The History of Chivalry; Or, Knighthood and Its Times, Volume 2 (of 2)

The History of Chivalry

or

Knighthood and its times.

By
Charles Mills, Esq^r.
Author of the History of the Crusades

IN TWO VOLUMES.

Vol: II.

Engraved by A. Le Petit from a sketch by R. W. Sievier.

London.
Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green
MDCCCXXV.

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

THE HISTORY OF CHIVALRY.

CHAP. I.

STATE OF CHIVALRY IN ENGLAND DURING THE REIGN OF EDWARD THE THIRD.

Tournaments ... The Round Table ... Order of the Garter ... Courtesy of Edward ... Prevalence of chivalric Taste among all Classes ... English Archers ... The Black Prince ... Story of the King’s Chivalry ... England regarded as the Seat of Honour ... Instance of this ... Chivalric Heroes in this Reign ... The Gestes and Prowesses of Sir Walter Manny ... Chivalric Vow of Sir Walter ... He fights for the Love of his Lady ... His Rescue of Two Brother Knights ... Instance of his joyous Adventurousness ... His Gallantry before Auberoche ... His filial Piety ... Story of chivalric Manners ... The Gentle Disposition of Manny ... His Importance at Edward’s Court ... His remarkable Sagacity ... His Liberality ... His Death in 1372 ... Buried in the Charter-House ... Heroism of Sir James Audley ... His Generosity ... Memoir of Sir John Chandos ... His Gallantry to Ladies ... Amusing Instance of the Pride of Knighthood ... The Importance of his Counsel at Poictiers ... His Exploits in Brittany ... And in Spain ... Is made a Knight Banneret ... Quits the Black Prince ... But returns ... The remarkable Generousness of his Conduct to Lord Pembroke ... The last Circumstance of his Life ... General Grief at his Death.

Tournaments.

The sun of English chivalry reached its meridian in the reign of Edward III., for the King and the nobles all were knightly, and the image of their character was reflected in the minds of the people.[1] Tournaments and jousts, for the amusement and in honour of the ladies, were the universal fashion of the time. In little more than one year, chivalric solemnities were held with unparalleled magnificence at Litchfield, Bury, Guildford, Eltham, Canterbury, and twice at Windsor.[2] The gay character of Edward and his court was pleasingly displayed in the spring of the year 1359, three years after the battle of Poictiers. A solemn tournament of three days’ duration was proclaimed in London, and the lord mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen, proposed to keep the field against all comers. The time arrived, the martial games were held, and all the honor of arms appeared to be of right due to the officers of the city. The victors then threw aside their shields and surcoats impressed with the city’s bearings, removed their beavers, and King Edward, the Black Prince, the Princes Lionel, John, and Edmund, and nineteen noble barons, were recognised.[3]

The round table.
Order of the Garter.

The round table at Kenilworth already mentioned was not a solitary instance of the love of romantic grandeur and gallantry among the people of England. Mortimer kept a round table of knights in Wales professedly in imitation of Arthur,[4] And afterwards Edward III. endeavoured to realise the golden imaginations of fable which had assigned one hundred and fifty knights as the complement of Arthur’s chivalry.[5] We are assured that the round table which Edward established at Windsor in 1344 described a circumference of six hundred feet: but it is more interesting to know, that the nobility and knighthood of France, Germany, Spain, and other countries flocked to England on the invitation of the King, and that the chivalric bands at Windsor were graced by the presence of Queen Philippa and three hundred English ladies, who, in honour of the friendly union of knights, were all arrayed in splendid dresses of one form and fashion, and looked like the sisters of a military order. Policy was mixed with chivalric pride in Edward’s plan; for he wished to retain in his service some of the foreign knights who repaired to the tournament at Windsor. But his intention to strengthen his chivalry was defeated by his rival Philip of Valois, who established also a round table, to which the cavaliers of the Continent could more easily repair than to that of Edward.[6] The knights of France were expressly forbidden by their king to attend the festivities of the round table at Windsor. The English monarch found, too, that he could not secure the attachment of stranger knights. That great chivalric principle, the companionship in weal or woe of men forming one society, was never regarded by them. Edward’s table at Windsor was surrounded by gay cavaliers, who talked and sang of war and love, and then merrily returned to their own country full of courtesy to their royal host for his gallant bearing, but not disposed to renounce the chivalric associations of their native land. Edward then changed his design, and wished to establish an order of merit, that so “true nobility, after long and hazardous adventures, should not enviously be deprived of that honour, which it hath really deserved, and that active and hardy youth might not want a spur in the profession of virtue, which is to be esteemed glorious and eternal.”[7] He accordingly assembled the nobility and knighthood of his realm, and showed them his intention of forming an especial brotherhood of knights, to be called Knights of the blue Garter, and of ordaining that a feast should be kept yearly at Windsor, on Saint George’s day. The barons and cavaliers of England joyously agreed to his pleasure; for they were animated by this encouragement to military feats, and they saw that great amity and love would grow and increase among them. Twenty-five of the most valiant men of the kingdom were then chosen.[8]

The most noble order of Saint George, named the Garter, had, therefore, its origin in romance, in the wish to restore the chivalric dignity and splendour of ancient Britain. That view was afterwards blended with objects of policy which also were soon abandoned, and a fraternity of companions in arms was established for the promotion of chivalric honour. But though gallantry did not, as is commonly thought, actually found the order, yet perhaps it caused the union to receive the last clause of its title. Froissart describes the passion of Edward for the Countess of Salisbury, but is altogether silent on the story of her garter, a silence decisive of the incorrectness of the vulgar tale; for Froissart was intimately acquainted with the court of the English king, and his attention was always awake to circumstances of a gallant and romantic nature. It was quite in the spirit of those days for a band to be regarded as an excellent symbol of the friendly union which ought to exist between the knights companions; and if love had not been a chief feature in chivalry, the order might have been only called the Order of the Band. But gallantly came in, and claimed some share of chivalric honours. Ages of fastidious delicacy would have thought of a zone or girdle, but our simple minded ancestors regarded the garter as the wished for symbol. The well known motto of the Garter (Honi soit qui mal y pense) seems to apply, as Sir Walter Scott conjectures, to the misrepresentations which the French monarch might throw out respecting the order of the Garter, as he had already done concerning the festival of the round table.[9]

On the collar of the order something should be said. Warton appears to think that the earliest collar worn by the knights of the Garter was a duplication of the letter S, in allusion to the initial letter of the fair lady’s name who, he supposes, gave rise to the fraternity of the most noble order of the Garter. But in truth no evidence exists that originally the members of the order wore any collar at all as knights of the Garter, though they certainly wore golden collars in their character of knights bachelors and knights banneret.

The favourite badge of the Lancastrian family was the letter S. sometimes single, and sometimes double, and the golden collar of esses became in time the general collar of English knights, and the silver collar of esses was worn by squires. The letter S. was the initial letter of the sentence, “Soveigne vous de moy.” This was a very favourite motto in the fourteenth century, and was afterwards frequently introduced into collars which were formed of the fleur-de-souvenance, the forget-me-not of modern times. Whether at any period the golden collar of esses distinguished the knights of the Garter we know not. The collar worn in the present days, composed of garters with the image of Saint George dependent thereon, cannot be traced higher than the reign of Henry VIII.

The order was founded in honour of God, the Virgin Mary, Saint George the Martyr, and Saint Edward, king and confessor. The two saints were regarded as the particular patrons of the knights companions. The person that our ancestors understood by the name Saint George is a point of doubt. Some modern writers have called him a sufferer in the persecutions of Diocletian, and others the flagitious George of Cappadocia, the Arian successor of Athanasius in the archbishoprick of Alexandria.[10] It is equally difficult to discover how the saint became invested with military glory. But, leaving such questions to martyrologists and legend-makers, it is sufficient for our purpose to observe that a person called Saint George was in very early ages regarded as the tutelary saint of England, and became therefore very naturally one of the heads of the new military order. His brother-protector Saint Edward soon fell from his lofty station: but at the time concerning which I am writing he was high in fame, for Edward III. was wont to invoke both him and the other patron-saint with perfect impartiality; and when he was cutting his way through a press of knights, one stroke of his sword was accompanied by the exclamation, “Ha, Saint Edward,” and another by the cry, “Ha, Saint George.”

Courtesy of Edward.

To pursue, however, the general course of the chivalry of our Edward III. Nothing could be more beautiful than his courtesy on all occasions. It was particularly shown in his treatment of the hostages of the French king for the due performance of the treaty of Bretigny. He commanded his officers to deport themselves to those lords and their company courteously and favourably; and, accordingly, the French strangers sported without peril in London at their pleasure, and the great lords went hunting and hawking, and rode over the country, and visited ladies and damsels, without any control, so courteous and amiable was the King of England to them.[11] During all the tournaments that were held in his reign, he permitted his French, Scotch, and other prisoners, to share in the games, and sometimes he even furnished them with tourneying harness out of the royal armoury.[12]

Prevalence of chivalric taste among all classes.

The taste for chivalry among classes of people apparently little susceptible of its influence may be learned from the masquerading tournament of Edward; for knightly games must have been well known to the citizens of London, or the proclamation would not have been issued, that the lord mayor, aided by the court of aldermen and the sheriffs, would, on a certain day, hold a solemn tournament. The same taste was proved some years before, when the Black Prince entered London, with King John of France as his prisoner. The outsides of the houses were covered with hangings, wrought over with battles in tapestry, and the citizens exposed, in their shops, windows, and balconies, an incredible quantity of bows and arrows, shields, helmets, corselets, breast and back pieces, coats of mail, gauntlets, umbraces, swords, spears, battle-axes, armour for horses, and other armour.[13] It is also curious to notice, that on the evening preceding Candlemas-day, in the year 1377, one hundred and thirty citizens of London, for the entertainment of the young prince, Richard, son of the nation’s idol, the Black Prince, rode, disguised as knights, from Newgate to Kennington, where the court resided, attended with an innumerable multitude, bearing waxen torches, and playing various instruments of music.[14]

As the principal wars of Edward’s time were waged with a chivalric people, the circumstances which surrounded them favoured the developement of the chivalric qualities of the English character. I shall not repeat the political events of our glorious contests with France, nor describe, for the thousandth time, the battles of Cressy and Poictiers: but it may be mentioned, that the admirable marshalling of Edward’s force on the field of Cressy was a high proof of his chivalric sageness, and mainly contributed to his victory over the forces of the King of France.

English archers.

The battles of Cressy and Poictiers, however, were not entirely gained by the chivalry of England: the bow was a most important weapon in the English army. It had characterised the Normans, and been mainly instrumental in winning for them the battle of Hastings. It was afterwards used by the small landholder, the tenant in soccage, and the general mass of the people, while the lance was the weapon of the lord and the knight. The bow was the emblem of freedom, and the pre-eminence of our archers shows that the political condition of England was superior, in the fourteenth century, to that of any continental nation.[15]

The arrow was of the remarkable length of a cloth-yard. The expression in the old ballad of Chevy-Chase,

“An arrow of a cloth-yard long
Up to the head drew he,”

marks the usage of our early ancestors; and that sentence of Lear, in Shakspeare’s play, “Draw me a clothier’s yard,” shows that in the sixteenth century the national character had not been lost. It was fostered by every proper means: by royal command archery was practised in towns on holidays, after church; while coits, cock-fighting, and amusements with the ball, were strictly prohibited. Other nations drew the bow with strength of arm, but Englishmen with their whole vigour: they laid their body in the bow[16], as an old writer has forcibly expressed the usage; and when in amusement they were exercising their skill, eleven-score yards was the least distance at which the mark was set up. No one could better shoot an arrow than a yeoman in the days of Edward III.: they were the most powerful attendants which our knights could boast of.

“A yeoman had he, and servants no mo,
At that time, for him lust to ride so;
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacocks’ arwes bright and keen
Under his belt he bare full thriftily.
Well coude he dress his takel yemanly.
His arwes drooped not with feathers lowe,
And in his hand he bare a mighty bowe.
A not-hed[17] had he with a brown visage.
Of wood-craft coude he well all the usage.
Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer,
And by his side a sword and a bokeler;
And on that other side a gay dagger,
Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spere;
A Cristofere on his breast of silver shene;
An horn he bare, the baudrick was of green.
A forster was he, soothly as I guess.”[18]

The reader scarcely needs to be informed that the loss of the battle of Cressy by the French began with the confusion among the Genoese cross-bow men. The English archers then stepped forth one pace, and, as Froissart says, let fly their arrows so wholly, and so thick, that it seemed snow was piercing through heads, arms, and breasts. The French cavaliers rushed in to slay the Genoese for their cowardice, but the sharp arrows of the English slew them, and their horses too. The chivalry of the Black Prince decided the victory: the Earls of Flanders and Alençon broke through his archers, but deeper they could not penetrate; and in the personal conflict of the chivalries of the two nations, the English were conquerors.[19]

At the battle of Poictiers the English archers threw the French cavalry into confusion, by slaying the unmailed horses. True to say, as Froissart observes, the archers did their company that day great advantage; for when the Black Prince descended the hill on which he had posted himself, the archers were mingled with his chivalry, in true knightly fashion, and shot so closely together, that none durst come within danger.[20]

The Black Prince.

