_The Chivalric Feelings of the Nation supported by Spenser ... and by
Sir Philip Sidney ... Allusions to Sidney's Life ... particularly his
kindly Consideration ... Chivalric Politeness of the Age of Elizabeth
... The Earl of Oxford ... Tilts in Greenwich Park ... Sir Henry Lee
... Chivalry reflected in the popular Amusements ... Change of Manners
... Reign of James the First ... Tournaments ceased, on Prince Henry's
Death ... Life of Lord Herbert of Cherbury ... Chivalric Fame of his
Family ... His Character ... His Inferiority to the Knights of yore
... Decline of Chivalric Education ... Important Change in Knighthood
by the Parliament of Charles the First ... Application of Chivalric
Honors to Men of civil Station ... Knights made in the Field ...
Carpet Knights ... Knights of the Bath ... Full Account of the Ancient
Ceremonies of creating Knights of the Bath._
[Sidenote: The chivalric feelings of the nation supported by Spenser,]
The reigns of Edward VI. and Mary present nothing to our purpose; but the
Elizabethan age is fraught with interest. Our continued intercourse with
Italy promoted anew the love for romance and allegory which religious
controversy had for some years been gradually stifling. Though classical
literature had revived in Italy, the muse of chivalry was most fondly
worshipped, and the mind delighted to wander amidst the enchanted garden
of Armida. Our well-travelled ancestors brought home with them the love
for romantic poetry and allegory; and Spenser's genius, influenced by the
prevailing taste of his day, chose Ariosto for his model, and painted the
wild adventures of heroes and ladies. Chivalry was the supposed perfection
of man's moral nature; and the English poet, therefore, described the
chief private virtues exemplified in the conduct of knights: it being his
wish, as he expressed his mind to Sir Walter Raleigh, to fashion a
gentleman or noble person in valorous and gentle discipline. His principal
hero, he in whom the image of a brave knight was perfected in the twelve
moral virtues, was King Arthur; and the poet freely used the circumstances
and sentiments in the romances relating to that British hero, and also the
other popular tales of chivalry.
[Sidenote: and Sir Philip Sidney.]
If poetry nourished the love of valorous knighthood, learning was equally
its friend; and when Spenser addressed Sidney as the noble and virtuous
gentleman, and most worthy of all titles of learning and chivalry, he
spoke the feeling of his age, that the accomplishments of the mind were
best displayed in martial demeanour. At the birth of Sidney, as Ben
Jonson says, all the muses met. In reading the Arcadia, it is impossible
to separate the author from the work, or to think that he has not poured
forth all those imaginings of his fancy which his heart had marked for its
own. He has pourtrayed knights and damsels valiant and gentle, placing all
their fond aspirations of happiness in a rural life, and despising the
pageantry of courts for the deep harmonies of nature. But Sidney's mind
was chivalric as well as romantic; and he was so fond of reverting to the
fabled ages of his country, that it was his intention to turn all the
stories of the Arcadia into the admired legends of Arthur and his
knights.[116] To modern taste the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney presents no
charms: yet, by a singular contradiction, the author, who was the
personification of his book, is regarded as the model of perfection.
"The plume of war! with early laurels crown'd,
The lover's myrtle, and the poet's bay."[117]
The popularity, however, of the Arcadia, in the Elizabethan age[118], and
the high reputation of the author, showed the sympathy of the world in
those days for the romance of chivalry.
[Sidenote: Allusions to his life.]
The few circumstances in the brief life of Sidney are too well known for
me to be justified in detailing them: but I may remind my readers that he
was born at Penshurst in Kent, in the year 1544; that he was accomplished
in literature and chivalry by study and travel; that he was a courtier of
Elizabeth, and yet could oppose her dearest fancies, if they were hostile
to the interests of his country; that his opposition to her projected
union with Anjou was spirited and well reasoned; that his love for his
sister and his wife was the softening grace of that desire for chivalric
valour which carried him with his uncle the Earl of Leicester to the
plains of Flanders, in the year 1586; and when he received his mortal
wound before the town of Zutphen, that he resigned a cup of water to the
poor soldier whose lot he thought was more distressing than his own. His
courage, his gallantry, and grace were his best known qualities, and
those for which England and, indeed, Europe, lamented his death. His
funeral in St. Paul's was a national one, the first instance in our
history of honours of that description; and for many months afterwards not
an individual in the court or city appeared in public, except in a garment
of black:--in such high account were chivalric virtues held in the days of
Elizabeth.
