horses  and  stables,  and  all  thereto  belonging. 

But  to  return  to  the  subject  of  education.  If  all  the  sons  of 
noblemen,  in  former  days,  were  as  wefl  off  for  gentle  teachers  as 


THE  TRAINING   OP  PAGES.  88 

old  historians  and  authors  describe  them  to  have  been,  they  un- 
doubtedly had  a  great  advantage  over  some  of  their  descendants 
of  the  present  day.  In  illustration  of  this  fact  it  is  only  necessary 
to  point  to  the  sermons  recently  delivered  by  a  reverend  pedagogue 
to  the  boys  who  have  the  affliction  of  possessing  him  as  head- 
master. It  is  impossible  to  read  some  of  these  whipping  sermons, 
without  a  feeling  of  intense  disgust.  Flagellation  is  there  hinted 
at,  mendbned,  menaced,- caressed  as  it  were,  as  if  in  the  very  idea 
there  was  a  sort  of  delight.  The  worst  passage  of  all  is  where  the 
amiable  master  tells  his .  youthful  hearers  that  they  are  noble  by 
birth,  that  the  greatest  humiliation  to  a  noble  person  is  the  inflic- 
tion of  a  blow,  and  that  nevertheless,  he,  the  absolute  master,  may 
have  to  flog  many  of  them.  How  the  young  people  over  whom 
he  rules,  must  love  such  an  instructor !  The  circumstance  reminds 
me  of  the  late  Mr.  Ducrow,  who  was  once  teaching  a  boy  to  go 
through  a  difficult  act  of  horsemanship,  in  the  character  of  a  page. 
The  boy  was  timid,  and  his  great  master  applied  the  whip  to  him 
unmercifully.  Mr.  Joseph  Grimaldi  was  standing  by,  and  looked 
very  serious,  considering  his  vocation.  "You  see,"  remarked 
Ducrow  to  Joey,  "  that  it  is  quite  necessary  to  make  an  impression 
on  these  young  fellows." — "Very  likely,"  answered  Grimaldi, 
dryly,  "but  it  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  make  the  whacks  so 
hard !" 

The  discipline  to  which  pages  were  subjected  in  the  houses  of 
knights  and  noblemen,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  at  all  of  a 
severe  character.  Beyond  listening  to  precept  from  the  chaplain, 
heeding  the  behests  of  their  master,  and  performing  pleasant  duties 
about  their  mistress,  they  seem  to  have  been  left  pretty  much  to 
themselves,  and  to  have  had,  altogether,  a  pleasant  time  of  it  The 
poor  scholars  had  by  far  a  harder  life  than  your  "  Sir  page."  And 
this  stern  disciphne  held  over  the  pale  student  continued  down  to 
a  very  recent,  that  is,  a  comparatively  recent  period.  In  Neville's 
play  of  "  The  Poor  Scholar,"  written  in  1662,  but  never  acted,  the 
character  of  student-life  at  college  is  well  illustrated.  The  scene 
lies  at  the  university,  where  Eugenes,  jun..  albeit  he  is  called  "  the 
poor  scholar,"  is  nephew  of  Eugenes,  sen.,  who  is  president  of  a 
college.  Nephew  and  uncle  are  at  feud,  and  the  man  in  authority 
imprisons  his  young  kinsman,  who  contrives  to  escape  from  du- 

3 


34  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

ranee  vile,  and  to  marry  a  maiden  called  Morphe.  The  fun  of 
the  marriage  is,  that  the  young  couple  disguise  themselves  as  coun- 
try lad  and  lass,  and  the  reverend  Eugenes,  sen.,  unconsciously 
couples  a  pair  whom  he  would  fain  have  kept  apart  There  are 
two  other  university  marriages  as  waggishly  contrived ;  and  when 
the  ceremonies  are  concluded,  one  of  the  newly-married  students, 
bold  as  any  page,  impudently  remarks  to  the  duped  president^ 
^  Our  names  are  out  of  the  butteries,  and  our  persons  out  of  your 
dominions."  The  phrase  shows  that,  in  the  olden  time,  an  ^^  in- 
genuus  puer"  at  Oxford,  if  he  were  desirous  of  escaping  censure, 
had  only  to  take  his  name  off  the  books.  But  there  were  worse 
penalties  than  mere  censure.  The  author  of  ^  The  Poor  Scholar'' 
makes  frequent  allusion  to  the  whipping  of  undergraduates, 
stretched  on  a  barrel,  in  the  buttery.  There  was  long  an  accred- 
ited tradition  that  Milton  had  been  thus  degraded.  In  Neville's 
play,  one  of  the  young  Benedicks,  prematurely  married,  remarks, 
"  Had  I  been  once  in  the  butteries,  they'd  have  their  rods  about 
me."  To  this  remark  Eugenes,  jun.,  adds  another  in  reference  to 
his  uncle  the  president,  "  He  would  have  made  thee  ride  on  a  bai> 
rel,  and  made  you  show  your  fat  cheeks."  But  it  is  clear  that 
even  this  terrible  penalty  could  be  avoided  by  young  gentlemen, 
if  they  had  their  wits  about  them ;  for  the  fearless  Aphobos  makes 
boast, ''  My  name  is  cut  out  of  the  college  butteries,  and  I  have 
now  no  title  to  the  mounting  a  barrel." 

Young  scions  of  noble  houses,  in  the  present  time,  have  to  en- 
dure more  harsh  discipline  than  is  commonly  imagined.  They 
are  treated  rather  like  the  buttery  undergraduates  of  former  days, 
than  the  pages  who,  in  ancient  castles,  learned  the  use  of  arms, 
served  the  Chatellaine,  and  invariably  fell  in  love  with  the  daugh- 
ters. They  who  doubt  this  fact  have  only  to  read  those  Whipping 
Sermons  to  which  I  have  referred.  Such  discourses,  in  days  of 
old,  to  a  body  of  young  pages,  would  probably  have  cost  the 
preacher  more  than  he  cared  to  lose.  In  these  days,  such  sermons 
can  hardly  haye  won  affection  for  their  author.  The  latter,  no 
doubt,  honestly  thought  he  was  in  possession  of  a  vigorously  salu- 
brious principle ;  but  there  is  something  ignoble  both  in  the  dis- 
cipline boasted  of,  and  especially  in  the  laying  down  the  irresistible 
fact  to  young  gentlemen  that  a  blow  was  the  worst  offence  that 


THE  TRAINING  OF  PAGES.  86 

could  be  inflicted  on  persons  of  their  class,  but  that  he  could  and 
would  commit  such  assault  upon  them,  and  that  gentle  and  noble 
as  they  were,  thej  dared  not  resent  it !" 

The  pages  of  old  time  occasionailj  met  with  dreadful  harsh 
treatment  from  their  chivalrous  master.  The  most  chivalrous  of 
these  Christian  knights  could  often  act  cowardly  and  unchristian- 
like.  I  may  dte,  as  an  instance,  the  case  of  the  great  and  warlike 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  on  his  defeat  at  Muret  He  was  henuned  in 
between  ferocious  enemies  and  the  deep  lake.  As  the  lesser  of 
two  evils,  he  plunged  into  the  latter,  and  his  young  page  leaped 
upon  the  crupper  as  the  Duke's  horse  took  the  water.  The  stout 
steed  bore  his  double  burden  across,  a  breadth  of  two  miles,  not 
without  diflSculty,  yet  safely.  The  Duke  was,  perhaps,  too  alarmed 
himself,  at  first,  to  know  that  the  page  was  hanging  on  behind ; 
but  when  the  panting  horse  reached  the  opposite  shore,  sovereign 
Bui^undy  was  so  wroth  at  the  idea  that  the  boy,  by  clinging  to 
his  steed,  had  put  the  life  of  the  Duke  in  peril,  that  he  turned 
npon  him  and  poignarded  the  poor  lad  upon  the  beach.  Lassels, 
who  tells  the  story,  very  aptly  concludes  it  with  the  scornful  yet 
serious  ejaculation,  "  Poor  Prince !  thou  mightest  have  given  an- 
other offering  of  thanksgiving  to  Grod  for  thy  escape,  than  this !" 
But  "  Burgundy"  was  rarely  gracious  or  humane.  "  Carolus 
Pugnax,"  says  Burton,*  in  his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  "  made 
Henry  Holland,  late  Duke  of  Exeter,  exiled,  run  after  his  horse, 
like  a  lackey,  and  would  take  no  notice  of  him."  This  was  the 
English  peer  who  was  reduced  to  beg  his  way  in  the  cities  of 
FlMiders. 

Of  pages  generally,  we  shall  have  yet  to  speak  incidentally — 
meanwhile,  let  us  glance  at  their  masters  at  home. 


86  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 


KNIGHTS  AT  HOME. 

"Entrez  Messieurs;  joaissez-vons  de  mon  coin-de-fen.  Me  voilA,  chez 
moi  y* — Arlequin  d  St.  Germains. 

RiTTER  £bic,  of  Lansfeldt*  remarked,  that  next  to  a  battle  he 
dearly  loved  a  banquet  We  will,  therefore,  commence  the 
**  Knight  at  Home,"  by  showing  him  at  table.  Therewith,  we 
may  observe,  that  the  Knightg  of  the  Bound  Table  appear  gener- 
ally to  have  had  very  solid  fare  before  them.  King  Arthur — 
who  is  the  reputed  founder  of  this  society,  and  who  invented  the 
table  in  order  that  when  all  his  knights  were  seated  none  could 
claim  precedency  over  the  others — is  traditionally  declared  to 
have  been  the  first  man  who  ever  sat  down  to  a  whole  roasted  ox. 
Mi.  Bickerstaff,  in  the  "  Tatler,"  says  that  "  this  was  certainly  the 
best  way  to  preserve  the  gravy ;"  and  it  is  further  added,  that  **  he 
and  his  knights  set  about  the  ox  at  his  round  table,  and  usually 
consumed  it  to  the  very  bones  before  they  would  enter  upon  any 
debate  of  moment" 

They  had  better  fare  than  the  knights-errant,  who 

**  as  some  think, 
Of  old,  did  neither  eat  nor  drink, 
Because  when  thorough  deserts  vast, 
And  regions  desolate  they  passed, 
Where  belly-timber  above  ground, 
Or  under,  was  not  to  be  found. 
Unless  they  grazed,  there's  not  one  word 
Of  their  provision  on  record : 
Which  made  some  confidently  write. 
They  had  no  stomachs  but  to  fight/' 

This,  however,  is  only  one  poet's  view  of  the  dietary  of  the  er- 
rant gentlemen  of  old.  Pope  is  much  nearer  truth  when  he  says, 
that— 


KNIGHTS   AT  HOME.  37 

"  In  days  of  old  our  fathers  went  to  war, 
Expecting  sturdy  blows  and  scanty  fare. 
Their  beef  they  often  in  their  morion  stewed. 
And  in^  their  basket-hilt  their  beverage  brewed." 

— that  basket-hilt  of  wHch  it  is  so  well  said  in  Hudibras,  that-— 

"  it  would  hold  broth, 
Xnd  serve  for  fight  and  dinner  both." 

The  lords  and  chivalric  gentlemen  who  fared  so  well  and  fought 
so  stoutly,  were  not  always  of  the  gentlest  humor  at  home.  It  has 
been  observed  that  Piedmontese  society  long  bore  traces  of  the 
chivalric  age.  An  exemplification  is  afforded  us  in  Gallenga's 
History  of  Piedmont.  It  will  serve  to  show  how  absolute  a  master 
a  powerful  knight  and  noble  was  in  his  own  house.  Thus,  from 
Gallenga  we  learn  that  Antonio  Grimaldi,  a  nobleman  of  Chieri, 
had  become  convinced  of  the  faithlessness  of  his  wife.  He  com- 
pelled her  to  hang  up  with  her  own  hand  her  paramour  to  the 
ceiling  of  her  chamber ;  then  he  had  the  chamber  walled  up,  doors 
and  windows,  and  only  allowed  the  wretched  woman  as  much  air 
and  light,  and  administered  with  his  own  hand  as  much  food  and 
drink,  as  would  indefinitely  prolong  her  agony.  And  so  he  watched 
her,  and  tended  her  with  all  that  solicitude  which  hatred  can  sug- 
gest as  well  as  love,  and  left  her  to  grope  alone  in  that  blind  soli- 
tude, with  the  mute  testimony  of  her  guilt — a  ghastly  object  on 
which  her  aching  eyes  were  riveted,  day  by  day,  night  after  night, 
till  it  had  passed  through  every  loathsome  stage  of  decomposition. 
This  man  was  surely  worse  in  his  vengeance  than  that  Sir  Giles 
de  Laval,  who  has  come  down  to  us  under  the  name  of  Blue- 
Beard. 

This  celebrated  personage,  famous  by  his  pseudonym,  was  not 
less  so  in  his  own  proper  person.  There  was  not  a  braver  knight 
in  France,  during  the  reigns  of  Charles  VI.  and  VII.,  than  this 
Marquis  de  Laval,  Marshal  of  France.  The  English  feared  him 
almost  as  much  as  they  did  the  Pucelle.  The  household  of  this 
brave  gentleman  was,  however,  a  hell  upon  earth ;  and  licentious- 
ness, blasphemy,  attempts  at  sorcery,  and,  more  than  attempts  at, 
very  successful  realizations  of,  murder  were  the  little  foibles  of 
this  man  of  many  wives.     He  excelled  the  most  extravagant  mon- 


38  THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THEIB  DAYS. 

archs  in  his  boundless  provision,  and  in  the  barbaric  splendor  of 
his  court  or  house :  the  latter  was  thronged  with  ladies  of  Tery 
light  manners,  players,  mountebanks,  pretended  magicians,  and  as 
many  cooks  as  Julian  found  in  the  palace  of  his  predecessor  at 
Constantinople.  There  were  two  hundred  saddle-horses  in  his 
stable,  and  he  had  a  greater  variety  of  dogs  than  could  now  be 
found  at  any  score  of  "  fanciers"  of  that  article.  He  employed  the 
magicians  for  a  double  purpose.  They  undertook  to  discover 
treasures  for  his  use,  and  pretty  handmaids  to  tend  on  his  illustri- 
ous person,  or  otherwise  amuse  him  by  the  display  of  their  accom- 
plishments. Common  report  said  that  these  young  persons  were 
slain  afler  a  while,  their  blood  being  of  much  profit  in  making  in- 
cantations, the  object  of  which  was  the  discovery  of  gold.  Much 
exaggeration  magnified  his  misdeeds,  which  were  atrocious  enough 
in  their  plain,  unvarnished  infamy.  At  length  justice  overtook 
this  monster.  She  did  not  lay  hold  of  him  for  his  crimes  against 
society,  but  for  a  peccadillo  which  offended  the  Duke  of  Brittany. 
Giles  de  Laval,  for  this  offence,  was  burnt  at  Nantes,  after  being 
strangled — such  mercy  having  been  vouchsafed  to  him,  because 
he  was  a  gallant  knight  and  gentleman,  and  of  course  was  not  to 
be  burnt  alive  like  any  petty  villain  of  peasant  degree.  He  had 
a  moment  of  weakness  at  last,  and  just  previous  to  the  rope  being 
tightened  round  his  neck,  he  publicly  declared  that  he  should  never 
have  come  to  that  pass,  nor  have  committed  so  many  excesses, 
had  it  not  been  for  his  wretched  education.  Thus  are  men,  shrewd 
enough  to  drive  bargains,  and  able  to  discern  between  virtue  and 
vice,  ever  ready,  when  retribution  falls  on  them  at  the  scaffold,  to 
accuse  their  father,  mother,  schoolmaster,  or  spiritual  pastor.  Few 
are  like  the  knight  of  the  road,  who,  previous  to  the  cart  sliding 
from  under  him,  at  Tyburn,  remarked  that  he  had  the  satisfaction, 
at  least,  of  knowing  that  the  position  he  had  attained  in  society 
was  owing  entirely  to  himself.  "  May  I  be  hanged,"  said  he,  "  if 
that  isn't  the  fact"  The  finisher  of  the  law  did  not  stop  to  argue 
the  question  with  him,  but,  on  cutting  him  down,  remarked,  with 
the  gravity  of  a  cardinal  before  breakfast,  that  the  gentleman  had 
wronged  the  devil  and  the  ladies,  in  attributing  his  greatness  so 
exclusively  to  his  own  exertions. 

I  have  said  that  perhaps  Blue-Beard's  little  foibles  have  been 


KNIGHTS   AT   HOME.  39 

exaggerated ;  but,  on  reflection,  I  am  not  sure  that  tliis  pleasant 
hypothesis  can  be  sustained.  De  Laval,  of  whom  more  than  I 
have  told  may  be  found  in  Mezeray,  was  not  worse  than  the  Land- 
vogt  Hugenbach,  who  makes  so  terrible  a  figure  in  Barante's 
"  Dukes  of  Burgundy."  The  Landvogt,  we  are  told  by  the  last- 
named  historian,  cared  no  more  for  heaven  than  he  did  for  any- 
body on  earth.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  that  being  perfectly 
sure  of  going  to  the  devil,  he  would  take  especial  care  to  deny 
himself  no  gratification  that  he  could  possibly  desire.  There  was, 
accordingly,  no  sort  of  wild  fancy  to  which  he  did  not  surrender 
himself.  He  was  a  fiendish  corruptor  of  virtue,  employing  money, 
menaces,  or  brutal  violence,  to  accomplish  his  ends.  Neither  cot- 
tage nor  convent,  citizen's  hearth  nor  noble's  chateau,  was  secure 
from  his  invasion  and  atrocity.  He  was  terribly  hated,  terribly 
feared — but  then  Sir  Landvogt  Hugenbach  gave  splendid  dinners, 
and  every  family  round  went  to  them,  while  they  detested  the 
giver. 

He  was  remarkably  facetious  on  these  occasions,  sometimes 
ferociously  so.  For  instance,  Barante  records  of  him,  that  at  one 
of  his  pleasant  soirees  he  sent  away  the  husbands  into  a  room 
apart,  and  kept  the  wives  together  m  his  grand  saloon.  These, 
he  and  his  myrmidons  despoiled  entirely  of  their  dresses ;  after 
which,  having  fiung  a  covering  over  the  head  of  each  lady,  who 
dared  not,  for  her  life,  resist,  the  amiable  host  called  in  the  hus- 
bands one  by  one,  and  bade  each  select  his  own  wife.  If  the  hus- 
band made  a  mistake,  he  was  immediately  seized  and  fiung  head- 
long down  the  staircase.  The  Landvogt  made  no  more  scruple 
about  it  than  Lord  Ernest  Vane  when  he  served  the  Windsor 
manager  after  something  of  the  same  fashion.  The  husbands  who 
guessed  rightly  were  conducted  to  the  sideboard  to  receive  con- 
gratulations, and  drink  various  flasks  of  wine  thereupon.  But  the 
Mnount  of  wine  forced  upon  each  unhappy  wretch  was  so  immense, 
that  in  a  short  time  he  was  as  near  death  as  the  mangled  hus- 
bands, who  were  lying  in  a  senseless  heap  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case. 

They  who  would  like  to  learn  further  of  this  respectable  indi- 
vidual, are  referred  to  the  pages  of  Barante.  They  will  find  there 
that  this  knight  and  servant  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  more 


40  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

like  an  incarnation  of  the  devil  than  aught  besides.  His  career 
was  frightful  for  its  stupendous  cruelty  and  crime ;  but  it  ended 
on  the  scaffold,  nevertheless.  His  behavior  there  was  like  that 
of  a  saint  who  felt  a  little  of  the  human  infirmity  of  irritability  at 
being  treated  as  a  very  wicked  personage  by  the  extremely  blind 
justice  of  men.  So  edifying  was  this  chivalrous  scoundrel,  that 
the  populace  fairly  took  him  for  the  saint  he  figured  to  be ;  and 
long  after  his  death,  crowds  fiocked  to  his  tomb  to  pray  for  his 
mediation  between  tliem  and  Gk)d. 

The  rough  jokes  of  the  Landvogt  remind  me  of  a  much  greater 
man  than  he — Gaston  de  Foix,  in  whose  earlier  times  there  was 
no  lack  of  rough  jokes,  too.  The  portrait  of  Gaston,  with  his 
page  helping  to  buckle  on  his  armor,  by  Giorgione  da  Castel 
Franco,  is  doubtless  known  to  most  of  my  readers — through  the 
engraving,  if  not  the  original.  It  was  formerly  the  property  of 
the  Duke  of  Orleans ;  but  came,  many  years  ago,  into  the  posses- 
sion, by  purchase,  of  Lord  Carlisle.  The  expression  of  the  page 
or  young  squire  who  is  helping  to  adjust  Gaston's  armor  is  ad- 
mirably rendered.  That  of  the  hero  gives,  perhaps,  too  old  a  look 
to  a  knight  who  is  known  to  have  died  young. 

This  Gaston  was  a  neph^  of  Louis  XII.  His  titles  were 
Duke  of  Nemours  and  Count  d'Etampes.  He  was  educated  by 
his  mother,  the  sister  of  King  Louis.  She  exulted  in  Gaston  as 
one  who  was  peculiarly  her  own  work.  "  Considering,"  she  says, 
"  how  honor  became  her  son,  she  was  pleased  to  let  him  seek  dan- 
ger where  he  was  likely  to  find  fame."  His  career  was  splendid, 
but  proportionally  brief.  He  purchased  imperishable  renown,  and 
a  glorious  death,  in  Italy.  He  gained  the  victory  of  Ravenna, 
at  the  cost  of  his  life ;  after  which  event,  fortune  abandoned  the 
standard  of  Louis ;  and  Maximilian  Sforza  recovered  the  Milanese 
territories  of  his  father,  Ludovic.  This  was  early  in  the  sixteenth 
century. 

But  it  is  of  another  Gaston  de  Foix  that  I  have  to  speak.  I 
have  given  precedence  to  one  bearer  of  the  name,  because  he  was 
the  worthier  man ;  but  the  earlier  hero  will  afford  us  better  illus- 
trations of  the  home-life  of  the  noble  knights  who  were  sovereigns 
within  their  own  districts.  Froissart  makes  honorable  mention  of 
him  in  his  "  Chronicle."     He  was  Count  de  Foix,  and  kept  court 


KNIOHTS   AT  HOME.  41 

at  Ortez,  in  the  south  of  France.  There  assembled  belted  knights 
and  aspiring  'squires,  majestic  matrons  and  dainty  damsels. 
When  the  CJount  was  not  on  a  war-path,  his  house  was  a  scene  of 
great  gayety.  The  jingle  of  spurs,  clash  of  swords,  tramp  of  iron 
heels,  virelays  sung  by  men-at-arms,  love-songs  hummed  by  au- 
dacious pages,  and  romances  entoned  to  the  lyre  by  minstrels  who 
were  masters  in  the  art — these,  with  courtly  feasts  and  stately 
dances,  made  of  the  castle  at  Ortez  anything  but  a  dull  residence. 
Hawking  and  hunting  seem  to  have  been  "  my  very  good  Erie's*' 
favorite  diversion.  He  was  not  so  much  master  of  his  passions  as 
he  was  of  his  retainers ;  and  few  people  thought  the  worse  of  him 
simply  because  he  murdered  his  cousin  for  refusing  to  betray 
his  trust,  and  cut  the  throat  of  the  only  legitimate  son  of  the 
Earl. 

We  may  form  some  idea  of  the  practical  jests  of  those  days, 
from  an  anecdote  told  by  Froissart.  Gaston  de  Foix  had  com- 
plained, one  cold  day,  of  the  scanty  fire  which  his  retainers  kept 
up  in  the  great  gallery.  Whereupon  one  of  the  knights  descended 
to  the  court-yard,  where  stood  several  asses  laden  with  wood.  One 
of  them  he  seized,  wood  and  ass  together,  and  staggering  up-stairs 
into  the  gallery,  flung  the  whole,  the  ass  heels  uppermost,  on  to 
the  fire.  "  Whereof,"  says  Froissart, ''  the  Earl  of  Foix  had  great 
joy,  and  so  had  all  they  that  were  there,  and  had  marvel  of  his 
strength,  how  he  alone  came  up  all  the  stairs  with  the  ass  and  the 
wood  on  his  neck." 

Gaston  was  but  a  lazy  knight.  It  was  high  noon,  Froissart 
tells  us,  before  he  rose  from  his  bed.  He  supped  at  midnight ; 
and  when  he  issued  from  his  chamber  to  proceed  to  the  hall  where 
supper  was  laid,  twelve  torches  were  carried  before  him,  and 
these  were  held  at  his  table  "  by  twelve  varlets"  during  the  time 
that  supper  lasted.  The  Earl  sat  alone,  and  none  of  the  knights 
or  squires  who  crowded  round  the  other  tables  dared  to  speak  a 
word  to  him  unless  the  great  man  previously  addressed  him.  The 
supper  then  must  have  been  a  dull  affair. 

The  treasurer  of  the  Collegiate  Church  of  Chimay  relates  in  a 
very  delicate  manner  how  Gaston  came  to  murder  his  little  son. 
Gaston's  wife  was  living  apart  from  her  husband,  at  the  court  of 
her  brother,  the  King  of  Navarre,  and  the  "  little  son"  in  question 


42  ^  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

was  residing  there  on  a  visit  to  his  mother.  As  he  was  on  the 
point  of  returning,  the  king  of  Navarre  gave  him  a  powder,  which 
he  directed  the  boj  to  administer  to  his  father,  telling  him  that  it 
was  a  love-powder,  and  would  bring  back  his  father's  affection  for 
the  mother.  The  innocent  boy  took  the  powder,  which  was  in 
fact  poison ;  and  a  night  or  two  after  his  return  to  Ortez,  an  ille- 
gftimate  son  of  Gaston  found  it  in  the  boy's  clothes.  The  base* 
born  lad  informed  against  his  brother,  and  when  Graston  had  given 
the  powder  to  a  dog,  which  inmiediately  died,  he  could  scarcely  be 
kept  from  poniarding  his  son  upon  the  spot.  The  poor  child 
was  flung  into  a  dungeon,  where,  between  terror  and  despair,  he 
refused  to  take  any  food.  Upon  being  told  of  this,  the  earl  en- 
tered the  chamber  in  which  the  boy  was  confined,  "  he  had  at  the 
same  time  a  little  knife  in  his  hand,  to  pare  withal  his  nails  .... 
In  great  displeasure  he  thrust  his  hand  at  his  son's  throat,  and  the 
point  of  his  knife  a  little  entered  into  his  throat  into  a  certain  vein ; 
and  the  earl  said,  *  Ah,  traitor,  why  dost  thou  not  eat  thy  meat  ?' 
and  therewith  the  earl  departed  without  any  more  doing  or  saying." 
Never  was  brutal  murder  more  daintily  glozed  over,  but  Froissart 
is  so  afraid  that  he  may  not  have  sufficiently  impressed  you  with 
a  conviction  of  its  being  a  little  accident,  that  he  goes  on  to  say 
"  The  child  was  abashed,  and  afraid  of  the  coming  of  his  father, 
and  was  also  feeble  of  fasting,  and  the  point  of  the  knife  a  little 
entered  into  his  throat,  into  a  certain  vein  of  his  throat ;  and  so 
[he]  fell  down  suddenly  and  died!" 

The  rascally  sire  was  as  jolly  after  the  deed  as  before  it ;  but 
he  too  one  day  "  fell  down  suddenly  and  died."  He  had  over- 
heated himself  with  hunting,  and  in  that  condition  bathed  in  cold 
water  as  soon  as  he  reached  home.  The  description  of  the  whole 
of  this  domestic  scene  is  one  of  the  most  graphic,  in  Froissart,  but 
it  is  too  long  for  quotation.  It  must  suffice  that  the  vast  posses- 
sions of  the  count  fell  into  the  hands  of  that  villanous  illegitimate 
son.  Sir  Jenbayne  de  Foix.  The  latter  was  one  of  the  six  knights 
who,  with  Charles  VI.,  entered  a  ball-room  disguised  as  satyrs, 
and  fast  chained  together.  Some  one,  who  is  supposed  to  have 
owed  no  good- will  to  the  king,  flung  a  torch  into  the  group.  Their 
inflammable  dresses  immediately  caught  fire,  and  Sir  Jenbayne  de 


KNIGHTS  AT   HOME.  ^       43 

Foix  was  one  of  those  who  was  burned  to  death.     The  king  him- 
self, as  is  well  known,  had  a  very  narrow  escape. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  chief  home  pleasures  enjoyed  by  knights 
when  not  engaged  in  war,  was  the  pleasure  of  the  chase.  Idle 
country  gentlemen  now  resemble  their  chivalrous  ancestors  in  this 
respect,  and  for  want  of  or  distaste  for  other  vocations,  spend  three 
fourths  of  their  rural  time  in  the  fields.  In  the  old  days  too,  as 
ever,  there  were  clerical  gentlemen  very  much  addicted  to  hunting 
and  moreover  not  less  so  to  trespassing.  These  were  not  reverend 
rectors  on  their  own  thorough-breds,  or  curates  on  borrowed 
ponies,  but  dignified  prelates — even  archbishops.  One  of  the 
latter,  Edmund,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  presumed  to  hunt  without  permission,  on  the 
grounds  of  a  young  knight^^e  Earl  of  Arundel,  a  minor.  On 
the  day  the  Earl  came  of  age,  he  issued  a  prohibition  against  the 
archiepiscopal  trespasser,  and  the  latter  in  return  snapped  his 
fingers  at  the  earl,  and  declared  that  his  way  was  as  legally  open 
to  any  chase  as  it  was  free  into  any  church.  Accordingly,  the 
right  reverend  gentleman  issued  forth  as  usual,  with  hounds  and 
horses,  and  a  "  numerous  meet"  of  clerical  friends  and  other  fol- 
lowers, glad  to  hunt  in  such  company.  Their  sport,  however,  was 
spoiled  by  the  retainers  of  the  young  earl.  These,  in  obedience 
to  their  master's  orders,  called  off  the  dogs,  unstopped  the  earths, 
warned  off  the  riders,  and  laughed  at  the  ecclesiastical  thunder  of 
the  prelate,  flung  at  them  in  open  field.  Edmund,  finding  it  im- 
possible to  overcome  the  opposition  of  the  men,  addressed  himself 
to  the  master,  summarily  devoting  him  ad  inferos  for  daring  to 
interfere  with  the  prelatic  pastimes.  Nothing  daunted,  the  young 
earl,  who  would  gladly  have  permitted  the  archbishop  to  hunt  in 
his  company,  whenever  so  disposed,  but  who  would  not  allow  the 
head  of  the  church  in  England  to  act  in  the  woods  of  Arundel  as 
as  if  he  were  also  lord  of  the  land,  made  appeal  to  the  only  com- 
petent court — that  of  the  Pope.  The  contending  parties  went 
over  and  pleaded  their  most  respective  causes  personally;  the 
earl  with  calmness,  as  feeling  that  he  had  right  on  his  side ;  Ed- 
mund with  easy  arrogance,  springing  from  a  conviction  that  the 
Pontiff  would  not  give  a  layman  a  triumph  over  a  priest.  The 
archbishop,  however,  was  mistaken.     He  not  only  lost  his  cause, 


44         ^  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

but  he  was  condemned  in  the  expenses ;  and  if  any  one  thinks 
that  this  decree  checked  him  in  trespassing,  such  an  idea  would 
show  that  the  holder  of  it  knew  little  of  the  spirit  which  moved 
prelates  fond  of  hunting.  The  archbishop  became  the  most  con- 
firmed poacher  in  the  country ;  and  if  he  did  not  spoil  the  knight's 
sport  by  riding  in  advance  of  the  hounds  with  a  red  herring,  he 
had  resort  to  means  as  efficacious  for  maning  the  pleasures  of 
others  in  the  chase.  He  affected,  too,  to  look  down  upon  the  earl 
as  one  inferior  to  him  in  degree,  and  when  they  encountered  at 
GOUTt,  the  prelate  exhibited  no  more  courtesy  toward  the  gallant 
knight  than  was  manifested  by  Lord  Cowley  in  Paris  toward  the 
English  Exhibition  Commissioners,  when  the  mere  men  of  intellect 
were  kept  at  what  the  peer  thought  a  proper  distance  by  the  mere 
men  of  rank. 

There  is,  however,  no  lack  of  instances  of  young  knights  them- 
selves being  brought  up  in  arrogance  and  wilfulness.  This  sort 
of  education  lasted  longer,  perhaps,  in  France  than  elsewhere. 
As  late  as  the  last  century  this  instruction  prevailed,  particularly 
where  the  pupil  was  intended  for  the  army.  Thus,  the  rearing 
of  the  little  Vidame  d' Amiens  affords  us  an  illustration.  He  was 
awkward  and  obstinate,  but  he  might  have  been  cured  of  both 
defects,  had  his  mother  been  permitted  to  have  some  voice  in  his 
education.  She  was  the  last  to  be  consulted,  or  rather,  was  never 
consulted  at  all.  The  more  the  little  man  was  arrogant,  the  more 
delighted  were  his  relatives  with  such  manifestation  of  his  spirit ; 
and  one  day,  when  he  dealt  to  his  aunt,  the  Marquise  de  Belliere 
Plessis,  a  box  of  the  ear  which  sent  the  old  lady  staggering,  her 
only  remark  was,  "  My  dear,  you  should  never  strike  me  with  the 
lefl  hand."  The  courteous  Vidame  mortally  hated  his  tutor,  and 
expressed  such  a  desire  to  kiU  him,  that  the  pedagogue  was  asked 
to  allow  the  little  savage  to  believe  that  he  had  accomplished  the 
desired  act  of  homicide.  Accordingly,  a  light  musket  was  placed 
in  the  boy's  hands,  from  which  the  ball  had  been  drawn,  unknown 
to  him,  and  with  this,  coming  suddenly  upon  his  instructor,  who 
feigned  the  surprise  he  did  not  feel,  the  Vidame  discharged  the 
piece  full  at  the  breast  of  his  monitor  and  friend. .  The  servile 
sage  pretended  to  be  mortally  wounded,  and  acted  death  upon  the 
polished  floor.     He  was  quietly  got  rid  of,  and  a  pension  of  four 


KNIGHTS   AT  HOME.  46 

liundred  francs,  just  sixteen  pounds  a  year,  rewarded  his  stupid 
servility.  The  little  chevalier  was  as  proud  as  Fighting  Fitzgerald 
of  having,  as  he  supposed,  "  killed  his  man." 

Let  us  return  to  earlier  times  for  illustrations  of  the  knight  at 
home,  and  also  abroad.  -  There  is  no  lack  of  such  illustration  in 
the  adventures  of  Fulke  Fitzwarren.  Fulke  was  ones  of  the 
outlawed  barons  of  the  reign  of  King  John.  In  his  youth,  he 
was  brought  up  with  the  four  sons  of  King  Henry ;  he  was  much 
beloved  by  them  all,  except  John.  "  It  happened  that  John  and 
Fulke  were  sitting  all  alone  in  a  chamber  playing  at  chess ;  and 
John  took  the  chess-board,  and  struck  Fulke  with  a  great  blow. 
Fulke  felt  himself  hurt,  raised  his  foot  and  struck  John  in  the 
middle  of  the  stomach ;  and  his  head  flew  against  the  waD,  and  he 
became  all  weak,  and  fainted.  Fulke  was  in  consternation ;  but 
he  was  glad  that  there  was  nobody  in  the  chamber  but  they  two, 
and  he  rubbed  John's  ears,  who  recovered  from  his  fainting  fit, 
and  went  to  the  king  his  father,  and  made  a  great  complaint. 
'  Hold  your  tongue,  wretch,'  said  the  king,  *  you  are  always  quar- 
relling. If  Fulke  did  anything  but  good  to  you,  it  must  have 
been  by  your  own  desert ;'  and  he  called  his  master,  and  made  him 
beat  him  finely  and  well  for  complaining.  John  was  much  enraged 
against  Fulke,  so  that  he  could  never  afterward  love  him  heartily." 

The  above,  as  has  been  remarked,  evinces  how  little  respect 
there  was  in  those  early  times  for  royal  authority  and  the  doctrine 
of  non-resistance.  But  it  may  be  observed,  that  even  in  these 
more  polite  times,  were  the  heir-apparent  to  strike  a  playfellow, 
his  royal  highness  would  probably  meet  in  return  with  as  ready- 
handed,  if  not  quite  so  rough  a  correction  as  was  inflicted  upon 
John.  The  latter  could  not  forgive  a  bold  companion  of  his  boy- 
hood, as  James  I.  did,  in  subsequent  times,  with  regard  to  "  Jamie 
Slates."  On  the  contrary,  when  John  became  king,  he  plotted 
with  as  unscrupulous  a  person  as  himself,  to  deprive  Fulke  of  his 
estate.  The  conversation  between  the  king  and  his  confederate, 
Moris  de  Powis,  was  overheard ;  and  what  came  of  it  is  thus  told 
in  the  history  of  Fulke  Fitzwarren,  as  edited  by  Thomas  Wright 
Esq.,  for  the  Warton  Club  :— 

"  There  was  close  by  a  knight  who  had  heard  all  the  conversa- 
tion between  the  king  and  Moris,  and  he  went  in  haste  to  Sir 


46  THE  KNIGHTS  ANP  THEIR  DATS. 

Fulke,  and  told  him  that  the  king  was  about  to  ooDfirm  hj  his 
charter,  to  Sir  Moris,  the  lands  to  which  he  had  right  Fulke 
and  his  four  brothers  came  before  the  king,  and  prayed  that  the7 
might  have  the  common  law  and  the  lands  to  which  they  had  daim 
and  right,  as  the  inheritance  of  Fulke ;  and  thej  prayed  that  the 
king  would  receive  fix)m  them  a  hundred  pounds,  on  condition  that 
he  should  grant  them  the  award  of  his  court  of  gain  and  loss. 
The  king  told  them  that  what  he  had  granted  to  Sir  Moris,  he 
would  hold  to  it  whoever  might  be  offended  or  who  not  At  length 
Sir  Moris  spoke  to  Sir  Fulke,  and  said,  *  Sir  Knight,  you  are  a 
great  fool  to  challenge  my  lands ;  if  you  say  that  you  have  a  right 
to  White-Town,  you  lie ;  and  if  we  were  not  in  the  king's  presence 
I  would  have  proved  it  on  your  body.*  Sir  William,  Fulke's 
brother,  without  a  word  more,  sprang  forward  and  struck  Sir  Moris 
with  his  fist  in  the  middle  of  his  face,  that  it  became  all  bloody ; 
knights  interfered  that  no  more  hurt  was  done;  then  said  Sir 
Fulke  to  the  king :  '  Sir  King,  you  are  my  liege-lord,  and  to  you 
was  I  bound  by  fealty,  as  long  as  I  was  in  your  service,  and  as 
long  as  I  held  the  lands  of  you ;  and  you  ought  to  maintain  me  in 
right,  and  you  fail  me  in  right  and  common  law ;  and  never  was 
he  good  king  who  denied  his  frank  tenants  law  in  his  court ;  where- 
fore I  return  you  your  homages :'  and  with  this  word,  he  departed 
from  the  court  and  went  to  his  hostel." 

Fulke  was  most  unjustly  exiled,  but  after  a  while  he  returned 
to  England,  wandered  about  in  various  disguises,  and  at  length, 
with  a  ripe  project,  settled  down  as  a  collier  or  charcoal-burner  in 
Windsor  Forest  I  will  once  more  draw  from  Mr.  Wright's  edi- 
tion of  this  knightly  biography  for  what  ensued. 

"  At  length  came  the  king  with  three  knights,  all  on  foot  to 
Fulke,  where  he  was  arranging  his  fire.  When  Fulke  saw  the 
king,  he  knew  him  well  enough,  and  he  cast  the  fork  from  his 
hand  and  saluted  his  lord  and  went  on  his  knees  before  him  very 
humbly.  The  king  and  his  three  knights  had  great  laughter  and 
game  at  the  breeding  and  bearing  of  the  collier.  They  stood  there 
very  long.  *  Sir  Vilain,'  said  the  king,  '  have  you  seen  no  stag  or 
doe  pass  here  ?'  *  Yes,  my  lord,  awhile  ago.'  *  What  beast  did 
you  see  ?'  *  Sir,  my  lord,  a  homed  one ;  and  it  had  long  horns.' 
<  Where  is  it  ?'    *  Sir,  mj  lord,  I  know  very  well  how  to  lead  you 


KNIGHTS  AT  HOME.  47 

to  where  I  saw  it.'  *  Onward  then,  Sir  Vilain,  and  we  will  follow 
you.'  *  Sir,'  said  the  collier,  *  shall  I  take  my  fork  in  my  hand  ? 
for  if  it  were  taken  I  should  have  thereby  a  great  loss.'  '  Yea, 
Yilain,  if  you  will.'  Fulke  took  the  great  fork  of  iron  in  his  hand 
and  led  the  king  to  shoot ;  for  he  had  a  very  handsome  bow. 
'  Sir,  my  lord,'  said  Fulke, '  ¥rill  you  please  to  wait,  and  I  will  go 
into  the  thicket  and  make  the  beast  come  this  way  by  here  ?* 
'  Yea,'  said  the  king.  Fulke  did  hastily  spring  into  the  thick  of 
the  forest;  and  commanded  his  company  hastily  to  seize  upon 
King  John,  for  *  I  have  brought  him  there  only  with  three  knights ; 
and  all  his  company  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  forest'  Fulke  and 
his  company  leaped  out  of  the  thicket,  and  rushed  upon  the  king 
and  seized  him  at  once.  *  Sir  King,'  said  Fulke,  *  now  I  have  you 
in  my  power,  such  judgment  I  will  execute  on  you  as  you  would 
on  me,  if  you  had  taken  me.'  The  king  trembled  with  fear  for 
he  had  great  dread  of  Fulke." 

There  is  here,  perhaps,  something  of  the  romantic  history,  but 
with  a  substantiality  of  truth.  In  the  end,  Fulke,  who  we  are 
told  was  really  one  of  the  barons  to  whom  we  owe  Magna  Charta^ 
and  who  was  anathematized  by  the  pope,  and  driven  into  exile 
again  and  agaiD,  got  the  better  of  all  his  enemies,  pope  and  king 
included.  There  are  two  traditions  touching  his  death.  One  is, 
that  he  survived  to  the  period  of  the  battle  of  Lewes,  where  he 
was  one  of  a  body  of  Henry  the  Third's  friends  who  were  drowned 
in  the  adjacent  river.  The  other  tells  a  very  different  story,  and 
is  probably  nearer  the  truth.  We  are  inclined  to  think  with  Mr. 
Wright,  the  editor  of  the  biographical  history  in  question,  that  he 
who  was  drowned  near  Lewes,  was  the  son  of  Fulke.  We  add 
the  following  account,  less  because  of  its  detail  touching  the  death 
of  the  old  knight  than  as  having  reference  to  how  knights  lived, 
moved,  and  had  their  being,  in  the  period  referred  to : — 

"  Fulke  and  Lady  Clarice  his  wife,  one  night,  were  sleeping 
together  in  their  chamber ;  and  the  lady  was  asleep,  and  Fulke 
was  awake,  and  thought  of  his  youth ;  and  repented  much  in  his 
heart  for  his  trespasses.  At  length,  he  saw  in  the  chamber  so 
great  a  light,  that  it  was  wonderful ;  and  he  thought  what  could  it 
be  ?  And  he  heard  a  voice,  as  it  were,  of  thunder  in  the  air,  and 
it  said: — *  Vassal,  God  has  granted  thy  penance,  which  is  better 


48  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

here  than  elsewhere.'  At  that  word  the  lady  awoke,  and  saw  the 
great  light,  and  covered  her  face  for  fear.  At  length  this  light 
vanished.  And  after  this  light  Fulke  could  never  see  more,  but 
he  was  blind  all  his  days.  Then  Fulke  was  very  hospitable  and 
liberal,  and  he  caused  the  king's  road  to  be  turned  through  his  hall 
at  his  manor  of  AUeston,  in  order  no  stranger  might  pass  without 
having  meat  or  lodging,  or  other  honor  or  goods  of  his.  This 
Fulke  remained  seven  years  blind,  and  suffered  well  his  penance. 
Lady  Clarice  died  and  was  buried  at  the  New  Abbey ;  after  whose 
death  Fulke  lived  but  a  year,  and  died  at  the  White-town ;  and 
in  great  honor  was  he  interred  at  the  New  Abbey — on  whose 
soul  may  God  have  mercy.  Near  the  altar  is  the  body.  God 
have  mercy  on  us  all,  alive  and  dead.     Amen !" 

The  religious  sentiment  was  strong  in  all  Norman  knights,  but 
not  more  so,  perhaps,  than  in  the  wild  chivalry  of  North  America, 
when  first  its  painted  heroes  heard  of  the  passion  and  death  of 
Christ.  Charlevoix  tells  us  of  an  Iroquois,  who,  on  hearing  of  the 
crucifixion,  exclaimed  with  the  feeling  of  a  Christian  crusader, 
**  Oh,  if  I  had  been  there !"  Precisely  such  an  exclamation  was 
once  made  by  a  Norman  knight,  as  he  listened  to  a  monk  narra- 
ting the  great  sacrifice  on  Mount  Calvary.  The  more  savage 
warrior,  however,  has  always  had  the  more  poetical  feeling.  Wit- 
ness the  dying  request  of  a  young  Indian  chief,  also  noticed  by 
Charlevoix.  The  dying  victor  asked  to  be  buried  in  a  blue  robe, 
because  that  was  the  color  of  the  sky :  the  fashion,  with  many 
Norman  knights,  of  being  interred  in  a  robe  and  cowl  of  a  monk, 
had  far  less  of  elevated  feeling  for  its  motive. 

Having  shown  something  of  what  the  knight  did  at  home,  let  us 
contemplate  also  what  he  taught  there,  by  precept,  if  not  by  ex- 
ample. There  was  a  knight  who  was  known  by  the  title  of  "  the 
White  Knight,"  whose  name  was  De  la  Tour  Landay^  who  was  a 
contemporary  of  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  and  who  is  supposed 
to  have  fought  at  Poictiers.  He,  is,  however,  best  known,  or  at 
least  equally  well  known,  as  the  author  of  a  work  entitled  "  Le 
Livre  du  Chevalier  de  la  Tour  Landay."  This  book  was  written, 
or  dictated  by  him,  for  the  especial  benefit  of  his  two  daughters, 
and  for  the  guidance  of  young  ladies  generally.  It  is  extremely  in- 
delicate in  parts,  and  in  such  wise  gives  no  very  favorable  idea  of  the 


KNIGHTS  AT  HOME.  49 

young  ladies  who  could  bear  such  instruction  as  is  here  imparted. 
The  Chevalier  performed  his  authorship  after  a  very  free  and  easy 
fashion.  He  engaged  foar  clerical  gentlemen,  strictly  designated 
as  "  two  priests  and  two  clerks,"  whose  task  it  was  to  procure  for 
him  all  the  necessary  illustrative  materials,  such  as  anecdotes, 
apophthegms,  and  such  like.  These  were  collected  from  all 
sources,  sacred  and  profane — from  the  Bible  down  to  any  volume, 
legendary  or  historical,  that  would  suit  his  purpose.  These  he 
worked  mosaically  together,  adding  such  wise  saw,  moral,  counsel, 
or  sentiment,  as  he  deemed  the  case  most  especially  required ; — 
with  a  sprinkHng  of  stories  of  his  own  collecting.  A  critic  in  the 
"Athenaeum,"  commenting  upon  this  curious  volume,  says  with 
great  truth,  that  it  affords  good  materials  for  an  examination  into 
the  morals  and  manners  of  the  times.  "  Nothing,"  says  the  re- 
viewer, "  is  urged  for  adoption  upon  the  sensible  grounds  of  right 
or  wrong,  or  as  being  in  accordance  with  any  admitted  moral 
standard,  but  because  it  has  been  sanctified  by  long  usage,  been 
confirmed  by  pretended  miracle,  or  been  approved  by  some  super- 
stition which  outrages  common  sense." 

In  illustration  of  these  remarks  it  is  shown  how  the  Chevalier 
recommends  a  strict  observation  of  the  meagre  days,  upon  the 
ground  that  the  dissevered  head  of  a  soldier  was  once  enabled  to 
call  for  a  priest,  confess,  and  listen  to  the  absolution,  because  the 
owner  of  the  head  had  never  transgressed  the  Wednesday  and 
Friday's  fasts  throughout  his  lifetime.  Avoidance  of  the  seven 
capital  sins  is  enjoined  upon  much  the  same  grounds.  Gluttony, 
for  instance,  is  to  be  avoided,  for  the  good  reason,  that  a  prattling 
magpie  once  betrayed  a  lady  who  had  eaten  a  dish  of  eels,  which 
her  lord  had  intended  for  some  guests  whom  he  wished  particularly 
to  honor.  Charity  is  enjoined,  not  because  the  practice  thereof  is 
placed  by  the  great  teacher,  not  merely  above  Hope,  but  before 
Faith,  but  because  a  lady  who,  in  spite  of  priestly  warning,  gave 
the  broken  victuals  of  her  household  to  her  dogs  rather  than  ti 
the  poor,  being  on  her  death-bed,  was  leaped  upon  by  a  couple  of 
black  dogs,  and  that  these  having  approached  her  lips,  the  latter 
became  as  black  as  a  coal.  The  knight  the  more  insists  upon 
the  proper  exercise  of  charity,  seeing  that  he  has  unquestionable 
authority  in  support  of  the  truth  of  the  story.     That  is,  he  knew 

4 


50  THE  ENIOHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

a  lady  that  had  known  the  defunct,  and  who  sud  she  had  seen  the 
dogs.  Implicit  obedience  of  wives  to  husbands  is  insisted  on,  with 
a  forcibly  illustrative  argument.  A  burgher's  wife  had  answered 
her  lord  sharply,  in  place  of  silently  listening  to  reproof,  and 
meekly  obeying  his  command.  The  husband,  thereupon,  dealt  his 
wife  a  blow  with  his '  clenched  fist,  which  smashed  her  nose,  and 
felled  her  to  the  ground.  ^^  It  is  reason  and  right,"  says  the  mailed 
Mrs.  Ellis  of  his  time,  "  that  the  husband  should  have  the  word  of 
command,  and  it  is  an  honor  to  the  good  wife  to  hear  him,  and 
hold  her  peace,  and  leave  all  high  talking  to  her  lord ;  and  so,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  a  great  shame  to  hear  a  woman  strive  with  her 
husband,  whether  right  or  wrong,  and  especially  before  other  peo- 
ple." Publius  Syrus  says,  that  a  good  wife  conunands  by  obey- 
ing, but  the  Chevalier  evidently  had  no  idea  of  illustrating  the 
Latin  maxim,  or  recommending  the  end  which  it  contemplates. 
The  knight  places  the  husband  as  absolute  lord ;  and  his  doing  so, 
in  conjunction  with  the  servility  which  he  demands  on  the  part  of 
the  wife,  reminds  me  of  the  saying  of  Toulotte,  which  is  as  true  as 
anything  enjoined  by  the  moralizing  knight,  namely,  that  "  L^obHs" 
sance  aux  volontes  (Tun  chef  ahsolu  ctssimile  Vhomme  a  la  brtUe** 
This,  with  a  verbal  alteration,  may  be  applied  as  expressive  of 
the  effect  of  the  knight's  teaching  in  the  matter  of  feminine  obe- 
dience. The  latter  is  indeed  in  consonance  with  the  old  heathen 
ideas.  Euripides  asserts,  that  the  most  intolerable  wife  in  the 
world  is  a  wife  who  philosopliizes,  or  supports  her  own  opinion. 
We  are  astonished  to  find  a  Christian  knight  thus  agreed  with  a 
heathen  poet — particularly  as  it  was  in  Christian  times  that  the 
maxim  was  firfet  published,  which  says,  "  Ce  que  femme  veut,  Dieu 
Uveut!" 

This  sentiment  reminds  me,  that  it  is  time  to  show  how  the 
knight  was  affected  by  the  tender  passion,  how  it  was  sometimes 
his  glory  and  sometimes  his  shame.  He  was  sometimes  the  vic- 
tim, and  at  others  the  -victimizer. 


LOVE  IN  CHETAUERS,  AND  OHETAUEBS  IN  LOTE.    51 


LOVE  IN  CHEVALIERS,  AND  CHEVALIERS  IN 
LOVE. 

"  How  pleasing  are  the  steps  we  lovers  make, 
When  in  the  paths  of  our  content  we  pace 
To  meet  our  longings  \" — The  Hog  hack  Lost  his  Pune. 

Butler,  in  his  Hudibras  (part  ill.  cant.  1),  has  amusingly  illus- 
trated the  feeling  which  moved  knights-errant,  and  the  particular 
object  they  had  in  view :  *'  the  ancient  errant  knights,"  he  says : — 

"Won  all  their  ladies'  hearts  in  fights. 
And  cats  whole  giants  into  fritters, 
To  pat  them  into  amoroas  twitters ; 
Whose  stubborn  bowels  scorned  to  yield, 
Until  their  gallants  were  half  killed : 
But  when  their  bones  were  drubbed  so  sore 
They  durst  not  win  one  combat  more. 
The  ladies'  hearts  began  to  melt, 
Subdued  by  blows  their  lovers  felt. 
So  Spanish  heroes  with  their  lances 
At  once  wound  bulls  and  ladies'  fancies." 

However  willing  a  knight  may  have  been  to  do  homage  to  his 
lady,  the  latter,  if  she  truly  regarded  the  knight,  never  allowed  his 
homage  to  her  to  be  paid  at  the  cost  of  injury  to  his  countrjr's  honor 
or  his  own.  An  instance  of  this  is  afforded  us  in  the  case  of  Ber- 
trand  de  GuescHn.  There  never  was  man  who  struck  harder 
blows  when  he  was  a  bachelor ;  but  when  he  went  a  wooing,  and 
8tiU  more  after  he  had  wed  the  incomparable  Tiphania,  he  lost  all 
care  for  honor  in  the  field,  and  had  no  delight  but  in  the  society 
of  his  spouse.  The  lady,  however,  was  resolved  that  neither  his 
sword  nor  his  reputation  should  acquire  rust  through  any  fault  or 
beauty  of  hers.  She  rallied  him  soundly  on  his  home-keeping 
propensities,  set  them  in  contrast  with  the  activity  of  his  bachelor- 


52  THE  KNIOHTB  ANB  THEIR  DATS. 

days,  and  the  renown  acquired  hy  it,  and  forthwith  talked  him  out 
of  her  bower  and  into  his  saddle. 

The  English  did  not  profit  hj  the  lady's  eloquence,  for  our  fore- 
fathers never  had  a  more  gallant  or  more  difficult  adversary  to 
deal  with  than  Bertrand.  Living,  his  name  was  a  terror  to  them ; 
and  dying,  he  had  the  sympathy  of  those  who  had  been  his  foes. 
Charles  Y.  made  him  Constable  of  France,  and  appointed  him  a 
grave  at  the  foot  of  his  own  royal  tomb.  De  Guesdin  would  never 
have  been  half  the  man  he  was  but  for  the  good  sense  of  his  wife 
Tiphania. 

There  are  many  instances  in  romance  which  would  seem  to  im- 
ply, that  so  strained  was  the  sentiment  which  bound  knights  to  re- 
spect ladies,  it  compelled  them  not  to  depart  therefrom  even  in 
extreme  cases,  involving  lightness  of  conduct  and  infidelity.  The 
great  northern  chiefs,  who  were  a  sort  of  very  rough  knights  in 
their  way,  were,  however,  completely  under  the  distaff.  Their 
wives  could  divorce  themselves  at  will.  Thus,  in  Erysbiggia  Saga 
we  read  of  Borck,  an  Icelandic  chief,  who,  bringing  home  a  guest 
whom  his  wife  not  only  refused  to  welcome,  but  attempted  to  stab, 
administered  such  correction  to  his  spouse  in  return,  that  the  lady 
called  in  witnesses  and  divorced  herself  on  the  spot  Thereupon 
the  household  goods  were  divided  among  them,  and  the  affair  was 
rapidly  and  cheaply  managed  without  the  intervention  of  an  Eccle- 
siastical Court  More  modem  chivalry  would  not  have  tolerated 
the  idea  of  correcting  even  a  faithless,  much  less  a  merely  angry 
spouse.  Indeed,  the  amatory  principle  was  quite  as  strong  as  the 
religious  one ;  and  in  illustration  thereof,  it  has  been  remarked 
that  the  knight  must  have  been  more  than  ordinarily  devout  who 
had  God  on  his  right  hand  (the  place  of  honor),  and  his  lady  on 
his  left. 

To  ride  at  the  ring  was  then  the  pleasantest  pastime  for  knights ; 
and  ladies  looked  on  and  applauded  the  success,  or  laughed  at  the 
failures.  The  riding,  without  attempting  to  carry  off  the  ring,  is 
still  common  enough  at  our  fairs,  for  children ;  but  in  France  and 
Germany,  it  is  seriously  practised  in  both^  its  simple  and  double 
forms,  by  persons  of  all  ages,  who  glide  round  to  the  grinding  of 
an  organ,  and  look  as  grave  as  if  they  were  on  desperate  business. 

It  is  an  undoubted  matter  of  fact,  that  although  a  knight  was 


53 

boiuid  to  be  tender  in  his  gallantry,  there  were  some  to  be  found 
whose  wooing  was  of  the  very  roughest ;  and  there  were  others 
who,  if  not  rough,  were  rascally. 

The  old  Rue  des  Lombards,  in  Paris,  was  at  one  time  occupied 
exclusively  by  the  "professed  pourpoint-makers,"  as  a  modem 
tailor  might  say.  They  carried  on  a  flourishing  trade,  especially 
in  times  when  men,  like  Bassompierre,  thought  nothing  of  paying, 
or  promising  to  pay,  fourteen  thousand  crowns  for  a  pourpoint 
When  I  say  the  street  was  thus  occupied  exclusively,  I  must  no- 
tice an  exception.  There  were  a  few  other  residents  in  it,  the 
Jew  money-lenders  or  usurers ;  and  when  I  hear  the  old  French 
proverb  cited  "  patient  as  a  Lombard,"  I  do  not  know  whether  it 
originally  applied  to  the  tailors  or  the  money-lenders,  both  of  whom 
were  extensively  cheated  by  their  knightly  customers.  Here  is  an 
illustration  of  it,  showing  that  all  Jessicas  have  not  been  as  lucky 
as  Shylock's  daughter,  and  that  some  Jews  have  been  more  cruelly 
treated  than  Shy  lock's  daughter's  father — whom  I  have  always 
considered  as  one  of  the  most  ill-used  of  men. 

In  the  Rue  des  Lombards  there  dwelt  a  wealthy  Jew,  who  put 
his  money  out  at  interest,  and  kept  his  daughter  under  lock  and 
key  at  home.  But  the  paternal  Jew  did  not  close  his  shutters, 
and  the  Lombard  street  Jessica,  sitting  all  day  at  the  window,  at- 
tracted the  homage  of  many  passers-by.  These  were  chiefly 
knights  who  came  that  way  to  be  measured  for  pourpoints ;  and 
no  knight  was  more  attracted  by  the  black  eyes  of  the  young  lady 
in  question,  than  the  Chevalier  Giles  de  Pontoise.  That  name 
indeed  is  one  of  a  celebrated  hero  of  a  burlesque  tragedy,  but  the  ^ 
original  knight  was  "  my  Beverley." 

Giles  wore  the  showiest  pourpoint  in  the  world ;  for  which  he 
had  obtained  long  credit.  It  struck  him  that  he  would  call  upon 
the  Jew  to  borrow  a  few  hundred  pistoles,  and  take  the  opportu- 
nity to  also  borrow  the  daughter.  He  felt  sure  of  succeeding  in 
both  exploits ;  for,  as  he  remarked,  if  he  could  not  pay  the  money 
ho  was  about  to  borrow,  he  could  borrow  it  of  his  more  prudent 
relatives,  and  so  acquit  himself  of  his  debt  With  regard  to  the 
lady,  he  had  serenaded  her,  night  after  night,  till  she  looked  as 
ready  to  leap  down  to  him  as  the  Juliets  who  played  to  Barry's 
Romeo; — and  he  had  sung  "Ecco  ridente  il  sole."  o\  what  was 


64  THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THEIR   DAYS. 

then  equivalent  to  it,  accompanied  bj  his  guitar,  and  looking  as 
ridiculous  the  while,  without  being  half  so  silverj-toned  as  Rubini 
in  Almaviva,  warbling  his  delicious  nonsense  to  Bosina.  Our  Jew, 
like  old  Bartolo,  was  destined  to  pay  the  musician. 

Giles  succeeded  in  extracting  the  money  required  fix)m  the 
usurer,  and  he  had  like  success  in  inducing  the  daughter  to  trust 
to  his  promises.  He  took  the  latter  to  Pontoise,  deceived  her  by 
a  mock-marriage,  and  spent  all  that  he  had  borrowed  from  the 
father,  in  celebrating  his  pretended  nuptials  with  the  daughter. 
There  never  was  a  more  recreant  knight  than  Giles  de  Pontoise. 

However,  bills  wiU  become  due,  if  noble  or  simple  put  their 
names  to  them,  and  the  Jew  claimed  at  once  both  his  debt  and  his 
daughter.  He  failed  in  obtaining  his  money,  but  the  lady  he  car- 
ried off  by  violence,  she  herself  exhibiting  considerable  reluctance 
to  leave  the  Chateau  de  Pontobe  for  the  paternal  dungeon  in  the 
Rue  des  Lombards. 

This  step  brought  Giles  to  a  course  of  reflection.  It  was  not 
of  that  quality  which  his  confessor  would  have  recommended,  but 
rather  of  a  satanic  aspect.  "  In  the  usurer's  house,"  thought  Giles, 
"  live  the  tailor  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  my  pourpoint,  the  Jew 
who  holds  my  promise  to  pay,  and  the  pretty  daughter  of  whom  I 
have  been  so  unjustly  deprived.  I  wiU  set  fire  to  the  house.  If 
I  burn  tailor,  money-lender,  and  the  proofs  of  my  liabilities,  I  shall 
have  done  a  good  night's  work,  if  I  therewith  can  carry  off  little 
Jessica." 

Thereupon,  Giles  went  down  to  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  and 
with  such  aid  as  was  then  easily  purchasable,  he  soon  wrapped 
the  Jew's  dwelling  in  flames.  Shylock  looked  to  his  papers  and 
money-bags.  The  knight  groped  through  the  smoke  and  carried 
off  the  daughter.  The  Jew  still  held  the  promissory  note  of  the 
Knight  of  Pontoise,  whose  incendiary  act,  however,  had  destroyed 
half  of-  one  side  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards.  Therewith  had  per- 
ished reams  of  bonds  which  made  slaves  of  chevaliers  to  Jew 
money-lenders.  ">S'ic  vos  non  vobis"  thought  Giles,  "  but  at  all 
events,  if  he  has  my  bill,  I  have  possession  of  Jessica." 

The  Jew  held  as  much  to  his  daughter  as  to  his  ducats.  He 
persecuted  the  pretended  husband  with  a  pertinacity  which  event- 
ually overcame  Giles  de  Pontoise.    A  compromise  was  .effected. 


LOVE  IN  CHEVALIERS,  ANI>  CHEVALIERS  IN  LOVE.  55 

The  knight  owed  the  usurer  three  thousand  golden  crowns,  and 
had  stolen  from  him  his  only  daughter.  Giles  agreed  to  surrender 
his  ''  lady/'  on  condition  that  the  money-lender  should  sign  an  ac- 
quittance of  the  debt.  This  done,  the  Jew  and  daughter  walked 
homeward,  neither  of  them  well  satisfied  with  the  result  of  their 
dealings  with  a  knight. 

The  burnt-out  Lombarder  turned  round  at  the  threshold  of  the 
knight's  door,  with  a  withering  sneer,  like  Edmund  Kean's  in 
Shylock  when  he  was  told  to  make  haste  and  go  home,  and  begin 
to  be  a  Christian.  "  It  is  little  but  sorrow  I  get  by  you,  at  all 
events,"  said  the  Jew  to  the  Chevalier. 

"  Do  you  make  so  light  of  your  grandson  ?"  asked  Giles.  And 
with  this  Parthiaii  dart  he  shut  his  door  in  the  face  of  the  trio 
who  were  his  victims. 

This  knight  was  a  victimizer ;  but  below  we  have  an  illustration 
of  knights  victimized  through  too  daring  affection. 

The  great  Karloman  may  be  said  to  have  been  one  of  those 
crowned  knights  who  really  had  very  little  of  the  spirit  of  chivalry 
in  him,  with  respect  to  ladies.  He  married,  successfully,  two 
wives,  but  to  neither  did  he  allow  the  title  of  Empress.  It  is, 
however,  not  with  his  two  wives,  but  his  two  daughters  and  their 
chevaliers  par  amours,  with  whom  we  have  now  to  do. 

In  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  in  Paris,  may  be  seen  the  remains, 
rather  than  the  ruins,  of  the  old  building  erected  by  the  Emperor 
Julian,  and  which  was  long  known  by  the  name  of  the  "  old  pal- 
ace." It  served  as  a  palace  about  a  thousand  years  and  half  a 
century  ago,  when  one  night  there  drew  up  before  it  a  couple  of 
knights,  admirably  mounted,  and  rather  roughly  escorted  by  a 
mob,  who  held  up  their  lanterns  to  examine  the  riders,  and  han- 
dled their  pikes  as  if  they  were  more  ready  to  massacre  the  knights 
than  to  marshal  them. 

All  the  civility  they  received  on  this  February  night  was  of  a 
highly  equivocal  nature.  They  were  admitted,  indeed,  into  the 
first  and  largest  court  of  the  palace*  but  the  old  seneschal  locked 
and  barred  the  gate  behind  them.  An  officer  too  approached  to 
bid  them  welcome,  but  he  had  hardly  acquitted  himself  of  his  civil 
mission  when  he  peremptorily  demanded  of  them  the  surrender  of 
their  swords. 


Ob  THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THEIB  DAYS. 

^  We  are  the  King's  own  messengerst"  said  one  of  the  knights, 
rather  puzzled  at  the  reception  vouchsafed  to  them; — ^'and  we 
have,  moreover,  a  despatch  to  deliver,  written  in  our  gracious  mas- 
ter's own  hand,*'  remarked  the  second  knight. 

^  Yive  Louis  le  Debonnaire!"  exclaimed  the  seneschal;  ^'how 
fares  it  with  our  sovereign  ?" 

"  As  well  as  can  be,"  was  the  reply,  "  with  a  monarch  who  has 
been  engaged  six  whole  weeks  at  Aix,  in  burying  his  father  and 
predecessor,  Charlemagne.  Here  is  his  missive."  This  missive 
was  from  Louis  the  Frolicsome,  or  Louis  the  Good-Natured,  or 
Louis  of  Fair  Aspect.  He  was  morose,  wittily  disposed,  and  ill- 
featured; — but  then  the  poet-laureate  had  given  him  his  fine 
name ;  and  the  king  wore  it  as  if  it  had  been  fairly  won.  He  had 
clipped,  shaved,  and  frocked,  all  his  natural  brothers,  and  then 
shut  them  up  in  monasteries.  He  had  no  more  respect  for  treat- 
ies than  he  had  for  Mohammed,  and  by  personal  example  he 
taught  perjury  and  rebellion  to  those  whom  he  cruelly  punished 
when  they  imitated  their  exalted  instructor.  The  seneschal  pe- 
rused the  letter  addressed  to  him  by  his  royal  correspondent, 
and  immediately  requested  the  two  knights  to  enter  the  palace 
itself. 

They  were  ushered  into  a  lofty-arched  apartment  on  the  ground 
floor,  which  ordinarily  served  as  an  ante-room  for  the  guards  on 
duty ;  it  was  for  the  moment,  however,  empty.  They  who  have 
visited  the  old  Palais  de  Thermes,  as  it  is  called,  have,  doubtlessly, 
remarked  and  admired  this  solid  relic  of  the  past 

After  entering,  the  seneschal  once  more  lifted  the  despatch  to 
the  flambeau,  read  it  through,  looked  at  the  seal,  then  at  the 
knights,  coughed  xineasily,  and  began  to  wear  an  air  of  dislike  for 
some  duty  imposed  upon  him.  He  repeated,  as  if  he  were  learn- 
ing by  rote,  the  names  Raoul  de  Lys  and  Eobert  de  Quercy. 
"  Those  are  our  names,"  observed  the  first ;  "  we  have  ridden  hith- 
er by  the  king's  orders  to  announce  his  coming ;  and  having  done 
so,  let  us  have  fire  and  food,  Idfet  we  be  famished  and  frozen  before 
he  arrives." 

"  Hem !"  muttered  the  seneschal,  "  I  am  extremely  sorry ;  but, 
according  to  this  letter,  you  are  my  prisoners,  and  till  to-morrow 
you  must  remain  in  this  apartment ;"  and,  seeing  them  about  to 


LOVE  IN  CHEVALIERS,  AND  CHEVALIERS  IN*  LOVE.  57 

remonstrate,  he  added,  ^  Tou  will  be  quite  at  liberty  here,  except, 
of  course,  that  you  caut't  get  out ;  jou  will  have  separate  quarters 
to-morrow." 

It  was  in  vain  that  they  inquired  the  reason  for  their  detention, 
the  nature  of  the  charge  alleged  against  them,  or  what  they  had 
further  to  expect.  The  seneschal  dryly  referred  them  to  the  mon- 
arch. He  himself  knew  nothing  more  than  his  orders,  and  by 
them  he  was  instructed  to  keep  the  two  friends  in  close  confine- 
ment till  the  sovereign's  arrival.  "^  On  second  thoughts,''  said  the 
seneschal,  '^  I  must  separate  you  at  once.  There  is  the  bell  in  the 
tower  of  St  Jacques  ringing  midnight,  and  to-morrow  will  be  upon 
us,  before  its  iron  tongue  has  done  wagging.  I  really  must  trouble 
one  of  you  gentlemen  to  follow  me."  The  voice  was  not  so  civil 
as  the  words,  and  after  much  parleying  and  reluctance,  the  two 
friends  parted.  Robert  bade  Raoul  be  of  good  cheer ;  and  Baoul, 
who  was  left  behind,  whispered  that  it  would  be  hard,  indeed,  if 
harm  was  to  come  to  them  under  such  a  roof. 

The  roof,  however,  of  this  royal  palace,  looked  very  much  like 
the  covering  of  a  place  in  which  very  much  harm  might  be  very 
quietly  effected.  But  there  were  dwelling  there  two  beings  who 
might  have  been  taken  for  spirits  of  good,  so  winning,  so  natural, 
and  so  loveable  were  the  two  spirits  in  question.  They  were  no 
other  than  the  two  daughters  of  Charlemagne,  Gisla  and  Botrude. 
The  romancers,  who  talk  such  an  infinite  deal  of  nonsense,  say  of 
them  that  their  sweet-scented  beauty  was  protected  by  the  prickles 
of  principle.  The  most  rapid  of  analysers  may  see  at  once  that 
this  was  no  great  compliment  to  the  ladies.  It  was  meant,  how- 
ever, to  be  the  most  refined  flattery ;  and  the  will  was  accepted  for 
the  deed. 

Now,  the  two  knights  loved  the  two  ladies,  and  if  they  had  noty 
neither  Father  Daniel  nor  Sainte  Foix  could  have  alluded  to  their 
amorous  history;  nor  Father  Pasquaie,  of  the  Convent  of  the 
Arminians  in  Venice,  have  touched  it  up  with  some  of  the  hues 
of  romance,  nor  Roger  de  Beauvoir  have  woven  the  two  together, 
nor  unworthy  aegomet  have  applied  it  to  the  illustration  of  daring 
lovers. 

These  two  girls  were  marvellously  high-spirited.     They  had 


58  '     THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

been  wooed  bj  emperors ;  but  feeling  no  inclination  to  answer 
favorablj  to  the  wooing,  Charlemagne  generously  refused  to  put 
force  upon  their  affections,  and  bade  them  love  onlj  where  their 
hearts  directed  them.  This  ^license''  gave  courage  to  numberless 
nobles  of  various  degrees,  but  Rotrude  and  Gisla  said  nay  to  all 
their  regular  advances.  The  Princesses  were,  in  fact,  something 
like  Miss  Languish,  thought  love  worth  nothing  without  a  little 
excitement,  and  would  have  considered  elopement  as  the  proper 
preceder  of  the  nuptial  ceremony.  Their  mother,  Hildegarda, 
was  an  unexceptional  woman,  but,  like  good  Queen  Charlotte,  who 
let  her  daughters  read  Polly  Honeycombe  as  well  as  Hannah 
More,  she  was  a  little  confused  in  the  way  she  taught  morals,  and 
the  young  Princesses  fell  in  love,  at  the  first  opportunity,  with 
gallant  gentlemen  of — as  compared  with  princesses — rather  low 
degree.  In  this  respect,  there  is  a  parallel  between  the  house  of 
Karloman  and  some  other  houses  of  more  modem  times. 

Louis  le  Debonnaire  had,  as  disagreeable  brothers  will  have, 
an  impertinent  curiosity  respecting  his  sisters'  affairs.  He  was, 
here,  the  head  of  his  family,  and  deemed  himself  as  divinely  em- 
powered to  dispose  of  the  hearts  of  these  ladies,  as  of  the  families 
and  fortunes  of  his  people.  He  had  learned  the  love-passages 
that  had  been  going  on,  and  he  had  hinted  that  when  he  reached 
the  old  palace  in  Paris,  he  would  make  it  as  calmly  cold  as  a 
cloister,  and  that  there  were  disturbed  hearts  there,  which  should 
be  speedily  restored  to  a  lasting  tranquillity.  The  young  ladies 
did  not  trouble  themselves  to  read  the  riddle  of  a  brother  who  was 
for  ever  affecting  much  mystery.  But  they  prepared  to  welcome 
his  arrival,  and  seemed  more  than  ordinarily  delighted  when  they 
knew  that  intelligence  of  his  approaching  coming  had  been  brought 
by  the  two  knights  then  in  the  castle. 

Meanwhile,  Raoul  de  Lys  sat  shivering  on  a  stone  bench  in  the 
great  guard-room.  He  subsequently  addressed  himself  to  a  scanty 
portion  of  skinny  wild  boar,  very  ill-cooked;  drank,  with  intense 
disgust,  part  of  a  flask  of  hydromel  of  the  very  worst  quality ;  and 
then  having  gazed  on  the  miniature  of  Rotrude,  which  he  took 
from  beneath  the  buff  jerkin  under  his  corslet,  he  apostrophized  it 
tin  he  grew  sleepy,  upon  which  he  blew  out  his  lamp,  and  threw 
himself  on  an  execrably  hard  couch.     He  was  surprised  to  find 


LOYE  IN  CSEVAIAEBSj  AND  GHEYALIfiRS  IN  LOVE.  59 

that  he  was  not  in  the  dark.  There  was  very  good  reason  for 
the  contrary. 

As  he  blew  out  his  kunp,  a  panel  in  the  stone  wall  glided  noise- 
lessly open,  and  Robert  de  Quercy  appeared  upon  the  threshold — 
one  hand  holding  a  lamp,  the  other  leading  a  lady.  The  lady  was 
veiled ;  and  she  and  the  knight  hurriedly  approached  Raoul,  who 
as  hurriedly  rushed  forward  to  meet  them.  He  had  laid  his  armor 
by ;  and  they  who  recollect  Mr.  Young  in  Hotspur,  and  how  he 
looked  in  tight  huff  suit,  before  he  put  his  armor  on,  may  have 
some  idea  of  the  rather  ridiculous  guise  in  which  Raoul  appeared 
to  the  lady.  But  she  was  used  to  such  sights,  and  had  not  time 
to  remark  it  even  had  she  not  been  so  accustomed. 

Baoul  observing  that  Robert  was  accompanied  only  by  Gisla, 
made  anxious  inquiry  for  Rotrude.  Gisla  in  a  few  words  told 
him  that  her  sister  would  speedily  be  with  them,  that  there  was 
certain  danger,  even  death,  threatening  the  two  cavaliers,  and 
probable  peril  menacing — as  Gisla  remarked,  with  a  blush — those 
who  loved  them.  The  King,  she  added,  had  spoken  angrily  of 
coming  to  purify  the  palace,  as  she  had  heard,  from  Count  Yolrade, 
who  appears  to  have  been  a  Folonius,  as  regards  his  office,  with 
all  the  gossip,  but  none  of  the  good  sense,  of  the  old  chamberlain 
in  Denmark. 

**  Death  to  us  V*  exclaimed  Robert.  "  Accursed  be  the  prince 
who  transgresses  the  Gospel  admonition,  not  to  forget  his  own  or 
his  father's  friends."  "  We  were  the  favored  servants  of  Charle- 
magne," said  Raoul.  "  We  were  of  his  closest  intimacy,"  exclaim- 
ed Robert  "Never,"  interrupted  Raoul,  "did  he  ascend  his 
turret  to  watch  the  stars,  without  summoning  us,  his  nocturnal 
pages,  as  he  called  us,  to  his  side."  "  He  dare  not  commit  such  a 
crime ;  for  the  body  of  Charlemagne  is  scarcely  sealed  down  in 
its  tomb ;  and  Louis  has  not  a  month's  hold  of  the  sceptre." 

"  He  holds  it.  firmly  enough,  however,  to  punish  villany,"  ex- 
claimed Louis  himself,  as  he  appeared  in  the  doorway  leading  to 
a  flight  of  stone  stairs  by  which  Gisla  had  indicated  the  speedy 
appearance  of  Rotrude. 

And  here  I  would  beseech  my  readers  to  believe  that  if  the 
word  "  tableau  1"  ought  to  be  written  at  this  situation,  and  if  it  ap- 
pears to  them  to  be  too  melo-dramatic  to  be  naturaL  /  am  not  in 


60  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

fault  I  refer  them  to  all  the  histories  and  romances  in  which 
this  episode  in  knightly  story  is  told,  and  in  all  they  will  find  that 
Louis  makes  his  appearance  exactly  as  I  have  descrihed,  and  pre- 
cisely like  Signor  Tamburini  in  the  great  scene  of  Lucrezia  Borgia. 

Louis  having  given  expression  to  his  startling  bit  of  recitative, 
dragged  forward  Rotrade,  whom  he  had  held  behind  him,  by  the 
wrist.  The  background  was  occupied  by  four  guards,  wearing 
hoods;  and  I  can  not  think  of  them  without  being  reminded  of 
those  same  four  old  guards,  with  M.  Desmousseaip:  at  their  head, 
who  always  represented  the  Greek  or  Roman  armies  upon  the 
stage  of  the  The&tre  Fran9ais,  when  Talma  was  the  Nero  or  the 
Sylla,  the  Orestes  or  the  Capitolinus  of  the  night 

With  some  allusion  to  Eotrude  as  a  sacred  dove,  and  to  himself 
as  a  bird-catcher,  Louis  handed  his  sister  to  a  stone  bench,  and 
then  grew  good-natured  in  his  remarks.  This  sudden  benevolence 
gave  a  chill  to  the  entire  company.  They  lumed  as  pale  as  any 
Russian  nobleman  to  whom  Nicholas  was  extraordinarily  ciyiL 

"  "We  know  the  winding  passages  of  the  palace  of  Thermes," 
said  Louis,  laughingly,  ^'  as  well  as  our  sisters ;  and  I  have  not 
gone  through  them  to-night  for  the  purpose  of  terrifying  the  sister 
whom  I  encountered  there,  or  the  other  sister  whom  I  see  here. 
I  am  a  kind-hearted  brother,  and  am  marvellously  well-disposed. 
I  need  only  appeal  to  these  four  gentlemen  of  my  guard,  who  will 
Jpresently  take  off  their  hoods,  and  serve  as  witnesses  this  night  in 
a  little  ceremony  having  reference  to  my  dear  Rotrude." 

"  A  ceremony !  this  night !"  exclaimed  the  two  princesses. 

"  Ay,  by  the  nails  of  the  cross  1  Two  ceremonies.  You  shall 
both  be  married  forthwith.  •  I  will  inaugurate  my  reign  by  a  double 
wedding,  here  in  the  old  palace  of  Thermes.  You,  Gisla,  shall 
espouse  Robert,  Count  de  Quercy,  and  you,  Rotrade,  shall  wed 
with  Raoul,  Baron  de  Lys.  You  might  have  aimed  higher, 
but  they  are  gallant  gentlemen,  friends  of  my  deceased  sire ;  and, 
by  my  sooth,  the  nuptials  shall  not  lack  state  and  ceremony! 
Here  are  our  wedding-gifts  to  the  bridegrooms." 

He  pointed  to  two  showy  ^uits  of  armor,  the  pieces  of  which  were 
carried  by  the  four  guards.  The  knights  were  in  a  dream  of  delight 
They  vowed  eternal  gratitude  to  the  most  noble  of  emperors  and 
unparalleled  of  brothers. 


LOVE  IN  CHEVAUERS,  AND   CHEVALIERS  IN  LOVE.        61 

^^  We  have  no  great  faith  in  human  gratitude/'  said  Louis,  ^  and 
sltall  not  expect  from  you  more  than  is  due.  And  you,  my  sis- 
ters," added  he,  "  retire  for  awhile ;  put  on  what  you  will ;  but  do 
not  tarry  here  at  the  toilette  of  men-at-arms,  like  peasant-girls 
looking  at  the  equipping  of  two  pikemen.*' 

The  two  princesses  withdrew ;  and  there  would  have  been  a 
smile  upon  Iheir  lips,  only  that  they  suspected  their  brother. 
Hoping  the  best,  however,  they  kissed  the  tips  of  their  rosy  fingers 
to  the  knights,  and  tripped  away,  like  two  pets  of  the  ballet.  They 
were  true  daughters  of  their  sire,  who  reckoned  love-passages  as 
even  superior  to  stricken  fields.  He  was  not  an  exemplary  father, 
nor  a  ^thful  husband.  His  entourage  was  not  of  the  most  re- 
spectable ;  and  in  some  of  his  journeys  he  was  attended  by  the 
young  wife  of  one  of  his  own  cavaliers,  clad  in  cavalier  costume. 
It  was  a  villanously  reprobate  action,  not  the  less  so  that  Hermen- 
garde  was  living.  The  mention  of  it  will  disgust  every  monarch 
in  Europe  who  reads  my  volume ;  and  I  am  sure  that  it  will  pro- 
duce no  such  strong  sensation  of  reproof  anywhere  as  in  the  bosom 
of  an  admirable  personage  "  over  the  water." 

The  two  princesses,  then,  had  not  so  much  trouble  from  the 
prickles  of  principle  as  the  romances  told  of  them.  But,  consid- 
ering the  example  set  them  by  their  imperial  father,  they  were 
reaUy  very  tolerable  princesses,  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Don  your  suits,  gentlemen !"  exclaimed  the  king. 

The  four  guards  advanced  with  the  separate  pieces  of  armor, 
at  which  the  two  knights  gazed  curiously  for  a  moment  or  two, 
as  two  foxes  might  at  a  trap  in  which  lay  a  much-desired  felicity. 
They  were  greatly  delighted^  yet  half  afraid.  The  monarch  grew 
impatient,  and  the  knights  addressed  themselves  at  once  to  their 
adornment.  They  put  aside  their  own  armor,  and  with  the  assist- 
ance of  the  four  mute  gentlemen-at-arms  they  fitted  on  the  brassards 
or  arm-pieces,  which  became  them  as  though  the  first  Milainer 
who  ever  dressed  knight  had  taken  their  measure.  With  some 
little  trouble  they  were  accoutred,  less  as  became  bridegrooms  than 
barons  going  to  battle ;  and  this  done,  they  took  their  seats,  at  a 
sign  from  the  king,  who  bade  the  four  gentlemen  come  to  an  end 
with  what  remained  of  the  toilette. 

The  knights  submitted,  not  without  some  misgiving,  to  the  ser- 


62  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

vices  of  the  four  mysterious  valets!  aud,  in  a  short  time,  the 
preparations  were  complete,  even  to  the  hehnet  with  the  closed 
visor.  This  done,  the  knights  took  their  places,  or  were  led  rather, 
to  two  high-backed  oaken  chairs.  As  soon  as  thej  were  seated 
there,  the  four  too-offidous  attendants  applied  their  hands  to  the 
closed  head-pieces ;  and  in  a  very  brief  space  the  heads  of  the 
cavaliers  sunk  gently  upon  their  breasts,  as  if  they  were  in  deep 
slumber  or  as  deep  meditation. 

Two  o'clock  rang  out  from  the  belfiy  of  St  Jacques,  as  the  two 
brides  .entered.  The  king  pointed  with  a  smile  to  the  bridegrooms, 
and  left  the  apartment  with  his  attendants.  The  ladies  thoi^ht 
that  the  lovers  exhibited  little  ardor  or  anxiety  to  meet  them ;  for 
they  remained  motionless  on  their  oaken  chairs.  The  daughters 
of  Charlemagne  advanced,  half-timidly,  half-playfully ;  and,  at 
length,  finding  the  knights  not  disposed  to  address  them,  gently 
called  to  each  by  his  name.  Haoul  and  Bobert  continued  motion- 
less and  mute.  They  were  in  fact  dead.  They  had  been  strangled 
or  suffocated  in  a  peculiar  sort  of  armor,  which  had  been  sent  to 
Charlemagne  from  Ravenna,  in  return  for  a  jewelled  vase  pre- 
sented by  that  emperor  to  the  ancient  city.  "  In  1560,"  says  Mon- 
sieur Roger  de  Beauvoir,  himself  quoting  an  Italian  manuscript, 
there  were  several  researches  made  in  this  part  of  the  palace  of 
Thermes,  one  result  of  which  was  the  discovery  of  a  ^  casque  a 
soufiOiet,'  all  the  openings  in  which  could  be  closed  in  an  iostant 
by  a  simple  pressure  of  the  finger  on  a  spring.  At  the  same 
instant  the  lower  part  of  the  neck-piece  tightened  round  the 
throat,  and  the  padervt  was  disposed  of.  In  this  helmet,"  adds  the 
author,  "  was  found  the  head  of  a  man,  well  preserved,  with  beard 
and  teeth  admirable  for  theur  beauty."  I  think,  however,  that  in 
this  matter  M.  de  Beauvoir  proves  a  little  too  much. 

Father  Daniel,  in  his  history  notices  the  vengeance  of  Louis  le 
Debonnaire  against  two  young  nobles  who  were,  reputedly,  the 
lovers  of  Gisla  and  Rotrude.  The  details  of  the  act  of  vengeance 
have  been  derived  from  an  Italian  source ;  and  it  is  said  that  an 
Italian  monk,  named  Fagnola,  had  some  prominent  part  in  this 
dreary  drama,  impelled  thereto  by  a  blow  dealt  to  him  at  the  hands 
of  Raoul,  by  way  of  punishment  for  some  contemptuous  phrases 
which  the  monk  had  presumed  to  apply  to  the  great  Charlemagne. 


LOVE  IN   CHEVAUERS,  AND   CHEVALIERS  IN  LOVE.         68 

Love  and  sword-blades  seem  to  have  been  ^  closely  connected 
as  "  Trousseaux  et  Layettes,"  which  are  always  named  together 
in  the  shop-fronts  of  a  Parisian  "  Lingere."  There  was  once  an 
ample  field  for  the  accommodation  of  both  the  sentiments  of  love 
and  bravery  in  the  old  Chaussee  d'Antin,  when  it  was  merely  a 
chaussee  or  highway,  and  not  the  magnificent  street  it  now  is.  It 
was,  down  even  to  comparatively  modem  times,  the  resort  of  lovers 
of  every  degree,  firom  dukes  and  duchesses  to  common  dragoons 
and  dairymaids.  They  were  not  always,  however,  under  this 
strict  classification. 

But  whatever  classification  or  want  of  it  there  may  have  been, 
there  was  a  part  of  the  road  which  was  constantly  the  scene  of 
bloody  encounters.  This  was  at  the  narrow  bridge  of  Arcans. 
Here  if  two  cavaliers  met,  each  with  a  lady  at  his  side,  it  was  a 
matter  of  honor  not  to  give  way.  On  the  contrary,  the  latter  was 
to  be  forced  at  the  point  of  the  sword.  "While  the  champions  were 
contending,  the  ladies  would  scarcely  afiect  to  faint ;  they  would 
stand  aside,  remain  unconcerned  on  their  jennets  or  mules,  till  the 
two  simpletons  had  pinked  one  another ;  or  lounge  ^in  their  cum- 
brous coaches  till  the  lovers  limped  back  to  them. 

It  was  on  this  bridge,  of  which  no  vestige  now  remains,  not 
even  in  a  museum,  that  the  Count  de  Fiesque  one  evening  escort- 
ing Madame  de  Lionne,  encountered  M.  de  Tallard,  who  was  cha- 
peroning Louison  d'Arquien.  Each  couple  was  in  a  carriage, 
and  neither  would  make  way  for  the  other  to  pass.  Thereupon 
the  two  cavaliers  leaped  from  their  coaches,  drew  their  swords, 
planted  their  feet  firmly  on  the  ground,  and  began  slashing  at  each 
'other  like  two  madmen,  to  the  great  delight  of  a  large  crowd  who 
enjoyed  nothing  so  much  as  the  sight  of  two  noble  gentlemen  cut- 
ting one  another's  throats. 

The  ladies,  meanwhile,  fiourished  their  handkerchiefs  from  their 
respective  carriage-windows,  for  the  encouragement  of  their  cham- 
pions. Now  and  then  each  laughed  aloud  when  her  particular 
friend  had  made  a  more  than  ordinary  successful  thrust ;  and  each 
was  generous  enough  to  applaud  any  especial  dexterity,  even  when 
her  own  lover  thereby  bloodily  suffered.  The  two  foolish  fellows 
only  poked  at  each  other  with  the  more  intensity.  And  when 
they  had  sufficiently  slit  their  pourpoints  and  slashed  their  sleeves, 


64  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAY8. 

the  ladies,  weary  of  waiting  any  longer  for  a  more  exciting  de- 
nouement, rushed  between  the  combatants,  like  the  Sabine  ladies 
between  the  contending  hosts;  each  gentleman  gallantly  kissed 
the  lady  who  did  not  belong  to  him ;  and  the  whole  four  gayly 
supped  together,  as  though  they  had  been  the  best  friends  in  the 
world. 

This  incident  fairly  brings  us  to  the  questions  of  duelling  and 
death,  as  illustrated  by  chivalry. 


OUEUJNG,  DEATH  AND  BUBIAL.  65 


DUELLING,  DEATH  AND  BURIAL. 

"  Le  duel,  ma  mie,  ne  vaut  pas  un  duo,  de  LuUy." 

Crispin  Mourant. 

As  an  effect  of  chivalry,  duelling  deserves  some  passing  notice. 
Its  modem  practice  was  but  an  imitation  of  chivalric  encounters, 
wherein  the  issue  of  battle  was  left  to  the  judgment  of  God. 

Bassompierre  dates  the  origin  of  duelling  (in  France)  from  the 
period  of  Henri  II.  Previous  to  that  king's  reign,  the  quarrels 
of  gentlemen  were  determined  by  the  decree  of  the  constable  and 
marshals  of  France.  These  only  allowed  knightly  encounters  in 
the  lists,  when  they  could  not  of  themselves  decide  upon  the  rela- 
tive justice  and  merits  of  the  dispute. 

"  I  esteem  him  no  gentleman,"  said  Henri  one  day,  "  who  has 
the  lie  given  him,  and  who  does  not  chastise  the  giver."  It  was 
a  remark  lightly  dropped,  but  it  did  not  fall  unheeded.  The  king 
in  fact  encouraged  those  who  resorted,  of  their  own  will,  to  a 
bloody  arbitrament  of  their  dissensions ;  and  duelling  became  so 
"  fashionable,"  that  even  the  penalty  of  death  levelled  against  those 
who  practised  it,  was  hardly  effectual  enough  to  check  duellists. 
At  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Henri  IV.  and  the  commencement  of 
that  of  Louis  XIII.  the  practice  was  in  least  activity ;  but  after  the 
latter  period,  as  the  law  was  not  rigorously  applied,  the  foolish 
usage  was  again  revived ;  and  sanguinary  simpletons  washed  out 
their  folly  in  blood. 

But  duelling  has  a  more  remote  origin  than  that  ascribed  to  it 
by  Bassompierre.  Sabine,  in  his  "  Dictionary  of  Duelling,"  a  re- 
cently-pubh'shed  American  work,  dates  its  rise  from  ihe  challenge 
of  the  Philistine  accepted  by  David  !  However  this  may  be,  it  is 
a  strange  anomaly  that  an  advocate  for  the  savage  and  sinful  habit 
of  duelling  has  appeared  in  ihat  France  which  claims  to  be  the 


G6  THE   KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

leader  of  civilization.  Jules  Janin  has,  among  his*  numberless 
feuiUetons  published  three  reasons  authorizing  men  to  appeal  to 
single  combat  The  above  M.  Janin  divides  the  world  into  three 
parts — a  world  of  cravens;  a  world  in  which  opinion  is  every- 
thing ;  and  a  world  of  hypocrites  and  calumniators.  He  considers 
the  man  who  has  not  the  heart  to  risk  his  life  in  a  duel,  as  one 
lost  in  the  world  of  cravens,  because  the  legion  of  cowards  by 
whom  he  is  surrounded  will  assume  courage*  at  his  expense. 

Further,  according  to  our  gay  neighbor's  reasoning,  the  man  is 
lost  in  this  world,  in  which  opinion  is  everything,  who  will  not 
seek  to  obtain  a  good  opinion  at  the  sword's  point. 

Again,  says  M.  Janin,  the  man  is  lost  in  this  world  of  hypo- 
crites and  calumniators  who  will  not  demand  reparation,  sword  in 
hand,  for  the  calumnies  and  malicious  reports  to  which  he  has  been 
exposed.  It  would  be  insulting  to  the  common  sense  of  my  read- 
ers to  afiect  to  point  out  to  them  Ihe  rottenness  of  reasons  like 
these.  They  could  only  convince  such  men  as  Buckingham  and 
Alfieri,  and  others  in  circumstances  like  theirs ;  Buckingham  aflter 
killing  Lord  Shrewsbury  at  Barnes,  and  pressing  the  head  of 
Lady  Shrewsbury  on  his  bloody  shirt ;  and  Alfieri,  who,  after  a 
vile  seduction,  and  very  nearly  a  terrible  murder  in  defence  of  it, 
went  home  and  slept  more  peacefully  than  he  had  ever  slept 
before :  "  dopo  tanto  e  si  stranie  peripizie  d'un  sol  giomo,  non  ho 
dormito  mai  d'un  sonno  piu  tenace  e  piu  dolce."  Alfieri  would 
have  agreed  with  M.  Janin,  that  in  duelling  lay  the  safeguard  of 
all  that  remains  to  us  of  civilization.  But  how  comes  it  then  that 
civilization  is  thus  a  wreck,  since  duelling  has  been  so  long  exer- ' 
cising  a  protective  influence  over  it  ? 

However  few,  though  dazzling,  were  the  virtues  possessed  by 
the  chivalrous  heroes  of  ancient  history,  it  must  be  conceded  to 
them,  that  they  possessed  that  of  valor,  or  a  disregard  of  life,  in 
an  eminent  degree.  The  instances  of  cowardice  are  so  rare  that 
they  prove  the  general  rule  of  courage ;  yet  these  men,  with  no 
guides  but  a  spurious  divinity  and  a  false  philosophy,  never  dream- 
ed of  having  recourse  to  the  duel,  as  a  means  of  avenging  a  pri- 
vate wrong.  Marius,  indeed,  was  once  challenged,  but  it  was  by 
a  semi-barbarous  Teutonic  chief,  whom  the  haughty  Roman  rec- 
onmiended,  if  he  were  weary  of  his  life  to  go  and  hang  himself. 


DUELLING,  DEATH   AND  BURIAL.  67 

Themistodes,  too,  whose  wisdom  and  courage  the  most  snccessfiil 
of  our  modern  gladiators  may  admire  and  envy,  when  Eurybiades 
threatened  to  give  him  a  blow,  exclaimed,  '^"Strike,  but  hear  me  !'* 
Themistocles,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  a  man  of  undaunted 
courage,  while  his  jealous  provoker  was  notorious  for  little  else  but 
his  extreme  cowardice. 

But,  in  truth,  there  have  been  brave  men  in  all  countries,  who 
have  discouraged  this  barbarous  practice.  A  Turkish  pacha  re- 
minded a  man  who  had  challenged  a  fellow  Spahi,  that  they  had 
no  right  to  slay  one  another  while  there  were  foes  to  subdue.  The 
Daupliin  of  Viennois  told  the  Count  of  Savoy,  who  had  challenged 
him,  that  he  would  send  the  count  one  of  his  fiercest  bulls,  and 
that  if  the  count  were  so  minded,  his  lordship  of  Savoy  might  test 
his  prowess  against  an  antagonist  difficult  to  overcome.  The  great 
Frederick  would  not  tolerate  the  practice  of  duelling  in  his  army; 
and  he  thoroughly  despised  the  arguments  used  for  its  justification. 
A  greater  man  than  Frederick,  Turenne,  would  never  allow  him- 
self to  be  what  was  called  "concerned  in  an  affair  of  honor.** 
Once,  when  the  hero  of  Sintzheim  and  the  Rhine  had  half  drawn 
his  sword  to  punish  a  disgusting  insult,  to  which  he  had  been  sub- 
jected by  a  rash  young  officer,  he  thrust  it  back  into  the  sheath, 
with  the  words :  "  Young  man,  could  I  wipe  your  blood  from  my 
conscience  with  as  muc"h  ease  as  I  can  this  filthy  proof  of  your 
folly  from  my  face,  I  would  take  your  life  upon  the  spot." 

Even  the  chivalrous  knights  who  thought  duelling  a  worthy 
occupation  for  men  of  valor,  reduced  opportunities  for  its  practice 
to  a  very  small  extent.  Uniting  with  the  church,  they  instituted 
the  Savior's  Truce,  by  which  duels  were  prohibited  from  Wednes- 
day to  the  following  Monday,  because,  it  was  said,  those  days  had 
been  consecrated  by  our  Savior's  Passion.  This,  in  fact,  left  only 
Tuesday  as  a  clear  day  for  settling  quarrels  by  force  of  arms. 

There  probably  never  existed  a  mortal  who  was  opposed  by 
more  powerful  or  more  malignant  adversaries  than  St.  Augustin 
was.  His  great  enemies  the  Donatists  never,  it  is  true,  challenged 
him  to  any  more  dangerous  affray  than  a  war  of  literary  contro- 
versy. But  it  was  in  answer  to  one  of  their  missiles  hurled  against 
him,  in  the  form  of  an  assertion,  that  the  majority  of  authors  was 
on  their  side,  he  aptly  told  them  that  it  was  the  sign  of  a  cause 


68  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

destitute  of  truth  when  only  the  erring  authority  of  many  men 
could  be  relied  on. 

l^e  Norman  knights  or  chiefs  introduced  the  single  combat 
among  us.  It  is  said  they  were  principally  men  who  had  disgraced 
themselves  in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  and  who  sought  to  wipe  out 
the  disgrace  in  the  blood  of  single  individuals.  It  is  worthy  of 
remark  too,  that  when  king  and  sovereign  princes  had  forbidden 
duelling,  under  the  heaviest  penalties,  the  popes  absolved  the  mou- 
archs  from  their  vows  when  the  observance  of  them  would  have 
put  in  peril  the  lives  of  offending  nobles  who  had  turned  to  Rome 
in  their  perplexity,  and  who  had  gained  there  a  reputation  for 
piety,  as  Hector  did,  who -was  esteemed  so  highly  religious,  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  he  had  covered  with  rich  gifts  the  altar  of 
the  father  of  Olympus. 

Supported  by  the  appearance  that  impunity  was  to  be  purchased 
at  Rome,  and  encouraged  by  the  example  of  fighting-cardinals 
themselves,  duelling  and  ^sassination  stalked  hand  in  hand  abroad* 
In  France  alone,  in  the  brief  space  of  eighteen  years,  four  thousand 
gentlemen  were  killed  in  rencontres,  upon  quarrels  of  the  most 
trivial  nature.  In  the  same  space  of  time,  not  less  than  fourteen 
thousand  pardons  for  duelling  were  granted.  In  one  province 
alone,  of  France,  in  Limousin,  one  hundred  and  twenty  gentlemcji 
were  slain  in  six  months — a  greater  number  than  had  honorably 
fidlen  in  the  same  period,  which  was  one  of  war,  in  defence  of  the 
sovereign,  their  country,  and  their  homes.  The  term  rencontre 
was  used  in  France  to  elude  the  law.  If  gentlemen  "  met"  by 
accident  and  fought,  lawyers  pleaded  that  this  was  not  a  dtiel, 
which  required  preliminaries  between  the  two  parties.  How  fre- 
quent the  rencontres  were,  in  spite  of  the  penalty  of  death,  is  thus 
illustrated  by  Victor  Hugo,  in  his  Marion  Dehrme : — 

"  Toujours  nombre  de  duels,  le  trois  c'^tait  d'Angennes 
Contre  d'Arqaien,  pour  avoir  portS  da  point  de  G5nes. 
Lavarde  avec  Pons  s'est  rencontr6  le  dix, 
Pour  avoir  pris  k  Pons  la  femme  de  Sourdis. 
Sourdis  avec  Dailly  pour  une  du  theatre 
De  Mondorf.    Le  neuf,  Nogent  avec  Lachatre, 
Pour  avoir  mal  6crit  trois  vers  de  Colletet. 
Oorde  avec  Margaillan,  pour  I'heure  qu'il  ^tait. 


DtJELUNG,   DEATH   AND  BURIAL.  69 

D'Himidre  avec  Gondi,  pour  1©  pas  &  T^glise. 
Et  puis  toas  les  Brissac  avec  tous  les  Soubiie, 
A  propos  d'un  pari  d'un  cheval  centre  ua  chien. 
Enfin,  Caussade  avec  Latoomelle,  pour  rien. 
Pour  le  plaisir,  Caussade  a  tue  Latoumelle. 

Jeremy  Tayior  denounced  this  practice  with  great  earnestness, 
and  with  due  balancing  of  the  claims  of  honor  and  of  Christianity. 
"  Yea ;  but  flesh  and  blood  can  not  endure  a  blow  or  a  disgrace. 
Grant  that  too ;  but  take  this  into  the  account :  flesh  and  blood 
shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God." 

What  man  could  endure  for  honor's  sake,  however,  is  sk^^  in 
the  Memoirs  of  the  Sieur  de  Pontis,  who,  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, was  asked  to  be  second  to  a  friend,  when  duels  were  punish- 
able by  death  to  all  parties  concerned  in  them.  The  friend  of  De 
Pontis  pressed  it  on  Mm,  as  a  custom  always  practised  among 
friends ;  and  his  captain  and  lieutenant' colonel  did  not  merely 
permit,  but  ordered  him  to  do  what  his  friend  desired. 

Boldly  as-  many  knights  met  death,  there  were  not  a  few  who 
did  their  best,  and  that  very  wisely,  to  avoid  "  the  inevitable." 

Valorously  as  some  chevaliers  encountered  deadly  peril,  the 
Grerman  knights,  especially  took  means  to  avoid  the  grisly  adver- 
sary when  they  could.  For  this  purpose,  they  put  on  the  Noth- 
hernd  or  shirt  of  need.  It  was  supposed  to  cover  the  wearer  with 
invulnerability.  The  making  of  the  garment  was  a  difficult  and 
solenm  matter.  Several  maidens  of  known  integrity  assembled 
together  on  the  eve  of  the  Nativity,  and  wove  and  sewed  together  this 
linen  garment,  in  the  name  of  the  devil !  On  the  bosom  of  the 
shirt  were  worked  two  heads ;  one  was  long-bearded  and  covered 
with  the  knightly  helmet,  the  other  was  savage  of  aspect,  and 
crowned  like  the  king  of  demons.  A  cross  was  worked  on  either 
side.  How  this  could  save  a  warrior  from  a  mortal  stroke,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  say.  If  it  was  worn  over  the  armor,  perhaps 
the  helmeted  effigy  was  supposed  to  protect  the  warrior,  and  the 
demoniacal  one  to  affirfght  his  adversary.  But  then,  this  shirt 
similarly  made  and  adorned,  was  woven  by  ladies  when  about  to 
become  mothers  of  knights  or  of  common  men.  What  use  it  could 
be  in  such  case,  I  leave  to  the  "  commeres"  to  settle.  My  own 
vocation  of  "  gossip"  will  not  help  me  to  the  solution. 


70  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THBIB  DAYS. 

But  if  chivaby  had  its  shirts  of  need  in  Grennany,  to  save  from 
death,  in  England  and  France  it  had  its  "  mercy-knives"  to  swiftly 
inflict  it  Why  they  were  so  called  I  do  not  know,  for  after  all 
they  were  only  employed  in  order  to  kill  knights  in  full  armor,  by 
plunging  the  knife  through  the  bars  of  the  visor  into  the  eye. 
After  the  battle  of  Pavia,  many  of  the  French  were  killed  with 
pickaxes  by  the  peasantry,  hacking  and  hewing  through  the  joints 
of  the  armor. 

How  anxious  were  the  sires  of  those  times  to  train  their  chil- 
dren how  best  to  destroy  life  !  This  was  more  especially  the  case 
among  what  were  called  the  ^^  half-christened  Irish"  of  Connaught. 
In  this  province,  the  people  left  the  right  arms  of  their  male  infants 
unchristened.  They  excepted  that  part  coming  under  the  divine 
influences  of  baptism,  in  order  that  the  children,  when  grown  to 
the  stature  of  fighting  men,  might  deal  more  merciless  and  deadly 
blows.  There  was  some  such  superstitious  observance  as  this,  I 
think,  in  ancient  Germany.  It  can  not  be  said,  in  reference  to  the 
suppressing  of  this  observance,  as  was  remarked  by  Stow  after 
the  city  authorities  had  put  down  the  martial  amusement  of  the 
London  apprentices — contending  against  one  another  of  an  even- 
ing with  cudgels  and  bucklers,  while  a  host  of  admiring  maids  as 
well  as  men  stood  by  to  applaud  or  censure — that  the  open  pastime 
being  suppressed,  worse  practice  within  doors  probably  followed. 

Stout  fellows  were  some  of  the  knights  of  the  romantic  period, 
if  we  may  believe  half  that  is  recorded  of  them.  There  is  one, 
Branor  le  Brun,  who  is  famous  for  having  been  a  living  Quintain. 
The  game  so  called  consists  of  riding  at  a  heavy  sack  suspended 
on  a  balanced  beam,  and  getting  out  of  its  way,  if  possible,  before 
the  revolving  beam  brought  it  round  violently  against  the  back  of 
the  assailant's  head.  When  Palamedes  challenged  old  Branor, 
the  aged  knight  rather  scornfully  put  him  aside  as  an  unworthy 
yet  valiant  knight.  Branor,  however,  offered  to  sit  in  his  saddle 
motionless,  while  Palamedes  rode  at  him,  and  got  unhorsed  by 
Branor's  mere  inert  resistance.  I  forget  how  many  knights 
Branor  le  Brun  knocked  over  their  horses'  cruppers,  after  this 
quiet  fashion. 

It  was  not  all  courtesy  in  battle  or  in  duel.  Even  Gyron,  who 
was  called  the  "  courteous,"  was  a  very  "  rough  customer"  indeed, 


DUELUN6,  DEATH  AND  BUBIAL.  71 

when  he  had  his  hand  on  the  throat  of  an  antagonist.  We  hear 
of  him  jumping  with  all  his  force  upon  a  fallen  and  helpless  foe, 
tearing  his  helmet  from  its  fastenings  by  main  force,  battering  the 
knight's  face  with  it  till  he  was  senseless,  and  then  beating  on  his 
head  with  the  pommel  of  his  sword,  till  the  wretched  fellow  was 
dead.  At  this  sort  of  pommelling  there  was  never  knight  so  ex- 
pert as  the  great  Bayard.  The  courtesy  of  the  most  savage  in 
fight,  was  however  undeniable  when  a  lady  was  in  the  case.  Thus 
we  hear  of  a  damsel  coming  to  a  fountain  at  which  fbur  knights 
were  sitting,  and  one  of  them  wishes  to  take  her.  The  other  three 
object,  observing  that  the  damsel  is  without  a  knight  to  protect 
her,  and  that  she  is,  therefore,  according  to  the  law  of  chivalry, 
exempt  from  being  attacked.  And  again,  if  a  knigl^t  slew  an  ad- 
versary of  equal  degree,  he  did  not  retain  his  sword  if  the  latter 
was  a  gift  from  some  lady.  The  damsel,  in  such  case,  could  claim 
it,  and  no  knight  worthy  of  the  name  would  have  thought  of  refu- 
sing to  comply  with  her  very  natural  request  Even  ladies  were 
not  to  be  won,  in  certain  cases,  except  by  valor ;  as  Arthur,  that 
king  of  knights,  would  not  win,  nor  retain,  Britain,  by  any  other 
means.  The  head  of  Bran  the  Blessed,  it  may  be  remembered, 
was  hidden  in  the  White  Hill,  near  London,  where,  as  long  as  it 
remained,  Britain  was  invulnerable.  Arthur,  however  removed 
it  He  scorned  to  keep  the  island  by  any  other  means  than  his 
own  sword  and  courage ;  and  he  was  ready  to  fight  any  man  in 
any  quarrel. 

Never  did  knight  meet  death  more  nobly  than  that  Captain 
Douglas,  whose  heroism  is  recorded  by  Sir  William  Temple,  and 
who  ^  stood  and  burnt  in  one  of  our  ships  at  Chatham,  when  his 
soldiers  left  him,  because  it  never  should  be  said  a  Douglas  quitted 
his  post  without  orders."  Except  as  an  example  of  keroic  endu- 
rance, this  act,  however,  was  in  some  degree  a  mistake,  for  the 
state  did  not  profit  by  it.  There  was  something  more  profitable  in 
the  act  of  Von  Speyk,  in  our  own  time.  When  hostilities  were 
raging  between  Holland  and  Belgium,  in  1831,  the  young  Dutch 
captain,  just  named,  happened  to  be  in  the  Scheldt,  struggling  in 
his  gun-boat  against  a  gale  which,  in  spite  of  all  his  endeavors  and 
seamanship,  drove  him  ashore,  under  the  guns  of  the  Belgians. 
A  crowd  of  Belgian  volunteers  leaped  aboard,  ordered  him  to  haul 


72  THE  KNliSHTS   AND  THEIR  DATS. 

down  his  colors  and  sarrender.  Von  Speyk  burned  below  to  tbo 
magazine,  fell  upon  his  knees  in  prayer,  flung  a  ligbted  cigar  into 
an  open  barrel  of  powder,  and  blew  his  ship  to  atoms,  with  nearly 
all  who  were  on  board.  If  he,  by  this  sacrifice,  prevented  a 
Dutch  vessel  from  falling  into  the  enemy's  power,  he  also  deprived 
Holland  of  many  good  seamen.  The  latter  country,  however,  only 
thought  of  the  unselfish  act  of  heroism,  in  one  who  had  been  gra- 
tuitously educated  in  the  orphan  house  at  Amsterdam,  and  who 
acquitted  hi?  debt  to  his  country,  by  laying  down  his  life  when 
such  sacrifice  was  worth  making.  His  king  and  countrymen 
proved  that  they  could  appreciate  the  noble  act.  The  statue  of 
Von  Speyk  was  placed  by  the  side  of  that  of  De  Ruyter,  and  the 
government  decreed  that  as  long  as  a  Dutch  navy  existed  there 
should  be  one  vessel  bearing  the  name  of  Von  Speyk. 

To  return  to  the  knights  of  earlier  days,  I  will  observe  that  in- 
difierent  as  many  of  them  were  to  meeting  death,  they,  and  indeed 
other  men  of  note,  were  very  far  from  being  so  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  they  should  be  disposed  of  after  death.  In  their  stone 
or  marble  coffins,  they  lay  in  graves  so  shallow  that  the  cover  of 
the  coffin  formed  part  of  the  pavement  of  the  church.  Whitting- 
ham,  the  Puritan  Dean  of  Durham,  took  up  many  of  their  coffins 
and  converted  them  into  horse  or  swine  troughs.  This  is  the  dean 
who  is  said  to  have  turned  the  finely-wrought  holy-water  vessels 
into  salting-tubs  for  his  own  use. 

Modem  knights  have  had  other  cares  about  their  graves  than 
that  alluded  to*  above.  Sir  William  Browne,  for  instance,  one  of 
George  II.'s  knights,  and  a  medical  man  of  some  repute,  who  died 
in  1770,  ordered  by  his  will  that  when  his  coffin  was  lowered  into 
the  grave,  there  should  be  placed  upon  it,  "  in  its  leathern  case  or 
coffin,  my  pocket  Elzevir  Horace,  comes  viee  vitaeque  dulcis  et 
utilis,  worn  out  with  and  by  me."  There  was  nothing  more  un- 
reasonable in  this  than  in  a  warrior-knight  being  buried  with  all 
his  weapons  around  him.  And,  with  respect  to  warrior-knights 
and  what  was  done  with  them  after  death,  I  know  nothing  more 
curious  than  what  is  told  us  by  Stavely  on  the  authority  of  Streder. 
I  will  give  it  in  the  author's  own  words. 

"  Don  John  of  Austria,"  says  Stavely, "  governor  of  the  Nether- 
lands for  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  dying  at  his  camp  at  Buge"  (Bouges, 


PUELUNG,   DEATH  AND  BXHOAIi.  78 

a  mile  from  Namnr),  '^  was  carried  from  thence  to  the  great  chmx^h 
at  Havre,  where  his  funeral  was  solemnized  and  a  monument  to 
posterity  erected  for  him  there  by  Alexander  Famese,  the  Prince 
of  Parma.  Afterward  his  body  was  taken  to  pieces,  and  the  bones, 
packed  in  mails,  were  privately^  carried  into  Spain,  where,  being 
set  together  with  small  wires,  the  body  was  rejointed  again,  which 
being  filled  or  stuffed  with  cotton,  and  richly  habited,  Don  John 
was  presented  to  the  King,  entire,  leaning  upon  his  commander's 
staff,  and  looking  as  if  he  were  alive  and  breathing.  Afterward 
the  corpse  being  carried  to  the  Church  of  St.  Laurence,  at  the 
Kscurial,  was  there  buried  near  his  father,  Charles  V,,  with  a  fit- 
ting monument  erected  for  him.*' 

CcHisidering  that  there  was,  and  is,  a  suspicion  that  Philip  II. 
had  poisoned  his  kinsman,  the  interview  must  have  been  a  start- 
ling one.  But  Philip  II.  was  not,  perhaps,  so  afraid  of  dead  men 
as  the  fourth  Spanish  king  of  that  name.  Philip  I Y.,  by  no  means 
an  unknightly  monarch,  was  born  on  a  Good  Friday,  and  as  there 
is  a  Spanish  superstition  that  they  who  are  bom  on  that  day  see 
ghosts  whenever  they  pass  the  place  where  any  one  has  been  killed 
or  buried,  who  died  a  violent  death,  this  king  fell  into  a  habit  of 
caanrying  his  head  so  high,  in  order  to  avoid  seeing  those  spirits, 
that  his  nose  was  continually  en  Vair,  and  he  appeared  to  see  no- 
body. 

Romance,  and  perhaps  faithful  history,  are  full  of  details  of  the 
becoming  deaths  of  ancient  knights,  upon  the  field.  I  question, 
however,  if  even  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  was  more  dignified  than  that 
of  a  soldier  of  the  58th  infantry,  recorded  in  Nichols's  "  Anecdotes 
of  the  Eighteenth  Century."  A  straggling  shot  had  struck  him  in 
the  stomach.  As  he  was  too  dreadfully  wounded  to  be  removed, 
he  desired  his  comrades- would  pray  by  him,  and  the  whole  guard 
knelt  round  him  in  prayer  till  he  died.  Bishop  Hurd  remarked, 
when  this  was  told  him,  that  "  it  was  true  religion."  There  was 
more  of  religion  in  such  sympathy  than  there  was  of  taste  in  the 
condolence  of  Alnwick,  on  the  death  of  Hugh,  Duke  of  Northum- 
berland— a  rather  irascible  officer,  and  Knight  of  the  Garter. 
"  O,"  cried  the  Alnwick  poet — 

"  O  rnefal  sight !    Bebojd,  how  lost  ^o  sense 
The  millions  stand,  suspended  by  suspense !" 


74  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEI&  DAYS. 

But  all  fraidesslj  were  the  millions  so  suspended,  for  m  the  min« 
strel  remivrked  in  his  Threnodia — 

"When  Time  shall  yield  to  Death,  Dukes  must  obey." 

"  Dying  in  harness/'  is  a  favorite  phrase  in  chivalric  annals  to 
illustrate  the  bravery  of  a  knight  ^edling  in  battle,  ^  clothed  in  com- 
plete steeL''  So  to  die,  however,  was  not  always  to  die  in  a  fray. 
Hume  says  of  Seward,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  that  there  are 
two  circumstances  related  of  him,  '^  which  discover  his  high  sense 
of  honor  and  martial  disposition.  When  intelligence  was  brought 
to  him  of  his  son  Osborne's  death,  he  was  inconsolable  till  he  heard 
the  wound  was  received  on  his  breast,  and  that  he  had  behaved 
with  great  gallantry  in  the  action.  When  he  found  his  own  dei^ 
approaching,  he  ordered  his  servants  to  dress  him  in  a  complete 
suit  of  armor,  and  sitting  erect  on  the  couch,  with  a  spear  in  his 
hand,  declared  that  in  that  position,  the  only  one  worthy  of  a  war- 
rior, he  would  patiently  await  the  fatal  moment" 

See  how  the  chief  of  many  a  field 

Prepares  to  give  his  latest  breath ; 
And,  like  a  well-trimmed  warrior,  yield 

Becomingly  t'  impending  death — 
That  one,  stern  conqueror  of  all. 

Of  chieftain  in  embattled  tower. 
Of  lord  within  his  ancient  hall, 

And  maiden  in  her  trellised  bower. 

To  meet  that  surest  of  all  foes, 

From  off  his  soft  and  pillowed  bed. 
With  dignity  old  Seward  rose, 

And  to  a  conch  of  state  was  led. 
Fainting,  yet  firm  of  purpose  there. 

Stately  as  monarch  on  his  throne, 
Upright  he  sat,  with  kingly  air. 

To  meet  the  coming  foe,  alone. 

"  Take  from  these  limbs,"  he  weakly  cried, 

''  This  soft  and  womanish  attire ; 
Let  cloak  and  cap  be  laid  aside — 

Seward  will  die  as  died  his  sire : 
Not  clad  in  silken  vest  and  shirt, 

Like  princes  in  a  fairy  tale ; 
With  iron  be  these  old  limbs  girt  — 

My  vest  of  steel,  my  shirt  of  mail. 


DUELLING,  DEATH  AND  BURIAL.  75 

''  Close  let  my  sheaf  of  arrows  stand ; 

Mj  mighty  battle-axe  now  bring; 
My  ashen  8p6ar  place  in  my  hand ; 

Aroand  my  neck  my  buckler  sling. 
Let  my  white  locks  once  more  be  pressed 

By  the  old  cap  of  Milan  steel ; 
Sttch  soldier's  gear  becomes  them  best — 

They  love  their  old  defence  to  feel. 

"  'Tis  well !    Now  bnckle  to  my  waist 

My  well-tried  gleaming  blade  of  Spain 
My  old  blood  leaps  in  joyful  haste 

To  feel  it  on  my  thigh  again. 
And  here  this  pendent  loop  upon, 

Suspend  my  father's  dagger  bright ; 
My  spurs  of  gold,  too,  buckle  on — 

Or  Seward  dies  not  like  a  knight." 

*Twas  done.    No  tear  bedimmed  his  eyes  — 

His  manly  heart  had  ne'er  known  fear ; 
It  answered  not  the  deep-fetched  sighs 

Of  friends  and  comrades  standing  near. 
Death  was  upon  him  :  that  grim  foe 

Who  smites  the  craven  as  the  brave. 
With  patience  Seward  met  the  blow  — 

Prepared  and  willing  for  the  grave. 

The  manner  of  the  death,  or  rather  of  the  dying  of  Seward, 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  was  in  part,  unconsciously,  imitated  by 
the  great  Mansfeldt.  When  the  career  of  the  latter  was  nearly  at 
its  close,  his  fragile  frame  was  already  worn'  out  by  excess  of  action 
— his  once  stout  soul  irritated  by  disappointment,  and  his  former 
vigorous  constitution  shattered  by  the  ravages  of  a  disease  which 
had  long  preyed  on  it  in  secret.  The  erst  gallant  knight  lay  help- 
less in  the  miserable  village  of  Zara,  in  Dalmatia.  As  he  found 
his  last  moment  drawing  near,  he  put  on  one  of  his  richest  uni- 
forms, and  girded  his  favorite  sword  to  his  side.  It  was  the  one 
he  most  constantly  carried  in  battle.  Thus  accoutrep,  he  sum- 
moned his  chief  officers  to  attend  him.  He  was  held  up  by  the 
two  whom  he  most  wished  to  distinguish,  because  of  their  unwa- 
vering fidelity.  Thus  upheld,  he  exhorted  all  to  go  on,  unwearied, 
in  the  path  of  glory ;  and,  living  or  dying,  never  to  bate  a  breath 
of  inveterate  hatred  for  Austria — whose  government  has  been  ac- 


7G  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THBIB  DATS. 

cursed  in 'all  time,  since  there  has  heen  an  Austria,  for  its  unmiti- 
gated infamj.  "  With  the  indifference  of  a  man  preparing  for  a 
journey  of  no  extraordinary  importance,"  thus  speaks  Naylor, 
when  describing  the  scene,  ^^  he  continued  tranquilly  to  converse 
with  his  friends  to  the  latest  moment  of  his  existence.  His  body 
was  interred  with  military  pomp  at  Spalatio,  in  Dalmatia,  at  the 
expense  of  the  Venetians.  Thus  was  the  emperor  delivered  from 
an  enemy  who,  though  often  defeated,  never  ceased  to  be  formida- 
ble ;  and  whose  transcendent  genius  was  so  fertile  in  resources, 
that,  without  the  smallest  funds  to  support  the  expenses  of  war,  he 
maintained  an  honorable  contest  during  seven  campaigns  against 
the  most  poweHbl  monarchs  in  Europe." 

His  hoar  at  length  is  come  : 
The  hero  of  a  hundred  fields, 
Who  never  yielded,  only  yields 

To  Him  who  rules  the  tomb. 

He  whose  loud  trumpet's  blast, 
Carried  upon  the  trembling  gale 
The  voice  of  death  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

Is  struck  himself  at  last. 

The  same  who,  but  of  late. 
Serenely  saw  destruction  hurled. 
And  slaughter  sweeping  through  the  world. 

Serenely  meets  his  fate. 

The  spirit  of  the  brave. 
That  led  him  o'er  the  embattled  plain 
'Gainst  lines  of  foes,  o'er  countless  slain. 

Waits  on  him  to  the  grave. 

And  with  his  latest  breath 
The  warrior  dons  his  proud  array. 
Prepared  to  meet,  and  to  obey. 

His  last  commander — Death! 

The  moumfdl  tears  and  sighs 
Fall  not  for  him  who,  like  the  swan, 
Wears  his  best  plumes,  sings  sweetly  on, 
Sounds  his  last  song  —  and  dies ! 

With  regard  to  the  burial  of  knights,  we  may  observe  that,  down 
to  a  comparatively  late  period  the  knights  and  barons  of  England 


7T 

were  buried  with  much  solemn  splendor.  At  the  obsequies  of  a 
baron,  there  was  an  official  present  who  wore  the  armor  of  the 
deiunct,  mounted  a  horse  in  full  trappings,  and  carried  the  banner, 
shield,  and  helmet,  of  the  deceased.  So,  in  Henry  the  Eighth's 
time,  Lord  William  Courtney  was  buried  with  the  ceremonies  ob- 
served at  the  funeral  of  an  earl,  to  which  rank  it  had  been  the 
king's  intention  to  elevate  him.  On  this  occasion  Sir  Edmund 
Carew,  a  gallant  knight,  rode  into  the  church  in  full  armor,  with 
the  point  of  his  battle-axe  downward — a  token,  like  a  reversed 
torch,  of  death. 

The  latest  instance  I  have  met  with  of  a  union  of  ancient  and 
modem  customs  at  the  burial  of  a  knight,  occurred  at  Treves,  in 
1781,  at  the  interment  of  the  Teutonic  knight,  General  Frederick 
Casimir.  This  gallant  soldier's  charger. was  led  to  the  brink  of 
the  grave  in  which  the  body  had  just  been  deposited ;  the  throat 
of  the  steed  was  swiftly  cut  by  an  official,  and  the  carcass  of  the 
horse  was  flung  down  upon  the  coffin  of  the  knight.  Such  sacri- 
fices were  once  common  enough.  At  the  funerals  in  England  of 
cavalry  soldiers,  or  of  mounted  officers,  the  horse  is  still  proces- 
sionally  conducted  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  but  we  are  too  wisely 
economical  to  leave  him  there,  or  to  fling  him  into  it. 

Where  chivalry  had  great  perils  and  temptations,  we  need  not 
be  surprised  to  find  that  there  were  many  scions  of  noble  houses 
who  either  declined  to  win  spurs  by  encountering  mortal  danger, 
or  who  soon  grew  weary  of  making  the  attempt.  Let  us,  then, 
consider  the  unambitious  gentlemen  who  grew  "  tired  of  it" 


78  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 


THE  KNIGHTS  WHO  GREW  "  TIRED  OF  IT." 

"  How  blest  are  they  that  waste  their  weary  hours 
In  solemn  groves  and  solitary  bower 
Where  neither  eye  nor  ear 
Can  see  or  hear 
Th©  frantic  mirth 
And  false  delights  of  frolic  earth ; 
Where  they  may  sit  and  pant, 
And  breathe  their  pursy  souls ; 
Where  neither  grief  consumes,  nor  gaping  want 
Afflicts,  nor  sullen  care  controls  1 
Away  false  joys !     Ye  murder  where  ye  kiss ; 
There  is  no  heayen  to  that,  no  life  to  this." 

Fbancis  Quaslbs. 

As  marriage  or  the  cloister  was  the  alternative  submitted  to 
most  ladies  in  the  days  of  old,  so  young  men  of  noble  families  had 
small  choice  but  between  the  church  and  chivalry.  Some,  indeed, 
commenced  with  arms,  won  knightly  honors,  cared  nothing  for 
them  when  they  had  obtained  the  prize,  and  took  up  tha  clerical 
profession,  or  entered  monasteries.  There  are  many  distinguished 
examples.  There  was  first  St.  Mochua  or  Cluanus,  who,  after 
serving  in  arms  with  great  distinction,  entered  a  monastery  and 
took  to  building  churches  and  establishing  cities.  Of  the  former 
he  built  no  less  than  thirty ;  and  he  passed  as  many  years  in  one 
church  as  he  had  built  of  churches  themselves.  He  was  the  found- 
er of  one  hundred  and  twenty  cells.  He  is  to  be  looked  upon  with 
respect.  Old  warriors  in  our  own  days  are  often  moved  by  the  same 
impulse  which  governed  Mochua ;  and  when  we  see  retired  admi- 
rals taking  the  chair  at  meetings  where  Dr.  Gumming  is  about  to 
exhibit ;  or  infirm  major-generals  supporting,  with  unabated  men- 
tal energy,  their  so-called  Puseyite  pastors,  we  only  look  upon  men 
who,  acting  conscientiously,  are  worthy  of  respect,  and  are  sudi 
Mochuas  as  modem  times  and  circumstances  will  admit  of. 


THE  KNIGHTS  WHO   GREW   "TIBED   OP  IT."  79 

We  have  another  example  in  Adelard,  the  cousin  of  Charle* 
magne.  He  was  a  gaj  and  gallant  chevalier  at  his  imperial  cous- 
in's court,  and  there  was  no  stouter  wielder  of  a  sword  in  all  the 
army ;  but  Alard,  or  Adelard,  grew  weary  of  camp  and  court  alike. 
He  fled  from  some  very  pretty  temptations  in  the  one,  as  well  as  great 
perils  in  the  other.  The  young  prince,  he  was  only  twenty,  took 
the  monastic  habit  at  Corbie,  where  he  was  employed  as  a  garden- 
er, and  spoiled  cartloads  of  vegetables  before  he  got  his  hand  and 
his  thoughts  to  his  new  profession.  He  was  occasionally  busy  too 
in  the  kitchen,  but  not  to  the  visible  gratification  of  the  monks. 
Charlemagne  often  insisted  on  his  appearing  at  court,  where  at  last 
he  held  one  or  two  high  offices ;  and,  when  he  left,  wrote  a  hook 
for  the  guidance  of  courtiers  generally,  by  which  the  latter  as  little 
profited,  say  wicked  wits,  as  other  nobility,  for  whom  a  nation  has 
long  prayed  that  grace,  wisdom,  and  understanding  might  be  their 
portion.  St.  Adelard,  for  the  imperial  knight  was  canonized,  lived 
to  be  the  chief  authority  in  the  monastery  where  he  had  commenced 
as  cook  and  gardener,  and  St.  Gerard  composed  an  office  in  his 
honor,  in  gratitude  for  having  been  cured  of  a  violent  headache 
through  the  saint's  interposition.  This  seems  to  me  one  of  the 
oddest  ways  of  showing  gratitude  for  a  small  service  that  I  ever 
heard  of. 

I  believe  that  St.  Cedd,  Bishop  of  London,  in  very  early  days, 
was  also  of  a  family  whose  profession  was  military.  When  or 
why  he  entered  the  church  I  do  not  know  ;  but  he  has  some  con- 
nection with  military  matters  in  the  fact  that  Tilbury  Fort  occu- 
pies part  of  the  site  of  a  monastery  which  St.  Cedd  had  founded, 
in  which  he  resided,  and  which  was  the  pride  of  all  the  good  people 
in  the  then  pleasant  aiid  prosperous  city  of  Tillabury. 

Touching  St.  Aldric,  Bishop  of  Mans,  there  is  no  doubt^what- 
ever.  He  was  of  a  noble  family,  and  commenced  life  at  twelve 
years  old,  as  page  to  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  at  the  court  of  Charle- 
magne. He  was  speedily  sick  of  the  court,  and  as  speedily  sick 
of  the  camp.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one  he  withdrew  to  Metz,  en^ 
tered  the  clerical  profession,  and  became  chaplain  and  confessor  to 
the  sovereign  whom  he  had  once  served  as  page.  His  military 
training  made  him  a  very  sharp  disciplinarian  during  the  quarter 
of  a  century  that  he  was  bishop ;  and  it  is  only  to  be  regretted  that 


80  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

he  had  not  some  influence  over  the  king  whose  conscience  he  di- 
rected, and  of  whom  a  legend  will  be  fomid  in  another  part  of  this 
volume. 

There  was  a  second  son  of  Eric,  King  of  Denmark,  known  bj 
the  name  of  St  Knudt  or  Canute.  He  was  Duke  of  Schleswig, 
and  was  much  more  of  a  monk  than  a  duke.  He  was  canonized 
accordingly  for  his  virtues.  He  had  a  rough  way  of  joking.  His 
knights  were  nothing  better  than  robbers  and  pirates,  and  he  re- 
solved to  make  them  forswear  violence  and  live  peaceably.  They 
represented,  in  vain,  that  they  had  a  right  to  live  as  became 
knights,  which  Canute  did  not  dispute ;  he  simply  dissented  from 
the  construction  of  the  right  as  set  down  by  the  knights  themselves. 
To  prevent  all  mistakes  on  the  matter,  he  one  day  condemned 
seven  of  these  gentlemen  to  be  hanged  fc^r  acts  of  piracy.  One  of 
these  exclaimed  that,  *'  fitting  as  the  sentence  might  be  for  his  fel« 
lows,  there  must  necessarily  be  exemption  for  him."  He  was  like 
the  German  corporal  in  the  "  Etoile  du  Nord,"  who  can  very  well 
understand  that  it  is  quite  proper  that  a  man  should  be  hanged, 
but  could  not  comprehend  that  he  himself  should  be  the  man.  The 
Schleswig  knight  claimed  special  exemption  on  the  ground  tliat  he 
was  a  kinsman  of  Canute.  The  latter  allowed  that  this  entitled 
him  to  some  distinction,  and  the  saintly  duke  hung  his  cousin  six 
feet  higher  than  any  of  his  accomplices. 

We  come  back  more  immediately  to  a  knight  who  grew  tired 
of  his  vocation,  in  the  person  of  !Nathalan,  a  Scottish  noble  of  the 
fifth  century.  He  sold  arms,  horses,  and  estate,  divided  the  pro- 
ceeds among  the  poor,  and  devoted  himself  to  preparations  for  or- 
dination, and  the  cultivation  of  vegetables.  He  bears  a  highly 
respectable  reputation  on  the  roll  of  Bishops  of  Aberdeen. 

We  meet  with  a  man  more  famous,  in  Peter  of  Sebaste,  whose 
pedigree  showed  more  heroes  than  could  be  boasted  by  any  of 
Fetez^s  contemporaries.  He  is  not  an  example,  indeed,  of  a  man 
quitting  the  camp  for  the  cloister ;  but  he  and  two  o(  his  brothers 
exhibit  to  us  three  individuals  who  might  have  achieved  great 
worldly  profit,  jby  adopting  arms  as  a  vocation,  but  who  preferred 
theChurph,  and  became,  all  three,  bishops. 

We  have  a  siniilar  e^:ample  in  the  Irish  St.  Felan.  His  high 
birth  and  great  wealth  would  have  made  him  the  flower  of  Irish 


THE  KNIGHTS   WHO   GREW  "TIRED   OF  IT."  81 

chivalry,  but  he  selected  another  profession,  and  despising  diivalry, 
entered  the  Church.  He  went  a  Mundo  ad  Mundum,  for  it  was 
from  the  hands  of  Abbot  Mundus  that  he  received  the  monastic 
habit.  Thus,  as  it  was  wittily  said,  ihe  world  (Mundus)  at  once 
drove  and  drew  him  into  the  Church.  It  is  clear,  however,  that,  like 
the  old  war-horse,  he  pricked  up  his  ears  at  the  sound  of  battle, 
and  took  an  interest  in  stricken  fields.  To  such  conclusion  we 
must  come,  if  it  be  true,  as  is  asserted  of  him,  that  the  battle  of 
Bannockbum,  in  1314,  was  won  by  Bruce  through  the  saint's  es- 
pecial intercession.  The  Dukes  of  Normandy  owed  equal  obliga- 
tions to  St  Vaneng,  who  unbuckled  the  armor  from  his  aristocratic 
loins,  to  cover  tliem  with  a  frock ;  and  built  churches  for  the  Nor- 
mans, where  he  offered  up  continual  prayer  for  the  Norman 
dukes. 

Then  again,  there  was  William  Berringer,  of  the  family  of  the 
Counts  of  Nevers.  No  persuasion  could  induce  the  handsome 
"William  to  continue  in  the  career  he  had  embraced,  the  career  of 
chivalry  and  arms.  His  uncle,  Peter  the  Hermit,  may  have  had 
considerable  influence  over  him,  and  his  change  of  profession  was 
by  no  means  unprofitable,  for  the  once  horse-loving  William  be- 
came Archbishop  of  Bourges :  and  he  defended  the  rights  of  his 
Church  against  kings  and  councils  with  as  much  boldness,  zeal, 
and  gallantry,  as  any  knight  could  have  exhibited  against  the  stout- 
est of  assailants. 

Among  our  English  saints,  the  one  who  most  nearly  resembles 
him  is  St.  Egwin,  who  was  of  the  royal  blood  of  the  Mercian  kings, 
and  who,  after  a  short  trial  of  the  profession  of  arms,  retired  to  the 
cloister,  but  was  ultimately  raised  to  the  see  of  Worcester.  The 
spirit  of  the  man  may  perhaps  be  seen  through  the  legend  which 
says  that  on  setting  out  on  a  penitential  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  he 
put  iron  shackles  on  his  legs,  the  key  of  which  shackles  he  flung 
into  the  Avon.  This  is  very  possible ;  but  when  we  are  told  that 
on  requiring  the  key  at  a  subsequent  period,  he  found  it  inside  a 
fish,  we  see  that  the  author  of  the  legend  has  plagiarized  from  the 
original  constructor  of  the  story  of  Polycrates  and  his  ring. 

St.  Egwin  was  far  less  a  benefactor  to  his  fellow-men  that  St. 
Benedict  Biscop,  a  noble  knight  of  the  court  of  Oswi,  the  pious 
king  of  tlie  Northumbrians.     When  Benedict,  or  Bennet,  as  he  is 

6 


82  THE  KXIGHTS   AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

familiarly  called,  retired  from  the  profession  of  arms  to  follow  tliat 
of  the  Church,  he  continued  quite  as  active,  and  twice  as  useful, 
as  he  had  been  before.  He  was  a  great  traveller,  spent  and  gave 
liberally,  and  brought  over  with  him,  from  the  continent,  workers 
in  stone  to  erect  that  monastery  at  Weremouth  which,  in  its  ruins, 
commemorates  his  name  and  deeds.  He  also  brought  from  France 
the  first  glaziers  who  ever  exercised  the  art  of  glass-making  in 
England.  Altogether  St.  Bennet  is  one  of  those  who  find  means 
to  effect  good  to  others,  whatever  may  be  the  position  they  are  in 
themselves. 

Aelred  of  Ridal  tv^as  a  man  of  similar  quality.  He  was  a  young 
North-of-Engktnd  noble,  when  he  figured  as  the  handsomest  cava- 
lier at  the  court  of  that  "  sair  saint  to  the  Church,"  the  Scottish 
king,  David.  He  was  remarkable  for  his  good  temper,  and  was 
as  well-disciplined  a  monk  as  he  had  been  a  military  man ;  for 
when  he  once  happened  to  inadvertently  break  the  rule  of  perma- 
nent silence,  which  prevailed  in  the  monastery  at  Eidal,  into 
which  he  entered  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  he  became  so  horror- 
stricken  that  he  was  eager  to  increase  the  penalty  put  upon  him 
in  consequence.  He  had  only  dropped  a  single  word  in  the  gar- 
den, to  a  monk  who,  like  himself,  had  been  a  knight,  but  who  gave 
him  in  return  so  edifying  a  scowl,  that  in  an  instant  poor  Aelred 
felt  all  the  depth  of  his  unutterable  iniquity,  and  accounted  himself 
as  criminal  as  if  he  had  set  fire  to  the  neighboring  nunnery.  He 
never  aflerward  allowed  himself  the  indulgence  of  reading  his  fa- 
vorite Cicero,  but  confined  his  reading  to  his  own  work  "  On  Spir- 
itual Friendship,"  and  other  books  of  a  similar  description. 

The  great  St.  Hilary  was  another  of  the  men  of  noble  family 
following  arms  as  a  vocation,  who  gave  up  the  profession  for  tliat 
of  the  Church,  and  prospered  remarkably  in  consequence.  St 
Felix  of  Nola  affords  us  an  additional  illustration  of  this  fact.  Tliis 
noble  young  soldier  found  no  happiness  in  the  business  of  slaugh- 
tering, and  all  the  sophistry  in  the  world  could  not  persuade  liira 
tliat  it  was  honorable.  ^^It  is  a  disgusting  business,"  said  the 
Saint,  "and  as  I  can  not  be  Felix  [happy]  in  performing  it,  I  will 
see  if  I  can  not  be  Felix  in  the  Church ;"  and  the  punning  saint 
found  what  he  sought. 

There  is  something  more  wonderful  in  the  conversion  of  St. 


THE   KNIGHTS   WHO   GREW   «*  TIRED   OP  IT."  88 

Maurus.  He  was  the  son  of  a  nobleman,  had  St  Benedict  for  a 
tutor,  and  was  destined  to  the  career  of  arms.  The  tutor,  how- 
ever, having  awoke  him  one  night,  and  sent  him  to  pick  a  monk 
out  of  the  river,  whom  Benedict,  in  a  dream,  had  seen  fall  in, 
Maurus,  although  no  swimmer,  obeyed,  walked  upon  the  surface 
of  the  water,  pulled  out  the  struggling  monk,  walked  back  with 
him,  arm-in-arm,  to  the  shore,  and  immediately  concluded  that  he 
was  called  to  another  vocation  than  that  of  arms.  As  for  St  John 
Calybyte,  he  would  not  be  a  soldier,  but  ran  away  from  home  be- 
fore liis  wealthy  sire  could  procure  him  a  commission,  and  only 
returned  to  stand,  disguised  as  a  mendicant,  in  front  of  his  father's 
house,  where  he  received  alms  till  he  died.  A  curious  example 
of  idiosyncrasy.  St  Honoratus  was  wiser.  He  was  of  a  consular 
family ;  but,  in  declining  the  military  profession,  he  addressed  him- 
self with  sincerity  to  be  useful  in  the  Church ;  and  the  well-de- 
served result  was  that  he  became  Archbishop  of  Aries.  St 
Anthony,  the  patriarch  of  monks,  made  still  greater  sacrifices,  and 
chose  rather  to  be  a  hermit  than  a  commander  of  legions.  St 
Sulpicius,  the  Debonnair,  was  both  rich  and  good-looking,  but  he 
cared  less  for  helmet  and  feathers  than  for  cord  and  cowl,  and  the 
archbishopric  of  Bourges  rewarded  his  self-denial.  There  was; 
more  than  one  King  Canute  too,  who,  though  not  surrendering 
royalty  and  generalship  of  armies,  seemed  really  more  inclined, 
and  indeed  more  fitted,  to  be  studious  monks  than  chivalrous  mon- 
archs.  Wulstan  of  Worcester  was  far  more  decided,  for  finding 
himself,  one  night,  most  warmly  admiring  the  young  lady  who  was 
his  vis-a-vis  in  a  dance,  the  gallant  ofiicer  was  so  shocked  at  the 
impropriety,  tliat  he  made  it  an  excuse  for  taking  to  the  cowl  forth- 
with. He  did  not  so  ill  by  the  exchange,  for  the  cowl  brought 
him  to  the  mitre  at  Worcester. 

St.  Sebastian  was  a  far  bolder  man,  seeing  that  although  he 
hated  a  military  life,  he,  to  the  very  utmost,  did  his  duty  in  that 
state  of  life  to  which  it  had  pleased  God  to  call  him ;  and  if  half 
be  true  of  what  is  told  of  him,  there  never  was  knight  of  the  actual 
days  of  chivalry  who  performed  such  bold  and  perilous  actions  as 
St  Sebastian.  What  was  a  cavalier,  pricking  against  a  dragon, 
to  a  Roman  officer  preaching  Christianity  to  his  men,  under 
Diocletian  ? 


84  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

Li  later  days  we  meet  with  St.  Rajmund  of  Pennafort,  the 
wealthy  young  lord,  who,  rather  than  serve  for  pay  or  plunder, 
went  about  teaching  philosophy  for  nothing.  St.  John,  the  Patri- 
arch of  Alexandria,  might  have  been  known  as  a  conqueror,  but 
he  preferred  being  handed  down,  under  the  title  of  the  Almoner. 
He  was  like  that  St.  Cadoc  who  chose  rather  to  be  abbot  m,  than 
prince  o/J  Wales.  St  Poppo  of  Stavelo  exhibited  similar  humil- 
ity. He  was  rapidly  rising  in  the  Flandrian  army  when  he  sud- 
denly sunk  into  a  cell,  and  became  a  sort  of  Flemish  John  Wesley. 
He  preached  against  all  tournaments,  but  only  succeeded  in  abol- 
ishing the  very  exciting  combats  between  a  knight  and  a  bear, 
which  were  greatly  patronized  by  Flemish  ladies,  and  at  which 
parties  staked  great  sums  upon  their  favorite  animal. 

St.  Francis  of  Sales,  on  the  other  hand,  that  gentlemanly  saint, 
was  saved  from  the  knightly  career  which  his  noble  birth  seemed  to 
promise  him,  by  a  vow  msuie  by  his  mother,  before  he  was  born. 
She  was  resolved  that  he  should  be  a  saint  and  not  a  soldier,  and 
as  all  things  went  as  the  lady  desired,  she  placed  her  son  in  a  posi- 
tion direct  for  the  Church,  and  the  world  certainly  lost  nothing  by 
the  matron's  proceeding.  I  respect  St.  Francis  of  Sales  all  the 
more  that  he  had  small  human  failings,  and  did  not  scatter  damna- 
tion over  men  whom  he  saw  in  a  similar  concatenation.  Sulpicius 
Severus  was,  in  many  respects,  like  him,  save  that  he  had  some 
experience  of  a  soldier's  life.  But  he  laid  down  the  sword  for  the 
pen,  and  gave  us  that  admirable  historical  romance,  in  which  he 
details  so  graphically  the  life  of  another  noble  warrior,  who  quitted 
the  command  of  soldiers,  to  take  up  the  teaching  of  men — St. 
Martin  of  Tours. 

There  -v^as  a  lady,  St.  Aldegonde,  of  the  royal  blood  of  France, 
in  the  seventh  century,  who  at  least  encouraged  young  knights  to 
abandon  their  fancied  vocation,  and  assume  that  of  monks  or  friars. 
She  was,  most  undeservedly,  I  dare  say,  assailed  by  scandalizing 
tongues  accordingly.  Indeed,  I  never  heard  of  lady  more  perse- 
cuted in  this  way,  except  perhaps  this  particular  lady's  namesake, 
who  once  belonged  to  the  gay  troupe  of  the  Varietes,  and  to  whom 
the  most  rattling  of  chansonniers  alluded,  in  the  line  of  a  song, 
wliich  put  the  significant  query  of 

Qu«  fait  Aldegonde  avec  le  monde  eiitier  ? 


THE   laaGHTS  WHO   GREW  "TIRED  OP  IT."  85 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  features  in  the  characters  of  many 
of  these  young  nobles  who  were  disinclined  to  take  up  arms,  or 
who  laid  them  down  for  the  religious  vocation,  is  the  dread  they 
entertained  of  matrimony.  In  illustration  of  this  fact,  I  may  notice 
the  case  of  St  Silvin  of  Auchy.  There  was  not  a  gayer  or  braver 
knight  at  the  court  of  Childeric  II.,  nor  a  more  welcome  wooer 
among  the  ladies.  In  due  time  he  proposed  to  a  noble  maiden, 
who  was  in  a  flutter  of  happiness  at  the  thought  of  carrying  off 
such  a  bachelor  from  a  host  of  competitors.  The  wedding  was 
brilliant,  up  to  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony.  That  over,  no 
persuasion  could  induce  the  bridegroom  to  go  to  the  breakfast. 
As  he  had  been  brought  to  the  altar,  there  he  was  resolved  to  re- 
main. He  denounced  all  weddings  as  wicked  vanities,  and  dart- 
ing out  of  the  church-door,  left  bride  and  bridal  party  to  take  what 
course  they  would.  There  was  no  end  of  conjectures  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  sudden  fright  which  had  seized  upon  the  young  bride- 
groom. The  latter  set  it  down  to  inspiration,  and  as  he  took  to 
the  cowl  and  led  a  most  exemplary  life,  no  one  presumed  to  doubt 
it,  except  the  bride  and  her  relations. 

The  case  of  St  Licinius  is  easier  of  explanation.  He  was  the 
most  rollicking  knight-bachelor  at  the  court  of  Clotaire  I.  It 
must,  however,  be  said  for  him  that  he  sowed  his  wild  oats  early, 
and  fought  none  the  less  stoutly  for  going  to  mass  daily,  and  con- 
fessing once  a  quarter.  He  was  rich,  and  had  a  maiden  neighbor 
who  was  richer.  The  families  of  knight  and  maiden  were  united 
in  thinking  that  the  estates  of  the  two,  encircled  in  one  ring  fence, 
would  be  one  of  the  most  desirable  of  consummations.  The 
maiden  was  nothing  loath,  the  knight  alone  was  reluctant.  He 
too,  had  his  doubts  about  the  excellence  of  marriage,  and  it  was 
only  with  very  considerable  difficulty  he  was  brought  to  woo  the 
lady,  who  said  "  Yes"  before  the  plume  in  his  bonnet  had  touched 
the  ground  when  he  made  his  bow  to  her.  The  wedding-day  was 
fixed,  and  as  the  old  epitaph  says,  "wedding-clothes  provided." 
On  the  eve  of  the  eventful  day,  however,  Licinius,  on  paying  a 
visit  to  the  bride,  found  her  suddenly  attacked  with  leprosy.  The 
doctor  protested  that  it  would  be  nothing,  but  Licinius  declared 
that  it  was  a  warning  whicli  he  dared  not  neglect  He  looked  at 
tlie  leprous  lady,  muttered  the  word  "unpleasant,"  and  at  once 


86  THE   KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

betook  himself,  not  to  active  military  life,  but  to  a  religious  mission. 
In  this  occupation  he  is  alleged  to  have  performed  such  miracles 
as  to  deserve  canonization,  if  only  the  half  of  them  were  true. 

Now,  a  bride  afflicted  with  leprosy  may  fairly  be  said  to  be  an 
unpleasant  sight.  Licinius  may  even  be  considered  authorized  to 
hesitate  in  performing  his  promise,  if  not  in  altogether  declaring 
off.  We  can  not  say  as  much  in  extenuation  of  another  knight 
who  broke  his  word  to  a  lady,  and  was  clapped  into  the  Roman 
calendar  of  deified  men.  This  gentleman  in  question  had  a  rather 
unchristian-sounding  name.  He  was  called  Abraham  of  Chiduna. 
At  tilt  and  tournament,  and  in  tented  field,  there  was  no  cavalier 
who  sat  more  perfectly  in  saddle,  or  handled  his  lance  and  wielded 
his  battle-axe  with  more  terrible  effect.  He  was  of  noble  birth,  of 
course ;  was  wealthy,  somewhat  addicted  to  light  living,  in  his  salad 
days,  but  a  man  who  lived  soberly  enough  when  those  were  over. 
He  then  resolved  to  marry,  and  he  had  the  "  good  taste,"  if  one 
may  use  a  term  which,  we  are  told,  belongs  to  the  literary  milliner's 
vocabulary,  to  offer  himself  to,  and  ask  the  hand  of  a  very  pious 
maiden  with  a  highly  satisfactory  dower.  The  required  conclusion 
was  soon  come  to,  and  one  fine  spring  morning  saw  the  two  prin- 
cipals and  their  respective  friends  in  church.  The  knight,  it  is 
true,  was  the  last  to  arrive,  and  he  had  been,  previously,  as  unwil- 
ling to  get  up  and  be  married,  as  Master  Bamardine  was  to  get 
up  and  be  hanged.  He  was  finally  brought  to  the  altar,  and  after 
some  little  delay,  such  as  searching  for  the  ring  which  he  had  mis- 
placed, and  only  recovered  after  much  search,  the  nuptial  knot 
was  tied.  When  this  had  been  accomplished,  surrounding  friends 
approached  to  offer  their  congratulations ;  but  the  icy  Abraham 
coldly  waved  them  back,  and  announced  his  determination,  then 
and  there,  to  end  his  short-lived  married  state.  As  he  immediately 
rushed  into  the  wood  which  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  church, 
there  was  a  universal  cry  that  he  contemplated  suicide.  The 
bride  was  conveyed  home  amid  much  sympathy,  and  a  general 
but  an  ineffectual  search  was  made  for  the  "  groom."  Yet,  not 
altogether  ineffectual,  for  at  the  end  of  seventeen  days  he  was  dis- 
covered, offering  up  his  orisons,  in  the  midst  of  a  marsh.  There 
he  had  been,  he  said,  for  a  fortnight,  and  there  he  declared  he 
would  remain,  unless  those  who  sought  him  consented  to  the  terms 


THE   KNIGHTS   WHO   GREW    ''TIJIBD   OF  IT."  87 

he  should  propose.  These  were,  that  he  should  be  allowed  to 
retire  to  a  cell  which  should  be  entirelj  walled  up,  save  a  small 
square  aperture  for  a  window.  The  agreement  was  ratified,  and 
Abraham  was  shut  up  according  to  his  desire ;  and  hj  a  long  life 
of  seclusion,  passed  in  preaching  to  all  who  approached  the  win- 
dow, and  taking  in  all  thej  brought  through  the  same  aperture, 
Abraham  has  had  '^  Beatus"  attached  to  his  name,  and  that  name 
has  been  recorded  upon  the  roll  of  saints. 

If  there  be  any  reader  who  objects  to  this  story  as  unnatural,  I 
would  remark  to  the  same,  that  similar  incidents  may  be  met  with 
in  our  own  time.  In  proof  thereof  I  will  briefly  relate  an  anecdote 
which  was  told  me  by  the  reverend  father  of  a  legal  knight,  who 
was  himself  the  officiating  minister  at  the  ceremony  of  which  I 
am  about  to  speak. 

To  the  clergyman  of  a  pretty  village  in  Wales,  due  notice  had 
been  given,  and' all  preliminary  legal  observances  having  been 
fulfilled,  he  awaited  in  his  vestry,  ready  to  marry  an  ex-sergeant 
and  one  of  the  girls  of  the  village.  The  canonical  hours  were 
fast  gliding  away,  and  yet  the  priest  was  not  summoned  to  the 
altar.  By  certain  sounds  he  could  tell  ^  that  several  persons  had 
assembled  in  the  church,  and  he  had  two  or  three  times  seen  a 
pretty  face  peeping  in  at  the  vestry-door,  with  a  look  upon  it  of 
pleasure  to  see  that  he  was  still  there,  and  of  perplexity  as  if  there 
was  something  to  be  told  which  only  waited  to  be  asked  for.  At 
half-past  eleven  the  face  again  peeped  in,  whereupon  the  clergy- 
man invited  the  owner  of  it  to  approach  nearer.  The  invitation 
was  obeyed,  and  the  clergyman  inquired  the  reason  for  the  unu- 
sual delay,  remarking  at  the  same  time,  that  if  the  parties  were 
not  speedily  prepared  it  would  be  too  late  to  perform  the  ceremony 
that  day. 

"  Well  sir,"  said  the  nymph,  "  I  was  about  asking  your  advice. 
I  am  the  bride's  sister ;  and  there  is  a  difficulty — " 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  the  priest 

<^  Just  this,  sir,"  said  Jenny.  <'  Sergeant  Jones  has  promised  to 
marry  sister  Winnifred  if  father  will  put  down  ^ve  pounds* 
Father  agrees ;  but  he  says  that  if  he  puts  down  the  money  before 
the  marriage,  the  sergeant  wiU  walk  off.  And  the  sergeant  will 
not  come  up  to  be  married  till  the  money  is  put  down.     So,  you 


88  THE  feNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAY6. 

see,  sir,  we  are  in  a  terrible  difficulty ;  and  we  want  you  to  pro- 
pose a  method  to  get  us  out  of  it" 

"  There  is  nothing  easier,"  said  the  minister ;  "  let  your  father 
put  the  money  into  the  hands  of  a  trusty  third  person,  who  will 
promise  to  place  it  in  the  sergeant's  possession  as  soon  as  he  has 
married  your  sister." 

Jenny  Morgan  saw  the  excellence  of  the  device  in  a  moment, 
inished  back  to  the  bridal  parties,  and  they  showed  their  apprecia- 
tion of  the  clergyman's  suggestion,  by  crowding  to  the  altar  as 
soon  as  the  preliminary  proceeding  reconunended  to  them  had 
been  accomplished.  At  length  the  clergyman  came  to  the  words, 
"  Wilt  thou  have  this  woman  to  thy  wedded  wife  ?" 

"  Jack,"  said  the  ex-sergeant,  looking  round  at  the  stake-holder, 
"  have  you  got  the  cash  ?" 

«  All  right !"  nodded  Jadt. 

"  Then  I  will,"  said  the  sergeant ;  "  and  now,  Jack,  hand  over 
the  tin:* 

The  agreement  was  rigidly  fulfilled ;  but  had  not  the  minister 
thought  of  the  means  which  solved  the  difficulty,  Sergeant  Jones 
would  have  been  nearly  as  ungallant  to  his  lady  as  Abraham, 
Silvin,  and  Licinius,  had  been  to  theirs. 

But  to  return  to  Abraham.  I  have  said  this  knight,  on  assuming 
his  monkly  character,  had  caused  himself  to  be  walled  up  in  his 
cell.  I  have  my  su^icions,  however,  that  it  was  a  theatrical  sort 
of  wall,  for  it  is  very  certain  that  the  saint  could  pass  through  it 
Now,  there  resided  near  him  a  lady  recluse  who  was  his  "  niece," 
and  whose  name  was  Mary.  The  two  were  as  inseparable  as  the 
priest  Laoombe  and  Madame  Guyon ;  and  probably  were  as  little 
deserving  of  reproach.  This  Mary  was  the  original  of  "  Little 
Eed  Eiding  Hood."  She  used  to  convey  boiled  milk  and  butter, 
and  other  necessary  matters  to  her  uncle  Abraham.  Now  it  hap- 
pened that  the  ex-knight  used  also  to  be  visited  by  a  monk  whose 
name  was  Wolf,  or  who,  at  all  events,  has  been  so  called  by  hagi- 
ographers,  on  account  of  his  being  quite  as  much  of  a  beast  as  the 
quadruped  so  called.  The  monk  was  wont  to  fall  in  with  Mary 
as  she  was  on  her  way  to  her  uncle's  cell  with  pleasant  condiments 
under  a  napkin,  in  a  wicker-basket  He  must  have  been  a  monk 
of  the  Count  Ory  fashion,  and  he  was  as  seductive  as  Ponchard, 


THE  KNIGHTS   WHO   GBS,W    « TIRED   OF  IT."  89 

when  singing  "  Gentille  Annette"  to  the  "  Petit  Chaperon  Rouge," 
in  Boieldieu's  Opera,  The  result  was,  that  the  monk  carried  off 
Mary  to  a  neighboring  city-— Edessa,  if  I  remember  rightly — and 
if  I  am  wrong,  Mr.  Mitchell  Kemble  will,  perhaps,  set  me  right, 
in  his  blabd  and  gentleman-like  way.  The  town-life  led  by  these 
two  was  of  the  most  disgraceful  nature ;  and  when  the  monk  had 
grown  tired  of  it,  he  left  Mary  to  lead  a  worse,  without  him. 
Mary  became  the  "  Heine  Pomare,"  the  "  Mogadore,"  the  "  Rose 
Pomponne"  of  Edessa,  and  was  the  terror  of  all  families  where 
there  were  elder  sons  and  latch-keys.  Her  doings  and  her  where- 
abouts at  length  reached  the  ears  of  her  uncle  Abraham,  and  not 
a  little  astonished  were  tbose  who  knew  the  recluse  to  see  him  one 
morning,  attired  in  a  pourpoint  of  rich  stuff,  wHh  a  cloak  like 
Almaviva's,  yellow  buskins  with  a  fall  of  lace  over  the  tops,  a 
jaunty  cap  and  feather  on  his  head,  a  rapier  on  his  thigh,  and  a 
steed  between  his  legs,  which  curveted  under  his  burden  as  though 
the  fun  of  the  thing  had  given  it  lightness.  At  Mary's  supper, 
this  cavalier  was  present  on  the  night  of  his  arrival  in  Edessa. 
He  scattered  his  gold  like  a  Groesus,  and  Mary  considered  him 
worth  all  the  more  penniless  knights  put  together.  When  these 
had  gone,  as  being  less  welcome,  Abraham  declared  his  relation- 
ship, and  acted  on  the  right  it  gave  him  to  rate  a  niece  who  was 
not  only  an  ungrateful  minx,  but  who  was  as  mendacious  as  an 
ungrateful  niece  could  well  be.  The  old  gentleman,  however,  had 
truth  on  his  side,  and  finally  so  overwhelmed  Mary  with  its  terrible 
application,  that  she  meekly  followed  him  back  to  the  desert,  and 
passed  fifteen  years  in  a  walled-up  cell  close  to  that  of  her  uncle. 
The  miracles  the  two  performed  are  adduced  as  proofs  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  personages  and  th^lr  story ;  matters  which  I 
would  not  dispute  even  if  I  had  Toom  for  it. 

The  next  knight  whom  I  can  call  to  mind  as  having  been  fright- 
ened by  marriage  iato  monkery,  is  St.  Vandrille,  Count  of  the 
Palace  to  King  Dagobert.  During  the  period  of  his  knightship 
lie  was  a  very  Don  Juan  for  gallantry,  and  railed  against  matri- 
mony as  conclusively  as  a  Malthusian.  His  friends  pressed  him 
to  marry  nevertheless ;  and  introduced  him  to  a  lady  with  a  hun- 
dred thousand  golden  qualities,  and  prospects  as  auriferous  as  those 
of  Miss  Kilmansegg.     He  took  the  lady's  hand  with  a  reluctance 


90  THE   KNIGHTS   ANJ>  THEIR  DAYS. 

that  might  be  called  aversion,  and  which  he  did  not  affect  to  con- 
ceal. When  the  nuptial  ceremony  was  concluded,  Ejiight  Van- 
drille,  as  eccentric  as  the  cavaliers  whose  similar  conduct  I  have 
already  noticed,  mildly  intimated  that  it  was  not  his  intention  to 
proceed  further,  and  that  for  his  part,  he  had  renounced  the  vani- 
ties of  this  world  for  aye.  Taking  the  lady  apart,  he  appears  to 
have  produced  upon  her  a  conviction  that  the  determination  was 
one  he  could  not  well  avoid ;  and  we  are  not  told  that  she  even 
reproached  him  for  a  conduct  which  seems  to  me  to  have  been  a 
thousand  times  more  selfish  and  inexcusable  than  that  of  the  clever 
but  despicable  Abelard.  The  church,  however,  did  not  disapprove 
of  the  course  adopted,  and  St.  Vandrille,  despite  his  worse  than 
breach  of  promise,  has  been  forgiven  as  knight,  and  canonized  as 
saint. 