The well-known conduct of the Black Prince to his prisoner, King John, after the battle,—his waiting on him at table, saying that he was not sufficient to sit at the board with so great a man as the King,—his riding through London to the Savoy, the French monarch mounted on a white and superbly-equipped war-horse, while the Prince rode by his side on a little black palfrey,—all this beautiful deportment proceeded from the modesty, the self-abasement of true chivalry, and from that kindly consideration which one knight always showed to his brother in arms.[21]

There were many circumstances in Edward’s wars amply deserving of notice, as illustrative of national and personal character, but which have been passed over altogether, or but slightly regarded, by the general historians of England; some of whom, in their anxiety for chronological exactness, and others in their desire to make the matter in hand merely illustrative of a few political principles, have very ingeniously contrived to strip their subject of all its splendor, interest, and variety.

Story of the king’s chivalry.

Three years after the battle of Cressy had given the town of Calais to the English, the Lord Geffray Charney, of France, endeavoured to regain it, by bribing the governor, Amery de Puy, a Lombard. Edward, hearing of the treaty, sent for his officer from Calais to Westminster. When the King saw him, he took him apart, and said, “Thou knowest well I have given thee in keeping the thing in the world I love best next my wife and children, namely, the town and castle of Calais; and thou hast sold it to the Frenchmen; wherefore thou deservest to die.”

Then the Lombard kneeled down, and said, “Noble King, I cry you mercy: it is true what you say; but, Sir, the bargain may well be broken, for as yet I have received never a penny.”

The King, who had warmly loved the governor, replied, “Amery, I will that thou goest forward in thy bargain, and the day that thou appointest to deliver the town, let me have knowledge thereof before; and on this condition I forgive thee thy trespass.”

Accordingly Amery returned to Calais, and continued the negotiation with Lord Geffray Charney. It was finally agreed between them that the surrender of Calais should take place on the night of the new year; and the governor, faithful to his allegiance, communicated the progress of the plot to Edward. The King immediately rode from London to Dover, with three hundred men-at-arms, and six hundred archers, and, crossing the sea, he reached Calais in the evening, and secretly lodged his men in the chambers and towers of the castle. He did not wish to head the emprise himself; and selecting Sir Walter Manny from his gallant band, as the prowest chevalier, he told him that he and his son, the Prince, would fight under his banner.

When the time for surrendering Calais approached, the Lord Geffray, having heard from Amery that matters were ripe, advanced from Arras, and sent before him twelve knights, and an hundred men-at-arms, to take possession of the castle. Amery admitted them over the bridge of the postern, receiving, at the same time, a bag containing twenty thousand crowns, the price of his treachery. He led the soldiers towards the donjon of the castle; and immediately King Edward and an hundred men, with swords and axes, furiously poured from it, shouting the war-cry, “Manny, Manny, to the rescue!” The Frenchmen were panic-struck by this wild sweep of war, and incontinently yielded themselves prisoners. Edward advanced to the Boulogne gate, where he found the Lord Geffray, who was anxiously expecting it to be opened; and his companions were driving away the tedious moments, by supposing that Amery, like a subtle and suspicious Lombard, was busy in counting his crowns.

The cry, “Manny to the rescue!” disturbed their jocularity, and grasping their swords they saw a band of armed men issuing from the gate. In an instant the King, the Black Prince, the Staffords, the Suffolks, the Salisburys, the Beauchamps, the Berkeleys, all the pride and flower of English chivalry stood before them. The Frenchmen did not decline the combat; and it was chivalrously maintained till a winter’s return of morn. The English were finally victors. Of the single combats in which the cavaliers signalised their valiancy, the fiercest occurred between the King and the Lord Eustace of Rybamount, a strong and hardy knight. Twice was Edward struck on his knees; but at last Eustace was worsted; and he yielded his sword to the King, saying, not knowing his royal quality, “Sir Knight, I yield me your prisoner.”

The King treated his captives like brethren in arms, giving them a noble entertainment, and sitting at the table with them, while the Prince, the lords, and the knights of England, acted as attendants. After supper, and when the tables were removed, the King talked a while with his own knights, and then conversed with the Frenchmen. He gently reproved the Lord Geffray of Charney for an enterprise so unworthy of nobility and knighthood; and then going to Sir Eustace of Rybamont, he said to him, with all the fine frank joyousness of chivalry, “Sir Eustace, you are the knight in the world that I have seen most valiantly assail his enemies and defend himself; and I have never found a knight that ever gave me so much ado body to body as you have done this day, and therefore I give you the prize above all the knights of my own court.” The King thereupon took from his head a chaplet of pearls, fair, goodly, and rich, and presented it to the knight, with the remark, “Sir Eustace, I give you this chaplet, for the best doer in arms this day of either party, and I desire you to wear it this year for the love of me. I know that you are fresh and amorous, and oftentimes among ladies and damsels. Say wheresoever you go that I gave it you; and I free you from prison, and renounce your ransom. To-morrow, if it so please you, you shall depart.”[22]

Here chivalry appeared in all its generousness, elegance, and refinement. How beautifully contrasted is Edward’s deportment to Sir Eustace de Rybamont with his feelings towards Eustace de St. Pierre and his five fellow-burgesses, three years before, at the surrender of Calais to the English. Edward had no sympathy with their magnanimous devotion of themselves to save the lives of their fellow-citizens; no consideration of knightly mercy softened his mind; and it was only the supplication of his queen, who was in a state to move the sternest soul to grant her wishes, that restored his better nature. Before Edward’s chivalry, however, be generally and finally condemned, let it be remembered that his severe losses of his own men had sorely grieved his mind against the people of Calais, and that at the commencement of the siege, when the captain of the town had driven from its gates all the poor and impotent, Edward not only granted them a free passage through his army, but gave them meat and drink and money.[23]

England regarded as the seat of honor.

The court of the English king was regarded as the very judgment-seat of honour; an opinion of which a very curious proof exists. In the year 1350, a fierce war raged between the Soldan of Babylon and Constantine, King of Armenia; the former invading the dominions of the Armenian prince with vast and numerous armies, and the latter endeavouring, by the united strength of his own subjects, and the Cypriots and Rhodians, to repel the violence of the heathen invaders, or at least to arrest their progress, which then began to threaten all Christendom. Among the many great men who, together with the Christian princes, were engaged in this holy war, were a Cypriot knight named John de Visconti, a relation of the King of Cyprus, and a knight of France called Thomas de la Marche, bastard-brother to John de Valois, the French king. Both these knights held high commands in the Christian army. From certain information, or from jealousy, John de Visconti charged the bastard of France with treason; with having agreed, in consideration of a certain sum of gold to be paid unto him beforehand, in part of a greater sum to be paid afterwards, to betray the Christian army to the Turk. Thomas de la Marche, with all the confidence of virtue, boldly denied the charge; it was repeated, and again flung back in the accuser’s face; opprobrious epithets were interchanged, and a challenge to mortal combat was given and accepted. The friends of the two knights, dreading the displeasure of the King of Cyprus and the King of France, and fearing that the consequences of a duel might be felt among themselves, compelled John de Visconti and Thomas de la Marche to agree to stand to the award which should be determined by the confederates in council. The judgment was, that they should carry letters importing their cause fully and clearly from the said Christian princes unto King Edward of England, and to submit themselves to be tried by combat before him, as the most worthy and honorable prince in all Christendom; they swearing to remain as perfect friends until that time.

Soon afterwards, they set sail for England, where they arrived in the beginning of September, and forthwith presented unto King Edward, in the names of the kings of Armenia and Cyprus and the rest of the princes and captains of the Christians, their letters, which contained a narrative of the whole dispute, and the conclusion, that the matter should be determined by combat before him as their judge. In the presence of the King and his court, Sir John de Visconti accused Sir Thomas de la Marche of his treasonable intent and purpose, challenging to prove it upon his body, and thereupon flinging down his gauntlet. Sir Thomas boldly took it up, and accepted the challenge in proof of his innocency. King Edward having read the letters, and seriously considered the whole matter, appointed a day for the decision of their quarrel in close field within the lists at his palace of Westminster.

On the day appointed they met accordingly, armed at all points, on horseback, the King, the Prince of Wales, and the whole court of England being spectators. Presently, upon sound of trumpet, a most gallant combat commenced between the two stranger knights. Both their spears were broken into splinters upon each other’s shield, yet neither of them was cast from his saddle. Instantaneously, and, as it were, by mutual consent, they alighted, and drawing their good swords, renewed the combat on foot, till having with equal valour and discretion fought a considerable while, both their weapons became useless, and they were obliged to come to close grapple, and at length by wrestling both fell locked together, still contending for the victory. It was gained by Sir Thomas de la Marche, by means which, though lawful in the duel, would not have been permitted in the courtly joust and tournament. He had armed the joints of his gauntlet with sharp pricks of steel called gadlings, and he struck them with such force and frequency through the small distant bars of his antagonist’s visor, that Visconti was compelled to call for mercy. The King thereupon threw down his warder, the marshal cried Ho! and the combat ceased. Edward adjudged the victory to the Frenchman, declaring that the vanquished was at his mercy, agreeably to the laws of arms.[24]

Chivalric heroes of Edward’s time.

The court of Edward and his son was as chivalric as that of Arthur, and of much more interesting contemplation, from the pleasure of finding that the beauties of the chivalric character were not imaginary. If the Round Table boasted its Sir Tristram and its Sir Launcelot of the Lake, the order of the Garter possessed its Sir Walter Manny and its Sir John Chandos, whose lives were so brilliant and glorious that the golden age of chivalry seems not like the golden age of nations, a poet’s dream.

The gestes and prowesses of Sir Walter Manny.
Chivalric vow of Sir Walter.

In the suite of Philippa, daughter of the Count of Hainault, when in the year 1327 she came to England to be married to Edward III., was a gentleman of baronial rank, named Walter of Manny[25]; and it was not thought that he lost any quality of his birth by serving at her table as her carver.[26] He had been educated as a cavalier, and his military accomplishments were soon noticed by Edward.[27] He was knighted, and the ceremony was splendid, the dresses being selected from the royal wardrobe.[28] When the chance of a war with France was freely talked of in London, and every man’s mind was filled with hopes of honor, Sir Walter vowed before dames and lords of the court, that he would be the first knight to enter the enemy’s territory[29], and win either town or castle, and do some deeds of arms. He then went to Flanders, and on the defiances being declared between the French and English nations, he got together about forty spears, and, by riding through Brabant night and day, he soon reached Hainault. Mortaigne was, he heard, in the realm of France; and passing with the utmost speed through the wood of Blaton, he arrived at the wished for town before the sun arose, and by good chance he found the wicket of the gate open. Leaving a few of his company to keep the entrance, he went into the high street with his pennon before him, and reached the castle. He was then espied by the watch, who blew his horn, and shouted “Treason, treason!” It would have been the extreme of rashness for such a little troop as that of Sir Walter to have attempted to storm the castle. They therefore contented themselves with setting fire to some houses, and then quitted the town; and thus that noble and gentle knight Sir Walter Manny performed the vow which he had made to the dames and lords of England.[30]

He fights for the love of his lady.

Afterwards, (in the year 1342,) being high in favour with Edward, he was sent into Brittany, with a proud display of knights and archers, to aid the Countess of Mountfort, at that time besieged in her castle by the French. He was not long before he made a sally on the enemy, and with such effect, that he destroyed all their great engines of assault. The French knights, not anticipating so bold a measure, lay at some distance from their machines; but they soon advanced in formidable numbers. The English and Bretons retreated, however, fairly and easily, though the French pursued them with infuriate violence. It would not have been knightly for Sir Walter to have left the field without having right valiantly acquitted himself; and he exclaimed, “Let me never be beloved by my lady, unless I have a course with one of these followers.”[31] He then set his spear in its rest, and so did many of his companions. They ran at the first comers. Then legs were seen turned upwards, knights were taken and rescued, and many rare deeds of arms were done by both parties. Afterwards the English slowly retired to the castle, and the French to their tents.[32]

His rescue of two brother-knights.

Sir Walter, in all his measures of succour to the Countess of Brittany, showed himself one of the prowest knights of the age; but no act of his valor was so interesting as his rescue of two brother-knights, whom an uncourteous cavalier, called Sir Loyes of Spain, had condemned to death.[33] Sir Walter said to his companions, “It would be great honor for us if we could deliver out of danger yonder two knights; and even if we should fail when we put it in adventure, yet King Edward, our master, will thank us, and so will all other noble men. At least, it shall be said, how we did our utmost. A man should peril his body to save the lives of two such valiant knights.”

So generous an emprise was willingly undertaken: the greatest part of his force attacked the enemy’s camp, while Sir Walter himself, with a chosen band, went round to the quarter where, by the custom of war, the prisoners were kept. He found there the two knights, and he immediately set them upon good steeds, which he had brought with him for their use, and, shaking them by the hand, he made them gallop to a place of safety.[34]—The object of his expedition into France, namely, the succour of the Countess of Montfort, being accomplished[35], Sir Walter recrossed the seas, and went to London.

Instance of his joyous adventurousness.