[Sidenote: Particularly his kindly consideration.]
One feature of his character but little noticed by modern writers was very
remarkable in those days, and will be better valued now than it was then.
All who enjoyed the hospitality of Penshurst were equal in the
consideration of the host: there were no odious distinctions of rank or
fortune; "the dishes did not grow coarser as they receded from the head of
the table," and no huge salt-cellar divided the noble from the ignoble
guests.[119]
[Sidenote: Chivalric politeness of the age of Elizabeth.]
[Sidenote: The Earl of Oxford.]
The polite gracefulness of Sidney was not rare in his time; and there was
not a courtier, who, if placed in similar circumstances to those of Sir
Walter Raleigh, that would not have cast his handsome plush cloak in the
mire to serve for the Queen, as a foot-cloth. Tournaments as well masks
were the amusements of the age. The prize was always delivered by
Elizabeth who never thought that age could deprive her of the privileges
of beauty. Edward Vere Earl of Oxford was more skilful in these manly
exercises of chivalry than all the other courtiers, even than Sidney, who,
like a magnanimous knight, was eloquent in his praise.
"Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance,
Guided so well that I obtained the prize,
Both by the judgment of the English eyes,
And of some sent from that sweet en'my France:
Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance,
Townsfolks my strength; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise:
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance,
Others, because of both sides I do take
My blood from them who did excel in this,
Think nature me a man of arms did make.
How far they shoot awry! The true cause is,
STELLA look'd on, and from her heavenly face
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race."
Astrophel and Stella, st. 41.
The friendship of Sidney for him for awhile was the only circumstance
which we know to his honour, and it implies the possession of virtuous
qualities in the Earl. A considerable portion of coxcombry belonged to
most of Elizabeth's courtiers; and the noble Lord in question was
distinguished according to Stow, for introducing into this country
embroidered and perfumed gloves.
[Sidenote: Tilts in Greenwich Park.]
The Queen's band of gentlemen-pensioners formed a perfect illustration of
the chivalric principle of the dignity of obedience, for it was the
highest ambition of the nobility to be enrolled among them. Their tilts in
Greenwich Park would have done honour to the brightest days of chivalry.
But still more select were the knights-tilters, a fraternity founded on
the gallant resolve of Sir Henry Lee to appear in the royal tilt-yard on
the anniversary of the Queen's birth in honour of Her Majesty. Some of
these knights were preux chevaliers indeed. The Queen's glove accidentally
dropped from her hand during a tournament, and the Earl of Cumberland had
the good fortune to recover it. Fancying herself some dame of chivalry,
she desired the Earl to retain it; and he with a gallant spirit, regarding
it as the favour of a lady, had it set in diamonds, and always wore it on
festival occasions in the high crowned hats which had superseded the
helmet. For so polite was the court of Elizabeth, that
'Ne any there doth brave or valiant seem,
Unless that same gay mistress' badge he wear.'[120]
[Sidenote: Sir Henry Lee.]
From 1571 to 1590 Sir Henry Lee was the Queen's champion; and being then
worn down with age and infirmity, he resigned his office to the Earl of
Cumberland. The ceremony is admirably expressive of the romantic feeling
of the time and the vanity of Elizabeth. It was partly a mask and partly a
chivalric show. On the 17th of November, 1590, Sir Henry Lee and the Earl,
having performed their services in arms, presented themselves to the Queen
at the foot of the stairs under her gallery-window in the tilt-yard,
Westminster, where Her Majesty was seated, surrounded by the French
ambassador, her ladies, and the chief nobility. Soft music then saluted
the ears of the Queen, and one of the royal singers chaunted these lines:
"My golden locks time hath to silver turn'd,
(Oh time too swift, and swiftness never ceasing!)