Far  more  excusable  was  that  little  Count  of  Arian,  Elzear,  the 
boy-knight  at  the  court  of  Charles  II.,  King  of  Sicily,  whom  that 
monarch  married  at  the  age  of  thirteen  years,  to  Delphina  of 
Glandeves,  a  young  lady  of  fifteen.  When  I  say  far  more  excu- 
sable, I  do  Elzear  some  injustice,  for  the  boy  was  willing  enough 
to  be  wed,  and  looked  forward  to  making  his  lady  proud  of  his 
own  distinction  as  a  knight  Delphina,  however,  it  was  who  pro- 
posed that  they  should  part  at  the  altar,  and  never  meet  again. 
She  despised  the  boy,  and  the  little  cavalier  took  it  to  heart — so 
much  so,  that  he  determined  to  renounce  the  career  of  arms  and 
enter  the  church.  Thereby  chivalry  lost  a  worthy  cavalier,  and 
the  calendar  gained  a  very  active  saint 

Elzear  might  well  feel  aggrieved.  There  have  been  knights 
even  younger  than  he,  who  have  carried  spurs  before  they  were 
thirteen.  This  reminds  me  of  a  paragraph  in  an  article  which  I 
contributed  to  "  Eraser's  Magazine,''  in  March,  1844,  under  the 
title  of  '*A  Walk  across  Bohemia,"  in  which,  speaking  of  the 
Imperial  Zeughaus  at  Vienna,  I  noticed  "  the  suit  of  armor  of  that 
little  hero,  the  second  Louis  of  Hungary,  he  who  came  into  this 
breathing  world  some  months  before  he  was  welcome,  and  who 
supported  his  character  for  precocity  by  marrying  at  twelve,  and 
becoming  the  legitimate  bearer  of  all  the  honors  of  paternity  as 
soon  as  he  entered  his  teens ;  who  moreover  maintained  his  con- 
sistency by  turning  a  gray  old  man  at  sixteen,  and  finally  termi- 


THE  KNIGHTS   WHO  GREW    "TIRED   OP  IT."  91 

nated  his  ephemeral  coarse  on  the  field  of  battle  before  he  became 
of  age."  Elzear  then  was  not,  perhaps,  so  poor  a  knight  as  his 
older  lady  seemed  disposed  to  count  him. 

I  must  be  briefer  with  noticing  the  remaining  individuals  who 
either  flung  up  chivalry  for  the  Church,  or  who  preferred  the  latter 
to  following  a  knightly  career.  First,  there  was  l^t  Anscharius, 
who  after  he  had  made  the  change  alluded  to,  was  standing. near 
the  easy  Olas,  King  of  Sweden,  when  the  latter  cast  lots  to  decide 
whether  Christianity  should  be  the  religion  of  the  state,  or  not. 
We  are  told  that  the  prayers  of  St.  AnscharJus  caused  the  king  to 
throw  double-sixes  in  favor  of  the  better  cause. 

St.  Andrew  Cossini  made  an  admirable  saint  afler  being  the 
most  riotous  of  cavaliers.  So  St.  Amandus  of  Nantes  won  his 
saintship  by  resigning  his  lordship  over  men-at-arms.  Like  him 
was  that  St.  Eomuald  of  the  family  of  the  Dukes  of  Ravenna,  who, 
whether  fighting  or  hunting,  loved  to  retire  from  the  fray  and  the 
chase,  to  pray  at  peace,  in  shady  places.  St.  John  of  Malta  and 
St.  Stephen  of  Grandmont  were  men  of  the  Hke  kidney.  St  Ben- 
edict of  Anian  was  that  famous  cup-bearer  of  Charlemagne,  who 
left  serving  the  Emperor  in  hall  and  field,  to  serve  a  greater  mas- 
ter with  less  ostentation.  He  followed  the  example  of  that  St. 
Auxentius,  who  threw  up  his  commission  in  the  equestrian  guard 
of  Theodosius  the  Younger,  to  take  service  in  a  body  of  monks. 

Many  of  those  who  renounced  arms,  or  would  not  assume  mili- 
tary service  when  opportunity  offered  itself,  profited  personally  by 
the  adoption  of  such  a  course.  Thus  St.  Porphyrins  was  a  knight 
till  he  was  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  he  died  Bishop  of  Gaza. 
The  knight  St  Wulfran  became  Bishop  of  Sens.  St.  Hugh  won 
the  bishopric  of  Grenoble,  by  not  only  renouncing  knighthood  him- 
self, but  by  inducing  his  father  to  follow  his  example.  St  Norbert 
became  Archbishop  of  Magdeburg,  after  leading  a  jolly  life,  not 
only  as  a  knight  but  as  priest  A  fall  from  his  horse  brought  him 
to  a  sense  of  decency.  A  prophecy  of  a  young  maiden  to  St  Ulric 
gained  him  his  saintship  and  the  bishopric  of  Augsburg.  Had  she 
not  foretold  he  would  die  a  bishop,  he  would  have  been  content 
to  carry  a  banner.  Examples  like  these  are  very  numerous,  but 
I  have  cited  enough. 

Few  in  a  worldly  sense  made  greater  sacrifice  than  St  Casimir, 


92  THE   KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR   DAYS. 

son  of  Casimir  III,,  King  of  Poland.  He  so  loved  Ms  reverend 
tutor,  Dugloss,  that,  to  be  like  him,  he  abandoned  even  his  chance 
of  the  throne,  and  became  a  priest.  St  Benedict  of  Umbria  took 
a  similar  course,  upon  a  smaller  scale ;  and  not  all  the  persuasions 
of  his  nurse,  who  ran  after  him  when  he  ran  away  from  home, 
could  induce  him  to  be  anything  but  a  priest  St.  Herman  Joseph, 
of  Cologne,  showed  how  completely  he  had  abandoned  the  knightly 
character,  when,  as  monk,  he  begged  the  peasants  whom  he  taught, 
to  be  good  enough  to  buffet  him  well,  and  cuff  him  soundly,  as  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  have  a  sufficiency  of  kicks  and  contempt 
St  Guthlac,  the  noble  hermit  of  Croyland,  evinced  more  dignity 
in  his  retirement  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  St  Peter  Regalati, 
and  St  Ubaldus  of  Gabio.  The  latter  was  resolute  neither  to 
marry  nor  take  arms.  He  liked  no  turmoil,  however  qualified. 
St  Vincent  of  Lerins  did  bear  arms  for  years,  but  he  confessed  he 
did  not  like  the  attendant  dangers — threatening  him  spiritually, 
not  bodily,  and  he  took  the  cowl  and  gained  a  place  in  the  sacred 
calendar  accordingly.  St  Aloysius  Gonzaga,  whose  father  was  a 
prince,  was  another  of  the  young  gentlemen  for  whom  arms  had 
little  attraction.  The  humility  of  this  young  gentleman,  however, 
had  a  very  silly  aspect,  if  it  all  resembled  what  is  said  of  him  by 
Father  Caperius.  "He  never  looked  on  women,  kept  his  eye 
strictly  guarded,  and  generally  cast  down ;  would  never  stay  with 
his  mother  alone  in  her  chamber,  and  if  she  sent  in  any  message 
to  him  by  some  lady  in  her  company,  he  received  it,  and  gave  his 
answer  in  a  few  words,  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  his  chamber^oor 
only  half  open ;  and  when  bantered  on  that  score,  he  ascribed  such 
behavior  to  his  bashfulness.  It  was  owing  to' his  original  modesty 
that  he  did  not  know  by  their  face  many  ladies  among  his  own  re- 
lations, with  whom  he  had  frequently  conversed ;  and  that  he  was 
afraid  and  ashamed  to  let  a  footman  see  so  much  as  his  foot  un- 
covered." Whatever  the  soft  Aloysius  may  have  been  fit  for,  it  is 
clear  that  he  was  not  fit  for  chivalry.  Something  akin  to  him 
was  St.  Theobald  of  Champagne,  who  probably  would  never  have 
been  a  saint,  if  his  father  had  not  ordered  him  to  lead  a  body  of 
troops  to  the  succor  of  a  beleaguered  cousin.  Theobald  declined, 
and  at  once  went  into  a  monastery. 

St  Walthen,  one  of  the  sons  of  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  and 


THE  KNIGHTS   WHO   GREW  "TIRED   OP  IT."  93 

Maud,  daughter  of  Judith,  which  Judith  was  the  niece  of  the  Con- 
queror, only  narrowly  escaped  being  a  gallant  knight.     As  a  boy, 
indeed,  he  used  to  build  churches  with  his  box  of  bricks,  while 
his  brothers  built  castles ;  but  at  least  he  gave  promise  of  being 
a  true  knight,  and,  once,  not  only  accepted  the  gift  of  a  ring  from 
a  lady;  but  wore  the  sparkling  diamond  on  his  finger.    "  Ah  1  ah !" 
exclaimed  the  saucy  courtiers,  "  Knight  Walthen  is  beginning  to 
have  a  tender  heart  for  the  ladies !"     Poor  Walthen !  he  called 
this  a  deviFs  chorus,  tossed  the  ring  into  the  fire,  broke  the  lady's 
heart,  and  went  into  a  monastery  for  the  remainder  of  his  days. 
He  escaped  better  than  St.  Claras,  who  had  a  deaf  ear  and  stone- 
blind  eyes  for  the  allurements  of  a  lady  of  quality,  and  who  only 
barely  escaped  assassination,  at  the  hands  of  two  ruffians  hired  by 
the  termagant  to  kill  the  man  who  was  above  allowing  her  holy 
face  to  win  from  him  a  grin  of  admiration.     But  though  I  could 
fill  a  formidable  volume  with  names  of  ci-devant  knights  who  have 
turned  saints,  I  will  spare  my  readers,  and  conclude  with  the  great 
name  of  St.  Bernard.    He  did  not,  indeed,  take  up  arms,  but  when 
he  adopted  a  religious  profession,  he  enjoyed  the  great  triumph  of 
inducing  his  uncle,  all  his  brothers,  knights,  and  simple  officers,  to 
follow  his  example.     The  uncle  Gualdri,  a  famous  swordsman  and 
seigneur  of  Touillon,  was  the  first  who  was  convinced  that  Bernard 
was  right.     The  two  younger  brothers  of  the  latter,  Bartholomew 
and  Andrew,  next  knocked  off  their  spurs  and  took  to  their  bre- 
viary.    Guy,  the  eldest  brother,  a  married  man,  of  wealth,  broke 
up  his  household,  sold  his  armor,  sent  his  lady  to  a  convent  and 
his  daughters  to  a  nunnery,  put  on  the  cowl,  and  followed  St  Ber- 
nard.    Others  of  his  family  and  many  of  his  friends  followed  his 
example,  with  which  I  conclude  my  record  of  saints  who  have  had 
any  connection  with  arms.     As  for  St.  Bernard,  I  will  say  of  him, 
that  had  he  assumed  the  sword  and  been  as  merciless  to  his  ene- 
mies as  he  was,  in  his  character  of  abbot,  without  bowels  of  com- 
passion for  an  adversary  whom  he  could  crash  by  wordy  argu- 
ment, he  would  have  been  the  most  terrible  cavalier  that  ever  sat 
in  saddle ! 

Perhaps  the  most  perfect  cavalier  who  ever  changed  that  dig- 
nity for  the  cowl,  was  the  Chevalier  de  Eance.  Of  him  and  his 
Trappist  followers  I  will  here  add  a  few  words. 


94  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 


THE  CHEVALIER  DE  RANGE  AND  THE  TRAPPISTS. 

De  RaDce  was  bom  in  1626.  He  was  of  a  ducal  house,  and 
the  great  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  was  his  godfather.  In  his  youth 
be  was  very  sickly  and  scholastic  He  was  intended  for  the 
Church,  held  half  a  score  of  livings  before  he  could  speak — and 
when  he  could  express  his  will,  resolved  to  live  only  by  his  sword. 
He  remained  for  a  while  neither  priest  nor  swordsman,  but  simply 
the  gayest  of  libertines.  He  projected  a  plan  of  knight-errantry, 
in  society  with  all  the  young  cavaliers,  and  abandoned  the  project 
to  study  astrology.  For  a  period  of  some  duration,  he  Was  half- 
knight,  half-priest.  He  then  received  full  orders,  dressed  like  the 
most  frivolous  of  marquises,  seduced  the  Duchess  de  Montbazon, 
and  absolved  in  others  the  sins  which  he  himself  practised. 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  said  the  Chevalier  de  Champvallon  to 
him  one  day.  "  I  have  been  preaching  all  the  morning,"  said  De 
Eance,  "  like  an  angel,  and  I  am  going  this  afternoon  to  hunt  like 
the  very  devil."  He  may  be  said  to  have  been  like  those  Mor- 
mons who  describe  their  fervent  selves  as  "  Hell-bent  on  Heaven !" 

Nobody  could  ever  tell  whether  he  was  soldier  or  priest,  till 
death  slew  the  Duchess  de  Montbazon.  De  Ranee  unexpectedly 
beheld  Ae  corpse  disfigured  by  the  ravages  of  small-pox  or  mea- 
sles, and  he  was  so  shocked,  that  it  drove  him  from  the  world  to 
the  cloister,  where,  as  the  reconstructor,  rather  than  the  founder, 
of  the  order  of  Trappists,  he  spent  thirty-seven  years — exactly  as 
many  as  he  had  passed  in  the  '^  world." 

The  companions  and  followers  of  the  chivalrous  De  Ranee  claim 
a  few  words  for  themselves.  The  account  will  show  in  what  strong 
contrasts  the  two  portions  of  their  lives  consisted.  They  had 
learned  obedience  in  their  career  of  arms,  but  they  submitted  to  a 
far  more  oppressive  rule  in  their  career  as  monks.  Some  century 
and  a  half  ago  there  was  published  in  Paris  a  dreadfully  dreary 
series  of  volumes,  entitled  "  Relations  de  la  Vie  et  de  la  Mort.  de 
quelques  Religieux  de  TAbbaye  de  la  Trappe."  They  consist 
chiefly  of  tracts,  partly  biographical  and  partly  theological,  unin- 
teresting in  the  main,  but  of  interest  as  showing  what  noble  sol' 
diers  or  terrible  freebooters  asked  for  shelter  in,  and  endured  the 
austerities  of.  La  Trappe.     I  have  alluded  to  the  unreserved  sub- 


THE   KNIGHTS   WHO   GREW   "TIRED   OF  IT."  95 

mission  required  at  the  hands  of  the  brothers.  The  latter,  accord- 
ing to  the  volumes  which  I  have  just  named,  were  sworn  to  impart 
even  their  thoughts  to  the  Abbot.  They  who  thus  delivered  them- 
selves with  least  reserve  appear  to  have  been  commanded  in  very 
bad  Latin ;  but  their  act  of  obedience  was  so  dear  to  Heaven,  that 
their  persons  became  surrounded  with  a  glory,  which  their  less  com- 
municative brethren,  says  the  author  naively,  could  not  possibly 
gaze  at  for  any  length  of  time :  —  the  which  I  implicitly  believe. 

The  candidates  for  admission  included,  without  doubt,  many 
very  pious  persons,  but  with  them  were  degraded  priests,  with 
whom  we  have  little  to  do,  and  ex-oflBcers,  fugitive  men-at-arms, 
robbers  who  had  lived  by  the  sword,  and  murderers,  of  knightly 
degree,  who  had  used  their  swords  to  the  unrighteous  slaying  of 
others,  and  who  sought  safety  within  the  cloisters  of  La  Trappe. 
All  that  was  asked  of  them  was  obedience.  Where  this  failed  it 
was  compelled.  Where  it  abounded  it  was  praised.  Next  to  it 
was  humility.  One  brother,  an  ex-soldier  reeking  with  blood,  is 
lauded  because  he  lived  on  baked  apples,  when  his  throat  was  too 
sore  to  admit  of  his  swallowing  more  substantial  food.  Another 
brother,  who  had  changed  arms  for  the  gown,  is  most  gravely  com- 
pared with  Moses,  because  he  was  never  bold  enough  to  enter  the 
pantry  with  sandals  on  his  feet  Still,  obedience  was  the  first 
virtue  eulogized — so  eulogized  that  I  almost  suspect  it  to  have 
been  rare.  It  was  made  of  so  much  importance,  that  the  commu- 
nity were  informed  that  all  their  faith,  and  all  their  works,  without 
blind  obedience  to  the  superior,  would  fail  in  securing  their  salva- 
tion. Practical  blindness  was  as  strongly  enjoined.  He  who  used 
his  eyes  to  least  purpose,  was  accounted  the  better  man.  One  ex- 
military  brother  did  this  in  so  praiseworthy  a  way,  that  in  eight 
years  he  had  never  seen  a  fault  in  any  of  his  brethren. 

It  was  not,  however,  this  sort  of  blindness  that  De  Bance  re- 
quired, for  he  encouraged  the  brethren  to  bring  accusations  against 
each  other.  Much  praise  is  awarded  to  a  brother  who  never  looked 
at  the  roof  of  his  own  cell.  Laudation  more  unmeasured  is  pour- 
ed upon  another  faithful  knight  of  the  new  order  of  self-negation, 
who  was  so  entirely  unaccustomed  to  raise  his  eyes  from  the  ground, 
that  he  was  not  aware  of  the  erection  of  a  new  chapel  in  the  gar- 
den, until  he  broke  his  head  against  the  wall. 


96  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

On  one  occasion  the  Duchess  de  Guiche  and  an  eminent  prelate 
visited  the  monastery  together.  After  they  had  left^  a  monk  en- 
tered the  Abbot's  apartment,  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  his 
superior,  and  begged  permission  to  confess  a  p-eat  crime.  He 
was  told  to  proceed. 

"  When  the  lady  and  the  bishop  were  here  just  now,"  said  he, 
"  I  dared  to  raise  my  eyes,  and  they  rested  i^)on  the  face — " 

"  Not  of  the  lady,  thou  reprobate !"  exclaimed  the  Abbot 

"Oh  no,"  calmly  rejoined  the  monk,  "but  of  the  old  bishop!" 
A  course  of  bread  and  water  was  needed  to  work  expiation  for 
the  crime. 

Some  of  the  brethren  illustrated  what  they  meant  by  obedience 
end  humility,  after  a  strange  fashion.  For  example,  there  was 
one  who  having  expressed  an  inclination  to  return  to  the  world, 
was  detained  against  his  wiU.  His  place  was  in  the  kitchen,  and 
the  devastation  he  committed  among  the  crockery  was  something 
stupendous — and  probably  not  altogether  unintentional.  He  was 
not  only  continually  fracturing  the  delf  earthenware  dishes,  but 
was  incessantly  running  from  the  kitchen  to  the  Abbot,  from  the 
Abbot  to  the  Prior,  from  the  Prior  to  the  Sub-Prior,  and  from  the 
Sub-Prior  to  the  Master  of  the  Novices  to  confess  his  fault. 
Thence  he  returned  to  the  kitchen  again,  once  more  to  smash 
whole  crates  of  plates,  following  up  the  act  with  abundant  confes- 
sions, and  deriving  evident  enjoyment,  alike  in  destroying  the 
property,  and  assailing  with  noisy  apologies  the  governing  powers 
whom  he  was  resolved  to  inspire  with  a  desire  of  getting  rid 
of  him. 

In  spite  of  forced  detention  there  was  a  mock  appearance  of 
liberty  at  monthly  assemblies.  The  brethren  were  asked  if  there 
was  anything  in  the  arrangement  of  the  institution  and  its  rules 
which  they  desired  to  see  changed.  As  an  affirmative  reply,  how- 
ever, would  have  brought  "  penance"  and  "  discipline"  on  him  who 
made  it,  the  encouraging  phrase  that  "  They  had  only  to  speak," 
by  no  means  rendered  them  loquacious,  and  every  brother,  by  his 
silence,  expressed  his  content 

If  death  was  the  suicidal  object  of  many,  the  end  appears  to 
have  been  generally  attained  with  a  speedy  certainty.  The  supe- 
riors and  a  few  monks  reached  an  advanced  age ;  only  a  few  of 


THE  KNIGHTS  W^O   GREW  "TIRED   OP  IT."  97 

the  brethren  died  old  men.  Consumption,  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  and  abscess  (at  memory  of  the  minute  description  of  which 
the  very  heart  turns  sick),  carried  off  the  victims  with  terrible 
rapidity.  Men  entered,  voluntarily  or  otherwise,  in  good  health. 
If  they  did  so,  determined  to  achieve  suicide,  or  were  driven  in 
by  the  government  with  a  view  of  putting  them  to  death,  the  end 
soon  came,  and  was,  if  we  may  believe  what  we  read,  welcomed 
witfaHdaerity.  After  rapid,  painftil,  and  unresisted  decay,  the  suf- 
ferer saw  as  his  last  hour  approached,  the  cinders  strewn  on  the 
ground  in  the  shape  of  a  cross ;  a  thin  scattering  of  straw  was 
made  upon  the  cindersj  and  that  was  the  death-bed  upon  which 
every  Trappist  expired.  The  body  was  buried  in  the  habit  of  the 
order,  as  some  knights  have  been  in  panoply,  without  coffin  or 
shroud,  and  was  borne  to  the  grave  in  a  cloth  upheld  by  a  few 
brothers.  If  it  fell  into  its  last  receptacle  with  huddled-up  limbs, 
De  Ranee  would  leap  into  the  grave  and  dispose  the  unconscious 
members,  so  as  to  make  them  assume  an  attitude  of  repose. 

A  good  deal  of  confusion  appears  to  have  distinguished  the  rules 
of  nomenclature.  In  many  instances,  where .  the  ori^nal  names 
had  impure  or  ridiculous  significations,  the  change  was  advisable. 
But  I  can  not  see  how  a  brother  became  more  cognisable  as  a 
Christian,  by  assuming  the  names  of  Palemon,  Achilles,  Moses,  or 
even  Dorothy.  Theodore,  I  can  understand ;  but  Dorothy,  though 
it  bears  the  same  meaning,  seems  to  me  but  an  indifferent  name 
for  a  monk,  even  in  a  century  when  the  male  Montmorencies  de- 
lighted in  the  name  of  "  Anne." 

None  of  the  monks  were  distinguished  by  superfluous  flesh. 
Some  of  these  ex-soldiers  were  so  thin-skinned,  that  when  sitting 
on  hard  chairs,  their  bones  fairly  rubbed  through  their  very  slight 
epidermis.  They  who  so  suffered,  and  joyfully,  were  held  up  as 
bright  examples  of  godliness. 

There  is  matter  for  many  a  sigh  in  these  saflSron-leaved  and 
worm-eaten  tomes,  whose  opened  pages  are  now  before  me.  I  find 
a  monk  who  has  passed  a  sleepless  night  through  excess  of  pain. 
To  test  his  obedience,  he  is  ordered  to  confess  that  he  has  slept 
well  and  suffered  nothing.  The  submissive  soldier  obeys  his  gen- 
eral's command.  Another  confesses  his  readiness,  as  Dr.  Newman 
has  done,  to  surrender  any  of  his  own  deliberately-made  convic- 

7 


98  THE  KNI6HTB  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

lions  at  the  bidding  of  his  superior.  '^  I  am  wax,"  he  sajs,  ^  for 
you  to  mould  me  as  you  will ;"  and  his  unreserved  surrender  of 
himself  is  commended  with  much  windiness  of  phrase.  A  third, 
inadvertently  remarking  that  his  scalding  broth  is  over-salted, 
bursts  into  tears  at  the  enormity  of  the  crime  he  has  committed 
by  thus  complaining;  whereupon  praise  falls  upon  him  more 
thickly  than  the  salt  did  into  his  broth :  '^  Yes/'  says  the  once 
knight,  now  abbot,  ^^  it  is  not  praying,  nor  watching,  nor  repent- 
ance, that  is  alone  asked  of  you  by  God,  but  humility  and  obedience 
therewith  j  and  first  obedience." 

To  test  the  fidelity  of  those  professing  to  have  this  humility  and 
obedience,  the  most  outrageous  insults  were  inflicted  on  such  as  in 
the  world  had  been  reckoned  the  most  high-spirited.  It  is  averred 
that  these  never  failed.  The  once  testy  soldier,  now  passionless 
monk,  kissed  the  sandal  raised  to  kick,  and  blessed  the  hand  lifted 
to  smite  him.  A  proud  young  officer  of  mousquetaires,  of  whom 
I  have  strong  suspicions  that  he  had  embezzled  a  good  deal  of  his 
majesty's  money,  acknowledged  that  he  was  the  greatest  criminal 
that  ever  lived ;  but  he  stoutly  denied  the  same  when  the  officers 
of  the  law  visited  the  monastery  and  accused  him  of  fraudulent 
practices.  This  erst  young  warrior  had  no  greater  delight  than 
in  being  permitted  to  clean  the  spittoons  in  the  chapel,  and  pro- 
vide them  with  fresh  sawdust.  Another,  a  young  marquis  and 
chevalier,  performed  with  ecstacy  servile  offices  of  a  more  disgust- 
ing character.  This  monk  was  the  flower  of  the  fraternity.  He 
was  for  ever  accusing  himself  of  the  most  heinous  crimes,  not  one 
of  which  he  had  committed,  or  was  capable  of  committing.  "  He 
represented  matters  so  ingeniously,"  says  De  Ranee,  who  on  this 
occasion  is  the  biographer,  "  that  without  lying,  he  made  himself 
pass  for  the  vile  wretch  which  in  truth  1^  was  not."  He  must 
have  been  like  that  other  clever  individual  who  "  lied  like  truth." 

When  I  say  that  he  was  the  flower  of  the  fraternity,  I  probably 
do  some  wrong  to  the  Chevalier  de  Santin,  who  under  the  name 
of  Brother  Palemon,  was  undoubtedly  the  chief  pride  of  La 
Trappe.  He  had  been  an  officer  in  the  army ;  without  love  for 
God,  regard  for  man,  respect  for  woman,  or  reverence  for  law.  In 
consequence  of  a  rupture  between  Savoy  and  France,  he  lost  an 
aimuity  on  which  he  had  hitherto  lived.     As  his  constitution  waa 


THE  KNIGHTS  WHO   GREW    "TIRED  OP  IT."  99 

considerably  shattered,  he  at  the  same  time  took  to  reading.  He 
was  partially  converted  by  perusing  the  history  of  Joseph ;  and 
he  was  •finally  perfected  by  seeing  the  dead  body  of  a  very  old 
and  very  ugly  monk,  assume  the  guise  and  beauty  of  that  of  a 
young  man. 

This  was  good  ground  for  conversion ;  but  the  count — for  the 
chevalier  of  various  orders  was  of  that  degree  by  birth — the  count 
had  been  so  thorough  a  miscreant  in  the  world,  that  they  who  lived 
in  the  latter  declined  to  believe  in  the  godliness  of  Brother  Pale- 
mon.  Thereupon  he  was  exhibited  to  all  comers,  and  he  gave 
ready  replies  to  all  queries  put  to  him  by  his  numerous  visiters. 
Ail  France,  grave  and  gay,  noble  and  simple,  flocked  to  the  spec- 
tacle. At  the  head  of  them  was  that  once  sovereign  head  of  the 
Order  of  the  Garter,  James  II.,  with  his  illegitimate  son,  from 
w^hom  is  descended  the  French  ducal  family  of  Fitz-James.  The 
answers  of  Palemon  to  his  questioners  edified  countless  crowds. 
He  shared  admiration  with  another  ex-military  brother,  who  guile- 
lessly told  the  laughing  ladies  who  flocked  to  behold  him,  that  he 
had  sought  refuge  in  the  monastery  because  his  sire  had  wished 
him  to  marry  a  certain  lady ;  but  that  his  soul  revolted  at  the 
idea  of  touching  even  the  finger-tips  of  one  of  a  sex  by  the  first 
of  whom  the  world  was  lost.  The  consequent  laughter  was 
immense. 

From  this  it  is  clear  that  there  were  occasionally  gay  doings  at 
the  monastery,  and  that  those  at  least  who  had  borne  arms,  were 
not  addicted  to  close  their  eyes  in  the  presence  of  ladies.  Among 
the  most  remarkable  of  the  knightly  members  of  the  brotherhood, 
was  a  certain  Robert  Graham,  whose  father,  Colonel  Graham,  was 
first  cousin  to  Montrose.  Robert  was  born,  we  are  told,  in  the 
"  ChS.teau  de  Rostoume,*'  a  short  league  (it  is  added  by  way  of 
help,  I  suppose,  to  perplexed  travellers),  from  Edinburgh.  By 
his  mother*s  side  he  was  related  to  the  Earl  of  Perth,  of  whom  the 
Trappist  biographer  says,  that  he  was  even  more  illustrious  for 
his  piety,  and  for  whisit  he  suffered  for  the  sake  of  religion,  than 
by  his  knighthood,  his  viceroyship,  or  his  offices  of  High  Chan- 
cellor of  England,  and  "  Gk)vernor  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  now 
(1716)  rightful  king  of  Great  Britain."  The  mother  of  Robert, 
a  zealous  protestant,  is  spoken  of  as  having  "  as  much  piety  as  one 


100  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

can  have  in  a  false  religion."  In  spite  of  her  teaching,  howeyer, 
the  young  Robert  early  exhibited  an  inclination  for  the  Bomish 
religion;  and  at  ten  years  <^  age,  the  precocious  boy  attended 
mass  in  the  chapel  of  Holyrood,  to  the  great  displeasure  of  his  . 
mother.  On  his  repeating  his  visit,  she  had  him  soundly  whipped 
by  his  tutor ;  but  the  young  gentleman  declared  that  the  process 
could  not  persuade  him  to  embrace  Presbyterianism.  He  accord- 
ingly rushed  to  the  house  of  Lord  Perth,  ^  himself  a  recent  con- 
vert from  the  Anglican  Church,"  and  claimed  his  protection. 
Afler  some  family  arrangements  had  been  concluded,  the  youthful 
protege  was  formally  surrendered  to  the  keeping  of  Lord  Perth,* 
by  his  mother,  and  not  without  reluctance.  His  father  gave  him 
up  with  the  unconcern  of  those  Gallios  who  care  little  about 
questions  of  religion. 

Circumstances  compelled  the  earl  to  leave  Scotland,  when 
Robert  sojourned  with  his  mother  at  the  house  of  her  brother,  a 
godly  protestant  minister.  Here  he  showed  the  value  of  the  in- 
structions he  had  received  at  the  hands  of  Lord  Perth  and  his 
Romish  chaplain,  by  a  conduct  which  disgusted  every  honest  man, 
and  terrified  every  honest  maiden,  in  all  the  country  round.  His 
worthy  biographer  is  candid  enough  to  say  that  Robert,  in  falling 
off  from  Popery,  did  not  become  a  protestant,  but  an  atheist. 
The  uncle  turned  him  out  of  his  house.  The  prodigal  repaired 
to  London,  where  he  rioted  prodigally ;  thence  he  betook  himself 
to  France,  and  he  startled  even  Paris  with  the  bad  renown  of  his 
evil  doings.  On  his  way  thither  through  Flanders,  he  had  had  a 
moment  or  two  of  misgiving  as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  career,  and 
he  hesitated  while  one  might  count  twenty,  between  the  counsel 
of  some  good  priests,  and  the  bad  example  of  some  Jacobite  sol- 
diers, with  whom  he  took  service.  The  latter  prevailed,  and  when 
the  chevalier  Robert  appeared  at  the  court  of  St  G^rmains,  Lord 
Perth  presented  to  the  fugitive  king  an5  queen  there,  as  accom- 
plished a  scoundrel  as  any  in  Christendom. 

There  was  a  show  of  decency  at  the  exiled  court,  and  respect 
for  religion.  Young  Graham  adapted  himself  to  the  consequent 
influences.  He  studied  French,  read  the  lives  of  the  saints,  en- 
tered the  seminary  at  Meaux,  and  finally  reprofessed  the  Romish 
i*eligion.     He  was  now  seized  with  a  desire  to  turn  liermit,  but 


N 


THE  KNIGHTS  WHO  GREW  "TIBED  OP  IT."  101 

accident  haying  taken  him  to  La  Trappe,  the  blase  libertine  felt 
himself  reproved  by  the  stem  virtue  exhibited  there,  and,  in  a 
moment  of  enthusiasm,  he  enrolled  himself  a  postulant,  bade  fare- 
well to  the  world,  and  devoted  himself  to  silence,  obedience,  humil- 
ity, and  austerity,  with  a  perfectness  that  surprised  alike  those  who 
saw  and  those  who  heard  of  it.  Lord  Perth  opposed  the  reception 
of  Robert  in  the  monastery.  Thereon  arose  serious  diflSculty,  and 
therewith  the  postulant  relapsed  into  sin.  He  blasphemed,  reviled 
his  kinsmen,  swore  oaths  that  set  the  whole  brotherhood  in  speech- 
less terror,  and  finally  wrote  a  letter  to  his  old  guardian,  so 
crammed  with  fierce  and  unclean  epithets,  that  the  abbot  refused 
permission  to  have  it  forwarded.  The  excitement  which  followed 
brought  on  illness ;  with  the  latter,  came  reflection  and  sorrow. 
At  length  all  difficulties  vanished,  and  ultimately,  on  the  eve  of  All 
Saints,  1699,  Robert  Graham  became  a  monk,  and  changed  his 
name  for  that  of  Brother  Alexis.  King  James  visited  him,  and 
was  much  edified  by  the  spiritual  instruction  vouchsafed  him  by 
the  second  cousin  of  the  gallant  Montrose.  The  new  monk  was 
so  perfect  in  obedience  that  he  would  not  in  winter  throw  a  crumb 
to.  a  half-starved  sparrow,  without  first  applpng  for  leave  from  his 
spiritual  superior.  "  Indeed,"  says  his  biographer,  **  I  could  tell 
you  a  thousand  veritable  stories  about  him ;  but  they  are  so  extra- 
ordinary that  I  do  not  suppose  the  world  would  believe  one  of 
them."  The  biographer  adds,  that  Alexis,  after  digging  and  cutting 
wood  all  day ;  eating  little,  drinking  less,  praying  incessantly,  and 
neither  washing  nor  unclothing  himself,  lay  down ;  but  to  pass  the 
night  without  closing  his  eyes  in  sleep !  He  was  truly  a  brother 
Yigilantius. 

The  renown  of  his  conversion  had  many  influences.  The  father 
of  Alexis,  Colonel  Graham,  embraced  Romanism,  and  the  colonel 
and  an  elder  son,  who  was  already  a  Capuchin  friar,  betook  thenoi- 
selves  to  La  Trappe,  where  the  reception  of  the  former  into  the 
church  was  marked  by  a  double  solemnity — De  Ranee  dying  as 
the  service  was  proceeding.  The  wife  of  Colonel  Graham  is  said 
to  have  lefl  Scotland  on  the  receipt  of  the  above  intelligence,  to 
have  repaired  to  France,  and  there  embrace  the  form  of  faith  fol- 
lowed by  her  somewhat  facile  husband.  There  is,  however,  great 
doubt  on  this  point. 


102  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

The  fate  of  young  Robert  Graham  was  similar  to  that  of  most 
of  the  Trappists.  The  deadly  air,  the  hard  work,  the  watchings, 
the  scanty  food,  and  the  uncleanliness  which  prevailed,  soon  slew 
a  man  who  was  as  useless  to  his  fellow-men  in  a  convent,  as  he 
had  ever  been  in  the  world.  His  confinement  was,  in  fact,  a  swiil 
suicide.  Consumption  seized  on  the  poor  boy,  for  he  was  still  but 
a  boy,  and  his  rigid  adherence  to  the  severe  discipline  of  the  place, 
only  aided  to  develop  what  a  little  care  might  have  easily  checked. 
His  serge  gown  clove  to  the  carious  bones  which  pierced  through 
his  diseased  skin.  The  portions  of  his  body  on  which  he  immova- 
bly lay,  became  gangrened,  and  nothing  appears  to  have  been 
done  by  way  of  remedy.  He  endured  all  with  patience,  and  looked 
forward  to  death  with  a  not  unaccountable  longing.  The  '^  infirm- 
ier"  bade  him  be  less  eager  in  pressing  forward  to  the  grave< — "I 
will  now  pray  God,"  said  the  nursing  brother,  "  that  he  will  be 
pleased  to  save  you." — "  And  I,"  said  Alexis,  "  will  ask  him  not 
to  heed  you."  Further  detail  is  hardly  necessary :  suffice  it  to  say 
that  Robert  Graham  died  on  the  21st  May,  1701,  little  more  than 
six  months  after  he  had  entered  the  monastery,  and  at  the  early 
age  of  twenty-two  years.  The  father  and  brother  also  died  in 
France,  and  so  ended  the  chivalrous  cousins  of  the  chivalrous 
Montrose. 

The  great  virtue  inculcated  at  La  Trappe,  was  one  of  the  cher- 
ished virtues  of  old  chivalry,  obedience  to  certain  rules.  But  there 
was  no  excitement  in  carrying  it  out  Bodily  suffering  was  en- 
countered by  a  knight,  for  mere  glory's  sake.  At  La  Trappe  it 
was  accounted  as  the  only  means  whereby  to  escape  Satan.  The 
knight  of  the  cross  purchased  salvation  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  life ; 
the  monk  of  La  Trappe,  by  an  unprofitable  suicide.  With  both 
there  was  doubtless  the  one  great  hope  common  to  all  Christians ; 
but  that  great  hope,  so  fortifying  to  the  knight,  seemed  not  to  re- 
lieve the  Trappist  of  the  fear  that  Satan  was  more  powerful  than 
the  Redeemer.  When  once  treating  this  subject  at  greater  length, 
I  remarked  that  there  was  a  good  moral  touching  Satan  in  Cuvier's 
dream,  and  the  application  of  which  might  have  been  profitable  to 
men  like  these  monks.  The  great  philosopher  just  named,  once 
saw,  in  his  sleep,  the  popular  representative  of  the  great  enemy  of 
man.    The  fiend  approached  with  a  loudly-expressed  determination 


THE  KNIGHTS   WHO   GREW    "TIRED  OP  IT."  103 

to  "  eat  him."  "  Eat  me  !*'  exclaimed  Cuvier,  examining  him  the 
-while  with  the  eye  of  a  naturalist.  "  Eat  me !  Horns !  Hoofs !" 
he  added,  scanning  him  over.  "  Horns  ?  Hoofs  ?  Gramintv~ 
orous  /  needn't  be  afraid  of  you  !" 

And  now  let  us  get  back  from  the  religious  orders  of  men  to 
chivakt)us  orders  of  ladies.  It  is  quite  time  to  exclaim,  Place  aux 
Dames  ! 


104  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 


FEMALE  KNIGHTS  AND  JEANNE  DARC. 

Mein  ist  der  Helm,  und  mir  gehort  er  zu.  —  Schilles. 

"  Orpebs  for  ladies"  have  been  favorite  matters  with  both  Kings 
and  Queens,  Emperors  and  Empresses.  The  Austrian  Empress, 
Eleanora  de  Gonzague,  founded  two  orders,  which  admitted  only 
ladies  as  members.  The  first  was  in  commemoration  of  the  mirac- 
ulous preservation  of  a  particle  of  the  true  cross,  which  escaped 
the  ravages  of  a  fire  which  nearly  destroyed  the  imperial  residence, 
in  1668.  Besides  this  Order  of  the  Cross,  the  same  Empress  in- 
stituted the  Order  of  the  Slaves  of  Virtue.  This  was  hardly  a 
complimentary  title,  for  a  slave  necessarily  implies  a  compulsory 
and  unwilling  servant.  The  number  of  members  were  limited  to 
thirty,  and  these  were  required  to  be  noble,  and  of  the  Romish  re- 

*  ligion.  The  motto  was.  Sole  uhique  triumphat ;  which  may  have 
implied  that  she  only  who  best  served  virtue,  was  likely  to  profit 
by  it.  This  was  not  making  a  very  exalted  principle  of  virtue  it- 
self.    It  was  rather  placing  it  in  the  point  of  view  wherein  it  was 

.  considered  by  Pamela,  who  was  by  far  too  calculating  a  young 
lady  to  deserve  all  the  eulogy  that  has  been  showered  upon  her. 

Another  Empress  of  Germany,  Elizabeth  Christiana,  founded, 
in  the  early  part  of  *he  last  century,  at  Vienna,  an  Order  of  Neigh- 
borly Love.  It  consisted  of  persons  of  both  sexes ;  but  nobody 
was  accounted  a  neighbor  who  was  not  noble.  With  regard  to 
jiumbers,  it  was  unlimited.  The  motto  of  the  order  was  Amor 
Proximi;  a  motto  which  exactly  characterized  the  feelings  of 
Queen  Guinever  for  any  handsome  knight  who  happened  to  be 
her  neighbor  for  the  nonce.  "  Proximus"  at  the  meetings  of  the 
order  was,  of  course,  of  that  convenient  gender  whereby  all  the 
members  of  the  order  could  profit  by  its  application.     They  might 


FEMALE  KNIGHTS  AND  JEANNE  DABC.        105 

have  had  a  particularly  applicable  soDg,  if  thej  had  only  possessed 
a  Beranger  to  sing  as  the  French  lyrist  has  done. 

There  was  also  in  Germany  an  order  for  ladies  only,  that  was 
of  a  very  sombre  character.  It  was  the  Order  of  Death's  Head ; 
and  was  founded  just  two  centuries  ago,  by  a  Duke  of  Wirtemburg, 
who  decreed  that  a  princess  of  that  house  should  always  be  at  the 
head  of  it.  The  rules  bound  ladies  to  an  observance  of  conduct 
which  they  were  not  likely  to  observe,  if  the  rule  of  Christianity 
was  not  strong  enough  to  bind  them ;  and  probably  many  fair  ladies 
who  wore  the  double  cross,  with-  the  death's  head  pending  from 
the  lower  one,  looked  on  the  motto  of  "  Memento  Mori,"  as  a  re- 
minder to  daring  lovers  who  dared  to  look  on  them. 

France  had  given  us,  in  ladies'  orders,  first,  the  Order  of  the 
Cordeliere,  founded  by  that  Anne  of  Brittany  who  brought  her  in- 
dependent duchy  as  a  dower  to  Charles  VIII.  of  France,  and  who 
did  for  the  French  court  what  Queen  Charlotte  effected  for  that 
of  England,  at  a  much  later  period.  Another  Anne,  of  Austria, 
wife  of  Louis  XIII.,  and  some  say  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  also,  found- 
ed, for  ladies,  the  Order  of  the  Celestial  Collar  of  the  Holy  Rosary. 
The  members  consisted  of  fifty  young  ladies  of  the  first  families  in 
France ;  and  they  all  wore,  appended  to  other  and  very  charming 
insignia  hanging  from  the  neck,  a  portrait  of  St.  Dominic,  who 
found  himself  in  the  best  possible  position  for  instilling  all  sorts  of 
good  principles  into  a  maiden's  bosom. 

The  Order  of  the  Bee  was  founded  a  century  and  a  half  ago  by 
Louisa  de  Bourbon,  Duchess  of  Maine.  The  ensign  was  a  medal, 
with  the  portrait  of  the  duchess  on  one  side,  and  the  figure  of  a 
bee,  with  the  motto,  Je  sms  petite^  mais  mes  piqueures  sont  pro- 
fondes,  on  the  other. 

In  Russia,  Peter  the  Great  founded  the  Order  of  St.  Catherine, 
in  honor  of  his  wife,  and  gave  as  its  device.  Pour  V amour  et  la 
Jidelite  envers  la  patrie.  It  was  at  first  intended  for  men,  but  was 
ultimately  made  a  female  order  exclusively.  A  similar  change 
was  found  necessary  in  the  Spanish  Order  of  the  Lady  of  Mercy, 
founded  in  the  thirteenth  century  by  James,  King  of  Aragqn, 
There  were  other  female  orders  in  Spain,  and  the  whole  of  them 
had  for  their  object  the  ftirtherance  of  religion,  order,  and  virtue. 
In  some  cases,  membership  was  conferred  in  acknowledgment  of 


106  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

merit  Who  forgets  Miss  Jane  Porter  in  her  costume  and  insignia 
of  a  lady  of  one  of  the  orders  of  Polish  female  chivalry — and  who 
is  ignorant  that  Mrs.  Otway  has  been  recently  decorated  by  the 
Queen  of  Spain  with  the  Order  of  Maria  Louisa  ? 

The  Order  of  St.  Ulrica,  in  Sweden,  was  founded  in  1734,  in 
honor  of  a  lady,  the  reigning  Queen,  and  to  commemorate  the  lib- 
erty which  Sweden  had  acquired  and  enjoyed  from  the  period  of 
her  accession.  Two  especial  qualities  were  necessary  in  the  can- 
didates for  knighthood  in  this  order.  It  was  necessary  that  a  pub- 
lic tribunal  should  declare  that  they  were  men  of  pure  public  spirit ; 
and  it  was  further  required  of  them  to  prove  that  in  serving  the 
country,. they  had  never  been  swayed  by  motives  of  private  inter- 
est When  the  order  was  about  to  be  founded,  not  less  than  five 
hundred  candidates  appeared  to  claim  x;hivalric  honor.  Of  these, 
only  fifty  were  chosen,  and  decree  was  made  that  the  number  of 
knights  should  never  exceed  that  amount.  It  was  an  unnecessary 
decree,  if  the  qualifications  required  were  to  be  stringently  de- 
manded. But,  in  the  conferring  of  honors  generally,  there  has 
often  been  little  connection  between  cause  and  effect ;  as,  for  in- 
stance, after  Major- General  Simpson  had  failed  to  secure  the  vic- 
tory which  the  gallantry  of  our  troops  had  put  in  his  power  at  the 
Redan,  the  home  government  was  so  delighted,  that  they  made 
field-marshals  of  two  very  old  gentlemen.  The  example  was  not 
lost  on  the  King  of  the  Belgians.  He,  too,  commemorated  the  fall 
of  Sebastopol  by  enlarging  the  number  of  his  knights.  He  could 
not  well  scatter  decorations  among  his  army,  for  that  has  been 
merely  a  military  police,  but  he  made  selection  of  an  equally  de- 
structive body,  and  named  eighteen  doctors — Knights  of  St 
Leopold. 

These  orders  of  later  institution  appear  to  have  forgotten  one 
of  the  leading  principles  of  knighthood — love  for  the  ladies — but 
perhaps  this  is  quite  as  well.  When  Louis  IL,  Duke  of  Bourbon, 
instituted  the  Order  of  the  Golden  Shield,  he  was  by  no  meai^  so 
forgetful.  He  enjoined  his  knights  to  honor  the  ladies  above  all, 
.  and  never  permit  any  one  to  slander  them  with  impunity ;  ^  be- 
cause," said  the  good  duke,  "  after  Grod,  we  owe  everything  to  the 
labors  of  the  ladies,  and  all  the  honor  that  man  can  acquire."  One 
portion  of  which  assertion  may  certainly  defy  contradiction. 


FEMALE   KNIGHTS   AND   JEANKE  DARC.  107 

The  most  illustrious  of  female  knights,  however,  is,  without  dis- 
pute, the  Maid  of  Orleans.  Poor  Jeanne  Dare  seentis  to  me  to 
have  been  an  illustrious  dupe  and  an  innocent  victim.  Like  Char- 
lotte Corday,  the  calamities  of  her  country  weighed  heavily  upon 
her  spirits,  and  her  consequent  eager  desire  to  relieve  them,  caused 
her  to  be  marked  as  a  fitting  instrument  for  a  desired  end.  Poor 
Charlotte  Corday  commissioned  herself  for  the  execution  of  the 
heroic  deed  which  embellishes  her  name — Jeanne  Dare  was  evi- 
dently commissioned  by  others. 
.  The  first  step  taken  by  Jeanne  to  obtain  access  to  the  Dauphin, 
was  to  solicit  the  assistance  of  the  proud  De  Baudricourt,  who  re- 
sided not  far  fix)m  the  maid's  native  place,  Domremy.  However 
pious  the  young  girl  may  have  been,  De  Baudricourt  was  not  the 
man  to  give  her  a  public  reception,  had  not  some  foregone  conclu- 
sion accompanied  it.  She  needed  his  help  to  enable  her  to  pro- 
ceed to  Chinon.  The  answer  of  the  great  chief  was  that  she  should 
not  be  permitted  to  ga  there.  The  reply  of  the  maid,  who  Was 
always  uncommonly  "  smart"  in  her  answers,  was  that  she  would 
go  to  Chinon,  although  she  were  forced  to  crawl  the  whole  way 
on  her  knees.  She  did  go,  and  the  circumstances  of  a  mere  young 
girl,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  holding  intercourse  with  angels  and 
archangels,  thus  overcoming,  as  it  were,  the  most  powerful  person- 
age in  the  district,  was  proof  enough  to  the  common  mind,  as  to 
whence  she  derived  her  strength  and  authority.  The  corps  of 
priests  by  whom  she  was  followed,  as  soon  as  her  divine  mission 
was  acknowledged  or  invented  by  the  court,  lent  her  additional 
influence,  and  sanctified  in  her  own  mind,  her  doubtless  honest  en- 
thusiasm. The  young  girl  did  all  to  which  she  pledged  herself, 
and  in  return,  was  barbarously  treated  by  both  friend  and  foe,  and 
was  most  hellishly  betrayed  by  the  Church,  under  whose  benedic- 
tion she  had  raised  her  banner.  She  engaged  to  relieve  Orleans 
from  the  terrible  English  army  which  held  it  in  close  siege,  and 
she  nobly  kept  her  engagement.  It  may  be  noticed  that  the  first 
person  slain  in  this  siege,  was  a  young  lady  named  Belle,  and  the 
fair  sex  thus  furnished  the  first  victim,  as  well  as  the- great  con- 
queror, in  this  remarkable  conflict. 

I  pass  over  general  details,  in  order  to  have  the  more  space  to 
notice  particular  illustrative  circumstances  touching  our  female 


108  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

warrior.  Jeanne,  it  must  be  allowed,  was  extremely  bold  of  asser- 
tion as  well  as  smart  in  reply.  She  would  have  delighted  a  Swe- 
denborgian  by  the  alacrity  with  which  she  protested  that  she  held 
intercourse  with  spirits  from  Heaven  and  prophets  of  old.  Noth- 
ing was  so  easy  as  to  make  her  believe  so ;  and  she  was  quite  as 
ready  to  deny  the  alleged  fact  when  her  clerical  accusers,  in  the 
day  of  her  adversity,  declared  that  such  belief  was  a  suggestion  of 
the  devil.  I  think  there  was  some  humor  and  a  little  reproach  in 
the  reply  by  Jeanne,  that  she  would  maintain  or  deny  nothing  but 
as  she  was  directed  by  the  Church. 

Meanwhile,  during  her  short  but  glorious  career,  she  manifested 
true  chivalrous  spirit.  She  feared  no  man,  not  even  the  brave 
Dunois.  ^^Baistard,  bastard!"  said  she  to  him  on  one  occasion, 
'^  in  the  name  of  God,  hear  me ;  I  command  you  to  let  me  know 
of  the  arrival  of  Fastolf  as  soon  as  it  takes  place ;  for,  hark  ye,  if 
he  passes  without  my  knowledge,.  I  give  you  my  word,  you  shall 
lose  your  head."  And  thereon  she  turned  to  her  dinner  of  dry 
bread  and  wine-and- water — half  a  pint  of  the  first  to  two  pints  of 
the  last,  with  the  quiet  air  of  a  person  able  and  determined  to  real- 
ize every  menace. 

It  is  very  clear  that  her  brother  knights,  while  they  profited  by 
her  services,  and  obeyed  (with  some  reluctance)  her  orders,  nei- 
ther thought  nor  spoke  over-well  of  her.  Their  comments  were 
not  complimentary  to  a  virgin  reputation,  which  a  jury  of  prin- 
cesses, with  a  queen  for  a  forewoman,  had  pronounced  unblem- 
ished. She  even  risked  her  prestige  over  tCe  common  rank  and 
file,  but  generally  by  measures  which  resulted  in  strengthening  it. 
Thus,  on  taking  the  Fort  of  the  Augustins  from  the  English,  she 
destroyed  all  the  rich  things  and  lusty  wine  she  found  there,  lest 
the  men  should  be  corrupted  by  indulgence  therein.  It  may  be 
remembered  that  Gustavus  Yasa  highly  disgusted  his  valiant 
Dalecarlians  by  a  similar  exhibition  of  healthy  discipline. 

The  Maid  undoubtedly  placed  the  woris:  of  fighting  before  the 
pleasure  of  feasting.  When  she  was  about  to  issue  from  her  lodg- 
ings, to  head  the  attack  against  the  bastion  of  the  Tourelles,  where 
she  prophesied  she  would  be  wounded,  her  host  politely  begged  of 
her  to  remain  and  partake  of  a  dish  of  freshly-caught  shad.  It 
was  the  7th  of  May,  and  shad  was  just  in  season ;  the  Germans 


FEMALE  KNIGHTS  AND  JEANNE  DABG.  109 

call  it  distiiictiTelj  '^  the  Maj-fish.''  Jeanne  resisted  the  tempta- 
tion for  the  moment.  '^  Keep  the  fish  till  to-night,"  said  she,  ^  till 
I  have  come  back  from  the  fray ;  for  I  shall  bring  a  Groden  [a 
*  Grod  d — n,'  or  Englishman]  with  me  to  partake  of  my  snpper.** 

She  was  not  more  ready  of  tongue  than  she  was  quick  of  eye. 
An  instance  of  the  latter  may  be  found  in  an  incident  before  Jar- 
geau.  She  was  reconnoitring  the  place  at  a  considerable  distance. 
The  period  was  more  than  a  century  and  a  half  before  Hans  Lip- 
pershey,  the  IVIiddleburg  spectacle-maker,  had  invented,  and  still 
more  before  Galileo  had  improved,  the  telescope.  The  Duke 
d'Alen9on  was  with  Jeanne,  and  she  bade  him  step  aside,  as  the 
enemy  were  pointing  a  gun  at  him.  The  Dute  obeyed,  for  he 
knew  her  acuteness  of  vision ;  the  gun  was  fired,  and  De  Lude,  a 
gentleman  of  Anjou,  standing  in  a  line  with  the  spot  which  had 
been  occupied  by  the  Duke,  was  slain — which  must  have  been 
very  satisfactory  to  the  Duke ! 

I  have  said  that  some  of  the  knights  had  but  a  scanty  respect 
for  the  gallant  Maid.  A  few,  no  doubt,  objected  to  the  assumption 
of  heavenly  inspiration  on  her  part  One,  at  least,  was  not  so 
particular.  I  allude  to  the  Baron  De  Richemond,  who  had  been 
exiled  from  court  for  the  little  misdemeanor  of  having  assassinated 
Cannes  de  Beaulieu.  The  Baron  had  recovered  his  good  name  by 
an  actively  religious  exercise,  manifested  by  his  hunting  after  wizards 
and  witches,  and  burning  them  alive,  to  the  delight  and  edification 
of  dull  villagers.  This  pious  personage  paid  a  visit  to  Jeanne, 
hoping  to  obtain,  by  her  intercession,  the  royal  permission  to  have 
a  share  in  the  war.  The  disgraced  knight,  who  brought  with  him 
a  couple  of  thousand  men,  when  these  were  most  wanted,  was  not 
likely  to  meet  with  a  refusal  of  service,  and  the  permission  sought 
for  was  speedily  granted.  Jeanne  playfully  alluded  to  her  own 
supernatural  inspiration  and  the  Baron's  vocation  as  "  witch-finder." 
"  Ah  well,"  said  De  Richemond,  "  with  regard  to  yourself,  I  have 
only  this  to  say,  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  anything ;  but  if  you  are 
from  Heaven,  it  is  not  I  who  shall  be  afraid  of  you ;  and  if  you 
come  from  the  devil,  I  do  not  fear  even  him,  who,  in  such  case, 
sends  you."  Thereupon,  they  laughed  merrily,  and  began  to  talk 
of  the  next  day's  battle. 

That  battle  was  fought  upon  the  field  of  Patay,  where  the  gal- 


110  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

lant  Talbot  was  made  prisoner  by  the  equally  gallant  Sadntrailles. 
When  the  great  English  commander  was  brought  into  the  pres- 
ence of  Jeanne,  he  was  good-humoredly  asked  if  he  had  expected 
such  a  result  the  day  before.  **  It  is  the  fortune  of  war,"  philo- 
sophically exclaimed  the  inimitable  John ;  and  t&ereby  he  made  a 
soldier's  comment,  which  has  often  since  been  in  the  mouths  of  the 
valiant  descendants  of  the  French  knights  who  heard  it  uttered, 
and  which  is  frequently  quoted  as  being  of  Gallic  origin..  But, 
again,  I  think  that  ^^fortuna  belli"  was  not  an  uncommon  phrase, 
perhaps,  in  old  days  before  the  French  language  was  yet  spoken. 

And  here,  talking  of  origin,  let  me  notice  a  circumstance  of  some 
interest.  Jeanne  Dare  is  commonly  described  as  Jeanne  D'Arc, 
as  though  she  had  been  ennobled.  This,  indeed,  she  was,  by  the 
King,  but  not  by  that  name.  To  the  old  family  name  was  added 
that  of  du  Lys,  in  allusion  to  the  Lily  of  France,  which  that  family 
had  served  so  well.  The  brothers  of  Jeanne,  now  Dare  du  Lys, 
entered  the  army.  When  Guise  sent  a  French  force  into  Scot- 
land, some  gallant  gentlemen  of  this  name  of  Lys  were  among 
them.  They  probably  settled  in  Caledonia,  for  the  name  is  not  an 
uncommon  one  there ;  and  there  is  a  gallant  major  in  the  48th  who 
bears  it,  and  who,  perhaps,  may  owe  his  descent  to  the  ennobled 
brothers  of  "  The  Maid  of  Orleans." 

Jeanne  was  not  so  affected  as  to  believe  that  nobility  was  above 
the  desert  of  her  deeds.  When  her  relatives,  including  her  broth- 
ers, Peter  and  John,  congratulated  her  and  themselves  on  all  that 
she  had  accomplished,  her  remark  was :  '^  My  deeds  are  in  truth 
those  of  a  ministry ;  but  in  as  great  truth  never  were  greater  read 
of  by  cleric,  however  profound  he  may  be  in  all  clerical  learning." 
The  degree  of  nobility  allowed  to  the  deserving  girl  was  that  of  a 
countess.  Her  household  consisted  of  a  steward,  almoner,  squire, 
pages,  "  hand,  foot,  and  chamber  men,"  independently  of  the  noble 
maidens  who  tended  her,  and  who  seem  to  have  been  equally 
served  by  three  "  valets  de  main,  de  pied,  et  de  chambre." 

But  short-lived  was  the  glory ;  no,  I  will  not  say  thai,  let  me 
rather  remark  that  short-lived  was  the  worldly  splendor  of  the 
chivalrous  my-lady  countess.  She  had  rendered  all  the  service 
she  could,  when  she  fell  wounded  before  Paris,  and  was  basely 
abandoned  for  a  while  by  her  own  party.     She  was  rescued,  ulti- 


FEMAIiE  KNIGHTS  AND   J£ANN£  DARC  111 

xnatelj,  by  D'Alen9on,  but  only  to  be  more  disgracefully  aban- 
doned on  the  one  side,  and  evilly  treated  on  the  other.  When  as 
a  bleeding  captive  she  was  rudely  dragged  from  the  field  at  Com- 
piegne ;  church,  court,  and  chivalry,  ignobly  abandoned  the  poor 
and  brave  girl  who  had  served  all  three  in  turn.  By  all  three  she 
was  now  as  fiercely  persecuted ;  and  it  may  safely  be  said,  that 
if  the  English  were  glad  to  burn  her  as  a  witch,  to  account  for  the 
defeat  of  the  English  and  their  allies,  the  French  were  equally 
eager  to  furnish  testimony  against  her. 

Her  indecision  and  vacillation  after  falling  into  the  hands  of  her 
enemies,  would  seem  to  show  that  apart  from  the  promptings  of 
those  who  had  guided  her,  she  was  but  an  ordinary  personage. 
She,  however,  never  lost  heart,  and  her  natural  wit  did  not 
abandon  her.  ^^Was  St  Michael  naked  when  he  appeared  to 
you  ?"  was  a  question  asked  by  one  of  the  examining  commission- 
ers. To  which  Jeanne  replied,  "  Do  you  think  heaven  has  not 
wherewith  to  dress  him  ?"  "  Had  he  any  hair  on  his  head  ?"  was 
the  next  sensible  question.  Jeanne  answered  it  by  another  query, 
"  Have  the  goodness  to  tell  me,"  said  she,  "  why  Michael's  head 
should  have  been  shaved  ?"  It  was  easy,  of  course,  to  convict  a 
prejudged  and  predoomed  person,  of  desertion  <tf  her  parents,  of 
leading  a  vagabond  and  disreputable  life,  of  sorcery,  and  finally, 
of  heresy.  She  was  entrapped  into  answers  which  tended  to  prove 
her  culpabihty ;  but  disregarding  at  last  the  complicated  web  woven 
tightly  around  her,  and  aware  that  nothing  could  save  her,  the 
heart  of  the  knightly  maiden  beat  firmly  again,  and  as  a  summary 
reply  to  all  questions,  she  briefly  and  emphaticaUy  declared :  ^  All 
that  I  have  done,  all  that  I  do,  I  have  done  well,  and  do  well  to  do 
it."  In  her  own  words,  "  Tout  ce  que  j'ai  fait,  tout  ce  que  je  fais, 
j'ai  bien  fait,  et  fais  bien  de  le  faire ;"  and  it  was  a  simply-dignified 
resume  in  presence  of  high-born  ecclesiastics,  who  did  not  scruple 
to  give  the  lie  to  each  other  like  common  ploughmen. 

She  was  sentenced  to  death,  and  suffered  the  penalty,  as  being 
guilty  of  infamy,  socially,  morally,  religiously,  and  pohtically.  Not 
a  finger  was  stretched  to  save  her  who  had  saved  so  many.  Her 
murder  is  an  indelible  stain  on  two  nations  and  one  church ;  not 
the  less  so  that  the  two  nations  unite  in  honoring  her  memory,  and 
that  the  church  has  pronounced  her  innocent     Never  did  gallant 


112  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

champion  meet  with  such  base  ingratitude  from  the  party  raised 
by  her  means  from  abject  slavery  to  triumph ;  never  was  noble 
enemy  so  ignobly  treated  by  a  foe  with  whom,  to  acknowledge 
and  admire  valor,  is  next  to  the  practice  of  it ;  and  never  was 
staff  selected  by  the  church  for  its  support,  so  readily  broken  and 
thrown  into  the  fire  when  it  had  served  its  purpose.  All  the  sor- 
row in  the  world  can  not  wash  out  these  terrible  facts,  but  it  is 
fitting  that  this  sorrow  should  always  accompany  our  admiration. 
And  so,  honored  be  the  memory  of  the  young  girl  of  Orleans ! 

After  all,  it  is  a  question  whether  our  sympathies  be  not  thrown 
away  when  we  affect  to  feel  for  Jeanne  Dare.  M.  Delepierre,  the 
Belgian  Secretary  of  Legation,  has  printed,  for  private  circulation, 
his  "  Doute  Historique."  This  work  consists  chiefly'  of  official 
documents,  showing  that  the  "  Maid"  never  suffered  at  all,  but  that 
some  criminal  having  been  executed  in  her  place,  she  survived  to 
be  a  pensioner  of  the  government,  a  married  lady,  and  the  mother 
of  a  family !  The  work  in  which  these  documents  are  produced, 
is  not  to  be  easily  procured,  but  they  who  have  any  curiosity  in 
the  matter  will  find  the  subject  largely  treated  in  the  Athenceum. 
This  "  Historical  Doubt"  brings  us  so  closely  in  connection  with 
romance,  that  we,  perhaps,  can  not  do  better  in  illustrating  our 
subject,  than  turn  to  a  purely  romantic  subject,  and  see  of  what 
metal  the  champions  of  Christendom  were  made,  with  respect  to 
chivalry. 


TH£  CHAMPIONS  OF  CHBISTiatDOM.  113 


THE  CHAMPIONS  OF  CHRISTENDOM  GENERALLY 
AND  HE  OP  ENGLAND  IN  PARTICULAR. 

"  Are  these  things  true  1 
Thottsands  are  getting  at  them  in  the  streets." 

Sejanus  His  Fall. 

I  CAN  hardly  express  the  4eliglit  I  feel  sA  a  biographer  in  the 
present  instance,  in  the  very  welcome  fact  that  no  one  knows  any- 
thing about  the  parentage  of  St  George.  If  there  had  been  a 
genealogical  tree  of  the  great  champion's  race,  the  odds,  are  that  I 
should  have  got  bewildered  among  the  branches.  As  there  is 
only  much  conjecture  with  a  liberal  allowance  of  assertion,  the 
task*  is  doubly  easy,  particularly  as  the  matter  itself  is  of  the  very 
smallest  importance. 

The  first  proof  that  our  national  patron  ever  existed  at  all,  ac- 
cording to  Mr.  Alban  Butler,  is  that  the  Greeks  reverenced  him 
by  the  name  of  "  the  Great  Martyr."  Further  proof  of  a  some- 
what similar  quality,  is  adduced  in  the  circumstance  that  in  Greece 
and  in  various  parts  of  the  Levant,  there  are  or  were  dozens  of 
churches  erected  in  honor  of  the  chivalrous  saint ;  that  Georgia 
took  the  holy  knight  for  its  especial  patrqn ;  and  that  St.  George,  in 
full  panoply,  won  innumerable  battles  for  the  Christians,  by  leading 
forward  the  reserves  when  the  vanguard  had  been  repulsed  by  the 
infidels,  and  the  Christian  generals  were  of  themselves  too  indo- 
lent, sick,  or  incompetent,  to  do  what  they  expected  St  George  to 
do  for  them. 

From  the  East,  veneration  for  this  name,  and  some  imaginary 
person  who  once  bore  it,  extended  itself  throughout  the  West. 
It  is  a  curious  fact,  that  long  before  England  placed  herself  under 
the  shield  of  this  religious  soldier,  France  had  made  selection  of 
him,  at  least  as  a  useful  adjutant  or  aide-de-camp  to  St  Denis. 


114  THE  ENIQHTS   AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Indeed,  our  saint  was  at  one  time  nearly  monopolized  by  France. 
St.  Clotilde,  the  wife  of  the  first-  Christian  king  of  France,  raised 
many  altars  in  his  honor — a  fact  which  has  not  been  forgotten  in 
the  decorations  and  illustrative  adornments  of  that  splendid  church 
which  has  just  been  completed  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  and 
which  is  at  once  the  pride  and  glory  of  Paris.  That  city  once 
possessed  relics  which  were  said  to  be  those  of  St.  George ;  but 
of  their  whereabouts,  no  man  now  knows  anything.  We  do,  how- 
ever, know  that  the  Normans  brought  over  the  name  of  the  saint 
with  them,  as  that  of  one  in  whose  arm  of  power  they  trusted, 
whether  in  the  lists  or  in  battle.  In  this  respect  we,  as  Saxons, 
if  we  choose  to  consider  ourselves  as  such,  have  no  particular  rea- 
son to  be  grateful  to  the  saint,  for  his  presence  among  us  is  a  sym- 
bol of  national  defeat  if  not  of  national  humiliation.  Not  above 
six  centuries  have,  however,  elapsed  since  the  great  council  of 
Oxford  appointed  his  feast  to  be  kept  as  a  holyday  of  lesser  rank 
throughout  England;  and  it  is  about  five  hundred  years  since 
Edward  III.  established  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  under  the  pa- 
tronage of  this  saint  This  order  is  far  more  ancient  than  that  of 
St.  Michael,  instituted  by  Louis  XI. ;  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  in- 
vented by  that  'good'  Duke  Philip  of  Burgundy,  who  fleeced  all 
who  were  luckless  enough  to  come  within  reach  of  his  ducal  shears ; 
and  of  the  Scottish  Order  of  St.  Andrew,  which  is  nearly  two 
centuries  younger  than  that  of  St  George.  Venice,  Genoa,  and 
Germany,  have  also  instituted  orders  of  chivalry  in  honor  of  this 
unknown  cavalier. 

These  honors,  however,  and  a  very  general  devotion  prove  noth- 
ing touching  his  birth,  parentage,  and  education.  Indeed,  it  is 
probably  because  nothing  is  known  of  either,  that  his  more  serious 
biographers  begin  with  his  decease,  and  write  his  history,  which, 
like  one  of  Zschokke's  tales,  might  be  inscribed  "  Alles  Verkerht." 
They  tell  us  that  he  suffered  under  Diocletian,  in  Nicomedia,  and 
on  the  23d  of  April.  We  are  further  informed  that  he  was  a 
Cappadocian — a  descendant  of  those  savagely  servile  people,  who 
once  told  the  Bomans  that  they  would  neither  accept  liberty  at  the 
hands  of  Rome,  nor  tolerate  it  of  their  own  accord.  He  was,  it 
is  said,  of  noble  birth,  and  after  the  death  of  his  father,  resided 
with  his  mother  in  Palestine,  on  an  estate  which  finally  became 


THE  CHAMPIONS  OP  0HRI8TEND0M.  115 

his  own.  The  young  squire  was  a  handsome  and  stalwaft  youth 
and,  like  many  of  that  profession,  fond  of  a  military  life.  His 
promotion  must  have  been  pretty  rapid,  for  we  find  him,  according 
to  tradition,  a  tribune  or  colonel  in  the  army  at  a  very  early  age^ 
and  a  man  of  much  higher  rank  before  he  prematurely  died.  His 
ideas  of  discipline  were  good,  for  when  the  pagan  emperor  perse- 
cuted the  Christians,  George  of  Cappadocia  resigned  his  commis- 
sion and  appointments,  and  not  till  then,  when  he  was  a  private 
man,  did  he  stoutly  remonstrate  with  his  imperial  ex-commander- 
in-chief  against  that  sovereign's  bloody  edicts  and  fiercer  cruelty 
against  the  Christians.  This  righteous  boldness  was  barbarously 
avenged ;  and  on  the  day  ailer  the  remonstrance  the  gallant  soldier 
lost  his  head.  Some  authors  add  to  this  account  that  he  was  the 
"  illustrious  young  man"  who  tore  down  the  anti-Christian  edicts, 
when  they  were  first  posted  up  in  Nicomedia,  a  conjecture  which, 
by  the  hagiographers  is  called  "plausible,"  but  which  has  no 
shadow  of  proof  to  give  warrant  for  its  substantiality. 

The  reason  why  all  knights  and  soldiers  generally  have  had 
confidence  in  St.  Greorge,  is  founded,  we  are  told,  on  the  facts  of 
his  reappearance  on  earth  at  various  periods,  and  particularly  at 
the  great  siege  of  Antioch,  in  the  times  of  the  crusades.  The 
Christians  had  been  well  nigh  as  thoroughly  beaten  as  the  Rus- 
sians at  Silistria.  They  were  at  the  utmost  extremity,  when  a 
squadron  was  seen  rushing  down  from  a  mountain  defile,  with  three 
knights  at  its  head,  in  brilliant  panoply  and  snow-white  scaufs. 
"Behold,"  cried  Bishop  Adhemar, "  the  heavenly  succor  which 
was  promised  to  you  1  Heaven  declares  for  the  Christians.  The 
holy  martyrs,  George,  Demetrius,  and  Theodore,  come  to  fight  for 
you."  The  effect  was  electrical.  The  Christian  army  rushed  to 
victory,  with  the  shout,  "  It  is  the  will  of  God !"  and  the  effect  of 
the  opportune  appearance  of  ik»  three  chiefs  and  their  squadron^ 
who  laid  right  lustily  on  the  Saracens,  was  decisive  of  one  of  the 
most  glorious,  yet  only  temporarily  productive  of  triumphs. 

When  Richard  I.  was  on  his  expedition  against  enemies  of  the 
same  race,  he  too  was  relieved  from  great  straits  by  a  vision  of 
St.  George.  The  army,  indeed,  did  not  see  the  glorious  and  in- 
spiring sight,  but  the  king  afiirmed  that  he  did,  which,  in  those 
credulous  times  was  quite  as  well.    In  these  later  days  men  are 


116  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

less  credulous,  or  saints  are  more  cautious.  Thus  the  Muscovites 
assaulted  Kars  under  the  idea  that  St.  Sergius  was  with  them ;  at 
all  events,  Pacha  Williams,  a  good  cause,  and  sinewy  arms,  were 
stronger  than  the  Muscovite  idea  and  St.  Serous  to  boot. 

Such,  then,  is  the  hagiographj  of  our  martial  saint  Gibbon 
has  sketched  his  life  in  another  point  of  view — business-like,  if  not 
matter-of-fact.  The  terrible  historian  sets  down  our  great  patron 
as  having  been  born  in  a  fuller's  shop  in  Cilicia,  educated  (perhaps) 
in  Cappadocia,  and  as  having  so  won  promotion,  when  a  young 
man,  from  his  patrons,  by  the  skilful  exercise  of  his  profession  as 
a  parasite,  as  to  procure,  through  their  influence,  "  a  lucrative  com- 
mission or  contract  to  supply  the  army  with  bacon !"  In  this 
commissariat  employment  he  is  said  to  have  exercised  fraud  and 
corruption,  by  which  may  be  meant  that  he  sent  to  the  army  bacon 
as  rusty  as  an  old  cuirass,  and  charged  a  high  price  for  a  worthless 
article.  In  these  times,  when  the  name  and  character  of  St. 
George  are  established,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  Christian  purveyors 
for  Christian  armies  do  not,  in  reverencing  George  the  Saint,  imi- 
tate the  practices  alleged  against  him  as  George  the  Contractor. 
It  would  be  hard,  indeed,  if  a  modem  contractor  who  sent  foul  hay 
to  the  cavalry,  uneatable  food  to  the  army  generally,  or  poisonous 
potted-meat  to  the  navy,  could  shield  himself  under  the  name 
and  example  of  St  George.  Charges  as  heavy  are  alleged  against 
him  by  Gibbon,  who  adds  that  the  malversations  of  the  pious  rogue 
"  were  so  notorious,  that  George  was  compelled  to  escape  from  the 
pursuit  of  justice."  If  he  saved  his  fortune,  it  is  allowed  that  he 
made  shipwreck  of  his  honor ;  and  he  certainly  did  not  improve 
his  reputation  if,  as  is  alleged,  he  turned  Arian.  The  career  of 
our  patron  saint,  as  described  by  Gibbon,  is  startling.  That  writer 
speaks  of  the  splendid  library  subsequently  collected  by  G«orge, 
but  he  bints  that  the  volumes  on  history,  rhetoric,  philosophy,  and 
theology,  were  perhaps  as  much  proof  of  ostentation  as  of  love  for 
learning.  That  George  was  raised  by  the  intrigues  of  a  faction 
to  the  pastoral  throne  of  Athanasius,  in  Alexandria,  does  not  sur- 
prise us.  Bishops  were  very  irregularly  elected  in  those  early 
days,  when  men  were  sometimes  summarily  made  teachers  who 
needed  instruction  themselves ;  as  is  the  case  in  some  enlightened 
districts  at  present     Greorge  displayed  an  imperial  pomp  in  his 


THE  CHAMPIONS  OP  CHRISTENDOM.  117 

archiepiscopal  character,  "  but  he  still  betrayed  those  vices  of  his 
base  and  servile  extraction,"  yet  was  so  impartial  that  he  oppressed 
and  plundered  all  parties  alike.  "  The  merchants  of  Alexandria,' 
says  the  historian  of  the  "  Decline  and  Fall,"  "  were  impoverished 
by  the  unjust  and  almost  universal  monopoly  which  he  acquired 
of  nitre,  salt,  paper,  funerals,  &c.,  and  the  spiritual  father  of  a 
great  people  condescended  to  practise  the  vile  and  pernicious  arts 
of  an  informer.  He  seems  to  have  had  as  sharp  an  eye  after  the 
profit  to  be  derived  from  burials,  as  •  a  certain  archdeacon,  who 
thinks  intramural  burial  of  the  dead  a  very  sanitary  measure  for 
the  living,  and  particularly  profitable  to  the  clergy.  Thus  the  ex- 
ample of  St  George  would  seem  to  influence  very  "venerable"  as 
well  as  very  "  martial"  gentlemen.  The  Cappadocian  most  espe- 
cially disgusted  the  Alexandrians  by  levying  a  house  tax,  of  his 
own  motion,  and  as  he  pillaged  the  pagan  temples  as  well,  all  par- 
ties rose  at  length  against  the  common  oppressor,  and  "  under  the 
reign  of  Constantine  he  was  expelled  by  the  fury  and  justice  of 
the  people."  He  was  restored  only  again  to  fall.  The  accession 
of  Julian  brought  destruction  upon  the  archbishop  and  many  of 
his  friends,  who,  after  an  imprisonment  of  three  weeks,  were 
dragged  from  their  dungeons  by  a  wild  and  cruel  populace,  and 
murdered  in  the  streets.  The  bodies  were  paraded  in  triumph 
upon  camels  (as  that  of  Conde  was  by  his  Catholic  opponents, 
after  the  battle  of  Jamac,  on  an  ass),  and  they  were  ultimately 
cast  into  the  sea.  This  last  measure  was  adopted  in  order  that,  if 
the  sufferers  were  to  be  accounted  as  martyrs,  there  should  at  least 
be  no  reUcs  of  them  for  men  to  worship.  Gibbon  thus  concludes : 
"  The  fears  of  the  Pagans  were  just,  and  their  precautions  inef- 
fectual. The  meritorious  death  of  the  archbishop  obliterated  the 
memory  of  his  life.  The  rival  of  Athanasius  was  dear  and  sacred 
to  the  Arians,  and  the  seeming  conversion  of  those  sectaries  intro- 
duced his  worship  into  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic  church.  The 
odious  stranger,  disguising  every  circumstance  of  time  and  place, 
assumed  the  rank  of  a  martyr,  a  saint,  and  a  Christian  hero ;  and 
the  infamous  George  of  Cappadocia  has  been  transformed  into  the 
famous  St.  George  of  England,  the  patron  of  arms,  of  chivalry, 
and  of  the  garter." 

The  romancers  have  treated  St.  George  and  his  knightly  con- 


118  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

fraternity  after  their  own  manner.  As  a  sample  of  what  reading 
our  ancestors  were  delighted  with,  especially  those  who  loved  chiv- 
alric  themes,  I  know  nothing  better  than  "  The  Famous  History 
of  the  Seven  Champions  of  Christendom,  St.  Greorge  of  England, 
St  Denis  of  France,  St.  James  of  Spain,  St.  Antliony  of  Italy,  St. 
Andrew  of  Scotland,  St.  Patrick  of  Ireland,  and  St.  David  of 
Wales.  Shewing  their  honourable  battles  by  sea  and  land.  Their 
tilts,  justs,  tournaments  for  ladies ;  their  combats  with  gyants,  mon- 
sters, and  dragons ;  their  adventures  in  foreign  nations ;  their  en- 
chantments in  the  Holy  Land ;  their  knighthoods,  prowess,  and 
chivalry,  in  Europe,  Africa,  and  Asia ;  with  their  victories  against 
the  enemies  of  Christ ;  also  the  true  manner  and  places  of  their 
deaths,  being  seven  tragedies,  and  how  they  came  to  be  called  the 
Seven  Saints  of  Christendom."  The  courteous  author  or  publish- 
er of  the  veracious  details,  prefaces  them  with  a  brief  address  "  to 
all  courteous  readers,"  to  whom  "  Richard  Johnson  wisheth  increase 
of  virtuous  knowledge."  "  Be  not,"  he  says,  "  like  the  chattering 
cranes,  nor  Momus*s  mates  that  carp  at  everything.  What  the 
simple  say,  I  care  not.  What  the  spiteful  say,  I  pass  not ;  only 
the  censure  of  the  conceited,"  by  which  good  Richard  means  the 
learned,  "I  stand  unto  ;  that  is  the  mark  I  aim  at," — an  address, 
it  may  be  observed,  which  smacks  of  the  Malaprop  school ;  but 
which  seemed  more  natund  to  our  ancestors  than  it  does  to  us. 

For  these  readers  Richard  Johnson  presents  a  very  highly-spiced 
fare.  He  brings  our  patron  saint  into  the  world  by  a  CaBsarean 
operation  performed  by  a  witch,  who  stole  him  from  his  uncon- 
scious mother,  and  reared  him  up  in  a  cave,  whence  the  young 
knight  ultimately  escaped  with  the  other  champions  whom  the 
witch,  now  slain,  had  kept  imprisoned.  Tlie.  champions,  it  may 
be  observed,  travel  with  a  celerity  that  mocks  the  "  Express,"  and 
rivals  the  despatch  of  the  Electric  Telegraph.  They  are  scarcely 
departed  from  the  seven  paths  which  led  from  the  brazen  pillar, 
each  in  search  of  adventures,  when  they  are  all  '*-in  the  thick  of 
it,"  almost  at  the  antipodes.  A  breath  takes  St.  George  from 
Coventry,  his  recovered  home,  after  leaving  the  witch,  to  Egypt. 
At  the  latter  place  he  slays  that  terrible  dragon,  which  some  think 
to  imply  the  Arian  overcoming  the  Athanasian,  and  rescues  the 
Princess  Sabra,  in  whose  very  liberal  love  we  can  hardly  trace  a 


THE  CHAMPIONS   OF  CHRISTENDOM.  119 

sjmbol  of  the  Church,  although  ber  antipathies  are  sufficiently 
strong  to  remind  one  of  the  odium  theologicum.  George  goes  on 
performing  stupendous  feats,  and  getting  no  thanks,  until  he  undeiv 
takes  to  slay  a  couple  of  Irons  for  the  Soldan  of  Persia,  and  gets 
clapped  into  prison,  during  seven  years,  for  his  pains.  The  biog- 
rapher I  suspect,  shut  the  knight  up  so  long,  in  order  to  have  an 
excuse  to  begin  episodically  with  the  life  of  St.  Denis. 

The  mystic  number  seven  enters  into  all  the  principal  divisions 
of  the  story.  Thus,  St.  Denis  having  wandered  into  Thessaly 
was  reduced  to  such  straits  as  to  live  upon  mulberries ;  and  these 
so  disagreed  with  him  that  he  became  suddenly  transformed  into  a 
hart;  a  very  illogical  sequence  indeed.  But  the  mulberry  tree 
was,  in  fact,  Eglantius  the  King's  daughter,  metamorphosed  for 
her  pride.  Seven  years  he  thus  remained ;  at  the  end  of  which 
time,,  his  Jiorse,  wise  as  any  regularly-ordained  physician,  adminis- 
tered to  him  a  decoction  of  roses  which  brought  about  the  transfor- 
mation of  both  his  master  and  his  master's  mistress  into  their 
"  humane  shapes."  That  they  went  to  court  sworn  lovers  may  be 
taken  as  a  matter  of  course.  There  they  are  left,  in  order  to  afford 
the  author  an  opportunity  of  showing  how  St.  James,  having  most 
unorthodoxically  fallen  in  love  with  a  Jewish  maiden,  was  seven 
years  dumb,  in  consequence.  St.  James,  however,  is  a  patient  and 
persevering  lover.  If  I  had  an  ill-will  against  any  one  I  would  coun- 
sel him  to  read  this  very  long-winded  history,  but  being  at  peax;e 
with  all  mankind,  I  advise  my  readers  to  be  content  with  learning 
that  the  apostolic  champion'  and  the  young  Jewess  are  ultimately 
united,  and  fly  to  Seville,  where  they  reside  in  furnished  lodgings, 
and  lead  ia  happy  life; — while  the  author  tells  of  what  befell  to 
the  doughty  St.  Anthony. 

This  notable  Italian  is  a  great  hand  at  subduing  giants  and 
ladies.  We  have  a  surfeit  of  combats  and  destruction,  and  love- 
making  and  speechifying,  in  this  champion's  life ;  and  when  we 
are  compelled  to  leave  him  travelling  about  with  a  Thracian  lady, 
who  accompanies  him,  in  a  theatrical  male  dress,  and  looks  in  it 
like  the  Duchess — at  least,  like  Miss  Farebrother,  in  the  dashing 
white  sergeant  of  the  Forty  Thieves — we  shake  our  head  at  St. 
Anthony  and  think  how  very  unlike  he  is  to  his  namesake  in  the 
etching  by  CaJlot,  where  the  fairest  of  sirens  could  not  squeeze  a 
sigh  from  the  anchorite's  wrinkled  heart. 


120  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

While  they  are  travelling  about  in  the  rather  disreputable  fesh- 
ion  above  alluded  to,  we  come  across  St.  Andrew  of  Scotland,  who 
has  greater  variety  of  adventure  than  any  other  of  the  champions. 
With  every  l|our  there  is  a  fresh  incident.  Now  he  is  battling 
with  spirits,  now  struggling  with  human  foes,  and  anon  mixed  up, 
unfavorably,  with  beasts.  At  the  end  of  all  the  frays,  there  is — 
we  need  hardly  say  it — a  lady.  The  bonny  Scot  was  not  likely 
to  be  behind  his  fellow-champions  in  this  respect.  Nay,  St.  An- 
drew has  six  of  them,  who  had  been  swans,  and  are  now  natural 
singing  lasses.  What  sort  of  a  blade  St.  Andrew  was  may  be 
guessed  by  the  "  fact,"  that  when  he  departed  from  the  royal  court, 
to  which  he  had  conducted  the  half  dozen  ladies,  they  all  eloped 
in  a  body,  after  him.  There  never  was  so  dashing  a  hero  dreamed 
of  by  romance — though  a  rhjrmer  has  dashed  off  his  equal  in 
wooing,  and  Bums's  "  Finlay"  is  the  only  one  that  may  stand  the 
parallel. 

When  the  six  Thracian  ladies  fall  into  the  power  of  "thirty 
bloody-minded  satyrs,"  who  so  likely,  or  so  happy  to  rescue  them 
as  jolly  St.  Patrick.  How  he  flies  to  the  rescue,  slays  one  satyr, 
puts  the  rest  to  flight,  and  true  as  steel,  in  love  or  friendship,  takes 
the  half  dozen  damsels  under  his  arm,  and  swings  singingly  along 
with  them  in  search  of  the  roving  Scot !  As  for  St.  David,  all  this 
while,  he  had  not  been  quite  so  triumphant,  or  so  tried,  as  his  fellows. 
He  had  fallen  into  bad  company,  and  "four  beautiful  damsels 
wrapped  the  drousie  champion  in  a  sheet  of  fine  Arabian  silk,  and 
conveyed  him  into  a  cave,  placed  in  the  middle  of  a  garden,  where 
they  laid  him  on  a  bed,  more  softer  than  the  down  of  Culvers.'* 
In  this  agreeable  company  the  Welsh  champion  wiled  away  his 
seven  years.  It  was  pleasant  but  not  proper.  But  if  the  author 
had  not  thus  disposed  of  him,  how  do  you  think  he  would  ever 
have  got  back  to  St.  Gredrge  of  England  ?  The  author  indeed  ex- 
hibits considerable  skill,  for  he  brings  St.  George  and  St.  David 
together,  and  the  first  rescues  the  second  from  ignoble  thraldom, 
and  what  is  worse,  from  the  most  prosy  enchanter  I  ever  met  with 
in  history,  and  who  is  really  not  enchanting  at  all.  This  done, 
George  is  off  to  Tripoli. 

There,  near  there,  or  somewhere  else,  for  the  romances  are 
dreadfully  careless  in  their  topography,  he  falls  in  with  his  old  love 


THE  CHAMPIONS  OF  CHRISTENDOM.  121 

Sabra,  married  to  a  Moorish  King.  If  Greorge  is  perplexed  at 
this,  seeing  that  the  lady  had  engaged  to  remain  an  unmarried 
maiden  till  he  came  to  wed  her,  he  is  still  more  so  when  she  informs 
him  that  she  has,  in  all  essentials,  kept  her  word,  ^  through  the 
secret  virtue  of  a  golden  chain  steeped  in  tiger's  blood,  the  which 
she  wore  seven  times  double  about  her  ivory  neck."  St.  Greorge 
does  not  know  what  to  make  of  it,  but  as  on  subsequently  encoun- 
tering two  lions,  Sabra,  while  he  was  despatching  one,  kept  the 
other  quietly  with  its  head  resting  on  her  lap,  the  knight  declared 
himself  perfectly  satisfied,  and  they  set  out  upon  their  travels,  lov- 
ingly together. 

Bj  the  luckiest  chance,  all  the  wandering  knights  and  their  ladies 
met  at  the  court  of  a  King  of  Greece,  who  is  not,  certainly,  to  be 
heard  of  in  Gillies'  or  Goldsmith's  history.  The  scenery  is  now 
on  a  magnificent  scale,  for  there  is  a  regal  wedding  on  foot,  and 
tournaments,  and  the  real  war  of  Heathenism  against  all  Christen- 
dom. As  the  Champions  of  Christendom  have  as  yet  done  little 
to  warrant  them  in  assuming  the  appellation,  one  would  suppose 
that  the  time  had  now  arrived  when  they  were  to  give  the  world 
a  taste  of  their  quality  in  that  respect.  But  nothing  of  the  sort 
occurs.  The  seven  worthies  separate,  each  to  his  own  country,  in 
order  to  prepare  for  great  deeds ;  but  none  are  done  for  the  benefit 
of  Christianity,  unless  indeed  we  are  to  conclude  that  when  George 
and  Sabra  travelled  together,  and  he  overcame  all  antagonists,  and 
she  inspired  with  love  all  beholders; — h%  subdued  nature  itself 
and  she  ran  continually  into  danger,  from  which  he  rescued  her ; 
— and  that  when,  afler  being  condemned  to  the  stake,  the  young 
wife  gave  birth  to  three  babes  in  the  wood,  and  was  at  last  crowned 
Queen  of  Egypt,  something  is  meant  hy  way  of  allegory,  in  refer- 
ence to  old  church  questions,  and  in  not  very  clear  elucidation  as 
to  how  these  questions  were  beneficially  affected  by  the  Champions 
of  Christendom! 

I  may  add  that  when  Sabra  was  crowned  Queen  of  Egypt,  every 
one  was  ordered  to  be  merry,  on  pain  of  death  !  It  is  further  to 
be  observed  there  is  now  much  confusion,  and  that  the  confusion 
by  no  means  grows  less  as  the  story  thunders  on.  The  Cham- 
pions and  the  three  sons  of  St.  George  are,  by  turns,  East,  West, 
North,  and  South,  either  pursuing  each  other,  or  suddenly  and  un- 


122  THE   KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

expectedlj  encountering,  like  the  principal  personges  in  a  panto- 
mime. Battles,  love-making,  and  shutting  up  cruel  and  reprobate 
magicians  from  the  "  humane  eye,"  are  the  chief  events,  but  to 
every  event  there  are  dozens  of  episodes,  and  each  episode  is  as 
confusing,  dazzling,  and  bewildering  as  the  trunk  from  which  it 
hangs. 

St.  George,  however,  is  like  a  greater  champion  than  himself; 
and  when  he  is  idle  and  in  Italy,  he  does  precisely  what  Nelson 
did  in  the  same  place — fall  in  love  with  a  lady,  and  cause  endless 
mischief  in  consequence.  By  this  time,  however,  Johnson  begins 
to  think,  rightly,  that  his  readers  have  had  enough  of  it,  and  that 
it  is  time  to  dispose  of  his  principal  chai'acters.  These  too,  are  so 
well  disposed  to  help  him,  that  when  the  author  kills  St.  ^f^atrick, 
the  saint  burys  himself!  In  memory  of  his  deeds,  of  which  we 
have  heard  little  or  nothing,  some  are  accustomed  to  honor  him, 
says  Mr.  Johnson — "wearing  upon  their  hats,  each  of  them,  a 
cross  of  red  silk,  in  token  of  his  many  adventures  under  the  Chris- 
tian Cross."  So  that  the  shamrock  appears  to  have  been  a  device 
only  of  later  times. 

St.  David  is  as  quickly  despatched.  This  champion  enters 
Wales  to  crush  the  pagans  there.  He  wears  a  leek  in  his  helmet, 
and  his  followers  adopt  the  same  fashion,  in  order  that  friend  may 
be  distinguished  from  foe.  The  doughty  saint,  of  course,  comes 
conqueror  out  of  the  battle,  but  he  is  in  a  heated  state,  gets  a  chill 
and  dies  after  all  of  a  common  cold.  Bruce,  returning  safe  from 
exploring  the  Nile,  to  break  his  neck  by  falling  down  his  own 
stairs,  hardly  presents  a  more  practical  bathos  than  this.  Why 
the  leek  became  the  badge  of  Welshmen  need  not  be  further  ex- 
plained. 

It  is  singular  that  in  recounting  the  manner  of  the  death  of  the 
next  champion,  St.  Denb,  the  romancer  is  less  romantic  than  com- 
mon tradition.  He  tells  us  how  the  knight  repaired  to  then  pagan 
France ;  how  he  was  accused  of  being  a  Christian,  by  another 
knight  of  what  we  should  fancy  a  Christian  order,  St  Michael, 
and  how  the  pagan  king  orders  St.  Denis  to  be  beheaded,  in  con- 
sequence. There  are  wonders  in  the  heavens,  at  this  execution, 
which  convert  the  heathen  sovereign  to  Christianity ;  but  no  men- 
tion is  made  of  St.  Denis  having  walked  to  a  monastery,  after  his 


THE  CHAMPIONS   OF   GHRISTENDOM.  123 

head  was  ofT,  and  with  his  head  under  bis  arm.  Of  this  prodigy 
Voltaire  remarked,  "  Ce  n'est  que  le  premier  pas  qui  coute,"  but 
of  that  the  romancer  makes  no  mention.  St.  James  suffers  by 
being  shut  up  in  his  chapel  in  Spain,  and  starved  to  death,  by  order 
of  the  Atheist  king.  Anthony  dies  quietly  in  a  good  old  age,  in 
Italy ;  St  Andrew  is  beheaded  by  the  cruel  pagan  Scots  whom, 
in  his  old  age,  he  had  visited,  in  order  to  bring  them  to  conversion : 
and  St.  Greorge,  who  goes  on,  riding  down  wild  monsters  and  res- 
cuing timid  maidens,  to  the  last — and  his  inclination,  was  always 
in  the  direction  of  the  maidens — ultimately  meets  his  death  by  the 
sting  of  a  venomous  dragon. 

And  now  it  would  seem  that  two  or  three  hundped  years  ago, 
authors  were  very  much  like  the  actors  in  the  Critic,  who  when  they 
did  get  hold  of  a  good  thing,  could  never  give  the  public  enough 
of  it.  .  Accordingly,  the  biography  of  the  Seven  Champions  was 
followed  by  that  of  their  sons.  I  will  spare  my  readers  the  tur- 
bulent details :  they  will  probably  be  satisfied  with  learning  that 
the  three  sons  of  St.  George  became  kings,  "according  as  the 
fairy  queen  had  prophesied  to  them,"  and  that  Sii^  Turpin,  son  of 
David,  Sir  Pedro,  son  of  James,  Sir  Orlando,  son  of  Anthony, 
Sir  Ewen,  son  of  Andrew,  Sir  Phelim,  son  of  Patrick,  and  Sir 
Owen,  son  of  David,  like  their  sires,  combated  with  giants,  mon- 
sters, and  dragons ;  tilted  and  toumameoted  in  honor  of  the  ladies, 
did  battle  in  defence  of  Christianity,  relieved  the  distressed,  anni- 
hilated necromancers  and  table-turners,  in  short,  accomplished  all 
that  could  be  expected  from  knights  of  such  prowess  and  chivalry. 

When  Richard  Johnson  had  reached  this  part  of  his  history, 
he  gave  it  to  the  world,  awaiting  the  judgment  of  the  critics,  be- 
fore he  published  his  second  portion :  that  portion  wherein  he  was 
to  unfold  what  nobody  yet  could  guess  at,  namely,  wherefore  the 
Seven  Champions  were  called  par  excellence,  the  Champions  of 
Christendom.  I  am  afraid  that  meanwhile  those  terrible,  god-like, 
and  inexorable  critics,  had  not  dealt  altogether  gently  with  him. 
The  Punch  they  offered  him  was  not.  faiade  exclusively  of  sweets. 
His  St.  George  had  been  attacked,  and  very  small  reverence  been 
expressed  for  his  ladies.  But  see  how  calmly  and  courteously^ 
all  the  more  admirable  that  there  must  have  been  some  affectation 
in  the  matter — he  turns  from  the  censuring  judges  to  that  benev- 


124  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

olent  personage,  the  gentle  reader.  "  Thy  courtesy,"  he  says, 
"  must  be  my  buckler  against  the  carping  malice  of  mocking  jest- 
ers, that  being  worse  able  to  do  well,  scoff  commonly  at  that  they 
can  not  mend ;  censuring  all  things,  doing  nothing,  but  (monkey- 
like) make  apish  jests  at  anything  they  do  in  print,  and  nothing 
pleaseth  them,  except  it  savor  of  a  scoffing  and  invective  spirit. 
Well,  what  they  say  of  me  I  do  not  care ;  thy  delight  is  my  sole 
desire."  Well  said,  bold  Eichard  Johnson.  He  thought  he  had 
put  down  criticism  as  St.  George  had  the  dragon. 

I  can  not  say,  however,  that  good  Richard  Johnson  treats  his 
gentle  reader  fairly.  This  second. part  of  his  Champions  is  to  a 
reader  worse  than  what  all  the  labors  of  Hercules  were  to  the 
lusty  son  of  Alcmena.  An  historical  drama  at  Astley's  is  not  half 
so  bewildering,  and  is  almost  as  credible,  and  Mr.  Ducrow  himself 
when  he  was  rehearsing  his  celebrated  "  spectacle  drama"  of  "  St. 
George  and  the  Dragon"  at  old  Drury — and  who  that  ever  saw 
him  on  those  occasions  can  possibly  forget  him  ? — achieved  greater 
feats,  or  was  more  utterly  unlike  any  sane  individual  than  St 
George  is,  as  put  upon  the  literary  stage  by  Master  Johnson.    . 

One  comfort  in  tracing  the  tortuosities  of  this  chivalric  romance 
is  that  the  action  is  rapid ;  but  then  there  is  so  much  of  it,  and  it 
is  so  astounding !  We  are  first  introduced  to  the  three  sons  of 
St  George,  who  are  famous  hunters  in  England,  and  whose  mother, 
the  lady  Sabra,  "  catches  her  death,"  by  going  out  attired  like 
Diana,  to  witness  their  achievements.  The  chivalric  widower 
thereupon  sets  out  for  Jerusalem,  his  fellow-champions  accompany, 
and  George's  three  sons,  Guy,  Alexander,  and  David,  upon  insin- 
uation from  their  mother's  spirit,  start  too  in  pursuit.  The  lads 
were  knighted  by  the  king  of  England  before  they  commenced 
their  journey,  which  they  perform  with  the  golden  spur  of  chivalry 
attached  to  their  heels.  They  meet  with  the  usual  adventures  by 
the  way:  destroying  giants,  and  rescuing  virgins,  who  in  these 
troublesome  times  seem  to  have  been  allowed  to  travel  about  too 
much  by  themselves.  Meanwhile,  their  sire  is  enacting  greater 
prodigies  still,  and  is  continually  delivering  his  fellow-champions 
from  difficulties,  from  which  they  are  unable  to  extricate  themselves. 
Indeed,  in  all  circumstances,' his  figure  is  the  most  prominent;  and 
although  the  other  half-dozen  must  have  rendered  some  service  on 


THE  CfiAMt>IONS   OF  CHRISTENDOM.  125 

each  occasion,  St  George  makes  no  more  mention  of  the  same 
than  Marshal  St.  Amaud,  in  his  letters  on  the  victory  at  the  Alma, 
does  of  the  presence  and  services  of  the  English. 

It  is  said  that  Mrs.  Radclifie,  whose  horrors  used  to~  delight  and 
distress  our  mothers  and  aunts,  in  their  younger  days,  became  her- 
self aflfected  by  the  terrors  which  she  only  paints  to  explain  away 
natural  circumstances.  What  then  must  have  been  the  end  of 
Richard  Johnson  ?  His  scene  of  the  enchantments  of  the  Black 
Castle  is  quite  enough  to  have  killed  the  author  with  bewilderment. 
There  is  a  flooring  in  the  old  palace  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  in 
Brussels,  which  is  so  inlaid  with  small  pieces  of  wood,  of  a  thou- 
sand varieties  of  patterns,  as  to  be  a  triumph  of  its  kind.  I  wbs 
not  at  all  surprised,  when  standing  on  that  floor,  to  hear  that  when 
the  artist  had  completed  his  inconceivable  labor,  he  gave  one  wild 
gaze  over  the  parquet  of  the  palace,  and  dropped  dead  of  a  fit  of 
giddiness.  I  am  sure  that  Richard  Johnson  must  have  met  with 
some  such  calamity  after  revising  this  portion  of  his  history.  It 
is  a  portion  in  which  it  is  impossible  for  the  Champions  or  for  the 
readers  to  go  to  sleep.  The  noise  is  terrific,  the  incidents  fall  like 
thunderbolts,  the  changes  roll  over  each  other  in  a  succession  made 
with  electric  rapidity,  and  when  the  end  comes  we  are  all  the  more 
rejoiced,  because  we  have  comprehended  nothing ;  but  we  are  es- 
pecially glad  to  find  that  the  knight  of  the  Black  Castle,  who  is 
the  cause  of  all  the^  mischief,  is  overcome,  flies  in  a  state  of  desti- 
tution to  a  neighboring  wood,  and  being  irretrievably  "  hard  up," 
stabs  himself  with  the  first  thing  at  hand,  as  ruthlessly  as  the  lover 
of  the  "  Ratcatcher's  Daughter." 

Time,  place,  propriety,  and  a  respect  for  contemporary  history, 
are  amusingly  violated  throughout  the  veracious  details.  Nothing 
can  equal  the  confusion,  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than  the 
errors.  But  great  men  have  committed  errors  as  grave.  Shake- 
speare opened  a  seaport  in  Bohemia,  and  Mr.  Macaulay  wrote 
of  one  Penn  what  was  only  to  be  attributed  to  another.  And  now, 
have  the  dramatists  treated  St.  George  better  than  the  romancers  ? 

The  national  saint  was,  doubtless,  often  introduced  in  the  Mys- 
teries ;  but  the  first  occasion  of  which  I  have  any  knowledge  of 
his  having  been  introduced  on  the  stage,  was  by  an  author  named 
John  Kirke.     John  was  so  satisfied  with  his  attempt  that  he  never 


126  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

wrote  a  second  play.  He  allowed  his  fame  to  rest  on  the  one  in 
question,  which  is  thus  described  on  his  title-page :  "  The  Seven 
Champions  of  Christendome.  Acted  at  the  Cocke  Pit,  and  at  the 
Hed  Bull  in  St.  John's  Streete,  with  a  general  liking,  And  never 
printed  till  this  yeare  1638.  Written  by  J.  K. — London,  printed 
by  J.  Okes,  and  are  (sic)  to  be  sold  by  James  Becket,  at  his  Shop 
in  the  Inner  Temple  Gate,.  1638.*' 

John  Kirke  treats  his  subject  melodramatically.  In  the  first 
scene,  Calib  the  Witch,  in  a  speech  prefacing  her  declarations  of  a 
love  for  foul  weather  and  deeds,  tells  the  audience  by  way  of  pro- 
logue, how  she  had  stolen  the  young  St.  George  from  his  now  de- 
funct parent,  with  the  intention  of  making  a  bath  for  her  old  bones 
out  of  his  young  warm  blood.  Love,  however,  had  touched  her, 
and  she  had  brought  up  "  the  red-lipped  boy,"  with  some  indefinite 
idea  of  making  something  of  him  when  a  man. 

With  this  disposition  the  old  lady  has  6ome  fears  as  to  the  pos- 
sible approaching  term  of  her  life ;  but,  as  she  is  assured  by  "  Tar- 
fax  the  Devill"  that  she  can  not  die  unless  she  love  blindly,  the 
witch,  like  a  mere  mortal,  accounting  that  she  loves  wisely,  reckons 
herself  a  daughter  of  immortality,  and  rejoices  hugely.  The  col- 
loquy of  this  couple  is  interrupted  by  their  son  Suckabud,  who, 
out  of  a  head  just  broken  by  St.  George,  makes  complaint  with 
that  comic  lack  of  fun,  which  was  wont  to  make  roar  the  entire 
inside  of  the  Red  Bull.  The  young  clown  retires  with  his  sire, 
and  then  enters  the  great  St.  George,  a  lusty  lad,  with  a  world  of 
inquiries  touching  his  parentage.  Calib  explains  that  his  lady 
mother  was  anything  but  an  honest  woman,  and  that  his  sire  was 
just  the  partner  to  match.  "  Base  or  noble,  pray  ?*'  asks  St. 
George.     To  which  the  witch  replies : — 

"  Base  and  noble  too ; 
Both  base  by  thee,  but  noble  by  descent ; 
And  thou  bom  Kase,  yet  mayst  thou  write  tme  gent :'' 

and  it  may  be  said,  parenthetically,  that  many  a  ^'  true  gent"  is  by 
birth  equal  to  St.  George  himself. 

Overcome  by  her  affection,  the  witch  makes  a  present  to  St. 
George  of  the  half-dozeii  champions  of  England  whom  she  holds 
in  chains  within  her  dwelling.     One  of  them  is  described  as  ''  the 


THE   CHAMPIONS  OF  CHRISTENDOM.  127 

lively,  brisk,  cross-cap'ring  Frenchman,  Denis.'*  With  these  for 
slaves,  Calib  yields  lier  wand,  of  power,  and  the  giver  is  no  sooner 
out  of  sight  when  George  invokes  the  shades  of  his  parents,  who 
not  only  appear  and  furnish  him  with  a  corrected  edition  of  his 
biography,  but  inform  him  that  he  is  legitimate  Earl  of  Coventry, 
with  all  the  appurtenances  that  a  young  earl  can  desire. 

Thereupon  ensues  a  hubbub  that  must  ^^^^  shaken  all  the  lamps 
in  the  cockpit.  George  turns  the  Witch's  power  against  herself, 
and  she  descends  to  the  infernal  regions,  where  she  is  punningly 
declared  to  have  gained  the  title  of  Duchess  of  Helvetia.  The 
six  champions  are  released,  and  the  illustrious  seven  companions 
go  forth  in  search  of  adventures,  with  Suckabus  for  a  "  Squire." 
The  father  of  the  latter  gives  him  some  counsel  at  parting,  which 
is  a  parody  on  the  advice  of  Polonius  to  Laertes.  "  Lie,"  says 
Torpax : — 

"  Lie  to  great  profit,  borrow,  pay  no  debts, 
Cheat  and  purloin,  they  are  gaming  dicers'  bets." 

"  If  Cottington  outdo  me,"  says  the  son,  "  he  be-whipt."  And 
so,  after  the  election  of  St.  George  as  the  seventh  champion  of 
Christendom,  ends  one  of  the  longest  acts  that  Bull  or  Cockpit 
was  ever  asked  to  witness  and  applaud. 

The  next  act  is  briefer  but  far  more  bustling.  We  are  in  that 
convenient  empire  of  Trebizond,  where  everything  happened  which 
never  took  place,  according  to  tlie  romances.  The  whole  city  is 
in  a  state  of  consternation  at'  the  devastations  of  a  detestable 
dragon,  and  a  lion,  his  friend  and  co-partner.  The  nobles  bewail 
the  fact  in  hexameters,  or  at  least  in  lines  meant  to  do  doty  for 
them ;  and  the  common  people  bewail  the  fact  epigrammatically, 
and  describe  the  deaths  of  all  who  have  attempted  to  slay  the 
monsters,  with  a  broadness  of  efiTect  that  doubtless  was  acknowl- 
edged by  roars  of  laughter.  Things  grow  worse  daily,  the  fijends 
look  down,  and  general  gloom  is  settling  thick  upon  the  empire, 
when  Andrew  of  Scotland  and  Anthony  of  Italy  arrive,  send  in 
their  cards,  and  announce  their  determination  to  slay  both  these 
monsters. 

Such  visitors  are  received  with  more  than  ordinary  welcome. 
The  emperor  is  regardless  of  exp«nse  in  his  liberality,  and  his 


128  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

daughter  Violetta  whispers  to  her  maid  Carinthia  that  she  is 
already  in  love  with  one  of  them,  but. will  not  say  which ;  a  remark 
which  is  answered  by  the  pert  maid,  that  she  is  in  love  with  both, 
and  would  willingly  take  either.  All  goes  on  joyously  until  in 
the  course  of  conversation,  and  it  is  by  no  means  remarkable  for 
brilliancy,  the  two  knights  let  iall  that  they  are  Christians.  Now, 
you  must  know,  that  the  established  Church  at  Trebizond  at  this 
time,  which  is  at  any  period,  was  heathen.  The  court  appeared 
to  principally  affect  Apollo  and  Diana,  while  the  poorer  people 
put  up  with  Pan,  and  abused  him  for  denouncing  may-poles! 
Well,  the  Christians  had  never  been  emancipated ;  nay,  they  had 
never  been  tolerated  in  Trebizond,  and  it  was  contrary  to  law  that 
the  country  should  lie  saved,  even  in  its  dire  extremity,  by  Chris- 
tian help-  The  knights  are  doomed  to  die,  unless  they  will  turn 
heathens.  .  This,  of  course,  they  decline  with  a  dignified  scorn ; 
whereupon,  in  consideration  of  their  nobility,  they  are  permitted 
to  choose  their  own  executioners.  They  make  choice  of  the  ladies, 
but  Violetta  and  Carinthia  protest  that  they  can  not  think  of  such 
a  thing.  Their  high-church  sire  is  disgusted  with  their  want  of 
orthodoxy,  and  he  finally  yields  to  the  knights  their  swords,  that 
they  may  do  justice  on  themselves  as  the  law  requires.  But 
Andrew  and  Anthony  are  no  sooner  armed  again  than  they  clear 
their  way  to  liberty,  and  the  drop  scene  falls  upon  the  rout  of  the 
whole  empire  of  Trebizond. 

The  third  act  is  of  gigantic  length,  and  deals  with  giants.  There 
is  mourning  in  Tartary.  David  has  killed  the  king's  son  in  a  tour- 
nament, and  the  king  remarks,  like  a  retired  apothecary,  that 
''Time's  plaster  must  draw  the  sore  before  he  can  feel  peace 
again."  To  punish  -David,  he  is  compelled  to  undertake  the  de- 
struction of  the  enchanter  Ormandine,  who  lived  in  a  cavern  fortress 
with  "  some  selected  friends."  The  prize  of  success  is  the  reversion 
of  the  kingdom  of  Tartary  to  the  Welsh  knight.  The  latter  goes 
upon  his  mission,  but  he  is  so  long  about  it  that  our  old  friend  Cho- 
rus enters,  to  explain  what  he  affirms  they  have  not  time  to  act  — 
namely,  the  great  deeds  of  St.  George,  who,  as  we  learn,  had  slain 
the  jiever-to-be-forgotten  dragon,  rescued  Sabrina,  been  cheated  of 
his  reward,  and  held  in  prison  seven  years  upon  bread  and  water. 
His  squire,  Suckabus,  alludes  to  giants  whom  he  and  his  master 


THE  CHAMPIONS  OP  CHRISTENDOM.  129 

had  previously  slain,  and  whose  graves  were  as  large  as  Tothill 
Fields.  He  also  notices  "  Ploydon*s  law,"  and  other  matters,  that 
could  hardly  have  been  contemporaneous  with  the  palmy  days  of 
the  kingdom  of  Tartary.  Meanwhile,  David  boldly  assaults 
Ormandine,  but  the  enchanter  surrounds  him  with  some  delicious- 
looking  nymphs,  all  thinly  clad  and  excessively  seductive ;  and  we 
are  sorry  to  say  that  the  Welsh  champion,  not  being  cavalierly 
mounted  on  proper  principles,  yields  to  seduction,  and  after  various 
falls  under  various  temptations,  is  carried  to  bed  by  the  rollicking 
nymph  Drunkenness. 

But  never  did  good,  though  fallen,  men  want  for  a  friend  at  a 
pinch.  St.  George  is  in  the  neighborhood;  and  seedy  as  he  is 
after  seven  years  in  the  dark,  with  nothing  more  substantial  by 
way  of  food  than  bread,  and  nothing  more  exhilarating  for  bever- 
age than  aqua  pura,  the  champion  of  England  does  David's  work, 
and  with  more  generosity  than  justice,  makes  him  a  present  of  the 
enchanter's  head.  David  presents  the  same  to  the  King  of  Tar- 
tary, that,  according  to  promise  pledged  in  case  of  such  a  present 
being  made,  he  may  be  proclaimed  heir-apparent  to  the  Tartarian 
throne.  With  this  bit  of  cheating,  the  long  third  act  comes  to  an 
end. 

The  fourth  act  is  taken  up  with  an  only  partially  successful  at- 
tack by  James,  David,  and  Patrick,  on  a  cruel  enchanter,  Argalio, 
who  at  least  is  put  to  flight,  and  that,  at  all  events,  as  the  knights 
remark,  is  something  to  be  thankful  for.  The  fifth  and  grand  act 
reveals  to  us  the  powerful  magician,  Brandron,  in  his  castle.  He 
holds  in  thrall  the  King  of  Macedon — a  little  circumstance  not 
noted  in  history ;  and  he  has  in  his  possession  the  seven  daughters 
of  his  majesty  transformed  into  swans.  The  swans  contrive  to 
make  captives  of  six  of  the  knights  as  they  were  taking  a  "  gentle 
walk"  upon  his  ramparts.  They  are  impounded  as  trespassers, 
and  Brandron,  who  has  some  low  comedy  business  with  Suckubus, 
will  not  release  them  but  upon  condition  that  they  fight  honestly 
in  his  defence  against  St.  George.  The  six  duels  take  place,  and 
of  course  the  champion  of  England  overcomes  all  his  friendly  an- 
tagonists ;  whereupon  Brandron,  with  his  club,  beats  out  his  own 
brains,  in  presence  of  the  audience. 

At  this  crisis,  the  King  of  Macedon  appears,  restored  to  power, 

9 


180  THE  KNIGHTS    AND   TUEIU   DAYS. 

and  inquires  afler  his  daughters.  St.  Geoi^  and  the  rest,  with 
a  use  of  the  double  negatives  that  would  have  shocked  Lindlej 
Murray,  declare 

"  We  never  knew,  nor  saw  no  ladies  here." 

The  swans,  however,  soon  take  their  pristine  form,  and  the  three 
daughters  appear  fresh  from  their  plumes  and  their  long  bath  upon 
the  lake.  Upon  this  follows  the  smart  dialogue  which  we  extract 
as  a  sample  of  how  sharply  the  King  of  Macedon  looked  to  his 
family  interests,  and  how  these  champion  knights  were  "  taken  in"* 
before  they  well  knew  how  the  fact  was  accomplished. 

Mac.  Reverend  knights,  maj  we  desire  to  know  which  of  70a  are  unmar- 
ried? 

Ant,,  Den.,  and  Pat.  We  are. 

Geo.  Then  here's  these  ladies,  take  'em  to  your  beds. 

Mac.  George  highly  honors  aged  Macedon. 

The  three  Knights.  Bat  can  the  ladies'  love  accord  with  us  ? 

The  three  Ladies.  Most  willingly ! 

The  three  Knights.  We  thus  then  seal  our  contract. 

Geo.  Which  thus  we  ratifie. 

Sit  with  the  brides,  most  noble  Macedon ; 
And  since  kind  fortune  sent  such  happy  chance. 
We'll  grace  your  nuptials  with  a  soldier's  dance. 

And,  fore  George,  as  our  fathers  used  to  say,  they  make  a  night 
of  it.  The  piece  ends  with  a  double  military  reel,  and  the  audiences 
at  the  Bull  and  the  Cockpit  probably  whistled  the  tune  as  they 
wended  their  way  homeward  to  crab-apple  ale  and  spiced  ginger- 
bread. 

Next  to  the  Champions  of  Christendom,  the  King's  Knight 
Champion  of  England  is  perhaps  the  most  important  personage — 
in  the  point  of  view  of  chivalry.  I  think  it  is  some  French  author 
who  has  said,  that  revolutions  resemble  the  game  of  chess,  where 
the  pawns  or  pieces  {les  pians)  may  cause  the  ruin  of  the  king, 
save  him,  or  take  his  place.  Now  the  champ  pion,  as  this  French 
remark  reminds  me,  is  nothing  more  than  the  field  pion,  pawn,  or 
piece,  put  forward  to  fight  in  the  king's  quarrel. 

The  family  of  the  Champion  of  England  bears,  it  may  be  ob^ 
served,  exactly  the  name  which  suits  a.  calling  so  derived.  The 
appellation  "Dymoke"  is  derived  from-2)e  Umbrosa  Quercu;  I 


THE   CHAMPIONS   OP  CHRISTENDOM.  131 

should  rather  say  it  is  the  translation  of  it ;  and  Harry  De  Um- 
bros4  Quercu  is  only  Harry  of  the  Shady  or  Dim  Oak,  a  very  apt 
dwelling-place  and  name  for  one  whose  chief  profession  was  that 
of  field-pawn  to  the  king. 

This  derivation  or  adaptation  of  names  from  original  Latin  sur- 
names is  common  enough,  and  some  amusing  pages  might  be  writ^ 
ten  on  the  matter,  in  addition  to  what  has  been  so  cleveriy  put 
together  by  Mr.  Mark  Anthony  Lower,  in  his  volume  devoted 
especially  to  an  elucidation  of  English  surnames. 

The  royal  champions  came  in  with  the  Conquest.  The  Norman 
dukes  had  theirs  in  the  family  of  Marmion — ancestors  of  that 
Marmion  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's,  who  commits  forgery,  like  a  com- 
mon knave  of  more  degenerate  times.  The  Conqueror  conferred 
sundry  broad  lands  in  England  on  his  champions ;  among  others, 
the  lands  adjacent  to,  as  well  as  the  castle  of  Tam worth.  Near 
this  place  was  the  first  nunnery  established  in  this  country.  The 
occupants  were  the  nuns  of  St.  Edith,  at  Polesworth.  Robert  de 
Marmion  used  the  ladies  very  "  cavalierly,"  ejected  them  from  their 
house,  and  deprived  them  of  their  property.  But  such  victims 
had  a  wonderfully  clever  way  of  recovering  their  own. 

My  readers  may  possibly  remember  how  a  certain  Eastern  pot- 
entate injured  the  church,  disgusted  the  Christians  generally,  and 
irritated  especially  that  Simeon  Stylites  who  sat  on  the  summit  of 
a  pillar,  night  and  day,  and  never  moved  from  his  abiding-place. 
The  offender  had  a  vision,  in  which  he  not  only  saw  the  indignant 
Simeon,  but  was  cudgelled  almost  into  pulp  by  the  stmulacre  of 
that  saint.  I  very  much  doubt  if  Simeon  himself  was  in  his  airy 
dwelling-place  at  that  particular  hour  of  the  night.  I  was  remind- 
ed pf  this  by  what  happened  to  the  duke's  champion,  Robert  de 
Marmion.  He  was  roused  from  a  deep  sleep  by  the  vision  of  a 
stout  lady,  who  announced  herself  as  the  wronged  St.  Edith,  and 
who  proceeded  to  show  her  opinion  of  De  Marmion's  conduct 
toward  her  nuns,  by  pommelling  his  ribs  with  her  crosier,  until 
she  had  covered  his  side  with  bruises,  and  himself  with  repent- 
ance. What  strong-armed  young  monk  played  St  Edith  that 
night,  it  is  impossible  to  say ;  but  that  he  enacted  the  part  success- 
fully, is  seen  from  the  fact  that  Robert  brought  back  the  ladies  to 
Polesworth,  and  made  ample  restitution  of  all  of  which  they  had 


182  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  BATS. 

been  deprived.  The  nuns,  in  return,  engaged  with  alacrity  to  inter 
all  defunct  Marmions  within  the  chapter-house  of  their  abbey,  for 
nothing. 

With  the  manor  of  Tamworth  in  Warwickshire,  Marmion  held 
that  of  Scrivelsby  in  Lincolnshire.  The  latter  was  held  of  the 
King  by  grand  sergeantry,  "  to  perform  the  office  of  champion  at 
the  King's  coronation."  At  his  death  he  was  succeeded  by  a  son 
of  the  same  Christian  name,  who  served  the  monks  of  Chester  pre- 
cisely as  his  sire  had  treated  the  nuns  at  Polesworth.  This  second 
Robert  fortified  his  ill-acquired  prize — the  priory;  but  happening 
to  fall  into  one  of  the  newly-made  ditches,  when  inspecting  the  for- 
tifications, a  soldier  of  the  Earl  of  Chester  killed  him,  without  diffi- 
culty, as  he  lay  with  broken  hip  and  thigh,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
fosse.  The  next  successor,  a  third  Robert,  was  something  of  a 
judge,  with  a  dash  of  the  warrior,  too,  arid  he  divided  his  estates 
between  two  sons,  both  Roberts,  by  different  mothers.  The  eldest 
son  and  chief  possessor,  after  a  bustling  and  emphatically  "  bat- 
tling" life,  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Philip,  who  fell  into  some 
trouble  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  for  presuming  to  act  as  a  judge 
or  justice  of  the  peace,  without  being  duly  commissioned.  This 
Philij)  was,  nevertheless,  one  of  the  most  faithful  servants  to  a 
king  who  found  so  many  faithless ;  and  if  honors  were  heaped 
upon  him  in  consequence,  he  fairly  merited  them  all.  He  was 
happy,  too,  in  marriage,  for  he  espoused  a  lady  sole  heiress  to  a 
large  estate,  and  who  brought  him  four  daughters,  co-heiresses  to 
the  paternal  and  maternal  lands  of  the  Marmions  and  the  Kilpecs. 

This,  however,  is  wandering.  Let  us  once  more  return  to  or- 
derly illustration.  In  St  George  I  have  shown  how  pure  romance 
deals  with  a  hero.  In  the  next  chapter  I  will  endeavor  to  show 
in  what  spirit  the  lives  and  actions  of  real  English  heroes  have 
been  treated  by  native  historians.  In  so  doing,  I  will  recount  the 
story  of  Sir  Guy  of  Warwick,  after  their  fashion,  with  original  il- 
lustrations and  '^  modem  instances." 


BIB  GUY  OP  WARWICK.  133 


SIR  GUY  OP  WARWICK, 

AND  WHAT  BEFELL  HIM. 

''  His  desires 
Are  higher  than  his  state,  and  his  deserts 
Not  much  short  of  the  most  he  can  desire." 

Chapman's  Byron*8  Conspiracy. 

The  Christian  name  of  Guy  was  once  an  exceedingly  popular 
name  in  the  county  of  York.  I  have  never  heard  a  reason  as- 
signed for  this,  but  I  think  it  may  have  originated  in  admiration 
of  the  deeds  and  the  man  whose  appellation  and  reputation  have 
survived  to  our  times.  I  do  not  allude  to  Guy  Faux ;  that  young 
gentleman  was  the  Father  of  Perverts,  but  by  no  means  the  first 
of  the  Guys. 

The  "  Master  Guy"  of  whom  I  am  treating  here,  or,  rather, 
about  to  treat,  was  a  youth  whose  family  originally  came  from 
Northumberland.  That  family  was,  in  one  sense,  more  noble  than 
the  imperial  family  of  Muscovy,  for  its  members  boasted  not  only 
of  good  principles,  but  of  sound  teeth. 

The  teeth  and  principles  of  the  Romanoffs  are  known  to  be  in  a 
distressing  state  of  dilapidation. 

Well ;  these  Northumbrian  Guys  having  lived  extremely  fast, 
and  being  compelled  to  compound  with  their  creditors,  by  plunder- 
ing the  latter,  and  paying  them  zero  in  the  pound,  migrated  south- 
ward, and  finally  settled  in  Warwickshire.  Now,  the  head  of  the 
house  had  a  considerable  share  of  common  sense  about  him,  and 
after  much  suffering  in  a  state  of  shabby  gentility,  he  not  only  sent 
Lis  daughters  out  to  earn  their  own  livelihood,  but,  to  the  intense 
disgust  of  his  spouse,  hired  himself  as  steward  to  that  noble  gentle- 
man the  Earl  of  Warwick.  "  My  blood  is  as  good  as  ever  it  was," 
said  he  to  the  fine  lady  his  wife.     <<  It  is  the  blood  of  an  upper 


184  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

servant,"  cried  she,  "  and  mj  fatlier's  daughter  is  the  spouse  of  a 
flunkey. 

The  husband  was  not  discouraged ;  'and  he  not  only  opened  his 
office  in  his  patron's  castle  but  he  took  his  only  son  with  him,  and 
made  him  his  first  clerk.  This  son's  name  was  Guy ;  and  he  was 
rather  given  to  bird-catching,  hare-snaring,  and  **  gentism"  gener- 
ally. He  had  been  a  precocious  youth  from  some  months  previous 
to  his  birth,  and  had  given  his  lady-mother  such  horrid  annoyance, 
that  she  was  always  dreaming  of  battles,  fiery-cars,  strong-smeUing 
dragons,  and  the  wrathful  Mars.  "  Well,"  she  used  to  remark  to 
her  female  friends,  while  the  gentlemen  were  over  their  wine,  "  I 
expect  that  this  boy"  (she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  that)  "  will 
make  a  noise  in  the  world,  draw  bills  upon  his  father,  and  be  the 

terror  of  maid-servants.     Why,  do  you  know ^"  and  here  she 

became  confidential,  and  I  do  not  feel  authorized  to  repeat  ^hat 
she  then  communicated. 

But  Master  Guy,  the  "  little  stranger"  alluded  to,  proved  better 
than  was  expected.  He  might  have  been  considerably  worse,  and 
yet  would  not  have  been  so  bad  as  maternal  prophecy  had  de- 
picted him.  At  eight  years  .  .  .  but  I  hear  you  say,  "  When 
did  all  this  occur  ?"  Well,  it  was  in  a  November's  "  Morning 
Post,"  that  announcement  was  made  of  the  birth ;  and  as  to  the 
year,  Master  Guy  has  given  it  himself  in  the  old  metrical 
romance, 

"  Two  handled  and  twenty  years  and  odd. 
After  oar  Savior  Christ  his  birth, 
When  King  Athelstan  wore  the  crown, 
I  liv6d  here  apon  the  earth." 

At  eight  years  old,  I  was  about  to  remark,  young  Guy  was  the 
most  insufferable  puppy  of  his  district.  He  won  all  the  prizes 
for  athletic  sports ;  and  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  there  was  not 
a  man  in  all  England  who  dared  accept  his  challenge  to  wrestle 
with  both  anns,  against  him  using  only  one. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  kept  his  father's  books  and  a  leash 
of  hounds,  with  the  latter  of  whidi  he  performed  such  extraordi- 
nary feats,  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick  invited  him  from  the  stew- 
ard's room  to  his  own  table ;  where  Guy's  father  changed  his  plate, 
and  Master  Guy  twitched  him  by  the  beard  as  he  did  it. 


SIR  GUY   OF  WARWICK.  185 

At  the  head  of  the  earl's  ^ble  sat  his  daughter  "  Phillis  the 
Fair,"  a  lady  who,  like  her  namesake  in  the  song,  was  "  sometimes 
forward,  sometimes  coy,"  and  altogether- so  sweetly  smiling  and  so 
beguiling,  that  when  the  earl  asked  Guy  if  he  would  not  come  and 
hunt  (the  dinner  was  at  10  a.  m.),  Guy  answered,  as  the  French- 
man did  who  could  not  bear  the  sport,  with  a  Merci,  fai  He  !  and 
affecting  an  iliac  seizure,  hinted  at  the  necessity  of  staying  at  home. 

The  youth  forthwith  was  carried  to  bed.  Phillis  sent  him  a 
posset,  the  earl  sent  him  his  own  physician ;  and  this  learned  gen^ 
tleman,  after  much,  perplexity  veiled  beneath  the  most  affable  and 
confident  humbug,  wrote  a  prescription  which,  if  it  could  do  the 
patient  no  good  would  do  him  no  harm.  He  was  a  most  skilful 
man,  and  his  patients  almost  invariably  recovered  under  this  treat- 
ment. He  occasionally  sacrificed  one  or  two  when  a  consultation 
was  held,  and  he  was  called  upon  to  prescribe  secundum  artem ; 
but  he  compensated  for  this  professional  slaying  by,  in  other  cases, 
leaving  matters  to  Nature,  who  was  the  active  partner  in  his  firm, 
and  of  whose  success  he  was  not  in  the  least  degree  jealous.  So, 
when  he  had  written  the  prescription.  Master  Guy  fell  a  discour- 
sing of  the  passion  of  love,  and  that  with  a  completeness  and  a 
variety  of  illustration  as  though  he  were  the  author  of  the  chapter 
on  that  subject  in  Burton's  "Anatomy  of  Melancholy."  The 
doctor  heard  him  to  the  end,  gently  rubbing  one  side  of  his  nose 
the  while  with  the  index-finger  of  his  right  hand;  and  when  his 
patient  had  concluded,  the  medical  gentleman  smiled,  hummed 
"  Phillis  is  my  only  joy,"  and  left  the  room  with  his  head  nodding 
like  a  Chinese  Mandarin's. 

By  this  time  the  four  o'clock  sun  was  making  green  and  gold 
pillars  of  the  trees  in  the  neighboring  wood,  and  Guy  got  up^ 
looked  at  the  falling  leaves,  and  thought  of  the  autunm  of  his  hopes. 
He  whistled  "  Down,  derry,  down,"  with  a  marked  emphasis  cm 
the  down  ;  but  suddenly  his  hopes  agaia  sprang  up,  as  he  beheld 
Phillis  among  her  fiower-beds,  engaged  in  the  healthful  occupation 
which  a  sublime  poet  has  given  to  the  heroine  whom  he  names, 
and  whose  action  he  describes,  when  he  tells  us  that 

"  Miss  Dint^  waa  a-walking  in  her  garding  one  day.** 

Guy  trussed  his  points,  pulled  up  his  hose,  set  his  bonnet  smartly 
on  his  head,  clapped  a  bodkin  on  his  thigh,  and   then  walked 


136  THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THEIR  DATS.       , 

• 
into  the  garden  with  the  air  of  the  once  young  lyEgviUe  in  a 

ballet,  looking  afler  a  nymph — which  indeed  was  a  pursuit  he  was 
much  given  to  when  he  was  old  lyEgville,  and  eould  no  hmger 
bound  throught  his  ballets,  because  he  was  stiff  in  the  joints. 

Guy,  of  course,  went  down  on  one  knee,  and  at  once  plunged 
into  the  most  fiery  style  of  declaration,  but  FhiUis  had  not  read 
the  Mrs.  Chapone  of  that  day  for  notliing.  »  She  brought  him 
back  to  prose  and  propriety,  and  then  the  two  started  afresh,  aad 
they  did  talk!  Guy  felt  a  little  "streaked"  at  first,  but  he  soon 
recovered  his  self-possession,  and  it  would  have  been  edifying  for 
the  young  mind  to  have  heard  how  these  two  pretty  things  spoke 
to,  and  answered  each  other  in  moral  maxims  stolen  irom  the  top 
pages  of  their  copy-books.  They  poured  them  out  by  the  score, 
and  the  proverbial  philosophy  they  enunciated  was  really  the  origin 
of  the  book  so  named  by  Martin  Tupper.  He  took  it  all  from 
Phillis  and  Guy,  whose  descendants,  of  the  Islst  name,  were  so 
famous  for  their  school-boofcs.  This  I  expect  Mr.  Tupper  will 
(not)  mention  in  his  next  edition. 

After  much  profitable  interchange  of  this  sort  of  article,  the 
lady  gently  hinted  that  Master  Guy  was  not  indifferent  to  her,  but 
that  he  was  of  inferior  birth,  yet  of  qualities  that  made  him  equal 
with  her ;  adding,  that  hitherto  he  had  done  little  but  kill  other 
people's  game,  whereas  there  were  nobler  deeds  to  be  accom- 
plished. And  then  she  bade  him  go  in  search  of  perilous  adven- 
tures, winding  up  with  the  toast  and  sentiment,  "  Master  Guy, 
eagles  do  not  care  to  catch  flies.** 

Reader,  if  you  have'  ever  seen  the  prince  of  pantomimists,  Mr. 
Payne,  tear  the  hair  of  his  theatrical  wig  in  a  fit  of  amorous  de- 
spair, you  may  have  some  idea  as  to  the  intensity  with  which 
Master  Guy  illustrated  his  own  desperation.  He  stamped  the 
ground  with  such  energy  that  all  the  hitherto  quiet  aspens  fell 
a-shaking,  and  their  descendants  have  ever  since  maintained  the 
same  fashion.  FhilHs  fell  a-crying  at  this  demonstration,  and 
softened  considerably.  Afler  a  lapse  of  five  minutes,  she  had 
blushingly  directed  Master  Guy  to  "  speak  to  papa." 

Now,  of  all  horrible  interviews,  this  perhaps  is  the  most  horrible. 
Nelson  used  to  say  that  there  was  Only  one  thing  on  earth  which 
he  dreaded,  and  that  was  dining  with  a  mayor  and  corporation. 


SIB  GUY  OF  WARWICK.  137 

Doubtless  it  is  dreadful,  but  what  is  it  compared  with  looking  a 
grave  man  in  the  face,  who  has  no  sentiment  into  him,  and  whose 
first  remark  is  sure  to  be,  "  Well,  sir,  be  good  enough  to  tell  me — 
what  can  you  settle  on  my  daughter  ?  What  can  you  do  to  secure 
her  happiness  P' 

"  Well,"  said  Guy,  in  reply  to  this  stereotyped  remark,  "  I  can 
kill  the  Dun  cow  on  the  heath.  She  has  killed  many  herself 
who've  tried  the  trick  on  her ;  and  last  night  she  devoured  crops 
of  clover,  and  twice  as  many  fields  of  barley  on  your  lordship's 
estate." 

"  First  kill  the  cow,  and  then ,"  said  the  earl  with  a  smile ; 

and  Shakespeare  had  the  echo  of  this  speech  in  his  ear,  when  he 
began  the  fifth  act  of  his  Othello.  Now  Guy  was  not  easily 
daunted.  If  I  cared  to  make  a  pun,  I  might  easily  have  said 
"  cowed,"  but  in  a  grave  arid  edifying  narrative  this  loose  method 
of  writing  would  be  extremely  improper.  Guy>  then,  was  not 
a  coward — nay,  nothing,  is  hidden  under  the  epithet.  He  tossed 
a  little  in  bed  that  night. as  he  thought  the  matter  over,  and 
the  next  morning  made  sheets  of  paper  as  crumpled  as  the  cow's 
horns,  as  he  rejected  the  plans  of  assault  he  had  designed  upon 
them,  and  sat  uncertain  as  to  what  he  should  do  in  behoof  of  his 
own  fortune.  He  at  length  determined  to  go  and  visit  the  terrible 
animal  "incognito."  It  is  the  very  word  used  by  one  of  the 
biographers  of  Guy,  an  anonymous  Northumbrian,  who  published 
the  life  on  a  broad  sheet,  with  a  picture  of  Master  Guy  which 
might  have  frightened  the  cow^  and  whic'h  is  infinitely  more  ugly. 
Neither  the  black-letter  poem,  the  old  play,  nor  the  pamphlets  or 
ballads,  use  the  term  incognito,  but  all  declare  that  Guy  proceeded 
with  much  caution,  and  a  steel  cuiras  over  his  jerkin.  I  mention 
these  things,  because  without  correctiness  my  narrative  would  be 
worthless.  I  am  not  im^native,  and  would  not  embroider  a  plain 
suit  of  fact  upon  any  account. 

Guy's  carefulness  is  to  be  proved.  Here  was  a  cow  that  had 
been  more  destructive  than  ever  Red  Riding  Hood's  Wolf  was — 
that  Count  Wolf,  who  used  to  snap  up  young  maidens,  and  lived 
as  careless  of  respectability  as  was  to  be  expected  of  a  man  once 
attached  to  a  "  marching  regiment,"  and  who  turned  monk.  The 
cow  was  twelve  feet  high,  from  the  hoof  to  the  shouider,  and 


138  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

eighteen  feet  long,  from  the  neck  to  the  root  of  the  tail.  All  the 
dragons  ever  hear4  of  had  never  been  guilty  of  such  devastation  to 
life  and  property  as  this  terrible  cow.  Guy  looked  at  her  and  did 
not  like  her.  The  cow  detected  him  and  rushed  at  her  prey.  Guy 
was  active,  attacked  her  in  front  and  rear,  as  the  allies  did  the  forts 
of  Bomarsund;  very  considerably  confused  her  by  burying  his 
battle-axe  in  her  skull ;  hung  on  by  her  tail  as  she  attempted  to 
fly ;  and  finally  gave  her  the  coup  de  grace  by  passing  his  rapier 
rapidly  and  repeatedly  through  her  especially  vulnerable  point 
behind  the  ear.  In  proof  of  the  fact,  the  scene  of  the  conflict  still 
bears  the  name  of  Dunsmore  Heath,  and  that  is  a  wider  basis  of 
proof  than  many  "  facts"  stand  upon,  to  which  we  are  required  by 
plodding  teachers  to  give  assent. 

Besides,  there  is  a  rib  (^  this  very  cow  exhibited  at  Bristol. 
To  be  sure  it  is  not  a  rib  now  of  a  cow,  but  out  of  reverence  to 
the  antiquity  of  the  assertion  which  allegedly  makes  it  so,  I  think 
we  are  bound  to  believe  what  is  thus  advanced.  Not  that  I  do 
myself,  but  that  is  of  no  consequence.  •  I  have  a  strong  idea  that 
the  cow  was  not  a  cow,  but  a  countess  (not  a  Countess  Cowper), 
who  made  war  in  her  own  right,  lived  a  disreputable  life,  was  as 
destructive  to  wealthy  young  lords  as  a  Lorette,  and  won  whole 
estates  by  cheating  at  ecarte.     Guy  took  a  hand,  and  beat  her. 

Poor  Master  Guy,  he  was  as  hardly  used  as  ever  Jacob  was, 
and  much  he  meditated  thereupon  in  the  fields  at  eventide.  The 
stem  earl  would  by  no  means  give  his  consent  to  the  marriage  of 
his  daughter  with  the  young  champion,  until  the  latter  had  per- 
formed some  doughtier  deeds  than  this.  The  boy  (he  was  still  in 
his  teens)  took  heart  of  grace,  divided  a  crooked  sixpence  with 
Fhillis,  and  straightway  sailed  for  Normandy,  where  he  arrived, 
after  meeting  as  many  thieves  by  the  way  as  if  he  had  walked 
about  for  a  month  in  the  streets  of  Dover.  But  Master  Guy  killed 
all  he  met ;  there  is  a  foolish  judicial,  not  to  say  social,  prejudice 
against  our  doing  the  same  with  the  bandits  of  Dover.  I  can  not 
conjecture  why ;  perhaps  they  have  a  privilege  under  some  of  the 
city  companies,  whereby  they  are  constituted  the  legal  skinners 
of  all  sojourners  among  them,  carrying  filthy  lucre. 

Guy  met  in  Normandy  with  the  last  person  he  could  have  ex- 
pected to  fall  in  witli — no  other  than  the  Emperor  of  Almayne, 


SIB  GUY   OF  WARWICK.  189^ 

a  marvellously  ubiquitous  person  to  be  met  with  in  legends,  and 
frequently  encountered  in  the  seaports  of  inland  towns.  The 
historians  are  here  a  little  at  issue.  One  says  that  Master  Guy 
having  found  a  certain  Dorinda  tied  to  the  stake,  and  awaiting  a 
champion  who  would  stake  his  own  life  for  her  rescue,  inquired 
the  "  antecedents"  of  the  position.  Dorinda,  it  appears,  had  been 
as  rudely  used  as  young  lady  possibly  could  be,  "  by  the  Duke 
of  Blois,  his  son,"  and  the  duke  was  so  enraged  at  Dorinda's  charge 
against  his  favorite  Otto,  that  he  condemned  her  to  be  burned 
alive,  unless  a  champion  appeared  in  time  to  rescue  her  by  defeat- 
ing the  aforesaid  Otto  in  single  combat.  Guy,  of  course,  transacted 
the  little  business  successfully ;  spoiled  Otto's  beauty  by  slashing 
his  nose ;  and  so  enchanted  Dorinda,  that  she  never  accused  her 
champion  of  doing  aught  displeasing  to  her. 

Anxious  as  I  am  touching  the  veracity  of  this  narrative,  I  have 
recorded  what  biographers  state,  though  not  in  their  own  words. 
But  I  must  add,  that  in  some  of  the  histories  thia  episode  about 
Dorinda  is  altogether  omitted,  and  we  only  hear  of  Master  Guy 
appearing  in  panoply  at  a  tournament  given  by  the  Emperor  of 
Allemagne,  in  Normandy — which  is  much  the  same,  gentle  reader, 
as  if  I  were,  at  your  cost,  to  give  a  concert  and  ball,  with  a  aupper 
from  Farrance's,  and  all,  not  in  my  house,  but  in  yours.  Never- 
theless, in  Normandy  the  tournament  was  held,  and  the  paternal 
Emperor  of  Allemagne,  having  then  a  daughter,  Blanche,  of  whom 
he  wished  to  get  rid,  he  set  her  up  as  the  prize  of  the  conquering 
knight  in  the  tournament. 

I  think  I  hear  you  remark  something  as  to  the  heathenness  of 
the  custom.  But  it  is  a  custom  sacred  to  these  times ;  and  our 
neighbors  (for  of  course  neither  you  nor  I  could  condescend  to 
such  manners)  get  up  evening  tournaments  of  whist,  quadrilles, 
and  a  variety  of  singing — of  every  variety  but  the  good  and  in- 
telligible, and  at  these  modern  tournaments  given  for  the  express 
purpose  which  that  respectable  old  gentleman,  the  Emperor  of 
Allemagne,  had  in  view  when  he  opened  his  lists  ;  the  "  girls"  are 
the  prizes  of  the  carpet-knights.  So  gentlemen,  fizites  voire  jeUy 
as  the  philosopher  who  presided  at  Frescati's  used  to  say — faites 
voire  jeu,  Messieurs ;  and  go  in  and  win.  Perhaps  if  you  read 
Cowper,  you  may  be  the  better  armed  against  loss  in  such  a  conflict. 


140  THE  KNIGflTS   AND  THEIR  DATS. 

I  need  not  say  tlAt  Master  Guy's  good  sword,  which  gleamed 
like  lightning  in  the  arena,  and  rained  blows  faster  than  ever  Mr. 
Blanchard  rained  them,  in  terrific  Coburg  combats,  upon  the  vul- 
nerable crest  of  Mr.  Bradley — won  for  him  the  peerless  prize- 
to  say  nothing  of  a  dog  and  a  falcon  thrown  in.  Master  Gxiy 
rather  ungallantly  declined  having  the  lady,  though  her  father 
would  have  given  him  carte  blanche ;  he  looked  at  her,  muttered 
her  name,  and  then  murmured,  ^'  Blanche,  as  thou  art,  yet  art 
thou  black-a-moor,  compared  with  my  Fhillis ;" — and  with  this 
unchivalric  avowal,  for  it  was  a  part  of  chivalry  to  say  a  thing 
and  think  another,  he  returned  to  England,  carrying  with  him  the 
"Spaniel  King's  Charls,"  as  French  authors  write  it,  and  the 
falcon,  with  a  ring  and  a  perch,  like  a  huge  parroquet. 

Master  Guy  entered  Warwick  in  a  "  brougham,"  as  we  now 
might  say,  and  sorely  was  he  put  to  it  with  the  uneasy  bird.  At 
every  lurch  of  the  vehicle,  out  flapped  the  wings,  elongated  was 
the  neck,  and  Master  Guy  had  to  play  at  "  dodge"  with  the  falcon, 
who  was  intent  upon  darting  his  terrific  beak  into  the  cavalier's 
nose.  At  length,  however,  the  castle  was  safely  reached;  the 
presents  were  deposited  at  the  feet  of  Phillis  the  Fair,  and  Guy 
hoped,  like  the  Peri,  and  also  like  that  gentle  spirit  to  be  disap- 
pointed, that  the  gates  of  paradise  were  about  to  open.  But  not 
so,  Phillis  warmly  praised  his  little  regard  for  that  pert  minx, 
Blanche,  or  £ki>nc  d^Espagne^  as  she  wickedly  added ;  and  she 
patted  the  spaniel,  and  offered  sugar  to  the  falcon ;  and,  afler  the 
dinner  to  which  Guy  was  invited,  she  intimated  in  whispers,  that 
they  were  both  "too  young  as  yet"  (not  that  she  beliefved  so),  and 
that  more  deeds  must  be  done  by  Guy,  ere  the  lawyers  would  be 
summoned  by  her  papa  to  achieve  some  of  their  own. 

The  youthful  Guy  went  forth  "  reluctant  but  resolved,"  and  he 
would  have  sung  as  he  went  along, 

"  Elle  a  quinze  ans^  moi  j'en  ai  seize/' 

of  Sedaine  and  Gretry,  only  neither  poet  nor  composer,  nor  the 
opera  of  RicJiard  Cceur  de  Lion^  had  yet  appeared  to  gladden 
heart  and  ear.  But  the  sentiment  was  there,  and  perhaps  Sedaine 
knew  of  it  when  he  penned  the  words.  However  this  may  be. 
Master  Guy,  though  sofl  of  heart,  was  not  so  of  arm,  for  on  this 


SIR  •UY  OP  WARWICK,  141 

present  cause  of  errantry  he  enacted  such  deeds  that  their  very 
enumeration  makes  one  breathless.  His  single  sword  cleared 
whole  forests  of  hordes  of  brigands,  through  whose  sides  his 
trenchant  blade  passed  as  easily  as  the  sabre,  when  held  by  Cor- 
poral Sutton,  through  a  dead  sheep.  Our  hero  was  by  no  means 
particular  as  to  what  he  did,  provided  he  was  doing  something ; 
nor  what  cause  he  fought  for,  provided  there  were  a  cause  and  a 
fight.  Thus  we  find  him  aiding  the  Duke  of  Louvain  against  his 
old  friend  the  Emperor  of  Allemagne.  He  led  the  Duke's  forces, 
slew  thousands  upon  thousands  of  the  enemy,  and,  aa  though  he 
had  the  luck  of  a  modem  Muscovite  army,  did  not  lose  more  than 
"  one  man,"  with  slight  damage  to  the  helmet  of  a  second. 

Master  Guy,  not  yet  twenty,  surpassed  the  man  whom  Mr. 
Thiers  calls  "  ce  pur  Anglais^**  Mr.  Pitt,  for  he  became  a  prime 
minister  ere  he  had  attained  his  majority.  In  that  capacity  he 
negotiated  a  peace  for  the  Duke  with .  the  Emperor.  The  two 
potentates  were  so  satisfied  with  the  negotiator,  that  out  of  com- 
pliment they  offered  him  the  command  of  their  united  fleet  against 
the  Pagan  Soldan  of  Byzantium.  They  did  not  at  all  expect  that 
he  would  accept  it ;  but  then  they  were  not  aware  that  Master  Guy 
had  much  of  the  spirit  which  Sidney  Smith,  in  after-years,  dis- 
cerned in  Lord  John  Russell — and  the  enterprising*  Guy  accepted 
the  command  of  the  entire  fleet,  with  quite  an  entire  confldence. 

He  did  therewith,  if  chroniclers  are  to  be  credited,  more  than 
we  might  reasonably  expect  from  Lord  John  Russell,  were  that 
statesman  to  be  in  command  of  a  Channel  squadron.  Having 
swept  the  sea,  he  rather  prematurely,  if  dates  are  to  be  respected, 
nearly  annihilated  Mohammedanism — and  he  was  as  invincible  and 
victorious  against  every  kind  of  Pagan.  It  was  in  the  East  that 
he  overthrew  in  single  combat,  the  giants  Colbron  and  his  brother 
Mongadora.  He  was  resting  after  this  contest,  and  leaning  like 
the  well-breathed  Hotspur,  upon  his  sword,  at  the  entrance  to  his 
tent,  when  the  Turkish  governor  Esdalante,  approaching  him,  po- 
litely begged  that  he  might  take  his  head,  as  he  had  promised  the 
same  to  an  Osmanlee  lady,  who  was  in  a  condition  of  health  which 
might  be  imperilled  by  refusal.  Master  Guy  as  politely  bade  him 
take  it  if  he  could,  and  therewith,  they  went  at  it  "  like  French 
falconers,"  and  Guy  took  ofl*  the  head  of  his  opponent  instead  of 


142  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

losing  his  own.  This  little  matter  being  settled,  Guy  challenged 
the  infidel  Soldan  himself,  putting  Christianity  against  Islamism, 
on  the  issue,  and  thus  professing  to  decide  questions  of  faith  as 
Galerius  did  when  he  leffc  Olympus  and  Calvary  to  depend  upon 
a  vote  of  the  Roman  senate.  Master  Guy,  being  thrice  armed  by 
the  justness  of  his  quarrel,  subdued  the  infidel  Soldan,  but  the  lat- 
ter, to  show,  as  we  are  told,  his  insuperable  hatred  for  Christian- 
ity, took  handfuls  of  his  own  blood,  and  cast  it  in  the  face  of  his 
conqueror — and  no  doubt  here,  the  victor  had  in  his  mind  the  true 
stoiy  of  Julian  insulting  "  the  Galilaean."  We  thus  see  how  his- 
tory is  made  to  contribute  to  legend. 

And  now  the  appetite  of  the  errant  lover*  grew  by  what  it  fed 
upon.  He  mixed  himself  up  in  every  quarrel,  and  could  not  see 
a  lion  and  a  dragon  quietly  settling  their  disputes  in  a  wood,  by 
dint  of  claws,  without  striking  in  for  the  lion,  slaying  his  foe,  and 
receiving  with  complacency  the  acknowledgments  of  the  nobler  beast 

He  achieved  something  more  useful  when  he  met  Lord  Terry 
in  a  wood,  looking  for  his  wife  who  had  been  carried  off  by  a 
score  of  ravishers.  While  the  noble  lord  sat  down  on  a  mossy 
bank,  like  a  gentleman  in  a  melodrama,  Guy  rescued  his  wife  in 
his  presence,  and  slew  all  the  ravishers,  "  in  funeral  order,"  the 
youngest  first.  He  subsequently  stood  godfather  to  his  friend 
Terry's  child,  and  as  I  am  fond  of  historical  parallels,  I  may  notice 
that  Sir  Walter  Scott  performed  the  same  office  for  a  Terry,  who 
if  he  was  not  a  lord,  often  represented  them,  to  say  nothing  of 
monarchs  and  other  characters. 

Master  Guy's  return  to  England  was  a  little  retarded  by  an- 
other characteristic  adventure.  As  he  was  passing  through  Lou- 
vain,  he  found  Duke  Otto  besieging  his  father  in  his  own  castle — 
"  governor"  of  the  castle  'and  the  Duke.  Now  nothing  shocked 
Master  Guy  so  much  as  filial  ingratitude,  and  despite  all  that  Otto 
could  urge  about  niggardly  allowance,  losses  at  play,  debts  of 
honor,  and  the  parsimony  of  the  '*  governor,"  our  champion  made 
common  cause  with  the  "  indignant  parent,"  and  not  only  mortally 
wounded  Otto,  but,  before  the  latter  died,  Guy  brought  him  to  a 
"  sense  of  his  situation,"  and  Otto  died  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind, 
leaving  all  his  debts  to  his  father.  The  legacy  was  by  way  of  a 
"  souvenir,"  and  certainly  the  governor  never  forgot  it.     As  for 


SIR  GUY   OP   WARWICK.  148 

Guy,  he  killed  the  famous  boar  of  Louvain,  before  he  departed  for 
England,  and  as  he  drew  his  sword  from  the  animal's  flaok,  he 
remarked,  there  lies  a  greater  boar,  and  not  a  less  beast  than  Otto 
himself.  However,  he  took  the  head  and  hams  with  him,  for 
Phillis  was  fond  of  both ;  and  as  she  was  wont  to  say,  if  there 
was  anything  that  could  seduce  her,  it  was  brawn ! 

When  Master  Guy  stepped  ashore  at  Harwich,  where  that  am- 
phibious town  .now  lies  soaking,  deputations  from  all  quarters  were 
awaiting  him,  to  ask  his  succor  against  some  terrible  dragon  in  the 
north  that  was  laying  waste  all  the  land,  and  laying  hold  of  all  the 
waists  which  the  men  there  wished  to  enclose.  King  Athelstan 
was  then  at  York  hoping  to  terrify  the  indomitable  beast  by  power 
of  an  army,  which  in  combat  with  the  noxious  creature  made  as 
long  a  tail,  in  retreat,  as  the  dragon  itself. 

Now  whatever  this  nuisance  was  which  so  terribly  plagued  the 
good  folks  in  the  North,  whether  a  dragon  with  a  tongue  -thirty 
feet  long,  or  anything  else  equally  hard  to  imagine,  it  is  matter 
of  fact  that  our  Master  Guy  assuredly  got  the  better  of  it  On 
his  return  he  met  an  ovation  in  York ;  Athelstan  entertained  him 
at  a  banquet,  covered  him  with  honor,  endowed  him  with  a  good 
round  sum,  and  thus  all  the  newborn  male  children  in  the  county 
became  Guys.  At  least  two  thirds  of  them  received  the  popular 
name,  and  for  many  centuries  it  remained  in  &vor,  until  disgrace 
was  brought  upon  it  by  the  York  proctor's  son,  whose  effigy  still 
glides  through  our  streets  on  each  recurcing  5th  of  November. 

I  will  not  pause  on  this  matter.  I  will  only  add  that  the  Earl 
of  Warwick,  finding  Guy  a  man  whom  the  King  delighted  to  honor, 
accepted  him  for  a  son-in-law ;  and  then,  ever  wise,  and  civil,  and 
proper,  he  discreetly  died.  The  King  made  Guy  Earl  of  War- 
wick, in  his  place,  and  our  hero  being  now  a  married  man,  he  of 
course  ceased  to  be  Master  Guy. 

And  here  I  might  end  my  legend,  but  that  it  has  a  moral  in  it 
Guy  did  a  foolish  but  a  common  thing,  he  launched  out  into  ex- 
travagant expenses,  and,  suddenly,  he  found  himself  sick,  sad,  and 
insolvent.  Whether,  therewith,  his  wife  was  soured,  creditors 
troublesome,  and  bailifis  presuming,  it  is  hard  to  say.  Onejhing, 
however,  is  certain,  that  to  save  himself  from  all  three.  Earl  Guy 
did  what  nobles  often  do  now,  in  the  same  predicament,  "  went 


144  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

abroad."  Guy,  however,  travelled  in  primitive  style.  He  went 
on  foot,  and  made  his  inn  o'nights  in  church-yards,  where  he  collo- 
quized  with  the  skulls  after  the  fashion  of  Hamlet  with  the  skull 
of  "  poor  Yorick."  He  had  given  out  that  he  was  going  to  Jeru- 
salem, but  hearing  that  the  Danes  were  besieging  Athelstan  at 
Winchester,  he  went  thither,  and,  in  modest  disguise,  routed,  them 
with  his  own  unaided  hand.  Among  his  opponents,  he  met  with 
the  giant  Colbron  whom  he  had  previously  slain  in  Orient  lands, 
and  the  two  fought  their  battles  o'er  again,  and  with  such  exactly 
similar  results  as  to  remind  one  of  the  peculiar  philosophy  of  Mr. 
Boatewain  Cheeks. 

This  appearance  of  Colbron  in  two  places  is  a  fine  illustration 
of  the  "  myth,"  and  I  mention  it  expressly  for  the  benefit  of  the 
next  edition  of  the  Right  Reverend  Doctor  Whateley's  ^  Historical 
Fallacies."     But  to  resume. 

Guy,  imparting  a  confidential  statement  of  his  identity  and  in- 
tehtions  to  the  King,  left  him,  to  take  up  his  abode  in  a  cave,  in  a 
cliff,  near  his  residence ;  and  at  the  gates  of  his  own  castle  he  re- 
ceived, in  the  guise  of  a  mendicant,  ahns  of  money  and  bread,  from 
the  hands  of  his  wife.  I  strongly  suspect  that  the  foundation  of 
this  section  of  our  legend  rests  upon  the  probable  fact  that  Phillis 
was  of  that  quality  which  is  said  to  belong  to  gray  mares;  and  that 
she  led  Guy  a  life  which  made  him  a  miserable  Guy  indeed ;  and 
that  the  poor  henpecked  man  took  to  bad  company  abroad,  and 
met  with  small  allowance  of  everything  but  reproach  at  home 
And  «o  he  "died." 

A  dramatic  author  of  Charles  I.'s  reign,  has,  however,  resusci- 
tated him  in  "  A  Tragical  History  of  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,"  en- 
acted several  times  in  presence  of  that  monarch,  and  professedly 
written  by  a  certain  "  B.  J.,"  whom  I  do  not  at  all  suspect  of  being 
Ben  Jonsougi  The  low  comedy  portion  of  this  tragic  drama  is  of 
the  filthiest  sort,  dealing  in  phrases  and  figures  which  I  can  hardly 
conceive  would  now  be  tolerated  in  the  lowest  den  of  St  Giles's, 
certainly  not  out  of  it  If  Charles  heard  this  given  more  than 
once,  as  the  titlepage  intimates,  "  more  shame  for  him."  If  his 
Queen  was  present,  she  haply  may  not  have  understood  the  verba 
€id  summam  caveam  spectantiay  and  if  a  daughter  could  have  been 
at  the  royal  entertainment,  why  then  the  very  idea  revolts  one, 


SIR  GUY   OF  WARWICK.  145 

and  pity  is  almost  lost  in  indignation.  That-  fhe  author  himself 
thought  well  of  the  piece,  which  he  printed  in  1661,  is  proTed  by 
the  defiant  epigvaph  which  says : — 

"  Carpere  vel  noli  nostra  yel  ede  tua." 

I  must  not  devote  much  space  to  a  retrospective  review  of  this 
piece,  particularly  as  the  action  begins  afler  Guy  has  ceased  to  be 
"  Master,"  and  when,  on  his  announcement  of  going  to  Jerusalem 
(perhaps  to  the  Jews  to  do  a  little  business  in  bills),  Phillis  makes 
some  matronly  remarks  in  a  prospective  sense,  and  a  liberty  of 
illustration  which  would  horrify  a  monthly  nurse. 

However,  Guy  goes  forth  and  meets  with  a  giant  so  huge,  that 
his  squire  Sparrow  says  it  required  four-and-twenty  men  to  throw 
mustard  in  his  mouth  when  he  dined.  From  such  giants,  Heaven 
protects  the  errant  Guy,  and  with  a  troop  of  fairies,  wafts  him  to 
Jerusalem.  Here  he  finds  Shamurath  of  Babylon  assaulting  the 
city,  but  Guy  heaps  miracle  on  miracle  of  valor,  and  produces  such 
astounding  results  that  Shamurath,  who  is  a  spectator  of  the  deeds 
and  the  doer,  inquires,  with  a  suspicion  of  Connaught  in  the  accent 
of  the  inquiry,  "  What  divil  or  man  is  this  ?" 

The  infidel  is  more  astonished  than  ever  when  Guy,  after  de- 
feating him,  takes  him  into  controversy,  and  laying  hold  of  him  as 
Dr.  Gumming  does  of  Romanism,  so  buffets  his  belief  that  the 
soldier,  fairly  out  of.  breath  and  argument,  gives  in,  and  declares 
himself  a  Christian,  oh  conviction. 

During  one-and-twenty  years,  Guy  has  a  restless  life  through 
the  five  acts  of  this  edifying  tragedy,  and  when  he  is  seen  again  in 
England,  overcoming  the  Danes,  he  intimates  to  Athelstan  that  he 
has  six  years  more  to  pass  in  disguise,  ere  a  vow,  of  which  w^ 
have  before  heard  nothing,  will  be  fulfilled.  Athelstan  receives^ 
all  that  is  said,  in  confidence ;  and  promises  afiably,  '^  upon  tny 
word,"  not  to  betray  the  secret.  Guy  is  glad  to  hear  that  Phillii 
is  "  pretty  well ;"  and  then  he  takes  up  his  residence  as  I  have  be- 
fore told,  according  to  the  legend*  He  and  an  Angel  occasionally 
have  a  little  abstruse  disquisition;  but  the  most  telling  scene  is  ^ 
doubtless  where  the  bread  is  distributed  to  the  beggars,  by  Phillis. 
Guy  is  here  disguised  as  a  palmer,  and  Phillis  inquires  if  he  knew 
the  great  Earl,  to  which  Guy  answers,  with  a  wink  of  the  eye,  that 

10 


146  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

he  and  the  Earl  had  often  drank  at  the  same  crystal  spring.  But 
Phillis  is  too  dull,  or  too  melancholy  to  trace  her  way  through  so 
sorry  a  joke. 

And  now,  just  as  the  hour  of  completion  of  the  vowed  time  of 
his  disguise,  Guy  takes  to  dying,  and  in  that  state  he  is  found  by 
Bainhom,  the  son  who  knows  him  not.  He  sends  a  token  by  the 
young  fellow  to  Phillis,  who  begins  to  suspect  that  the  palmer  who 
used  to  be  so  particular  in  asking  for  "  brown  bread"  at  her  gate, 
must,  be  the  "  Master  Guy"  of  the  days  of  sunny  youth,  short  kip- 
tles,*and  long  love-making.  Mother  and  son  haste  to  the  spot,  but 
the  vital  spark  has  fled.  Phillis  exclaims,  with  much  composed 
thought,  not  unnatural  in  a  woman  whose  husband  has  been  seven- 
and-twenty  years  away  from  home,  and  whose  memory  is  good : 
'^  If  it  be  he,  he  has  a  mould-wart  underneath  his  ear ;"  to  which 
the  son  as  composedly  remarks,  "  View  him,  good  mother,  satisfy 
your  mind."  Thereupon  the  proper  identification  of  the  "  party" 
is  established ;  and  the  widow  is  preparing  to  administer,  without 
will  annexed,  when  Rainhom  bids  her  banish  sorrow,  as  the  King 
is  coming.  The  son  evidently  thinks  the  honor  of  a  living  king 
should  drown  sorrow  for  a  deceased  parent ;  just  as  a  Roman  fam- 
ily that  can  boast  of  a  Pope  in  it,  does  not  put  on  mourning  even 
when  that  Pope  dies ;  the  having  had  him,  being  considered  a  joy 
that  no  grief  should  diminish. 

