admitted into the order without any regard whatever to the regulations
by statute. Within one year, or very little more than that period, two
emperors, three kings, and an heir to a throne, who soon after came
to his inheritance, were enrolled Companions of the order. But it was
the era of victories and rejoicings, and no one thought of objecting
to a prodigality which would have astounded the royal founder. Long
after the period of victory, however, the same liberality continued
to be evinced toward foreign princes of sovereign degree. Thus at the
accession of Charles X., the England monarch despatched the Duke of
Northumberland as Embassador Extraordinary to attend at the coronation
of the French monarch, and to invest him, subsequently, with the Order
of the Garter. I remember seeing the English procession pass from
the duke’s residence in the Rue du Bac, over the Pont Royal to the
Tuileries. It puzzled the French people extremely. It took place on
Tuesday, June 7, 1825. At noon, “four of the royal carriages,” says
the Galignani of the period, “drawn by eight horses, in which were the
Baron de Lalivre and M. de Viviers, were sent to the Hotel Galifet
for the Duke of Northumberland.” The two envoys who thus contrived to
ride in four carriages and eight horses--a more wonderful feat than
was ever accomplished by Mr. Ducrow--having reached the ducal hotel,
were received by the duke, Lord Granville, our ordinary embassador,
and Sir George Naylor, his Britannic Majesty’s Commissioners charged
to invest the King of France with the insignia of the Garter. The
procession then set out; and, as I have said, it perplexed the French
spectators extremely. They could not imagine that so much ceremony was
necessary in order to put a garter round a leg, and hang a collar from
a royal neck. Besides the four French carriages-and-eight, there were
three of the duke’s carriages drawn by six horses; one carriage of
similar state, and two others more modestly drawn by pairs, belonging
to Lord Granville. The carriage of “Garter” himself, behind a couple
of ordinary steeds; and eight other carriages, containing the suites
of the embassadors, or privileged persons who passed for such in
order to share in the spectacle, closed the procession. The duke had
a very noble gathering around him, namely, the Hon. Algernon Percy,
his secretary, the Marquis of Caermarthen, the Earl of Hopetoun, Lords
Prudhoe (the present duke), Strathaven, Pelham, and Hervey, the Hon.
Charles Percy, and the goodhumored-looking Archdeacon Singleton. Such
was the _entourage_ of the embassador extraordinary. The ordinary
embassador, Lord Granville, was somewhat less nobly surrounded. He had
with him the Hon. Mr. Bligh, and Messrs. Mandeville, Gore, Abercrombie,
and Jones. Sir George Naylor, in his Tabard, was accompanied by a cloud
of heralds, some of whom have since become kings-of-arms--namely,
Messrs. Woods, Young, and Wollaston, and his secretary, Mr. Howard.
More noticeable men followed in the train. There were Earl Gower and
Lord Burghersh, the “Honorables” Mr. Townshend, Howard, and Clive,
Captain Buller, and two men more remarkable than all the rest--the
two embassadors included--namely, Sir John Malcolm and Sir Sidney
Smith. Between admiring spectators, who were profoundly amazed at the
sight of the duke in his robes, the procession arrived at the palace,
where, after a pause and a reorganizing in the Hall of Embassadors,
the party proceeded in great state into the Gallery of Diana. Here
a throne had been especially erected for the investiture, and the
show was undoubtedly most splendid. Charles X. looked in possession
of admirable health and spirits--of everything, indeed, but bright
intellect. He was magnificently surrounded. The duke wore with his
robes that famous diamond-hilted sword which had been presented to him
by George IV., and which cost, I forget how many thousand pounds. His
heron’s plume alone was said to be worth five hundred guineas. His
superb mantle of blue velvet, embroidered with gold, was supported by
his youthful nephew, George Murray (the present Duke of Athol), dressed
in a Hussar uniform, and the Hon. James Drummond, in a Highland suit.