In the year 1344 he was dispatched into Gascony with the Earl of Derby and Lancaster, the Earl of Pembroke, and other noble peers of England, as one of the marshals of the host. Manny inspired and directed every enterprise. From the reports of his spies regarding Bergerac, he thought the place was pregnable. Being one day at dinner with the Earl of Derby, he exclaimed, with a cup of rich Gascon wine in his hand, “If we were good men-of-arms, we should drink this evening with the French lords in Bergerac.” This bold and manly sentiment was loudly applauded by his brother-knights: tables and benches were overthrown in their haste to quit the hall and don their harness, and in a few moments they bestrode their noble steeds. The Earl of Derby was right joyous at the sight of the gallant assemblage, and crying, “Let us ride to our enemies in the name of God and Saint George,” banners were displayed, and the English cavaliers urged their horses to speed. They soon reached the fortress of Bergerac. The pleasant wish of Sir Walter was not realised; for night closed upon the combatants, without their drinking the wines of Gascony together. All the next day was spent, likewise, in manœuvres, and in jousts à l’outrance, and in the evening the French men-at-arms stole away from Bergerac. The common people sent their submissions to the Earl of Derby, who saying, “He that mercy desireth mercy ought to have,” made them swear faith and homage to the King of England.[36]

His gallantry before Auberoche.

No circumstance in this war was of more importance than the relief of the castle of Auberoche, then beleaguered by the French. The Earl of Derby had with him only three hundred spears, and six hundred archers, the rest of his force being dispersed over the country. The French could count about ten or twelve thousand; but the English, undismayed by numbers, thought it was a great disgrace to abandon their friends in Auberoche. The Earl of Derby and his knights were then in a wood, two little leagues from Auberoche; and while waiting for the Earl of Pembroke, they left their horses to pasture.

While they were loitering in the fields, in this state of restlessness, Sir Walter Manny said to his companions, “Let us leap on our horses, and wend our way under the covert of this wood till we arrive at the side which joins the Frenchmen’s host; and then let us put our spurs into our horses, and cry our cries. Our enemy will then be at supper, and, not expecting us, you shall see them so discomfited, that they shall not be able to preserve any array.” A scheme so adventurous was readily embraced: every man mounted his horse; and the troop coasted the wood till they came near the French, who were going to supper, and some, indeed, were already seated at the tables. The scene of festivity was broken up when the English displayed their banners and pennons, and dashed their spurs into their horses, and raising the cry, “A Derby, a Derby!” rushed among them, overthrowing tents and pavilions. When the French recovered from their astonishment, they mounted their steeds, and rode into the field in military array; but there they found the English archers ready to receive them, and those bold yeomen shot so fiercely that they slew many men and horses. On the other side of the castle there was a noble display of French chivalry; and the Englishmen, having overcome those who were near the tents, dashed boldly among them. Many noble deeds of arms were done, knights were taken and rescued, and the English cause triumphed; for the knights of the castle had armed themselves, and now issued forth, and rushed into the thickest of the press. Then the Englishmen entered into Auberoche; and the Earl of Derby gave a supper to the earls and viscounts who were prisoners, and to many of the knights and squires, lauding God, at the same time, that a thousand of his own nation had overcome many thousands of their enemies, and had rescued the town of Auberoche, and saved their companions that were within, who, in all likelihood, would have been taken within two days.

The next morning, at sunrise, the Earl of Pembroke reached the castle with his company of three hundred spears, and four thousand archers; and his personal chivalry was mortified that so fine a deed of knighthood had been done without him; and he said to the Earl of Derby, “Certainly, cousin, you have shown me great uncourtesy to fight with our enemies without me. You sent for me, and might have been sure I would not fail to come.”

“Fair cousin,” quoth the Earl of Derby, “we greatly desired to have had you with us: we tarried all day till it was far past noon, and when we saw that you did not come, we did not dare to abide any longer; for if our enemies had known of our coming, they would have had great advantage over us, but now we have the advantage over them.” The Earl of Pembroke was well contented with this fair reply, and gallantly fought with his brother noble during the remainder of the war.[37]

His filial piety.

We need not describe Sir Walter’s feats of arms before La Reole, besieged by the Earl of Derby; but when the town surrendered, a little circumstance occurred beautifully illustrative of the character of our knight. His father had been murdered near that place, as he was making a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James, in Spain, and had been buried in a little chapel in the field which then was without the town of La Reole, but was inclosed within the walls when the Earl of Derby conquered it. Sir Walter enquired if there was any one who could show him his father’s tomb, offering an hundred crowns for his knowlege and labour. A man, grey and bent with age, went to the knight and declared, “Sir, I think I can bring you near the place where your father was buried.” Manny then, in his joy at the promise, answered, “If your words be true, I will keep covenant, and more.”

The townsman led him to the place of sepulture; and they found a little tomb of marble which the servants of the deceased pilgrim had respectfully lain over him. The old man, pointing to it, exclaimed, “Sir, under that tomb lies your father.” Then the Lord of Manny read the scripture on the tomb, which was in Latin[38]; and finding that his guide had declared the truth, he gave him his reward. He afterwards caused the bones of his father to be taken up, and removed to Valenciennes, in the county of Hainault. There his obsequies were right sacredly performed: the helmet, the sword, the gauntlet, the spurs, and the tabard, were hung over his grave, and as long as the family of Manny lived in that country, sad and solemn priests yearly chanted masses for his soul.[39]

Story of chivalric manners.

Sir Walter so manfully defended the castle of Aguillon, that the Duke of Normandy was compelled to raise the siege. The battle of Cressy had just been fought, and our knight was anxious to visit his sovereign, Edward. He fell into communication with a cavalier of Normandy, who was his prisoner, and demanded of him what money he would pay for his ransom. The knight answered, he would gladly give three thousand crowns.

“Well,” quoth Sir Walter, “I surely know that you are a kinsman to the Duke of Normandy, and so warmly beloved by him, that, were I to press you, I wot in sooth he would gladly pay ten thousand crowns; but I shall deal otherwise with you. You shall go to the Duke, your lord, upon your faith and promise, and get a safe-conduct for myself and twenty of my companions to ride through France to Calais, paying courteously for all our expences; and if you can procure this from the Duke, or the King, I will willingly remit your ransom, for I greatly desire to see the King my master. If you cannot do this, return hither in a month, and consider yourself as my prisoner.”

The knight was well contented, and went to Paris to the Duke, his lord; and having obtained the passport, he returned with it to Sir Walter, who acquitted him of his ransom. Manny commenced his journey, and proceeded safely till he reached Orleans, where he was seized by the officers of the King of France and taken to Paris.

This circumstance was reported to the Duke of Normandy, who went to the King, his father, and entreated him, for the honour of chivalry, to release Sir Walter. He was for a long while inexorable, for he wished to destroy him whom he called his greatest foe; but, at last, good counsel prevailed with him, and Manny was delivered out of prison. He dined with the French monarch, who deported himself with knightly generosity. He entertained the Englishman right nobly, and gave him a distinguished seat on the dais. He also presented to him jewels to the value of a thousand florins; which Sir Walter received, only upon the condition of having liberty to return them, if his master, the King of England, did not approve of his retaining them; and the French king declared that he spoke like a noble knight.

Sir Walter then recommenced his journey, and soon reached Calais. Edward welcomed him; but when he heard of the presents, he said, “Sir Walter, you have hitherto truly served us, and shall continue to do so, we trust. Return the gifts to King Philip; you have no cause to keep them: thank God! we have enough for ourselves and for you; and we intend to do much good to you for the service you have rendered us.”

Sir Walter immediately gave those jewels to a cousin of his, named Sir Mansac, and said, “Ride into France, to the King, and commend me to him, and say, that I thank him a thousand times for his gift; but as it is not the pleasure of the King my master that I should keep it, I send it to him again.”

Sir Mansac, therefore, rode to Paris, and had his royal audience. The King would not accept the jewels, but pressed them upon the knight, who, less conscientious than his cousin, thanked His Grace, and was not disposed to say nay.[40]

The gentle disposition of Manny.

Sir Walter remained with his sovereign during the memorable siege of Calais; and when the inhabitants proposed to capitulate, it was his counsel that swayed with Edward to offer mercy to the town, on the surrender of six of its chief burgesses, instead of requiring general submission. Though Eustace de St. Pierre and his noble companions were saved by the tears and entreaties of Philippa, yet it was that gentle knight, Sir Walter Manny, who first endeavoured to turn aside the fierce wrath of the King. “Noble Sir,” said he, “refrain your courage. You have the reputation of nobleness; therefore do not any thing that can blemish your renown. Every man will say it is great cruelty to put to death such honest persons, who, from their own noble feelings, to save their companions, have placed themselves in your power.”[41]

His importance at Edward’s court.

Sir Walter lost nothing of Edward’s consideration by this contradiction of his humour. But he continued in such favour, that he was permitted to marry a lady related to the royal family[42]: he was invested with the Garter; and was summoned to parliament among the barons of England, from the twenty-first to the forty-fourth year of Edward’s reign.[43] He was among the English lords who signed the treaty of Bretigny in the year 1360; and I regret that he was one of Edward’s council who advised the sending of succours to the Black Prince, when he was about to assist Peter the Cruel. It is more pleasing to contemplate our cavalier on the battle-plain than in the hall of deliberation. He was, to the height, a sage and imaginative soldier; skilful as well as brave in battle.

His remarkable sagacity.

When the war between England and France was renewed, in the year 1369, the Duke of Lancaster (late Earl of Derby) prevented the Duke of Burgundy’s descent upon the English shores, by landing a small army at Calais, and ravaging the country near Boulogne. The Duke of Burgundy commanded the heights of Tournehem: the English were in the neighbourhood, and a battle was daily expected. It was feared, rather than desired, by the English; for their handful of men were opposed by more than four thousand French knights. The Duke of Burgundy could not engage without the King’s permission; but the policy of Charles forbad a battle, and the Duke then desired leave to retire: the King consented. One night, fires were lighted, and there was an unwonted stir amidst the French camp. Such of the English as were near it were rouzed from sleep. They awoke the Lord Robert Namur, who immediately armed himself, and, preceded by a man bearing his banner, went to the tent of the Duke of Lancaster, who had been already disturbed. The English lords, one by one, drew about the Duke, ranging themselves, from the force of habit, fair and softly in battle-order, without any noise or light, and placing the archers in such a form as to be ready to receive an attack by the French. No attack was, however, made; and, after waiting two hours, the Duke consulted with his lords. It was the sage opinion of Manny that the French had fled, and he advised Lancaster to pursue them. But the Duke declined this course; for he said he never could believe that so many valiant men-of-arms and noble knights would so shamefully depart. As soon as morning arose, it was discovered, however, that the French camp was deserted; and the Duke of Lancaster repented that he had not followed the counsel of his experienced friend.

His liberality.

Such was Sir Walter Manny; gallant, hardy, adventurous, and sage. Something still was wanting to the beautiful perfection of his character; for courtesy to the ladies, and bravery and skill in the field, did not of themselves constitute the preux chevalier. Liberality was the graceful ornament of the knightly character; and the charitable annals of the city of London place this crown on the brow of our noble representative of English chivalry.

During a plague in England, in the year 1348, London and its vicinity were the chief places of suffering; and as no church-yard could contain the victims, the Bishop of London bought a piece of ground called No Man’s Land[44], and consecrated it for burials. In the next year, Sir Walter Manny materially added to the charities of the bishop; for he purchased, and caused to be consecrated to the same object, thirteen acres and one rod of ground adjoining to No Man’s Land, and lying in a place called Spittle Croft, because it belonged to St. Bartholomew’s hospital. In the very year of the purchase, the purpose seemed accomplished, for (according to certain charters of Edward III. and an inscription on the cross remaining in Stow’s time,) fifty thousand people were buried there. Sir Walter built a chapel in the cemetery; and, in the year 1371, he founded an house of Carthusian monks, by the appellation of the Salutation of the Mother of God, to advance charity, and administer the consolations of religion.[45]

His death in 1372.
Buried in the Charter-house.

The last circumstance of his tale shall be told in the fitting strain of Froissart. “That same season (1372) died the gentle knight, Sir Walter Manny, in the city of London, whereof all the barons of England were right sorry, for the truth and good counsel that they had always seen and heard in him. He was buried, with great solemnity, in the monastery of the Charter-house, near London; and at the day of his obsequy there were present the King and all his children, and all the prelates, barons, and knights of England. His possessions, both in England and beyond the sea, fell to the Earl of Pembroke, who had married the Lady Anne, his daughter and heir.”[46]

Heroism of Sir James Audley.

Among the flower of Edward’s chivalry, Sir James Audley must be mentioned; not, indeed, that a detailed history of his exploits would be interesting; but there was one series of circumstances in his life honourable to his name and the chivalric character, and distinct and peculiar from every thing else in the manners of other ages.

Immediately before the battle of Poictiers Sir James said to the Black Prince, “Sir, I have always truly served my Lord your father, and you also, and I shall do so as long as I live; and, to prove my disposition, I once made a vow that the first battle wherein either the King, your father, or any of his sons, should be engaged, I would be one of the first setters on, or I would die in the endeavour. Therefore, I request your Grace, in reward for any service that ever I did to the King your father, or to you, that you would give me licence to depart from you, in order that I may accomplish my vow.”

The Prince accorded to his desire; and, taking him by the hand, exclaimed, “Sir James, may God give you this day grace to be the prowest knight of all my host.”