Athelstan  is  evidently  a  King  of  Cockayne,  for  he  affably  ex- 
presses surprise  at  the  old  traveller's  death,  seeing,  says  his  Majes- 
ty, that  "  I  had  appointed  for  to  meet  Sir  Guy ;"  to  which  the  son, 
who  has  now  succeeded  to  the  estate,  replies,  in  the  spirit  of  an 
heir  who  has  been  waiting  long  for  an  inheritance:^- that  the 
death  has  happened,  and  can  not  now  be  helped. 

But  the  most  remarkable  matter  in  this  tragedy  is  that  uttered 
by  Time,  who  plays  prologue,  epilogue,  and  interlude  between  the 
acts.  Whatever  Charles  may  have  thought  of  the  piece,  he  was 
doubtless  well-pleased  with  Time,  who  addresses  the  audience  in 
verse,  giving  a  political  turn  to  the  lesson  on  the  stage.  I  dare 
say  the  following  lines  were  loudly  applauded,  if  not  by  the  king, 
by  the  gallants,  courtiers,  and  cavaliers  generally: — 

"  In  Holy  Land  abroad  Guy's  spirits  roam, 
And  not  in  deans  and  chapters'  lands  at  home. 


SIB  GUY  OF  WABWICK.  147 

IBDs  sacred  fiirj  menaceth  that  nation^ 
Which  held  Judea  under  seqaestratioii. 
He  doth  not  strike  at  surplices  and  tippets, 
To  bring  an  olio  in  of  sects  and  sippets ; 
But  deals  his  warlike  and  death-doing  blows' 
Against  his  Bavioor's  and  his  sovereign's  foes/' 

How  the  Royalist  throats  must  have  roared  applause,  and  waj> 
rantablj  too,  at  these  genial  lines ;  and  how  must  the  churchmen 
in  the  pit  have  stamped  with  delight  when  Time  subsequently  as- 
sured them  that  Guy  took  aU  his  Babylonian  prisoners  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  had  them  probably  christened  by  episcopally-ordained 
ministers !  K  the  house  did  not  ring  with  the  cheers  of  the  Church- 
and-King  audience  there,  why  they  were  unworthy  of  the  instruc- 
tion filtered  through  legend  and  tragedy. 

Such  ia  the  story  of  "  Master  Guy ;"  a  story  whose  incidents 
have  doubtless  meaning  in  them,  but  which  were  never  turned  to 
more  practical  purpo^  than  when  they  were  employed  to  support 
a  tottering  altar  and  a  fallen  throne.  Reader,  let  us  drink  to  the 
immortal  memory  of  Master  Gut  ;  and  having  seen  what  sort 
of  man  he  was  whom  the  king  delighted  to  honor,  let  us  see  what 
honors  were  instituted  by  kings  for  other  deserving  men. 


148  mi  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 


GARTERIANA. 

"  Honor !     Your  own  worth  before 
Hath  been  sufficient  preparation."-^  The  Maid's  Revenge, 

A  BRIEF  sketch  of  the  history  of  the  foundation  of  the  Order  of 
the  Garter  will  be  found  in  another  page.  Confining  myself  here 
to  anecdotical  detail,  I  will  commence  by  observing,  that  in  former 
times,  no  Knight  could  be  absent  from  two  consecutive  feasts  of 
the  order,  without  being  fined  in  a  jewel,  which  he  was  to  offer  at 
St.  George's  altar.  The  fine  was  to  be  doubled  every  year,  until 
he  had  made  atonement.  Further,  every  knight  was  bound  to  wear 
the  Garter  in  public,  wherever  he  might  be,  on  pain  of  a  mulct  of 
half  a  mark.  Equally  obligatory  was  it  on  the  knight,  in  whatever 
part  of  the  world  he  was  residing,  or  however  he  was  engaged,  to 
wear  the  sanguine  mantle. of  the  order  from  the  eve  of  St.  Gijorge 
till  vesper-time  on  the  morrow  of  the  festival.  Some  of  the  chev- 
aliers who  were  in  distant  lands  must  have  caused  as  much  sur- 
prise by  their  costume,  as  a  Blue-coat  boy  does,  wandering  in  his 
strangely-colored  garb,  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  I  need  not  allude 
to  the  absurd  consequence  which  would  attend  the  enforcing  of 
this  arrangement  in  our  own  days.  Hunting  is  generally  over  be- 
fore the  eve  of  St.  George's  day,  and  therefore  a  robed  Knight  of 
the  Garter  could  never  be  seen  taking  a  double  fence,  ditch  and 
rail,  at  the  tail  of  the  "  Melton  Mowbray."  But  even  the  sight  of 
half  a  dozen  of  them  riding  down  Parliament  street  at  the  period 
in  question,  would  hardly  be  a  stranger  spectacle.  A  slight  money 
offering  of  a  penny  exempted  any  rather  loose-principled  knight 
from  attending  divine  service  at  St.  George's  Chapel  when  he  was 
in  or  near  Windsor.  When  a  knight  died,  all  his  surviving  com- 
rades were  put  to  the  expense  of  causing  a  certain  number  of 
masses  to  be  said  for  his  soul.     The  sovereign-lord  of  the  order 


GARTEBIANA.  149 

had  one  thousand  masses  chanted  in  fiirtheranoe  of  his  rescue  from 
purgatory.  There  was  a  graduated  scale  through  the  various 
ranks  till  the  knight-bachelor  was  come  to.  For  him,  only  one 
hundred  masses  were  put  up.  This  proves  either  that  the  knight's 
soul  was  not  so  difficult  of  deliverance  from  what  Prince  Grorscha- 
koff  would  call  the  "  feu  d'enfer,"  or  that  the  King's  was  so  heavily 
pressed  to  the  lowest  depths  of  purgatory  by  its  crimes,  that  it  re- 
quired a  decupled  effort  before  it  could  be  rescued.. 

"  Companionship  ".  it  may  be  observed,  profited  a  knight  in  some 
degree  if,  being  knave  as  well  as  knight,  he  fell  under  the  usual 
sentence  of  being  "  drawn,  hanged,  and  beheaded."  In  such  case, 
a  Ejdight  of  the  Grarter  only  suffered  decapitation,  as  Sir  Simon 
Burley  in  1388.  The  amount  of  favor  shown  to  the  offending 
knight  did  not  admit  of  his  being  conscious  of  much  gratitude  to 
him  at  whose  hands  it  was  received.  It  may  be  mentioned,  that 
it  did  not  always  follow  that  a  nobleman  elected  to  be  knight  wil- 
lingly accepted  the  proffered  Grarter.  The  first  who  refused  it, 
after  due  election,  in  1424,  was  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  He 
declined  it  with  as  much  scorn  as  Uhland  did  the  star  of  merit 
offered  to  the  poet  by  the  present  King  of  Bavaria. 

In  treating  of  stage  knights,  I  shall  be  found  to  have  placed  at 
their  head  Sir  John  Falstaff.  The,  original  of  that  character  ac- 
cording to  some  namely,  Sir  John  Fastolfi^claims  some  notice  here, 
as  a  Knight  of  the  Garter  who  was  no  more  the  coward  which  he 
was  said  to  be,  than  Falstaff  is  the  bloated  buffoon  which  some 
commentators  take  him  for.  Sir  John  Fastolf  was  elected  Knight 
of  the  Garter  in  1426.  Monstrelet  says  he  was  removed  from 
the  order  for  running  away,  without  striking  a  blow,  at  the  battle 
of  Patay.  Shakespeare's  popular  Sir  John  has  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  this  other  Sir  John,  but  we  have  Falstolf  himself  in 
Henry  YI.  act  iv.  sc.  1,  with  Talbot,  alluding  to  his  vow,  that 

"  When  I  did  meet  thee  next. 
To  tear  the  Garter  from  thy  craven's  leg, 
The  which  I  have  done,  because  unworthily 
Thou  wast  installed  in  that  high  decree." 

This  sort  of  suspension  or  personal  deprivation  was  never  allowed 
by  the  rules  of  the  order,  which  enjoined  the  forms  for  degrading 
a  knight  who  was  proved  to  have  acted  cowardly.     The  battle  of 


150  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIti  DAYS. 

Fatay  was  fought  in  1429 ;  and  as  there  is  abundant  testimony 
of  Sir  John  having  been  in  possession  of  the  Garter  and  all  its 
honors  long  afler  that  period ;  and,  farther,  that  his  tomb  in  Pul- 
ham  Mary,  Norfolk,  represented  him  in  gilt  armor,  Vith  his  crest 
and  two  escutcheons,  with  the  cross  of  St  George  within  the  order, 
we  may  fairly  conclude  that  if  the  charge  was  ever  made,  of  which 
there  is  no  trace,  it  assuredly  never  was  proven. 

If  there  weve  some  individuals  who  refused  to  accept  the  honqr 
at  all,  there  were  others  who  were  afraid  to  do  so  without  curious 
inquiry.  Thus,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  we  hear  of  the  em- 
bassador from  Frederick  III.  Emperor  of  Germany  (one  Sir  Her- 
took  von  Clux),  stating  that  his  master  wishes  to  know  ^'  what  it 
would  stand  him  in,  if  he  were  to  be  admitted  into  the  honorable 
order ! "     Cautious  Austria ! 

There  are  examples  both  of  courtesy  and  sarcasm  among  the 
Knights  of  the  Garter.  I  may  cite,  for  instance,  the  case  of  the 
Duke  of  York,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  A.  D.  1453.  The  King 
was  too  ill  to  preside  at  the  Chapter ;  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
was  his  representative ;  and  the  Duke  of  York,  so  little  scrupu- 
lous in  most  matters,  excused  himself  from  attending  on  this  oc- 
casion, because,  as  he  said,  '^  the  sovereign  having  for  some  time 
been  angry  with  him,  he  durst  not  attend,  lest  he  should  incur  his 
further  displeasure,  and  thereby  aggravate  the  illness  under  which 
the  King  was  suffering."  When  the  same  Duke  came  into  power, 
he  gave  the  Garter  to  the  most  useful  men  of  the  York  pssrtj, 
beheading  a  few  Lancastrian  knights  in  order  to  make  way  for 
them.  At  the  Chapter  held  for  the  purpose  of  electing  the  York 
aspirants,  honest  John  de  Foix,  Earl  of  Kendal,  declined  to  vote 
at  all.  He  alleged  that  he  was  unable  to  discern  whether  the  can- 
didates were  "  without  reproach"  or  not,  and  he  left  the  decision 
to  clearsighted  people.  The  Earl  was  a  Lancastrian,  and  he  thus 
evaded  the  disagreeable  act  of  voting  for  personal  and  political 
enemies. 

But  whatever  the  intensity  of  dislike  one  knight  may  have  had 
against  another,  there  were  occasions  on  which  they  went,  hand 
in  hand,  during  the  celebration  of  mass,  to  kiss  that  esteemable 
relic,  the  heart  of  St.  George.  This  relic  had  been  brought  to 
England  by  the  Emperor  Sigismund.     Anstis  remains,  after  al- 


GARTEBIANA.  151 

luding  to  the  obstinacy  of  those  who  will  not  believe  all  that  St 
Ambrose  says  touching  the  facts  of  St.  George,  his  slaying  of  the 
dragon,  and  his  rescue  of  a  royal  virgin,  that  "  whosoever  is  so 
refractory  as  obstinately  to  condemn  every  part  of  this  story,  is  not 
to  be  bore  with."  He  then  adds :  "  this  true  martyr  and  excellent 
and  valued  soldier  of  Christ,  after  many  unspeakable  torments  in- 
flicted on  him  by  an  impious  tyrant,  when  he  had  bent  his  head, 
and  was  just  ready  to  give  up  the  ghost,  earnestly  entreated  Al- 
mighty Grod,  that  whoever,  in  remembrance  of  him,  and  his 
name,  should  devoutly  ask  anything,  might  be  heard,  a  voice 
instantly  came  from  Heaven,  signifying  that  that  was  granted 
which  he  had  requested.  .  .  .  While  living,  by  prayer  he 
obtained  that  whoever  should  fly  to  him  for  his  intercession,  should 
not  pray  nor  cry  out  in  vain.  He  ordered  the  trunk  of  his  body, 
which  had  origin  from  among  infidels,  to  be  sent  to  them,  that 
they  whom  he  had  not  been  able  to  serve,  when  living,  might 
receive  benefit  from  him,  when  dead ;  that  those  infidels  who  by 
any  misfortune  had  lost  their  senses,  by  coming  to  him  or  his 
chapel,  might  be  restored  to  soundness  of  mind  and  judgment. 
His  head  and  other  members  were  to  be  carried,  some  one  way 
and  some  another.  But  his  heart,  the  emblem  of  lively  love,  was 
bequeathed  wholly  to  Christians,  for  whom  he  had  the  most  fervent 
aflection.  Not  to  all  them  in  general,  though  Christians,  but  to  Eng- 
lishmen alone ;  and  not  to  every  part  of  Englaud,  but  only  to  his 
own  Windsor,  which  on  this  account  must  have  been  more  pleasing 
to  the  sovereigns  and  all  other  the  knights  of  this  most  illustrious 
order.  Thus  his  heart,  together  with  a  large  portion  of  his  skull, 
is  there  kept  with  due  honor  aud  veneration.  S,igismund,  Em- 
peror of  Alemain,  always  august,  being  chosen  in  this  honorable 
order,  presented  this  heart  to  the  invincible  Henry  V.,  who  gave 
orders  to  have  it  preserved  in  that  convenient  pls^ce,  where  he  had 
already  instituted  for  himself  solemn  exequies  for  ever,  that  the 
regard  he  had  for  all  others  might  be  past  dispute."  This  is  very 
far,  indeed,  from  being  logical,  but  the  fact  remains  that  during 
the  reign  of  Henry  VL,  the  heart  seems  to  have  been  regarded 
with  more  than  usual  reverence  by  the  knights  of  the  two  factions 
which  were  rending  England.  Each  hoped  to  win  St.  George 
for  a  confederate. 


152  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

The  chapters  were  not  invariably  held  at  Windsor,  nor  in  such 
eolemn  localities  as  a  chapel.  In  1445,  Henry  VI.,  held  a  chapter 
at  the  Lion  Inn  in  Brentford.  In  this  hostelrie  the  King  created 
Sir  Thomas  Hastings  and  Sir  Alonzo  d'Almade,  Knights  of  the 
Garter.  To  the  latter,  who  was  also  made  Earl  of  Avranches, 
in  the  best  room  ef  a  Brentford  inn,  the  monarch  also  presented 
a  gold  cup.  The  whole  party  seems  to  have  made  a  night  of  it  in 
the  pleasant  locality,  and  the  new  chevaliers  were  installed  the 
next  morning — after  which,  probably,  mulled  sack  went  round  in 
the  golden  cup. 

Shakespeare  makes  Richard  IH.  swear  by  his  George,  his 
Garter,  and  his  Crown ;  but  the  George  and  Collar  were  novelties 
introduced  by  Henry  VIL  The  latter  King  held  one  of  the 
most  splendid  chapters  which  ever  assembled,  at  York,  prefacing 
the  work  there  by  riding  with  all  the  knights,  in  their  robes,  to 
the  morning  mass  of  requiem,  and  following  it  up  by  similarly 
riding  to  even-sung.  This  was  more  decent  than  Henry  VI.'s 
tavern  chapter  of  the  (Red)  Lion,  in  Brentford.  Henry  VII. 
was  fond  of  the  solemn  splendor  of  installations,  at  which  he 
changed  his  costume  like  a  versatile  actor,  was  surrounded  by 
ladies  as  well  as  knights,  and  |jad  Skelton,  the  poet,  near  to  take 
notes  for  songs  and  sonnets,  descriptive  of  the  occasion.  A  sover- 
eign of  the  order,  like  Henry  VII.,  so  zealous  to  maintain  its 
splendor  and  efficiency,  merited  the  gift  which  was  conferred  upon 
him  by  the  Cardinal  of  Rouen — of  the  bones  of  one  of  the  legs 
of  St.  George.  The  saint  had  many  legs,  but  it  is  not  said  where 
these  bones  were  procured,  and  they  who  beheld  them,  at  the 
chapter  held  in  St.  Paul's  XUathedral  in  1505,  probably  little 
troubled  themselves  as  to  whence  the  precious  relics  were  deriyed. 
Henry,  in  return,  left  an  image  of  St.  George,  of  one  hundred 
and  forty  ounces,  adorned  with  masses  of  precious  stones,  to  the 
College  of- Windsor,  "  there  to  remain  while  the  world  shall  endure, 
to  be  set  upon  the  high  altar  at  all  solemn  feasts."  Leg  bones 
and  costly  image  would  now  be  sought  for  in  vain.  The  world 
has  outlived  them,  and  suffers  nothing  by  their  loss. 

It  was  the  successor  of  Richmond,  namely  Henry  VEIL  who 
granted  to  these  knights  what  may  be  termed  a  sumptuary  privi- 
lege, that  of  being  permitted  to  wear  woollen  cloth  made  out  of 


GARTERIANA.  153 

ihe  realm.  None  but  a  knight,  save  the  peers,  dared  don  a  coat 
or  mantle  made  of  foreign  clothe  In  love  of  splendor,  Henry  was 
equal  to  his  predecessor,  and  perhaps  never  was  a  more  brilliant 
spectacle  seen  than  on  the  27th  of  May,  1519,  when  the  King  and 
a  glittering  cortege  rode  from  Richmond  to  Windsor,  and  changed 
steeds  and  drank  a  cup  at  the  ^*  Catherine's  Wheel,"  in  Colnbrook, 
by  the  way.  The  Queen  and  a  galaxy  of  ladies  met  them  in  £ton, 
and  the  usual  solemnities  were  followed  by  a  gorgeous  banquet, 
at  which  there  were  such  meat  and  music  as  had  scarcely  ever 
been  so  highly  enjoyed  at  a  festival  before.  The  middle  of  the 
hall  was  crowded  with  spectators,  but  at  the  cloae  of  the  repast, 
these  were  turned  out,  when  "the  King  was  served  of  his  void, 
the  knights  also,  standing  all  along^ — which  must  have  been  a 
remarkably  edifying  exhibition. 

Henry  re-modelled  the  order,  and  framed  the  statutes  by  which 
it  is  now  chiefly  governed.  Among  them  was  the  one  directing 
that  no  person  of  mean  birth  should  be  elected,  and  this  the  l^ing 
himself  very  speedily  broke,  by  electing  Thomas  Cromwell.  The 
latter  returned  thanks  for  the  honor  in  the  very  humblest  strain, 
and  while  he  seemed  conscious  that  he  was  entirely  unworthy  of 
the  distinction,  he  appeared  desirous  to  assure  the  sneering  knights' 
companions  who  had  been  compelled  to  give  him  their  suffrages, 
that  ignoble  as  he  was,  he  would  imitate  nobility  as  closely  as  pos- 
sible. But  there  were  men,  from  the  period  of  the  institution  of 
the  order  downward  to  Henry's  time,  who,  if  of  higher  birth  than 
Cromwell,  were  not  of  higher  worth.  Very  many  had  forfeited 
their  dignity  as  knights  by  treasonable  practices;  and  Henry 
decreed  that  wherever  these  names  occurred  in  the  records,  the 
words  "  Voe  Proditor !" — Out  upon  the  traitor — should  be  written- 
against  them  in  the  mar^n.  The  text  had  thus  a  truly  Tudor 
comment 

Under  the  succeeding  sovereign,  Edward  VI.,  a  great  portion 
of  the  splendor  of  ithe  religious  ceremonies  at  the  installation  was 
abolished.  It  was  in  this  reign  that  Northumberland  procured 
the  ejection  of  Lord  Paget  from  the  order,  on  the  ground  that  the 
meanness  of  his  birth  had  always  disqualified  him,  or  as  Edward 
VI.  says  in  his  journal, "  for  divers  his  offences,  and  chiefiy  because 
he  was  no  gentleman  of  blood,  neither  of  father-side  nor  mother- 


154  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

side.''  Lord  Paget,  however,  was  restored  under  Mary,  and  the 
record  of  his  degradation  was  removed  from  the  register. 

Under  Mary,  if  there  was  some  court  servility  there  was  also 
some  public  spirit.  When  the  Queen  created  her  husband  Philip 
a  knight,  an  obsequious  herald,  out  of  compliment  to  the  '^joint- 
sovereigns,"  took  down  the  arms  of  England  in  the  chapel  at 
Windsor,  and  was  about  to  set  up  those  of  Spain.  This,  however, 
was  forbidden  "  by  certain  lords,"  and  brave  men  they  were,  for 
in  such  a  display  of  English  spirit  there  was  peril  of  incurring 
the  ill-will  of  Mary,  who  was  never  weary  of  heaping  favors  on 
the  foreign  King-consort,  whom  she  would  have  made  generalis- 
simo of  her  forces  if  she  had  dared.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that 
Philip  was  not  ejected  from  the  order,  even  when  he  had  de- 
spatched the  Spanish  Armada  to  devastate  the  dominions  of  the 
sovereign. 

In  illustration  of  the  &ct  that  the  Garter  never  left  the  leg  of  a 
knj^ht  of  the  order,  there  are  some  lines  by  the  Elizabethan  poet 
Peele,  which  are  very  apt  to  the  occasion.  Speaking  of  the  Eari 
of  Bedford,  Peele  says — 

— "  Dead  is  Bedford !  virtuoas,  and  renowned 

For  arms,  for  honor,  and  religious  love ; 

And  jet  alive  his  name  in  Fame's  records, 

That  held  his  Qarter  dear,  and  wore  it  well. 

Some  worthy  wight  but  blazon  his  deserts  : 

Only  a  tale  I  thought  on  by  the  way. 

As  I  observed  his  honorable  name. 

I  heard  it  was  his  chance,  o'erta'en  with  sleep, 

To  take  a  nap  near  to  a  farmer's  lodge. 

Trusted  a  little  with  himself  belike, 

Thia  aged  earl  in  his  apparel  plain, 

Wrapt  in  his  russet  gown,  lay  down  to  rest. 

His  badge  of  honor  buckled  to  his  leg. 

Bare  and  naked.     There  came  a  pilfering  swad 

And  would  have  preyed  upon  this  ornament 

Essayed  t'  unbuckle  it,  thinking  him  asleep. 

The  noble  gentleman,  feeling  what  he  meant— 

'  Hold,  foolish  lad,'  quoth  he,  '  a  better  prey : 

*  This  Garter  is  not  fit  for  ev'ry  leg, 

'  And  I  account  it  better  than  my  purse. 

The  varlet  ran  away,  the  earl  awaked. 

And  told  his  friends,  and  smiling  said  withal, 


OARTBRIANA.  155 

"A  would  not,  had  'a  understood  the  French 

'  Writ  on  my  Garter,  dared  t'  have  stol'n  the  same.' 

This  tal©  I  thought  upon,  told  me  for  truth, 

The  rather  for  it  praised  the  Posy, 

Bight  grave  and  honorable,  that  importeth  much — 

'  £yil  be  to  him/  it  saith,  '  that  evil  thinks.' " 

Elizabeth  was  distinguished  for  loving  to  hold  newly-chosen 
knights  in  suspense,  before  she  ratified  their  election  hj  her  ap- 
proval. The  anniversary  banquets  too  fell  into  disuse  during  her 
reign,  and  she  introduced  the  most  unworthy  knight  that  had  ever 
stood  upon  the  record  of  the  order..  This  was  Charles  IX.  of 
France.  On  the  other  hand  she  ^ent  the  Garter  to  Henri  Quatre. 
He  was  the  last  French  monarch  who  was  a  con^>anion  of  the 
order,  till  the  reign  of  Louis  XVIII.  On  the  day  the  latter  came 
up  from  Hartwell  to  Stanmore,  on  his  way  to  France,  at  the  period 
of  the  first  restoration,  the  Prince  Regent  invested  him  with 
the  brilliant  insignia  at  Carlton  House.  It  was  on  this  occasion 
Louis  XYIII.  observed  that  he  was  the  first  King  of  France  who 
had  worn  the  garter  since  the  period  of  Henri  Quatre.  Louis  had 
erased  his  own  name  from  the  Golden  Book  of  Nobility  of  Venice, 
when  he  heard  that  the  name  of  Bonaparte  had  been  inserted 
therein.  He,  perhaps,  would  have  declined  receiving  the  Garter, 
if  he  could  have  foreseen  that  the  royal  niece  of  the  Prince  Re- 
gent would,  in  afler  years,  confer  the  order  on  the  imperial  nephew 
of  Napoleon. 

.  .  The  period  of  James  is  marked  by  some  pretty  quarrels  among 
the  officials.  Thus  at  the  installation  of  Prince  Henry,  there  was 
a  feast  which  was  well  nigh  turned  into  a  fray.  At  the  very  be- 
ginning of  it,  the  prebends  and  heralds  fell  to  loggerheads  on  the 
delicate  question  of  precedency.  The  alms-knights  mingled  in  the 
quarrel  by  siding  with  the  prebends,  and  claiming  the  next  degree 
of  precedency  before  the  heralds.  Reference  was  made  to  the 
Earls  of  Nottingham  and  Worcester.  The  referees  adjudged  the 
heralds  to  have  right  of  precedency  before  the  prebends.  There- 
upon the  proud  prebends,  oblivious  of  Christian  humility,  refused 
to  go  to  church  at  the  tail  of  the  heralds.  The  latter  went  in  ex- 
ultingly  without  them,  and  the  prebends  would  not  enter  until  a 
long  time  had  elapsed,  so  that  it  could  not  be  said  they  foUowed 


156  THE   KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

the  gentlemen  of  the  tabard.  The  delicate  question  was  again 
angrily  discussed,  and  at  length  referred  to  the  whole  body  of 
knights.  The  noble  fraternity,  after  grave  deliberation,  finally 
determined  that  on  the  next  day  of  St  George,  being  Sunday,  in 
the  procession  to  the  church,  the  alms-knights  should  go  first,  then 
the  pursuivants  of  arms,  then  the  prebends  (many  of  whom  were 
doctors  of  divinity),  and  finally  the  heralds.  The  latter  were  cun- 
ning rogues,  and  no  inconsiderable  authority  in  matters  of  prece- 
dency ;  and  they  immediately  declared  that  the  knights  had  decreed 
to  them  the  better  place,  inasmuch  as  that  in  most  processions  the 
principal  personages  did  not  walk  first. 

Of  the  knights  of  this  reign,  Grave  Maurice,  Prince  of  Orange, 
and  Frederick  the  (Goody)  Palsgrave  of  the  Rhine,  were  among 
the  most  celebrated.  They  were  installed  in  1613,  the  Prince  by 
proxy,  and  the  Palsgrave  in  person.  A  young  and  graceful 
Count  Ludovic  of  Nassau,  was  chosen  at  the  last  moment,  to  rep- 
resent the  Prince,  whose  appointed  representative.  Count  Henry, 
was  detained  in  Holland  by  adverse  winds.  "  The  feast,"  says  an 
eye-witness,  "  was  in  the  Great  Hall,  where  the  king  dined  at  the 
upper  table  alone,  served  in  state  by  the  Lord  Gerard  as  Sewer, 
the  Lord  Morris  as  Cupbearer,  the  Lord  Compton  as  Carver ;  all 
that  were  of  the  order,  at  a  long  cross  table  across  the  hall.  The 
Prince  by  himself  alone,  and  the  Palatine  a  little  distance  from 
him.  But  the  Count  Nassau  was  ranged  over-against  my  Lord 
Admiral,  and  so  took  place  of  all  after  the  Sovereign  Princes,  not 
without  a  little  muttering  of  our  Lords,  who  would  have  had  him 
ranged  according  to  seniority,  if  the  king  had  not  overruled  it  by 
prerogative." 

Wilson,  in  his  history  of  James  I.,  narrates  a  curious  anec- 
dote respecting  this  Grave  Maurice  and  the  ribbon  of  the 
order.  "  Prince  Maurice  took  it  as  a  great  honor  to  be  admit- 
ted into  the  Fraternity  of  that  Order,  and  wore  it  constantly ;  till 
afterward,  some  villains  at  the  Hague,  that  met  the  reward  of  their 
demerit  (one  of  them,  a  Frenchman,  being  groom  of  the  Prince's 
chamber)  robbed  a  jeweller  of  Amsterdam  that  brought  jewels  to 
the  Prince.  This  groom,  tempting  him  into  his  chamber,  to  see 
some  jewels,  there,  with  his  confederates,  strangled  the  man  with 
one  of  the  Prince's  Blue  Ribbons ;  which  being  afterward  discov- 


GABTBRIANA.  It57 

ered,  the  Prince  would  never  suffer  so  fatal  an  instrument  to  come 
about  his  neck." 

James,  by  raising  his  favorite  Buckingham,  then  only  Sir  George 
Villiers,  to  the  degree  of  Knight  of  the  Garter,  was  considered  to 
have  as  much  outraged  the  order  as  Henry  VIII.  had  done  by 
investing  Cromwell  with  the  insignia.  Chamberlain,  in  a  letter  to 
Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  says,  "  The  King  went  away  the  next  day 
after  St.  George's  Feast,  toward  Newmarket  and  Thetford,  the 
Earl  of  Rutland  and  Sir  George  Villiers  being  that  morning 
elected  into  the  order  of  the  Garter,  which  seemed  at  first  a  strange 
choice,  in  regard  that  the  wife  of  the  former  is  an  open  and  known 
recusant,  and  he  is  said  to  have  many  dangerous  people  about  him ; 
and  the  latter  is  so  lately  come  into  the  sight  of  the  world,  and 
withal  it  is  doubted  that  he  had  not  sufficient  likelihood  to  maintain 
the  dignity  of  the  place,  according  to  express  articles  of  the  order. 
But  to  take  away  that  scruple,  the  King  hath  bestowed  UMn  him 
the  Lord  Gray's  lands,  and  means,  they  say,  to  mend  Tiis  grant 
with  much  more,  not  far  distant,  in  the  present  possession  of  the 
Earl  of  Somerset,  if  he  do  cadere  causa  and  sink  in  the  business 
now  in  hand."  The  last  passage  alludes  to  the  murder  of  Over- 
bury. 

The  going  down  to  Windsor  was  at  this  time  a  pompous  spec- 
tacle. The  riding  thither  of  the  Knights  Elect  is  thus  spoken  of 
by  a  contemporary:  "On  Monday,"  (St.  George's  day,  1615), 
"  our  Knights  of  the  Grarter,  Lord  Renton  and  Lord  Knollys,  ride 
to  Windsor,  with  great  preparation  to  re-vie  one  with  another  who 
shall  make  the  best  show.  Though  I  am  of  opinion  the  latter 
will  carry  it  by  many  degrees,  by  reason  of  the  alliance  with  the 
houses  of  the  Howards,  Somerset,  Salisbury,  and  Dorset,  with 
many  other  great  families  that  will  bring  him  their  friends,  aad 
most  part  of  the  pensioners.  Yet  most  are  persuaded  the  other 
will  bear  away  the  bell,  as  having  the  best  part  of  the  court,  all 
the  bed-chamber,  all  the  prince's  servants  and  followers,  with  a 
hundred  of  the  Guard,  that  have  new  rich  coats  made  on  purpose, 
besides  Sir  George  Villiers  (the  favorite),  and  Mr»  Secretary — 
whose  presence  had  been  better  forborne,  in  nay  judgment,  for 
many  reasons — but  that  every  man  abound  in  his  own  sense." 
James  endeavored  to  suppress,  in  some  measure,  the  expensive 


158  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

ride  of  the  Ejiights  Elect  to  Windsor,  bat  only  with  partial  suc- 
cess. His  attempted  reform,  too,  had  a  selfish  aspect ;  he  tried  to 
make  it  profitable  to  himself.  He  prohibited  the  giving  of  lirery 
coats,  "  for  saving  charge  and  avoiding  emulation,''  and  at  the  same 
time  ordered  that  all  existing  as  well  as  future  companions  should 
present  a  piece  of  plate  of  the  value  of  twenty  pounds  sterling  at 
least  for  the  use  of  the  altar  in  St.  George's  Chapel. 

Charles  I.  held  chapters  in  more  places  in  England  than  any  ^ 
other  king — now  at  York,  now  at  Nottingham,  now  at  Oxford, 
and  in  other  localities.  These  chapters  were  sometimes  attended 
by  as  few  as  four  knights,  and  for  the  most  part  they  were  shorn 
of  much  of  the  ancient  ceremony.  He  held  some  brilliant  chap- 
ters at  Windsor,  nevertheless.  -At  one  of  them,  the  election  of 
the  Earl  of  Northumberland  inspired  a  bard,  whose  song  I  subjoin 
because  it  is  illustrative  of  several  incidents  which  are  far  from 
lacking  interest. 

"A  brief  description  of  the  triumphant  show  made  by  the  Right 
Honorable  Aulgernon  Percie  Earl  of  Northumberland,  at  his  in- 
stallation and  initiation  into  the  princely  fraternity  of  the  Crarter, 
on  the  13th  of  May,  1635." 

To  the  tune  of  "  Quett  the  Pride." 

"  You  noble  buds  of  Britain, 
That  spring  from  honor's  tree, 
Who  lore  tft  hear  of  high  designs, 

Attend  awhile  to  me. 
And  rU  (in  brief)  discover  what 
Fame  bids  me  take  in  hand  — 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  Northumberiand. 

"  The  order  of  the  Garter, 

Ere  since  third  Edward  reigned 
Unto  the  realm  of  England  hath 

A  matchless  honor  gained. 

The  world  hath  no  society, 

Like  to  this  princely  band. 

To  raise 

The  praise 

Of  great  Northumberland. 


OARTERIANA.  150 

"  The  honor  of  his  pedi^'ee 
Doth  claim  a  high  regard, 
And  man  J  of  his  ancestors    ' 

For  fame  thought  nothing  hard. 

And  he,  through  noble  qualities. 

Which  are  exactly  scanned. 

Doth  raise 

The  praise 

Of  great  Nordiumberland. 

"Against  the  day  appointed. 

His  lordship  did  prepare ; 

To  publish  his  magnificence 

No  charges  he  did  spare. 

The  like  within  n^an's  memory 

"Was  never  twice  in  hand 

To  raise 

The  praise 

Of  great  Northumberland. 

"  Upon  that  day  it  seemed 
All  Brittany  did  strive, 
And  did  their  best  to  honor'him 
With  all  they  could  contrive. 
For  all  our  high  nobility 
Joined  in  a  mutual  land 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  NorthumbQcland. 

'  The  common  eyes  were  dazzled 

"V^ith  wonder  to  behold 
The  lustre  of  apparel  rich. 

All  silver,  pearl,  and  gold, 

Which  on  brave  coursers  mounted, 

Did  glisten  through  the  Strand, 

To  blaze 

The  praise 

Of  great  Northnmberlaqd. 

"  But  ere  that  I  proceed 
This  progress  to  report, 
I  should  have  mentbOB^d  the  feast 

Made  at  Salisbury  Court. 
Almost  five  hundred  dishes 


160  THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

Did  on  the  table  standi 

To  raise 

The  praise 
Of  great  Northamberland." 


The  Second  Part,  to  the  tame  tune, 

"  The  mightiest  prince  or  monarch 
That  in  the  world  doth  reign, 
At  such  a  sumptuous  banquet  might 

Have  dined  without  disdain, 

Where  sack,  like  conduit  water. 

Was  &ee  ever  at  command, 

To  blaze 

The  praise 

Of  great  Northumberland. 

"  The  famous  Flee^street  condoit. 
Renowned  so  long  ago, 
Did  not  neglect  to  express  what  lore 

She  to  my  lord  did  owe. 
For  like  an  old  proud  woman 
The  painted  face  doth  stand 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  NorUiumberland. 

"A  number  of  hrave  gallants, 

Some  knights  and  some  esquires, 
Attended  at  this  triumph  great. 

Clad  in  complete  attires. 

The  silver  half-moon  gloriously 

Upon  their  sleeves  doth  stand. 

To  blaze 

The  praise 

Of  great  Northumberland. 

"All  these  on  stately  horses, 
That  ill  endured  the  bit. 
Were  mounted  in  magnific  cost. 

As  to  the  time  was  fit. 
Their  feathers  white  and  red  did  show. 
Like  to  a  martial  band. 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  Northumberland. 


GARTB^ANA.  161 

"  The  noble  earls  and  Tiseomits, 

And  baronS)  rode  in  state : 

This  great  and  high  solemnity 

All  did  congratulate. 
To  honor  brave  Earl  Percy 
Each  pat  a  helping  hand 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  Northumberland. 

"King  Charles,  our  royal  sovereign. 
And  his  reno^vn^d  Mary, 
"With  Britain's  hope,  their  progeny, 

All  lovingly  did  tarry 
At  noble  Viscount  Wimbleton's, 
r  the  fairest  part  o'  th'  Strand, 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  Northumberland. 

"  To  famous  Windsor  Castle, 
With  all  his  gallant  train. 
Earl  Pearcy  went  that  afternoon 

His  honor  to  obtain. 
And  there  he  was  installed 
One  of  St.  George's  band. 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
Of  great  Northumberland. 

"Long  may  he  live  in  honor, 
In  plenty  and  in  peace ; 
For  him,  and  all  his  noble  friends, 

To  pray  1*11  never  cease. 
This  ditty  (which  I  now  will  end) 
Was  only  ta'en  in  hand 
To  blaze 
The  praise 
,  Of  great  Northumberland." 

This  illustrative  ballad  bears  the  initials  "M.  P.**  These, 
probably,  do  not  imply  either  a  member  of  Parliament,  or  of  the 
house  of  Percy.  Beneath  the  initials  we  have  the  legend,  "  Printed 
at  London,  for  Francis  Coules,  and  are"  (verses  suhaudiuntur)  "  to 
be  sold  at  his  shop  in  the  Old  Bayley."  There  are  three  wood- 
cuts to  illustrate  the  text.    The  first  represents  the  Earl  on  horse* 

U 


162  THE   KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

back ;  both  peer  and  charger  are  very  heavily  caparisoned,  and 
the  steed  looks  as  intelligent  as  the  peer.  In  front  of  this  stately, 
solid,  and  leisurely  pacing  couple,  is  a  mounted  serving-man, 
armed  with  a  stick,  and  riding  full  gallop  at  nobody.  The  illustra- 
tion to  the  second  part  represents  the  Earl  returning  from  Wind- 
sor in  a  carriage,  which  looks  very  much  like  the  Araba  in  the 
Turkish  Exhibition.  The  new  Knight  wears  his  hat,  cloak,  collar 
and  star ;  his  figure,  broad-set  to  the  doorway,  bears  no  distant 
resemblance  to  the  knave  of  clubs,  and  his  aristocratic  self-posses- 
sion and  serenity  are  remarkable,  considering  the  bumping  he  is 
getting,  as  implied  by  the  wheels  of  his  chariot  being  several 
inches  off  the  ground.  The  pace  of  the  steeds,  two  and.  twohalves 
of  whom  are  visible,  is  not,  however,  very  great.  They  are  hardly 
out  of  a  walk.  But  perhaps  ^he  bareheaded  coachman  and  the 
as  bareheaded  groom  have  just  pulled  them  up,  to  allow  the  run- 
ning footmen  to  reach  the  carriage.  Two  of  these  are  seen  near 
the  rear  of  the  vehicle,  running  like  the  brace  of  mythological 
personages  in  Ovid,  who  ran  the  celebrated  match  in  which  the 
apples  figured  so  largely.  The  tardy  footmen  have  just  come  in 
sight  of  their  lord,  who  does  not  allow  his  serenity  to  be  disturbed 
by  chiding  them.  The  Percy  wears  as  stupid  an  air  as  his  ser- 
vants, and  the  only  sign  of  intelligence  anywhere  in  the  group  is 
to  be  found  in  the  off-side  wheeler,  whose  head  is  turned  back, 
with  a  sneering  cast  in  the  face,  as  if  he  were  ridiculing  the  idea  of 
the  whole  show,  and  was  possessed  with  the  conviction  that  he  was 
drawing  as  foolish  a  beast  as  himself. 

The  Earl  appears  to  have  ridden  eastward,  in  the  direction 
pointed  by  his  own  lion's  tale,  before  he  drove  down  to  Windsor. 
The  show  seems  to  have  interested  all  ranks  between  the  Crown 
and  the  Conduit  in  Fleet  street  Where  Viscount  Wimbledon's 
house  was,  "  in  the  fairest  part  of  the  Strand,"  I  can  not  conjecture, 
and  as  I  can  not  find  information  on  this  point  in  Mr.  Peter  Cun- 
ningham's '^  Hand-Book  of  London,"  I  conclude  that  the  site  is  not 
known. 

In  connection  with  Charles  I.  and  his  Garter,  I  will  here  cite  a 
passage  from  the  third  volume  of  Mr.  Macaulay's  "  History  of 
England,"  page  165.  "  Louvois  hated  Lauzun.  Lauzun  was  a 
favorite  at  St.  Germains.     He  wore  the  Grarter,  a  badge  of  honor 


GARTERIANA.     ^  168 

which  has  very  seldom  been  conferred  on  aliens  who  were  not 
sovereign  princes. ,  It  was  believed,  indeed,  in  the  French  court, 
that  in  order  to  distinguish  him  from  the  other  knights  of  the  most 
illustrious  of  European  orders,  he  had  been  decorated  with  that 
very  George  which  Charles  I.  had,  on  the  scaffold,  put  into  the 
hands  of  Juxon."  Lauzun,  I  shall  have  to  notice  under  the  head 
of  foreign  knights.  I  revert  here  to  the  George  won  by  Charles 
and  given  to  Lauzun.  It  was  a  very  extraordinary  jewel,  curiously 
cut  in  an  onyx,  set  about  with  twenty-one  large  table  diamonds,  in 
the  fashion  of  a  garter.  On  the  under  side  of  the  George  was  the 
portrait  of  Henrietta  Maria,  "  rarely  well  limned,"  says  Ashmole, 
^^  and  set  in  a  case  of  gold,  the  lid  neatly  enamelled  with  gold- 
smith's work,  and  surrounded  with  another  Garter,  adorned  with 
a  like  number  of  equal-^ized  diamonds,  as  was  the  foresaid."  The 
onyx  George  of  Charles  I.  was  in  the  possession  of  the  late  Duke 
of  Wellington,  and  is  the  property  of  the  present  Duke. 

There  is  something  quite  as  curious  touching  the  history  of  the 
Garter  worn  by  Charles  L,  as  what  Mr.  Macaulay  tells  concern- 
ing the  George.  The  diamonds  upon  it,  forming  the  motto,  were 
upward  of  four  hundred  in  number.  On  the  day  of  the  execution, 
this  valuable  ornament  fell  into  the  hands  of  one  of  Cromwell's 
captains  of  cavalry,  named  Pearson.  Afber  one  exchange  of 
hands,  it  was  sold  to  John  Ireton,  sometime  Lord-Mayor  of  Lon- 
don, for  two  hundred  and  five  pounds.  At  the  Restoration,  a 
commission  was  appointed  to  look  after  the  scattered  royal  prop- 
erty generally ;  and  the  commissioners  not  only  recovered  some 
pictures  belonging  to  Charles,  from  Mrs.  Cromwell,  who  had  placed 
them  in  charge  of  a  tradesman  in  Thames  street,  but  they  discov- 
ered that  Ireton  held  the  Garter,  and  they  summoned  him  to  de* 
liver  it  up  accordingly.  It  has  been  said  that  the  commissioners 
offered  him  the  value  of  the  jewel  if  he  would  surrender  it  This 
is  not  the  case.  The  report  had  been  founded  on  a  misapprehen* 
sion  of  terms.  Ireton  did  not  deny  that  he  possessed  the  Garter 
by  purchase,  whereupon  ^^  composition  was  offered  him,  according 
to  the  direction  of  the  Commission,  as  in  all  other  like  cases  where 
anything  could  not  be  had  in  kind."  That  is,  he  was  ordered  to 
surrender  the  jewel,  or  if  this  had  been  destroyed,  its  value,  or 
some  compensation  in  lieu  thereof.    Ireton  refused  the  terms  alt<^ 


164  THE   KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR   DAYS 

gether.  The  King,  Charles  11.,  therenpon  sued  him  in  the  Court 
of  King's  Bench,  where  the  royal  plaintiff  obtained  a  verdict  for 
two  hundred  and  five  pounds,  and  ten  pounds  costs  of  suit. 

In  February,  1652,  the  Parliament  abolished  all  titles  and  hon- 
ors conferred  by  Charles  I.  since  the  4th  of  January,  two  years 
previously.  This  was  done  on  the  ground  that  the  late^King  had 
conferred  such  titles  and  honors,  in  order  to  promote  his  wicked 
and  treacherous  designs  against  the  parliament  and  people  of  £n« 
gland.  A  fine  of  one  hundred  pounds  was  decreed  against  every 
offender,  whenever  he  employed  the  abolished  title,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  knight,  who  was  let  off  at  the  cheaper  rate  of  forty 
pounds.  Any  one  convicted  of  addressing  a  person  by  any  of  the 
titles  thus  done  away  with,  was  liable  to  a  fine  of  ten  shillings. 
The  Parliament  treated  with  silent  contempt  the  titles  and  orders 
of  knighthood  conferred  by  Charles  I.  As  monarchy  was  defunct, 
these  adjuncts  of  monarchy  were  considered  as  defunct  also.  The 
Protector  did  not  create  a  single  Knight  of  the  Garter,  nor  of  the 
Bath.  ^^ These  orders,"  says  Nicolas,  "were  never  formally  abol- 
ished, but  they  were  probably  considered  so  inseparably  united  to 
the  person,  name,  and  office  of  a  king,  as  to  render  it  impossible 
for  any  other  authority  to  create  them."  Cromwell,  however,  made 
one  peer,  Howard,  Viscount  Howard  of  Morpeth,  ten  baronets  and 
knights,  and  confisrred  certain  degrees  of  precedency.  It  was  sel- 
dom that  he  named  an  unworthy  person,  considering  the  latter  in 
the  Protector's  own  point  of  view,  but  the  Restoration  was  no 
sooner  an  accomplished  fact,  when  to  ridicule  one  of  Oliver's 
knights  was  a  matter  of  course  With  the  hilarious  dramatic  poets. 
On  this  subject  something  will  be  found  under  the  head  of  "  Stage 
Knights."  Meanwhile,  although  there  is  nothing  to  record  touch- 
ing Knights  of  the  Garter,  under  the  Commonwealth,  we  may  no- 
tice an  incident  showing  that  Garter  King-at-arms  was  not  alto- 
gether idle.  This  incident  will  be  sufficiently  explained  by  the 
following  extract  from  the  third  volume  of  Mr.  Macaulay's  "  His- 
tory of  England."  The  author  is  speaking  of  the  regicide  Ludlow, 
who,  since  the  Restoration,  had  been  living  in  exile  at  Geneva. 
**  The  Revolution  opened  a  new  prospect  to  him.  The  right  of 
the  people  to  resist  opplession,  a  right  which,  during  many  years, 
no  man  could  assert  without  exposing  himself  to  ecclesiastical  an- 


GARTEBIANA.  165 

athemas  and  to  civil  penalties,  had  been  solemnly  recognised  by 
the  Estates  of  the  realm,  and  had  been  proclaimed  hy  Garter 
King-at-arms,  on  the  very  spot  where  the  memorable  scaflTold  had 
been  set  up." 

Charles  IL  did  not  wait  for  the  Restoration  in  order  to  make  or 
unmake  knights.  He  did  not  indeed  hold  chapters,  but  at  St. 
Germains,  in  Jersey,  and  other  localities,  he  unknighted  knights 
who  had  forgotten  their  allegiance  in  the  **  late  horrid  rebellion," 
as  he  emphatically  calls  the  Parliamentary  and  Cromwellian 
periods,  and  authorized  other  individuals  to  wear  the  insignia, 
while  he  exhorted  them  to  wait  patiently  and  hopefully  for  their 
installations  at  Windsor.  At  St.  Germains,  he  gave  the  Grarter  to 
his  favorite  Buckingham;  and  from  Jersey  he  sent  it  to  two  far 
better  men — Montrose^  and  Stanley,  Earl  of  Derby.  The  worst 
enemies  of  these  men  could  not  deny  their  chivalrous  qualities. 
Montrose  on  the  scaffold,  when  they  hung  (in  derision)  from  his 
neck  the  book  in  which  were  recorded  his  many  brave  deeds,  very 
aptly  said  that  he  wore  the  record  of  his  courage  with  as  much 
pride  as  he  ever  wore  the  Garter.  Stanley's  chivalry  was  never 
more  remarkable  than  in  the  skirmish  previous  to  Worcester,  when 
in  the  hot  affray,  he  received  seven  shots  in  his  breast-plate,  thir- 
teen cuts  on  his  beaver,  five  or  six  wounds  on  his  arms  and  shoul- 
ders, and  had  two  horses  killed  under  him.  When  he -was  about 
to  die,  he  returned  the  Garter,  by  the  hands  of  a  faithful  servant, 
to  the  king,  'Mn  all  humility  and  gratitude,"  as  he  remarked,  *<  spot- 
less and  free  from  any  stain,  as  he  received  it,  according  to  the 
honorable  example  of  my  ancestors." 

Charles  'made  knights  of  the  Garter  of  General  Monk  and  Ad- 
miral Moatague.  The  chapter  for  election  was  held  in  the  Abbey 
of  St.  Augustine's  at  Canterbury.  It  was  the  first  convenient  place 
which  the  king  could  find  for  such  a  purpose  after  landing.  "  They 
were  the  only  two,"  says  Pepys,  **  for  many  years  who  had  the 
Garter  given  them  before  they  had  honor  of  earldom,  or  the  like, 
excepting  only  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  who  was  only  Sir  Greorge 
yilliers  when  he  was  made  a  knight  of  the  Garter."  The  honor 
was  offered  to  Clai'endon,  but  declined  as  above  his  deserts,  and 
likely  to  create  him  enemies.  James,  Duke  of  York,  however, 
angrily  attributed  Clarendon's  objection  to  being  elected  to  the- 


16t>  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  TH^B  DAYS. 

Garter  to  the  fact  that  James  himself  had  asked  it  for  him,  and 
that  the  Chancellor  was  foolishly  unwiUing  to  accept  any  honor 
that  was  to  he  gained  by  the  Duke's  mediation. 

Before  proceeding  to  the  next  reign,  let  me  remark  that  the 
George  and  Garter  of  Charles  II.  had  as  many  adventures  or  mis- 
adventures as  those  of  his  father.  In  the  fight  at  Worcester  his 
collar  and  garter  became  the  booty  of  Cromwell,  who  despatched 
a  messenger  with  them  to  the  Parliament,  as  a  sign^  and  trophy  of 
victory.  The  king's  lesser  George,  set  with  diamonds,  was  pre- 
served by  Colonel  Blague.  It  passed  through  several  hands  with 
much  risk.  It  at  length  fell  again  into  the  hands  of  the  Colonel 
when  he  was  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower.  Blague,  "  considering  it 
had  already  passed  so  many  dangers,  was  persuaded  it  could  yet 
secure  one  hazardous  attempt  of  his  own."  The  enthusiastic  roy- 
ahst  looked  upon  it  as  a  ^sman  that  would  rescue  him  from  cap- 
tivity. Right  or  wrong  in  his  sentiment,  the  result  was  favorable. 
He  succeeded  in  making  his  escape,  and  had  the  gratification  of 
restoring  the  George  to  his  sovereign. 

The  short  reign  of  James  II.  offers  nothing  worthy  of  the  notice 
of  the  general  reader  with  respect  to  this  decoration;  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  longer  reign  of  William  III.  The  Utile 
interest  in  the  history  of  the  order  under  Queen  Anne,  is  in  con- 
nection with  her  foreign  nominations,  of  which  due  notice  will  be 
found  in  the  succeeding  section.  Small,  too,  is  the  interest  connect- 
ed with  these  matters  in  the  reign  of  George  I.,  saving,  indeed,  that 
under  him  we  find  the  last  instance  of  the  degradation  of  a  knight 
of  the  garter,  in  the  person  of  James,  Duke  of  Ormund,  who  had 
been  attainted  of  high  treason.  His  degradation  took  place  on  the 
12th  July,  1716.  The  elections  were  numerous  during  this  reign. 
The  only  one  that  seems  to  demand  particular  notice  is  that  of 
Sir  Bobert  Walpole,  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  He  gave  up 
the  Bath  on  receiving  the  Garter  in  1726,  and  he  was  the  only 
commoner  who  had  received  the  distinction  since  Sir  Greorge  Monk 
and  Sir  Edward  Montague  were  created,  sixty-six  years  previously. 

The  first  circumstance  Worthy  of  record  under  George  II.  is, 
that  the  color  of  the  garter  and  ribbon  was  changed  from  light 
blue  to  dark,  or  "  Grarter-blue,"  as  it  is  called.  This  was  done  in 
order  to  distinguish  the  companions  made  by  Brunswick  from 


GARTEBIANA.  167 

those  assumed  to  be  fraudulentlj  created  by  the  Pretender  Stuart. 
Another  change  was  eiSected,  but  much  less  felicitously.  What 
with  religious,  social,  and  political  revolution,  it  was  found  that  the 
knigBts  were  swearing  to  statutes  which  they  could  not  observe. 
Their  consciences  were  disturbed  thereat — at  least  they  said  so; 
but  their  sovereign  set  them  at  ease  by  enacting  that  in  future  all 
knights  should  promise  to  break  no  statutes,  except  on  dispensation 
from  the  sovereign !  This  left  the  matter  exactly  where  it  had 
been  previously. 

The  first  circumstance  worthy  of  attention  in  the  reign  of 
George  III.,  was  that  of  the  election  of  Earl  Gower,  president 
of  the  council,  in  1771.  The  sharp  eye  of  Junius  discovered  that 
the  election  was  a  farce,  for  in  place  of  the  sovereign  and  at  least 
six  knights  being  present,  as  the  statutes  required,  there  were  only 
four  knights  present,  the  Dukes  of  Gloucester,  Newcastle,  Nor- 
thumberland, and  the  Earl  of  Hertford.  The  first  duke  too  was 
there  against  his  will.  He  had,  says  Junius,  "  entreated,  begged, 
and  implored,"  to  be  excused  from  attending  that  chapter— but  all 
in  vain.  The  new  knight  seems  to  have  been  illegally  elected, 
and  as  illegally  installed.  The  only  disagreeable  result  was  to  the 
poor  knightff  of  Windsor.  People  interested  in  the  subject  had 
made  remarks,  and  while  the  illegal  election  of  the  president  of 
the  council  was  most  properly  put  before  the  King,  representation 
was  made  to  him  that  the  poor  knights  had  been  wickedly  contra- 
vening their  statutes,  for  a  very  long  period.  They  had  for  years 
been  permitted  to  reside  with  their  families  wherever  they  chose 
to  ^x  their  residence.  This  was  pronounced  irregular,  and  George 
m.,  so  lax  with  regard  to  Lord  Gower,  was  very  strict  with  re- 
spect to  these  poor  knights.  They  were  all  commanded  to  reside 
in  their  apartments  attached  to  Windsor  Castle,  and  there  keep 
up  the  poor  dignity  of  their  noble  order,  by  going  to  church  twice 
every  day  in  full  uniform.  There  were  some  of  them  at  that 
period  who  would  as  soon  have  gone  out  twice  a  day  to  meet  the 
dragon. 

The  order  of  the  Gkirter  was  certainly  ill-used  by  this  sovereign. 
In  order  to  admit  all  his  sons,  he  abolished  the  statute  of  Edward 
(who  had  as  many  sons  as  George  had  when  he  made  the  absurd 
innovation,  but  who  did  not  care  to  make  knights  of  them  became 


168  THE  KMOHTB  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

they  were  his  sons),  confining  the  number  of  companions  to 
twenty-five.  Henceforward,  the  sovereign's  sons  were  to  reckon 
only  as  over  and  above  that  number.  As  if  this  was  not  sufii« 
dently  absurd,  the  king  subsequently  decreed  eligibility  of  election 
to  an  indefinite  number  of  persons,  provided  only  that  they  could 
trace  their  descent  from  King  George  XL ! 

No  Companion  so  well  deserved  the  honor  conferred  upon  him 
as  he  who  was  the  most  illustrious  of  the  Englbh  knights  created 
during  the  sway  of  the  successor  of  George  III.,  as  Regent; 
namely,  the  late  Duke  of  Wellington.  Mr.  Macaulay,  when  de- 
tailing the  services  and  honors  conferred  on  Schomberg,  has  a  pas- 
sage in  which  he  brings  the  names  of  these  two  warriors,  dukes, 
and  knights  of  the  Garter,  together.  "  The  House  of  Commons 
had,  with  gcnen^  approbation,  compensated  the  losses  of  Schom- 
berg, and  rewarded  his  services  by  a  grant  of  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds.  Before  he  set  out  for  Ireland,  he  requested  permission 
to  express  his  gratitude  for  this  magnificent  present.  A  chair  was 
set  for  him  within  the  bar.  He  took  his  seat  there  with  the  mace 
at  his  right  hand,  rose,  and  in  a  few  graceful  words  returned  his 
thanks  and  took  his  leave.  The  Speaker  replied  that  the  Com- 
mons could  never  forget  the  obligation  under  which  they  already 
lay  to  his  Grace,  that  they  saw  him  with  pleasure  at  the  head  of 
an  English  army,  that  they  felt  entire  confidence  in  his  zeal  and 
ability,  and  that  at  whatever  distance  he  might  be  he  would  always 
be,  in  a  peculiar  manner,  an  object  of  their  care.  The  precedent 
set  on  this  interesting  occasion  was  followed  with  the  utmost  mi- 
nuteness, a  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  later,  on  an  occasion 
more  interesting  still.  Exactly  on  the  same  spot,  on  which,  in 
July,  1689,  Schomberg  had  acknowledged  the  hberality  of  the 
nation,  a  chair  was  set  in  July,  1814,  for.  a  still  more  illustrious 
warrior,  who  came  to  return  thanks  for  a  still  more  splendid  mark 
of  public  gratitude." 

There  is  nothing  calling  for  particular  notice  in  the  history  of 
the  Order  since  the  election  of  the  last-named  knight  Not  one 
on  whose  shoulders  has  been  placed  "  the  robe  of  heavenly  color," 
earned  so  hardly  and  so  well  the  honor  of  companionship.  This 
honor,  however,  costs .  every  knight  who  submits  to  the  demand, 
not  less  than  one  hundred  and  eight  pounds  sterling,  in  fees.    It 


OABTEBIANA.  169 

is,  in  itself,  a  heavy  fine  inflicted  on  those  who  render  extraordi- 
nary service  to  the  country,  and  to  whom  are  presented  the  order 
of  the  Garter,  and  an  order  from  the  Garter  King-at-arms  to  pay 
something  more  than  a  hundred  guineas  in  return.  The  fine, 
however,  is  generally  paid  with  alacrity ;  for,  though  the  non-pay- 
ment does  not  unmake  a  knight,  it  has  the  effect  of  keeping  his 
name  from  the  register. 

I  have  already  observed  that  Mr.  Macaulay,  in  his  recently- 
published  History,  has  asserted  that  very  few  foreigners,  except 
they  were  sovereign  princes,  were  ever  admitted  into  the  compan- 
ionship of  the  Grarter.  Let  us,  then,  look  over  the  roll  of  illustri- 
ous aliens,  and  see  how  far  this  assertion  is  correct. 


170  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 


FOREIGN  KNIGHTS  OF  THE  GARTER. 

There  is  8pme  error  in  Mr.  Macaulay's  statement,  which,  as  a 
matter  of  history,  may  be  worth  correcting.  So  far  from  there 
having  been  few  aliens,  except  sovereign  princes,  admitted  into 
the  order,  the  fact,  save  in  recent  times,  is  exactly  the  reverse. 
The  order  contemplated  the  admission  of  foreigners,  from  the 
very  day  of  its  foundation.  On  that  day,  three  foreigners  were 
admitted,  none  of  whom  was  a  sovereign  prince.  Not  one  of  the 
foreign  sovereigns  with  whom  Edward  was  in  alliance,  nor  any  of 
the  royal  relatives  of  the  Queen,  were  among  the  original  com- 
panions. The  aliens,  who  were  not  sovereign  princes,  were  the 
Captal  de  Buch,  a  distinguished  Gascon  nobleman,  and  two  ban- 
nerets or  knights,  who  with  the  other  original  companions  had 
served  in  the  expeditions  sent  by  Edward  against  France. 

Again,  under  Richard  U.,  among  the  most  famous  alien  gentle- 
men created  knights  of  the  Garter,  were  the  Gascon  soldier  Du 
Preissne ;  Soldan  de  la  Tour,  Lord  of  much  land  in  Xaintonge ; 
the  Dutch  Count  William  of  Ostervant,  who  made  a  favor  of  ac- 
cepting the  honorable  badge ;  the  Duke  of  Bavaria  (not  yet  Em- 
peror), and  Albert,  Duke  of  Holland,  who  was  hardly  a  sovereign 
prince,  but  who,  nevertheless,  may  be  accounted  as  such,  seeing 
that,  in  a  small  way  indeed,  more  like  a  baron  than  a  monarch,  he 
exercised  some  sovereign  rights.  The  Duke  of  Britanny  may, 
with  more  justice,  be  included  in  the  list  of  sovereign  dukes  who 
were  members  of  the  order.  Under  Henry  IV.,  neither  alien 
noble  nor  foreign  prince  appears  to  have  been  elected,  but  under 
his  successor,  fiflh  of  the  name,  Eric  X.,  King  of  Denmark,  and 
John  I.,  King  of  Portugal,  were  created  companions.  They  were 
the  first  kings  regnant  admitted  to  the  order.  Some  doubt  exists 
as  to  the  date  of  their  admission,  but  none  as  to  their  having  been 


FOREIGN   KNIGHTS  OP  THE  GARTER.  l71 

knights'  ccnnpanions.  Dabrichecourt  is  the  name  of  a  gentleman 
lucky  enough  to  have  been  also  elected  during  this  reign,  but  I  do 
not  know  if  he  were  of  foreign  birth  or  foreign  only  by  descent. 
The  number  of  the  fraternity  became  complete  in  this  reign,  by 
the  election  of  the  Emperor  Sigismund.  Under  Henry  V.,  the 
foreign  sovereign  princes,  members  of  the  order,  were  unquestion- 
ably more  numerous  than  the  mere  alien  gentlemen ;  but  reckon- 
ing from  the  foundation,  there  had  been  a  greater  number  of  for- 
eign knights  not  of  sovereign  quality  than  of  those  who  were. 
The  sovereign  princes  did  not  seem,  to  care  so  much  for  the  honor 
as  private  gentlemen  in  foreign  lands.  Thus  the  German,  Sir 
Hartook  von  Clux,  accepted  the  honor  with  alacrity,  but  the  King 
of  Denmark  allowed  five  years  to  pass  before  he  intimated  that  he 
cheerfully  or  resignedly  tendered  his  acceptance.  At  the  first  an- 
niversary festival  of  the  Order,  held  under  Henry  VI.,  as  many 
robes  of  the  order  were  made  for  alien  knights  not  sovereign 
princes,  as  for  gartered  monarchs  of  foreign  birth.  The  foreign 
princes  had  so  little  appreciated  the  honor  of  election,  that  when 
the  Sovereign  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  proposed,  under  Henry  VI.,- 
the  knights  would  not  go  to  election  until  that  potentate  had  de- 
clared whether  he  would  accept  the  honor.  His  potentiality 
declared  very  distinctly  that  he  would  not ;  and  he  is  the  first 
sovereign  prince  who  positively  reftised  to  become  a  knight  of  the 
Garter !  In  the  same  reign  Edward,  King  of  Portugal,  was  elected 
in  the  place  of  his  father,  John : — this  is  one  of  the  few  instances 
in  which  the  honor  has  passed  from  father  to  son.  The  Duke  of 
Coimbra,  also  elected  in  this  reign,  was  of  a  foreign  princely  house, 
but  he  was  not  a  sovereign  prince.  He  may  reckon  with  the 
alien  knights  generally.  The  Duke  of  Austria  too,  Albert,  was 
elected  before  he  came  to  a  kingly  and  to  an  imperial  throne ;  and 
against  these  princes  I  may  place  the.  name  of  Gaston  de  Foix, 
whom  Henry  V.  had  made  Earl  of  Longueville,  as  that  of  a  sim- 
ple alien  knight  of  good  estate  and  knightly  privileges.  One  or 
two  scions  of  royal  houses  were  elected,  as  was  Alphonso,  King 
of  Aragon.  But  there  is  strong  reason  for  believing  that  Alphonso 
declined  the  honor.  There  is  some  uncertainty  as  to  the  period 
of  the  election  of  Frederick  HI.,  that  economical  Emperor  of 
Austria,  who  be^r^ed  to  know  what  the  expenses  would  amount  to, 


172  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

before  he  would  <<  accept- the  order/'  All  the  garters  not  home« 
distributed,  did  not  go  to  deck  the  legs  of  foreign  sovereign  princes.' 
Toward  the  close  of  the  reign  we  find  the  Yicomte  de  Chastillion 
elected,  and  also  D'Ahnada,  the  Portuguese  knight  of  whose  jolly 
installation  at  the  Lion  in  Brentford,  I  have  already  spoken.  An 
Aragonese  gentleman,  Francis  de  Surienncy  was  another  alien 
knight  of  simply  noble  quality ;  he  was  elected  in  the  King's  bed- 
chamber at  Westminster ;  and  the  alien  knights  would  more  than 
balance  the  foreign  sovereign  princes,  even  if  we  throw  in  Casimir, 
King  of  Poland,  who  was  added  to  the  confraternity  under  the 
royal  Lancastrian. 

The  first  foreigner  whom  Edward  lY.  raised  to  companionship 
in  the  order,  was  not  a  prince,  but  a  private  gentleman  named 
Gaillard  Duras  or  Durefort  The  honor  was  conferred  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  services  rendered  to  the  King,  in  France ;  and 
the  new  knight  was  very  speedily  deprived  of  it,  for  traitorously 
transferring  his  services  to  the  King  of  France.  Of  the  foreign 
monarchs  who  are  said  to  have  been  elected  companions,  during 
this  reign — namely,  the  Kings  of  Spain  and  Portugal — there  is 
much  doubt  whether  the  favor  was  conferred  at  all.  The  Dukes 
of  Ferrara  and  Milan  were  created  knights,  and  these  may  be 
reckoned  among  ducal  sovereigns,  although  less  than  kings.;  and  let 
me  add  that,  if  the  Kings  of  Spain  and  Portugal  were  elected,  the 
elections  became  void,  because  these  monarchs  failed  to  send 
proxies  to  take  possession  of  their  stalls.  Young  Edward  Y. 
presided  at  no  election,  and  his  uncle  and  successor,  Richard  lU., 
received  no  foreign  prince  into  the  order.  At  the  installation, 
however,  of  the  short-lived  son  of  Richard,  that  sovereign  created 
Geofirey  de  Sasiola,  embassador  ^m  the  Queen  of  Spain,  a  knight, 
by  giving  him  three  blows  on  the  shoulders  with  a  sword,  and  by 
investing  him  with  a  gold  collar. 

Henry  YII.  was  not  liberal  toward  foreigners  with  the  many 
garters  which  fell  at  his  disposal,  after  Bosworth,  and  during  his 
reign.  He  appears  to  have  exchanged  with  Maximilian,  the  Gar- 
ter for  the  Golden  Fleece,  and  to  have  conferred  the  same  decora- 
tion on  one  or  two  heirs  to  foreign  thrones,  who  were  not  sover- 
eign princes  when  elected.  It  was  not  oflen  that  these  princes 
were  installed  in  person.     Such  installation,  however,  did  occasion- 


FOBEION   KNIGHTS  OF  TH£  GABTEB.  173 

ally  happen ;  and  never  was  one  more  singular  in  its  origin  and 
circumstances,  than  that  of  Philip,  Archduke  of  Austria.  Philip 
had  resolved  to  lay  claim  to  the  throne  of  Spain  by  right  of  his 
wife  Joan,  daughter  of  Ferdinand  of  Castile  and  Aragon.  He 
wad  on  his  way  to  Spain,  when  foul  winds  and  a  tempestuous  sea 
drove  him  into  Weymouth.  Henry  invited  him  to  Windsor, 
treated  him  with  great  hospitality,  and  installed  him  Knight  of  the 
Grarter.  Philip  "  took  the  oath  to  observe  the  statutes,  without 
any  other  qualification  than  that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to  attend 
personally  at  the  chapters,  or  to  wear  the  collar,  except  at  his  own 
pleasure.  In  placing  the  collar  round  his  neck,  and  in  conducting 
him  to  his  stall,  Henry  addressed  him  as  *  Mon  fils,'  while  Philip, 
in  return,  called  the  King  '  Mon  pdre,'  and  these  affectionate  ap- 
pellations are  repeated  in  the  treaty  of  peace  and  unity  between 
the  two  countries,  which  was  signed  by  Henry  and  Philip,  while 
sitting  in  their  respective  stalls,  and  to  the  maintenance  of  which 
they  were  both  then  solemnly  sworn.  Previously  to  the  offering, 
Philip  wished  to  stand  before  his  stall,  like  the  other  knights,  and 
to  follow  the  King  to  the  altar,  requesting  to  be  allowed  to  do  his 
duty  as  a  knight  and  brother  of  the  order  ought  to  do  to  the  sover- 
eign ;  but  Henry  declined,  and  taking  him  by  the  lefl  hand,  the 
two  Kings  offered  together.  After  the  ceremony,  Philip  invested 
Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  with  the  collar  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
into  which  order  he  had,  it  is  said,  been  elected  at  Middleburgh  in 
the  preceding  year,"  1506. 

Under  Henry  VIII.  we  find  the  first  Scottish  monarch  who  ever 
wore  the  Garter,  namely  James  V.  He  accepted  the  insignia 
"  with  princely  heart  and  will/'  but,  in  a  formal  instrument,  he  set 
down  the  statutes  which  he  would  swear  to  observe,  fend  he  re- 
jected all  others.  Francis,  King  of  France,  Charles  V.,  Em- 
peror of  Germany,  and  Ferdinand,  Bang  of  Hungary,  were  also 
members  of  the  order.  But  the  sovereign  princes  elected  during 
this  reign  did  not  outnumber  the  alien  knights  of  less  degree. 
When  Henry  was  at  Calais,  he  held  a  chapter,  at  which  Marshal 
Montmorency,  Count  de  Beaumont,  and  Philip  de  Chabot,  Count 
de  Neublanc,  were  elected  into  the  order.  This  occasion  was  the 
first  and  only  time  that  the  Kings  of  England  and  France  at- 
tended together  and  voted  as  companions  in  the  chapters  of  their 


174  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

respective  orders.  Like  the  other  knights,  Francis  nominated  for 
election  into  the  Grarter,  three  earls  or  persons  of  higher  degree, 
three  barons,  and  three  knights-bachelors,  and  the  names  present 
an  interesting  fact,  which  has  not  been  generally  noticed.  Henry- 
was  then  enamored  of  Anne  Boleyn,  whom  he  had  recently 
created  Marchioness  of  Pembroke,  and  who  accompanied  him  to 
Calais.  With  a  solitary  exception,  the  French  King  gave  all  his 
suffrages  for  his  own  countrymen,  and  as  the  exception  was  in 
favor  of  her  brother,  George,  Lord  Rochford,  it  was  evidently  in- 
tended as  a  compliment  to  the  future  Queen  of  England. 

It  was  the  intention  of  Edward  VI.  to  have  created  Lewis, 
Marquis  of  Gronzaga,  a  knight  of  the  order,  but  there  is  no  evidence 
that  he  was  elected.  It  is  difficult  to  ascertain  the  exact  course  of 
things  during  this  reign ;  for  Mary,  subsequently,  abrogated  all  the 
changes  made  by  Edward,  in  order  to  adopt  the  statutes  to  the  ex- 
igencies of  the  reformed  religion.  She  did  even  more  than  this ; 
she  caused  the  register  to  be  defaced,  by  erasing  every  insertion 
which  was  not  in  accordance  with  the  Romish  faith.  It  is  known, 
however,  that  Henri  11.  of  France  was  elected.  His  investiture 
took  place  in  a  bed-room  of  the  Louvre  in  Paris.  He  rewarded 
the  Garter  King-at-arms  with  a  gold  chain  worth  two  hundred 
pounds,  and  his  own  royal  robe,  ommented  with  ^^  aglets,"  and 
worth  twenty-five  pounds.  Against  this  one  sovereign  prince  we 
have  to  set  the  person  of  an  alien  knight — the  Constable  of 
France.  The  foreign  royal  names  on  the  list  were,  however,  on 
the  accession  of  Mary,  three  against  one  of  foreign  knights  of  lower 
degree.  That  of  Philip  of  Spain  soon  made  the  foreign  royal  ma- 
jority still  greater ;  and  this  majority  may  be  said  to  have  been 
further  increased  by  the  election  of  the  sovereign  Duke  of  Savoy. 
Mary  elected  no  foreign  knight  beneath  the  degree  of  sovereign 
ruler — whether  king  or  duke. 

Elizabeth  very  closely  followed  the  same  principle.  Her  foreign 
knights  were  sovereigns,  or  about  to  become  so.  The  first  was 
Adolphus,  Duke  of  Holstein,  son  of  the  King  of  Denmark,  and 
heir  of  Norway.  The  second  was  Charles  IX.  of  France,  and  the 
third,  Frederick,  King  of  Denmark ;  the  Emperor  Rudolf  was, 
perhaps,,  a  fourth ;  and  the  fifth,  Henri  Quatre,  the  last  king  of 
France  who  wore  the  Garter  till  the  accession  of  Louis  XV  111, 


FOREIGN   KNIGHTS  OP  THE  GARTER.  175 

As  for  the  Spanish  widower  of  Mary,  Sir  Harris  Nicholas  ob- 
serves, "  Philip,  king  of  Spain,  is  said  to  have  returned  the  Garter 
by  the  hands  of  the  Queen's  ambassador.  Viscount  Montague,  who 
had  been  sent  to  induce  him  to  renew  the  alliance  between  England 
and  Burgundy.  Philip  did  not  conceal  his  regret  at  the  change 
which  had  taken  place  in  the  religion  and  policy  of  his  country ; 
but  he  displayed  no  sectarian  bitterness,  expresses  himself  still  de- 
sirous of  opposing  the  designs  of  the  French,  who  sought  to  have 
Elizabeth  excommunicated,  and  stated  that  he  had  taken  measures 
to  prevent  this  in  the  eyes  of  a  son  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  the 
greatest  of  all  calamities,  from  befalling  her,  without  her  own  con- 
sent It  appears,  however,  that  Elizabeth  did  not  accept  of  Philip's 
resignation  of  the  Garter,  for  he  continued  a  companion  until  his 
decease,  notwithstanding  the  war  between  England  and  Spain,  and 
the  attempt  to  invade  this  country  by  the  Spanish  Armada  in 
1588." 

When  I  say  Elizabeth  closely  followed  the  example  of  Mary 
I  should  add  as  an  instance  wheirein  she  departed  therefrom — the 
election  of  Francis  Duke  of  Montmorency,  envoy  from  the  French 
King.  The  Queen  bestowed  this  honor  on  the  l^uke, "  in  grateful 
commemoration,"  says  Camden,  ^'  of  the  love  which  Anne,  consta- 
ble of  France,  his  father,  bore  unto  her."  At  the  accession  of 
James  I.,  however,  Henri  IV.  of  France  was  the  only  foreigner, 
sovereign  or  otherwise,  who  wore  the  order  of  the  Garter.  Those 
added  by  James  were  the  King  of  Denmark,  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
and  the  Prince  Palatine.  Of  the  latter  I  have  spoken  in  another 
place ;  I  will  only  notice  further  here,  that  under  James,  all  pre- 
oedence  of  stalls  was  taken  away  from  princes  below  a  certain 
rank ;  that  is  to  say,  the  last  knights  elected,  even  the  King's  own 
son,  must  take  the  last  stall.  It  was  also  then  declared  "  that  all 
princes,  not  absolute,  should  be  installed,  henceforth,  in  the  puisne 
place." 

There  was  one  foreign  knight,  however,  whose  installation  de- 
serves a  word  apart,  for  it  was  marked  by  unusual  splendor,  con- 
sidering how  very  small  a  potentate  was  the  recipient  of  the  honor* 
This  was  Christian,  Duke  of  Brunswick-Wolfenbiittel.  On  the 
last  day  of  the  year  1624,  James,  with  his  own  hands,  placed  the 
riband  and  George  round  the  neck  of  the  Duke,    The  latter  was 


176  THE   KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR   DATS. 

then  twenty-four  years  of  age.  "  The  Duke  of  Brunswick,**  says 
Chamberlain,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  8, 1 625, 
"can  not  complain  of  his  entertainment,  which  was  every  way 
complete,  very  good  and  gracious-words  from  the  King,  with  the 
honor  of  the  Garter,  and  a  pension  of  two  thousand  pounds  a 
year.  The  Prince  lodged  him  in  his  own  lodgings,  and  at  parting, 
gave  him  three  thousand  pounds  in  gold,  besides  other  presents;'* 
James  conferred  the  Garter  on  no  less  than  seven  of  his  Scottish 
subjects.  If  these  may  be  reckoned  now,  what  they  were  consid- 
ered then,  as  mere  foreigners,  the  alien  knights  will  again  outnum- 
ber the  foreign  sovereign  princes,  wearers  of  the  Garter. 

The  first  knight  invested  by  Charles  I.  was  an  alien  cjievalier, 
of  only  noble  degree.  This  was  the  Duke  de  Chevreuse,  who 
was  Charles's  proxy  at  his  nuptials  with  Henrietta  Maria,  and  who 
thus  easily  won  the  honors  of  chivalry  among  the  Companions  of 
St.  George.  It  seems,  however,  that  the  honor  in  question  was 
generally  won  by  foreigners,  because  of  their  being  engaged  in 
furthering  royal  marriages.  Thus,  when  the  King's  agent  in 
Switzerland,  Mr.  Fleming,  in  the  year  1633,  suggested  to  the  gov- 
ernment that  the  Duke  of  Rohan  should  be  elected  a  knight  of  the 
Garter,  Mr.  Secretary  Coke  made  reply  that  "  The  proposition 
hath  this  inconvenience,  that  the  rites  of  that  ancient  order  comport 
not  with  innovation,  and  no  precedent  can  be  found  of  any  foreign 
subject  ever  admitted  into  it,  if  he  were  not  employed  in  an  inter- 
marriage with  this  crown,  as  the  Duke  of  Chevreuse  lately  was.** 
There  certainly  was  not  a  word  of  truth  in  what  the  Secretary  Coke 
thus  deliberately  stated.  Not  only  had  the  Garter  frequently  been 
conferred  on  foreign  subjects  who  had  had  nothing  to  do  as  matri- 
monial agents  between  sovereign  lovers,  but  only  twelve  years  after 
Coke  thus  wrote,  Charles  conferred  the  order  upon  the  Duke 
d'Espernon,  who  had  no  claim  to  it  founded  upon  such  service  as 
is  noticed  by  the  learned  secretary. 

At  the  death  of  Charles  I.  there  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a 
single  foreign  sovereign  prince  belonging  to  the  order.  The  three 
foreign  princes,  Rupert,  William  of  Orange,  and  the  Elector  Pala- 
tine, can  not  justly  be  called  so.  The  other  foreign  knights  were 
the  Dukes  of  Chevreuse  and  Espernon. 

The  foreign  knights  of  the  oiiler  created  by  Charles  II.  were 


FOREIGN   KNIGHTS  OP  THE  GARTER.  177 

Prince  Edward,  son  of  "  Elizabeth  of  Bohemia ;"  Prince  Maurice, 
his  elder  brother;  Henry,  eldest  son  of  the  Duke  de  Thouas, 
William  of  Nassau,  then  three  years  of  age,  and  subsequently  our 
William  III. ;  Frederick,  Elector  of  Brandenburg ;  Gaspar, 
Count  de  Morchin ;  Christian,  Prince  Royal  of  Denmark ;  Chai-les 
XI.,  King  of  Sweden ;  George,  Elector  of  Saxony ;  and  Prince 
George  of  Denmark,  husband  of  the  Princess  Anne.  It  will  be 
seen  that  those  who  could  be  strictly  called  "  sovereign  princes," 
claiming  allegiance  and  owing  none,  do  not  outnumber  alien 
knights  who  were  expected  to  render  obedience,  and  could  not 
sovereignly  exert  it  Denmark  and  Sweden,  it  may  be  observed, 
quarrelled  about  precedency  of  stalls  with  as  much  bitterness  as  if 
they  had  been  burghers  of  the  "  Krahwinkel"  of  Kotzebue. 

The  short  reign  of  James  II.  presents  us  with  only  one  alien 
Knight  of  the  Garter,  namely,  Louis  de  Duras,  created  also  Earl 
of  Feversham.  "  II  etait  le  second  de  son  nom,"  says  the  Bio- 
graphic Universelle,  "  qui  eut  ete  honore  de  cette  decoration,  re- 
marque  particuli^re  dans  la  noblesse  Fran^aise." 

The  great  Duke  of  Schomberg,  that  admirable  warrior  given 
to  England  by  the  tyranny  of  Louis  XIV.,  was  the  first  person 
invested  with  the  Garter  by  William  III.  The  other  foreign 
knights  invested  by  him  were  the  first  King  of  Prussia,  William 
Duke  of  Zell,  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  William  Bentinck  (Earl 
of  Portland),  Von  Keppel  (Earl  of  Albemarle),  and  George  of 
Hanover  (our  George  I.)  Here  the  alien  knights,  not  of  sover- 
eign degree,  again  outnumbered  those  who  were  of  that  degree. 
The  Elector  of  Saxony  refused  to  join  William  against  France, 
unless  the  Garter  were  first  conferred  on  him, 

Anne  conferred  the  Grarter  on  Meinhardt  Schomberg,  Duke  of 
Leinster,  son  of  the  great  Schomberg ;  and  also  on  George  Augus- 
tus of  Hanover  (subsequently  George  II.  of  England).  Anne 
intimated  to  George  Louis,  the  father  of  George  Augustus,  that, 
being  a  Knight  of  the  Grarter,  he  might  very  appropriately  invest 
his  own  son.  Geoi^e  Louis,  however,  hated  that  son,  and  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  conferring  any  dignity  upon  him.  He 
left  it  with  the  commissioners,  Halifax  and  Vanbrugh,  to  act  as 
they  pleased.  They  performed  their  vicarious  office  as  they  best 
couJd,  and  that  waa  only  with  <<  maimed  rights."     George  Louis, 

12 


178  THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THiaR  DAYS. 

with  his  ordinary  spiteful  meanness,  ordered  the  ceremony  to  be 
cut  short  of  all  display.  He  would  notveyen  permit  his  son  to  be 
invested  with  the  habit,  under  a  canopy  as  was  usual,  and  as  had 
been  done  in  his  own  case ;  all  that  he  would  grant  was  an  ordi- 
nary arm-chair,  whereon  the  electoral  prince  might  sit  in  state, 
if  he  chose,  or  was  able  to  do  so !  These  were  the  only  foreigners 
upon  whom  Anne  conferred  the  Garter;  an  order  which  she 
granted  willingly  to  very  few  persons  indeed. 

''  It  is  remarkable,"  says  Nicolas,  ^^  that  the  order  was  not  con- 
ferred by  Queen  Anne  upon  the  Emperor,  nor  upon  any  of  the 
other  sovereigns  with  whom  she  was  for  many  years  confederated 
against  France.  Nor  did  her  Majesty  bestow  it  upon  King 
Charles  III.  of  Spain,  who  arrived  in  England  in  September, 
1703,  nor  upon  Prince  Eugene  (though,  when  she  presented  him 
with  a  sword  worth  five  thousand  pounds  sterling  on  taking  his 
leave  in  March,  1712  (there  were  seven  vacant  ribands),  nor  any 
other  of  the  great  commanders  of  the  allied  armies  who,  under 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  gained  those  splendid  victories  that 
rendered  her  reign  one  of  the  most  glorious  in  the  annals  of  this 
country." 

Greorge  I.  had  more  regard  for  his  grandson  than  for  his  son ; 
and*  he  made  Frederick  (subsequently  father  of  George  III.)  a 
Companion  of  the  Order,  when  he  was  not  more  than  nine  years 
of  age.  He  raised  to  the  same  honor  his  own  ,brother.  Prince 
Ernest  Augustus,  and  invested  both  knights  at  a  Chapter  held  in 
Hanover  in  1711.  With  this  family  exception,  the  Order  of  the 
Garter  was  not  conferred  upon  any  foreign  prince  in  the  reign  of 
George  I. 

Greorge  II.  gave  the  Garter  to  that  deformed  Prince  of  Orange 
who  married  his  excitable  daughter  Anne/  The  same  honor  was 
conferred  on  Prince  Frederick  of  Hesse  Cassel,  who  espoused 
George's  amiable  daughter  Mary;  Prince  Frederick  of  Saxe 
Gotha,  the  Duke  of  Saxe  Weisenfels,  the  Margrave  of  Anspach, 
the  \  fatherless  son  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  last  named,  and,  wor- 
thiest of  all,  that  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick  who  won  the 
honor  by  gaining  the  battle  of  Minden.  He  was  invested  with 
cap,  habit,  and  decorations,  in  front  of  his  tent  and  in  the  face  of 
his  whole  army.     His  gallant  enemy,  De  Broglie,  to  do  honor  to 


FOBEIGN   KNIGHTS  OF  THE  GABTEB.  179 

the  new  knight,  proclaimed  a  suspension  of  arms  for  the  day,  drew 
up  his  own  troops  where  they  could  witness  the  spectacle  of  cour- 
age and  skill  receiving  their  reward,  and  with  his  principal  officers 
dining  with  the  Prince  in  the  evening.  "  Each  party,"  says  Miss 
Banks,  "  returned  at  night  to  his  army,  in  order  to  recommence 
the  hostilities  they  were  engaged  in,  by  order  of  their  respective 
nations,  against  each  other,  on  the  next  rising  of  the  sun."  I  do 
not  know  what  this  anecdote  most  proves — the  cruel  absurdity 
of  war,  or  the  true  chivalry  of  warriors. 

The  era  of  George  III.  was  indeed  that  in  which  foreign  princes, 
sovereign  and  something  less  than  that,  abounded  in  the  order. 
The  first  who  received  the  Garter  was  the  brother  of  Queen 
Charlotte,  the  reigning  Duke  of  Mecklenburg  Strelitz.  Then 
came  the  Duke  of  Brunswick- Wolfenbuttel,  who  m^ried  Augusta, 
the  sister  of  George  III.  Caroline  of  Brunswick  was  the  issue 
of  this  marriage.  Of  the  kings,  roitelets,  and  petty  princes  of  - 
Germany  who  were  added  to  the  Garter,  or  rather,  had  the  Gar- 
ter added  to  them,  it  is  not  worth  while  speaking ;  but  there  is  an 
incident  connected  with  the  foreign  knights  which  does  merit  to  be 
preserved.  When  Bonaparte  founded  the  Legion  of  Honor,  he 
prevailed  on  the  King  of  Prussia  (willing  to  take  anything  for 
his  own,  and  reluctant  to  sacrifice  anything  for  the  public  good) 
to  accept  the  cross  of  the  Legion  for  himself,  and  several  others 
assigned  to  him  for  distribution.  TJie  king  rendered  himself  justly 
abhorred  for  this  disgraceful  act;  but  he  found  small  German 
princes  quite  as  eager  as  he  was  to  wear  the  badge  of  the  then 
enemy  of  Europe.  A  noble  exception  presented  itself  in  the 
person  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  a  Knight  of  the  Garter,  to 
whom  the  wretched  king  sent  the  insignia  of  the  French  order  in 
1805.  The  duke,  in  a  letter  to  the  king,  refused  to  accept  such 
honor,  ^^  because,  in  his  quality  of  Knight  of  the  most  noble  Order 
of  the  Garter,  he  was  prevented  from  receiving  any  badge  of 
chivalry  instituted  by  a  person  at  war  with  the  sovereign  of  that 
order."  The  Prussian  king  found  an  easier  conscience  in  the 
Prince  of  Hesse  Cassel,  who  was  also  a  Knight  of  the  Garter. 
This  individual,  mean  and  double-faced  as  the  king,  wore  the  cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  with  the  Garter.  At  that  troubled  pe- 
riod, it  was  exactly  as  if  some  nervous  lairds,  in  the  days  of  High- 


180  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR   DAYS. 

land  feuds,  had  worn,  at  the  same  time,  the  plaids  of  the  Mac- 
donalds  and  Campbells,  in  order  to  save  their  skins  and  estates  by 
thus  pretending  to  be  members  of  two  hostile  parties. 

Under  the  Regency  of  George  IV.,  the  foreign  sovereign  princes 
were  admitted  into  the  order  without  any  regard  whatever  to  the 
regulations  by  statute.  Within  one.  year,  or  very  little  more  than 
that  period,  two  emperors,  three  kings,  and  an  heir  to  a  throne, 
who  soon  after  came  to  his  inheritance,  were  enrolled  Companions 
of  the  order.  But  it  was  the  era  of  victories  and  rejoicings,  and 
no  one  thought  of  objecting  to  a  prodigality  which  would  have  as- 
tounded the  royal  founder.  Long  after  the  period  of  victory,  how- 
ever, the  same  liberality  continued  to  be  evinced  toward  foreign 
princes  of  sovereign  degree.  Thus  at  the  accession  of  Charles 
X.,  the  England  monarch  despatched  the  Duke  of  Northumber- 
land as  Embassador  Extraordinary  to  attend  at  the  coronation  of 
the  French  monarch,  and  to  invest  him,  subsequently,  with  the 
Order  of  the  Garter.  I  remember  seeing  the  English  procession 
pass  from  the  duke's  residence  in  the  Rue  du  Bac,  over  the  Pont 
Royal  to  the  Tuileries.  It  puzzled  the  French  people  extremely. 
It  took  place  on  Tuesday,  June  7,  1825.  At  noon,  "four  of  the 
royal  carriages,"  says  the  Galignani  of  the  period,  "drawn  by 
eight  horses,  in  which  were  the  Baron  de  Lalivre  and  M.  de  Viv- 
iers,  were  sent  to  the  Hotel  Galifet  for  the  Duke  of  Northumber- 
land." The  two  envoys  who  thus  contrived  to  ride  in  four  car- 
riages and  eight  horses — a  more  wonderful  feat  than  was  ever 
accomplished  by  Mr.  Ducrow — having  reached  the  ducal  hotel, 
were  received  by  the  duke,  Lord  Granville,  our  ordinary  embas- 
sador, and  Sir  George  Nay  lor,  his  Britannic  Majesty's  Commis- 
sioners charged  to  invest  the  King  of  France  with  the  insignia  of 
the  Garter.  The  procession  then  set  out ;  and,  as  I  have  said,  it 
perplexed  the  French  spectators  extremely.  They  could  not 
imagine  that  so  much  ceremony  was  necessary  in  order  to  put  a 
garter  round  a  leg,  and  hang  a  collar  from  a  royal  neck.  Besides 
the  four  French  carriages-and-eight,  there  were  three  of  the 
duke's  carriages  drawn  by  six  horses;  one  carriage  of  similar 
state,  and  two  others  more  modestly  drawn  by  pairs,  belonging  to 
Lord  Granville.  The  carriage  of  "  Garter"  himself,  behind  a 
couple  of  ordinary  steeds ;  and  eight  other  carriages,  containing 


FOREIGN   KNIGHTS  OP  THE  GAllTER.  181 

the  suites  of  the  embassadors,  or  privileged  persons  who  passed 
for  such  in  order  to  share  in  the  spectacle,  closed  the  procession. 
The  duke  had  a  very  noble  gathering  around  him,  namely,  the 
Hon.  Algernon  Percy,  his  secretary,  the  Marquis  of  Caermarthen, 
the  Earl  of  Hopetoun,  Lords  Prudhoe  (the  present  duke),  Strat- 
haven,  Pelham,  and  Hervey,  the  Hon.  Charles  Percy,  and  the 
goodhumored-looking  Archdeacon  Singleton.  Such  was  the  en- 
tourage  of  the  embassador  extraordinary.  The  ordinary  embas* 
sador.  Lord  Granville,  was  somewhat  less  nobly  surrounded.  He 
had  with  him  the  Hon.  Mr.  Bligh,  and  Messrs.  Mandeville,  Gore, 
Abercrombie,  and  Jones.  Sir  George  Naylor,  in  his  Tabard,  was 
accompanied  by  a  cloud  of  heralds,  some  of  whom  have  since  be- 
come kings-of-arms — namely,  Messrs.  Woods,  Young,  and  Wol- 
laston,  and  his  secretaiy,  Mr.  Howard.  More  noticeable  men 
followed  in. the  train.  There  were  Earl  Grower  and  Lord  Bqrg- 
hersh,  the  "  Honorables"  Mr.  Townshend,  Howard,  and  Clive, 
Captain  BuUer,  and  two  men  more  remarkable  than  all  the  rest — 
the  two  embassadors  included — namely,  Sir  John  Malcolm  and 
Sir  Sidney  Smith.  BeXween  admiring  spectators,  who  were  pror 
foundly  amazed  at  the  sight  of  the  duke  in  his  robes,  the  procession 
arrived  at  the  palace,  where,  after  a  pause  and  a  reorganizing  in 
the  Hall  of  Embassadors,  the  party  proceeded  in  great  state  into 
the  Gallery  of  Diana.  Here  a  throne  had  been  especially  erected 
for  the  investiture,  and  the  show  was  undoubtedly  most  splendid. 
Charles  X.  looked  in  possession  of  admirable  health  and  spirits — 
of  everything,  indeed,  but  bright  intellect.  He  was  magnificently 
surrounded.  The  duke  wore  with  his  robes  that  famous  diamond- 
hilted  sword  which  had  been  presented  to  him  by  George  IV.,  and 
which  cost,  I  forget  how  many  thousand  pounds.  His  heron's 
plume  alone  was  said  to  be  worth  five  hundred  guineas.  His 
superb  mantle  of  blue  velvet,  embroidered  with  gold,  was  support- 
ed by  his  youthful  nephew,  George  Murray  (the  present  Duke  of 
Athol),  dressed  in  a  Hussar  uniform,  and  the  Hon.  James  Drum- 
mond,  in  a  Highland  suit.  Seven  gentlemen  had  the  responsible 
mission  of  carrying  the  insignia  on  cushidhs,  and  Sir  George  pr^ 
ceded  them,  bearing  a  truncheon,  as  "  Garter  Principal  Bang-at- 
arms."  The  duke  recited  an  appropriate  address,  giving  a  concise 
history  of  the  order,  and  congratulating  himself  on  having  been 


182  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

employed  on  the  present  honorable  mission.  The  investiture  took 
place  with  the  usual  ceremonies ;  but  I  remember  that  there  was 
no  salute  of  artillery,  as  was  enjoined  in  the  book  of  instructions 
drawn  up  by  Garter.  The  latter  official  performed  his  office  most 
gracefully,  and  attached  to  the  person  of  the  King  of  France,  that 
day,  pearls  worth  a  million  of  francs.  The  royal  knight  made  a 
very  pleasant  speech  when  all  was  concluded,  and  the  usual  hos- 
pitality followed  the  magnificent  labors  of  an  hour  and  a  half's 
continuance. 

On  the  following  evening,  the  Duke  gave  a  splendid  fete  at  his 
hotel,  in  honor  of  the  coronation  of  Charles  X.,  and  of  his  admission 
into  the  Order  of  the  Garter.  The  King  and  Queen  of  Wurtem- 
burg  were  present,  with  some  fifteen  hundred  persons  of  less  rank, 
but  many  of  whom  were  of  greater  importance  in  society.  Per- 
haps not  the  least  remarkable  feature  of  the  evening  was  the  pres- 
ence together,  in  one  group,  of  the  Dauphin  and  that  Duchess  of 
Angouleme  who  was  popularly  known  as  the  -**  orphan  girl  of  the 
Temple,"  with  the  Duchess  of  Berri,  the  Duke  of  Orleans  (Louis 
Philippe),  and  Talleyrand.  The  last-named  still  wore  the  long 
bolster-cravat,  of  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  and  looked  as  cunning 
as  though  he  knew  the  destiny  that  awaited  the  entire  group,  three 
•f  whom  have  since  died  in  exile — he  alone  breathing  his  last 
sigh,  in  calm  tranquillity,  in  his  own  land. 

Charles  X.  conferred  on  the  ducal  bearer  of  the  insignia  of  the 
Garter  a  splendid  gift — one  of  the  finest  and  most  costly  vases 
ever  produced  at  the  royal  manufacture  of  Porcelain  at  Sevres. 
The  painting  on  it,  representing  the  Tribunal  of  Diana,  is  the 
work  of  M.  Leguai,  and  it  occupied  that  distinguished  artist  full 
three  years  before  it  was  completed.  Considering  its  vast  dimen- 
sions, the  nature  of  the  painting,  and  its  having  passed  twice 
through  the  fire  without  the  slightest  alteration,  it  is  unique  of  its 
kind.  This  colossal  vase  now  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  ball^x)om 
in  Northumberland  House. 

The  last  monarch  to  whom  a  commission  has  carried  the  insignia 
*f  the  Garter,  was  the  Czar  Nicholas.  It  was  characteristic  of  the 
man  that,  courteous  as  he  was  to  the  commissioners,  he  would  not, 
as  was  customary  in  such  cases,  dine  with  them.  They  were  en- 
tertained, however,  according  to  his  orders,  by  other  members  of 


FOREIGN   KNIGflTS   OP  THE  GARTER.  183 

bis  family.  It  is  since  the  reign  of  George  III.  that  Mr.  Macau - 
lay's  remark  touching  the  fact  of  the  Garter  being  rarely  conferred 
on  aliens,  except  sovereign  princes,  may  be  said  to  be  well-founded. 
No  alien,  under  princely  rank,  now  wears  the  Garter.  The  most 
illustrious  of  the  foreign  knights  are  the  two  who  were  last  created 
by  patent,  namely,  the  Emperor  Louis  Napoleon  and  the  King  of 
Sardinia.  The  King  of  Prussia  is  also  a  knight  of  the  order,  and, 
as  such,  he  is  bound  by  his  oath„never  to  act  against  the  sovereign 
of  that  order ;  but  in  our  struggle  with  felonious  Russia,  the  Prus- 
sian government,  affecting  to  be  neutral,  imprisons  an  English 
consul  on  pretence  that  the  latter  has  sought  to  enlist  natives  of 
Prussia  into  the  English  service,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  passes 
over  to  Bussia  the  material  for  making  war,  and  sanctions  the 
raising  of  a  Russian  loan  in  Berlin,  to  be  devoted,  as  far  as  possi- 
ble, to  the  injury  of  England.  The  King  is  but  a  poor  knight ! — 
and,  by  the  way,  that  reminds  me  that  the  once  so-called  poor 
knights  of  Windsor  can  not  be  more  appropriately  introduced  than 
here. 


184  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 


THE  POOR  KNIGHTS  OF  WINDSOR, 

AND  THEIB  DOINGS. 

The  founder  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter  did  well  when  he 
thought  of  the  "  Milites  pauperes,"  and  having  created  a  fraternity 
for  wealthy  and  noble  cavaliers,  created  one  also  for  the  same 
number  of  "  poor  knights,  infirm  of  body,  indigent  and  decayed,** 
who  should  be  maintained  for  the  honor  of  God  and  St.  George, 
continually  serve  God  in  their  devotions,  and  have  no  further 
heavy  duty,  after  the  days  of  bustle  and  battle,  than  to  pray  for 
the  prosperity  of  all  living  knights  of  the  Garter,  and  for  the  re- 
pose of  the  souls  of  all  those  who  were  dead.  It  was  resolved  that 
none  but  really  poor  knights  should  belong  to  the  fraternity, 
whether  named,  as  was  their  privilege,  by  a  companion  of  the 
noble  order,  or  by  the  sovereign,  'as  came  at  last  to  be  exclusively 
the  case.  If  a  poor  knight  had  the  misfortune  to  become  the  pos- 
sessor of  property  of  any  sort  realizing  twenty  pounds  per  annum, 
he  became  at  once  disqualified  for  companionship.  Even  in  very 
early  times,  his  position,  with  house,  board,  and  various  aids,  spir- 
itual and  bodily,  was  worth  more  than  this. 

To  be  an  alms  knight,  as  Ashmole  calk  each  member,  implied 
no  degradation  whatever;  quite  the  contrary.  Each  poor  but 
worthy  gentleman  was  placed  on  a  level  with  the  residentiary 
canons  of  Windsor.  Like  these,  they  received  twelvepence  each, 
every  day  that  they  attended  service  in  the  chapel,  or  abode  in  the 
College,  with  a  honorarium  of  forty  shillings  annually  for  small 
necessaries.  Their  daily  presence  at  chapel  was  compulsory,  ex- 
cept good  and  lawful  reason  could  be  shown  for  the  contrary.  The 
old  knights  were  not  only  required  to  be  at  service,  but  at  high 
mass,  the  masses  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  as  also  at  Vespers  and 
Complins — from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  ^  They  earned  their 


THE  POOR  KNIGHTS  OF  WINDSOR.         186 

twelvepence  honestly,  but  nevertheless  the  ecclesiastical  coqjora- 
tion  charged  with  the  payment,  often  did  what  such  corporations, 
of  course,  have  never  tried  to  do  since  the  Reformation — namely, 
cheat  those  who  ought  to  have  been  recipients  of  their  due.  Dire 
'  were  the  discussions  between  the  poor  (and  pertinacious)  knights, 
and  the  dean,  canons,  and  treasurers  of  the  College.  It  required 
a  mitred  Archbishop  of  York  and  Lord  Chancellor  of  England  to 
settle  the  dispute,  and  a  very  high  opinion  does  it  afford  us  of  the 
good  practical  sense  of  Church  and  Chancery  in  the  days  of  Henry 
VI.,  when  we  find  that  the  eminent  individual  with, the  double  office 
not  only  came  to  a  happy  conclusion  rapidly,  and  ordered  all  ar- 
rears to  be  paid  to  the  poor  knights,  but  decreed  that  the  income 
of  the  treasurer  should  be  altogether  stopped,  until  full  satisfaction 
was  rendered  to  the  "milites  pauper."  For  the  sake  of  such 
Chancery  practice  one  would  almost  consent  to  take  the  Church 
with  it. 

But  not  only  did  the  lesser  officials  of  that  Church  cheat  the 
veteran  knights  of  their  pay,  but  their  itching  palm  inflicted  other 
wrong.  It  was  the  fitting  custom  to  divide  the  fines,  levied  upon 
absentees  from  public  worship,  among  the  more  habitually  devout 
brethren.  Gradually,  however,  the  dean  and  canons  appropriated 
these  moneys  to  themselves,  so  that  the  less  godly  the  knights 
were,  the  richer  were  the  dean  and  canons.  Further,  many  dy- 
ing noblemen  had  bequeathed  very  valuable  legacies  to  the  Col- 
lege and  poor  fraternity  of  veterans.  These  the  business-like 
ecclesiastics  had  devoted  to  their  own  entire  profit ;  and  it  required 
stringent  command  from  king  and  bishop,  in  the  reign  of  Richard 
II.,  before  they  would  admit  the  military  legatees  even  to  a  share 
in  the  bequest. 

Not,  indeed,  that  the  stout  old  veterans  were  always  blameless. 
Good  living  and  few  cares  made  "  fast  men "  of  some  of  them. 
There  were  especially  two  in  the  reign  last  named,  who  created 
very  considerable  scandal.  These  were  a  certain  Sir  Thomas 
Tawne  and  Sir  John  Breton.  They  were  married  men,  but  the 
foolish  old  fellows  performed  homage  to  vessels  of  iniquity,  placed 
by  them  on  the  domestic  altar.  In  other  words,  they  were  by  far 
too  civil  to  a  couple  of  hussies  with  red  faces  and  short  kirtles, 
and  that — not  that  such  circumstance  rendered  the  matter  worse— 


186  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

before  the  eyes  of  their  faithful  and  legitimate  wives.  The  bishop 
was  horror-stricken,  no  doubt,  and  the  exemplary  ecclesiastics  of 
the  College  were  enjoined  to  remonstrate,  reprove,  and,  if  amend- 
ment did  not  follow,  to  expel  the  offenders. 

Sir  Thomas,  I  presume,  heeded  the  remonstrance  and  submitted 
to  live  more  decorously,  for  nothing  more  is  said  of  him.  Jolly 
Sir  John  was  more  difficult  to  deal  with.  He '  too  may  have  dis- 
missed Cicely  and  made  his  peace  with  poor  Lady  Breton,  but 
the  rollicking  old  knight  kept  the  College  in  an  uproar,  neverthe- 
less. He  resumed  attendance  at  chapel,  indeed,  but  he  did  this 
after  a  fashion  of  his  own.  He  would  walk  slowly  in  the  pro- 
cession of  red-mantled  brethren  on  their  way  to  service,  so  as  to 
obstruct  those  who  were  in  the  rear,  or  he  would  walk  in  a  ridicu- 
lous manner,  so  as  to  rouse  unseemly  laughter.  I  am  afraid  that 
old  Sir  Jolm  was  a  very  sad  dog,  and,  however  the  other  old 
gentleman  may  have  behaved,  he  was  really  a  godless  fellow. 
Witness  the  fact  that,  on  getting  into  chapel,  when  he  retired  to 
pray,  he  forthwith  fell  asleep,  and  could,  or  would,  hardly  keep  his 
eyes  open,  even  at  the  sacrament  at  the  altar. 

After  all,  there  was  a  gayer  old  fellow  than  Sir  John  Breton 
among  the  poor  knights.  One  Sir  Emanuel  Clone  is  spoken  of 
who  appears  to  have  been  a  very  Don  Giovanni  among  the  silly 
maids  and  merry  wives  of  Windsor.  He  was  for  ever  with  his 
eye  on  a  petticoat  and  his  hand  on  a  tankard ;  and  what  with  love 
and  spiced  canary,  he  could  never  sit  still  at  mass,  but  was  ad- 
dicted to  running  about  among  the  congregation.  It  would  puz- 
zle St.  Greorge  himself  to  tell  all  the  nonsense  he  talked  on  these 
occasions. 

When  we  read  how  the  bishop  suggested  that  the  King  and 
Council  should  discover  a  remedy  to  check  the  rollicking  career 
of  Sir  Edmund,  we  are  at  first  perplexed  to  make  out  why  the 
cure  was  not  assigned  to  the  religious  officials.  The  fact,  how- 
ever, is  that  they  were  as  bad  as,  or  worse  than,  the  knights. 
They  too  were  as  oflen  to  be  detected  with  their  lips  on  the  brim 
of  a  goblet,  or  on  the  cheek  of  a  damsel.  There  was  Canon 
Lorying.  He  was  addicted  to  hawking,  hunting,  and  jollification ; 
and  the  threat  of  dismissal,  without  chance  of  reinstalment,  was 
had  recourse  to,  before  the  canon  ceased  to  make  breaches  in  de- 


THE  POOR  KNIGHTS   OP  WINDSOR.  187 

corum.  The  vicars  were  as  bad  as  the  canons.  The  qualifica- 
tions ascribed  to  them  of  being  "  inflated  and  wanton,"  suffi- 
ciently describe  by  what  sins  these  very  reverend  gentlemen  were 
beset.  They  showed  no  reverence  for  the  frolicsome  canons,  as 
might  have  been  expected;  and  if  both  parties  united  in  ex- 
hibiting as  little  veneration  for  the  dean,  the  reason,  doubtless,  lay 
in  the  circumstance  that  the  dean,  as  the  bishop  remarked,  was 
remiss,  simple,  and  negligent,  himself.  He  was  worse  than  this. 
He  not  only  allowed  the  documents  connected  with  the  Order  to 
go  to  decay,  or  be  lost,  but  he  would  not  pay  the  vicars  their  sala- 
ries till  he  was  compelled  to  do  so  by  high  authority.  The  dean, 
in  short,  was  a  sorry  knave ;  he  even  embezzled  the  fees  paid 
when  a  vicar  occupied  a  new  stall,  and  which  were  intended  to  be 
appropriated  to  the  general  profit  of  the  chapter,  and  pocketed  the 
entire  proceeds  for  his  own  personal  profit  and  enjoyment.  The 
canons  .  again  made  short  work  of  prayers  and  masses,  devoting 
only  an  hour  each  day  for  the  whole.  This  arrangement  may  not 
have  displeased  the  more  devout  among  the  knights;  and  the 
canons  defied  the  bishop  to  point  out  anything  in  the  statutes  by 
which  they  were  prevented  from  effecting  this  abbreviation  of  their 
service,  and  earning  their  shilling  easily.  Of  this  ecclesiastical 
irregularity  the  bishop,  curiously  enough,  solicited  the  state  to 
pronounce  its  condemnation ;  and  an  order  from  King  and  Council 
was  deemed  a  good  remedy  for  priests  of  loose  thoughts  and  prac- 
tices. A  matter  of  more  moment  was  submitted  to  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  meaner  authority.  Thus,  when  one  of  the  vicars,  John 
Chichester,  was  "  scandalized  respecting  the  wife  of  Thomas 
Swift"  (which  is  a  very  pretty  way  of  putting  his  offence),  the 
matter  was  left  to  the  correction  of  the  dean,  who  was  himself 
censurable,  if  not  under  censure  —  for  remissness,  negligence, 
stupidity,  and  fraud.  The  dean's  frauds  were  carried  on  to  that 
extent  that  a  legacy  of  £200  made  to  the  brotherhood  of  poor 
knights,  having  come  to  the  decanal  hands,  and  the'  de»i  not 
having  accounted  for  the  same,  compulsion  was  put  on  him  to  ren- 
der such  account ;  and  that  appears  to  be  all  the  penalty  he  ever 
paid  for  his  knavery.  Where  the  priests  were  of  such  kidney, 
we  need  not  wonder  that  the  knights  observed  in  the  dirty  and 


188  THE  KNIQHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

much-encumbered  cloisters,  the  licentiousness  which  was  once  com- 
mon to  men  in  the  camp. 

Churchmen  and  knights  went  on  in  their  old  courses,  notwith- 
standing the  interference  of  inquisitors.  Alterations  were  made 
in  the  statutes,  to  meet  the  evil ;  some  knights  solicited  incorporar 
tion  among  themselves,  separate  from  the  Church  authorities ;  but 
this  and  other  remedies  were  vainly  applied. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  the  resident  knights  were  not  all 
military  men.  Some  of  them  were  eminent  persons,  who,  it  is 
thought,  withdrew  from  the  world  and  joined  the  brotherhood,  out 
of  devotion.  Thus  there  was  Sir  Robert  Champlayne,  who  had 
been  a  right  lusty  knight,  indeed,  and  who  proved  himself  so  again, 
after  he  returned  once  more  to  active  life.  Among  the  laymen, 
admitted  to  be  poor  knights,  were  Hulme,  formerly  Clarencieux 
King-at-arms ;  Carly,  the  King's  physician :  Mewtes,  the  King's 
secretary  for  the  French  language ;  and  Westley,  who  was  made 
second  baron  of  the  Exchequer  in  1509. 

The  order  appears  to  have  fallen  into  hopeless  confusion,  but 
Henry  VIII.,  who  performed  many  good  acts,  notwithstanding  his 
evil  deeds  and  propensities,  bequeathed  lands,  the  profits  whereof 
(£600)  were  to  be  employed  in  the  maintenance  of  "Thirteen 
Poor  £[nights.''  Each  was  to  have  a  shilling  a  day,  and  their 
governor,  three  pounds,  six  and  eightpence,  additional  yearly. 
Houses  were  built  for  these  knights  on  the  south  side  of  the  lower 
ward  of  the  castle,  where  they  are  still  situated,  at  a  cost  of  nearly 
£3000.  A  white  cloth-gown  an4  a  red  cloth-mantle,  appropriately 
decorated,  were  also  assigned  to  each  knight.  King  James  doubled 
the  pecuniary  allowance,  and  made  it  payable  in  the  Exchequer, 
quarterly. 

Charles  I.  intended  to  increase  the  number  of  knights  to  their 
original  complement.  He  did  not  proceed  beyond  the  intention. 
Two  of  his  subjects,  howevier,  themselves  knights,  Sir  Peter  La 
Maire  and  Sir  Francis  Crane,  left  lands  which  supplied  funds  for 
the  support  of  five  additional  knights. 

Cromwell  took  especial  care  that  no  knight  should  reside  at 
Windsor,  who  was  hostile  to  his  government;  and  he  was  as  care- 
ful that  no  preacher  should  hold  forth  there,  who  was  not  more 
friendly  to  the  commonwealth  than  to  monarchy. 


THE  POOR  KNIGHTS  OP  WINDSOR.  180 

At  this  period,  and  for  a  hundred  years  before  this,  there  was 
not  a  man  of  real  knight's  degree  belonging  to  the  order,  nor  has 
there  since  been  down  to  the  present  time.  In  1724  the  benevo- 
lent Mr.  Travers  bequeathed  property  to  be  applied  to  the  main- 
tenance of  Seven  Naval  Knights.  It  is  scarcely  credible,  but  it  is 
the  fact,  that  seventy  years  elapsed  before  our  law,  which  then 
hung  a  poor  wretch  for  robbing  to  the  amount  of  forty  shillings,  let 
loose  the  funds  to  be  appropriated  according  to  the  will  of  the  testa- 
tor, and  under  sanction  of  the  sovereign.  What  counsellors  and 
attorneys  fattened  upon  the  costs,  meantime,  it  is  not  now  of  im- 
portance to  inquire.  In  .1796,  thirteen  superannuated  or  disabled 
lieutenants  of  men-of-war,  officers  of  that  rank  being  alone  eligible 
under  Mr.  Traverses  will,  were  duly  provided  for.  The  naval 
knights,  all  unmarried,  have  residences  and  sixty  pounds  per  annum 
each,  in  addition  to  their  half-pay.  The  sum  of  ten  shillings, 
weekly,  is  deducted  from  the  "  several  allowances,  to  keep  a  con- 
stant table." 

The  Military  and  Naval  Knights — for  the  term  "Poor"  was 
dropped,  by  order  of  William  IV. — no  longer  wear  the  mantle,  as 
in  former  times ;  but  costumes  significant  of  their  profession  and 
their  rank  therein.  There  are  twenty-five  of  them,  one  less  than 
their  original  number,  and  they  live  in  harmony  with  each  other 
and  the  Church.  The  ecclesiastical  corporation  has  nothing  to  do 
with  their  funds,  and  these  unmarried  naval  knights  do  not  disturb 
the  slumbers  of  a  single  Mr.  Brook  within  the  liberty  of  Windsor. 

In  concluding  this  division,  let  me  add  a  word  touching  the 

KNIGHTS  OF  THE  BATH. 

There  was  no  more  gallant  cavalier  in  his  day  than  Geoffrey, 
Earl  of  Anjou.  He  was  as  meek  as  he  was  gallant.  In  testimony 
of  his  humility  he  assumed  a  sprig  of  the  broom  plant  (planta 
genista)  for  his  device,  and  thereby  he  gave  the  name  of  Plantage- 
net  to  the  long  and  illustrious  line. 

If  his  bravery  raised  him  in  the  esteem  of  women,  his  soilness 
of  spirit  earned  for  him  some  ridicule.  Matilda,  the  ^  imperially 
perverse,"  laughed  outright  when  her  sire  proposed  she  should  ac- 
cept the  hand  of  Geoffrey  of  Anjou.     "  He  is  so  like  a  girl,"  said 


190  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Matilda.  ^  There  is  not  a  more  lion-hearted  knight  in  all  Chris- 
tendom/' replied  the  king.  "  There  is  none  certainly  so  sheep- 
faced,"  retorted  the  arrogant  heiress ;  she  then  reluctlantly  con- 
sented to  descend  to  he  mate  of  the  wearer  of  the  hroom. 

Matilda  threw  a.s  many  obstacles  as  she  could  in  the  way  of  the 
completion  of  tlie  nuptial  ceremony.  At  last  this  solemn  matter 
was  definitively  settled  to  come  off  at  Rouen,  on  the  26th  of  August, 
1127.  Geoffrey  must  have  been  a  knight  before  his  marriage 
with  Matilda.  However  this  may  be,  he  is  said  to  have  been  cre- 
ated an  English  knight  in  honor  of  the  occasion. '  To  show  how 
he  esteemed  the  double  dignity  of  knight  and  husband,  he  prepared 
himself  for  both,  by  first  taking  a  bath,  and  afterward  putting  on  a 
clean  linen  shirt  Chroniclers  assure  us  that  this  is  the  first  in- 
stance, since  the  Normans  came  into  England,  in  which  bathing  is 
mentioned  in  connection  with  knighthood.  Over  his  linen  shirt 
Geoffrey  wore  a  gold-embroidered  garment,  and  above  all  a  purple 
mantle.  We  are  told  'too  that  he  wore  silk  stockings,  an  article 
which  is  supposed  to  have  been  unknown  in  England  until  a  much 
later  period.  His  feet  were  thrust  into  a  gay  pair  of  slippers,  on 
the  outside  of  each  of  which  was  worked  a  golden  lion.  In  this 
guise  he  was  wedded  to  Matilda,  and  never  had  household  lord  a 
greater  virago  for  a  lady. 

From  this  circumstance  the  Knights  of  the  Bath  are  said  to  have 
had  their  origin.  For  a  considerable  period,  this  order  of  chivalry 
ranked  as  the  highest  military  order  in  Europe.  All  the  members 
w:ere  companions.  There  was  but  one  chief,  and  no  knight  ranked 
higher,  nor  lower,  than  any  other  brother  of  the  society.  The 
order,  nevertheless,  gradually  became  obsolete.  Vacancies  had 
not  been  filled  up ;  that  Garter  had  superseded  the  Bath,  and  it 
was  not  tiU  the  reign  of  Greorge  II.  that  the  almost  extinct  frater- 
nity was  renewed. 

Its  revival  took  place  for  political  reasons,  and  these  are  well 
detailed  by  Horace  Walpole,  in  his  "  Reminiscences  of  the  Courts 
of  George  the  First  and  Second."  "  It  was  the  measure,"  he  says, 
"  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  was  an  artful  bunch  of  thirty-six  rib- 
^ds,  to  sugply  a  fund  of  favors,  in  lieu  of  places.  He  meant,  too, 
to  stave  off  the  demand  for  garters,  and  intended  that  the  red 
should  have  been  a  stage  to  the  blue ;  and  accordingly  took  one 


THE  POOR  KNIGHTS  OP  WINDSOR.         191 

of  the  former  himself.  He  offered  the  new  order  to  old  Sarah, 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  for  her  grandson  the  Duke,  and  for  the 
Duke  of  Bedford,  who  had  married  one  of  her  granddaughters. 
She  haughtily  replied,  that  they  should  take  nothing  but  the  Gar- 
ter. '  Madam,'  said  Sir  Robert,  cooUy,  '  they  who  take  the  Bath 
-will  the  sooner  have  the  Garter.'  The  next  year  he  took  the  latter 
himself,  with  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  both  having  been  previously 
installed  knights  of  the  revived  institution." 

Sir  Robert  respected  the  forms  and  laws  of  the  old  institution, 
and  these  continued  to  be  observed  down  to  the  period  following 
the  battle  of  Waterloo.  Instead  of  their  creating  a  new  order  for 
the  purpose  of  rewarding  the  claimants  for  distinction,  it  was  re- 
solved to  enlarge  that  of  the  Bath,  which  was,  therefore,  divided 
into  three  classes. 

First,  there  was  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Bath  (G.  C.  B.),  the 
reward  of  military  and  diplomatic  services. 

The  second  class,  of  Knights  CJommanders  (C.  B.),  was  open  to 
those  meritorious  persons  who  had  the  good  luck  to  hold  commis- 
sions not  below  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  or  Post-Captain. 
The  members  of  this  class  rank  above  the  ordinary  knights- 
bachelors. 

The^  third  class,  of  Knights  Companions,  was  instituted  for  offi- 
cers holding  inferior  commissions  to  those  named  above,  and  whose 
services  in  their  country's  cause  rendered,  them  eligible  for  admis- 
sion. 

These  arrangements  have  been,  somewhat  modified  subsequently, 
and  not  without  reason.  Henry  VHth's  Chapel  in  Westminster 
Abbey  is  the  locality  in  which  the  installation  of  the  different 
knights  takes  place.  The  statutes  of  the  order  authorize  the  deg- 
radation of  a  knight  "  convicted  of  heresy  against  the  Articles  of 
the  Christian  religion ;"  or  who  has  been  "  attainted  of  high  trea- 
son," or  of  "cowardly  flying  from  some  field  of  battle."  It  is 
rather  curious  that  feiony  is  not  made  a  ground  of  degradation. 
The  Duke  of  Ormond  was  the  last  Knight  of  the  Garter  who  was 
degraded,  for  treason  against  George  I.  Addison,  after  the  degra- 
dation, invariably  speaks  of  him  as  **  the  late  Duke."  A  more 
grievous  offender  than  he  was  that  Earl  of  Somerset,  who  had 
been_^  reckless  page,  and  who  was  an  unworthy  Knight  of  the 


192  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYB. 

Garter,  under  James  I.  He  was  convicted  of  murder,  but  he  was 
not  executed,  and  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  continued  to  wear  the 
Grarter,  of  which  ■  he  had  been  pronounced  unworthy.  The  last 
instances  of  degradation  from  the  Order  of  the  Bath  were  those  of 
Lord  Cochrane  (in  1814),  for  an  alleged  misdemeanor,  and  Sir 
Eyre  Coote,  two  years  subsequently.  In  these  cases  the  popular 
judgment  did  not  sanction  the  harsh  measures  adopted  by  those  in 
authority.* 

In  olden  times,  the  new  Knights  of  the  Bath  made  as  gallant 
display  in  public  as  the  Knights  of  the  Garter.  In  reference  to 
this  matter,  Mr.  Mackenzie  Walcott,  in  his  "Westminster,**  cites 
a  passage  from  an  author  whom  he  does  not  name.  The  reverend 
gentleman  says:  "On  Sunday,  July  24th,  1603,  was  performed 
the  solemnity  of  Knights  of  the  Bath  riding  honorably  from  St. 
James's  to  the  Court,  and  made  show  with  their  squires  and  pages 
about  the  Tilt-yard,  and  after  went  into  the  park  of  St  James,  and 
there  lighted  from  their  horses  and  went  up  into  the  King's  Majes- 
ty's presence,  in  the  gallery,  where  they  received  the  ofder  of 
Knighthood  of  the  Bath." 

The  present  "  Horse-Guards"  occupies  a  portion  of  the  old  Tilt- 
yard  ;  but  for  the  knightly  doings  there,  and  also  in  Smithfield,  I 
must  refer  all  curious  readers  to  Mr.  Charles  Knight's  "  Pictorial 
History  of  London." 

The  Order  of  the  Thistle,  if  Scottish  antiquaries  may  be 
credited,  is  almost  as  ancient  as  the  times  in  which  the  first  thistle 
was  nibbled  at  by  the  primitive  wild-ass.  Very  little,  however,  is 
known  upon  the  subject,  and  that  little  is  not  worth  repeating. 
The  earliest  certain  knowledge  dates  from  Robert  IL,  whose  coins 
bore  the  impress  of  St.  Andrew  and  his  cross.  James  III.  is  the 
first  monarch  who  is  known  to  have  worn  the  thistle,  as  his  badge. 
There  is  no  evidence  of  these  emblems  being  connected  with 
knighthood  until  the  reign  of  James  V.  The  Reformers,  subse- 
quently, suppressed  the  chivalric  order,  as  popish,  and  it  was  not 
till  the  reign  of  James  IJ.  of  England  that  the  thistfe  and  chivalry 
again  bloomed  together.     The  order  is  accessible  only  to  peers. 

*  Subsequently,  the  Prince  Regent  ordered  the  name  of  Captain  Hanchett 
to  be  erased  from  the  roll  of  the  Bath,  he  having  been  struck  off  the  list  of 
Captains  in  the  Royal  Navy. 


THE  POOB  KNIGHTS  OF  WINDSOB.  193 

A  commoner  may  have  conferred  more  honor  and  seryice  on  his 
country  than  all  the  Scottish  peers  put  together,  but  no  amount 
of  merit  could  procure  him  admission  into  the  Order  of  the 
Thistle.  Nevertheless  three  commoners  did  once  belong  to  it ; 
but  their  peculiar  merit  was  that  they  were  heirs  presumptive  to 
dukedoms. 

Ireland  was  left  without  an  order  until  the  year  1783,  when 
George  III.  good-naturedly  established  that  of  St.  Patrick,  to  the 
great  delight  of  many  who  desired  to  be  knights,  and  to  the  in- 
finite disgust  of  all  who  were  disappointed.  Except  in  name  and 
local  circumstances  there  is  nothing  that  distinguishes  it  from  other 
orders. 

I  must  not  conclude  this  section  without  remarking,  that  shortly 
after  the  sovereignty  of  Malta  and  the  Ionian  Isles  was  ceded  to 
Great  Britain,  the  Order  of  St.  Michael  was  instituted  in  1818, 
for  the  Purpose  of  having  what  Walpole  calls  "  a  fund  of  ribands," 
to  reward  those  native  gentlemen  who  had  deserved  or  desired 
favors,  if  not  places. 

The  Order  of  the  Guelphs  was  founded  by  the  Prince  Regent 
in  1815.  George  IIL  had  designed  such  an  order  for  the  most 
distinguished  of  his  Hanoverian  subjects.  Down  to  the  period  of 
the  accession  of  Queen  Victoria,  however,  the  order  was  conferred 
on  a  greater  number  of  Englishmen  than  of  nativ.es  of  Hanover. 
Since  the  latter  Kingdom  has  passed  under  the  rule  of  the  male 
heir  of  the  line  of  Brunswick,  the  order  of  Guelph  has  become  a 
foreign  order.  Licenses  to  accept  this  or  any  other  foreign  order 
does  not  authorize  the  assumption  of  any  style,  appellation,  rank, 
precedence,  or  privilege  appertaining  unto  a  knight-bachelor  of 
these  realms.  Such  is  the  law  as  laid  down  by  a  decision  of  Lord 
Ellenborough,  and  which  does  not  agree  with  the  judgment  of 
Coke. 

The  history  of  foreign  orders  would  occupy  too  much  of  my 
space ;  but  there  is  something  so  amusing  in  the  history  of  an  order 
of  knights  called  ''  Knights  of  the  Holy  Ampoule,"  that  a  few 
words  on  the  subject  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  such  readers  as 
are  unacquainted  with  the  ephemeral  cavaliers  in  questicm. 

13 


194  THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 


THE  KNIGHTS  OP  THE  "  SAINTE  AMPOULE." 

" Mais  ce  sont  des  chevaliers  pour  rire."— £e  Sage. 

There  have  been  knights  who,  like  '^  special  constables,"  have 
been-  created  merely  ^for  the  nonce;"  and  who  have  been  as 
ephemeral  as  the  shortlived  flies  so  called.  This  was  especially 
the  case  with  the  Knights  of  the  Holy  '^Ampoule/'  or  anointing 
oil,  used  at  the  coronation  of  the  kings  of  France. 

This  oil  was  said  to  have  been  brought  to  St  Remy  (Bemigius) 
by  a  dove,  fix>m  Heaven,  and  to  have  been  placed  by  the  great 
converter  of  Clovis,  in  his  own  tomb,  where  it  was  found,  by  a 
miraculous  process.  St  Bemy  himself  never  alluded  either  to 
the  oil  or  the  story  connected  with  it  Four  centuries  after  the 
saint's  death  the  matter  was  first  spoken — nay,  the  oil  was  boldly 
distilled,  by  Hiockmar,  Archbishop  of  Rheims.  This  archi-epis- 
copal  biographer  of  St  Remy  has  inserted  wonders  in  the  saint's 
life,  which  staggered,  while  they  amused,  the  readers  who  were  able 
to  peruse  his  work  by  flreside,  in  castle-hallj  or  convert  refectory. 
I  can  only  allude  to  one  of  these  wonders — namely,  the  ^  Sainte 
Ampoule."  Hinckmar  actually  asserted  that  when  St  Remy  was 
about  to  consecrate  with  oil,  the  humble  King  Clovis,  at  his  corona^ 
tion,  a  dove  descended  from  Heaven,  and  placed  in  his  hands  a 
small  vial  of  holy  oil.  Hinckmar  defied  any  man  to  prove  the 
contrary.  As  he  further  declared  that  the  vial  of  oil  was  still  to 
be  found  in  the  saint's  sepulchre,  and  as  it  was  so  found,  accord- 
ingly, EKnckmar  was  allowed  to  have  proved  his  case.  Thence- 
forward, the  chevaliers  of  the  St  Ampoule  were  created,  for  a 
day — that  of  the  crowning  of  the  sovereign.  They  had  charge 
of  the  vial,  delivered  it  to  the  archbishop,  and  saw  it  restored  to 
its  repository ;  and  therewith,  the  coronation  and  their  knightly 


THE  KNIGHTS  OP  THE  "8AINTE  AMPOULE."     195 

character  concluded  together.  From  that  time,  down  to  the  period 
of  Louis  XVI.,  the  knights  and  the  vial  formed  the  most  distin- 
guished portion  of  the  coronation  procession  and  doings  at  the 
crowning  of  the  kings  of  France. 

Then  ensued  the  Revolution ;  and  as  that  mighty  engine  never 
touched  anything  without  smashing  it,  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
vial  of  St  Remy  hardly  escaped  destruction. 

On  the  6th  of  October,  1793,  Citizen  Rhull  entered  the  modest 
apartment  of  Philippe  Hourelle,  chief  marguiUier  of  the  Cathedral 
of  Rheims,  and  without  ceremony  demanded  that  surrender  should 
be  made  to  him  of  the  old  glass-bottle  of  the  ci-devant  Remy.  Phil- 
ippe's wig  raised  itself  with  horror ;  but  as  Citizen  Rhull  told  him 
that  it  would  be  as  easy  to  lift  his  head  from  his  shoulders  as  his 
wig  from  his  head,  if  he  did  not  obey,  the  marguilUer  stammered 
out  an  assertion  that  the  reliquary  was  in  the  keeping  of  the  cure, 
M.  Seraine,  to  whom  he  would  make  instant  application. 

'^  Bring  pomatum  and  all,"  said  Citizen  Rhull,  who  thus  pro- 
fanely misnamed  the  sacred  balm  or  thickened  oil,  which  had 
anointed  the  head  and  loins  of  so  many  kings  from  Charles  the 
Bald,  downward. 

"  May  I  ask,'*  said  Philippe,  timidly,  "  what  you  will  do  there- 
with?" 

"  Grease  your  neck,  that  the  knife  may  slip  the  easier  through 
it,  unless  you  bring  it  within  a  decade  of  minutes." 

"  Too  much  honor  by  half,"  exclaimed  Philippe.  "  I  will  slip 
to  the  cure  as  rapidly  as  if  I  slid  the  whole  way  on  the  precious 
ointment  itself.     Meanwhile,  here  is  a  bottle  of  Burgundy — ** 

"  Which  I  shall  have  finished  within  the  time  specified.  So, 
despatch ;  and  let  us  have  t'other  bottle,  too !" 

When  Philippe  Hourelle  had  communicated  the  request  to  the 
cure,  Monsieur  Seraine,  with  a  quickness  of  thought  that  did  jus- 
tice to  his  imagination,  exclaimed,  <'  We  will  take  the  rogues  in, 
and  give  them  a  false  article  for  the  real  one."  But  the  time  was 
so  short ;  there  was  no  second  ancient-looking  vial  at  hand ;  there 
was  not  a  pinch  of  pomatum,  nor  a  spoonful  of  oil  in  the  house, 
and  the  cure  confessed,  with  a  sigh,  that  the  genuine  relic  must 
needs  be  surrendered.  "  But  we  can  save  some  of  it !"  cried  M. 
Seraine;   <^here  is  the  vial,  give  me  the  consecrating  spoon." 


196  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS, 

And  with  the  handle  of  the  spoon,  having  extracted  some  small 
portions,  which  the  cure  subsequently  wrapped  up  carefully^  and 
rather  illegibly  labelled,  the  vial  was  delivered  to  Philippe,  who 
surrendered  it  to  Citizen  Rhull,  who  carried  the  same  to  the  front 
of  the  finest  cathedral  in  France,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of 
Louis  XV.  Citizen  Rhull  solemnly  hammered  the  vial  into  powder, 
and,  in  the  name  of  the  Republic,  trod  the  precious  ointment  un* 
derfoot  till  it  was  not  to  be  distinguished  from  the  mud  with  which 
it  was  mingled. 

"  And  so  do  we  put  an  end  to  princes  and  pomatum,"  cried  he. 

Philippe  coughed  evasively ;  smiled  as  if  he  was  of  the  same 
way  of  thinking  with  the  republican,  and  exclaimed,  very  mentally 
indeed,  "  Vivent  les  princes  et  la  pommade."  Neither,  h§  felt  as- 
sured, was  irrevocably  destroyed. 

The  time,  indeed,  did  come  round  again  for  princes,  and  Napo- 
leon was  to  be  crowned  at  Notre  Dame.  He  cared  little  as  to 
what  had  become  of  the  Heaven-descended  ointment,  and  he 
might  have  anointed,  as  well  as  crowned,  himself.  There  were 
some  dozen  gentlemen  who  hoped  that  excuse  might  be  discovered 
for  creating  the  usual  order  of  the  Knights  of  the  Ampoule ;  but 
the  Emperor  did  not  care  a  fig  for  knights  or  ointment,  and,  to 
the  horror  of  all  who  hoped  to  be  chevaliers,  the  imperial  corona- 
tion was  celebrated  without  either.  But  then  Napoleon  was  dis- 
crowned, as  was  to  be  expected  from  such  profanity ;  and  there- 
with returned  the  Bourbons,  who,  having  forgotten  nothing, 
bethought  themselves  of  the  Saint  Ampoule.  Monsieur  de 
Chevrieres,  magistrate  at  Rheims,  set  about  the  double  work  of 
discovery  and  recovery.  For  some  time  he  was  unsuccessful. 
At  length,  early  in  1819,  the  three  sons  of  the  late  Philippe 
Hourelle  waited  on  him.  They  made  oath  that  not  only  were 
they  aware  of  a  portion  of  the  sacred  ointment  having  been  in  the 
keeping  of  their  late  father,  but  that  his  widow  succeeded  the 
inheritance,  and  that  she  reckoned  it  as  among  her  choicest 
treasures. 

"  She  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  it  over  to  me,"  said  Mon- 
sieur Chevrieres;  "she  will  be  accounted  of  in  history  as  the 
mother  of  the  knights  of  the  Ampoule  of  the  Restoration." 

« It  is  vexatious,"  said  the  eldest  son, "  but  the  treasure  has  been 


THE   KNIQHTS  OF  THE    "SAINTE  AMPOULE."  197 

lost     At  the  time  of  the  invasion,  our  house  was  plundered,  and 
the  relic  wat  the  first  thing  the  enemy  laid  his  hands  on." 

The  disappointment  that  ensued  was  only  temporary.  A  judge 
named  Lecomte  soon  appeared,  who  made  oath  that  he  had  in  his 
keeping  a  certain  portion  of  what  had  at  first  been  consigned  to 
the  widow  Hourelle.  The  portion  was  so  small  that  it  required 
an  eye  of  faith,  very  acute  and  ready  indeed,  to  discern  it.  The 
authorities  looked  upon  the  reiic,  and  thought  if  Louis  XVIII. 
could  not  be  crowned  till  a  sufiicient  quantity  of  the  holy  ointment 
was  recovered  wherewith  to  anoint  him,  the  coronation  was  not 
likely  to  be  celebrated  yet  awhile. 

Then  arose  a  crowd  of  priests,  monks,  and  ex-monks,  all  of 
whom  declared  that  the  cure,  M.  Seraine,  had  imparted  to  them 
the  secret  of  his  having  preserved  a  portion  of  the  dried  anointing 
oil,  but  they  were  unable  to  say  where  he  had  deposited  it.  Some 
months  of  hesitation  ensued,  when,  in  summer,  M.  Boure,  a  priest 
of  Berry-au-Bac,  came  forward  and  proclaimed  that  he  was  the 
depositary  of  the  long-lost  relic,  and  that  he  had  preserved  it  in  a 
portion  of  the  winding-sheet  of  St.  Remy  himself.  A  week  later 
M.  Champagne  Provotian  appeared,  and  made  deposition  to  the 
following  eflect :  He  was  standing  near  RhuU  when  the  latter,  in 
October,  1793,  destroyed  the  vial  which  had  been  brought  from 
Heaven  by  a  dove,  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of  Louis  XV.  When 
the  republican  struck  the  vial,  some  fragments  of  the  glass  flew 
on  to  the  coat-sleeve  of  the  said  M.  Champagne.  These  he  dex- 
terously preserved,  took  home  with  him,  and  now  produced  in  , 
court. 

A  commission  examined  the  various  relics,  and  the  fragments 
of  glass.  The  whole  was  pronounced  genuine,  and  the  chairman 
thought  that  by  process  of  putting  '^  that  and  that  together,"  there 
was  enough  of  legend,  vial,  and  ointment  to  legitimately  anoint 
and  satisfy  any  Christian  king. 

"  There  is  nothing  now  to  obstruct  your  majesty's  coronation," 
said  his  varlet  to  him  one  morning,  after  having  spent  three  hours 
in  a  service  for  which  he  hoped  to  be  appointed  one  of  the  knights 
of  the  Sainte  Ampoule ;  "  there  is  now  absolutely  nothing  to  pre- 
vent that  august  ceremony." 

"  Allons  done  1"  said  Louis  XVIII.  with  that  laugh  of  incredu- 


198  THE  KMIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

litj,  that  shrag  of  the  shoulders,  and  that  good-humiored  impatieDce 
at  legends  and  absurdities,  which  made  the  priests  speak  of  him 
as  an  infidel.    . 

>'What  shall  be  done  with  the  ointment?"  said  the  knight- 
expectant. 

"  Lock  it  up  in  the  vestry  cupboard,  and  say  no  more  about  it" 
And  this  was  done  with  some  ceremony  and  a  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment The  gathered  relics,  placed  in  a  silver  reliquary  lined 
with  white  silk,  and  enclosed  in  a  metal  case  under  three  locks, 
were  deposited  within  the  tomb  of  St  Remy.  There  it  remained 
till  Charles  X.  was  solemnly  crowned  in  1825.  In  that  year,  pos- 
itively for  the  last  time,  the  knights  of  the  Sainte  Ampoule  were 
solemnly  created,  and  did  their  office.  As  soon  as  Charles  entered 
the  choir,  he  knelt  in  the  front  of  the  altar.  On  rising,  he  was 
led  into  the  centre  of  the  sanctuary,  where  a  throned  chair  received 
his  august  person.  A  splendid  group  half-encircled  him;  and 
then  approached  the  knights  of  tho  Sainte  Ampoule  in  grand  pro- 
cession, bearing  all  that  was  left  of  what  the  sacred  dove  did  or 
did  not  bring  to  St  Remy,  for  the  anointing  of  Clovis.  Not  less 
than  three  prelates,  an  archbishop  and  two  bishops,  received  the 
ointment  from  the  hands  of  the  knights,  and  carried  it  to  the  high 
altar.  Their  excellencies  and  eminences  may  be  said  to  have  per- 
formed their  office  with  unction,  but  the  people  laughed  alike  at 
the  knights,  the  pomatum,  and  the  ceremony^  all  of  which  combined 
could  not  endow  Charles  X.  with  sense  enough  to  keep  his  place. 
The  knights  of  the  Sainte  Ampoule  may  be  said  now  to  have  lost 
their  occupation  for  ever. 

Of  all  the  memorabilia  of  Rheims,  the  good  people  there  dwelt 
upon  none  more  strongly  than  the  old  and  splendid  procession  of 
these  knights  of  the  Sainte  Ampoule.  The  coronation  cortege 
seemed  only  a  subordinate  point  of  the  proceedings ;  andnhe  mag- 
nificent canopy,  upheld  by  the  knights  over  the  vial,  on  its  way 
from  the  abbey  of  St  Remy  to  the  cathedral,  excited  as  much 
attention  as  the  king's  crown. 

The  proceedings,  however,  were  not  always  of  a  peaceable 
character.  The  Grand  Prior  of  St.  Remy  was  always  the  bearer 
of  the  vial,  in  its  case  or  shrine.  It  hung  from  his  neck  by  a 
golden  chain,  and  he  himself  was  mounted  on  a  white  horse.     On 


THE  KNIGHTS  OP  THE  "8AINTB  AMPOULE."      199 

placing  the  vial  in  the  handa  of  the  archbishop,  the  latter  pledged 
himself  by  solemn  oath  to  restore  it  at  the  conclusion  of  the  cere- 
mony ;  and  some  half-dozen  barons  were  given  as  hostages  by  way 
of  security.  The  procession  back  to  the  abbey,  through  the  gayly 
tapestried  streets,  was  of  equal  splendor  with  that  to  the  cathedral. 

The  horse  on  which  the  Grand  Prior  was  mounted  was  fur- 
nished by  the  government,  but  the  Prior  claimed  it  as  the  property 
of  the  abbey  as  soon  as  he  returned  thither.  This  claim  was  dis- 
puted by  the  inhabitants  of  Ch^ne  la  Populeux,  or  as  it  is  vulgarly 
called,  <<  Ch^ne  la  Pouilleux."-  They  founded  their  claim  upon  a 
privilege  granted  to  their  ancestors.  It  appeared  that  in  the  olden 
time,  the  English  had  taken  Rheims,  plundered  the  city,  and  rifled 
the  tomb  of  St  Bemy,  from  which  they  carried  off  the  Sainte 
Ampoule.  The  inhabitants  of  Chene,  however,  had  fallen  upon 
the  invaders  and  recovered  the  inestimable  treasure.  From  that 
time,  and  in  memory  and  acknowledgment  of  the  deed,  they  had 
enjoyed,  as  they  said,  the  right  to  walk  in  the  procession  with  the 
knights  of  the  Sainte  Ampoule,  and  had  been  permitted  to  claim 
the  horse  ridden  by  the  Grand  Prior.  The  Prior  and  his  people 
called  these  claimants  scurvy  knaves,  and  would  by  no  means 
attach  any  credit  to  the  story.  At  the  coronation  of  Louis  XIII. 
they  did  not  scruple  to  support  their  claim  by  violence.  They 
pulled  the  Prior  from  his  horse,  terribly  thrashed  the  monks  who 
came  to  his  assistance,  tore  the  canopy  to  pieces,  thwacked  the 
knights  right  lustily,  and  carried  off  the  steed  in  triumph.  The 
respective  parties  immediately  went  to  law,  and  spent  the  value  •of 
a  dozen  steeds,  in  disputes  about  the  possession  of  a  single  horse. 
The  contest  was  decided  in  favor  of  the  religious  community ;  and 
the  turbulent  people  of  Chene  were  compelled  to  lead  the  qpad- 
ruped  back  to  the  abbey  stables.  They  renewed  their  old  claim 
subsequently,  and  again  threatened  violence,  much  to  the  delight 
of  the  attorneys,  who  thought  to  make  money  by  the  dissension. 
At  the  coronations  of  Louis  XV.  and  Louis  XVI.  these  sover- 
eigns issued  special  decrees,  whereby  the  people  of  Chene  vere 
prohibited  from  pretending  to  any  property  in  the  horse,  and  from 
supporting  any  such  pretensions  by  acts  of  violence. 

The  history  of  foreign  orders  would  require  a  volume  as  large 
as  Anstis's ;   but  though  I  can  not  include  such  a  history  among 


200  THE  KNIGHTB  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

my  gossiping  details,  I  maj  mention  a  few  curious  incidents  con- 
nected with 

THE  ORDEB  OF  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 

There  ia  a  singular  circamstance  connected  with  this  order.  It 
was  founded  by  the  last  of  the  Valois,  and  went  out  with  the  last 
of  the  Bourbons.  Louis  Philippe  had  a  particular  aversion  for 
the  orders  which  were  most  cherished  by  the  dynasty  he  so  clev- 
erly supplanted.  The  Citizen  King  may  be  said  to  have  put  down 
both  "  St  Louis"  and  the  '*  Holy  Ghost"  cavaliers.  He  did  not 
abolish  the  orders  by  decree ;  but  it  was  clearly  understood  that  no 
one  wearing  the  insignia  would  be  welcome  at  the  Tuileries. 

The  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost  was  instituted  by  Henri,  out  of 
gratitude  for  two  events,  for  which  no  other  individual  had  cause 
to  be  grateful.  He  was  (when  Duke  of  Anjou)  elected  King  of 
Poland,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  1573,  and  on  the  same  day  in 
the  following  year  he  succeeded  to  the  crown  of  France.  Hence 
the  Order  with  its  hundred  members,  and  the  king  as  grand 
master. 

St  Foix,  in  his  voluminous  history  of  the  order,  furnishes  the 
villanous  royal  founder  with  a  tolerably  good  character.  This  is 
more  than  any  other  historian  has  done ;  and  it  is  not  very  satis- 
factorily executed  by  this  historian  himself.  He  rests  upon  the 
principle  that  the  character  of  a  king,  or  his  disposition  rather, 
may  be  judged  by  his  favorites.  He  then  points  to  La  Marck, 
Mangiron,  Joyeuse,  D'Epernon,  and  others.  Their  reputations  are 
not  of  the  best,  rather  of  the  very  worst ;  but  then  St.  Foix  says 
that  they  were  all  admirable  swordsmen,  and  carried  scars  about 
them,  in  front,  in  proof  of  their  valor :  he  evidentiy  thinks  that  the 
hellica  virtus  is  the  same  Ihing  as  the  other  virtue^. 

On  the  original  roll  of  knights  there  are  names  now  more  worthy 
of  being  remembered.  Louis  de  Gronzague,  Duke  de  Nevers,  was 
one  of  these.  On  one  occasion,  he  unhorsed  the  Huguenot  Captain 
de  Beaumont,  who,  as  he  lay  on  the  ground,  fired  a  pistol  and 
broke  the  ducal  kneepan;  The  Duke's  squire  bent  forward  with 
his  knife  to  despatch  the  Captain ;  the  Duke,  however,  told  the 
latter  to  rise.  "  I  wish,"  said  he,  "  that  yon  may  have  a  tale  to 
tell  that  is  worth  narrating.     When  you  recount,  at  your  fireside, 


THE  XNIOHTS  OF  THE  HOLY  GHQST.        201 

how  you  wounded  the  Duke  dc  Nevers,  be  kind  enough  to  add  that 
he  gave  you  your  life."  The  Duke  was  a  noble  fellow.  Would 
that  his  generosity  could  have  restored  his  kneepan !  but  he  limped 
to  the  end  of  his  days. 

But  there  was  a  nobler  than  he,  in  the  person  of  the  Baron 
d'Assier,  subsequently  Count  de  Crussol  and  Duke  d*Uzes.  He 
was  a  Huguenot,  and  I  confess  that  I  can  not  account  for  the  fact 
of  his  being,  at  any  time  of  his  life,  a  Knight  of  the  Order  of  th^ 
Holy  Ghost.  Henri  III.  was  not  likely  to  have  conferred  the  in- 
signia even  on  a  pervert.  His  name,  however,  is  on  the  roll.  He 
was  brave,  merciful,  pious,  and  scrupulously  honest.  When  he 
captured  Bergerai,  he  spared  all  who  had  no  arms  in  their  hands, 
and  funding  the  women  locked  up  in  the  churches,  he  induced  them 
to  return  home,  on  promise  of  being  protected  from  all  molestation. 
These  poor  creatures  must  have  been  marvellously  fair ;  and  the 
baron's  eulogy  on  them  reminds  me  of  the  expression  of  the  soldiers 
when  they  led  Judith  through  the  camp  of  Holofemes :  *'  Who 
could  despise  this  people  that  have  among  them  such  women." 

The  baron  was  not  a  little  proud  of  his  feat,  and  he  thought  that 
if  all  the  world  talked  of  the  continence  of  Scipio,  he  had  a  right 
to  claim  some  praise  as  the  prbtector  of  female  virtue.  Accord- 
ingly, in  forwarding  an  account. of  the  whole  affair  to  the  Due  de 
Montpensier,  he  forwarded  also  a  few  samples  of  the  ladies.  "  I 
h^ve  only  chosen  twenty  of  the  handsomest  of  them,"  he  writes, 
"  whom  I  have  sent  you  that  you  may  judge  if  they  were  not  very 
likely  to  tempt  us  to  reprisals ;  they  will  inform  you  that  they  have 
suffered  not  the  least  dishonor."  By  sending  them  to  Mont- 
pensier's  quarters  the  ladies  were  in  great  danger  of  incurring 
that  from  which  the  Baron  had  saved  them.  But  he  winds  up 
with  a  small  lecture.  He  writes  to  Ike  Duke:  "You  are  a 
devotee  [ !  ] ;  you  have  a  ghostly  father ;  your  table  is  always 
filled  with  monks;  your  hear  two  or  three  masses  every  day; 
and  you  go  frequently  to  confession.  /  confess  myself  only  to 
God.  I  hear  no  masses.  I  have  none  but  soldiers,  at  my  table. 
Honor  is  the  flole  director  of  my  conscience.  It  will  never  advise 
me  to  order  violence  against  woman,  to  put  to  death  a  defenceless 
enemy,  or  to  break  a  promise  once  given."  In  this  lecture,  there 
was,  in  feet,  a  double-handed  blow.     Two  birds  were  killed  with 


202  XHE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

one  stone.  The  Baron  censured,  by  implication,  both  the  Duke 
and  his  rdigion.  I  was  reminded  of  him  bj  reading  a  review  in 
the  ^  Guardian,''  where  the  same  skilAil  method  is  applied  to  criti- 
cism. The  reviewer's  subject  was  Canon  Wordsworth's  volume 
on  Chevalier  Bmnsen's  "  Hippolytus."  "  The  canon's  book,"  said 
the  reviewer  (I  am  quoting  fix)m  memory),  "remmds  us — and  it 
must  be  a  humiliation  and  degradation  to  an  intelligent,  educated, 
and  thoughtful  man — of  one  of  Dr.  Cumming's  Exeter  Hall  lec- 
tures." Here  the  ultra  high  church  critic  stunned,  with  one  blow, 
the  merely  high-church  priest  and  the  no-church  presbyterian. 

There  was  generosity,  at  least,  in  another  knight  of  this  order, 
Francis  Goaffier,  Lord  of  Cr^vecoeur.  Catherine  of  Medicis  an- 
nounced to  him  the  appointment  of  bis  son  to  the  command  of  a 
regiment  of  foot  "  Madame,"  said  the  Knight  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
^'  my  son  was  beset,  a  night  or  twa  ago,  by  five  assassins ;  a  Cap- 
tain La  Yei^e  drew  in  his  defence,  and  slew  two  of  the  assailants. 
The  rest  fled,  disabled.  If  your  majesty  will  confer  the  regiment 
on  one  who  deserves  it,  you  will  give  it  to  La  Vergne." — ^**  Be  it 
80,"  said  Catherine,  ''  and  your  son  shall  not  be  the  less  well  pro- 
vided for." 

One,  at  least,  of  the  original  knights  of  this  order  was  famous 
ibr  his  misfortunes ;  this  was  Charles  de  Hallewin,  Lord  of  Piennes. 
He  had  been  in  six-and-twenty  sieges  and  battles,  and  never  came 
out  of  one  unscathed.  His  domestic  wounds  were  greater  still. 
He  had  five  sons,  and  one  daughter  who  was  married.  The  whole 
of  them,  with  his  son-in-law,  were  assassinated,  or  died  accidental- 
ly? hy  violent  deaths.  The  old  chevalier  went  down  to  his  tomb 
heart-broken  and  heirless. 

Le  Roi,  Lord  of  Chavigny,  and  who  must  not  be  mistaken  for 
an  ancestor  of  that  Le  Roi  who  "died  at  the  Alma  under  the  title 
of  Marshal  St  Amaud,  is  a  good  illustration  of  the  blunt,  honest 
knight.  Charles  IX.  once  remarked  to  him  that  his  mother,  Cath- 
Brine  de  Medicis,  boasted  that  there,  was  not  a  man  in  Fraiice, 
with  ten  thousand  livres  a  year,  at  whose  hearth  she  had  not  a  spy 
in  her  pay.  "  I  do  not  know,"  said  Le  Roi,  "  whether  tyrants 
make  spies,  or  spies  tyrants.  For  my  own  part,  I  see  no  use  in 
them,  except  in  war." 

For  honesty  of  a  still  higher  sort,  commend  me  to  Scipio  de 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  THE  HOLY  QHOST.        203 

Fierques,  Lord  of  Lavagne.  Catherine  de  Medicis  offered  to  make 
this,  her  distant  relative,  a  marshal  of  France.  ^  Gk>od  Heavens, 
Madame !"  he  exclaimed,  '^  the  world  would  laugh  at  both  of  us. 
I  am  simply  a  brave  gentleman,  and  deserve  thai  reputation ;  but 
I  should  perhaps  lose  it,  were  70U  to  make  a  marsihal  of  me."  The 
dignity  is  taken  with  less  reluctance  in  our  days.  It  was  this  hon- 
est knight  who  was  asked  to  procure  the  appointment  of  queen's 
chaplain  for  a  person  who,  by  way  of  bribe,  presented  the  gallant 
Scipio  with  two  documents  which  would  enable  him  to  win  a  law- 
suit he  was  then  carrying  on  against  an  obstinate  adversary. 
Scipio  perused  the  documents,  saw  that  they  proved  his  antagonist 
to  be  in  the  right,  and  immediately  withdrew  his  opposition.  He 
left  the  candidate  for  the  queen's  chaplaincy  to  accomplish  the  ob- 
ject he  had  in  view,  in  the  best  way  he  might. 

There  was  wit,  too,  as  might  be  expected,  among  these  knigi^ts. 
John  Blosset,  Baron  de  Torci,  affords  us  an  illustration.  He  had 
been  accused  of  holding  correspondence  with  the  enemy  in  Spain, 
and  report  said  that  he  was  unworthy  of  the  Order  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  He  proved  his  innocence  before  a  chapter  of  the  order. 
At  the  end  of  the  investigation,  he  wittily  applied  two  passages 
from  the  prayer-book  of  the  knights,  by  turning  to  the  king,  and 
saying,  *'  Domine  ne  projicias  me  a  facie  tu^  et  spiritum  $anctum 
tnum  ne  auferas  a  me."  "  Lord,  cast  me  out  from  thy  presence, 
and  take  not  thy  '  Holy  Spirit'  from  me."  And  the  king  bade 
him  keep  it,  while  he  laughed  at  the  rather  profane  wit  of  John 
Blosset. 

There  was  wit,  too,  of  a  more  practical  nature,  among  these 
knights  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  royal  founder  used  occasionally 
to  retire  with  the  knights  to  Vincennes.  There  they  shut  them- 
selves up,  as  they  said,  to  fast  afld  repent ;  but,  as  the  world  said, 
to  indulge  in  pleasures  of  a,  very  monster-like  quality.  The  royal 
dukes  of  a  later  period  in  France  used  to  atone  for  inordinate  vice 
by  making  their  mistresses  fast ;  the  royal  duchesses  settled  their 
little  balance  with  Heaven, -by  making  their  servants  fast  It  ap- 
pears that  there  was  nothing  of  this  vicarious  penaace  in  the  case 
of  Henri  III.  and  his  knights.  Not  that  all  th^  knights  willingly 
submitted  to  penance  which  mortified  their  appetites.  Charles  de 
la  Marck,  Count  of  Braine,  was  one  of  those  impatient  penitents. 


204  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

On  a  day  on  which  rigid  ahstinenoe  had  been  enjoined,  the  king 
was  passing  bj  the  count's  apartment,  when  he  was  struck  by  a 
savory  smell.  King  as  he  was,  he  immediately  applied  his  eye  to 
the  keyhole  of  the  count's  door,  and  beheld  the  knight  blowing 
lustily  at  a  little  fire  under  a  chafing-dish,  in  which  there  were  two 
superb  soles  frying  in  savory  sauce.  *'  Brother  knight,  brother 
knight,"  exclaimed  Henri,  "  I  see  all  and  sjnell  much.  Art  thou 
not  ashamed  thus  to  transgress  the  holy  rule?" — ^'^I  should  be 
much  more  so,"  said  the  count,  opening  the  door,  <<  if  I  made  an 
enemy  of  my  stomach.  I  can  bear  this  sort  of  abstinence  no  long- 
er. Here  am  I,  knight  and  gentleman,  doubly  famished  in  that 
double  character,  and  I  have  been,  in  my  own  proper  person,  to 
buy  these  soles,  and  purchase  what  was  necessary  for  the  most  de« 
licious  of  sauces :  I  am  cooking  them  myself,  and  they  are  bow 
done  to  a  turn.  Cooked  atix  gratins,  your  majesty  yourself  can 
not  surely  resist  tasting.  Allow  me" — and  he  pushed  forward  a 
chair,  in  which  Henri  seated  himself,  and  to  the  ''soles  atix 
grcUtns/*  such  as  Vefour  and  Very  never  dished  up,  the  monarch 
sat  down,  and  with  the  hungry  count,  discussed  the  merits  of  fast- 
ing, while  they  enjoyed  the  fish.  It  was  but  meagre  fare  after  all; 
and  probably  the  repast  did  not  conclude  there. 

Charity  is  illustrated  in  the  valiant  William  Pot  (a  very  ancient 
name  of  a  very  ancient  family,  of  which  the  late  archdeacon  of 
Middlesex  and  vicar  of  Kensington  was  probably  a  descendant). 
He  applied  a  legacy  of  sixty  thousand  livres  to  the  support  of 
wounded  soldiers.  Henri  HI.,  who  was  always  intending  to  ac- 
complish some  good  deed,  resolved  to  erect  an  asylum  for  infirm 
military  men ;  but,  of  course,  he  forgot  it,  Henri  IV.^  who  has 
received  a  great  deal  more  praise  than  he  deserves,  also  expressed 
his  intention  to  do  something  for  his  old  soldiers ;  but  he  was  too 
much  taken  up  with  the  fair  Gabrielle,  and  she  was  not  like  Nell 
Gwynne,  who  turned  her  intimacy  with  a  king  to  the  profit  of  the 
men  who  poured  out  their  blood  for  him.  The  old  soldiers  were 
again  ne^ected ;  and  it  was  not  till  the  reign  of  Louis  XI Y.  that 
Pot's  example  was  agsun  recalled  to  mind,  and  profitable  action 
adopted  in  consequence.  When  I  think  of  the  gallant  Pot's  leg- 
acy, what  be  did  therewith,  and  how  French  soldiers  benefited 
thereby,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  Grerman  troops,  less  well 


THE  KNIGHTS  OP  THE  HOLY  GHOST.  '205 

cared  for,  may  thence  have  derived  their  once  favorite  oath,  and 
that  Potz  tausend!  may  have  some  reference  to  the  sixty  thousand 
livres  which  the  compassionate  knight  of  Rhodes  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  devoted  to  the  cx>mfort  and  solace  of  the  brave  men  who 
had  been  illustriously  maimed  in  war. 

The  kings  of  France  were  accustomed  to  create  a  batch  of 
knights  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  on  the  day  following  that  of  the  coro- 
nation, when  the  monarchs  became  sovereign  heads  of  the  order. 
The  entire  body  subsequently  repaired  from  the  Cathedral  to  the 
Church  of  St  Eemi,  in  grand  equestrian  procession,  known  as  the 
"  cavalcade."  Nothing  could  well  exceed  the  splendor  of  this  pro- 
cession, when  kings  were  despotic  in  France,  and  ^nds  easily 
provided.  Cavalry  and  infantry  in  state  uniforms,  saucy  pages  in 
a  flutter  of  feathers  and  ribands,  and  groups  of  gorgeous  officials 
preceded  the  marshals  of  France,  who  were  followed  by  the  knights 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  after  whom  rode  their  royal  Grand  Master, 
glittering  like  an  Eastern  king,  and  nodding,  as  he  rode,  like/  a 
Mandarin. 