Seven gentlemen had the responsible mission of carrying the insignia on
cushions, and Sir George preceded them, bearing a truncheon, as “Garter
Principal King-at-arms.” The duke recited an appropriate address,
giving a concise history of the order, and congratulating himself on
having been employed on the present honorable mission. The investiture
took place with the usual ceremonies; but I remember that there was
no salute of artillery, as was enjoined in the book of instructions
drawn up by Garter. The latter official performed his office most
gracefully, and attached to the person of the King of France, that day,
pearls worth a million of francs. The royal knight made a very pleasant
speech when all was concluded, and the usual hospitality followed the
magnificent labors of an hour and a half’s continuance.
On the following evening, the Duke gave a splendid _fête_ at his hotel,
in honor of the coronation of Charles X., and of his admission into the
Order of the Garter. The King and Queen of Wurtemburg were present,
with some fifteen hundred persons of less rank, but many of whom were
of greater importance in society. Perhaps not the least remarkable
feature of the evening was the presence together, in one group, of the
Dauphin and that Duchess of Angoulême who was popularly known as the
“orphan girl of the Temple,” with the Duchess of Berri, the Duke of
Orleans (Louis Philippe), and Talleyrand. The last-named still wore
the long bolster-cravat, of the time of the Revolution, and looked as
cunning as though he knew the destiny that awaited the entire group,
three of whom have since died in exile--he alone breathing his last
sigh, in calm tranquillity, in his own land.
Charles X. conferred on the ducal bearer of the insignia of the Garter
a splendid gift--one of the finest and most costly vases ever produced
at the royal manufacture of Porcelain at Sèvres. The painting on it,
representing the Tribunal of Diana, is the work of M. Leguai, and it
occupied that distinguished artist full three years before it was
completed. Considering its vast dimensions, the nature of the painting,
and its having passed twice through the fire without the slightest
alteration, it is unique of its kind. This colossal vase now stands in
the centre of the ball-room in Northumberland House.
The last monarch to whom a commission has carried the insignia of
the Garter, was the Czar Nicholas. It was characteristic of the man
that, courteous as he was to the commissioners, he would not, as
was customary in such cases, dine with them. They were entertained,
however, according to his orders, by other members of his family.
It is since the reign of George III. that Mr. Macaulay’s remark
touching the fact of the Garter being rarely conferred on aliens,
except sovereign princes, may be said to be well-founded. No alien,
under princely rank, now wears the Garter. The most illustrious of the
foreign knights are the two who were last created by patent, namely,
the Emperor Louis Napoleon and the King of Sardinia. The King of
Prussia is also a knight of the order, and, as such, he is bound by
his oath never to act against the sovereign of that order; but in our
struggle with felonious Russia, the Prussian government, affecting to
be neutral, imprisons an English consul on pretence that the latter has
sought to enlist natives of Prussia into the English service, while, on
the other hand, it passes over to Russia the material for making war,
and sanctions the raising of a Russian loan in Berlin, to be devoted,
as far as possible, to the injury of England. The King is but a poor
knight!--and, by the way, that reminds me that the once so-called poor
knights of Windsor can not be more appropriately introduced than here.
THE POOR KNIGHTS OF WINDSOR, AND THEIR DOINGS.
The founder of the Order of the Garter did well when he thought of the
“Milites pauperes,” and having created a fraternity for wealthy and
noble cavaliers, created one also for the same number of “poor knights,
infirm of body, indigent and decayed,” who should be maintained for
the honor of God and St. George, continually serve God in their
devotions, and have no further heavy duty, after the days of bustle and
battle, than to pray for the prosperity of all living knights of the
Garter, and for the repose of the souls of all those who were dead. It
was resolved that none but really poor knights should belong to the
fraternity, whether named, as was their privilege, by a companion of
the noble order, or by the sovereign, as came at last to be exclusively
the case. If a poor knight had the misfortune to become the possessor
of property of any sort realizing twenty pounds per annum, he became
at once disqualified for companionship. Even in very early times, his
position, with house, board, and various aids, spiritual and bodily,
was worth more than this.