Audley then departed, and set himself in front of the English battles, accompanied only by four squires, who had sworn never to desert him.

He was anticipated in his gallant purpose by the Lord Eustace Damberticourt, whose chivalry was inspired by the lady Juliana[47], but he continued in the front of the battle, performing marvels of arms. He lost no valuable moments in taking prisoners, but when he had disarmed one adversary he pressed forwards to another. He was severely hurt, both in the body and in the face; and, at the conclusion of the mêlèe, his four squires took him out of the battle, and, laying him under a hedge, they bound up his wounds.

Edward soon enquired after the fate of his gallant friend; and Sir James, expressing his joy that his Prince should think of so poor a knight as he was, called eight of his servants, and made them bear him in a litter to the royal tent.

The Prince took him in his arms, and, embracing him with true fraternal affection, said, “Sir James, I ought greatly to honour you, for your valiantness this day has passed the renown of us all.”

“Sir,” answered the knight, with true chivalric modesty, “you say as it pleaseth you. I would it were so; but if I have this day advanced myself to serve you, and to accomplish my vow, no prowess ought to be reputed to me.”

“Sir James,” replied the Prince, “I and all my knights consider you as the best doer in arms this day; and, in order that you may the better pursue these wars, I retain you for ever as my knight, with five hundred marks of yearly revenue.”

His generosity.

Sir James, after expressing his thanks, was taken back to his tent. He then called the four squires before him, and resigned to them the Prince’s gift, saying, it was to their valiantness that he owed it. The Prince soon heard of this noble action, and, sending for him, enquired why he renounced his kindness. Sir James craved pardon for his conduct, but affirmed he could do no otherwise; for his squires had that day several times saved his life, and enabled him to accomplish his vow. Edward’s nobleness disdained any feeling of personal offence; and, in generous emulation of his friend’s liberality, he made in his favour a new grant, more valuable than the former one.[48]

Memoir of Sir John Chandos.
His gallantry to ladies.

But of all the bold and protruding characters of the court of Edward III., none was more distinguished for the greatness and variety of his exploits than that sage and valiant knight, Sir John Chandos. He was the descendant of a Norman family, attached to William the Conqueror, and which had been renowned in every age of its history.[49] While only a squire, he accompanied Edward III. in his first war in France; and, at the siege of Cambray, he amazed the prowest knights by the goodly feats of arms done between him and a squire of Vermandois. At the battle of Vironfosse, immediately afterwards, he was stationed near the person of his sovereign, and, for his valour on that occasion, he received knighthood from the royal sword.[50] Like his friend, Sir Walter Manny, he was gentle, as well as valiant; and it was Chandos that, with another cavalier, saved the ladies of the castle of Poys from the brutal assaults of the rabble.[51] He was in the van, with the Black Prince, at the battle of Cressy; and, at the battle of Poictiers, he never quitted his side.

Amusing instance of the pride of knighthood.

On the day that preceded this last great event an amusing proof occurred of the pride of knighthood, regarding armorial bearings. Sir John Chandos, on the part of the English, and the Lord of Claremont for the French, had been reconnoitering the other’s forces; and, as they returned to their respective hosts, they met, and were mutually astonished that each bore the same armorial emblem.

The Lord of Claremont exclaimed, “Chandos, how long have you taken on you to bear my device?”

“Nay, you bear mine,” replied the English knight; “for it is mine as well as yours.”

“I deny that” observed the Lord of Claremont; “and were it not for the truce that this day is between us, I would prove immediately that you have no right to bear my device.”

“Sir,” rejoined Chandos, with the calmness of truth and bravery, “you shall find me to-morrow ready to prove it is mine, as well as yours.”

Claremont passionately closed the conference by saying, “these are common words of you Englishmen; for you can invent nothing new; but you take for your own whatever you see handsome belonging to others.”[52]

The importance of his counsel at Poictiers.

At the battle of Poictiers the counsel of Chandos was important to the fate of the day: for when the English archers had thrown the French into confusion, he said to the Black Prince, “Sir, take your horse and ride forth; this day is yours. Let us press forwards to the French king’s battle, for there lies the stress of the matter. I think, verily, by his valiantness, he will not fly. I trust, by the grace of God and St. George, that we shall take him; and, Sir, I heard you say that this day I should see you a good knight.” It was this advice which guided the courage of Edward, and the victory was England’s.

His exploits in Brittany,

Nothing remarkable is related of Chandos for nine years after the battle of Poictiers. In 1365 he was the hero and counsellor of the Earl of Mountfort in his war with the Earl of Blois. Mountfort took no measures which were not of his suggestion, or met not with his judgment. Chandos was a valiant as well as a sage knight; for at the battle of Auray his mighty curtal-axe battered many a helm of the French. The fate of this battle fixed his friend of Mountfort in the dukedom of Britany; and in the opinion of the French lords, knights, and squires, the victory had been gained by the skill and high prowess of Chandos.[53]

and in Spain.

He was seneschal of Aquitain, and of all those countries secured to the English by the treaty of Bretigny. Together with Sir Thomas Phelton, he was summoned into Angouleme to advise the Black Prince regarding the affairs of Spain. The deposed king had arrived at Bourdeaux; and Edward, resolving to assist him, sought to fortify his determination by the judgment of his friends. Chandos and his counsel earnestly endeavoured to change his resolve. When, indeed, no considerations could shake the purpose of the Black Prince, our knight accompanied him into Spain, his duties to his liege lord demanding his military service.

Is made a knight banneret.

Before the battle of Navaret he took the rank and title of knight banneret. When the sun arose on that memorable day, it was a great beauty to behold the battles or divisions of the Black Prince’s army and their brilliant harness glittering with its beams. The hostile forces slowly approached each other. Edward with a brief train of knights ascended a small hill, and clearly saw their enemy marching straight towards them. The Prince was then followed by his army; and when they had reached the other side of the hill they formed themselves in dense array, and each man buckled on anew his armour and dressed his spear.

Sir John Chandos advanced in front of the battles with his banner uncased in his hand. He presented it to the Prince, saying, “Sir, behold, here is my banner. I require you to display it abroad, and give me leave this day to raise it, for, Sir, I thank God and you, I possess land and heritage sufficient to maintain it withal.”

The Prince and King Peter took between their hands the banner, which was blazoned with a sharp stake gules, on a field argent, and after having cut off the end to make it square they spread it abroad; and the Prince delivered it to Chandos, saying, “Sir John, behold your banner, and God send you joy, and honor, and strength, to preserve it!”

Chandos bowed, and after thanking the Prince, he went back to his own company, and said, “Sirs, behold my banner and yours, keep it as your own.”

They took it and were right joyful thereof, declaring that, by the pleasure of God and St. George, they would keep and defend it to the utmost of their power.

The banner was then placed in the hands of a worthy English squire, called William Allestry, who bore it that day, and acquitted himself right nobly.

In that battle, Chandos counselled the Duke of Lancaster as sagely as at the battle of Poictiers he had counselled Edward. He performed also wonders in arms, for he was a great and mighty knight, and well formed of all his limbs; but he adventured himself so far that he was closed in among his enemies, and at length pressed to the earth. A Spaniard of gigantic stature fell upon him with dreadful force; but Sir John drew a knife from his bosom, which he recollected he had about him, and struck his foeman so fiercely in the back and on the sides, that he wounded him to death as he lay on him. Sir John turned him over, and rose quickly on his feet, and his men-at-arms at that time joined him, they having with much difficulty broken through the press when they saw him felled.[54]

Quits the Black Prince;
but returns.

Chandos had not succeeded in dissuading the Prince of Wales from his Spanish war, and he failed also in withdrawing him from the more fatal project of taxing, beyond usage, his French dominions. Finding him resolved in his purpose, and not wishing to bear any blame or reproach about the matter, Sir John took his leave of the Prince, and made his excuse to go into Normandy to visit the land of St. Saviour le Viscount, whereof he was lord, for he had not been there for several years. When the war so fatal to England’s power in France broke out, the Black Prince wrote to Chandos to join him without delay. Sir John immediately went to Angouleme, and his liege lord joyfully received him. He was made Seneschal of Poictou at the request of the barons and knights of that country.

The remarkable generousness of his conduct to Lord Pembroke.

His deeds of arms equalled his former fame; but it was his chivalric generosity that was most striking, and the circumstances which accompanied the appearance of that feature of his character are very interesting. He wished the Earl of Pembroke, who was in garrison at Mortaygne, to accompany him in an enterprise into the French territory. The Earl was well content to have ridden forth; but some of the knights of his counsel broke his purpose, and said, “Sir, you are but young, and your nobleness is to come; and if you put yourself into the company of Sir John Chandos, he shall have the reputation and voice of it, for you will be regarded only as his companion; therefore, Sir, it is better for you, since you are a great lord, that you perform your enterprises by yourself, and let Sir John Chandos perform his; for in comparison with your estate, he is but a knight bachelor.”

The Earl of Pembroke accordingly excused himself; and Sir John Chandos, unaided by him, went into Anjou, accompanied by three hundred spears of knights and squires, and two hundred archers. He achieved all his emprises; and hearing at last that Sir Louis of Sancerre, the Marshal of France, with a great number of men of war, was at Hay in Touraine, he wished to cope with him; but as his own force was inadequate to so great an exploit, he sent word of his intention to the Earl of Pembroke, desiring him to repair with his soldiers to Chatelterault.

Chandos the herald took the message; but the Earl by counsel of his knights again refused. The herald repaired to Sir John at Chatelterault, and the enterprise was broken up in consequence of the presumption and pride of the Earl of Pembroke: Chandos gave leave to most of his company to depart, and he himself went to Poictiers. Some of his men joined the Earl of Pembroke; who, at the head of three hundred knights and squires, committed great destruction in Anjou, and returned with immense booty into Poictou.

The Frenchmen, thinking it a more easy chevisance to discomfit him than Sir John Chandos, assembled seven hundred soldiers from all the garrisons in the country, and Sir Louis of Sancerre took the command. The Earl of Pembroke heard nothing of the enemy, and not having the vigilance of Sir John Chandos he took no pains to enquire. The English were one day reposing in a village called Puirenon, in the territory of Poictou, when suddenly the Frenchmen came into the town, their spears in their rests, crying their cry, “Our Lady of Sancerre, for the Marshal of France.” The English were dressing their horses, and preparing their suppers, when they were thus unexpectedly assailed. Several were killed, all the plunder was retaken, many prisoners were made, and the Earl of Pembroke and some of his knights and archers saved themselves in a preceptory of the Templars. The Frenchmen assaulted it gallantly, and it was as gallantly defended, till night put an end to the assault.

The English were so severely straitened for provisions, that they knew they must speedily surrender, unless Chandos came to their succour. A squire, who professed to know the country, offered to go to Sir John, and he accordingly left the fortress when the French had retired to rest. But he soon lost his road, and did not recover it till morning.

At day-break the French renewed their assaults, and mounted the walls with pavesses to defend their heads from the missiles of the English. The Earl of Pembroke and his little band fought so bravely, from morning until noon, that the French were obliged to desist, and to resort to the uncavalierlike mode of worsting their gallant foes by sending to the neighbouring villages for pikes and mattocks, that they might undermine and break down the wall.

Then the Earl of Pembroke called a squire to him, and said, “Friend, take my courser, and issue out at the back postern, and ride straight to Poictiers, and show Sir John Chandos the state and danger we are in; and recommend me to him by this token,” added the Earl, taking a ring from his finger: “deliver it to him, for Sir John knows it well.”

The squire took the ring, and immediately mounting his courser, fled through the postern, thinking he should achieve great honor if he could reach Sir John Chandos.

The first squire having lost so much time in the confusion of the night did not arrive at Poictiers till nine in the morning. He found Sir John at mass; and, in consequence of the importance of his message, he disturbed his devotions.

Chandos’s feelings had been severely offended by the pride and presumption of the Earl of Pembroke, and he was in no great haste to relieve him. He heard the mass out. The tables were then arranged for the noon repast.

The servants, among whom the message of the squire had been bruited, enquired of Sir John if he would go to dinner. He replied, “Yes; if it were ready.”

He went into the hall, and knights and squires brought him water. While he was washing, the second squire from the Earl of Pembroke, pale, weary, and travel-soiled, entered the hall, and knelt before him, and took the ring out of his purse, and said, “Right dear Sir, the Earl of Pembroke recommends himself to you by this token, and heartily desires your assistance in relieving him from his present danger at Puirenon.”

Chandos took the ring; but instead of calling his friends to arm, he coldly observed, that it would be difficult to assist the Earl if the affair were such as the squire had represented it. “Let us go to dinner,” said he; and accordingly the knights sat down.

The first course was eaten in silence, for Chandos was thoughtful, and the minds of his friends were not idle.

In the middle of the second course, when the generous wine of France had roused his better nature, he started from a reverie, and with a smile of pride and generousness exclaimed, “Sirs, the Earl of Pembroke is a noble man, and of great lineage: he is son of my natural lord the King of England, for he hath married his daughter, and in every thing he is companion to the Earl of Cambridge. He hath required me to come, to him, and I ought to consent to his desire.”

Then thrusting the table from him, and rising to the full height of his fine martial figure, he cried, “Gallant knights, I will ride to Puirenon.”