The  king  and  the  knights  performed  their  devotions  before  the 
shrine  of  Saint  Marcoul,  which  was  brought  expressly  from  the 
church  of  Corbeni,  six  leagues  distance  from  Rheims.  This  par- 
ticular ceremony  was  in  honor  of  the  celebrated  old  abbot  of  Nan- 
tua,  who,  in  his  lifetime.  Had  been  eminently  famous  for  his  success 
in  curing  the  scrofulous  disorder  called  "  the  king's  evil."  After 
this  devotional  service,  the  sovereign  master  of  the  order  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  was  deemed  qualified  to  cure  the  evil  himself.  Ac- 
cordingly, decked  with  the  mantle  and  collar  of  the  order,  and 
half  encircled  by  the  knights,  he  repaired  to  the  Abbey  Park  to 
touch  and  cure  those  who  were  afflicted  with  the  disease  in  ques- 
tion. It  was  no  little  labor.  When  Louis  XVI.  performed  the 
ceremony,  he  touched  two  thousand  four  hundred  persons.  The 
form  of  proceeding  was  singular  enough.  The  king's  first  phy- 
sician placed  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the  patient;  upon  which  a 
captain  of  the  guard  immediately  seized  and  held  the  patient's 
hands  closely  joined  together.  The  king  then  advanced,  head  un- 
covered, with  his  knights,  and  touched  the  sufierers.  He  passed 
his  right  hand  from  the  forehead  to  the  chin,  and  from  one  cheek 
to  the  other ;  thus  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  at  the  same 


206  THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

time  pronouncing  the  words,  ''May  Gk)d  core  thee;  the  king 
touches  thee  I"  ^ 

In  connection  with  this  subject,  I  maj  add  here  that  Evelyn,  in 
his  diary,  records  that  Charles  n. ''  began  first  to  touch  for  the 
evil,  according  to  custom,"  on  the  6th  of  July,.  16 60,  and  after  this 
fashion.  ''  His  Majesty  sitting  under  his  state  in  the  Banqueting 
House,  the  chirurgeons  caused  the  sick  to  be  brought,  and  led  up 
to  the  throne,  where  they  kneelmg,  the  king  strokes  their  faces  or 
cheeks  with  both  his  hands  at  once,  at  which  instant  a  chaplain,  in 
his  formafities,  says, '  He  put  his  hands  upon  them,  and  He  healed 
them.'  This  is  said  to  every  one  in  particular.  When  they  have 
been  all  touched,  they  come  up  again  in  the  same  order,  and 
the  other  chaplain  kneeUng,  and  having  angel-gpld  strung  on  white 
riband  on  his  arm,  delivers  them  oile  by  one  to  his  Majesty,  who 
puts  them  about  the  necks  of  the  touched  as  they  pass,  while  the 
first  chaplain  repeats,  'That  is  the  true  light  who  came  into  the 
worW  The  French  ceremonial  seems  to  me  to  have  been  the 
less  pretentious ;  for  the  words  uttered  by  the  royal  head  of  the 
order  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  simply  formed  a  prayer,  and  an  assertion 
of  a  fact :  "  May  God  heal  thee ;  the  king  touches  thee !"  And 
yet  who  can  doubt  the  efiicacy  of  the  royal  hand  of  Charles  H., 
seeing  that,  at  a  single  touch,  he  not  only  cured  a  scrofulous  Qua- 
ker, but  converted  him  into  a  good  churchman  ? 

The  history  of  the  last  individual  knight  given  in  these  imper- 
fect pages  (Guy  of  Warwick),  showed  how  history  and  romance 
wove  themselves  together  in  biography.  Coming  down  to  a  later 
period,  we  may  find  another  individual  history,  that  may  serve  to 
illustrate  the  object  I  have  in  view.  The  Chevalier  de  Bayard 
stands  prominently  forward.  But  there  was  before  his  time,  a 
knight  who  was  saluted  by  nearly  the  same  distinctive  titles  which 
were  awarded  to  Bayard.  I  allude  to  Jacques  de  Lelaing,  known 
as  "  the  knight  without  fear  and  without  doubt."  His  history  is 
less  familiar  to  us,  and  will,  therefore,  the  better  bear  telling.  Be- 
sides, Bayard  was  but  a  butcher.  If  he  is  not  to  be  so  accounted, 
then  tell  us,  gentle  shade  of  Don  Alonzo  di  Sotomayor,  why  thy 
painful  spirit  perambulates  the  groves  of  Elysium,  with  a  scented 
handkerchief  alternately  applied  to  the  hole  in  thy  throat  and  the 
gash  in  thy  face?    Is  it  not  that,  with  cruel  subtlety  of  fence 


THE  KNIGHTS  OP  THE  HOLY  GHOST.        207 

Bayard  run  his  rapier  into  thy  neck  "  four  good  finger-breadths,*' 
and  when  thou  wast  past  resistance,  did  he  not  thrust  his  dagger 
into  thy  nostrils,  crying  the  while,  "  Yield  thee,  Signer  Alonzo,  or 
thou  diest !"  The  shade  of  the  slashed  Spaniard  bows  its  head  in 
mournful  acquiescence,  and  a  faint  sound  seems  to  float  to  us  upon 
the  air,  out  of  which  we  distinguish  an  echo  of  "  The  field  of 
MonervyneJ* 


208  THE  KNIOHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 


JACQUES  DE  LELAING, 

THE  GOOD  KNIGHT  WITHOUT  FEAK  AITO  WITHOUT  DOUBT. 
"Faites  silence;  je  vais  parler  de  luil" — Boileau. 

Between  the  city  of  Namur  and  the  quaint  old  town  of  Dinant 
there  is  as  much  matter  of  interest  for  the  historian  as  of  beauty 
for  the  traveller  and  artist  War  has  been  the  most  terrible 
scourge  of  the  two  localities  on  the  Meuse  which  I  have  just 
named.  Namur  has  a  present  reputation  for  cutlery,  and  an  old 
one  for  ^  slashing  blades"  of  another  description.  Don  John,  the 
great  victor  at  Lepanto,  lies  entombed  in  the  city,  victim  of  the 
poison  and  the  jealousy  of  his  brother  Philip,  There  the  great 
Louis  proved  himself  a  better  soldier  than  Boileau  did  a  poet, 
when  he  attempted  to  put  the  royal  soldier's  deeds  into  rhyme* 
Who,  too,  can  stand  at  St.  Nicholas's  gate,  without  thinking  of 
"  my  uncle  Toby,"  and  the  Frenchmen,  for  whose  dying  he  cared 
go  little,  on  the  glacis  of  Namur  ?  At  present  the  place,  it  is  true, 
ha^  but  a  dull  and  dreamy  aspect.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  of  the 
inhabitants,  as  of  Molly  Carew's  lovers,  that  "  It's  dhrames  and 
not  sleep  that  comes  into  their  heads."  Such,  at  least,  would  seem 
to  be  the  case,  if  I  may  draw  a  conclusion  from  what  I  saw  during 
the  last  summer,  at  the  'bookseller's  stall  at  the  Namur  station, 
where  I  found  more  copies  of  a  work  professing  to  interpret 
dreams  than  of  any  other  production,  whether  grave  or  gaiUard, 

Dinant,  a  curious  old  town,  the  high  limestone-rocks  behind^ 
which  seems  to  be  pushing  it  from  off  its  narrow  standing-ground 
into  the  Meuse,  has  even  bloodier  reminiscences  than  Namur ;  but 
of  these  I  will  not  now  speak.  Between  the  two  cities,  at  the 
most  picturesque  part  of  the  stream,  and  on  the  loftiest  cliff  which 
rises  above  the  stream,  is  the  vast  ruin  of  the  old  titanic  castle  of 
Poilvaiihe,  the  once  rather  noisy  home  of  the  turbulent  household 


JACQUES   DE  LELAING.  209 

of  those  terrible  brothers,  known  in  chivakous  history  as  the 
"  Four  Sons  of  Aymon."  During  one  of  the  few  fine  evenings 
of  the  last  summer,  I  was  looking  up  at  this  height,  from  the  op- 
posite bank,  while  around  me  stood  in,  groups  a  number  of  those 
brilliant-ejed,  soft-voiced,  ready-witted  Walloons,  who  are  said  to 
]}e  the  descendants  of  a  Roman  legion,  whose'  members  colonized 
the  country  and  married  the  ladies  in  it !  A  Walloon  priest,  or 
one  at  least  who  spoke  the  dialect  perfectly,  but  who  had  a  strong 
Flemish  accent,  when  addressing  to  me  an  observation  in  French, 
remained  during  the  period  of  my  observation  close  at  my  side. 
"Are  these  people,"  said  I  to  him,  " a  contented  people?"  He 
beckoned  to  a  cheerful-looking  old  man,  and  assuming  that  he  was 
oonlented  with  the  dispensation  that  had  appointed  him  to  be  a 
laborer,  inquired  of  him  which  part  of"  his  labor  he  loved  best  ? 
After  pausing  for  a  minute,  the  old  peasant  replied  in  very  fair 
French,  "  I  think  the  sweetest  t^k  I  bave  is  when  I  mow  that 
meadow  up  at  Bloquemont  yonder,  for  the  wild  thyme  in  it  em- 
balms the  very  air."  "  But  your  winter-time,"  sai4  I,  "  must  be 
a  dark  and  dreary  time."  "  Neither  dark  nor  dreary,"  was  the 
remark  of  a  tidy  woman,  his  wife,  who  was,  at  the  moment,  on  her 
knees,  sewing  up  the  ragged  rents  in  the  gaberdine  of  a  Walloon 
beggar — "  Neither  dark  nor  dreary.  In  winter-time,  at  home, 
we  don't  want  light  to  get  the  children  about  us  to  teach  them 
their  catechism."  The  priest  smiled.  "And  as  for  spring-time," 
said  her  husband,  "  you  should  be  here  to  enjoy  it ;  for  the  fields 
are  then  all  flower,  and  the  sky  is  one  song."  "  There  is  poetry 
in  their  expressions,"  said  I  to  the  priest.  "  There  is  better  than 
that,"  said  he,  "  there  is  love  in  their  hearts ;"  and,  turning  to 
the  woman  who  was  mending  the  raiment  of  the  passive  mendi- 
cant, he  asked  her  if  she  were  not  afraid  of  infection.  "  Why 
should  I  fear  ?"  was  her  remark.  <*  I  am  doing  but  little ;  Christ 
did  more ;  He  washed  the  feet  of  beggars ;  and  we  must  risk 
something,  if  we  would  gain  Paradise."  The  particular  beggar 
to  whom  she  was  thus  extending  most  practical  charity  was  by  no 
means  a  picturesque  bedesman;  but,  not  to  be  behind-hand  in 
X^P^?  toward  him,  I  expressed  compassion  for  iis  lot.  "  My  lot 
is  not  so  deplorable,"  said  he,  uncovering  his  head  ;  "  I  have  Grod 
for  my  hope,  and  the  charity  of  humane  people  for  my  succor." 

U 


210  TH£  KNIQHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

As  be  said  this,  my  eye  turned  from  him  to  a  shepherd  who  had 
just  joined  our  group,  and  who  was  waiting  to  be  ferried  over  to 
the  little  village  of  Houx.  I  knew  him  by  name,  and  knew 
something  of  the  solitariness  of  his  life,  and  I  observed  to  him, 
"  Jacques,  you,  at  least,  have  a  dull  life  of  it ;  and  you  even  now 
look  weary  with  the  long  hours  you  have  been  spending  alone." 
"  Alone  r  he  exclaimed,  in  a  joyful  tone,  "  I  am  never  alone,  and 
never  weary.  How  should  I  be  either,  when  my  days  are  passed 
in  the  company  of  innooent  animals,  and  time  is  given  me  to 
think  of  God !"  The  priest  smiled  even  more  approvingly  than 
before ;  and  I  remarked  to  him,  "  We  are  here  in  Arcadia." 
"  But  not  without  human  sin,"  said  he,  and  pointing  to  a  woman  at 
a  distance,  who  was  in  the  employ  of  the  fanner's  wife,  he  asked 
the  latter  how  she  could  still  have  anything  to  do  with  a  well- 
known  thief.  "  Eh,  father,"  was  the  comment  of  a  woman  whom 
John  Howard  would  have  kissed,  "  starving  her  in  idleness  would 
not  cure  her  of  pilfering ;  and  between  working  and  being  well- 
watched,  she  will  soon  leave  her  evil  habits."  *'.You  are  a  good 
Christian,"  I  said  to  her,  "  be  you  of  what  community  you  may." 
"  She  15  a  good  Catholic,"  added  the  priest.  "  I  am  what  the  good 
God  has  made  me,"  was  the  simple  reply  of  the  Walloon  wife ; 
"  and  my  religion  is  this  to  go  on  my  knees  when  all  the  house  is 
asleep,  and  then  pray  for  the  whole  world."  "Ay,  ay,"  was  the 
chorus  of  those  around  her,  "  that  is  tnie  religion."  "  It  is  a  part 
of  true  religion,"  interposed  the  priest ;  but  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing that  he  would  have  done  as  well  had  he  left  Marie  Justine's 
text  without  his  conmient.  We  walked  together  down  to  the  bank 
of  the  river  opposite  the  Chateau  of  the  young  Count  de  Levig- 
non  the  proprietor  and  burgomaster  of  Houx.  I  looked  up  froni 
the  modern  chateau  to  the  ruins  of  the  vast  castle  where  the  sons 
of  Aymon  once  held  barbaric  state,  maintained  continual  war,  and 
affected  a  reverence  for  the  mother  of  Him  who  was  the  Prince 
of  Peace.  The  good  priest  seemed  to  guess  my  thoughts,  for  he 
remarked,  "  We  live  now  in  better  times  ;  the  church  is  less  splen- 
did, and  chivalry  less  *  glorious,'  if  not 'extinct;  but  there  is  a 
closer  brotherhood  of  all  men — at  least,"  he  added  hesitatingly — 
**  at  least  I  hope  so."  "  I  can  not  remember,"  said  I,  "  a  single 
virtue  possessed  by  either  Aymon  or  his  sons,  except  brute  courage, 


JACQUES  DE  LELAING.  211 

and  a  rude  sort  of  generosity,  not  based  on  principle,  but  born  of 
impulse.  It  is  a  pity  that  Belgium  can  not  boast  of  more  perfect 
chevaliers  than  the  old  proprietors  of  Poilvache,  and  that  you 
have  not  a  hero  to  match  with  Bayard.*'  "  Belgium,"  was  his 
answer,  "  can  make  such  boast,  and  had  a  hero  who  had  finished 
his  heroic  career  long  before  Bgyard  was  bom.  Have  you  never 
heard  of  *  the  Good  Knight  without  fear  and  without  doubt'  ?" 
"  I  have  heard  of  one  without  fear  and  without  reproach."  "  That 
title,"  he  remarked,  "was  but  a  plagiarism  from. that  conferred  on 
Jacques  de  Lelaing,  by  his  contemporaries."  And  then  he  sketched 
the  outline  of  the  good  knight's  career,  and  directed  me  to  sources 
where  I  might  gather  more  detailed  intelligence.  I  was  interested 
in  what  I  learned,  and  it  is  because  I  hope  also  to  interest  readers 
at  home,  that  I  venture  to  place  before  them,  however  imperfectly 
rendered,  a  sketch  of  the  career  of  a  br^ve  man  before  the  time 
of  Bayard ;  one  who  illustrates  the  old  saying  that — 

"  Vixere  fortes  ante  Agamemnona." 

Jaques  de  Lelaing,  the  good  knight,  without  fear  and  without 
doubt,  was  bom  in  the  chateau  of  Lelaing,  in  the  first  quarter  of 
the  fifteenth  century.  The  precise  year  is  not  known,  but  it  was 
fuU  half  a  century  before  the  birth  of  Bayard.  He  came  of  a 
noble  race ;  that  is,  of  a  race,  the  male  portion  of  whieh  saw  more 
honor  in  slaughter  than  in  science.  His  mother  was  celebrated 
for  her  beai^^y  as  well  as  nobility.  She  was  wise,  courteous,  and 
dehonnaire ;  well-mannered,  and  full  of  all  good  virtues.  So,  at 
least,  in  nearly  similar  terms,  wrote  George  Chastellan  of  her,  just 
two  centuries  ago. 

Jacques  de  Lelaing  was  as  precocious  a  boy  as  the  Duke  of 
Wharton  in  his  youth.  At  the  age  of  seven,  a  priestly  tutor  had 
perfected  him  in  French  and  Latin,  and  the  good  man  had  so  im- 
bued him  with  literary  tastes  that,  in  after  life,  the  good  knight 
found  time  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  Captain  Pen,  as  well 
as  of  Captain  Sword ;  and  specimens  of  his  handiwork  are  yet 
said  to  exist  in  the  libraries ^of  Flanders  and  Brabant. 

Jacques,  however,  was  never  a  mere  student,  "  sicklied  o'er'  with 
the  pale  cast  of  thought."  He  loved  manly  sports ;  and  he  was 
yet  but  a  blooming  youth  when  the  "demoiseau  of  Cleves,"  nephew 


212  THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THKIR  DATS. 

of  that  great  Duke  whom  men,  for  no  earthly  reason,  called  Philip 
the  Good^  carried  off  his  young  friend  from  the  castle  of  Lelaing, 
and  made  of  him  a  squire,  not  of  dames,  but  of  knights,  in  the 
turbulent  court  of  the  duc^  Philip,  with  the  benevolent  qualiiica- 
tion  to  his  name. 

The  youth  entered  upon  his  career  with  a  paternal  provision 
which  bespoke  at  once  the  liberality  and  the  wisdom  of  his  father, 
stout  William  'de  Lelaing.  The  sire  bestowed  upon  his  son  four 
splendid  horses,  a  well-skilled  groom,  and  a  ^^  gentleman  of  ser- 
vice" which,  in  common  phrase,  means  a  valet,  or  "  gentleman's 
gentleman."  But  the  young  soldier  had  more  than  this  in  his 
brain ;  namely,  a  well-lettered  cleric,  commissioned  to  be  for  ever 
expounding  and  instructing,  with  a  special  object,  to  boot,  that 
Jacques  should  not  forget  his  Latin !  Excellent  sire  thus  to  care 
for  his  son !  If  modem  fathers  only  might  send  into  barracks  with 
their  sons,:  when  the  latter  first  join  their  regiments,  reverend 
clerks,  whose  office  it  should  be  to  keep  their  pupils  well  up  in 
their  catechism,  the  Eton  grammar,  and  English  orthography, 
what  a  blessing  it  would  be  to  the  young  gentlemen  and  to  all 
acquainted  ^yith  them !  As  it  is,  we  have  officers  worse  instructed 
and  less  intelligent  than  the  sons  of  the  artists  who  make  their 
uniforms. 

When  Jacques  went  forth  into  the  world,  his  sire  gave  him  as 
good  advice  as  Polonius  threw  away  on  his  son  Laertes.  The  sum 
of  it  was  according  to  the  old  French  maxim,  "  Noblesse  oblige" — 
"  Inasmuch,"  said  the  old  man,  "  as  you  are  more  noble  than  others 
by  birth,  so,"  said  he,  "  should  you  be  more  noble  than  they  by 
virtues."  The  hearty  old  father  added  an  assurance,  that  "  few 
great  men  gained  renown  for  prowess  and  virtue  who  did  not^ 
entertain  love  for  some  dame  or  damoislle."  This  last,  however, 
was  but  an  equivocal  assurance,  for  by  counselling  Jacques  to  fall 
in  love  with  "  some  dame  or  damoiselle,"  he  sipaply  advised  him 
to  do  so  with  any  man's  wife  6t  daughter.  But  it  was  advice  com- 
monly given  to  young  gentlemen  in  arms,  and  is,  to  this  day,  com- 
monly followed  by  them.  Jacques  bettered  the  paternal  instruction, 
by  falling  in  love  with  two  ladies  at  the  same  time.  As  ambitious 
youths  are  wont  to  do,  he  passed  by  the  white  and  pink  young 
ladieJB  whom  he  met,  and  paid  his  addresses,  with  remarkable  sue- 


JACQUES   DE   LELAING.  213 

cess,  to  two  married  duchesses.  Neither  of  these  suspected  that 
the  smooth-chinned  young  *'  squire"  was  sweai'ing  eternal  fidelity 
to  the  other,  or  that  this  light-mailed  Macheath  wooed  his  madiae- 
val  Polly  with  his  pockets  full  of  "  favors,"  just  bestowed  on  him 
by  an  unsuspecting  Lucy.  Thus  has  love  ever  been  made  by  offi- 
cers and  highwaymen. 

But  if  Jacques  loved  two,  there  was  not  a  lady  at  the  Court  of 
Burgundy  who  did  not  love  him.  The  most  virtuous  of  them 
sighingly  expressed  a  wish  that  their  husbands,  or  their  lovers^ 
were  only  like  him.  The  men  hated  him,  while  they  affected  to 
admire  his  grace,  his  bearing,  and  his  irresistible  bravery.  Jacques 
very  complacently  accepted  the  love  of  the  women  and  the  envy 
of  the  men ;  and  feeling  that  he  had  something  to  be  thankful  for, 
he  repaired  to  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  at  Hal,  and  thanked  "  Our 
Lady,"  accordingly. 

Now  Philip  the  Good  was  good  only  just  as  Nicholas  the  Czar 
was  "  good."  He  had  a  fair  face  and  a  black  heart.  Philip,  like 
Nicholas,  joined  an  outward  display  of  conjugal  decency  with  some 
private  but  very  crapulous  indecency;  and  the  Duke,  like  the 
Czar,  was  the  appalling  liar  of  his  day.  Philip  had  increased  the 
ducal  territory  of  Burgundy  by  such  means  as  secured  Finland  to 
Muscovy,  by  treachery  of  the  most  fiendish  quality;  and  in  1442, 
affecting  to  think  that  Luxembourg  was  in  the  sick  condition 
which  Nicholas  described  as  Uie  condition  of  Turkey — when  the 
imperial  felon  thought  he  was  making  a  confederate  of  Sir  Hamil- 
ton Seymour,  the  Duke  resolved  to  seize  on  the  territory  in  ques- 
tion, and  young  Jacques  de  Lelaing  was  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight  at 
being  permitted  to  join  in  this  most  rascally  of  expeditions. 

Within  a  year,  desolation  was  spread  throughout  a  wide  district. 
Fire  and  sword  did  their  devastating  work,  and  the  earth  was 
swept  of  the'  crops,  dwellings,  and  human  beings,  which  lay  be- 
tween the  invaders  and  Luxembourg.  The  city  was  ultimately 
taken  by  surprise,  and  the  good  Philip  delivered  it  up  to  pillage ; 
then  ensued  a  scene  which  hell  itself  could  not  equal ;  and  the 
Duke  and  his  followers  having  enacted  horrors  from  which  devils 
would  have  recoiled,  they  returned  to  Brussels,  where  they  were 
received  .with  ten  times  more  delight  than  if  they  had  come  back 


214  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR   DAYS. 

from  an  expedition  which  had  been  undertaken  for  the  benefit  of 
humanity. 

What  was  called  peace  now  followed,  and  Jacques  de  Lelaipg, 
having  fleshed  his  maiden  sword,  and  gained  the  praise  of  brave 
men,  and  the  love  of  fair  women,  resolved  to  commence  a  series 
of  provincial  excursions  for  his  own  especial  benefit.  As,  in  mod- 
ern times,  professors  without  scholars,  and  actors  without  engage- 
ments, wander  from  town  to  town,  and  give  lectures  at  "  the  King's 
Arms,"  so  Jacqifes  de  Lelaing  went  forth  upon  his  way,  offering 
to  fight  all  comers,  in  presence  of  kings  themselves. 

His  first  appearance  on  this '  provincial  tour  was  at  Nancy,  in 
1445,  where  a  brilliant  French  Court  was  holding  joyous  festival 
while  awaiting  the  coming  of  Suffolk,  who  was  commissioned  to 
escort  to  England  a  royal  bride,  in  the  person  of  Margaret  of 
Anjou.  The  French  knights  made  light  of  the  soldier  of  Burgun- 
dy ;  but  Jacques,  when  announcing  that  he  was  the  holder  of  the 
tournament,  added  that  no  French  knight  should  unhorse  him,  un- 
less Grod  and  his  good  lady  decreed  otherwise. 

The  latter  was  not  likely,  and  he  felt  himself  secure,  doubly  so, 
for  he  rode  into  the  lists  decorated  with  favors,  gold  embroidery, 
and  rich  jewels,  the  gifts  of  the  Duchesses  of  Orleans  and  Calabria, 
each  of  whom  fondly  believed  that  she  was  the  sole  fair  one  by 
whose  bright  eyes  Jacques  de  Lelaing  swore  his  prettiest  oath. 
Accordingly,  there  was  not  a  cavalier  who  rode  against  him  in  that 
passage  of  arms,  who  left  the  field  otherwise  than  with  broken  or 
bruised  bones.  "  What  manner  of  man  will  this  be  ?''  cried  they, 
"  if,  even  as  a  lad,  he  lays  on  so  lustily  ?" 

The  lad,  at  the  subsequent  banquet,  to  which  he  was  borne  in 
triumph,  again  proved  that  he  had  the  capacity  of  a  man.  He 
was  fresh  as  a  rose  just  blown ;  gay  as  a  lark  in  early  spring. 
The  queens  of  France  and  Sicily  conversed  with  him  by  the  half 
hour,  while  ladies  of  lower  degree  gazed  at  him  till  they  sighed ; 
and  sighed,  knowing  full  well  why,  and  caring  very  much,  where- 
fore. Charles  VH.  too,  treated  him  with  especial  distinction,  and 
conferred  on  him  the  rich  prizes  he  had  won  as  victor  in  the  rough 
tourney  of  the  day.  But  there  were  other  guerdons  awarded  him 
that  night,  which  he  more  highly  prized.  Jacques  Visited  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans  in  her  bower,  and  carried  away  with  him,  on 


JACQUES   DB   LELAING.  215 

leaving,  the  richest  diamond  she  had  to  bestow.  He  then  passed 
to  the  pavilion  of  the  Duchess  of  Calabria,  a  ladj  who,  among 
other  gifts  willingly  made  by  her,  placed  upon  his  finger  a  brilUant 
ruby  set  in  a  gorgeous  gold  ring.  He  went  to  his  own  bed  that 
night  as  impudently  happy  as  a  modem  Lifeguardsman  who  is 
successfully  fooling  two  ladies'  maids.  His  cleric  had  left  him, 
and  Jacques  had  ceased  to  care  for  the  keeping-up  of  his  Latin, 
except,  perhaps,  the  conjugation  of  the  imperative  mood  of  amo, 
"  Amemus,"  let  us  love,  was  the  favorite  part  of  the  mood,  and  the 
most  frequently  repeated  by  him  and  his  brace  of  duchesses. 

Sometime  after  this  very  successful  first  appearance,  and  toward 
the  end  of  1445,  our  doughty  squire  was  traversing  the  cathedral 
of  Notre  Dame  of  Antwerp,  and  was  on  the  point  of  cursing  the 
singers  for  their  bad  voices,  just  as  one  might  be  almost  justified 
in  doing  now,  so  execrable  are  they ;  he  was  there  and  thus  en- 
gaged, when  a  Sicilian  knight,  named  Bonifazio,  came  jingling  his 
spurs  along  the  transept,  and  looking  jauntingly  and  impertinently 
as  he  passed  by.  Jacques  looked  boldly  at  this  "  pretty  fellow"  of 
the  time,  and  remarked  that  he  wore  a  golden  fetter  ring  on  his 
left  leg,  held  up  by  a  chain  of  the  same  metal  fastened  to  a  circlet 
above  his  knee.  His  shield  bore  the  device,  "  Who  has  fair  lady, 
let  him  look  to  her  well !"  "  It's  an  impertinent  device,"  said 
Jacques,  touching  the  shield,  by  way  of  token  that  he  would  fight 
the  bearej  for  carrying  it  "  Thou  art  but  a  poor  squire,  albeit  a 
bold  man,"  said  the  Sicilian,  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  half  in- 
clined to  chastise  the  Hainaulter  for  his  insolence.  Toison  d'Or, 
the  herald,  whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  Hainaulter ;  thereupon, 
Jacques  exclaimed,  "  If  my  master,  Duke  Philip,  will  give  me 
permission  to  fight,  thou  darest  not  deny  me,  on  his  Grace's  terri- 
tory." Bonifazio  bowed  by  way  of  assent.  The  permission  was 
gained,  and  the  encounter  came  off  at  Ghent.  The  first  day's 
combat  was  a  species  of  preliminary  struggle  on  horseback,  in 
which  Jacques  showed  himself  so  worthy  of  the  spurs  he  did  not 
yet  wear,  that  Philip  fastened  them  to  his  heels  the  next  day,  and 
dubbed  him  Knight  in  solemn  form.  As  the  combatants  strode 
into  the  lists,  on  the  second  day,  the  Duke  of  Orleans  remarked  to 
his  Duchess,  that  Jacques  was  not  so  "  gent  as  the  Sicilian."  The 
Duchess  smiled,  as  Guinever  sn^iled  when  she  looked  on  Sir 


216  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIfi  DAYS. 

Launcelot,  while  her  husband,  King  Arthur,  commented  upon  him; 
and  she  said,  in  phrase  known  to  all  who  read  Spenser,  "  he  loves 
a  lady  gent ;"  and  she  added,  with  more  of  the  smile  and  less  of 
the  blush,  "  he  is  a  better  man  than  the  Sicilian,  and,  to  my  think- 
ing, he  will  this  day  prove  it." 

"  We  shall  see,"  remarked  the  Duke  carelessly. 

"  We  shall  see,"  re-echoed  the  Duchess,  with  the  sunniest  of 
smiles. 

Jacques,  like  the  chivalric  "  gent"  that  he  was,  did  honor  to  the 
testimony  of  the  Duchess.  The  combatants  went  at  it,  like  stout 
men.  Jacques  belabored  his  antagonist  with  a  staff,  the  Sicilian 
answered  by  thrusting  a  javelin  at  his  adversary's  uncovered  face. 
They  then  flung  away  their  arms  and  their  shields,  and  hewed  at 
each  other  with  their  battle-axes.  Having  spoiled  the  edges  of 
these,  and  loosened  them  from  their  handles,  by  battering  at  each 
other's  skulls,  they  finally  drew  their  lusty  and  well-tempered 
swords,  and  fought  so  fiercely  that  the  gleaming  of  their  swiftly 
manoeuvred  blades  made  them  seem  as  if  they  were  smiting  each 
other  with  lightning.  Jacques  had  well-nigh  dealt  a  mortal  thrust 
at  the  Sicilian,  when,  at  the  intervention  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
Philip  the  Good  flung  his  truncheon  into  the  lists,  and  so  saved 
the  foreign  knight,  by  ending  the  fray.  The  Duchess  reproved 
her  consort  for  being  over-intrusive,  but  she  smiled  more  gleesomely 
than  before.  "  Whither  away,  Sir  Jacques  ?"  asked  she,  as  the 
latter  modestly  bowed  on  passing  her — the  multitude  the  while 
rending  the  welkin  with  their  approving  shout.  "  To  the  chapel 
in  the  wood,"  replied  Jacques,  "to  render  thanks  for  the  aid  vouch- 
safed to  me  by  our  Lady."  "  Marry,"  murmured  the  Duchess, 
"  we  will  be  there  too."  She  thought  it  not  less  edifying  to  see 
knight  at  his  devotions  than  at  beholding  him  in  the  duello.  "  I 
am  grateful  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Succor,"  said  Jacques.  "  And 
thou  doest  right  loyally,"  was  the  comment  of  the  Duchess. 

The  victory  of  the  Belgian  cavalier  over  the  Sicilian  gained  for 
him  the  distinctive  name  which  he  never  lost,  that  of  "  the  Good 
Knight."  To  maintain  it,  he  proceeded  to  travel  from  court  to  court, 
as  pugilists  itinerate  it  from  fair  to  fair,  to  exhibit  prowess  and  to 
gather  praise.  The  minor  pugilist  looks  to  pence  as  well  as  praise, 
and  the  ancient  knight  had  an  eye  to  profit  also — he  invariably 


JACQUES  DE  LELAING.  217 

carried  off  the  horse,  armor,  and  jewels  of  the  vanquished.  As 
Sir  Jacques  deemed  himself  invincible,  he  looked  to  the  realization 
of  a  lucrative  tour.  "  Go  on  thj  way,  with  God's  blessing,"  ex- 
claimed his  sire.  "  Go  on  thy  way,  Jacques,"  murmured  his 
mother  through  her  tears ;  "  thou  wilt  find  ointment  in  thy  valise, 
to  cure  all  bruises.  Heaven  send  thee  a  surgeon,  and  thou  break 
thy  bones." 

Across  the  French  frontier  merrily  rode  Sir  Jacques,  followed 
by  his  squire,  and  attended  by  his  page.  From  his  left  arm  hung 
a  splendidly- wrought  helmet,  by  a  chain  of  gold — the  prize  offered 
by  him  to  any  one  who  could  overcome  him  in  single  combat. 
Jacques  announced  that,  in  addition,  he  would  give  a  diamond  to 
any  lady  or  demoiselle  indicated  to  him  by  his  conqueror.  He 
stipulated  that  whichever  combatant  first  dropped  his  axe,  he  should 
bestow  a  bracelet  upon  his  adversary ;  and  Jacques  would  only 
fight  upon  the  condition  that  neither  knight  should  be  fastened  in 
his  saddle — a  regulation  which  I  should  never  think  of  seeing  in- 
sisted upon  anywhere,  except  by  equestrian  aldermen  when  they 
amble  on  Mr.  Batty's  horses,  to  meet  the  Sovereign  at  Temple 
Bar.  For  the  rest  Jacques  put  his  trust  in  God,  and  relied  upon 
the  strength  given  him  in  the  love  of  **  the  fair  lady  who  had  more 
power  over  him  than  aught  besides  throughout  the  entire  world." 
A  hundred  ladies  fair,  matrons  and  maids,  who  heard  of  this  well- 
advertised  confidence,  did  not  hesitate  to  exclaim,  "  Delicious  fel- 
low !     He  means  me  /" 

It  was  the  proud  boast  of  Jacques,  that  he  traversed  the  capital, 
and  the  provincial  cities  of  France,  without  meeting  with  a  knight 
who  would  accept  his  defiance.  It  would  be  more  correct  to  say 
— a  knight  who  could  take  up  his  challenge.  Charles  VII.  for- 
bade his  chivalry  from  encountering  the  fierce  Hainaulter  any- 
where but  at  the  festive  board.  In  the  South  of  France,  then  held 
by  the  English,  he  met  with  the  same  civility ;  and  he  rode  fairly 
into  Spain,  his  lance  in  rest,  before  his  onward  career  was  cheeked 
by  the  presence  of  an  adversary.  That  adversary  was  Don  Diego 
de  Guzman,  Grand-master  of  Calatrava,  and,  although  he  knew  it 
not,  ancestor  to  a  future  Empress  of  the  French.  The  Don  met 
the  Belgian  on  the  borders  of  Castile,  and  accepted  his  published 
challenge  out  of  mere  love,  as  the  one  silly  fellow  said  of  the  other, 


218  THE   KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

out  of  mere  love  for  his  "  tres  aimee  dame.^-  The  "  dames**  of  those 
days  enjoyed  nothing  so  much  as  seeing  the  gentlemen  thwack 
each  other ;  and  considering  what  a  worthless  set  these  latter,  for 
the  most  part,  were,  the  ladies  had  logically  comic  reasons  to  sup- 
port their  argument 

It  was  necessary,  however,  for  Don  Diego  to  ohtain  the  consent 
of  his  sovereign  to  encounter  in  mortal  combat  a  knight  of  the 
household  of  Burgundy,  then  in  alliance  with  Spain.  The  Sover- 
eign was  absent  from  the  country,  and  while  an  answer  was  being 
expected  from  him  to  the  application  duly  made,  Jacques,  at  the 
head  of  a  most  splendid  retinue,  trotted  leisurely  into  Portugal,  to 
tempt  the  Lusitanian  knights  to  set  their  lances  against  him.  He 
rode  forward  to  the  capital,  and  was  greeted  by  the  way,  as  if  he 
had  been  as  illustrious  a  monarch  as  his  ducal  master.  It  was  one 
ovation,  from  the  frontier  to  Lisbon,  where  he  Was  welcomed  by 
the  most  crowded  of  royal  balls,  at  which  the  King  (Alphonso 
XV.)  invited  him  to  foot  it  with  the  Queen.  The  King,  however, 
was  but  an  indifferent  master  of  the  ceremonies.  The  late  Mr. 
Simpson  of  Vauxhall,  or  the  illustrious  Baron  Nathan  of  Rosher- 
ville,  would  never  have  dreamed  of  taking  the  lady  to  introduce 
her  to  the  gentleman.  This  uncourteous  process  was,  however, 
the  one  followed  by  Alphonso,  who  taking  his  consort  by  the  hand, 
led  her  to  Sire  Jacques,  and  bad  him  tread  a  measure  with  her. 
Messire  Jacques  consented,  and  there  was  more  than  enough  of 
dancing,  and  feasting,  and  pleasure-seeking,  but  no  fighting.  Lis- 
bon was  as  dull  to  the  Belgian  as  Donnybrook  Fair  without  a 
skrimmage  used  to  be  to  all  its  lively  habitues.  "  I  have  had  a 
turn  with  the  Queen,"  said  Jacques,  "  let  me  now  have  a  tourney 
with  your  captains."  "  Burgundy  is  my  good  friend,"  answered 
the  King — and  he  was  right  in  a  double  sense,  for  Burgundy  was 
as  dear  to  him  as  Champagne  is  to  the  Czar's  valet,  Frederick 
William,  who  resides  at  Berlin.  "  Burgundy  is  our  good  friend," 
answered  Alphonso,  "  and  Heaven  forbid  that  a  knight  from  such 
a  court  should  be  roughly  treated  by  any  knights  at  mine."  "  By 
St.  George!  I  defy  them!"  exclaimed  Jacques.  "And  even  so 
let  it  rest,"  said  the  monarch ;  "  ride  back  to  Castile,  and  do  thy 
worst  upon  the  hard  ribs  of  the  Guzman."  Jacques  adopted  the 
suggestion;  and  on  the  3d  of  February,  1447,  there  was  not  a 


JACQUES  DE  LELAING.  219 

bed  in  Valladolid  to  be  had  "for  love  or  motiey ;"  so  crowded  was 
that  strong-smelling  city  with  stronger-smelling  Spaniards,  whose 
curiosity  was  even  stronger  than  the  odors  they  distilled,  to  wit- 
ness the  "set-to*'  between  the  Belgian  Chicken  and  the  Castile 
Shaver ! 

I  will  not  detail  the  preliminary  ceremonies,  the  processions  to 
the  fields  the  entry  of  the  sovereigns,  the  fluttering  of  the  ladies, 
the  excitement  of  the  knights,  and  the  eagerness  of  the  countless 
multitude.  Jacques  was  on  the  ground  by  ten  o'clock,  where 
Guzman  kept  him  waiting  till  three ;  and  then  the  latter  came 
with  an  axe  so  much  longer  than  that  wielded  by  the  Belgian,  that 
even  the  Spanish  umpires  forbade  its  being  employed.  Don 
Diego's  own  "  godfather"  for  the  occasion  was  almost  minded  to 
thump  him  with  the  handle ;  and  there  was  all  the  trouble  in  the 
world  to  induce  him  to  select  another.  This  being  effected,  each 
knight  was  conducted  to  his  tent,  with  the  understanding  that  he 
was  not  to  issue  therefrom  until  the  clarions  had  thrice  sounded  by 
way  of  signal.  At  the  very  first  blast,  however,  out  rushed  the 
Guzman,  looking  as  ferocious  as  a  stage  Kichard  who  has  killed 
five  false  Richmond?,  and  is  anxiously  inquiring  for  the  real  one 
wherewith  to  finish  the  half-dozen.  The  too  volatile  Don  was 
beckoned  back  by  the  chief  herald  as  haughtily  as  when  the  sem- 
piternal Widdicombe  points  out  with  his  whip  some  obvious  duty 
to  be  performed  by  Mr.  Merryman.  Diego  retired  muttering,  but 
he  again  appeared  in  front  of  his  tent  at  the  second  note  of  sum- 
mons from  the  trumpet,  and  only  withdrew  after  the  king  had 
assailed  him  "  with  an  ugly  word."  At  the  third  "  flourish,"  the 
two  champions  flew  at  each  other,  battle-axe  in  hand.  With  this 
weapon  they  hammered  at  each  other's  head,  until  there  was  little 
sense  left  in  either  of  them.  At  length,  Diego  was  disarmed; 
then  ensued  a  contest  made  up  partly  of  wrestling  and  partly  of 
boxing ;  finally,  they  had  recourse  to  their  swords,  when  the  king, 
perceiving  that  murder  was  likely  to  ensue,  to  one  or  both,  threw 
his  baton  into  the  lists,  put  an  end  to  the  combat,  and  refused  per- 
mission to  the  adversaries  to  continue  the  struggle  on  horseback. 
The  antagonists  shook  hands,  and  the  people  shouted.  The  Span- 
ish knight  is  deemed,  by  Belgian  chroniclers,  as  having  come  off 
"  second  best"  in  the  struggle ;  but  it  is  also  clear  that  Diego  de 


220  THE  KNIQUTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

Guzman  was  bj  far  the  *^  toughest  customer"  that  ever  confronted 
Jacques  de  Lelaing.  There  was  some  jealousy  on  the  part  of  the 
Iberian,  but  his  behavior  was,  altogether,  marked  by  generosity. 
He  praised  the  prowess  of  Jacques,  and  presented  him  with  an  An- 
dalusian  horse  covered  with  the  richest  trappings ;  and  de  Lelaing, 
as  unwilling  to  be  outdone  in  liberality  as  in  fight,  sent  to  Guzman, 
by  a  herald,  a  magnificent  charger,  with  coverings  of  blue  velvet 
embroidered  in  gold,  and  a  saddle  of  violet  velvet,  to  be  seated  in 
which,  was  of  itself  a  luxury.  Much  dancing  at  court  followed ; 
and  finally,  the  "  good  knight"  left  Valladolid  loaded  with  gifts  from 
the  king,  praises  from  men,  and  love  from  the  ladies,  who  made 
surrender  of  more  hearts  than  he  had  time  to  accept. 

In  Navarre  and  in  Aragon  he  challenged  all  comers,  but  in 
vain.  Swords  slept  in  scabbards,  and  battle-axes  hung  quietly 
from  saddle-bows,  and  there  was  more  feasting  than  fightipg.  At 
length  Jacques,  after  passing  through  Perpignan  and  Narbonne, 
arrived  at  Montpelier,  where  he  became  the  guest  of  the  famous 
Jacques  Coeur,  the  silversmith  and  banker  of  Charles  VJfl.  Old 
.Coeur  was  a  hearty  old  host,  for  he  offered  the  knight  any  amount 
of  money  he  would  honor  him  by  accepting ;  and  he  intimated 
that  if  De  Lelaing,  in  the  course  of  his  travels  had  found  it  neces- 
sary to  pawn  any  of  his  plate  or  jewelry,  he  (Jacques  Coeur) 
would  redeem  it  free  of  expense.  "My  good  master,  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy,"  replied  the  errant  chevalier,  "  provides  all  that  is 
necessary  for  me,  and  allows  me  to  want  for  nothing ;"  and  there- 
upon he  went  on  his  way  to  the  court  of  Burgundy,  where  he  was 
received  with  more  honor  than  if  he  had  been  executing  a  mission 
for  the  especial  benefit  of  humanity. 

But  these  honors  were  little,  compared  with  the  rejoicings  which 
took  place  when  the  "  good  knight"  revisited  his  native  chateau, 
and  the  parents  who  therein  resided.  His  sire  hugged  him  till  his 
armor  w^as  wann  again ;  and  his  lady  mother  walked  about  the 
halls  in  a  state  of  ecstacy  and  thanksgiving.  Finally,  the  rafters 
shook  at  the  efforts  of  the  joyous  dancers,  and  many  a  judicious 
matron  instructed  her  daughter  how  Jacques,  who  subdued  the 
stoutest  knights,  might  be  himself  subdued  by  the  very  gentlest 
of  ladies.  The  instruction  was  given  in  vain.  The  good  cheva- 
lier made  love  alike  to  young  widows,  wives,  and  daughters,  and 


JACQUES  BE  LELAING.  221 

having  broken  more  hearts  than  he  ever  broke  lances,  he  suddenly 
left  home  in  search  of  new  adventures. 

Great  was  the  astonishment,  and  that  altogether  of  a  pleasurable 
sort,  when  the  herald  Charolais  appeared  at  the  Scottish  court  in 
July,  1449,  and  delivered  a  challenge  from  Jacques  to  the  whole 
of  the  Douglases.  It  was  accepted  in  their  name  by  James 
Douglas,  the  brother  of  the  lieutenant-general  of  the  kingdom ;  and 
in  December  of  the  year  last  named,  Jacques,  with  a  retinue  of 
fighting  uncles,  cousins,  and  friends,  embarked  at  Ecluse  and  set 
sail  for  Caledonia.  The  party  were  more  battered  about  by  the 
sea  than  ever  they  had  been  by  enemy  on  land ;  and  when  they 
arrived  at  Leith,  they  looked  so  "  shaky,"  were  so  pale  and  hag- 
gard, and  had  so  little  of  a  "  slashing"  look,  wrapped  up  as  they 
were  in  surcoata  and  comforters,  that  the  Scottish  cavaliers,  ob- 
serving the  draggled  condition  of  the  strangers  and  of  the  plumes 
which  seemed  to  be  moulting  from  their  helmets,  fairly  asked  them 
what  motive  induced  them  to  come  so  far  in  so  sorry  a  plight,  for 
the' mere  sake  of  getting  bruised  by  knights  ashore  after  having 
been  tossed  about,  sick  and  sorry,  during  whole  nights  at  sea. 
When  the  northern  cavaliers  heard  that  honor  and  not  profit  had 
moved  the  Belgian  company,  ihtj  marvelled  much  thereat,  but 
prepared  themselves,  nevertheless,  to  meet  the  new-comers  in 
dread  encounter  at  Stirling. 

James  11.  presided  at  the  bloody  fray,  in  which  three  fought 
against  three.  What  the  Scottish  chroniclers  say  of  the  struggle, 
I  can  not  learn,  but  the  Belgian  historians  describe  their  cham- 
pions as  having  been  eminently  victorious  with  every  arm ;  and, 
according  to  them,  the  Douglases  were  not  only  soundly  drubbed, 
but  took  their  beating  with  considerable  sulkiness.  But  there  is 
much  poetry  in  Belgian  history,  and  probably  the  doughty  Doug- 
las party  may  not  have  been  so  thoroughly  worsted  as  the  pleasant 
chroniclers  in  question  describe  them  to  have  been.  No  doubt 
the  conquerors  behaved  well,  as  we  know  "les  braves  Beiges" 
have  never  failed  to  do,  if  history  may  be  credited.  However 
this  may  be,  Jacques  and  his  friends  hurried  from  Scotland,  ap- 
peared at  London  before  the  meek  Lancastrian  king,  Henry  VL ; 
and  as  the  latter  would  not  license  his  knights  to  meet  t£e  Bur- 
gundians  in  the  lists,  the  foreign  fighting  gentlemen  had  their  pass- 


222  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

ports  vise,  and  taking  passage  in  the  fast  sailer  "Flower  of 
Hainault,"  duly  arrived  at  home,  where  they  were  hailed  with 
enthusiasm. 

Jacques  had  short  space  wherein  to  breathe.  An  English 
knight,  named  Thomas  Karr,  speedily  appeared  at  the  court  of 
Philip  the  Duke,  and  challenged  De  Lelaing,  for  the  honor  of  old 
England.  This  affair  caused  a  great  sensation,  and  the  lists  were 
dressed  in  a  field  near  Bruges.  The  English  knight  was  the 
heavier  man  in  fiesh  and  armor,  but  Jacques,  of  course,  was  the 
favorite.  Dire  was  the  conflict.  The  adversaries  strove  to  fell 
each  other  with  their  axes,  as  butchers  do  oxen.  Karr  paralyzed, 
if  he  did  not  break,  the  arm  of  Jacques ;  but  the  Belgian,  dropping 
his  axe,  closed  with  his  foe,  and  after  a  struggle,  fell  with  and 
upon  him.  Karr  was  required,  as  a  defeated  man,  to  carry  the 
gauntlet  of  the  victor  to  the  lady  pointed  out  by  him.  But  ob- 
stinate Tom  Karr  protested  against  this,  as  he  had  only  fallen  on 
his  elbow.  The  umpires  declared  that  he  had  had  a  full  fall, 
"  head,  belly,  arms,  and  legs ;"  Jacques,  however,  was  generous 
and  would  not  insist.  On  the  contrary,  adverting  to  the  fact  that 
he  had  himself  been  the  first  to  drop  his  own  axe,  he  presented 
Karr  with  a  rich  diamond,  as  the  forfeit  due  by  him  whp  first  lost 
a  weapon  in  the  combat. 

Karr  had  terribly  wounded  Jacques,  and  the  wound  of  the  lat- 
ter took  long  to  cure.  The  Duke  Philip  hastened  his  convales- 
cence by  naming  him  counsellor  and  chamberlain ;  and  as  soon  as 
the  man  so  honored  by  his  master,  had  recovered  from  his  wounds, 
he  repaired  to  Chalons  on  Saone,  where  he  opened  a  "  tourney," 
which  was  talked  of  in  the  country  for  many  a  long  year  after- 
ward. Jacques  had  vowed  that  he  would  appear  in  the  closed 
lists  thirty  times  before  he  had  attained  his  thirtieth  year ;  and 
this  tourney  at  Chalons  was  held  by  him  against  all  comers,  in 
order  the  better  to  enable  him  to  fulfil  his  vow.  The  detail  would 
be  tedious ;  suifice  it  to  say  that  the  affair  was  of  barbarian  magnifi- 
cence, and  that  knights  smashed  one  another's  limbs,  for  personal 
honor,  ladies'  love,  and  the  glory  of  Our  Lady  in  Tears  !  Rich 
prizes  were  awarded  to  the  victors,  as  rich  forfeits  were  exacted 
from  the  vanquished,  and  there  was  not  only  a  sea  of  good  blood 
spilt  in  this  splendidly  atrocious  fray,  but  as  much  bad  blood  made 


JACQUES   DE  LELAING.  223 

as  there  was  good  blood  shed.  But  then  there  was  empty  honor 
acquired,  a  frail  sort  of  affection  gained,  and  an  impalpable  glory 
added  to  the  non-existent  crown  of  an  imaginary  Venus  Victrix, 
decorated  with  the  name  of  Our  Lady  of  Tears !  What  more 
could  true  knights  desire  ?  Chivalry  was  satisfied ;  and  common- 
place men,  with  only  common  sense  to  direct  them,  had  to  look  on 
in  admiring  silence,  at  risk  of  being  cudgelled  if  they  dared  to 
speak  out. 

Jacques  was  now  at  the  height  of  his  renown.  He  was  "  the 
good  knight  without  fear  and  without  doubt ;"  and  Duke  Philip 
placed  the  last  rose  in  his  chaplet  of  honor,  by  creating  him  a 
knight  of  the  illustrious  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece.  Thus  dis- 
tinguished, he  rode  about  Europe^  inviting  adversaries  to  measure 
swords  with  him,  and  meeting  with  none  wilUng  to  accept  the  in- 
vitation. In  1451  he  was  the  embassador  of  Burgundy  at  Rome, 
charged  to  negotiate  a  project  of  crusade  against  the  Turks.  M. 
Alexander  Henne,  the  author  of  the  best  compendium,  gathered 
from  the  chronicles,  of  the  deeds  of  Jacques  de  Lelaing — ^^says 
that  after  the  knight's  mission  to  Eome,  he  appeared  at  a  passage 
of  arms  held  in  the  park  at  Brussels,  in  honor  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy's  son,  the  Count  of  Charolais,  then  eighteen  years  of 
age,  and  about  to  make  his  first  appearance  in  the  lists.  The 
Duchess,  tender  of  her  son  as  the  Dowager  Czarina  who  kept  her 
boys  at  home,  and  had  not  a  tear  for  other  mothers,  whose  chil- 
dren have  been  bloodily  sacrificed  to  the  savage  ambition  of 
Nicholas — the  Duchess  careful  of  the  young  Count,  was  desirous 
that  he  should  make  essay  before  he  appeared  in  the  lists. 
Jacques  de  Lelaing  was  accordingly  selected  to  run  a  lance  with 
him.  "  Three  days  before  the  ftte,  the  Duke,  the  Duchess,  and 
the  Court  repaured  to  the  park  of  Brussels,  where  the  trial  was  to 
be  made.  In  the  first  onset,  the  Count  de  Charolais  shattered  his 
lance  against  the  shield  of  Jacques,  who  raised  his  own  weapon, 
and  passed  without  touching  his  adversary.  The  Duke  perceived 
that  the  good  knight  had  spared  his  young  adversary ;  he  was  dis- 
pleased thereat,  and  sent  Jacques  word  that  if  he  intended  to  con- 
tinue the  same  course,  he  would  do  well  to  meddle  no  further  in 
the  matter.  Other  lances  were  then  brought,  and  Jacques,  run- 
ning straight  against  the  Count,  both  lances  flew  into  splinters. 


224  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

At  this  incident,  the  Duchess,  in  her  turn,  gave  expression  to  her 
discontent;  but  the  Duke  only  laughed;  and  thus  mother  and 
father  were  of  different  opinions ;  the  one  desiring  a  fair  trial,  the 
other  security  for  her  son."  On  the  day  of  the  great  tourney, 
there  were  assembled,  with  the  multitude,  on  the  great  square  at 
Brussels,  not  less  then  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  princes,  barons, 
knights,  and  squires.  Some  of  the  noblest  of  these  broke  a  lance 
with,  and  perhaps  the  limbs  of,  their  adversaries.  The  Count  de 
Charolais  broke  eighteen  lances  on  that  day,  and  he  carried  off  the 
the  prize,  which  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  ladies. 

This  was  the  last  of  the  show-fights  in  which  Jacques  de 
Lelaing  exhibited  himself.  The  bloodier  conflicts  in  which  he 
was  subsequently  engaged,  were  far  less  to  his  credit.  They 
formed  a  part  of  the  savage  war  which  the  despotic  Duke  and  the 
nobles  carried  on  against  the  free  and  opulent  cities,  whose  spirit 
of  liberty  was  an  object  of  hatred,  and  whose  wealth  was  an  ob- 
ject of  covetous  desire,  to  the  Duke  and  his  body  of  gentleman- 
like assassins.  Many  a  fair  town  was  devastated  by  the  Duke 
and  his  followers,  who  affected  to  be  inspired  by  religious  feelings, 
a  desire  for  peace,  and  a  disinclination  to  make  conquests. 
Whereby  it  may  be  seen  that  the  late  Czar  was  only  a  Burgun- 
dian  duke  enlarged,  impelled  by  much  the  same  principle,  and 
addicted  to  a  similar  sort  of  veracity.  It  was  a  time  of  unmitigated 
horrors,  when  crimes  enough  were  committed  by  the  nobles  to  render 
the  name  of  aristocracy  for  ever  execrable  throughout  Belgium ; 
and  atrocities  were  practised  by  the  enraged  commons,  sufiicient 
to  insure,  for  the  plebeians,  the  undying  hatred  of  their  patrician 
oppressors.  There  was  no  respect  on  either  side  for  age,  sex,  or 
condition.  The  people,  of  every  degree,  were  transformed  into 
the  worst  of  fiends — slaying,  burning,  violating,  and  plundering; 
and  turning  from  their  accursed  work  to  kneel  at  the  shrine  of 
that  Mary  whose  blessed  Son  was  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Each 
side  slaughtered,  hung,  or  drowned  its  prisoners ;  but  the  nobles 
gave  the  provocation  by  first  setting  the  example,  and  the  commons 
were  not  cruel  till  the  nobility  showed  itself  alike  destitute  of 
honor  and  of  mercy.  The  arms  of  the  popular  party  were  nerved 
by  the  infamy  of  their  adversaries,  but  many  an  innocent  man  on 
either  side  was  condemned  to  suffer,  undeservedly,  for  the  sins  of 


JACQUES  DE  LELAING.  225 

others.  The  greatest  efforts  were  made  against  the  people  of  the 
distri<i^t  and  city  of  Ghent,  but  all  Flanders  sjnnpathized  with  them 
in  a  war  which  was  considered  national.  In  the  struggle,  the 
Duke  won  no  victory  over  the  people  for  which  the  latter  did  not 
compel  him  to  pay  a  frightful  price ;  he  was  heartily  sick  of  the 
war  before  it  was  half  concluded — even  when  his  banner  was  be- 
ing most  successfully  upheld  by  the  strong  arm  and  slender  scruples 
of  Jacques  de  Lelaing. 

The  good  knight  was  however,  it  must  be  confessed,  among  the 
few — if  he  were  not  the  only  one — of  the  betterminded  nobles. 
He  had  been  commissioned  by  the  Duke  to  set  fire  to  the  Abbey 
of  Eenaeme,  and  he  obeyed  without  hesitation,  and  yet  with 
reluctance.  He  destroyed  the  religious  edifice  with  all  which  it 
contained,  and  wiiich  could  be  made  to  bum ;  but  .having  thus 
performed  his  duty  as  a  soldier,  he  forthwith  accomplished  his 
equally  bounden  duty,  as  a  Christian — and,  after  paying  for  three 
masses,  at  which  he  devoutly  assisted,  he  confessed  himself  to  a 
predicant  friar,  "  making  a  case  of  conscience,"  says  one  of  his 
biographers,  "  of  having,  oiit  of  respect  for  discipline,  committed 
an  act  which  the  uprightness  of  his  heart  compelled  him  to  con- 
demn as  criminal.'*  Never  was  there  a  better  illustration  of  that 
so-called  diverse  condition  of  things  which  is  said  to  represent  a 
distinction  without  a  difference. 

The  repentance  of  Jacques  de  Lelaing  came,  it  is  hoped,  in  time. 
He  did  well,  at  all  events,  not  to  defer  it  any  longer,  for  he  was 
soon  on  the  threshold  of  that  world  where  faith  ceases  and  belief 
begins.  He  was  engaged,  although  badly  wounded,  in  inspecting 
the  siege-works  in  the  front  of  the  ChS,teau  de  Pouckes,  that 
Flemish  cradle  of  the  Pooks  settled  in  England.  It  was  on  a 
June  afternoon  of  the  year  1453,  that  Jacques,  with  a  crowd  of 
nobles  half-encircling  him,  rode  out,  in  pite  of  the  protest  of  his 
doctors  (because,  as  he  said,  if  he  were  to  remain  doing  nothing  he 
should  certainly  die),  in  order  that  he  might  have  something  to  do. 
There  was  a  famous  piece  of  artillery  on  the  Burgundian  side, 
which  was  sorely  troublesome  to  the  stout  little  band  that  was  de- . 
fending  Pouckes.  It  was  called  the  "  Shepherdess,"  but  never  did 
shepherdess  speak  with  so  thundering-unlovely  a  voice,  or  fling 
her  favors  about  her  with  such  dire  destruction  to  those  upon  whom 

15 


226  THE   KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

they  were  showered.  Jacques  drew  up  behind  the  manteau  of 
this  cannon,  to  watch  (like  our  gallant  seamen  at  Sebastopol)  the 
effects  of  the  shot  discharged  from  it  At  the  same  moment  a 
stone  projectile,  discharged  from  a  culverin  hj  the  hand  of  a  young 
artilleryman  of  Ghent,  who  was  known  as  the  son  of  Henry  the 
Blindman,  struck  Jacques  on  the  forehead,  carrying  away  the  upper 
part  of  his  head,  and  stretched  him  dead  upon  the  field.  A  Car- 
melite brother  rushed  up  to  him  to  offer  the  succor  and  consolation 
of  religion,  but  it  was  too  late.  Jacques  had  sighed  out  his  last 
breath,  and  the  friar  decently  folded  the  dead  warrior's  arms  over' 
his  breast.  A  mournful  troop  carried  the  body  back  to  the  camp. 
The  hero  of  his  day  died  in  harness.  He  had  virtues  that  fitted 
him  for  a  more  refined,  a  more  honest,  in  short,  a  more  Christian, 
period.  These  he  exercised  whenever  he  could  find  opportunity,  but 
such  opportunity  was  rare.  He  lived  at  a  period  when,  as  M.  de  Sis- 
mondi  has  remarked,  "  Knights  thought  of  nothing  but  equalling  the 
Rolands  and  Olivers  of  the  days  of  Charlemagne,  by  the  destruction 
of  the  vile  canaille" — a  sort  of  pastime  which  has  been  recently 
recommended  in  our  senate,  although  the  days  of  chivalry  be  gone. 
The  noble  comrades  of  Jacques,  as  M.  Henne  observes,  acknowl- 
edged but  one  species  of  supreme  pleasure  and  glory,  which  con- 
sisted in  making  flow  abundantly  the  blood  of  villains — or,  as  they 
are  now  called,  the  lower  orders.  But  in  truth  the  modem  "  villain" 
or  the  low-class  man  is  not  exclusively  to  be  found  in  the  ranks 
which  have  had  such  names  applied  to  them.  As  Bosquier- 
Gavaudan  used  so  joyously  to  sing,  some  thirty  years  ago,  in  the 
Mrmite  de  St,  Avetk: — 

"  Les  gens  de  bien 

Sont  souvent  des  gens  de  rien ; 
Et  les  gens  de  rien 

Sont  souvent  des  gens  de  bien !" 

For  a  knight,  Jacques  was  really  a  respectable  man,  and  so  dis- 
gusted with  his  butcher-like  occupation,  that,  just  before  his  death, 
he  had  resolved  to  surrender  his  estate  to  a  younger  brother,  and, 
since  fate  had  made  of  him  a  licensed  murderer,  to  henceforth 
murder  none  but  e^astern  infidels — to  slay  whom  was  held  to  be 
more  of  a  virtue  than  a  sin.  Let  us  add  of  him,  that  he  was  too 
honest  to  earn  a  reputation  by  being  compassionate  to  half-a-dozen 


JACQT7ES  DE  LELAIN6.  227 

helpless  foes,  after  directing  his  men  to  slaughter  a  score  of  the 
mutilated  and  defenceless  enemy.  Jacques  de  Lelaing  would 
sooner  have  sent  his  dagger  up  to  the  hilt  in  his  own  heart,  than 
have  violated  the  safeguard  of  a  flag  of  truce.  Such  days  and 
such  doings  of  chivalry  are  not  those  most  agreeable  to  Russian 
chivalry.  Witness  Odessa,  where  the  pious- governor  directed  the 
lire  on  a  flag  of  truce  which  he  swore  he  could  not  see ;  and  wit- 
ness the  massacre  of  Hango,  the  assassins  concerned  in  which  ex- 
ploit were  defended  by  their  worthy  superior  De  Berg. 

Jacques  de  Lelaing,  however,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  fell  in  a 
most  unworthy  cause — that  of  a  despot  armed  against  free  people. 
His  excellent  master  swore  to  avenge  him ;  and  he  kept  his  word. 
When  the  Chateau  de  Pouckes  was  compelled  to  surrender,  Philip 
the  Good  ordered  every  one  found  alive  in  it  to  be  hung  from  the 
walls.  He  made  exception  only  of  a  priest  or  two,  one  soldier 
afflicted  with  what  was  called  leprosy,  but  which  has  now  another 
name  in  the  catalogue  of  avenging  maladies,  and  a  couple  of  boys. 
It  was  precisely  one  of  these  lads  who  had,  by  his  well-laid  shot, 
slain  ^  the  good  knight  without  fear  and  without  doubt ;"  but  Philip 
was  not  aware  of  this  till  the  lad  was  far  beyond  his  reach,  and  in 
safety  at  Ghent 

Those  who  may  be  curious  to  know  the  course  taken  by  the 
war  until  it  was  terminated  by  the  treaty  of  LiHe,  are  reconmiend- 
ed  to  study  the  Chronicles  of  De  Lettenhooe,  of  Olivier  de  la 
Marche,  of  Chastellain,  and  Du  Clery.  I  had  no  intention,  at  set- 
ting out,  to  paint  a  battle-piece,  but  simply  to  sketch  a  single  figure. 
•  My  task  is  done,  however  imperfectly,  and,  as  old  chroniclers  were 
wont  to  say,  May  Heaven  bless  the  gentle  reader,  and  send  pis- 
toles and  abounding  grace  to  the  unworthy  author. 

Such  is  the  history  of  an  individual ;  let  us  now  tface  the  for- 
tunes of  a  knightly  house.  The  story  of  the  Guises  belongs  en- 
tirely to  chivalry  and  statesmanship. 


THE  KNIGHTS  AKD  THEIB  DATS* 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY. 

"  This  deals  with  nobler  knights  and  monarchs. 
Full  of  great  iears,  great  hopes,  great  enterprises." 

Antony  Brewer,  "  Lingua." 

In  the  pleasant  spring-time  of  the  year  1506,  a  little  boy,  mount- 
ed on  a  mule,  and  accompanied  by  a  serving  man  on  foot,  crossed 
over  the  frontier  from  Lorraine  into  France.  The  boy  was  a 
pretty  child,  some  ten  years  old;  He  was  soberly  clad,  but  a 
merry  heart  beat  under  his  gray  jerkin ;  and  his  spirits  were  as 
light  as  the  feather  in  his  bonnet  The  servant  who  walked  at 
his  side  was  a  simple  yet  faithful  follower  of  his  house ;  but  there 
was  no  more  speculation  in  his  face  than  there  was  in  that  of  the 
mule.  Nothing  could  have  looked  more  harmless  and  innocent 
than  the  trio  in  question ;  and  yet  the  whole — joyous  child,  plod- 
ding servitor,  and  the  mule  whose  bells  rang  music  as  he  trod — 
formed  one  of  the  most  remarkable  invasions  of  which  the  king- 
dom of  France  has  ever  been  the  victim. 

The  boy  was  the  fifth  child  of  Rene  and  Philippa  de  Gueldres, 
the  ducal  sovereigns  of  Lorraine.  This  duchy,  a  portion  of  the 
old  kingdom  of  Lotharingia — in  disputes  for  the  possession  of 
which  the  children  of  Charlemagne  had  shed  rivers  of  blood — had 
maintained  its  independence,  despite  the  repeated  attempts  of  Ger- 
many and  France  to  reduce  it  to  subjection.  At  the  opening  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  it  had  seen  a  legal  succession  of  sovereign 
and  independent  masters  during  seven  centuries.  The  reigning 
duke  was  Rene,  the  second  of  that  name.  He  had  acquired  es- 
tates in  France,  and  he  had  inherited  the  hatred  of  Lorraine  to 
the  Capetian  race  which  had  dethroned  the  heirs  of  Charlemagne. 
It  was  for  this  double  reason  that  he  unostentatiously  sent  into  the 
kingdom  of  France  one  of  his  sons,  a  boy  of  fair  promise.     The 


THE   FORTUNES  OF  A   KNIGHTLY   FAMILY.  229 

mission  of  the  jet  unconscious  child  was  to  increase  the  territonal 
possessions  of  his  family  within  the  French  dominions,  and  ulti- 
mately to  rule  both  Church  and  State — if  not  from  the  throne, 
why  then  from  behind  it. 

The  merry  boy  proved  himself  in  course  of  time  to  be  no  un- 
fitting instrument  for  this  e&pedal  purpose.  He  was  brought  up 
at  the  French  court,  studied  chivalry,  and  practised  passages  of 
arms  with  French  knights ;  was  the  first  up  at  revetUee,  the  last 
at  a  feast,  the  most  devout  at  mass,  and  the  most  winning  in  ladies' 
bower.  The  princes  of  the  blood  loved  him,  and  so  did  the  prin- 
cesses. The  army  hailed  him  with  delight;  and  the  church  be- 
held in  him  and  his  brother.  Cardinal  John,  two  of  those  cham- 
pions whom  it  records  with  gladness,  and  canonizes  with  alacrity. 

Such  was  Claude  of  Lorraine,  who  won  the  heart  and  lands  of 
Antoinette  de  Bourbon,  and  who  received  from  Francis  I.  not 
only  letters  of  naturalization,  but  the  title  of  Duke  of  Guise.  The 
locality  so  named  is  in  Picardy.  It  had  fallen  to  the  house  of 
Lorraine  by  marriage,  and  the  dignity  of  Count  which  accompa- 
nied it  was  now  changed  for  that  of  Duke.  It  was  not  long  before 
Claude  made  the  title  fampus.  The  sword  of  Guise  waa  never 
from  his  grasp,  and  its  point  was  unceasingly  directed  against  the 
enemies  of  his  new  country.  He  shed  his  own  blood,  and  spilled 
that  of  others,  with  a  ferocious  joy.  Francis  saw  in  him  the 
warmest  of  his  friends  and  the  bravest  of  his  soldiers.  His 
bravery  helped  to  the  glory  that  was  reaped  at  Marignan,  at  Fon- 
tarabia,  and  in  Picardy.  Against  internal  revolt  or  foreign  inva- 
sion he  was  equally  irresistible.  IRs  sword  drove  back  the  Impe- 
rialists of  Germany  within  their  own  frontier ;  and  when  on  the 
night  of  Pavia  the  warriors  of  France  sat  weeping  like  girls  amid 
the  wide  ruin  around  them,  his  heart  alone  throbbed  with  hopeful 
impulses,  and  his  mind  only  was  filled  with  bright  visions  of  vic- 
tories to  come. 

These  came  indeed,  but  they  were  sometimes  triumphs  that 
earned  for  him  an  immortality  of  infamy.  The  crest  of  his  house 
was  a  double  cross,  and  this  device,  though  it  was  no  emblem  of 
the  mtensity  of  religion  felt  by  those  who  bore  it,  was  significant 
of  the  double  sanguinary  zeal  of  the  family — a  zeal  employed 
solely  for  selfish  ends.     The  apostolic  reformers  of  France  were, 


230  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

at  this  period,  in  a  position  of  some  power.  Their  preachers  were 
in  'the  pulpit,  and  Iheir  people  in  the  field.  They  heard  the  gos- 
pel leaning  on  their  swords ;  and,  the  discourse  done,  they  rashed 
bravely  into  battle  to  defend  what  they  had  heard. 

Against  these  pious  but  strong-limbed  confederates  the  wrath 
of  Guise  was  something  terrible.  It  did  not,  like  that  of  Francis 
I. — who  banqueted  one  day  the  unorthodox  friends  whom  he 
burned  the  next — alternate  with  fits  of  mercy.  It  raged  without 
intermission,  and  before  it  the  Reformers  of  Alsatia  were  swept 
as  before  a  blast  in  whose  hot  breath  was  death.  He  spared  nei- 
ther sex  nor  age ;  and  he  justified  his  bloody  deeds  by  blasphe- 
mously asserting  that  he  was  guided  to  them  by  the  light  of  a  cross 
which  blazed  before  him  in  the  heavens.  The  church  honored 
him  with  the  name  of  ^'  good  and  faithful  servant ;"  but  there  are 
Christian  hearths  in  Alsatia  where  he  is  still  whisperingly  spoken 
of  as  "  the  accursed  butcher." 

When  his  own  fingers  began  to  hold  less  firmly  the  handle  of 
his  sword,  he  also  began  to  look  among  his  children  for  those  who 
were  most  likely  to  carry  out  the  mission  of  his  house.  His  eye 
marked,  approvingly,  the  bearing  of  his  eldest  son  Francis,  Count 
D'Aumale ;  and  had  no  less  satisfaction  in  the  brothers  of  Francis, 
who,  whether  as  soldiers  or  priests,  were  equally  ready  to  further 
the  interests  of  Lorraine,  and  call  them  those  of  Heaven.  His 
daughter  Mary  he  gave  to  James  V.  of  Scotland ;  and  the  bride 
brought  destruction  for  her  dowry.  Upon  himself  and  his  chil- 
dren, Francis  I.,  and  subsequently  Henry  H.,  looked  at  last  with 
mingled  admiration  and  dread.  Honors  and  wealth  were  lavished 
upon  them  with  a  prodigal  and  even  treasonable  liberality.  The 
generous  king  gave  to  the  insatiate  Guise  the  property  of  the 
people ;  and  when  these  complained  somewhat  menacingly.  Guise 
achieved  some  new  exploit,  the  public  roar  of  applause  for  which 
sanctioned  a  quiet  enjoyment  of  his  ill-gotten  treasures. 

For  the  purpose  of  such  enjoyment  he  retired  to  his  castle  at 
Joinville.  The  residence  was  less  a  palace  than  a  monastery.  It 
was  inhabited  by  sunless  gloom  and  a  deserted  wife.  The  neg- 
lected garden  was  trimmed  at  the  coming  of  the  duke,  but  not  for 
his  sake  nor  for  that  of  the  faithful  Antoinette.  Before  the  eyes 
of  that  faithful  wife  he  built  a  bower  for  a  mistress  who  daily  de- 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      231 

graded  with  blows  the  hero  of  a  hundred  stricken  fields.  He 
deprecated  the  rough  usage  of  the  courtesan  with  tears  and  gold ; 
and  yet  he  had  no  better  homage  for  the  virtuous  mother  of  his 
children,  than  a  cold  civility.  His  almost  sudden  death  in  1550 
was  accounted  for  as  being  the  efi^ct  of  poison,  administered  at 
the  suggestion  of  those  to  whom  his  growing  greatness  was  offen- 
sive. The  accusation  was  boldly  graven  on  his  monument ;  and 
it  is  probably  true.     No  one  however,  profited  by  the  crime. 

The  throne  found  in  his  children  more  dangerous  supporters 
than  he  had  ever  been  himself;  and  the  people  paid  for  their 
popular  admiration  with  loss  of  life  and  liberty.  The  church, 
however,  exulted ;  for  Claude  of  Lorraine,  first  Duke  of  Guise, 
gave  to  it  the  legitimate  son.  Cardinal  Charles,  who  devised  the 
massacre  of  the  day  of  St.  Bartholomew;  and  the  illegitimate 
son,  the  Abbe  de  Cluny,  who,  on  that  terrible  day,  made  his  dag- 
ger drink  the  blood  of  the  Huguenots,  till  the  wielder  of  it  became 
as  drunk  with  frenzy  as  he  was  wont  to  be  with  the  fiery  wine 
which  was  his  peculiar  and  intense  delight. 

The  first  Duke  of  Guise  only  laid  a  foundation,  upon  which  he 
left  his  heirs  and  successors  to  build  at  their  discretion.  He  had, 
nevertheless,  effected  much.  He  had  gained  for  his  family  con- 
siderable wealth ;  and  if  he  had  not  also  obtained  a  crown,  he  had 
acquired  possession  of  rich  crown-lands.  The  bestowing  upon  him 
of  these  earned  popular  execration  for  the  king ;  the  people,  at 
the  same  time,  confessed  that  the  services  of  Guise  were  worthy 
of  no  meaner  reward.  When  King  Francis  saw  that"  he  was 
blamed  for  bestowing  what  the  recipient  was  deemed  worthy  of 
having  granted  to  him,  we  can  hardly  wonder  that  Francis,  while 
acknowledging  the  merits  of  the  aspiring  family,  bade  the  members 
of  his  own  to  be  on  their  guard  against  the  designs  of  every  child 
of  the  house  of  Lorraine. 

But  he  was  no  child  who  now  succeeded  to  the  honors  of  his 
father,  the  first  duke.  Francis  of  Guise,  at  his  elevation  to  the 
ducal  title,  saw  before^  him  two  Obstacles  to  further  greatness. 
One  was  a  weak  king,  Henry  H.;  and  the  other,  a  powerful 
favorite,  the  Constable  de  Montmorency,  from  whose  family,  it 
was  popularly  said,  had  sprung  the  first  Christian  withift  the  realm 
of  France.     Francis  speedily  disposed  of  the  favorite,  and  almost 


THS  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

as  speedily  raised  himself  to  the  vacant  office,  which  he  exercised 
so  as  to  further  his  remote  purposes.  In  the  meantime  the  king 
was  taught  to  believe  that  his  crown  and  happiness  were  depen* 
dent  on  his  Lorraine  cousins,  who,  on  their  side,  were  not  onlj 
aiming  at  the  throne  of  France  for  one  member  of  the  house,  but 
were  aspiring  to  the  tiara  for  a  second ;  the  crown  of  Naples  for 
a  third — to  influence  in  Flanders  and  in  Spain,  and  even  to  the 
diadem  of  Elizabeth  of  England,  succession  to  which  was  recog- 
nised as  existing  in  them,  bj  Mary  Stuart,  in  case  of  her  own 
decease  without  direct  heirs.  It  is  said  that  the  British  Roman- 
ists looked  forward  with  unctuous  complacency  to  the  period  when 
the  sceptre  of  this  island  should  fall  into  the  blood- stained  grasp 
of  a  "  Catholic  Guise." 

It  was  not  only  the  fortune  of  Francis  to  repair  the  ill  luck  en- 
countered in  the  field  by  Montmorency,  but  to  gain  advantages  in 
fight,  such  as  France  had  not  yet  seen.  The  Emperor  Charles  V. 
had  well-nigh  got  possession  of  beleaguered  Metz,  when  Guise 
threw  himself  into  the  place,  rescued  it  from  the  Emperor,  and 
swept  the  Imperialists  out  of  France.  His  fiery  wrath  cooled 
only  in  presence  of  the  wounded,  to  whom  he  behaved  with  gentle 
and  helping  courtesy.  His  gigantic  labors  here  brought  on  an 
attack  of  fever ;  and  when  -he  was  compelled  to  seek  rest  in  his 
house  at  Marchez,  a  host  of  priests  and  cardinals  of  hia  family 
gathered  round  his  court,  and  excited  him  to  laughter  by  rough 
games  that  suited  but  sorrily  with  their  calling. 

The  second  duke  inherited  his  father's  hatred  for  "  heretics." 
The  great  CoUigny  had  been  his  bosom  friend ;  but  when  that 
renowned  Reformer  gave  evidence  of  his  new  opinions  upon  re- 
ligious subjects,  then  ensued,  first  a  coldness,  then  fits  of  angry 
quarrelling,  and  at  last  a  duel,  in  which,  though  neither  combatant  • 
was  even  scratched,  friendship  was  slain  for  ever.  Duke  Francis 
was  prodigal  like  his  father,  but  then  his  brother.  Cardinal  Charles, 
was  minister  of  the  finances :  and  the  king  and  his  mistress,  Diana 
de  Poictiers,  cared  not  how  the  revenue  was  managed,  so  that 
money  was  forthcoming  when  necessity  pressed.  The  consequence 
was,  that  the  king's  exchequer  was  robbed  to  supply  the  extrava- 
gances of  Guise.  But  then  men  began  to  associate  with  the  name 
the  idea  of  deliverance  from  oppression ;  and  they  did  not  count 


THE  F0BTUNE8  OF  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      233 

the  cost.  And  jet  yictory  did  not  invariably  select  for  her  throne 
the  glittering  helm  of  the  aspiring  duke.  The  pope  had  selected 
him  as  commander  of  the  papal  army  acting  against  Naples,  but 
intrigue  paralyzed  the  arm  which  had  never  before  been  conquered^ 
and  the  pontiff  showered  epigrams  upon  him  instead  of  laurels. 

In  this  momentary  eclipse  of  the  sun  of  his  glory,  the  duke 
placed  his  own  neck  under  the  papal  heel.  He  served  in  the 
pope's  chapel  as  an  Acolyte,  meekly  bore  the  mantle  of  obese  and 
sneering  cardinals,  and  exhibited*  a  humility  which  was  not  without 
success.  When  at  a  banquet  given  by  a  cardinal.  Guise  humbly 
sat  down  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table,  he  asked  a  French  officer 
who  was  endeavoring  to  thrust  in  below  him,  ''  Why  comest  thou 
here,  friend  ?"  "  That  it  might  not  be  said,"  answered  the  soldier, 
"  that  the  representative  of  the  King  of  France  took  the  very 
lowest  place  at  a  priest's  table  I" 

From  such  reproaches  Guise  gladly  fled,  to  buckle  on  his  armor 
and  drive  back  an  invasion  of  France  by  the  Hispano-Flemings 
on  the  north.  The  services  he  now  rendered  his  country  made 
the  people  almost  forget  the  infamy  of  their  king,  who  was  wasting 
life  in  his  capital,  and  the  oppressive  imposts  of  the  financial  car- 
dinal, whom  the  sufferers  punningly  designated  as  Cardinal  La 
Ruine.  The  ruin  he  achieved  was  forgiven  in  consideration  of 
the  glory  accomplished  by  his  brother,  who  had  defeated  and  de- 
stroyed the  armies  which  threatened  the  capital  from  the  north ; 
and  who  had  effected  much  greater  glory  by  suddenly  falling  on 
Calais  with  a  force  of  ten  to  one,  and  tearing  from  the  English 
the  last  of  the  conquests  till  then  held  by  them  in  France.  Old 
Lord  Wentworth,  the  governor,  plied  his  artillery  with  a  roar  that 
was  heard  on  the  English  coast :  but  the  roar  Was  all  in  vain. 
There  was  a  proverb  among  our  neighbors,  and  applied  by  them 
to  every  individual  of  mediocre  qualifications,  that  "  he  was  not 
the  sort  of  man  to  drive  the  English  out  of  France."  That  man 
was  foiind  in  Guise ;  and  the  capital  began  naturally  to  contrast 
him  with  the  heartless  king,  who  sat  at  the  feet  of  a  concubine, 
and  recked  little  of  the  national  honor  or  disgrace.  And  yet,  the 
medals  struck  to  commemorate  the  recovery  of  Calais  bear  the 
names  only  of  Henri  and  Diana.  They  omit  all  mention  of  the 
great  liberator,  Guise ! 


234  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

The  faults  of  Henri,  however,  are  not  to  be  entirely  attributed 
to  himself.  He  had  some  feelings  of  compassion  for  the  wretched 
but  stout-hearted  Huguenots,  with  whom,  in  the  absence  of  Guise, 
he  entered  into  treaties,  which.  Guise  present,  he  was  constrained 
to  violate !  In  pursuit  of  the  visions  of  dominion  in  France,  and 
of  the  tiara  at  Rome,  the  ambitious  house  sought  only  to  gain  the 
suffrages  of  the  church  and  the  ^thiul.  To  win  smiles  from 
them,  the  public  scaffolds  were  deluged  with  the  blood  of  heretics; 
and  all  were  deemed  so  who  refused  to  doff  their  caps  to  the 
images  of  the  virgin,  raised  in  the  highways  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  duke  and  the  cardinal.  This  terrific  persecution  begat  remon- 
strance ;  but  when  remonstrance  was  treated  as  if  it  were  rebel- 
lion, rebellion  followed  thereupon ;  as,  perhaps,  was  hoped  for ; 
and  the  swords  of  the  Guisards  went  flashing  over  every  district 
in  France,  dealing  death  wherever  dwelt  the  alleged  enemies  of 
God,  who  dared  to  commune  with  Him  according  to  conscience, 
rather  than  according  to  Rome.  Congregations,  as  at  Vassi,  were 
set  upon  and  slaughtered  in  cold  blood,  without  resistance.  In  the 
Huguenot  "  temple"  of  this  last  place  was  found  a  Bible.  It  was 
brought  to  the  duke.  This  noble  gentlen^an  could  spell  no  better 
than  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough ;  and  Guise  was,  moreover, 
worse  instructed  in  the  faith  which  he  professed.  He  looked  into 
the  Book  of  Life,  unconscious  of  what  he  held,  and  with  a  won- 
dering exclamation  as  to  what  it  might  be  all  about,  he  flung  it 
aside,  and  turned  to  the  further  slaughter  of  those  who  believed 
therein. 

In  such  action  he  saw  his  peculiar  mission  for  the  moment,  but 
he  was  not  allowed  to  pursue  it  unopposed.  His  intrigues  and  his 
cruelties  made  rebels  even  of  the  princes  of  the  blood ;  and  Conde 
took  the  field  to  revenge  their  wrongs,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
Reformers.  The  issue  was  tried  on  the  bloody  day  at  Dreux, 
when  the  setting  sun  went  down  on  a  Protestant  army  routed,  and 
on  Conde  a  captive ;  but  sharing  the  bed,  as  was  the  custom  of 
the  time,  of  his  proved  victor  Guise.  Never  did  two  more  deadly 
enemies  lie  on  the  same  couch,  sleepless,  and  full  of  mutual  sus- 
picion. But  the  hatred  of  Conde  was  a  loyal  hatred ;  that  of 
Guise  was  marked  by  treacherous  malignity.  The  Protestant 
party,  in  presence  of  that  hot  fury,  seemed  to  melt  away  like  a 


TB[E  FORTUNES  OF  A   KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.  236 

snow-wralth  in  the  sun.  He  and  his  Guisards  were  the  terror  of 
the  so-called  enemies  of  the  Faith.  Those  whom  he  could  not 
reach  by  the  sword,  he  struck  down  by  wielding  against  them  the 
helpless  hand  of  the  king,  who  obeyed  with  the  passiveness  of  a 
Marionette y  and  raised  stakes,  and  fired  the  pile,  and  gave  the 
victim  thereto,  simply  because  Guise  would  so  have  it. 

The  duke  received  one  portion  at  least  of  his  coveted  reward. 
At  every  massacre  of  inoffensive  Protestants,  the  Catholic  pulpits 
resounded  with  biblical  names,  showered  down  upon  him  by  the 
exulting  preachers.  When  his  banner  had  swept  triumphantly 
over  successive  fields,  whose  after-crops  were  made  rich  by  heret- 
ical blood,  then  did  the  church  pronounce  him  to  be  a  soldier 
divinely  armed,  who  had  at  length  "  consecrated  his  hands,  and 
avenged  the  quarrel  of  the  Lord." 

Guise  lived,  it  is  true,  at  a  period  when  nothing  was  held  so 
cheap  as  life.  Acts  of  cruelty  were  but  too  common  in  all  fac- 
tions. If  he  delivered  whole  towns  to  pillage  and  its  attendant 
horrors,  compared  with  which  death  were  merciful,  he  would  him- 
self exhibit  compassion,  based  on  impulse  or  caprice.  He  was 
heroic,  according  to  the  thinking  of  his  age,  which  consMered 
heroism  as  being  constituted  solely  of  unflinching  courage.  In 
all  other  respects,  the  duke,  great  as  he  was,  was  as  mean  as  the 
veriest  knave  who  trailed  a  pike  in  his  own  bands.  Scarcely  a 
letter  addressed  to  his  officers  reached  them  without  having  been 
previously  read  to  their  right  worshipful  master.  There  was 
scarcely  a  mansion  in  the  kingdom,  whose  lord  was  a  man  of  in- 
fluence, but  that  at  that  table  and  the  hearth  there  sat  a  guest  who 
was  the  paid  spy  of  Francis  of  Guise. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  adtfthat  his  morality  generally  was  on 
a  par  with  the  particular  specimens  we  have  given  of  it.  Crowds 
of  courtesans  accompanied  him  to  the  camp,  while  he  deliberately 
exposed  his  own  wife,  Anne  of  Este,  the  sister  of  Tasso's  Leonora, 
to  the  insulting  homage  of  a  worthless  king.  Emphatically  may 
it  be  said  that  the  truth  was  not  in  him.  He  gloried  in  mendacity. 
No  other  personage  that  I  can  call  to  mind  ever  equalled  him  in" 
lying — except,  perhaps,  those  very  highly  professing  heroes  who 
swagger  in  Greek  tragedy.  He  procured,  by  a  lie,  the  capital 
conviction  of  Conde.     The  latter  escaped  the  penalty,  and  taxed 


236  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

the  duke  with  his  falsehood*  Guise  swore  hj  his  sword,  his  life, 
his  honor,  his  yery  soul,  that  he  was  innocent  of  the  charge. 
Conde  looked  on  the  ducal  liar  with  a  withering  contempt,  and 
turned  fh)m  him  with  a  sarcasm  that  should  have  pierced  him  like 
a  sword.  Pointed  as  it  was,  it  could  not  find  way  through  his 
corslet  to  his  heart.  He  met  it  with  a  jest,  and  deemed  the  sin 
unregistered. 

There  was  a  watchful  public,  nevertheless,  observing  the  prog- 
ress made  toward  greatneds  by  the  chivalric  duke,  and  his  brother 
the  cardinal.  Henry  H.  had  just  received  the  mortal  blow  dealt 
him  at  a  tournament  by  the  lance  of  Mcmtgomery.  Francis  IL, 
his  brother,  the  husband  of  Mary  Stuart,  and  therewith  nephew 
to  Guise,  succeeded  to  the  uneasy  throne  and  painful  privileges 
of  Henri.  On  the  night  of  this  monarch's  decease,  two  courtiers 
were  traversing  a  gallery  of  the  Louvre.  "  This  night,"  said  one, 
"  is  the  eve  of  the  Festival  of  the  Three  Kings."  "  How  mean 
you  by  that  ?"  asked  the  other  with  a  smile.  "  I  mean,"  rejoined 
the  first,  '^  that  to-morrow  we  shall  have  three  monarchs  in  Paris 
— one  of  them,  King  of  France ;  the  others  Kings  in  France — 
from  Xiorraine." 

Under  the  latter  two,  Duke  and  Cardinal,  was  played  out  the 
second  act  of  the  great  political  drama  of  Lorraine.  It  was  alto- 
gether a  melo-drama,  in  which  there  was  abundance  of  light  and 
shadow.  At  times,  we  find  the  hero  exhibiting  exemplary  candor ; 
anon,  he  is  the  dark  plotter,  or  the  fierce  and  open  slayer  of  his 
kind.  There  are  stirring  scenes  of  fights,  wherein  his  adversaries 
draw  their  swords  against  him,  at  the  instigation  of  a  disgusted 
King,  who  no  sooner  saw  Guise  triumphant,  than  he  devoted  to 
death  the  survivors  whom  he  had  clandestinely  urged  into  the  fray. 

The  battles  were  fought,  on  one  side,  for  liberty  of  conscience ; 
on  the  other,  for  the  sake  of  universal  despotism.  The  bad  side 
triumphed  during  a  long  season ;  and  field  after  field  saw  waving 
over  it  the  green  banner  of  Lorraine.  Catherine  de  Medicis,  and 
her  son  Charles  IX.,  accompanied  the  Duke  in  more  than  one 
struggle,  after  the  short-lived  reign  of  Francis  IL  had  come  to  an 
end.  They  passed,  side  by  side,  through  the  breach  at  Bouen ; 
but  accident  divided  them  at  Orleans,  where  had  assembled  the 
gallant  few  who  refused  to  despair  for  the  Protestant  cause. 


THE  FORTUNES  OP  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      237 

Guise  beleaguered  the  city,  and  was  menacingly  furious  at  its 
obstinacy  in  holding  out.  One  evening  he  had  ridden  with  his 
staff  to  gaze  more  nearly  at  the  walls,  from  behind  which  defiance 
was  flung  at  him.  "  You  will  never  be  able  to  get  in,"  remarked 
roughly  a  too  presuming  official.  "  Mark  me !"  roared  the  chafed 
Duke,  *'  yon  setting  sun  will  know  to-morrow  how  to  get  behind 
that  rampart ;  and  by  Heaven,  so  will  I !"  He  turned  his  horse, 
and  galloped  back  alone  to  his  quarters.  He  was  encountered  6n 
his  way  by  a  Huguenot  officer,  Poltrot  de  la  Mer,  who  brought 
him  down  by  a  pistol-shot.  The  eyes  of  the  dying  Duke,  as  he 
lay  upon  the  ground,  met  for  the  last  time  the  faint  rays  of  that 
departing  sun,  with  which  he  had  sworn  to  be  up  and  doing  on  the 
morrow.  He  died  in  his  hut.  His  condition  was  one  of  extreme 
**  comfortableness."  He  had  robbed  the  King's  exchequer  to  grat- 
ify his  own  passions ; — and  he  thanked  Heaven  that  he  had  been 
a  faithful  subject  to  his  sovereign !  He  had  been  notoriously  un- 
faithful to  a  noble  and  virtuous  wife ;  and  he  impressed  upon  her 
with  his  faltering  lips,  the  assurance  that  "  generally  speaking"  his 
infidelity  as  a  husband  did  not  amount  to  much  worth  mentioning! 
He  confessed  to,  and  was  shriven  by  his  two  brothers,  Car^als 
John  and  Charles.  The  former  was  a  greater  man  than  the  Duke. 
The  latter  was  known  in  his  own  times  and  all  succeeding,  as  "the 
bottle  cardinal,"  a  name  of  which  he  was  only  not  ashamed,  but 
his  title  to  which  he  was  ever  ostentatiously  desirous  to  viadicate 
and  establish. 

The  first  Duke  had  acquired  possession  of  crown-lands;  the 
second  had  at  his  disposal  the  public  treasure ;  and  the  third  hoped 
to  add  to  the  acquisitions  of  his  family  the  much-coveted  sceptre 
of  the  Kings  of  France.  • 

Henri,  sumamed  Le  Bcdafre^  or  **  the  scarred,"  succeeded  his  fa- 
ther in  the  year  1 5  60.  During  the  greater  portion  of  his  subsequent 
life,  his  two  principal  objects  were  the  destruction  of  Protestantism, 
and  the  possession  of  the  King's  person.  He  therewith  flattered 
the  national  vanity  by  declaring  that  the  natural  limits  of  France, 
on  two  sides,  were  the  Rhine  and  the  Danube — an  extension  of 
frontier  which  was  never  effected,  except  temporarily,  in  the  latter 
days  of  Napoleon.  But  the  declaration  entailed  a  popularity  on 
the  Duke  which  was  only  increased  by  his  victory  at  Jan^ac, 


238  THS  KNI6HT8  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

when  the  French  Protestants  not  only  suffered  defeat,  but  lost 
their  leader,  the  brave  and  unfortunate  Conde.  This  gallant  chief 
had  surrendered,  but  he  was  basely  murdered  by  a  pistol-shot,  and 
his  dead  body,  flung  across  an  ass,  was  paraded  through  the  ranks 
of  the  victors,  as  a  trophy.  How  far  the  Duke  was  an  accomplice 
in  the  crime,  is  not  determined.  That  such  incidents  were  deemed 
lightly  of  by  him,  is  sufficiently  dear  by  his  own  proclamation  in 
seven  languages,  wherein  he  accused  Coligny  as  the  instigator  of 
the  murder  of  the  late  Duke  of  Guise,  and  set  a  price  upon  that 
noble  head,  to  be  won  by  any  assassin. 

For  that  so-called  murder.  Guise  had  his  revenge  on  the  day 
of  St.  Bartholomew,  when  he  vainly  hoped  that  the  enemies  of  his 
house  had  perished  for  ever.  On  the  head  of  more  than  one 
member  of  the  house  of  Guise  rests  the  responsibility  of  that  terri- 
ble day.  During  the  slaughter.  Guise  gained  his  revenge,  but  lost 
his  love.  The  cries  of  the  victims  were  the  nuptial  songs  chanted 
at  the  marriage-ceremony  of  Henri  of  Navarre  and  Margaret,  the 
King's  sister.  The  latter  had  looked,  nothing  loath,  upon  the  suit 
offered  to  her  by  Guise,  who  was  an  ardent  wooer.  But  the 
wooing  had  been  roughly  broken  in  upon  by  the  lady's  brother, 
the  Due  d'Anjou,  who  declared  aloud  in  the  Louvre,  that  if  Guise 
dared  look  with  lover's  eyes  upon  "  Margot,"  he  would  run  his 
knife  into  the  lover's  throat !  The  threat  had  its  influence,  and 
the  unfaithful  wooer,  who  had  been  all  the  while  solemnly  affianced 
to  a  Princess  Catherine  of  Cleves,  married  that  remarkable  bru- 
nette, and  showed  his  respect  for  her,  by  speaking  and  writing  of 
her  as  ^^  that  amiable  lady,  the  negress."  It  may  be  noticed  in 
passing,  that  the  objection  of  D'Anjou  to  Guise  as  a  brother-in- 
law,  was  not  personal;  it  had  a  political  foundation.  The  two 
dukes  became,  indeed,  brothers-in-law;  not  by  Guise  marrying 
the  sister  of  D'Anjou,  but  by  D'Anjou  marrying  the  sister  of 
Guise,  and  by  sharing  with  her  the  throne  which  he,  subsequently, 
occupied  rather  than  enjoyed,  as  Henri  III. 

When  summoned  to  the  throne  by  the  unedifying  death  of 
Charles  IX.,  Henry  of  Anjou  was  king  of  Poland.  He  escaped 
frcm  that  country  with  difficulty,  in  order  to  wear  a  more  brilliant 
but  a  more  fatal  crown  in  France.  He  had  no  sooner  assumed  it, 
when  he  beheld  the  Guises  encircling  him,  and  leaving  him  neither 


THE   FORTUNES  OP  A   KNIGHTLY   FAMILY.  289 

liberty  nor  will.  The  Protestants  were  driven  into  rebellion. 
They  found  a  leader  in  Henry  of  Navarre,  and  Guise  and  his 
friends  made  war  against  them,  irrespective  of  the  King's  consent, 
and  cut  in  pieces,  with  their  swords,  the  treaties  entered  into  be- 
tween the  two  Henrys,  without  the  consent  of  the  third  Henri — 
of  Guise  and  Lorraine.  The  latter  so  completely  enslaved  the 
weak  and  unhappy  sovereign,  as  to  wring  from  him,  against  his 
remonstrance  and  conviction,  the  famous  articles  of  Nemours, 
wherein  it  was  solemnly  decreed  in  the  name  of  the  King,  and 
confirmed  by  the  signature  of  Guise,  that,  thenceforward,  it  was 
the  will  of  God  that  there  should  be  but  one  faith  in  France,  and 
that  the  opposers  thereof  would  find  that  opposition  incurred  death. 

There  is  a  tradition  that  when  Henri  HI.  was  told  of  this  de- 
cree, he  was  seated  in  deep  meditation,  his  head  resting  upon  his 
hand ;  and  that  when  he  leaped  to  his  feet  with  emotion,  at  the 
impiety  of  the  declaration,  it  was  observed  that  the  part  of  his 
moustache  which  had  been  covered  by  his  hand,  had  suddenly 
turned  gi'ay. 

The  misery  that  followed  on  the  publication  of  these  infamous 
articles  was  widely  spread,  and  extended  to  other  hearths  besides 
those  of  the  Huguenots.  Sword,  pestilence,  and  famine,  made  a 
desert  of  a  smiling  country ;  and  the  universal  people,  in  their 
common  sorrow,  cursed  all  parties  alike — "  King  and  Queen, 
Pope  and  Calvin,"  and  only  asked  from  Heaven  release  from  all, 
and  peace  for  those  who  suffered  by  the  national  divisions.  The 
King,  indeed,  was  neither  ill-intentional  nor  intolerant ;  but  Guise 
so  intrigued  as  to  persuade  the  "  Catholic"  part  of  the  nation  that 
Henri  was  incapable.  Faction  then  began  to  look  upon  the  pow- 
erful subject  as  the  man  best  qualified  to  meet  the  great  emergency. 
He  fairly  cajoled  them  into  rebellion.  They  were,  indeed,  willing 
to  be  so  cajoled  by  a  leader  so  liberal  of  promises,  and  yet  he  was 
known  to  be  as  cruel  as  he  engaged  himself  to  be  liberal.  He 
often  kept  his  own  soldiers  at  a  point  barely  above  starvation ; 
and  the  slightest  insubordination  in  a  regiment  entailed  the  penalty 
of  death.  To  his  foes  he  was  more  terrible  still.  As  he  stood  in 
the  centre  of  a  conquered  town  that  had  been  held  by  the  Hugue- 
nots, it  was  sport  to  him  to  see  the  latter  tossed  into  the  flames. 
On  one  occasion  he  ordered  a  Huguenot  officer  to  be  torn  asunder 


240  THE  KNIGHTS   4ND  THEIB  DAYS. 

by  young  horses  for  no  greater  crime  than  mntilating  a  wooden 
idol  in  a  church.  The  officer  had  placed  the  mutilated  figure  on 
a  bastion  of  the  city,  with  a  pike  across  its  breast,  as  a  satire  on 
the  guardianship  which  such  a  protector  was  popularly  believed 
to  aflfbrd. 

He  could,  however,  be  humane  when  the  humor  and  good  reason 
for  it  came  together.  Thus  he  parted  with  a  pet  lioness,  which 
he  kept  at  his  quarters,  on  the  very  sufficient  ground  that  the 
royal  beast  had,  on  a  certain  morning,  slain  and  swallowed  one  of 
his  fctuorite  footmen !  A  commonplace  lacquey  he  might  have 
spared  without  complaining ;  but  he  could  not,  without  some  irrita- 
tion, hear  of  a  valet  being  devoured  who,  though  a  valet,  had  a  pro- 
found belief  that  his  master  was  a  hero. 

The  "  Bartholomew"  had  not  destroyed  all  the  foes  of  the  name 
of  Guise.  What  was  not  accomplished  on  that  day  was  sought 
to  be  achieved  by  the  "  League.**  The  object  of  this  society  was 
to  raise  the  Duke  to  the  throne  of  Henri,  either  before  or  after 
the  death  of  the  latter.  The  King  was  childless,  and  the  pre- 
sumptive heir  to  the  throne,  Henri  of  Navarre,  was  a  Protestant. 
The  Lorrainers  had  double  reason,  then,  for  looking  to  themselves. 
The  reigning  sovereign  was  the  last  of  three  brothers  who  had  in- 
herited the  crown,  and  there  was  then  a  superstitious  idea  that 
when  three  brothers  had  reigned  in  France,  a  change  of  dynasty 
was  inevitable. 

Guise  fired  his  followers  with  the  assurance  that  the  invasion 
of  England,  and  the  establishment  of  Popery  there,  should  be  an 
enterprise  which  they  should  be  called  upon  to  accomplish.  The 
King  was  in  great  alarm  at  the  "  League,"  but  he  wisely  consti- 
tuted himself  a  member.  The  confederates  kept  him  in  the  dark 
as  to  the  chief  of  their  objects.  The  suspicious  monarch,  on  the 
other  hand,  encouraged  his  minions  to  annoy  his  good  cousin  of 
Lorraine.  One  of  these  unworthy  favorites,  St.  Megrim,  did 
more :  he  slandered  the  wife  of  Guise,  who  took,  thereon,  a 
singular  course  of  trial  and  revenge.  He  aroused  his  Duchess 
from  her  solitary  couch,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  hissed  in  her 
alarmed  ear  the  damning  rumor  that  was  abroad,  and  bade  her 
take  at  once  from  his  hands  the  dagger  or  the  poison-cup,  which 
he  offered  her :—» adding  that  she  had  better  die,  having  so  greatly 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  A   KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.  241 

fiinned.  The  offendjed  and  innocent  wife  cared  not  for  life,  since 
she  was  suspected,  and  drank  off  the  contents  of  the  cup,  afler 
protestation  of  her  innocence.  The  draught  was  of  harmless  prep- 
aration, for  the  Duke  was  well  assured  of  the  spotless  character 
of  a  consort  whom  he  himself  daily  dishonored  bj  his  infidelities. 
He  kissed  her  hand  and  took  his  leave ;  but  he  sent  a  score  of  his 
trusty-men  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Louvre,  who  fell  on  St. 
Megrim,  and  butchered  him  almost  on  the  threshold  of  the  King's 
apartments. 

The  monarch  made  no  complaint  at  the  outrage ;  but  he  raised 
a  tomb  over  the  mangled  remains  of  his  favorite  minion,  above 
which  a  triad  of  Cupids  represented  the  royal  grief,  by  holding 
their  stony  knuckles  to  their  tearless  eyes,  affecting  the  passion 
which  they  could  not  feel. 

In  the  meantime,  while  the  people  were  being  pushed  to  rebel- 
lion at  home,  the  ducal  family  were  intriguing  in  nearly  every 
court  in  Europe.  Between  the  intrigues  of  Guise  and  the  reck- 
lessness of  the  King,  the  public  welfare  suffered  shipwreck.  So 
nearly  complete  was  the  ruin,  that  it  was  popularly  said,  "  The 
Minions  crave  all :  the  King  gives  all ;  the  Queen-mother  man- 
ages all ;  Guise  opposes  all ;  the  Red  Ass  (the  Cardinal)  embroils 
all,  and  would  that  the  Devil  had  all !'' 

But  the  opposition  of  Guise  was  made  to  some  purpose.  By 
exercising  it  he  exacted  from  the  King  a  surrender  of  several 
strong  cities.  They  were  immediately  gari^oned  by  Guisards, 
though  held  nominally  by  the  sovereign.  From  the  latter  the 
Duke  wrung  nearly  all  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  monarch 
to  yield ;  but  when  Guise,  who  had  a  design  against  the  life  of  the 
Protestant  Henri  of  Navarre,  asked  for  a  royal  decree  prohibit- 
ing the  granting  of  "<]parter"  to  a  Huguenot  in  the  field,  the 
King  indignantly  banished  him  from  the  capital.  Guise  feigned 
to  obey;  but  his  celebrated  sister,  the  Duchess  of  Montpensier, 
refused  to  share  in  even  a  temporary  exile.  This  bold  woman 
went  about  in  public,  with  a  pair  of  scissors  at  her  girdle,  which, 
as  she  intimated,  would  serve  for  the  tonsure  of  brother  Henri  of 
Yalois,  when  weariness  should  drive  him  from  a  palace  into  a 
monastery. 

The  King,  somewhat  alarmed,  called  around  liim  his  old  Swiss 

16 


242  THS  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

body  guard,  and  as  the  majority  of  these  m^o  professed  the  re- 
formed faith,  Guise  made  use  of  the  circumstance  to  obtain  greater 
ends  than  any  he  had  yet  obtained.  The  people  were  persuaded 
that  their  religion  was  in  peril ;  and  when  the  Duke,  breaking  his 
ban,  entered  Paris  and,  gallantly  attired,  walked  by  the  side  of 
the  sedan  of  Catherine  of  Medicis,  on  their  way  to  the  Louvre, 
to  remonstrate  with  the  unorthodox  king,  the  church-bells  gave 
their  joyous  greeting,  and  the  excited  populace  hung  upon  the 
steps  of  the  Duke,  showering  upon  him  blessings  and  blasphemous 
appellations.  '^Hosanna  to  our  new  son  of  David!"  shouted 
those  who  affected  to  be  the  most  pious ;  and  aged  women,  kissing 
his  garment  as  he  passed,  rose  from  their  knees,  exclaiming, ''  Lord, 
now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  thy  salvation !" 

The  less  blasphem6us  or  the  more  sincere  sufficiently  expressed 
their  satisfaction  by  hailing  him,  as  he  went  on  his  way,  smiling, 
"  King  of  Paris  T* 

The  sound  of  this  title  reached  the  ears  of  Henri.  Coupling 
it  with  the  unauthorized  return  of  Guise  to  court,  he  passed  into 
alternate  fits  of  ungovernable  wrath  and  profound  melancholy. 
He  was  under  the  influence  of  the  latter  when  there  fell  on  his 
ear,  words  which  make  him  start  from  his  seat — ^'Percutidm  pas- 
torem,  et  dispergentur  oves  /'  and  when  the  Monarch  looked  round 
for  the  speaker,  he  beheld  the  Abbe  d'£lbene,  who  had  thus  calm- 
ly quoted  Scripture,  in  order  to  recommend  murder.  The  King, 
though  startled,  was  not  displeased.  On  the  contrary,  he  smiled ; 
and  the  smile  was  yet  around  his  lips,  and  in  his  eyes,  when  Guise 
entered  the  presence,  and  mistook  the  expression  of  the  royal  face 
for  one  of  welcome.  The  Duke,  emboldened  by  what  he  saw, 
hurried  through  a  long  list  of  grievances,  especially  dwelling  on 
the  lenity,  not  to  say  favor,  with  which  Henri  treated  the  heretics 
generally.  The  sovereign  made  a  few  excuses,  which  Guke 
heeded  not ;  on  the  contrary,  he  hastened  to  denounce  the  body  of 
minions  who  polluted  the  palace.  "  Love  me,  love  my  dog,"  said 
Henri,  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "  Yes,"  answered  Guise,  peering  into 
the  royal  and  unnaturally  sparkling  eyes,  "  provided  he  does  n't 
bite !"  The  two  men  stood  revealed  before  each  other ;  and  from 
that  hour  the  struggle  was  deadly.     Henri  would  not  give  away, 


THE   FORTUNES  OP  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      248 

with  referenoe  to  his  Swiss  guard ;  and  Guise,  passing  through 
Paris,  with  his  sword  unsheathed,  awoke  the  eager  spirit  of  revolt, 
arjd  lookied  complacently  on  while  the  barricades  were  raised  to 
impede  the  march  of  the  execrable  Calvinistic  Archers  of  the 
Guard.  The  "  King  of  Paris"  earned  a  decisive  victory ;  but  be- 
fore it  was  achieved,  the  £ang  of  France  hurried,  in  an  agony  of 
cowardly  affright,  from  his  capital.  He  gazed  for  a  moment  on 
the  city,  as  he  departed,  venting  curses  on  its  ingratitude ;  for,  said 
the  fugitive  Monarch,  "I  loved  you  better  than  I  did  my  own 
wife ;" — which  was  indisputably  true. 

Guise  might  now  have  ascended  the  throne,  had  he  not  been  too 
circumspect.  He  deemed  the  royal  cause  lost,  but  he  was  satis- 
fied for  the  moment  with  ruling  in  the  capital,  as  generaUssimo. 
He  stopped  the  King's  couriers,  and  opened  his  letters.  He  con- 
fiscated the  property  of  Huguenots,  and  sold  the  same  for  his  own 
benefit,  while  he  professed  to  care  ooly  for  that  of  the  Common- 
wealth. Finally,  he  declared  that  the  disturbed  condition  of  affairs 
should  be  regulated  by  a  States- General,  which  he  commanded 
rather  than  prayed  Henri  to  summon  to  a  meeting  at  Blois.  The 
King  consented;  and  the  18th  of  October,  1588,  was  appointed 
for  the  opening.  Guise  entered  the  old  town  with  his  family,  and 
a  host  of  retainers,  cased  in  armor,  and  bristling  with  steel. 
Henri  had  his  mother  Catherine  at  his  side ;  but  there  were  also 
a  few  faithful  and  unscrupulous  followers  with  him .  in  the  palace 
at  Blois ;  and  as  he  looked  on  any  of  those  who  might  happen  to 
salute  him  in  passing,  the  King  smiled  darkly,  and  PerctUiam 
pastorem  fell  in  murmured  satisfaction  from  his  lips.  The  satur- 
nine monarch  became,  all  at  onc^,  cheerful  in  his  outward  bearing, 
even  when  Guise  was  so  ruling  the  States  as  to  make  their  pro- 
ceedings turn  to  the  detriment  of  the  monarchy.  The  Guise  fac- 
tion became  anxious  for  the  safety  of  their  leader,  whose  quarters 
were  in  the  palaoi ;  but  when  the  Bang,  in  token  of  recondliation 
begged  the  Duke  to  participate  with  him  in  the  celebration  of  the 
Holy  Sacrament,  there  was  scarcely  a  man  capable  of  interpreting 
the  manner  of  the  times,  who  did  not  feel  assured  that  under  such 
a  solemn  pledge  of  security,  there  lay  concealed  the  very  basest 
treachery.  Guise,  over-confident,  scorned  alike  open  warning  and 
dark  inuendoes.     He  was  so  strong,  and  his  royal  antag<Hiist  so 


244  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DATS. 

weak,  that  he  despised  the  idea  of  violence  heing  nsed  against  him 
— especially  as  the  keys  of  the  palatial  castle  were  in  his  keeping, 
€is  "  Gfrand-Master'*  of  the  Court 

The  23d  of  December  had  arrived.  The  King  intimated  that 
he  should  proceed  early  in  the  morning,  soon  after  daybreak  (but 
subsequently  to  holding  a  council,  to  which  he  sununbned  the 
Duke  and  Cardinal),  to  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Clery,  some 
two  miles  distant ;  and  the  keys  of  the  gates  were  demanded,  in 
order  to  let  Henri  have  issue  at  his  pleasure,  but  in  reality  to  keep 
the  Guises  within,  isolated  from  their  friends  without.  Larchant, 
one  of  the  Archers  of  the  Guard,  also  waited  upon  the  Duke,  to 
pray  him  to  intercede  for  himself  and  comrades  with  the  King,  in 
order  to  obtain  for  them  an  increase  of  pay.  "  We  will  do  our- 
selves the  honor,"  said  Larchant,  "  to  prefer  our  petition  to  your 
Highness,  in  the  morning,  in  a  body."  This  was  a  contrivance  to 
prevent  Guise  from  being  surprised  at  seeing  so  many  armed  men 
together  in  the  King's  antechamber,  before  the  council  was  sitting. 
Hemi  passed  a  sleepless  night.  His  namesake  of  Guise,  who  had 
just  sent  his  Duchess  homeward,  her  approaching  confinement  be- 
ing expected,  spent  the  whole  of  the  same  night  in  the  apartments 
of  the  Countess  de  Noirmoutier. 

He  was  seen  coming  thence,  before  dawn,  gayly  dressed,  and 
proceeding  to  the  Chapel  of  the  Virgin,  to  perform  his  morning 
devotions.  Long  before  this,  the  King  was  a-foot,  visiting  the 
select  archers  who  had  accepted  the  bloody  mission  of  ridding  the 
perplexed  monarch  of  his  importunate  adversary.  He  posted 
them,  altered  the  arrangements,  reposted  them,  addressed  them 
again  and  again  on  the  lawfulness  of  their  office,  and  had  some 
trouble  to  suppress  an  enthusiasm  which  threatened  to  wake  ike 
Queen-mother,  who  slept  below,  and  to  excite  the  suspicion  of  the 
Guards  in  the  vicinity.  Staircase  and  hall,  closet  and  arras,  no 
coign  of  vantage  but  had  its  assassin  ready  to  act,  should  his  fel- 
lows have  failed. 

Precisely  at  seven  o'clock.  Guise,  attired  in  a  light  suit  of  gray 
satin,  and  followed  by  Pericart,  his  secretary,  entered  the  council- 
chamber,  where  he  found  several  members  assembled;  among 
others,  his  younger  brother,  the  "  Bottle-Cardinal"  de  Guise.  An 
hour  passed  without  the  appearance  df  any  message  from  the 


THE  FOBTUNES   OF   A   KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.  245 

King,  who  was  in  an  inner  apartment,  now  half-frightened  at  the 
pale  faces  of  his  own  confidants,  and  anon  endeavoring  to  excite 
his  own  resolution,  by  attempts  to  encourage  theirs.  It  was  a  long 
and  weary  hour  for  all  parties.  As  it  slowly  passed  away,  Guise, 
he  knew  not  whereibre,  grew  anxious.  He  complained  of  the 
cold,  and  heaped  billets  of  wood  upon  the  fire.  He  spoke  of  feel- 
ing sick,  faint,  and  unnerved ;  and  from  his  silver  sweetmeat-case 
he  took  a  few  bonbons,  by  way  of  breakfast.  He  subsequently 
asked  for  some  Damascus  raisins,  and  conserve  of  roses;  but 
these,  when  supplied  to  him  did  not  relieve  him  of  an  unaccount- 
able nervousness,  which  was  suddenly  increased,  when  the  eye 
next  to  the  scar  from  which  he  derived  his  appellation  of  Le  Bcda- 
fre,  began  to  be  suffiised  with  tears.  He  indignantly  wiped  away 
the  unwelcome  suffusion,  and  had  quite  recovered  as  Rivol,  Sec- 
retary of  State,  entered,  and  requested  him  to  attend  on  the  King, 
who  awaited  him  in  his  own  chamber. 

Guise  gayly  flung  his  bonhonniere  across  the  council-table,  and 
laughingly  bade  tl^e  grave  counsellors  scramble  for  the  scattered 
sweets.  He  started  up,  overturned  his  chair  in  so  doing,  drew  his 
thin  mantle  around  him,  and  with  cap  and  gloves  in  hand,  waved 
a  farewell  to  the  statesmen  present  He  passed  through  two 
rooms,  and  closely  followed  by  various  of  the  archers,  reached  the 
tapestried  entrance  to  the  King's  cabinet.  No  one  offered  to  raise 
the  ai^ras  for  him.  Guise  lifted  his  own  right  arm  to  help  himself 
at  the  same  time  looking  half-round  at  the  archers  who  were  near 
him.  At  that  moment,  a  dagger  was  buried  in  his  breast,  up  to 
the  very  hilt.  The  blow  was  delivered  by  Montsery,  from  behind. 
The  Duke  let  fall  his  hand  to  the  pommel  of  his  sword,  when  one 
assassin  clung  to  his  legs,  a  second,  also  from  behind,  stabbed  him 
in  the  neck ;  while  a  third  passed  his  weapon  through  the  Duke's 
ribs. 

Guise's  first  cry  was,  "  Ho,  friends  1"  His  second,  as  Sarine 
ran  him  through  the  lower  part  of  the  back,  was,  "  Mercy,  Jesus !" 
He  struggled  faintly  across  the  chamber,  bleeding  from  a  dozen 
wounds,  in  every  one  of  which  sat  death.  The  murderers  hacked 
at  him  as  he  staggered,  and  wildly  yet  feebly  fought.  All  paused 
for  a  moment,  when  he  had  reached  the  extreme  end  of  the  room, 


246  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

where  he  again  attempted  to  raise  his  sword ;  but  in  the  act  he 
rolled  over,  stone  dead,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  of  Henri  III. 

At  that  moment  the  tapestry  was  raised,  and  the  king,  whisper- 
ing "  Is  it  done  ?"  approached  the  body,  moodily  remarking  as  he 
gazed  upon  it,  "  He  looks  greater  than  he  did  when  living."  Upon 
the  person  of  the  duke  was  found  a  manuscript  memorandum,  in 
these  words : — "  To  maintain  a  war  in  France,  I  should  require 
700,000  livres  per  month."  This  memorandum  served  in  the 
king's  mind  as  a  justification  of  the  murder  just  committed  by 
his  orders.  The  body  was  then  unceremoniously  rolled  up  in  the 
Turkey  carpet  on  which  it  had  fallen,  was  covered  with  quick 
lime,  and  flung  into  the  Loire.  Some  maimed  rites  were  pre- 
viously performed  over  it  by  Dourgin  the  royal  chaplain,  who 
could  not  mutter  the  De  Profundis  without  a  running  and  terrified 
commentary  of  "Christ! — the  awful  sight!"  Guise's  second 
cardinal-brother  and  the  Archbishop  of  Lyons  were  murdered  on 
the  following  day ;  but  the  lesser  victims  were  forgotten  in  the 
fate  which  had  fallen  upon  the  more  illustrious,  yet  certainly  more 
guilty  personages. 

The  widow  of  Guise,  soon  after  the  dread  event,  gave  birth  to 
a  son,  subsequently  the  Chevalier  Louis  de  Guise.  "  The  boy," 
said  the  bereaved  lady,  "came  into  the  world  with  his  hands 
clasped,  as  if  praying  for  vengeance  on  the  assassins  of  his  father." 
Every  male  member  of  the  family  whom  the  king  could  reach 
was  now  subjected  to  arrest.  The  young  heir  of  Balafre,  Charles, 
now  fourth  Duke  of  Guise,  was  now  placed  in  close  restriction  in 
the  Castle  of  Tours,  where,  sleeping  or  waking,  four  living  eyes 
unceasingly  watched  him — voire  meme  aUant  a  la  garderohe — 
but  which  eyes  he  managed  to  elude  nevertheless. 

In  the  meantime  Rome  excommunicated  the  murderer  of  her 
champion.  Paris  put  on  mourning ;  officials  were  placed  in  the 
street  to  strip  and  scourge  even  ladies  who  ventured  to  appear 
without  some  sign  of  sorrow.  "Wax  effigies  of  the  king  were 
brought  into  the  churches,  and  frantically  stabbed  by  the  priests 
at  the  altar.  The  priests  then  solemnly  paraded  the  streets,  chant- 
ing as  they  went,  "  May  God  extinguish  the  Valois !" 

The  whole  city  broke  into  insurrection,  and  the  brother  of 
Guise,  the  Duke  de  Mayenne,  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the 


THE  FORTUNES   OF  A   KNIGHTLY   FAMILY.  247 

*' league,"  whose  object  was  the  deposing  of  the  king,  and  the 
transferring  of  the  crown  to  a  child  of  Lorraine.  In  the  contest 
which  ensued,  Valois  and  Navarre  united  against  the  Guisards, 
and  carried  victory  with  them  wherever  they  raised  their  banners. 
The  exultation  of  Henri  III.  was  only  mitigated  by  the  repeated 
Papal  summonses  received  by  him  to  repair  to  Rome,  and  there 
answer  for  his  crime. 

Henri  of  Navarre  induced  him  to  rather  think  of  gaining  Paris 
than  of  mollifying  the  Pope ;  and  he  was  so  occupied  when  the 
double  vengeance  of  the  church  and  the  house  of  Guise  overtook 
him  in  the  very  moment  of  victory. 

The  Duchess  de  Montpensier,  sister  of  the  slaughtered  duke, 
had  made  no  secret  of  her  intentitms  to  have  public  revenge  for 
the  deed  privately  committed,  whereby  she  had  lost  a  brother. 
There  was  precaution  enough  taken  that  she  should  not  approach 
the  royal  army  or  the  king's  quarters  j  but  a  woman  and  a  priest 
rendered  all  precautions  futile.  The  somewhat  gay  duchess  was 
on  unusually  intimate  terms  with  a  young  monk,  named  Jacques 
Clement.  This  good  Brother  was  a  fanatic  zealot  for  his  church, 
and  a  rather  too  ardent  admirer  of  the  duchess,  who  turned  both 
sentiments  to  her  own  especial  purpose.  She  whispered  in  his 
ears  a  promise,  to  secure  the  fulfilment  of  which,  he  received  with 
furious  haste,  the  knife  which  was  placed  in  his  hands  by  the 
handsomest  woman  in  France.  It  is  said  that  knife  is  still  pre- 
served, a  precious  treasure,  at  Rome. 

However  this  may  be,  on  the  1st  of  August,  1589,  the  young 
Brother,  with  a  weapon  hid  in  the  folds  of  his  monkish  gaberdine, 
and  with  a  letter  in  his  hand,  sought  and  obtained  access  to  the 
king.  He  went  straightforward  to  his  butcher's  work,  and  had 
scarcely  passed  beneath  the  roof  of  the  royal  tent  before  he 
had  buried  the  steel  deep  in  the  monarch's  bosom.  He  turned 
to  fly  with  hot  haste  to  the  lady  from  whom  he  had  received  his 
commission ;  but  a  dozen  swords  and  pikes  thrust  life  out  of  him 
ere  he  had  made  three  steps  in  the  direction  of  his  promised 
recompence. 

She  who  had  engaged  herself  to  pay  for  the  crime  cared  for 
neither  victim.  She  screamed  indeed,  but  it  was  with  a  hysteric 
joy  that  threatened  to  slay  her,  and  which  was  only  allayed  by  the 


248  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

thought  that  the  last  King  of  the  Yalois  race  did  not  know  that 
he  had  died  by  a  dagger  directed  by  a  sister  of  Guise. 

In  testimony  of  her  exultation  she  distributed  green  scarfs,  the 
color  of  Lorraine,  to  the  people  of  Paris.  She  brought  up  from 
the  provinces  the  mother  of  Clement,  to  whom  was  accorded  the 
distinction  of  a  triumphal  entry.  Priests  and  people  worshipped 
the  mother  of  the  assassin  as  she  passed  wonderingly  on  her  way ; 
and  they  blasphemously  saluted  her  with  the  chanted  words, 
''  Blessed  be  the  womb  that  bare  him,  aud  the  paps  that  gave  him 
suck."  She  was  led  to  the  seat  of  honor  at  the  table  of  Guise, 
and  Bome  sheltered  the  infamy  of  the  assassin,  and  revealed  its 
own,  by  pronouncing  his  work  to  be  a  god-like  act.  By  authority 
of  the  Vatican,  medals  were  struck  in  memory  and  honor  of  the 
dead ;  but  the  Huguenots  who  read  thereon  the  murderer's  pro- 
fession and  name — Frere  Jacques  Clement — ingeniously  discov- 
ered therein  the  anagrammatic  interpretation  "  C*e8t  Venfer  qui 
m'a  crce*'*— "  It  is  hell  that  created  me." 

The  last  Yalois,  with  his  last  breath,  had  named  the  Protestant 
Henri  of  Navarre  as  his  legal  successor  to  the  throne ;  but  between 
Henri  and  his  inheritance  there  stood  Bome  and  the  Guise  faction. 
Then  ensued  the  successive  wars  of  the  League,  during  which  the 
heavy  Mayenne  suffered  successive  defeats  at  the  hands  of  Henri  of 
the  snowy  plume.  While  the  contest  was  raging,  the  people  trusted 
to  the  pulpits  for  their  intelligence  from  the  scene  of  action.  From 
those  pulpits  was  daily  uttered  more  mendacity  in  one  hour  than 
finds  expression  in  all  the  horse-fairs  of  the  United  Kingdom  in  a 
year.  When  famine  decimated  those  who  lived  within  the  walls, 
the  people  were  reduced  to  live  upon  a  paste  made  from  human 
bones,  and  which  they  called  "  Madame  de  Montpensier's  cake." 

Henri  of  Navarre,  their  deliverer,  did  not  arrive  before  the  gates 
of  Paris  without  trouble.  In  1521,  Charles  of  Guise,  the  young 
Duke,  had  escaped  most  gallantly,  in  open  day,  from  the  Castle  of 
Tours,  by  sliding  from  the  ramparts,  down  a  rope,  which  simply 
blistered  his  hands  and  made  a  rent  in  his  hose.  He  was  speedi- 
ly accoutred  and  in  the  field,  with  Spain  in  his  rear  to  help  him. 
Now,  he  was  making  a  dash  at  Henri's  person ;  and,  anon,  leaping 
from  his  camp-bed  to  escape  him.  At  other  times  he  was  idle, 
while  his  uncle  Mayenne  pursued  the  cherished  object  of  their 


THE  FORTUNES   OF   A    KNIGHTLY   FAMILY.  249 

house — that  crown  which  was  recedhig  from  them  more  swifUj 
than  ever.  For  the  alert  Bourbon,  the  slow  and  hard-drinking 
Majenne  was  no  match.  The  latter  thought  once  to  catch  the 
former  in  his  lad/s  bower,  but  the  wakeful  lover  was  gayly  gallop- 
ing back  to  his  quarters  before  the  trumpets  of  Majenne  had 
sounded  to  '^  boot  and  saddle.''  '^  Majenne,"  said  the  Pope,  ^^  sits 
longer  at  table  than  Henri  lies  in  bed." 

The  gates  of  Paris  were  open  to  Henri  on  the  21st  of  March, 
1591.  Old  Cardinal  Pellevi  died  of  disgust  and  indignation,  on 
hearing  of  the  fact.  The  Duchess  of  Montpensier,  after  tearing 
her  hair,  and  threatening  to  swoon,  prudently  concluded,  with 
Henry  IV.,  not  only  her  own  peace,  but  that  of  her  family.  The 
chief  members  of  the  house  of  Guise  were  admitted  into  places  of 
great  trust,  to  the  injury  of  more  deserving  individuals.  The 
young  Duke  de  Guise  affected  a  superabundant  loyalty.  In  re- 
turn, the  King  not  only  gave  him  the  government  of  several  chief 
towns,  but  out  of  compliment  to  him  forbade  the  exercise  of  Prot- 
estant worship  within  the  limits  of  the  Duke's  government !  Sudi 
conduct  was  natural  to  a  King,  who  to  secure  his  throne  had 
abandoned  his  faith ;  who  lightly  said  that  he  had  no  cannon  so 
powerful  as  the  canon  of  the  mass,  and  who  was  destitute  of  most 
virtues  save  courage  and  good-nature.  The  latter  was  abused  by 
those  .(HI  whom  it  was  lavished ;  and  the  various  assaults  upon  his 
life  were  supposed  to  be  directed  by  those  very  Guises,  <mi  whom 
he  had  showered  places,  pensions,  and  pardons,  which  they  were 
constantly  needing  and  continually  deriding. 

The  young  Duke  of  Guise  enjoyed,  among  other  appointments, 
that  of  Governor  of  Marseilles.  He  was  light-hearted,  selfish, 
vain,  and  cruel.  He  hanged  his  own  old  partisans  in  the  city,  as 
enemies  to  the  king ;  and  he  made  his  name  for  ever  infamous  by 
the  seduction  of  the  beautiful  and  noble  orphan-girl,  Marcelle  de 
Castellane,  whom  he  afterward  basely  abandoned,  and  lefl  to  die 
of  hunger.  He  sent  her  a  few  broad  pieces  by  the  hands  of  a 
lacquey ;  but  the  tardy  charity  was  spurned,  and  the  poor  victim 
died.  He  had  little  time  to  think  of  her  at  the  brilliant  court  of 
the  first  Bourbon,  where  he  and  those  of  his  house  struggled  to 
maintain  a  reputation  which  had  now  little  to  support  it,  but  the 
memories  of  the  past — and  many  of  those  were  hardly  worth  ap- 


250  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DATS. 

pealing  to.  He  was  a  mere  fine  gentleman,  bold  withal,  and  there- 
with intriguing ;  ever  hoping  that  the  fortunes  of  his  house  might 
once  more  turn  and  bring  it  near  a  throne,  and  in  the  meantime, 
making  himself  remarkable  for  his  vanity,  his  airs  of  greatness, 
and  his  affectation.  Brave  as  he  was,  he  left  his  brothers,  the 
cardinal  and  chevalier,  to  draw  their  swords  and  settle  the  quarrels 
which  were  constantly  raging  on  disputed  questions  touching  the 
assumed  Majesty  of  the  House  of  Guise. 

The  streets  of  Paris  formed  the  stage  on  which  these  bloody 
tragedies  were  played,  but  they,  and  all  other  pretensions,  were 
suppressed  by  that  irresistible  putter-down  of  such  nuisances — the 
Cardinal  de  Richelieu.  He  used  the  sword  of  Guise  as  long  as  it 
was  needed,  but  when  Charles  became  troublesome  the  Cardinal 
not  only  banished  him,  but  wounded  the  pride  of  his  family  by 
placing  garrisons  in  the  hitherto  sovereign  duchy  of  Lorraine. 
When  Cardinal  Fieury  subsequently  annexed  Lorraine  itself  to 
the  territory  of  France,  the  Guises  thought  the  world  was  at  an 
end.     The  universe,  however,  survived  the  shock. 

Duke  Charles  died  in  exile  at  Cune,  near  Sienne,  in  the  year 
1640.  Of  his  ten  children  by  the  Duchess  de  Joyeuse,  he  left  five 
surviving.  He  was  succeeded  by  Henri,  the  eldest,  who  was  bishop 
and  cardinal.  He  had  been  raised  to  the  episcopate  while  yet  in 
the  arms  of  his  wet-nurse ;  and  he  was  in  frocks  when  on  his  long 
curls  was  placed  the  scarlet  hat  of  a  cardinal.  He  was  twenty 
years  of  age  when  he  became  Duke  of  Guise.  He  at  once  fiung 
away  all  he  possessed  of  his  religious  profession — its  dress  and 
titles,  and  walked  abroad,  spurs  on  his  heels,  a  plume  in  his  cap, 
and  a  long  sword  and  a  bad  heart  between  ! 

The  whole  life  of  this  chivalrous  scoundrel  was  a  romance,  no 
portion  of  which  reflects  any  credit  on  the  hero.  He  had  scarcely 
reached  the  age  of  manhood,  when  he  entered  into  a  contract  of 
marriage  with  the  beautiful  Anne  of  Gonzaga.  He  signed  the 
compact,  not  in  ink,  but  with  his  own  blood,  calling  Heaven  to 
witness,  the  while,  that  he  would  never  address  a  vow  to  any  other 
lady.  The  breath  of  pei^ury  had  scarcely  passed  his  lips  when  he 
married  the  Countess  of  Bossu,  and  he  immediately  abandoned 
her  to  sun  himself  in  the  eyes  of  Mademoiselle  de  Pons — an  im- 
perious mistress,  who  squandered  the  property  he  lavished  on  her, 


THE  POBTUNES  OP  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      251 

and  boxed  the  ex-cardinal's  ears,  when  he  attempted,  with  degra- 
ding humility,  to  remonstrate  with  her  for  bringing  down  ruin  upon 
his  estate. 

He  was  as  disloyal  to  his  King  as  to  his  ^'  lady ;"  he  tampered 
with  rebellion,  was  sentenced  to  death,  and  was  pardoned.  But  a 
state  of  decent  tranquillity  agreed  ill  with  his  constitution.  To 
keep  that  and  his  nerves  from  rusting,  he  one  day  drew  his  sword 
in  the  street,  upon  the  son  of  Coligny,  whose  presence  seemed  a 
reproach  to  him,  and  whom  he  slew  on  the  spot.  He  wiped  his 
bloody  rapier  on  his  mantle,  and  betook  himself  for  a  season  to 
Rome,  where  he  intrigued  skilfully,  but  fruitlessly,  in  order  to  ob- 
tain the  tiara  for  the  brother  of  Mazarin.  Apathy  would  now 
have  descended  upon  him,  but  for  a  vcflce  from  the  city  of  Naples, 
which  made  his  swelling  heart  beat  with  a  violence  that  almost 
threatened  to  kill. 

Masaniello  had  just  concluded  his  brief  and  mad  career.  The 
Neapolitans  were  not,  on  that  account,  disposed  to  submit  again  to 
Spain.  They  were  casting  about  for  a  King,  when  Guise  present- 
ed himself  This  was  in  the  year  1647.  He  left  France  in  a  frail 
felucca,  with  a  score  of  bold  adventurers  wearing  the  colors  of 
Lorraine,  intertwined  with  "  buff,"  in  compliment  to  the  Duke's 
mistress.  The  Church  blessed  the  enterprise.  The  skiff  sped 
unharmed  through  howling  storms  and  thundering  Spanish  fleets ; 
and  when  the  Duke  stepped  ashore  at  Naples,  and  mounted  a 
charger,  the  shouting  populace  who  preceded  him,  burnt  incense- 
before  the  new-comer,  as  if  he  had  been  a  coming  god. 

For  love  and  bravery,  this  Guise  was  unequalled.  He  con- 
quered all  his  foes,  and  made  vows  to  all  the  ladies.  In  love  he 
lost,  however,  all  the  fruits  of  bravery.  Naples  was  but  a  mock 
Sardanapalian  court,  when  the  Spaniards  at  length  mustered 
strongly  enough  to  attack  the  new,  bold,  but  enervated  King. 
They  took  him  captive,  and  held  him,  during  four  years,  a  prisoner 
in  Spain.  He  gained  liberty  by  a  double  lie,  the  common  coin  of 
Guise.  He  promised  to  reveal  to  the  Court  of  Madrid  the  secrets 
of  the  Court  of  Paris ;  and  bound  himself  by  bond  and  oath  never 
to  renew  his  attempt  on  Naples.  His  double  knavery,  however, 
brought  him  no  profit.  At  length,  fortune  seeming  to  disregard 
the  greatness  of  his  once  highly-favored  house,  this  restless  repro- . 


252  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

bate  gradually  sunk  into  a  mere  court  beau,  patting  his  time  in 
powdering  his  peruke,  defaming  reputations,  and  pi^ng  profane 
praise  to  the  patched  and  painted  ladies  of  the  palace.  He  died 
before  old  age,  like  most  of  the  princes  of  his  house :  and  in  his 
fiftieth  year  this  childless  man  lefl  his  dignity  and  an  evil  name  to 
his  nephew,  Louis  Joseph. 

The  sixth  Duke  bore  his  greatness  meekly  and  briefly.  He 
was  a  kind-hearted  gentleman,  whose  career  of  unobtrusive  useful- 
ness was  cut  short  by  small-pox  in  1671.  When  he  died,  there 
lay  in  the  next  chamber  an  infant  in  the  cradle.  This  was  his  little 
son  Joseph,  not  y«t  twelve  months  old,  and  all  unconscious  of  his 
loss,  in  a  father ;  or  of  his  gain,  in  a  somewhat  dilapidated  coronet.  . 
On  his  young  brow  that  symbol  of  his  earthly  rank  rested  during 
only  four  years.  The  little  Noble  then  fell  a  victim  to  the  disease 
which  had  carried  off  his  sire,  and  made  of  himself  a  Duke — the 
last,  the  youngest,  the  most  innocent,  and  the  happiest  of  the  race. ' 

During  a  greater  portion  of  the  career  of  the  Dukes,  priest  and 
swordsman  in  the  family  had  stood  side  by  side,  each  menacing  to 
the  throne ;  the  one  in  knightly  armor,  the  other  in  the  dread  pan- 
oply of  the  Church.  Of  the  seven  ducal  chieftains  of  the  house, 
there  is  only  one  who  can  be  said  to  have  left  behind  him  a  repu- 
tation for  harmlessness ;  and  perhaps  that  was  because  he  lived  at 
a  tioie  when  he  had  not  the  power  to  be  offensive.  The  boy  on 
the  mule,  in  1506,  and  the  child  in  the  cradle,  in  1676,  are  two 
pleasant  extremes  of  a  line  where  all  between  is,  indeed,  fearfully 
attractive,  but  of  that  quality  also  which  might  make  not  only  men 
but  angels  weep. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  Dukes  of  Guise  played  for  a  high 
prize ;  and  lost  it.  More  than  once,  however,  they  were  on  the 
very  point  of  griping  the  attractive  but  delusive  prize.  If  they 
were  so  near  triumph,  it  was  chiefly  through  the  co-operation  of 
their  respective  brothers,  the  proud  and  able  Cardinals.  The 
Dukes  were  representatives  of  brute  force ;  the  Cardinals,  of  that 
which.is  far  stronger,  power  of  intellect  The  former  often  spoiled 
their  cause  by  being  demonstrative.  The  latter  never  trusted  to 
words  when  silver  served  their  purpose  equally  well.  When  they 
did  speak,  it  was  with  effective  brevity.  We  read  of  a  Lacede- 
monian who  was  fined  for  emplojing  three  words  to  express  what 


THE  FORTUNES  OP  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.  263 

might  have  been  as  effectually  stated  in  two.    No  ehurcfaman  of 
the  house  of  Guise  ever  committed  the  fault  of  the  Lacedemonian. 

Cardinal  John  of  Lorraine  was  the  brother  of  the  first  Duke 
Claude.  When  the  latter  was  a  boy,  riding  his  mule  into  France, 
John  was  the  young  Bishop-coadjutor  of  Metz.  He  was  little 
more  than  two  years  old  when  he  was  first  appointed  to  this  re- 
sponsible office.  He  was  a  Cardinal  before  he  was  out  of  his 
teens ;  and  in  his  own  person  was  possessed  of  twelve  bishoprics 
and  archbishoprics.  Of  these,  however,  he  modestly  retained  but 
three,  namely,  Toul,  Narbcmne,  and  Alby — as  they  alone  hap- 
pened to  return  revenues  worth  acceptance.  Not  that  he  was 
selfish,  seeing  that  he  subsequently  applied  for,  and  received  the 
Archbishopric  of  Rheims,  which  he  kindly  held  for  his  nephew 
Charles,  who  was  titular  thereof  at  the  experienced  age  of  ten. 
His  revenues  were  enormous,  and  he  was  for  ever  in  debt.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  skilful  negotiators  of  his  time ;  but  w)^ther 
deputed  to  emperor  or  pope,  he  was  seldom  able  to  commence  his 
journey  until  Im  had  put  in  pledge  three  or  four  towns,  in  order 
to  raise  money  to  defray  his  expenses.  His  zeal  fi)r  what  he  un* 
derstood  as  religion  was  manifested  during  the  short  but  bloody 
campaign  against  the  Protestants  of  Alsatia,  where  he  accompa- 
nied his  brother.  At  the  side  of  the  Cardinal,  on  the  field  of 
battle,  stood  the  Apostolic  Commissary,  and  a  staff  of  priestly 
aides-de-camp.  While  some  of  these  encouraged  the  orthodox 
troops  to  charge  the  Huguenots,,  the  principal  personages  kept 
their  hands  raised  to  Heaven ;  and  when  the  pennons  of  the  army 
of  Reformers  had  all  gone  down  before  the  double  cross  of  Lor- 
raine, the  Cardinal  and  his  ecclesiastical  staff  rode  to  the  church 
of  St.  Nicholas  and  sang  Te  Deum  laudamus. 

The  chivalrous  Cardinal  was  another  man  in  his  residence  of 
the  Hotel  de  Cluny.  Of  this  monastery  he  made  a  mansion,  in 
which  a  Sybarite  might  have  dwelt  without  con^laining.  It  was 
embellished,  decoxated,  and  furnished  with  a  gorgeousness  that  had 
its  source  at  once  in  his  blind  prodigality,  his  taste  for  the  arts, 
and  his  familiar  patronage  of  artists.  The  only  thing  not  to  be 
found  in  this  celebrated  mansion  was  the  example  of  a  good  life. 
But  how  could  this  example  be  found  in  a  prelate  who  assumed 
and  executed  the  ofiice  of  instructing  the  maids  of  honor  in  their 


251         THE  KiaGHTS  AND  THEIB  BATS. 

delicate  duties.  Do  Thou  saya  it  was  an  occupation  for  whicli  he 
was  pre-eminently  fitted ;  and  Brantome  pauses,  in  his  gay  illus- 
trations of  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  to  remark  with  indignation, 
that  if  the  daughters  of  noble  houses  arrived  at  court,  endowed 
with  every  maiden  virtue,  Cardinal  John  was  the  man  to  despoil 
them  of  thdr  dowry. 

He  was,  nevertheless,  not  deficient  in  tastes  and  pursuits  of  a 
refined  nature.  He  was  learned  himself,  aud  he  loved  learning 
in  others.  His  purse,  when  there  was  anything  in  it,  was  at  the 
service  of  poor  scholars  and  of  sages  with  great  purposes  in  view. 
He  who  deemed  the  slaughter  of  Protestant  peasants  a  thing  to 
thank  Grod  for,  had  something  like  a  heart  for  clever  sneerers  at 
Pi^istry  and  also  for  Protestants  of  talent.  Thus  he  pleaded  the 
cause  of  the  amphibious  Erasmus,  extended  his  protection  to  the 
evangelical  Clement  Marot,  and  laughed  and  drank  with  Rabelais, 
the  caustic  cur6  of  Meudon.  He  was,  moreover,  the  boon  com- 
panion of  Francis  I.,  a  man  far  less  worthy  of  his  intimacy  than 
the  equivocating  Erasmus,  the  gentle  Marot,  or  roystering  Rabe- 
lais, who  painted  the  manners  of  the  court  and  church  of  his  day, 
in  his  compound  chacactefs  of  Gargantua  and  Panurge. 

He  was  a  liberal  giver,  but  he  gave  with  an  ostentation  for 
which  there  is  no  warrant  in  the  gospel  At  one  period  of  his 
life  be  walked  abroad  with  a  game-bag  full  of  crowns  slung  from 
kis  nedc.  On  passing  beggars  he  bestowed,  without  counting,  a 
rich  ahns,  requesting  prayers  in  return.  He  was  known  as  the 
**  game-bag  Cardinal."  On  one  occasion,  when  giving  largesse  to 
a  blind  mendicant  in  Rome,  the  latter  was  so  astonished  at  the 
amount  of  the  gift,  that,  pointing  to  the  giver,  he  exclaimed,  "  If 
thou  art  not  Jesus  Christ,  thou  art  John  of  Lorraine." 

He  was  bold  in  his  gallantry.  When  sent  by  Francis  L  to 
negotiate  some  political  business  with  the  pope,  he  passed  through 
Piedmont,  where  he  was  for  a  while  the  guest  of  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Savoy.  The  duchess,  on  the  cardinal  being  presented, 
gravely  offered  her  hand  (she  was  a  Portuguese  princess)  to  be 
kissed.  John  of  Lorraine,  however,  would  not  stoop  so  low,  and 
made  for  her  lips.  A  struggle  ensued,  which  was  maintained  with 
rude  persistance  on  one  side,  and  with  haughty  and  offended  vigor 
on  the  other,  until  her  highnesses  head,  being  firmly  grasped  within 


THE   FORTUNES  OP  A   KNIGHTLY   FAMILY.  255 

his  eminence's  arm,  the  cardinal  kissed  the  ruffled  princess  two  or 
three  times  on  the  mouth,  and  then,  with  an  exultant  laugh,  re- 
leased her.  • 

The  second  cardinal  of  this  branch,  Charles  of  Lorraine,  was 
brother  of  the  second  duke.  He  was  the  greatest  man  of  his 
family,  and  the  most  powerful  of  his  age.  His  ambition  was  to 
administer  the  finances  of  France,  and  he  did  so  during  three 
reigns,  with  an  annual  excess  of  expenditure  over  income,  of  two 
millions  and  a  half.  He  was  rather  dishonest  than  incapable. 
His  enemies  threatened  to  make  him  account ;  he  silenced  them 
with  the  sound  of  the  tocsin  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  when  the 
slaughter  was  over  he  merrily  asked  for  the  presence  of  the  ac- 
cusers who  had  intended  to  make  him  refund. 

He  was  an  accomplished  hypgcrite,  and  at  heart  a  religious 
reformer.  At  last  he  acknowledged  to  the  leaders  of  the  reform- 
atory movement,  whom  he  admitted  to  his  familiarity,  that  the 
Reformation  was  necessary  and  warrantable ;  and  yet  policy  made 
of  him  the  most  savage  enemy  that  Protestantism  ever  had  in 
France.  He  urged  on  the  king  to  bum  noble  heretics  rather  than 
the  common  people ;  and  when  Henri  was  touched  with  compas- 
sion, in  his  dying  moments,  for  some  Protestant  prisoners  capitally 
condemned,  the  cardinal  told  him  that  the  feeling  came  of  the 
devil,  and  that  it  was  better  they  should  perish.  And  they 
perished. 

He  introduced  the  Inquisition  into  France,  and  was  made  Grand 
Inquisitor  at  the  moment  the  country  was  rejoicing  for  the  recov- 
ery of  Calais  from  the  English.  And  this  was  the  man  who,  at 
the  Council  of  Trent,  advocated  the  celebration  of  divine  worship 
in  the  vernacular  tongue.  He  was  the  friend  of  liberty  to  the 
GraUican  church,  but  he  took  the  other  side  on  finding  that  liberal 
advocacy  periled  his  chances  of  being  pope.  The  living  pope 
used  and  abused  him.  ^^  I  am  scandalized,"  said  his  hoHness,  ^^  at 
finding  you  still  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  revenues  of  so  many 
sees."  ''  I  would  resign  them  all,"  said  the  cardinal,  "  for  a  single 
bishopric."  "Which  bishopric?"  ^ked  the  pope.  "Marry!" 
exclaimed  Cardinal  Charles,  "  the  bishopric  of  Rome." 

He  was  as  haughty  as  he  was  aspiring.  The  Guise  had  induced 
the  weak  Anthony  of  Navarre  to  turn  RomAnist ;  but  the  cardinal 


256  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DATS. 

did  not  treat  that  king  with  more  courtesy  on  that  account  One 
frosty  morning,  not  onlj  did  the  princely  priest  keep  the  mountain 
king  tarrying  at  his  garden  gate  for  am  audience,  but  when  he 
went  down  to  his  majesty,  he  listened,  all  befurred  as  he  was,  to 
the  shivering  monarch  who  humbly  preferred  his  suit,  cap  in  hand. 

He  was  covetous  and  haughty,  but  he  sometimes  found  his 
match.  His  niece,  Mary  Stuart,  had  quarreled  with  Catherine 
de  Medicis,  whose  especial  wrath  had  been  excited  by  Mary's 
phrase  applied  to  Catherine,  of  ^'  The  Florentine  tradeswoman." 
The  Scottish  Queen  resolved,  after  this  quarrel,  to  repair  to  the 
North.  The  cardinal  was  at  her  side  when  she  was  examining 
her  jewels,  previously  to  their  being  packed  up.  He  tenderly 
remarked  that  the  sea  was  dangerous,  the  jewels  costly,  and  that 
his  niece  could  not  do  better*  than  leave  them  in  his  keeping. 
**  Grood  uncle,*  said  the  vivacious  Mary,  "  I  and  my  jewels  travel 
together.  If  I  trust  one  to  the  sea,  I  may  the  other ;  and  there- 
with, adieu  /"     The  cardinal  bit  his  lips  and  blessed  her. 

Ranke  is  puzzled  where  to  find  the  principal  author  of  the  mas- 
sacre of  St  Bartholomew.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  the  matter. 
The  Guises  had  appealed  to  the  chances  of  battle  to  overcome 
their  chief  adversaries  in  the  kingdom.  But  ibr  every  Huguenot 
father  slain,  there  arose  as  many  filial  avengers  as  he  had  8on$. 
The  causes  of  quarrel  were  individual  as  well  as  general.  A  Hu- 
guenot had  slain  the  second  Duke,  and  his  widow  was  determined 
to  be  avenged.  The  Cardinal  was  wroth  with  the  King  for  re- 
taining Protestant  archers  in  his  body-guard.  The  archers  took 
an  unclean  vengeance,  and  defiled  the  pulpit  in  the  Chapel  Royal, 
wherefrom  the  Cardinal  was  accustomed  to  denounce  the  doctrine 
of  their  teachers.  His  Eminence  formed  the  confederacy  by 
which  it  was  resolved  to  destroy  the  enemy  at  a  blow.  To  the 
general  causes,  I  need  not  allude.  The  plot  itself  was  formed  in 
Oliver  Clisson's  house,  in  Paris,  known  as  "  the  Hotel  of  Mercy." 
But  the  representatives  of  Rome  and  Spain,  united  wiUi  those  of 
France,  met  upon  the  frontier,  and  there  made  the  final  arrange- 
ments which  were  followed  by  such  terrible  consequences.  When 
the  stupendous  deed  was  being  done,  the  Cardinal  was  absent  from 
France ;  but  he  fiiiirly  took  upon  himself  the  guilt,  when  he  confer- 
red the  hand  of  his* illegitimate  daughter  Anne  d'Aroe  on  the 


THE  FORTUNES  OP  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      257 

officer  Besme  whose  dagger  had  given  the  first,  mortal  istab  to 
Coligny,  the  chief  of  the  immolated  victims  of  that  dreadful  day — 
and  Rome  approved. 

As  a  public  controversialist  he  shone  in  his  dispute  with  Beza. 
Of  his  pride,  we  have  an  illustration  in  what  is  recorded  of  him  in 
the  Council  of  Trent.  The  Spanish  embassador  had  taken  a  place, 
at  mass,  above  that  of  the  embassador  from  France.  Thereupon, 
the  reverend  Cardinal  raised  such  a  commotion  in  the  cathedral, 
and  dwelt  so  loudly  and  strongly  in  expletives,  that  divine  worship 
was  suspended,  and  the  congregation  broke  up  in  most  admired 
disorder. 

So  at  the  coronation,  in  the  Abbey  of  St.  Dennis,  of  the  Queen 
of  Charles  IX.  The  poor,  frail,  Austrian  Princess  Elizabeth, 
after  being  for  hours  on  her  knees,  declared  her  incapacity  for  re- 
maining any  longer  without  some  material  support  from  food  or 
wine.  The  Cardinal  declared  that  such  an  irreligious  innovation 
was  not  to  be  thought  of.  He  stoutly  opposed,  well-fed  man  that 
he  was,  the  supplying  of  any  refreshment  to  the  sinking  Queen ; 
and  it  was  only  when  he  reflected  that  her  life  might  be  imperiled 
that  he  consented  to  "the  smallest  quantity  of  something  very 
light,"  being  adlninistered  to  her. 

He  was  the  only  man  of  his  family  who  was  not  possessed  of  the 
knightly  virtue  of  bravery.  He  was  greatly  afraid  of  being  as- 
sassinated. In  council,  he  was  uncourteous.  Thus,  he  once  ac- 
cused the  famous  Chancellor  le  Hospital  of  wishing  to  be  "the  cock 
of  the  assembly,"  and  when  the  grave  chancellor  protested  against 
such  language,  the  Cardinal  qualified  him  as  "  an  old  ram."  It 
may  be  added  that,  if  he  feared  the  dagger  directed  by  private 
vengeance,  he  believed  himself  protected  by  the  guardianship  of 
Heaven,  which  more  than  once,  as  he  averred,  carried  him  off  in 
clouds  and  thunder,  when  assassins  were  seeking  him.  He  was 
wily  enough  to  have  said  this,  in  order  to  deter  all  attempts  at  vio- 
lence directed  against  himself. 

He  died  edifyingly,  kissed  Catherine  de  Medicis,  and  was  be- 
lieved by  the  latter,  to  mysteriously  haunt  her,  long  after  his 
death.  The  real  footing  on  which  these  two  personages  stood 
has  yet  to  be  discovered  by  curious  inquiries. 

The  Cardinal-brother  of  the  third  Duke,  Louis  of  Lorraine, 
17 


258  THE  KNIOHIS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

loved  good'  living,  and  was  enabled  at  an  early  age  to  indulge  Itis 
propensities,  out  of  the  rich  revenues  which  he  derived  from  his 
numerous  ecclesiastical  preferments.  He  held  half  a  dozen  ab- 
beys while  he  was  yet  in  his  cradle ;  and  he  was  a  bishop  at  the 
mature  age  of  eighteen.  Just  before  his  death,  in  1598,  when  he 
was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  he  resigned  his  magnificent  chuich 
appointments,  in  favor  of  his  nephew  and  namesake,  who  was  to 
be  a  future  Cardinal  at  the  side  of  the  fourth  Duke.  Louis  was 
a  man  of  ability  and  of  wit  He  chose  a  device  for  his  own 
shield  of  arms.  It  consisted  of  nine  zeros,  with  this  apt  motto : 
'*  Hoc  per  se  nihil  est ;  sed  si  minimum  addideris,  maximum  erit,*' 
intending,  it  is  said,  to  imply  that  man  was  nothing  tiU  grace  was 
given  him.  He  was  kindly-dispositioned,  loved  his  ease,  was 
proud  of  his  church,  and  had  a  passion  for  the  bottle.  That 
was  his  religion.  His  private  life  was  not  marked  by  worse 
traits  than  those  that  characterized  his  kinsmen  in  the  priest^ 
hood.  He  showed  his  affection  for  his  mother  after  a  truly  filial 
fas^on,  bequeathing  to  her  all  his  estates,  in  trust,  to  pay  his 
debts. 

The  third  duke  had  a  second  cardinal-brother,  known  as  the 
Cardinal  de  Guise,  who  was  murdered  by  Henri  III.  He  was 
an  intriguer ;  but  as  brave  as  any  knight  of  his  family.  It  was 
long  before  the  king  could  find  men  willing  to  strike  a  priest ;  and 
when  they  were  found,  they  approached  him  again  and  again,  be- 
fore they  could  summon  nerve  wherewith  to  smite  him.  After  all, 
this  second  murder  at  Blois  was  effected  by  stratagem.  The  car- 
dinal was  requested  to  accompany  a  messenger  to  the  royal 
presence.  He  complied  with  some  misgiving,  but  when  he  found 
himself  in  a  dark  corridor  with  four  frowning  soldiers,  he  under- 
stood his  doom;  requested  a  few  moments  respite  to  collect  his 
thoughts ;  and  then,  enveloping  his  head  in  his  outer  robe,  bade 
them  execute  their  bloody  commission.  He  was  instantly  slain, 
without  offering  resistance,  or  uttering  a- word. 

This  cardinal  was  father  of  five  illegitimate  sons,  of  whom  the 
most  celebrated  was  the  Baron  of  Ancerville,  or,  as  he  proudly 
designated  himself,  "  Bastard  of  Guise." 

By  the  side  of  the  son  of  Balafre,  Charles,  the  fourth  duke, 
there  stood  the  last  cardinal-brother  who  was  able  to  serve  his 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILT.      259 

house,  and  whose  character  presents  any  drcamstance  of  note. 
This  cardinal,  if  he  loved  .anything  more  than  the  bottle,  was 
fondest  of  a  battle.  He  characteristically  lost  his  life  by  both. 
He  was  present  at  the  siege  of  St.  Jean  d'Angely,  held  by  the 
Protestants  in  the  year  1621.  It  was  on  the  20th  of  May;  and 
the  sun  was  shining  with  a  power  not  known  to  our  severe  springs. 
The  cardinal  fought  like  a  fiend,  and  swore  with  more  than  fiend- 
ish capacity.  Thft  time  was  high  noon,  and  he  himself  was  in  the 
noontide  of  his  wondrous  vigor,  some  thirty  years  of  age.  He 
was  laying  about  him  in  the  bloody  milee  which  occurred  in  the 
suburb,  when  he  paused  for  awhile,  panting  for  breath  and  stream- 
ing with  perspiration.  He  called  for  a  flask  of  red  wine,  which 
he  had  scarcely  quaffed  when  he  was  seized  with  raging  fever, 
which  carried  him  off  within  a  fortnight.  He  was  so  much  more 
addicted  to  knightly  than  to  priestly  pursuits,  that,  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  a  negotiation  was  being  carried  on  to  procure  from  the 
pope  permission  for  the  cardinal  to  give  up  to  his  lay-brother,  the 
Due  de  Chevreuse,  all  his  benefices,  and  to  receive  in  return  the 
duke's  governorship  of  Auvergne.  He  was  for  ever  in  the  saddle, 
and  never  more  happy  than  when  he  saw  another  before  him  with 
a  resolute  foe  firmly  seated  therein.  He  lived  the  life  of  a  soldier 
of  fortune,  or  knight-errant ;  and  when  peace  temporarily  reigned, 
he  rode  over  the  country  with  a  band  of  followers,  in  search  of 
adventures,  and  always  found  them  at  the  point  of  their  swords. 
He  left  the  altar  to  draw  on  his  boots,  gird  his  sword  to  his  hip, 
and  provoke  his  cousin  De  Nevers  to  a  duel,  by  striking  him  in 
the  face.  The  indignant  young  noble  regretted  that  the  profession 
of  his  insulter  covered  the  latter  with  impunity,  and  recommended 
him,  at  the  same  time,  to  abandon  it,  and  to  give  De  Nevers  satis- 
faction. "  To  the  devil  I  have  sent  it  already !"  said  the  exem- 
plary cardinal,  "  when  I  flung  off  my  frock,  and  belted  on  my 
sword :"  and  the  two  kinsmen  would  have  had  their  weapons  in 
each  other's  throat,  but  for  the  royal  ofllcers,  who  checked  their 
Christian  amusement. 

This  roystering  cardinal,  who  was  interred  with  more  pomp 
than  if  he  had  been  a  great  saint,  or  a  merely  honest  man,  left 
fi\Q  children.  Their  mother  was  Charlotte  des  Escar.  They 
were  recognised  as  legitimate,  on  allegation  that  their  parents 


260  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

had  been  dulj  married,  on  papal  dispensation.  He  was  the 
last  of  the  cardinals,  and  was  as  good  a  soldier  as  any  of  the 
knights. 

Neither  the  pride  nor  the  pretensions  of  the  house  expired  with 
either  Dukes  or  Cardinals.  There  were  members  of  the  family 
whose  arrogance  was  all  the  greater  because  thej  were  not  of  the 
direct  line  of  succession.  Their  great  ambition  in  little  things  was 
satisfied  with  the  privilege  granted  to  the  ladies  of  Guise,  namely, 
the  one  which  they  held  in  common  with  royal  princesses,  at  being 
presented  at  court  previous  to  their  marriage.  This  ambition 
gained  for  them,  however,  the  hatred  of  the  nobles  and  the  princes 
of  the  Church,  and  at  length  caused  a  miniature  insurrection  in 
the  palace  at  Versailles. 

The  occasion  was  the  grand  ball  given  in  honor  of  the  nuptials 
of  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  Dauphin.  Louis  XY.  had  announced 
that  he  would  open  the  brilliant  scene  by  dancing  a  minuet  with 
Mile,  de  Lorraine,  sister  of  the  Prince  de  Lambesc  The  uproar 
that  ensued  was  terrific.  The  entire  body  of  nobility  protested 
against  such  marked  precedence  being  allowed  to  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion. The  Archbishop  of  Rheims  placed  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  opposing  movement;  and,  assembling  the  indignant  peerage, 
this  successor  of  the  Apostles,  in  company  with  his  episcopal  broth- 
er from  Noyon,  came  to  the  solemnly  important  resolution,  that 
between  the  princes  of  the  blood-royal  and  kaute  noblesse  there 
could  be  no  intermediate  rank ;  and  that  Mile,  de  Lorraine,  con- 
sequently, could  not  take  precedence  of  the  female  members  of  the 
aristocracy,  who  had  been  presented.  A  memorial  was  drawn  up. 
The  entire  nobility,  old  and  new,  signed  it  eagerly ;  and  the  King 
was  informed  that  if  he  did  not  rescind  his  deteniiination,  no  lady 
would  dance  at  the  ball  after  the  minuet  in  question  had  been  per- 
formed. The  Eang  exerted  himself  to  overcome  the  opposition : 
but  neitha:  bishops  nor  baronesses  would  give  way.  The  latter, 
on  the  evening  of  the  ball,  walked  about  the  grand  apartments  in 
undress,  expressed  loudly  their  resolution  not  to  dance,  and  re- 
ceived archiepiscopal  benison  for  their  pious  obstinacy.  The  mat- 
ter was  finally  arranged  by  compromise,  whereby  the  Diauphin  and 
the  Count  d*Artois  were  to  select  partners  among  the  nobility,  and 
not,  as  was  de  rigueur,  according  to  the  law  of  minuets^  among 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  KNIGHTLY  FAMILY.      261 

princesses  of  their  own  rank.  The  hour  for  opening  the  famous 
ball  was  retarded  in  order  to  give  the  female  insurrectionists  time 
to  dress,  and  ultimately  all  went  off  a  merveille  ! 

With  the  Prince  de  Lambesc  above-named,  the  race  of  Guise 
disappeared  altogether  from  the  soil  of  France.  He  was  colonel 
of  the  cavalry  regiment,  Royal  AUemand^  which  in  1789  came 
into  collision  with  the  people.  The  Prince  was  engaged,  with  his 
men,  in  dispersing  a  seditious  mob.  He  struck  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  of  the  rioters  with  the  flat  of  his  sword.  This  blow, 
dealt  by  a  Guise,  was  the  first  given  in  the  great  Revolution,  and 
it  helped  to  deprive  Louis  XVI.  of  his  crown.  The  Prince  de 
Lambesc  was  compelled  to  fly  from  the  country,  to  escape  the  in- 
dignation of  the  people.  Nearly  three  centuries  before,  his  great 
ancestor,  the  boy  of  the  mule,  had  entered  the  kingdom,  and  found- 
ed a  family  which  increased  in  numbers  and  power  against  the 
throne,  and  against  civil  and  religious  liberty.  And  now,  the  sole 
survivor  of  the  many  who  had  sprung  from  this  branch  of  Lor- 
raine, as  proud,  too,  a^  the  greatest  of  his  house,  having  raised  his 
finger  against  the  freedom  of  the  mob,  was  driven  into  exile,  to 
seek  refuge  for  a  time,  and  a  grave  for  age,  on  the  banks  of  the 
distant  Danube. 