To be an alms knight, as Ashmole calls each member, implied no
degradation whatever; quite the contrary. Each poor but worthy
gentleman was placed on a level with the residentiary canons of
Windsor. Like these, they received twelvepence each, every day that
they attended service in the chapel, or abode in the College, with a
honorarium of forty shillings annually for small necessaries. Their
daily presence at chapel was compulsory, except good and lawful reason
could be shown for the contrary. The old knights were not only required
to be at service, but at high mass, the masses of the Virgin Mary,
as also at Vespers and Complins--from the beginning to the end. They
earned their twelvepence honestly, but nevertheless the ecclesiastical
corporation charged with the payment, often did what such corporations,
of course, have never tried to do since the Reformation--namely, cheat
those who ought to have been recipients of their due. Dire were the
discussions between the poor (and pertinacious) knights, and the dean,
canons, and treasurers of the College. It required a mitred Archbishop
of York and Lord Chancellor of England to settle the dispute, and
a very high opinion does it afford us of the good practical sense
of Church and Chancery in the days of Henry VI., when we find that
the eminent individual with the double office not only came to a
happy conclusion rapidly, and ordered all arrears to be paid to the
poor knights, but decreed that the income of the treasurer should
be altogether stopped, until full satisfaction was rendered to the
“milites pauper.” For the sake of such Chancery practice one would
almost consent to take the Church with it.
But not only did the lesser officials of that Church cheat the veteran
knights of their pay, but their itching palm inflicted other wrong. It
was the fitting custom to divide the fines, levied upon absentees from
public worship, among the more habitually devout brethren. Gradually,
however, the dean and canons appropriated these moneys to themselves,
so that the less godly the knights were, the richer were the dean and
canons. Further, many dying noblemen had bequeathed very valuable
legacies to the College and poor fraternity of veterans. These the
business-like ecclesiastics had devoted to their own entire profit; and
it required stringent command from king and bishop, in the reign of
Richard II., before they would admit the military legatees even to a
share in the bequest.
Not, indeed, that the stout old veterans were always blameless. Good
living and few cares made “fast men” of some of them. There were
especially two in the reign last named, who created very considerable
scandal. These were a certain Sir Thomas Tawne and Sir John Breton.
They were married men, but the foolish old fellows performed homage to
vessels of iniquity, placed by them on the domestic altar. In other
words, they were by far too civil to a couple of hussies with red faces
and short kirtles, and _that_--not that such circumstance rendered
the matter worse--before the eyes of their faithful and legitimate
wives. The bishop was horror-stricken, no doubt, and the exemplary
ecclesiastics of the College were enjoined to remonstrate, reprove,
and, if amendment did not follow, to expel the offenders.
Sir Thomas, I presume, heeded the remonstrance and submitted to live
more decorously, for nothing more is said of him. Jolly Sir John was
more difficult to deal with. He too may have dismissed Cicely and
made his peace with poor Lady Breton, but the rollicking old knight
kept the College in an uproar, nevertheless. He resumed attendance at
chapel, indeed, but he did this after a fashion of his own. He would
walk slowly in the procession of red-mantled brethren on their way to
service, so as to obstruct those who were in the rear, or he would
walk in a ridiculous manner, so as to rouse unseemly laughter. I am
afraid that old Sir John was a very sad dog, and, however the other old
gentleman may have behaved, he was really a godless fellow. Witness
the fact that, on getting into chapel, when he retired to pray, he
forthwith fell asleep, and could, or would, hardly keep his eyes open,
even at the sacrament at the altar.