This noble and generous resolve found an echo in the heart of every one that was present. The trumpets sounded, the knights hastily donned their armour, and saddled the first horses they could meet with; and in a few moments the court-yard glittered with more than two hundred spears. They rode apace towards Puirenon; but news of their approach reached the vigilant French in sufficient time for them to abandon the siege, and effect their retreat with their prisoners and booty.

The Earl of Pembroke soon found that the terror of the name of Chandos had scared the foe, and he proposed to his companions to ride towards Poictiers and meet their deliverers. They accordingly left the village in a right pleasant mood, some on foot, others on horses, and many a gallant steed carried double that day. They had not ridden a league before they met Sir John Chandos and his company, who much to their regret heard of the retreat of the French. The two parties rode in company for the space of three leagues, holding merry converse on deeds of arms. They then departed, Chandos returning to Poictiers, and the Earl of Pembroke to Mortaygne.[55]

The last curious circumstances of his life.

Our knight’s career of glory approached its close. By the treachery of a monk, the abbey of St. Salvyn, seven leagues from Poictiers, fell into the possession of the French, who all that year, 1371, had been harassing the English territories. Chandos was deeply mortified at the loss of the abbey, it being within the scope of his seneschalship. To recover it by chivalric skill, or to bring his enemies to fair and manly battle, seemed equally impossible, and his high spirit was wounded at these insults to his military abilities. On the last day of December he made an unsuccessful attempt to recover the abbey; and when he returned to the town of Chauvigny, he dismissed two-thirds of his troops, knights of Poictou and England. Sir Thomas Percy, with thirty spears, had his leave to go in quest of adventures. His own mind was too ill at rest for him to indulge in mere chivalric exercises; and after he had wished them good speed he went back into the house full of melancholy thoughts. He would not retire to rest though the night was far advanced; but he remained in the kitchen warming himself by the fire, his servants endeavouring by their jests and tales to banish his uneasiness.

Before daylight a man with the haste and anxiety of the bearer of news of import came into the house.

“The Frenchmen are riding abroad,” said he to Sir John.

“How knowest thou that?”

“I left St. Salvyn with them,” was the answer.

“Which way did they ride?” demanded Chandos.

“Their exact course I wot not,” replied his informant; “but I saw them on the high road to Poictiers.”

“What Frenchmen?” required Sir John.

“Sir Louis of St. Julian, and Carnot the Breton.”

“Well,” quoth Chandos, “I care not: I have no mind to ride forth to-night: it may happen that they may be encountered, though I am not there.”

The conversation closed here, but Chandos could not dismiss the subject from his mind. He mused upon what he had heard, and hope gradually broke through the gloom of his disappointment.

He then told his knights he would ride to Poictiers, and they joyfully caparisoned their horses.

Chandos and forty spears left Chauvigny before daylight, and getting into the Frenchmen’s course, they soon overtook them near the bridge of Lusac. They were on foot, preparing to attack Sir Thomas Percy and his little band, who had posted themselves on the other side of the bridge.

Before the Frenchmen and Bretons had arranged their plan of assault, they heard the trampling of Chandos’s war-horses, and turning round they saw his dreadful banner displayed. He approached within three furlongs of the bridge and had a parley with them. He reproached them for their robberies and acts of violence in the country whereof he was seneschal.

“It is more than a year and a half,” he continued, “that I have set all my aim to find and encounter you, and now, I thank God, I see you and speak to you. It shall soon be known who is prowest, you or I. You have often vaunted your desire to meet me; now you may see me before you.—I am John Chandos: regard me well,” he thundered in their ears, his countenance darkening as he spoke.

At that moment an English squire was struck to the earth by the lance of a Breton. The generous nature of Chandos was rouzed at this ungallant act; and, in a tone of mingled expostulation and reproof, he cried to his own company, “Sirs, how is it that you suffer this squire thus to be slain? A foot, a foot!”

He dismounted, and so did all his band, and they advanced against the French. His banner, with the escutcheon above his arms, was carried before him, and some of his men-at-arms surrounded it. Chandos missed his steps, for the ground was slippery from the hoar-frost of the morning, and in his impatience for battle he entangled his feet in the folds of his surcoat. He fell just as he reached his enemy; and as he was rising, the lance of a French squire entered his flesh, under the left eye, between the nose and the forehead. Chandos could not see to ward off the stroke; for, some years before, he had lost the sight of that eye, while hunting the hart in the country round Bourdeaux: unhappily, too, his helmet was without the defence of its vizor.

He fell upon the earth, and rolled over two or three times, from the pain of the wound, but he never spoke again.

The French endeavoured to seize him; but his uncle, Sir Edward Clifford, bestrode the body, and defended it so valorously, that soon none dared to approach him.

Grief at his death.

The barons and knights of Poictou were conquerors, and when the confusion was hushed, they flocked round their outstretched friend and seneschal. They wept, they wrung their hands, they tore their hair, and gave way to every violent expression of grief. They called him the flower of chivalry, and lamented the hour when the lance was forged which had brought him into peril of death.

He heard and understood them well, but was unable to reply. His servants then unarmed him; and, laying him upon a pavesse, or large shield, they bore him gently to the neighbouring fortress of Mortimer.

He died on the following day; and a cavalier more courteous, and more worthily adorned with noble virtues and high qualities, never adorned the English chivalry. He was, in sooth, as gallant a knight as ever laid lance in rest.

The Prince of Wales, the Earl of Cambridge, the Earl of Pembroke, and, indeed, all the English barons and knights then in Guienne, lamented his fate, as the loss of all the English dominions in France; and many right noble and valiant knights of France mourned the death of a generous foe, and they wished he had been made prisoner; for they said he was so sage and imaginative that he would have planned a peace between the two nations.[56]

Chandos was never married. All the estates which he had won by his valour went to his three sisters.

CHAP. II.

PROGRESS OF CHIVALRY IN GREAT BRITAIN,

FROM THE REIGN OF RICHARD II. TO THAT OF HENRY VIII.

Complaints of the unchivalric State of Richard’s Court ... Influence of Chivalry on the national Character ... Scottish Chivalry ... Chivalric Kindness of Robert Bruce ... Mutual Chivalry between the Scotch and English Courts ... French Knights’ Opinions of Scottish Chivalry ... Courtesies between English and Scottish Knights ... Chivalric Battle of Otterbourn ... Hotspur and the Douglas ... A cavaleresque Story ... Reign of Henry IV. ... Chivalric Parley between him and the Duke of Orleans ... Henry’s unchivalric Conduct at Shrewsbury ... Henry V. ... Knights of the Bath ... Henry’s Love of chivalric Books ... His chivalric Bearing ... Commencement of the Decline of Chivalry ... The Civil Wars injured Chivalry ... Caxton’s Lamentation ... He exaggerates the Evil ... Many gallant English Knights ... Character of Henry VIII. with Reference to Chivalry ... Tournaments in his Reign ... Field of the Cloth of Gold ... Introduction of Italian Literature favoured Romance ... Popularity of Chivalric Literature ... English Knights continued to break Lances for Ladies’ Love ... State of Scottish Chivalry at this Period ... James IV. ... Chivalric Circumstances at Flodden Field.

In the reign of Richard II. the splendor of England’s chivalry was clouded. That monarch had neither spirit nor ambition to recover the possessions which had been wrested from the crown during the illness of his father, the Black Prince, and the imbecility of his grandfather, Edward III.; for though the war with France nominally continued, yet he gave few occasions for his knights to break their lances with the French. Not that England enjoyed a state of perfect peace, but the wars in France and Portugal had no brilliant results, for the English knights were no longer guided by the sageness of Chandos, or the gallantry of Prince Edward.

Complaints of the unchivalric state of Richard’s court.

England was menaced with invasion by Charles VI. of France; but the project died away, and nothing gave greater offence to the people than the want of spirit in the court, in not revenging itself for the insult. A comparison was immediately instituted between the present and the preceding reign. Where were those great enterprises, it was asked, which distinguished the days of King Edward III.? where could be found the valiant men who had fought with the Prince, his son? In those days England was feared, and was reputed as possessing the flower of Christian chivalry; but now no man speaks of her, now there are no wars but such as are made on poor men’s purses, and thereto every one is inclined.[57]

Influence of chivalry on the national character.

The expensive wars of England with France were productive of mighty consequences to the English constitution. An application for redress of grievances always met the demand of supplies, and public liberty benefitted by the costly ambition of the crown. The wars did not spring from chivalry, and we cannot, therefore, ascribe to that bright source any general political advantages which resulted from them: but chivalry gave the tone to the manner in which they were waged; hers were all the humanities of the contest; hers was, at least, half the distinction (for we must remember the bow was as formidable as the lance) of establishing the glory of the country; of giving her that proud character for martial prowess, which has outlived her brief and feeble tenure of the territorial consequences of victory.

Richard II. did not emulate the martial fame of his father. His neglect of the warriors of the former reign was not among the slightest causes of that disaffection which ultimately ruined him. One of the public grievances, as stated to the throne by the House of Commons, was that the chivalry of the country had been discountenanced and disgraced, and that the growth of vice had consequently increased.[58]

Richard was a voluptuous prince; the splendour of chivalry hung over his court; his tilts and tournaments were unusually magnificent; but the martial and, therefore, the chief spring of knighthood was wanting. A warlike sovereign could have found rich materials among his people for ambitious enterprises. The increasing wealth of the nation, arising from its improving commerce, displayed itself in luxuries; and the aspiring commonalty imitated the chivalric courtesies of the great. It marks the state of manners, that the splendid tapestries of the citizens represented the martial achievements of Edward III.[59]

Scottish chivalry.

The names of the Douglas and the Percy were so highly distinguished in the fourteenth century, that the reign of Richard II. is a fit place for some notices of northern chivalry. The battle of Bannockburn proved that, in gallantry and generosity, the essentials of knighthood, the Scots were as noble as the cavaliers of the south; and there was a fine wildness of imagination among the people which was suitable to the romantic genius of chivalry.[60] But those of Scotland’s heroes whose lives are known to us were patriots rather than cavaliers, the circumstances of the times in which they lived inflaming them with different passions than those which knighthood could inspire.

Chivalric kindness of Robert Bruce.

Sometimes, however, the stern virtues of patriotism were graced and softened by chivalric courtesy. Perhaps the most pleasing instance of this occurred in the conduct of Robert Bruce, in the year 1317, when he was assisting his brother, Edward Bruce, to subjugate Ireland; and I will not injure the story by telling it in any other way than in the simple and beautiful strain of the poet:

“The king has heard a woman cry,
He asked, what that was in hy?[61]
It is the layndar[62], Sir, said ane,
That her child-ill[63] right now has ta’en,
And must leave now behind us here,
Therefore she makes an evil cheer.[64]
The king said, “Certes, it were pity
That she in that point left should be,
For certes, I trow there is no man
That he no will rue[65] a woman than.”
His hosts all then arrested he,
And gert a tent soon stintit[66] be;
And gert her gang in hastily,
And other women to be her by.
While she was delivered he bade,
And syne forth on his ways rade.
And how she forth should carried be,
Or he forth fure[67] ordained he.
This was a full great courtesy,
That swilk a king and so mighty,
Gert his men dwell on this manner,
But for a poor lavender.”[68]
The Bruce, book xi. l. 270.

At the court of the Scottish kings, knighthood was always regarded as a distinction worthy of the highest ambition. Its objects were the same as in other countries,—the defence of the church, protection of the helpless, and generosity to woman. The form of the chivalric oath has been preserved, and it presents us with a curious picture of ancient manners:

1. I shall fortify and defend the Christian religion to the uttermost of my power.

2. I shall be loyal and true to my sovereign lord the king; to all orders of chivalry, and to the noble office of arms.

3. I shall fortify and defend justice at my power; and that without favour or enmity.

4. I shall never flee from my sovereign lord the king; nor from his lieutenants, in time of affray or battle.

5. I shall defend my native land from all aliens and strangers.

6. I shall defend the just action and quarrel of all ladies of honour, of all true and friendless widows, of orphans, and of maidens of good fame.

7. I shall do diligence, wheresoever I hear that there are any murderers, traitors, or masterful robbers, who oppress the king’s lieges and poor people, to bring them to the law at my power.

8. I shall maintain and uphold the noble state of chivalry, with horse, armour, and other knightly habiliments, and shall help and succour those of the same order, at my power, if they have need.

9. I shall enquire and seek to have the knowledge and understanding of all the articles and points contained in the book of chivalry. All these promises to observe, keep, and fulfil, I oblige myself: so help me God by my own hand, and by God himself.[69]

Mutual chivalry between the Scotch and English courts.