When  Cardinal  Fleury  annexed  the  Duchy  of  Lorraine  to 
France,  it  was  by  arrangement  with  Austria;  according  to  which, 
Francis,  Duke  of  Lorraine,  received  in  exchange  for  his  Duchy, 
the  Grand  Duchy  of  Tuscany  and  the  hand  of  Maria  Theresa. 
Their  heirs  form  the  imperial  house  of  Hapsburgh-Lorraine. 
Such  of  my  readers  as  have  visited  Nancy,  the  capital  of  old  Lor- 
raine, will  remember  there  the  round  chapel  near  what  is  left  of 
the  old  palace  of  the  old  Dukes.  This  chapel  contains  the  tombs 
of  the  principal  of  the  twenty-nine  Dukes  who  ruled  sovereignly 
in  Lorraine.  The  expense  of  supporting  the  service  and  fabric, 
altar  and  priests,  connected  with  this  chapel,  is  sustained  entirely 
by  Austria.  It  is  the  only  remnant  preserved  of  the  Lorraine 
sovereignty  of  the  olden  time.  The  priests  and  employes  in  the 
edifice  speak  of  Hapsburgh-Lorraine  as  their  house,  to  which  they 
owe  exclusive  homage.  When  I  heard  expression  given  to  this 
sentiment,  I  was  standing  in  front  of  the  tomb  of  that  famous 
etcher,  old  Jean  Callot.     The  latter  was  a  native  of  Nancy ;  and 


262  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

I  could  almoftt  fancj  that  his  merry-lookiog  lip  curled  "mth  scorn 
at  the  display  of  this  rag  of  pride  in  behalf  of  the  house  of  Lor- 
raine. 

With  the  story  of  part  of  that  house  I  fear  I  may  have  detained 
the  reader  too  long.  I  will  tell  more  briefly  the  shifting  fortunes 
of  a  material  house,  the  knightly  edifice  of  Rambouillet. 


THE  BECOBO  OF  BjIMBOUILUTT. 


THE  RECORD  OF  RAMBOUILLET. 

"  Imagine  that  this  castle  were  your  court, 
And  that  you  lay,  for  pleasure,  here  a  space. 
Not  of  compulsion  or  necessity." — Kit  Mablowb. 

Bambouillet  is  an  old  chd,teau  where  feudal  knights  once 
lived  like  little  kings.  In  its  gardens  Euphuism  reigned  supreme. 
It  is  a  palace,  in  whose  chambers  monarchs  have  feasted,  and  at 
whose  gates  they  have  asked,  when  fugitives,  for  water  and  a  crust 
of  bread.  It  commenced  its  career  as  a  cradle  of  knights ;  it  is 
finishing  it  as  an  asylum  for  the  orphan  children  of  warriors.  The 
commencement  and  £nale  are  not  unworthy  of  one  another ;  but, 
between  the  two,  there  have  been  some  less  appropriate  disposals 
of  this  old  chevalier's  residence.  For  a  short  period  it  was  some- 
thing between  Hampton  Court  and  Eosherville.  In  the  very  place 
where  the  canons  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle  were  privileged  to  kiss 
the  cheeks  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  the  denizens  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Antoine  could  revel,  if  they  could  only  pay  for  their 
sport.  Where  the  knightly  D'Amaurys  held  their  feudal  state, 
where  King  Francis  followed  the  chase,  and  the  Chevalier  Florian 
sang,  and  Penthievre  earned  immortality  by  the  practice  of  heav- 
enly virtues ;  where  Louis  enthroned  Du  Barry,  and  Napoleon 
presided  over  councils,  holding  the  destiny  of  thrones  in  the  balance 
of  his  will,  there  the  sorriest  mechanic  had,  with  a  few  francs  in 
his  hand,  the  right  of  entrance.  The  gayest  lorettes  of  the  capital 
smoked  their  cigarettes  where  Juliet  D'Angennes  fenced  with  love ; 
and  the  bower  of  queens  and  the  refuge  of  an  empress  rang  with 
echoes,  born  of  light-heartedness  and  lighter  wine.  Louis  Napo- 
leon has,  however,  established  a  better  order  of  things. 

To  a  Norman  chief,  of  knightly  character,  if  not  of  knightly 


264  TH£  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIK  DAYS. 

tide,  and  to  the  Norman  tongue,  MabauiUet^  as  it  used  to  be 
written,  or  the  "  Rabbit  warren,'*  owes  the  name  given  to  the 
palace,  about  thirteen  leagues  from  Paris,  and  to  the  village  which 
clusters  ajround  it.  The  former  is  now  a  quaint  and  confused  pile, 
the  chief  tower  of  which  alone  is  now  older  than  the  days  of 
Hugues  Capet  Some  authors  describe  the  range  of  buildings  as 
taking  the  form  of  a  horseshoe ;  but  tjie  hoof  would  be  indescri- 
bable to  which  a  shoe  so  shaped  could  be  fittingly  applied.  The 
changes  and  additions  have  been  as  much  without  end  as  without 
taste.  In  its  present  architectural  entirety  it  wears  as  motley  an 
aspect  as  Occur  de  Lion  might,  were  he  to  walk  down  Pall  Mall 
with  a  modem  paletot  over  his  suit  of  complete  steel. 

The  early  masters  pi  Rambouillet  were  a  knightly,  powerful 
but  uninteresting  race.  It  is  sufficient  to  record  of  the  chivaJric 
D'Amaurys  that  they  held  it,  to  the  satisfaction  of  few  people  but 
themselves,  from  1003  to  1317.  Further  record  these  sainted 
proprietors  require  not.  We  will  let  them  sleep  on  undisturbedly, 
their  arms  crossed  on  their  breast,  in  the  peace  of  a  well-merited 
oblivion.     Requiescat ! 

One  relic  of  the  knightly  days,  however,  survived  to  the  period 
of  the  first  French  Revolution.  In  the  domain  of  Rambouillet 
was  the  fief  of  Montorgueil.  It  was  held  by  the  prior  of  St. 
Thomas  d'Epernon,  on  the  following  service :  the  good  prior  was 
bound  to  present  himself  yearly  at  the  gate  of  Rambouillet,  bare- 
headed, with  a  garland  on  his  brow,  and  mounted  on  a  piebalfl 
horse,  touching  whom  it  was  bad  service  if  the  animal  had  not 
four  white  feet. 

The  prior,  fully  armed  like  a  knight,  save  that  his  white  gloves 
were  of  a  delicate  texture,  carried  a  flask  of  wine  at  his  saddle- 
bow. In  one  hand  he  held  a  cake,  to  the  making  of  which  had^ 
gone  a  bushel  of  flour — an  equal  measure  of  wheat  was  also  the 
fee  of  the  lord.  The  officers  of  the  latter  examined  narrowly  into 
the  completeness  of  the  service.  If  they  pronounced  it  imperfect 
the  prior  of  Epernon  was  mulcted  of  the  revenues  of  his  fief  for 
the  year  ensuing. 

In  later  days  the  ceremony  lost  much  of  its  meaning ;  but  down 
to  the  period  of  its  extinction,  the  wine,  the  cake,  and  the  garland, 
were  never  wanting ;  and  the  maidens  of  Rambouillet  were  said 


THE  RECORD   OF  RAMBOUILLET.  265 

to  be  more  exacting  than  tbe  baronial  knights  themselves,  from 
whom  many  of  them  were  descended.  The  festival  wiaa  ever  a 
joyous  one,  as  became  a  feudal  lord,  whose  kitchen  fireplace  w%» 
of  such  dimensions  that  a  horseman  might  -ride  into  it,  and  skim 
the  pot  as  he  stood  in  his  stirrups. 

It  is  a  singular  thing  that  scarcely  a  monarch  has  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  knightly  residence  of  Bambouillet,  but  mischance 
has  befallen  him.  The  kings  were  unjust  to  the  knights,  and  the 
latter  found  for  the  former  a  Nemesjg.  Francis  I.  was  hunting  in 
the  woods  of  Rambouillet  when  he  received  the  news  of  the  death 
of  Henry  VIII.  that  knight-sovereign,  with  whom  he  had  strug- 
gled on  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  With  the  news,  he  re- 
ceived a  shock,  which  the  decay  sprung  irom  various  excesses 
could  not  resist.  He  entered  the  chateau  as  the  guest  of  the 
Chevalier  d*Angennes,  in  whose  family  the  proprietorship  then 
resided.  The  chamber  is  still  shown  wherein  he  died,  roaring 
in  agony,  and  leaving  proof  of  its  power  over  him,  in  the 
pillow,  which,  in  mingled  rage  and  pain,  he  tore  into  strips  with 
his  teeth. 

The  French  author,  Leon  Goislau,  has  given  a  full  account  of 
the  extraordinary  ceremonies  which  took  place  in  honor  of  Fran- 
cis after  his  death.  In  front  of  the  bed  on  which  lay  the  body  of 
the  king,  says  M.  Gozlau,  "  was  erected  an  altar  covered  with 
embroidered  cloth ;  on  this  stood  two  gold  candlesticks,  bearing 
two  lights  from  candles  of  the  whitest  wax.  The  cardinals,  pre- 
lates, knights,  gentlemen,  arid  ofl&cers,  whose  duty  it  was  to  keep 
watch,  were  stationed  around  the  catafalque,  seated  on  chairs  of 
cloth  of  gold.  During  the  eleven  days  that  the  ceremony  lasted, 
the  strictest  etiquette  of  service  was  observed  about  the  king,  as 
if  he  had  been  a  living  monarch  in  presence  of  his  court.  His 
table  was  regularly  laid  out  for  dinner,  by  the  side  of  his  bed. 
A  cardinal  blessed  the  food.  A  gentleman  in  waiting  presented 
the  ewer  to  the  figure  of  the  dead  king.  A  knight  offered  him 
the  cup  mantling  with  wine :  and  another  wiped  his  lips  and  fingers. 
These  functions,  with  many  others,  took  place  by  the  solemn  and 
subdued  light  of  the  funeral  torches." 

The  after  ceremonies  were  quite  as  curious  and  extraordinarily 
magnificent ;  but  it  is  unnecessary  to  rest  upon  them,    A  king,  in 


THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

not  much  better  cireoinstanoes  ihan  Francis,  just  before  his  deftth, 
slept  in  the  castle  for  one  night  in  the  jear  1588.  It  was  a  night 
in  Maj,  and  the  knight  proprietor  Jean  d^Angennes,  was  celebra- 
ting the  marriage  of  kis  daughter.  The  oeremonj  was  interrupted 
•  by  a  loud  knocking  at  the  castle  gates.  The  wary  Jean  looked 
first  at  the  clamorous  visitors  through  the  wicket,  whence  he  de- 
scried Henri  III.  flurried,  yet  laughing,  seated  in  an  old  carriage, 
around  which  mustered  dusty  horsemen,  grave  cavaliers,  and  cour- 
tiers scantily  attired.  Some  h$d  their  points  untrussed,  and  many 
a  knight  was  without  his  boots.  An  illustrious  company,  in  fact ; 
but  there  were  not  two  nobles  in  their  united  purses.  Jean  threw 
open  his  portals  to  a  king  and  his  knights  flying  from  De  Guise. 
The  latter  had  got  possession  of  Paris,  and  Henri  and  his  friends 
had  escaped  in  order  to  establish  the  regal  authority  at  Chartres. 
The  two  great  adversaries  met  at  Blois :  and  after  the  assassina- 
tion of  Guise,  the  king,  with  his  knights  and  courtiers,  gallopped 
gayly  past  Rambouillet  on  his  return  to  Paris,  to  profit  by  his 
own  wickedness,  and  the  folly  of  his  trusty  and  weU-beloved  cousin, 
the  duke. 

Not  long  before  this  murder  was  committed,  in  1588,  the  Hotel 
Pisani  in  Paris  was  made  jubilant  by  the  birth  of  that  Catherine 
de  Yivonnes,  who  was  at  once  both  lovely  and  learned.  She  lived 
to  found  that  school  of  lingual  purists  whose  doings  are  so  pleas- 
antly caricatured  in  the  Precieuses  Ridicules  of  Moli^re.  Cathe- 
rine espoused  that  noble  chevalier,  Charles  d'Angennes,  Lord  of 
Rambouillet,  who  was  made  a  marquis  for  her  sake.  The  cheva- 
lier's lady  looked  upon  marriage  rather  as  a  closing  act  of  life  than 
otherwise ;  but  then  hers  had  been  a  busy  youth.  In  her  second 
lustre  she  knew  as  many  languages  as  a  lustrum  has  years.  Ere 
her  fourth  had  expired,  her  refined  spirit  and  her  active  intellect 
were  disgusted  and  weary  with  the  continual  sameness  and  the 
golden  emptiness  of  the  court  She  cared  little  to  render  homage 
to  a  most  Christian  king  who  disregarded  the  precepts  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  or  to  be  sullied  by  homage  from  a  monarch,  which  could 
not  be  rendered  without  insult  to  a  Virtuous  woman.  Young 
Catherine  preferred,  in.  the  summer  eve,  to  lie  under  the  shadow 
of  her  father's  trees,  which  once  reared  a  world  of  leafy  splendor 
on  tlie  spot  now  o«%apied  by  the  Palais  BoyaL    There  she  read 


THE  RECORD  OF  RAMBOUILLET.  267 

works  coined  by  great  minds.  During  the  long  winter  evenings 
she  lay  in  stately  ceremony  upon  her  bed,  an  unseemly  custom  of 
the  period,  and  there,  surrounded  by  chevaliers,  wits,  and  philoso- 
phers, enjoyed  and  encouraged  the  "  cudgelling  of  bwdns."  At 
her  suggestion  the  old  hotel  was  destroyed,  and  after  her  designs 
a  new  one  buijt ;  and  when,  in  place  of  the  old  dark  panelling,  ob- 
scurely seen  by  casements  that  kept  out  the  light,  she  covered  the 
walls  of  her  reception-rooms  with  sky-blue  velvet,  and  welcomed 
the  sun  to  shii^  upon  them,  universal  France  admiringly  pro- 
nounced her  mad,  incontinently  caught  the  infection,  and  broke  out 
into  an  incurable  disease  of  fancy  and  good  taste. 

The  fruit  of  the  union  above  spoken  of  was  abundant,  but  the 
very  jewel  in  that  crown  of  children,  the  goodliest  arrow  in  the 
family  quiver,  was  that  Julie  d'Angennes  who  shattered  the  hearts 
of  all  the  amorous  chevaliers  of  France,  and  whose  fame  has,  per- 
haps, eclipsed  that  of  her  mother.  Her  childhood  was  passed  at 
the  feet  of  the  most  eminent  men  in  France ;  not  merely  aristo- 
cratic knights,  but  as  eminent  wits  and  philosophers.  By  the  side 
of  her  cradle,  Balzac  enunciated  his  polished  periods,  and  Marot 
his  tunefiil  rhymes,  Voiture  his  conceits,  and  Vaugelas  his  learn- 
ing. She  lay  in  the  arms  of  Armand  Diiplessis,  then  almost  as 
innocent  as  the  little  angel  who  unconsciously  smiled  on  that  future 
ruthless  Cardinal  de  Richelieu ;  and  her  young  ear  heard  the  ele- 
vated measure  of  Comeille's  "  Melite."  To  enumerate  the  circles 
which  was  wont  to  assemble  within  the  H6tel  Rambouillet  in  Paris, 
or  to  loiter  in  the  gardens  and  hills  of  the  country  chateau,  whose 
history  I  am  sketching,  would  occupy  more  space  than  can  be  de- 
voted to  such  purpose.  The  circle  comprised  parties  who  were 
hitherto  respectively  exclusive.  Knights  met  citizen  wits,  to  the 
great  edification  of  the  former ;  and  Rambouillet  afforded  an  asylum 
to  the  persecuted  of  all  parties.  They  who  resisted  Henry  IV. 
found  refuge  within  its  hospitable  walls,  and  many  nobles  and  chev- 
aliers who  survived  the  bloody  oppression  of  Richelieu,  sought 
therein  solace,  and  balm  for  their  lacerated  souls. 

Above  all,  Madame  de  Rambouillet  effected  the  social  congre- 
gation of  the  two  sexes.  Women  were  brought  to  encounter  male 
wits,  sometimes  to  conquer,  always  to  improve  them.  The  title  to 
enter  was,  worth  joined  with  ability.    The  etiquette  was  pedanti* 


268  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

cally  strict,  as  maj  be  imagined  by  the  case  of  Voiture,  who,  on 
one  occasion,  after  conducting  Julie  through  a  suite  of  rocHns,  kissed 
hw  hand  on  parting  from  her,  and  was  very  near  being  expelled 
for  ever  from  Rambouillet,  as  the  reward  of  his  temerity.  Voiture 
subsequently  went  to  Africa.  On  his  return,  he  was  not  admitted 
to  the  illustrious  circle,  but  on  condition  that  he  narrated  his  ad- 
ventures, and  to  these  the  delighted  assembly  listened,  all  attired 
as  gods  and  goddesses,  and  gravely  addressing  each  other  as  such. 
Madame  de  Rambouillet  presided  over  all  as  Diaqa,  and  the  com- 
pany did  her  abundant  homage.  This,  it  is  true,  was  for  the 
nonce ;  but  there  was  a  permanent  travesty  notwithstanding.  It 
was  the  weak  point  of  this  assembly  that  not  only  was  every  mem- 
ber of  it  called  by  a  feigned,  generally  a  Greek,  name,  but  the 
same  rule  was  applied  to  most  men  and  things  beyond  it ;  nay,  the 
very  oaths,  for  there  were  little  expletives  occasionally  fired  off  in 
ecstadc  moments,  were  all  by  the  heathen  gods.  Thus,  as  a  sam- 
ple, France  was  Greece.  Paris  was  Athens  ;  and  the  Place  Roy- 
ale  was  only  known  at  Rambouillet  as  the  Place  Dorique,  The 
name  of  Madame  de  Rambouillet  was  Arihemise  ;  that  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Scudery  was  Aganippe ;  and  Tkessalontca  was  the 
purified  cognomen  of  the  Duchess  de  Tremouille.  But  out  of 
such  childishness  resulted  great  good,  notwithstanding  that  Moliere 
laughed,  and  that  the  Academie  derided  ComeiUe  and  all  others 
of  the  innovating  coterie.  The  times  were  coarse ;  things,  what- 
ever they  might  be,  were  called  by  their  names ;  ears  polite  expe- 
rienced offence,  and  at  RambouiUet  periphrasis  was  called  upon  to 
express  what  the  language  otherwise  conveyed  offensively  by  the 
medium  of  a  single  word.  The  idea  was  good,  although  it  was 
abused.  Of  its  quality  some  conjecture  may  be  formed  by  one  or 
two  brief  examples ;  and  I  may  add,  by  the  way,  that  the  French 
Academy  ended  by  adopting  many  of  the  terms  which  it  at  first 
refused  to  acknowledge.  Popularity  had  been  given  to  much  of 
the  remainder,  and  thus  a  great  portion  of  the  vocabulary  of  Ram- 
bouillet has  become  idiomatic*  French.  "  Modeste,"  "  friponne," 
and  "  secrete,"  were  names  given  to  the  under-garments  of  ladies, 
which  we  now  should  not  be  afraid  to  specify.  The  sun  was  the 
^  amiable  illuminator ;"  to  ^  fulfil  the  desire  which  the  chair  had  to 
embrace  you,"  was  simply  to  ^'  sit  down/'    Horses  were  ^  plusbed 


THE  RECORD  OP  RAMBOUILLET.  269 

coursers;"  a  carriage  was  "four  cornices,"  and  chairmen  were 
"baptized  mules."  A  bed  was  the  "old  dreamer;"  a  hat,  the 
"  buckler  against  weather ;"  to  laugh  was  to  "  lose  your  gravity ;" 
dinner  was  the  "  meridional  necessity ;"  the  ear  was  the  "  organ, 
or  the  gate  of  hearing ;"  and  the  "  throne  of  modesty"  was  the  pol- 
ished phrase  for  a  fair  young  cheek.  There  is  nothing  very  edify- 
ing in  all  this,  it  is  true  ;  but  the  fashion  set  people  thinking,  and 
good  ensued.  Old  indelicacies  disappeared,  and  th§  general;  spo- 
ken language  was  refined.  If  any  greater  mental  purity  ensued 
from  the  change,  I  can  scarcely  give  the  credit  of  it  to  the  party 
at  Rambouillet,  for,  with  all  their  proclaimed  refinement,  their 
nicety  was  of  the  kind  described  in  the  well-known  maxim  of  the 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  circle  of  Rambouillet, 
was  the  Marquis  de  Salles,  Knight  of  St.  Louis.  He  was  the 
second  son  of  the  Duke  de  Montausier,  and  subsequently  inherited 
the  title.  At  the  period  of  his  father's  death,  his  mother  found 
herself  with  little  dower  but  her  title.  She  exerted  herself,  how- 
ever, courageously.  She  instructed  her  children  herself,  brought 
them  up  in  strict  Huguenot  principles,  and  afterward  sent  them  to 
the  Calviiiistic  college  at  Sedan,  where  the  young  students  were 
famous  for  the  arguments  which  they  maintained  against  all  comers 
— and  they  were  many — who  sought  to  convert  them  to  popery. 
At  an  early  age  he  acquired  the  profession  of  arms,  the  only  voca- 
tion for  a  young  and  portionless  noble ;  and  he  shed  his  blood  lib- 
erally for  a  king  who  had  no  thanks  to  offer  to  a  protestant.  His 
wit,  refinement,  and  gallant  bearing,  made  him  a  welcome  guest  at 
BambouiUet,  where  his  famous  attachment  to  Julie,  who  was  three 
years  his  senior,  gave  matter  for  conversation  to  the  whole  of 
France.  Courageous  himself,  he  loved  courage  in  others,  and  his 
love  for  Julie  d'Angennes,  was  fired  by  the  rare  bravery  exhibited 
by  her  in  tending  a  dying  brother,  the  infectious  nature  of  whose 
disorder  had  made  even  his  hired  nurses  desert  him.  In  the 
season  of  mourning,  the  whole  court,  led  by  royalty,  went  and  did 
homage  to  this  pearl  of  sisters.  But  no  admiration  fell  so  sweetly 
upon  her  ear  as  that  whispered  to  her  by  the  young  Montausier. 
One  evidence  of  his  chivalrous  gallantry  is  yet  extant.  It  is  in 
that  renowned  volume  called  the  "  Guirlande  de  Julie,"  of  which 


270  THE  KNIGHXB  AND  'nSEXR  DAYS* 

he  was  the  projector,  and  in  the  accomplishing  of  which,  knights, 
artists,  and  poets,  lent  their  willing  aid.  It  is  superb  vellum  tome. 
The  frontispiece  is  the  garland  or  wreath,  from  which  the  volume 
takes  its  name.  Each  subsequent  page  presents  one  single  flower 
from  this  wreath  (there  are  eighteen  of  them)  with  verses  in  hcmor 
of  Julie,  composed  bj  a  dozen  and  a  half  of  very  insipid  poets. 
This  volume  was  sold  some  years  ago  to  Madame  D'Uzes,  a  de« 
scendant  of  th|»  family,  when  its  cost  amounted  to  nearly  one  thou- 
sand francs  per  page. 

As  everything  was  singular  at  Bambouillet,  so  of  course  was 
the  wooing  of  Julie  and  her  knight.  It  was  very  "  long  a-doing," 
and  we  doubt  if  in  the  years  of  restrained  ardor,  of  fabulous  con- 
stancy, of  reserve,  and  sad  yet  pleasing  anguisli,  the  lover  ever 
dared  to  kiss  the  hand  of  his  mistress,  or  even  to  speak  of  mar- 
riage, but  by  a  diplomatic  paraphrase. 

The  goddesses  of  Rambouillet  entertained  an  eloquent  horror 
of  the  gross  indelicacy  of  such  unions,  for  which  Moliere  has 
whipped  them  with  a  light  but  cutting  scourge.  The  lover,  more- 
over, was  a  Huguenot  What  was  he  to  do  ?  Like  a  true  knight 
he  rushed  to  the  field,  was  the  hero  of  two  brilliant  campaigns, 
and  then  wooed  her  as  knight  of  half-a-dozen  new  orders,  mare- 
chal-du-camp,  and  Governor  of  Alsatia.  The  nymph  was  still 
coy.  The  knight  again  buckled  on  ins  armor,  and  in  the  melee 
at  Dettingen  was  captured  by  the  foe.  Afler  a  two  months'  de- 
tention, he  was  ransomed  by  his  mother,  for  two  thousand  crowns. 
He  re-entered  Rambouillet  lieutenant-general  of  the  armies  of 
France,  and  he  asked  for  the  recompense  of  his  fourteen  years 
of  constancy  and  paitience.  Julie  was  shocked,  for  she  only  thought 
how  brief  had  been  the  period  of  their  acquaintance.  At  length 
the  marquis  made  profession  of  Romanism,  and  thereby  purchased 
the  double  aid  of  the  church  and  the  throne.  The  king,  the 
queen,  Cardinal  Mazarin,  and  a  host  of  less  influential  members, 
besought  her  to  relent,  and  the  shy  beauty  at  length  reluctantly 
surrendered.  The  marriage  took  place  in  1 645,  and  Julie  was  then 
within  sight  of  forty  years  of  age.  The  young  chevaUers  and 
wits  had,  you  may  be  sure,  much  to  say  thereupon.  The  elder 
heatuc  esprit  looked  admiringly ;  but  a  world  of  whispered  wicked- 
ness went  on  among  them,  nevertheless. 


THE  BEGORD   OF  BAMBOUBLLETT.  271 

Montansier,  for  lie  now  was  dake  and  knight  of  tlie  Holj  Ghost, 
became  the  reigning  sovereign  over  the  literaiy  circle  at  Ram- 
bouillet,  during  the  declining  years  of  Julie's  mother.  Catherine 
died  in  1665,  after  a  long  retirement,  and  almost  forgotten  by  the 
sons  of  those  whom  she  once  delighted  to  honor.  The  most  deli- 
cate and  the  most  difficult  public  employment  ever  held  by  the 
duke,  was  that  of  governor  to  the  dauphin.  This  office  he  filled 
with  singular  ability.  He  selected  Bossuet  and  J^uet  to  instruct 
tiie  young  prince  in  the  theoretical  wisdom  of  books,  but  the  prac- 
tical teaching  was  imparted  by  himself.  Many  a  morning  saw 
the  governor  and  his  pupil  issue  frojm  the  gilded  gates  of  Versailles 
to  take  a  course  of  popular  study  among  the  cottages  and  peas- 
antry of  the  environs. 

The  heart  of  the  true  knight  was  shattered  by  the  death  of 
Julie  in  1671,  at  the  age  of  sixty-four.  He  survived  her  nine- 
teen years.  They  were  passed  in  sorrow,  but  also  in  continual 
active  usefulness.;  and  when,  at  length,  in  1690,  the  grave  of  his 
beloved  wife  opened  to  receive  him,  Flechier  pronounced  a  fitting 
funeral  oration  over  both. 

The  daughter  and  only*  surviving  child  of  this  distinguished 
pair  gave,  with  her  hand,  the  lordship  of  BambouiUet  to  the  Due 
d'Uzes,  "  Chevalier  de  Tordre  du  Saint  Esprit."  The  knightly 
family  of  D'Angennes  had  held  it  for  three  centuries.  It  was  in 
1706  destined  to  become  royal.  Louis  XIV.  then  purchased  it 
for  th^  Count  of  Toulouse,  legitimatized  son  of  himself  and 
!Madame  de  Montespan.  This  count  was  knight  and  Grand  Ad- 
miral of  France,  at  the  age  of  five  years.  In  1704,  he  had  just 
completed  his  twenty-fifth  year.  He  is  famous  for  having  encoun- 
tered the  fleet  commanded  by  Rook  and  Shovel,  after  the  capture 
of  Gibraltar,  and  for  having  what  the  cautious  Russian  generals 
call,  "withdrawn  out  of  range,"  when  he  found  himself  on  the 
p«int  of  being  utterly  beaten.  He  behaved  himself  as  bravely  as 
any  knight  could  have  done ;.  but  the  government  was  not  satisfied 
with  him.  Pontchartrain,  the  Minister  of  Marine,  recalled  him, 
sent  him  to  Rambouillet,  and  left  him  there  to  shoot  rabbits,  and 
like  Diocletian,  raise  cabbages. 

His  son  and  successor,  who  was  the  great  Duke  de  Penthievre, 
commenced  his  knighthood  early.     He  was  even  made  Grand 


272  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Admiral  of  France  before  he  knew  salt  water  from  fresh.  He 
studied  naval  tactics  as  Uncle  Toby  and  the  corporal  fought  their 
old  battles — namely,  with  toy  batteries.  In  the  duke's  case,  it 
was,  moreover,  with  little  vessels  and  small  sailors  all  afloat  in  a 
miniature  fish-pond,  made  to  represent,  for  the  nonce,  the  mighty 
and  boundless  deep.  This  grand  admiral  never  ventured  on  the 
ocean,  but  he  bore  himself  chivalrously  on  the  bloody  field  of 
Dettingen,  and  he  won  imperishable  laurels  by  his  valor  at  Fon- 
tenoy.  For  such  scenes  and  their  glories,  however,  the  preux 
chevalier  cared  but  little.  Ere  the  French  Te  Deum  was  sung 
upon  the  last-named  field,  he  hastened  back  to  his  happy 
hearth  at  home.  RambouiUet  was  then  the  abiding-place  of  all 
the  virtues.  There  the  home-loving  knight  read  the  Scriptures 
while  the  duchess  sat  at  his  side  making  garments  for  the  poor. 
There,  the'  Chevalier  Florian,  his  secretary  and  friend,  meditated 
those  graceful  rhymes  and  that  harmonious  prose,  in  which  human 
nature  is  in  pretty  masquerade,  walking  about  like  Wattean's 
figures,  in  vizors,  brocades,  high  heels,  and  farthingales.  When 
the  duchess  died  in  child-birth,  of  her  sixth  child,  her  husband 
withdrew  to  La  Trappe  where,  among  other  ex-soldiers,  he  for 
weeks  prayed  and  slept  upon  the  bare  ground.  Five  out  of  his 
children  died  early.  Among  them  was  the  chivalrous  but  intem- 
perate Prince  de  LambaUe,  who  died  soon  afler  his  union  with 
the  unhappy  princess  who  fell  a  victim  to  those  fierce  French 
revolutionists — who  were  ordinarily  so  amiable,  according  to 
M.  Louis  Blanc,  that  they  were  never  so  delighted  as  when  they 
could  rescue  a  human  being  firom  death. 

It  was  by  permission  of  the  duke,  who  refused  to  sell  his  house, 
that  Louis  XV.  built  in  the  adjacent  forest  the  hunting-lodge  of 
St.  Hubert.  An  assemblage  of  kings,  courtiers,  knights  and  ladies 
there  met,  at  whose  doings  the  good  saint  would  have  blushed, 
could  he  have  witnessed  them.  One  night  the  glittering  cnwvd 
had  galloped  there  for  a  carouse,  when  discovery  was  made  that 
the  materials  for  supper  had  been  forgotten,  or  left  behind  at 
Versailles.  "  Let  us  go  to  Penthievre  1"  was  the  universal  cry ; 
but  the  king  looked  grave  at  the  proposition.  Hunger  and  the 
universal  opposition,  however,  overcame  him.  Forth  the  famished 
revellers  issued,  and  played  a  revetHee  on  the  gates  of  RambouiUet 


THE  RECORD   OP  RAMBOUILLET.  273 

loud  enough  to  have  startled  the  seven  sleepeiB.  '^  Fenthi^vre  is 
in  bed!"  said  one.  '^He  is  conning  his  breviary!"  sneered 
another.  ^<  Grentlemen,  he  is,  probablj,  at  prayers/'  said  the  king, 
who,  like  an  Athenian,  could  applaud  the  virtue  which  he  failed 
to  practise.  "  Let  us  withdraw,"  added  the  exemplary  royal  head 
of  the  order  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  "  If  we  do,"  remarked  Madame 
du  Barry,  "  I  shall  die  of  hunger ;  let  us  knock  again."  To  the 
storm  which  now  beset  the  gates,  the  latter  yielded ;  and  as  they 
swung  open,  they  disclosed  the  duke,  who,  girt  in  a  white  apron, 
and  with  a  ladle  in  his  hand,  received  his  visiters  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  he  was  engaged  in  helping  to  make  soup  for  the 
poor.  The  monarch  and  his  followers  declared  that  no  poor  could 
be  more  in  need  of  soup  than  they  were.  They  accordingly 
seized  the  welcome  supply,  devoured  it  with  the  appetite  of  those 
for  whom  it  was  intended,  and  paid  the  grlTre  knight  who  was 
their  host,  in  the  false  coin  of  pointless  jokes.  How  that  host 
contrasted  with  his  royal  guest,  may  be  seen  in  the  fact  told  of 
him,  when  a  poor  woman  kissed  his  hand,  and  asked  a  favor  as 
he  was  passing  in  a  religious  procession.  '^In  order  of  religion 
before  God,"  said  he,  "  I  am  your  brother.  In  all  other  cases, 
for  ever  your  friend."  The  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost  never  had 
a  more  enlightened  member  than  he. 

In  1785  Louis  XVI.  in  some  sort  compelled  him  to  part  with 
Rambouillet  for  sixteen  million  of  francs.  He  retired  to  Eu, 
taking  with  him  the  bodies  of  the  dead  he  had  loved  when  living. 
There  were  nine  of  that  silent  company;  and  as  the  Duke 
passed  with  them  on  his  sad  and  silent  way,  the  clouds  wept  over 
them,  and  the  people  crowded  the  long  line  of  road,  paying  their 
homage  in  honest  tears. 

Then  came  that  revolutionary  deluge  which  swept  from  Ram- 
bouillet the  head  of  the  order  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  entire 
chapter  with  him;  and  which  dragged  from  the  mead  and  the 
dairy  the  queen  and  princesses,  whose  pastime  it  was  to  milk 
the  cows  in  fancy  dresses.  The  Duke  de  Penthidvre  died  of  the 
Revolution,  yet  not  through  personal  violence  offered  to  himself. 
The  murder  of  his  daughter-in-law,  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  was 
the  last  fatal  stroke  ;  and  he  died  forgiving  her  assassins  and  his 
own. 

18 


274  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

During  the  £rst  Republic  there  was  nothing  more  warlike  at 
Rambouillet  than  the  merino  flocks  which  had  been  introduced  by 
Louis  XVI.  for  the  great  benefit  of  his  successors.  A  scene 
of  some  interest  occurred  there  in  the  last  days  of  the  empire. 

On  the  27th  of  March,  1814,  the  empress  Maria  Louisa  with 
tlie  King  of  Rome  in  her  arms,  his  silver-gray  jacket  bear- 
ing those  ribboned  emblems  of  chivalry  which  may  still  be  seen 
upon  it  at  the  Louvre,  sought  shelter  there,  while  she  awaited^the 
issue  of  the  bloody  struggle  which  her  own  father  was  maintaining 
against  her  husband.  The  empress  passed  three  days  at  Ram- 
bouillet, solacing  her  majestic  anguish  by  angling  for  carp.  Ul- 
timately, the  Emperor  of  Austria  entered  the  hall  where  his  im- 
perial son-in-law  had  made  so  many  Knights  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  to  carry  off  his  daughter  and  the  disinherited  heir.  As 
the  three  sat  that  sight  together  before  the  wood-fire,  the  Arch- 
Duchess  Maria-Louisa  talked  about  the  teeth  of  the  ex-king  of 
Rome,  while  two  thousand  Austrian  soldiers  kept  watch  about 
the  palace. 

The  gates  had  again  to  be  open  to  a  fugitive.  On  the  last  of 
the  "  three  glorious  days"  of  July  a  poor,  pale,  palsied  fugitive 
rushed  into  the  chltteau,  obtained,  not  easily,  a  glass  of  water  and 
a  crust,  and  forthinnth  hurried  on  to  meet  captivity  at  last.  This 
was  the  Prince  de  Polignac.  Two  hours  after  he  had  left  came 
the  old  monarch  Charles  X.,  covered  with  dust,  dropping  tears 
like  rain,  bewildered  with  past  memories  and  present  realities,  and 
loudly  begging  for  food  for  the  two  "  children  of  France,'*  the  off- 
spring of  his  favorite  son,  the  Duke  de  Berri.  In  his  own  pal- 
ace a  king  of  France  was  compelled  to  surrender  his  own  ser- 
vice of  plate,  before  the  village  would  sell  him  bread  in  return. 
When  refreshed  therewith,  he  had  strength  to  abdicate  in  favor 
of  his  son,  the  Duke  d'Angouleme,  who  at  once  resigned  in  favor 
of  his  nephew  the  Duke  de  Bordeaux ;  and  this  done,  the  whole 
party  passed  by  easy  stages  into  an  inglorious  exile.  With  them 
was  extinguished  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  never  since 
that  day  have  the  emblematic  dove  and  star  been  seen  on  the 
breast  of  any  knight  in. France. 

Louis  Philippe  would  fain  have  appropriated  Rambouillet  to 
himself;  but  the  government  assigned  it  to  the  nation,  and  let  it 


THE  BECOBD  OF  BAMBOUILLET.  275 

to  a  phlegmatic  Grerman,  who  had  an  ambition  to  sleep  on  the  bed 
of  kings,  and  could  a£fbrd  to  pay  for  the  gratification  of  his  fancy. 
It  was  on  the  expiration  of  his  lease  that  the  house  and  grounds 
were  made  over  to  a  company  of  speculators,  who  sadly  desecra- 
ted fair  Julie's  throne.  The  present  sovereign  of  France  has  given 
it  a  worthy  occupation.  It  is  now  an  asylum  and  a  school  for  the 
children  of  the  brave.  It  began  as  the  cradle  of  knights ;  and  the 
orphans  of  those  who  were  as  brave  as  any  of  the  chevaliers  of 
old  now  find  a  refuge  at  the  old  hearth  of  the  Knights  of  Amaury. 
I  can  well  conclude,  that,  by  this  time,  my  readers  may  be 
weary  of  foreign  scenes  and  incidents,  as  we  are  of  real  person- 
ages. May  I  venture  then,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  to  ask  them 
to  accompany  me  "  to  the  well-trod  stage,  anon  ?"  There  I  will 
treat,  to  the  best  of  my  poor  ability,  of  Stage  Kjiights  generally ; 
and  first,  of  the  greatest  of  them  all — Sir  John  Falstaff. 


276  THE  KNIGHTS  ASD  THEIR  DATS. 


SIR  JOHN  FALSTAFP. 

"  I  accept  that  heart 
Which  courts  my  love  in  most  fiimiliar  phrase."—- Hstwood. 

Henbt,  Earl  of  Richmond,  always  creates  a  favorable  impres- 
sion on  young  people  who  see  him,  for  the  first  time,  without 
knowing  much  about  him,  previously,  at  the  end  of  Shakespeare's 
tragedy  of  Richard  the  Third.  This  is  a  far  higher  degree  of 
favor  than  he  merited,  for  Henry  was  a  very  indifferent  personage 
indeed.  On  the  other  hand  Sir  John  Falstaff  has  had  injustice 
done  him  by  the  actors ;  and  of  Shakespeare's  jolly  old  gentleman 
they  have  made  what,  down  to  Macklin's  times,  they  made  of 
Shylock,  a  mere  mountebank. 

In  the  very  first  sc^ie,  in  the  first  part  of  Henry  IV.,  when  the 
Prince  and  Sir  John  appear  in  company,  the  knight  is,  by  far,  a 
more  accomplished  gentleman  than  the  heir-apparent,  for  he  speaks 
more  refinedly  of  phrase,  and  indeed  seldom  indulges  in  scurrilous 
epithets,  until  provoked.  Strong  language  is  the  result  of  his  in- 
firmity of  nature,  not  of  vicious  inclination.  Lord  Castlereagh 
was  not  accounted  the  less  a  gentleman  for  using,  as  he  cotdd  do, 
very  unsavory  phrases  occasionally. 

The  Prince  is  the  first  to  rail,  while  Sir  John  shows  his  breed- 
ing and,  I  will  add,  his  reading,  by  quoting  poetry.  But,  if  he  is 
poetical,  still  more  is  he  philosophical.  How  gravely  does  he  be- 
seech Hal  to  trouble  him  no  more  with  vanity !  And  what  a  cen- 
sure does  the  heavy  philosopher  fling  at  the  King's  son,  when  he 
tells  the  latter  that  he  was  hurt  to  hear  the  wise  remarks  of  a  lord 
of  the  council  touching  that  son's  conduct !  The  fault  of  the 
knight  is,  that  he  is  easily  led  away  into  evil ;  a  common  weakness 
with  good-natured  people.    It  is  only  since  he  held  fellowship 


SIR  JOHN  FALSTAFP.  277 

with  the  Prince,  that  the  fat  follower  of  the  latter  had  become 
knowing  in  evil,  and  Heaven  help  him,  little  better,  as  he  says, 
than  one  of  the  wicked.  Nay,  ha*  has  enough  of  orthodoxy  left 
io  elicit  praise,  even  from  the  editor  of  the  Record.  "  O,  if  a  man 
were  to  be  saved  by  merit,"  he  exclaims,  "  what  hole  in  hell  were 
hot  enough  to  hold^him !"  / 

He  robs  on  the  highway,  it  will  be  said.  Well,  let  us  not  be 
too  ready  to  doubt  his  gentility  on  that  account.  There  was  many 
a  noble  cut-purse  in  the  grand  gallery  at  Versailles,  when  it  was 
most  crowded ;  and  George  Prince  of  Wales  once  nearly  lost  the 
diamond-hilt  of  his  sword,  at  one  of  his  royal  mother's  "  drawing- 
rooms."  The  offenders  here  were  but  petty-larceny  rascals,  com- 
pared with  Falstaff  on  the  highway.  That  he  defrauded  the 
King's  exchequer  is,  certainly,  not  to  be  denied.  But  again,  let 
us  not  be  too  hasty  to  condemn  good  men  with  little  foibles. 
Recollect  that  St.  Francis  de  Sales  very  often  cheated  at  cards. 

Robbery  on  the  highway  was,  after  all,  only,  as  I  may  cal].it, 
a  rag  of  knighthood.  Falstaff  robbed  in  good  company.  It  was 
his  vocation.  It  was  the  fashion.  It  was  an  aristocratic  pastime. 
Young  blood  would  ^ave  it  so ;  and  Sir  John  was  a  boy  with  the 
boys.  In  more  recent  times,  your  young  noble,  of  small  wit  and 
too  ample  leisure,  flings  stale  eggs  at  unsuspecting  citizens,  makes 
a  hell  of  his  quarters,  if  he  be  military,  and  breaks  the  necks  of 
stage-managers. 

Sir  John  was,  doubtless,  one  of  those  of  whom  Gadshjil  speaks 
as  doing  the  robbing  profession  some  grace  for  mere  sport's  sake. 
"  I  am  joined,"  says  Gadshill,  "  with  no  foot  land-rakers,  no  long- 
staff  sixpenny  strikers,  none  of  those  mad  mustachio,  purple-hued, 
malt-worms,  but  with  nobility,  and  sanguinity ;  burgomasters,  and 
great  mongers."  Indeed,  it  is  matter  of  fact  that,  there  were 
graver,  if  not  greater  men  than  these  among  the  noble  thieves, 
"  who  would,  if  matters  were  looked  into,  for  their  own  credit- 
sake,  make  all  whole."  There  was  one  at  least  who,  for  being  a 
highway  robber,  made  none  the  worse  justice,  charged  to  adminis- 
ter halters  to  poorer  thieves. 

But  let  us  return  to  our  old  friend.  Poor  Sir  John,  I  doubt  if 
he  would  have  gone  robbing,  even  in  the  Prince's  company,  only 
that  he  was  bewitched  by  his  Royal  Highness's  social  qualities. 


278  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THJSIB  DAYS. 

But  even  then,  while  padentlj  enduring  all  sorts  of  hard  jokes, 
he  is  reallj  the  Mentor  of  the  party,  and  does  not  go  to  rob  the 
travellers  without  first  seriously  reminding  the  gentlemen  of  the 
road,  that  it  was  a  hanging  matter.  He  would  keep  them  from 
wrong,  but  as  they  are  resolved  on  evil  commission  he  accompa- 
nies them.  He  has  explained  the  law,  and  he  is  not  too  proud  to 
share  the  profits. 

He  is  brave,  too,  despite  all  his  detractors !  When  the  Prince 
and  Poins,  in  disguise,  set  upon  the  gentle  robbers,  as  thej  are 
sharing  their  booty,  Falstaff  is  the  only  one  who  is  described  as 
giving  "  a  blow  or  two,"  before  he  imitates  "  the  rest,"  and  runs 
away.  When  he  attacked  the  travellers  he  was  content  to  fight 
his  man;  there  were  four  to  four.  And  as  to  the  imaginative 
description  of  the  assault  given  by  Falstaff  I  believe  it  to  liave 
been  uttered  in  joke  and  gayety  of  heart.  I  have  implicit  faith 
in  the  assertion,  that  he  knew  the  disguised  parties  as  well  as 
their  mothers  did.  See  how  readily  he  detects  the  Prince  and 
Poins,  when  they  are  disguised  as  '^  drawers"  at  the  inn  in  East- 
cheap.  If  Falstaff  was  right  in  the  latter  case,  when  he  told  the 
Prince  that  he,  Falstaff,  was  a  gentleman,  I  think,  too,  he  had  as 
sufficient  authority  for  saying  to  Hal,  '^  Thou  knawest  I  am  as 
valiant  as  Hercules."  I  can  not  believe  otherwise  of  a  man 
whose  tast^  was  so  little  vitiated  that  he  could  at  once  detect 
when  there  was  ^*  lime"  in  his  sack,  and  who  no  sooner  hears  that 
the  state  is  in  danger,  than  he  suggests  to  the  young  Prince  that 
he  must  to  court  His  obesity  may  be  suspected  as  not  being  the 
fruit  of  much  temperance,  but  there  is  a  Cardinal  Archbishop  iu 
England  who  is  the  fattest  man  in  the  fifty-two  counties,  and  why 
may  we  not  conclude  in  both  cases,  that  it  is  as  Falstaff  says,  and 
that  sighing  and  grief  blow  up  a  man  like  a  bladder  ? 

Then,  only  consider  the  reproof  which  Falstaff  addresses  to  the 
Prince,  speaking  in  the  character  of  King  to  that  illustrious  scape- 
grace. Wisdom  more  austere,  or  graver  condemnation  of  excess, 
could  hardly  be  uttered  by  the  whole  college  of  cardinals,  at  any 
time.  The  prince  is  a  mere  plagiarist  from  the  knight,  and  when 
he  accuses  the  latter  of  being  given  to  licentious  ways,  with  what 
respectful  humility  does  the  old  man  plead  guilty  to  his  years,  but 
"  saving  your  reverence,"  not  to  the  vices  which  are  said  to  ac- 
company  them  ? 


SIB  JOHN  FALSTAFF.  279 

Not  that  he  is  perfect,  or  would  boast  of  being  so.  **  He  has 
had^^  he  says  touchingly,  "  a  true  faith  and  a  good  conscience,  but 
their  date  is  out."  How  ill  is  he  requited  by  the  Prince,  in  whose 
service  he  has  lost  these  jewels,  when  his  Highness  remarks,  be- 
fore setting  out  to  the  field,  "  I'll  procure  this  fat  rogue  a  charge 
of  foot,  and  I  know  his  death  will  be  a  charge  of  fourscore."  And 
this  is  said  of  one  who  has  forgotten  what  the  inside  of  a  church 
is  like  through  keeping  this  Prince's  villanous  company ;  till  when, 
he  had  been  "as  virtuously  given  as  a  gentleman  need  be," 
What  he  considers  as  the  requisite  practice  of  a  gentleman,  is 
explained  by  Falstaff  in  his  low  estate,  and  not  in  the  spirit 
which  moved  him  when  he  "  lived  well  and  in  good  compass." 

But  there  is  a  Nemesis  at  every  man's  shoulder,  and  if  FalstaifF 
was  cavalierly  careless  enough  to  run  up  a  score  at  the  Boar's 
Head,  and  to  accept  even  a  present  of  Holland  shirts,  which  he 
ungratefully  designates  as  "  filthy  dowlas,"  the  way  in  which  he 
was  dunned  must  have  been  harsh  to  the  feelings  of  a  knight  and 
a  gentleman.  In  reviewing  his  gallantries  and  his  extravagances, 
we  must  not,  in  justice  to  him,  forget  that  he  was  a  bachelor.  K 
he  degraded  himself,  he  inflicted  misery  on  no  Lady  Falstaff  at 
home.  Heroes  have  been  buried,  with  whole  nations  for  mourn- 
ers, whose  offences  in  this  worse  respect  have  been  forgotten. 
Not  that  I  would  apologise  for  the  knight's  familiarity  with  either 
the  Hostess  or  that  remarkably  nice  young  lady.  Miss  Dorothea 
Tearsheet.  I  do  not  know  what  the  private  life  of  that  Lord 
Chief  Justice  may  have  been  who  was  so  very  merciless  in  his 
censure  upon  the  knight ;  but  I  do  know  that  there  have  been  lu- 
minaries as  brilliant  who  have  hidden  their  lights  in  very  noisome 
places  and  who  had  not  Falstaifs  excuse. 

I  am  as  little  embarrassed  touching  Sir  John's  character  as  a 
soldier,  as  I  am  about  his  morals.  I  do  not  indeed  like  to  hear 
him  acknowledge  that  he  has  "  misused  the  ESng's  press  most 
damnably,"  or  that  he  has  pocketed  "three  hnndred  and  odd 
pounds"  by  illegally  releasing  a  hundred  and  fifty  men.  But  at 
this  very  day  practices  much  worse  than  this  are  of  constant  ob- 
servance in  the  Russian  service,  where  officers  and  officials, 
whose  high-sounding  names  "  exeunt  in  off,"  rob  the  Czar  daily, 
and  are  decorated  with  the  Order  of  St  Catherine. 


280  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  TH£IB  DAYB. 

In  the  field,  I  maintAin  that  Falstaff  is  a  hero.  Afi  for  his  cate- 
chism on  honor,  so  far  from  detracting  from  his  reputation,  it 
seems  to  me  to  place  him  on  an  equalitj  with  that  modem  English 
hero  who  said  that  his  body  trembled  at  the  thought  of  the  perils 
into  which  his  spirited  soul  was  about  to  plunge  him.  Falstaff 
did  not  court  death.  ^'  God  keep  lead  out  of  me,''  is  his  reason- 
able remark ; ''  I  need  no  more  weight  than  mine  own  bowels !" 
But  the  man  who  makes  this  prayer  and  comment  was  not  afraid 
to  encounter  death.  ^'  /  have  led  mj  ragamuffins  where  thej  9re 
peppered."  He  went  then  at  their  head.  That  there  was  hot 
work  in  front  of  him  is  proved  bj  what  follows.  ^'  There's  but 
three  of  m j  hundred  and  fif^j  left  alive ;  and  thej  are  for  the 
town's  end,  to  beg  during  life !"  A  hundred  and  fortjHseven  men 
killed  out  of  a  hundred  and  fifty-one ;  of  the  four  who  survived, 
three  are  illustriously  mutilated;  while  the  bold  soul  who  led 
them  on  is  alone  unscathed  I  Why,  it  reminds  us  of  Windham 
and  the  Redan.  It  is  Thermopyhe,  with  Leonidas  surviving  to 
tell  his  own  story. 

His  discretion  is  not  to  be  taken  as  disproving  his  valor.  He 
fought  Douglas,  remember,  and  did  not  run  away  from  him.  He 
fi>und  the  Scot  too  much  for  him,  it  is  true ;  and  quietly  dropped 
down,  as  if  dead.  What  then  ?  When  the  Muscovite  general  fell 
back  so  hurriedly  from  Eupatoria,  how  did  he  describe  the  move-  * 
ment  ?  "  Having  accomplished,"  he  said,  '^  all  that  was  expected, 
the  Russians  withdrew  out  of  ranged  So,  Sir  John,  with  respect 
to  Douglas. 

Nor  would  t&me  Muscovite  officers  and  gentlemen  object  to  an- 
other action  of  Falstafifs.  The  knight  it  will  be  remembered  with 
regret,  stabs  the  body  of  Hotspur,  as  the  gallant  Northumbrian 
lies  dead,  or  wounded,  upon  the  field.  Now,  by  this  we  may  see 
that  Russia  is  not  only  some  four  centuries  behind  us  in  civiliza- 
tion. The  barbarous  act  of  Falstaff  was  committed  a  score  of 
times  over  on  the  field  of  Inkerman.  Many  a  gallant,  breathing, 
but  helpless  English  soldier,  received  the  mortal  thrust  which 
they  could  not  parry,  from  the  hands  of  the  Chevalier  Ivan  Falstaff, 
who  fought  under  the  doubtful  inspiration  of  St.  Sergius.  And, 
moreover,  there  were  men  in  authority  there  who  virtuaUy  re- 
marked to  these  heroes  what  Prinae  Henry  does  to  Sir  John, 


Sm  JOHN   FALSTAFF.  281 

"  If  a  lie  may  do  thee  grace, 
m  gild  it  with  the  happiest  terms  I  have." 

That  our  Falstaff  bore  himself  with  credit  on  the  field,  is  made 
dear  in  spite  of  the  incident  of  Hotspur.  I  do  not  pause  to  point 
out  the  bearing  of  Morton's  answer,  when  Northumberland  asks 
him, "  Didst  thou  come  from  Shrewsbury?" — ^'^I  ran  from  Shrews- 
bury, my  noble  lord,"  is  the  reply ;  confessing  that  he  ran  from  a 
foe,  among  whom  Falstaff  was  a  leader :  I  am  more  content  to 
rest  on  tlie  verdict  of  so  dignified  yet  unwiUing  a  witness  as  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice.  It  is  quite  conclusive.  "  Your  day's  service 
at  Shrewsbury,"  says  my  lord,  "hath  a  little  gilded  over  your 
night's  exploit  at  Gadshill."  Nothing  can  be  more  satisfactory. 
The  bravery  of  Falstaff  was  the  talk  of  the  town. 

When  peace  has  come,  or  that  Sir  John  has  received  permis- 
sion to  return  home,  on  urgent  private  affairs,  he  enters  a  little 
into  dissipation,  it  is  true.  He  is  not,  however,  guilty  of  such 
excess  as  to  materially  injure  his  health ;  otherwise  his  page  would 
not  have  brought  him  so  satisfactory  a  message  frt>m  his  doctor. 
He  may,  perhaps,  be  also  open  to  the  charge  of  being  too  easily 
taken  by  such  white  bait  as  he  might  find  in  the  muslin  of  East- 
cheap.  Heroes,  however,  have  usually  very  inflammable  hearts. 
When  Nelson  was  ashore,  he  immediately  fell  in  love. 

In  spite  of  a  trifle  of  rioting,  the  overflowing  of  animal  spirits, 
Falstaff  is  governed  by  the  laws  of  good  society.  Jokes  are  fired 
at  him  incessantly,  but  he  takes  them  with  good-humor,  and  repays 
them  with  interest  ^  I  am  not  only  witty  in  myself,"  he  says, 
"  but  the  cause  that  wit  is  in  other  men."  Gregoire  and  La  Bru- 
yere  expressly  define  the  great  rule  of  conversation  to  be  that,  while 
you  exhibit  your  own  powers,  you  should  endeavor  to  elicit  and  en- 
courage those  of  your  companions.  What  they  put  down  as  a  canon, 
Sir  John  had  already,  and  long  before,  put  in  excellent  practice. 
He  had  wit  enough  to  foil  the  Chief  Justice,  but  he  left  to  his 
lordship  ample  opportunity  to  exhibit  his  own  ability ;  and  then 
the  compliment  to  the  great  judicial  dignitary,  that  he  was  not  yet 
clean  past  his  youth,  although  he  had  in  him  some  relish  of  the 
saltness  of  time — this,  combined  with  the  benevolent  recommen- 
dation that  his  lordship  would  have  a  reverend  care  of  his  health, 
robs  the  latter  personage  of  any  prejudice  he  might  have  entertained 


282  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

against  the  knight.  Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  how 
the  religiously-minded  Lord  Chief  Justice  could  have  entertained 
prejudice  against  a  gallant  old  gentleman  who  had  lost  his  voice 
with  '^  hollaing"  (his  men  to  the  charge),  ^*  and  singing  of  anthems.'' 

Brave !  there  can  be  no  question  touching  his  bravery.  And 
if  he  does  really  rust  a  little  at  home,  and  impose  a  little  upon 
the  weakness  of  the  Hostess  and  other  ladies,  whom  he  we^y 
woos  to  marry,  and  who  find  his  gallantry  and  saucy  promises 
irresistible ;  he  is  ever  ready  for  service.  He  does  not  look  for 
unlimited  absence  from  scenes  of  danger.  If  he  led  his  company 
of  three  hundred  and  a  half  to  death,  and  comes  out  soot-free 
himself,  he  is  by  no  means  prepared  to  hang  about  town,  inactive 
for  the  remainder  of  the  campaign.  When  he  is  appointed  on 
perilous  enterprise  with  Prince  John  of  Lancaster,  he  simply  re- 
marks, with  a  complacency  which  is  doubtless  warranted  by  truth, 
'^  There  is  not  a  dangerous  action  can  peep  out  his  head,  but  I  am 
thrust  upon  it.  Well,  I  can  not  last  for  ever ;"  and,  with  this  re- 
mark buckled  on  to  some  satirical  wit  which  he  points  at  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice,  he  sets  forth  cheerily  on  his  mission,  the  gout  in  his 
toe,  and  in  his  purse  not  more  than  seven  groats  and  twopence. 
He  has  a  rouse  and  a  riot  at  the  Boar's  Head  before  he  starts ; 
but  nothing  more  disreputable  seems  to  have  occurred  than  one 
might  hear  of  at  a  modem  club,  before  some  old  naval  lion  is  hic- 
cupped on  to  deeds  of  daring.  Besides,  the  knight  is  no  hypo- 
crite ;  and  he  will  not  be  accounted  virtuous,  like  many  of  his 
contemporaries,  by  ^'  making  courtesy  and  saying  nothing."  Not, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  even  in  his  moments  of  jolly  relaxation, 
he  would  be  unseemly  noisy.  He  can  troll  a  merry  catch,  but,  as 
he  says  to  a  vulgarly  roystering  blade,  "  Pistol,  I  would  be  quiet" 
It  has  been  thought  unseemly  that  he  should  quarrel  with  and 
even  roughly  chastise  the  "  ancient"  with  whom  he  had  been  on 
such  very  intimate  terms.  But  such  things  happen  in  the  best 
society.  At  the  famous  Reform  Club  dinner.  Sir  James  gave  per- 
mission to  Sir  Charles  to  go  and  make  war ;  but,  since  that  time, 
Sir  Charles,  with  words,  instead  of  rapiers,  has  been  poking  his  iron 
into  the  ribs  of  Sir  James,  after  the  fashion  of  Falstaff  and  Pistol. 

And  80,  as  I  have  said,  Sir  John  girds  him  for  the  battle.  If 
he  did  in  his  youth,  hear  the  chimes  at  midnight,  in  company  with 


SIE  JOHN   PALSTAPF.  288 

Master  Shallow,  the  lean,  but  light-living  barrister  of  Clement's 
Inn,  he  did  not  waste  his  vigor.  So  great  indeed  is  his  renown 
for  this,  and  for  the  bravery  which  accompanies  it,  that  no  sooner 
does  the  doughty  Sir  John  Colville  of  the  Dale  meet  him  in  single 
combat,  than  Calville  at  once  surrenders.  The  very  idea  of  such 
a  hero  being  face  to  face  with  him  impels  him  to  give  up  his  sword 
at  once.  "  I  think  you  are  Sir  John  Falstaff,  and  in  that  thought 
yield  me."     Was  ever  greater  compliment  paid  to  mortal  hero  ? 

Of  this  achievement  Prince  John  most  ungenerously  says,  that 
it  was  more  the  effect  of  CJolville's  courtesy  than  FalstaflTs  deserv- 
ing. But,  as  the  latter  remarks,  the  young  sober-blooded  boy  of  a 
prince  does  not  love  the  knight ;  and  '^  that's  no  marvel,''  exclaims 
Falstaff, "  he  drinks  no  wine."  The  teetotaler  of  those  days  dispar- 
aged the  deeds  of  a  man  who  increased  the  sum  of  his  country's 
glory.  He  was  like  a  sour  Anglo-Quaker,  sneering  down  the 
merit  of  a  Crimean  soldier.  We  do  not,  however,  go  so  far  as 
Falstaff  in  his  enthusiasm,  when  he  exclaims  that  skill  in  the 
weapon  is  nothing  without  sack.  There  is  something  in  the  re- 
mark, nevertheless,  as  there  is  when  Sir  John  subsequently  says 
in  reference  to  his  wits  suffering  by  coming  in  dull  contact  with 
obtuse  Shallow.  "  It  is  certain,"  says  he,  "  that  either  wise  bear- 
ing or  ignorant  carriage  is  caught,  as  men  take  diseases,  one  of 
another ;  therefore  let  men  take  care  of  their  company."  Vicf&r 
Hugo  has  manifestly  condescended  to  plagiarize  this  sentiment, 
and  has  said  in  one  of  his  most  remarkable  works,  that  "  On  devi- 
ent  vieux  a  force  de  regarder  les  vieux." 

And,  to  come  to  a  conclusion,  how  unworthily  is  this  gallant 
soldier,  merry  companion,  and  profound  philosopher,  treated  at  last 
by  an  old  associate.  Prince  Hal,  when  king.  Counting  on  the  sa- 
creduess  of  friendship,  Sir  John  had  borrowed  from  Master  Shal- 
low a  thousand  pounds.  He  depended  upon  being  able  to  repay 
it  out  of  the  new  monarch's  liberality,  but  when  he  salutes  the 
sovereign — very  imopportunely,  I  confess — the  latter,  with  a 
cold-hearted  and  shameless  ingratitude,  declares  that  he  does  not 
know  the  never-to-be-forgotten  speaker.  King  Henry  V.  does 
indeed  promise  — 

"For  competence  of  life,  I  will  allow  you ; 
That  lack  of  means  enforce  yon  not  to  evil;" 


284  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

and  departs,  after  intimating  that  the  knight  nrast  not  reside  with- 
in ten  miles  of  court,  and  that  royal  fevor  will  be  restored  to  the 
banished  man,  if  merit  authorize  it. 

"  Be  it  your  charge,  my  lord,  to  see  perfoi-med  the  tenor  of  our 
word,"  says  the  iOng  to  the  Chief  Justice ;  and  FalstafiT,  though 
sorely  wounded  in  feelings,  is  still  not  without  hope.  But  see 
what  a  royal  word,  or  what  this  royal  word  is  !  The  Monarch 
has  no  sooner  passed  on  his  way,  than  the  Chief  Justice  fulfils  its 
meaning,  by  ordering  Sir  John  Falstaff  and  all  his  company  to  be 
close-confined  in  the  Fleet !  The  great  dignitary  does  this  with 
as  much  hurried  glee  as  we  may  coiyecture  Lord  Campbell 
would  have  had,  in  rendering  the  same  service  to  Miss  Agnes 
Strickland,  when  the  latter  accused  the  judge  of  stealing  her  story 
of  Queen  Eleanor  of  Provence. 

However  this  may  be,  the  royal  ingratitude  broke  the  proud 
heart  in  the  bosom  of  Sir  John.  He  took  to  his  bed,  and  never 
smiled  again.  '<  The  King  has  killed  his  heart,"  is  the  bold  asser- 
tion of  Dame  Quickly,  at  a  time  when  such  an  assertion  might 
have  cost  her  her  liberty,  if  not  her  life.  How  edifying  too  was 
his  end !  He  did  not  "  babble  o'  green  fields."  Mr.  Collier  has 
proved  this,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  Exeter  Hall,  who  would 
deem  such  light  talk  trifling.  But  he  died  arguing  against  '^  the 
wliore  of  Babylon,"  which  should  make  him  find  favor  even  with 
Dr.  Cumming,for  it  is  a  proof  of  the  knight's  Protestantism — and 
"  Would  I  were  with  him,"  exclaims  honest  lieutenant  Bardolph, 
with  more  earnestness  than  reverence — '^  Would  I  were  with  him, 
wheresome'er  he  is ;  either  in  heaven  or  in  hell."  If  this  has  a 
profane  ring  in  it,  let  us  think  of  the  small  education  and  the  hard 
life  of  him  who  uttered  it.  There  was  more  profanity  and  terrible 
blasphemy  to  boot,  in  the  assertion  of  Prince  Menschikoff,  after 
the  death  of  the  Czar  Nicholas,  namely,  "  that  his  late  august  mas- 
ter might  be  seen  in  the  skies  blessing  his  armies  on  their  way  to 
victory !"  Decidedly,  I  prefer  Bardolph  to  Menschikoff,  and  Fal- 
staff  to  both. 

I  am  sorry  that  Queen  Elizabeth  had  the  bad  taste  to  request 
Shakespeare  to  represent  "  Falstaff  in  love."  The  result  is  only 
an  Adelphi  farce  in  five  acts ;  in  which  the  author,  after  all,  has 
made  the  knight  far  more  respectable  than  that  sorry  fool,  Ford. 


Sm  JOHK  FALSTAFF.  285 

The  "  Wives"  themselves  are  not  much  stronger  in  virtue  than 
Dorothea  of  Eastcheap,  unless  Sir  John  himself  was  mistaken  in 
them.  Of  Mrs.  Ford,  who  holds  her  husband's  purse-strings,  he 
says,  "  I  can  construe  the  action  of  her  faniiliar  style,"  and  he  tells 
us  what  that  mamier  was,  pretty  distinctly.  When  he  writes  to 
Mrs.  Page,  he  notices  a  common  liking  which  exists  in  both,  in 
the  words,  "  You  love  sack,  and  so  do  L"  The  "  Wives,"  for  mere 
mischief's  sake,  we  will  say,  tempted  the  gallant  old  soldier.  In 
their  presence  he  had  left  off  swearing,  praised  woman's  modesty, 
and  gave  such  orderly  and  well-behaved  reproof  to  all  uncomeli- 
ness,  that  Mrs.  Page  thought,  perhaps,  that  drinking  sack,  and,  in 
company  with  Mrs.  Ford,  talking  familiarly  with  him,  would  not 
tempt  him  to  turn  gallant  toward  them.  This  consequence  did 
follow ;  and  then  the  sprightly  Wives,  in  place  of  bidding  their  ri- 
diculous husbands  cudgel  him,  come  to  the  conclusion  that  "  the 
best  way  was  to  entertain  him  with  hope,"  till  his  wickedly  raised 
fire  should  have  "  melted  him  in  Ins  own  grease."  A  dangerous 
process,  ladies,  depend  upon  it ! 

Then,  what  a  sorry  cur  is  that  Master  Ford  who  puts  Falstaff 
upon  the  way  to  seduce  his  own  wife !  Had  other  end  come  of  it 
than  what  did  result,  is  there  a  jury  even  in  Grotham,  that  would 
have  awarded  Ford  a  farthing's-worth  of  separation.  Falstaff  is 
infinitely  more  refined  than  Ford  or  Page.  Neither  of  these 
noodles  could  have  paid  such  sparkling  compliments  as  the  knight 
pays  to  the  lady.  "  Let  the  court  of  France  show  me  such  anoth- 
er !  I  see  how  thine  eyes  would  emulate  the  diamond ;  thou  hast 
the  right-£u:ched  bent  of  the  brow,  that  becomes  the  ship-tire,  the 
tire-valiant,  or  any  tire  of  Venetian  admittance !"  Why  this  is  a 
prose  Anacreontic !  And  if  the  speaker  of  it  could  offend  once, 
he  did  not  merit  to  be  allured  again  by  hope  to  a  greater  punish- 
ment than  he  had  endured  for  his  first  offence. 

For  one  of  the  great  characteristics  of  Falstaff  is  his  own  sense 
of  seemliness.  When  he  was  nearly  drowned  by  being  tossed 
tiym  the  buck-basket  into  the  river,  his  prevalent  and  uneasy  idea 
was,  how  disgusting  he  should  look  if  he  were  to  swell -^  a  moun- 
tain of  mummy !  The  Mantelini  of  Mr.  Dickens  borrcJWed  from 
Falstaff  this  aversion  to  a  "demmed  damp  ^  body."  It  is  not 
pleasant  I 


THS  ENI6B1B  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Once  again,  Sir  John,  though  he  could  err,  jet  he  was  ashamed 
of  his  offence.  Otherwise,  would  he  have  confessed,  as  he  did, 
when  recounting  how  the  mock  fairies  had  tormented  him, ''  I  was 
three  or  four  times  in  the  thought  they  were  not  fairies,  but  the 
guiltiness  rf  my  mind,  the  sudden  surprise  of  my  powers  drove 
the  grossness  of  the  foppery  into  a  received  belief."  How  exquis- 
itely is  this  said !  How  does  it  raise  the  knight  above  the  broad 
fisurce  of  most  of  the  other  eharacters !  How  infinitely  superior  is 
he  to  the  two  dolts  of  husbands  who,  after  hearing  the  confession 
of  guilty  intention  against  the  honor  of  their  wives,  invite  him  to 
spend  a  jolly  evening  in  company  with  themselves  and  the  ladies. 
And  so  they  — 

'^  Every  one  go  home, 
And  laugh  this  sport  o'er  by  a  wintry  fire. 
Sir  John  and  all." 

This  may  be  accounted  too  gross  for  probability ;  but  worse  than 
this  is  in  the  memory  of  our  yet  surviving  fathers.  There  was, 
within  such  a  memory,  a  case  tried  before  Sir  Elijah  Impey,  in 
which  Talleyrand  was  the  defendant,  against  whom  a  husband 
brought  an  action,  the  great  statesman  having  robbed  him  of  his 
wife.  The  action  was  brought  to  the  ordinary  issue ;  and  a  few 
weeks  subsequently,  plaintiff,  defendant,  judge,  and  lady,  dined  to- 
gether in  the  Prince's  residence  at  Paris. 

Of  Stage  Falstaffs,  Quin,  according  to  all  accounts,  must  have 
been  the  best,  provided  only  that  he  had  a  sufficiency  of  claret  in 
him,  and  the  house  an  overflowing  audience.  Charles  Kemble,  I 
verily  believe,  must  have  been  the  worst  of  stage  Falstaffs.  At 
leasts  having  seen  him  in  the  character,  I  can  conscientiously  assert 
that  I  can  not  imagine  a  poorer  Sir  John.  He  dressed  the  char- 
acter well ;  but  as  for  its  "  flavor,"  it  was  as  if  you  had  the  two 
oyster-shells,  minus  the  fat  and  juicy  oyster.  What  a  galaxy  of 
actors  have  shined  or  essayed  to  shine  in  this  joyous  but  difficult 
part !  In  Charles  the  Second's  days,  Cartwright  and  Lacy,  by 
their  acting  in  the  first  part  of  Henry  IV.,  made  Shakespeare  pop- 
ular, when  the  fashion  at  Court  was  against  him.  Bettertou  acted 
the  same  part  in  1700,  at  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  and  the  Hay  market. 
Four  years  later,  he  played  the  Kiiight  in  the  "  Merry  Wives ;" 
and  in  1730,  at  Drury  Lane,  he  and  Mills  took  the  part  alternate* 


SIB  JOHN  FALBTAFP.  ,  287 

ly,  and  set  dire  dissension  among  the  play-goers,  as  to  their  respec- 
tive merits. 

Popular  as  Betterton  was  in  this  character,  after  he  had  grown 
too  stout  for'  younger  heroes,  his  manner  of  playing  it  was  not 
original ;  and  his  imitation  was  at  second-hand.  Ben  Jonson  had 
seen  it  played  in  Dublin  by  Baker,  a  stone-mason.  He  was  so 
pleased  with  the  representation,  that  he  described  the  manner  of 
it,  on  his  return  to  London,  to  Betterton,  who,  docile  and  modest 
as  usual,  acknowledged  that  the  mason's  conception  was  better  than 
his  own,  and  adopted  the  Irish  actor's  manner,  accordingly. 

Chetwood  does  not  tell  us  how  Baker  played,  but  he  shows  us 
how  he  studied,  namely  in  the  streets,  while  overlooking  the  men 
who  worked  under  him.  "  One  day,  two  of  his  men  who  were 
newly  come  to  him,  and  were  strangers  to  his  habits,  observing  his 
countenance,  motion,  gesture,  and  his  talking  to  himself,  imagined 
their  master  was  qiad.  Baker,  seeing  them  neglect  their  work  to 
stare  at  him,  bid  them,  in  a  hasty  manner,  mind  their  business. 
The  fellows  went  to  work  again,  but  still  with  an  eye  to  their  mas- 
ter. The  part  Baker  was  rehearsing  was  Falstaff ;  and  when  he 
came  to  the  scene  where  Sir  Walter  Blunt  was  supposed  to  be 
lying  dead  on  the  stage,  gave  a  look  at  one  of  his  new  paviors,  and 
with  his  eye  fixed  upon  him,  muttered  loud  enough  to  be  heard, 
*Who  have  we  here?  Sir  Walter  Blunt!  There's  honor  for 
you.'  The  fellow  who  was  stooping,  rose  on  the  instant,  and  with 
the  help  of  his  companion,  bound  poor  Baker  hand  and  foot,  and 
assisted  by  other  people  no  wiser  than  themselves,  they  carried 
him  home  in  that  condition,  with  a  great  mob  at  their  heels." 

Estcourt's  Falstaff  was  flat  and  trifling,  yet  with  a  certain  wag- 
gishness.  That  of  Harper  was  droll,  but  low  and  coarse.  The 
Falstaff  of  Evans  seems  to  have  been  in  the  amorous  scenes,  as 
offensive  as  Dowton  in  Major  Sturgeon ;  and  the  humor  was  mis- 
placed. Accordingly,  when  we  read  in  old  Anthony  Aston,  that 
"  Betterton  wanted  the  waggery  of  Estoourt,  the  drollery  of  Har- 
per, and  the  lasciviousness  of  Jack  Evans,"  we  are  disposed  to 
imagine  that  his  Falstaff  was  none  the  worse  for  this  trial  of 
wants. 

Throughout  the  eighteenth  century,  the  character  did  not  lack 
brilliant  actors.    In  the  first  part  of  Henry  IV.,  Mills  played  the 


288  THS  KNIGHTS  AND  THESB  DATS. 

cliaractei^,  at  Drurj,  in  1716.  Booth  had  previouslj  plaj^d  it 
for  one  night,  in  presence  of  Queen  Anne.  Bullock  filled  Lin- 
coln's Inn  Fields  Theatre,  with  it,  in  1721.  Quin,  in  1738,  used 
to  play  the  character  in  the  two  parts  of  Henry  IT.  on  successiye 
nights,  and  eight  years  later  his  Falstaff  attracted  crowds  to  "  the 
Garden."  Barry  played  it  against  him  at  Drury,  in  1743  and 
1747;  but  Barry  was  dull  and  void  of  impulse  as  a  school-boy 
repeating  his  task.  In  1762,  the  part,  at  Drury,  fell  to  Yates,  for 
whom  the  piece  was  brought  out,  with  the  character  of  Hotspur 
omitted  1  To  give  more  prominence  to  our  knight,  a  scene  was 
left  out.  The  public  did  not  approve  of  the  plan,  for  in  the  same 
year  Love,  celebrated  by  Churchill  for  his  humor,  made  his  firrt 
appearance  at  Drury,  as  Sir  John,  when  Holland,  the  baker  of 
Chiswick,  played  Hotspur,  with  well-bred  warmth.  I  will  add, 
that  though  Quin  drew  immense  houses,  yet  when  Harper,  some 
years  previously,  played  the  same  part  at  Drury,  with  Booth  in 
Hotspur,  Wilks  as  the  Prince,  and  Gibber  as  Glendower,  the  com- 
bined excellence  drew  as  great  houses  for  a  much  longer  period. 
So  that  Harper's  Falstaff,  although  inferior  to  Quin's,  was,  as  was 
remarked,  more  seen,  yet  less  admired  by  the  town.  Shuter 
played  it  ahnost  too  "  jollily"  at  the  Garden,  in  1774.  But  sill 
other  Falstaffs  were  extinguished  for  a  time,  when  Henderson, 
although  not  physically  qualified  for  the  part,  astonished  the  town 
witli  his  "  old  boy  of  the  castle,"  m  1777  at  the  Haymarket,  and 
delighted  them  two  years  later,  at  Covent  Garden.  At  the  latter 
house,  eight  years  subsequently,  Ryder  played  it  respectably,  to 
Lewis's  Prince  of  "Wales ;  and  in  17dl,  when  the  Drury  Lane 
company  were  playing  at  the  Haymarket,  Palmer  represented 
Falstaff,  and  John  Kemble  mis-represented  Hotspur.  King  tried 
the  knight  at  the  same  "little  house,"  in  1792,  but  King,  clever  as 
l^e  was,  was  physically  incapable  of  representing  Falstaff,  and  he 
Boon  ceased  to  pretend  to  do  so.  The  next  representative  was  the 
worst  the  world  had  yet  seen — namely,  Fawcett,  who  first  at- 
tempted it  at  the  Garden,  in  1795.  Blisset  appeared  in  it  in 
1803,  and  disappeared  also.  From  this  time  no  new  actor  tried 
the  Sir  John,  in  the  first  part  of  Henry  IV.,  till  1824,  when 
Charles  Kemble  made  the  Ghost  of  Shakespeare  very  uneasy,  by 
executing  a  part  fi»r  which  he  was  totally  unfit.     He  persevered, 


SIB  JOHN   FALSTAFF.  289 

however,  but  the  success  <^  Elliston  in  the  part,  two  years  later, 
settled  the  respective  merits  of  two  perfornaera,  to  the  advantage 
of  Roberli  WiDiam,  as  effectually  as  Grisi  ^owed  the  town  that 
there  was  but  one  Norma,  by  playing  it  the  night  after  the  fatal 
attempt  made  on  the  Druidess,  by  J^nny  Lind. 

The  succession  of  actors  who  represented  Falstaff,  in  the  second 
part  of  Henry  IV.,  was  as  brilliant  as  that  of  the  line  of  repre- 
sentatives above  noticed.  Ten  years  after  Betterton  and  Mills,  in 
1720,  we  have  Harper,  and  it  is  somewhat  singular  that  when 
Mills  resigned  Falstaff  to  Harper,  he  took  the  part  of  the  King. 
Hulett,  two  years  subsequently  played  it  at  Covent  Garden; 
and,  after  another  two  years,  Quin  made  Drury  ecstatic  with  his 
fim.  He  held  the  part  without  a  real  rival,  and  fifteen  years  later, 
in  1749,  he  was  as  attractive  as  ever  in  this  portion  of  the  knight's 
character,  at  Covent  Garden.  Shuter  succeeded  him  in  the  part 
at  this  theatre,  in  1755  ;  but  in  1758,  all  London,  that  is  the  play- 
goers of  London,  might  be  seen  hurrying  once  more  to  Drury,  to 
witness  lively  Woodward's  very  old  Falstaff  played  to  Garrick's 
King.  The  Garden  can  not  be  said  to  have  found  a  superior 
means  of  attraction,  when  Shuter  again  represented  Sir  John,  at 
the  Garden,  in  1761,  on  which  occasion  the  parts  of  Shallow  and 
Silence  were  omitted !  The  object,  however,  was  to  shorten  the 
piece,  and  the  main  attraction  was  in  the  coronation  pageant,  at 
the  conclusion,  in  honor  of  the  then  young  King  and  Queen,  who 
were  well  worthy  of  the  honor  thus  paid  to  them. 

Love  and  Holland,  who  played  Falstaff  and  Hotspur,  at  Drury 
Lane,  in  1762,  played  the  Knight  and  the  Prince  of  Wales,  at 
the  same  house,  two  years  subsequently.  Nine  years  after  this, 
the  Garden  found  a  Prince  in  Mrs.  Lessingham,  Shuter  played 
Falstaff  to  her,  but  the  travesty  of  the  former  character  was 
only  in  a  slight  degree  less  incongruous  than  that  made  by  Mrs. 
Glover,  in  the  present  century,  who  once,  if  not  twice,  played  the 
fat  knight,  for  her  own  benefit.  For  the  next  eight  or  nine  years, 
the  best  Falstj^ff  possessed  by  London  was  Henderson.  He 
played  the  part  first  at  Drury,  and  afterward  at  Covent  Garden. 
Since  Quin,  there  had  been  no  better  representative  of  Sir  John ; 
and  even  Palmer,  in  178S,  could  not  bring  the  town  from  its  alle- 
giance to  •"  admirable  Henderson." 

19 


290  THE  ENIOHTB  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

The  Falstafb  of  the  present  century,  in  the  second  part  of  this 
historical  play,  have  not  achieved  a  greater  triumph  than  Hender- 
son. Cooke,  who  played  the  obese  cavalier,  in  1804,  was  not 
equal  to  the  part ;  and  Fawcett,  in  1821,  when  the  play  was  re- 
vived, with  another  coronation  pageant  in  honor  of  George  IV,^ 
was  farther  from  success  than  Cooke.  The  managers  at  this 
period  were  wiser  than  those  who  '^  got  up"  the  play  at  the  period 
of  the  accession  of  Greorge  IIL,  for  they  retained  Shallow  and 
Silence,  and  never  were  the  illustrious  two  so  inimitably  represent- 
ed as,  on  this  occasion,  by  Farren  and  Emery. 

The  chief  Fabtaffs  of  the  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor"  are 
Betterton  (1704),  Hulett  (1732),  Quin  (1734),  Delane,  the  young 
Irish  actor  (1743),  of  whom  Garrick  was  foolish  enough  to  be 
jealous;  Shuter  (1758),  Henderson,  who  first  played  it  at  the 
Haymarket  in  1777,  and  Lee  Lewis  in  1784.  Hartley,  lUielps, 
and  a  clever  provincial  actor,  now  in  London,  named  Bartlett, 
have  also  played  this  character  with  great  effect.  The  Falstaff 
of  the  last-named  actor  is  particularly  good. 

I  have  said  that  Quin  was  the  greatest  of  Falstaffs,  but  the 
greatest  in  the  physical  acceptation  of  the  term,  was  undoubtedly 
Stephen  Kemble.  This  actor  was  bom  almost  upon  the  boards. 
His  clever,  but  not  very  gentle-tempered  mother,  had  just  con- 
cluded her  performance  of  Anne  BuUen,  in  a  bam,  or  something 
like  it,  at  Kingstown,  Herefordshire  (1758),  when  Stephen  was 
bom,  about  the  period  when,  according  to  the  action  of  the  play, 
the  Princess  Elizabeth  is  supposed  to  first  see  the  light  Stephen 
when  he  had  grown  to  manhood,  weighed  as  much  as  all  his 
sisters  and  brothers  put  together;  and  on  the  7th  of  October, 
1802,  he  made  his  appearance  at  Drury,  in  the  character  of  Fal- 
staff.  This,  was  nearly  twenty  years  after  he  had  made  his  debut 
in  London,  at  Covent  Garden,  in  Othello.  Bannister  junior 
prefaced  his  performance  of  the  companion  of  Prince  Hal,  by 
some  humorous  lines,  joking  on  the  heaviness  of  the  actor.  As 
Pope  played  Hotspur,  I  should  fancy,  if  Pope  then  was  anything 
like  what  he  was  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  later,  that  Hotspur 
was  even  heavier  than  Sir  John.  The  lines  alluded  to  were  ac- 
counted witty ;  and  I  will  conclude  my  record  of  the  principal 
actors  who  have  represented  the  knight,  by  repipducing  them. 


SIB  JOHN   FALSTAPF.  291 

A  Falstaff  here  to-night,  by  natore  made. 

Lends  to  yoar  fav'rite  bard  his  ponderous  aid ; 

No  man  in  backcam,  he !  no  stafBng  gear. 

No  feather  bed,  nor  e'en  a  pillow  here ! 

Bat  all  good  honest  flesh  and  blood,  and  bone, 

And  weighing,  more  or  less,  some  thirty  stone. 

Upon  the  northern  coast  by  chance  we  caught  him. 

And  hither,  in  a  broad-wheeled  wagon,  brought  him : 

For  in  a  chaise  the  varlet  ne'er  coald  enter. 

And  no  mail-coach  on  sach  a  fare  would  venture. 

Blessed  with  nnwieldiness,  at  least  his  size 

Will  flavor  find  in  every  critic's  eyes. 

And  should  his  humor  and  his  mimic  art 

Bear  due  proportion  to  his  outward  part. 

As  once  was  said  of  Macklin  in  the  Jew, 

"  This  is  the  very  Falstaff  Shakespeare  drew." 

To  you,  with  diffidence,  he  bids  me  say. 

Should  you  approve,  you  may  command  his  8tay, 

To  lie  and  swagger  here  another  day. 

If  not,  to  better  men  he'll  leave  his  sack. 

And  go,  as  ballast,  in  a  collier  back. 

In  concluding  this  section  of  my  gossiping  recoa^,  I  will  add 
that  the  supposition  of  Shakespeare  having  intended  to  represent 
Sir  John  Oldcastle  under  the  title  of  Sir  John  Falstaff,  is  merely  a 
supposition.^  It  has  never  been  satisfactorilj  made  out.  Far  other- 
wise is  the  case  with  that  gallant  Welsh  man-at-arms,  Fhtettin,  The 
original  of  this  character  was  a  David  Gam  of  Brecknock,  who 
having  killed  a  cousin  with  an  unpronounceable  name,  in  the  High 
Street  of  Brecknock,  avoided  the  possibly  unpleasant  consequences 
by  joining  the  Lancastrian  party.  Chm  was  merely  a  nickname, 
having  reference  to  an  obliquity  of  vision  in  the  doughty  and  dis- 
putative  David.  The  real  name  was  Llewellyn ;  and  if  Shake- 
speare disguised  the  appellation,  it  was  from  notions  of  delicacy, 
probably,  as  the  descendants  of  the  hero  were  well  known  and  re- 
spected at  the  English  court  in  Shakespeare's  time.  Jones,  in  his 
**  History  of  Breckno<A:shire,"  identifies  the  personage  in  question 
in  this  way :  "  I  have  called  Fluellin  a  burlesque  character,  be- 
cause his  pribbles  and  prabbles,  which  were  generally  out-heroded, 
sound  ludicrously  to  an  English  as  well  as  a  Welsh  ear ;  ye\,  after 
all,  Llewellyn  is  a  brave  soldier  and  an  honest  fellow.  He  is  ad- 
mitted into  a  considerable  degree  of  intimacy  with  the  King,  and 


292  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

Stands  high  in  his  good  opinion,  which  is  a  strong  presumptiTe 
proof,  notwithstanding  Shakespeare,  the  better  to  conceal  his  ob- 
ject, describes  the  death  of  Sir  David  Gam,  that  he  intended  David 
Llewellyn  hj  his  portrait  of  the  testy  Welshman,  for  there  was 
no  other  person  of  that  country  in  the  English  army,  who  could 
have  been  supposed  to  be  upon  such  terms  of  familiarity  with  the 
King."  It  is  singular  that  the  descendants  of  the  Welsh  knight 
subsequently  dropped  the  proud  old  name  with  more  Ts  in  it  than 
syllables,  and  adopted  the  monosyllabic  soubriquet.  Squinting 
David,  who  fought  so  well  at  Agincourt,  would  have  knocked 
down  any  man  who  would  have  dared  to  address  him  personally 
as  "  Gam,"  that  is, "  game,"  or  "  cock-eyed."  His  posterity  proved 
less  susceptible ;  and  Mr.  Jones  says  of  them,  in  a  burst  of  melan- 
choly over  fallen  greatness :  ^^  At  different  periods  between  the 
years  1550  and  1700, 1  have  seen  the  descendants  of  the  hero  of 
Agincourt  (who  lived  like  a  wolf  and  died  like  a  lion)  in  the  pos- 
session of  every  acre  of  ground  in  the  county  of  Brecon ;  at  the 
conmiencement  of  the  eighteenth  century,  I  find  one  of  them  com- 
mon bellman  of  the  town  of  Brecknock,  and  before  the  conclusion, 
two  others,  supported  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  parish  where  they 
reside ;  and  even  the  name  of  Gam  is,  in  the  legitimate  line,  ex- 
tinct" Mr.  Jones  might  have  comforted  himself  by  remembering 
that  as  the  Gams  went  out,  the  Kembles  cames  in,  and  that  the 
illustrious  Sarah  dignified  by  her  birth  the  garret  of  that "  Shoulder 
of  Mutton"  public-house,  which  stood  in  the  street  where  chivabous 
but  squinting  Davy  had  slain  his  cousin  with  the  unpronounceable 
name. 

John  Kemble  occasionally  took  some  unwarrantable  liberties 
with  Shakespeare.  When  he  produced  the  "Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor"  at  Covent  Garden,  in  April,  1804  (in  which  he  played 
Ford  to  Cooke's  Falstaff),  he  deprived  Sir  Hugh  Evans  of  his 
knightly  title,  out  of  sheer  ignorance,  or  culpable  carelessness. 
Blanchard  was  announced  for  "  Hugh  Evans,"  without  the  Sir. 
Hawkins,  quoting  Fuller,  says  that  "  anciently  in  England,  there 
were  more  Sirs  than  Knights ;"  and  as  I  have  noticed  in  another 
page,  the  monosyllabic  Sir  was  common  to  both  clergymen  and 
knights.  To  the  first,  however,  only  by  courtesy,  when  they  had 
attained  their  degree  of  B.  A.     In  a  "  New  Trick  to  cheat  the 


SIR  JOHN  PALSTAPP.  293 

Devil,"  Aime  says  to  her  sire,  "  Nay,  sir ;"  to  which  the  father  re- 
plies— 

*'  Sir  me  no  sirs !  I  am  no  knight  nor  charchman." 

But  John  Kemble  was  complimentary  to  Shakespeare,  compared 
with  poor  Frederick  Reynolds^  who  turned  the  "  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor  into  an  opera,  in  1824 ;  and  although  Dowton  did  not 
sing  Falstaff,  as  Lablache  subsequently  did,  the  two  wives,  repre- 
sented by  Miss  Stephens  and  Miss  Cubitt,  warbled,  instead  of 
b^ing  merry  in  prose,  and  gave  popularity  to  "  I  know  a  bank." 
At  the  best,  Fenton  is  but  an  indifferent  part,  but  Braham  was 
made  to  render  it  one  marked  especially  by  nonsense.  Greenwood 
had  painted  a  scene  representing  Windsor  under  a  glowing  summer 
sky,  under  which  Fenton  (Braham)  entered,  and  remarked,  very 
like  Shakespeare :  "  How  I  love  this  spot  where  dear  Anne  Page 
has  often  met  me  and  confessed  her  love !  Ha !  I  think  the  sky 
is  overcast — the  wind,  too,  blows  like  an  approaching  storm. 
Well,  let  it  blow  on !  I  am  prepared  to  brave  its  fury."  Where- 
upon the  orchestra  commenced  the  symphony,  and  Mr.  Braham 
took  a  turn  up  the  stage,  according  to  the  then  approved  plan,  be- 
fore he  commenced  his  famous  air  of  "Blow,  blow,  thou  winter 
wind !"  And  the  fun-anent  Falstaff  and  the  Fords  was  kept  wait- 
ing for  nonsense  like  this ! 

While  on  the  subject  of  the  chivalrous  originals  of  the  mock 
knights  of  the  Stage,  I  may  be  permitted  to  mention  here,  that 
Jonson's  Bobadil  was  popularly  said  to  have  been  named  after,  if 
not  founded  upon,  a  knight  in  the  army  of  the  Duke  of  Alva,  en- 
gaged in  subduing  the  Netherlands  beneath  the  despotism  of  Philip 
II.  According  to  Strada,  after  the  victory  at  Giesen,  near  Mons, 
in  1570,  Alva  sent  Captain  Bobadilla  to  Spain,  to  inform  Philip 
of  the  triumph  to  his  arms.  "  The  ostentation  of  the  message,  and 
still  more  of  the  person  who  bore  it,  was  the  origin  of  the  name 
being  applied  to  any  vain-glorious  boaster."  The  Bobadilla  family 
was  an  illustrious  one,  and  can  hardly  be  supposed  to  have  ftir^ 
nished  a  member  who,  in  any  wise,  resembles  Jonson's  swash- 
buckler. On  the  other  hand,  there  was  Boabdil,  the  last  sultan  of 
Granada,  who  had  indeed  borne  himself  lustily,  in  his  early  days, 
in  the  field,  but  who  at  last  cried  like  a  child  at  losing  that  Granada 


294  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

which  he  was  not  man  enough  to  defend.  Bat  it  would  be  injus- 
tice even  to  the  son  of  Mulej  Abel  Hassan,  to  imagine  that  Jon- 
son  only  took  his  name  to  dbdnguish  therevdth  the  knight  of  huge 
words  and  weapons  who  lodged  with  Oliver  Cob  the  Water- 
bearer. 

The  few  other  Stage  Ejiights  whom  I  have  to  name,  I  will  in- 
troduce them  to  the  reader  in  the  next  chapter. 


STAGE   KNIGHTS.  295 


STAGE  KNIGHTS. 

*'  The  stage  and  actors  are  not  so  oontemptfiil 
As  eyeiy  innovating  paritan. 
And  ignorant  swearer,  out  of  jealons  enyy. 
Would  haye  the  world  imagine." — Gsobgb  Chapkajt. 

The  Commonwealth  had  no  admiration  for  the  stage,  and  no 
toleration  for  actors.  When  theatricals  looked  up  again,  the  stage 
took  its  revenge,  and  seldom  represented  a  puritan  who  was  not  a 
knave.  There  is  an  instance  of  this  in  the  old  play,  entitled  "The 
Puritan,  or  the  Widow  of  Watling  Street"  "  Wilt  steal  me  thy 
master's  chain  ?"  quoth  Captain  Idle  to  Nicholas  St  Antlings,  the 
puritan  serving-man.  "  Steal  my  master's  chain !"  quoth  Nicho- 
las ;  "  no,  it  shall  ne'er  be  said  that  Nicholas  St.  Antlings  commit- 
ted bird-lime.  Anything  else  that  I  can  do,"  adds  the  casuist  in  a 
serge  jerkin,  "had  it  been  to  rob,  I  would  ha'  done  it;  but  I  must 
not  steal,  that's  the  word,  the  literal.  Thou  shaU  not  steed;  and 
would  you  wish  me  to  steal  then  T*  "  No,  faith,"  answers  Pye- 
board,  the  scholar;  **that  were  too  much;— but  wilt  thou  nim  it 
from  him  T*  To  which  honest  St  Nicholas,  so  anxious  to  observe 
the  letter  of  the  law,  so  careless  about  its  spirit,  remarks,  with 
alacrity,  "T^flrf,  I  will!" 

I  have  said  in  another  page,  that  ridicule  was  especially  show- 
ered down  upon  some  of  those  whom  Oliver  delighted  to  honor. 
As  late  as  the  era  of  Sir  George  Etherege,  we  find  "  one  of  Oliver's 
knights"  figuring  as  the  buffoon  of  that  delicate  gentleman's  com- 
edy, "  The  Comical  Revenge."  It  is  hardly  creditable  to  the  times, 
or  to  the  prevailing  taste,  that  the  theatre  in  Lincoln's-inn  Fields 
cleared  one  thousand  pounds,  in  less  than  a  month,  by  this  comedy ; 
and  that  the  company  gained  more  reputaticm  by  it,  than  by  any 


296  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

preceding  piece  represented  on  the  same  stage.  The  plot  is  soon 
told.  Two  very  fine  and  not  very  profligate  gentlemen,  Lord 
Beaufort  and  Colonel  Bruce,  are  in  love  with  a  tolerablj-refined 
lady,  Graciana.  The  lord  wins  the  ladj,  and  the  philosophical 
soldier  accepts  a  certain  Aurelia,  who  has  ihe  singular  merit  of 
being  in  love  with  the  Colon^  The  under-plot  has  "  Oliver's 
knight*'  for  its  hero.  The  latter  is  a  Sir  Nicholas  Cullj  who  is 
cheated  out  of  a  promissory  note  for  one  thousand  pounds,  by  two 
gentlemen-sharpers,  Wheadle  and  Palmer.  Sir  Nicholas  is  partly 
saved  by  the  gay,  rather  than  moral,  Sir  Frederick  Frolick.  The 
latter  recovers  the  note,  but  he  passes  off  his  mistress  on  Sir  Nich- 
olas as  his  sister,  and  induces  him  to  marry  her.  The  only  differ- 
ence between  the  sharpers  and  the  "  Knight  baronet,"  Sir  Fred- 
erick, is  this : — Wheadle  had  dressed  up  his  mistress,  Grace,  as 
as  Widow  Rich;  and  Sir  Nicholas  had  engaged  to  marry  her, 
under  certain  penalties,  forced  on  him  by  Wheadle  and  his  friend. 
Sir  Frederick,  at  the  conclusion,  marries  the  Widow,  to  oblige  a 
lady  who  is  fond  of  him,  and  the  curtain  falls  upon  the  customary 
indecent  jokes,  and  the  following  uneasy  and  metrical  maxim : — 

*'  On  what  small  accidents  depends  oar  Fate, 
While  Chance,  not  Prudence,  makes  us  fortunate." 

What  the  two  Bettertoi^  made  of  Lord  Beaufort  and  Graciana, 
I  do  not  pretend  to  say,  but  Nokes  is  said  to  have  been  ^  scream- 
ingly farcical,"  to  adopt  an  equivalent  modem  phrase,  in  Sir  Nich- 
las  Cully.  His  successor,  Norris,  fell  short  of  the  great  original 
in  broad  humor,  but  Nokes  himself  was  surpassed  by  Dogget,  who 
played  "  Oliver's  Bjiighf  *  with  all  the  comic  effect  which  he  im- 
parted to  the  then  low  comedy  part  of  Shylock.  It  is  inexplicable 
to  me  how  any  actor  would  ever  have  extracted  a  laugh  from  the 
audience  at  anything  he  had  to  say,  or  chose  to  do,  when  enacting 
the  "  Cavalier  of  the  Conunonwealth."  There  is  not  a  humorous 
speech,  nor  a  witty  remark,  nor  a  comic  situation  for  the  knight  to 
profit  by.  In  1664,  however,  people  could  laugh  heartily  at  see- 
ing one  of  the  Protector's  knights  swindled,  and  beaten  on  the 
stage.  The  knight  is  represented  as  a  thirsty  drunkard,  ^'all  the 
drier  for  the  last  night's  wetting,"  with  a  more  eager  desire  to  at- 
tack the  ladies  of  cavaliers  than  cavaliers  themselves,  and  no  re- 


STAGE  KNIGHTS.  297 

luctance  to  cheat  any  man  who  will  undertake  to  throw  a  main 
with  him  at  dice.  He  has,  however,  great  reluctance  to  pay  his 
losses,  when  he  unconsciously  falls  into  the  hands  of  a  greater 
knave  than  himself,  and  bodily  declares — 

"  I  had  been  a  madman  to  play  at  such  a  rate, 
If  I  had  ever  intended  to  pay." 

He  had  less  boldness  in  accepting  the  results  of  such  a  declaration, 
and  in  meeting  his  antagonist  at  the  end  of  a  rapier.  He  is 
brought  to  the  sticking-point,  just  as  Acres  is,  by  an  assurance  that 
his  adversary  is  an  arrant  coward.  The  scene  of  "  the  Field"  is 
worth  quoting  in  part,  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  only  an  illustration  of 
the  spirit  of  chivalry,  as  imputed  to  Oliver's  knights  by  cavalier- 
poets,  but  also  as  it  will,  perhaps,  serve  to  show  that  when  Sheri- 
dan sat  down  at  his  table  in  Orcliard.  Street,  Fortman  Square,  to 
bring  Acres  and  Beverley  together  in  mortal  combat,  he  probably 
had  a  copy  of  Etherege's  play  before — or  the  memory  of  it  strong 
within — him. 

Wheadle  and  Cully  are  on  the  stage : — 

W.  What  makes  you  so  serions  ?  ^ 

C  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  provide  for  both  our  safeties. 

W.    How  80? 

C.  Colonel  Hanson  is  my  neighbor,  and  very  good  friend.  I  might  have 
acquainted  him  with  the  business,  and  got  him,  with  a  file  of  musketeers,  to 
secure  us  all. 

W.  But  this  would  not  secure  your  honor.  What  would  the  world  have 
judged. 

C.  Let  the  world  have  judged  what  it  would !  Have  we  not  had  many 
precedents  of  late  ?  and  the  world  knows  not  what  to  judge. 

It  may  be  observed  here,  that  Sir  Nicholas  may  be  supposed  to 
be  alluding  to  such  men  as  Hans  Behr,  who  was  much  addicted  to 
firing  printed  broadsides  at  his  adversaries,  who  advertised  him  as 
"  joo&roon".  in  return.  There  are  some  placards  having  reference 
to  this  matter,  in  the  British  Museum,  which  admirably  display 
the  caution  of  the  wordsmen  and  the  spirit  of  the  swordsmen  of 
that  day.  But  to  resume.  Cully,  observing  that  his  adversary 
has  not  arrived,  suggests  that  his  own  duty  has  been  fulfilled,  and 
that  he  "  will>e  going,"  the  more  particularly,  says  the  knight,  ba 
^  the  air  is  so  bleak,  I  can  no  longer  endure  it." 


298  THE   KNIGBTS   AND  THEIB  DATS. 

W.  Hare  a  little  patience.  Methinks  I  see  two  making  towMxl  ns  in  the 
next  close. 

a  Where  ?    Where  1    'Tis  them ! 

W.  Bear  up  bravely,  now,  like  a  man. 

C.  I  protest  I  am  the  worst  dissembler,  now,  in  cases  of  this  nature. 

W,  AJlom  I    hook  like  a  man  of  rosolution.    Whither,  whither  go  joa  ? 

C.  Bat  to  the  next  honse  to  make  my  will,  for  fSur  of  the  worst.  Tell 
them  I'll  be  here  again,  presently. 

The  provident  knight  is,  however,  detained,  and  on  Palmer  and 
that  gentleman's  second  appearing,  the  swords  are  measured,  *^and 
all  strip  but  Cully,  who  fumbles  with  his  doublet." 

P.  Come,  sir !  are  you  ready  for  this  sport  ? 

C.  By-and-by,  sir.  I  will  not  rend  the  bnttons  from  my  doublet  for  no 
man's  pleasare. 

And  so  "  Oliver's  Knight"  continues  to  procrastinate ;  he  can 
not  be  either  pricked  or  pinked  into  action ;  and  at  length,  plead- 
ing that  his  conscience  will  not  let  him  fight  in  a  wrong  cause,  he 
purchases  a  whole  skin,  at  the  price  of  a  promissory  note  for  a 
thdusand  pounds. 

I  have  said  that  there  is  no  comic  situation  for  the  actor  who 
represents  Sir  Nicholas,  but  the  scene  from  which  the  above  pas- 
sages are  taken  may,  perhaps,  be  an  exception  to  the  rule.  That 
Sheridan  has  profited  by  it,  will  be  clear  to  any  reader  who  will 
take  the  trouble  to  compare  this  scene' with  the  fighting  scene  in 
the  ^  Rivals."  The  latter  is  far  richer  in  humor,  and  while  we 
care  very  little  what  becomes  of  Sir  Nicholas,  we  should  regret 
that  any  harm  should  befall  poor  Acres — although  he  prefers 
fighting  at  forty  paces,  would  stand  sidewise  to  be  shot  at,  feels 
that  he  would  l)e  horribly  afraid  if  he  were  alone,  and  confesses  that 
valor  oozes  out  at  the  palms  of  his  hands  when  his  adversary  ap« 
pears  in  sight,  with  pistols  for  two. 

Sir  Nicholas  Is  in  spirits  again  when  making  love  to  one  whom 
he  considers  a  woman  of  rank  and  fortune.  No  cavalier  could 
then  vie  with  him  in  finery.  ^  I  protest,"  he  says,  ^  I  was  at  least 
at  sixteen  brokers,  before  I  could  put  myself  exactly  in  the  fash- 
ion." But  with  all  this,  he  is  a  craven  again  when  he  is  called 
upon  to  enter  and  address  her  who  awaits  the  wooing  with  impa- 
lieiioe,    ^  Come !"  be  exclaims^  ^^  J  will  go  to  the  tavern  and  swal- 


STAGE   KNIGHTS.  299 

low  twa  whole  quarts  of  wine  instantly ;  and  when  I  am  drunk, 
ride  on  a  drawer's  back,  to  visit  her."  Wheadle  suggests  that 
**  some  less  frolic  will  do,  to  begin  with." — "  I  will  cut  three  draw- 
ers over  the  pate,  then,"  says  the  knight,  "and  go  with  a  tavern- 
lanthom  before  me  at  noonday ;"— just  as  very  mad  gallants  were 
wont  to  do. 

The  liquor  has  not  the  effect  of  rendering  Oliver's  knight  decent, 
for  in  proposing  the  health  of  "  my  lord's  sister,"  he  does  it  in  the 
elegant  form  of  "  Here's  a  brimmer  to  her  then,  and  all  the  fleas 
about  her ;"  offers  to  break  the  windows  to  show  his  spirit,  and  in 
the  lady's  very  presence  exclaims,  "  Hither  am  I  come  to  be  drunk, 
that  you  may  see  me  drunk,  and  here's  a  health  to  your  flannel 
petticoat."  The  latter  gentiUesse  is  by  way  of  proof  of  the  knight's 
quality,  for  it  was  of  the  very  essence  of  polite  manners,  when  a 
spirited  gentleman  drank  to  a  spirited  lady,  to  strain  the  wine 
through  what  the  Chesterfields  and  Mrs.  Chapones  of  that  day,  if 
such  were  to  be  found,  would  not  have  blushed  to  call  "  their 
smocks." 

But  enough  of  the  way  in  which  the  stage  represented  **  one  of 
Oliver's  knights."  He  is  not  worse  than  the  courtiers  and  gentle- 
men by  whom  he  is  swindled  out  of  his  money  and  into  a  wife. 
Nay,  nearly  the  last  sentence  put  into  his  mouth  is,  at  least,  a  com- 
plimentary testimony  to  the  side  of  which  Sir  Nicholas  "is  but  an 
unworthy  member.  "  If  I  discover  this,"  he  remarks,  "  I  am  lost. 
I  shall  be  ridiculous  even  to  our  own  party," — The  reader  will, 
probably,  not  require  to  be  reminded  that  before  Etherege  drew 
Cully,  Jonson  had  depicted  Sogliardo,  and  that  the  latter,  in  the 
very  spirit  of  Oliver's  knight,  remarks : — ^'  I  do  not  like  the  humor 
of  challenge  ;  it  may  be  accepted." 

The  stage,  from  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  to 
nearly  the  middle  of  the  succeeding  century,  was  uncommonly 
busy  with  knights  as  heroes  of  new  plays.  The  piece  which 
brought  most  money  to  the  theatrical  treasury,  after  the  "  Comical 
Revenge,"  was  the  "  Sir  Martin  Mar-all,"  an  adaptation  by  Dry- 
dren,  from  the  "  Etourdi"  of  Moliere.  Such  adaptations  were  in 
fashion,  and  the  heroes  of  the  French  author  were  invariably 
knighted  on  their  promotion  to  the  English  stage.  Such  was  the 
c^e  with  "  Sir  Solomon,  or  the  Cautious  Coxcomb,"  adapted  by 


800  THE  KNIGHTS  AWD  THEIR  DAYS. 

Carill,  from  Molidre's  "  Ecole  des  Femmes."  The  same  course 
was  adopted  by  Mrs.  Behn  when  she  transferred  Molidre's  "  Mai- 
ade  Imaginaire"  to  the  stage  at  Dorset  Gardens,  and  transformed 
Argon  into  Sir  Patient  Fancy.  One  of  the  characters  in  this  in- 
tolerably indecent  play  instructs  the  city  knight's  lady  how  to  di- 
vide her  time  according  to  the  &shion  set  by  "the  quality." 
"  From  eight  to  twelve,"  he  says,  "  you  ought  to  employ  in  dres- 
sing. Till  two,  at  dinner.  Till  five,  in  visits.  Till  seven,  at  the 
play.  Till  nine,  in  the  park ;  and  at  ten,  to  supper  with  your 
lover." 

In  the  "  Sir  Bamaby  Whig,  or  No  Wit  Kke  a  Woman's,"  one 
of  D'Urfey's  comedies,  and  produced  inr  1681,  we  have  again  a 
hero  who  is  described  as  one  of  Oliver's  knights.  The  play  is 
avowedly  a  party  piece,  and  the  author,  in  his  prologue,  remarks, 

"  That  he  shall  know  both  parties  now,  he  glories ; 
By  hisses,  Whigs ;  and  by  th^ir  claps,  the  Tories." 

The  audience  at  the  "  Theatre  Royal,"  in  the  days  of  Charles  11., 
was  made  especially  merry  by  this  poor  jest.  Sir  Bamaby  is  rep- 
resented as  a  CromweUian  fanatic,  who  will  not  drink  the  King's 
health ;  is  in  an  agony  of  terror  at  hearing  that  an  army  of  twenty 
thousand  men  is  about  to  sweep  every  rebel  from  the  land ;  turns 
traitor;  sings  a  comic  song  against  the  Roundheads ;  is  saluted  as 
Rabbi  Achitophel ;  offers  to  turn  Roman  Catholic  or  Mohammedan ; 
and  is  finally  consigned  to  Newgate. 

Mrs.  Behn,  in  the  same  year,  had  her  political  knight  as  well  as 
D'Urfey.  In  this  lady's  more  than  usually  licentious  play,  the 
"  City  Heiress,"  performed  at  Dorset  Gardens,  she  has  a  Sir  Tim- 
othy Treat-all  for  her  comic  hero.  She  boasts  in  her  introduction 
that  her  play  is  political,  loyal,  true  Toiy  all  over ;  and  as  "  Whig- 
gism  has  become  a  jest,"  she  makes  a  caricature  of  Sir  Timothy, 
an  old,  seditious,  Oliverian  knight,  who  keeps  open  house  for  com- 
monwealth-men and  true-blue  Protestants.  He  is  contrasted  with 
two  Tory  knights.  Sir  Anthony  and  Sir  Charles.  Meriwill,  and  a 
Tory  gentleman,  named  Wilding.  The  old  Whig  knight,  however, 
is  by  far  .the  least  disreputable  fellow  of  the  lot  The  Tory  knights 
and  their  friends  are  rogues,  perjurers,  and  something  worse. 
When  they  are  not  on  the  stage,  Mrs.  Behn  is  not  afraid  to  tell 


STAGE   KNIGHTS.  301 

what  they  are  about,  and  thai  in  the  very  plainest  language. 
"  D-— n  the  City  !**  exclaims  the  courtly  Sir  Charles.  «  Ay,  ay  !*' 
adds  his  uncle,  Sir  Anthony,  "  and  aU  the  Whigs,  Charles,  d — ^n 
all  the  Whigs !" — And  in  such  wise  did  Mrs.  Afra  Behn  take 
vengeance  upon  political  enemiesj  to  the  infinite  delight  of  loyal 
audiences.  How  the  Whig  knights  ever  kept  their  own  against 
the  assaults  made  on  them  in  plays,  prologues,  and  epilogues,  is,  as 
Mr.  Slick  says,  "  a  caution  !*'  It  is  a  fact,  however,  that  these  po- 
litical plays  were  far  more  highly  relished  than  those  which  merely 
satirized  passing  social  follies.  Audiences  roared  at  the  dull  jokes 
against  the  Oliverian  knights,  but  they  had  no  relish  for  the  rhyme- 
loving  Sir  Hercules  Buffoon,  of  Lacy. 

For  one  stage  knight  we  may  be  said  to  be  indebted  to 
Charles  H.  himself.  It  was  from  a  hint  from  him  that  Crowne 
wrote  his  "  Sir  Courtly  Nice,"  produced  at  the  Theatre  Eoyal 
shortly  after  the  death  of  Charles.  Sir  Courtly  alludes  to  the 
death  of  one,  and  the  accession  of  a  new,  king,  in  very  flattering 
terms : — 

"  What  nation  upon  earth,  besides  our  own, 
But  by  a  loss  like  ours  had  been  undone  ? 
Ten  ages  scarce  such  royal  worth  display 
As  England  lost  and  found  in  one  strange  day." 

Of  all  the  comedies  with  knight?  for  their  heroes,  this  one  of  Sir 
Courtly  Nice  retained  a  place  longest  on  the  stage.  The  hero  was 
originally  played  by  handsome,  but  hapless  Will  Mountfort.  Cib- 
ber  played  it  at  the  Haymarket  in  Queen  Anne's  time,  1706,  and 
again  at  Drury  Lane,  and  before  George  I.  at  Hampton  Couit. 
Foote  and  Cibber,  jun.,  and  Woodward,  were  there  presentadves 
of  the  gallant  knight,  and  under  George  II.  Foote  played  it,  for 
the  first  time,  at  Drury  Lane,  and  the  younger  Cibber  at  Covent 
Garden,  in  1746,  and  Woodward,  at  the  latter  house,  in  1751. 
The  last-named  actor  was  long  the  favorite  representative  of  the 
gentlemanly  knight,  retaining  the  character  as  his  own  for  full 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  being  succeeded,  but  not  surpassed  in 
it,  by  sparkling  Lewis,  at  Covent  Garden,  in  1781. 

The  satire  in  this,  piece  against  the  Puritans  is  of  a  more  refined 
character  than  in  any  other  play  of  the  period ;  and  the  contrast 
between  the  rash  and  ardent  cavalier  and  the  cautious  Puritan  is 


S02  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DATS. 

very  fairlj  drawn.  ^  Suppose  I  see  not  many  vices,  says  the 
Roundhead,  Testimony,  ^  morality  is  not  the  thing.  The  heathens 
bad  morality ;  and,  forsooth,  would  you  have  your  footman  or  your 
coachman  to  be  no  better  than  Seneca  P*  This  is  really  compli- 
mentary to  the  Cromwellians ;  and  there  is  but  a  good-natured 
dash  of  satire  in  the  answer  of  Testimony,  when  asked  what  time 
of  day  it  may  be,  that — "  Truly,  I  do  believe  it  is  about  four.  I 
can  not  say  it  positively,  for  I  would  not  tell  a  lie  for  the  whole 
world." 

I  find  little  worthy  of  notice  in  other  dramatic  pieces  having 
knights  for  their  heroes.  Southeran  produced  one  entitled,  ^^  Sir 
Anthony  Love"  at  the  Theatre  Royal  in  1691,  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  off  Mrs.  Mountfort  as  an  errant  lady  in  male  attire. 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  the  knights  gave  name  to  a  few  his* 
torical  pieces  not  worth  recording.  The  only  exceptions  are 
scarcely  worthy  of  more  notice.  Dodsley*s  "  Sir  John  Cockle  at 
Court"  made  our  ancestors,  of  Greorge  the  Second's  time,  laugh  at 
the  sequel  of  the  "  King  and  the  Miller  of  Mansfield ;"  and  "  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverlejr"  was  made  the  hero  of  a  pantomime  at  Covent 
Grarden  in  1746.  By  this  time,  however,  the  fashion  was  extinct 
of  satirizing  living  politicians  under  knightly  names.  To  detail 
the  few  exceptions  to  the  rule  would  only  fatigue  the  perhaps  al- 
ready wearied  reader. 

To  what  a  low  condition  knight  and  squire  could  fall  may  he 
seen  in  the  Sir  Joseph  Wittol  and  Captain  Bluffe,  in  Congreve's 
comedy,  the  ^^  Old  Batchelor."  The  only  redeeming  point  about 
this  disreputable  pair  is,  that,  cowards  and  bullies  as  they  are, 
they  have  both  read  a  little.  The  Captain  has  dipped  into  history, 
and  he  remarks  that  "  Hannibal  was  a  pretty  fellow  in  his  day,  it 
must  be  granted;  but,  alas,  sir!- were  he  alive  now,  he  would  be 
nothing ;  nothing  on  the  earth."  Sir  Joseph,  the  knight,  in  comz- 
tahi  Bucks,  has  also  indulged  in  a  little  reading,  but  that  of  a  light- 
er sort  than  the  Captain's.  When  the  gallant  Captain  affects  not 
to  be  frightened  at  the  aspect  of  Sharper,  and  exclaims,  '^  I  am 
prepared  for  him  now,  and  he  shall  find  he  might  have  safer 
roused  a  sleeping  lion,"  the  knight  remarks,  "  Egad,  if  he  should 
hear  the  lion  roar,  he  'd  cudgel  him  into  an  ass,  and  his  primitive 
braying.    Don't  you  remember  the  story  in  uEsop's  Fables,  Bully? 


J: 


iA 


STAGE  KNIQHTS.  308 


Egad,  there  are  good  morals  to  be  picked  out  of  ^sop's  Fables, 
let  me  tell  you  that ;  and  <  Reynard  the  Fox'  too ;"  to  which  the 
deboshed  Captain  can  only  reply,  ^'  D — ^n  your  morals  !*'  as  though 
he  despised  fiction  when  compared  with  history. 

Some  of  the  stage  knights  are  wonderfully  great  boasters,  yet 
exceedingly  dull  fellows.  J.  do  not  know  that  in  the  mouth  of  any 
one  of  them  there  is  put  so  spirited  a  remark  as  the  great  Huniades 
made  to  Ulderick,  Count  of  Sicily.  The  latter  asked  for  a  confer- 
ence with  the  great  governor  of  Hungary.  Huniades  bade  him 
come  to  the  Hungarian  camp.  The  offended  Ulderick,  in  a  great 
chafe,  replied  that  it  was  beneath  him  to  do  such  a  thing,  seeing 
that  he  was  descended  from  a  long  line  of  princely  ancestors ; 
whereas  Huniades  was  the  first  of  his  family  who  had  ever  been 
raised  to  honor.  The  Hungarian  very  handsomely  remarked,  "  I 
do  not  compare  myself  with  your  ancestors ;  but  with  you  /"  This 
has  always  appeared  to  me  as  highly  dramatic  in  spirit.  There 
is  nothing  half  so  spirited  in  the  knightly  pieces  brought  on  the 
stage  during  the  reign  of  George  HI.,  and  which  caused  infinite 
delight  to  very  easily-pleased  audiences.  It  is  well  known  that- 
the  good-natured  Sovereign  of  England,  although  unassuming  in 
his  domestic  character,  was  exceedingly  fond  of  display  in  public 
ceremonies.  He  used  to  arrange  the  paraphernalia  of  an  installa- 
tion of  the  Garter  with  all  the  energy  and  care  of  an  anxious  stage- 
manager.  The  people  generally  were  as  anxious  to  have  an  idea 
of  the  reality.  On  one  occasion,  in  the  preceding  reign,  they  so 
nearly  forced  their  way  into  the  banqueting-room,  where  the 
knights  were  holding  festival,  that  the  troops  fired  over  their  heads 
in  order  to  frighten  them  into  dispersing.  Under  George  III. 
they  were  more  content  to  view  these  splendors  through  a  dramatic 
lens. 

In  1771,  accordingly,  the  splendors  of  the  then  late  installation 
of  the  Garter  were  reproduced  on  the  stage,  in  a  masque,  called 
"  The  Institution  of  the  Garter,  or  Arthur's  Round  Table  Re- 
stored." The  show  was  as  good  as  the  piece  was  bad.  The  for- 
mer was  got  up  to  profit  the  managers,  the  latter  to  flatter  or  do 
homage  to  the  King  and  Queen.  It  was  at  once  cumbersome  and 
comic.  A  trio  of  spirits  opened  the  delectable  entertainment  by 
summoning  other  spirits  from  every  nook  and  comer  of  the  skies, 


304  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

the  moon's  horns  included,  to  the  work  of  escorting  the  car  of  the 
Male  Genius  of  England,  the  hushand  probably  of  Britannia,  down 
to  earth.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  alacritj  with  which  the  spirits 
and  bards  of  the  empyreal  heaven  obey  the  summons.  They  de- 
scend with  the  car  of  the  Genius,  singing  a  heavy  chorus,  ponder- 
ous as  the  chariot  they  help  to  "waft  down," — in  which,  not  the 
chariot,  but  the  chorus,  there  is  the  assurance  that 

"  The  bliss  that  spotless  patriots  feel 
Is  kindred  to  the  bliss  aboye," — 

so  that  we  may  hope,  though  we  can  not  feel  certain,  that  there  are 
some  few  persons  here  below,  who  are  not  unconscious  of  an  ante- 
past  of  heaven. 

The  Grenius  is  a  civil  and  polished  personage,  who  with  due  re- 
membrance to  metropolitan  fogs,  very  courteously  apologizes  to 
the  spirits,  that  he  has  been  the  cause  of  bringing  them  down 

**  To  this  grosser  atmosphere  awhile." 

After  such  celestial  compliments  as  these,  he  despatches  them  to 
shed  heavenly  influences  over  Windsor,  while  he  remains  to  hold 
a  little  colloquy  with  the  Druids, "  Britain's  old  philosophers,"  as  he 
calls  them.  He  adds  an  assertion  that  may,  probably,  have  start- 
led the  Society  of  Antiquaries  of  that  day,  namely,  that  the  afore- 
said Druids — 

"  Still  enamored  of  their  ancient  haunts, 
Unseen  of  mortal  eyes,  do  hover  round  . 
Their  ruined  altars  and  their  sacred  oaks," 

which  may  account  for  that  loose  heterodoxy  which  iparked  the  pe- 
riod when  Druids  exercised  these  unseen  influences. 

The  Genius  requests  the  Druids  to  have  the  kindness  to  repair 
to  Windsor,  where  the  order  is  in  the  act  of  being  founded  by  Ed- 
ward, and  there  direct  his  choice  in  the  selection  of  members. 
This  is  a  very  heathenish  idea,  but  Druids  and  Barda  are  alike 
delighted  at  it ;  for,  as  the  Genius  remarks,  Edward's  perspicuity, 
his  intellectual  eyes,  needed  charming 


STAGE   KNIGHTS.  305 

"  from  the  mists 
It  haplj  hath  contracted  from  a  long 
Unebbing  current  of  prosperity." 

The  heathen  priests  are  flaming  patriots,  and  express  their  eager- 
ness to  leave  Heaven  for  England,  seeing  that  the  new  order  may 
be  the  means  to  propagate 

"  The  sovereignty  of  England,  and  erect 
Her  monarchs  into  judges  of  mankind." 

As  this  expressed  end  has  not  been  accomplished,  and  the  order 
has  not  propagated  the  sovereignty  of  England,  we  may  logically 
conclude  that  the  Druids  themselves  hardly  knew  much  of  the 
subject  upon  which  they  were  singing  to  their  tuneless  harps. 
Meanwhile,  the  first  Bard,  in  a  bass  song,  petitions  the  south 
gales  to  blow  very  mildly,  and  bring  blue  skies  and  sweet 
smells  to  the  installation. 

The  ceremony  of  the  installation  then  opens  to  the  view  when 
all  the  knights  have  been  created,  except  the  King's  son,  Edward 
the  Black  Prince,  who  really  was  not  created  knight  when  the 
order  was  founded.  How  far  the  Druids  have  succeeded  in  in- 
fluencing the  choice  of  the  King,  there  is  no  possibility  of  know- 
ing. No  one  utters  a  word,  save  royal  father  and  son :  and  the 
commonplace  prose  which  they  deliver  does  not  give  us  a  very 
exalted  idea  of  the  Druidic  inspiration.  The  old  sages  them- 
selves, however,  are  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  result ;  and  in  a 
noisy  chorus,  they  make  an  assertion  which  might  well  have 
frightened  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury — had  he  cared  about 
the  matter.  After  vaticinating  that  the  name  of  the  Prince 
should  roll  down  through  the  tide  of  ages,  they  add,  that  glory 
shall  fire  him,  and  virtue  inspire  him, 

**  Till  blessed  and  blessing. 
Power  possessing. 
Prom  earth  to  heaven  he  lifts  his  soal," — 

a  feat  which  one  would  Jike  to  see  put  upon  canvass  by  a  Pre- 
Raphaelite. 

While  the  Knights  ar^  supposed  to  be  preparing  to  pass  to  the 
hall,  the  scene  takes  us  to  the  front  of  the  castle,  where  crowds 

20 


306  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THKIR  DAYS. 

of  liege  and  loyal  people  are  assembled.  First  Citizen,  "  very 
like  a  whale  indeed,"  sings  a  comic  song,  which,  as  a  specimen 
of  the  homage  offered  to  monarch  and  consort,  more  than  four- 
score years  ago,  is  worth  transcribing — for  both  its  imagery  and 
syntax : — 

"  Oh,  the  glorioos  installation  I 

Happy  nation ! 
Yon  shall  see  the  Sling  and  Qaeen : 

Such  a  scene ! 

Valor  he,  sir ; 

Virtue  she,  sir ; 
Which  our  hearts  will  erer  win. 

Sweet  her  face  iSj 

With  such  graces 
Show  what  goodness  dwells  within. 

"  Oh,  the  glorious  installation ! 
Happy  nation ! 
You  shall  see  the  noble  knights : 
Charming  sights ! 
Feathers  wagging. 
Velvet  dragging, 
TraiUng,  sailing,  on  the  ground ; 
Loud  in  talking. 
Proud  in  walking. 
Nodding,  ogling,  smirking  rpund." 

The  banquet  over,  and  more  comic  business,  as  dreary  as  the 
song  above  quoted,  being  concluded,  King  Edward  walks  forth 
into  the  garden  for  refreshment — and  there  the  Genius  of  Eng- 
land takes  him  by  the  hand.  Edward,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  knows 
so  little  of  this  Genius,  that  he  boldly  asks  him,  "  What  art  thou, 
stranger  ?*'  We  should,  only  with  reluctance,  trouble  our  readers 
with  all  this  unrecognised  Genius  says  in  reply  to  the  royal  in- 
quirer, but  one  passage  may  be  transcribed  to  show  what  the 
popular  spirit  was  thought  to  be  in  the  last  century. 

"  Know  that  those  actions  which  are  great  and  good. 
Receive  a  nobler  sanction  from  the  free 
And  universal  voices  from  all  mankind, 
Which  is  the  voice  of  Heaven,  than  from  the  highest, 
The  most  illustrious  act  of  royal  power." 


STAGE  KNIGHTS.  307 

This  maxim  of  the  Genius  of  England  further  shows  that  the 
individual  in  question  not  only  passed  off  prose  for  blank  verse, 
but  stole  the  phrase  of  "  Vox  populi  vox  Dei,"  and  tried  to  render 
it  unrecognisable  by  indefinite  extension. 

That  the  sentiment  is  not  very  much  to  the  taste  of  the  Mon- 
atch  may  be  conjectured  from  the  fact  that  he  sulkily  lets  it  pass 
without  any  comment,  and  very  naturally  falls  asleep  of  being 
talked-at  by  so  heavily-pinioned  a  Genius.  The  latter  avails 
himself  of  the  opportunity  to  exhibit  to  the  slumbering  Monarch 
a  vision  of  the  future  of  England,  down  to  the  era  of  George 
Slid  Charlotte.  The  spectacle  soothes  him  still  less  than  the 
speech,  though  oppressive  ecstacy  may  be  sweet,  and  Edward 
springs  into  wakefulness,  and  loudly  exclaiming  that 

"  This  is  too  much  for  human  strength  to  bear/* 

the  loquacious  Genius  flies  at  him  again  with  some  remarkable 
figures  of  speech,  to  which  the  worn-out  Edward  answers  nothing. 
The  Genius,  unwilling  to  attribute  his  taciturnity  to  rudeness,  finds 
a  satisfactory  solution  in  the  conclusion  that 

"  Astonishment  seals  up  his  lips." 

The  founder  of  the  "  Garter"  will  not  provoke  the  eloquence 
of  the  heavenly  visiter  by  unsealing  the  lips  which  astonishment 
is  supposed  to  have  sealed  up,  and  the  remainder  of  the  piece  is 
left  to  Genius  and  chorus,  who  unite  in  a  musical  asseveration,  to 
the  effect  that  the  reigning  Sovereign  of  England  is 

"  The  great  miracle  on  earth,  a  patriot  king," 

and  so  terminates,  amid  the  most  vociferous  plaudits,  the  scenic 
Btory  of  the  Garter,  enacted  in  celebration  of  the  great  installa- 
tion of  1771.' 

The  real  installation  was,  by  far,  a  more  cheerful  matter  than 
its  theatrical  counterfeit.  It  took  place  on  the  25th  of  July.  At 
this  ceremony  the  King  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Knights  of  the 
illustrious  order,  his  sons  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Bishop  of 
Osnaburg,  his  brother  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  with  the  Queen's 
brother,  the  Duke  of  Mecklenburgh,  and  Prince  Henry  of  Bruns- 


808  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE^B  DAYS. 

wick,  the  Dukes  of  Marlborough  and  Grafton,  and  the  Earls  of 
Gower  and  Albermarle.  The  festival  occupied  the  entire  day. 
Four  mortal  hours  in  the  morning  were  consumed  in  making  the 
Knights,  after  which  Sovereign  and  chapter  dined  together  in  St. 
George's  Hall.  While  the  banquet  was  progressing.  Queen 
Charlotte  eat  in  a  gallery,  looking  on.  She  was  brilliantly  sur- 
rounded, and  had  at  her  right  side  the  pretty  Princess  Royal,  and 
the  infant  Prince  Ernest  at  her  left;.  One  of  her  Majesty's 
brothers  stood  by  each  royal  child.  On  the  right  of  the  canopy 
under  which  the  King  dined,  was  a  long  table,  at  which  were 
seated  all  the  Knights,  in  full  view  of  the  occupants  of  raised 
seats  and  a  gallery  in  front.  At  the  end  of  the  first  course,  the 
good-natured  Monarch  was  determined  to  make  a  Eiiight  Bache- 
lor of  some  deserving  individual  present,  and  he  rendered  good 
Mr.  Dessac  (clerk  of  the  check,  belonging  to  the  band  of  Gretitle- 
men  Pensioners)  supremely  happy  by  selecting  him.  As  soon  as 
the  other  courses  had  been  served,  and  the  banquet  was  conclu- 
ded, which  was  not  till  between  six  and  seven  o'clock,  the  whole 
.  of  the  cavaliers  and  company  separated  in  haste,  hurrying  to 
their  respective  rooms  or  hotels,  to  dress  for  the  baU  which  was 
to  be  held  in  the  Great  Guard-Room.  When  all  the  guests  were 
there  assembled,  the  King  and  Queen  entered  the  apartment  about 
nine  o'clock.  Whereupon  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  danced  a  couple 
of  minuets  with  a  brace  of  duchesses  —  Graften  and  Marlborough. 
The  minuets  were  continued  till  eleven  o'clock.  No  one  seemed 
to  tire  of  the  stately,  graceful  dance,  and  it  was  only  during 
the  hour  that  followed,  that  any  young  lady,  as  anxious  as  the 
elegant  American  belle,  who  told  Mr.  Oliphant  at  Minnesota 
that  "  she  longed  to  shake  the  knots  out  of  her  legs,"  had  a  chance 
of  indulging  in  her  liveliness.  During  one  hour — from  elevien 
to  midnight — country  dances  were  accomplished.  I  say  accom- 
plished, for  only  three  were  danced — and  each  set  procured 
twenty  minutes  of  very  active  exercise.  Midnight  had  scarcely 
been  tolled  out  by  the  castle  clock  when  the  festive  throng  sepa- 
rated— and  thus  closed  one  of  the  most  brilliant  installations  that 
Windsor  had  ever  seen,  since  Edward  first  became  the  founder  of 
the  order.  K  there  was  any  drawback  to  the  gratification  which 
the  King  felt  on  this  occasion,  it  was  at  beholding  Wilkes  and  his 


STAGE   KNIGHTS.  309 

daughter  conspicuously  seated  among  the  spectators  in  the  court- 
yard ;  whither  the  man  whom  the  King  hated  had  penetrated  by 
means  of  a  ticket  fh)m  Lord  Tankerville.  It  was  at  this  period  that 
Mr.  Fox  revived,  for  a  few  court-days,  the  fashion  of  appearing 
at  the  drawing-room  in  red-heeled  shoes.  To  the  public,  these 
matters  were  far  more  comic  than  the  comic  portion  of  the  "  In- 
stiallation^"  in  which  (setting  aside  the  Edward  III.  of  Aikin,  and 
the  Genius  of  England,  played  by  Reddish)  King  enacted  Sir 
Dingle,  a  court  fool  knighted ;  Parsons,  Nat  Needle ;  and  Weston, 
Roger.  Never  was  foolish  knight  played  by  an  actor  so  chival- 
rous of  aspect  as  King. 

.  I  wiU  avail  myself  of  this  opportunity  to  state  that  at  solemn 
ceremonies,  like  that  above  named,  four  of  our  kings  of  England 
were  knighted  by  their  own  subjects.  These  were  Edward  III., 
Henry  VI.  and  VII.,  and  Edward  VI.  The  latter  was  dubbed 
by  the  Lord  Protector,  who  was-  himself  empowered  to  perform 
the  act  by  letters  patent,  under  the  great  seal.  At  a  very  early 
period,  priests,  or  prelates  rather,  sometimes  conferred  the  honor 
on  great  public  occasions.  The  Westminster  Synod  deprived  them 
of  this  privilege  in  1102. 

It  has  been  said  that  English  knights  wearing  foreign  orders, 
without  permission  of  their  own  sovereign,  are  no  more  knights 
in  reality  than  those  stage  knights  of  whom  I  have  been  treating. 
This,  however,  is  questionable,  if  so  great  an  authority  as  Coke 
be  not  in  error.  That  great  lawyer  declares  that  a  knight,  by 
whomsoever  created,  can  sue  and  be  sued  by  his  knightly  title, 
and  that  such  is  not  the  case  with  persons  holding  other  foreign 
titles,  similar  to  those  of  the  English  peerage.  Let  me  add  that, 
among  other  old  customs,  it  was  once  common  in  our  armies  for 
knighthood  to  be  conferred  previous  to  a  battle,  to  arouse  courage, 
rather  than  afterward,  as  is  the  case  now — afler  the  action,  in 
order  to  reward  valor.  Even  this  fashion  is  more  reasonable  than 
that  of  the  Czar,  who  claps  stars  and  crosses  of  chivalry  on  the 
bosoms  of  beaten  generals,  to  make  them  pass  in  Muscovy  for 
conquerors. 

In  connection  with  the  stage,  knights  have  figured  sometimes 
before,  as  well  as  behind  the  curtain.  Of  all  the  contests  ever 
maintained,  there  was  never,  in  its  way  a  fiercer  than  that  which 


810  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

took  place  between  Sir  William  Bawlings,  and  young  Tom  Dibdin. 
The  son  of  "tuneful  Charlie,"  born  in  1771,  and  held  at  the  font, 
as  the  "  Lad3r'8  Magazine"  used  to  say,  by  Garrick,  was  not  above 
four  years  of  age  when  he  played  Cupid  to  Mrs.  Siddons'  Venus, 
in  Shakespeare's  Jubilee.  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  after 
this  and  a  course  of  attendance  as  choir-boy  at  St.  Paul's,  he  would 
settle  down  quietly  to  learn  upholstery.  This  was  expected  of 
him  by  his  very  unreasonable  relatives,  who  bound  him  appren- 
tice to  the  city  knight,  Sir  William  Rawlings,  a  then  fashionable 
upholsterer  in  Moorfields.  The  boy  was  dull  as  the  mahogany  he 
had  to  polish,  and  the  knight  could  never  make  him  half  so  bright 
in  business  matters.  "  Tom  Dibdin,"  thus  used  to  remark  the  city 
cavalier — "Tom  Dibdin  is  the  stupidest  hound  on  earth !"  The 
knight,  however,  changed  his  mind  when  his  apprentice,  grown  up 
to  man's  estate,  produced  "  The  Cabinet."  Sir  William  probably 
thought  that  the  opera  was  the  upholstery  business  set  to  music. 
But  before  this  point  was  reached,  dire  was  the  struggle  between 
the  knight  and  the  page,  who  would  not  "  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 
When  work  was  over,  the  boy  was  accustomed  to  follow  it  up  with 
a  turn  at  the  play — generally  in  the  gallery  of  the  Koyalty 
Theatre.  On  one  of  these  occasions  the  knight  followed  him 
thither,  dragged  him  out,  gave  him  a  sound  thrashing,  and,  next 
morning,  brought  him  before  that  awfully  squinting  official,  John 
Wilkes.  The  struggle  ended  in  a  drawn  battle,  and  Tom  aban- 
dcMied  trade :  and  instead  of  turning  out  patent  bedsteads,  turned 
out  the  "English  Fleet,"  and  became  the.  father  of  "Mother 
Goose."  He  would  have  shown  less  of  his  relationship  to  the 
family  of  that  name,  had  he  stuck  to  his  tools ;  in  the  latter  case 
he  might  have  taken  his  seat  as  Lord  Mayor,  in  a  chair  made  by 
himself,  and  in  those  stirring  times  he  might  have  become  as  good 
a  knight  as  his  master. 

As  it  was,  the  refose  of  knighthood  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  He 
was  actor  of  all  work,  wrote  thousands  of  songs,  which  he  sold  as 
cheap  as  chips,  and  composed  four  pieces  for  Astley's  Theatre,  for 
which  he  received  fourteen  pounds — hardly  the  price  of  a  couple 
of  arm-chairs.  How  he  flourished  and  fell  after  this,  may  be  seen 
in  his  biography.  He  had  fortune  within  his  grasp  at  one  time, 
but  he  lost  his  hold  when  he  became  proprietor  of  a  theatre.     The 


STAGE  KNIGHTS.  311 

ex-apprentice  of  the  old  knight-upholder  could  not  furnish  his 
own  house  with  audiences,  and  the  angry  knight  himself  might 
have  been  appeased  could  his  spirit  have  seen  the  condition  into 
which  "  poor  Tom"  had  fallen  just  previous  to  his  death,  some 
twenty  years  ago. 

But  I  fear  I  have  said  more  than  enough  about  stage  knights ; 
may  I  add  some  short  gossip  touching  real  knights  with  stage 
ladies  ?  Before  doing  sq,  I  may  just  notice  that  the  wedded  wife 
of  a  honafide  ktiight  once  acted  on  the  English* boards  under  the 
chivalric  name — and  a  time-honored  one  it  is  in  Yorkshire — of 
her  husband,  Slingsby.  Dame,  or  Lady  Slingsby,  who  had  been 
formerly  a  Mrs.  Lee,  was  a  favorite  actress  in  the  days  of  James 
n.  She  belonged  to  the  Theatre  Royal,  resided  in  St  James's 
parish,  and  was  buried  in  Pancras  church-yard  in  March  1693-4. 
Li  the  list  of  the  Slingsbys,  baronets,  of  Scriven,  given  in  Har- 
borough's  "  History  of  Knaresborough,"  Sir  Henry  Slingsby,  who 
died  in  1692,  is  the  only  one  of  whose  marriage  no  notice  is  taken. 
But  to  oar  stage  ladies  and  gallant  lovers. 


312  TH£  KNIOHTii  AND  TUKIB  DAYS. 


STAGE  LADIES  AND  THE  EOMANCE  OF  HISTORY. 

"  Our  happy  love  may  have  a  secret  church, 
Undft*  the  church,  as  Faith's  was  nnder  Paul's, 
Where  we  may  carry  on  our  sweet  devotion, 
And  the  cathedral  marriage  keep  its  state. 
And  all  its  decencies  and  ceremonies." 

Cbownb,  The  Married  Beau. 

After  the  loose  fashion  of  Master  Crowne's  Married  Beau,  it 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  gallants  once  to  woo  the  mimic  ladies 
of  the  scene. 

From  the  time  that  ladies  first  appeared  upon,  the  stage,,  they 
seem  to  have  exercised  a  powerfiil  attraction  upon  the  cavaliers. 
Under  date  of  the  18th  October,  1666,  Evelyn  says  in  his  Diary: 
"  This  night  was  acted  my  Lord  Broghill's  tragedy, '  Mustapha,' 
before  their  majesties  at  court,  at  which  I  was  present,  very  seldom 
going  to  the  public  theatres,  for  many  reasons,  now,  as  they  are 
abused  to  an  atheistical  liberty,  foul  and  undecent  women  now 
(and  never  till  now)  permitted  to  appear  and  act,  who,  inflaming 
several  young  noblemen  and  gallants,  became  their  misses,  and  to 
some  their  wives ;  witness  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  Sir  R.  Howard, 
Prince  Rupert,  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  and  another  greater  person 
than  any  of  them,  who  fell  into  their  snares,  to  the  reproach  of 
their  noble  families,  and  ruin  of  both  body  and  soul.  I  was  in- 
vited by  my  Lord  Chamberlain  to  see  this  tragedy,  exceedingly 
well  written,  though  in  my  mind  I  did  not  approve  of  any  such 
pastime  in  a  time  of  such  judgments  and  calamities." 

A  year  and  a  half  earlier  than  the  date  of  the  above  entry^ 
namely,  April  3,  1665,  Pepys  notices  the  same  play,  with  some 
allusions  to  the  ladies :  "  To  a  play  at  the  Duke's  of  my  Lord 
Orrery's,  called  *  Mustapha,'  which  being  not  good,  made  Better- 
ton's  part  and  lanthe's  but  ordinary  too.  All  the  pleasure  of  the 
play  was,  the  king  and  my  Lady  Castlemaine  were  there ;   and 


STAGE  LADIES   AND  THE  ROMANCE   OF  UISTOBY.        813 

pretty  witty  Nell  of  the  King's  House,  and  the  younger  Marshall 
sat  next  us,  which  pleased  me  mightily,"  The  play,  however,  is 
not  so  poor  a  one  as  Pepys  describes  it,  and  the  cast  was  excel* 
lent.  Betterton  played  Solyman  the  Magnificent  Mustapha  and 
Zanga,  the  sons  of  Solyman,  were^played  by  Harris  and  Smith ; 
and  Young  made  a  capital  Cardinal.  Mrs.  Betterton  was  the 
Roxalana ;  and  Mrs.  Davies,  one  of  those  ladies  who,  like  her 
sisters,  the  two  Marshalls,  Hughes  and  Nelly,  exercised  the  fatal 
attraction  over  young  noblemen  and  gallants,  deplored  by  Evelyn, 
was  the  magnificent  Queen  of  Hungary.  Mustapha  continued  to 
be  the  favorite  play  until  the  theatre  closed,  when  the  plague  began 
to  spread.  Pepys's  '^  lanthe"  was  Mrs.  Betterton,  of  whom  he 
says,  on  the  22d  October,  1662,  '^the  players  do  tell  me  that  Bet- 
terton is  not  married  to  lanthe,  as  they  say ;  but  also  that  he  is  a 
>  very  sober,  serious  man,  studious  and  humble,  following  of  his 

>y  studies,  and  is  rich  already  with  what  he  gets  and  saves."  Bet- 
terton, however,  married  the  lady,  Miss  Saunderson,  in  1663. 
She  had  been  famous  for  her  lanthe  in  Davenant's  '^  Siege  of 
Rhodes ;"  and  she  played  Shakespeare's  heroines  with  great  effect. 
Pepys  rightly  designates  the  author  of  the  play.  Lord  Orrery. 
Lord  Broghill  was  made  Earl  of  Orrery,  five  years  before  Evelyn 
saw  his  play.  I  may  add  that  Mustapha  has  appeared  in  half-a- 
dozen  different  versions  on  the  stage.  Probably  the  worst  of  these 
was  Mallet's ;  the  latter  author  created  great  amusement  by  one 
of  his  passages,  in  which  he  said : — 

"  Future  saltans 
Have  shunned  the  marriage  tie ;" — 

a  confusion  of.  tenses  which  has  been  compared  with  a  similar 
error  in  the  sermons  of  so  correct  a  writer  as  Blair  (vol.  v.,  third 
edition,  page  224),  "  in  future  periods  the  light  davmed  more  and 
more." 

Although  Evelyn,  in  1666,  says  that  "never  till  now"  were 
women  admitted  to  assume  characters  on  the  stage,  he  is  not  quite 
correct  in  his  assertion.  There  were  actresses  full  thirty  years 
previous  to  that  period.  Thus,  in  1632,  the  "  Court  Beggar"  was 
acted  at  the  Cockpit.  In  the  last  act,  Lady  Strangelove  says : — 
"  If  you  have  a  short  speech  or  two,  the  boy 's  a  pretty,  actor,  and 


814  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

his  mother  can  play  her  part :  women-actors  now  grow  in  request** 
Our  ancestors  wisely  followed  a  foreign  fashion  when  they  ceased 
to  employ  boys  in  female  characters.  Prynne  says,  in  1633, 
^  They  have  now  their  female  players  in  Italy  and  other  foreign 
parts;"  and  in  Michaelmas  1629,  they  had  French  women-actors 
in  a  play  personated  at  Blackfiriars,  to  which  there  was  a  great 
resort  Geneste  quotes  Freshwater  as  writing  thus  of  French 
actresses-  in  Paris,  in  1629 :  ^  Yet  the  women  are  the  best  actors ; 
they  play  their  own  parts,  a  thing  much  desired  in  England." 

In  Davenant's  patent  for  opening  Lincoln's-inn  Fields,  in  1661, 
permission  was  given  for  the  engaging  of  women  as  actresses,  on 
the  ground  that  the  employment  of  men  in  such  parts  had  given 
great  offenee.  I  more  particularly  notice  this  matter,  because  it 
was  a  knight  who  first  opened  a  theatre  with  a  regular  female 
troupe  added  to  the  usual  number  of  male  actors.  Sir  WiUiam's 
ladies  were  Mrs.  Davenport,  Mrs.  Saunderson,  Mrs.  Davies,  Mrs. 
Long,  Mrs.  Gibbs,  Mrs.  Norris,  Mrs.  Holden,  and  Mrs.  Jennings. 
The  first  four  were  Sir  William's  principal  actresses,  and  these 
were  boarded  in  the  knight's  own  dwelling-house.  Their  title  of 
^^  Mistress"  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  they  were  married 
ladies,  but  rather  that  they  were  old  enough  to  be  so. 

This  knight,  too,  was  the  first  who  introduced  scenery  on  the 
stage.  I  will  add  (par  parenthese)  that  it  was  a  priest  who  first 
suggested  the  levelling  of  the  pit  with  the  stage,  for  the  purpose 
of  masquerades  and  balls. 

Prynne  was  not  among  those  who  fancied  that  morality  would 
profit  by  the  introduction  of  actresses.  He  had  his  misgivings  as 
to  the  effects  likely  to  be  produced  on  the  susceptible  young  gal- 
lants of  his  day.  Touching  the  appearance  of  the  French  ac- 
tresses at  the  Blackfriars  Theatre,  noticed  above,  he  calls  it  "  an 
impudent,  shameful,  un-womanish,  graceless,  if  not  more  than 

w ish  attempt."     The  fashion  was,  undoubtedly,  first  set  by 

the  court,  and  by  no  less  a  person  than  a  queen.  Anne  of  Den- 
mark, wife  of  James  L,  acted  a  part  in  a  pastoral.  They  who 
remember  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  training  she  gave  her  son, 
the  princely  knight  young  Henry,  will  hardly  think  that  Anne 
gave  dignity  to  the  occupation  she  temporarily  assumed. 

Mrs.  Saunderson  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  regularly-engaged 


STAGE  LADIES   AND   THE  ROMANCE  OP  fflSTORY.        315 

actress  who  opened  her  lips  on  the  English  stage.  Had  she  and 
her  compeers  onlj  half  the  charms  which  report  ascribed  to  them, 
they  must  have  afforded  far  more  pleasure  to  audience  and  spec- 
tators than  the  '^  beauti^l  woman-actor/'  Stephen  Hamerton  Hart, 
with  his  womanly  dignity ;  Burt,  with  his  odious  female  sprightH- 
ness ;  or  Gofie,  who  was  as  hearty  and  bustling  as  old  Mrs.  Dav- 
enport. King  Charles  himself  and  his  cavaliers,  too,  must  have 
been  especially  delighted  when  they  were  no  longer  kept  waiting 
for  the  commencement  of  a  play,  on  the  ground  that  the  Qtteen 
was  not  yet  shaved." 

It  is  curious  that  there  were  some  people  not  near  so  strait4aced 
as  Prynne,  who  considered  that  public  virtue  would  suffer  ship- 
wreck if  actresses  were  permitted  to  establish  them«elves  in  the 
general  favor.  The  opposite  party,  of  course,  went  to  an  opposite 
extreme ;  and  in  1672,  not  only  were  "  Philaster,"  and  Killigrew's 
"  Parson's  Wedding,"  played  entirely  by  women,  but  one  of  the 
"  Miss"  Marshalls,  gay  daughter  of  a  Presbyterian  minister,  on 
both  occasions  spoke  the  prologue  and  epilogue  in  male  attire. 
"  Philaster"  is  simply  an  absurd  piece,  which  was  rendered  pop- 
ular by  Hart  and  Nell  Gwyn ;  but  with  respect  to  Killigrew's 
piece,  it  is  so  disgusting,  from  the  commencement  to  the  finale, 
that  I  can  liardly  fancy  how  any  individuals,  barely  alive  to  their 
humanity,  could  be  brought  to  utter  and  enact  the  turpitudes  which 
Killigrew  set  down  for  them,  or  that  an  audience  could  be  kept 
from  fleeing  from  the  house  before  the  first  act  was  over. 

'  But  the  gallants  could  endure  anything  rather  than  a  return  fo 
such  effects  as  are  alluded  to  by  a  contemporary  writer,  who,  by 
way  of  introducing  a  female  Desdemona,  said  in  his  prologue  •= — 

"  Our  women  are  defective  and  so  sized 
You'd  think  they  were  some  of  the  guard  disguised ; 
For,  to  speak  truth,  men  act  that  are  between 
Forty  and  fifty,  wenches  of  fifteen ; 
With  brow  so  large,  and  nerve  so  uncompliant. 
When  you  call  Desdemona  —  enter  Giant." 

Half  a  century  elapsed  before  knight  or  gentleman  took  an  ac- 
tress from  the  stage,  for  the  purpose  of  making  her  his  wife.  Th« 
squires^  in  this  case,  had  precedence  of  the  knights ;  and  the  anti- 
quary, Martin  Folkyes,  led  the  way  by  espousing  Lucretia  Brad- 


316  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

shaw,  the  uncomipted  amid  corruption,  and  the  original  Corinna 
in  the  "  Confederacy,"  Dorinda  in  the  "  Beaux  Stratagem,"  and 
Arabella  Zeal  in  the  "Fair  Quaker  of  Deal."  This  marriage 
took  place  in  1713,  and  there  was  not  a  happier  hearth  in  Bngland 
than  that  of  the  antiquary  and  the  actress.  A  knight  of  the  Grar- 
ter  followed,  with  an  earl's  coronet,  and  in  1735  the  great  Lord 
Peterborough  acknowledged  his  marriage  with  that  daughter  of 
sweet  sounds,  Anastasia  Robinson.  This  example  at  once  flattered, 
provoked,  and  stimulated  the  ladies,  one  of  whom,  the  daughter 
of  Earl  de  Waldegrave,  Lady  Henrietta  Herbert,  married  young 
Beafd  the  actor:  This  was  thought  "  low,"  and  another  knight's 
daughter  was  less  censured  for  marrying  her  iather^s  footman. 
The  "  Beggars'  Opera"  gave  two  coronets  to  two  Pollys.  Lavinia 
Fenton  (Bets wick),  the  original  Polly  at  Lincoln's  Lin,  in  1728, 
became  Duchess  of  Bolton  a  few  years  later ;  and  in  1813,  no 
less  a  man  than  Lord  Thurlow  married  Maiy  Catherine  Bolton, 
who  was  scarcely  an  inferior  Polly  to  the  original  lady,  who  gave 
up  Polly  to  become  a  Bolton. 

The  squires  once  more  took  their  turn  when  Sheridan  married 
Miss  Lindley ;  but  before  the  last  century  closed,  Miss  Farren 
gave  her  hand  to  ^^  the  proudest  earl  in  England,"  the  Earl  of 
Derby,  Knight  of  the  Bath.  Li  1807,  knight  and  squire  took  two 
ladies  from  the  stage.  Li  that  year  Mr.  Heathcote  married  the 
beautiful  Miss  Searle ;  and  Earl  Craven  married  Louisa  Brunton. 
We  have  still  among  us  ^-^^  ex-actresses  who  married  men  of  the 
degree  of  noble,  knight,  or  squire.  These  are  Miss  Stephens,  the 
widowed  Countess  of  Essex;  Miss  Foote,  the  widowed  Countess  of 
Harrington ;  Miss  O'Neill  the  widow  of  Sir  William  Beecher,  Bart. ; 
Mrs.  Nisbett,  the  relict  of  the  bold  Sir  Felix  Boothby ;  and  Miss 
M.  Tree,  whose  late  husband,  Mr.  Bradshaw,  was  at  one  time 
M*  P.  for  Canterbury. 

There  is  something  romantic  in  the  lives  of  all  these  ladies,  but 
most  in  that  of  "  Lizzy  Farren,"  and  as  the  life  of  that  lady  of  a 
Knight  of  the  Bath  has  something  in  common  with  the  career  of 
a  celebrated  legal  knight  and  judge,  I  will  take  some  of  its  inci- 
.  dents  as  the  chief  points  in  the  following  sketch,  which  is  a  sup< 
plementary  chapter  to  the  Bomance  of  History,  and  perhaps  not 
the  least  interesting  one  in  such  a  series. 


STAGE  LADIES  AND  THE  ROMANCE  OP  HISTORY.       817 

If  gayety  consists  in  noise,  then  was  the  market-place  of  Salis- 
bury, toward  the  close  of  Christmas  Eve,  1769,  extremely  joyous 
and  glad.  In  the  centre,  on  a  raised  stage,  his  Worship  the  May- 
or was  inaugurating  the  holyday-time,  by  having  a  bout  at  single- 
stick with  an  itinerant  exhibitor  of  the  art  of  self-defence  from 
London.  The  "professor"  had  been  soliciting  the  magisterial 
permission  to  set  up  his  stage  in  the  market-place,  and  he  had 
not  only  received  full  license,  but  the  chief  magistrate  himself  con- 
descended to  take  a  stick  and  try  his  strength  with  the  professor. 

It  was  an  edifying  sight,  and  bumpkins  and  burgesses  enjoyed  it 
consumed^r.  The  professional  fencer  allowed  his  adversary  to 
count  many  "  hits"  out  of  pure  gratitude.  But  he  had  some  self- 
respect,  and  in  order  that  his  reputation  might  not  suffer  in  the 
estimaticm  of  the  spectators,  he  wound  up  the  "  set-to"  by  dealing 
a  stroke  on  the  right-worshipful  skull,  which  made  the  mayor  im- 
agine that  chaos  w^  come  again,  and  that  all  about  him  was 
dancing  confusedly  into  annihilation. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  accidentally  hurt  your  worship's  head," 
said  the  wickedly  sympathizing  single-stick  player. 

"  H'm !"  murmured  the  faUen  great  man,  with  a  ghastly  smile, 
and  Iris's  seven  hues  upon  his  cheek,  "  don't  mention  it :  there's 
nothing  in  it !" 

"  I  am  truly  rejoiced,"  replied  the  professor  to  his  assistant, 
with  a  wink  of  the  eye,  "  that  his  worship  has  not  lost  his  senses." 

"  Oh,  ay  I"  exclaimed  the  rough  aide,  "  he's  about  as  wise  as 
ever  he  was." 

The  single-stick  player  looked  like  Pizarro,  who,  when  he  did 
kill  a  friend  occasionally — "his  custom  i'  th'  afternoon" — always 
went  to  the  funeral  in  a  mourning  suit  and  a  droop  of  the  eye — 
intended  for  sympathy.  In  the  meantime  the  mayor,  who  had 
been  fancying  himself  in  a  bttlloon,  and  that  he  was  being  whirled 
away  from  his  native  town,  began  to  think  that  the  balloon  was 
settling  to  earth  again,  and  that  the  representation  of  chaos  had 
been  indefinitely  deferred.  He  continued,  however,  holding  on  by 
the  rail,  as  if  the  balloon  was  yet  unsteady,  and  he  only  complained 
of  a  drumming  in  the  ears. 

At  that  moment  the  not-to-be-mistaken  sound  of  a  real  drum 
fell  in  harsh  accompaniment  upon  his  singing-ears,  and  it  had  one 


818  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

good  effect,  that  of  bringing  back  the  ma^strate  and  the  man. 
Both  looked  through  the  rather  shaken  windows  of  the  one  body, 
and  indignation  speedily  lighted  up  from  within. 

The  sound  came  from  the  suburb  of  Fisherton,  but  it  swelled 
insultingly  nearer  and  nearer,  as  though  announcing  that  it  was 
about  to  be  beaten  in  the  borough,  despite  the  lack  of  magisterial 
sanction.  The  great  depository  of  authority  began  to  gaze  in 
speechless  horror,  as  the  bearer  of  the  noisy  instrument  made 
his  appearance  in  the  market-place  at  the  head  of  a  small  proces- 
sion, which  was  at  once  seen  to  consist  of  a  party  of  strolling  actors. 

The  drummer  was  a  thick-set  man,  with  nothing  healthy  look- 
ing about  him  but  his  nose,  and  that  looked  too  healthy.  He  was 
the  low  comedian,  and  was  naturally  endowed  to  awume  that  dis- 
tinctive line. 

He  was  followed  by  three  or  four  couple  of  '^  the  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  company/'  of  some  of  whom  it  might  be  said,  that 
shoes  were  things  they  did  not  much  stand  upon.  They  had  a 
shabby  genteel  air  about  them,  looked  hungry  and  happy ;  and 
one  or  two  wore  one  hand  in  the  pocket,  upon  an  economizing 
principle  in  reference  to  gloves.  The  light  comedian  cut  jokes 
with  the  spectators,  and  was  soon  invited  to  the  consequence  he 
aimed  at — an  invitation  to  "take  a  glass  of  wine."  The  women 
were  more  tawdry-looking  than  the  men,  but  they  wore  a  light- 
hearted,  romping  aspect — all,  except  the  young  lady  who  played 
Ophelia  and  Columbine,  who  carried  a  baby,  and  looked  as  if  she 
had  not  been  asleep  since  it  was  bom,  which  was  probably  the  case. 

The  cortege  was  closed  by  a  fine,  gendeman-like  man,  who  led 
by  the  hand  a  little  girl  some  ten  years  old.  No  one  could  look 
for  a  moment  at  them,  without  at  once  feeling  assured  that  there 
was  something  in  them  which  placed  them  above  the  fellows  with 
whom  they  consorted.  They  wer«  father  and  daughter.  He 
manager ;  she  a  species  of  infant  phenomenon.  In  his  face  were 
to  be  traced  the  furrows  of  disappointment,  and  in  his  eye  the 
gleam  of  hope.  Her  face  was  as  fkces  of  the  young  should  ever 
be,  full  of  enjoyment,  love,  and  feeling.  The  last  two  were  espe- 
cially there  for  the  father,  whose  hand  she  held,  and  into  whose 
face  she  looked,  ever  and  anon,  with  a  smile  which  never  failed  to 
be  repaid  in  similar  currency. 


STAGE  LADIES  AND  THE  ROMANCE  OP  HISTORY.       819 

The  refined  air  of  the  father,  and  the  graceful  bearing  of  the 
modest  daughter,  won  commendations  from  all  beholders.  He 
was  an  ex-surgeon  of  Cork,  who  had  given  up  his  profession  in 
order  to  follow  the  stage.  People  set  him  down  as  insane,  and  so 
he  was,  but  it  was  an  insanity  which  made  a  countess  of  his 
daughter.  His  name  was  Farren,  and  his  child,  pet  daughter  of 
a  pretty  mother,  was  the  inimitable  Lizzy. 

If  the  mayor  could  have  read  into  history,  he  would  have  knelt 
down  and  kissed  Lizzy  Farren's  shoe-buckles.  As  he  could  not 
so  read,  he  only  i^w  in  the  sire  a  vagabond,  and  in  the  child  a 
mountebank.  Oh  the  former  he  hurled  down  the  whole  weight 
of  his  magisterial  wrath.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  manager  declaimed 
he  was  on  his  way  to  solicit  the  mayor's  license  to  act  in  Salisbury. 
That  official  gentleman  declared  that  it  was  an  infraction  of  the 
law  to  pass  from  the  suburb  of  Fisherton  into  the  borough  of 
Salisbury  before  the  mayor's  permission  had  been  previously 
signified. 

"And  that  permission  I  will  never  give,"  said  his  worship. 
"  We  are  a  godly  people  here,  and  have  no  taste  for  rascal-players. 
As  his  majesty's  representative,  I  am  bound  to  encourage  no 
amusements  that  are  not  respectable." 

"  But  our  young  king,"  interrupted  Mr.  Farren,  "  is  himself  a 
great  patron  of  the  theatre." 

This  was  worse  than  a  heavy  blow  at  single-stick;  and  the 
mayor  was  the  more  wrath  as  he  had  no  argument  ready  to  meet 
it.  After  looking  angry  for  a  moment,  a  bright  thought  struck 
him. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir  I  You  will  not,  I  hope,  teach  a  mayor  either  fact 
or  duty.  We  know,  sir,  what  the  king  (Grod  bless  him !)  patron- 
izes. His  majesty  does  not  patronize  strollers.  He  goes  regularly 
to  an  estahlished  church,  sir,  and  to  an  estaUished  theatre ;  and  so, 
sir,  I,  as  mayor,  support  only  establishments.  Good  heavens! 
what  would  become  of  the  throne  and  the  altar,  if  a  Mayor  of 
Sarum  were  to  do  otherwise  ?" 