After all, there was a gayer old fellow than Sir John Breton among
the poor knights. One Sir Emanuel Cloue is spoken of who appears to
have been a very Don Giovanni among the silly maids and merry wives of
Windsor. He was for ever with his eye on a petticoat and his hand on a
tankard; and what with love and spiced canary, he could never sit still
at mass, but was addicted to running about among the congregation. It
would puzzle St. George himself to tell all the nonsense he talked on
these occasions.
When we read how the bishop suggested that the King and Council should
discover a remedy to check the rollicking career of Sir Edmund, we
are at first perplexed to make out why the cure was not assigned to
the religious officials. The fact, however, is that they were as
bad as, or worse than, the knights. They too were as often to be
detected with their lips on the brim of a goblet, or on the cheek
of a damsel. There was Canon Lorying. He was addicted to hawking,
hunting, and jollification; and the threat of dismissal, without
chance of reinstalment, was had recourse to, before the canon ceased
to make breaches in decorum. The vicars were as bad as the canons.
The qualifications ascribed to them of being “inflated and wanton,”
sufficiently describe by what sins these very reverend gentlemen
were beset. They showed no reverence for the frolicsome canons, as
might have been expected; and if both parties united in exhibiting
as little veneration for the dean, the reason, doubtless, lay in the
circumstance that the dean, as the bishop remarked, was remiss, simple,
and negligent, himself. He was worse than this. He not only allowed
the documents connected with the Order to go to decay, or be lost,
but he would not pay the vicars their salaries till he was compelled
to do so by high authority. The dean, in short, was a sorry knave; he
even embezzled the fees paid when a vicar occupied a new stall, and
which were intended to be appropriated to the general profit of the
chapter, and pocketed the entire proceeds for his own personal profit
and enjoyment. The canons again made short work of prayers and masses,
devoting only an hour each day for the whole. This arrangement may
not have displeased the more devout among the knights; and the canons
defied the bishop to point out anything in the statutes by which they
were prevented from effecting this abbreviation of their service, and
earning their shilling easily. Of this ecclesiastical irregularity
the bishop, curiously enough, solicited the state to pronounce its
condemnation; and an order from King and Council was deemed a good
remedy for priests of loose thoughts and practices. A matter of more
moment was submitted to the jurisdiction of meaner authority. Thus,
when one of the vicars, John Chichester, was “scandalized respecting
the wife of Thomas Swift” (which is a very pretty way of putting his
offence), the matter was left to the correction of the dean, who was
himself censurable, if not under censure--for remissness, negligence,
stupidity, and fraud. The dean’s frauds were carried on to that
extent that a legacy of £200 made to the brotherhood of poor knights,
having come to the decanal hands, and the dean not having accounted
for the same, compulsion was put on him to render such account; and
_that_ appears to be all the penalty he ever paid for his knavery.
Where the priests were of such kidney, we need not wonder that the
knights observed in the dirty and much-encumbered cloisters, the
licentiousness which was once common to men in the camp.
Churchmen and knights went on in their old courses, notwithstanding the
interference of inquisitors. Alterations were made in the statutes, to
meet the evil; some knights solicited incorporation among themselves,
separate from the Church authorities; but this and other remedies were
vainly applied.
In the reign of Henry VIII. the resident knights were not all military
men. Some of them were eminent persons, who, it is thought, withdrew
from the world and joined the brotherhood, out of devotion. Thus there
was Sir Robert Champlayne, who had been a right lusty knight, indeed,
and who proved himself so again, after he returned once more to active
life. Among the laymen, admitted to be poor knights, were Hulme,
formerly Clarencieux King-at-arms; Carly, the King’s physician: Mewtes,
the King’s secretary for the French language; and Westley, who was made
second baron of the Exchequer in 1509.
The order appears to have fallen into hopeless confusion, but Henry
VIII., who performed many good acts, notwithstanding his evil deeds
and propensities, bequeathed lands, the profits whereof (£600) were to
be employed in the maintenance of “Thirteen Poor Knights.” Each was
to have a shilling a day, and their governor, three pounds, six and
eightpence, additional yearly. Houses were built for these knights
on the south side of the lower ward of the castle, where they are
still situated, at a cost of nearly £3000. A white cloth-gown and a
red cloth-mantle, appropriately decorated, were also assigned to each
knight. King James doubled the pecuniary allowance, and made it payable
in the Exchequer, quarterly.