My youth 'gainst age, and age at youth hath spurn'd;
But spurn'd in vain, youth waneth by increasing:
Beauty, strength, and youth, flowers fading been,
Duty, faith, and love, are roots, and evergreen.
"My helmet now shall make a hive for bees;
And lovers' songs shall turn to holy psalms:
A man at arms must now sit on his knees,
And feed on prayers that are old age's alms.
And so from court to cottage I depart:
My saint is sure of mine unspotted heart.
"And when I sadly sit in homely cell,
I'll teach my swains this carol for a song:
'Blest be the hearts that think my sovereign well:
Curs'd be the souls that think to do her wrong.'
Goddess! vouchsafe this aged man his right,
To be your beadsman now that was your knight."
A pageant of a temple of the vestal virgins rose out of the earth. Certain
rich gifts were taken from the altar by the attending virgins, and with a
votive tablet, inscribed "To Eliza," was presented to the Queen. Sir Henry
Lee offered his armour before a crowned pillar at the temple-gate, and
then presented the Earl of Cumberland to the Queen, humbly beseeching her
to accept him as her knight to continue the yearly exercises. Her Majesty
having accepted this offer, the aged knight armed the Earl and mounted him
on his horse. He threw over his own person a gown of black velvet, and
covered his head in lieu of a helmet with a bonnet of the country
fashion.[121]
[Sidenote: Chivalry reflected in the popular amusements.]
The popular amusements of England corresponded with those of the court. "I
remember at Mile-end-Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn, I was Sir Dagonet
in Arthur's show," is the avowal of Master Shallow; and thus while
tournaments were held by the court and nobility, other classes of society
diverted themselves with scenic representations of the ancient chivalry.
The recreations of the common people at Christmas and bridals, an author
of the time assures us, consisted in hearing minstrels sing or recite
stories of old times, as the tale of Sir Topas, the Reportes of Bevis of
Southampton, Guy of Warwick, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough, and
other old romances or historical rhymes. And in another place the same
author speaks of companies that were desirous to hear of old adventures,
and valiances of noble knights in times past.[122] The domestic amusements
of the age are thus enumerated by Burton: "The ordinary recreations which
we have in winter are cards, tables and dice, shovel-board, chess-play,
the philosopher's game, small trunks, balliards, music, masks, singing,
dancing, ule games, catches, purposes, questions; _merry tales of errant
knights_, kings, queens, lovers, lords, ladies, giants, dwarfs, thieves,
fairies, goblins, friars, witches, and the rest."[123]
[Sidenote: Change of manners.]
In one respect, however, manners underwent a great and distinct change. In
a former chapter, it was mentioned that the Italians invented the long and
pointed sword; and it seems from many scattered allusions to customs in
works of continental history, that it gradually superseded the use of the
broader weapons of knighthood. In Elizabeth's reign the foreign or Italian
rapier was a very favorite weapon. "Sword-and-buckler fight begins to grow
out of use," is the lament of a character in an old comedy. "I am sorry
for it. I shall never see good manhood again. If it be once gone, this
poking fight of rapier and dagger will come up, then a tall man, and a
good sword-and-buckler man will be spitted like a cat or rabbit."[124] The
allusions to this state of manners are more marked and numerous in Ben
Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour," but with that comedy my readers are of
course familiar.
[Sidenote: Reign of James I.]
[Sidenote: Tournaments ceased on Prince Henry's death.]
For some of the early years of James I, tournaments divided with masks the
favour of the court. As soon as Prince Henry reached his sixteenth year,
he put himself forth in a more heroic manner than was usual with princes
of his time, by tiltings, barriers, and other exercises on horseback, the
martial discipline of gentle peace.[125] After his death chivalric sports
fell quite out of fashion.