As  Mr.  Farren  did  not  well  know,  he  could  not  readily  tell ; 
and  as  he  stood  mute,  the  mayor  continued  to  pour  down  upon 
the  player  and  his  vocation,  a  shower  of  obloquy.  At  every  al- 
lusion which  he  made  to  his  predilection  for  amusements  that  were 


820  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

respectable  and  instructive,  the  single-stick  player  and  his  man 
drew  themselves  up,  cried  ^ Hear!  kearP'  and  looked  down  upon 
the  actors  with  an  air  of  burlesque  contempt.  The  actors,  men 
and  women,  returned  the  look  with  a  burst  of  uncontrollable 
laughter.  The  mayor  took  this  for  deliberate  insult^  aimed  at  him- 
self and  at  what  he  chose  to  patronize.  His  proteges  looked  the 
more  proud,  and  became  louder  than  ever  in  their  self-applauding 
"  Hear  I  hear  /"  The  players,  the  while,  shrieked  with  laughter. 
Even  Mr.  Farren  and  Lizzy  could  not  refrain  from  risibility,  for 
the  stick-player  and  his  man  were  really  members  of  the  company. 
The  former  was  Mr.  Frederick  Fitzmontague,  who  was  great  in 
Hamlet.  His  man  w^  the  ruffian  in  melodramas,  and  the  clown 
in  pantomimes,  and  as  he  did  a  little  private  business  of  his  own 
by  accepting  an  engagement  from  a  religions  society,  during  the 
dull  season  of  the  year,  to  preach  on  the  highways  against  theatri- 
cals, Mr.  Osmond  Brontere  was  usually  known .  by  the  cognomen 
of  Missionary  Jack. 

The  magisterial  refusal  to  license  this  wandering  company  to 
play  in  Salisbury,  was  followed  by  altercation ;  and  altercation  by 
riot  The  multitude  took  part  with  the  actors,  and  they  hooted 
the  mayor ;  and  the  latter,  viewing  poor  Farren  as  the  cause  and 
guilty  mover  of  all  that  had  occurred,  summarily  ordered  his  ar- 
rest ;  and,  in  spite  of  all  remonstrance,  resistance,  or  loudly-ex- 
pressed disgust,  the  manager  was  ultimately  lodged  in  the  cage, 
The  mob,  then,  satisfied  at  having  had  a  little  excitement,  and 
caring  nothing  more  about  the  matter,  at  length  separated,  and  re- 
paired to  their  respective  homes.  They  went  all  the  quicker  that 
the  rain  had  begun  to  descend  in  torrents ;  and  they  took  little  no- 
tice of  poor  Lizzy,  who  went  home  in  the  dusk,  weeping  bitterly, 
and  led  by  the  hands  of  the  matronly  Ophelia  and  Missionary 
Jack. 

Ere  morning  dawned,  a  change  had  come  over  the  scene.  The 
rain  had  ceased.  A  hard  frost  had  set  in.  All  Salisbury  looked 
as  if  it  were  built  upon  a  frozen  lake.  The  market-place  itself 
was  a  mer  de  glace.  Christmas-day  was  scarcely  visible  when  a 
boy  of  early  habits,  standing  at  the  door  of  an  upholsterer's  shop, 
which  bore  above  it  the  name  of  Burroughs,  fancied  he  saw  some- 
thing moving  with  stealthy  pace  across  the  market-place ;  and  he 


STAGE  LADIES   AND  THE   ROMANCE   OF   fflSTORY.         821 

amused  himself  by  watching  it  through  the  gloom.  It  was  devel- 
oped, after  a  while,  into  the  figure  of  a  thinly-clad  girl,  bearing  in 
her  arms  a  bowl  of  hot  milk.  She  trod  cautiously,  and  looked, 
now  down  at  her  feet,  now  across  the  wide  square,  to  measure  the 
distance  she  had  yet  to  go.  Each  little  foot  was  put  forward  with 
hesitation,  and  so  slowly  was  progress  made,  that  there  was  good 
chance  of  the  boiling  milk  being  frozen,  before  it  had  been  carried 
half-way  to  its  destination. 

The  girl  was  Lizzy  Farren,  and  in  the  bowl,  which  between  her 
arms  looked  as  graceful  as  urn  clasped  by  Arcadian  nymph,  lay 
the  chief  portion  of  a  breakfast  destined,  on  this  sad  Christmas 
morning,  for  her  captive  sire  in  the  cage. 

"  She'll  be  down !"  said  young  Burroughs,  as  he  saw  her  par- 
tially slip.  Lizzy,  however,  recovered  herself;  but  so  alarmed 
was  she  at  her  situation,  so  terrified  when  she  measured  the  dis- 
tance she  had  to  accomplish  by  that  which  she  had  already  trav- 
ersed, that  she  fairly  stood  still  near  the  centre  of  the  mai^et-plaoe, 
and  wept  aloud  over  the  hot  bowl  and  her  cold  position.  It  was 
then  that  the  young  knight  recognised  the  crisis  when  he  was 
authorized  to  interfere.  He  made  a  run  from  the  door,  shot  one 
leg  in  advance,  drew  the  other  quickly  after  him,  and  went  sliding, 
with  express-train  speed,  close  up  to  Lizzy's  feet  She  no  sooner 
saw  the  direful  prospect  of  collision  than  she  shrieked  with  an  en- 
ergy which  roused  all  the  rooks  in  the  close. 

'*Hold  hard!"  exclaimed  the  merry-faced  boy;  "hold  hard! 
that's  myself,  you  Lizzy,  and  the  milk.  Hold  hard !"  he  continued, 
as  he  half  held  hei:  up,  half  held  on  to  her,  "  Hold  hard !  or  we 
shall  all  be  down  tggether." 

"  Oh,  where  do  you  come  from  ?  and  how  do  you  know  my 
name  is  Lizzy  ?" 

"  Well !  Mr.  Fitzmontague  lodges  in  our  house,  and  he  told  U8 
all  about  you,  last  night.  And  he  said,  as  sure  as  could  be,  you 
would  be  awake  before  anybody  in  Salisbury.  And  sure  enough, 
here  you  are,  almost  before  daylight" 

By  the  help  of  the  young  cavalier,  the  distressed  damsel  was 
relieved  from,  her  perplexity.  Young  Burroughs  offered  to  carry 
the  bowl,  which  she  stoutly  refused.  "  No  one,"  she  said,  ^'  shall 
carry  my  father's  breakfast  to  him,  but  myself,  on  such  a  morning." 

21 


322  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

And  80,  her  deKverer  walked  tenderly  by  her  side,  holding  her 
cautiously  up,  nor  ceased  from  his  care,  until  Lizzy  and  her  burden 
had  safely  reached  the  cage.  Through  the  bars  of  the  small  win* 
dow,  Farren  had  watched  her  coming ;  and  he  hailed  her  arrival 
with  a  "  Grod  bless  you,  my  own  child !" 

''Oh|  papa!"  said  Lizzy,  weeping  again,  and  embracing  the 
1k>w1  as  warmly  as  if  it  had  been  her  father  himself;  ^  oh,  papa ! 
what  would  mamma  and  my  little  sisters,  and  all  our  friends  in 
Liverpool  say,  if  they  knew  how  we  are  beginning  our  Christmas 
day?" 

"  Things  unknown  are  unfelt,  my  darling.  We  will  tell  them 
nothing  about  it,  till  Fortune  gilds  over  the^  memory  of  it  Bat 
what  do  you  bring,  Lizzy? — or  rather,  why  do  I  ask?  It  is  my 
breakfast ;  and  Lizzy  herself  has  had  none." 

A  pretty  altercation  ensued ;  but  Lizzy  gained  her  point ;  and 
not  one  drop  would  she  taste  till  her  sire  had  commenced  the  re- 
past. Aided  by  young  Burroughs,  she  held  the  lip  of  the  bowl 
through  the  bars  of  the  cage ;  and  the  little  English  maiden  smiled, 
for  the  first  time  since  yesterday,  at  beholding  her  sire  imbibe  the 
quickening  draught.  It  was  not  till  three  years  after  that  Barry 
and  his  wife  played  Evander  and  Euphrasia  in  the  Grecian 
Daughter,  or  Farren  would  have  drawn  a  parallel  suitable  to  the 
occasion.  He  was  not  so  well  up  in  history  as  in  theatricals ;  and 
on  the  stage,  history  has  a  terrible  time  of  it.  Witness  this  very 
tragedy  in  which  Murphy  has  made  Evander,  King  of  Sicily,  and 
confounded  Dionysius  the  elder,  with  his  younger  namesake.  To 
he  sure,  pleasant  Palmer,  who  played  the  character,  was  about  as 
wise  as  Murphy. 

When  the  primitive  breakfast  was  concluded,  Lizzy  stood  sad 
and  silent ;  and  the  father  sadly  and  silently  looked  down  at  her ; 
while  young  Burroughs  leaned  against  the  wall,  as  sad  and  silent 
as  either  of  them.  And  so  a  weary  two  hours  passed ;  at  the  end 
of  which,  a  town-constable  appeared,  accompanied  by  a  clerical 
gentleman,  and  empowered  to  give  liberty  to  the  captive.  When 
the  constable  told  the  manager  that  his  liberation  was  owing  to 
the  intercession  made  in  his  behalf,  by  the  Reverend  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  who  had  just  arrived  in  Salisbury,  Lizzy  clapped  her  hands 
with  agitation,  for  she  saw  that  the  clerical  interoeder  was  no  other 


STAGE  LADIES  AND   THE  ROMANCE   OP   HISTORY.         323 

thftn  Missionary  Jack.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Brontere,"  said  the  curious  girl, 
when  they  had  all  reached  home  together,  ^'  how  did  you  ever 
manage  it  ?" 

"  Well  r  said  the  enterprising  actor,  with  a  laugh ;  "  I  called  on 
his  worship,  to  inquire  what  Christmas  charities  might  be  accepta- 
ble ;  and  if  there  were  any  prisoners  whom  my  humble  means 
might  liberate.  He  named  your  papa,  and  the  company  have 
paid  what  was  necessary.  His  worship  was  not  inexorable,  par- 
ticularly as  I  incidentally  told  him  his  Majesty  patronized,  the 
other  day,  an  itinerant  company  at  Datchet.  As  for  how  I  did  it. 
I  rather  think  I  am  irresistible  in  the  dress  in  which  poor  Will 
Havard,  only  two  years  ago,  played  *  Old  Adam.'  A  little  inge- 
nuity, as  you  see,  has  made  it  look  very  like  a  rector's  costume ; 
and,  besides,"  said  Missionary  Jack,  '^  I  sometime*  think  that  na- 
ture intended  me  for  the  church." 

Three  years  had  elapsed.  On  the  Christmas  eve  of  1772,  all 
the  play-going  people  of  Wakefield  were  in  a  state  of  pleasant  ex- 
citement, at  the  promise  made  in  bills  posted  over  the  town  an- 
nouncing the  immediate  appearance  of  the  **  Young  Queen  of 
Columbines."  All  the  young  bachelors  of  the  town  were  besie- 
ging the  box-oflBce.  In  those  days  there  were  not  only  theatres  in 
provincial  towns,  but  people  really  went  to  them.  Amid  the  ap- 
plicants, was  a  sprightly-looking  articled  clerk,  who,  having 
achieved  his  object,  had  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  stage-door  to 
read  the  programme  of  the  forthcoming  pantomime.  While  thus 
engaged  the  Columbine  Queen,  the  most  fairy-looking  of  youthful 
figures,  brilliant  as  st>ring,  and  light  as' gossamer,  sweet  fifteen, 
with  a  look  of  being  a  year  or  two  more,  tripped  into  the  street, 
on  her  way  home  from  rehearsal.  Eighty  years  ago  the  gallantry 
of  country  towns,  with  respect  to  pretty  actresses,  was  much  like 
that  which  characterizes  Grerman  localities  now.  It  was  of  a 
rudely  enthusiastic  quality.  Accordingly,  the  fairy-looking  Co- 
lumbine had  hardly  proceeded  a  dozen  yards,  when  she  had  twice 
as  many  offers  made  her  of  arms,  whereon  to  And  support  over 
the  slippery  pavement.  It  was  an  old-fashioned  winter  in  Wake- 
field, and  Columbine's  suitors  had  as  many  falls  in  the  course  of 
tkeir  assiduities,  as  though  they  had  been  so  many  ''  Lovers"  in 


324  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

the  pantomime,  ^d  the  wand  of  Harlequin  was  trippng  them  up 
as  thej  skipped  along.  Columbine  got  skilfully  rid  of  them  aU  in 
time,  except  one ;  and  he  became  at  last  so  unwelcomely  intmsiye, 
that  the  articled  clerk,  who  was  the  very  champion  of  distressed 
damsels,  and  had  been  a  watcher  of  what  was  going  on,  went  up 
to  the  young  lady,  took  her  arm  in  his,  without  any  ceremony,  and 
bade  her  persecutor  proceed  any  further,  at  his  periL  The  gm- 
tleman  toc^k  the  hint,  and  left  knight  and  lady  to  continue  their 
way  unmolested.  They  no  sooner  saw  themselves  alone,  when, 
looking  into  each  other's  faces,  they  laughed  a  merry  laugh  of  rec- 
ognition, and  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  was  the  merrier — 
Miss  Farren  or  Mr.  Burroughs,  the  young  actress  and  the  incip- 
ient lawyer. 

When  boxin^night  came,  there  was  a  crowded  house,  and 
Lizzy  created  a  furore.  Like  Carlotta  Grisi,  she  could  sing  as 
well  as  dance,  and  there  was  a  bright  intellect,  to  boot,  pervading 
all  she  did.  On  the  night  in  question,  she  sang  between  the  acts ; 
and  young  Burroughs,  ever  watchful,  especially  marked  the  effect 
of  her  singing  upon  a  very  ecstatic  amateur  who  was  seated  next 
to  him.  *^  What  a  treasure,"  said  the  amateur,  ^  would  this  girl 
be  in  Liverpool !"  "  Well,"  remarked  Burroughs,  *'  I  am  ready 
to  accept  an  engagement  for  her.  State  your  terms.  Thirty 
shillings  a-week,  I  presume,  will  not  quite  exhaust  your  treasury." 
"  I  will  certainly,"  said  the  stranger,  "  tell  our  manager.  Younger, 
of  the  prize  which  is  to  be  acquired  so  cheaply ;  and  the  affair 
need  not  be  ddayed ;  for  Younger  is  at  the  Swan,  and  will  be 
down  here  to-night,  to  see  the  pantomime." 

In  five  minutes,  Burroughs  was  sitting  face-to-iace  with  Youi^r 
at  the  inn,  urging  him  to  go  at  once,  not  to  see  Columbine  dance, 
but  to  hear  her  sing.  "  I  wonder,"  said  the  manager,  "  if  your 
young  friend  is  the  child  of  the  Cork  surgeon  who  married  the 
daughter  of  Wright,  the  Liverpool  brewer.  If  so,  she's  clever ; 
besides,  why ^" 

"Why  she'll  make  your  fortune,"  said  the  lawyer's  derk, 
"  She  is  the  grand-daughter  of  your  Liverpool  brewer,  sings  like 
a  nightingale,  and  is  worth  five  pounds  a  week  to  you  -at  least. 
Come  and  hear  her," 

Younger  walked  leisureljr  down,  as  if  he  was  in  no  particular 


STAGE  LADIES  AND  THE  ROMANCE  OF  HISTOBT.  325 

want  of  talent ;  but  he  was  so  pleased  with  what  he  did  hear  that 
when  the  songstress  came  off  the  stage,  Burroughs  went  round 
and  exultinglj  announced  that  he  had  procured  an  engagement 
for  her  at  Liverpool,  at  two  pounds  ten  per  week ;  and  to  find  her 
own  satin  shoes  and  silk  stockings.  In  prospect  of  such  a  Potosi, 
the  Columbine  danced  that  night  as  bcmndingly  as  if  Dan  Mercury 
had  lent  her  the  very  pinions  from  his  heels- 

'^  Mr.  Burroughs,"  said  Lizzy,  as  he  was  escorting  her  and  her 
mother  home,  ^'  this  is  the  second  Christmas  you  have  made  happy 
for  us.     I  hope  you  may  live  to  be  Lord  Chief  Justice." 

"  Thank  you,  Lizzy,  that  is  about  as  likely  as  that  Liverpool 
will  make  of  the  Wakefield  Columbine  a  countess  " 

A  few  years  had  again  passed  away  since  the  Christmas  week 
which  succeeded  that  spent  at  Wakefield,  and  which  saw  Lizzy 
Farren  the  only  Mosetta  which  Liverpool  cared  to  listen  to,  and  it 
was  now  the  same  joyous  season,  but  the  locality  was  Chester. 
^  There  was  a  custom  then  prevailing  among  actors,  which  exists 
nowhere  now,  except  in  some  of  the  small  towns  in  Germany. 
Thus,  not  very  long  ago,  at  Ischl,  in  Austria,  I  was  surprised  to 
see  a  very  pretty  actress  enter  my  own  room  at  the  inn,  and 
putting  a  play-bill  into  my  hand,  solicit  my  presence  at  her  bene- 
fit. This  was  a  common  practice  in  the  north  of  England  till 
Tate  Wilkinson  put  an  end  to  it,  as  derogatory  to  the  profession. 
The  custom,  however,  had  not  been  checked  at  the  time  and  in 
the  locality  to  which  I  have  alluded.  On  the  Christmas  eve  of 
the  period  in  question,  Lizzy  Farren  was  herself  engaged  in  dis- 
tributing her  bills,  and  asking  patronage  for  her  benefit,  which 
was  to  take  place  on  the  following  Twelfth  Night  As  appropri- 
ate to  the  occasion  she  had  chosen  Shakespeare's  comedy  of  that 
name,  and  was  to  play  Viola,  a  part  for  which  Younger,  who 
loved  her  heartily,  had  given  her  especial  instruction. 

Miss  Farren  had  not  been  very  successful  in  her  "  touting."  She 
liad  been  unlucky  in  the  two  families  at  whose  houses  she  had 
ventured  to  knock.  The  first  was  that  of  an  ex-proprietor  of  a 
religious  periodical,  who  had  a  horror  of  the  stage,  but  who  had 
a  so  much  greater  horror  of  Romanism,  that,  like  the  Scottish 
clergy  of  the  time,  he  would  have  gone  every  night  to  the  play 


THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

during  Passion  week,  only  to  show  his  abhorrence  of  poperj. 
This  pious  scoundrel  had  grown  rich  hj  swindling  his  editors  and 
supporting  any  question  which  paid  best.  His  household  he  kept 
for  years,  by  inserting  advertisements  in  his  journal  for  whidi 
he  was  paid  in  kind.  He  was  a  slimy,  sneaking,  mendacious 
knave,  who  would  have  advocated  atheism  if  he  could  have  pro- 
cured a  dozen  additional  subscribers  by  it  His  lady  was  the 
quintessence  of  vulgarity  and  malignity.  She  wore  diamonds  on 
her  wig,  venom  in  her  heart,  and  very-much*abused  English  at 
the  end  of  her  tongue. 

Poor  Lizzy,  rebuffed  here,  rang  at  the  garden-gate  of  Mrs. 
Penury  Beaugawg.  She  was  a  lady  of  sentiment  who  drank,  a 
lady  of  simplicity  who  rouged,  a  lady  of  affected  honesty  who 
lived  beyond  her  income,  and  toadied  or  bullied  her  relations  into 
paying  her  debts.  Mrs.  Penury  Beaugawg  would  have  gracious- 
ly accepted  orders  for  a  private  box ;  but  a  patronage  which  cost 
her  anything,  was  a  vulgarity  which  her  gentle  and  generous  spirit 
could  not  comprehend. 

Lizzy  was  standing  dispirited  in  the  road  at  the  front  of  the 
house,  when  a  horseman  rode  slowly  up ;  and  Lizzy,  not  at  all 
abashed  at  practising  an  old  biit  not  agreeable  custom,  raised  a 
bill  to  his  hand  as  he  came  close  to  her,  and  solicited  half-a-crown, 
the  regular  admission-price  to  the  boxes. 

^^  Lizzy  r*  cried  the  horseman,  "  you  shall  have  such  a  house  at 
Chester,  as  the  old  town  has  not  seen  since  the  night  Gkrrick  was 
here,  and  played  Richard  and  Lord  ChaJkstone,^^ 

The  equestrian  was  Mr.  Burroughs,  then  in  training  for 
the  bar,  and  as  willing  to  help  Miss  Farren  now  as  he  was 
to  aid  her  and  her  bowl  of  milk  across  the  market-place  at 
Salisbury.  The  incipient  barrister  kept  his  word.  The 
Chester  theatre  was  crammed  to  the  ceiling;  and,  as  Lizzy 
said,  Mr.  Burroughs  was  her  Christmas  angel,  the  thought  of 
whom  was  always  associated  in  her  mind  with  plumbs,  currants, 
holly 

"  And  mistletoe,"  said  the  budding  counsellor,  with  a  look  at 
which  both  laughed  merrily  and  honestly. 

On  the  Christmas  eve  of  1776,  Miss  Farren  was  Seated  in 
Colman's  parlor  in  London,  looking  at  him  while  he  read  two 


STAGE  LADIES  AND   THE  ROMANCE  OF  HISTORY.       827 

lettera  of  introduction;  one  fix)m  Burroughs,  the  other  from 
Younger ;  aiid  both  in  high  praise  of  the  young  bearer,  for  whom 
they  were  especially  written.  My  limits  will  only  allow  me  to 
say  that  Lizzy  was  engaged  for  the  next  summer-season  at  the 
Haymarket,  where  she  appeared  on  June  9, 1777,  ia  '^  She  Stoops 
to  Conquer,"  She  was  Miss  Hardcastle,  and  Edwin  made  his 
first  appearance  in  London  with  her,  in  the  same  piece.  Colman 
would  have  brought  out  Henderson  too,  if  he  could  have  managed 
it.  That  dignified  gentleman,  however,  insisted  on  reserving  his 
dehut  for  Shylock,  on  the  11th  of  the  same  month.  And  what  a 
joyous  season  did  Lizzy  make  of  it  for  our  then  youthful  grand- 
fathers. How  they  admired  her  double  talent  in  Miss  Hardcas- 
iU  I  How  ecstatic  were  they  with  her  Maria,  in  the  "  Citizen !" 
How  ravishedly  did  they  listen  to  her  Rosetta!  How  they 
laughed  at  her  Miss  Tittup,  in  "  Bon  Ton !"  and  how  they  ex- 
toUed  her  playfulness  and  dignity  as  jRosina,  of  which  she  was 
the  original  representative,  in  the  "  Barber  of  Seville !"  It  may 
be  remarked  that  Colman  omitted  the  most  comic  scene  in  tlie 
piece,  that  wherein  the  Count  is  disguised  as  a  drunken  trooper 
— as  injurious  to  morality ! 

When,  in  the  following  year,  she  played  Lady  Townley,  she 
was  declared  the  first,  and  she  was  then  almost  the  youngest  of 
living  actresses.  And  when  she  joined  the  Drury  Lane  company 
in  the  succeeding  season,  the  principal  parts  were  divided  between 
herself,  Miss  Walpole,  Miss  P.  Hopkins,  and  Perdita  Robinson. 
Not  one  of  this  body  was  then  quite  twenty  years  of  age  1  Is 
not  this  a  case  wherein  to  exclaim  — 

"  O  mihi  prffiteritos  referat  si  Jupiter  annos  V* 

Just  twenty  years  did  she  adorn  our  stage ;  ultimately  taking 
leave  of  it  at  Drury  Lane,  in  April,  1797,  in  the  character  of 
Lady  Teazle.  Before  that  time,  however,  she  had  been  promi- 
nent in  the  Christmas  private  plays  at  the  Duke  of  Richmond's, 
in  which  the  Earl  of  Derby,  Lord  Henry  Fitzgerald,  and  the 
Honorable  Mrs.  Dormer  acted  with  her ;  and  that  rising  barrister, 
Mr.  Burroughs,  looking  constantiy  at  the  judicial  bench  as  his 
own  proper  stage,  was  among  the  most  admiring  of  the  audience. 
It  was  there  that  was  formed  that  attachment  which  ultimately 


828  THE  KNIQHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

made  of  ber,  a  month  after  she  had  retired  from  the  stage,  Conntees 
of  Derby,  and  subseqaently  mother  of  a  future  countess,  who  stOl 
wears  her  coronet 

Not  long  after  this  perioi^  and  following  on  her  presentation 
al  Court,  where  she  was  received  with  marked  kindly  conde- 
scension by  Queen  Charlotte,  the  countess  was  walking  in  the 
marriage  procession  of  the  Princess  Royal  and  the  Duke  of 
Wurtemberg ;  her  foot  caught  in  the  carpeting,  and  she  would  have 
fallen  to  the  ground,  but  for  the  ready  arms,  once  more  extended 
to  support  her^  of  Mr.  Burroughs,  now  an  eminent  man  indeed. 

Many  years  had  been  added  to  the  roll  of  time,  when  a  carriage, 
containing  a  lady  was  on'its  way  to  Windsor.  It  suddenly  came 
to  a  stop,  by  the  breaking  of  an  axle-tree.  Li  the  midst  of  the 
distress  which  ensued  to  the  occupier,  a  second  carriage  ap- 
proached, bearing  a  goodnatured-looking  gentleman,  who  at  once 
offered  his  services.  The  lady,  recognising  an  old  friend,  accept- 
ed the  oflTer  with  alacrity.  As  the  two  drove  off  together  in 
the  gentleman's  carriage  toward  Windsor,,  the  owner  of  it  re- 
marked that  he  had  almost  expected  to  find  her  in  distress  on 
the  road ;  for  it  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  he  had  been  thinking 
of  old  times. 

"  How  many  years  is  it,  my  lady  countess,"  said  he,  ^*  since  I 
stood  at  my  father's  shop-door  in  Salisbury,  watching  your  perilous 
passage  over  the  market-place,  with  a  bowl  of  milk  ?" 

"  Not  so  long  at  all  events,"  she  answered  with  a  smile,  "  but 
that  I  recollect  my  poor  father  would  have  lost  his  breakfast,  but 
for  your  assistance." 

"  The  time  is  not  long  for  memory,"  replied  the  Judge,  "  nor  is 
Salisbury  as  far  from  Windsor  as  Dan  from  Beersheba ;  yet  how 
wide  the  distance  between  the  breakfast  at  the  cage-door  at  Salis- 
bury, and  the  Christmas  dinner  to  which  we  are  both  proceeding, 
in  the  palace  of  the  king !" 

"  The  earl  is  already  there,"  added  the  countess,  **  an^  he  will 
be  happier  than  the  king  himself  to  welcome  the  legal  knight  who 
has  done  such  willing  service  to  the  Lady  of  the  Knight  of  the 
Bath." 

To  those  whose  power  and  privilege  it  is  to  create  such  knights, 
we  will  now  direct  our  attention,  and  see  how  kings  themselves 
behaved  in  their  character  as  knights. 


THE  KINGS  OF  EN€(LANI>  AS  EKIOHTS..  82d 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS. 

FROM  THE  NORMANS  TO  THE  STUARTS. 

"  Un  roi  abstrait  n'est  ni  pdre,  ni  fils,  ni  fr^re,  ni  parent,  ni  cheyalier, 
ami.     Qu'est  il  done  ?    Roi,  m^me  qaand  il  dort," — Didkkot. 

If  we  judge  i^ome  of  our  kings  "by  the  strict  laws  of  chivalry, 
we  shall  find  that  they  were  but  sorry  knights  after  all.  They 
may  have  been  terrible  in  battle ;  but  they  were  ill-mannerly  in 
ladies'  bower. 

William  the  Conqueror,  for  instance,  had  none  of  the  tender  senti- 
ment of  chivalry ;  in  other  words  he  showed  little  gentleness  in  his 
bearing  toward  women.  It  is  said  by  Ingerius,  tiiat  after  Matilda  of 
Flanders  had  refused  his  hand,  on  the  ground  that  she  would  not  have 
a  bastard  for  a  husband,  he  waylaid  her  as  she  was  returning  from 
mass  in  one  of  the  streets  of  Bruges,  dragged  her  out  from  among 
her  ladies,  pommelled  her  brutally,  and  finally  rolled  her  in  the 
mud.  A  little  family  difference  arose  in  consequence ;  but  as  it 
was  less  bitter  >han  family  quarrels  usually  are,  a  reconciliation 
took  place,  and  Matilda  gave  her  hand  to  the  knight  who  had  so 
terribly  bruised  her  with  his  arm.  She  loved  him,  she  said,  be- 
cause he  had  shown  more  than  the  courage  of  common  knights,  by 
daring  to  beat  her  within  sight  of  her  father's  own  palace.  But 
all's  well  that  ends  well ;  they  were  not  only  a  handsome  but  a 
happy  couple,  and  Matilda  was  head  of  the  household  at  the  Con- 
queror's hearth.     The  general's  wife  was  there  the  general. 

How  William  bore  himself  in  fight  is  too  well  known  to  need 
recapitulating  here.  He  probably  never  knew  fear  but  once,  and 
that  was  at  the  sounds  of  a  tumult  in  the  street,  which  reached  his 
ears  as  he  was  being  crowned.     Then,  indeed,  '^  'tis  true  this  god 


8S0  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS, 

did  sbake/'  for  the  first  and  only  time.  His  successor,  who  was 
knighted  hj  Archbishop  Laiifranc,  wa^  in  the  field  as  good  a 
knight  as  he,  and  generous  to  an  adversary,  although  he  was  never 
so  to  any  mortal  besides.  But  Rufus  was  nothing  of  a  knight  in 
his  bearing  toward  ladies.  His  taste  with  regard  to  the  fair  sex 
was  of  the  worst  sort ;  and  the  court  of  this  royal  and  reprobate 
bachelor  was  a  reproach  at  once  to  kingship  and  knighthood,  to 
Christianity  and  civilization.  He  had  been  accused,  or  rather  the 
knights  of  his  time  and  country,  with  having  introduced  into  Eng- 
land the  practice  of  a  crime  of  which  the  real  introducer,  according 
to  others,  was  that  Prince  William  who  was  drowned  so  fortunately 
for  England,  on  the  sea  between  Calais  and  Dover.  The  chival- 
rous magnanimity  of  Rufus  is  exemplified  in  the  circumstance  of  his 
having,  in  disguise,  attacked  a  cavalier,  from  whom  he  received  so 
sound  a  beating,  that  he  was  at  length  oompeUed  to  avow  himself 
in  order  to  induce  his  conqueror  to  spare  his  life.  The  terrified 
victor  made  an  apology,  in  the  very  spirit  of  the  French  knight 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  a  dying  cavalier  of  the  Golden  Spur,  whom 
he  had  mortally  wounded  in  mistake :  ^'  I  b^  a  thousand  par- 
dons," said  the  polite  Frenchman,  ^^  but  I  really  took  you  for  some- 
body else."  So  William's  vanquisher  began  to  excuse  himself  for 
having  nearly  battered  the  king's  skull  to  a  jelly,  with  his  battle- 
axe,  on  the  ground  of  his  having  been  unacquainted  with  his  rank. 
^  Never  heed  the  matter,"  said  the  king,  '^  you  are  a  good  fellow, 
and  shall,  henceforth,  be  a  follower  of  mine."  Many  similar  in- 
stances might  be  cited.  Further,  Rufus  was  highly  popular  with 
all  men-at-arms ;  the  knights  reverenced  him  as  the  very  fiower 
of  chivalry,  and  I  am  glad  that  the  opprobrium  of  having  slain 
hmi  in  the  New  Forest  no  longer  attaches  itself  to  a  knight,  al- 
though I  am  sorry  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  fix  it  upon  the 
church.  No  one  now  believes  that  Sir  Walter  Tyrrel  was  the 
author  of  the  crime,  and  chivalry  is  acquitted  of  the  charge  against 
one  of  its  members  of  having  slain  the  flaxen-haired  but  rubicund- 
nosed  king. 

Henry  Beauclerc  was  more  of  a  scholar  than  a  knight,  without, 
however,  being  so  very  much  of  the  first.  The  English-bom 
prince  was  far  less  chivalrous  of  spirit  than  his  former  brother 
Robert ;  that  is,  if  not  less  brave,  he  was  less  generous,  especially 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS.  831 

to  a  foe.  When  he  was  besieged  on  St  MichaeFs  Mount  by 
Robert,  and  reduced  to  such  straita  that  he  was  near  dying  of  thirst, 
Robert  supplied  him  with  water ;  an  act  for  which  Rufus  caUed. 
the  doer  of  it  a  fool ;  but  as  poor  Robert  nobly  remarked,  the 
quarrel  between  him  and  their  brother  was  not  of  such  importance 
that  he  should  be  made  to  perish  of  thirst.  ^  We  may  have  oc- 
casion," said  he,  "  for  a  brother  hereafter ;  but  where  shall  we  find 
one,  if  we  now  destroy  this  ?"  Henry  would  hardly  have  imi- 
tated conduct  so  chivalrously  generous.  He  was  more  knightly 
in  love,  and  it  is  recorded  to  his  honor,  that  he  married  Matilda, 
daughter  of  Malcolm,  King  of  Scotland,  for  pure  love,  and  not  for 
"  filthy  lucre,"  preferring  to  have  her  ydthout  a  marriage  portion, 
than  to  wait  till  one  could  be  provided  for  her.  This  would  have 
been  praiseworthy  enough  had  Henry  not  been,  subsequently,  like 
many  other  persons  who  marry  in  haste — for  ever  looking  for 
pecuniary  assistance  from  other  resources  than  his  own.  He 
especially  lacked  too  what  was  enjoined  on  every  knight,  a  love 
of  truth.  His  own  promises  were  violated  with  alacrity,  when 
the  violation  brought  profit.  He  wanted,  too,  the  common  virtue 
of  fidelity,  which  men  of  knightly  rank  were  supposed  to  possess 
above  all  others.  The  fact  that  fifteen  illegitimate  children  sur- 
vived him, -speaks  little  for  his  respect  for  either  of  his  consorts, 
Matilda  of  Scotland,  or  Adelicia  of  Louvain.  Generally  speak- 
ing, however,  the  character  of  the  royal  scholar  may  be  described 
in  any  terms,  according  to  the  view  in  which  it  is  taken.  With 
some  historians,  he  is  all  virtue,  with  others  all  vice. 

Stephen  had  more  of  the  knightly  character  about  him.  He 
was  an  accomplished  swordsman,  and  loved  the  sound  of  battle  as 
became  the  spirit  of  the  times,  which  considered  the  king  as  the 
first  knight  in  the  land.  He  had  as  little  regard  as  Henry  for  a 
sense  of  justice  when  disposed  to  seize  upon  that  to  which  he  had 
no  right,  but  he  was  incontestably  brave,  as  he  was  indefensibly 
rash.  Stephen  received  the  spurs  ^f  knighthood  from  his  uncle, 
Henry  I.,  previous  to  the  battle  of  Tinchebray ;  and  in  that  fray 
he  so  bore  himself  as  to  show  that  he  was  worthy  of  the  honor 
that  had  been  conferred  upon  him.  But  Stephen  was  as  faithless 
to  his  marriage  vow  as  many  other  belted  knights,  and  Matilda  of 
Boulogne  had  to  mourn  over  the  faithlessness  of  one  who  had 


832  THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  PAYS. 

sworn  to  be  faithfuL  It  is  said,  too,  of  this  king  that  he  always 
went  into  battle  terribly  arrayed*  This  was  in  the  spirit  of  those 
birds  that  raise  their  crests  to  affright  their  enemies. 

Henry  II.,  like  his  brother  kings,  we  can  only  consider  in  his 
character  of  knight.  In  this  character  he  is  ahnost  unexception- 
able, which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  him  generally  ajs  king  or 
as  man.  He  was  brave  and  generous,  two  chief  characteristics 
of  knighthood.  He  it  was  who  abolished  that  burdensome  and 
unprofitable  feudal  military  service,  which  brought  the  barons  or 
military  tenants  into  the  field,  for  forty  days.  The  camp  conse- 
quently abounded  in  unskilful  and  disorderly  men.  Henry  ac- 
cordingly introduced  the  practice  of  commuting  their  military  ser- 
vice for  money,  by  levying  scutages  ^m  his  baronies  and  knights- 
fees,  or  so  much  for  every  shield  or  bearer  of  it  that  shatUd  attend 
but  had  purchased  exemption. 

Henry  II.,  not  only  loved  knightly  practice  himself,  but  he 
loved  to  see  his  sons  exercising  knight-errantry,  and  wandering 
about  in  disguise  from  court  to  court,  displaying  their  prowess  in 
tournaments,  and  carrying  off  prizes  from  aU  adversaries.  To  the 
stories  of  these  adventures  of  his  by  no  means  exemplary  sons  he 
would  listen  with  delight  He  was  himself,  however,  a  sire  who 
set  but  indifferent  example  to  his  children ;  and  his  two  sons,  of 
whom  fair  Rosamond  was  the  another,  were  brought  up  and  edu- 
cated with  his  children  by  Eleanor.  He  received  much  knightly 
service  and  true  affection  from  his  iUegitimate  children.  William, 
£arl  of  Salisbury,  is  known  by  his  chivalric  surname  of  "  Long- 
sword,"  but  Geoffrey,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  the  second  son  of  Henry 
and  Rosamond,  was  not  the  less  a  knight  for  being  a  bishop  before 
he  was  twenty.  It  was  this  prelate  who,  at  the  head  of  an  armed 
force  put  down  the  first  great  northern  insurrection.  He  was  on 
his  triumphant  way  back,  at  the  head  of  one  hundred  and  forty 
knights,  when  he  was  met  by  his  royal  sire,  who  embraced  him 
warmly,  exclaiming  the  wbAe,  ^^Thou  alone  art  my  legitimate 
son,  the  rest  are  all  bastards."  That  he  himself  could  endure 
much  was  evinced  when  he  submitted  to  correction  at  the  shrine 
of  Becket.  He  was  flagellated  by  the  prelates,  abbots,  bishop,  and 
eighty  monks ;  and  the  first  refreshment  he  took  after  the  long  pen- 
ance, was  some  water  in  which  a  portion  of  Becket's  blood  was  mui- 


THE  KINGS   OP  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS.  388 

gled.  His  claim  to  be  considered  chivalrous  never  suffered,  in  the 
mind  of  the  church  at  least,  because  of  this  humiliatiDg  submission. 

But  in  the  dissensions  which  led  to  this  humiliation,  the  church 
incurred  perhaps  more  disgrace  than  the  king.  Nothing  could 
possibly  be  more  disgraceful  than  the  conduct  of  the  pope  and 
the  diplomacy  of  the  Roman  government  throughout  the  continua- 
tion of  the  quarrel  between  Becket  and  the  king.  Double-dealing, 
atrocious  deceit,  and  an  unblushing  disregard  for  truth,  marked 
every  act  of  him  who  was  looked  upon  as  the  spiritual  head  of 
Cluistendom.  Comparing  Becket  with  the  king,  it  is  impossible  to 
avoid  coming  to  the  conclusion  that,  in  many  of  the  requirements 
of  knighthood,  he  was  superior  to  the  sovereign.  His  death,  that  is 
the  way  in  which  he  met  it,  was  sublime.  Throughout  the  great 
quarrel,  of  which  that  death  was  a  consequence,  Becket  never, 
like  Henry,  in  his  moments  of  defeat  and  discouragement,  gave 
way  to  such  impotent  manifestations  of  rage  as  were  shown  by  his 
royal  antagonist.  The  latter  forgot  the  dignity,  not  only  of  knight, 
but  of  manhood,  when  he  was  seen  casting  his  cap  violently  to  the 
earth,  flinging  away  his  belt,  tearing  his  clothes  from  his  body,  and 
dragging  the  silk  coverlet  from  his  bed,  on  which,  in  presence  of 
his  captains,  he  rolled  himself  like  a  maniac,  grasping  the  mattress 
in  his  mouth,  and  gnawing  the  wool  and  the  horsehair  which  he 
drew  out  with  his  teeth. 

Richard  I.  has  a  brilliant  reputation  as  a  knight,  and  if  valor 
were  the  only  virtue  required,  he  would  not  be  undeserving  of  the 
pre-eminence  which  is  claimed  for  him.  But  this  was  his  sole 
virtue.  Of  the  other  qualifications  for,  or  qualities  of  chivalry, 
he  knew  nothing,  or  little  cared  for  them.  He  was  faithless  in 
love ;  regardless  of  his  pledged  word ;  cruel,  extravagant,  dishon- 
est; and  not  even  always  brave,,  when  away  from  the  clamor  and 
excitements  of  war.  But  John  lacked  the  one  rough  quality  of 
Richard,  and  was  not  even  brave — that  is  to  say,  he  was  not  distin- 
guishedly  braye.  When  he  stole  away  Isabella  of  Angouleme  from 
her  first  lover.  Sir  Hugh  de  Lusignan,  it  was  not  done  with  the 
dashing  gallantry  of  Young  Lochinvar.  John,  in  fact,  was  a  shabby 
and  recreant  knight ;  and  when  stout  Sir  Hugh  challenged  him  to 
single  combat,  because  of  his  crime  of  abduction,  John  offered  to 
accept  it  by  deputy,  and  to  fight  also  by  deputy.     Sir  Hugh  knew 


334  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

the  crayen  prince  thoroughly,  and  tmly  enough  remarked  that  the 
deputy  would  be  a  mere  assassin,  and  he  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  either  principal  or  representative.  John  kept  the  lady ; 
and,  if  there  be  any  persons  curious  to  see  how  niggardly  he  kept 
her,  they  are  referred  to  the  duly  published  chronicles  wherein 
there  are  full  details. 

Henry  lU.  was  the  most  pacifically-minded  of  the  kings  of 
England  who  had  hitherto  reigned.  He  had  little  of  the  knight 
about  him,  except  the  courtesy,  and  he  could  occasionally  forget 
even  that  Devotion  to  the  fair,  too,  may  fairly  be  reckoned 
among  his  knightly  qualities ;  but  he  lacked  the  crowning  virtue 
of  fidelity.  He  wooed  many,  was  rejected  by  several,  and  jOted 
the  few  who  believed  in  him.  He  exhibited,  it  must  be  allowed, 
a  chivalrous  generosity  in  at  last  marrying  Eleanor  of  Castile, 
without  dowry ;  but  he  was  not  the  moro  true  to  her  on  that  ac- 
count Mild  as  he  was  by  nature,  he  was  the  especial  favorite 
of  the  most  warlike  of  the  orders  of  knighthood — the  Templars. 
They  mourned  for  him  when  dead,  as  though  he  had  been  the 
very  flower  of  chivalry,  and  the  most  approved  master  of  their 
order.  They  buried  him,  too,  with  a  pomp  which  must  have 
drawn  largely  even  on  their  well-lined  purses,  and  the  Knights 
of  the  Temple  deposited  the  king  in  the  tomb  of  the  most  pious 
of  monarchs — Edward  the  Confessor.  It  is  difficult  to  say  why 
the  Templars  had  such  love  for  the  weak  king,  for  he  was  not  an 
encourager  of  knightly  associations  and  observations.  At  the  same 
time  he  may  be  said  to  have  lowered  the  estimation  in  which 
knighthood  had  been  held,  by  making  the  honor  itself  cheap,  and 
sometimes  even  less  tl\an  that — unwelcome.  Henry  III.  issued 
a  writ  in  the  twenty-ninth  year  of  his  reign,  summoning  tenants 
in  chief  to  come  and  receive  knighthood  at  his  hands :  and  tenants 
of  mesne  lords  to  be  knighted  by  whomsoever  they  pleased.  It 
may  be  believed  that  this  last  permission  was  abused,  for  soon 
afler  tlus  period  'Mt  became  an  established  principle  of  our  law 
that  no  subject  can  confer  knighthood  except  by  the  king's  author- 
ity." So  says  Hallam.  The  most  extraordinary  law  or  custom 
of  this  reign  with  respect  to  chivalry  was,  that  any  man  who  pos* 
sessed  an  annual  income  of  fifteen  pounds  derived  from  land,  waa 
to  be  compelled  to  receive  the  honor  Of  knighthood. 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS*  385 

The  successor  of  Henry,  Edward  L,  was  of  a  far  more  knightly 
quality.  Faithful  in  love,  intrepid  in  battle,  generous  to  the  needy, 
and  eourteous  to  all — except  when  his  temper  was  crossed — he 
may  pass  muster  as  a  very  respectable  knight.  He  was  active 
and  strong,  and,  with  one  hand  on  the  back  of  his  steed,  could 
vault,  at  a  single  bound,  into  the  saddle.  Few  men  cared  less  for 
finery.  He  was  even  reproved  on  one  -occasion  by  a  bishop,  for 
being  dressed  beneath  his  dignity  of  either  king  or  knight.  •*  Fa- 
ther," said  Edward,  "  what  could  I  do  more  in  royal  robes  tha» 
in  this  plain  gaberdine  ?" 

Edward  would  have  acted  little  in  the  spirit  of  a  true  knight 
if  he  had  really  acted  toward  the  Bards,  according  to  the  cruel 
fashion  recorded  in  history.  I  am  inclined  to  beHeve  with  Da- 
vies,  in  his  "  Mjrthology  of  the  Druids,"  that  this  king  has  been 
calumniated  in  this  respect.  ^'  There  is  not  the  name/'  says  Da- 
vies,  "  of  a  single  bard  upon  record  who  suffered  either  by  his 
hand  or  by  his  orders.  His  real  act  was  the  removal  of  that  pat- 
ronage, under  which  the  bards  had,  hitherto,  cherished  the  heatheur 
ish  superstition  of  their  ancestors,  to  the  disgrace  of  our  native 
princes."  This  king  showed  a  feeling  common  with  many  knights, 
that  however  indifferently  they  might  look  living,  in  rusty  armor 
or  faded  mantle,  they  should  wear  a  decent  and  comely  covering 
when  dead.  Thus  he  ordered  that  every  year  his  tomb  should 
be  opened,  and  his  remains  covered  with  a  new  cere-doth  or  pall. 
It  was  a  pride  akin  to  that  of  Mrs.  Oldfield's,  in  the  days  of  our 
grandmothers,  who  was  buried  in  a  Brussels  lace  head-dress,  a 
Holland  shift  with  tucker  and  double  ruffles  of  the  same  lace,  and 
a  pair  of  new  kid  gloves.  The  same  weakness  of  nature  marked 
both  the  tragedy-queen  and  the  actual  king ;  and  4t  marks  many 
more  than  they.  There  was  more  humility,  however,  in  the  sec- 
ond Duke  Richard  of  Normandy,  who  was  far  more  chivalrous 
than  Edward  I.,  and  who  ordered  his  body  to  be  buried  at  the 
church-door,  where  passengers  might  tread  upon  it,  and  the  spouts 
from  the  roof  discharge  their  water  upon  it. 

It  was  in  the  religious  spirit  of  chivalry  that  Edward  I.  expelled 
th^  Jews.  One  curious  result  is  said  to  have  followed.  Report 
alleges  that  many  of  the  Jewish  families  fled  into  Scotland,  where 


336        .  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  TBEIB  DATS. 

^  they  have  propagated  ever  since  in  great  numbers ;  witness  the 
aversion  this  nation  has  above  others  to  hog's  flesh." 

Of  the  unfortunate  Edward  II.,  it  may  be  said  that  he  was  an 
indifferent  knight,  who  gave  the  honors  of  chivaby  to  very  indif- 
ferent persons,  and  committed  great  outrages  on  knightly  orders 
themselves.  In  the  annals  of  knighthood  he  is  remembered  as  the 
monarch  who  abolished  the  Order  of  Knights  Templars  in  Eng- 
land. He  treated  the  luckless  chevaliers  with  for  more  generosity 
than  Henry  VIII.  observed  toward  the  ejected  monks  and  ab- 
bots. He  allowed  two  shillings  per  day  to  the  deprived  master 
of  the  Temple,  and  fourpence  each  daily  to  the  other  knights  for 
their  support,  out  of  their  former  confiscated  property.  Edward 
himself  loved  carousing  and  hunting,  more  than  any  other  pastime. 
There  were  other  pleasures,  indeed,  in  which  he  greatly  delighted, 
and  these  are  well  catalogued  in  one  of  Gaveston's  speeches  in 
Marlowe's  tragedy,  called  by  this  king's  name : — 

"  I  mast  hare  wanton  poets,  pleasant  wits, 
Musicians,  that  with  teaching  of  a  string, 
May  draw  the  pliant  king  which  way  I  please ; 
Music  and  poetry  are  his  delight. 
Therefore  I'll  have  Italian  masks  by  night, 
Sweet  speeches,  comedies,  and  pleasing  slavei ; 
And  in  the  day,  when  he  shall  walk  abroad, 
Like  sylvan  nymphs  my  pages  shall  be  clad ; 
My  men,  like  satyrs  grazing  on  the  lawns, 
Shall  with  tbeir  goats'  feet  dance  the  antic  lay. 
Sometimes  a  lovely  boy,  in  Dian's  shape, 
With  hair  that  gilds  the  water  as  it  glides 
Coronets  of  pearl  about  his  naked  arms, 
And  in  his  sportive  hands  an  olive-tree. 
To  liide  those  parts  which  men  delight  te  see, 
Shall  bathe  him  in  a  spring ;  and  there  hard  by 
One,  like  Actason,  peeping  through  the  grove, 
Shall  by  the  angry  goddess  be  transformed, 
And  running  in  the  likeness  of  a  hart. 
By  yelping  hounds  pulled  down,  shall  seem  to  die ; 
Such  things  as  these  best  please  his  majesty." 

How  dearly  he  paid  for  indulgence  in  such  pleasures,  and  how 
meekly  he  accepted  his  fierce  destiny  or  retributian«  need  not  be 
detailed  here. 


THE  KINGS   OP  ENGLAND   AS   KNIGHTS.  837 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  character  of  Edward  II.  him- 
self,  his  chivalry  wrought  little  good  for  the  realm.  The  crown  of 
England  during  his  reign  was  weaker ;  and  as  the  knight-histo- 
rian, Sir  J.  Davies,  remarks  in  his  History  of  Ireland,  "  suffered 
more  dishonor  in  both  kingdoms  than  at  any  time  since  the  Norman 
Conquest."  There  were  few  such  honest  knights,  too,  in  that 
reign,  as  in  that  of  the  third  Edward,  when  Sir  Thomas  Rookes- 
by,  an  eminent  law-knight  and  judge,  was  wont  to  say  that  he 
•*  would  eat  in  wooden  dishes,  but  would  pay  gold  and  silver  for 
his  meat."  In  this  speech  a  blow  was  dealt  at  the  extravagant 
people  who  in  order  "  to  eat  off  plate,"  made  no  scruple  of  cheat- 
ing their  butcher. 

In  Edward  III.  we  have  a  king  who  is  more  closely  connected 
with  knightly  associations  in  our  memory  than  any  other  sovereign 
of  England.  He  it  was  who,  by  reviving  or  reconstructing  the 
ancient  order,  founded  by  Richard  I.,  of  "  The  Blue  Thong" — a 
leather  knee-band,  worn  by  certain  of  the  English  crusaders — 
formed  that  brilliant  Order  of  the  Garter,  which  has  been  con- 
ferred on  so  few  who  are  deserving,  and  on  so  many  whose 
claims  were  not  so  great  as  their  "  pretensions." 

How  far  gallantry  to  the  Countess  of  Salisbury  had  to  do  with 
the  renewing  of  the  Order  of  the  Blue  Thong,  under  the  name  of 
the  Grarter,  is  still  an  unsettled  rather  than  a  disputed  point. 
Froissart's  account  is:  "You  have  all  heard  how  passionately 
King  Edward  was  smitten  with  the  channs  of  the  noble  Lady 
Katherine,  Countess  of  Salisbury.  Out  of  affection  to  the  said 
lady,  and  his  desire  to  see  her,  he  proclaimed  a  great  feast,  in 
August,  1343.  He  commanded  all  his  own  lords  and  knights 
should  be  there  without  fail,  and  he  expressly  ordered  the  Earl 
of  Salisbury  to  bring  his  lady,  his  wife,  with  as  many  young  ladies 
as  she  could  collect  to  attend  her.  The  Earl  very  cheerfully  com- 
plied with  the  king*s  reqi;est,  for  he  thought  no  evil,  and  his  good 
lady  dared  not  to  say  nay.  She  came,  however,  much  against  her 
will,  for  she  guessed  the  reason  which  made  the  king  so  earnest 
for  her  attendance,  but  was  afraid  to  discover  it  to  her  husband, 
intending  by  her  conduct  to  make  the  king  change  liis  opinion.  .  . 
All  the  ladies  and  damsels  who  s^isted  at  the  first  convocation  of 
the  Order  of  the  Garter  came  superbly  dressed,  excepting  the 

22 


888  THE  KNIQHTB  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Countess  of  Salisbury,  who  attended  the  festival,  dressed  as  plainly 
as  possible ;  she  did  not  wish  the  king  to  admire  her,  for  she  had  no 
intention  to  obey  him  in  anything  evO,  that  might  tend  to  the  dis- 
honor  of  her  dear  lord."  The  repetition  of  the  word  evil  here,  has 
probably  nothing  to  do  with  the  motto  of  the  Garter,  but  I  may 
notice  that  when  Froissart  calls  the  above  festival  a  convocation  of 
the  order,  he  is  in  error,  for,  the  first  chapter  of  the  Garter  was 
held  at  Windsor,  on  St.  George's  Day,  1844.  At  this  chapter 
Queen  Philippa  was  present  in  the  robes  of  the  order ;  for  every 
knight's  lady  in  the  olden  tune  shared  in  the  knightly  honors  of 
her  lord. 

How  Edward  bore  himsdf  in  tournament  and  battle  we  all 
know.  Both  historians  and  poets  have  rejoiced  to  exhibit  this 
chivalrous  monarch  as  a  lover,  and  he  is  even  more  interesting  as 
a  knight  in  love  than  as  one  in  war,  and  moreover  as  the  account 
of  him  in  the  former  character  reveals  some  other  incidents  of 
knightly  life,  I  will  borrow  Froissart's  historical  picture  of  Edward 
in  a  lady's  bower,  and  contrast  therewith  the  picture  of  the  same 
monarch  in  the  same  circumstances,  as  depicted  by  the  hands  of  a 
poet  It  is  only  necessary  to  premise  that  the  lady  who  was  the 
object  of  Edward's  homage  was  Katherine  de  Granson,  daughter 
of  a  handsome,  penniless  knight,  and  a  rich  Wiltshire  heiress 
named  Sibyl.  "  Katherine  the  fair,"  says  Miss  Strickland,  "  was 
the  only  child  of  this  couple,  and  was  richly  endowed  with  her 
mother's  wealth  and  her  father's  beauty.  She  bestowed  both  on 
the  brave  Earl  of  Salisbury" — who,  if  he  was  ugly  as  he  was  val- 
iant, must  have  been  grateful  for  the  gift  of  the  beauty  of  William 
de  Granson. 

When  Edward  wooed  the  countess,  the  earl  was  a  prisoner  in 
France,  and  the  lady's  castle  of  Wark  had  just  been  relieved  from 
siege  laid  against  it  by  an  army  of  Scots.  ^  The  moment  the 
countess  heard  the  king*s  approach  she  ordered  all  the  gates  to  be 
thrown  open,  and  went  out  to  meet  him  most  richly  dressed,  inso- 
much that  no  one  could  look  at  her,  but  with  wonder  and  admira- 
tion at  her  noble  deportment  and  affability  of  behavior.  When 
she  came  near  King  Edward  she  made  her  obeisance  to  the  ground, 
and  gave  him  thanks  for  coming  to  her  assistance,  and  then  con- 
ducted him  into  the  castle,  to  entertain  and  honor  him,  as  she  was 


THE  KINGS  OP  ENGLAND   AS  KNIGHTS.  889 

very  capable  of  doing.  Every  one  was  delighted  with  her ;  but 
the  king  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  her ;  so  that  a  spark  of  fine 
love  struck  upon  his  heart,  which  lasted  for  a  long  time,  for  he  did 
not  believe,  that  the  whole  world  produced  another  such  a  lady,  so 
worthy  of  being  beloved.  Thus  they  entered  the  castle,  hand  in 
hand.  The  countess  led  him  first  to  the  hall,  and  then  to  the  best 
chamber  which  was  very  richly  furnished  as  belonging  to  so  fine 
a  lady.  King  Edward  kept  his  eyes  so  fixed  upon  the  countess 
that  the  gentle  lady  was  quite  abashed.  After  he  had  sufiiciently 
examined  his  apartment,  he  retired  to  a  window,  and  leaning  on  it, 
fell  into  a  profound  revery. 

"  The  countess  left  him,  to  order  dinner  to  be  made  ready,  imd 
the  table  set,  and  the  hall  ornamented  and  set  out ;  likewise  to 
welcome  the  knights  and  lords  who  accompanied  the  king.  When 
she  had  given  all  the  orders  to  her  servants  she  thought  needful, 
she  returned  with  a  cheerful  countenance  to  King  Edward  and 
said :  '  Dear  sir,  what  are  you  musing  on  ?  Such  meditation  is 
not  proper  for  you,  saving  your  grace !  You  ought  rather  to  be 
in  high  spirits,  having  freed  England  from  her  enemy  without  loss 
of  blood.'  The  king  replied,  ^  Oh,  dear  lady,  you  must  know 
since  I  have  been  in  this  castle,  some  thoughts  have  oppressed 
my  mind  that  I  was  not  before  aware  of,  so  that  it  behooves  me  to 
reflect.  Being  uncertain  what  may  be  the  event,  I  can  not  with- 
draw my  attention.'  '  Dear  sir,'  answered  the  lady,  *  you  ought 
to  be  of  good  cheer^  and  feast  with  your  friends  to  give  them  more 
pleasure,  and  leave  oiF  pondering,  for  God  has  been  very  bountiful 
to  you  in  your  undertakings,  so  that  you  are  the  most  feared  and 
renowned  prince  in  Christendom.  If  the  king  of  Scotland  have 
vexed  you  by  the  mischief  he  hath  done  in  your  kingdom,  you 
will  speedily  be  able  to  make  reprisals  in  his  dominions.  There- 
fore, come,  if  it  please  you,  into  the  hall  to  your  knights,  for  your 
dinner  will  soon  be  served.'  ^  Oh,  sweet  lady,'  said  King  Ed- 
ward, *  there  be  other  things  which  touch  my  heart  and  lie  heavy 
there,  than  what  you  talk  of.  For  in  good  truth,  your  beauteous 
mien,  and  the  perfection  of  your  face  and  behavior  have  wholly 
overcome  me,  and  so  deeply  impress  my  heart,  that  my  happiness 
wholly  depends  on  meeting  a  return  to  my  flame,  which  no  denial 
from  you  can  ever  extinguish.'     '  Oh,  my  dear  lord,'  replied  the 


840  THE  ENIQHT8  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

conntess,  *  do  not  omase  yourself  by  laughing  at  me  with  tiying 
to  tempt  me ;  for  I  can  not  believe  you  are  in  earnest  as  to  what 
you  liave  just  said.  Is  it  likely  that  so  gallant  and  noble  a  prince, 
as  you  are,  would  ever  think  of  dishonoring  either  me  or  my  hus- 
band, a  valiant  knight,  who  has  served  you  so  ^eiithfully,  and  who 
now  lies  in  a  doleful  prison  on  your  account  ?  Certainly,  sir,  this 
would  not  redound  to  your  glory,  nor  would  you  be  the  better  if 
you  could  have  your  wayward  will.' 

"  The  virtuous  lady  then  quitted  the  king,  who  was  astonished 
at  her  words.  She  went  into  the  hall  to  hasten  dinner ;  afterward 
she  approached  the  king's  chamber,  attended  by  all  the  knights, 
and  said  to  him,  '  My  lord  king,  your  knights  are  all  waiting  for 
you,  to  wash  their  hands,  for  they,  as  well  as  yourself,  have  fasted 
too  long.'  King  Edward  lefl  his  apartment,  and  came  to  the  hall, 
where,  afler  he  had  washed  his  hands,  he  seated  himself  with  his 
knights  at  the  dinner,  as  did  the  lady  also;  but  the  king  ate  very 
little,  and  was  the  Whole  time  pensive,  casting  his  eyes,  whenever 
he  had  the  opportunity,  on  the  countess.  Such  behavior  sur^ 
prised  his  friends,  for  they  were  not  accustomed  to  it,  never  having 
seen  the  like  before  in  the  king.  They  supposed  it  was  his  chagrin 
at  the  departure  of  the  Scots  without  a  battle.  The  king  remained 
at  the  castle  the  whole  day,  without  knowing  what  to  do  with  him- 
self. Thus  did  he  pass  tliat  day  and  a  sleepless  night,  debating 
the  matter  within  his  own  heart  At  daybreak  he  rose,  drew  out 
his  whole  army,  exercised  his  camp,  and  made  ready  to  follow  the 
Scots.  Upon  taking  leave  of  the  countess  he  said,  *  My  dear  lady, 
God  preserve  you  safe  till  I  return ;  and  I  pray  that  you  will 
think  well  of  what  I  have  said,  and  have  the  goodness  to  give  me 
a  different  answer.'  *  My  gracious  liege,'  replied  the  countess, 
*  God  of  his  infinite  goodness  preserve  you,  and  drive  from  your 
noble  heart  such  villanous  thoughts,  for  I  am,  and  ever  shall  be, 
willing  to  serve  you,  but  only  in  what  is  consistent  with  my  honor 
and  with  yours.'  The  king  left  her,  quite  astonished  at  her  an- 
swers." He  was,  in  fact,  a  very  villanous  personage  in  these  mat- 
ters, and  looked  for  as  much  submission  from  those  ladies  on  whom 
he  cast  his  eyes,  as  the  Czar  Nicholas  did  from  the  loyal  ladies 
whom  that  "  copper  captain"  delighted  to  favor. 

An  unknown  poet,  of  the  period  between  1590  and  1600,  in  an 


THE  KINGS  OP  ENGLAND   AS   KNIGHTS.  841 

historical  play  entitled  "  Edward  III."  has  reproduced  this  inci- 
dent, and  worked  it  up  for  the  stage — with  some  touches  which 
are  probably  warranted  by  facts,  and  which,  for  that  reason  alone, 
render  the  passage  worth  transcribing. 

Edxoard  (solus).  She  is  gi'o^vn  more  fairer  far,  since  I  came  hither. 
Her  voice  more  silver  ev'ry  word  than  other. 
Her  wit  more  flaent ;  what  a  strange  discourse 
Unfolded  she  of  David  and  his  Scots  ! 
Even  thus,  quoth  she,  he  spoke ;  and  then  spake  broad 
With  epithets  and  accent  of  the  Scot; 
But  somewhat  better  than  the  Scot  could  speak : 
And  then,  quoth  she,  and  answered  then  herself ; 
For  who  could  speak  like  her  1  but  she  herself 
Breathes  from  the  wall  an  angel  note  from  heaven 
Of  sweet  defiance  to  her  barbarous  foes  — 
When  she  could  talk  of  peace,  methinks  her  tongue 
Commanded  war  to  prison ;  when  of  war. 
It  wakened  Csssar  from  his  Roman  grave, 
To  hear  war  beautified  by  her  discourse. 
Wisdom  is  foolishness,  but  in  her  tongue ; 
Beauty  is  slander,  but  in  her  fair  face ; 
There  is  no  summer,  but  in  her  cheerful  looks ; 
Nor  frosty  winter,  but  in  her  disdain. 
I  can  not  blame  the  Scots  that  did  besiege  her. 
For  she  is  all  the  treasure  of  our  land ; 
But  call  them  cowards  that  they  ran  away, 
Having  so  rich  and  fair  a  cause  to  stay. 

Countess,  Sorry  am  I  to  see  my  liege  so  sad ; 
What  may  thy  subject  do  to  drive  from  thee 
This  gloomy  consort,  sullen  Melancholy  ? 

Eduxxrd.  Ah,  Lady !  I  am  blunt  and  can  not  straw 
The  flowers  of  solace  in  a  ground  of  shame. 
Since  I  came  hither,  Countess,  I  am  wronged. 

Countess.  Now,  God  forbid  that  any  in  my  house 
Should  think  my  sovereign  wrong !    Thrice  gentle  king. 
Acquaint  me  with  your  cause  of  discontent. 

Edward.  How  near  then  shall  I  be  to  remedy  ? 

Countess.  As  near,  my  liege,  as  all  my  woman's  power 
Can  pawn  itself  to  buy  thy  remedy. 

Edward.  If  thou  speak'st  true,  then  have  I  my  redress. 
Engage  thy  power  to  redeem  my  joys, 
And  I  am  joyful,  Countess ;  else  I  die.  I 

Countess.  I  will,  my  liejfc. 


842  THi:   KNIGHTS   AND  TUEIK  DATS. 

Edward,  Swear,  Countess,  that  thou  wilt. 

OmnUu.  Bj  Heaven,  I  will ! 

Edward.  Then  take  thyself  a  little  way  aside. 
And  tell  thyself  a  king  doth  dote  on  thee. 
Say  that  within  thy  power  it  doth  lie 
To  make  him  happy ;  and  that  thou  hast  sworn 
To  jfive  him  all  the  joy  within  thy  power. 
Do  this,  and  tell  him,  when  I  shall  be  happy. 

Countess.  All  this  is  done,  my  thrice-dread  sovereign. 
That  power  of  love  that  I  have  power  to  give 
Thoa  hast,  with  all  devoat  obedience. 
Employ  me  how  thou  wilt,  in  proof  thereof. 

Edward.  Thou  hear'st  me  say  that  I  do  dote  on  thee. 

Countess.  If  on  my  beaaty,  take  it,  if  thou  canst. 
Though  little,  I  do  prize  it  ten  times  less ; 
If  on  my  virtue,  take  it,  if  thou  canst ; 
For  virtue's  store,  by  giving,  doth  augment. 
Be  it  on  what  it  will  that  I  can  give. 
And  thou  canst  take  away,  inherit  it. 

Edward.  It  is  thy  beauty  that  I  would  enjoy. 

Countess.  Oh !  were  it  painted,  I  would  wipe  it  off, 
And  dispossess  myself  to  give  it  thee. 
But,  sov'reig^,  it  is  soldered  to  my  life. 
Take  one  and  both ;  for,  like  an  humble  shadow. 
It  haunts  the  sunshine  of  my  summer's  life. 

Edward.  But  thou  mayst  lend  it  me  in  sport  withal. 

Countess.  As  easy  may  my  intellectual  soul 
Be  lent  away,  and  yet  my  body  live. 
As  lend  my  body  (palace  to  my  soul) 
Away  from  her,  and  yet  retain  my  soul. 
My  body  is  her  bower,  her  court,  her  abbey. 
And  she  an  angel,  pure,  divine,  unspotted. 
If  I  should  lend  her  house,  my  lord/to  thee, 
I  kill  my  poor  soul,  and  my  poor  soul  me. 

Edward.  Didst  thou  not  swear  to  give  me  what  I  would  ? 

Countess.  I  did,  my  liege ;  so  what  you  would  I  could. 

Edward.  I  wish  no  more  of  thee  than  thou  mayst  give. 
Nor  beg  I  do  not,  but  I  rather  buy ; 
That  is  thy  love ;  and  for  that  love  of  thine, 
In  rich  exchange  I  tender  to  thee  mine. 

Countess.  But  that  your  lips  were  sacred,  my  good  lord. 
You  would  profane  the  holy  name  of  love. 
That  love  you  offer  me,  you  can  not  give ; 
For  Cssar  owes  that  tribute  to  his  queen. 
That  love  you  beg  of  me  I  can  not  give ; 
For  Sarah  owes  that  duty  to  her  lord. 


THE  KINGS   OP  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS.  343 

He  that  doth  clip  or  coanterfeit  your  stamp 
Shall  die,  my  lord ;  and  shall  your  sacred  self 
Commit  high  treason  'gainst  the  King  of  Heav'n, 
To  stamp  his  image  in  forbidden  metal, 
Forgetting  your  allegiance  and  your  oath  ? 
In  violating  marriage'  sacred,  law 
You  break  a  greater  honor  than  yourself. 
To  be  a  king  is  of  a  younger  house 
Than  to  be  married ;  your  progenitor, 
Sole-reigning  Adam  on  the  universe, 
By  Grod  was  honored  for  a  married  man. 
But  not  by  Him  anointed  for  a  king. 
It  is  a  penalty  to  break  your  statutes, 
Though  not  enacted  with  your  highness'  hand ; 
How  much  more  to  infringe  the  holy  act 
MadeJby  the  mouth  of  God,  sealed  with  his  hand  ? 
I  know  my  sovereign  in  my  husband's  love 
Doth  bat  to  try  the  wife  of  Salisbury, 
Whether  she  will  hear  a  wanton's  tale  or  no ; 
liCst,  being  guilty  therein,  by  my  stay. 
From  that,  not  from  my  liege,  I  turn  away. 

The  coantess,  naturally,  has  the  best  of  the  argument,  and  ' 

shames  the  king.     In  this  pleasant  light  is  she  presented  by  both 

chronicler  and  poet,  and  the  ladj,  chiefly  to  honor  whom  the  Order 

'  of  the  Garter  was  constructed  upon  the  basis  of  the  Order  of  the 

-  Blue  Thong,  was  worthy  of  all  the  distinctive  homage  tliat  could 

be  rendered  to  her  by  knight  or  king. 

Richard  11.,  so  fond  of  parade  and  pleasure,  so  refined  and  in- 
tellectual, so  affable  at  first,  so  despotic  and  absolute  at  last,  till  he 
was  superseded  and  then  slain,  is  among  the  most  melancholy  of 
knights  and  sovereigns.  He  was  not  heroic,  for  he  was  easily  ele- 
vated and  easily  depressed.  He  turned  deadly  pale  on  hearing, 
in  Ireland,  of  the  landing  of  Henry  Bolingbroke  in  England,  and 
that  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  had  preached  in  favor  of  the 
usurper.  He  was  eminently  courageous,  sang  a  roundelay  as  well 
as  any  minstrel,  and  often  made  the  roundelays  he  sung.  He 
looked  little  like  a  knight  indeed  whien  he  traversed  part  of  Wales 
to  Conway,  disguised  as  a  Franciscan  friar ;  or  flying  from  castle 
to  castle,  having  sorry  lodging  and  little  food.  It  was  in  the  dreari 
and  cowl  of  a  monk  that  the  once  chivalrous  Richard  Surrendered 
himself  to  his  cousin.    In  the  army  of  that  cousin,  sent  to  take 


344  TUB  KNIGHXB   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

Richard  and  his  few  faithful  knights  and  squires  who  refused  to 
detach  his  device  from  their  coats,  was  **  Sir  Henry  Percy"  (the 
Hotspur  of  Shakespeare),  "  whom  they  held  to  be  the  best  knight 
in  England." 

It  was  by  persuasion  of  Hotspur's  father  that  Richard  left  Con- 
way for  Flint,  where  he  was  made  prisoner,  and  afberwanl  con- 
veyed to  Chester,  the  English  knights  of  the  opposite  faction  be- 
having to  him  with  most  unchivalric  rudeness.  The  unsceptred 
monarch  was  first  taken  to  Pickering,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
spots  in  England,  defaced  by  scenes  of  the  greatest  crimes,  of 
which  place  knights  and  nobles  were  the  masters.  Thence  he 
passed  on  to  Leeds  and  Ejiaresborough  Castle,  where  the  king's 
chamber  is  still  pointed  out  to  visiters.  Finally,  he  was  carried 
to  "  bloody  Pomfret" — "  fatal  and  ominous  to  noble  peers."  Never, 
it  is  said,  did  man  look  less  like  a  knight  than  the  unhappy  king, 
when  he  appeared  before  the  drawbridge  of  Pontefract  Castle. 
Majestic  still  he  was  in  feature,  but  the  majesty  was  depressed  by 
such  profound  melancholy,  that  few  could  look  upon  the  weeping 
king  without  themselves  shedding  tears.  If  the  picture  of  him  at 
tliis  juncture  might  be  metrically  given  in  outline,  the  following 
sketch  might  feebly  render  it : — 

Who  enters  now  that  gate, 
With  dignity  upon  his  pallid  brow  1 
Who  is  the  man  that,  bending  to  his  fate, 
Comes  hither  now  ? 

A  man  of  wo  he  seems, 
Whom  Sadness  deep  hath  long  marked  for  her  own. 
Hath  sach  a  form  as  that  indulged  in  dreams 

Upon  a  throne  ? 

Have  smiles  e'er  wreathed  that  face  ? 
Face  now  so  stamped  with  every  line  that's  sad ; 
Was  joy  e'er  known  those  quivering  lips  to  graee. 
That  heart  to  glad? 

Who  is  this  shadow's  shade  1 
This  type  of  withered  majesty?  tills  thing? 
Can  it  be  true  that  knightly  form  decayed 
Was  onco  a  king  ? 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND   AS  KNIGHTS.  845 

Son  of  a  noble  sire. 
And  of  his  father's  virtaes  too,  the  heir ; 
Those  eyes  so  dim  once  rivalled  the  sun's  fire  ; 
None  were  more  fair. 

Gallant,  and  light  of  heart, 
The  rock-bora  eagle  was  less  bold  than  he ; 
Pormed  upon  earth  to  play  each  graceful  part 
Enchantingly. 

His  joys  were  early  crushed ; 
His  mind  perverted  by  most  ruthless  men ; 
Hope,  like  a  short-lived  rose,  a  moment  blushed. 
And  withered  then. 

His  virtues  were  his  own ; 
,  His  vices  forced  upon  him,  against  his  will ; 
His  weaker  faults  were  of  his  age  alone— 
That  age  of  ill. 

In  him  thou  seest  the  truth. 
How  tyrannous  and  all-usurping  night. 
Heedless  of  means,  will,  acting  without  ruth, 
Triumph  o'er  Bight. 

Nor  is  this  lesson  sad 
Void  of  instruction  to  the  wary  sent. 
Learn  from  it  with  thy  portion  to  be  glad, 
Meek  and  content. 

And  be,  where'er  thy  path, 
Whate'er  the  trials  life  may  to  thee  bring. 
Grateful  that  Heaven  has  not,  in  its  wrath. 
Made  thee  a  king  1 

Of  the  chivalrous  spirit  of  Henry  IV.  no  one  entertains  a 
doubt,  and  yet  he  once  refused  to  accept  a  chaDenge.  The  chal- 
lenger was  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  had  been  Henry's  sworn 
friend,  accomplice  in  some  of  his  deeds,  and  who,  failing  to  realize 
all  the  advantages  he  expected,  urged  Henry  to  meet. him  in  the 
marches  of  Guienne,  with  a  hundred  knights  on  each  side.  Henry 
fenced  with  the  challenge  rather  than  with  th«  cliallenger,  but 
when  the  latter  called  him  rebel,  usurper,  and  murderer,  he  gave 
his  former  friend  the  lie,  in  no  very  gentle  terms,  as  regarded  the 


846  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

charge  of  being  accessory  to  the  death  of  Richard.  The  little 
flower,  the  Forget-me-not,  owes  some  of  its  popularity  to  Henry, 
who,  previous  to  his  being  king,  and  when  in  exile,  chose  it  for 
his  symbol,  wore  it  in  gold  on  his  collar,  and  added  to  it  by  way 
of  device,  the  words  "  Souvenez  de  moi.'*  It  is  worthy  of  obser- 
vation that,  after  Henry's  death,  his  widow,  Joanna  of  Navarre, 
continued  to  be  recognised  as  a  lady  of  the  Garter,  receiving 
presents  from  Henry  V.  as  such,  and  being  in  attendance  on  high 
festivals,  in  robes  of  the  order,  the  gift  of  the  new  king. 

That  new  king  requires  no  advocacy  as  a  kni^t.  The  simple 
word  "  Agincourt"  is  suflScient  His  wooing  of  Katherine  of  Va- 
lois  is  also  characteristic  of  the  gallant,  if  not  the  amorous  knight 
At  the  betrothal  of  the  illustrious  couple,  Henry  presented  to  the 
lady  his  own  favorite  knight,  Sir  Louis  de  Bobsart,  as  her  per- 
sonal attendant,  to  watch  for  ever  over  her  safety ;  but  this  queen's 
knight  was  simply  the  queen's  keeper,  and  his  chief  mission  was 
to  take  care  that  the  lady  was  not  stolen  from  him,  between  the 
day  of  betrothal  and  that  of  the  royal  nuptials. 

Although  the  reign  of  Henry  V.  formed  a  period  of  ^ory  for 
knighthood,  the  victories  obtained  by  the  chivalrous  combatants 
were  effected  at  such  a  cost,  that  toward  the  close  of  the  reign, 
there  were  not  men  enough  in  England  qualified  to  competently 
carry  on  its  civil  business.  It  was  still  worse  under  Henry  YI. 
When  peace  with  France  was  negotiating,  the  Cardinal  of  Win- 
chester represented  to  the  French  government  that,  during  a 
struggle  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  there  had  been  more  men,  of 
both  countries,  slain  in  these  wars,  for  the  title  and  claim  to  the 
crown  of  France,  than  there  were  then  existing  in  the  two  nations. 
It  was  shocking,  the  Cardinal  said,  to  think  of  so  much  Christian 
blood  having  been  shed ; — and  there  were  not  very  many  Christian 
knights  left  to  cry  ^  hear,  hear,"  to  such  an  assertion. 

Least  cavalier  of  any  of  the  kings  who  had  hitherto  reigned 
was  Henry  VI.,  but  there  was  chivalry  enough  for  two  in  the 
heart  of  his  admirable  wife,  the  most  heroic,  perhaps,  of  English 
queens,  Margaret  of  Anjou.  How  unlike  was  the  destiny  of  tliis 
ill-matched  pair  to  that  of  their  successors  Edward  IV.  and  his 
wife  Elizabeth  Woodville !  This  king  assumed  one  privilege  of 
knighthood,  by  loving  wkom  he  pleased,  and  marrying  whom  he 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS   KNIGHTS.  847 

loved.  He  was  the  first  king  of  England  who  lAarried  with  a 
simple  lady,  that  is,  one  not  of  princely  blood.  He  did  not 
prosper  much  the  more  for  it,  for  his  reign  was  one  of  a  rather 
splendid  misery,  in  which  the  luxurious  king  was  faithful  to  no 
one,  neither  to  the  friends  who  upheld  his  cause,  nor  to  Mistress 
Shore,  who  helped  him  to  render  his  cause  unworthy.  Passing 
over  Edward  V.,  we  may  notice  that  there  was  much  more  of  the 
knightly  character  in  Richard  III.,  than  in  the  fourth  Edward. 
Richard  would  be  better  appreciated  if  we  judged  him  according 
to  the  spirit  of  the  times  in  which  he  was  born,  and  not  by  the 
standard  of  our  own.  A  braver  monarch  never  fronted  an  En- 
glish force ;  and  if  heavy  crimes  can  justly  be  laid  to  his  account, 
it  should  not  be  forgotten,  that  amid  the  bloody  struggles  which 
he^  had  to  maintain,  from  the  day  almost  of  his  accession,  he  had 
leisure  to  put  in  force  more  than  one  enactment  by  which  English 
people  profit^  down  even  to  the  present  period. 

I  have  elsewhere  remarked  that  many  of  us  originally  take  our 
idea  of  Henry  VII.  from  the  dashing  Richmond  who  open»  the 
fifth  act  of  Richard  III.  in'  panoply  and  high  spirits.  None  of 
Shakespeare^s  characters  make  a  more  knight-like  appearance 
than  he.  The  fact,  nevertheless,  is  that  Henry  was  anything  but 
chivalrous  in  mien  or  carriage.  His  mother  was  married,  it  was 
said,  when  only  nine  years  old ;  and  it  is  added  that  Henry  wafi 
bom  in  the  year  following  the  marriage.  It  is  certain  that  the 
lady  was  not  in  her  teens,  and  to  this  circumstance.  Turner  is  in* 
clined  to  attribute  the  feebleness  of  Henry's  constitution. 

If  he  could  not  so  well  defend  himself  by  the  sword  as  poets 
and  Tudor  historians  have  declared  he  could,  he  at  least  knew 
how  to  do  so  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  law.  It  was  in  his  reign 
that  benefit  of  clergy  was  taken  from  lay  persons  murdering  their 
lord,  master,  or  sovereign  inmiediate. 

It  is  as  certain  that,  in  some  parts  of  the  island  at  least,  the 
chivalry  of  Richard,  who  was  never  nearly  so  black  as  he  has 
been  painted,  was  more  appreciated  than  the  cautiousness  of  his 
successful  rival.  In  the  northern  counties,  says  Bacon,  '^tlie 
memory  of  King  Richard  Yfsia  so  strong,  that  it  lay  like  lees  in 
the  bottom  of  men's  hearts,  and  if  ihe  vessel  was  bat  stirred,  it 
would  come  up." 


348  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

The  gallant  sentiment  of  chivalry  was  really  strongly  impressed 
on  the  popular  mind  at  this  period.  I  may  cite  as  an  instance, 
that  not  only  was  Perkin  Warbeck,  who  may  be  called  an  adven- 
turous knight  who  has  not  had  due  justice  rendered  to  him, 
familiarly  spoken  of  by  the  name  of  "  the  White  Rose ;"  but  that 
if  we  may  believe  Bacon,  the  name  was  continued  in  common 
speech  to  his  wife,  in  compliment  to  her  true  beauty. 

Henry  has  been  much  censured  for  a  vice  firom  whidi  all  knights 
were  bound,  like  friars,  to  be  free.  But  there  were  chevaliers  in 
liis  reign  who  were  as  fond  of  money  as  he.  Sir  William  Stanley 
was  one  of  them.  At  the  period  of  his  execution,  there  was  found 
in  his  castle  of  Holt,  a  more  than  modest  temporary  provision  for 
a  poor  knight  In  ready  money  alone,  there  were  forty  thousand 
marks — to  say  nothing  of  plate,  jewelry,  household  furniture,  and 
live  stock,  all  in  abundance,  and  of  the  first  quality.  ^  And  for 
his  revenue  in  land  and  fee,  it  was  three  thousand  pounds  sterling 
a  year  of  old  rent,  great  matter  in  those  times.  The  great  spoil 
of  Bosworth  field  came  almost  wholly  into  this  man's  hands,  to  his 
infinite  enriching." 

Bacon  classes  Henry  YII.,  Louis  XL,  and  Ferdinand  of  Ara- 
gon,  as  the  three  Magi  of  kings  of  the  age  in  which  they  lived. 
It  is  a  happy  classification.  Ferdinand,  however,  had  more  of  the 
knight  in  hiuL  than  his  royal  cousins,  and  not  less  of  the  statesman. 
He  it  was  who  first  invented  the  resident  embassador  at  foreign 
courts. 

In  chivalric  bearing,  Henry  VIH.,  when  young,  was  perhaps 
never  equalled,  and  certainly  never  surpassed.  He  was  the  most 
courteous  of  knights,  and  the  most  gallant  of  gentlemen.  As  long 
as  he  had  Cardinal  Wolsey  at  his  side  to  guide  and  control  him, 
he  maintained  this  character  unimpaired ;  and  it  was  not  till  this 
old  Mentor  died,  that  Henry  lost  his  reputation  as  a  Christian 
knight  and  gentleman. 

By  a  decree  of  the  24th  of  this  king's  reign,  no  person  below 
the  degree  of  a  knight  could  wear  a  collar  of  SS.  The  judges 
wear  such  collars  because  they  are,  or  rank  with,  knights.  That 
a  decree  was  issued  to  this  effect  would  seem  to  imply  that  previous 
to  the  period  named,  individuals  below  the  knightly  degree  might 
wear  the  collar  in  question.      Edward  IV.,  therefore,  when  he 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND   AS  KNIGHTS.  849 

conferred  the  collar  on  the  Tanner  of  Tamworth,  was  not  guilty 
of  any  anomaly.  On  the  contrary,  he  evidently  knew  what  he 
was  about,  by  the  remark — 

**  So  here  I  make  thee  the  best  Esqnire 
That  is  in  the  North  Countrie." 

In  Edward's  time  then,  the  collar  may  have  constituted  the  dif- 
ference between  squire  and  knight  But  it  was  not  the  only  one. 
If  there  was  a  difference  at  their  necks,  there  was  also  a  distinc- 
tion at  their  heels.  The  knight  always  wore  golden  spurs :  he  was 
the  Eques  Auratus.  The  squire  could  wear  spurs  of  no  more 
costly  metal  than  silver,  and  "  White-spurs,"  accordingly,  was  the 
generic  term  for  an  esquire.  It  was  probably  in  allusion  to  this 
that  the  country  squire  mentioned  by  Jonson,  displayed  his  silver 
spurs  among  his  side-board  plate.  To  return  to  Henry  VIII.; 
let  me  add  that  he  exhibited  something  of  what  was  considered  a 
knightly  attribute,  compassion  for  the  lowly,  when  he  suggested 
that  due  sleeping-time  should  be  allowed  to  laborers  during  the 
summer. 

Edward  VI.  was  simply  a  youth  of  much  promise.  His  father 
was  unwilling  to  create  him  a  knight  before  he  knew  how  to  wield 
arms ;  and  if  he  gained  this  knowledge  early,  he  was  never  called 
to  put  it  in  practice.  There  was  more  of  the  chivalrous  character 
in  his  over-abused  half-sister,  Mary,  and  also  in  Elizabeth ;  but 
then  queens  can  not  of  course  be  considered  as  knights :  Elizabeth, 
however,  had  much  of  the  spirit,  and  she  was  surrounded  by 
knightly  men  and  served  with  a  knightly  devotion.  There  was, 
I  may  observe,  one  species  of  knights  in  her  time,  who  were  known 
as  "  knights  of  the  road."  The  39th  of  Elizabeth,  especially  and 
curiously  points  to  them  in  an  act  to  relieve  the  hundred  of  Beyn- 
hurst  from  the  statute  of  Hue  and  Cry  (where  there  was  no  vol- 
untary default)  on  account  of  the  penalties  to  which  that  hundred 
was  subject  fn^n  the  numerous  robberies  committed  in  Maidenhead 
Thicket.  Mavor,  in  his  account  of  Berkshire,  says  that  "The 
vicar  of  Henley  who  served  the  cure  of  Maidenhead,  was  allowed 
about  the  same  time  an  advance  of  salary  as  some  compensation 
for  the  danger  of  passing  the  thicket."  The  vicar,  like  the  knights 
of  the  road,  at  least,  had  purer  air  than  the  clergy  and  chivalry  who 


850  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

kept  house  in  the  capital  ^  In  London,"  sajs  Enphaes,  ^  are  all 
things  (as  the  fame  goeth)  that  may  either  please  the  sight,  or 
dislike  the  smell ;  either  fill  the  eye  with  delight,  or  fill  the  nose 
with  infection." 

Refreshment  under  such  circumstances  was  douhlj  needed; 
and  the  popular  gratitude  was  due  to  that  most  serviceable  of 
knights,  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  who  introduced  the  orange  as  an 
article  of  trade,  and  who  was  consequently  painted  by  Antonio 
More  with  an  orange  in  his  hand.  The  old  Utrecht  artist  just 
named,  was  knighted  by  Charles  V.  who  paid  him  poorly — some 
six  hundred  ducats  for  three  pictures,  but  added  knighthood,  which 
cost  the  emperor  nothing,  and  was  esteemed  of  great  value  by  the 
painter. 

One  would  imagine,  that  under  Mary  and  Elizabeth,  knighthood 
had  become  extinguished,  were  we  to  judge  by  an  anonymous 
volume  which  was  published  in  Mary's  reign,  and  republished  in 
that  of  Elizabeth.  The  great  names  of  that  peridd  are  proof  to 
the  contrary,  but  there  may  have  been  exceptions.  Let  us  then 
look  into  the  volume  of  this  unknown  writer  who  bewails  the 
degeneracy  of  bis  times,  and  lays  down  what  he  entitles  the 
^  Listitution  of  a  Gentleman." 


"THE  INSTITUIION  OP  A  GENTLEMAN."  861 


"THE  INSTITUTION  OP  A  GENTLEMAN." 

**  Your  countenance,  though  it  be  glossed  with  knighthood,  looks  so  bor- 
rowingly,  that  the  best  words  you  give  me  are  as  dreadful  as  '  stand  and 
deliver.' " — Hie  Asparagus  Garden. 

The  unknown  author  of  the  ^^Institution  of  a  Gentleman/' 
dedicates  his  able  treatise  to  ^  Lorde  Fitzwater,  sonne  and  heire 
to  the  Duke  of  Sussex."  In  his  dedicatory  epistle  he  does  not  so 
much  mourn  over  a  general  decay  of  manners,  as  over  the  lament- 
able fact,  that  the  lowly-bom  are  rising  to  gentility,  while  nobility 
and  knighthood  are  going  to  decay.  These  he  beseeches  "  to  build 
gentry  up  again,  which  is,  for  truth  sore  decayed,  and  fallen  to 
great  ruin,  whereby  such  great  corruption  of  manners  hath  taken 
place,  that  almost  the  name  of  gentleman  is  quenched,  and  handi- 
craftsmen have  obtained  the  title  of  honor,  though  (indeed)  of 
themselves  they  can  challenge  no  greater  worthiness  than  the 
spade  brought  unto  their  late  fathers." 

The  writer  is  troubled  with  the  same  matter  in  his  introductory 
chapter.  This  chapter  shows  how,  at  this  time,  trade  was  taking 
equality  with  gentry.  "  Yea,  the  merchantman  thinketh  not  him- 
self well-bred  unless  he  be  called  one  of  the  worshipful  sort  of 
merchants,  of  whom  the  handicraftsman  hath  taken  example; 
and  taketh  to  be  called  '  Master,'  whose  father  and  grandfather 
were  wont  to  be  called  *  Good  Man.*" 

On  the  question  of  '*  What  is  a  gentleman  ?"  the  author  goes 
back  to  a  very  remote  period,  that  of  Adam,  quoting  the  old 
saying : — 

"When- Adam  delved  and  Eve  span. 
Who  was  then  the  gentleman  V* 

and  he  makes  the  following  comment  upon  this  well-known  text : 
"  There  be  many  of  so  gross  understanding  that  they  think  to 


862  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

confound  a  gentleman,  when  they  ask  of  him  this  question.^  To 
whom  it  may  be  said  that  so  much  grace  as  Adam  oar  first  father, 
received  of  Grod  at  his  creation,  so  much  nobility  and  gentry  he 
received.  And  to  understand  perfectly  how  and  after  what  de- 
meanor Adam  behaved  himself,  or  how  he  directed  the  order  of 
his  life,  the  witnesses,  I  think,  in  that  behalf  are  far  to  seek,  whose 
behavior,  if  it  were  good  and  honest,  then  was  he  the  first  gentle- 
man, even  so  much  as  the  first  earthly  follower  of  virtues.  But 
if  there  were  in  him  no  such  virtue,  then  was  he  the  first  gentle- 
man in  whom  virtues  and  gentle  deeds  did  first  appear." 

As  a  training  toward  excellence,  our  anonymous  author  recom- 
mends severity  of  discipline  from  the  cradle  upward.  "  Neither," 
he  says,  "  do  I  mean  to  allow  any  liberty  to  youth,  for  as  liberty 
is  to  all  eyes  hurtful,  so  is  it  to  youth  a  present  poison ;"  but  he 
forgets  that  even  poisons  are  administered  in  small  doses  in  order 
to  cure  certain  diseases,  and  that  life  would  be  a  disease,  even  to 
the  young,  without  some  measure  of  liberty.  He  is  terribly,  afraid 
that  freedom  in  cluldhood  will  spoil  the  man,  who  himself  will  be 
no  man,  with  too  much  liberty,  but  a  "  Royster ;"  "  and  a  '  Roys- 
ter,' "  he  adds,  "  can  not  do  the  office  of  a  gentleman,  so  long  I 
mean  as  a  Roysterian  he  doth  continue." 

He  then  informs  us  that  there  had  long  been  in  England  a 
division  of  classes,  under  the  heads  of  "  Gentle  Gentle,  Gentle 
Ungentle,  and  Ungentle  Gentle."  These  were  not  classes  of  so- 
ciety generally,  but  classes  of  the  orders  of  Gentlemen  exclusively. 
The  Gentle  Gentle  are  those  of  noble  birth,  from  dukes'  sons  down 
to  esquires,  provided  they  join  to  their  "  gentle  house,  gentle  man- 
ners, and  noble  conditions,  which  is  the  cause  of  the  addition  of 
the  other  word  called  gentle."  This  is  much  such  a  definition 
of  gentleman  as  might  be  now  given,  with  the  exception  that  the 
question  of  birth  has  little  to  do  with  the  matter,  and  that  gentle 
manners  and  noble  conditions,  as  our  author  calls  gentlemanlike 
bearing,  scholarly  education,  and  Christian  principles,  now  make 
of  a  man  a  gentleman,  let  him  be  of  "  gentle"  house  or  not  In- 
deed, the  author  himself  is  not  indisposed  to  accept  this  method 
of  definition,  for  on  proceeding  to  tell  us  what  "  Gentle  Ungentle" 
is,  he  says  that  "  Gentle  Ungentle  is  that  man  which  is  descended 
of  noble  parentage,  by  the  which  he  is  commonly  called  gentle, 


"THE  INSTITUTION  QP  A  GENTLEMAN."  363 

and  hath  in  him  such  corrupt  and  ungentle  manners  as  to  the 
judgment  of  all  men  he  justly  deserveth  the  name  of  ungentle/' 
His  remedy  again  for  preventing  the  gentle  becoming  ungentle  is 
coercion  in  youth-time.  He  thinks  that  virtue  is  to  be  got  from 
the  human  being  like  oils  or  other  juices  from  certain  vegetable 
substances,  by  ex-pression.  Squeeze  the  human  being  tightly, 
press  him  heavily,  he  is  sure  to  yield  something.  No  doubt ;  but 
after  the  pressure  he  is  often  of  little  more  use  than  a  well-sucked 
orange. 

We  next  come  to  the  "  Ungentle  Gentle."  In  the  definition  of 
this  term,  the  author,  with  all  his  reverence  for  nobility,  is  com- 
pelled to  allow  that  there  is  a  nobility  of  condition  as  well  as  a 
nobility  of  birth ;  but  others  who  contested  this  fact,  gave  a  new 
word  to  the  English  tongue,  or  made  a  new  application  of  an  old 
word  in  order  to  support  their  theory  and  assail  those  whom  they 
sought  to  lower. 

"  Ungentle  Gentle,"  says  our  author,  "  is  he  which  is  bom  of  a 
low  degree — which  man,  taking  his  beginning  of  a  poor  kindred, 
by  his  virtue,  wit,  policy,  industry,  knowledge  in  laws,  valiancy  in 
arms,  or  such  like  honest  means,  becometh  a  well-behaved  and 
high-esteemed  man,  preferred  then  to  great  office,  put  in  great 
charge  and  credit,  even  so  much  as  he  becometh  a  post  or  stay  of 
the  commonwealth,  and  so  growing  rich,  doth  thereby  advance  and 
set  up  the  rest  of  his  poor  line  or  kindred.  They  are  the  children 
of  such  one  conunonly  called  gentleman;  of  which  sort  of  gentle- 
man we  have  now  in  England  very  many,  whereby  it  should 
appear  that  virtue  fiourisheth  among  us.  These  gentlemen  are 
now  called '  Up-starts,'  a  term  lately  invented  by  such  as  pondered 
not  the  grounds  of  honest  means  of  rising  or  coming  to  promo- 
tion." Nevertheless,  says  our  censor,  there  be  upstarts  enough 
and  to  spare.  The  worshipful  unworthies,  he  teUs  us,  abound ; 
and  the  son  of  good-man  Thomas,  or  good-man  John,  have  obtained 
the  name  of  gentlemen,  the  degree  of  esquires  or  knights,  and 
possessing  <'  a  little  dunghill  forecast  to  get  lands,  by  certain  dark 
augmentative  practices,"  they  are  called  "worshipftd"  at  every 
assize.  He  dates  the  origin  of  this  sort  of  nobility,  knighthood 
and  esquirearchy,  from  the  time  of  the  suppression  and  oonfisca- 


S54  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  BAYS. 

tion  of  abbeys  and  abbej^estates.  He  has  a  curious  passage  on 
this  subject : — 

^  Thej  have  wrongfullj  intruded  into  gentry,  and  thrust  them- 
selves therein,  as  Bayard,  the  cart-jade,  might  leap  into  the  stable 
of  Bucephalus,  and'  thrust  his  head  into  the  manger  with  that  wor- 
thy courser.  The  particular  names  of  whom,  if  I  should  go  about 
to  rehearse,  it  would  require  long  labor,  and  bring  no  fruit  to  the 
readers  thereof.  And  it  is  well  known  that  such  intruders,  such 
unworthy  worshipful  men,  have  chiefly  flourished  since  the  put- 
ting down  of  abbeys,  which  time  is  within  my  remembrance." 

While  allowing  that  gentlemanly  manners  help  to  make  the  gen- 
tleman, and  that  birth  is  only  an  accidental  matter,  having  little 
to  do  with  the  subject,  he  still  can  not  forbear  to  reverence  rather 
good  men  of  high  birth  than  good  men  of  low  degree.  He  evidently 
thinks  that  he  was  ei^oined  by  religion  to  do  so,  for  he  remarks : 
"  As  iQ  times  past,  no  man  was  suffered  to  be  *  Knyght  of  the 
Boodes,'  but  such  one  as  was  descended  of  the  lyne  of  gentleman, 
whereby  it  appeareth  that  no  men  were  thought  so  meet  to  de- 
fend the  right,  that  is  to  say  the  faith  of  Christ,  as  gentlemen, 
and  so  to  have  their  offices  agreeable  with  their  profession,  it  is 
most  meet  that  all  gentlemen  be  called  to  such  room  and  office  as 
may  be  profitable  to  the  commonwealth.^'  This  idea  that  the 
holy  sepulchre  was  to  be  rescued  from  the  infidels  only  by  gentle- 
men, and  the  fact  that  it  has  not  been  so  rescued,  reminds  me  of 
that  king  of  Spain,  who,  finding  himself  in  danger  of  being  roasted 
alive,  from  sitting  in  a  chair  which  one  of  his  great  officers  had 
placed  too  near  the  fire,  chose  to  roast  on,  for  the  singular  reason 
that  there  was  no  grandee  at  hand  to  draw  his  chair  away  again ! 

In  1555,  this  writer  still  accounted  the  profession  of  arms  as 
the  noblest,  the  most  profitable  to  the  professor,  and  the  most  use- 
ful to  the  commonwealth.  Courage,  liberality,  and  faithful  observ- 
ance of  all  promises ;  thus  endowed,  he  thinks  a  man  is  a  true 
gentleman.  He  draws,  however,  a  happy  parallel  when  admitting 
that  if  it  become  a  gentleman  to  be  a  good  knight  and  valiant  sol- 
dier, it  even  more  becometh  him  to  be  a  great  statesman.  For, 
"  although  to  do  valiantly  in  the  wars  it  deserveth  great  praise 
and  recompense,  yet  to  minister  justice  in  the  state  of  peace  is  an 
office  worthy  of  higher  commendation.     The  reason  is,  wars  are 


"THE  INSTITUTION  OF  A  6ENTLEB1AN."  855 

nothing  necessary,  but  of  necessity  must  be  defended  when  they 
fall.  And  contrariwise,  peace  is  a  thing  not  only  most  necessary, 
but  it  is  called  the  best  thing  which  even  nature  hath  given  unto 
man."  This  parallel,  if  indeed  it  may  be  so  called,  is  only  em- 
ployed, however,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  certain  posts  in 
the  state  should  only  be  given  to  gentlemen  bom.  There  is  a 
good  deal  of  the  red-tapist  in  our  moralist  after  all ;  and  he  has  a 
horror,  still  entertained  in  certain  localities,  of  admitting  the  dem- 
ocratic element  into  the  public  ofSices.  Thus  we 'find  him  main- 
taining that,  "  Unto  a  gentleman  appertaineth  more  fully  than  unto 
any  other  sort  of  man,  embassage  or  message  to  be  done  between 
kings  or  princes  of  this  earth ;  more  fitly  I  say,  because  gentle- 
men do  know  how  to  bear  countenance  and  comely  gesture  before 
the  majesty  of  a  king,  better  than  other  sorts  of  men."  One 
would  think  that  the  majesty  of  a  king  was  something  too  dazzling 
for  a  common  man  of  common  sense  to  look  upon  and  live,  and 
yet  the  writer  is  evidently  aware  that  there  is  nothing  in  it,  for  he 
concludes  his  chapter  on  this  matter  by  observing  that  "  a  gentle- 
man sent  of  embassage  unto  a  prince  ought  to  think  a  king  to  be 
but  a  man,  and,  in  reverence  and  humility,  boldly  to  say  his  mes- 
sage unto  him."  Surely  a  man  of  good  sense  might  do  this,  irre- 
spective of  his  birth,  particularly  at  a  time  when  the  unskilfulness 
and  .ignorance  of  gentlemen  were  so  great  as  to  pass  into  a  proverb, 
and  '^  He  shooteth  like  a  gentleman  fair  and  far  ofi^,"  implied  not 
only  ill-shooting  with  bows  and  arrows,  '^  but  it  extended  farther 
and  reached  to  greater  matters,  all  to  the  dispraise  of  ignorant 
gentlemen." 

It  is  so  common  a  matter  with  us  to  refer  to  the  days  in  which 
this  author  wrote,  as  days  in  which  old  knights  and  country  gen- 
tlemen maintained  such  hospitality  as  has  seldom  been  since  wit- 
nessed, that  we  are  surprised  to  find  complaint  made,  in  this 
treatise,  of  something  just  the  contrary.  The  author  enjoins  these 
knights  and  gentlemen  to  repair  less  to  London,  and  be  more  seen 
dispensing  hospitality  in  their  own  houses.  ^'  In  the  ancient  times," 
he  says,  "  when  curious  buildings  fed  not  the  eye  of  the  wayfaring 
man,  then  nnght  he  be  fed  and  have  good  repast  at  a  gentleman's 
place,  so  called.  Then  stood  the  buttery  door  without  a  hatch ; 
yeoman  then  had  no  cause  to  carve  small  dishes ;  Flanders  cooks 


856  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THBIB  DAYS. 

had  then  no  wages  for  their  deyioes,  nor  square  tables  were  not 
used.  This  variety  and  change  from  the  old  English  manner  hath 
smaUj  enriched  gentlemen,  but  much  it  hath  impoverished  their 
names,  not  without  just  punishment  of  their  inconsistency  in  that 
behalf."  Let  me  add,  that  the  writer  thinks  the  country  knight 
or  gentleman  would  do  well  were  he  to  exercise  the  office  of  justice 
of  the  peace.  He  is  sorely  afraid,  however,  that  there  is  a  dis- 
qualification, on  the  ground  of  ignorance.  A  moralist  might  have 
the  same  fear  just  now,  without  coming  to  the  same  conclusion. 
Our  author,  for  instance,  argues  that  reverence  is  to  be  paid  to  the 
noble,  quand  mime*  Let  him  be  ignorant  and  tyrannical,  yet  to 
reverence  him  is  to  give  example  of  obedience  to  others.  This 
is  very  poor  logic,  and  what  follows  is  still  worse ;  for  this  writer 
very  gravely  remarks,  that  "  We  ought  to  bear  the  offences  of 
noble  men  patiently,  and  that  if  these  forget  themselves,  yet  ought 
not  smaUer  men  to  be  oblivions  of  their  duty  in  consequence,  and 
fail  in  their  respect" 

We  come  upon  another  social  trait,  when  we  find  the  author 
lamenting  that,  however  much  it  becometh  a  gentleman  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  hawking  and  hunting,  yet  that  these  pastimes  are  so 
abused  by  being  followed  to  excess,  that  ^  gentlemen  will  almost 
do  nothing  else,  or  at  the  least  can  do  that  better  than  any  other 
thing."  To  the  excess  alluded  to  does  the  author  trace  the  fact 
that  ^  there  are  so  many  raw  soldiers  when  time  of  V7ar  requireth 
their  help.  This  is  the  cause  of  so  many  unlearned  gentlemen, 
which,  as  some  say,  they  understand  not  the  inkhom  terms  that 
are  lately  crept  into  our  language.  And  no  marvel  it  is,  though 
they  do  not  understand  them,  whereas  in  their  own  hawking  and  . 
hunting  terms  they  be  ignorants  as  *Auvent'  and  'Retrouvre,* 
which  they  call  ^Houmf  and  'BetrtresJ**  What  better  could  be 
expected  from  men  who  had  given  up  the  practice  of  the  long 
bow  to  take  to  the  throwing  of  dice  ?  But  there  was  now  as  wild 
extravagance  of  dress  as  ignorance  of  uncommon  things^  in  the 
class  of  foolish  knights  and  gentlemen.  This  is  alluded  to  in  the 
chapter  on  dress,  wherein  it  is  said  that  <^  the  sum  of  one  hundred 
pounds  is  not  to  be  accounted  in  these  days  to  be  bestowed  of  ap- 
parel for  one  gentleman,  but  in  times  past,  a  chamber  gown  was  a 
garment  which  dwelt  with  an  esquire  of  England  twenty  years" — 


"THE  INSTITUTION  OF  A   GENTLEMAN."  867 

and  I  believe  that  the  knights  were  as  frugal  as  the  esquires. 
"  Then  flourished  the  laudable  simplici^  of  England,"  exclaims 
the  author ;  "  there  were  no  conjurors  and  hot  scholars,  applying 
our  minds  to  leame  our  new  trifle  in  wearing  our  apparel."  Upon 
the  point  of  fashions,  the  author  writes  with  a  feeling  as  if  he 
despaired  of  his  country.  "The  Englishman,"  he  observes, 
"  changeth  daily  the  fashion  of  his  garment ;  sometimes  he  delight- 
eth  in  many  guards,  welts  and  pinks,  and  pounces.  Sometimes 
again,  to  the  contrary,  he  weareth  his  garments  as  plain  as  a  sack ; 
yet  faileth  he  not  to  change  also  that  plainness  if  any  other  new 
fangle  be  invented.  This  is  the  vanity  of  his  delight."  And  this 
vanity  was  common  to  all  men  of  high  degree  in  his  time — to 
those  to  whom  "honor"  was  due,  from  men  of  less  degree — and 
these  were  "  dukes,  earls,  lords,  and  such  like,  of  high  estate,"  as 
well  as  to  those  who  were  entitled  to  the  "  worship"  of  smaller 
men,  and  these  were  "  knights,  esquires,  and  gentlemen."  There 
is  here,  I  think,  some  confusion  in  the  way  such  terms  are  applied ; 
but  I  have  not  made  the  extract  for  the  purpose  of  grounding  a 
comment  upon  it,  but  because  it  illustrates  one  portion  of  my  sub- 
ject, and  shows  that  while  "  your  honor"  was  once  the  due  phrase 
of  respect  to  the  peerage, "  your  worship"  was  the  reverential  one 
paid  to  knights,  esquires,  and  gentlemen.  We  still  apply  the 
terms,  if  not  to  the  different  degrees  named  above,  yet  quite  as 
confusedly,  or  as  thoughtlessly  with  respect  to  the  point  whether 
there  be  anything  honorable  or  worshipful  in  the  individual  ad- 
dressed. This,  however,  is  only  a  form  lingering  among  the  lower 
classes.  As  matters  of  right,  however,  "  his  honor"  still  sits  in 
Chancery,  and  "  your  worship"  is  to  be  seen  behind  any  justice's 
table. 

We  will  now  return  to  a  race  of  kings  who,  whatever  their  del- 
fects,  certainly  did  not  lack  some  of  the  attributes  of  chivahy. 


858  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS. 

THE  STUABTS. 

"  May't  be  pleasare  to  a  reader's  ear. 
That  never  drew  save  his  own  country's  air, 
To  hear  such  things  related." 

Hbtwood,  the  English  TraveBer 

It  is  an  incontrovertible  fact,  that  the  king  of  England,  who 
least  of  all  resembled  a  knight  in  his  warlike  character,  was  the 
one  who  surpassed  all  his  brother  sovereigns  in  his  knightly  spirit 
as  a  lover.  I  allude  to  James  I.  The  godson  of  Charles  IX.  of 
France  was  in  his  childhood,  what  his  godfather  had  never  been, 
a  dirty,  droll  boy.  He  is  the  only  king  who  ever  added  an  origi- 
nal remark  to  a  royal  speech  set  down  for  him  to  deliver.  The 
remark  in  questi(Hi  was,  probably,  nearly  as  long  as  the  speech, 
for  James  was  but  four  years  old  when  he  gave  utterance  to  it. 
He  had  been  rolling  about  on  the  throne  impishly  watcliing,  the 
while,  the  grim  lords  to  whom  he,  ultimately,  recited  a  prepared 
speech  with  great  gravity  and  correctness.  At  the  end  of  his 
speech,  he  pointed  to  a  split  in  the  tiled  roof  of  the  hall,  or  to  a 
rent  in  the  canopy  of  the  throne,  and  announced  to  the  lords  and 
others  present  the  indisputable  fact,  that  '^  there  was  a  hole  in  the 
parliament" 

The  precocious  lad  passed  no  very  melancholy  boyhood  in 
Stirling  Castle,  till  the  Raid  of  Ruthven  took  him  firom  his  natu- 
ral protectors,  and  placed  him  in  the  hands  of  Gowrie.  His  es- 
cape thence  exhibited  both  boldness  and  judgment  in  a  youth  of 
sixteen ;  and  when  Frederick  II.,  of  Denmark,  gave  him  the 
choice  of  the  two  Danish  princesses  for  a  wife,  no  one  thought 


THE  KINGS  OP  ENGLAND  AS   KNIGHTS.  359 

that  so  gallant  a  king  was  undeserving  of  the  compHment.  When 
it  was,  however,  discovered  that  the  royal  Dane  required  James 
either  to  accept  a  daughter  or  surrender  the  Orkney  and  Shetland 
islands,  as  property  illegally  wrested  from  Denmark,  men  began 
to  look  upon  the  Danish  kipg  as  guilty  of  uncommonly  sharp 
practice  toward  the  sovereign  of  the  Scots.  A  world  of  trouble 
ensued,  which  it  is  not  my  business  to  relate,  although  were  I  in- 
clined to  be  discursive — which,  of  course,  I  am  not — I  might 
find  great  temptation  to  indulge  therein,  upon  this  very  subject. 
Suffice  it  then  to  say,  that  a  world  of  trouble  ensued  before  James 
made  his  selection,  and  agreed  to  take,  rather  than  prayed  to  have 
granted  to  him,  the  hand  of  Elizabeth,  the  elder  daughter  of 
Frederick  EL. 

How  the  intrigues  of  Queen  Elizabeth  prevented  this  marriage 
I  must  not  pause  to  relate.  The  Danish  Princess  espoused  a 
reigning  duke,  and  James  was  on  the  point  of  engaging  himself 
to  Katherine  of  Navarre,  when  the  offer  of  the  hand  of  Anne  the 
younger  daughter  of  Frederick  being  made  to  him,  coupled  with 
the  alternative  of  his  either  taking  Anne,  or  losing  the  islands,  he 
"prayed  and  advised  with  God,  for  a  fortnight,"  and  wisely  re-' 
solved  to  wed  with  "  pretty  Anne."  * 

The  matter  processed  anything  but  smoothly  for  a  time.  At 
length,  after  endless  vexations,  the  young  princess  was  married  by 
proxy,  in  August,  1589,  and  set  sail,  soon  atler,  for  Scotland  under 
convoy  of  a  dozen  gallant  ships,  and  with  prospects  of  a  very  un- 
pleasant voyage. 

A  terrible  storm  blew  bride  and  convoy  on  to  the  inhospitable 
coast  of  Norway,  and  although  two  or  three  witches  were  execu- 
ted for  raising  this  storm  out  of  very  spite,  the  matter  was  not 
mended.  Disaster  pursued  the  fieet,  and  death  overtook  several 
who  sailed  in  it,  tiU  the  coast  of  Scotland  was  fairly  in  sight. 
The  Scotch  witches,  or  perhaps  other  causes  not  less  powerful 
than  witches,  in  those  seas,  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  then  blew  the 
fleet  back  to  the  mouth  of  the  Baltic.  "  I  was  commissioned," 
said  Peter  Munch,  the  admiral,  "  to  land  the  young  qtieen  in 
Scotland ;  it  is  clear,  therefore,  that  I  can  not  return  with  her  to 
Denmark.  I  will  put  her  majesty  ashore,  therefore,  in  Norway." 
The  conclusion  was  not  logically  attained,  but  the  fact  was  as  we 


360  THE  KNIGHTS  AMD  THEIB  DATS. 

have  described  it  Letters  reached  James  announcing  to  him  the 
deplorable  condition  in  which  his  queen  was  lying  at  Upslo,  on 
the  Norwegian  coast — storm-bound  and  half-fkmished.  A^r 
manj  projects  considered  for  her  relief,  James  resolved  to  set 
forth  and  seek  the  princess  himself.  It  is  in  this  passage  of  his 
life  that  we  have  an  illustration  of  the  degree  in  which  he  sur- 
passed all  other  kings  who  have  sat  on  the  English  throne — as  a 
gallant  knight  es  amours. 

Toward  the  end  of  October,  df  this  year,  in  the  very  stormiest 
portion  of  the  season,  James  went,  privately,  on  board  a  diminu- 
tive vessel,  with  a  very  reluctant  party  of  followers  and  confede- 
rates, leaving  behind  him,  for  the  information  of  the  astonished 
lieges,  a  promise  to  be  back  in  twenty  days ;  and  for  their  especial 
profit,  a  solemn  exhortation  to  live  peaceably  till  he  arrived  again 
among  them,  with  his  wife. 

The  knightly  lover  landed  in  Norway,  early  in  November,  and 
made  his  way  along  the  coast,  now  on  foot,  now  on  horseback 
anon  in  sledges,  and  occasionally  in  boats  or  on  shipboard,  until 
with  infinite  pains,  and  in  a  sorry  plight,  he  reached  Upslp,  to  no 
one's  astonishment  more  than  the  queen's,  about  the  19th  of  No- 
vember. Accoutred  and  travel-soiled  as  he  was,  he  proceeded  at 
once  to  her  presence.  He  was  so  well-pleased  with  the  fair  vision 
before  him,  that  he  made  as  if  he  would  at  once  kiss  the  queen, 
who  stood  gazing  at  him.  "  It  is  not  the  form  of  my  country," 
said  pretty  Anne,  not  very  violently  holding  her  head  aside.  "  It's 
good  old  Scottish  &shion,"  said  the  young  king :  and  it  was  ob- 
served that  in  less  than  an  hour,  Anne  had  fallen  very  completely 
into  the  pleasant  mode  from  beyond  seas,  and  quite  forgotten  the 
forms  of  Denmark. 

The  young  couple  were  duly  married  in  person,  on  the  Sunday 
following  the  arrival  of  James.  The  latter,  like  any  Paladin  of 
romance,  had  perilled  life,  and  contended  with  almost  insurmount- 
able obstacles,  in  order  to  win  the  royal  lady  after  a  less  easy 
fashion  than  marks  the  wooing  and  wedding  of  kings  generally. 
Such  a  couple  deserved  to  have  the  merriest  of  marriage  banquets, 
but  while  such  a  storm  was  raging  without  as  Norway  itself  had 
never  seen  since  the  sea-wind  first  blew  over  her,  «uch  a  tempest 
was  raised  within,  by  the  Scottish  nobles,  on  a  question  of  prece*- 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS.  361 

dence,  that  the  king  himself  was  chieflj  occupied  in  soothing  the 
quarrellers,  and  onlj  half  succeeded  in  accomplishing  the  desired 
end.  Added  to  tins  was  the  prospect  of  a  long  winter  among  the 
melancholj  huts  of  Upslo.  James,  howcTcr,  agaiii  exhibited  the 
spirit  of  a  knight  of  more  than  ordinary  gallantry.  He  not  only 
resolved  that  the  young  queen  should  not  be  thus  imprisoned  amid 
the  Norway  snows  till  May,  but  he  resolved  to  conduct  her  him-, 
self  across  the  Norwegian  Alps,  through  Sweden,  to  her  Danish 
home.  The  idea  of  such  a  journey  seemed  to  partake  of  insan- 
ity, but  James  proceeded  to  realize  it,  by  means  of  method  and 
judgment.  He  first  performed  the  perilous  journey  alone,  as  far 
as  Sweden,  and  finding  it  practicable,  returned  for  his  wife,  and 
departed  a  second  time,  in  her  company.  Much  peril  but  small 
accident  accompanied  them  on  their  way,  and  when  the  wedding 
party  arrived  safely  at  Cronenburg,  toward  the  end  of  January, 
the  marriage  ceremony  was  not  only  repeated  for  the  third  time 
— to  despite  the  witches  who  can  do  nothing  against  the  luck  that 
is  said  to  lie  in  odd  numbers,  but  there  was  a  succession  of  mar- 
riage feasts,  at  which  every  gentleman  drank  deeper  and  deeper 
every  day,  until  such  uproar  and  dissension  ensued  that  few  kept 
their  daggers  in  sheath  except  those  who  were  too  drunk  to  draw 
them.  That  all  were  not  in  the  more  disgracefiil  state,  or  were 
not  continually  in  that  condition,  may  be  conjectured  from  the  fact 
that  James  paid  a  visit  to  Tycho  Brahe,  and  conversed  with  the 
astronomer  in  his  observatory,  in  very  vigorous  Latin.  The  king, 
however,  was  not  sorry  to  leave  old  Denmark,  and  when  a  Scot- 
tish fleet  appeared  off  Cronenburg,  to  convey  his  bride  and  him- 
self homeward,  he  could  no  more  be  persuaded  to  stay. a  day 
longer,  than  Tycho  Brahe  could  be  persuaded  that  Copernicus 
was  correct  in  dislodging  the  earth  from  its  Ptolemaic  stand-point 
as  centre  of  the  solar  system.  The  bridal  party  set  sail  on  the 
21st  of  April,  1590,  and  was  safely  moored  in  Leith  harbor  on 
May-day.  A  pretty  bride  could  not  have  arrived  at  a  more  ap- 
propriate season.  The  royal  knight  and  his  lady  deserved  all  the 
happiness  that  could  be  awarded  to  the  gallantry  of  the  one  and 
the  beauty  of  the  other.  But  they  did  not  escape  the  triab 
common  to  much  less  dignified  couples ;  and  here  the  knightly 
character  of  James  may  be  said  to  terminate.  .  Exemplary  as  he 


862  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

hftd  been  as  a  lover,  and  faithful  as  he  continued  to  be  as  a 
husband,  he  was  in  all  other  respects,  shnply  a  shrewd  man ;  and 
not  indeed  always  that.  There  is  little  of  this  quality  in  a 
husband  who  begins  and  continues  his  married  life  with  an  in- 
difference upon  the  matter  of  borrowing.  With  James  it  was 
silver  spoons  to-day,  silk  stockings  to-morrow,  and  marks  and 
moidores  from  any  one  who  would  give  him  credit  The  old 
French  knight  who  drank  broth  out  of  his  own  helmet  rather 
than  sip  it  from  a  borrowed  bowl,  was  moved  at  least  by  a  gobd 
principle.  James  rather  agreed  with  Carlo  Buffone,  in  Jonson's 
"  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humor,"  that  "  it  is  an  excellent  policy  to 
owe  much  in  these  days."  A  policy  which,  unfortunately,  is 
still  deemed  excellent,  in  spite  of  the  ruin  which  attends  its 
practice. 

The  grave  chivalry  impressed  on  the  face  and  features  of  Charles 
I.,  is  strikingly  alluded  to  by  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Masque  of  '^  The 
Metamorphosed  Gypsies  ;*'  for  example : — 

"  His  brow,  his  eye,  ancT  ey'ry  mark  of  state, 
As  if  he  were  the  issae  of  each  grace. 
And  bore  aboat  him  both  his  fame  and  Jiue, 

Echard  says  of  him,  that  he  was  perfect  in  all  knightly  exer* 
cises,  "  vaulting,  riding  the  great  horse,  running  at  the  ring,  shoot- 
ing with  cross-bows,  muskets,  and  sometimes  great  guns ;  that  if 
sovereignty  had  been  the  reward  of  excellences  in  those  arts,  he 
would  have  acquired  a  new  title  to  the  crown,  being  accounted  the 
most  celebrated  marksman,  and  the  most  perfect  manager  of  the 
groat  horse,  of  any  in  the  three  kingdoms." 

It  was  with  reference  to  the  expression  of  the  face,  alluded  to 
by  Jonson,  that  Bernini  the  sculptor  said,  on  executing  the  bust 
of  Charles,  that  he  had  never  seen  any  face  which  showed  so  much 
greatness,  and  withal  such  marks  of  sadness  and  misfortune.  The 
knight,  Sir  Richard  Bulstrode,  tells  us,  that  when  the  bust  was 
being  carried  across  Greenwich  Park,  it  suffered,  what  Moore 
calls  on  another  occasion,  some  ^  Tobit-like  n:iarks  of  patronage" 
from  the  sparrows.  ^^  It  was  wiped  off  immediately,"  says  Charles's 
good  kni^t — ''  but,  notwithstanding  all  endeavors,  it  would  not 
be  gotten  off,  but  turned  into  blood."  No  chevalier  in  poetic  n>* 
mance  meets  with  more  threatening  portent  than  the  above. 


THE  KINQS  OF  ENGLAND  AB  KNIGHTS.  863 

The  Scotch  soldiers  of  fortane,  at  this  period,  were  as  good  rep- 
resentatives as  could  be  found  of  the  old  knight-errant  To  them, 
Vittorio  Siri  imputes  many  of  the  misfortunes  of  the  period.  Some 
one  tells  of  an  old  Scottish  knight  exclaiming,  in  a  year  of  universal 
peace,  "  Lord,  turn  the  world  upside-down,  that  gentlemen  may 
make  bread  of  it."  So,  for  the  sake  of  farthering  their  trade  of 
arms,  the  -Scottish,  and,  indeed,  other  mercenary  men-at-arms, 
fanned  the  flame.  The  words  of  Siri  are  precise  on  this  point,  for 
he  says,  "  Le  Leslie,  le  Gordoni,  le  Duglas  ed  altri  milordi  della 
Scotia,  del'  Inghilterra,  e  delF  Irlanda." 

Never  had  knights  of  romance  worse  fkre  in  the  dungeons  of 
morose  magicians  than  they  who  enteved  the  bloody  lists,  where 
was  fought  out  the  quarrel  between  royalty  and  republicanism. 
"  I  heard  a  great  officer  say,"  remarks  Blount,  ^^  that  during  the 
siege  of  Colchester,  he  dined  at  an  entertainment,  where  the  great- 
est delicacies  were  roast  horseflesh." 

The  warlike  spirit  was,  probably,  never  stronger  than  in  this 
reign.  It  is  well  illustrated  by  Hobbes,  who  remarks '  that,  the 
Londoners  and  citizens  of  other  county  capitals,  who  fought  against 
Charles,  '^  had  that  in  them  which,  in  time  of  battle,  is  more  con- 
ducing to  victory,  than  valor  and  experience  both  together ;  and 
that  was  spite" 

But  it  is  as  a  lover  that  Charles  L  is  chiefly  distinguished  when 
we  consider  him  solely  to  discover  his  knightly  qualities.  In  his 
early  days  he  was  strongly  impressed  by  romance,  and  possessed 
of  romantic  feelings.  This  fact  is  best  illustrated  by  his  conduct 
in  connection  with  the  Spanish  Match ;  and  to  this  matter  we  trill 
devote  a  brief  space,  and  go  back  to  the  time  when  James  was 
king,  and  Charles  was  Prince  of  Wales. 


864  THB  KNIQHIB  AND  THEIB  DATS. 


THE  SPANISH  MATCH. 

This  unhappj  and  ill-advised  affair,  will  evet  remain  one  of  the 
darkest  blemishes  on  the  uniformly  pacific  but  inglorious  reign  of 
the  royal  pupil  of  Buchanaa ; — the  whole  detail  is  an  ungrateful 
one  of  intrigue  and  ill-faith,  and  however  justly  Buckingham  may 
be  accused  of  exerting  his  baleful  influence  to  dissolve  the  treaty, 
and  that  he  did  so  in  the  wantonness  of  his  power  is  now  past 
doubt ;  the  disgrace  which  should  have  attached  to  him,  still  hangs 
round  the  memory  of  the  timid  king  and  his  weak  yet  gallantly- 
disposed  son.  I  am  more  inclined  to  allow  a  high-mindedness  of 
feeling  to  Charles  than  to  his  father.  The  king,  who  supposed 
the  entire  art  of  reigning  lay  in  dissimulation,  may  not  be  charged 
with  an  over-scrupulous  nicety  in  his  observations  of  the  rules  of 
fair  dealing ;  but  the  young  prince,  at  this  period,  had  the  senti- 
ments without  the  vanity  of  a  knight-errant,  his  only  error  was  in 
the  constitutional  weakness  which  bent  to  the  arrogance  of  Buck- 
ingham's somewhat  stronger  mind.  With  such  a  disposition,  the 
favorite  found  it  as  easy  to  persuade  Charles  to  break  off  the 
match,  as  he  had  with  facility  advised  him  to  the  romantic  journey 
— as  rash  as  it  was  impolitic.  It  would  be  almost  an  unprofitable 
occupation  to  search  for  Buckingham's  motives,  they  are  quite  un- 
attainable, and,  like  hunting  the  hare  in  a  wagon,  conjecture 
might  lead  us  on,  but  we  should,  at  every  step,  be  farther  from 
our  object  It  is  the  received  opinion,  that  the  prince's  visit  was 
begun  in  caprice ;  and  with  caprice  it  ended.  Buckingham  viewed 
it,  perhaps,  at  first  as  a  mere  adventure,  and  he  terminated  it,  be- 
cause his  wounded  pride  suggested  to  him  that  he  was  not  the 
favorite  actor  in  the  piece.  His  terms  were,  "  Ego  et  rex  meus," 
and  a  less-distinguished  station  would  not  satisfy  the  haughty  in- 
solence of  Somerset's  succession  in  the  precarious  favor  of  the  king. 


THE  SPANISH  MATCH.  865 

Our  British  Solomon  who  willed,  but  could  not  restore,  the  Pal- 
atinate to  his  son-in-law,  had  long  been  accustomed  to  consider  the 
union  of  Charles  with  the  Infanta,  as  the  only  available  means  left 
by  which  he  could  secure  the  object  he  had  so  much  at  heart  He 
was  not  made  of  the  stem  stuff,  which  in  other  kings  would  have 
set  a  whole  army  in  motion.  That  "  sagacious  simpleton"  was 
never  in  so  turbulent  a  vein.  His  most  powerful  weapon  was  an 
ambassador,  and  the  best  of  these  were  but  sad  specimens  of  di- 
plomacy, and  thus,  weak  as  he  was,  both  in  the  cabinet  and  field, 
we  may  guess  at  his  rapture  when  the  marriage  was  agreed  to  by 
the  Court  of  Spain — the  restoration  of  the  Palatinate  talked  of  as 
a  wedding  present,  and  the  bride's  dowry  two  millions  of  eight. 

It  was  at  the  expiration  of  five  years  of  negotiation,  that  James 
at  length  saw  the  end  of  what  had  hitherto  been  an  ever-continuing 
vista.  The  dispensation  of  the  Pope,  an  indispensable  preliminary 
to  the  union  of  a  Most  Catholic  princess,  with  a  Protestant  heir- 
apparent,  had  been  held  up  as  a  difficulty ;  James  immediately 
loosened  the  reins  with  which  he  had  held  in  the  Catholic  recusants 
—  he  set  them  at  liberty,  for  the  good  of  the  informed  religion,  he 
said;  then  apologized  to  his  subjects  for  having  so  set  them  at 
liberty — for  the  benefit  of  Protestantism ;  and  finally,  he  exulted 
in  having  accomplished  so  honorable  an  end  for  England,  as  making 
iier  the  first  to  enter  the  path  of  moderation.  He,  moreover,  sent 
to  Spain,  Digby,  the  good  and  great  Lord  Bristol,  and  while  he 
was  negotiating  with  Philip  IV.,  the  Infanta's  brother,  George 
Gage,  '<  a  polite  and  prudent  gentleman,"  was  employed  at  Rome 
to  smooth  down  the  obstacles  which  the  zeal  of  the  Fourteenth 
Gregory  raised  in  behalf  of  his  mother-church.  The  parties  were 
^  a  long  time  at  issue  as  to  what  period  the  presumed-offspring  of 
this  marriiage  should  remain  under  the  guardianship  of  their  moth- 
er ;  that  is  to  say,  under  the  Catholic  tuition  of  her  confessors. 
The  period  of  "  fourteen  years,"  was  suggested  by  the  Pope,  and 
agreed  to  by  the  Court  of  Spain.  Now,  George  Gage,  we  are 
told,  was  both  polite  and  prudent ;  George  made  some  slight  ob- 
jection. The  father  of  the  faithful  and  the  descendant  of  Roderic 
now  named  twelve  years  as  the  stipulated  period  of  maternal  or 
ecclesiastical  rule.  Mr.  Gage,  without  losing  sight  of  his  prudence, 
retained  all  his  civility ;  he  treated  the  Pope  courteously.     Greg- 


866  THE  KMIOHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

017,  in  retain,  granted  the  dispensation,  condatcended  even  to  agree 
to  the  term  of  nine  years,  and  merely  asked  a  few  privileges  for 
the  Catholic  suite  of  the  Infanta,  which  were  not  hard  to  grant, 
and  would  have  been  impolitic  to  refuse.  James's  advisers  coun- 
selled him  to  demand  the  restitution  of  the  Palatinate  by  a  pre- 
liminary treaty.  This  he  wisely  refrained  from  doing;  he  saw 
that  his  desired  object  was  considered  inseparable  from  the  mar- 
riage, and  he  was  content  to  trust  to  the  existing  treaty  which, 
probably,  would  not  have  been  changed,  had  he  so  expressed  his 
wish.  There  is  a  curious  item  in  aU  these  diplomatic  relations ; 
beside  the  public  treaty  there  were  various  private  articles,  passed 
between  and  signed  by  the  parties  concerned,  agreeing  that  more 
Uderation  should  be  granted  to  the  papists,  and  that  more  of  the 
penal  laws  against  them  should  be  repealed  than  was  expressed  in 
the  public  document  There  appears  also  to  have  existed  a  yet 
more  private  treaty,  of  even  more  restricted  circulation,  whereby 
James  was  not  to  be  required  to  act  up  to  the  very  letter  of  that 
article,  by  which  his  royal  word  pledged  what  was  then  considered 
— emancipation  to  the  Catholics. 

Thus  far  had  proceeded  this  tedious  affair  of  state ;  the  nation 
was  beginning  to  consider  its  aecompllshment  with  diminished 
aver»on,  and  a  few  months  would  have  brought  a  Spanish  Princess 
of  Wales  4k)  England,  when  all  this  goodly  and  £ur- wrought  edifice 
was  destroyed  by  the  temerity  of  the  man  who  was  the  evil  spirit 
of  the  age.  Charles's  youth  and  inexperience  readily  lent  a  wil- 
ling ear  to  the  glowing  description  which  Buckingham  recounted 
of  the  celebrated  journey.  His  young  melancholy  was  excited 
into  cheerfulness,  when  he  dwelt  oa  the  hoped-for  and  surprised 
rapture  with  which  his  destined  bride  would  receive  a  prince 
whose  unusual  gallantry  spumed  at  the  laws  of  political  interest, 
and  whose  chivalric  feeling  had  broken  through  state  negotiation, 
and,  despising  to  woo  by  treaty,  had  brought  him  to  her  feet  to 
win  her  by  his  merits.  His  blood  warmed  at  the  popularity  he 
would  acquire  by  such  a  step,  from  a  nation  famed  for  its  knightly 
devotion  to  the  fair,  and  whose  watch-word,  according  to  one  of 
its  poets,  has  ever  been,  "  love  and  the  ladyes."  Chai'les  would 
have  been  a  dull  lover,  indeed,  had  he  only,  like  other  princes, 
thought  his  bride  not  worth  the  fetching.     He  would  have  been 


THE  SPANISH  MATCH.  367 

doubly  dull  and  undeserving  had  he  paused  to  consider  the  bear- 
ings, the  risks,  or  the  probable  absurdity  of  the  act.  There  was 
a  certain  political  danger ;  but  Charles,  young,  and  a  lover,  refused 
to  see  it;  he  was  tearing  the  bonds  which  might  bind  more  ignoble 
princes,  but  were  too  weak  to  confine  him ;  he  rent  J;he  shackles 
which  proxies'  force  on  their  principals,  and  stood  in  his  own 
princely  strength  to  win  a  prize  which  has  often  lost  the  world. 

The  only  step  subsequent  to  the  prince's  acquiescence,  was  to 
obtain  the  king's  permission,  a  jnatter  of  little  difficulty.  They  at- 
tacked the  good-natured  and  simple  James  at  a  moment  when  his 
jovial  humor  would  not  have  denied  a  greater  boon.  He  had 
sense,  however,  to  see  something  of  the  impropriety  of  the  absence 
of  Charles  and  Buckingham  from  England ;  but  his  obtusity  of 
intellect  was  overpowered  by  the  craft  of  his  favorite,  and  the  pe- 
titioners at  length  obtained  his  unadvised  sanction  to  the  wild  en- 
terprise, less  by  the  strength  of  their  arguments,  than  the  persist- 
ing urgency  of  its  expression.  The  prince  and  his  companion 
further  obtained  a  promise  of  secrecy ;  and  they  saw  nothing  more 
wanting  than  the  ordinary  preparations  for  their  departure.  Left 
to  his  own  reflections,  however,  the  poor  king  reproached  his  own 
weakness ;  he  saw  with  terror  that  his  subjects  would  not  readily 
forgive  him  for  committing  so  invaluable  a  pledge  into  the  hands 
of  a  Catholic  sovereign,  who  might  detain  Charles  in  ordjsr  to  en- 
force new  exactions  or  demands ;  and  with  equal  terror  he  saw 
that  even  success  could  not  possibly  justify  the  means ;  for  there 
was  no  advantage  to  be  obtained,  and  no  unprejudiced  censurer 
would  consider  the  freak  otherwise  than  as  one  played  for  the 
gratification  of  the  will  of  the  duke,  and  of  an  enthusiastic  prince, 
whose  abstract  idea  of  chivalrous  love  had  overcome  his  character 
for  prudence. 

There  ensued,  on  the  return  of  Charles  and  Buckingham  to  the 
royal  presence  for  despatches,  a  melancholy  scene.  There  were  the 
objurgations  and  schoolboy  blubbering  of  the  monarch,  the  insolent 
imperiousness  of  the  favorite,  and  the  silent  tears  and  submission 
of  the  prince.  The  audacious  threats  of  the  duke  wrung  from 
James  the  assent  which  Buckingham  required — a  second  permis- 
sion for  their  journey.  A  knight.  Sir  Francis  Cottington,  the 
prince's  secretary,  and  Endymion  Porter,  a  gentleman  of  the  bed- 


THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

chamber,  were  selected  as  the  attendants  of  the  Prince.  The  dnke 
was,  however,  also  to  be  accompanied  by  his  master  of  the  honey 
a  man  of  knighfs  degree,  Sir  Richard  Graham.  There  was  a 
recapitulation  of  the  crying  scene  when  the  two  former  gentlemen 
were  appointed,  for  Sir  Francis  boldly  pointed  out  the  danger  of 
the  proceeding.  Charles's  coontenance  showed  his  displeasure ; 
but  Buckingham  was  completely  carried  away  by  his  overwhebn- 
ing  passion.  James  cried,  the  duke  swore,  and  the  king  had  noth- 
ing left  to  do,  but  to  wish  them  God  speed  on  their  amorous  and 
knight-errant  mission. 

There  is  a  work,  known  to  many  and  read  by  few,  the  "  Epis- 
tolae  Howelianee,"  consisting  of  a  collection  of  familiar  letters  on 
many  subjects,  by  a  certain  James  Howell.  The  author  was  a 
cadet  of  a  noble  family,  several  members  of  which  had  been  on 
the  roll  of  knighthood.  He  pushed  his  fortunes  with  all  the 
vigor  of  an  aspiring  younger  brother.  His  letters  exhibit  him  as 
agent  to  a  glass  factory  at  Vienna — a  tutor — a  companion — a 
clerk — secretary  to  an  embassy — agent  again,  and  finally  an  at- 
tache to  the  privy  council.  Master  Howell,  in  these  epistles,  con- 
tinually rings  the  changes  on  the  importance  of  attending  to  the 
main  chance;  bewails  the  stagnation  which  non-employment  throws 
round  his  fortunes 4  or  congratulates  himself  on  the  progress  they 
are  making,  through  his  industry.  At  the  period  of  Charles's 
▼isit  to  Madrid,  he  was  agent  there  for  the  recovery  of  a  vessel 
taken  by  unlawful  seizure,  and  he  contemplates  the  prince's  arri- 
val with  delight,  viewing  him  as  a  powerful  adjunct  to  his  cause. 
He  complains  bitterly  of  the  prince  as  showing  more  condescension 
to  the  needy  Spanish  poor,  than  politeness  to  the  accredited  agent 
of  an  English  company.  The  agent's  honor  or  ruin  depended  on 
the  success  of  his  mission,  hence  good  Master  Howell  is  occasion- 
ally and  ill  at  ease.  The  success  of  his  mission,  too,  hung  upon 
the  happy  termination  of  the  match ;  a  marriage  he  considers  as 
the  avant-courier  of  his  appointments,  but  should  some  unlucky  re- 
verse prevent  the  end  he  hopes  for,  why  then,  to  use  one  of  the 
worshipful  agent's  most  favorite  figures  of  speech — then  "my 
cake  is  dough."  His  letters  are  the  chief  authority  for  what  fol- 
lows. 

It  is  quite  consistent  with  the  whole  character  of  t]}j&  drama. 


THE  SPANISH   MATCH.  369 

that  the  journey  should  be  prosecuted  through  France.  Charles 
and  his  suite  travelled  incognito  it  is  true,  but  Buckingham  was 
rash  enough  to  introduce  the  prince  at  a  court-ball  in  Paris,  where 
he  perhaps  saw  and  admired  the  lovely  Henrietta  Maria.  From 
the  gay  court  of  France  the  errant  company  speedily  decamped, 
hurried  rapidly  toward  the  south,  and  crossed  the  frontier  just  in 
time  to  escape  the  strong  arm  of  the  governor  of  Bayonne,  stretched 
out  to  ari'est  their  progress. 

On  Friday  the  7th  of  March,  1623,  Charles  and  his  attendants 
arrived  at  Madrid,  under  the  guise  of  very  homely  personages. 
Buckingham  took  a  name  which  has  since  served  to  cover  a  fugi- 
tive king  of  the  French — ^hat  of  (Thomas)  Smith,  and  therewith 
he  entered  Bristol's  mansion,  "  *twixt  the  gloaming  and  the  murk," 
with  a  portmanteau  under  his  arm,  while  Charles  waited  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  not  as  the  Prince  of  Wales,  but  as  Thomas 
Smith's  brother,  John.  Lord  Bristol  did  not  allow  the  son  of  his 
monarch  to  remain  long  in  such  a  situation.  Charles  was  con- 
ducted to  the  house,  and  on  being  ushered  into  a  bedchamber,  he 
immediately  asked  for  writing  materials,  and  despatched  a  mes- 
senger to  his  father,  announcing  his  safe  arrival  in  the  Spanish 
capital.  Cottington  and  Porter  arrived  the  next  day ;  and  even 
so  soon  as  this,  a  report  was  spreading  through  the  city  that  James 
himself  was  in  Madrid.  On  the  evening  of  Saturday,  Bucking- 
ham went  privately  to  court,  in  his  own  person,  and  told  the  tale 
of  the  adventures  of  the  knight  to  whom  he  had  acted  as  squire. 
The  delight  of  all  parties  was  intense.  Olivarez  accompanied 
Buckingham  on  his  return  to  the  prince,  to  express  how  immeas- 
urably glad  his  Catholic  majesty  was  at  his  coming.  This  proud 
minister,  who  was  the  contemporary,  and  perhaps  the  equal,  ot 
Richelieu,  knelt  and  kissed  the  prince's  hand,  and  "  hugged  his 
thighs,"  says  Mr.  Howell,  like  a  slave  as  he  was.  Grondomar, 
too,  hastened  to  offer  his  respect*  and  congratulations  to  the  young 
prince.  At  ten  that  night,  too,  came  the  most  distinguished  as  he 
was  the  most  desired  visiter :  Philip  himself  appeared  in  generous 
haste  to  welcome  the  person  and  thank  the  noble  confidence  of  his 
almost  brother-in-law.  The  meeting  of  the  parties  appears  to 
have  been  unaffected  and  cordial.  After  the  salutations  and  divers 
embraces  which  passed  in  the  first  interview,  they  parted  late.     The 

21 


870  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Stern  severity  of  Spanish  etiquette  would  not  pennit  of  Charles's 
introduction  to  the  Infanta,  and  it  was  accordingly  arranged  that 
the  princess  should  appear  in  public  on  Sunday,  and  the  prince 
meet  her  on  the  Prado,  just  as  the  knight  Guzman  sees  Inez,  in 
the  ancient  ballad.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  eventful  day,  the 
whole  court,  neglecting  for  the  occasion  all  sumptuary  laws,  ap- 
peared in  all  its  bravery.  Philip,  his  queen,  two  brothers,  and 
the  Infanta,  were  together  in  one  carriage,  and  the  princess,  the 
cynosure  of  attraction,  scarcely  needed  the  blue  riband  which  en- 
circled her  arm,  as  a  sign  by  which  Charles  might  distinguish  her. 
The  knightly  lover,  who  had  experienced  some  difficulty  in  making 
his  way  through  the  exulting  multitude,  who  threw  up  their  caps 
and  cried  ^'  God  bless  him,"  was  in  waiting,  with  his  diminutive 
court  and  Count  Gondomar,  to  view  the  defiling  of  the  procession. 
The  royal  carriage  approached,  and  as  the  eyes  of  the  princess 
first  rested  on  her  destined  lord,  she  blushed  deeply,  "which," 
adds  the  calculating  Mr.  Howell, ''  we  hold  to  be  an  impression 
of  love  and  affection,  for  the  &ce  is  oftentimes  a  true  index  of  the 
heart."  The  Infanta,  at  this  period,  was  only  sixteen  and  tall  for 
her  age — "a  very  comely  lady,"  says  the  agent, " rather  of  a 
Flemish  complexion  than  Spanish,  fair-haired,  and  carried  a  most 
pure  mixture  of  red  and  white  in  her  face :  she  is  full  and  big- 
lipped,  which  is  held  as  beauty  rather  than  a  blemish." 

Charles  was  now  honored  with  a  complete  court  establishment 
and  apartments  in  the  palace ;  there  was  revelry  in  camp  and  city ; 
and  the  gallantry  of  the  journey  so  touched  this  high-minded 
people,  that  they  declared  the  beautiful  bride  ought  to  have  been 
made  Charles's  immediate  reward.  Gayety  was  at  every  heart 
and  poesy,  in  the  person  of  Lope  de  Vega,  celebrated  "  the  Stuart," 
and  "  Marie,  his  start"  In  all  the  festivals  and  carousals  at  court, 
Charles  was  not  once  permitted  to  approach  "his  star."  The 
royal  family  sat  together  under  a  canopy,  but  there  was  ever  some 
unwelcome  intervener  between  the  lovers,  and  the  prince  was 
compelled  to  satisfy  his  ardent  soul  with  gazing.  The  worthy 
English  agent  records  that  he  has  seen  him  "  have  his  eyes  im- 
movably fixed  upon  the  Infanta  half-an-hour  together,  in  a  thought- 
ful, speculative  posture,  which,"  he  sagaciously  adds,  "  would  needs 
be  tedious  unless  affection  did  sweeten  it."    It  was  on  one  of 


THE  SPANISH  MATCH.  371 

these  occasions  that  Olivarez,  with  less  poetic  truth  than  energy 
of  expression,  said  that  Charles  watched  her  as  a  cat  does  a 
mouse* 

Whatever  outward  respect  Charles  may  have  voluntarily  offered 
to  the  prejudices  and  observances  of  Spanish  ceremony,  he,  and 
perhaps  the  blushing  Infanta,  thought  it  very  cumbersome  love- 
work  for  young  hearts.  Words  had  passed  between  them,  it  is 
true,  but  only  through  the  medium  of  an  interpreter,  and  always 
in  the  presence  of  the  king,  for  Philip  "  sat  hard  by,  to  overhear 
all,"  and  understand  if  he  could,  the  interpretations  made  by  Lord 
Bristol. 

Weary  of  this  restraint,  the  prince  soon  found  means,  or  rather 
an  opportunity,  to  break  through  the  pompous  obstacles  which 
opposed  the  good  old  plan  of  love-making,  and  he,  with  Endymion 
Porter  to  attend  him,  did  not  fail  to  profit  by  the  occasion.  Near 
the  city,  but  across  the  river,  the  king  had  a  summer-house,  called 
Casa  di  Campo.  Charles  discovered  that  the  Infanta  was  accus- 
tomed to  go  very  often  of  a  morning  to  gather  May-dew.  The 
knight  and  esquire,  accordingly,  donning  a  silken  suit  for  a  spring 
morning,  went  out  betimes,  and  arrived  without  let  or  hindrance 
at  the  Casa  di  Campo.  Their  quality  was  a  sure  passport,  and 
doors,  immovably  closed  to  all  others,  opened  to  them.  They 
passed  through  the  house  into  the  garden,  but  to  their  wonder  and 
disappointment,  the  "  light  of  love"  was  not  visible.  The  Infanta 
had  not  arrived,  or  had  fled,  and  disappointment  seemed  likely  to 
be  the  probable  reward  of  their  labor.  The  garden  was  divided 
from  an  adjoining  orchard  by  a  high  wall ;  the  prince  heard  voices 
on  the  other  side,  perhaps  heard  the  voice,  and  hastened  to  a 
door  which  formed  the  only  communication  of  the  two  divisions. 
To  try  this  outlet  was  the  work  of  a  moment  j  to  find  it  most  vex- 
atiously  locked,  was  the  conviction  of  the  next.  The  lover  was 
at  bay,  and  Endymion's  confused  brain  had  no  resource  to  suggest. 
They  looked  at  the  wall.  It  was  high,  undoubtedly ;  but  was 
ever  such  a  barrier  too  high  for  a  king's  son — a  knight  and  a 
gallant,  when  it  stood  between  him  and  such  a  "  star"  as  the  muse 
of  De  Vega  made  of  the  Infanta  ?  Charles  was  on  the  summit 
of  the  wall  almost  as  soon  as  the  thought  of  climbing  it  had  first 
struck  him ;  with  the  same  eagerness  he  sprang  lightly  down  on 


872  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

the  other  side,  and  hastily  made  toward  the  object  of  his  temerity. 
Unfortunately  there  was  an  old  "  duenna"  of  a  marquis  with  her 
in  quality  of  guardian,  and  the  Infanta,  who  perchance  expected 
to  see  the  intruder,  was  constrained,  for  the  sake  of  appearances, 
to  scream  with  well-dissembled  terror.  "  She  gave  a  shriek  and 
ran  back.''  Charles  followed,  but  the  grim  marquis  interfered  his 
unwelcome  person  between  the  lovers.  "  Turning  to  the  prince, 
he  fell  on  his  knees,  conjuring  his  highness  to  retire ;"  he  swore 
by  his  head,  that  if  he  admitted  the  prince  to  the  company  of  the 
Infanta,  he,  the  grisly  guardian  of  the  dove,  might  pay  for  it  with 
his  head.  As  the  lady,  meanwhile,  had  fled,  and  did  not  return, 
Charles  was  not  obdurate.  Maria,  though  she  had  escaped  (be- 
cause seen)  could  not  but  be  pleased  with  the  proof  he  had  given 
of  his  devotion,  and  as  the  old  marquis  continued  to  talk  of  his 
head,  the  prince,  whose  business  lay  more  with  the  heart,  turned 
round  and  walked  slowly  away.  He  advanced  toward  the  door, 
the  portal  was  thrown  open,  and  thus,  as  Mr.  Howell  pithily  says, 
*^  he  came  out  under  that  wall  over  which  he  had  got  in."  Endy- 
mion  was  waiting  for  him,  and  perhaps  for  his  story,  but  the  knight 
was  sad,  and  his  squire  solemn.  Charles  looked  an  embodying 
of  the  idea  of  gloom,  and  Master  Porter,  with  some  ill-will,  was 
compelled  to  obser\'e  a  respectftil  silence. 

The  Infanta  and  her  governor  hurried  back  to  the  palace,  while 
her  suitor  and  his  followers  were  left  to  rail  in  their  thoughts 
against  the  caprice  of  the  ladies,  and  the  reserve  of  royal  masters ; 
and  so  ends  a  pretty  story  of  "  how  a  princess  went  to  gather 
May-dew." 

This  solitary  and  unsuccessful  love-passage  was  the  last  effort 
which  Charles  made  to  engage  the  good-will  of  Maria.  He,  at 
once,  retired  to  his  apartments  in  the  palace ;  whence  he  seldom 
went  abroad,  except  for  the  purpose  of  attending  a  bull-fight. 
Buckingham  was  sick  a-bed,  his  offended  nobility  lay  ill-disposed 
at  court,  and  the  palace  residence  was  gradually  becoming  irksome 
to  all  parties.  Charles  could  only  have  bedchamber  prayers,  and 
not  possessing  a  room  where  he  might  have  attended  the  service 
of  his  own  church,  the  sacred  plate  and  vestments  he  had  brou^t 
over  were  never  used.  Moreover,  the  Knights  of  the  Garter, 
Lords  Carlisle  and  Denbigh,  had  well  nigh  set  the  palace  on  fire. 


THE  SPANISH  MATCH.  873 

through  leaving  their  lighted  pipes  in  a  summer-house.  '  The 
threatened  mischief,  however,  was  prevented  by  the  activity  of 
Master  Davies,  my  Lord  of  Carlisle's  barber,  who  "  leapt  down  a 
great  height  and  quenched  it"  Perhaps  a  more  unfortunate  ac- 
cident than  this,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Catholic  population,  was  a  brawl 
within  the  royal  precinct  between  Ballard,  an  English  priest,  and 
an  English  knight.  Sir  Edmund  Yamey.  The  prince  had  a  page 
named  Washington,  lying  mortally  ill ;  to  save  hi&  soul  the  anx- 
ious priest  hastened  to  the  death-bed  of  the  page ;  here,  however, 
he  met  Sir  Edmund,  an  unflinching  pillar  of  the  English  church. 
An  unseemly  scene  ensued ;  and  while  knight  and  priest  passed 
from  words  to  blows,  the  poor  suffering  page  silently  died,  and 
soon  afler  was  consigned  to  the  earth  under  a  fig-tree  in  Lord 
Bristol's  Garden. 

Li  the  meantime,  the  Princess  Lifanta  was  publicly  addressed 
as  Princess  of  Wales,  and  as  an  acquaintance  with  the  English 
language  was  a  possession  much  to  be  desired  by  the  bearer  of  so 
proud  a  title,  the  Lady  Maria  began  '^  her  accidence,'*  and  turned 
her  mind  to  harsh  declensions  and  barbarous  conjugations. 
Though  enthusiasm  had  somewhat  cooled,  the  business  continued 
to  proceed ;  the  most  serious  interruption  was  occasioned  by  the 
death  of  the  Pontiff  as  it  entailed  many  of  the  ensuing  obstacles 
which  at  once  began  to  rise.  The  unfinished  work  of  Gregory 
was  thought  to  require  a  da  capo  movement  from  hie  successor 
Urban,  and  the  new  Hierarch  commenced  a  string  of  objections 
and  proposals,  which  were  of  no  other  effect  than  to  produce  mis- 
trust and  delay.  Buckingham  too,  recovering  from  his  sickness, 
longed  to  return  to  England,  where  it  was  now  understood  that 
the  Pope's  tardiaese  was  founded  on  hopes  of  the  prince's  conver- 
sion. The  people  of  England  were  alarmed  and  clamorous. 
Charles  and  the  duke  discontented  and  impatient.  The  latter 
urged  a  return,  and  the  prince,  in  expressing  his  wishes  to  Philip, 
stated  as  his  reasons,  his  father's  age  and  infirmities,  the  murmurs 
of  his  people,  and  the  fact  that  a  fleet  was  at  sea  to  meet  him. 
He  added,  a  most  close  argument,  that  the  articles  which  had  been 
signed  in  England  bore,  as  a  proviso,  that  if  he  did  not  return 
by  a  specified  month,  they  should  be  of  no  validity.  It  honora- 
bly belied  the  suspicions  ap^ainst  the  Spanish  Cabinet,  that  not 


874  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

the  slightest  opposition  was  made  to  the  return ;  proxies  were 
named,  and  on  the  termination  of  affairs  with  the  Pope,  Maria 
was  to  follow  Charles  to  England.  The  lady  is  said  to  have  re- 
marked, that  if  she  was  not  worth  wmidng  for  she  was  not  worth 
having.  Charles  must  have  felt  the  remark,  but  the  duke  was 
paramount,  and  the  wind,  which  fevored  their  departure,  as  speed- 
ily blew  away  the  popularity  of  a  prince  whose  knightly  bearing, 
modest  gallantry,  and  high  virtues,  so  particularly  formed  him  for 
the  favorite  of  a  romantic  nation.  The  treaty  for  the  Spanish 
match  was  broken. 

The  secret  history  of  the  French  match  possesses  an  equal  in- 
terest with  that  of  the  Spanish ;  but  Charles  only  wrote  to  his 
bride  on  this  occasion,  and  met  her,  on  her  way  to  him,  at  Can- 
terbury. 

As  a  further  instance  of  the  chivalrous  gallantry  of  Charles  L, 
it  deserves  to  be  recorded,  that  he  it  was  who  suggested  a  revival 
of  the  custom  of  inviting  the  ladies  to  participate  in  the  hon- 
ors of  the  Garter.  I  have  elsewhere  said,  that  at  one  time,  the 
ladies  were  regularly  admitted,  but  nothing  is  known  as  to  when 
this  gallant  custom  was  first  introduced.  Dr.  Barrington,  in  his 
excellent  "  Lectures  on  Heraldry,"  says,  that  "  in  the  earliest  no- 
tice of  the  habit  of  the  order  having  been  issued  to  the  ladies,  im- 
mediately after  the  accession  of  Richard  II.,"  they  are  said  to 
have  been'**  newly  received  into  the  Society  of  the  Garter/'  and 
were  afterward  called  "  Ladies  of  the  Fraternity  of  St  George." 
Who  were  admitted  to  this  distinguished  order,  or  how  long  the 
practice  continued,  does  not  appear,  though  it  is  probable  it  had 
fallen  into  disuse  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.  Charles  remained 
content  with  merely  suggesting  the  revival  of  the  custom,  and 
"  nothing,"  says  Dr.  Barrington, "  seems  to  have  been  4one  to  car- 
ry this  suggestion  into  effect.  If  any  one  period,"  —  adds  the 
docter,  most  appropriately — "  if  any  one  period  were  more  fit 
than  another  for  doing  it,  it  must  surely  be  the  present^  when  a 
lady  is  the  sovereign  of  the  order." 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  3KNIGHTS.  376 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND  AS  KNIGHTS. 

FROM  STUART  TO  BRUNSWICK. 

Charles  XL  loved  the  paraphernalia  of  courts  and  chivalry. 
He  even  designed  to  create  two  new  orders  of  knighthood — 
namely  "  the  Knights  of  the  Sea,"  a  naval  order  for  the  encour- 
agement of  the  sea-service ;  and  "  the  Knights  of  the  Royal  Oak," 
in  memory  of  his  deliverance,  and  for  the  reward  of  civil  merit. 
He  never  went  much  farther  than  the  intention.  He  adopted  the 
first  idea  at  another's  suggestion,  and  straightway  thought  no  more 
of  it.  The  second  originated  with  himself,  and  a  list  of  persons 
was  made  out,  on  which  figured  the  names  of  the  intended  knights. 
The  matter  never  went  fiirther. 

At  Charles's  coronation,  the  knights  of  the  Bath  were  peculiarly 
distinguished  for  their  splendor.  They  were  almost  too  gorge- 
ously attired  to  serve  as  waiters,  and  carry  up,  as  they  did  the 
first  course  to  the  king's  own  table,  at  the  coronation  banquet, 
after  a  knight  of  the  Garter  had  been  to  the  kitchen  and  had  eaten 
a  bit  of  the  first  dish  that  was  to  be  placed  before  his  Sacred 
Majesty. 

If  the  king  was  fond  of  show,  some  at  least  of  his  knights, 
shared  in  the  same  feeling  of  vanity.  The  robes  in  recent  times 
were  worn  only  on  occasions  of  ceremony  and  service.  The  king 
revived  a  fashion  which  his  knights  followed,  and  which  sober 
people  (who  were  not  knights)  called  a  ridiculous  humor. 
They  were  "  so  proud  of  their  coats,"  as  the  expression  went, 
that  they  not  only  wore  them  at  home,  but  went  about  in  them, 
and  even  rode  about  the  park  with  them  on.  Mr.  Pepys  is  par- 
ticularly indignant  on  this  matter  especially  so,  when  told  that 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth  and  Lord  Oxford  were  seen,  ^  in  a  hack- 


876   .  TUB  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

ney-ooach,  with  two  footmen  in  the  park  with  their  robes  on ;  which,'* 
adds  the  censor,  '*  is  a  most  scandalous  thing,  so  as  all  gravity  may 
be  said  to  be  lost,  among  us.^  There  was  more  danger  of  what 
Pepys  calls  "  gravity"  being  lost,  when  the  Order,  at  command 
of  the  Sovereign  head,  elected  such  men  as  the  Elector  of  Saxony, 
w!io  had  no  other  distinction  but  that  of  being  a  good  drinker. 

I  do  not  know  what  the  rule  now  may  be  in  St  Greorge's 
Chapel,  but  in  the  reign  of  Charles  IL,  a  singular  regulation  is 
noticed  by  Pepys.  He  went  in  good  company  to  the  royal  chapel, 
where  he  was  placed,  by  Dr.  Childe,  the  organist,  "among  the 
knights'  stalls,  and  pretty  the  observation,"  he  adds,  "  that  no  man, 
but  a  woman,  may  sit  in  a  knight's  place,  where  any  brass  plates 
are  set."  What  follows  is  also,  in  some  degree,  germane  to  our 
purpose.  '^  Hither  come  cushions  to  us,  and  a  young  singing  boy 
to  bring  us  a  copy  of  the  anthem  to  be  sung.  And  here,  for  our 
sakes,  had  this  anthem  and  the  great  service  sung  extraordinary, 
only  to  entertain  us.  Great  bowing  by  all  the  people,  the  poor 
knights  particularly,  toward  the  altar." 

Charles  II.  was  the  first  monarch  who  allowed  the  Knights  of 
the  Garter  to  wear,  as  at  present,  the  star  of  the  order  on  the 
breast  of  the  coat  Our  present  queen  has  renewed  in  her  gracious 
person,  the  custom  that  was  once  observed,  if  we  may  believe 
Ashmole,  by  the  ladies,  that  is,  the  wives  of  Knights  of  the  Garter 
—  namely,  of  wearing  the  symbol  of  the  order  as  a  jewelled  badge, 
or  a  bracelet,  on  the  arm.  This  is  in  better  taste  than  the  mode 
adopted  by  Lady  Castlereagh,  at  the  gay  doings  attendant  upon 
the  sitting  of  the  Congress  of  Vienna ;  where  the  noble  lady  in 
question  appeared  at  court  with  her  husband's  jewelled  garter,  as 
a  bandeau,  round  her  forehead ! 

James  11.  has  had  not  merely  his  apologists  but  his  defenders. 
He  had  far  more  of  the  knightly  character  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed. For  a  long  time  he  labored  under  the  disadvantage  of 
being  represented,  in  England,  by  historians  only  of  the  Oraxige 
faction.  Poor  Richard  the  Third  has  suffered  by  a  similar  mis- 
fortune. He  was  wicked  enough,  but  he  was  not  the  monster  de- 
scribed by  the  Tudor  historians  and  dramatists. 

James,  in  his  youth,  had  as  daring  and  as  crafty  a  spirit  as  ever 
distinguished  the  most  audacious  of  pages.     The  tact  by  the  em- 


THE  KINGS   OF   ENGLAND   AS  KNIGHTS.  877 

ployment  of  which  he  successfully  made  his  escape  from  the  re- 
publican guards  who  kept  him  imprisoned  at  St.  James's,  Would 
alone  be  sufficient  proof  of  this.  When  Duke  of  York,  he  had  the 
compliment  paid  to  him  by  Conde,  that  if  ever  there  was  a  man 
without  fear  it  was  he.  Under  Turenne  he  earned  a  reputation 
of  which  any  knight  might  be  proud ;  and  in  the  service  of  Spain, 
he  won  praise  for  courage,  from  leaders  whose  bravery  was  a  theme 
for  eulogy  in  every  mouth. 

Partisans,  not  of  his  own  faction,  have  censured  his  going  pub- 
licly to  mass  soon  afler  his  accession ;  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  Knights  of  the  Garter,  in  the  collar  of  their  order,  com- 
placently accompanied  him,  and  that  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  the 
only  knight  who  left  him  at  the  door  of  the  chapel. 