Chivalric honours formed sometimes a bond of connection between the Scottish and the English sovereigns. When Prince Henry (afterwards King Henry II.) arrived at the age of sixteen years, his father Geoffry sent him through England with a numerous and splendid retinue into Scotland, to receive the honour of knighthood from his mother’s uncle, King David. The ceremony was performed with great pomp, in the midst of a prodigious concourse of the English, Scottish, and Norman nobility; and the Prince spent about eight months in the court of Scotland, perfecting himself in military exercises.[70]

A few years afterwards chivalric honors were conferred by Henry II. of England upon Malcolm II. But the granting of knighthood was not regarded as a matter of mere courtesy. When the kings met at Carlisle, in 1158, the previous cession of the northern provinces by Malcolm to Henry gave rise to such heats and feuds, that the Scottish monarch departed without receiving the honour he desired. In the next year, however, Henry, by excellent address, persuaded Malcolm to accompany him to France for the recovery of Tholouse, which he claimed as part of the inheritance of Eleanor his queen; and the honor which Henry had refused in the last year to give him at Carlisle, he now conferred upon him at Tours in France, in the course of his return from the Tholouse expedition.[71]

In 1249 when King Alexander III. repaired from Scotland to York to be married to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry III. of England, the ceremonies of chivalry preceded those of marriage. Alexander received the ensigns of knighthood from the King of England on Christmas day, and the hand of his bride on the following morning.[72] Tournaments were occasionally held at the Scottish court, and strangers were courteously received.[73] Knights from Scotland are frequently mentioned in the old chronicles as having won the prize in the chivalric festivals in France and England. In the wars of the Scots with Edward III. no circumstances of a character peculiarly knightly can be selected; and in the intervals of truce chivalry could not, as in the wars between England and France, give the guise of friendship to occasional intercourse. In the year 1341, a time of peace, Edward passed some time in Scotland. Tournaments and jousts formed the occupation of the strangers and the natives; but neither party regarded the gentle rules of the tourney, and two Scottish knights and one English knight were killed.[74]

French knights’ opinions of Scottish chivalry.

Nothing could contribute more powerfully to the advancement of chivalry in the north than the frequent intercourse between the Scots and the French. The latter people, however, would not always acknowlege the chivalric character of their allies. In the year 1385, a troop of French knights joined the Scottish king; and they soon were grieved that they had ever left their own country. They complained to their leader Sir John of Vienne of their unhappy lot. They had no tapestried halls and goodly castles as in France; and instead of soft beds their couches were as hard as the ground.

Sir John was a true son of chivalry; and he said to them, “Sirs, it behoves us to suffer a little, and to speak fair since we are in the perils of war. Let us take in cheerfulness that which we find. We cannot always be at Paris, Dijon, Beaune, or at Chalons. It behoveth them that live in the world thinking to have honour, to suffer poverty as well as to enjoy wealth.”

The reader of English history remembers that Richard II. invaded Scotland; that at the same time the Scots ravaged Cumberland and Westmorland; and that each army boasted that the destruction it had committed was fully as dreadful as the havoc made by the other. It is more curious to notice the trait of manners which general historians have altogether omitted, that when the French knights returned home, they complained that they had never passed through so painful an enterprise. Not that they regarded the perilous mêlée, but it was because they returned without horse or harness, poor and feeble. They wished that the French king, would unite with the English king, and go into Scotland and destroy that realm for ever. The Scots were an evil people, traitors, and altogether foolish in feats of war.[75]

English knights always more rejoiced when the trumpet summoned them to France than to Scotland. The rich wines, the fine country, the superior chivalry of the French were preferred before the poverty and bleakness of the north. When the English knights went to Scotland they were obliged to carry provisions with them; and also horses’ shoes and harness, the country not furnishing iron or leather.[76]

Courtesies between English and Scottish knights.

The wars between England and Scotland, though fierce and sanguinary, admitted the display of the liberal feelings of chivalry. “Englishmen on the one party, and Scots on the other,” says Froissart, “are good men of war; for when they meet there is a hard fight without sparing. There is no pause between them as long as spears, swords, axes, or daggers will endure. When one party hath obtained the victory, they then glorify so in their deeds of arms and are so joyful, that such as are taken are ransomed ere they go out of the field; so that shortly each of them is so content with the other, that at their departing they will say courteously, God thank you.”[77]

Chivalric battle of Otterbourn, 21st July, 1388.

These remarks of Froissart, so interesting because so characteristic of manners, prelude the most chivalric battle that ever was fought between Scotland and England. Other battles were decided either by the bow or by that general military skill which was not peculiar to chivalry; but the battle of Otterbourn was a knightly mêlée, and was as truly chivalric as an encounter of cavaliers in the tournament. In the reign of Richard II. of England, and a few years after the circumstances in his time already alluded to, the Scots commanded by James Earl Douglas, taking advantage of the troubles between the King and his parliament, poured upon the south. When they were sated with plunder and destruction, they rested at Newcastle, near the English force which the Earl of Northumberland and other border-chieftains had hastily levied.

Hotspur and the Douglas.

The Earl’s two sons were young and lusty knights, and ever foremost at the barriers to skirmish. Many proper feats of arms were done and achieved. The fighting was hand to hand. The noblest encounter was that which occurred between the Earl Douglas and Sir Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur.[78] The Scot won the pennon of his foeman; and in the triumph of his victory he exclaimed that he would carry it to Scotland, and set it on high on his castle of Dalkeith, that it might be seen afar off.

Percy indignantly replied, that Douglas should not pass the border without being met in a manner which would give him no cause for boasting.

With equal spirit the Earl Douglas invited him that night to his lodging to seek for his pennon.

The Scots then retired, and kept careful watch, lest the taunts of their leader should urge the Englishmen to make an attack. Percy’s spirit burned to efface his reproach, but he was counselled into calmness.

The Scots then dislodged, seemingly resolved to return with all haste to their own country. But Otterbourn arrested their steps. The castle resisted the assault; and the capture of it would have been of such little value to them that most of the Scotch knights wished that the enterprise should be abandoned.

Douglas commanded, however, that the assault should be persevered in, and he was entirely influenced by his chivalric feelings. He contended that the very difficulty of the enterprise was the reason of undertaking it; and he wished not to be too far from Sir Henry Percy, lest that gallant knight should not be able to do his devoir in redeeming his pledge of winning the pennon of his arms again.

Hotspur was not altogether that impatient spirit which poetry has described him. He longed, indeed, to follow the Douglas, and redeem his badge of honor; but the sage knights of the country, and such as were well expert in arms, spoke against his opinion, and said to him, “Sir, there fortuneth in war oftentimes many losses. If the Earl of Douglas has won your pennon, he bought it dear, for he came to the gate to seek it, and was well beaten: another day you shall win as much of him and more. Sir, we say this because we know well that all the power of Scotland is abroad in the fields; and if we issue forth and are not strong enough to fight with them, (and perchance they have made this skirmish with us to draw us out of the town,) they may soon enclose us, and do with us what they will. It is better to lose a pennon than two or three hundred knights and squires, and put all the country to adventure.”

By such words as these Hotspur and his brother were refrained from their purpose; for like sage and imaginative knights they would do nothing against counsel.

Soon afterwards it was discovered that the whole amount of the Scottish force did not exceed three thousand men. Hotspur’s heart leapt for joy at the prospect of glory which this news opened to him; and, like a true son of chivalry, he cried to his friends; “Sirs, let us spring upon our horses, for by the faith I owe unto God, and to my lord my father, I will go and seek my pennon, and dislodge the Scots this same night.”

Incontinently knights and squires donned their helms and cuirasses, and vaulted on their war-steeds. They rode more than apace to Otterbourn, and reached the Scottish camp by night. They far outnumbered their foemen, but the numerical was not the physical strength, for the English were forespent with travel, while the Scots were fresh and well rested.

The hostile banners waved in the night-breeze, and the bright moon, which had been more wont to look upon the loves than the wars of chivalry, lighted up the Scottish camp. A battle ensued of as valiant a character as any recorded in the pages of history; for there was neither knight nor squire but that did his devoir and fought hand to hand. The English dashed upon their foemen with such spirit, that their charge would have been irresistible, if Douglas, who was of great heart and high of enterprise, had not taken his axe in both his hands, and supported his retreating band. At length he was encountered by three spears at once, and borne perforce to the earth. One of his companions, a gallant knight, and a chaplain who fought on that occasion like a valiant man of arms with a good axe in his hands, skirmished about the Earl as he lay, and kept the press from him.[79]

When it was known that Douglas had fallen, some of his knights ran with breathless anxiety to the spot and asked him how he sped. “Right evil, cousins,” quoth the Earl; “but, thank God, very few of my ancestors have died in their beds. But I require you to avenge my death, for I feel my heart fainting within me. Raise my banner, but do not declare my case to any one; for my enemies would rejoice, and my friends be discomforted, to hear that I had been wounded to death.”

In a moment the proud ensign of his chivalry waved once again over the Scottish knights, and each gallant man-at-arms cheered his companion’s heart by crying the war-cry of the Douglas. The Percys were made prisoners, Hotspur[80] by the Earl Montgomery, and Sir Ralph by Sir John Maxwell. Finally, the Scottish chivalry prevailed, and they remained masters of the field.[81]

Nothing could be more gallant than the demeanor of the Scots. They wished to take alive Thomas Felton, an English squire, whose valour excited their admiration; but, like a true hero, he submitted to be slain rather than to be vanquished.

The Scots, when the Englishmen yielded, were courteous, and set them to their ransom; and every man said to his prisoner, “Sir, go and unarm you, and take your ease;” and they lived together as if they had been brethren.

A chivalric story.

Among the circumstances connected with the battle, none is more interesting than this:—When the fate of the night was decided, Sir Matthew Redman, an Englishman, and governor of Berwick, spurred his horse from the field, but was hotly pursued by the Scottish knight, Sir James Lindsay, and he could not escape, for his panting charger fell under him. Lindsay dismounted, and the two knights fought well and chivalrously, the Scotsman with his axe (the favorite weapon of the nation), and the English knight with his sword. The axe prevailed, and Redman surrendered himself, rescue or no rescue. He wished to go to Newcastle, and his master (for such, as we have often seen, was the title of a knight who held another captive,) permitted him to depart, on his pledging his word of chivalry, that within three weeks he would meet him at Edinburgh. The knights then separated; but as Lindsay was returning to the Scottish host, priding himself on his success, he was surrounded by the Bishop of Durham and a numerous troop. Some hours before, they had marched purposely to the succour of Percy; but the clangour of the mêlée had terrified them into a retreat. They possessed sufficient bravery, however, to take a single and battle-worn knight. He was led to Newcastle, where he met Sir Matthew Redman; and these two gallant cavaliers dined right merrily together, and, after quaffing many a cup of rich wine, to the honour and health of their mistresses, they arranged with the bishop the conditions of each other’s liberation.[82]

Reign of Henry IV. Chivalric parley between him and the Duke of Orleans.

The reign of Henry IV. of England was not altogether void of chivalric interest. While Duke of Lancaster he had chosen Louis, Duke of Orleans, for his brother in chivalry. Each had promised to the other that they would live in the warmest affection of true friendship. Each vowed to be a friend and well-wisher to the friends and well-wishers of the other, and an enemy to his enemies, as became the honour and reputation of both; and that at all times, and in all places, they would by words and deeds assist each other in the defence of his person, honour, and estate. These chivalric engagements between the two Dukes had been made known to the world in an instrument called a letter of alliance, dated the 17th of June, 1396.

The friendship lasted during the remainder of the reign of Richard II.; but the deposition of that monarch was so odious a circumstance, in the eyes of the court of France, the daughter of whose sovereign Richard had married, that although no open rupture of the existing truce between the two nations took place, yet many high-spirited French noblemen made private war upon the English king.

The Duke of Orleans, his sworn brother in arms, challenged Henry IV. to meet him at any place he chose in France, each of them being accompanied by one hundred knights and squires, of name and arms without reproach, and to combat together till one of the parties should surrender.

Henry declined the challenge, alleging, as his reasons, the public truce between the two countries, to which the Duke of Orleans was a party, and the particular treaty of alliance between themselves. That treaty, however, he now annulled, and threw aside thenceforth all love and affection towards the Duke. He declared that it would be unworthy of his high rank to accept the challenge of any one of inferior dignity to himself, nor had any of his royal progenitors ever employed his arms with one hundred or more persons, in such a cause: but whenever he should think it convenient to visit his possessions on the French side of the sea, accompanied by such numbers of persons as he thought proper, the Duke of Orleans might assemble as many persons as he should judge expedient, to acquire honour in the accomplishing of all his courageous desires; and he should not depart without being satisfied in a combat between themselves; which mode of terminating their dispute was preferable to any other that might occasion the effusion of more Christian blood.

The Duke of Orleans replied that the public truce had been violated by Henry himself, when he made war upon Richard the ally of France. With respect to the articles of friendship between themselves, the allies of the king of France had been excepted from their provisions, and therefore either party was left to his choice of conduct regarding the deportment of the other to any of their allies. On the subject of a remark of Henry that no knight of whatever rank he might be, ought to request a deed of arms, until he should have returned any articles of alliance that might exist between himself and the challenged person, Louis satirically enquired whether Henry had rendered to his lord, King Richard, the oath of fidelity he had made to him, before he had proceeded in the manner he had done against his person. The Duke insinuated that Richard’s death had been compassed by Henry, and then enquired how the King could suffer that noble lady, the Queen of England, to return to France so desolate after the death of her husband, despoiled of her portion and dower. The man who sought to gain honour was always the defender and guardian of the rights of widows and damsels of virtuous life, such as the niece of the Duke of Orleans was known to lead; and as he was so nearly related to her, acquitting himself towards God and towards her as a relation, he replied, that to avoid effusion of blood he would cheerfully meet him in single combat.