"Shields and swords
Cobwebb'd and rusty; not a helm affords
A spark of lustre, which were wont to give
Light to the world, and make the nation live."[126]
This was the lamentation of Ben Jonson; and another poet thus describes,
in the person of Britannia, the feelings of the nation:
"Alas! who now shall grace my tournaments,
Or honour me with deeds of chivalry?
What shall become of all my merriments,
My ceremonies, shows of heraldry,
And other rites?"[127]
Military exercises being entirely disused, the mask, with its enchantments
of music, poetry, painting, and dancing, was the only amusement of the
court and nobility.
[Sidenote: Life of Lord Cherbury.]
And now in these last days of chivalry in England a very singular
character appeared upon the scene. This was Edward Herbert, afterwards
Lord Herbert of Cherbury, who was born at Eaton, in Shropshire, in the
year 1581. His family were of the class of gentry, and had for many years
executed various royal offices of military trust. His grandfather was a
staunch royalist in the days of Edward VI., and Queen Mary; and he gained
fortune, as well as fame: for it appears that his share of plunder in the
wars in the north, and of the forfeited estates of rebels, was the
foundation of the family wealth.
[Sidenote: Chivalric fame of his family.]
The valour of the Herberts rivalled that of the romantic heroes of
chivalry. Edward has proudly reverted to his great-great grandfather, Sir
Richard Herbert of Colebrook, as an incomparable hero, who twice passed
through a great army of northern men alone, with his pole-axe in his hand,
and returned without any mortal hurt. The courage which had been formerly
displayed in the battle-field was, as times degenerated, reserved for
private wrongs, and the patriot sank into the duellist. At the close of
his life, Edward recollected, with pleasure, that one of his brothers had
carried with him to the grave the scars of twenty-four wounds, many of
them the results of private brawls. Another brother was gentleman of the
King's chamber, and the famous master of the revels; and he, too, had
given several proofs of his courage in duels.
The infancy of Edward was so sickly that his friends did not think fit to
teach him his alphabet till he was seven years old. He would have us
believe, however, that he was wise though not early schooled; for when an
infant he understood what was said by others, yet he forebore to speak,
lest he should utter something that was imperfect or impertinent. When he
began to talk, one of the first enquiries he made was how he had come into
the world. He told his nurse, keeper, and others, that he found himself
here indeed, but from what cause or beginning, or by what means, he could
not imagine. The nurse stared, and other people wondered at this
precocious wisdom; and when he reflected upon the matter in after life he
was happy in the thought, that as he found himself in possession of this
life, without knowing any thing of the pangs and throes his mother
suffered, when doubtless they no less afflicted him than her, so he hoped
that his soul would pass to a better life than this, without being
sensible of the anguish his body would feel in death.[128]
He won the acquaintance of the learned languages, and other branches of
juvenile literature, with great ease; and when at the age of twelve he
was sent to Oxford, he tells us that he disputed at his first coming in
logic, and made in Greek the exercises required in his college oftener
than in Latin. He married at the age of fifteen, and then applied himself
more vigorously than ever to study, particularly the continental
languages: but to fence and to ride the great horse were his principal
ambition, for such were the exercises in which the chivalry of his time
were educated,--and he aspired to fame in every pursuit. From the same
feeling of vanity that urged him to publish his deistical dogmas, he
complacently says of himself that no man understood the use of his weapon
better than himself, or had more dexterously availed himself thereof on
all occasions.[129]
In the year 1600, he removed with his wife and mother from
Montgomery-castle (the seat of his ancestors) to London, and, prompted by
curiosity rather than ambition, he went to court; and as it was the manner
of those times for all men to kneel down before the Queen, he was likewise
upon his knees in the Presence Chamber, when she passed by to the chapel
at Whitehall. As soon as she saw him, she stopped, and, swearing her usual
oath, demanded, "Who is this?" Upon being made acquainted with his name
and circumstances, the Queen looked attentively upon him, and again
giving emphasis to her feelings by an oath, she said that it was a pity he
was married so young, and thereupon gave him her hand twice to kiss, both
times patting him on the cheek. He was made knight of the Bath by James
I.; and with his usual vanity declares that his person was amazingly
commended by the lords and ladies who attended the ceremony. The most
handsome lady of the court pledged her honour for his, and then the
strings of silk and gold were taken from his arm. These strings, as I have
already mentioned, were worn by all the knights till they had achieved
some high deed of arms, or till some lady of honour took them off, and
fastened them on her sleeve, saying that she would answer her friend would
prove a good knight. Like all other knights of the Bath he swore to do
justice to the uttermost of his power, particularly to ladies and
gentlewomen wronged in their honour, if they demanded assistance.