He  had  little  of  the  knight  in  him  in  his  method  of  love,  if  one 
may  so  speak.  He  cared  little  for  beauty ;  so  little,  that  his  brother 
Charles  remarked  that  he  believed.  James  selected  his  mistresses 
by  way  of  penance.  He  was  coarsely  minded,  and  neither  prac- 
tised fidelity  nor  expected  it  in  others.  Whatever  he  may  have 
been  in  battle,  there  was  little  of  the  refinement  of  chivalry  about 
him  in  the  bower.  It  was  said  of  Louis  XIY.  and  his  successor, 
that  if  they  were  outrageously  imfaithful  to  their  consorts,  they 
never  failed  to  treat  them  with  the  greatest  politeness.  James 
lacked  even  this  little  remnant  of  chivalrous  feeling ;  and  he  was 
barely  courteous  to  his  consort  till  adversity  taught  him  the  worth 
of  Mary  of  Modena. 

He  was  arrogant  in  prosperity,  but  the  slightest  check  dread- 
fully depressed  him,  and  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  he  who 
is  easily  elated  or  easily  depressed,  has  little  in  him  of  the  hero. 
His  conduct  when  his  throne  was  menaced  was  that  of  a  poor  cra- 
ven. It  had  not  about  it  the  dignity  of  even  a  decent  submission. 
He  rose  again,  however,  to  the  heroic  when  he  attempted  to  recover 
his  kingdom,  and  took  the  field  for  that  purpose.  This  conduct 
has  been  alluded  to  by  a  zealous  and  impartial  writer  in  the  ^^  Gen^ 
tleman's  Magazine,"  for  November,  1855.  "  After  the  battle  of 
the  Boyne,"  he  says,  "  the  Orange  party  circulated  the  story  that 
James  had  acted  in  the  most  cowardly  manner,  and  fied  from  the 
field  before  the  issue  was  decided.  Not  only  was  this,  in  a  very 
short  time  believed,  but  even  sensible  historians  adopted  it,  and  it 


378  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

came  down  to  us  as  an  historical  fact  Now  in  the  secret  archives 
of  France  there  are  several  letters  whidi  passed  between  Queen 
Mary  and  the  Earl  of  Tyroonnel,  and  these  together  with  some  of 
the  secret  papers,  dispose  at  once  of  the  whole  story.  It  has  now 
been  placed  beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  king  was  forced  from  the 
field.  Even  when  the  day  was  lost  and  the  Dutch  veterans  had 
routed  the  half-armed  and  undisciplined  Irish,  James  rallied  a  part 
of  the  French  troops,  and  was  leading  them  on,  when  Tyrconnel 
and  Lauzun  interposed,  pointed  out  the  madness  of  the  attempt, 
and  seizing  the  reins  of  his  horse,  compelled  him  to  retreat.'* 

This  is  perhaps  proving  a  little  too  much,  for  if  the  day  was 
lost,  it  was  not  bravery,  but  rashness,  that  sought  to  regain  it ;  and 
it  is  the  first  merit  of  a  knight,  the  great  merit  of  a  general,  to  dis- 
cern when  blood  may  be  spilled  to  advantage.  As  for  the  archives 
in  France,  one  would  like  to  know  upon  what  authority  the  papers 
preserved  there  make  their  assertions.  Documents  are  exceed- 
ingly valuable  to  historians,  but  they  are  not  always  trustworthy. 
The  arehives  of  France  may  contain  Canrobert's  letter  explaining 
how  he  was  compelled  to  put  constraint  upon  the  bravery  of  Prince 
Napoleon,  and  send  him  home,  in  consequence  of  severe  indisposi- 
tion. And  yet  the  popular  voice  has  since  applied  a  very  uncom- 
plimentary surname  to  the  Prince — quite  as  severe,  but  not  so 
unsavory,  as  that  which  the  people  of  Drogheda  still  apply  to 
James.  In  either  case  there  is  considerable  uncertainty.  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  the  best  of  both  of  these  illustrious  personages, 
but  seeing  that  the  uncertainty  is  great,  I  am  not  sure  that  Scarron 
was  wrong  when  he  said  that  the  best  way  of  writing  history  was 
by  writing  epigrams,  pointed  so  as  to  prick  everybody. 

Cottington  (Stafibrd's  Letters)  tells  us  of  a  domestic  trouble  in 
which  James  was  concerned  with  one  of  his  knights.  The  king^s 
perplexities  about  religion  began  early.  "  The  nurse  is  a  Eoman 
Catholic,  to  whom  Sir  John  Tunston  offered  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
and  she  refused  it ;  whereupon  there  grew  a  great  noise  both  in 
the  town  and  court ;  and  the  queen  afflicted  herself  with  extreme 
passion  upon  knowledge  of  a  resolution  to  change  the  woman.  Yet 
after  much  tampering  with  the  nurse  to  convert  her,  she  was  let 
alone,  to  quiet  the  queen."  The  dissension  is  said  to  have  so 
troubled  the  nurse,  as  also  to  have  injured  the  child,  and  never 


THE  KINGS  OF  ENGLAND   AS   KNIGHTS-  879 

had  knight  or  king  more  difficult  task  than  James,  in  his  desire  to 
please  all  parties. 

It  was  one  of  the  characteristics  of  a  knight  to  bear  adversity 
without  repining ;  and  if  Dodd  may  be  believed,  James  11.  was 
distinguished  for  this  great  moral  courage  in  his  adversity.  The 
passage  in  Dodd's  Church  History  is  worth  extracting,  though 
somewhat  long :  "  James  was  never  once  heard  to  repine  at  his 
misfortune.  He  willingly  heard  read  the  scurrilous  pamphlets 
that  were  daily  published  in  England  against  him.  If  at  any  time 
he  showed  himself  touched,  it  was  to  hear  of  the  misfortunes  of 
those  gentlemen  who  suffered  on  his  account.  He  w6uld  often 
entertain  those  about  him  with  the  disorders  of  his  youth,  but  it 
was  with  a  public  detestation  of  them,  and  an  admonition  to  others 
not  to  follow  his  example.  The  very  newspapers  were  to  him  a 
lesspn  of  morality ;  and  the  daily  occurrences,  both  in  the  field  and 
the  cabinet,  were  looked  upon  by  him,  not  as  the  result  of  second 
causes,  but  as  providential  measures  to  chastise  both  nations  and 
private  persons,  according  to  their  deserts.  He  would  sometimes 
say  that  the  exalted  state  of  a  king  was  attended  with  this  great 
misfortune,  that  he  lived  out  of  the  reach  of  reproof,  and  mentioned 
himself  as  an  example.  He  read  daily  a  chapter  in  the  Bible, 
and  another  in  that  excellent  book,  '  The  Following  of  Christ'  In 
his  last  illness  he  publicly  forgave  all  his  enemies,  and  several  of 
them  by  name,  especially  the  Prince  of  Orange,  whom  he  acknowl- 
edged to  be  his  greatest  friend,  as  being  the  person  whom  Provi- 
dence had  made  use  of  to  scourge  him  and  humble  him  in  the 
manner  he  had  done,  in  order  to  save  his  soul.'^  As  something 
very  nearly  approaching  to  reality,  this  is  more  pleasing  than  the 
details  of  dying  knights  in  romance,  who  after  hacking  at  one  an- 
other for  an  hour,  mutually  compliment  each  other's  courage,  and 
die  in  the  happiest  frame  of  mind  possible.  Some  one  speaking 
of  this  king,  and  of  Innocent  II.,  made  an  apt  remark,  worth  the 
quoting ;  namely,  that  "  he  wished  for  the  peace  of  mankind  that 
the  pope  had  turned  papist,  and  the  king  of  England,  protestant!" 
How  far  the  latter  was  from  this  desired  consummation'  is  wittily 
expressed  in  the  epitaph  on  James,  made  by  one  of  the  poet-chev- 
aliers, or,  as  some  say,  by  one  of  the  abbes  who  used  to  lounge 
about  the  terrace  of  St.  Germains. 


380  TH£  KKIGUTS   AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

"  C'est  ici  que  Jacqaes  Second, 
Sans  ministrcs  et  sans  maitresses, 
Le  matin  allnit  k  la  messe, 
£t  le  soir  allait  an  sermon." 

I  have  noticed,  in  a  previous  page,  the  very  scant  courtesy 
which  the  queen  of  Charles  I.  met  with  at  the  hands  of  a  Com- 
monwealth admiral.  The  courtesy  of  some  of  the  Stuart  knights 
toward  royal  ladies  was  not,  however,  of  a  much  more  gallant 
aspect  I  will  illustrate  this  by  an  anecdote  told  by  M.  Macaulay 
in  the  fourth  volume  of  his  history.  The  spirit  of  the  Jacobites 
in  William's  reign  had  been  excited  by  the  news  of  the  fall  of 
Mons.  ...  ^^  In  the  parks  the  malcontents  wore  their  biggest 
looks,  and  talked  sedition  in  their  loudest  tones.  The  most  con- 
spicuous among  tliese  swaggerers  was  Sir  John  Fenwick,  who 
had  in  the  late  reign  been  high  in  favor  and  military  command, 
and  was  now  an  indefatigable  agitator  and  conspirator.  In  his 
exaltation  he  forgot  the  courtesy  which  man  owes  to  woman. 
He  had  more  than  once  made  himself  conspicuous  by  his  imper- 
tinence to  the  queen.  He  now  ostentatiously  put  himself  in  her 
way  when  she  took  her  airing,  and  while  all  afound  him  uncov- 
ered and  bowed  low,  gave  her  a  rude  stare,  and  cocked  his  hat  in 
her  face.  The  affront  was  not  only  brutal  but  cowardly.  For 
the  law  had  provided  no  punishment  for  mere  impertinence,  how- 
ever gross ;  and  the  king  was  the  only  gentleman  and  soldier  in 
the  king  was  the  only  gentleman  and  soldier  in  the  kingdom  who 
could  not  protect  his  wife  from  contumely  with  his  sword.  All 
that  the  queen  could  do  was  to  order  the  park-keepers  not  to 
admit  Sir  John  again  within  the  gates.  But  long  after  her  death 
a  day  came  when  he  had  reason  to  wish  that  he  had  restrained 
his  insolence.  He  found,  by  terrible  proof,  that  of  all  the  Jaco- 
bites, the  most  desperate  assassins  not  excepted,  he  was  the  only 
one  for  whom  William  felt  an  intense  personal  aversion." 

The  portrait  of  William  III.  as  drawn  by  Burnet,  does  not 
wear  any  very  strong  resemblance  to  a  hero.  The  "  Roman  nose 
and  bright  sparkling  eyes,"  are  the  most  striking  features,  but  the 
"  countenance  composed  of  gravity  and  authority,"  has  more  of 
the  magistrate  than  the  man  at  arms.  Nevertheless,  and  in 
despite  of  his  being  always  asthmatical,  with  lungs  oppressed  by 


THE  KINGS  OP  ENGLAND   AS  KNIGHTS.  881 

the  dregs  of  small-pox,  and  the  slow  and  "disgusting  dryness" 
of  his  speech,  there  was  something  chivalrous  in  the  character  of 
William.  In  "  the  day  of  battle  he  was  all  fire,  though  without 
passion;  he  was  then  everywhere,  and  looked  to  everything. 
His  genius,"  says  Burnet  in  another  paragraph,  "  lay  chiefly  in 
war,  in  which  his  courage  was  more  admired  than  his  conduct. 
Great  errors  were  often  committed  by  him;  but  his  heroical 
courage  set  things  right,  as  it  inflamed  those  who  were  about 
him."  In  connection  with  this  part  of  his  character  may  be 
noticed  the  fact  that  he  procured  a  parliamentary  sanction  for  the 
establishment  of  a  standing  army.  His  character,  in  other  re- 
spects, is  not  badly  illustrated  by  a  remark  which  he  made,  when 
Prince  of  Orange,  to  Sir  W,  Temple,  touching  Charles  II. 
"  Was  ever  an3rthing  so  hot  and  so  cold  as  this  court  of  yours  ? 
Will  the  king,  who  is  so  often  at  sea,  never  learn  the  word  that  I 
shall  never  forget,  since  my  last  passage,  when  in  a  great  storm 
the  captain  was  crying  out  to  the  man  at  the  helm,  all  night, 
*  Steady,  steady,  steady  V "  He  was  the  first  of  our  kings  who 
would  not  touch  for  the  evil.  He  would  leave  the  working  of  all 
miracles,  he  said,  to  God  alone.  The  half-chivalrous,  half- 
religious,  custom  of  washing  the  feet  of  the  poor  on  Maundy 
Thursday,  was  also  discontinued  by  this  prince,  the  last  of  the 
heroic  ^ve  Princes  of  Orange. 

Great  as  William  was  in  battle,  he  perhaps  never  exhibited 
more  of  the  true  quality  of  bravery  than  when  on  his  voyage  to 
Holland  in  1691,  he  left  the  fleet,  commanded  by  Sir  Cloudesley 
Shovel  and  Sir  George  Rooke,  and  in  the  midst  <rf  a  thick  fog 
attempted,  with  some  noblemen  of  his  retinue,  to  land  in  an  open 
boat.  "  The  danger,"  says  Mr.  Macaulay,  who  may  be  said  to  have 
painted  the  incident  in  a  few  words,  "  proved  more  serious  than 
they  had  expected."  It  had  been  supposed  that  in  an  hour  the 
party  would  be  on  shore.  But  great  masses  of  floating  ice  impe- 
ded the  progress  of  the  skiff;  the  night  came  on,  the  fog  grew 
thicker,  the  waves  broke  over  the  king  and  the  courtiers.  Once 
the  keel  struck  on  a  sandbank,  and  was  with  great  difficulty  got 
off.  The  hardiest  mariners  showed  some  signs  of  uneasiness,  but 
William  through  the  whole  night  was  as  composed  as  if  he  had 
been  in  the  drawing-room  at  Kensington.     "  For  shame,"  he  said 


382  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

to  one  of  the  dismayed  sailors^  "  are  you  afiraid  to  die  in  my 
company?"  The  vehis  Cct^artm  was,  certainly,  not  finer  than 
this. 

The  consort  of  Queen  Anne  was  of  a  less  chivalrous  spirit 
than  William.  Coxe  says  of  him,  that  even  in  the  battle-field  he 
did  not  forget  the  dinner-hour,  and  he  appears  to  have  had  more 
stomach  for  feeding  than  fighting.  Of  Greorge  I.,  the  best  that 
can  be  said  of  him  in  his  knightly  capacity,  has  been  said  of 
him,  by  Smollet,  in  the  remark,  that  this  prince  was  a  circumspect 
general.  He  did  not,  however,  lack  either  courage  or  impetuosity. 
He  may  have  learned  circumspection  under  William  of  Orange. 
Courage  was  the  common  possession  of  all  the  Brunswick  princes. 
Of  some  of  them,  it  formed  the  solitary  virtue.  But  of  George 
I.,  whom  it  was  the  fashion  of  i>oets,  aspiring  to  the  laureatship, 
to  call  the  great,  it  can  not  be  said,  as  was  remarked  of  Philip 
IV.  of  Spain,  when  he  took  the  title  of  *^  Great,"  "  He  has  be- 
come great,  as  a  ditch  becomes  great,  by  losing  the  land  which 
belonged  to  it." 

One  more  custom  of  chivalry  observed  in  this  reign,  went 
finally  out  in  that  of  George  11.  ,  I  allude  to  the  custom  of  giving 
hostages.  According  to  the  treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  "two 
persons  of  rank  were  to  reside  in  France,  in  that  capacity,  as 
sureties  to  France  that  Great  Britain  should  restore  certain  of  its 
conquests  in  America  and  the  West  Indies."  The  "  Chevalier," 
Prince  Charles  Edward,  accounted  this  as  a  great  indignity  to 
England,  and  one  which,  he  said,  he  would  not  have  suffered  if 
he  had  been  in  possession  of  his  rights. 

The  age  of  chivalry,  in  the  old-fashioned  sense  of  the  word, 
went  out  before  Burke  pronounced  it  as  having  departed.  I  do 
not  think  it  survived  till  the  reign  of  George  II.  In  that  reign 
chivalry  was  defunct,  but  there  was  an  exclusive  class,  whose 
numbers  arrogated  to  themselves  that  nice  sense  of  honor  which 
was  supposed,  in  olden  times,  to  have  especially  distinguished  the 
knight.  The  people  alluded  to  were  par  excellence,  the  people  of 
"  fashion."  The  gentlemen  who  guarded,  or  who  were  supposed 
to  guard,  the  brightest  principle  of  chivalry,  were  self-styled 
rather  than  universally  acknowledged,  "  men  of  honor." 

The  man  of  honor  has  been  painted  by  "  one  of  themselves." 


THE  KINGS   OF  ENGLAND   AS   KNIGHTS.  383 

The  Earl  of  Chesterfield  spoke  with  connoissance  de  fait,  when 
he  treated  of  the  theme;  and  his  lordship,  whose  complacency  on 
this  occasion,  does  not  permit  him  to  see  that  his  wit  is  pointed 
against  himself,  tells  a  story  without  the  slightest  recollection  of 
the  pithy  saying  of  the  old  bard,  "  De  te  fabula  narratur." 

"  A  man  of  honoi*,"  says  Lord  Chesterfield,  "  is  one  who  per- 
emptorily afltons  himself  to  be  so,  and  who  will  cut  anybody's 
throat  that  questions  it,  even  upon  the  best  grounds.  He  is  infi- 
nitely above  the  restraints  which  the  laws  of  God  or  man  lay 
upon  vulgar  minds,  and  knows  no  other  ties  but  those  of  honor, 
of  which  word  he  is  to  be  the  sole  expounder.  He  must  strictly 
advocate  a  party  denomination,  though  he  may  be  utterly  regard- 
less of  its  principles.  His  expense  should  exceed  his  income  con- 
siderably, not  for  the  necessaries,  but  for  the  superfluities  of  life, 
that  the  debts  he  contracts  may  do  him  honor.  There  should  be 
a  haughtiness  and  ins(dence  in  his  deportment,  which  is  supposed 
to  result  from  conscious  honor.  If  he  be  choleric  and  wrong- 
headed  into  the  bargain,  with  a  good  deal  of  animal  courage,  he 
acquires  the  glorious  character  of  a  man  of  honor ;  and  if  all 
these  qualifications  are  duly  seasoned  with  the  genteelest  vices, 
the  man  of  honor  is  complete ;  anything  his  wife,  children,  ser- 
vants, or  tradesmen,  may  think  to  the  contrary,  notwithstanding." 

Lord  Chesterfield  goes  on  to  exemplify  the  then  modem  chiv- 
alrous guardian  of  honor,  by  drawing  the  portrait  of  a  friend 
under  an  assumed  name.  He  paints  a. certain  "  Belville"  of  whom 
his  male  friends  are  proud,  his  female  friends  fond,  and  in  whom 
his  party  glories  as  a  living  example — frequently  making  that 
example  the  authority  for  their  own  conduct.  He  has  lost  a  for- 
tune by  extravagance  and  gambling ;  he  is  uneasy  only  as  to  how 
liis  honor  is  to  be  intact  by  acquitting  his  liabilities  from  "  play." 
He  must  raise  money  at  any  price,  for,  as  he  says,  "  I  would 
rather  sufier  the  greatest  incumbrance  upon  my  fortune,  than  the 
least  blemish  upon  my  honor."  His  privilege  as  a  peer  will  pre- 
serve him  from  those  "  clamorous  rascals,  the  tradesmen ;  and  lest 
he  should  not  be  able  to  get  money  by  any  other  means,  to  pay 
his  "  debts  of  honor,"  he  writes  to  the  prime  minister  and  offers 
to  sell  his  vote  and  conscience  for  the  consideration  of  fifteen 
hundred  pounds.     He  exacts  his  money  before  he  records  his 


884  THE  KNIGHTS   AND   THEIR  DAYS. 

vote,  persuaded  as  he  is  that  the  minister  will  not  be  the  first  per- 
son that  ever  questioned  the  honor  of  the  chivalrous  Belville. 

The  modem  knight  has,  of  course,  a  lady  love.  The  latter  is 
as  much  like  Guinever,  of  good  King  Arthur's  time,  as  can  well 
be ;  and  she  has  a  husband  who  is  more  suspicious  and  jealous 
than  the  founder  of  the  chivalrous  Round  Table.  "  Belville*'  can 
not  imagine  how  the  lady's  husband  can  be  suspicious,  for  he  and 
Belville  had  have  been  play-fellows,  school-fellows,  and  sworn 
friends  in  manhood.  Consequently,  Belville  thinks  that  wrong 
may  be  committed  in  all  confidence  and  security.  "  However," 
he  writes  to  the  lady,  "  be  convinced  that  you  are  in  the  hands  of 
a  man  of  honor,  who  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  ill-used,  and  should 
my  friend  proceed  to  any  disagreeable  extremities  with  you,  de- 
pend upon  it,  I  will  cut  the  c 's  throat  for  him." 

Life  in  love,  so  in  lying.     He  writes  to  an  acquaintance  that  he 

had  •  told  a  d d  lie  last  night  in  a  mixed  company,"  and  had 

challenged  a  "  formal  old  dog,"  who  had  insinuated  that "  Belville" 
had  violated  the  truth.  The  latter  requests  his  "  dear  Charles"  to 
be  his  second — "the  booby,"  he  writes  of  the  adversaiy  who  had 
detected  him  in  a  lie,  "  was  hardly  worth  my  resentment,  but  you 
know  my  delicacy  where  honor  is  concerned." 

Lord  Chesterfield  wrote  more  than  one  paper  on  the  subject  of 
men  of  honor.  For  these  I  refer  the  reader  to  his  lordship's 
works.  I  will  quote  no  further  from  them  than  to  show  a  distinc- 
tion, which  the  author  draws  with  some  ingenuity.  ^*  I  must  ob- 
serve," he  says,  "that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  a  Man 
OF  Honor  and  a  Person  of  Honor.  By  Persons  of  Honor 
were  meant,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  bad  authors  and 
poets  of  noble  birth,  who  were  but  just  not  fools  enough  to  prefix 
their  names  in  great  letters  to  the  prologues,  epilogues,  and  some- 
t'lnes  even  the  plays  with  which  they  entertained  ihe  public.  But 
now  that  our  nobility  are  too  generous  to  interfere  in  the  trade  of 
us  poor,  professed  authors"  (his  lordship  is  writing  anonymously, 
in  the  World),  "or  to  eclipse  our  performances  by  the  distin- 
guished and  superior  excellency  and  lustre  of  theirs ;  the  meaning 
at  present  of  a  Person  op  Honor  is  reduced  to  the  simple  idea 
of  a  Person  of  Illustrious  Birth." 

The  chivalrous  courage  of  one  of  our  admirals  at  the  close  of 


THE  KINGS   OF  ENGLAND  AS   KNIGHTS.  885 

the  reign  of  Greorge  II.,  very  naturally  excited  the  admiration  of 
Walpole.  **What  milksops,"  he  writes  in  1760,  "the  Marlbor- 
oughs  and  Turerines,  the  Blakes  and  Van  Tromps  appear  now, 
who  wfiipped  into  winter  quarters  and  into  ports  the  moment  their 
nose  looked  blue.  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel  said  that  an  admiral 
deserved  to  be  broken  who  kept  great  ships  out  after  the  end  of 
September ;  and  to  be  shot,  if  after  October.  There  is  Hawke  in 
the  bay,  weathering  this  winter  (January),  after  conquering  in  a 
storm." 

George  HI,  was  king  during  a  longer  period  than  any  other 
sovereign  of  England ;  and  the  wars  and  disasters  of  his  reign 
were  more  gigantic  than  those  of  any  other  period.  He  was  little 
of  a  soldier  himself;  was,  however,  constitutionally  brave;  and 
had  his  courage  and  powers  tested  by  other  than  military  matters. 
The  politics  of  his  reign  wore  his  spirit  more  than  if  he  had  been 
engaged  in  carrying  on  operations  against  an  enemy.  During 
the  first  ten  years  after  his  accession,  there  were  not  less  than 
seven  administrations ;  and  the  cabinets  of  Newcastle  and  Bute, 
Grenville  and  Rockingham,  Grafton  and  North,  Shelbume  and 
Portland,  were  but  so  many  camps,  the  leaders  in  which  worried 
the  poor  monarch  worse  than  the  Greeks  badgered  unhappy  Aga- 
memnon. Under  the  administration  of  Pitt  he  was  hardly  more 
at  his  ease,  and  in  no  degree  more  so  under  that  of  Addington,  or 
that  of  All  the  Talents,  and  of  Spencer  Perceval*  An  active 
life  of  warfare  could  not  have  more  woni  the  spirit  and  health  of 
this  king  than  political  intrigues  did;  intrigues,  however,  be  it 
said,  into  which  he  himself  plunged  with  no  inconsiderable  delight, 
and  with  slender  satisfactory  results. 

He  w^as  fond  of  the  display  of  knightly  ceremonies,  and  was 
never  more  pleased  than  when  he  was  arranging  the  ceremonies 
of  installation,  and  turning  the  simple  gentlemen  into  knights. 
Of  the  sons  who  succeeded  him,  George  IV.  was  least  like  him 
in  good  principle  of  any  sort,  while  William  IV.  surpassed  him 
in  the  circumstance  of  his  having  been  in  action,  where  he  bore- 
himself  spiritedly.  The  race  indeed  has  ever  been  brave,  and  I 
do  not  know  that  I  can  better  close  the  chapter  than  with  an 
illustration  of  the  "  Battle-cry  of  Brunswick." 

25 


886  THE  KNIQHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

THE  BATTLE-CRT  OF  BRUNSWICK. 
The  "  Battle-cry  of  Brunswick"  deserves  to  be  commeoMMrated 
among  the  acts  of  chivalry.  Miss  Benger,  in  her  ^  Memoirs  of 
Elizabeth,  Queen  of  Bohemia,**  relates  that  Christian,  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  was  touched  alike  by  the  deep  misfortunes,  and  the 
cheerful  patience  of  that  unhappy  queen.  Indignant  at  the  neg- 
lect with  which  she  was  treated  by  her  father,  James  I.  of  England, 
and  her  uncle,  Frederick  of  Denmark,  Duke  Christian  "  seemed 
suddenly  inspired  by  a  sentiment  of  chivalric  devotion,  as  far  re- 
moved from  vulgar  gallantry  as  heroism  from  ferocity.  Snatching 
from  her  hand  a  glove,  which  he  first  raised  with  reverence  to 
his  lips,  he  placed  it  in  his  Spanish  hat,  as  a  triumphal  plume 
which,  for  her  sake,  he  ever  after  wore  as  a  martial  ornament ; 
then  drawing  his  sword  he  took  a  solemn  oath  never  to  lay  down 
arms  until  he  should  see  the  King  and  Queen  of  Bohemia  rein- 
stated in  the  Palatinate.  No  sooner  had  Christian  taken  this  en- 
gagement than  he  eagerly  proclaimed  it  to  the  world,  by  substi- 
tuting on  his  ensign,  instead  of  his  denunciation  of  priests,  an  in- 
telligible invocation  to  Elizabeth  in  the  words  ^  For  God  and  for , 
her  r    Fur  Gott  und  fur  sie  r 

"  Flash  swords !  fly  pennons  I  helm  and  shield 

Go  glittering  forth  in  proud  array ! 
Haste  knight  and  noble  to  the  field, 

Tonr  pages  wait,  yoor  chargers  neigh. 
Up !  gentlemen  of  Grermany ! 

Who  love  to  be  where  strife  is  seen. 
For  Brunswick  leads  the  fight  to-day, 

For  God  and  the  Queen ! 

"  Let  them  to-day,  for  fame  who  sigh. 

And  seek  the  laurels  of  the  brave ; 
Or  they  who  long,  'ere  night,  to  lie 

Within  a  soldier's  honored  grave. 
Bound  Brunswick's  banner  take  their  stand ; 

'Twill  float  around  the  bloody  ^oene. 
As  long  as  foeman  walks  the  Uuid, 

'Gainst  God  and  the  Queen. 

''  Draw,  Barons,  whose  proud  homes  are  placed 
In  many  a  dark  and  craig-topped  tower ; 
Forward,  ye  knights,  who  have  been  graced 
In  tourney  lists  and  ladies'  bower. 


THE  KINGS  OP  ENGLAND   AS  KNIGHTS.  887 

And  be  your  coantry's  good  the  cause 

Of  all  this  proud  and  mortal  stir. 
While  Brunswick  his  true  sabre  draws 

For  God  and  for  her  1 

**  To  Him  we  look  for  such  good  aid 

As  knights  may  not  be  shamed  to  ask. 
For  vainly  drawn  would  be  each  blade, 

And  weakly  fitted  to  its  task, 
Each  lance  we  wield,  did  we  forget 

When  loud  we  raise  our  battle-cry, 
For  old  Bohemia's  Queen,  to  set 

Our  hopes  with  God  on  high." 

The  original  superscription  on  the  banner  of  Brunswick  was 
the  very  energetic  line :  "  Christian  of  Brunswick,  the  friend  of 
God  and  the  enemy  of  priests."  Naylor,  in  his  "  Civil  and  Mili- 
tary History  of  Germany,"  says,  that  the  Duke  imprinted  the  same 
legend  on  the  money  which  he  had  coined  out  of  the  plate  of  which 
he  had  plundered  the  convents,  and  he  adds,  in  a  note  derived 
from  Galetti,  that "  the  greater  part  of  the  money  coined  by  Chris- 
tian was  derived  from  twelve  silver  statues  of  the  apostles,  which, 
the  bigotry  of  preceding  ages  had  consecrated,  in  the  cathedral  of 
Munster."  When  the  Duke  was  accused  of  impiety  by  some  of 
his  followers,  he  sheltered  himself  under  the  authority  of  Scripture ;. 
and  pretended  to  have  only  realized  tlie  ancient  precept :  "  Gro 
hence,  into  all  parts  of  the  eartli !" 

Having  seen  the  English  Elings  as  knights,  let  us  look  at  a  few 
of  the  men  whom  they  knighted. 


888  THE  KNIOHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 


RECIPIENTS  OP  KNIGHTHOOD. 

"  The  dew  of  grace  bless  our  new  knights  to-day." 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

The  Conquest  was  productive  of  a  far  more  than  average  quan- 
tity of  knights.  Indeed,  I  think  it  mnj  be  asserted  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  that  the  first  and  the  last  William,  and  James  I. 
were  more  addicted  to  dubbing  knights  than  any  other  of  our  sov- 
ereigns. The  good-natured  William  IV.  created  them  in  such 
profusion  that,  at  last,  gentlemen  at  the  head  of  deputations  ap- 
peared in  the  royal  presence  with  a  mysterious  dread  lest,  in  spite 
of  themselves,  they  should  be  compelled  to  undergo  a  chivalric 
metamorphosis,  at  the  hands  of  the  '*  sea  king."  The  honor  was 
so  constantly  inflicted,  that  the  recipients  were  massed  together  by 
"John  BuU"  as  "The  Thousand  and  one  (K)nights!" 

William  the  Conqueror  was  not  so  lavish  in  accolades  as  his 
descendant  of  remoter  days,  nor  was  he  so  off-handed  in  the  way 
of  administering  the  distinction.  He  drew  his  sword  with  solem- 
*  nity,  laid  it  on  the  shoulder  before  him  with  a  sort  of  majestic 
composure,  and  throughout  the  ceremony  looked  as  calm  as  dignity 
required.  William  is  said  to  have  ennobled  or  knighted  his  cook. 
He  does  not  stand  alone  in  having  so  acted :  for,  unless  I  am  sin- 
gularly mistaken,  the  great  Louis  tied  some  small  cross  of  chivalry 
to  the  button-hole  of  the  inunortal  Vatel.  William's  act,  however, 
undoubtedly  gave  dignity  to  that  department  in  palaces,  whence 
many  princes  have  derived  their  only  pleasure.  It  was  from  him 
that  there  passed  into  the  palace  of  France  the  term  "  Officiers  de 
Service,"  a  term  which  has  been  appropriated  by  others  of  less 
elevated  degree  than  those  whom  it  originally  served  to  distinguish. 
The  term  has  led  to  a  standing  joke  in  such  dwellings.  "  Qui 
yive  ?"  exclaims  a  sentinel  in  one  of  the  base  passages,  as  one  of 


RECIPIENTS   OF   KNIGHTHOOD.  889 

these  officials  draws  near  at  night.  "  Officier,"  is  the  reply  of  the 
modest  official  in  question.  "  Quel  offider  ?"  asks  the  guard. 
"  Officier  de  service  1"  proudly  answers  he  who  is  thus  questioned ; 
whereupon  the  soldier  smilingly  utters  "  Passe,  Caramel !"  and  the 
royal  officer — not  of  the  body-guard,  passes,  as  smilingly,  on  liis 
way. 

But,  to  return  from  Caramel  to  the  Conqueror,  I  have  to  ob- 
serve, that  the  cook  whom  William  knighted  bore  an  unmusical,  if 
not  an  unsavory,  name.  The  culinary  artist  was  called  Tezelin. 
The  service  by  which  he  had  won  knighthood  consisted  in  the  in- 
vention of  a  white  soup  for  maigre  days.  The  hungry  but  ortho- 
dox William  had  been  accustomed  to  swallow  a  thin  broth  "  1  Teau 
de  savon ;"  but  Tezelin  placed  before  him  a  tureen  full  of  an  or- 
thodox yet  appetizing  liquid,  which  he  distinguished  by  the  name 
of  Dillegrout  The  name  is  not  promising,  particularly  the  last 
syllable,  but  the  dish  could  not  have  been  a  bad  one.  William 
created  the  inventor  "  chevalier  de  I'office,"  and  Sir  Caramel  Tez- 
elin was  farther  gratified  by  being  made  Lord  of  the  Manor  of 
Addington.  Many  a  manor  had  been  the  wages  of  less  honest 
service. 

The  Tiercelins  are  descendants  of  the  Tezelins ;  and  it  ha^  often 
struck  me  as  curious  that  of  two  recently-deceased  holders  of  that 
name,  one,  a  cutler  in  England,  was  famous  for  the  excellence  of 
his  carving-knives ;  and  the  other,  ai>  actor  in  France,  used  to 
maintain  that  the  first  of  comic  parts  was  the  compound  cook- 
coachman  in  Moliere's  "  Avare^^  Thus  did  they  seem  to  prove 
their  descent  from  the  culinary  chivalry  of  William  of  Normandy. 

But  there  are  other  samples  of  William's  knights  to  l)e  noticed. 
Among  the  followers  who  landed  with  him  between  Pevensey  and 
Hastings,  was  a  Robert  who,  for  want  of  a  surname,  and  because 
of  his  sinews,  was  called  Robert  le  Fort,  or  "  Strong."  It  would 
have  gone  ill  with  William  on  the  bloody  day  on  which  he  won  a 
throne,  had  it  not  been  for  this  Robert  le  Fort,  who  interposed  his 
escxi  or  shield,  between  the  skull  of  the  Norman  and  the  battle-axe 
of  a  Saxon  warrior.  This  opportune  service  made  a  "  Sieur  Rob- 
ert" of  him  who  rendered  it,  and  on  the  coat-of-arms  awarded  to 
the  new  knight  was  inscribed  the  device  which  yet  belongs  to  the 
Fortescues; — **  Forte  Scutum  Salus  Ducum" — a  strong  shield  is 


890  THS  KHIOHTS  AND  TH£IB  DAYS. 

the  aalvation  of  Sokes — or  leaders,  as  the  word  implies.  The 
Duke  of  Nortnandj  could  not  haye  devised  a  more  appropriate 
motto ;  but  he  was  probably  helped  to  it  by  the  leaniiiig  and  ready- 
wit  of  his  chaplain. 

The  danger  into  which  William  rushed  that  day  was  productive 
of  dignity  to  more  than  one  individual.    Thus,  we  hear  of  a  soldier 
who,  on  finding  William  unhorsed,  and  his  helmet  beaten  into  his 
face,  remounted  his  commander  after  cleverly  extricating  his  head 
from  the  battered  load  of  iron  that  was  about  it     William,  later 
in  the  day,  came  upon  the  trusty  squire,  fainting  from  the  loss  of 
a  leg  and  a  thigh.     **  You  gave  me  air  when  I  lacked  it,"  said  the 
Conqueror,  ^  and  such  be,  henceforth,  thy  name ;  and  for  thy  lost 
leg  and  thigh,  thou  shalt  carry  them,  from  this  day,  on  thy  shield  of 
arms."    The  maimed  knight  was  made  lord  of  broad  lands  in 
Derbyshire ;  and  his  descendants,  the  Eyres,  still  bear  a  leg  and 
a  thigh  in  armor,  for  their  crest     It  is  too  pretty  a  story  to  lose, 
but  if  the  account  of  these  knight-makings  be  correct,  some  doubt 
must  be  attached  to  that  of  the  devices,  if,  as  some  assert,  armorial 
bearings  were  not  used  until  many  years  subsequent  to  the  battle 
of  Hastings.     The  stories  are,  no  doubt,  substantially  true.     Wil- 
liam, like  James  HI.  of  Scotland,  was  addicted  to  knighting  and 
ennobling  any  individuals  who  rendered  him  the  peculiar  pleasures 
he  most  coveted.     Pitscottie  asserts  that  the  latter  king  conferred 
his  favors  on  masons  and  fiddlers ;  and  we  are  told  that  he  not 
only  made  a  knight  of  Cochrane,  a  mason,  but  also  raised  him  to 
the  dignity  of  £arl  of  Mar.     Cochrane,  however,  was  an  architect, 
but  he  would  have  been  none  the  worse  had  he  been  a  mason — 
at  least,  bad  he  been  a  man  and  mason  of  such  quaUty  as  Hugh 
Millar  and  Allan  Cuningham. 

Although  it  has  been  often  repeated  that  there  were  no  knights, 
in  the  proper  sense  of  that  word,  before  the  period  of  William 
the  Conqueror,  tins  must  be  accepted  with  such  amount  of  excep- 
tion as  to  be  almost  equivalent  to  a  denial  of  the  assertion.  There 
were  knights  before  the  Conquest,  but  the  systems  differed.  Thus 
we  know  from  Collier's  Ecclesiastical  History  that  Athelstan  was 
knighted  by  Alfred ;  and  this  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  in- 
stance of  the  performance  of  the  ceremony  that  can  be  discovered. 
Here  again,  however,  a  question  arises.     Collier  has  William  of 


EBSCIPIBNTS   OF   KNIGHTHOOD.  391 

Malmesbury  for  his  authority.  The  words  of  this  old  author  are : 
'^  Athelstane's  grandfather,  Alfred,  seeing  and  v  embracing  him 
affectionately,  when  he  was  a  boy  of  astonishing  beauty  and  grace- 
ful manners,  had  most  devoutly  prayed  that  his  govenunent 
might  be  prosperous ;  indeed,  he  had  made  him  a  knight  unusually 
early,  giving  him  a  scarlet  doak,  a  belt  studded  with  diamonds, 
and  a  Saxon  sword  with  a  golden  scabbard."  This,  and  similar 
instances  which  might  be  cited,  is  supposed  by  some  to  prove  the 
existence  of  knights  as  a  distinct  order  among  the  Saxons,  while 
otliers  think  that  it  may  amount  to  nothing  more  than  the  first 
bestowing  of  arms*  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  it  is  remarked,  ense 
acctnctus  est,  received  his  arms  at  thirteen  years  old.  But  this 
was  in  some  degree  "  knighting,"  for  we  read  in  Leland's  History 
of  Ireland,  of  Irish  knighthood  being  conferred  on  recipients  only 
seven  years  old. 

If  William  the  Conqueror  made  many  knights  in  order  to  cele- 
brate his  conquest,  the  gentlemen  with  new  honors  did  not  always 
obtain  peaceable  possession  of  the  estates  which  were  sometimes 
added  to  the  title.  Here  is  an  instance  in  the  case  of  the  ancient 
family  of  the  Kinnersleys.  William's  commissioners  had  appeared 
in  Herefordshire,  and  in  course  of  their  predatory  excursion,  they 
came  before  the  castle  of  John  de  Kinnersly,  an  old  man,  who  is 
described  as  a  knight,  albeit  some  assert  that  there  were  no  more 
knights  in  England  before  the  conquest  than  there  was  rain  on  the 
earth  before  the  floods  The  old  man  who  was  blind,  stood  at  his 
eastle-gate  in  front  of  a  semicircle  formed  by  his  twelve  sons. 
Each  had  sword  on  thigh  and  halberd  in  hand.  When  the  sheriffs 
and  other  commissioners  asked  him  by  what  tenure  he  held  his 
castle  and  estates,  blind  John  exclaimed,  ^^  By  my  arms ;  by  sword 
and  spear ;  and  by  the  same  will  keep  them !"  To  which  all  his 
lively  lads  uttered  a  vigorous  "  Ay,  ay,"  and  the  Norman  com- 
missioners were  so  satisfied  with  the  title,  that  they  did  not  ven- 
ture to  fiirther  question  the  same,  but  left  the  possessor  of  castle 
and  land  undisturbed  in  that  possession  which  is  said  to  be  nine 
points  out  of  the  ten  required  by  the  law. 

During  many  reigns,  no  man  was  knighted,  but  who  was  of 
some  "  quality,"  and  generally  because  he  was  paiiicularly  useful 
to  his  own  or  succeeding  generations.     These  require  no  notice. 


892  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEQt  DAYS. 

Some  of  these  introduced  customs  that  are  worth  notidtig,  and 
here  is  a  sample. 

Among  the  lackj  individuals  knighted  by  EdwaitL  L,  Sir 
William  Baud  holds  a  conspicuous  place.  Sir  William  gare 
rise  to  a  curious  custom,  which  was  long  observed  in  Old 
St  Paul's.  During  his  lifetime,  the  dean  and  chapter  had 
made  over  to  him  some  laud  in  Essex.  In  return,  or  perhaps  in 
"  service"  for  this,  the  knight  presented  at  the  high  altar  of  the 
cathedral,  a  doe  "  sweet  and  seasonable,"  on  the  conversion  of  St. 
Paul,  in  winter ;  and  a  buck,  in  equally  fitting  condition,  on  the 
commemoration  of  St  Paul  in  summer.  The  venison  was  for  the 
especial  eating  of  the  canons  resident  The  doe  was  carried  to 
the  altar  by  one  man,  surrounded  by  processional  priests,  and  he 
was  to  have  nothing  for  his  trouble.  The  buck  had  several  bearers 
and  a  more  numerous  accompaniment  of  priests,  who  disbursed 
the  magnificent  sum  of  twelve  pence  to  the  carriers.  The  knight's 
buck  made  the  dean  and  chapter  so  hilarious  that  when  they  ap- 
peared at  the  doors  of  the  cathedral  to  escort  it  to  the  altar,  they 
wore  copes  and  vestments,  and  their  reverences  wore  wreaths  of 
roses  on  their  solemn  heads !  Indeed,  there  was  a  special  dress 
for  the  cathedral  clergy  on  either  day;  each,  according  to  the 
occasion,  being  ornamented  with  figures  of  bucks  or  does.  At 
the  altar,  the  dean  sent  the  body  to  be  baked,  but  the  head  was 
cut  off  and  carried  on  a  pike  to  the  western  door,  where  the  hunts- 
men blew  a  martf  and  the  notes  proclaiming  the  death  of  the  stag 
were  taken  up  and  repeated  by  the  "  homers"  of  the  city,  who 
received  a  trifle  from  the  rosy  dean  and  chapter,  for  thus  increas- 
ing the  noisy  importance  of  the  occasion. 

There  is  something,  too,  worthy  of  notice  in  the  fact  that  Rich- 
ard 11.  was  the  first  king  who  knighted  a  London  tradesman. 
Walworth,  who  struck  down  Wat  Tyler,  and  who  was  knighted 
by  that  king  for  his  good  service,  was  engaged  in  commercial  pur- 
suits. This  lord  mayor,  however,  derived  very  considerable  profits 
from  pursuits  less  creditable  to  him.  He  was  the  owner  of  tene- 
ments by  the  water  side,  which  were  of  the  very  worst  reputation, 
but  which  brought  him  a  very  considerable  yearly  revenue.  Sir 
William  pocketed  this  with  the  imperially-complacent  remark  of 
"  non  olet."     The  dagger  in  the  city  arms  is  not  in  memory  of 


RECIPIENTS   OP  KNIGHTHOOD. 

this  deed }  it  simply  represents  th§  sword  of  St.  Paul,  and  it  has 
decorated  the  city  shield  since  the  first  existence  of  a  London 
nmnicipalitj. 

Walworth  then  is  not  a  very  respectable  knight  We  find  one 
of  better  character  in  a  knight  of  ancient  family  name,  whose 
deeds  merit  some  passing  record. 

Sir  Robert  UmfreviUe,  a  knight  of  the  Garter,  who  owed  his 
honors  to  the  unfortunate  Henry  YL,  found  leisure,  despite  the 
busy  and  troubled  times  in  which  he  lived;  to  found  the  Chantry 
of  Farmacr^  near  Ravensworth,  where  two  chaplains  were  reg- 
ularly to  officiate  according  to  the  law  of  Sarum.  If  the  knight's 
charity  was  great,  his  expectations  of  benefit  were  not  smalL 
The  chaplains  were  daily  to  perform  service  for  the  benefit  of  the 
souls  of  the  founder,  and  of  all  his  kith,  kin,  and  kindred.  Nay, 
more  than  this,  service  was  to  be  performed  for  the  soul's  profit 
of  all  knights  of  the  Garter,  as  long  as  the  order  existed,  and  of 
all  the  proprietors  of  the  estate  of  Parmacres.  The  chaplains 
were  to  reside,  board,  and  sleep,  under  the  roof  of  the  chapel. 
Once  every  two  years  the  pious  wiD  of  the  founder  allowed  them 
a  renewal  of  costume,  consisting  of  "  a  sad  and  sober  vest  sweep- 
ing to  their  heels."  Upon  one  point  Sir  Robert  was  uncommoaly 
strict ;  he  would  not  allow  of  the  presence  of  a  female  In  the 
chapel,  under  any  pretence  whatever — even  as  a  servant  to  the 
chaplains — quia  frequenter  dum  colitur  Martha^  expellitur  Maricu 
The  latter,  too,  were  bound  to  exercise  no  office  of  a  secular  na- 
ture, especially  that  of.  bailiff.  To  a  little  secular  amusement, 
however,  the  sagacious  knight  did  not  object,  and  two  months' 
leave  of  absence  was  allowed  to  the  chaplains  every  year ;  and 
doubtless  no  questions  were  asked,  on  their  return^  as  to  how  it 
had  been  employed. 

While  touching  on  the  matters  which  occurred  during  the  reign 
of  that  unhappy  Lancastrian  king,  Henry  VI.,  I  will  observe  that 
we  have  foreign  testimony  Xxi  the  fact  of  our  civil  wars  having 
been  carried  on  with  more  knightly  courtesy  than  had  hitherto 
been  the  case  in  any  other  country.  "  In  my  humble  opinion," 
says  Cknnines,  '^  England  is,  of  all  the  dominions  with  which  I  am 
acquainted,  the  one  alone  in  which  a  public  interest  is  properly 
treated.     There  is  no  violence  employed  against  the  people,  and 


894  THE  KNlOaTB  AIYB  THEIB  DATS. 

in  war-time  no  edifice  is  destroyed  or  injured  bj  the  belUgerents. 
The  fate  and  misery  of  war  fidls  heaviest  on  those  immediately 
concerned  in  carrying  it  on."  He  alludes  particolariy  to  the 
knights  and  nobles ;  but  it  is  dear  that,  let  war  be  carried  on  in 
ever  so  knightly  a  fashion,  the  people  must  be  the  chief  suflferers. 
The  warehouses  may  stand,  but  so  also  will  commerce — very  still 
and  unproductive. 

Courteous  as  the  knights  of  this  age  may  have  been,  they  were 
by  no  means  incorruptible.  There  were  many  of  them  in  the 
service  of  Edward  lY.,  who  were  the  pensioners  of  Louis  XI., 
who  used  to  delight  in  exhibiting  their  names  at  the  foot  of  ac- 
knowledgments for  money  received.  One  official,  however,  Hast- 
ings, would  never  attach  his  autograph,  to  his  receipt,  but  he  had 
no  scru{^es  with  regard  to  taking  the  money.  The  Czar  buys 
Prussian  service  after  the  fashion  of  Louis  XI. 

Heniy  VUI.  cared  mor%  for  merit  than  birth  in  the  knights 
whom  he  created.  He  first  recognised  the  abilities  of  him  who 
was  afterward  Sir  John  Mason,  the  eminent  statesman  of  five 
reigns.  This  king  was  so  pleased  with  an  oration  delivered  in  his 
presence  by  Mason,  at  All  Souls,  Oxford,  that  he  took  upon  him- 
self the  charge  of  having  him  educated  abroad,  as  one  likely  to 
prove  an  able  minister  of  state.  He  was  a  faithful  servant  to  the 
king.  Elisabeth  had  one  as  gallant  in  Sir  Henry  Unton,  who 
ehidlenged  the  great  Guise  for  speaking  lightly  of  his  royal  mis- 
tress. The  motives  for  the  royal  patronage  of  these  knights  was 
better  than  that  which  moved  Richard  I.  when  he  raised  the  lowly- 
bom  Will  Briewer  to  favoriteship  and  knighthood. -^.JHenry  VIII. 
was  fond  of  conferring  the  honor  of  ehivalry  <m  those  who  served 
him  well;  thus  of  the  Cornish  -lawyer,  Trigonnel,  he  made  a 
knight,  with  forty  pounds  a  year  to  help  him  to  keep  up  the  dig- 
nity, in  acknowledgment  of  the  ability  with  which,  as  proctor,  he 
had  conducted  the  case  of  divorce  against  Queen  Katharine.  It 
was  better  service  than  John  Tirrell  rendered  to  Richard  III., 
who  knighted  him  for  his  aid  in  the  murder  of  the  young  princes, 
on  which  occasion  he  kept  the  keys  of  the  Tower,  and  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  while  Forest  and  Dighton  were  despatching 
the  young  victims.  We  have  a  knight  of  a  different  sort  of  rep- 
utation in  Sir  Richard  Hutton,  Charles  I.*s  "  honest  judge/*  at 


RBapiians  of  knighthood.  396 

whose  opposition  a^inst  the  levying  of  ship-money,  even  the 
king  could  not  feel  displeased.  Sir  Richard  deserved  his  honors ; 
and  we  may  reckon  among  them  the  fact,  that  "  when  he  was  a 
barrister  at  Gray's  Inn,  he  seldom  or  never  took  a  fee  of  a  cler- 
gyman." 

The  old  crest  of  the  Huntingdonshire  Cromwells  was  a  lion 
rampant,  holding  a  diamond  ring  in  its  fore-paw.  This  crest  has 
reference  to  an  individual  knighted  by  Henry  VHI.  In  the  thirty- 
second  year  of  that  king's  reign,  Richard  WiUiams,  alids  Crom- 
well, with  five  other  gentlemen,  challenged  all  or  any  comers  from 
Scotland,  Flanders,  France,  or  Spain,  who  were  willing  to  encoun- 
ter them  in  the  lists.  The  challenge  was  duly  accepted,  and  on 
the  day  of  encounter,  Richard  Cromwell  Hung  two  of  his  adver- 
saries from  their  horses.  Henry  loved  the  sport,  and  especially 
such  feats  as  this  exhibited  by  Cromwell,  whom  he  summoned  to 
his  presence.  The  king  said,  "  You  have  hitherto  been  my  Dick, 
now  be  my  diamond ;"  and  taking  a  diamond  ring  from  his  own 
finger,  and  placing  it  on  that  of  Cromwell,  he  bade  the  latter 
always  carry  it  for  his  crest  The  king,  moreover,  knighted 
Richard,  and  what  was  better,  conferred  on  him  Romney  Abbey, 
''  on  condition  of  his  good  service,  and  the  payment  of  £4,668  4« 
2d.  held  in  capite  by  the  tenth  part  of  a  knight's  fee,  paying 
£29  16«." 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  Henry  YIII.  that  for  the  first  time  a 
serjeant-at-law  received  the  honor  of  knighthood.  This  seems  to 
have  been  considered  by  the  learned  body  as  a  corporate  honor,  by 
which  the  entire  company  of  sergeants  were  lifi;ed  to  a  level  with 
knights-bachelors,  at  least  It  is  doubtless  for  this  reason  that 
sergeants-at-law  claim  to  be  equal  in  rank  with,  and  decline  to  go 
below  those  said  knight's  bachelors. 

Of  Elizabeth,  it  is  sufficient  to  name  but  one  sample  of  her 
knights.  She  created  many,  but  she  never  dubbed  one  whoi 
more  nobly  deserved  the  honor  than  when  she  clapped  the  sword 
on  the  shoulder  of  Spielman,  the  paper-maker,  and  bade  hm  i:ise 
a  knight.  This  was  done  by  way  of  recompense  fox*  the  im- 
provements he  had  introduced  into  his  art,  at  a  time  when  printers 
and  paper-makers  were  considered  by  Romanjista  ainythiog  but 
angels  of  light. 


396  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

Hame,  referring  to  the  chivalrj  of  James  I.'s  time,  remarks 
that  the  private  soldiers  were  drawn  from  a  better  class  of  men 
than  was  the  case  in  Hume's  time.  Thej  approached,  he  sajs, 
nearer  to  an  equality  with  the  rank  of  officers.  It  has  been  an- 
swered that  no  such  rank  existed  as  that  from  which  thej  are 
chiefly  drawn  now.  This,  however,  is  not  the  case.  There  were 
then,  as  now,  doubtless  many  of  the  peasant  and  working  classes 
in  the  army ;  but  there  is  not  now,  as  there  was  then,  any  encourage- 
ment to  men  of  respectable  station  to  begin  the  ascent  in  profes- 
sion of  arms  at  the  lowest  round  of  the  ladder. 

One  of  James  I.'s  knights  was  the  well-known -Sir  Herbert 
Croft.  James  knighted  him  at  Theobalds,  out  of  respect  to  his 
family,  and  personal  merits.  Some  years  subsequently  Sir 
Herbert,  then  above  fifty  years  of  age,  joined  the  Church  of 
Rome,  and  retired  to  Douay,  where  he  dwelt  a  lay-brother,  among 
the  English  Benedictines.  He  died  among  them,  after  a  five 
years'  residence,  in  the  year  1622.  His  eldest  son  William  was 
also  knighted,  I  think,  by  Charles  I.  He  is  an  example  of  those 
who  were  both  knights  and  clergymen,  for  after  serving  as  colonel 
in  the  civil  wars,  he  forsook  Catholicism,  in  which  he  had  been 
brought  up  by  his  father,  entered  the  Church  of  England,  and 
like  so  many  other  knights  who  in  former  times  had  changed  the 
sword  for  the  gown,  rose  to  the  dignity  of  canning  an  episcopal 
pastoral  staff,  and  was  made  Bishop  of  Hereford  in  1661.  It  was 
a  descendant  of  his  who  wrote  the  very  inaccurate  biography  of 
Young,  in  "  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets."  Wood,  in  his  Athena^ 
shows  that  the  first  Sir  Herbert  was  a  literary  knight,  who  took 
up  pen  in  the  service  of  the  communion  into  which  he  had  en- 
tered. These  were; — 1.  Letters  persuasive  to  his  wife  and 
children  to  take  upon  them  the  Catholic  religion.  2.  Arguments 
to  show  that  the  Church,  in  communion  with  the  See  of  Rome,  is 
the  true  Church.  3.  Reply  to  the  answers  of  his  daughter,  Mary 
Croft,  which  she  made  to  a  paper  of  his  sent  to  her  concerning 
the  Roman  Church.'*  All  these  pieces  appeared  in  the  same  year, 
1619,  and  tliey  seem  to  have  been  very  harmless  weapons  in  the 
hands  of  a  very  amiable  knight 

Among  the  most  worthy  of  the  knights  created  by  James  I.  was 
Leonard  Holliday,  who  served  the  office  of  Lord  Mayor  in  1605, 


RECIPIENTS  OP  KNIGHTHOOD.  89*1 

and  was  dubbed  chevalier  by  a  king  who  is  said  never  to  have 
conferred  the  honor  without  being  half  afraid  of  the  drawn  sword 
which  was  his  instrument.  Sir  Leonard  did  good  service  in  re- 
turn. In  his  time  Moorfields  consisted  of  nothing  but  desolate 
land,  the  stage-  whereon  was  enacted  much  violence  and  terrible 
pollution.  In  this  savage  locality,  Sir  Leonard  effected  as  won- 
derful a  change  as  Louis  Napoleon  has  done  in  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne; and  even  a  greater;  for  there  were  more  difficulties  in 
the  knight's  way,  and  his  will  was  less  sovereign  and  potent  to 
work  mutation.  Nevertheless,  by  perseverance,  liberal  outlay, 
and  hard  work  of  those  employed  in  the  manual  labor,  he  trans- 
formed the  hideous  and  almost  pathless  swamp  into  a  smiling 
garden,  wherein  the  citizens  might  take  the  air  without  fearing 
violence  either  to  body  or  goods.  They  blessed  king  James's 
knight  as  they  disported  themselves  in  the  rural  district  with  their 
wives  and  children.  The  laborers  employed  were  said  to  have 
been  less  lavish  of  benedictions  upon  the  head  of  him  from  whom 
they  took  their  wages.  They  complained  bitterly  of  the  toil,  and 
for  a  long  time  in  London,  when  any  great  exertions  were  neccb- 
sary  to  produce  a  desired  end,  promptly,  men  spoke  of  the  same 
as  being  mere  "  Holiday  work." 

James  I.  was  not  so  perfect  a  knight  in  presence  of  a  sword  as 
he  was  in  presence  of  a  lady.  He  made  more  knights  than  any 
other  king,  not  excepting  William  IV. ;  but  he  never  dubbed  one 
without  some  nervousness  at  the  sight  of  the  weapon  with  which 
he  laid  on  the  honor.  Kenelm  Digby  states  that  when  he  was 
knighted  by  James,  the  sword,  had  it  not  been  guided  in  the  King's 
hand  by  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  would  have  gone,  not  upon  his 
shoulder,  but  into  his  eye.  James's  aversion  from  the  sight  of  a 
sword  is  said  to  have  descended  to  him  from  his  mother  who,  a 
short  time  previous  to  his  birth,  was  the  terrified  spectator  of  the 
murder  of  Rizzio.  The  same  King  used  to  remark  that  there 
were  two  great  advantages  in  wearing  armor,  namely,  that  the 
wearer  could  neither  receive  nor  inflict  much  injury.  Indeed,  as 
James  sagaciously  remarked,  the  chief  inconvenience  to  be  dread- 
ed from  armor  was  in  being  knocked  down  in  it,  and  left  without 
a  squire  to  lend  assistance.  In  this  case  the  knight  stood,  or  lay, 
in  imminent  peril  of  suffocation ;  the  armor  being  generally  too 


898         THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

heavy  to  admit  of  a  knight  riaiiig  horn  the  ground  without  help. 
If  he  lay  on  his  face  his  condition  was  ahnost  hopeless.  Tlie 
sentiment  of  chivahy  was,  after  all,  not  so  foreign  to  James  as  is 
popularly  supposed*  Witness  the  circumstance  when  Sully  came 
over  here  as  embassador  extraordinary,  James  made  the  embas- 
sador lower  his  flag  to  the  pennant  of  the  English  vessel  sent  out 
to  receive  or  escort  him.  This,  however,  had  been  well  nigh  con- 
strued into  an  affront.  The  poets  of  this  time  too  began  to  have 
a  chivahrous  feeling  for  the  hardships  of  common  women.  The 
feeling  used  to  be  all  for  princesses  and  courtly  dames,  but  it  was 
now  expressed  even  for  shop-wives,  behind  counters.  Thus  the 
author  of  "  The  Fair  Maid  of  the  Inn"  says : — 

"  A  goldsmith  keeps  his  wife 
Wedged  into  his  shop  like  a  mermaid ;  nothing  of  her 
To  be  seen,  that's  woman,  bat  her  upper  part'' 

The  ladies  too,  themselves  were  growing  ambitious,  and  as 
fanciful  as  any  knight's  "  dame  par  amour''  of  them  all.  The 
Groldsmith's  daughter  in  "  Eastward  Ho  !**  who  wants  to  be  made 
a  lady,  says  to  her  "  sweet  knight,"  "  Carry  me  out  of  the  scent  of 
Newcastle  coal  and  the  hearing  of  Bow  bells !"  and  a-propos  to 
titles,  let  me  add  that,  in  James's  time,  it  was,  according  to  Jon- 
son — 

"        I     a  received  hea^iiy 
That  England  bears  no  Dukes."  > 

Southey  commenting  on  this  passage,  said  that  the  title  was  prob- 
ably thought  ominous,  so  many  dukes  haviag  lost  their  heads. 

In  the  second  year  of  the  reign  of  James  I.,  he  made  not  less 
than  three  hundred  knights ;  and  on  another  occasion  he  is  said  to 
have  made  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  in  six  weeks.  la 
France,  when  the  state  was  in  distress,  knighthood  was  often  a 
marketable  commodity ;  but  it  probably  was  never  more  so  there, 
than  it  was  in  England  under  the  first  James.  No  one  was  more 
conscious  than  he,  when  he  had  an  unworthy  person  before  him ; 
and  it  sometimes  happened  that  these  persons  had  the  same  un- 
comfortable consciousness  touching  themselves.  Thus,  we  are  told 
that  when  "an  insigificant  person"  once  held  down  his  head,  as 


RECIPIENTS  OP  KNIGHTHOOD..  399 

the  king  was  aboat  to  knight  him,  James  called  oat,  ^^  Hold  up 
thy  head,  man,  I  have  more  need  to  be  ashamed  than  thoa." 

The  indiscriminate  inaction  of  the  order  caused  great  confiision. 
Knights-aldermen  in  the  city  claimed  precedence  of  knights-com- 
moners, and  Yiolent  was  the  stra^le  when  the  question  was  agi- 
tated. Heralds  stood  forth  and  pleaded  before  ^^my  lords,"  as 
lawyers  do,  with  reference  to  the  party  by  which  they  were  re- 
tained. One  party  considered  it  absurd  that  a  knight  who  hap- 
pened to  be  an  alderman  should  take  precedence  of  one  who  was 
only  a  knight.  The  civic  dignitary,  it  was  said,  was  no  more  above 
the  chivalric,  than  a  rushlight  was  superior  to  the  sun.  Such  an 
idea,  it  was  urged,  by  York  against  Garter,  was  an  insult  to  Gk>d 
and  man.  The  case  was  ultimately  gained  by  the  chivalric  alder- 
men, simply  because  the  knights-commoners  did  not  care  to  pur- 
sue it,  or  support  their  own  privileges.  York  thought  that  knights- 
commoners,  though  tradesmen,  who  hcui  been  lord  mayors,  and  yet 
were  not  now  aldermen,  ought  to  take  precedence  of  mere  alder- 
man knights.  The  commoners  lost  their  cause  by  neglect ;  but  it 
has  been  ruled  that  ex-lord  mayors,  >and  provosts  of  Scotland,  shall 
precede  all  knights,  as  having  been  the  Sovereign's  lieutenants. 

James  may  be  said,  altogether,  to  have  shown  very  little  regard 
for  the  dignity  of  knights  generally.  By  creating  a  rank  above 
them,  he  set  them  a  step  lower  in  degree  of  precedence.  This 
monarch  is,  so  to  speak,  the  inventor  of  the  baronet  When 
money  was  required  for  the  benefit  of  the  Irish  province  of  Ulster, 
a  su^estion  was  made  that  they  who  supplied  it  liberally  should 
have  the  hereditary  title  of  "  Sir"  and  "  Baronet."  James  himself 
was  at  first  a  little  startled  at  the  proposition,  but  he  soon  gave  it  his 
sanction  upon  Lord  Salisbury  observing,  ^^  Siie,  the  money  will  do 
you  good,  and  the  honor  will  do  them  none."  James  thought  that 
a  fair  bargain,  and  the  matter  was  soon  arranged.  The  knights 
were  not  pleased,  but  it  was  intimated  to  them,  that  only  two  hun- 
dred baronets  would  be  created,  and  that  as  the  titles  became 
extinct,  no  new  hereditary  ^^  Sirs"  would  be  nominated.  The  suc- 
cessors of  James  did  not  think  themselves  bound  by  the  under- 
taking of  their  predecessor.  Greorge  III.  the  least  regarded  it, 
for  during  four  or  five  years  of  his  reign  he  created  baronets  at 
tlie  rate  of  one  a-month« 


400  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  tHEIB  DATS. 

A  particular  annoyance  to  the  poor  knights  was,  that  esquires 
could  purchase  the  title,  and  so  leap  over  them  at  a  bound,  or  coold 
be  dubbed  knights  first,  if  they  preferred  to  take  that  rank,  by 
the  way.  But  if  the  knights  were  aggrieved,  much  more  so  were 
their  ladies,  for  the  wife  of  a  baronet  was  allowed  precedence  of 
all  knights'  ladies,  even  of  those  of  the  Garter.  The  baronets 
themselves  took  precedence  of  all  knights  except  of  tliose  of  the 
Garter ;  and  their  elder  sons  ranked  before  simple  knights,  whose 
distinction  of  "  Sir"  they  were  entitled  to  assume,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  if  they  were  so  minded.  Few,  however,  availed 
themselves  of  this  privilege. 

This  matter  went  so  much  to.  the  satisfax^tion  of  James,  that  he 
resolved  to  sell  another  batch  of  baronet's  titles,  and  thereupon 
followed  his  **  Baronets  of  Nova  Scotia."  All  these  titles  were 
bought  of  the  crown,  the  pecuniary  proceeds  being  applied  to  the 
improvement  of  the  outlying  province  of  Nova  Scotia.  A  sneer, 
not  altogether  rightly  directed,  has  been  occasionally  flung  at  these 
purchased  hereditary  baronetcies.  No  doubt  a  title  so  acquired 
did  not  carry  with  it  so  much  honor  as  one  conferred  for  great  and 
glorious  service  rendered  to  the  country.  But  there  have  been 
many  titled  sneerers  whose  own  dignity  stood  upon  no  better  basis 
than  that  their  ancestress^  was  a  king's  concubine,  or  the  founder 
of  their  house  an  obsequious  slave  to  monarch  or  minister.  The 
first  baronets,  whether  of  Ulster  or  Nova  Scotia,  rendered  some 
better  service  than  this  to  their  country,  by  giving  their  money 
for  purposes  of  certain  public  good.  They  were  not,  indeed,  re- 
warded accordingly.  They  were  public  benefactors,  only  on  con- 
dition that  they  should  be  recompensed  with  an  hereditary  title. 
The  morality  here  is  not  very  pure ;  the  principle  is  not  very 
exalted ;  but  a  smaller  outlay  of  morality  and  principle  has  pur- 
chased peerages  before  now,  and  the  baronets,  therefore,  have  no 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  origin  of  their  order.  Least  of  all 
have  those  baronets  of  later  creation,  men  who  have  made  large 
sacrifices  and  rendered  inestimable  services  to  their  country.  On 
these  the  rank  of  baronet  conferred  no  real  dignity  which  they 
did  not  before  possess,  but  it  served  as  an  acknowledgment  of  their 
worth  in  the  eyes  of  their  fellow-men.  I  may  notice  here,  that  wlien 
Sir  Walter  Scott  makes  record  of  the  gallant  action  pei*formed 


RECIPIENTS  OP  KNIGHTHOOD.  401 

at  Pinkie  by  Balph  Sadler,  when  he  rallied  the  English  cavalry 
so  effectually  as  to  win  a  battle  almost  lost,  and  seized  the  royal 
standard  of  Scotland  with  his  own  hand,  the  biographer  adds  that 
the  rank  to  which  the  gallant  Balph  was  then  raised — of  knight- 
banneret,  "  may  be  called  the  very  pinnacle  of  chivalry.  Knight- 
bannerets  could  only  be  created  by  the  king  himself  or,  which  was 
^ery  rare,  by  a  person  vested  with  such  powers  as  to  represent 
his  person.  They  were  dubbed  either  before  or  after  a  battle,  in 
which  the  royal  standard  was  displayed ;  and  the  person  so  to  be 
honored,  being  brought  before  the  king  led  by  two  distinguished 
knights  or  nobles,  presented  to  the  sovereign  his  pennon,  having 
an  indenture  like  a  swallow's  tail  at  the  extremity.  The  king 
then  cut  off  the  fished  extremity,  rendering  the  banner  square, 
in  shape  similar  to  that  of  a  baron,  which,  thereafter,  the  knight- 
banneret  might  display  in  every  pitched  field,  in  that  more  noble 
form.  If  created  by  the  king,  the  banneret  took  precedence  of 
all  other  knights,  but  if  by  a  general,  only  of  knights  of  the  Bath 
and  knights-bachelors.  Sir  Francis  Brian,  conmiander  of  the 
light  horsemen,  and  Sir  Ralph  Vane,  lieutenant  of  the  men-at- 
arms,  received  this  honor  with  our  Sir  Ralph  Sadler,  on  the  field 
of  Pinkie.  But  he  survived  his  companions,  and  is  said  to  have 
been  the  last  knight-banneret  of  England." 

I  suppose  Washington  thought  that  he  had  as  much  right  as  the 
English  Protector  to  dub  knights ;  which  is  not,  indeed,  to  be  dis- 
puted. But  Washington  went  further  than  Cromwell,  inasmuch 
as  that  he  instituted  an  order.  This  was,  what  it  was  saiid  to  be, 
trenching  on  the  privilege  of  a  king.  It  was  a  military  order, 
and  was  named  after  the  agricultural  patriot,  who  was  summoned 
from  his  plough  to  guide  the  destinies  of  Rome ;  for  the  Romans 
had  a  very  proper  idea  that  nations  created  their  own  destinies. 
The  order  of  Cincinnatus  being  decreed,  the  insignia  of  the  order 
were  sent  to  Lafayette,  then  in  Pirns,  where  the  nobility,  who 
could  no  more  ^pell  than  Lord  Duberly,  trusting  to  their  ears 
only,  took  it  for  the  order  of  St.  Senatus.  A  little  uproar  ensued. 
The  aristocracy  not  only  sneered  at  the  American  Dictator  for 
assuming  the  "  hedging"  of  a  king,  but  they  considered  also  that 
he  had  encroached  upon  the  privileges  of  a  pope,  and,  as  they 
had  searched  the  calendar  and  could  not  find  a  St.  Senatus,  they 

26 


402  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

at  once  came  to  the  conclasion  that  he  .had  canonized  some  de- 
servinp:  but  democratic  individual  of  the  city  of  Boston. 

The  commonwealth  knights,  whether  in  the  naval  or  land  ser- 
vice, had  perhaps  less  of  refined  gallantry  than  prevailed  among 
the  ^  Cavaliers"  par  excellence.  Thus  it  was  a  feat  of  which  old 
chivalry  would  have  been  ashamed — that  of  Admiral  Batten, 
when  he  cannonaded  the  house  in  which  Queen  Henrietta  Maria 
was  sleeping,  at  Bridlington,  and  drove  her  into  the  fields.  Bat, 
what  do  I  say  touching  the  gallant  refinement  on  the  respective 
sides  ? — after  all,  the  rudeness  of  Batten  was  civility  itself  com- 
pared with  the  doings  of  Groring  and  his  dragoons.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  was  not  a  man  in  arms,  in  either  host,  who  in  knightly 
qualifications  excelled  Hampden — ^'  a  supreme  governor  over  all 
his  passions  and  affections,  and  having  thereby  a  great  power  over 
those  of  other  men."  With  regard  to  Cromwell  himself,  Madame 
de  Sevigne  has  remarked,  that  there  were  some  things  in  which 
the  great  Turenne  resembled  him.  This  seems  to  me  rather  a 
compliment  to  Turenne  than  to  the  Protector.  The  latter,  like 
Hampden  could  conceal,  at  least,  if  he  could  not  govern  his  pas- 
sions. He  had  the  delicacy  of  knighthood ;  and  he  was  not  such 
a  man  as  Miles  Burket,  who,  in  his  prayer  on  the  Sunday  after 
the  execution  of  the  king,  asked  the  Almighty  if  he  had  not  smelt 
a  sweet  savor  of  blood  ? 

The  fighting  chivalry  of  Groring,  let  me  add,  was  nevertheless 
perfect.  The  courtesies  of  chivalry  were  not  his ;  but  in  ability 
and  bravery  he  was  never  surpassed.  BUis  dexterity  is  said  to 
have  been  especiaUy  remarkable  in  sudden  emergencies ;  and  it 
was  this  dexterity  that  used  to  be  most  praised  in  the  knight  of 
olden  times.  Many  other  cavaliers  were  poor  soldiers,  but  ad- 
mirable company. 

The  fierce  but  indomitable  spirit  of  chivalry,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  spirit  which  will  endure  all  anguish  without  relinquishing  an 
iota  of  principle,  or  yielding  an  inch  of  ground  in  the  face  of 
overwhelming  numbers,  was  conspicuous  in  other  men  besides  the 
martial  followers  of  Cromwell.  I  will  only  instance  the  case  of 
Prynne,  who,  under  the  merciless  scourge,  calmly  preached  against 
tyranny;  and  with  his  neck  in  the  pillory,  boldly  wagged  his 
tongue  against  cruelty  and  persecution.     <<  Freeborn  John"  was 


B6GIPIENTS  OF  KNIGHTHOOD.  408 

gagged  for  his  audacity,  but  when  he  was  thus  rendered  speech- 
less, he  stamped  incessantly  with  his  unshackled  feet,  to  express 
that  he  was  invincible  and  unconvinced  still.  If  this  was  not  as 
great  courage  as  ever  was  shown  by  knight,  I  know  not  what  to 
call  it. 

Against  the  courage  of  Cromwell,  Dugdale  and  Boger  Manby 
say  more  than  can  ever  be  alleged  against  Frynne — namely,  that 
his  heart  failed  him  once  in  his  life.  It  is  said,  that  when  he  was 
captain  of  a  troop  of  horse  in  Essex's  regiment,  at  Edgehill,  "  he 
absented  himself  from  the  battle,  and  observing,  from  the  top  of  a 
neighboring  steeple  the  disorder  that  the  right  wing  sustained  from 
Prince  Rupert,  he  was  so  terrified,  that  slipping  down  in  haste  by 
a  bell-rope,  he  took  horse,  and  ran  away  with  his  troop,  for  which 
cowardice  he  had  been  cashiered,  had  it  not  been  for  the  powerful 
mediation  of  his  friends."  This  passage  shows  that  the  legendary 
style  of  the  chivalrous  romance  still  was  followed  as  an  example 
by  historians.  Indeed  romance  itself  claimed  Oliver  for  a  hero, 
as  it  had  done  with  many  a  knight  before  him.  It  was  gravely 
told  of  him  that,  before  the  battle  of  Worcester,  he  went  into  a 
wood,  like  any  Sir  Tristram,  where  he  met  a  solemn  old  man  with 
a  roll  of  parchment  in  his  hand.  Oliver  read  the  roll — a  com- 
pact between  him  and  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  and  was  heard  to 
say,  "  This  is  only  for  seven  years ;  I  was  to  have  had  one  for 
one-and-twenty."  "Then,"  says  the  Chronicler,  "he  stood  out 
for  fourteen ;  but  the  other  replied,  that  if  he  would  not  take  it 
on  those  terms,  there  were  others  who  would.  So  he  took  the 
parchment  and  died  that  day  seven  years."  This  is  history  after 
the  model  of  the  Seven  Champions. 

The  observance  of  knightly  colors  was  kept  up  in  the  contest 
between  commonwealth  men  and  the  crown.  Those  of  Essex 
were  deep  yellow ;  and  so  acute  were  the  jealousies  of  war,  that 
they  who  wore  any  other  were  accounted  as  disaffected  to  the  good 
cause. 

I  have  remarked  before,  that  Siri  puts  blame  upon  the  Scot- 
tish men-at-arms,  whose  alleged  mercenary  conduct  was  said  to 
have  been  the  seed  of  a  heavy  crop  of  evil.  The  Scots  seem  to 
have  been  unpopular  on  all  sides.  Before  the  catastrophe,  which 
ended  king  and  kingdom,  the  French  embassador,  then  in  the 


404  THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

north,  was  escorted  to  some  point  by  a  troop  of  Soots  horse.  On 
leaving  them,  he  drew  out  half-a-crown  piece,  and  asked  them  faow 
many  pence  it  contained.  "Thirty,"  was  the  ready-reckoned 
answer  of  an  arithmetical  carabinier.  "  Exactly  so  I"  replied  the 
envoy,  flinging  the  piece  among  them  with  as  much  contempt  as  the 
Prince  of  Orange  felt  respect,  when  he  threw  his  cross  among  the 
Dutch  troops  at  Waterloo.  "Exactly  so!  take  it.  It  was  the 
price  for  which  Judas  betrayed  his  master." 

If  the  saints  were  unsainted  in  the  time  of  the  commonwealth, 
they  found  some  compensation  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Penry,  the 
author  of  Martin  Mar-Prelate,  who  chose  to  knight  the  most  dis- 
tinguished— and  this  not  only  did  he  do  to  the  male,  but  to  the 
female  saints.  The  facetious  Penry,  accordingly,  spoke  of  Sir 
Paul,  Sir  Peter,  and  Sir  Martin,  and  also  of  Sir  Margaret  and 
Sir  Mary.    * 

Passing  on  to  later  times,  those  of  James  II.,  I  may  observe 
that  Poor  Nat  Lee,  when  mad,  said  of  a  celebrated  knight  of  this 
time,  Sir  Roger  Lestrange,  that  the  difference  between  the  two 
was  that  one  was  Strange  Lee,  the  other  Lestrange.  "  You  poor 
in  purse,"  said  Lee,  "  as  I  am  poor  in  brains."  Sir  Roger  was 
certainly  le^  richly  endowed  mentally  than  the  poet,  but  he  had 
one  quality  which  a  knight  of  old  was  bound  to  have,  above  most 
men  who  were  his  contemporaries — namely,  intense  admiration 
for  the  ladies.  This  gallantry  he  carried  so  far  that  when  he  was 
licenser  of  books,  it  is  said  that  he  would  readily  wink  at  unli- 
censed volumes,  if  the  printer's  wife  would  only  smile  at  him. 

Though  not  exactly  germane  to  the  immediate  subject  of  Sir 
Roger,  I  will  notice  here  that  it  was  the  custom  for  chOdren,  as 
as  late  as  the  reign  of  James  11.,  on  first  meeting  their  parents  in 
the  morning,  to  kneel  at  their  feet  and  ask  a  blessing.  This  was 
an  observance  seldom  omitted  in  the  early  days  of  chivalry  by 
knights  who  encountered  a  priest.  We  often  hear  praises  of  tbiB 
filial  reverence  paid  by  errant  knights  to  the  spiritual  fathers  whom 
they  encountered  in  their  wanderings. 

Another  social  custom  connected  with  chivalry  was  still  observed 
during  this,  and  even  during  the  reign  of  William  III.  It  is 
noticed  by  Dryden,  in  the  dedication  to  his  "  Love  Triumphant^" 
in  the  following  words : — "  It  is  the  usual  practice  of  our  decayed 


RECIPIENTS  OP  KNIGHTHOOD.  405 

gentry  to  look  about  them  for  some  illustrious  family,  and  then  fix 
their  young  darling  where  he  may  be  both  well-educated  and  sup- 
ported." The  knightly  courage  and  the  education  were  not  always 
of  the  highest  quality,  if  we  might  put  implicit  faith  in  the  passage 
in  Congreve's  Old  Bachelor,  wherein  it  is  said,  "  the  habit  of  a 
soldier  now-a-days  as  often  cloaks  cowardice,  as  a  black  coat  does 
atheism."  But  the  stage  is  not  to  be  taken  as  fairly  holding  the 
mirror  up  to  nature ;  and  for  my  part,  I  do  not  credit  the  asser- 
tion of  that  stage-knight.  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  that  in  England, 
"  honesty  went  out  with  the  slashed  doublets,  and  love  with  the 
close-bodied  gown."  Nor  do  I  altogether  credit  what  is  said  of 
Queen  Anne's  time,  in  the  Fair  Quaker  of  Deal,  that  "  our  sea- 
chaplains,  generally  speaking,  are  as  drunk  as  our  sea-captains." 

William  III.  knighted  many  a  man  who  did  not  merit  the  honor, 
but  he  was  guilty  of  no  such  mistake  when  he  laid  the  sword  of 
chivalry  on  the  shoulders  of  honest  Thomas  Abney,  citizen  of 
London.  Abney  was  one  of  those  happy  architects  who  build  up 
their  own  fortunes,  and  upon  a  basis  of  rectitude  and  common- 
sense.  In  course  of  time,  he  achieved  that  greatness  which  is 
now  of  so  stupendous  an  aspect  in  the  eyes  of  the  Parisians ;  in 
other  words,  he  became  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  The  religious 
spirit  of  chivalry  beat  within  the  breast  that  was  covered  with 
broadcloth,  and  Sir  Thomas  Abney  humbled  himself  on  the  day 
on  which  he  was  exalted.  He  had  been  "  brought  up"  a  dissenter, 
but  he  certainly  was  not  one  when  he  became  sovereign  of  the 
city  in  the  year  1700.  He  was  none  the  less  a  Christian,  and  it 
is  an  exemplary  and  an  agreeable  trait  that  we  have  of  him,  as 
illustrated  in  his  conduct  on  the  day  of  his  inauguration.  The 
evening  banquet  was  still  in  progress,  when  he  silently  withdrew 
from  the  glittering  scene,  hurried  home,  read  evening  prayers  to 
such  of  his  household  as  were  there  assembled  on  the  festive  day, 
and  then  calmly  returned  and  resumed  his  place  among  the  joy- 
ous company. 

This  knight's  hospitality  was  of  the  same  sterling  quality.  Who 
forgets  that  to  him^Dr.  Watts  (that  amiable  intolerant!)  was  in- 
debted during  thirty  years  for  a  home  ?  The  Abney  family  had 
a  respect  for  the  author  of  "  the  Sluggard,"  which  never  slept.  It 
almost  reached  idolatry.     T  have  said  thirty  years,  but  in  truth. 


406  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYU. 

Dr.  Watta  was  at  borne,  at  the  hearth  of  Sir  Thomas,  during  no 
briefer  a  period  than  six-and-thirtj  years.     The  valetudinarian 
poet,  the  severity  of  whose  early  studies  had  compelled  him  to  bid 
an  eternal  vale  to  the  goddess  of  health,  was  welcomed  by  the 
knight,  with  an  honest  warmth  bom  of  respect  for  the  worth  and 
genius  of  a  kind-hearted  man  who  **  scattered  damnation"  in  gentle 
rhymes,  and  yet  who  would  not  have  hurt  a  worm.     In  the  little 
paradise  where  he  was  as  much  at  ease  as  his  precarious  health 
would  allow,  it  is  astonishing  with  what  vigor  of  spirit  and  weak- 
ness of  phrase  the  good-intentioned  versifier  thrust  millions  from 
the  gates  of  a  greater  paradise.     Such  at  least  was  my  own  early 
impression  of  the  rhymes  of  the  knight's  guest.     They  inspired 
much  fear  and  little  love :  and  if  I  can  see  now  that  such  was  not 
the  author's  design,  and  that  he  only  used  menace  to  secure  obedience, 
that  thereby  affection  might  follow,  I  still  am  unable  to  come  to  any 
other  conclusion,  than  that  the  method  adopted  is  open  to  censure. 

He  sat  beneath  the  knightly  roof,  without  a  want  unsupplied, 
with  every  desire  anticipated ;  exempted  from  having  to  sustain 
an  active  share  of  the  warfare  in  the  great  battle  of  life,  he  was 
beset  by  few,  perhaps  by  no  temptations ;  and  free  from  every 
care,  he  had  every  hour  of  the  day  wherein  to  walk  with  God. 
His  defect  consisted  in  forgetting  that  other  men,  and  the  children 
of  men,  had  not  his  advantage,  and  while,  rightly  enough,  he  ac- 
counted their  virtue  as  nothing,  he  had  no  bowels  of  compassion 
for  their  human  failings.  It  is  well  to  erect  a  high  standard,  but 
it  is  not  less  so  to  console  rather  than  condemn  those  who  fall  short 
of  it.'  **  Excelsior"  is  a  good  advice,  on  a  glorious  banner,  but 
they  who  are  luxuriously  carried  on  beneath  its  folds  should  not 
be  hasty  to  condemn  those  who  faint*  by  the  way,  fall  back,  and 
await  the  mercy  of  God,  whereby  to  attain  the  high  prize  which 
they  had  for  their  chief  object.  I  should  like  to  know  if  Sir 
Thomas  ever  disputed  the  conclusions  adopted  by  his  guest. 

This  mention  of  the  metropolitan  knight  and  the  poet  who  sat 
at  his  hearth,  reminds  me  of  a  patron  and  guest  of  another  quality, 
who  were  once  well  known  in  the  neighborhood  of  Metz ; — "  Metz 
sans  Lorraine,"  as  the  proud  inhabitants  speak  of  a  free  locality 
which  was  surrounded  by,  but  was  never  in  Lorraine. 

The  patron  was  an  old  chevalier  de  St  Louis,  with  a  small  cross 


RECIPIENTS  OF   KNIGHTHOOU.  407 

and  large  "  aSles  de  pigeon."  The  guest  was  the  parish  priest, 
who  resided  under  his  roof,  and  was  the  "  friend  of  the  house." 
The  parish  was  a  poor  one,  hut  it  had  spirit  enough  to  raise  a  sub- 
scription in  order  to  supply  the  altar  with  a  new  cihorium — the 
vessel  which  holds  the  "  body  of  the  Lord."  With  the  modest 
sum  in  hand,  the  Knight  of  St.  Louis,  accompanied  by  the  priest, 
repaired  to  Metz,  to  make  the  necessary  purchase.  The  orthodox 
goldsmith  placed  two  vessels  before  them.  One  was  somewhat 
small,  but  suitable  to  the  funds  at  the  knight's  disposal ;  the  other 
was  large,  splendidly  chased,  and  highly  coveted  by  the  priest 

"  Here  is  a  pretty  article,"  said  the  chevalier,  pointing  to  the 
simpler  of  the  two  vessels :  "  But  here  is  a  more  worthy,"  inter- 
rupted the  priest.  ^  It  corresponds  with  the  sum  at  our  disposal," 
remarked  the  former.  ".I  am  sure  it  does  not  correspond  with 
your  love  for  Him  for  whom  the  sum  was  raised,"  was  the  rejoinder. 
'^  I  have  no  authority  to  exceed  the  amount  named,"  whispered  the 
cautious  chevalier.  *<  But  you  have  wherewith  of  your  own  to 
supply  the  deficiency,"  murmured  the  priest.  The  perplexed 
knight  began  to  feel  himself  a  dissenter  from  the  church,  and  after 
a  moment's  thought,  and  looking  at  the  smaller  as  well  as  the  sim- 
pler of  the  two  vessels,  he  exclaimed — "it  is  large  enough  for  the 
purpose,  and  will  do  honor  to  the  church."  "  The  larger  would 
be  more  to  the  purpose,  and  v/ould  do  more  honor  to  the  Head  of 
the  Church,"  was  the  steady  clerical  comment  which  followed. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  it  is  not  large  enough  ?"  asked  the 
treasurer.  "Certainly,  since  there  is  a  larger,  which  we  may 
have,  if  you  will  only  be  generous."  ''Mats/"  remonstrated  the 
knight,  in  a  burst  of  profane  impatience,  and  pointing  to  the  smaller 
cihorium,  "  Cela  oontiendroit  le  diable !"  "  Ah,  Monsieur  le  Chev* 
alier,"  said  the  priest,  by  no  means  shocked  at  the  idiomatic  phrase. 
"  Le  Bon  Dieu  est  plus  grand  que  le  diable !"  This  stroke  won 
the  day,  and  the  goldsmith  was  the  most  delighted  of  the  three,  at 
this  conclusion  to  a  knotty  argument 

Greorge  L  was  not  of  a  sufficiently  generous  mind  to  allow  of 
his  distributing  honors  very  profusely.  The  individufds,  however, 
who  were  eminently  useful  to  him  were  often  rewarded  by  being 
appointed  to  enjoy  the  emoluments,  if  not  exercise  the  duties  of 
several  offices,  each  in  his  own  person.    At  a  period  when  this 


408  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

was  being  done  in  England,  the  exact  reverse  was  being  aecom* 
plished  in  Spain.  Thus  we  read  in  the  London  Gazette  of  March 
29  to  April  1,  1718,  under  the  head  of  Madrid,  March  21,  the  fol- 
lowing details,  which  might  be  put  to  very  excellent  profit  in 
England  in  these  more  modem  times : — 

^  The  King  having  resolved  that  no  person  shall  enjoy  more 
than  one  office  in  his  service,  notice  has  been  given  to  the  Duke 
d'Arco,  who  is  Master  of  the  Horse,  and  Grentleman  of  the  Bed- 
chamber; the  Marquis  de  Montelegre,  Lord  Chamberlain  and 
Captain  of  the  Guard  of  Halberdiers ;  the  Marquis  de  St  Juan, 
Steward  of  the  Household,  and  Master  of  the  Horse  to  the  Queen ; 
and  one  of  the  Council  of  the  Harinda,  the  Marquis  de  Bedmar, 
the  Minister  of  War,  and  President  of  the  Council ;  and  several 
others  who  are  in  the  like  case,  to  choose  which  of  their  employ- 
ments they  will  keep.  To  which  they  have  all  replied  that  they 
will  make  no  claim,  but  will  be  determined  by  what  his  Majesty 
shall  think  fit  to  appoint  The  like  orders  are  given  in  the  army, 
where  they  who  receive  pay  as  General  Officers,  and  have  Colo- 
nels' commissions  besides,  are  obliged  to  part  with  their  regi- 
ments." 

This  regulation  seriously  disturbed  the  revenue  of  many  a  Span- 
ish knight ;  but  it  was  a  wise  and  salutary  regulation,  nevertheless. 
At  the  very  period  of  its  being  established,  Venice  was  selling  her 
titles  of  knighthood  and  nobility.  In  the  same  Gazette  from  which 
the  above  details  are  extracted,  I  find  it  noticed,  under  the  head 
of  "  Venice,  March  25,"  that  "  Signer  David,  and  Paul  Spinelli, 
two  Greneva  gentlemen,  were,  upon  their  petition,  admitted  this 
week  by  the  Grand  Council,  into  the  Order  of  the  Nobility  of  this 
Republic,  having  purchased  that  honor  for  a  hundred  thousand 
ducats."    It  was  a  large  price  for  so  small  a  privilege. 

I  have  treated  of  knighthood  under  George  II.,  sufficiently  at 
length,  when  speaking  of  that  king  himself;  and  I  will  add  only 
one  trait  of  his  successor. 

It  was  not  oflen  that  George  HI.  was  facetious,  but  tradition 
has  attributed  to  him  a  compound  pun,  when  he  was  urged  by  his 
minister  to  confer  knighthood  upon  Judge  Day,  on  the  return  of 
the  lattor  from  India.  "Pooh!  pooh!"  remonstrated  the  king, 
**  how  can  I  turn  a  Day  into  night  ?"     On  the  ministerial  applica- 


RECIPIENTS  OF  KNIGHTHOOD.  409 

tion  being  renewed,  the  king  asked,  if  Mr.  Daj  wa&  married,  and 
an  affirmative  reply  being  given,  George  III.  immediately  rejoined, 
"  Then  let  him  come  to  the  next  drawing-room,  and  I  will  perform 
a  couple  of  miracles ;  I  will  not  only  turn  Day  into  Ejiight,  but  I 
will  make  Lady-Day  at  Christmas." 

.  There  was  a  saying  of  Greorge  III.  which,  put  into  practice,  was 
as  beneficial,  as  many  of  the  victories  gained  by  more  chivalrous 
monarchs.  *^  The  ground,  like  man,  was  never  intended  to  be 
idle.  If  it  does  not  produce  something  useful  it  will  be  overran 
with  weeds." 

Among  the  men  whom  James  I.  knighted,  was  one  who  had 
passed  through  the  career  of  a  page,  and  notice  of  whom  I  have 
reserved,  that  I  might  contrast  his  career  with  that  of  a  contem- 
porary and  well-known  squire. 


410  THK  KKIGHIS  AKD  THSIB  DATS. 


RICHARD  CARR,  PAGE ;  AND  GUY  FAUX, 
ESQUIRE.  . 

Of  all  the  adventurers  of  the  seventeenth  century,  I  do  not 
know  any  who  so  well  illustrate  the  objects  I  have  in  view,  as  the 
two  above-named  gentlemen.  The  first  commenced  life  as  a  page ; 
the  second  was  an  esquire  by  condition,  and  a  man-at-arms. 
Master  Faux,  for  attempting  murder,  suffered  death ;  and  Richard 
Carr,  although  he  was  convicted  of  murder,  was  suffered  to  live 
on,  and  was  not  even  degraded  from  knighthood. 

When  the  Sixth  James  of  Scotland  reigned,  a  poor  king  in  a 
poor  country,  there  was  among  his  retinue  a  graceful  boy — a  scion 
of  the  ancient  house  of  Femyhurst,  poor  in  purse,  and  proud  in 
name.  At  the  court  of  the  extravagant  yet  needy  Scottish  king, 
there  was  but  scant  living  even  for  a  saucy  page ;  and  Richard 
Carr  of  Femyhurst  turned  his  back  on  Mid  Lothian,  and  in 
foreign  travel  forgot  his  northern  home. 

James,  in  his  turn,  directed  his  face  toward  the  English  border ; 
and  subsequently,  in  the  vanities  of  Whitehall,  the  hunting  at 
Theobald's,  the  vicious  pleasure  of  Greenwich,  and  the  royster- 
ings  at  Royston,  he  forgot  the  graceful  lad  who  had  ministered  to 
him  at  Holyrood,  St.  Andrews,  and  Dunbar. 

When  this  James  I.  of  England  had  grown  nearly  tired  of  his 
old  favorite  and  minister,  Salisbury,  for  want  of  better  employ- 
ment he  ordered  a  tilting  match,  and  the  order  was  obeyed  with 
alacrity.  In  this  match  Lord  Hay  resolved  to  introduce  to  the 
King's  notice  a  youth  who  enjoyed  his  lordship's  especial  patron- 
age. Accordingly,  when  the  monarch  was  seated  in  his  tribune, 
and  the  braasen  throats  of  the  trumpets  had  bidden  the  rough 
sport  to  begin,  the  young  squire  of  Lord  Hay,  a  handsome  youth 


BICHABD   OABRy   PAGI^,   AND  GUT   FAUX,   ESQUIRE.      411 

of  twenty,  straight  of  limb,  fair  of  favor,  strong-shouldered, 
smooth-faced,  and  with  a  modesty  that  enhanced  his  beauty,  rode 
up  on  a  fiery  steed,  to  lay  his  master's  shield  and  lance  at  the  feet 
of  the  monarch.  The  action  of  the  apprentice  warrior  was  so 
full  of  grace,  his  steed  so  full  of  fire^  and  both  so  eminently  beauti- 
ful, that  James  was  lost  in  admiration.  But  suddenly,  as  the 
youth  bent  forward  to  present  his  master's  device,  his  spur  pricked 
the  flank  of  hk  charger,  and  the  latter,  with  a  bound  and  a  plunge, 
threw  his  rider  out  of  the  saddle,  and  flung  young  Carr  of  Femy- 
hurst,  at  the  feet  of  his  ex-master,  the.  King.  The  latter  recog- 
nised his  old  page,  and  made  amends  for  the  broken  leg  got  in  the 
fall,  by  nursing  the  lad,  and  making  him  Viscount  Rochester,  as 
soon  as  he  was  well.  James  created  him  knight  oi  the  Garter, 
and  taught  him  grammar.  Rochester  gave  lessons  to  the  King  in 
foreign  history.  The  ill-favored  King  walked  about  the  court 
with  his  arms  round  the  neck  of  the  well-favored  knight.  He  was 
for  ever  either  gazing  at  him  or  kissing  him ;  trussing  his  points, 
settling  his  curls,  or  smoothing  his  hose.  When  Rochester  was 
out  of  the  King's  sight  James  was  mindftil  of  him,  and  confis- 
cated the  estates  of  honest  men  in  order  to  enrich  his  own  new 
favorite.  He  took  Sherborne  from  the  widow  and  children  of 
Raleigh,  with  the  cold-blooded  remark  to  the  kneeling  lady,  "  I 
maun  have  it  for  Carr !" 

Rochester  was  a  knight  who  ruled  the  King,  but  there  was 
another  knight  who  ruled  Rochester.  This  was  the  well-bom, 
hot-headed,  able  and  vicious  Sir  Thomas  Overbury.  Overbury 
polished  and  polluted  the  mind  of  Rochester ;  read  all  documents 
which  passed  through  the  hands  of  the  latter,  preparatory  to 
reaching  those  of  the  King,  and  not  only  penned  Rochester's 
own  despatches,  but  composed  his  love-letters  for  hi^i.  How 
pointedly  Sir  Thomas  could  write  may  be  seen  in  his  "  Charac- 
ters ;"  and  as  a  poet,  the  knight  was  of  no  indiflerent  reputation 
in  his  day. 

Rochester,  Sir  Thomas,  and  the  Bang,  were  at  the  very  height 
of  their  too-warm  friendship,  when  James  gave  Frances  Howard, 
the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  -Sufiblk,  in  marriage  to  young  Deve- 
reux.  Earl  of  Essex.  The  bride  was  just  in  her  tieens.  The 
bridegroom  was  a  day  older.    The  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells 


412  THB  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

blessed  them  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  and  Ben  Jonson  and 
Inigo  Jones  constructed  a  masque  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 
When  the  curtain  fell,  bride  and  bridegroom  went  their  separate 
ways ;  the  first  to  her  mother ;  the  second  to  school.  Four  years 
elapsed  ere  they  again  met ;  and  then  Frances,  who  had  been  ill- 
trained  by  her  mother,  seduced  by  Prince  Henry,  and  wooed  by 
Bochester,  looked  upon  Essex  with  infinite  scorn.  Essex  turned 
from  her  with  disgust. 

Rochester  then  resolved  to  marry  Frances,  and  Frances  em- 
ployed the  poisoner  of  Paternoster-row,  Mrs.  Turner,  and  a  certain 
Dr.  Forman,  to  prepare  philters  that  should  make  more  ardent  the 
flame  of  the  lover,  and  excite  increased  aversion  in  the  breast  of 
the  husband.  Overbury,  with  intense  energy,  opposed  the  idea 
of  the  guilty  pair,  that  a  divorce  from  Essex  was  likely  to  be  pro- 
cured. He  even  spoke  of  the  infamy  of  the  lady,  to  her  lover. 
Frances,  thereupon,  offered  a  thousand  pounds  to  a  needy  knight, 
Sir  John  Ward,  to  slay  Overbury  in  a  duel.  Sir  John  declined 
the  offer.  A  more  successfril  method  was  adopted.  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury  was  appointed  embassador  to  Russia,  and  on  his  refusing 
to  accept  the  sentence  of  banishment,  he  was  clapped  into  the 
tower  as  guilty  of  contempt  toward  the  king.  In  that  prison,  the 
literary  knight  was  duly  despatched  by  slow  poison.  The  guilt 
was  brought  home  less  to  Rochester  than  to  Frances,  but 
the  King  himself  appears  to  have  been  very  well  content  at  the 
issue. 

James  united  with  Rochester  and  the  lady  to  procure  a  divorce 
between  the  latter  and  Essex.  The  Eang  was  bribed  by  a  sum 
of  £25,000.  Essex  himself  did  not  appear.  Every  ecclesiastical 
judge  was  recompensed  who  pronounced  for  the  divorce — carried 
by  seven  against  five,  and  even  the  son  of  one  of  them  was 
knighted.  This  was  the  heir  of  Dr.  Bilson,  Bishop  <^  Winches- 
ter, and  he  was  ever  afterward  known  by  the  name  of  Sir  Nul- 
lity Bilscm. 

Sir  Nullity  danced  at  the  wedding  of  the  famous  or  in^unous 
pair ;  and  never  was  wedding  more  splendid.  King,  peers,  and 
iUustrious  commoners  graced  it  with  their  presence.  The  diocesan 
of  Bath  and  Wells  pronounced  the  benediction.  The  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's  wrote  for  the  occasion  an  epithalamic  eclogue.     The  Dean 


RICHARD  CARR,  PAGE,  AND  GUY  FAUX,  ESQUIRE.   418 

of  Westminster  supplied  the  sermon.  The  great  Bacon  composed, 
in  honor  of  the  event,  the  "  Masque  of  Flowers ;"  and  the  City 
made  itself  bankrupt  by  the  extravagant  splendor  of  its  fetes.  One 
gentleman  horsed  the  bride's  carriage,  a  bishop's  lady  made  the 
bride's  cake,  and  one  humorous  sycophant  offered  the  married 
pair  the  equivocal  gifl  of  a  gold  warming-pan. 

The  King,  not  to  be  behindhand  in  distributing  honors,  con- 
ferred one  which  cost  him  nothing.  He  created  Rochester  Es^xl 
of  Somerset. 

Two  years  after  this  joyous  wedding,  the  gentleman  who  had 
made  a  present  to  the  bride,  of  four  horses  to  draw  her  in  a  gilded 
chariot  to  the  nuptial  altar,  had  become  a  knight  and  secretary  of 
state.  Sir  Richard  (or,  as  some  call  him,  Sir  Robert)  Winwood 
was  a  worshipper  of  the  now  rising  favorite,  Villiers ;  and  none 
knew  better  than  this  newly-made  knight  that  the  King  was  utterly 
weary  of  his  old  favorite,  Somerset 

Winwood  waited  on  the  King  and  informed  him  that  a  garrulous 
young  apothecary  at  Flushing,  who  had  studied  the  use  of  drugs 
under  Dr.  Franklin  of  London,  was  making  that  melancholy  town 
quite  lively,  by  his  stories  of  the  abuses  of  drugs,  and  the  method 
in  which  they  had  been  employed  by  Lord  and  Lady  Somerset, 
Mrs.  Turner  (a  pretty  woman,  who  invented  yellow  starched  ruffs) 
and  their  accomplices,  in  bringing  about  the  death  of  Overbury. 
The  food  conveyed  to  the  latter  was  poisoned  by  Frances  and  her 
lover,  outside  the  tower,  and  was  administered  to  the  imprisoned 
knight  by  officials  within  the  walls,  who  were  bribed  for  the  purpose. 

There  is  inextricable  confusion  in  the  details  of  the  extraordi- 
nary trial  which  ensued.  It  is  impossible  to  read  them  without  the 
conviction  that  some  one  higher  in  rank  than  the  Somersets  was 
interested,  if  not  actually  concerned,  in  the  death  of  .Overbury. 
The  smaller  personages  were  hanged,  and  Mrs.  Turner  put  yellow 
ruffs  out  of  fashion  by  wesring  them  at  the  gallows. 

Lady  Somerset  pleaded  guiUy,  evidently  under  the  influence  of 
a  promise  of  pardon,  if  she  did  so,  and  of  fear  lest  Bacoh's  already 
prepared  speech,  had  she  pleaded  not  guiUy^  might  send  her  to  an 
ignominious  death.  She  was  confined  in  the  Tower,  and  she  im- 
plored with  frantic  energy,  that  she  might  not  be  shut  up  in  the 
room  which  had  been  occupied  by  Overbury. 


414  THB  ENIOHTS  AND  THEDEt  DATS. 

Somerset  appeared  before  bis  judges  in  a  solemn  suit,  and  wear- 
ing the  insignia  of  the  Grarter.     He  pleaded  not  guilty,  but  despite 
insufficiency  of  legal  evidence  be  was  convicted,  and  formally  con- 
demned to  be  banged,  like  any  common  malefactor.     But  the  ex- 
page  won  bis  life  by  bis  tadtumity.     Had  be,  in  his  defence,  or 
afterward,  revealed  anything  that  could  have  displeased  or  dis- 
turbed the  King,  bis  life  would  have  paid  the  forfeit.     As  it  was, 
the  King  at  once  ordered  that  the  Earl's  heraldic  arms  as  knight 
of  the  Garter  should  not  be  taken  down.     For  the  short  period  of 
the  imprisonment  of  the  guilty  pair,  both  guilty  of  many  crimes, 
although  in  the  matter  of  Overbury  there  is  some  doubt  as  to  the 
extent  of  the  Earl's  complicity,  they  separately  enjoyed  the  "  Lib- 
erty of  the  Tower."    llie  fallen  favorite  was  wont  to  pace  the 
melancholy  ramparts  with  the  Greorge  and  collar  round  his  neck 
'  and  the  Garter  of  knighthood  below  bis  knee.     He  was  often  seen 
in  grave  converse  with  the  Earl  of  Northumberland.     Sometimes, 
the  guilty  wife  of  Somerset,  impelled  by  curiosity  or  affection, 
would  venture  to  gaze  at  him  for  a  minute  or  two  from  her  lattice, 
and  then,  if  the  Earl  saw  her,  he  would  turn,  gravely  salute  her, 
and  straightway  pass  on  in  silence. 

When  liberated  from  the  Tower,  the  knight  of  the  Garter,  con- 
victed of  murder,  and  bis  wife,  confessedly  guilty,  went  forth  to- 
gether under  protection  of  a  royal  pardon.  .  Down  to  the  time 
of  the  death  of  Lady  Somerset,  in  1632,  the  wretched  pair  are 
said  never  to  have  opened  their  lips  but  to  express,  each  hatred 
and  execration  of  the  other.  The  earl  lived  on  till  1645 — long 
enough  to  see  the  first  husband  of  his  wife  carry  his  banner  tri- 
umphantly against  the  son  of  James,  at  Edgehill.  The  two  hus- 
bands of  one  wife  died  within  a  few  months  of  each  other. 

Such  was  the  career  of  one  who  began  life  as  a  page.  Let  us 
contrast  therewith  the  early  career  of  one  whose  name  is  still  more 
familiar  to  the  general  reader. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  there  was  estab- 
lished at  York  a  respectable  and  influential  Protestant  family  of 
the  name  of  Fawkes.  Some  of  the  members  were  in  the  legal 
profession,  others  were  merchants.  One  was  registrar  and  advo- 
cate of  the  Consistory  Court  of  the  cathedral  church  of  York. 
Another  was  notary  and  proctor.     A  third  is  spoken  of  as  a  mer- 


RICHARD  CARR,  PAGE,   AND   GUY  FAUX,   ESQUIRE.      415 

chant-Stapler.  All  were  well  to-do ;  but  not  one  of  them  dreamed 
that  the  name  of  Fawkes  was  to  be  in  the  least  degree  famous. 

The  Christian  name  of  the  ecclesiastical  lawyer  was  Edward. 
He  was  the  third  son  of  William  and  Ellen  Fawkes,  and  was  the 
favorite  child  of  his  mother.  She  bequeathed  trinkets,  small  sums, 
and  odd  bits  of  furniture  to  her  other  children,  but  to  Edward  she 
left  her  wedding  suit,  and  the  residue  of  her  estate.  Edward 
Fawkes  was  married  when  his  mother  made  her  will.  While  the 
document  was  preparing,  his  wife  Edith  held  in  her  arms  an  infant 
boy.  To  this  boy  she  left  her  "  best  whistle,  and  one  old  angel  of 
gold." 

The  will  itself  is  a  curious  document  It  is  devotional,  accord- 
ing to  the  good  custom  of  the  days  in  which  it  was  made.  The 
worthy  old  testator  made  some  singular  bequests;  to  her  son 
Thomas,  amid  a  miscellaneous  lot,  she  specifies,  "  my  second  petti- 
coat, my  worsted  gowne,  gardit  with  velvet,  and  a  damask  kirtle." 
The  "best  kirtle  and  best  petticoat"  are  bequeathed  to  her  daughter- 
in-law  Edith  Fawkes.  Among  the  legatees  is  a  certain  John 
(who  surely  must  have  been  a  Joan)  Sheerecrofte,  to  whom,  says 
Mistress  Fawkes,  "  I  leave  my  petticoat  fringed  about,  my  woorse 
grogram  kirtle,  one  of  my  lynn  smockes,  and  a  damask  upper 
bodie."  The  sex,  however,  of  the  legatee  is  not  to  be  doubted,  for 
another  gentleman  in  Mrs.  Fawkes's  will  comes  in  for  one  of  her 
bonnets ! 

The  amount  of  linen  bequeathed,  speaks  well  for  the  lady's 
housewifery ;  while  the  hats,  kirtles,  and  rings,  lead  us  to  fear  that 
the  wife  of  Master  Edward  Fawkes  must  have  occasionally  startled 
her  husband  with  the  amount  of  little  accounts  presented  to  him 
by  importunate  dressmakers,  milliners,  and  jewellers.  Such,  how- 
ever, was  the  will  of  a  lady  of  York  three  centuries  ago,  and  the 
child  in  arms  who  was  to  have  the  silver  whistle  and  a  gold  angel 
was  none  other  than  our  old  acquaintance,  known  to  us  as  Guy 
Faux. 

Guy  was  christened  on  the  sixteenth  of  April,  1570,  in  the  still 
existing  church  of  St.  Michael  le  Belfry ;  and  when  the  gossips 
and  sponsors  met  round  the  hospitable  table  of  the  paternal  lawyer 
to  celebrate  the  christening  of  his  son,  the  health  of  Master  Guy 
followed  hard  upon  that  of  her  gracious  highness  the  queen. 


416  THE  KMIGHTB  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Master  Guj  had  the  misfbrtane  to  lose  bis  father  in  his  nialli 
year.  ^'  He  lefl  me  but  small  living,"  said  Guj,  many  years  after- 
ward, *'  and  I  spent  it."  After  his  sire's  decease,  Guy  was  for 
some  years  a  pupil  at  the  free  foundation  grammar-school  in  ^  the 
Horse  Fayre,"  adjacent  to  York.  There  he  accomplished  his  hu- 
manities under  the  Reverend  Edward  Pulleyne.  Among  his 
schoolfellows  were  Bishop  Morton,  subsequently  Bishop  of  Dur- 
ham, and  a  quiet  little  boy,  named  Cheke,  who  came  to  be  a 
knight  and  baronet,  and  who,  very  probably  went,  in  after-days,  to 
see  his  old  comrade  in  the  hands  of  the  hangman. 

Some  seventeen  miles  from  York  stands  the  pleasant  town  of 
Knaresborough,  and  not  far  from  Ejiaresborough  is  the  village  of 
Scotten.  When  Guy  was  yet  a  boy,  there  lived  in  this  village  a 
very  gay,  seductive  wooer,  named  Dennis  Baynbridge.  This 
wooer  was  wont  to  visit  the  widowed  Edith,  and  the  result  of  his 
visits  was  that  the  widowed  Edith  rather  hastily  put  away  her 
weeds,  assumed  a  bridal  attire,  married  the  irresistible  Dennis, 
and,  with  her  two  daughters,  Anne  and  Elizabeth,  and  her  only 
son  Guy,  accompanied  her  new  husband  to  his  residence  at 
Scotten. 

Baynbridge  was  a  Roman  Catholic,  as  also  were  the  Fullens, 
Percies,  Winters,  Wrights,  and  others  who  lived  in  Scotten  or  its 
neighborhood,  and  whose  names  figure  in  the  story  of  the  Gun- 
powder Plot. 

At  Scotterr,  then,  and  probably  soon  after  his  mother's  marriage, 
in  1582,  Guy,  it  may  be  safely  said,  left  the  faith  in  which  he  had 
been  baptized,  for  that  of  the  Romish  Church.  Had  he  declined 
to  adopt  the  creed  of  his  step-sire,  he  perhaps  would  have  been 
allowed  but  few  opportunities  of  angling  in  the  Nidd,  rabbiting  by 
Bilton  Banks,  nutting  in  Goldsborough  Wood,  or  of  passing  idle 
holydays  on  Grimbald  Craig. 

On  the  wedding-day  of  Edith  Fawkes  and  Dennis  Baynbridge, 
the  paternal  uncle  of  Guy  made  his  will.  He  exhibited  his  sense 
of  the  step  taken  by  the  lady,  by  omitting  her  name  from  the  will, 
and  by  bequeathing  the  bulk  of  his  property  to  the  two  sisters  of 
Guy.  To  Guy  himself,  Uncle  Thomas  left  only  "  a  gold  ring," 
and  a  ^  bed  and  one  pair  of  sheets,  with  the  appurtenances." 

When  Guy  became  of  age,  he  found  himself  in  possession  of  his 


RICHARD  CARR,  PAGE,  AND  GUY  FAUX,  ESQUIRE.   417 

patrimonj — some  land  and  a  farm-house.  The  latter,  with  two 
or  three  acres  of  land,  he  let  to  a  tailor,  named  Lumley,  for  the 
term  of  twenty-one  years,  at  the  annual  rent  of  forty-two  shillings. 
The  remainder  he  sold  at  once  for  a  trifle  less  than  thirty  pounds. 
Shortly  after,  he  made  over  to  a  purchaser  all  that  was  left  of  his 
property.  He  bethought  himself  for  a  while  as  to  what  course  he 
should  take,  and  finally  he  chose  the  profession  of  arms,  and  went 
out  to  Spain,  to  break  crowns  and  to  win  spurs. 

In  Spain,  he  fell  into  evil  company  and  evil  manners.  He  saw 
enough  of  hard  fighting,  and  indulged,  more  than  enough,  in  hard 
drinking.  He  was  wild,  almost  savage  of  temper,  and  he  never 
rose  to  a  command  which  gave  him  any  chance  of  gaining  admis- 
sion  on  the  roll  of  chivalry.  There  was  a  knight,  however,  named 
Catesby,  who  was  a  comrade  of  Guy,  and  the  latter  clung  to  him 
as  a  means  whereby  to  become  as  great  as  that  to  which  he  clung. 

Guy  bore  himself  gallantly  in  Spain ;  and,  subsequently,  in 
Flanders,  he  fought  with  such  distinguished  valor,  that  when 
Catesby  and  his  associates  in  England  were  considering  where 
they  might  find  the  particular  champion  whom  they  needed  for 
their  particular  purpose  in  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  the  thought  of 
the  reckless  soldier  flashed  a<^ross  the  mind  of  Gatesby,  and  Guy 
was  at  once  looked  after  as  the  "  very  properest  man"  for  a  very 
improper  service. 

The  messenger  who  was  despatched  to  Flanders  to  sound  Guy, 
found  the  latter  eager  to  undertake  the  perilous  mission  of  destroy- 
ing king  and  parliament,  and  thereby  helping  Rome  to  lord  it  again 
in  England.  The  English  soldier  in  Flanders  came  over  to  Lon- 
don, put  up  at  an  inn,  which  occupied  a  site  not  very  distant  from 
that  of  the  once  well-known  *'  Angel"  in  St.  Clement's  Danes,  and 
made  a  gay  figure  in  the  open  Strand,  till  he  was  prepared  to  con- 
summate a  work  which  he  thought  would  help  himself  to  greatness. 

Into  the  matter  of  the  plot  I  will  not  enter.  It  must  be  ob- 
served, however,  that  knight  never  went  more  coolly  to  look  death 
in  the  face  than  Guy  went  to  blow  up  the  Protestant  king  and  the 
parliament.  At  the  same  time  it  must  be  added,  that  Guy  had 
not  the  slightest  intention  of  hoisting  himself  with  his  own  petard. 
He  ran  a  very  great  risk,  it  is  true,  and  he  did  it  fearlessly ;  but 
the  fact  that  both  a  carriage  and  a  boat  were  in  waiting  to  facili- 

27 


418  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

tate  his  escape,  shows  that  self-eacrifice  was  not  the  object  of  the 
son  of  the  York  proctor.  His  great  ambition  was  to  rank  among 
knights  and  nobles.  He  took  hot  an  iU-method  to  arrive  at  such 
an  object ;  bnt  his  reverence  for  nobility  was  seen  even  when  he 
was  very  near  to  his  violent  end.  If  he  was  ever  a. hero,  it  was 
when  certain  death  by  process  of  law  was  before  him.  But  even 
then  it  was  his  boast  and  soUoe,  that  throughout  the  afiair  there 
was  not  a  man  employed,  even  to  handle  a  spade,  in  furtherance 
of  the  end  in  view,  who  was  not  a  gentleman.  Guy  died  under 
•the  perfect  conviction  that  he  had  done  nothing  derogatory  to  his 
quality ! 

Considering  how  dramatic  are  the  respective  stories  of  the  page  ^ 
and  squire,  brief  y  noticed  above,  it  is  remarkable  that  so  little  use 
has  been  made  of  them  by  dramatists.  Savage  is  the  only  one 
who  has  dramatized  the  story  of  the  two  knights,  Somerset  and 
Overbury.  In  this  tragedy  bearing  the  latter  knight's  .name,  and 
produced  at  the  Haymarket,  in  June,  1723,  he  himself  played  the 
hero,  Sir  Thomas.  His  attempt  to  be  an  actor,  and  thus  gain  an 
honest  livelihood  by  his  industry,  was  the  only  act  of  his  life  of 
which  Savage  was  ever  ashamed.  In  this  piece  the  only  guilty 
persons  are  the  countess  and  her  uncle,  the  Earl  of  Northampton. 
This  is  in  accordance  with  the  once-prevailing  idea  that  North- 
ampton planned  the  murder  of  Sir  Thomas,  in  his  residence,  which 
occupied  the  site  of  the  present  Northumberland  house.  The  play 
was  not  successful,  and-  the  same  may  be  said  of  it  when  revived, 
with  alterations,  at  Covent  Garden,  in  1777.  Sheridan,  the  actor, 
furnished  the  prologue.  In  this  production  he  expressed  his  be- 
lief that  the  public  generally  felt  little  interest  in  the  fate  of  knights 
and  kings.     The  reason  he  assigns  is  hardly  logical. 

"  Too  great  for  pity,  they  inspire  respect, 
Their  deeds  astonish  rather  than  affect. 
Proving  how  rare  the  heart  that  we  can  move. 
Which  reason  tells  us  we  can  never  prove." 

Guy  Faux,  who,  when  in  Spain,  was  the  'squire  of  the  higher- 
born  Catesby,  has  inspired  but  few  dramatic  writers.  I  only  know 
of  two.  Li  Mrs.  Crouch's  memoirs,  notice  is  made  of  an  after- 
piece, brought  out  on  the  5th  of  November,  1793,  at  the  Hay- 


RICHARD  CARR,  PAGE,  AND  GUY  FAUX,  ESQUIRE.   419 

market.  A  far  more  creditable  attempt  to  dramatize  the  story  of 
Guy  Fawkes  was  made  with  great  success  at  the  Coburg  (Victoria) 
theatre,  in  September,  1822.  This  piece  still  keeps  possession  of 
the  minor  stage,  and  deservedly ;  but  it  has  never  been  played 
with  such  effect  as  by  its  first  **  cast."  O.  Smith  was  the  Guy, 
and  since  he  had  played  the  famous  Obi,  so  well  as  to  cause 
Charles  Kemble's  impersonation  at  the  Haymarket  to  be  forgotten, 
he  had  never  been  fitted  with  a  character  which  suited  him  so  ad- 
mirably. It  was  one  of  the  most  truthful  personations  which  the 
stage  had  ever  seen.  Indeed  the  piece  was  played  by  such  a  troop 
of  actors  as  can  not  now  be  found  in  theatres  of  more  pretensions 
•  than  the  transpontine  houses.  The  chivalric  Huntley,  very  like 
the  chivalric  Leigh  Murray,  in  more  respects  than  one,  enacted 
Treiham  with  a  rare  ability,  and  judicious  Chapman  played  Cateshy 
with  a  good  taste,  which  is  not  to  be  found  now  in  the  same  local* 
ity.  Dashing  Stanley  was  the  Monteagle,  and  graceful  Howell 
the  Percy,  Beverly  and  Sloman  gave  rough  portraits  of  the  king 
and  the  facetious  knight.  Sir  Tristam  CoUywohUe — coarse  but 
effective.  Smith,  however,  was*  the  soul  of  the  piece,  and  Mr. 
Fawkes,  of  Famley,  might  have  witnessed  the  representation, 
and  have  been  proud  of  his  descent  from  the  dignified  hero  that 
O,  Smith  made  of  his  ancestor. 

I  have  given  samples  of  knights  of  various  qualities,  but  I  have 
yet  to  mention  the  scholar  and  poet  knights.  There  are  many 
personages  who  would  serve  to  illustrate  the  knight  so  qualified, 
but  I  know  of  none  so  suitable  as  Ulrich  Yon  Hutten. 


420  THE  KNIQHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 


ULRICH  VON  HUTTEN. 

"  Jacta  est  alea."—  Ulrich'a  Device, 

Ulrich  yon  Huttek  was  bom  on  the  21st  of  April,  1488, 
in  the  castle  of  Stackelberg,  near  Fulda,  in  Franconia.  He  was 
of  a  noble  family — all  the  men  of  which  were  brave,  and  all  the 
women  virtuous.  He  had  three  brothers  and  two  sisters.  His 
tender  mother  loved  him  the  most,  because  he  was  the  weakest  of 
her  offspring.  His  father  loved  him  the  least  for  the  same  reason. 
For  a  like  cause,  however,  both  parents  agreed  that  a  spiritual 
education  best  accorded  with  the  frame  of  Ulrich.  The  latter,  at 
eleven  years  old,  was  accordingly  sent  to  learn  his  humanities  in 
the  abbey  school  at  Fulda. 

His  progress  in  all  knowledge,  religious  and  secular,  made  him 
the  delight  of  the  stem  abbot  and  of  his  parents.  £very  effort 
possible  was  resorted  to,  to  induce  him  to  devote  himself  for  ever 
to  the  life  of  the  cloister.  Li  his  zealous  opposition  to  this  he  was 
ably  seconded  by  a  strong-handed  and  high-minded  knight,  a  friend 
of  his  father's  named  Eitelwolf  von  Stein.  This  opposition  so 
far  succeeded,  that  in  1504,  when  Ulrich  was  sixteen  years  of  age 
he  fled  from  the  cloister-academy  of  Fulda,  and  betook  himself 
to  the  noted  high-school  at  Erfurt. 

Among  his  dearest  fellow  Alumni  here  were  Bubianus  and 
Hoff,  both  of  whom  subsequently  achieved  great  renown.  In  the 
Augustine  convent,  near  the  school,  there  was  residing  a  poor 
young  monk,  who  also  subsequently  became  somewhat  famous. 
Nobody,  however,  took  much  account  of  him  just  then,  and  few 
even  cared  to  know  his  name — Martin  Luther.  The  plague 
breaking  out  at  Erfurt,  Bubianus  was  accompanied  by  Ulrich  to 
Cologne,  there  to  pursue  their  studies.  The  heart  and  purse  of 
Ulrich's  father  were  closed  against  the  son,  because  of  his  flight 


ULRICH   VON  HUTTEN.  421 

from  Fulda ;  but  his  kinsman  Eitelwolf,  provided  for  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  rather  imprudent  young  scholar. 

The  sages  who  trained  the  young  idea  at  Cologne  were  of  the 
old  high  and  dry  quahty— hating  progress  and  laboriously  learned 
in  triiles.  At  the  head  of  them  were  Hogstraten  and  Ortuin. 
Ulrich  learned  enough  of  their  manner  to  be  able  to  crush  them 
afterward  with  ridicule,  by  imitating  their  style,  and  reproducmg 
their  gigantic  nonsense,  in  the  famous  ^Epistolse  Obscurorum 
Yirorum."  In  the  meantime  he  knit  close  friendship  with  Sebas- 
tian Brandt,  and  CEcolampadius — both  young  men  of  progress. 
The  htt&r  was  expeUed  from  Cologne  for  being  so,  but  the  Uni- 
versity of  Frankfort  on  the  Oder  offered  him  an  asylum.  Thither 
Ulrich  repaired  also,  to  be  near  his  friend,  and  to  sharpen  his 
weapons  for  the  coming  struggle  between  light  and  darkness — 
Germany  against  Bome,  and  the  German  language  against  the 
Xatin. 

At  Frankfort  he  won  golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  of  people. 
The  Elector,  Joachim  of  Brandenburg ;  his  brother,  the  priestly 
Margrave  Albert ;  and  Bishop  Dietrich  von  Beilow  were  proud 
of  the  youth  who  did  honor  to  the  university.  He  here  first  be- 
came a  poet,  and  took  the  brothers  Yon  Osthen  for  his  friends. 
He  labored  earnestly,  and  acquired  much  glory ;  but  he  was  a 
very  free  liver  to  boot,  though  he  was  by  no  means  particularly 
so,  for  the  times  in  which  he  Hved.  -  His  excesses,  however, 
brought  on  a  dangerous  disease,  which,  it  is  sometimes  supposed, 
had  not  hitherto  been  known  in  Europe.  Be.  this  as  it  may,  he 
was  never  wholly  free  from  the  malady  as  long  as  he  lived,  nor 
ever  thought  that  it  much  mattered  whether  he  suffered  or  not 

He  was  still  ill  when  he  too^  up  for  a  season  the  life  of  a  wan- 
dering scholar.  He  endured  all  its  miserable  vicissitudes,  suffered 
famine  and  shipwreck,  and  was  glad  at  last  to  find  a  haven,  as  a 
poor  student,  in  the  Pomeranian  University  of  Griefswalde.  The 
Professor  Ldtz  and  his  father  the  Burgomaster,  were  glad  to 
patronize  so  renowned  a  youth,  but  they  did  it  with  such  insulting 
condescension  that  the  spirit  of  Ulrich  revolted ;  and  in  1509,  the 
wayward  scholar  was  again  a  wanderer,  with  the  world  before 
him  where  to  choose.  The  Lotzes,  who  had  lent  him  clothes, 
despatched  men  afler  him  to  strip  him ;  and  the  poor,  half-frozen 


422  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THSIB  DATS. 

wretch,  reached  Rostock  half  starved,  more  than  half  naked,  with 
woonds  gaping  for  vengeance,  and  with  as  little  sense  about  him 
as  could  be  possessed  by  a  man  so  ill-conditioned. 

He  lived  by  his  wits  at  Rostock.  He  was  unknown  and  per^ 
fectlj  destitute ;  but  he  penned  so  spirited  a  metrical  narrative  of 
his  life  and  sufferings,  addressed  to  the  heads  of  the  universitjr 
there,  that  these  at  once  received  him  under  their  protectiiMi.  In 
a  short  time  he  was  installed  in  comparative  comfort,  teaching  the 
classics  to  young  pupils,  and  experiencing  as  much  enjoyment  as 
he  could,  considering  that  the  Ldtzes  of  Griefswalde  were  con- 
tinually assuring  his  patrons  that  their  proteg^  was  a  worthless 
impostor. 

He  took  a  poet's  revenge,  and  scourged  them  in  rhymes,  the 
very  ru^;edness  of  which  was  tantamount  to  flaying. 

Having  gained  his  fill  of  honor  at  Rostock,  his  restiess  spirit 
urged  him  once  again  into  the  world.  After  much  wandering,  he 
settled  for  a  season  at  Wittenburg,  where  he  was  the  delight  of 
the  learned  men.  By  their  eleemosynary  aid,  and  that  of  various 
friends,  save  his  father,  who  rejoiced  in  his  renown  but  would  not 
help  him  to  live,  he  existed  after  the  ^hion  of  many  pauper  stu- 
dents of  his  day.  At  Wittenburg  he  wrote  his  famous  ^  Art  of 
Poetry ;"  and  he  had  no  sooner  raised  universal  admiration  by  its 
production,  than  forth  he  rushed  once  more  into  the  world. 

He  wandered  through  Bohemia  and  Moravia,  thankfiilly  ac- 
cepting bread  from  peasants,  and  diamond  rings  from  princes. 
He  had  not  a  marayedi  in  his  purse,  nor  clean  linen  on  his  back ; 
but  he  made  himself  welcome  everywhere.  One  night  he  slept, 
thankfully,  on  the  straw  of  a  bam ;  and  the  next  sank,  well-fed, 
into  the  eider-down  of  a  bishop'jt  bed.  He  entered  Olmutz 
ragged,  shoeless,  and  exhausted.  He  left  it,  after  enjoying  the 
rich  hospitality  he  had  laughingly  extracted  from  Bishop  Turso, 
on  horseback,  with  a  heavy  purse  in  his  belt,  a  mantie  on  his 
shoulder,  and  a  golden  ring,  with  a  jewel  set  in  it,  upon  his  Bngeti 
Such  were  a  student's  vicissitudes,  in  the  days  of  German  wan- 
dering, a  long  time  ago. 

The  boy,  for  he  was  not  yet  twenty  years  of  age,  betook  him- 
self to  Vienna,  where  he  kept  a  wide  circle  in  continual  rapture 
by  the  excellence  of  his  poetical  productions.     These  productions 


ULRICH  VON   HUTTBN.  428 

were  not  "  all  for  love,"  nor  were  they  all  didactic.  He  poured 
out  war-ballads  to  encourage  tjie  popular  feeling  in  favor  of  the 
Emperor  Maximilian,  against  his  enemies  in  G^rmsoiy  and  Italy. 
Ulrich  was,  for  the  moment,  the  Tyrtaeus  of  his  native  country. 
Then,  suddenly  recollecting  that  his  angry  sire  had  said  that  if 
his  son  would  not  take  the  monk's  cowl,  his  father  would  be  con- 
tent to  see  him  assume  the  lawyer's  coif,  our  volatile  hero  hastened 
to  Pavia,  opened  the  law  books  on  an  ominous  1st  of  April,  1512, 
and  read  them  steadily,  yet  wearied  of  them  heartily,  during  just 
three  months. 

At  this  time  Francis  the  first  of  France,  who  had  seized  on 
Pavia,  was  besieged  therein  by  the  German  and  Swiss  cavalry. 
Ulrich  was  dangerously  ill  during  the  siege,  but  he  occupied  the 
weary  time  by  writing  sharp  epitaphs  upon  himself.  The  allies 
entered  the  city;  and  Ulrich  straightway  departed  from  it,  a 
charge  having  been  laid  against  him  of  too  much  partiality  for 
the  French.  The  indignant  Grerman  hurried  to  Bologna,  where 
he  once  more  addressed  himself  to  the  Pandects  and  the  Vwrn 
Codices  Gentium, 

This  light  reading  so  worked  on  his  constitution  that  fever  laid 
him  low,  and  after  illness  came  destitution.  He  wrote  exquisite 
verses  to  Cardinal  Gurk,  the  imperial  embassador  in  Bologna, 
where  the  pope  for  the  moment  resided ;  but  he  failed  in  his  object 
of  being  raised  to  some  office  in  the  cardinal's  household.  Poor 
Ulrich  took  the  course  o^n  followed  by  men  of  his  impulses  and 
condition ;  he  entered  the  army  as  a  private  soldier,  and  began 
the  ladder  which  leads  to  knighthood  at  the  lowest  round. 

Unutterable  miseries  he  endured  in  this  character ;  but  he  went 
through  the  siege  of  Pavia  with  honor,  and  he  wrote  such  spark- 
ling rhymes  in  celebration  of  German  triumphs  and  in  ridicule  of 
Germany's  foes,  that,  when  a  weakness  in  the  ankles  compelled 
him  to  retire  from  the  army,  he  collected  his  songs  and  dedicated 
them  to  the  Emperor. 

The  dedication,  however,  was  so  very  independent  of  tone,  that 
Maximilian  took  no  notice  of  the  limping  knight  who  had  ex- 
changed the  sword  for  the  lyre.  Indeed,  at  this  juncture,  the  man 
who  could  wield  a  sledge-hammer,  was  in  more  esteem  with  the 
constituted  authorities  than  he  who  skilfully  used  his  pen.     The 


424  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THKIB  DATS. 

youDg  poet  could  scarcely  win  a  smile,  even  from  Albert  of  Bra- 
denborg,  to  wbom  he  had  dedicated  a  poem.  Sick  at  heart,  his 
health  gave  waj,  and  a  heavy  fever  sent  him  to  recover  it  at  the 
healing  springs  in  the  vallej  of  Ems* 

A  short  time  previous  to  his  entering  the  army,  the  youngs 
Duke  Ulrich  of  Wiirtemburg  had  begun  to  achieve  for  himself  a 
most  unenviable  reputation.  He  bad  entered  on  his  government ; 
and  he  governed  his  people  ill,  and  himself  worse.  He  allowed 
nothing  to  stand  between  his  own  illustrious  purpose  and  the 
object  aimed  at  He  had  for  wife  the  gentle  Bavarian  princess, 
Sabina,  and  for  friend,  young  Johan  von  Hntten,  a  cousin  of  our 
hero  Ulrich. 

Now,  Johan  von  Hutten  had  recently  married  a  £ur-haired 
girl,  with  the  not  very  euphonious  appellation  of  Von  Thumb. 
She  was,  however,  of  noble  birth,  and,  we  must  add,  of  light  prin- 
ciples. The  duke  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  she  with  the  duke, 
and  when  his  friend  Johan  remonstrated  with  him,  the  ducal 
sovereign  gravely  proposed  to  the  outraged  husband  an  exchange 
of  consorts ! 

Johan  resolved  to  withdraw  from  the  ducal  court ;  and  this  res- 
olution alarmed  both  his  wife  and  the  duke,  for  Johan  had  no  in- 
tention of  leaving  his  lightsome  Von  Thumb  behind  him.  There- 
fore, the  duke  invited  Johan  one  fine  May  morning  in  the  year 
1515,  to  take  a  friendly  ride  with  him  through  a  wood.  The  in- 
vitation was  accepted,  and  as  Johan  was  riding  along  a  narrow 
path,  in  front  of  the  duke,  the  latter  passed  his  sword  through  the 
body  of  his  friend,  slaying  him  on  the  spot. 

Having  thus  murdered  his  friend,  the  duke  hung  him  up  by 
the  neck  in  his  own  girdle  to  a  neighboring  tree,  and  he  de- 
fended the  deed,  by  giving  out  that  ducal  justice  had  only  been 
inflicted  on  a  traitor  who  had  endeavored  to  seduce  the  Duchess 
of  Wurtemburg !  The  lady,  however,  immediately  fled  to  her 
father,  denouncing  the  faithlessness  of  her  unworthy  husband,  on 
whose  bosom  the  young  widow  of  the  murdered  Johan  now  re- 
clined for  consolation. 

On  this  compound  deed  becoming  known,  all  Germany  uttered 
a  unanimous  cry  of  horror.  The  noblest  of  the  duke's  subjects 
flung  off  their  allegiance.     His  very  servants  quitted  him  in  dis- 


CLRICH  YON  HUTTEN.  425 

gust  His  fellow-prinoes  invoked  justice  against  him  aAd  Ulrich 
von  Hutten,  from  his  sick  couch  at  Ems,  penned  eloquent  appeals 
to  the  Grerman  nation,  to  rise  and  crush  the  ruthless  wretch  who 
had  quenched  in  blood,  the  life,  the  light,  the  hope,  the  very  flower 
of  Teutonic  chivalry. 

The  "  Philippics"  of  Ulrich  were  mainly  instrumental  in  raising 
a  terrible  Nemesis  to  take  vengeance  upon  his  ducal  namesake ; 
and  he  aflerward  wrote  his  "  Fhalarismus^'  to  show  that  the  tyrant 
excited  horror,  even  in  the  infernal  regions.  The  opening  sentence 
— "  Jacta  est  alea  !*'  became  his  motto ;  and  his  family  took  for  its 
apt  device — "Exoriare  aliquis  nostris  ex  ossibus  ultor!"  From 
this  time  forward,  Ulrich  von  Hutten  was  a  public  man,  and  be-, 
came  one  of  the  foremost  heroes  of  his  heroic  age.  He  was  now  > 
scholar,  poet,  and  knight. 

His  £sime  would  have  been  a  pleasant  thing  to  him,  but  the 
pleasure  was  temporarily  diminished  by  the  death  of  his  old  bene- 
factor, Eitelwolf  von  Stein.  The  latter  was  the  first  German 
statesman  who  was  also  a  great  scholar ;  and  his  example  first 
shook  the  prejudice,  that  for  a  knight  or  nobleman  to  be  book- 
learned  was  derogatory  to  his  chivalry  and  nobility.  Into  the 
area  of  public  warfare  Ulrich  now  descended,  and  the  enemies  of 
light  trembled  before  the  doughty  champion.  The  collegiate 
teachers  at  Cologne,  with  Hogstraten,  the  Inquisitor,  Pfefierkorn, 
a  converted  Jew,  and  Ortuin — at  their  head,  had  directed  all  the 
powers  of  the  scholastic  prejudices  against  Reuchlin  and  his  fol- 
lowers, who  had  declared,  that  not  only  Greek,  but  Hebrew 
should  form  a  portion  of  the  course  of  etildy  for  those  destined  to 
enter  the  Church.  The  ancient  party  pronounced  this  Heathen- 
ism ;  Reuchlin  and  his  party  called  it  Reason,  and  Germany,  was 
split  in  two,  upon  the  question. 

At  the  very  height  of  the  contest,  a  lad  with  a  sling  and  a  stone 
entered  the  lists,  and  so  dexterously  worked  his  missiles,  that  the 
enemy  of  learning  was  soon  overcome.  The  lad  was  Von  Hut- 
ten,  who,  as  chief  author  of  those  amusing  satires,  "Epistolae 
Obscurorum  Virorum,"  ruined  Monkery  and  paralyzed  Rome,  by 
making  all  the  world  laugh  at  the  follies,  vices,  crimes,  and  selfish 
ignorance  of  both. 

Leo  X.  was  so  enraged,  that  he  excommunicated  the  authors. 


426  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DATB. 

and  devoted  them  to  damnation.  "  I  care  no  more,"  said  Von 
Hntten,  ^for  the  hall  of  excommonication  than  I  do  for  a  soap- 
huhhle."  The  reputation  he  had  acquired,  helped  him  to  a^reoon- 
cilialion  with  his  family ;  hut  the  members  thereof  had  only  small 
respect  for  a  mere  learned  knight  They  urged  him  to  qualify 
himself  for  a  chancellor,  and  to  repair  to  Rome,  and  study  the  law 
accordingly. 

Something  loath,  he  turned  his  face  toward  the  Tyber,  in  1515. 
The  first  news  received  of  the  law-student  was  to  the  effect,  that 
having  been  attacked,  dagger  in  hand,  at  a  pic-nic,  near  Yiterbo, 
by  five  French  noblemen,  whom  he  had  reproved  for  speaking  ill 
of  Grermany  and  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  he  had  slain  one 
and  put  the  other  four  to  flight.  From  this  fray  he  himself  es- 
caped with  a  slash  on  the  cheek.  He  recounted  his  victory  in  a 
song  of  triumph,  and  when  the  law-student  sat  down  to  his  books, 
every  one  in  Borne  acknowledged  that  his  sword  and  his  pen  were 
equally  pointed. 

His  French  adversaries  threatened  vengeance  for  their  humili- 
ating defeat ;  and  he  accordingly  avoided  it,  by  withdrawing  to 
Bologne,  where  he  again,  with  hearty  disgust,  applied  himself  to 
the  severe  study  of  a  law  which  was  never  applied  for  justice  sake. 
He  found  compensation  in  penning  such  stirring  poetry  as  his  sa- 
tirical *'  Nemo,"  and  in  noting  the  vices  of  the  priesthood  with  the 
intention  of  turning  his  observation  to  subsequent  profit.  A  feud 
between  the  Grerman  and  Italian  students  at  Bologna  soon  drove 
our  scholar  from  the  latter  place.  He  took  himself  to  Ferrara 
and  Venice ;  was  welcomed  everywhere  by  the  learned  and  liberal, 
and,  as  he  wrote  to  Erasmus,  was  loaded  by  them  with  solid  pud- 
ding as  well  as  empty  praise. 

From  this  journey  he  returned  to  his  native  country.  He  re- 
paired to  Augsburg,  where  Maximilian  was  holding  courts  and  so 
well  was  he  commended  to  the  emperor,  that  on  the  15th  of  June, 
1517,  that  monarch  dubbed  him  Imperial  Knight,  placed  a  gold 
ring,  symbolic  of  chivalrous  dignity,  on  his  finger,  and  crowned 
him  a  poet,  with  a  laurel  wreath,  woven  by  the  fairest  flower  of 
Augsburg,  Constance  Peutinger. 

After  such  honors,  his  father  received  him  with  joy  at  his 
hearth;  and  while  Von  Hutten  went  from  his  native  Stackel- 


ULRICH  VON   HUTTEN.  427 

berg  to  the  library  at  Fulda,  yet  hesitating  whether  to  take 
service  under  the  Emperor  or  under  the  Elector  of  Mayence, 
he  bethought  himself  of  the  irrefutable  work  of  Laurentius 
Valla  against  the  temporal  authority  and  possessions  of  the 
Popedom.  He  studied  the  work  well,  published  an  improved 
edition,  and  dedicated  it,  in  a  letter  of  fire  and  ability,  to  Leo  X. ; 
— a  proof  of  his  hope  in,  or  of  his  defiance  of,  that  accomplished 
infidel. 

Luther  and  Von  Hutten  were  thus,  each  unconscious  of  the 
other,  attacking  Popery  on  two  points,  about  the  same  moment. 
Luther  employed  fearful  weapons  in  his  cause,  and  wielded  them 
manfully.  Von  Hutten  only  employed,  as  yet,  a  wit  which  made 
all  wither  where  it  fell ;  and  an  irony  which  consumed  where  it 
dropped.  In  the  handling  of  these  appliances,  there  was  no  man 
in  Germany  who  was  his  equal.  Leo  could  admire  and  enjoy 
both  the  wit  and  the  irony ;  and  he  was  not  disinclined  to  agree 
with  the  arguments  of  which  they  were  made  the  supports ;  but 
what  he  relished  as  a  philosopher,  he  condemned  as  a  Pontiff. 
The  Florentine,  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  could  have  kissed  the  German 
on  either  cheek,  but  the  Pope,  Leo  X.,  solemnly  devoted  him  to 
Gehenna. 

As  a  protection  against  papal  wrath,  Von  Hutten  entered  the 
service  of  Albert,  Elector- Archbishop  of  Mayence.  Albert  was 
a  liberal  Romanist,  but  nothing  in  the  least  of  an  Ultra-Montanist. 
He  loved  learning  and  learned  men,  and  he  recollected  that  he 
was  a  German  before  he  was  a  Romanist.  In  the  suite  of  the 
elector,  Von  Hutten  visited  Paris,  in  1518.  He  returned  to 
Mayence  only  to  carry  on  more  vigorously  his  onslaught  against 
the  begging  monks.  He  accounted  them  as  greater  enemies  to 
Germany  than  the  Turks.  "  We  fight  with  the  latter,  beyond  our 
frontier  for  power ;  but  the  former  are  the  corrupters  of  science, 
of  religion,  of  morals — and  they  are  in  the  very  midst  of  us." 
So  does  he  write,  in  a  letter  to  Graf  Nuenar,  at  Cologne. 

The  buildinjg  of  St.  Peter's  cost  Rome  what  the  building  of  ^ 
Versailles  cost  France — a  revolution.     In  each  case,  an  absolute 
monarchy  was  overthrown  never  again  to  rise.     To  provide  for 
the  expenses  of  St.  Peter's,  the  Dominican  Tetzel  traversed  Ger- 
many, selling  his  indulgences.     Luther  confronted  him^  and  de- 


428  THE  KNIGHTS  A^^D  THEIB  BATS. 

nouoced  his  mission,  as  well  as  those  who  sent  him  on  iU  Von 
HuUen,  in  his  hatred  of  monks,  looked  upon  this  as  a  mere  monk- 
ish squabble ;  and  he  was  glad  to  see  two  of  the  vocation  holding 
one  another  bj  the  throat 

At  this  precise  moment,  Germany  was  excited  at  the  idea  of  a 
projected  European  expedition  against  the  Turks.  The  Imperial 
Knight  saw  dearly  the  perils  that  threatened  Christendom  tma 
that  question,  and  was  ready  to  rush,  sword  in  hand,  to  meet  them. 
He  declared,  however,  that  Europe  groaned  under  a  more  insup- 
portable yoke,  laid  on  by  Rome,  and  he  deprecated  the  idea  of 
helping  Rome  with  funds  against  the  Moslem.  What  a  change 
was  here  from  the  Imperial  crusading  knights  of  a  few  centuries 
earlier.  **  If  Rome,"  he  said,  '^  be  serious  on  the  subject  of  such 
a  crusade,  we  are  ready  to  fight,  but  she  must  pay  us  for  our  ser- 
vices. She  shall  not  have  both  our  money  and  our  blood."  He 
spoke,  wrote,  and  published  boldly  a^unst  Rome  being  permitted 
to  levy  taxes  in  Germany,  on  pretence  of  going  to  war  with  the 
unbelieving  Ottomans.  At  the  same  moment,  Luther  was  de- 
nouncing the  monks  who  thought  to  enrich  the  coffers  of  Rome 
by  the  sale  of  indulgences.  One  was  the  political,  the  other  the 
religious  enemy  of  the  power  which  sought  to  rule  men  and  their 
consciences  from  under  the  shadow  of  the  Colosseum. 

There  was  little  hope  of  aid  from  the  emperor,  but  Yon  Hutten 
looked  for  all  the  help  the  cause  needed  in  a  union  of  the  citizen 
classes  (whom  he  had  been  wont  to  satirize)  with  the  nobility. 
To  further  the  end  in  view,  he  wrote  his  masterly  dialogue  of 
'^The  Robbers."  In  this  piece,  the  speakers  are  knights  and 
citizens.  Each  side  blames  the  other,  but  each  is  made  acquainted 
with  the  other's  virtues,  by  the  interposition  of  a  Deus  ex  machina 
in  the  presence  of  the  knight,  Franz  von  Sickingen.  The  whole 
partakes  of  the  spirit  and  raciness  of  Bunyan  and  Cobbett. 
Throughout  the  dialogue,  the  vices  of  no  party  in  the  state  find 
mercy,  while  the  necessity  of  the  mutual  exercise  of  virtue  and 
aid  is  ably  expounded. 

The  knight,  Franz  von  Sickingen,  was  author  of  a  part  of  this 
dialogue.  His  adjurations  to  Von  Hutten  not  to  be  over-hasty 
and  his  reason  why,  are  no  doubt  his  own.  By  the  production 
of  such  papers,  Germany  was  made  eager  for  the  fray.     This 


ULRICH  VON  HUTTEN.  429 

particular  and  powerful  dialogue  was  dedicated  to  John,  Pfalzgraf 
of  the  Rhine,  Duke  of  Bavaria,  and  Count  of  Spanheim.  This 
illustrious  personage  had  requested  Ulrich  that  whenever  he  pub- 
lished any  particularly  bold  book,  in  support  of  national  liberty, 
he  would  dedicate  it  to  him,  the  duke.  The  author  obeyed,  in 
this  instance,  on  good  grounds  and  with  right  good  will.  There 
is  in  the  dialogue  an  audible  call  to  war,  and  this  pleased  Luther 
himself,  who  was  now  convinced  that  with  the  pen  alone,  the 
Reformation  could  not  be  an  established  fact. 

Ulrich  longed  for  the  contact,  whereby  to  make  his  country  and 
his  church  free  of  Romanist  tyranny.  But  he  considers  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  failure.  He  adjured  his  family  to  keep  aloof  from 
the  strife,  that  they  might  not  bring  ruin  on  their  heads,  in  the 
event  of  destruction  falling  on  his  own.  The  parents  of  Ulrich 
were  nOw  no  more ;  Ulrich  as  head  of  his  house  was  possessed 
of  its  modest  estates.  Of  his  own  possessions  he  got  rid,  as  of  an 
encumbrance  to  his  daring  and  his  gigantic  activity.  He  formally 
made  over  nearly  all  to  his  next  brother,  in  order  that  his  enemies, 
should  they  ultimately  triumph,  might  have  no  ground  for  seizing 
them. 

At  the  same  time,  he  warned  his  brother  to  send  him  neither 
letters  nor  money,  as  either  would  be  considered  in  the  light  of 
aid  offered  to  an  enemy,  and  might  be  visited  with  terrible 
penalties. 

Having  rid  himself  of  what  few  would  so  easily  have  parted 
from,  he  drew  his  sword  joyously  and  independently  for  the  sake 
of  liberty  alone,  and  with  a  determination  of  never  sheathing  it 
until  he  had  accomplished  that  at  which  he  aimed,  or  that  the  ac- 
complishment of  such  end  had  been  placed  beyond  his  power. 

"  Jacta  est  alea,"  cried  he,  viewing  his  bright  sword,  "  the  die 
is  thrown,  Ulrich  has  risked  it." 

In  the  meantime  Von  Hutten  remained  in  the  service  of  the 
Elector- Archbishop  of  Mayence.  The  courtiers  laughed  at  him 
as  a  rude  knight.  The  knights  ridiculed  him  as  a  poor  philoso- 
pher. Both  were  mistaken ;  he  was  neither  poor  nor  rude,  albeit 
a  Ritter  and  a  sage.  What  he  most  cared  fo^,  was  opportunity 
to  be  useful  in  his  generation,  and  leisure  enough  to  cultivate 
learning  during  the  hours  he  might  call  his  own.     Hi9  satirical 


480  THE  KNIQHTS  AND  THEIR  DATS. 

poemSy  coarsely  enough  worded  against  a  courtier's  li^s,  are  ad-' 
mirable  for  strength  and  coloring.  Not  less  admirable  for  taste 
and  power  are  his  letters  of  this  period.  In  them  he  denounces 
that  nobilitj  wtuch  is  composed  solelj  of  family  pride ;  and  he 
denounces,  with  equally  good  foundation,  the  life  of  ^Robber 
Knights,"  as  he  calls  them,  who  reside  in  their  castles,  amid  every 
sort  of  discomfort,  and  a  world  of  dirt,  of  hideous  noises,  and  un- 
savory smells ;  and  who  only  leave  them  to  plunder  or  to  be  plun- 
dered. He  pronounces  the  true  knights  of  the  period  to  be  those 
alone  who  love  religion  and  education.  With  the  aid  of  these, 
aj^lied  wisely  and  widely,  and  with  the  help  of  great  men  whom 
he  names,  and  who  share  his  opinions,  he  hopes,  as  he  fervently 
declares,  to  see  intellect  gain  more  victories  than  force — to  be 
able  to  bid  the  old  barbarous  spirit  which  still  influenced  too  many 
''  to  gird  up  its  loins  and  be  off"  Healths  came  to  him  with  this 
determination  to  devote  himself  to  the  service  and  improvement 
of  his  feUow-men.  It  came  partly  by  the  use  of  simple  remedies, 
the  chief  of  which  was  moderation  in  all  things.  Pen  and  sword 
were  now  aUke  actively  employed.  He  put  aside  the  former,  for 
a  moment,  only  to  assume  the  latter,  in  order  to  strike  in  for  ven- 
geance against  the  aggressive  Duke  of  Wurtemburg. 

The  crimes  of  this  potentate  had  at  length  aroused  the  emperor 
against  him.  Maximilian  had  intrusted  the  leadership  of  his 
army  to  the  famous  knight-errant  of  his  day,  Fran^  von  Sickingen. 
This  cavalier  had  often  been  in  open  rebellion  against  the  emperor 
himself;  and  Hutten  now  enrolled  himself  among  the  followers 
of  Franz.  His  patron  not  only  gave  him  the  necessary  permis- 
sion but  continued  to  him  his  liberal  stipend ;  when  the  two  knights 
met,  and  made  their  armor  clash  with  their  boisterous  ejnbrace, 
they  swore  not  to  stop  short  of  vengeance  on  the  guilty  duke,  but 
to  fight  to  the  death  for  liberty  and  Christendom.  They  slept 
together  in  the  same  bed  in  token  of  brotherly  knighthood,  and 
they  rose  to  carry  their  banner  triumphantly  against  the  duke — 
ending  the  campaign  by  the  capture  of  the  metropolis,  Stutgardt. 

Beuchlin  resided  in  the  capital,  and  the  good  man  was  full  of 
fear ;  for  murder  and  rapine  reigned  around  him.  His  fear  was 
groundless,  for  Yon  Hutten  had  urged  Sickingen  to  give  out  that 
in  the  sack  of  Stutgardt,  no  man  should  dare  to  assail  the  dwel* 


UUUCH   VON   HUTTEN.  431 

ling  of  Reuchlin.  The  two  knighta  left  the  citj  to  proceed  to  the 
spot  in  the  wood  where  still  lay  buried  the  body  of  the  murdered 
John  von  Hutten.  "  It  had  lain  four  years  in  the  grave,"  said 
Ulrich,  "  but  the  features  were  unchanged.  As  we  touched  him, 
blood  flowed  afresh  from  his  wounds ;  recognise  in  this  the  witness 
of  his  innocence."  The  corpse  was  eventually  transported  to  the 
family  vault  at  Esslingen. 

The  cities  of  the  hard-pressed  duke  fell,  one  after  the  other, 
and  the  guilty  prince  was  driven  from  his  inheritance.  Yon  Hut- 
ten  remsiined  with  the  army,  busily  plying  his  pen ;  his  sword  on 
the  table  before  him,  his  dagger  on  his  hip,  and  himself  encased 
in  armor  to  the  throat.  Erasmus  laughingly  wrote  to  him  to  leave 
Mani  and  stick  to  the  Muses.  He  scarcely  needed  this  advice, 
for  his  letters  from  the  camp  show  that  fond  as  he  was  of  the  field, 
he  loved  far  better  the  quiet  joys  of  the  household  hearth.  Amid 
the  brazen  clangor  of  trumpets,  the  neighing  of  steeds,  the  rolling 
of  the  drum,  and  the  boom  of  battle,  he  writes  to  Piscator 
(Fischer),  his  longing  for  home,  and  his  desire  for  a  wife  to  smile 
on,  and  care  for  him ;  one  who  would  soothe  his  griefs  and  share 
his  labors — "One,"  he  says,  *'with  whom  I  might  sportively 
laugh  and  feel  glad  in  our  existence — who  would  sweeten  the 
bitter  of  life  and  alleviate  the  pressure  of  care.  Let  me  have  a 
wife,  my  dear  Friederich,  and  thou  knowest  how  I  would  love 
her  ....  young,  fair,  shy,  gentle,  affectionate,  and  well-educated. 
She  may  have  some  fortune,  but  not  excess  of  it ;  and  as  for  posi- 
tion, this  is  my  idea  thereon :  that  $he  will  be  noble  enough  whom 
Ulrich  von  Hutten  chooses  for  his  mate."  As  a  wooer,  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  scholar-knight  had  as  little  of  the  faint  heart  as  the 
audacious  "  Findlay"  of  Bums,  and  I  might  almost  say  of  Freili- 
grath,  so  spiritedly  has  the  latter  poet  translated  into  German  the 
pleasant  lines  of  the  Ayrshire  ploughman. 

Well  had  it  been  for  Ulrich  had  he  found,  in  1519,  the  wife  of 
his  complacent  visions.  The  gentle  hand  would  have  saved  him 
from  many  a  cruel  hour. 

On  his  return  to  Mayenoe  he  had  well-nigh  obeyed  the  universal 
call  addressed  to  him,  to  join  openly  with  Luther  against  Borne. 
He  was  withheld  by  his  regard  for  his  liberal  patron,  the  arch- 
bishop.   He  remained,  partly  looking  on  and  partly  aiding,  on  the 


432  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DATS. 

<mtekirto  of  the  field  wkere  the  fraj  was  raging.  He  published  a 
saperb  edition  of  Livj,  and  to  show  that  the  reforming  spirit  still 
burned  brightly  in  the  bosom  of  the  scholar,  he  also  published  his 
oelebrated  '^Vadiscus,  sive  Trias  Bomana.''  This  triple-edged 
weapon  still  inflicts  anguish  on  Rome.  Never  had  arrow  of  such 
power  strieken  t&e  harlot  before.  Its  point  is  still  in  her  side ; 
and  her  adversaries  knew  well  how  to  use  it,  by  painfully  turning 
it  in  the  wound. 

The  knight  now  hung  up  his  sword  in  his  chamber  at  Stackel- 
berg,  and  devoted  himself  to  his  pen.  In  the  convent  library  at 
Fulda  he  discovered  an  ancient  German  work  against  the  suprem- 
acy of  the  Pope  over  the  princes  and  people  of  Germany.  Of 
this  he  made  excellent  use.  His  own  productions  against  Rome 
followed  one  another  with  great  rapidity.  Down  to  the  middle  of 
1520  he  was  incessantly  charging  the  Vatican,  at  the  point  of  a 
grey  goosequill.  He  had  at  heart  the  freeing  of  Germany  from 
the  ecclesiastical  domination  of  Italy,  just  as  the  men  of  Northern 
Italy  have  it  at  heart  ta  rescue  her  from  the  cruel  domination  of 
Austria. 

To  accomplish  his  ends.  Yon  Hutten  left  no  means  untried. 
Knight  and  scholar,  noble  and  villain,  the  very  Emperor  Charles 
V.  himself,  Ulrich  sought  to  enlist  in  the  great  confederacy,  by 
which  he  hoped  to  strike  a  mortal  blow  at  the  temporal  power  of 
the  ^  Universal  Bishop."  His  books  converted  even  some  of  the 
diocesans  of  the  Romish  Church ;  but  Rome  thundered  excommu- 
nication on  the  books  and  their  author,  and  directed  a  heavy 
weight  of  censure  against  his  protector,  Albert  of  Mayence. 

The  archbishop  admonished  Yon  Hutten,  and  interdicted  his 
works.  This  step  decided  Ubnch's  course.  He  at  once  addressed 
his  first  letter  to  Luther,  It  began  with  the  cry  of  ^^  Freedom  for 
ever !"  and  it  offered  heart,  head,  soul,  body,  brains,  and  purse,  in 
ftirtherance  of  the  great  cause.  He  tendered  to  Luther,  in  the 
name  of  Sickingen,  a  secure  place  of  residence ;  and  he  established 
his  first  unassailable  battery  against  Rome,  by  erecting  a  printing- 
press  in  his  own  room  in  the  castle  of  Stackelberg,  whence  he  di- 
rected many  a  raking  fire  against  all  his  assailants.  ''  Jacta  est 
alea !"  was  his  cry ;  "  Let  the  enemies  of  light  look  to  it !" 

From  Fulda  he  started  to  the  court  of  the  Emperor  Charles  Y« 


ULBIGH   VON   HUTTEN.  488 

at  Brussels.  But  his  enemies  stood  between  him  and  the  foot  of 
the  throne,  and  he  was  not  allowed  to  approach  it.  His  life,  too, 
was  being  constantly  threatened.  He  withdrew  before  these 
threats,  once  more  into  Grermany,  taking  compensation  by  the 
way,  for  his  disappointment,  by  a  characteristic  bit  of  spirit.  He 
hi^pened  to  fall  in  with  Hogstraten,  the  heretic^finder,  and  the 
arch-enemy  of  Reuchlin.  Ulrich  belabored  him  with  a  sheathed 
sword  till  every  bone  in  the  body  of  Hogstraten  was  sore.  In  re- 
turn, the  knight  was  outlawed,  and  Leo  X.  haughtily  commanded 
that  hands  should  be  laid  upon  him  wherever  he  might  be  found, 
and  that  he  should  be  delivered,  gagged,  and  bound,  to  the  Roman 
tribunals. 

Franz  von  Sickingen  immediately  received  him  within  the  safe 
shelter  of  his  strong  fortress  of  Ebemberg,  where  already  a  score 
of  renowned  theological  refugees  had  found  an  asylum.  The  col- 
loquies of  the  illustrious  fugitives  made  the  old  walls  ring  again. 
Yon  Hutten  reduced  these  colloquies  to  writing,  and  I  may  name, 
as  one  of  their  conclusions,  that  the  service  of  the  mass  in  German 
was  determined  on,  as  the  first  step  toward  an  established  jrefor- 
mation. 

The  attempt  of  the  Pope  to  have  Ulrich  seized  and  sacrificed, 
was  eagerly  applied  by  the  latter  to  the  benefit  of  the  cause  he 
loved.  To  the  emperor,  to  the  elector,  to  the  nobles,  knights,  and 
states  of  Germany,  he  addressed  papers  full  of  patriotism,  elo- 
quence, and  wisdom,  against  the  aggression  on  German  liberty. 
Throughout  Germany  this  scholar-knight  called  into  life  the  spirit 
of  civil  and  religious  freedom,  and  Luther,  looking  upon  what 
Ulrich  was  doing,  exclaimed :  ^  Surely  the  last  day  is  at  hand  \" 

These  two  men,  united,  lit  up  a  fiame  which  can  never  be  trod- 
den out.  One  took  his  Bible  and  his  pen,  and  with  these  pricked 
Rome  into  a  fury,  from  which  she  has  never  recovered.  The 
other,  ungirding  his  sword,  and  transferring  his  printing-press  to 
Ebemberg,  sent  therefrom  glowing  manifestoes  which  made  a 
patriot  of  every  reader. 

The  lyre  and  learning  were  both  now  employed  by  Von  Hutten, 
in  furtherance  of  his  project.  His  popular  poetry  was  now  read 
or  sung  at  every  hearth.  Not  a  village  was  without  a  copy,  often 
to  be  read  by  stealth,  of  his  ^^  Complaint  and  Admonition."     His 

28 


484  THE  KMIOHTS  AND  THEDt  DATS. 

dialogues,  especially  tliat  called  the  ^  Warner,"  in  wbicli  tbe  oollo- 
quists  are  a  Roman  alarmist  and  Franz  von  Sickingen  himself, 
achieved  a  similar  triumph.  It  was  to  give  heart  to  the  wavering 
that  Von  Hutten  wrote,  and  sent  abroad  from  his  press  at  Ebem- 
berg,  those  remarkable  dialogues. 