In reply to this letter Henry observed, that when public affairs had called him from France to England, Louis had promised him aid, and that therefore the Duke could not in justice comment on the late revolution: but that with respect to Richard personally, he, Henry, now king, denied most warmly and solemnly that his death had been occasioned by his order or consent. He declared it to be false, and said it would be false each time that Louis uttered it; and this he was ready to prove, through the grace of God, in personal combat. He repelled the charge of cruelty to Isabella; contending that, on the contrary, he had ever shown kindness and friendship to her, and wishing that Louis had never acted with greater rigour, unkindness, or cruelty towards any lady or damsel than he had done to her.

But the proposed combat never took place; nor can it be inferred that either party was very sincere in his challenge, for the ambassadors of Henry at the court of France often complained of the conduct of Louis, but Louis never reiterated his challenge, and no satisfaction was rendered, the King and council waiving the matter entirely, and coldly stating that they would always continue firm to the engagements which they had made with England.[83]

Henry’s unchivalric conduct at Shrewsbury.

In another event, the most important event of his reign, the conduct of Henry was most decidedly unchivalric. When at the battle of Shrewsbury (July 21. 1403,) the banners advanced, and the air was rent with the war-cries “Saint George!” and “Esperance Percy!” the archers on either side drew their tough bow-strings with such murderous energy, that the several lines of knights and men-at-arms with difficulty maintained their ground.

In this moment of peril, when the stoutest hearts quailed, the gallant Hotspur, and Archibald Earl Douglas[84], with a small band of brothers in arms, started from their host, and throwing their warlike shields before them, rushed, amidst an iron shower, into the very centre, the best defended part, of the royal army. Their battle-axes and good swords made fearful havoc among the King’s guards, the standard of England was trodden under foot, and the Earl of Stafford and that “dear and true industrious friend” of the King, Sir Robert Blunt, who were armed in the royal guise, were slain.[85] Hotspur sought in vain for the King; for when His Grace observed the Percies sweeping across the field, he had followed the prudent counsel of the Earl of Dunbar, and changing his armour for that of a common knight, he repaired to another part of the plain.

The Prince of Wales displayed more bravery than his father, and he was wounded while maintaining his position.

Hotspur now formed his little band into a dense array, and endeavoured to retire to his line of knights. But while he was fighting with all the courage of his high chivalry, a random arrow brought him to the earth. His death was almost instantaneous; and the event was viewed through either army with the various feelings of joy and woe. He had been the inspiring soul of his own host, and his fall was the signal for their dispersion.

The character of courage can scarcely be denied to Henry IV., but it was not graced by any of the lofty daring of chivalry. An Edward would have braved the fiercest danger, he would never have thrown aside the insignia of his rank, and clothing some noble friends in the royal habiliments have left them to perish in his stead. The conduct of Henry might have been royal, but it certainly was not chivalric.[86]

Henry V.
Knights of the Bath.

The glories of chivalry seemed to be revived in the reign of Harry Monmouth. His coronation was accompanied by a large creation of a class of knights, whose peculiar nature I have not yet expressed. In early ages of English history there seems to have been two descriptions of cavaliers, the Knights of the Sword, and the Knights of the Bath. The former were made both in times of war and peace, the latter only at coronations, royal marriages, and other festive occasions. The dubbing with the sword was the simple ceremony of creating knights of the one class; but most of the forms of chivalry were used in the investiture of those of the other: and as the Bath was a very remarkable part of the ceremony, and the exhortation to the performance of chivalric duties was delivered to the knight while he was in it, the knights so created were reputed knights of the Bath.

The Knights of the Sword, or Knights Bachelors, were created by the sheriffs of counties, by virtue of letters from the king commanding his officers to knight those persons, who, in consequence of their landed estates, were worthy of the honour; but when the other class was to be enlarged, the king selected a certain number of the young nobility and gentry, and he himself assisted at the ceremony.

Knights of the Bath always took precedence of knights bachelors; and as the superiority of knights of the Garter was shown by the circumstance, that on the installation of a knight there was a creation of knights of the Bath, so on any other occasion when knights of the Bath were made, there was, in honor of the circumstance, a creation of knights of the Sword.

The exact time when this distinction was first made between knights of the Bath and knights of the Sword has eluded the investigation of antiquaries, nor does it deserve a lengthened enquiry. It may be marked in the reign of Henry IV.[87], and was probably of earlier origin; and at the coronation of his son this feature of our ancient manners was fully displayed.

The King, with a noble and numerous train of lords spiritual and temporal, left his palace at Kingston-upon-Thames, and rode at a soft pace towards London. He was met and greeted by a countless throng of earls, barons, knights, squires, and other men of landed estate and consideration; and as he approached the city, a solemn procession of its clergy, and a gorgeous train of its merchants and tradesmen, hailed his approach. The King was conducted with every mark of honour to the Tower, where about fifty gallant young gentlemen of noble birth were waiting in expectation of receiving the honour of knighthood from the King, on occasion of the august ceremony of his coronation. The sovereign feasted his lords in the Tower; and these young candidates for chivalry, in testimony that they should not be compellable at any future time to perform the like service in the habit of esquires, served up the dishes at this royal festival according to the usage of chivalry in England; and immediately after the entertainment they retired to an apartment where dukes, earls, barons, and honourable knights, as their counsellors or directors, instructed them upon their behaviour, when they should become knights of the venerable order of the Bath.

The young candidates, according to custom, went into the baths prepared severally for them, performing their vigils and the other rites and exercises of chivalric practice. Much of the night was passed in watching and prayer, the rest they slept away in rich golden beds. They arose on the first appearance of the next morning’s dawn; and, after giving their beds to the domestic servants of the King’s household, as their customary fee, they proceeded to hear mass. Their devotions concluded, they clad themselves in rich silk mantles, to whose left shoulders were attached a double cordon or strings of white silk, from which white tassels were pendent. This addition to the mantle was not regarded as a decoration, but a badge of gentle shame, which the knight was obliged to wear until some high emprise had been achieved by him. The proud calls of his knighthood were remissible, however, by his lady-love; for a fair and noble damsel could remove this stigma from his shoulder, at her own sweet will; for there were no limits to woman’s power in the glorious days of chivalry.[88]

The young soldiers mounted noble war-steeds and rode to the gate of the royal palace, where, dismounting, each of them was supported by two knights, and conducted with all proper marks of honour and respect into the presence of the King, who, sitting in royal magnificence, the throne being surrounded with the great officers of state, promoted them severally to the honour of knighthood. A great festival was then given in their honour, and they were permitted to sit down in their rich silk mantles in the King’s presence; but they were not allowed to taste any part of the entertainment; for it was a feature in the simple manners of our ancestors, that new made knights like new made wives ought to be scrupulously modest and abstemious.[89]

After the royal feast was done, the young cavaliers, divesting themselves of their mantles, put on rich robes ornamented with ensigns of dependence on the King. The next day, when the King rode to Westminster in much state and solemn order, all these young knights whom he had just honoured with the order of chivalry preceded him, riding with noble chevisance through the middle of the city; and so splendid was their appearance that the spectators (observes the old chronicler) seemed inebriated with joy.[90]

Henry’s love of chivalric books.

It is a pleasing and convincing proof of the chivalric spirit of Harry Monmouth, that he commanded Lydgate to translate into English the Destruction of Troy, in order that the public mind might be restored to its ancient military tone. He wished that the remembrance of the valiant dead should live, that the worthiness and prowess of the old chivalry and true knighthood should be remembered again.[91] Accordingly, the youth of England were on fire, and honour’s thought reigned solely in the breast of every man.

“They sell the pasture now to buy the horse;
Following the mirror of all Christian kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
For now sits Expectation in the air,
And hides a sword, from heels unto the point,
With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets,
Promis’d to Harry and his followers.”[92]

His chivalric bearing.

Certainly the march to Calais (after the taking of Harfleur) was never exceeded in heroic bravery by any imaginary exploit in romance. The attenuated condition of his army forbad all immediate prosecution of his ambitious aspirations for the French crown; but a direct return to England did not accord with his high and courageous spirit; and, treating the soil of France as if it were his own, he resolved to march to Calais. He professed neither desire nor fear to meet his enemies; and he pursued his march with firm and grave steps, openly declaring to the French heralds the destination of his course. Political objects were suspended, but he secretly wished to raise the chivalric character of his people; and he had numbers and vigour yet remaining to have a joust to the utterance with his enemies. As at Poictiers so at Agincourt, the yeomen divided with the knights of England the glory of the conquest: but the battle of Agincourt was in itself more heroic, for the English themselves were the assailants, instead of, as in the former battle, waiting the attack.

Henry’s disdain of the wish of having more men from England,—his noble cry, “Banners, advance!” when his few thousands were ranged against all the proud chivalry of France,—his rendering himself conspicuous by his crown, his armour, and his splendid tunic,—his knighting some brave Welsh soldiers, his personal defenders, even as they lay expiring;—these circumstances, vouched for, as they are, by the most faithful chroniclers, apparently belong to the romance rather than to the history of chivalry.

After the battle he was as courteous[93] to his noble prisoners as the Black Prince had been on a similar occasion; and there was something very beautiful in his not permitting his battered helmet, with its royal crown, to be exhibited, during the customary show at his public entrance into London.[94]

Commencement of the decline of chivalry.

Henry V. was the last of our chivalric kings. Though he revived the fame of Edward III. and the Black Prince, yet immediately after his reign the glories of English chivalry began to wane.

In our subsequent wars in France, indeed, there were among our nobility many knightly spirits,—the Warwicks, the Talbots, the Suffolks, the Salisburys, all worthy to have been the paladins of Charlemagne, the knights of Arthur’s Round Table. But they went not with the character of the age; they opposed, rather than reflected it. Chivalry was no longer a national feature in our wars when there was no sovereign to fan the flame.

The civil wars.
Caxton’s lamentation.

Henry VI. was a devotee, and Edward IV. a voluptuary. The civil wars in England operated as fatally upon the noble order of knighthood as the civil wars in France had done in that country. In those contests, far fiercer than national hostilities, there was a ruthlessness of spirit that mocked the gentle influences of chivalry. Accordingly it was asked, in the time of Edward IV., “How many knights are there now in England that have the use and exercise of a knight? that is to say, that he knoweth his horse, and his horse him, ready to a point to have all things that belongeth to a knight; a horse that is according and broken after its kind, his armour and harness meet and fitting.”[95] “I would,” continues the father of English printing, “it pleased our sovereign lord that twice or thrice in a year he would cry jousts of peace, to the end that every knight should have horse and harness, and also the use and craft of a knight; and also to tourney, one against one, or two against two, and the best to have a prize, a diamond or jewel. The exercises of chivalry are not used and honoured as they were in ancient time, when the noble acts of the knights of England that used chivalry were renowned through the universal world. O ye knights of England, where is the custom and usage of noble chivalry? What do ye now but go to the bains and play at dice? Alas! what do ye but sleep and take ease, and are all disordered from chivalry? Leave this, leave it, and read the noble volumes of St. Graal, of Launcelot, of Tristrem, of Galaod, of Perceval, of Perceforest, of Gawayn, and many more. There shall ye see manhood, courtesy, and gentilness.”[96]

To this testimony of the decline of chivalry must be added the important fact that in 1439 people petitioned parliament for liberty to commute by a pecuniary fine the obligation to receive knighthood. This change of manners did not occur, as is generally supposed, in consequence of the use of gunpowder; for during the civil wars in England artillery was seldom and but partially used in the field, and, except at the great battle of Tewkesbury, in the year 1471, that arm of power had no effect on the general issue of battles. The cavalry and infantry were arranged in the old system: the lance was the weapon of those of gentle birth, while the bow and the bill were used by people of inferior state. Comines, who wrote about the close of the fifteenth century, says, that the archers formed the main strength of a battle.[97]

He exaggerates the evil.

Though the civil wars had injured, they had not altogether destroyed the spirit of chivalry. There was yet enough of it remaining among the people to have borne its old shape and appearance, if England had once more been possessed of a Black Prince or a Harry Monmouth. But we had no such sovereign; and the increasing use of gunpowder effectually prevented the return of chivalric customs in battle. The feelings of a nation are reflected in its literature; and we find that the taste of the English people was altogether in favour of romances and histories of chivalry, as Caxton’s various publications prove. The declamation of Caxton against the degeneracy of the age, which has been already cited, must not be interpreted literally in all its points. Romance writers, like moralists, had before praised the past at the expence of the present times. So early as the thirteenth century, Thomas of Erceldoune, called the Rhymer, had bewailed the depravity of his contemporaries, and had likened the degeneracy of his age to the change which the approaching winter must produce upon the appearance of the fields and groves.

“This semly somers day,
In winter it is nought sen:
This greves (groves), waxen al gray,
That in her time were grene;
So dos this world I say,
Y wis and nought at wene;
The gode bene al oway,
That our elders have bene
To abide.”[98]

Caxton’s mind was full of the high interest of chivalry, and it was very natural of him to lament that the same enthusiasm did not warm the hearts of others. But he must have considered the feelings of chivalry as dormant, and not extinct, or he would never have addressed the public in the manner he did at the close of his preface to his edition of the romances relating to Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. He printed the work, he says, “to the intent that noble men may see and learn the noble acts of chivalry, the gentle and virtuous deeds that some knights used in those days, by which they came to honour, and how they that were vicious were punished, and oft put to shame and rebuke, humbly beseeching all noble lords and ladies, with all other estates of what estate or degree they be of, that shall see and read in this said book and work, that they take the good and honest acts in their remembrance, and to follow the same. Wherein they shall find many joyous and pleasant histories, and many noble and renowned acts of humanity, gentleness, and chivalry. For herein may be seen noble chivalry, courtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship, cowardice, murder, hate, virtue, and sin. Do after the good and leave the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame and renommée.”