Soon after this circumstance, he was wearied both of literary and domestic
pursuits, and he resolved to travel in foreign countries. His skill in
fencing was now to be brought into play; for he tells us that in France,
in his time, there was scarcely any man thought worthy regard who had not
killed another in a duel.[130] He went to Paris, and was hospitably
entertained at the neighbouring castle of Merlon, by Henry de Montmorenci,
second son of the great Constable Anne de Montmorenci.
An occasion for exercising his fantastic chivalry soon presented itself. A
French cavalier snatched a riband from the bonnet of a young lady, and
fastened it to his own hat-band. He refused to return it, and the injured
damsel asked the English knight to get it restored to her. He accordingly
advanced to the Frenchman, courteously, with his hat in his hand, and
desired him to restore the riband. Meeting only with a rude denial, he
replied he would make him restore it by force. The Frenchman ran away; but
finding himself closely pursued, he turned round to the young lady, and
was about to restore her the top-knot, when Sir Edward seized his arm, and
said to her, "It was I that gave it."--"Pardon me," quoth she, "it is he
that gives it me." Sir Edward observed, "I will not contradict you; but if
he presumes to say that I did not constrain him to give it, I will fight
with him." No reply was made, and the French gentleman conducted the lady
back to the castle. Sir Edward was very anxious for a duel, but none took
place; and he was obliged to please his conscience with the reflection,
that he had acted agreeably to the oath which he took when inaugurated a
knight of the Bath.[131]
On three other occasions, he sported his chivalry in the cause of the
ladies; but the stories of these affairs are poor and uninteresting after
his most delectable behaviour in the Montmorenci garden.
For many years Sir Edward lived in the court or the camp, in France or
England, seldom visiting his wife in Montgomeryshire, and more frequently
busied in private brawls (but his challenges never ripened into duels)
than engaged in philosophical meditation.
In the year 1614, while he was in the service of the Prince of Orange, a
trumpeter came from the hostile (the Spanish) army to his with a
challenge,--that if any cavalier would fight a single combat for the sake
of his mistress, a Spanish knight would meet him. The Prince allowed Sir
Edward to accept the challenge. Accordingly a trumpeter was sent to the
Spanish army with the answer, that if the challenger were a knight without
reproach, Sir Edward Herbert would answer him with such weapons as they
should agree upon. But before this herald could deliver his charge,
another Spanish trumpeter reached the camp of the Prince of Orange,
declaring that the challenge had been given without the consent of the
Marquis of Spinola (the commander), who would not permit it. This appeared
strange to the Prince and Sir Edward; and on their thinking that the
Spaniards might object to the duel taking place in the camp of the
challenged, as it was originally proposed, Sir Edward resolved to go to
the enemy, and give him his choice of place. He accordingly went; but
Spinola would not suffer the duel to be fought. A noble entertainment
greeted the Englishman, the Marquis condescending to present to his guest
the best of the meat which his carver offered to himself. He expressed no
anger that the challenges had been given; for he politely asked his guest
of what disease Sir Francis Vere had died. Sir Edward told him, because he
had nothing to do. Spinola replied, in allusion to the idleness of the
campaign, "And it is enough to kill a General;" and thus impliedly
excused any impatient sallies of his young soldiers.
Sir Henry Wotton, the ambassador of the King of England, having mediated a
peace between the Prince of Orange and the Spaniards, our knight proceeded
on his travels through Germany and Italy. He complimented a nun upon her
singing, while all the other Englishmen present were delighted into
silence: but he was always ready to speak as well as to fight for the
honour of the knighthood of the Bath. "Die whensoever you will," said he
to the young lady, "you need change neither voice nor face to be an
angel!" These words, he assures us, were fatal, for she died shortly
afterwards.