Franz  von  Sickingen,  his  great  protector,  was  for  a  season  ap- 
prehensive that  Ulrich's  outcry  against  Rome  was  louder  than 
necessary,  and  his  declared  resolution  to  resent  oppression  by 
means  of  the  sword,  somewhat  profane.  Ulrich  reasoned  with 
and  read  to  the  gallant  knight  His  own  good  sense,  and  the  ai^ 
guments  of  Luther  and  Ulrich,  at  length  convinced  him  that  it  was 
folly  and  sin  to  maintain  outward  respect  for  Rome  as  long  as  the 
latter  aspired  to  be  lord  in  Germany,  above  the  kaiser  himself. 
Franz  soon  agreed  with  Hutten  that  they  ought  not  to  heed  even 
the  Emperor,  if  he  commanded  them  to  spare  the  Pope,  when 
such  mercy  might  be  productive  of  injury  to  the  empire.  In  such 
cases,  not  to  obey  was  the  best  obedience.  They  would  not  now 
look  back.  "  It  is  better,"  so  runs  it  in  Von  Hutten's  "  Warner," 
^to  consider  what  God's  will  is,  than  what  may  enter  the  heads 
of  individuals,  capricious  men,  more  especially  in  the  case  wherein 
the  truth  of  the  Gospel  is  concerned.  If  it  be  proved  that  nothing 
satisfactory,  by  way  of  encouragement,  can  come  to  us  frc»n  the 
Emperor,  they  who  love  the  Church  and  civil  liberty  must  be  bold 
at  their  own  peril,  let  the  issue  be  what  it  may." 

The  dialogue  of  the  "  Warner"  was,  doubtless,  not  only  read  to 
Sickingen  during  the  progress  of  its  composition,  but  was  unques- 
tionably a  transcript  of  much  that  was  talked  about,  weighed,  and 
considered  between  the  two  friends,  as  they  sat  surrounded  by  a 
circle  of  great  scholars  and  soldiers,  for  whose  blood  Rome  was 
thirsting.  It  ends  with  an  assurance  of  the  full  adhesion  of  Franz 
to  the  views  of  Ulrich.  "  In  this  matter,"  says  the  "  Warner"  to 
the  knight  of  Ebemberg,  <<  I  see  you  have  a  passionate  and  zealous 
instigator,  a  fellow  named  Yon  Hutten,  who  can  brook  delay  with 
patience,  and  who  has  heaped  piles  upon  piles  of  stones,  ready  to 
fling  them  at  the  first  adversary  who  presents  himself."  "Ay, 
in  good  sooth,"  is  the  ready  answer  of  Franz,  ^'  and  his  service  is 
a  joy  to  me,  for  he  has  the  true  spirit  requisite  to  insure  triumph 
in  such  a  struggle  as  ours." 


ULRICH  VON  HUTTEN.  486 

Thus  at  Ebernburg  the  battery  was  played  against  the  defences 
of  Rome,  while  Luther,  from  his  known  abodes,  or  from  his  con- 
cealment in  friendly  fortresses,  thundered  his  artillery  against  the 
doctrines  and  superstitions  of  Eome.  The  movement  had  a 
double  aspect.  The  Germans  were  determined  to  be  free  both  as 
Christians  and  as  citizens.  The  conducting  of  such  determination 
to  its  successful  issue  could  not  be  intrusted  to  worthier  or  more 
capable  hands  than  those  of  Luther,  aided  by  the  Saxon  Frede- 
rick the  Wise,  and  Ulrich  yon  Hutten,  with  such  a  squire  at  his 
side  as  hearty  Franz  yon  Sickingen. 

In  1521  the  young  emperor,  Charles  V.,  delivered  a  speech  at 
Worms,  which  seemed  to  have  been  framed  expressly  to  assure 
the  reformers  that  the  emperor  was  with  them.  It  abounded  in 
promises  that  the  kaiser  would  do  his  utmost  to  effect  necessary 
reforms  within  the  empire.  The  reformers  were  in  great  spirits, 
but  they  soon  learned,  by  the  summoning  of  Luther  to  Worms, 
and  by  the  subsequent  conduct  of  the  emperor,  that  they  had  noth-> 
ing  to  expect  from  him  which  they  could  thankfully  acknowledge. 

Ulrich  only  wrote  the  more  boldly,  and  agitated  the  more  un- 
ceasingly, in  behalf  of  the  cause  of  which  Luther  was  the  great 
advocate.  To  the  kaiser  himself  he  addressed  many  a  daring 
epistle,  as  logical  as  audacious,  in  order  to  induce  him  to  shake 
off  the  yoke  of  Borne,  and  be  master  of  the  Roman  world,  by 
other  sanction  than  that  of  Grerman  election  and  papal  consent. 
Yon  Hutten  was  more  bold  and  quite  as  logical  in  his  witheringly 
sarcastic  epistles  addressed  to  the  pope's  legates  at  Worms.  These 
epistles  show  that  if  at  the  time  there  was  neither  a  recognised 
liberty  of  the  press  nor  of  individual  expression,  the  times  them- 
selves were  so  out  of  joint  that  men  dared  do  much  which  their 
masters  dared  not  resent. 

To  the  entire  body  of  the  priesthood  assembled  at  Worms  to 
confront  Luther,  he  addressed  similar  epistles.  They  abound  in 
« thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words  that  bum."  In  every  word 
there  is  defiance.  Every  sentence  is  a  weapon.  Every  paragraph 
is  an  engine  of  war.  The  writer  scatters  his  deadly  missiles 
around  him,  threatening  all,  wounding  many,  sometimes  indeed 
breaking  his  own  head  by  rash  management,  but  careless  of  all 
such  accidents  as  long  as  he  can  reach,  terrify,  maul,  and  put  to 


486  THB  KNIOKIB  AKD  THXIB  DATS. 

flight  the  crowd  of  enemies  who  have  ocHupiTed  to  sappran  hoth 
learning  and  religion  in  Grennany. 

In  unison  with  Sickingen,  he  eamestlj  entreated  Luther  to 
repair  to  Ebemburg  rather  than  to  Worms,  as  there  his  knightly 
friends  would  protect  him  from  all  assailants.  The  reply  of  the 
great  reformer  is  well  known.  He  would  go  to  Worms,  he  said, 
though  there  were  as  many  devils  as  tiles  on  the  roofs,  leagued 
against  him  to  oppose  his  journey  thither.  We  can  not  doubt  but 
that  Luther  would  have  been  judicially  assassinated  in  that  ancient 
city  but  for  the  imposing  front  assumed  by  his  well-armed  and 
well-organized  adherents,  who  not  only  crowded  into  the  streets 
of  Worms,  but  who  announced  by  placards,  even  in  the  very  bed- 
chamber of  the  emperor,  that  a  thousand  lives  should  pay  for  the 
loss  of  one  hair  of  the  reformer's  head. 

Had  it  depended  on  Von  Hutten,  the  reformers  would  not  have 
waited  till  violence  had  been  inflicted  on  Luther,  ere  they  took 
their  own  revenge  for  wrongs  and  oppressions  done.  But  he  waa- 
ovemiled,  and  his  hot  blood  was  kept  cool  by  profuse  and  prosaic 
argument  on  the  part  of  the  schoolmen  of  his  faction.  He  chafed, 
but  he  obeyed.  He  had  more  difficulty  in  reducing  to  the  same 
obedience  the  bands  of  his  /adherents  who  occupied  the  city  and 
its  vicinity.  These  thought  that  the  safety  of  Luther  could  only 
be  secured  by  rescuing  him  at  once  from  the  hands  of  his  enemies. 
The  scholar-knight  thought  so  too;  and  he  would  gladly  have 
charged  against  such  enemies.  He  made  no  signal,  however,  for 
the  onslaught ;  on  the  contrary  he  issued  orders  forbidding  it ;  and 
recommended  the  confederates  to  sheathe  their  swords,  but  yet 
to  have  their  hands  on  the  hUt.  The  elector  of  Saxony  was  ad- 
verse to  viol^ice,  and  Luther  left  Worms  in  safety,  alter  defying 
Borne  to  her  face. 

Then  came  those  unquiet  times  in  which  Charles  Y.  so  warmly 
welcomed  volunteers  to  his  banned  Seduced  by  his  promises, 
Franz  von  Sickingen,  with  a  few  hundreds  of  strong-sinewed  men, 
passed  over  to  the  Lnperial  quarters.  The  old  brotherly  gather- 
ing at  Ebemberg  was  thus  broken  up;  and  Ulrich,  who  had 
offended  both  pope  and  emperor  by  his  denunciations  of  ecclesi* 
astical  and  civil  tyranny,  betook  himself  to  Switzerland,  where  he 
hoped  to  find  a  secure  asylum,  and  a  welcome  from  Erasmus. 


ULRICH   VON   HUTTEN.  487 

•  This  amphibious  personage,  however,  who  had  already  ceased  to 
laud  Luther,  affected  now  a  horror  against  Von  Hutten.  He  wrote 
of  him  as  a  poor,  angry,  mangy  wretch,  who  could  not  be  content 
to  live  in  a  room  without  a  stove,  and  who  was  continually  pes- 
tering his  friends  for  pecuniary  loans.  The  fiery  Ulrich  assailed 
his  false  friend  in  wrathful  pamphlets.  Erasmus  loved  the  species 
of  warfare  into  which  such  attacks  drew  or  impelled  him.  He 
replied  to  Ulrich  more  cleverly  than  conclusively,  in  his  "  Sponge 
to  wipe  out  the  Aspersions  of  Yon  Hutten."  But  the  enmity  of 
Erasmus  was  as  nothing  compared  with  the  loss  of  Von  Sickingen 
himself.  In  the  tumultuary  wars  of  his  native  land  he  perished, 
and  Ulrich  felt  that,  despite  some  errors,  the  good  cause  had  lost 
an  iron-handed  and  a  clear-sighted  champion. 

There  is  little-  doubt  that  it  was  at  the  instigation  of  Erasmus 
that  the  priestly  party  in  Basle  successfully  urged  the  government 
authorities  to  drive  Ulrich  from  the  asylum  he  had  temporarily 
found  there.  He  quietly  departed  on  issue'  of  the  command,  and* 
took  his  solitary  and  painful  way  to  Muhlhausen,  where  a  host 
of  reformers  warmly  welcomed  the  tottering  skeleton  into  which 
had  shrunk  the  once  well-knit  man.  Here  his  vigor  cast  aloft  its 
last  expiring  light.  Muhlhausen  threw  off  the  papal  yoke,  but 
the  papist  party  was  strong  enough  there  to  raise  an  insurrection ; 
and  rather  than  endanger  the  safety  of  the  town,  the  persecuted 
scholar  and  soldier  once  more  walked  forth  to  find  a  shelter.  He 
reached  Zurich  in  safety.  He  went  at  once  to  the  hearth  of 
Zuinglius,  who  looked  upon  the  terrible  spectre  in  whom  the  eyes . 
alone  showed  signs  of  life ;  and  he  could  hardly  believe  that  the 
pope  cared  for  the  person,  or  dreaded  the  intellect,  of  so  ghostlike 
a  champion  as  this. 

Ulrich,  excommunicated,  outlawed  and  penniless,  was  in  truth 
sinking  fast  His  hand  had  not  strength  to  enfold  the  pommel 
of  his  -sword.     From  his  unconscious  fingers  dropped  the  pen. 

<^  Who  will  defend  me  against  my  calunmiators  ?"  asked  the  yet 
willing  but  now  incapable  man. 

"  I  will !"  said  the  skilful  physician,  Otto  Brunfels ;  and  the 
cooper's  son  stoutly  protected  the  good  name  of  Ulrich,  after  the 
latter  was  at  peace  in  the  grave. 

The  last  hours  of  the  worn-out  straggler  for  civil  and  religious 


438  THE   KNIO&TS  AND  TUKIR  DAYS. 

liberty,  were  passed  at  Ufbau,  a  small  island  in  the  Lake  of 
Zurich.  He  had  been  with  difficulty  oonveyed  thither,  in  the 
faint  hope  that  his  health  might  profit  by  the  change.  There  he 
slowly  and  resignedly  died  on  the  last  day  of  August,  1523,  and 
at  the  early  age  of  thirty-eight 

A  few  dearly-loved  books  and  some  letters  coiistituted  all  his 
property.  He  was  interred  on  the  island,  but  no  monument  has 
ever  marked  the  spot  where  his  womout  body  was  laid  down  to 
repose. 

Through  life,  whether  engaged  with  sword  or  pen,  his  absorbing 
desire  was  that  his  memory  might  be  held  dear  by  his  survivors. 
He  loved  activity,  abhorred  luxury,  adored  liberty ;  and,  for  the 
sake  of  civil  and  religious  freedom,  he  fought  and  sang  with  ear- 
nest alacrity.  Lyre  on  arm,  and  sword  in  hand,  he  sang  and 
summoned,  until  hosts  gathered  round  him,  and  cheered  the  bur^ 
then  of  all  he  uttered.  "  The  die  is  thrown !  I've  risked  it  for 
truth  and  freedom's  sake."  Against  pope  and  kaiser,  priest  and 
soldier,  he  boldly  cried,  "  Slay  my  frame  you  may,  but  my  soul  is 
beyond  you !"  He  was  the  star  that  harbingered  a  bright  dawn. 
His  prevailing  enemies  drove  him  from  his  country ;  the  grave 
which  they  would  have  denied  him,  he  found  in  Switzerland,  and 
^  after  life's  fitful  fever,"  the  scholar-knight  sleeps  well  in  the 
island  of  the  Zurich-Zee. 

From  the  Zurich-Zee  we  will  now  retrace  our  steps,  and  con- 
sider the  Sham  Knights. 


SHAM   KNIGHTS.  489 


SHAM  KNIGHTS. 

Bbtwsen  Tooting  and  Wandsworth  lies  a  village  of  some 
celebrity  for  its  sham  knights  or  mayors — the  village  of  Garrat 
The  villagers,  some  century  ago,  possessed  certain  common 
rights  which  were  threatened  with  invasion.  They  accordingly 
made  choice  of  an  advocate,  fix>m  among  themselves,  to  protect 
.  their  privileges.  They  succeeded  in  their  object,  and  as  the 
selection  liad  been  originally  made  at  the  period  of  a  general 
election,  the  inhabitants  resolved  to  commemorate  the  circumstance 
by  electing  a  mayor  and  knighting  him  at  each  period  of  election 
for  a  new  parliament.  The  resolution  was  warmly  approved  by 
all  the  publicans  in  the  vicinity,  and  the  Garrat  elections  became 
popular  festivities,  if  not  of  the  highest  order,  at  least  of  the 
jolliest  sort 

Not  that  the  ceremony  was  without  its  uses.  The  politicians 
and  wits  of  the  day  saw  how  the  election  might  be  turned  to 
profit ;  and  Wilkes,  and  Foote,  and  Garrick,  are  especially  named 
as  having  written  some  of  the  addresses  wherein,  beneath  much 
fustian,  fun,  and  exaggeration  of  both  fact  and  himior,  the  people 
were  led  to  notice,  by  an  Aristophanic  process,  the  defects  in  the 
political  system  by  which  .the  country  was  then  governed.  The 
publicans,  however,  and  the  majority  of  the  people  cared  more 
for  the  saturnalia  than  the  schooling ;  and  for  some  years  the  sham 
mayors  of  Garrat  were  elected,  to  the  great  profit,  at  least,  of  the 
tavern-keepers. 

The  poorer  and  the  more  deformed  the  candidate,  the  greater 
his  chance  of  success.  Thus,  the  earliest  mayor  of  whom  there 
was  any  record,  was  Sir  John  Harper,  a  fellow  of  infinite  mirth 
and  deformity,  whose  ordinary  occupation  was  that  of  an  itinerant 
vender  of  brick-dust     His  success  gave  dignity  to  the  brick-dust 


440  THE  KNIORTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

trade,  and  inspired  its  members  with  ambition.  They  had  ike 
glorj  of  boasting  that  their  friend  and  brother  *^  Sir  John"  sat, 
when  not  sufficiently  sober  to  stand,  during  two  parliaments.  A 
specimen  of  his  ready  wit  is  given  in  his  remark  when  a  dead  cat 
was  flung  at  Mm,  on  the  hustings  during  the  period  of  his  first 
election.  A  companion  remarked  with  some  disgust  upon  the 
unpleasant  odor  from  the  animal.  *^  That's  not  to  be  wondered 
at,"  said  Sir  John,  "  you  see  it  is  a  pole-cat" 

But  Sir  John  was  ousted  by  an  uglier,  dirtier,  more  deformed, 
and  merrier  fellow  than  himself.  The  lucky  personage  in  ques- 
tion was  Sir  Jeffrey  Dunstan.  -  He  was  a  noted  individual, 
hunched  like  £sop,  and  with  as  many  tales,  thou^  not  alwa3rs 
with  the  like  *^  morals."  He  was  a  noted  dealer  in  old  wigs,  for 
it  was  before  men  had  fallen  into  what  was  then  considered  the 
disreputable  fashion  of  wearing  their  own  hair,  under  round  hats. 
Sir  John  was  a  republican ;  but  he  did  not  despise  either  his  office 
of  mayor  or  his  courtesy  title  of  knight.  Had  he  possessed  more 
discretion  and  less  zeal,  he  probably  would  have  prospered  in  pro- 
portion. In  the  best,  that  is,  in  the  quietest,  of  times.  Sir  Jeffi?ey 
oonld  with  difficulty  keep  his  tongue  from  wagging.  He  never 
appeared  in  the  streets  with  his  wig-bag  on  his  shoulder,  without 
a  numerous  crowd  following,  whom  he  delighted  with  his  sallies, 
made  against  men  in  power,  whose  weak  points  were  assailable. 
The  French  Revolution  broke  out  when  Sir  Jeffirey  was  mayor, 
and  this  gave  a  loose  to  his  tongue,  which  ultimately  laid  him  up 
by  the  heels.  The  knight  grew  too  political,  and  even  seditious, 
in  his  street  orations,  and  he  was  in  consequence  committed  to 
prison,  in  1793,  for  treasonable  practices.  This  only  increased 
his  popularity  for  a  time,  but  it  tamed  the  spirit  of  the  once 
chivalrous  mayor.  When  he  ceased  to  be  wittily  bold,  he  ceased 
to  be  cared  for  by  the  constituents  whose  presence  made  the  elec- 
tors at  Garrat.  After  being  thrice  elected  he  was  successfully 
opposed  and  defeated,  under  a  charge  of  dishonesty.  The  pure 
electors  of  Garrat  could  have  borne  with  a  political  traitor ;  but 
as  they  politely  said,  they  "  could  not  a-bear  a  petty  larcenist," 
and  Sir  Jeffrey  Dunstan  was,  metaphorically  and  actually  present- 
ed '^  with  the  sack." 

When  Manners  Sutton  ceased  to  be  Speaker,  he  claimed,  I  be- 


SHAM  KNiQHTS.  441 

lieve,  to  be  made  a  peer ;  on  the  plea  that  it  was  not  becoming 
that  he  who  had  once  occupied  the  chair,  should  eyer  be  reduced 
to  stand  upon  the  floor,  of  the  House  of  Commons.  Sir  Jeffrey 
Dunstan  had  something  of  a  similar  sense  of  dignity.  Having 
fallen  from  the  height  of  mayor  of  Garrat^  what  was  then  left 
for  ^ir  Jeffrey  ?  He  got  as  "  drunk  as  a  lord,"  was  never  again 
seen  sober,  and,  in  1797,  the  year  following  that  of  his  disgrace, 
the  ex-mayor  died  of  excess*  So  nice  of  honor  was  Sir  Jeffrey 
Dunstan ! 

He  was  succeeded  by  Sir  Harry  Dimsdale,  the  mutilated  miif- 
fin-seller,  whose  tenure  of  office  was  only  brief,  however  brilliant, 
and  who  has  the  melancholy  glory  of  having  been  the  last  of  the 
illustriously  dirty  line  of  knighted  mayors  of  Grarrat  It  was  not 
that  there  was  any  difficulty  in  procuring  candidates,  but  there 
was  no  longer  the  same  ^  liberality  on  the  part  of  the  peers  and 
publicans  to  furnish  a  purse  for  them.  Originally,  the  purse  was 
made  up  by  the  inhabitants,  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  their 
collective  rights.  Subsequently,  the  publicans  contributed  in 
order  that  the  attractions  of  something  like  a  fair  might  be  added, 
and  therewith  great  increase  of  smoking  and  drinking.  At  that 
time  the  peerage  did  not  disdain  to  patronize  the  proceeding,  and 
the  day  of  election  was  a  holyday  for  thousands.  Never  before 
or  since  have  such  multitudes  assembled  at  the  well-known  place 
of  gathering ;  nor  the  roads  been  so  blocked  up  by  carts  and  car- 
riages, honorable  members  on  horses,  and  dustmen  on  donkeys. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  sometimes  assembled,  and,  through  the 
perspiring  crowd,  the  candidates,  dressed  like  chimney-sweepers 
on  May-day,  or  in  the  mock  fashion  of  the  period,  were  brought- 
to  the  hustings  in  the  carriages  of  peers,  drawn  by  six  horses,  the 
owners  themselves  condescending  to  become  their  drivers. 

The  candidate  was  ready  to  swear  anything,  and  each  elector 
was  required  to  make  oath,  on  a  brick-bat,  ^'  quod  rem  cum  aliqu^ 
muliere  intra  limites  istius  pagi  habuissent"  The  candidates 
figured  under  mock  pseudonyms.  Thus,  at  one  election  there 
were  against  Sir  Jeffrey,  Lord  Twankum,  Squire  Blowmedown, 
and  Squire  Gubbings.  His  lordship  was  Gardener,  the  Garrat 
grave-digger,  and  the  squires  were  in  humble  reality,  Willis,  a 
watenaan,  and  Simmonds,  a  Southwark  publican.    An  attempt 


442  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  lUTS* 

was  made  to  renew  the  old  satqrnalia  in  1826,  when  Sir  John 
Paul  Prj  offered  himself  as  a  candidate,  in  very  bad  English,  and 
with  a  similarly  qualified  success.  He  had  not  the  eloquent  power 
of  the  great  Sir  Jeffrey,  who,  on  presenting  himself  to  the  electors 
named  his  ^  estate  in  the  Isle  of  Man"  as  his  qualification ;  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  relieving  the  king  in  his  want  of  money, 
by  abolishing  its  use ;  engaged  to  keep  his  promises  as  long  as  it 
was  his  interest  to  do  so,  and  claimed  the  &vorable  influence  of 
married  ladies,  on  the  assurance  that  he  would  propose  the  annul- 
ling of  all  marriages,  which,  as  he  said,  with  his  ordinary  logic, 
^  must  greatly  increase  the  influence  of  the  crown,  and  vastly  low- 
er Indian  bonds.**  He  intimated  that  his  own  ambition  was  lim- 
ited to  the  governorship  of  Duck  Island,  or  the  bishopric  of 
Durham.  The  latter  appointment  was  mentioned  for  the  pur- 
pose of  enabling  the  usually  shirtless,  but  for  the  moment 
court-dressed  knight,  to  add  that  he  was  ^  fond  <^  a  dean  shirt 
and  lawn-sleeves.*'  He  moreover  undertook  to  show  the  gov- 
ernors of  India  the  way  which  they  ought  to  be  going,  to  Botany 
Bay ;  and  to  discover  the  longitude  among  the  Jews  of  Duke's 
Place. 

Courtesy  was  imperative  on  all  the  candidates  toward  each 
Other.  When  Sir  Jeffrey  Dunstan  opposed  Sir  William  Harper, 
there  were  five  other  candidates,  namely — ^  Sir  William  Blaze, 
of  high  rank  in  the  army — a  corporal  in  the  city  train-bands; 
Admiral  Sir  Christopher  Dashwood,  known  to  many  who  has 
Cite)  felt  the  weight  of  his  hand  on  their  shoulders,  and  showing 
an  execution  in  the  other.  Sir  William  Swallowtail;  an  eminent 
merchant,  who  supplies  most  of  the  gardeners  with  strawberry 
baskets ;  Sir  John  Gnawpost,  who  carries  his  traffic  under  his  left 
torn,  and  whose  general  cry  is  *  twenty-five  if  you  win  and  five  if 
you  lose ;'  and  Sir  Thomas  Nameless,  of  reputation  unmentiona- 
ble." Sir  John  Harper  was  the  only  knight  who  forgot  chival- 
rous courtesy,  and  who  allowed  his  squire  in  armor  to  insult  Sir 
Jeffrey.  But  this  was  not  done  with  impunity.  That  knight  ap- 
pealed to  usage,  compeUed  his  assailant  to  dismount,  drop 
his  colors,  walk  six  times  round  the  hustings,  and  humbly  ask 
pardon. 

Sir  WOliam  Swallowtail,  mentioned  above,  ^  was  one  William 


SHAM   KNIGHTS.  448 

Cock,  a  whimsical  basket-maker. of  Brentford,  who,  deeming  it 
proper  to  have  an  equipage  every  way  suitable  to  the  honor  he 
aspired  to,  built  his  own  carriage,  with  his  own  hands,  to  his  own 
taste.  It  was  made  of  wicker  work,  and  was  drawn  by  four,  high, 
hollow-backed  horses,  whereon  were  seated  dwarfish  boys,  whim<* 
sically  dressed,  for  postillions.  In  allusion  to  the  American  War, 
two  footmen,  tarred  and  feathered,  rode  before  the  carriage.  The 
coachman  wore  a  wicker  hat,  and  Sir  William  himself,  from  the 
seat  of  his  vehicle,  maintained  his  mock  dignity,  in  grotesque  ar- 
ray, amid  unbounded  applause."  It  should  be  added  that  Foote, 
who  witnessed  the  humors  of  the  election  more  than  once,  brought 
Sir  Jeffrey  upon  the  stage  in  the  character  of  Doctor  Last;  but 
the  wretched  fellow,  utterly  incapable  and  awftilly  alaAned,  was 
driven  from  the  stage  by  the  hisses  of  the  whole  house.  Let  us 
now  look  abroad  for  a  few  "  Shams." 

If  foreign  lands  have  sent  no^mall  number  of  pseudo-chevaliers 
to  London,  they  have  also  abounded  in  many  by  far  too  patriotic 
or  prudent  to  leave  their  native  land.  The  H6tel  Saint  Ftorentin, 
in  Paris,  was  the  residence  of  the  Prince  Talleyrand,  but  before 
his  time  it  was  the  stage  and  the  occasional  dwelling-place  of  an 
extraordinary  actor,  known  by  the  appellation  of  the  Chevalier,,  or 
the  Count  de  St.  Grermain.  He  was  for  a  time  the  reigning 
wonder  of  Paris,  where  his  history  was  told  with  many  variations ; 
not  one  true,  and  all  astounding.  The  popular  voice  ascribed  to 
him  an  Egyptian  birth,  and  attributed  to  him  the  power  of  work- 
ing miracles.  He  could  cure  the  dying,  and  raise  the  dead ;  could 
compose  magic  philters,  coin  money  by  an  impress  of  his  index 
finger ;  was  said  to  have  discovered  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  to 
be  able  to  make  gold  and  diamonds  almost  at  will.  He  was,  more- 
over, as  generous  as  he  was  great,  and  his  modest  breast  was 
Covered  with  knightly  orders,  in  pi%of  of  the  gratitude  of  sover- 
eigns whom  he  had  obliged.  He  was  supposed  to  have  been 
bom  some  centuries  back,  was  the  most  gigantic  and  graceful  im- 
postor that  ever  lived,  and  exacted  implicit  faith  in  his  power  from 
people  who  had  none  in  the  power  of  Gk)d. 

The  soirees  of  the  Hotel  St.  Florentin  were  the  admiration  of 
all  Paris,  for  there  alone,  this  knight-count  of  many  orders  ap- 
peared to  charm  the  visiters  and  please  himself.     His  prodigality 


444  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

was  enonnoas,  bo  was  his  mendacity.  He  was  graoefbl,  witty, 
refined,  yet  not  lacking  audacity  when  his  story  wanted  pointings 
and  always  young,  gave  himself  out  for  a  Methuselah. 

The  following  trait  is  seriously  told  of  him,  and  is  well  substan- 
tiated. *^  Chevalier,"  said  a  lady  to  him  one  night,  at  a  crowded 
assembly  of  the  Hotel  St  Florentin,  '^do  you  ever  remember 
having,  in  the  course  of  your  voyages,  encountered  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?"  ^  Yes,"  replied  the  pn^ane  impostor,  without  hesitation 
and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven.  ^  I  have  often  seen  and  often 
spoken  to  Him.  I  have  frequently  had  occasion  to  admire  his 
mildness,  genius,  and  charity.  He  was  a  celestial  being ;  and  I 
often  prophesied  what  would  befaU  Him !"  The  hearers,  far  from 
being  shocked,  only  continued  to  ply  the  count  with  other  ques- 
tions. ^'  Did  you  ever  meet  with  the  Wandering  Jew  ?"  asked  a 
young  marquiss.  '*  Often !"  was  the  reply ;  and  the  count  added 
with  an  air  of  disdain : — ^  that  wretched  blasphemer  once  dared 
to  salute  me  on  the  high-road ;  he  was  then  just  setting  out  on  his 
tour  of  the  world,  and  counted  his  money  with  one  hand  in  his 
pocket,  as  he  passed  along."  ^  Count,"  asked  a  Chevalier  de  St 
Louis,  ^  who  was  the  composer  of  that  brilliant  sonata  you  played 
to-night,  on  the  harpsichord?"  ^I  retUfy  can  not  say.  It  is  a 
song  of  victory,  and  I  heard  it  executed  for  the  first  time  on  the 
day  of  the  triumph  of  Trajan."  "  Will  you  be  indiscreet,  dear 
count,  for  once,"  asked  a  newly-married  baronne,  ^  and  tell  us  the 
names  of  the  three  ladies  whom  you  have  the  most  tenderly 
loved  ?"  ^  That  is  difficult,"  said  the  honest  knight  with  a  smile, 
"  but  I  think  I  may  say  that  they  were  Lucretia,  Aspasia,  and 
Cleopatra." 

The  gay  world  of  Paris  said  he  was,  at  least  two  thousand 
-years  old ;  and  he  did  not  take  the  pains  to  contradict  the 
report.  There  is  reason  to  suppose  that  he  was  the  son  of 
a  Portuguese  Jew,  who  had  resided  at  Bordeaux.  His  career 
was  soon  ended. 

There  was  a  fiur  more  respectable  chevalier  in  our  own 
country  to  whom  the  term  of  Sham  Knight  can  hardly  apply ; 
but  as  he  called  himself  "Sir  John,"  and  that  title  was  not 
admitted  in  a  court  of  law,  some  notice  of  him  may  be  taken 
here. 


SHAM   KNIGHTS.  445 

There  was  then  in  the  reign  of  Gredrge  III.,  a  knight  of  some 
notoriety,  whose  story  is  rather  a  singular  one.  When  Sir  John 
Gallini  is  now  spoken  of,  many  persons  conclude  that  this  once 
remarkable  individual  received  the  honors  of  knighthood  at  the 
hands  of  King  George.  I  have  been  assured  so  by  very  eminent 
operatic  authorites,  who  were,  nevertheless,  completely  in  error. 
Sir  John  Gallini  was  a  knight  of  George  in.*s  time,  but  he  was 
so  created  by  a  far  more  exalted  individual ;  in  the  opinion,  at 
least,  of  those  who  give  to  popes,  who  are  elective  potentates,  a 
precedence  over  kings,  who  are  hereditary  monarchs.  The  won- 
der is  that  Gallini  was  ever  knighted  at  all,  seeing  that  he  was  sim- 
ply an  admirable  ballet-dancer.  But  he  was  the  first  dancer  who 
ever  received  an  encore  for  the  dexterous  use  of  his  heels.  The 
Pope  accordingly  clapped  upon  them  a  pair  of  golden  spurs,  and 
Gallini  was,  thenceforth,  Cavaliere  del  Sperone  d'Oro.  Such  a 
knight  may  be  noticed  in  this  place. 

Gallini  came  to  England  at  a  time  when  that  part  of  the  world, 
which  was  included  in  the  term  ^  people  of  quality,"  stood  in  need 
of  a  little  excitement.  .  This  was  in  1759,  when  there  was  the 
dullest  of  courts,  with  the  heaviest  of  mistresses,  and  an  opera, 
duller  and  heavier  than  either.  Gallini  had  just  subdued  Paris 
by  the  magic  of  his  saltatory  movements.  He  thence  repaired  to 
London,  with  his  reputation  and  slight  baggage.  He  did  not  an- 
nounce  his  arrival.  It  was  sufficient  that  Gkdlini  was  there.  He 
had  hardly  entered  his  lodgings  when  he  was  engaged,  on  his  .own 
terms.  He  took  the  town  by  storm.  His  pas  setd  was  pro- 
nounced divine.  The  •"  quality"  paid  him  more  honor  than  if  he 
had  invented  something  useful  to  his  fellow-men.  He  could  not 
raise  his  toe,  without  the  house  being  hushed  into  silent  admi- 
ration. His  entrechats  were  performed  amidst  thundering  echoes 
of  delight ;  his  "  whirls"  elicited  shrieks  of  ecstacy ;  and  when  he 
suddenly  checked  himself  in  the  very  swiftest  of  his  wild  career 
and  looked  at  the  house  with  a  complacent  smile,  which  seemed 
to  say — "  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?"  there  ensued  an  explosion 
of  tumultuous  homage,  such  as  the  spectators  would  have  not 
vouchsafed  to  the  young  conqueror  of  Quebec.  Grallini,  as  far  as 
opera  matters  were  concerned,  was  found  to  be  the  proper 
man  in  the  proper  place.     For  four  or  five  years  he  was  de- 


446  THB  KNIQHTB  AND  THJEIB  DATS. 

spotic  master  of  the  ballet    He  was  resolved  to  be  master  of 

something  else. 

There  was  then  in  London  a  Lady  Elizabeth  Bertie.  Her 
fiOher,  the  Earl  of  Abingdon,  then  lately  deceased,  had,  in  his 
youth,  married  a  Signora  Collino,  daughter  to  a  "  Sir  John  Col- 
lins." The  latter  knight  was  not  English,  but  of  English  descent. 
His  son,  Signer  Collino,  was  a  celebrated  player  of  the  lute  in  this 
country.  He  was  indeed  the  last  celebrated  pUiyer  on  that  instru- 
ment in  England. 

Crallini  then,  the  very  head  of  his  profession,  ranking  therein 
higher  than  the  Abingdons  did  in  the  peerage,  was  rather  conde- 
scending than  otherwise,  when  he  looked  upon  the  Earl  of  Abing- 
don as  his  equal.  The  earl  whom  he  so  considered  was  the  son 
of  the  one  who  had  espoused  the  Signora  Collino,  and  Lady  Eliz- 
abeth Bertie  was  another  child  of  the  same  marriage.  When 
Grallini  the  dancer,  therefore,  began  to  think  of  proposing  for  the 
hand  of  that  lady,  he  was  merely  thinking  of  marrying  the  niece 
of  an  instrumental  performer.  Grallini  did  not  think  there  was 
derogation  in  this ;  but  he  did  think,  vain,  foolish  fellow  that  he 
was,  that  such  a  union  would  confer  upon  him  the  title  of  ^  my 
lord." 

Gallini  was  a  gentleman,  nevertheless,  in  his  way — that  is,  both 
in  manners  and  morals.  Proud  indeed  he  was,  as  a  peacock,  and 
ambitious  as  a  ^  climbing-boy,"  desirous  for  ever  of  being  at  the 
top,  as  speedily  as  possible,  of  every  branch  of  his  profession.  He 
was  the  ^  professor  of  dancing"  in  the  Abingdon  family,  where  his 
agreeable  person,  his  ready  wit,  his  amiability,  and  the  modesty 
beneath  which  he  hid  a  world  of  pretension,  rendered  him  a  general 
favorite.  He  was  very  soon  the  friend  of  the  house ;  and  long 
before  he  had  achieved  that  rank,  he  was  the  very  particular  friend 
of  Lady  Elizabeth  Bertie.  She  loved  her  mother's  soft  Italian  as 
GaiUni  spoke  it ;  and  in  short  she  loved  the  Italian  also,  language 
and  speaker.     Lady  and  Signor  became  one. 

When  the  match  became  publicly  known  the  "  did  you  overs  ?" 
that  reached  from  box  to  box  and  echoed  along  the  passages  of 
the  opera-house  were  deafening.  "  A  lady  of  quality  marry  a 
dancer!"  Why  not,  when  maids  of  honor  were  held  by  royal 
coachmen  as  being  bad  company  for  the  said  ooAchman's  sons  ?    It 


SHAM   KNIGHTS.    .  447 

was  a  more  suitable  match  than  that  of  a  lady  of  qnalitj  with  her 
father's  footman. 

Grallini  happened,  to  be  in  one  of  the  lobbies  soon  afler  his  mar- 
riage, where  it  was  being  loudly  discussed  bj  some  angry  beauties. 
In  the  midst  of  their  ridicule  of  the  bridegroom  he  approached, 
and  exclaimed,  ^' Lustrissima,  son  io!  Excellent  lady,  I  am  the 
man !"  <<  And  what  does  the  man  call  himself?"  asked  they  with 
a  giggle,  and  doubtless  also  with  reference  to  the  story  of  the 
bridegroom  considering  himself  a  lord  by  right  of  his  marriage 
with  a  "  lady" — ^  what  does  the.man  call  himself?"  "  Eccelenza,'* 
replied  Gallini  with  a  modest  bow,  '^  I  am  Signor  Giovanni  Gal- 
lini,  Esquire."  In  the  midst  of  their  laughter  he  turned  upon  his 
heel,  and  went  away  to  dress  in  flesh-colored  tights,  short  tunic, 
and  spangles. 

The  marriage  was  not  at  first  an  unhappy  one.  There  were 
several  children,  but  difficulties  also  increased  much  faster  than 
the  family.  Not  pecuniary  difficulties,  for  Gallini  was  a  prudent 
man,  but  class  difficulties.  The  signor  found  himself  without  a 
properly-defined  position,  or  what  is  quite  as  uneasy  probably  in 
itself,  he  was  above  his  proper  position,  without  being  able  to  exact 
the  homi^  that  he  thought  was  due  to  him.  The  brother-in-law 
of  the  earl  was  in  the  eyes  of  his  own  wife,  only  the  dancing-master 
of  their  children.  Considering  that  the  lady  had  condescended  to 
be  their  mother,  she  might  have  carried  the  condescension  a  little 
farther,  and  paid  more  respect  to  the  father.  Dissension  arose, 
and  in  a  tour  de  mains  family  interferences  rendered  it  incurable. 
The  quarrel  was  embittered,  a  separation  ensued,  and  after  a  tran- 
quil union  of  a  few  years,  there  were  separate  households,  with 
common  ill-will  in  both. 

He  felt  himself  no  longer  a  "  lord,"  even  by  courtesy,  but  he  re- 
solved to  be  what  many  lords  have  tried  to  be,  in  vain,  or  who 
ruined  themselves  by  being,  namely,  proprietor  and  manager  of 
the  opera-house.  This  was  in  1786,  by  which  time  he  had  real- 
ized a  fortune  by  means  of  much  industry,  active  heels,  good  looks, 
capital  benefits,  monopoly  of  teaching,  prudence,  temperance,  and 
that  economy,  which  extravagant  people  call  parsimony.  This 
fortune,  or  rather  a  portion  of  it,  he  risked  in  the  opera-house — 
and  lost  it  all,  of  course.     He  commenced  his  career  with  as  much 


448  THE  KNIGBTB  AND  THSIB  DATS. 

spirit  as  if  he  had  only  been  the  steward  of  another  magi'»  prap" 
erty ;  and  he  made  engagements  in  Italy  with  such  generosity  and 
patriotism,  that  the  Pope  having  leisure  for  a  while  to  torn  his 
thoughts  from  divinity  to  dancing,  became  as  delighted  with  Gallini 
as  Pio  Nono  was  with  Fanny  Gerito.  We  are  bound  to  believe 
that  his  holiness  was  in  a  fit  of  in£Edlible  enthusiasm,  when  he 
dubbed  Gallini,  Knight  of  the  Golden  Spur.  The  latter  returned 
to  London  and  wrote  himself  down  ^  Sir  John."  Cards  were  just 
come  into  fashion,  to  enable  people  to  pay  what  were  called 
^  visites  en  Wane,"  and  "  Sir  John  Gallini "  was  to  be  seen  in 
every  house  where  the  latter  had  Mend  or  acquaintance.  His 
portrait  was  in  all  the  shops,  with  this  chivalric  legend  beneath  it, 
and  there  are  yet  to  be  seen  old  opera  libretti  with  a  frontispiece 
exhibiting  to  an  admiring  public  the  efiigies  of  ^'  Sir  John  GrallinL" 

The  public  liked  the  sound,  liked  the  man,  and  sanctioned  the 
title,  by  constantly  applying  it  to  the  individual,  without  any  men- 
tal reserve.  They  had  seen  so  many  fools  mlUie  knights  that  they 
were  glad  to  see  a  spirited  man  make  one  of  himself,  by  applica- 
tion of  "  Sir"  to  a  papally-conferred  title.  The  law,  however,  no 
more  allowed  it  than  it  did  that  of  the  Romanist  official  who  got 
presented  at  court  as  "  Monsignore  something,"  and  whose  presen- 
tation was  cancelled  as  soon  as  the  pleasant  trick  was  discovered. 
Gallini,  however,  continued  in  the  uninterrupted  title  until  circum- 
stances brought  him,  as  a  witness,  into  the  presence  of  Lord  Ken- 
yon.  When  the  Italian  opera-dancer  announced  himself  in  the 
hearing  of  that  judge  as  Sir  John  Gallini,  the  sight  of  the  judge 
was  what  Americans  call  *^a  caution."  His  lordship  looked  as 
disgusted  as  Lord  Eldon  used  to  do,  when  he  heso^  an  Irish 
Romanist  Bishop  called  by  a  territorial  tide.  As  far  as  the  wrath 
of  Lord  Kenyon  could  do  it,  metaphorically,  the  great  judge  un- 
sir-John'd  Sir  John  and  chopped  off  his  golden  spurs  in  open 
court  Gallini  was  so  good-natured  and  popular,  that  the  public 
opinion  would  not  confirm  the  opinion  of  the  judge,  and  Sir  John 
remained  Sir  John,  in  the  popular  mouth,  throughout  the  kingdom. 

He  was  growing  rich  enough  to  buy  up  half  the  knights  in  the 
country.  He  built  the  music-rooms  in  Hanover  Square,  for  Bach 
and  Abel's  subscription  concerts.  That  is,  he  built  the  house; 
and  let  it  out  to  any  who  required  any  portion  of  it,  for  any  pur- 


SHAM   KNIGHTS.  449 

pose  of  musicy  dancing,  exhibiting,  lecturing,  or  any  other  object 
having  profit  in  view.  He  lodged  rather  than  lived  in  it  himself, 
for  he  had  reserved  only  a  small  cabinet  for  his  own  use,  magnifi- 
cently sacrificing  the  rest  of  the  mansion  for  the  use  of  others, 
who  paid  him  liberally  for  such  use.  Therewith,  Sir  John  con- 
tinued his  old  profession  as  teacher  as  well  as  performer,  manager 
at  home  as  well  as  at  the  theatre;  wary  speculator,  saving — 
avaricious,  as  they  said  who  failed  to  cheat  him  of  his  money  on 
faith  of  illusory  promises,  with  an  admirable  eye  for  a  bargain, 
and  admirable  care  for  the  result  of  the  bargain  after  he  had 
concluded  it. 

Everything  went  as  merrily  with  him  as  it  did  with  Polyerates, 
and  ill-fortune  and  he  seemed  never  to  be  acquainted,  till  one 
fatal  night  in  1789,  the  Opera  House  was  burned  to  the  ground, 
and  the  tide  that  had  been  se  long  fiowing  was  now  thought  to  be 
on  the  ebb.  Sir  John  was  too  heroic  to  be  downcast,  and  he  did 
what  many  a  hero  would  never  even  have  thought  of  doing,  nor, 
indeed,  any  wise  man  either.  He  put  down  thirty  thousand 
pounds  in  hard  cash  toward  the  rebuilding  of  the  opera-house, 
sent  to  Italy  for  the  best  architectural  plans,  left  no  means  un- 
employed to  erect  a  first  rate  theatre,  and  worked  for  that  object 
with  as  much  integrity  as  if  the  safety  of  the  universe  depended 
on  the  building  of  an  opera-house  in  the  Haymarket.  What  the 
public  lost  in  one  night  was  thus  being  made  good  to  them  by 
another. 

Meanwhile  fashion  was  in  a  deplorable  state  of  musical  desti- 
tution. What  was  to  become  of  London  without  an  opera? 
How  could  the  world,  the  infinitesimal  London  world,  exist  with- 
out its  usual  allowance  of  roulades  and  rigadoons  ?  Our  knight 
was  just  the  champion  to  come  in  beneficially  at  such  an  extrem- 
ity. He  opened  the  little  theatre  in  the  Haymarket,  and  nobody 
went  to  it.  Fashion  turned  up  its  nose  in  scorn,  and  kept  away; 
nay,  it  did  worse,  it  acted  ungratefully,  and  when  some  speculators 
established  an  opera  at  the  Pantheon,  Fashion  led  the  way  from 
the  Haymarket,  and  a  host  of  followers  went  in  her  trgin  to 
Oxford  street.  "I  will  victoriously  bring  her  back  to  her  old 
house,''  said  Sir  John.  The  knight  was  gallant-hearted,  but  he 
did  not  know  that  he  had  other  foes  besides  Fashion. 

29 


450  THB  KNIOflTB  AND  THUB  DAYS. 

Sir  John  got  into  difficulties  tfarough  law,  lawyera,  and  faiae 
friends.  He  ruled  as  monarch  at  the  opeia-honsey  only  to  fally 
with  ruin.  But  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  dismayed.  His  oonrage, 
zeal,  and  industrj,  were  unbounded.  He  applied  ail  these  to 
good  purpose,  and, his  life  was  not  only  a  useful  but  an  honorable 
and  a  prosperous  one.  It  ended,  after  extending  bejcmd  the 
ordinaiy  allotted  time  of  man,  calmly,  yet'  somewhat  suddenly ; 
and  ^  Sir  John"  Gallini  died  in  his  house  in  Hanover  Square, 
leaving  a  large  fortune,  the  memory  of  some  eccentricities,  and  a 
good  name  and  example,  to  his  children.  For  my  part,  I  can 
never  enter  the  ancient  concert-rooms  in  Hanover  Square,  without 
wishing  a  ^  Bequiescat  I"  to  the  knight  of  the  Gk)lden  Spur,  hj 
whom  the  edifice  was  constructed. 

If  Sir  John  Gallini,  the  dancer,  could  bqast  of  having  been 
knighted  by  a  pope,  Crescentini,  the  singer,  could  boast  of  having 
been  knighted  by  an  emperor.  He  received  this  honor  at  the 
hands  of  Napoleon  I.  He  had  previously  been  accustomed  to 
compliments  firom,  or  in  presence  of,  emperors.  Thus,  in  1804, 
at  Vienna,  he  sang  the  Onibra  adariata  in  the  character  of  Romeo, 
with  such  exquisite  grace  and  tenderness,  that,  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  had  just  finished  this  admirable  lyric  piece,  the  whole 
court  forming  part  of  his  audience,  two  doves  descended  from 
the  clouds,  bearing  him  a  crown  of  laurels,  while  on  every  side, 
garlands  and  flowers  were  flung  upon  the  enchanted  and  enchant- 
ing warbler.  The  Austrian  Emperor  paid  him  more  honor  than 
his  predecessor  had  ever  paid  to  the  Polish  king  who  saved  the 
empire  from  the  Turks.  The  reputation  of  Crescentini  gained 
for  him  an  invitation,  in  1809,  to  the  imperial  court  of  France. 
He  played  in  company  with  Grassini,  the  two  representing 
Bomeo  and  Juliet.  The  characters  had  never  been  better  repre- 
sented, and  Talma,  who  was  present,  is  said  to  have  wept — an 
on  dit  which  I  do  not  credit,  for  there  is  not  only  nothing  to  cry 
at  in  the  Italian  characters,  but  Talma  himself  was  in  no  wise 
addicted  to  indulgence  in  the  melting  mood,  nor  had  he  even 
common  courtesy  for  his  own  actual  Juliet.  But  the  great  actor 
was  pleased,  and  the  great  emperor  was  delighted ;  so  much  so, 
that  he  conferred  an  honor  on  Crescentini  which  he  would  never 
grant  to  Talma — made  a  chevalier  of  him.     It  is  true  that  Talma 


SHAM  KNIGHTS.  451 

desired  to  be  made  a  knight  of  the  Legion  on  Honor ;  but  the 
emperor  would  not  place  on  the  breast  of  a  tragedian  that  cross 
which  was  the  reward,  theft,  only  of  men  who  had  played  their 
parts  well,  in  real  and  bloody  tragedies.  The  French  tragedian 
declined  the  honor  that  was  now  accorded  to  Crescentini,  whom 
the  emperor  summoned  to  his  box,  and  decorated  him  with  the 
insignia  of  the  knight  of  the  Iron  Crown.  The  singing  chevalier 
was  in  ecstacies.  But  the  Juliet  of  the  night  had  more  cause  to 
be  so,  for  to  her,  Napoleon  presented  a  draft  on  the  Treasury,  for 
20,000  francs.  "It  will  be  a  nice  little  dower  for  one  of  my 
nieces,"  said  the  ever-generous  Grassini  to  one  of  her  friends,  on 
the  following  day.  Several  years  after  this,  a  little  niece,  for 
whom  she  had  hitherto  done  little,  came  to  her,  with  a  contralto 
voice,  and  a  request  for  assistance.  After  hearing  her  sing, 
Grassini  exclaimed,  "You  have  no  contralto  voice,  and  need 
small  help.  You  will  have,  with  care,  one  of  the  finest  mezzo- 
sopranos  in  the  world.  Your  throat  will  be  to  you  a  mine  of 
gold,,  and  you  may  be  both  rich  and  renowned,  my  dear  Giulietta 
Grisi."    The  niece  has  excelled  the  aunt. 

Knights  of  the  shire  are  but  sham  knights  now,  and  they  origi- 
nally sprung  from  a  revolutionary  movement.  Previous  to  the 
reign  of  Henry  III.  the  people  had  no  voice  in  the  selection  of 
their  legislators.  In. that  king's  reign,  however,  the  legislators 
were  at  loggerheads.  Simon  de  Montfort,  the  aristocratic  head 
of  a  popular  party,  was  opposed  to  the  king ;  and  the  great  earl 
and  his  friends  being  fearful  of  being  outvoted  in  the  next  parlia- 
ment, succeeded  in  procuring  the  issue  of  a  writ  in  the  name  of 
the  king,  who  was  then  their  prisoner,  directing  the  sheriffs  of 
each  county  to  send  two  knights,  and  the  authorities  in  cities  and 
boroughs  to  send  citizens  and  burgesses,  to  represent  them  in  par- 
liament. This  was  a  fundamental  change  of  a  long-established- 
usage.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  revolution ;  and  the  foundation  at  least 
of  that  form  of  a  constitution  on  which  our  present  constitutional 
substantiality  has  been  erected. 

When  the  king  became  emancipated,  however,  although  he  con- 
tinued to  summon  "  barons  and  great  men,"  he  never  during  his 
reign  issued  a  writ  for  the  election  of  knights  of  the  shire.  His 
son,  Edward  I.,  summoned  the  greater  and  lesser  barons,  or  his 


452  THB  KNIGfflB   AKf»  THEIB  DATS. 

tenanto  in  chief,  acoording  to  the  old  usage.  This  he  did  during, 
at  least,  seven  years  of  his  reign.  The  last  were  not  barons,  but 
thej  were  summoned  as  **  barons'  peers,  and  all  these  attended  in 
their  own  persons,"  and  not  as  representatiTes  of  the  people.  In 
the  reign  of  John,  indeed,  the  people's  voice  had  been  heard,  but 
it  may  be  stated  generally,  that  until  the  forty-ninth  of  Henry  III., 
the  constituent  parts  of  the  great  council  of  the  nation  was  com- 
posed solely  of  the  archbishops  and  bishops,  the  earls,  barons,  and 
tenants  in  capite. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that,  in  the  early  elections,  the  knights  of 
the  shire  were  elected  by  universal  suffrage ;  and  so,  indeed,  they 
are  now,  in  a  certain  way,  as  I  shall  explain,  afler  citing  the  fol- 
lowing passage  from  Hallam's  State  of  Europe  during  the  Middle 
Ages :  "  Whoever  may  have  been  the  original  voters  for  county 
representatives,  the  first  statute  that  regulates  their  election,  so  far 
from  limiting  the  privilege  to  tenants  in  capite,  appears  to  place  it 
upon  a  very  large  and  democratical  foundation.  For  (as  I  rather 
conceive,  though  not  without  much  hesitation)  not  only  all  free- 
holders, but  all  persons  whatever  present  at  the  county  court,  were 
declared,  or  rendered,  capable  of  voting  for  the  knight  of  their 
shire.  Such  at  least  seems  to  be  the  inference  from  the  expres- 
sions of  7  Henry  IV.,  c  15, '  all  who  are  there  present,  as  well  suitors 
duly  summoned  for  that  cause,  as  others.'  And  this  acquires  some 
degree  of  confirmation  from  the  later  statute  8  Henry  YI.,  c  7, 
which,  reciting  that  ^  elections  of  knights  of  shires  have  now,  of 
late,  been  made  by  very  great,  outrageous,  and  excessive  number 
of  people  dwelling  within  the  same  counties,  of  the  which  most 
were  people  of  small  substance  and  of  no  value,'  confines  the  elec» 
tive  franchise  to  freeholders  of  lands  or  tenements  to  the  value  of 
forty  shillings." 

The  original  summons  to  freeholders  was,  without  doubt,  by 
general  proclamation,  so  that,  as  Mr.  Hallam  remarks,  ^<  it  is  not 
easy  to  see  what  difference  there  could  be  between  summoned  and 
unsummoned  suitors.  And  if  the  words  are  supposed  to  glance  at 
the  private  summonses  to  a  few  friends,  by  means  of  which  the 
sheriffs  were  accustomed  to  procure  a  clandestine  election,  one  can 
hardly  imagine  that  such  persons  would  be  styled  *  duly  summoned.' 
It  is  not  unlikely,  however,"  adds  Mr.  Hallam,  "  that  these  large 


SHAM   KNIGHTS.  463 

expressions  were  inadvertently  used,  and  that  thej  led  to  that  in- 
undation of  voters  without  property  which  rendered  the  subsequent 
act  of  Henry  VI.  necessary.  That  of  Henry  IV.  had  itself  been 
occasioned  by  an  opposite  evil,  the  close  election  of  knights  by  a 
few  persons  in  the  name  of  the  county." 

The  same  writer  proceeds  to  observe  that  the  consequence  of 
the  statute  of  Henry  IV.  was  not  to  let  in  too  many  voters,  or  to 
render  election  tumultuous  in  the  largest  of  English  counties, 
whatever  it  might  be  in  others.  Prynne,  it  appears,  published 
some  singular  indentures  for  the  county  of  York,  proceeding  from 
the  sheriffs,  during  the  intervals  between  the  acts  of  the  fourth 
and  sixth  Henry.  These  "  are  selected  by  a  few  persons  calling 
themselves  the  attome3rs  of  some  peers  and  ladies,  who,  as  far  as 
it  appears,  had. solely  returned  the  knights  of  that  shire.  What 
degree  of  weight,"  says  Mr.  Hallam,  "these  anomalous^  returns 
ought  to  possess,  I  leave  to  the  reader." 

I  have  said  that  the  universal  suffrage  system  in  the  election  of 
these  knights  (and  indeed  of  others)  as  far  as  it  can  be  carried 
out,  in  allowing  all  persons  present  to  have  a  voice,  is  still  strictly 
in  force.  Appeal  is  made  to  the  popular  assembly  as  to  the  choice 
of  a  candidate.  The  decision  is  duly  announced  by  the  highest 
authority  present,  and  then  the  rejected  candidate  may,  if  he  thinks 
proper,  appeal  from  the  people  present  to  those  who  are  legally 
qualified  to  vote.  The  first  ceremony  is  now  a  very  unnecessary 
one,  but  it  is,  without  doubt,  the  relic  of  a  time  when  observation 
of  it  bore  therewith  a  serious  meaning. 

From  parliament  to  the  university  is  no  very  wide  step.  Sir 
Hugh  Evans  and  Sir  Oliver  Martext  were  individuals  who,  with 
their  titles,  are  very  familiar  to  the  most  of  us.  The  knightly 
title  thus  given  to  clergymen,  was  not  so  much  by  way  of  courtesy, 
as  for  the  sake  of  distinction.  It  was  "  worn"  by  Bachelors  of 
Arts,  otherwise  "Domini,"  to  distinguish  them- from  the  Masters 
of  Arts,  or  "  Magistri."  Properly  speaking,  the  title  was  a  local 
one,  and  ought  not  to  have  been  used  beyond  the  bounds  of  the 
University:  but  as  now-a-days  with  the  case  of  "captains"  of 
packet-boats,  they  are  also  captains  at  home ;  so,  in  old  times,  the 
"  Sir"  of  the  University  was  Sir  Something  Somebody,  everywhere. 

We  laugh  at  the  French  for  so  often  describing  our  knights  only 


464  THE  KNIGHTS  ANP  THSIB  DATS. 

by  their  snnames,  as  "  Sir  Jcmes."    This,  however,  is  the  old 
English  form  as  it  was  used  at  Cambridge.    The  Cambridge  ^  Sirs" 
were  addressed  by  Chrisdaa  and  surname  in  their  livings,  and  in 
documents  oonnet^ed  therewith.    This  practice  continued  till  the 
title  itself  was  abandoned  some  time  after  the  Reformation.     The 
old  custom  was  occasionally  revived  by  the  elderly  stagers,  much 
to  the  astonishment  of  younger  hearers.    Thus  when   Bishop 
Mawson  of  Llandaff  was  on  one  occasion  at  court,  he  encountered 
there  a  reverend  Bachelor  of  Arts,  Fellow  of  Bene't  College,  and 
subsequently  Deau  of  Salisbury.    His  name  was  Greene.    The 
bishop,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  "  bachelor"  enter  the  drawing-room, 
accosted   him   loudly  in  this    manner:    ''How  do  you  do,  Sir 
Greene?     When  did  you  leave  collie,  Sir   Greene?"     Mr, 
Greene  observing  the  astonishment  of  those  around  him,  took 
upon  himself  to  explain  that  the  bishop  was  only  using  an  ob- 
solete formula  of  bygone  times.    The  most  recent  courtesy  title 
that  I  can  remember,  was  one  given  to  a  blind  beggar  who  was 
very  well  known  in  the  vicinity  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  where, 
indeed,  he  had  been  a  student  some  five^and-thirty  years  ago. 
He  was  invariably  styled  ^  Domine  John,"  and  he  could  return  a 
suitable  answer  in  good  Latin,  to  the  query,  Qap  moda  vaies  f — 
or  to  any  other  query. 

''  VcUe  /"  is  indeed  what  I  ought  to  utter  to  the  courteous  reader; 
nor  will  I  detain  him  longer — supposing  he  has  kindly  borne  with 
me  thus  &r — than  with  one  brief  chapter  more,  which,  being  mis^ 
cellaneous,  I  may  not  inaptly  call ''  Pieces  of  Armor." 


PIEGES  OF   AHMOB.  465 


PIECES  OP  ARMOR. 

The  word  Pieces  teminds  me  of  a  curious  theatrical  illustration 
of  Macedonian  chivalry*  When  Barry  used  to  play  Alexander 
the  Great,  he  made  a  grand  spectacle  of  his  chariot  entry.  But 
it  was  highly  absurd,  nevertheless.  When  he  descended  from  the 
vehicle,  his  attendant  knights,  bareheaded  and  unarmed,  placed 
their  hands  upon  it,  and  in  an  instant  it  went  to  pieces,  like  a 
trick  in  a  pantomime,  and  left  in  every  warrior's  possession, 
swords,  javelins,  shields,  and  helmets,  supplied  by  the  spokes  of' 
the  wheels,  the  poles,  the  body  of  the  car  and  its  ornaments.  This 
feat  was  very  highly  applauded  by  our  intellectual  sires. 

This  act,  however,  was  hardly  more  unnatural  than  the  sayings 
of  some  real  chevaliers,  particularly  those  of  Spain. 

Among  the  Spanish  Rhodomontades  chronicled  by  Brantome, 
we  find  none  that  have  not  reference  to  personal  valor.  There 
is  the  choleric  swordsman  who  walks  the  street  without  his  weap- 
on, for  the  good  reason  that  his  hand  is  so  ready  to  fiy  to  hU 
sword,  if  the  wind  but  blow  on  him  too  roughly,  he  is  never  able 
to  walk  out  armed  without  taking  two  or  three  lives.  ^<  I  will 
hoist  you  so  high,"  says  another  Spanish  cavalier  to  his  antago- 
nist, ^  that  you  will  die  before  you  can  reach  the  earth  again.''  It 
was  a  fellow^  of  the  same  kidney  who  used  not  only  to  decapitate 
dozens  of  Moorish  heads  every  morning,  but  was  wont  afterward 
to  fling  them  so  high  into  the  air,  that  they  were  half-devoured  by 
flies  before  they  came  down  again.  Another,  boasting  of  his  feata 
in  a  naval  battle,  quietly  remarked,  that  making  a  thrust  down- 
ward with  his  sword,  it  passed  through  the  sea,  penetrated  the 
infernal  region,  and  sliced  off  a  portion  of  the  moustache  of  Pluto  I 
^'  If  that  man  be  a  friend  of  yours,"  said  a  cavalier  to  a  compan- 
ion, referring  at  the  same  time  to  a  swordsman  with  whom  the 


456  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEtB  DATS. 

caTalier  had  had  angry  words,  ^  praj  for  his  soul,  for  he  has  qunF- 
relied  with  me."  The  .self-complacency  also  of  the  following  is 
not  amiss.  A  Spanish  captain  in  Paris,  saw  the  haughty  cheva- 
lier d*Ambres  pass  by  him.  **  Is  he,**  said  the  Spaniard,  **  as  val- 
iant as  he  is  proud  ?"  The  reply  was  in  the  affirmative.  "  Then," 
remarked  the  Iberian,  **  be  is  almost  as  good  a  man  as  %iy6elf." 
We  hear  of  another,  less  gallant,  perhaps,  than  brave,  who  made 
it  a  great  favor  to  ladies  when  he  put  off  a  combat  at  their  request, 
and  passed  a  pleasant  hour  with  them,  in  place  of  knocking  oat 
brains  upon  the  field.  It  was  a  knight  of  similar  notions  who  cud- 
gelled his  page  for  boasting  of  the  knight's  valor.  ^  If  thou  dost 
SQch  foolish  things.  Sir  Knave,"  said  the  doughty  gentleman,  ^  the 
whole  female  sex  will  perish  of  love  for  me,  and  I  shall  have  no 
leisure  left  to  take  towns  and  rout  armies."  This  was  a  full-devel- 
oped knight.  It  was  probably  his  youthful  squire  who  remarked, 
when  some  one  expressed  surprise  that  one  so  young  had  mus- 
taches of  such  unusual  length.  '^They  sprung  up,"  said  the 
young  soldier, "  under  the  smoke  of  cannon ;  they  grew  thus  quick- 
ly under  the  same  influences." 

Some  of  the  old  Spanish  cavaliers  used  to  maintain  that  their 
very  beauty  dazzled  their  enemies.  However  this  may  have 
been,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  beauty  of  Galeozo  Maria,  Duke  of  Milan, 
was  sufficiently  striking  to  save  him  for  a  while,  against  the  dag- 
gers of  conspirators.  One  of  these,  named  Lampugnano,  longed 
to  slay. him,  but  did  not  dare.  He  was,  nevertheless,  resolved; 
and  he  employed  a  singular  means  for  giving  himself  courage. 
He  procured  a  faithful  portrait  of  the  handsome  duke,  and  every 
time  he  passed  it,  he  looked  steadfastly  at  the  brilliant  eyes  and 
graceful  features,  and  then  plunged  his  dagger  into  the  canvass. 
He  continued  this  practice  until  he  found  himself  enabled  to  look 
the  living  duke  in  the  face  without  being  dazzled  by  his  beauty ; 
and  this  done,  he  dealt  his  blow  steadily,  and  destroyed  his  great 
and  graceful  foe. 

It  has  often  been  asserted  that  there  have  been  few  cavaliers 
who  have  earned  on  war  with  more  indifference  and  cruelty  than 
the  Spanish  knights.  But  war  in  all  times  and  in  all  ages  has  in- 
duced the  first,  at  least,  if  not  the  last.  I  may  cite  among  what 
may  be  called  the  more  recent  instances,  one  that  would  hai-dly 


PIECES  OF  ARMOR.  457 

have  occurred,  even  at  SebastopoL  It  is  in  reference  to  Schom* 
berg's  army  at  Dundalk«  "  The  survivors  "  says  Leland,  "  used  the 
bodies  of  their  dead  comrades  for  seats  or  shelter ;  and  when  these 
were  carried  to  interment,  murmured  at  being  deprived  of  their 
conveniences.'*  While  touching  upon  Irish  matters,  I  wiU  avail 
myself  4lf  the  opportunity  to  notice  that  Irish  knights  were  some- 
times called  "  iron  knee/'  "  eagle  knee,"  and  "  black  knee,"  from 
the  armor  which  was  especially  needed  for  that  part  of  the  body, 
the  Irish  with  their  dreadful  battle-axes  making  the  sorest  stroke 
on  the  thigh  of  the  horseman.  The  Irish  appellation  of  the  White 
Knight,  was  given  to  the  heir  of  a  family  wherein  gray  hairs  were 
hereditary.  The  Irish  knights,  it  may  be  observed,  were  gener- 
ally more  religious  than  the  Spanish.  The  latter  were  too  reader 
to  ascribe  every  sucikss  to  their  own  might,  and  not  to  a  greater 
hand.  Even  in  the  case  of  St.  Lawrence,  calmly  roasting  to  death 
on  his  gridiron,  the  proud  Spaniards  would  not  have  this  patience 
ascribed  to  the  grace  of  Grod,  but  -only  to  the  true  Spanish  valor. 
While  speaking  of  the  burning  of  St.  Lawrence,  I  will  add  that 
St.  Pierre  quotes  Plutarch  in  stating,  that  when  the  Roman  bum* 
ers  had  to  reduce  to  ashes  the  bodies  of  several  knights  and  ladies, 
they  used  to  place  one  female  body  among  eight  or  ten  males, 
fancying  that  with  this  amalgamaticMi  they  would  burn  better. 
The  author  of  the  ''  Harmonies  of  Nature"  makes  upon  this  the 
truly  characteristic  comment,  that  the  Boman  fashion  was  founded 
on  the  notion,  that  "  the  fire  of  love  still  burned  within  us  after 
death." 

Reverting,  for  a  moment,  to  the  Spaniards,  I  may  notice  a 
fashion  among  them  which  is  worth  mentioning.  When  a  Spanish 
eavaHer  entered  the  presence  of  a  Spanish  queen,  acc(»npanied  by 
his  lady,  he  did  not  unbonnet  to  his  sovereign.  He  was  supposed 
to  be  so  engrossed  by  his  mistress  as  to  forget  even  the  courtesies 
of  loyalty. 

Brantome,  on  the  other  hand,  notices  kingly  courtesy  toward  a 
subject.  When  describing  the  battle-acts  of  the  ^euhous  M.  de 
Thorannes,  he  states  that  the  King  in  acknowledgment  that  the 
battle  of  Rentz  had  been  gained  chiefly  through  his  courage,  took 
the  collar  of  his  own  order  from  his  neck,  and  placed  it  on  that  of 
the  gallant  soldier.     This  was  a  most  i^nusual  act,  according  to 


458  THE  KtaQVtB  AMD  THEIB  DATS. 

the  showing  of  Brantome,  bat  probaUj-  not  the  first  time  of  a  sim* 
Uar  oocorrence.  .  The  aathor  just  named  complains  in  piteous 
tenns  that,  in  his  time  and  previously,  the  honors  of  chivahy  had 
been  bestowed  for  anything  but  knightly  deeds.  They  were  gained 
by  favor,  influence,  or  money.  Some  set  iheiir  wives  to  exert  their 
fascination  over  the  Christian  sovereign,  and  purdiase  thft  honor 
at  any  cost  M.  de  Chateaubriand  gave  a  house  and  an  estate  for 
the  order  of  St  MichaeL  Ultimately,  it  was  conferred  on  single 
captains  of  infantry,  to  the  great  disgost  of  the  better-bom  gentle- 
men who  had  paid  dearly  for  the  honor.  Brantome  declares  that 
he  knew  many  who  had  never  been  half  a  doz^i  leagues  from 
their  houses,  who  wore  the  insignia  of  the  order,  and  who  talked 
of  the  taking  of  Loches,  as  if  they  had  really  been  present  He 
angrily  adds,  that  even  lawyers  were  ma^  knights,  stripping 
themselves  of  their  gowns,  and  clapping  swords  on  their  thighs. 
He  appears  especially  annoyed  that  the  celebrated  Montaigne 
should  have  followed  a  similar  example:  and  he  adds  with  a 
malicious  exultation,  that  the  sword  did  not  become  him  half  so 
well  as  the  pen. 

One  French  Marquis  was  persecuted  by  his  neighbors  to  get 
orders  for  them,  as  if  they  were  applying  for  orders  for  the  theatre. 
He  obtained  them  with  such  facility,  tluU;  he  even  made  a  knight 
of  his  house-steward,  and  forced  the  poor  man  to  go  to  market  in 
his  collar,  to  the  infinite  wounding  of  his  modesty.  It  was,  bow- 
ever,  one  rule  of  the  order  that  the  collar  should  never,  under  any 
pretence  whatever,  be  taken  from  the  neck.  The  Court  had  very 
'  unsavory  names  for  these  mushroom-knights ;  and  Brantonie  gives 
us  some  idea  of  the  aristocratic  feeling  when  he  recounts,  with  a 
horror  he  does  not  seek  to  disguise,  that  the  order  was  sold  to  an 
old  Huguenot  gentleman,  for  the  small  sum  of  five  hundred  crowns. 
A  cheap  bargain  for  the  new  knight,  seeing  that  membership  in 
the  order  carried  witl^  it  exemption  from  taxation.  Luckily  for 
the  Huguenot  he  died  just  in  time  to  save  himself  from  being  dis- 
graced. Some  gentlemanly  ruffians  had  agreed  to  attack  this 
^^homme  de  pen,"  as  Brantome  calls  him,  to  pull  the  order  ^m 
his  neck,  to  give  him  a  cudgelling,  and  to  threaten  him  with  an- 
other, whenever  he  dared  to  wear  the  knightly  insignia. 

Brantome  wonders  the  more  at  what  he  calls  the  abuse  of  the 


PIECES  OF  ARMOR.  459 

order  as  it  had  been  institated  by  Louis  XI.,  on  the  ground  that 
the  old  order  of  the  Star  founded  by  King  John,  in  memory  of 
the  star  which  guided  the  Kings  to  the  Cradle  of  Divinity,  had 
become  so  common,  that  the  silver  star  of  the  order  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  hat  and  on  the  mantle  of  half  the  men  in  France. 
Louis  XI.,  in  abolishing  the  order,  conferred  itA  insignia  as  an  or- 
nament of  dress,  upon  the  Chevaliers  de  Guet,  or  gentlemen  of 
the  watch,  who  looked  to  the  safety  of  Paris  when  the  stars  were 
shining,  or  that  it  was  the  hour  for  them  to  do  so.  It  was  an  un- 
derstood thing  with  all  these  orders  that  if  a  knight  went  into  the 
service  of  an  enemy  to  the  sovereign  head  of  the  order,  the  knight 
was  bound  to  divest  himself  of  the  insignia  and  transmit  the  same 
directly  to  the  King. 

Before  the  dignity  of  the  order  was  humbled,  the  members  took 
pride  in  displaying  it  even  in  battle;  although  they  were  put  to 
high  ransom,  if  captured.  Some  prudent  knights,  of  as  much  dis- 
cretion as  valor,  would  occasionally  conceal  the  insignia  before 
going  into  fight ;  but  they  were  mercilessly  ridiculed,  when  the 
absence  of  the  decoration  testified  to  the  presence  of  their  discre- 
tion. In  the  earlier  years  of  its  formation,  a  man  could  with  more 
facility  obtain  a  nomination  to  be  captain  of  the  body-guard  than 
the  collar  of  the  order  of  St.  Michael.  Louis  XI.  himself  showed 
a  wise  reluctance  to  making  the  order  common,  and  although  he 
fixed  the  number  of  knights  at  six-and-thirty,  he  would  only,  at 
first,  appoint  fiileen.  Under  succeeding  kings  the  order  swelled  to 
limitless  numbers,  until  at  last,  no  one  would  accept  it^  even  when 
forced  upon  them.  One  great  personage,  indeed,  sought  and  ob- 
tained it  He  was  severely  rallied  for  his  bad  ambition ;  but  as 
he  remarked,  the  emblems  of  the  order  would  look  well,  engraved 
upon  his  plate,  and  the  embroidered  mantle  would  make  an  admi- 
rable covering  for  his  mule. 

This  sort  of  satire  upon  chivalry  reminds  me  that  a  knight  could 
unknight  himself,  when  so  inclined.  An  instance  occurs  in  a  case 
connected  with  Jeanne  Dare.  The  chevaliers  of  the  Dauphin's 
army  had  no  belief  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  until 
success  crowned  her  early  efforts.  The  female  knight,  if  one  may 
80  speak,  on  the  other  hand,  had  no  measure  whatever  of  respect, 
either  for  knight  or  friar,  who  appeared  to  doubt   her  heavenly 


460  THE  ENIOHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

missicm.  I  may  just  notioe,  by  the  way,  that  a  ^'  board"  of  seven 
theologians  assembled  to  consider  her  claims,  and  examine  the. 
maiden  herself.  One  of  the  members,  a  <^  brother  Seguin,"  a 
Limousin,  who  spoke  with  the  strong  and  disagreeable  accent  of 
his  birthplace,  asked  Jeanne  in  what  sort  of  idiom  she  had  been 
addressed  by  the  divine  voice,  by  which  she  professed  to  be  guided : 
''In  a  much  better  idiom  than  you  use  yourself,"  answered  the 
pert  young  lady,  ''or  I  should  have  put  no  trust  in  it"  Here,  by 
the  way,  we  have,  perhaps,  the  origin  of  the  old  story  of  the  stam- 
mering gentleman  who  asked  the  boy  if  his  m^ — ^m — ^magpie  could 
speak  ?  «*  Better  than  you,"  said  the  boy,  "  or  I  would  wring  his 
nedc  off."  But  to  resume.  Jeanne  was  quite  as  Tionchalante  to 
the  knights,  as  she  was  flippant  to  the  friars.  She  expressly  ex- 
hibits this  characteristic,  in  the  first  council  held  in  her  presence 
within  Orleans,  when  she  urged  immediate  offensive  measures, 
contrary  to  the  opinion  of  the  knights  themselves.  One  of  the 
latter,  the  Sire  de  Gamache,  was  so  chafed  by  the  pertinacity  of 
the  Puoelle,  that,  at  last,  springing  to  his  feet,  he  exclaimed : — 
"  Since  noble  princes  listen  for  a  moment  to  the  nonsense  of  a  low- 
bred hussy  like  this,  rather  than  to  the  arguments  of  a  dievalier 
such  as  I  am,  I  will  not  trouble  myself  to  give  any  more  opinions. 
In  proper  time  and  place,  my  good  sword  will  speak,  and  per- 
chance I  may  prevail;  but  the  king  and  my  honor  so  will  it. 
Henceforward,  I  furl  and  pull  down  my  banner ;  fix)m  this  moment 
I  am  only  a  simple  'squire ;  but  I  would  much  rather  have  a  noble 
man  for  master,  than  serve  under  a  wench  who,  perhaps,  has  .been 
a — one  really  does  not  know  what!"  and  with  these  words,  he 
rolled  up  his  banner,  placed  the  same  in  the  hands  of  Dunois,  and 
walked  out  of  the  tent,  not  Sir  John  de  Gamache,  but  plain  John 
Gamache,  Esquire. 

A  curious  result  followed.  The  first  attack  on  the  bastion  of 
Tourelles  failed,  and  Jeanne  was  slightly  wounded  and  unhorsed. 
Gramache  was  near,  and  he  dismounted  and  offered  her  his  steed. 
"  Jump  up,"  cried  the  good  fellow,  "  you  are  a  gallant  lass,  and  I 
was  wrong  in  calling  you  ugly  names.  I  will  serve  and  obey  you 
right  willingly."  "And  you,"  said  Jeanne,  "are  as  hearty  a 
knight  as  ever  thwacked  men  or  helped  a  maid."  And  so  were 
they  reconciled,  and  remained  good  friends  to  the  end ; — which 
was  not  long  in  coming. 


PIECES  OP  ARMOR.  461 

Knights,  irregularly  made  so,  were  unknighted  with  little  cere- 
mony. Although  each  duly  dubbed  knight  could  confer  the  same 
honor  on  any  deserving  such  distinction,  it  was  necessary  that  the 
individual  about  to  be  so  honored  should  be  a  gentleman.  In 
France,  if  this  rule  was  infringed,  the  unlucky  knight  had  his 
spurs  hacked  off,  on  a  dunghill.  Occasionally  the  unknighted 
person  was  fined.  It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  the  king 
might  make  a  knight  of  a  villain,  if  the  sovereign  were  so  minded. 
That  is,  a  king  could  raise  any  of  his  own  subjects  to  the  rank,  if 
he  thought  proper.  Not  so  with  sovereigns  and  persons  not  their 
subjects.  The  Emperor  Sigismund,  for  instance,  when  visiting 
Paris,  in  1415,  knighted  a  person  who  was  below  the  rank  of 
gentleman.  The  French  people  were  indignant  at  this,  as  an  act 
of  sovereignty  in  another  monarch's  dominions.  If  this  chevalier 
was  not  unknighted,  the  reason,  probably,  was  that  the  Emperor 
might  not  be  offended.  It  is  said,  that  in  Naples  it  has  never 
been  necessary  for  a  man  to  be  noble,  a  gentleman  in  fact,  in  order 
to  be  a  knight  This  may  readily  be  credited.  In  Naples  the 
fact  of  a  man  being  a  brute  beast  does  not  incapacitate  him  from 
exercising  the  office  even  of  a  king. 

Afler  all,  there  appears  to  have  been  some  uncertainty  in  the 
observance  of  the  law  on  the  subject.  In  England  the  custom 
which^llowed  knights  to  dub  other  knights,  very  soon  fell  into 
disule,  so  that  there  are  fewer  examples  of  unknighting  in  this 
country  than  in  France,  where  the  custom  prevailed  down  to  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century;  and  its  abuses,  of  course,  ren- 
dered the  unmaking  of  illegally  constituted  knights,  if  not  common, 
at  least  an  occasional  occurrence.  Henry  III.,  as  I  have  said  in 
another  page,  summoned  tenants  in  capite  to  receive  knighthood 
from  himself,  and  authorized  tenants  of  mesne  lords  to  receive  the 
honor  from  whom  they  pleased.  But  there  must  have  been  ccm- 
siderable  disrating  of  these  last  distinguished  persons,  or  such  an 
abuse  of  creation,  so  to  speak,  that  the  privilege  was  stopped, 
except  by  special  permission  of  the  king.  Some  places,  in 
France,  however,  declared  that  they  held  a  prescriptive  right 
for  burgesses  to  receive  knighthood  at  the  hands  of  noblemen, 
without  the  royal  permission.  Hallam,  quoting  Yillaret,  says 
that  burgesses,  in  the  great  commercial  towns,  were  considered  as 


462  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THETB  DATS. 

of  a  superior  class  to  the  rotoriers,  and  possessed  a  kind  of  demi- 
nobilitj. 

Ridiculous  as  modem  knights,  whether  of  town  or  country, 
have  been  made  upon  the  stage,  it  is  indisputable  that  in  some 
cases  the  ridicule  has  not  been  what  painters  call  ^^  loaded/'  and 
the  reality  was  in  itself  a  caricature.  I  have  read  somewhere  of 
one  city  gentleman,  who  was  knighted  during  his  shrievalty,  and 
who  forthwith  emancipated  himself  a  little  from  business,  and 
aired  his  chivalrous  "  sir*'  in  gay  company.  He  was  once,  how- 
ever, sorely  puzzled  on  receiving  a  note  of  invitation  from  a  lady 
whose  soirees  were  the  especial  delight  of  her  guests,  and  whose 
note  ended  with  the  initials,  so  absurdly  placed  at  the  termination 
of  an  invitation  in  £nglish.  R.  S.  V.  P.,  '^reponse,  s'il  vous 
plait"  The  newly-coined  -knight,  after  allusions  to  the  pressure 
of  business,  accepted  the  hospitality  offered  him  through  the  note, 
remarking  at  the  same  time,  that  <<  all  work  and  no  play  made 
Jack  a  dull  boy,"  and  that  he  knew  nothing  more  to  his  taste,  after 
a  long  day's  application,  than  what  her  ladyship's  note  appeared  to 
present  to  him  in  the  initials  at  its  foot ;  namely,  a  Regular  Small 
Yist  Party.  If  this  anecdote  be  not  apocryphal,  I  suspect  that 
the  kni^fs  remark  may  .have  sprung  less  from  ignorance  than 
humor,  and  that  his  reading  of  the  initials  was  meant  as  a  censure  . 
upon  an  absurd  fashion. 

While  speaking  of  city  knights  at  home,  and  their  humor,  I 
will  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity  to  give  an  instance  of  wit  in 
a  poor  chevalier  of  the  city  of  Paris,  whose  whole  wealth  consist- 
ed of  a  few  unproductive  acres  near  the  capital,  and  whose  son 
had  just  married  a  wealthy  heiress  of  very  low  degree.  *'  H  fait 
bien,"  said  the  old  knight,  ^'  il  fume  mes  terres !" 

This  was  hardly  courteous;  but  elevated  courtesy  was  never 
wanting  among  true  knights,  in  the  very  rudest  of  times. 

Strange  contrasts  of  feeling  were  sometimes  exhibited.  Thus, 
when  the  English  were  besieging  Orleans,  they  grew  suddenly 
tired  of  their  bloody  work,  on  Christmas-day,  and  asked  for  a 
truce  while  they  ate  their  pudding;  The  request  was  not  only 
readily  granted,  but  the  French  knights,  hearing  that  the  day  w£is 
dull  in  the  English  camp,  obtained  the  permission  of  the  bastard 
Dunois,  to  send  over  some  musicians  to  enliven  the  melancholy 


PIECES  OF  ARMOR.  463 

leaguers.  The  band  played  lustily  during  the  whole  period  of  the 
truce,  but  the  last  notes  had  scarcely  ceased,  and  the  ^<  Godons** 
as  Jeanne  Dare  rather  corruptiYely  called  our  great  sires,  who 
were  too  much  addicted  to  swearing,  had  hardly  ceased  uttering 
their  thanks  for  the  musical  entertainment,  when  their  cannonade 
was  renewed  by  the  besiegers  with  such  vigor,  that  the  French 
knights  swore — harmony  had  never  before  been  paid  in  such 
hard  coin. 

There  was  little  ill-feeling  consequent  npon  this.  The  pages 
in  either  army  were  allowed  to  amuse  themselves  by  slaying  each 
other  in  a  two  days'  duel,  presided  over  by  the  respective  generals- 
in-chief.  This  was  chivalrous  proof  that  neither  party  bore  maBce, 
and  they  beat  out  each  other's  brains  on  the  occasion,  in  testimony 
of  universal  good-will,  with  as  much  delighted  feeling  as  if  they 
had.  all  been  Irishmen.  A  further  proof  of  absence  of  individual 
rancor  may  be  seen  in  the  fact,  that  Suffolk  sent  a  gift  of  pigs, 
dates,  and  raisins,  for  the  dessert  of  Dunois ;  and  the  latter  ao 
knowledged  the  present  by  forwarding  to  the  English  general  some 
fur  for  his  robe — Suffolk  having  complained  bitterly  of  the  cold 
of  that  memorable  February,  1429. 

This  reminds  me  of  a  similar  interchange  of  courtesy  between 
French  and  English  antagonists,  in  later  times.  When  brave 
Elliot  was  defending  Gibraltar  from  gallant  CriUon,  the  former, 
who  never  ate  meat,  suffered  greatly  (as  did  his  scurvy-stricken 
men)  from  a  scarcity  of  vegetables.  Crillion  had  more  than  he 
wanted,  and  he  sent  of  his  superabundance,  most  liberally,  to  the 
foe  whom  he  respected.  A  whole  cart-load  of  carrots  and  compli- 
ments made  general  and  garrison  glad,  and  EUiot  was  as  proiuse 
in  his  'gratitude  as  he  was  bound  to  be.  It  may  be  remembered 
that  similar  exchanges  of  courtesy  and  creature-comforts  took 
place  at  SebastopoL  Sir  Edmund  Lyons  sent  Admiral  Na- 
chimoff  a  fat  buck,  a  gift  which  the  large-minded  hero  of  the 
Sinope  butchery  repaid  by  a  hard  Dutch  cheese.  It  may  be 
said  too  that  the  buck  would  have  been  more  appropriately 
sent  to  the  half-starved. English  heroes  who  were  rotting  in  the 
trenches. 

There  were  some  other  naval  knights  of  old,  touching  whom  I 
may  here  say  a  word. 


464  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIB  DATS. 

Hie  history  of  the  sea-kings  or. sea-knights,  whose  noble  Toca- 
tion  it  was  to  descend  from  the  north  with  little  but  ballast  in  the 
holds  of  their  vessels,  and  to  return  thither  heavily  laden  with 
plunder  and  glory,  is  tolerably  well  known  to  the  majority  of 
readers.  The  story  of  the  Flemish  pirates,  who,  nearly  eight 
centuries  ago,  carried  terror  to,  and  brought  spoil  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean, is  far  less  ^unilinr.  This  stoiy  is  well  illustrated  in  the 
"  Biographic  des  hommes  remarquables  de  la  Flandres  Occiden- 
tale,"  of  whom  the  authors  are  M.  Octave  Delepierre,  the  accom- 
plished Belgian  consul  in  this  country,  and  Mr.  Carton. 

The  period  is  a  warm  June  evening  of  the  year  1097.  Off  the 
coast  of  Cilicia,  two  large  vessels,  belonging  to  the  Emperor 
Alexis  Comnenus,  and  manned  by  Constantinopolitan  Greeks, 
were  surrounded  and  attacked  by  ten  fast-sailing  but  small  vessels, 
belonging  to  the  dreaded  ^  Greek  Pirates,"  whose  name  alone 
brought  terror  with  the  sound.  On  the  prow  of  each  light  bark 
was  a  rudely  sculptured  figure  oi  a  lion ;  from  the  summit  of  the 
tall  mast  was  displayed  a  green  pennant,  which  was  never  hauled 
down,  for  the  good  reason  that  the  pirates  never  attacked  but  where 
success  seemed  certain ;  and  if  defeat  menaced  them  they  could 
easily  find  safety  in  fiight. 

There  was  scarcely  a  place  on  the  coast  which  they  had  not, 
for  ten  years  past,  visited ;  and  many  merchants  purchased  ex- 
emption from  attack  by  paying  a  species  of  very  liberal  black 
malL  It  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  an  emperor  to  buy  safety 
from  piratical  rovers,  and  they  had  little  respect  for  his  vessels,  in 
consequence. 

M.  Delepierre  informs  us  that  these  Flemish  pirates  had  been, 
originally,  merchants,  but  that  they  thought  it  more  profitable  to 
steal  than  to  barter ;  and  found  ^<  skimming  the  seas,"  as  the  phrase 
went,  far  more  lucrative  than  living  by  the  dull  precepts  of  trade. 
Their  three  prmcipal  chiefs  were  Zegher  of  Bruges,  Gheraert  of 
Courtrai,  and  Wjmer  (whose  name  still  lives  in  Wimereux)  of 
Boulogne.  The  force  they  had  under  them  amounted  to  four 
hundred  intrepid  men,  who  were  at  once  sailors  and  soldiers,  and 
who  are  described  as  being  so  skilful  that  they  could  with  one 
hand  steer  the  ship,  and  with  the  other  wield  the  boarding-hatch- 
eU    It  will  be  seen  that  our  Laureate's  exhortation  to  knavish 


PIECES  OF  ARMOR.  465 

tradesmen  to  lay  down  their  weights  and  their  measures,  and  to 
mend  their  ways  by  taking  to  the  vocation  of  arms,  had  here  a 
practical  illustration.  In  the  present  case,  M.  Delepierre  suggests 
that  the  pirates  were,  probably,  not  less  honest  men  than  the 
Greeks.  The  latter  were  ostensibly  on  their  way  to  succor  the 
Crusaders,  but  Alexis  was  a  double  dealer,  and  occasionally  de- 
spatched forces  against  the  infidel,  which  forces  turned  aside  to  as- 
sault those  Christian  neighbors  of  his,  who  were  too  powerful  to 
be  pleasant  in  such  a  vicinity,  and  to  get  rid  of  whom  was  to  be 
devoutly  desired,  and,  at  any  cost,  accomplished.  The  foreign 
policy  of  Alexis  was  as  villanously  void  of  principle  as  that 
of  any  government  under  a  more  advanced  period  of  Christian 
civilization. 

The  Greek  crews  had  been  summoned  to  surrender.  Gheraert 
of  Courtrai  had  called  to  them  to  that  effect  through  his  leathern 
speaking-trumpet.  He  probably  knew  little  of  Greek,  and  the 
Orientals  could  not  have  comprehended  his  Flemish.  We  may 
conclude  that  his  summons  was  in  a  macaronic  sort  of  style ;  in 
which  two  languages  were  used  to  convey  one  idea.  The  Hellenes 
replied  to  it,  however  it  may  have  sounded,  by  hurling  at  the 
Flemings  a  very  hurricane  of  stones. 

The  stout  men  from  Flanders  were  not  long  in  answering  in 
their  turn.  "They  put  into  play,"  says  M.  Delepierre,  "their 
mechanical  slings.  These  were  large  baskets  full  of  stones 
fastened  to  the  end  of  an  elevated  balance,  the  motion  of  which 
flung  them^  to  some  distance.  They  had  other  means  of  destruc- 
tion, in  enormous  engines,  which  hurled  beams  covered  with  iron, 
and  monster  arrows  wrapped  in  flaming  rosin.  With  scythe-blades 
attached  to  long  poles,  they  severed  the  ropes  and  destroyed  the 
sails,  and  then  flinging  out  their  grapnels  they  made  off  with 
their  prize." 

To  this  point  the  present  battle  had  not  yet  come.  It  had 
lasted  an  hour,  the  Greeks  had  suffered  mosl  by  the  means  of 
attack  above  noticed ;  and  they  had  inflicted  but  trifling  injury, 
comparatively,  upon  the  men  of  the  green  pennant.  They  re- 
fused, however,  to  surrender,  but  prepared  to  fly.  Wimer  saw 
the  preparatory  movement,  and,  in  a  loud  voice,  exclaimed : — "  A 
(Jozen  divers  !*' 

30 


466  THS  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIB  DAYS. 

Twelve  men,  quitting  their  posts,  leaped  over  the  side  of  the 
boat,  canying  enormous  tarierei  (augers)  with  them.  Thej  disap- 
peared beneath  the  waves ;  appeared  for  a  moment  or  two  again 
above  the  surface,  in  order  to  draw  breath ;  once  more  plunged 
downward ;  and,  finally,  at  the  end  of  ten -minutes,  climbed  again 
into  their  small  vessel,  exclaiming,  ^  Master,  it  is  done !" 

The  twelve  divers  had  established  twelve  formidable  leaks  in 
the  larger  of  the  two  Greek  vessels,  and  £is  it  began  to  sink,  the 
crew  agreed  to  surrender.  The  Green  Pirates  seized  all  that 
was  on  board  that  and  the  other  ship.  In  the  latter,  stripped  of 
everything  of  value,  they  allowed  the  two  Greek  crews  to  sail 
away ;  and  then  proceeded  toward  the  coast  with  their  booty,  con- 
sisting of  rich  stuffs,  provisions  and  arms.  There  was  far  more 
than  they  needed  for  their  own  wants ;  and  so,  for  the  nonce,  they 
turned  traders  again.  They  sold  at  a  good  price  what  they  had 
unscrupulouslj  stolen,  and  die  profits  realized  by  the  Flemish  ro- 
vers were  enough  to  make  all  honest,  but  poor  traders,  desire  to 
turn  corsairs. 

Zegher  ascended  the  Cjdnus,  in  order  to  pay  a  professional 
visit  to  Tarsis,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised,  on  approaching  the 
city,  to  see  formidable  preparations  made  to  resist  him.  On  draw- 
ing closer,  however,  the  pirate-leader  found  that  Tarsis  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  army  of  Flemish  crusaders  under  the  great  Count 
Baldwin ;  and  each  party  welcomed  the  other  with  joyous  shouts 
of  "  Long  live  Flanders !"  "  Long  live  the  Lion !"  The  arrival 
of  the  fieet  was  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  the  Flemings, 
who,  though  they  had  sufiered  less  than  the  French,  Italian, 
and  Grerman  legions,  by  whom  they  had  been  preceded,  and 
had  been  progressively  triumphing  since  they  had  landed,  need- 
ed succors  both  of  men  and  material,  and  lo!  here  were  the 
Green  Pirates  ready  to  l^mish  both,  for  a  consideration.  There 
was  abundance  of  feasting  that  night,  and  a  very  heavy  sermon  in 
the  morning. 

Baldwin  was  himself  the  preacher.  His  style  was  a  mixture 
of  exhorting  with  the  threatening ;  and  he  was  so  little  compli- 
mentary as  to  tell  the  Green  pirates  that  they  were  nothing  better 
than  brigands,  and  were  undoubtedly  on  their  way  to  the  devil. 
He  added  that  he  would  have  treated  them  as  people  of  such  a 


PIECES  OF  ARBIOB.  467 

character,  going  such  a  way,  only  that  they  were  his  countrymen. 
And  then  he  wept  at  the  very  thought  of  their  present  demerits, 
and  their  possible  destiny.  This  practice  of  weeping  was  inherit- 
ed by  knights  from  the  old  Greek  heroes,  and  a  chevalier  in  com- 
plete steel  might  shed  tears  till  his  suit  was  rusty,  without  the 
slightest  shame.  The  exhortation  continued  without  appearing  to 
make  any  sensible  impression  upon  the  rovers.  Baldwin,  how- 
ever, pointed  his  address  at  the  end,  with  an  observation  that  if 
they  would  join  him  in  his  career  of  arms,  he  would  give  them 
lands  that  should  make  lords  of  the  whole  of  them.  Upon  this 
observation  the  Green  Pirates,  with  a  little  modest  allusion  to  their 
unworthiness^  declared  that  they  were  eager,  one  and  all,  to  turn 
crusaders. 

Each  man  attached  a  small  green  cross,  in  cloth,  to  the  top 
of  his  sleeve ;  and  joyfully  followed  Baldwin  to  the  field.  The 
count  was  no  more  able  to  keep  his  word  than  a  recruiting 
sergeant  who  promises  a  recruit  that  he  shall  be  made  a  field- 
marshal.  Nor  was  he  to  blame,  for  the  greater  part  of  his  new 
allies  perished;  but  enough  were  left  to  make  a  score  of  very 
doughty  knights. 

AdmiraUe  sailors  were  the  Northmen,  especially  the  Anglo- 
NormanS)  whether  with  respect  to  manoeuvring  or  courage. 
"  Close  quarters"  formed  the  condition  on  which  they  liked  to  be 
with  an  enemy.  "  Grapple  and  board"  was  their  system  as  soon 
as  they  had  created  a  little  confusion  among  the  enemy  with 
their  cross-bows  and  slings.  The  ^^  mariners"  in  those  days 
fought  in  armor,  with  heavy  swords,  spears,  and  battle-axes. 
They  were  well  furnished  too  with  bags  of  quick-lime,  the 
contents  of  which  they  flung  into  the  eyes  of  their  adversaries, 
when  they  could  get  to  windward  of  them,  an  end  which  they 
always  had  in  view. 

The  first  regular  naval  battle  fought  between  the  English  and 
the  French  was  conducted  by  the  former  after  the  fashion  above 
mentioned.  It  was  during  the  reign  of  Heniy  IIL,  when  Louis 
of  France,  by  the  destruction  of  his  army  at "  the  fair  of  Lincoln," 
was  shut  up  in  London,  and  depended  on  the  exertions  of  his  , 
wife,  Blanche  of  CastUe,  for  his  release.  Blanche  sent  eighty 
large  ships,  besides  many  smaller  vessels,  from  Calais,  under  a 


468  THE  KNIOHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS. 

piratical  commander,  the  celebrated  Eustace  Le  Moine.  Hubert 
de  Burgh  had  only  forty  vessels  wherewith  to  proceed  against  this 
overwhelming  force ;  and  on  board  of  these  the  English  knights 
proceeded,  under  protest  and  with  a  world  of  grumbling,  at  being 
compelled  to  fight  on  the  waters  when  they  had  no  sea-legs,  and 
were  accufitomed  to  no  battles  but  those  on  land.  No  heed  was 
taken  of  protest  or  grumbling;  the  forty  vessels  were  loosened 
from  their  moorings,  and  away  went  the  reluctant  but  strong- 
boned  land  sailors,  all  in  shirts  of  mail  in  place  of  Guernsey  jack- 
ets, to  contend  for  the  first  time  with  a  French  fleet  The  English 
ships  contrived  to  get  between  Calais  and  the  enemy's  vessels,  and 
fell  upon  the  latter  in  their  rear.  The  English  bowmen  handled 
their  favorite  weapons  with  a  deadly  dexterity ;  and  as  soon  as 
their  vessels  were  made  fast  to  those  of  the  French,  out  flew  the 
quick-lime,  flung  by  the  English,  and  carried  by  the  wind  into  the 
faces  of  the  French.  While  these  were  stamping  with  pain, 
screwing  their  eyes  up  to  look  through  the  lime-dust,  or  turiiing 
their  backs  to  avoid  it,  the  English  boarders  made  a  rush,  cut 
down  men,  hacked  away  the  rigging,  and  so  utterly  defeated  the 
French,  unaccustomed  to  this  sort  of  fighting,  that  of  the  great 
French  fleet  only  fifteen  vesseb  escaped.  The  number  of  Gallic 
knights  and  inferior  officers  captured  was  very  large.  As  for 
Eustace  le  Moine,  he  had  slunk  below  to  avoid  the  lime-powder 
and  battle-axes.  He  was  seized  by  Richai-d  Fitzroy,  King  John's 
illegitimate  son.  Fitzroy  refused  to  give  the  recreant  quarter,  but 
hewed  off  his  head  on  the  taffrail,  and  sent  it  from  town  to  town 
through  England  as  a  pleasant  exhibition. 

Errant  knights  in  quest  of  adventure,  and  anxious  to  secure  re- 
nown, less  frequently  visited  England  than  other  countries.  They 
appear  to  have  had  a  mortal  dislike  of  the  sea.  This  dislike  was 
common  to  the  bravest  and  greatest  among  them.  I  may  cite,  as 
an  instance,  the  case  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  his  cavaliers, 
captured  at  Agincourt,  and  brought  over  to  England,  from  Calais 
to  Dover,  by  the  gallant  and  lucky  Henry.  The  latter  walked 
the  deck  during  a  heavy  ground  swell,  with  as  much  enjoyment  as 
though  he  had  been  to  the  matter  born.  The  French  prince  and 
his  knights,  on  the  other  hand,  were  as  ignorant  of  the  sea  and  as 
uneasy  upon  it  as  a  modem  English  Lord  of  the  Admiralty.    They 


PIECES   OF   ARMOR.  469 

suffered  horribly,  and  one  and  all  declared  that  they  would  rather 
be  daily  exposed  to  the  peril  of  battle,  than  cross  the  straits  of 
Dover  once  a  month. 

Nevertheless,  stray  knights  did  occasionally  brave  the  dangers 
of  the  deep,  and  step  ashore  on  the  coast  of  Kent  with  a  challenge 
to  all  comers  of  equal  degree.  We  have  an  instance  of  this  sort 
of  adventurer  in  Jacques  de  Lelaing,  whose  story  is  told  in  this 
volume.  We  hear  of  another  in  the  nameless  knight  of  Aragon, 
who  in  the  reign  of  Henry  V.  set  all  London  and  many  a  provin- 
cial baronial  hall  in  commotion  by  his  published  invitation  to  all 
knights  of  the  same  rank  as  himself,  to  come  and  give  him  a  taste 
of  their  quality  in  a  bout  at  two-edged  sword,  axe,  and  dagger. 

The  challenge  was  promptly  accepted  by  stout  Sir  Robert  Gary. 
Sir  Robert  was  a  poor  knight,  with  nothing  to  lose,  for  his  sire 
had  lost  all  he  possessed  before  Sir  Robert's  time,  by  being  faith- 
ful to  poor  Richard  II.,  a  virtue,  for  the  exercise  of  which  he  was 
punished  by  forfeiture  of  his  estates,  decreed  against  him  by  Henry 
IV.  The  disinherited  knight,  therefore,  had  a  chance  of  winning 
land  as  well  as  honor,  should  he  subdue  the  arrogant  Aragonese. 
The  two  met  in  the  then  fashionable  district  of  Smithfield,  and  the 
Devonshire  swordsman,  after  a  bloody  and  long-enduring  fight,  so 
thoroughly  vanquished  the  Spaniard,  that  the  king,  who  delighted 
in  such  encounters,  and  who  was  especially  glad  when  victory  was 
won  by  the  side  he  most  favored,  not  only  restored  to  Sir  Robert 
the  forfeited  paternal  estates,  but  he  also  authorized  him  to  wear 
the  arms  of  the  much-bruised  knight  from  beiyond  sea. 

At  a  later  period  knightly  estates  went  in  the  service  of  another 
king.  Sir  Henry  Gary  risked  life  and  property  in  the  cause  of 
Gharles  I.,  and  while  he  preserved  the  first,  he  was  deprived  of 
nearly  all  the  latter.  The  head  of  the  family,  no  longer  a  knight, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  was  residing  at  Torr  Bay,  when  the  Old 
Ghevalier  was  about  to  attempt  to  regain  the  three  crowns  which, 
according  to  no  less  than  a  French  archiepiscopal  authority, 
James  II.  had  been  simple  enough  to  lose  for  one  mass.  At  this 
period,  the  English  king  that  would  be,  sent  the  Duke  of  Ormond 
to  the  head  of  the  Gary  family,  and  not  only  conveyed  to  him  an 
assurance  that  his  services  to  the  Stuarts  had  not  been  forgotten  ; 
but,  by  way  of  guarantee  that  future,  and  perhaps  more  than 


470  THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THEIR  DAYS 

knightly  honors  should  be  heaped  upon  him,  in  case  of  Tictory  de- 
claring for  the  Stuart  cause,  the  chevalier  sent  him  the  portraits 
of  James  11.,  and  of  that  monarch's  wife,  Mary  of  Modena.  Sim- 
ilar portraits  are  to  be  found  among  the  cherished  treasures  of 
many  English  &milies ;  and  these  are  supposed  (o  have  been  (Higi- 
nally  distributed  among  various  families,  as  pledges  from  the  giver, 
that  for  swords  raised,  money  lost,  or  blood  shed  in  the  cause  of 
the  Stuarts,  knighthood  and  honors  more  substantial  should  follow 
as  soon  as  *^  the  king"  should  ^  get  his  own  again." 

To  revert  to  Charles  I.,  it  may  be  added  that  he  was  not  half 
to  energetic  in  trying  to  keep  his  own  as  his  grandson  was  in  try- 
ing to  recover  what  had  been  lost  An  incident  connected  with 
the  battle  of  Bowton  Heath  will  serve  to  exemplify  this.  Never 
did  king  have  better  champion  than  Charles  had  on  that  day,  in 
the  able  knight  Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale.  The  knight  in  ques- 
tion had  gained  a  marked  advantage  over  his  adversary,  the 
equally  able  Poyntz.  To  cheer  the  king,  then  beleaguered  in 
Chester  Castle,  with  the  news.  Sir  Marmaduke  despatched  Colonel 
Shakerley.  He  could  not  have  commissioned  a  better  man.  The 
colonel  contrived  to  get  into  Chester  afler  crossing  the  Dee  in  a 
tub,  which  he  worked  with  one  hand,  while  he  towed  his  horse 
after  him  mth  the  other.  He  delivered  his  message,  and  offered 
to  convey  an  answer  or  instructions  back  to  Sir  Marmaduke,  and 
by  the  same  means,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  The  king  hesitated  ; 
some  sanction  required  for  a  certain  course  of  action  proposed  by 
Sir  Marmaduke  was  not  given,  and  Poyntz  recovered  his  lost 
ground,  defeated  the  royal  horse,  and  thus  effectually  prevented 
Charles  from  obtaining  access  to  Scotland  and  Montrose. 

I  have  given  some  illustrations  of  the  means  by  which  knight- 
hood was  occasionally  gained :  an  amusing  illustration  remains  to 
be  told.  Dangeau,  in  his  memoirs,  speaks  of  two  French  peer- 
esses who  lived  chiefly  upon  asses'  milk,  but  who,  nevertheless, 
became  afflicted  with  some  of  the  ills  incident  to  humanity,  and 
were  ordered  to  take  physic.  They  were  disgusted  with  the  pre- 
scription, but  got  over  the  difficulty  charmingly  by  physicking  the 
donkey.  It  was  not  an  unusual  thing  in  France  for  very  great 
people  to  treat  their  vices  as  they  did  their  ailments,  by  a  vicarious 
treatment.     Catherine  de  Medicis  is  one  out  of  many  instances  of 


PIECES  OP   ARMOR.  471 

this.  She  was  desirous  of  succeeding  in  some  great  attempt,  and 
set  down  her  failure  to  the  account  of  her  sins.  She  instantly  de- 
clared that  she  would  atone  for  the  latter,  provided  her  desires 
were  accomplished,  by  finding  a  pilgrim  who  would  go  from  France 
to  Jerusalem,  on  foot,  and  who  at  every  three  steps  he  advanced 
should  go  back  one.  The  wished-for  success  was  achieved,  and 
after  some  difficulty  a  pilgrim  was  found,  strong  enough,  and  suffi- 
ciently persevering  to  perform  the  pilgrimage.  The  royal  pledge 
was  redeemed,  and  there  only  remained  to  reward  the  pilgrim, 
who  was  a  soldier  from  the  neighborhood  of  Viterbo.  Some  say 
he  was  a  merchant ;  but  merchant  or  soldier,  Catherine  knighted, 
ennobled,  and  enriched  him.  His  arms  were  a  cross  and  a  branch 
of  palm  tree.  We  are  not  told  if  he  had  a  motto.  It,  at  all 
events,  could  not  have  been  nulla  vestigia  retrorsum.  They  who 
affirm  that  the  pilgrim  was  a  merchant,  declare  that  his  de- 
scendants lost  their  nobility  by  falling  again  into  commercial  ways 
— a  course  which  was  considered  very  derogatory,  and  indeed, 
degrading,  in  those  exclusive  days. 

I  may  mention  here  that  Heraldry  has,  after  all,  very  unfairly 
treated  many  of  the  doers  of  great  deeds.  •  No  person  below  the 
degree  of  a  knight  could  bear  a  cognizance  of  his  own.  Thus, 
many  a  squire  may  have  outdone  his  master  in  bravery ;  and  in- 
deed, many  a  simple  soldier  n^y  have  done  the  same,  but  the 
memory  of  it  could  not  go  down  to  posterity,  because  the  valiant 
actor  was  not  noble  enough  to  be  worthy  of  distinction.  In  our 
English  army,  much  the  same  rule  still  obtains.  Illustrious  in- 
competence is  rewarded  with  "  orders,"  but  plain  John  Smith,  who 
has  captured  a  gun  with  his  own  hands,  receives  a  couple  of  sover- 
eigns, which  only  enable  him  to  degrade  himself  by  getting  drunk 
with  his  friends.  Our  heraldic  writers  approve  of  this  dainty  way 
of  conferring  distinctions.  An  anonymous  author  of  a  work  on 
Heraldry  and  Chivalry,  published  at  Worcester  "sixty  years 
since,"  says — "We  must  consider  that  had  heraldry  distributed 
its  honors  indiscriminately,  and  with  too  lavish  a  hand,  making  no 
distinction  betwee^i  gentry  and  plebeians,  the  glory  of  arms  would 
have  been  lost,  and  their  lustre  less  refulgent." 

But  it  is  clear  that  the  rule  which  allowed  none  to  bear  cogni- 
zance who  was  not  of  the  rank  of  a  knight,  was  sometimes  in^ 


472  THE   KNIGHTS  AND  TH£IB  DAYS 

fringed.  Thus,  when  Edward  the  Black  Prince  made  the  stont 
Sir  James  Audlej,  his  own  especial  knight^  with  an  annuity  of 
five  hundred  marks,  for  gallant  services  at  Foictiers,  Audlej 
divided  the  annuity  among  his  four  squires.  Delves,  Dntton,  Foul- 
thurst,  and  Uawkeston,  and  also  gave  them  permission  to  wear  his 
own  achievements,  in  memory  of  the  way  in  which  they  had  kept 
at  his  side  on  the  bloody  day  of  Poictiers. 

The  fashion  of  different  families  wearing  the  same  devices  had, 
however,  its  inconveniences.  Thus,  it  happened  that  at  this  very 
battle  of  Poictiers,  or  a  little  before  it,  Sir  John  Chandos  recon- 
noitring the  French  army,  fell  in  with  the  Seigneur  de  Clerment, 
who  was  reconnoitring  the  Englbh  army.  Each  saw  that  the 
device  on  the  upper  vestment  of  his  adversary  was  the  same  as 
his  own,  blue  worked  with  rays  of  gold  round  the  border.  They 
each  fell  to  sharp,  and  not  very  courteous  words.  The  French 
lord  at  length  remarked  that  Sir  John's  claim  to  wear  the  device 
was  just  like  '^  the  boastings  of  you  English.  You  can  not  invent 
anything  new,"  added  the  angry  French  knight,  "  but  when  you 
stumble  on  a  pretty  novelty,  you  forthwith  appropriate  it"  After 
more  angry  words  they  separated,  vowing  that  in  next  day*s  fight, 
they  would  make  good  all  their  assertions. 

As  the  general  rule  was,  that  squires  could  not  bear  a  cogni- 
zance, so  also  was  it  a  rule  that  ^knights  should  only  fight  with 
their  equals. 

For  knights  are  bonnd  lo  feel  no  blows 

From  paltry  and  unequal  foes ; 

Who,  when  they  slash  and  cut  to  pieces. 

Do  all  with  civilest  addresses. 

It  is  in  allusion  to  this  rule  that  Don  Quixote  says  to  Sancho~ 
Panza :  "  Friend  Sancho,  for  the  future,  whenever  thou  perceivest 
us  to  be  any  way  abused  by  such  inferior  fellows,  thou  art  not  to 
expect  that  I  should  offer  to  draw  my  sword  against  them ;  for  I 
will  not  do  it  in  the  least ;  no,  do  thou  then  draw  and  chastise  them 
as  thou  lliinkest  fit ;  but  if  any  knight  come  to  take  their  part, 
then  will  I  be  sure  to  step  in  between  thee  and  danger." 

Knights,  as  I  have  said,  have  had  honor  conferred  on  them  for 
very  strange  reasons,  in  many  countries,  but  in  none  for  slighter 
reasons,  perhaps,  than  in  France.      We  may  probably  except 


PIECES  OF   ARMOB.  478 

Belgium ;  for  there  is  a  living  knight  there,  who  obtained  Lis 
order  of  chivalry  for  his  pleasant  little  exhibition  of  gallantry  in 
furnishing  nevr-laid  eggs  eveiy  morning  at  the  late  queen's  table, 
when  every  hen  but  his,  in  the  suburban  village  of  Laecken  had 
ceased  to  lay ! 

Dumas,  in  his  ^^  Salvandire,"  satirically  illustrates  how  knights 
were  occasionally  made  in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV.  The  hero  of 
that  dashing  romance  finds  himself  a  jcaptive  in  the  prison  of  Fort 
TEv^que ;  and  as  the  king  will  not  grant  him  permission  to  leave, 
he  resolves  to  leave  without  permission.  He  makes  the  attempt 
by  night,  descends  from  the  window  in  the  dark,  is  caught  by  the 
thigh  on  a  spike,  and  is  ultimately  carried  to  a  cell  and  a  bed 
within  his  prison-walls.  The  following  day  the  governor  waits 
upon  him,  and  questions  him  upon  the  motives  for  his  dangerous 
enterprise.  The  good  governor's  curiosity  is  founded  solely  on 
his  anxiety  to  elicit  from  the  prisoner,  that  the  desire  of  the  latter 
to  escape  was  not  caused  by  his  dissatisfaction  with  any  of  the 
prison  arrangements,  whether  of  discipline  or  diet.  The  captive 
signs  a  certificate  to  thai  efiect,  addii\g,  that  his  sole  motive  for 
endeavoring  to  set  himself  free,  was  because  he  had  never  done 
anything  to  deserve  that  he  should  be  put  under  restraint*  A  few 
days  afler,  the  governor  announces  to  the  recluse  that  the  certifi- 
cate of  the  latter  has  had  an  excellent  eiSect.  Roger  supposes 
that  it  has  gained  him  his  liberty ;  but  the  governor  complacently 
remarks  that  it  has  done  better  than  that,  and  that  the  king,  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  strict  character  of  the  governor's  surveil- 
lance, has  created  him  chevalier  of  the  order  of  St  Louis.  If 
all  the  prisoners  had  succeeded  ia  escaping,  as  nearly  as  Roger, 
the  governor  would  probably  have  been  made  Kaight  of  the  Holy 
Ghost !  The  king  of  France  had  many  such  faithful  servants ; 
but  history  afibrds  many  examples  of  a  truer  fidelity  than  this ; 
particularly  the  old  romances  and  legendary  history — examples 
of  faithfulness  even  after  death  5  but,  though  there  may  be  many 
more  romantic  in  those  chronicles,  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  one  so 
touching  as  the  proof  of  fidelity  which  a  knighted  civilian,  Sir 
Thomas  Meautis,  gave  of  his  affection  for  Lord  Bacon,  to  whom 
that  ancient  servant  of  the  great  lawyer,  elected  a  monument  at 
his  own  cost     Hamond  Lestrange  relates  a  curious  incident,  to 


474  THE  KNIGHTS   AND  THEIR  DATS. 

bK»w  that  these  two  were  not  divided  even  after  death.  ^  Sir 
Thomas,**  sajs  Lestrange,  ^  was  not  nearer  to  him  living  than 
dead ;  for  this  6ir  Thomas  ending  his  life  about  a  score  of  years 
after,  it  was  his  lot  to  be  inhumed  so  near  his  lord's  sepulchre, 
that  in  the  forming  of  his  grave,  part  of  the  viscount's  body  was 
exposed  to  view ;  which  being  espied  by  a  doctor  of  physic,  he 
demanded  the  head  to  be  given  to  him ;  and  did  most  shameftilly 
disport  himself  with  that  skull  which  was  somewhile  the  continent 
of  so  vast  treasures  of  knowledge." 

Other  knights  have  been  celebrated  for  other  qualities.  Thus, 
Sir  Julius  Caesar  never  heard  Bishop  Hackett  preach  without 
Beading  him  a  piece  of  money.  Indeed,  the  good  knight  never 
heard  any  preacher  deliver  a  sermon  without  sending  him  money, 
a  pair  of  gloves,  or  some  other  little  gift.  He  was  unwilling,  he 
said,  to  hear  the  Word  of  God,  gratis. 

Other  knights  have  cared  less  to  benefit  preachers,  than  to  set 
up  for  makers  or  explainers  of  doctrines  themselves.  Thus  the 
Chevalier  Ramsay  held  that  Adam  and  Eve  begdt  the  entire 
human  race  in  Paradise,  the  members  of  which  feU  with  their  pro- 
creators  ;  and  in  this  way  the  chevalier  found  in  an  intelligible 
form  ^  the  great,  ancient,  and  luminous  doctrine  of  our  co-exist- 
ence with  our  first  parents."  The  Chevalier  deemed  that  in 
teaching  such  doctrine  he  was  rearing  plants  for  a  new  Paradise ; 
but  he  was  not  half  so  usefully  engaged  as  some  brother  knights 
who  were  practicaUy  engaged  as  planters.  We  may  cite  Sir 
John  St  Aubyn,  who  introduced  plane-trees  into  Cornwall  in 
1723;  and  Sir  Anthony  Ashley,  the  Dorchester  knight,  who 
enjoys  the  reputation  of  having  introduced  cabbages  into  England 
about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

In  contrast  with  these  useful  knights,  the  person  of  the  once 
famous  Chevalier  de  Lorenzi  seems  to  rise  before  me,  and  of  him 
I  will  now  add  a  few  words,  by  way  of  conclusion  to  my  miscel- 
laneous volume. 

It  is  perhaps  the  tritest  of  platitudes  to  say  that  men  are  dis- 
tinguished by  various  qualities ;  but  it  is  among  the  strangest  if 
not  most  novel  of  paradoxes,  that  the  same  man  should  be  re^ 
markable  for  endowments  of  the  most  opposite  quality.  The  ec- 
centric knight  whose  name  and  title  I  have  given  above,  is,  how- 


PIECES  OF   ARMOR.  476 

ever,  an  illustration  of  the  fact ;  namely,  that  a  man  may  be  at 
once  stupid  and  witty.  It  was  chiefly  for  h!s  stupidity  that  Lo- 
renzi  was  famous,  a  stupidity  which  excited  laughter.  I  must, 
nevertheless,  say  in  behalf  of  the  brother  of  the  once  celebrated 
minister  of  France  at  the  Court  of  Florence,  in  the  days  of 
Louis  XV.,  that  his  stupidity  so  often  looks  like  wit,  as  to  induce 
the  belief  that  it  was  a  humor  too  refined  for  his  hearers  to  ap- 
preciate. 

Acute  as  Grimm  was,  he  seems  to  have  undervalued  the  cheva- 
lier in  this  respect.  That  literary  minister-plenipotentiary  of  the 
Duke  of  Saxe  Gotha  could  only  see  in  the  chevalier  the  most  ex- 
traordinary of  originals.  He  acknowledges,  at  the  same  time, 
Lorenzi's  high  feeling  of  honor,  and  his  frank  and  gentle  spirit. 
The  chevalier  was  crammed  with  scientific  knowledge,  but  so  con- 
fusedly that,  according  to  Grimm,  he  could  never  explain  himself 
in  an  intelligible  way,  or  without  exciting  shouts  of  laughter  on 
the  part  of  his  hearers.  Madame  de  Geoffrin,  when  comparing 
the  chevalier  with  the  ungraceful  M.  de  Burigny,  said  that  the 
latter  was  awkward  in  body,  but  that  Lorenzi  was  awkward  in 
mind.  As  the  latter  never  spoke  without,  at  least,  an  air  of  pro 
found  reflection,  and  had  therewith  a  piquant  Florentine  accent, 
his  mistakes  were  more  relished.  I  do  not  think  much  of  his  mis- 
apprehension when  introduced,  at  Lyons,  to  M.  de  la  Michaudlere, 
in  whose  company  he  dined,  at  the  residence  of  the  commandant 
of  the  city.  The  gentleman  was  addressed  by  an  old  acquaintance 
as  Le  Michaudi^re,  and  Lorenzi,  mistaking  this  for  L'Ami  Chau- 
didre,  persisted  in  calling  the  dignified  official  by  the  appellation 
of  Monsieur  Ghaudiere,  .which,  to  the  proud  intendant  of  Lyons, 
must  have  been  as  bad  as  if  the  chevalier  had  certified  that  the 
intendanfs  father  was  a  brazier. 

He  was  far  more  happy,  whether  by  chance  or  design,  I  can 
not  say,  at  a  subsequent  supper  at  M.  de  la  Michaudiere's  house. 
At  the  table  sat  M.  le  Normant,  husband  of  Madame  de  Bompa- 
dour,  then  at  the  height  of  her  brilliant  infamy.  Lorenzi  hearing 
from  a  neighbor,  in  reply  to  an  inquiry,  that  the  gentleman  was 
the  consort  of  the  lady  in  question,  forthwith  addressed  him  as 
Monsieur  de  Pompadour,  which  was  as  severe  an  inflicfion  as 
husband  so  situated  could  well  have  endured. 


476  TU£  KNlUUTb   AND  TH£IH  DAYS. 

Thu  honorable  chevalier  was  clearly  not  a  religious  man — 
but  among  knights  and  other  distinguished  personages  in  France, 
and  elsewhere,  at  the  period  of  which  I  am  treating,  the  two  terms 
were  perfectly  distinct,  and  had  no  necessary  connection.  Accord- 
ingly, a  lady  who  had  called  on  Lorenzi  one  Sunday  morning, 
before  eleyen  o'clock,  proposed,  at  the  end  of  their  conyersation, 
to  go  with  him  to  mass.  '*  Do  they  still  celebrate  mass  ?"  asked 
tlie  chevalier,  with  an  air  of  astonishment.  As  he  had  not  attend- 
ed mass  for  fifleen  years,  Grimm  gravely  asserts  that  the  Floren- 
tine imagined  that  it  was  no  longer  celebrated.  ^  The  more,"  adds 
the  epistolary  baron,  ^Mhat  as  he  never  went- out  before  two 
o'clock,  he  no  longer  recollected  that  he  had  seen  a  church-door 
open." 

The  chevalier,  who  was  Knight  of  the  Order  of  St.  Stephen  of 
Tuscany,  and  who  had  withdrawn  from  the  French  Army,  with 
the  rank  of  colonel,  afler  the  conquest  of  Minorca,  had  a  great 
devotion  toward  the  abstract  sciences.  He  studied  geometry  and 
astronomy,  and  had  the  habit,  says  Grimm,  to  measure  the  events 
of  life,  and  reduce  them  to  geometrical  value.  As  he  was 
thoughtful,  he  more  frequently,  when  addressed,  made  reply  to 
abstruse  questionings  of  his  own  brain  than  to  persons  who 
spoke  to  him.  Grimm,  afler  saying  that  the  Knight  of  St.  Stephen 
was  only  struck  by  the  true  or  false  side  of  a  question,  and  never 
by  its  pleasant  or  amusing  aspect,  illustrates  his  saying  by  an  an- 
ecdote, in  which  many  persons  will  fail  to  find  any  remarkable 
point.  Grimm  encountered  him  at  Madame  GreoffHn's,  after  his 
return  from  a  tour  in  Italy.  ^^  I  saw  him  embroiling  his  senses 
with  the  genealogies  of  two  ladies  in  whpse  society  he  passes  his 
life,  and  who  bear  the  same  name,  although  they  are  of  distinct 
families.  Madame  Geoffrin  endeavored  to  draw  him  from  these 
genealogical  snares,  observing  to  him : — '  Really,  chevalier,  you 
are  in  your  dotage.  It  is  worse  than  ever.'  '  Madame,'  answered 
the  chjpvalier, '  life  is  so  short  1' "  Grimm  thought  he  should  have 
done  rank  injustice  to  posterity  if  he  had  not  recorded  tins  reply 
for  the  benefit  of  future  students  of  laconic  wit.  And  again : — 
Grimm  shows  us  the  chevalier  walking  with  Monsieur  de  St. 
Lambert  toward  Versailles.  On  the  way,  the  latter  asked  him 
his  age.     ''  I  am  sixty,"  said  the  knight.     ^'  I  did  not  think  you  so 


PIECES   OP   ARMOR.  477 

old,"  rejoined  Ms  friend.  "  Well,"  replied  the  chevalier,  "  when 
I  say  sixty,  I  am  not  indeed  quite  so  old,  just  yet ;  but — "  "  But 
how  old  are  you  then,  in  reality  ?"  asked  his  companion.  "  Fifty- 
five,  exactly ;  but  why  may  I  not  be  allowed  to  accustom  myself 
to  change  my  age  every  year,  as  I  do  my  shirt?" 

One  day,  he  was  praising  the  figure  of  a  lady,  but  instead  of 
saying  that  she  had  the  form  of  a  nymph,  he  said  that  her  shape 
was  like  that  of  Mademoiselle  Allard.  "Oh!"  cried  Grimm, 
"  you  are  not  lucky,  chevalier,  in  your  comparison.  Mademoiselle 
Allard  may  be  deservedly  eulogized  for  many  qualities,  but  no- 
body ever  thought  of  praising  her  shape."  "  Likely  enough,"  said 
Lorenzi,  "  for  I  do  not  know,  nor,  indeed,  have  I  ever  seen  her ; 
but  as  everybody  talks  about  Mademoiselle  Allard,  I  thought  I 
might  talk  about  her  too." 

If  there  was  satire  in  this  it  was  not  of  so  neat  a  quality  as 
that  exhibited  by  him  at  Madame  Greffon's,  where  he  was  spend- 
ing an  evening  with  Grimm  and  D'Alembert.  The  last  two  were 
seated,  and  conversing.  Lorenzi  stood  behind  them,  with  his  back 
to  the  chimney-piece,  and  scarcely  able  to  hold  up  his  head,  so 
overcome  was  he  by  a  desire  to  sleep.  ^  Chevalier,"  said  Grimm, 
"  you  must  find  our  conversation  a  horrid  bore^  since  you  fall 
asleep  when  you  are  on  your  legs."  "  Oh,  no !"  exclaimed  the 
chevalier,  "  you  see  I  go  to  sleep  when  I  like."  The  naivete 
with  which  he  insinuated  that  he  liked  to  go  to  sleep  rather  than 
listen  to  the  small  talk  of  a  wit  and  a  philosopher,  was  expressed 
with  a  delicious  delicacy. 

Of  his  rKm-sequential  remarks  Grimm  supplies  several.  He 
was  once  speaking  disparagingly  of  M.  de  St.  Lambert's  know- 
ledge of  chess.  "  You  forget,"  said  the  latter,  **^that  I  gained 
fifteen  louis  to  your  thirty  sous,  during  our  campaign  in  Minorca.' 
"  Oh,  ay,"  answered  the  knight,  "  but  that  was  toward  the  end  of 
the  siege  1" 

It  was  at  this  siege  that  he  used  to  go  to  the  trenches  with 
his  astronomical  instruments,  to  make  observations.  He  one  day 
returned  to  his  quarters  without  his  instruments,  having  left 
them  all  in  the  trenches.  "  They  will  certainly  be  stolen,"  said  a 
friend.  *^  That  can't  be,"  said  Lorenzi,  "  for  I  left  my  watch  with 
them." 


478  THE  KNIOHTS  AND  THEKB  DATS. 

And  yet  this  **  distranght"  knight  was  the  cause,  remote  canse, 
of  the  death  of  Admiral  Byng.  He  discovered,  by  mere  chance, 
in  his  quarters  at  Minorca,  a  book  of  signals  as  used  by  the  En- 
glish fleet.  He  hastened  with  it  to  the  Prince  de  Beaubeau,  who, 
in  his  turn,  hastened  to  place  it  before  the  Marshal  de  Blchelieu. 
The  oonmianders  could  scarcely  belieye  in  their  good  fortune,  but 
when  the  naval  combat  commenced  it  was  seen  that  the  English 
observed  diis  system  of  signals  exactly.  With  this  knowledge 
it  was  easy  to  anticipate  all  their  manoeuvres,  and  they  were  ob- 
liged to  withdraw  with  disgrace,  which  Byng  was  made  to 
expiate  by  his  death.  The  chevalier  never  thought  of  ask- 
ing for  a  reward,  and  his  government  entirely  forgot  to  give 
him  one. 

When  about  to  accompany  M.  de  Mirepoix,  who  was  appointed 
embassador  to  London,  he  packed  up  his  own  things  and  that  so 
perfectly  that  it  was  not  till  he  had  sent  them  off  that  he  discov- 
ered he  had  left  himself  nothing  to  travel  in  but  the  shirt  and 
robe-de-chambre  which  he  wore  whOe  employed  in  thus  disposing 
of  the  rest  of  his  wardrobe. 

He  lived  in  a  small  apartment  at  the  Luxembourg,  as  perscms 
of  like  rank  and  small  means  reside  in  the  royal  palace  at  Hamp- 
ton Court  One  day,  on  descending  the  staircase  he  slipped,  and 
broke  his  nose.  On  looking  round  for  the  cause  of  his  accident, 
he  observed  a  whitish  fluid  on  the  steps ;  and,  calling  the  porter, 
he  rated  him  soundly  for  allowing  this  soapy  water  to  remain  on 
the  staircase.  "  It  is  barley  water,"  said  the  porter,  "  which  a 
waiter  from  the  cafe  spilled  as  he  carried  it  along."  <^  Oh !  if 
that  be  the  case,"  replied  the  chevalier,  in  a  mild  tone,  and  witli 
his  hand  up  to  his  mutilated  nose,  ^^  if  that  be  the  case,  it  is  I  who 
am  in  the  wrong." 

Grimm  adds,  in  summing  up  his  character,  that  he  was  richer 
in  pocket  handkerchief  than  any  other  man.  As  his  apartment 
was  just  under  th^roof  of  the  palace,  and  that  he,  almost  every 
day  on  going  out,  forgot  to  take  a  handkerchief  with  him,  he 
found  it  less  trouble  to  buy  a  new  than  to  ascend  to  his  room  and 
procure  an  old  one.  Accordingly,  a  mercer  in  his  neighborhood 
had  a  fresh  handkerchief  ready  for  him  every  day. 

The  history  of  eccentric  knights  would  make  a  volume  of 


PIECES  OF  ARBtOB.  479 

itself.  Here,  therefore,  I  will  conclude,  grateful  to  the  readers 
who  may  have  honored  me  by  perusing  any  portion  of  the  mis- 
cellaneous piiges  which  I  have  devoted  to  illustrations  of  chivalry, 
and,  adding  a  remark  of  Johnson,  who  says,  touching  the  respect 
paid  to  those  who  bear  arms,  that  '^The  naval  and  military 
professions  have  the  dignity  of  danger,  and  that  mankind 
reverence  those  who  have  got  over  fear,  which  is  so  general  a 
weakness." 


THE  END. 


REDFIELD'S   PgBLICATIONS. — PCKTHV    AND   TUli    DRAMA. 


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,    ~  K 

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8CISVCS  AVD  ART. 

OriBCom  on  Ventilation.    The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Air*, 

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Bronchitis,  and  Kindred  Diseases.  In  language  adapted 
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Bodonhamer  on  the  Diseases  of  the  Rectum.  Practical 
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Comparative  Physiognomy ;  or,  Resemblances  between 
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Episodes  of  Insect  Life.  By  Acheta  Domestica.  In 
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The  Night-Side  ef  Nature  ;  or,  Ghosts  and  Ghost-Seers. 
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Art  and  Industry,  as  represented  in  the  Exhibition  at  the 
Crystal  Palace,  New  York,  showing  the  Progress  and  State  of  the  vari- 
ous Useful  and  Esthetic  Pursuits.  fix)m  the  "New  York  Tribune."  Re- 
vised and  Edited  by  Horace  Grbelet.  12mo,  cloth,  fine  paper,  $1  00. 
Paper  covers,  50  cents. 

Chapman's  American  Drawing-Book.  The  American 
Drawing-Book,  intended  for  Schools,  Academies,  and  Self-Instructioii. 
By  John  G.  Chapman,  N.  A.  Three  Parts  now  published.  Price 
50  cents  each.     [Part  IV.  in  Press.} 

The  History  and  Poetry  of  Finger-Rings.  By  Charles 
Edwards,  Esq.,  Coucsellor-at-Law.  With  Illustrations,  12mo,  doth. 
Price  SI  oa 


R£DFIGLD'S   publications. — BELLES-LETTRES. 


BSLLS8-LETTEES. 

fievolutloiUffy  Tales,  bj  Wh.  Oilmobb  Sihms,  Esq.  New  and  B» 
yised  EditioDB,  with  lUustratioiiB  by  Darlej. 

The  Partisan ;   A  Romance  of  the  Revolution.    12mo, 

cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

Mellichampe ;  -A.  Legend  of  the  Santee.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

Katharine  "Walton ;  or,  The  Rebel  of  Dorchester.    12mo, 

cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

The    Scout;   or,  The  Black  Riders  of  the  Congaree. 

12mOy  doth.    Price  $1  25. 

Woodcraft ;  or.  The  Hawks  about  the  Dovecote.    12mOy 

doth.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Forayers ;  or.  The  Raid  of  the  Dog-Days.    A  New 

Berolationary  Bomance.    12mo,  doth.    Price  $1  25. 

Eutaw.    A  New  Revolutionary  Romance.    12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

Riirnna'a  Border  EomaiLCeB  of  the  South,  New  and  Bevised  EditioDBi 
with  Illustrations  by  Darley.  Uniform  with  Siuxs's  BayoLUTiONiJii 
Tales, 

I.    Guy  Rivers.     A  Tale  of  Georgia.     12mo,   cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

n..  Richard  Hurdis.    A  Tale  of  Alabama.    12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

in.  Border  Beagles.    A  Tale  of  Mississippi.   12m0y  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

lY.  Charlemont.     A  Tale  of  Kentucky.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

V.  Beauchampe;   or,  The  Kentucky  Tragedy.      12m0y 

doth.    Price  $1  25. 

VI.  Confession;    or,  The  Blind  Heart.     12mo,  cloth* 

Price  $1  25. 

The  Temassee;  A  Romance  of  South  Carolina.  By 
Wh.  Oilmobb  Simxs,  Esq.    12mOy  doth.    Price  $1  25. 

Southward,  Hoi   a  Spell  of  Sunshine.     By  Wm.  Gnr 

Moxx  SiMXB,  Esq.    ISmo,  doth.    Price  $1  86. 


8  RBDPIELD'S    FUBLICATIONS.— BELLES-LETTRES. 

The  Noctes  AmbrosiansB.     By  Professor  Wilson,  J.  Q-. 

LooKHABT,  Jamss  Hooo,  and  Dr.  Ma^oink.  Edited,  with  Memoirs  and 
KoteF,  07  Dr.  B.  Shblton  Mackenzie.    In  5  yolnmes.    Price  $5  00. 

The  Odoherty  Papers ;  forming  the  first  portion  of  the 
IfiBcellaneons  Wiitin^  of  the  late  Dr.  Maoiitet.  With  an  Original 
MJemoir,  and  copious  Notes,  by  Dr.  B.  Shelton  Mackskzie.  2  toIs. 
Pdce  $2  00. 

The   Shakespeare    Papers,  and   the   Homeric   Ballads; 

forming  Vol.  m.  of  the  Miscellaneoos  Writings  of  the  late  Dr.  Maginn. 
Edited  Dj  Dr.  B.  Shelton  Mackenzie.     [In  Press.] 

Bits    of   Blarney.      By   Dr.    R.    Shelton    Mackenzie, 

Editor  of  "Sheil's  Sketches  of  the  Irish  Bar,"  "Noctes  Ambrosianse/' 
&c    12ino,  doth.    Price  $1  00. 

Table  Traits.  By  Dr.  Dob  an,  Author  of  "Habits  and 
Men,"  &c    12ino»  cloth.    $1  25. 

Habits  and  Men.  By  Dr.  Doran,  Author  of  "Table 
Traits/'  "  The  Queens  of  England  onder  the  House  of  Hanorer."  12mo. 
Price  $1  00. 

Oalarar;  The  Knight  of  the  Conquest.     A  Romance  of 

Mexico.    By  the  late  Dr.  Bobebt    Mont&oxert  Bibd,  Author  of 
"  Nick  of  the  Woods ;"  with  Illustrations  by  Darley.     12mo,  cloth     Price 
.     $125. 

Nick  of  the  Woods,  or  the  Jibbenainosay.    A  Tale  of 

Kentucky.  By  the  late  Dr.  Bobebt  Montgomery  Bibd,  Author  of 
"  Calavar/'  "  The  Infidel,"  &c.  New  and  Bevised  Edition,  with  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley.    12ioo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Pretty  Plate ;  A  New  and  Beautiful  Juvenile.  By 
John  YnrcsNT.  Blustrated  by  Darley.  1  vol.,  16mo,  cloth,  gilt.  Price 
50  cents;  extra  gilt  edges,  75  cents. 

Vasconselos.     A  Romance  of   the    New  World.    By 

Fbank  Coopek.    12ino,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

A  Stray  Yankee  in  Texas.    By  Philip  Paxton.    With 

IllustnUions  by  Darley.    Second  Edition.    12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Wonderful  Adventures  of -Capt.  Priest.  By  Philip 
Paxton.    With  Illustrations  by  Darley.    12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

Western  Characters ;  being  Types  of  Border  Life  in  the 

Western  States.  By  J.  L.  M'Connbl,  Author  of  "  Talbot  and  Vernon/' 
"  The  Glenns,"  &c.,  &c  With  Six  Illustrations  by  Darley.  12mo,  cloth. 
Price  $1  25. 

The  Master-Builder ;  or,  Life  at  a  Trade.     By  Day  Kkl- 

LOGO  Lee.    1  toL,  12mo.    Price  $1  00. 

Merrimack ;  or,  Life  at  the  Loom.    By  Day  KsLLoeo 

Lbi.    1  Tol.,  12mo.    PHce  $1  00 


RBDFIELD'S   PUBLICATIONS. — BELLES-LETTRES.  9 

The  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe.  Complete  in  three  vol- 
umes. With  a  Portrait :  a  Memoir  by  James  Rnssell  Lowell ;  and  an 
Introductory  Essay  by  N  P.  Willis.  Edited  by  Bufus  W.  Gbiswold 
12mo.    Price  $3  50. 

The  Cavaliers  of  England ;  or,  The  Times  of  the  Revolu- 
tions of  1642  and  1688.  By  Heicrt  William  Hebbebt.  1  vol.,  12mo. 
Price  $1  25. 

Knights  of  England,  France,  and  Scotland.  By  Henev 
Willi AK  Hbbbebt.    1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Chevaliers  of  France,  from  the  Crusaders  to  the 

Mareschals  of  Louis  XIV.  By  Henbt  William  Hebbebt.  Author 
of  "  The  Cavaliers  of  England/'  "  Cromwell,"  "  The  Brothers,"  &c.,  &c. 
1  voL,  12mo.    Price  $1  25. 

Marmaduke  Wyvil;  An  Historical  Eomance  of  1651. 
By  Henbt  William  Hebbebt,  Author  of  "  The  Cavaliers  of  England," 
&c.,  &c.    Fourteenth  Edition.    Revised  and  Corrected.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Forest.  By  J.  V.  Huntington,  Author  of  "Lady 
Alice,"  "  Alban,"  &c.    1  vol.,  12mo.     Second  Edition.    Price  $1  25. 

Alban ;  or,  The  History  of  a  Young  Puritan.  By  J, 
V.  Huntington.    2  vols.,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  $2  00. 

Isa:   a  Pilgrimage.    By   Caroline   Chesebro'.    1  vol., 

12mo,  cloth.    Price  fl  00. 

The  Children  of  Light.  By  Caroline  Chesebko',  Author 
of  "Isa,  a  Pilgrimage,"  "Dream-Land  by  Daylight,"  &c.,  &c  12mo, 
cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

Dreara-Land  by  Daylight:  A  Panorama  of  Bomance. 
By  Caboline  Chesebbo'.  Illustrated  by  Darley.  1  vol.,  12mo.  Price 
$125. 

Clovernook;  or,  Recollections  of  Our  Neighborhood  in 
the  West.  By  Alice  Cabby.  Illustrated  byDarrey.  First  and  Second 
Series.    Fourth  Edition.    2  vols.  12mo.    Price  $2  00. 

Hagar ;  A  Story  of  To-Day.  By  Alioe  Carey,  Author 
of  "  Clovernook,"  "Lyra,  and  Other  Poems,"  &c.  1  vol.,  12mo.  Prio© 
$1  00. 

.Cap-Sheaf,  a  Fresh  Bundle.    By  Lewis  Mybtle.    1  vol., 

12mo,  doth.    Price  $1  00. 

The  Youth  of  Jefferson ;   or,  A*  Chronicle  of  College 

Scrapes  at  Williamsburg,  Va.,  1764.     Cloth.    Price  75  cents. 

Tales  and  Traditions  of  Hungary.  By  Theresa  Pulszky. 
With  a  Portrait  of  the  Author.     1  vol.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Lion  Skin  and  the  Lover  Hunt.    By  Charles  db 

Bbbnabd.    12mo.    Price  $1  00. 

• 

Easy  Warren  and  his  Cotemporaries :  Sketched  for 
H:>me  Circles     By  William  Tubnek  CooasiHALL.    Price  $1  oa 


10  RBUFIBLD'8  PUBLICATIONS. — BELLB8-LBTTRBS. 

Yon  Have  heard  of  Them :  being  Sketches  of  Statesmen 

and  Politiciuis,  Painters,  Composers,  Instrumentalists  and  Vocalists,  Au- 
thors and  Aathoresses.  By  Q.  With  Portraits  on  Steel  of  Horace  Ver* 
net  and  Jnlia  Grisi.    I2mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

Satire  and  Satirists.    By  James  Hahkay.    12ino,  cloth. 
Price  75  cents. 

Fall  Proof  of  ihe  Ministry.    By  the  Eev.  John  N.  Nob- 
Tov.     l2mo,  cloth.    Price  75  cents. 

IMckens's  Little  Folks,  in  &  Series  of  ISmo  Yblames,  irith  Illiistrations, 
Neatly  Bonnd  in  Cloth.     Price  38  cents.    . 

1.  Little  Nell.      •  4.  Florence  Dombey. 

2.  Oliver  and  the  Jew  Fagin.       5.  Smike. 

8.  Little  Paul.  6.  The  Child  Wife. 

This  is  a  series  of  volnmes  whkh  has  heen  undertaken  with  a  view  to  supply 
the  want  of  a  class  of  books  for  children,  of  a  yigorons,  manly  tone,  combined 
with  a  plain  and  concise  mode  of  narrajion.  The  writings  of  Charles  Dickens 
hare  been  selected  as  the  basis  of  the  scheme,  on  account  of  the  well-known 
excellence  of  his  portrayal  of  children,  and  tfauB  interests  connected  with  chil- 
dren-—qualities  which  have  given  his  volumes  their  strongest  hold  on  the 
hearts  of  parents.  With  this  view  the  career  of  Little  Nell  and  her 
Gbakdfatheb,  Olivbk,  Little  Paul,  Florence  Dombey,  Smikb,  and 
the  Child- Wife,  have  been  detached  from  the  large  mass  of  matter  with 
which  they  were  originally  connected,  and  presented,  in  the  author's  own  Ian' 
^uoffe,  to  a  new  class  of  readers,  to  whom  the  little  volume  will,  we  doubt 
not,  he  as  attractive  as  the  larger  originals  have  so  long  proved  to  the  general 
public. 


RRDFIELD'S   publications. — MISCELLANEOUS.  11 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Hie  Works  of  the  Honorable  William  H.  Seward,  with 
a  Memoir,  Portrait  and  other  Engravings  on  steel.  3  vols.,  8vo.  Price 
per  Yolnme,  doth,  $2  50 ;  half  calf,  $3  75 ;  fall  calf,  extra,  $4  50. 

Tlie  Study  of  Words.  By  K.  C.  Tkench,  B.  D.,  Professor 
of  Divinity  iti  King's  College,  London.    1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  75  cents. 

On  the  Lessons  in  Proverbs.  By  K.  0.  Trench,  B.  D., 
Author  of  the  "  Study  of  Words."    12nio,  cloth.    Price  50  cents. 

The  Synonyms  of  the  New  Testament.  By  E.  0. 
TreStch,  B.  D.,  Author  of  the  "Study  of  Words,"  "Lessons  in  Prov- 
erbs," &c.,  &c.  Third  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged.  12mo,  doth. 
Price  75  cents. 

English,  Past  and  Present.     By  Kev.  Richard  Ohenevix 

Tbbkoh,  B.  D.    12mo.    Price  75  cents. 

Macaulay's  Speeches.     Speeches  by  tlie  Eight  Hon.  T. 

B.  Macaulat,  M.  p.,  Author  of  "  The  History  of  England,"  "  Lays  of 
Ancient  Borne,"  &c.,  &c.    2  vols.,  12mo.    Price  $2  00. 

Meagher's  Speeches.  Speeches  on  the  Legislative  Inde- 
pendence of  Ireland,  with  Introductory  Notes.  By  Thomas  Fbakois 
Meagheb.     1  vol.,  12mo,  cloth.    Portrait.    Price  $1  00. 

Lectures  and  Miscellanies.  By  Henry  James.  1  vol., 
12mo,  doth.    Price  $1  25. 

Characters  in  the  Gk)spel,  illustrating  Phases  of  Charac- 
ter at  the  Present  Day.  By  Rev.  E.  H.  Chapiit.  1  vol.  12mo.  Price 
50  cents. 

Ballou's  Eeview   of  Beecher.     The    Divine   Character 

Vindicated.  A  Beview  of  the  "  Conflict  of  Ages."  By  Rev.  Mobxb 
Ballou.    1  vol.,  12mo,  doth.    Price  $1  00. 

Maurice's  Tlieological  Essays.    Theological  Essays.     By 

FsBDBKiGK  Denibon  Maubigb,  M.  A.,  Chamaiu  of  Lincoln's  Inn. 
From  the  Second  London  Edition,  with  a  New  Preface,  and  other  Addi- 
tions.   1  vol.,  12mo,  doth.    Price  $1  00. 

The  Pictorial  Bible ;  being  the  Old  and  New  Testaments 
according  to  the  Anlhcmzed  Version;  Illustrated  with  more  than  One 
Thousand  Enmvings,  representing  tbe  Historical  Events,  after  celebrated 
Pictures ;  the  Landscape  Scenes,  from  Original  Drawiujes,  or  f]x>m  Authen- 
tic Engravings ;  and  the  Subjects  of  Natural  History,  Costunie,  and  Anti- 
quities, from  the  best  sources.  1  vol.,  4to,  embossed  bindUig.  Price 
i6  00. 


RKJ>FIELD'8   new  and   popular  PITBLICATIONft. 

I^ife  under  an  Italian  Despotism ! 

LORENZO  BENONI, 

OR 

PASSAGES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  AN  ITALIAN 

One  Vol,  l2mo.  Cloth— Pnce  $1.00.      * 


OPIHIOKS  OV  THE  FSESS. 

**  Thi  author  of  *  Lorenzo  Benoni'is  Giovanni  Rutfini,  a  native  of  Genoa,  jvho  effected 
hlfl  escape  from  Ua  native  country  after  the  attempt  at  revolution  in  1833.  His  book  is, 
In  substance,  an  antbentic  account  of  real  persons  and  incidents,  though  the  writer  has 
efaoaen  to  adopt  fictitlouB  and  fantastic  designations  for  himself  and  his  associates.  Sinco 
1833,  Ruffinl  has  r^oided  chiefly  (ff  not  wholly)  in  England  and  France,  where  his  quali- 
ties, we  understand,  have  secured  him  respect  and  regard.  In  1848,  he  was  selected  by 
Charies  Albert  to  fill  the  responsible  situation  of  embassador  to  Paris,  in  which  city  he 
had  long  been  domesticated  as  a  refugee.  He  ere  long,  however,  relinquished  that  office, 
and  agttfn  withdrew  into  private  life.  He  appears  to  hove  employed  the  time  of  his  exilo 
hi  this  country  to  such  advantage  as  to  have  acquired  a  most  uncommon  mastery  over 
the  English  language^  The  present  volume  (we  are  informed  on  good  authority)  is  ex* 
closiveTy  his  own— «nd,  if  so,  on  the  score  of  style  alone  it  is  a  remarkable  curiosity. 
Bat  to  matter  also  is  curious."— London  Quarterly  Reoitmfor  July. 

"  A  tale  of  sorrow  that  has  lain  long  in  a  rich  mind,  like  a  ruin  in  a  fertile  country,  and 
Is  not  the  less  gravel v  Impressive  for  the  gnce  and  beauty  of  its  coverings  ...  at  the 
same  time  the  most  determined  novel-reader  could  desire  no  work  more  foBcinating  over 
which  to  forget  the  flight  of  time.  ...  No  sketch  of  fomgn  oppression  has  ever,  we  be- 
Ueve,  been  submitted  to  the  English  public  by  a  foreigner,  equal  or  nearly  equal  to  this 
volume  in  literary  merit  It  is  not  unworthy  to  be  ranked  among  contemporary  works 
whoie  season  is  the  century  in  which  their  authors  live.** — London  Etomintar. 

**  The  book  should  be  afl  extensively  read  as  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  inasmuch  as  it 
develops  the  existence  of  a  state  of  slavery  and  desradation,  worse  even  than  that  which 
BCrs.  Beecher  Stowe  has  elucidated  with  so  much  pathos  and  feeling.^—JBetrs  WoMijf 


**  Few  works  of  the  season  will  be  read  with  greater  pleasure  than  this ;  there  k  a 
great  charm  in  the  quiet,  natural  way  in  which  the  story  is  told." — Londam  Atlao. 

'*Tbe  anlhox's  great  forte  is  character^aintlng.  lliis  portraltore  is  accomplished 
with  remarkable  skill,  the  traits  both  Individual  and  national  being  marked  with  great 
nieety  without  obtruaiveneas.'*— Xondon  Specuaar. 

*'  Under  the  modest  guise  of  the  biography  of  an  imaginary  '  Lorenso  Benoni,'  we  have 
here,  in  fact,  the  mem<nr  of  a  man  whose  name  eonld  not  be  pronounced  in  certain  parts 
of  nortfaeru  Italy  without  calling  up  tragic  yet  noble  historical  recollections.  ...  Its 
merits,  simply  as  a  work  of  literary  art,  are  of  a  very  high  order.  The  style  is  really 
beautiful— easy,  sprightly,  graceful,  and  full  of  the  happiest  and  most  ingenious  turns  of 
phrase  and  fancy." — North  British  Review. 

**  This  has  been  not  upjustiy  compared  to  '  Oil  Bla$^  to  which  It  is  scarcely  inferior  in 
■plrited  delineations  of  human  character,  and  in  the  varie^  of  events  whidi  it  reJateik 
But  as  a  descciption  of  actual  occurrences  illustrating  the  domestiLo  and  political  eondl- 
Hon  of  Italy,  at  a  period  fraught  with  interest  to  all  classes  of  readers,  it  far  t 
ki  tmpoTtanre  any  work  of  mare  fiction."— 2>u&Un  Ewn^  MM. 


Memoirs  of  a  Distinguished  Financier. 

FIFTY    YEARS 
IN^  BOTH  HEMISPBEERES; 

OR,  REMINISCENCE^  OF  A  MERCHANT'S  LIFE. 

By  Vincent  Noltb.    12mo.    Price  $1.25.    pEighth  Edition] 

The  following,  being  a  few  of  the  more  prominent  names  introduced  in 
he  work,  will  show  the  nature  and  extent  of  personal  and  anecdotal  inter- 
est  exhibited  in  its  pages : — 

Aaron  Burr;  General  Jackson;  John  Jacob  Astor;  Stephen  Girard; 
La  Fayette ;  Audubon ;  the  Barings ;  Robert  Fulton  ;  David  Parish ;  Sam- 
uel Swartwout ;  Lord  Aberdeen  ;  Peter  K.  Wagner ;  Napoleon ;  Paul 
Delaroche ;  Sir  Francis  Chantry ;  Queen  Victoria ;  Horace  Vemet ;  Major 
General  Scott ;  Mr.  Saul ;  Jiafitte ;  John  Quincy  Adams ;  Edward  Living- 
ston ;  John  R.  Grymes ;  Augnste  Davezac ;  General  Moreau ;  Gouvemeur 
Morris ;  J.  J.  Ouvrard ;  Messrs.  Hope  <&  Co. ;  General  Claiborne ;  Marshal 
Soult ;  Chateaubriand ;  Le  Roy  de  Chaumont ;  Duke  of  Wellington ;  Wil- 
liam M.  Price ;  P.  C.  Labouchere ;  Ingres ;  Charles  VI.,  of  Spain ;  Mar- 
shal Blucher  ;*  Nicholas  Biddle ;  Manuel  Godoy ;  Villele ;  Lord  Eldon ; 
Emperor  Alexander,  etc.  etc. 

'*  He  seldom  looks  at  the  bright  side  of  a  character,  and  dearly  loves — ^he 
confesses  it — a  bit  of  scandal.  But  he  paints  well,  describes  well,  seizes 
characteristics  which  make  clear  to  the  reader  the  nature  of  the  man  whom 
they  illustrate." 

The  xnemoiTs  of  a  man  of  a  tingralarl7  advexitaroas  and  speculatire  turn,  who  entered 
opon  the  occnpatiouB  of  manhood  early,  and  retained  its  energies  late  ;  has  been  an  eve- 
witness  of  not  a  few  of  the  important  eventa  that  occurred  in  Europe  and  America  be- 
tween the  yean  1796  and  1850,  and  himself  a  sharer  in  more  than  one  of  them ;  who  has 
been  associated,  or  an  agent  in  some  pf  the  largest  ccmimercial  and  financial  operations 
that  British  and  Dutch  capital  and  enterprise  everTentured  upon,  and  has  been  brought 
into  contact  and  acquaintance— not  unfrequently  into  intimacy — with  a  number  of  the 
remarkable  men  of  his  time.  Seldom,  either  in  print  or  in  the  flesh,  have  we  fallen  fn 
with  so  restless,  versatile  and  excursive  a  Efnius  as  Vincent  Nolte,  Esq.,  of  Europe  and 
America — no  more  limited  address  will  snmciently  express  his  cosmopolitan  domioile. — 
Blaekvood's  Magatine. 

As  a  reflection  of  real  life,  a  book  stamped  with  a  strong  personal  character,  and  filled 
with  uniaue  details  of  a  large  experience  of  private  and  public  interest,  we  unhesita- 
tingly call  attention  to  ;t  as  one  of  the  most  note-worthy  productions  of  the  day.— A>w 
York  Churchwtan. 

Our  old  merchants  v^d  politicians  will  find  it  very  amusing,  and  it  will  excite  vivid 
reminiscences  of  men  ana  things  forty  years  agcf  ^e  might  criticise  the  hap- hazard 
and  dare-devif  spirit  of  the  author,  but  the  raciness  of  his  anecdotes  is  the  result  of  these 
very  defects. — Boston  Transcript. 

His  autobiography  presents  a  spicy  variety  of  incident  and  adventure,  and  a  great  deal 
of  really  useful  and  interesting  information,  all  the  more  acceptable  for  the  profusion  •( 
aneedote  and  pic[uant  scandal  with  which  it  is  interspersed.— JV*.  Y.  Jour,  of  Commerce, 

Not  tha  least  interesting  portion  of  the  work,  to  us  here,  is  the  narration  of  Nclte's 
intercourse  with  our  great  men,  and  his  piquant  and  occasionally  ill*natured  notice  of 
their  faulte  and  foibles.— JV.  Y.  Herald. 

It  is  a  vivid  chronicle  of  varied  and  remarkable  experiences,  and  will  serve  to  rectify 
the  errors  which  too  often  ]>asa  amon|(  men  as  veritable  history. — Evening  Post. 

The  anecdotes,  declamations,  sentiments,  descriptions,  and  whole  tone  of  the  book, 
are  vivaciouff  and  genuine,  and,  making  allowance  for  obvious  prejudices,  graphic  and 
reliable.  To  the  old  it  will  be  wonderfully  suggestive,  to  the  young  curiously  inform- 
ing, and  to  both  rich  in  entertainment. — Boston  JStlas. 

A»  an  amusing  narrative,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  its  superior ;  but  the  book  ha* 
peculiar  interelt  from  the  freedom  with  which  the  author  shows  up  our  AoMrican  noto- 
rieties of  th«  past  forty  jetn,e-'Ceurier 


THE  UNITED  STATES  JAPAN  EXPEDITION. 
An  Account  of  Three  Visits  to  the  Japanese 

Empire,  with  Sketches  of  Madeira,  St  Helena,  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  Mauritius,  CeyloH,  Singapore,  China,  and  Loo-Choo. 
By  Col.  J.  W.  Spalding,  of  the  United  States  Steam  Frigate 
Mississippi,  Flag-ship  of  the  Expedition,  with  eight  Illustra- 
tions in  Tint     12m.,  cloth,  $1  25. 

Tbe  book  embracM  a  aoTtl  field  in  "  Japan,"  and  a  wide  one  in  the  world,  but  tbo 
aathor  has  made  a  long  voyage  seem  a  short  one,  in  the  interest  which  his  graphic  and 
inttraettTe  pen  has  thrown  about  every  learne  of  his  progress.  The  style  is  flowing 
and  animated— Japan  and  *'  i  Jar^nese  au'e  dashed  off  in  life-like  pictures.  We  adrise 
ftll  who  have  the  slightet  .'.rio>  ..' to  become  acquainted  with  that  secluded  and  re- 
markable people,  andto  r  .iU  a  Cwunected  and  spirited  account  of  the  great  American 
Bxpedition  to  Japan,  to  pn/chase  the  admirable  work  of  Gol.  Spalding. — Rick. Dispatch. 

Col.  Scalding  is  a  man  whose  character  in  the  community  in  which  he  has  heretofore 
resided  places  him  above  suspicion,  ao  that  his  narrative  may  be  implicitly  trusted.  Ha 
is  withal  a  racy  writer,  and  a  person  gifted  with  very  uncommon  powers  of  obsenra- 
tion. — Baltimore  Patriot. 

It  describes  all  that  the  intelligent  aathor  saw,  in  a  clear  and  very  agreeable  manner, 
and  mentions  many  things  of  a  personal  character,  which,  of  coarse,  would  form  no 
^rt  ot  an  official  report. — Baltimore  Anurican. 

There  is  a  freshness  and  viridness  in  his  descriptions  which  makes  the  book  more  than 
commonly  attractive. — Puritan  Recorder. 


Mr.  Spalding  writes  with  great  ease  and  perspicuity.    His  powers  of  description  are  y/ 

"V 


fully  adequate  to  any  occasion  which  requires  their  exertion,  as  is  abundantly  evident 
ed  in  ihe  present  work. — Petersburg  Intelligencer. 

A  Tery  readable  jo          •     -  •      -           '- 
only  at  re-producini^ 
strange  scenes  and  characters'which  theopenincof  that  country  d 

Mr.  Spalding's  work  gives  the  results  of  his  observations  precisely  as  they  occurred  to^_ 
him  at  the  time,  his  mind  being  singularly  unbiassed  by  the  enthusiasm  of  those  by     ^ 


worK. — reiersonrg  jnieuigencer.  V 

journal  of  the  Japan  Expedition,  by  an  officer  which,  though  aiming^ 
ing  the  impressions  of  tae  writer's  mind,  gives  a  good  view  of  the  V 
i  characters  which  theopenincof  that  country  disclosed.  — JV*.  Y.Evan. 
Mr.  Spalding's  work  gives  the  results  of  his  observations  preoisely  as  they  occurred 
m  at  the  time,  his  mind  being  singularly  unbiassed  by  the  enthusiasm  of  those  1 
whom  he  was  sunwanded.  He  looks  upon  things  with  a  cool,  discriminating  eye,  neith-£^ 
•r  oTer-estimating  nor  undervaluing  the  advantages  of  our  new  relations. — JV.F.  Herald.^  ' 
It  is  the  fint  account  of  Perry's  Kxpedition,  and  will  always  be  more  popular  than^r- 
any  gwernment  report. — St.  Louis  Leader.  ^ 

V 

"  Every  Inch  a  King." — Harper's  Magazine,  r 

The  Private  Life  of  an  Eastern  King,  from 

the  MS.  of  a  member  of  the  household  of  his  late  Majesty,  ,\ 
Nussir-u-Deen,  King  of  Oude.     By  Wm.  Knighton,  author  of  '^^' 
"Forest  Life  in  Ceylon,"  &c.    12mo.,  cloth,  75  cents.  ** 

■  The  whole  story  reads  like  a  lost  chapter  from  the  Arabian  Nights. — Lon.  AtAentsum.  ^ 

Qires  a  better  insight  into  purelf  eastern  manners  than  tthj  work  we  know  of. —  ^ 
London  Jfews  of  the  World.  • 

This  amusing  volume  lets  the  reader  very  much  behind  the  scenes,  as  regards  haul  f^ 
ton  in  Asia.    Since  the  appearance  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  there  has  been  no  such  ex-  | 
position  of  the  sayings  and  doines  of  eastern  royalty. — JV*.  Y.  Daily  THmes. 

Lucknow,  the  capital,  is  noted  for  its  extraordinary  menagerie  of  wild  animals,  and  A^ 
one  of  the  chief  aniusom.ents  of  the  court  appears  to  have  been  to  witness  them  fight.  ^ 
Some  rery  exciting  contests  are  narrated,  and  the  book  contains  much  of  interest  to  the  ^ 
sportsman.  It  also  conveys  a  rivid  picture  of  eastern  manners,  as  seen  in  all  their  fami-  ^ 
liarity  ;  and  some  of  the  adventures  recorded  are  scarcely  less  wonderful  than  those  dl 
Hajji  Baba. — Boston  Traveller. 

The  career  of  the  cabin-boy  barber,  who  exercised  such  great  influeneeover  the  crown, 
and  so  much  to  his  own  advantage,  having  amassed  the  sum  of  £240,000  before  he  re- 
torned,  is  a  very  curious  one,  and  well  told.  On  the  whole,  this  is  one  of  the  most 
amusing  books  of  the  season. — Boston  Telegraph. 

He  lifts  the  curtain  and  unfolds  the  minutias  of  the  daily  life  of  an  absolute  sovereign. 
We  learn  more  of  eastern  manners  and  Hindoo  peculiarities  than  from  stately  historians 
or  elaborate  geographies.  We  san  commend  it  as  an  entertaining  volume. — Religious 
Herald  Riehmend,  Va. 

5^ 


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MAR  3      law 


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