Charles I. intended to increase the number of knights to their
original complement. He did not proceed beyond the intention. Two of
his subjects, however, themselves knights, Sir Peter La Maire and Sir
Francis Crane, left lands which supplied funds for the support of five
additional knights.
Cromwell took especial care that no knight should reside at Windsor,
who was hostile to his government; and he was as careful that no
preacher should hold forth there, who was not more friendly to the
commonwealth than to monarchy.
At this period, and for a hundred years before this, there was not
a man of real knight’s degree belonging to the order, nor has there
since been down to the present time. In 1724 the benevolent Mr. Travers
bequeathed property to be applied to the maintenance of Seven Naval
Knights. It is scarcely credible, but it is the fact, that seventy
years elapsed before our law, which then hung a poor wretch for
robbing to the amount of forty shillings, let loose the funds to be
appropriated according to the will of the testator, and under sanction
of the sovereign. What counsellors and attorneys fattened upon the
costs, meantime, it is not now of importance to inquire. In 1796,
thirteen superannuated or disabled lieutenants of men-of-war, officers
of that rank being alone eligible under Mr. Travers’s will, were duly
provided for. The naval knights, all unmarried, have residences and
sixty pounds per annum each, in addition to their half-pay. The sum of
ten shillings, weekly, is deducted from the “several allowances, to
keep a constant table.”
The Military and Naval Knights--for the term “Poor” was dropped, by
order of William IV.--no longer wear the mantle, as in former times;
but costumes significant of their profession and their rank therein.
There are twenty-five of them, one less than their original number, and
they live in harmony with each other and the Church. The ecclesiastical
corporation has nothing to do with their funds, and these unmarried
naval knights do not disturb the slumbers of a single Mr. Brook within
the liberty of Windsor.
In concluding this division, let me add a word touching the
KNIGHTS OF THE BATH.
There was no more gallant cavalier in his day than Geoffrey, Earl of
Anjou. He was as meek as he was gallant. In testimony of his humility
he assumed a sprig of the broom plant (planta genista) for his device,
and thereby he gave the name of Plantagenet to the long and illustrious
line.
If his bravery raised him in the esteem of women, his softness
of spirit earned for him some ridicule. Matilda, the “imperially
perverse,” laughed outright when her sire proposed she should accept
the hand of Geoffrey of Anjou. “He is so like a girl,” said Matilda.
“There is not a more lion-hearted knight in all Christendom,” replied
the king. “There is none certainly so sheep-faced,” retorted the
arrogant heiress; she then reluctantly consented to descend to be mate
of the wearer of the broom.
Matilda threw as many obstacles as she could in the way of the
completion of the nuptial ceremony. At last this solemn matter was
definitively settled to come off at Rouen, on the 26th of August, 1127.
Geoffrey must have been a knight before his marriage with Matilda.
However this may be, he is said to have been created an English knight
in honor of the occasion. To show how he esteemed the double dignity
of knight and husband, he prepared himself for both, by first taking
a bath, and afterward putting on a clean linen shirt. Chroniclers
assure us that this is the first instance, since the Normans came into
England, in which bathing is mentioned in connection with knighthood.
Over his linen shirt Geoffrey wore a gold-embroidered garment, and
above all a purple mantle. We are told too that he wore silk stockings,
an article which is supposed to have been unknown in England until a
much later period. His feet were thrust into a gay pair of slippers, on
the outside of each of which was worked a golden lion. In this guise he
was wedded to Matilda, and never had household lord a greater virago
for a lady.