Many gallant English knights.

His question, how many knights of England were there in England that had the use and exercise of chivalry, could have been answered by many accomplished cavaliers. The King, at the very time when Caxton wrote, was giving licences to his subjects to progress into foreign countries, and perform feats of arms; and foreign princes, barons, and knights, came into England, under royal protection, to grace our tilts and tournaments.[99] Every marriage, and other interesting circumstances in the lives of the nobility, was celebrated by knightly shows in honour of arms and of the ladies.

Character of Henry VIII. with reference to chivalry.

The forms of chivalry appeared more splendid than before, as chivalry approached its downfall. Henry VII., the least warlike of our sovereigns, created knights with remarkable brilliancy of ceremony; and the jousts and tournaments in the days of his son and successor would have graced the best ages of chivalry. But Henry VIII. had none of the virtues of a true knight, and his conduct to his wives was any thing but chivalric.[100] He displayed his great strength and activity of person in the tournament, because that amusement was one of English custom, but he would as readily have engaged in any other exercise more strictly gymnastic. He affected, however, to joust from true feelings of knighthood; for he used on these occasions to wear on his head a lady’s sleeve full of diamonds. He was as famous for his tournaments as Edward III. had been for his battles. In many of the early years of his reign he was perpetually breaking spears, or fighting at barriers with a two-handed sword, and to his rank, if not to his skill, the prize was generally adjudged. But his skill was sometimes undoubted; for, like the knights of old, he occasionally fought in disguise[101], and yet conquered; and he encountered, with similar success, men of other countries who, for various reasons of affairs or pleasure, travelled to England.

The jousts and tournaments in the days of Henry VIII. are extremely interesting, as reflecting a state of manners different from those of earlier times. Tournaments were no longer simple representations of chivalry, but splendid pageants were united to them.

Tournaments in his reign.

In June, 1512 a solemn tournament was kept at Greenwich, the King and Sir Charles Brandon undertaking to abide all comers. To this goodly show the ladies were the first that approached, dressed in white and red silk, and seated upon horses, the colours of whose trappings corresponded with those of the ladies’ dresses. A fountain curiously made of russet satin, having eight mouths spouting water, then followed. Within this piece of splendour and ingenuity sat a knight armed at all points. The next person in the procession was a lady covered with black silk dropped with fine silver, riding on a courser barded in a similar manner. A knight in a horse-litter then followed. When the fountain arrived at the tilting ground, the ladies rode round the lists, and so did the fountain, and the knight within the litter. Two goodly coursers caparisoned for the jousts then were introduced. The two knights left the fountain and the litter and mounted them, the surprised spectators beholding the King and Sir Charles Brandon.

The challenge to all comers was then proclaimed by the heralds; and while the trumpets were sounding all the inspiring notes of chivalry, at one end of the lists entered Sir Thomas Knevet in a castle of coal black, and over the castle was written ‘The dolorous Castle.’ The Earl of Essex, the Lord Howard, and other knights splendidly attired, then pricked into the lists, and with Sir Thomas encountered the King and Sir Charles Brandon. The details of the tournament have not been recorded; the chronicler contenting himself with observing, that the King broke most spears, and that the prize fell to his lot.[102]

Henry displayed his joy at the birth of his son, Prince Arthur, by a solemn tournament. The court removed from Richmond to Westminster. The King himself determined to tourney, and he selected four knights to aid him. He styled himself “Cure Loial,” the Lord William Earl of Devonshire was called “Bon Voloire,” Sir Thomas Knevet, “Bon Espoir,” and Sir Edward Nevill chose for his tourneying name “Valiant Desire.” These four noble spirits were called “Les quatre chevaliers de la forrest Salvigne.” Their names were written upon a goodly table, which was suspended from a tree, curiously wrought, the knights engaging to run at the tilt against all comers. Accordingly, by the prescribed time, a court in the palace was prepared for the games, and the Queen and her ladies were conducted to a gallery richly hung inside with cloth of gold, and on the outside with cloth of arras. A pageant preceded the sports of chivalry. It is described as representing a forest, with rocks, hills, and vales, with trees, herbs, and flowers, made of green velvet, damask and silk. Six men clad as foresters stood at different parts; and in the midst of the forest was a castle apparently made of gold, and before the gate sat a gentleman splendidly apparelled, weaving a garland of roses for the prize. The spectators imagined that the pageant was drawn into the court by a lion and an antelope, who were led by men in the guise of savages. When the pageant rested before the Queen, the foresters blew their horns, and from different parts of the forest the four knights issued armed at all points and mounted on their war-steeds. Each knight carried his lance, a plume of feathers surmounted his crest, and his name was embroidered on the bases of gold which covered his horse. At the moment of these knights starting from the forest, and the court resounding with the noise of drums and trumpets, the Earl of Essex, the Lord Thomas Howard, and many other nobles, entered the court, and then the jousts commenced. But who deserved best that day the historian has not mentioned. The next afternoon the Queen repaired to her gallery; and instead of the King and his aids being introduced in a pageant, they entered the court under splendid pavilions of cloths of gold and velvet. On the other side of the lists Sir Charles Brandon entered in the guise of a recluse or religious person, his horse being also caparisoned in the simplest form. No drum or other sound of minstrelsy ushered his approach; but he slowly and silently advanced to the Queen, and presented to her a writing, whose effect was, that if she pleased he would tourney in her presence, but if it suited her not, he would depart as he came. The Queen smiled and bowed assent; and Sir Charles, retiring to one end of the lists, threw aside the disguise of his splendid armour. The young Henry Guilford, enclosed in a device or a pageant made like a castle or turret, then approached the Queen, and obtained her leave to engage in the tilt. Next appeared the Marquis Dorset and Sir Thomas Bullen, like two pilgrims from Saint James, in tabards of black velvet, with palmers’ hats on their helmets, with long Jacobs’ staves in their hands, their horse-trappings of black velvet, the harness of men and steeds being set with scallop shells of fine gold and strips of black velvet, every strip being also adorned with golden scallop shells. Next came the Lord Henry of Buckingham, Sir Giles Capell, and many other knights. The sports then commenced, and as on the preceding day the King won the prize. In the evening the ambassadors and the nobility supped with the royal family, and after the banquet the King with the Queen and lords and ladies entered the white-hall of the palace. Songs, dancing, and minstrels, succeeded, and in the midst of the merriment the King retired unseen. Soon afterwards the trumpets at the end of the hall began to sound, and a pageant upon wheels was brought in. A gentleman richly attired descended from it, and approaching the Queen in a supplicatory attitude, told her that in a garden of pleasure there was an arbour of gold wherein were lords and ladies much desirous to show pastime to the Queen and court, if they might be permitted so to do. The Queen replied, that she was very desirous to see them and their pastime. A cloth of arras was therefore drawn from the front of the pageant, and rich representations of nature saluted the eye. Six ladies, dressed with more bravery than the dull chronicler can describe, were seen in the arbour, supported by the King and five gallant knights. The whole scene appeared one blaze of gold. After the applause which this splendour elicited had subsided, the lords and ladies descended from the pageant, the minstrels sounded their music of gaiety, and the whole court mixed in the dance. And the people, too, had their amusement; for some portion of the simplicity of ancient times remained, and royalty was not thought to lose any thing of its dignity by being presented to the public eye. The pageant was conveyed to the end of the palace, there to tarry till the dances were finished, and so to have received the lords and ladies again; but suddenly the rude and joyous people ran to it, and tore and rent and spoilt it; and the Lord Steward and his officers, seeing that they could not drive them away without a conflict and disturbance, suffered the pageant to be destroyed.[103]

Field of the cloth of gold.

The field of the cloth of gold has been so often described in works of ready access, that I should not be warranted in attempting to picture again its gay and sparkling scene. But some of its circumstances have not been sufficiently noticed; and they are so expressive of the chivalric feelings of the time that a history of chivalry would be imperfect without a description of them.

The whole ceremonial of the meeting between Henry VIII. and Francis I. was regulated by Cardinal Wolsey,

“One certes, that promised no element
In such a business.”

And the principle which guided this right reverend cardinal of York was political subtlety, and not knightly liberality. The English sojourned at Guisnes, the French at Ardres. On the morning of the first royal interview, the two kings and their numerous followers left their respective pavilions at the signal of a gun fired at Guisnes, and returned from Ardres. They slowly measured the way to the intermediate plain in the silence of apprehension; for the cardinal’s ungenerous suspicions had spread through either host. Once each party halted, expecting an attack; and when the noise which occasioned the alarm died away, the procession recommenced its course, confident that the fears of the other side were greater than their own. The kings met, and so anxious were they to display their feelings of friendship that they embraced on horseback. They then dismounted, and having renewed their caresses, they went into a pavilion of golden cloth; nor did they separate till dinner and familiar conversation had frozen the etiquette imposed on their manners by the cardinal.

The next morning the two Queens interchanged visits, and spent some hours in dancing and other amusements. These interchanges of courtesies warmed the minds of the two sovereigns to chivalric generousness. One morning Francis rode to Guisnes with scarcely any attendance. He walked through the English guard, who drew back in astonishment, and he did not stop till he reached the chamber where his brother-monarch lay asleep. Francis soon awoke him; and Henry, immediately comprehending his motives, declared, in the spirit and language of chivalry, that he yielded himself his prisoner, and plighted his faith. He then threw round Francis’s neck a collar of great value, and Francis gave him a bracelet of superior worth, each king entreating the other to wear the gift for his sake. The two monarchs then became brothers in arms; and with twelve companions undertook to deliver all persons at jousts, tourney, and barriers.

The chivalric exercises continued for five days, in the presence of the two queens and the nobility of England and France. French and English knights were the only part of the chivalry of Europe who answered the challenge: for chivalry could not then, as in former days, smooth down personal heats and feuds; and therefore no subject of the wide extended empire of Charles V. appeared on the field of the cloth of gold. The only weapons used were spears; but they were impelled with such vigour, as to be so often broken, that the spectators’ eyes were scared with splinters. Each day the challengers varied their harness and devices, and each day the two kings ran together so valiantly that the beholders had great joy.[104]

“Each following day
Became the last day’s master, till the next
Made former wonders it’s. * * *
* * * * * * * The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them; him in eye,
Still him in praise: and, being present both,
’Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns
(For so they phrase ’em) by their heralds challenged
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought’s compass; that former fabulous story,
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
That Bevis was believed.”[105]

Introduction of Italian literature favoured romance.

There was a considerable portion of chivalry among the nobility of Henry VIII. In some respects, however, it partook more of the romance of the Troubadour than the genuine character of knighthood: for the tale that Lord Surrey travelled from court to court proclaiming the peerless beauty of his lady-love, and challenging all gainsayers to a joust à l’outrance is totally void of truth[106]; and it only appears that his Lordship fostered for the fair Geraldine a sentimental affection without distinct views. It was altogether a poet’s dream; and the Italian muse, who was at that time worshipped in England, favoured such fond imaginings.

Popularity of chivalric literature.

Much of the literature of the time was chivalric. Every noble spirit loved the Knight’s Tale of Chaucer. The French and Spanish stories of warriors and dames were transfused into English; as was the fine Chronicle of Froissart by Lord Berners at the command of the King; and the vigorous, rich, and picturesque style of our language in those days was admirably adapted for a history of the most brilliant age of knighthood. That the spirit of chivalry was not extinct in the reign of Henry VIII. is evident from this work of Lord Berners, for the ordinary diction of the day was used; and it was to the full as expressive of the gallantry and grace of the olden time as the original work itself.

Chivalric education of nobility.

The education of our English gentry was nearly as chivalric then as at any previous period of our history. Boys were sent to school to learn to read at four years of age. At six they were taught languages and the first principles of manners: from ten to twelve dancing and music were added to their accomplishments, and politeness was particularly encouraged. At fourteen they were initiated into the sports of the field which prepared them for the ruder exercise of arms. At sixteen they were taught to joust, to fight at the barriers, to manage the war-horse, to assail castles, to support the weight of armour, and to contend in feats of arms with their companions. And there their education terminated.[107] When they went to battle they demeaned themselves worthy of their education.

English knights continued to break lances for ladies’ love.

In all the military expeditions of the English on the Continent, the soldiers of either army were continually challenging each other to break a lance for their ladies’ sake. Sir John Wallop, in his march with a British army to Landrecy, in the year 1543, went to the town of Terouenne, and, recollecting that the commandant was an old acquaintance, he addressed him in the true spirit of chivalry, that if there were any gentlemen under his charge willing to break a lance for their ladies’ sake, six gentlemen should be sent from the English army to meet them. The challenge was accepted, the jousts were held, and, after this fine old chivalric mode of displaying his friendship, Sir John Wallop held on his course to Landrecy.[108]

State of Scottish chivalry at this period.
James IV.