From this circumstance the Knights of the Bath are said to have had
their origin. For a considerable period, this order of chivalry
ranked as the highest military order in Europe. All the members were
companions. There was but one chief, and no knight ranked higher, nor
lower, than any other brother of the society. The order, nevertheless,
gradually became obsolete. Vacancies had not been filled up; that
Garter had superseded the Bath, and it was not till the reign of George
II. that the almost extinct fraternity was renewed.
Its revival took place for political reasons, and these are well
detailed by Horace Walpole, in his “Reminiscences of the Courts of
George the First and Second.” “It was the measure,” he says, “of Sir
Robert Walpole, and was an artful bunch of thirty-six ribands, to
supply a fund of favors, in lieu of places. He meant, too, to stave
off the demand for garters, and intended that the red should have been
a stage to the blue; and accordingly took one of the former himself.
He offered the new order to old Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, for
her grandson the Duke, and for the Duke of Bedford, who had married
one of her granddaughters. She haughtily replied, that they should
take nothing but the Garter. ‘Madam,’ said Sir Robert, coolly, ‘they
who take the Bath will the sooner have the Garter.’ The next year he
took the latter himself, with the Duke of Richmond, both having been
previously installed knights of the revived institution.”
Sir Robert respected the forms and laws of the old institution, and
these continued to be observed down to the period following the battle
of Waterloo. Instead of their creating a new order for the purpose of
rewarding the claimants for distinction, it was resolved to enlarge
that of the Bath, which was, therefore, divided into three classes.
First, there was the Grand Cross of the Bath (G. C. B.), the reward of
military and diplomatic services.
The second class, of Knights Commanders (C. B.), was open to those
meritorious persons who had the good luck to hold commissions not below
the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel or Post-Captain. The members of this
class rank above the ordinary knights-bachelors.
The third class, of Knights Companions, was instituted for officers
holding inferior commissions to those named above, and whose services
in their country’s cause rendered them eligible for admission.
These arrangements have been somewhat modified subsequently, and not
without reason. Henry VIIth’s Chapel in Westminster Abbey is the
locality in which the installation of the different knights takes
place. The statutes of the order authorize the degradation of a knight
“convicted of heresy against the Articles of the Christian religion;”
or who has been “attainted of high treason,” or of “cowardly flying
from some field of battle.” It is rather curious that felony is not
made a ground of degradation. The Duke of Ormond was the last Knight
of the Garter who was degraded, for treason against George I. Addison,
after the degradation, invariably speaks of him as “the late Duke.” A
more grievous offender than he was that Earl of Somerset, who had been
a reckless page, and who was an unworthy Knight of the Garter, under
James I. He was convicted of murder, but he was not executed, and to
the day of his death he continued to wear the Garter, of which he had
been pronounced unworthy. The last instances of degradation from the
Order of the Bath were those of Lord Cochrane (in 1814), for an alleged
misdemeanor, and Sir Eyre Coote, two years subsequently. In these cases
the popular judgment did not sanction the harsh measures adopted by
those in authority.[1]
[1] Subsequently, the Prince Regent ordered the name of Captain
Hanchett to be erased from the roll of the Bath, he having been struck
off the list of Captains in the Royal Navy.
In olden times, the new Knights of the Bath made as gallant display
in public as the Knights of the Garter. In reference to this matter,
Mr. Mackenzie Walcott, in his “Westminster,” cites a passage from an
author whom he does not name. The reverend gentleman says: “On Sunday,
July 24th, 1603, was performed the solemnity of Knights of the Bath
riding honorably from St. James’s to the Court, and made show with
their squires and pages about the Tilt-yard, and after went into the
park of St. James, and there lighted from their horses and went up into
the King’s Majesty’s presence, in the gallery, where they received the
order of Knighthood of the Bath.”
The present “Horse-Guards” occupies a portion of the old Tilt-yard; but
for the knightly doings there, and also in Smithfield, I must refer all
curious readers to Mr. Charles Knight’s “Pictorial History of London.”