He went to Florence, and was more pleased with a nail, which was at one
end iron and the other gold, than by all the glories of painting and
sculpture with which the Etrurian Athens was then fresh and redolent. He
sojourned for some time at Rome, but hastily left the city when the Pope
was about to bless him. This refusal of an old man's benediction proceeded
from the vanity of his character. Though perfectly indifferent to
Christianity, when he entered Rome he ostentatiously said to the master of
the English college, that he came not to the city to study controversies,
but to view its antiquities; and if, without scandal to the religion in
which he had been born and educated, he might take this liberty, he would
gladly spend some time there. A decorous submission to the usages of Rome
would not have gained him the world's talk; and, therefore, he hastily
quitted the Consistory when the blessing was about to be given, knowing
that such a bold act of contempt on the religion of the place would be
bruited every where.
The remainder of his adventures on the Continent is not worthy of record.
He returned to England; and, in 1616, he was sent to France as the English
ambassador. Previously to his setting off, he engaged to fight a duel,
though the day fixed for the circumstance was Sunday; but when he arrived
at Paris on a Saturday night, he refused to accept an invitation of the
Spanish ambassador for an interview the next morning, because Sunday was a
day, which, as he alleged, he wholly gave to devotion. The spirit of
duelling was far more powerful in his mind than the love of conformity to
religious decencies; but it cost him nothing; indeed, it only aggrandised
his importance to decline the visit of the Spanish ambassador on a Sunday.
He remained some time in France, maintaining the honour of his country on
all occasions; particularly with reference to the mighty question,
whether his coachman, or that of the Spanish ambassador, should take
precedence.
Sir Edward was instructed by his court to mediate between Louis XIII. and
his Protestant subjects; but, instead of conducting the affair with
coolness and political sagacity, he quarrelled with Luines, the minister
of the French king. Complaints of his conduct were sent to England, and he
was recalled. The death of the offended statesman happened soon
afterwards, and Herbert was again dispatched to France.
The next remarkable event in his life was the publication of his book "_De
Veritate_," whose object it was to show the all-sufficiency of natural
religion. But he, who denied the necessity of a revelation to the human
race, of matters concerning their eternal salvation, fancied that Heaven
expressly revealed to him its will that his book should be published. Such
are the inconsistencies of infidelity!
"A godless regent trembling at a star!"
His amusing auto-biography ends with an account of a noise from heaven,
when he prayed for a sign of the Divine will, whether or not he should
print his book.
Not many other circumstances of his life are on record. He was raised to
the Irish peerage in 1625, and, afterwards, was created an English baron,
by the title of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, in Shropshire. He published
another Latin work, in support of the cause of infidelity, and then gave
to the world his History of the Reign of Henry VIII.; a book which has
been always characterised, by writers who have never read a line of it, as
a master-piece of historic biography; and if gross partiality for his
hero, profound ignorance of human nature, imperfect acquaintance with his
subject, and a pedantic style, constitute the excellence of
memoir-writing, Lord Herbert is an author of the first class.
Though he had been raised to the peerage by the Stuarts, yet in the days
of Charles I. we find him on the side of the parliament. Montgomery-castle
was demolished by the King's troops, and the parliament made him a
pecuniary compensation. He removed to London, died in 1648, and was buried
in St. Giles's.
[Sidenote: His character.]
[Sidenote: His inferiority to the knights of yore.]
Such was Lord Herbert of Cherbury. His life may be placed in opposition
to, rather than in harmony with, the heroes of early chivalric times. He
had their courage, it is true, but he had none of their dignity and
nobleness, none of their manly grace; and there was a fantastic trifling
in his conduct, which their elevated natures would have scorned. He was no
Christian knight: the superstition of the Chandos's and Mannys, gross as
it was, is not so offensive to the moral sense as the craft and subtlety
of Lord Cherbury's intellect, which refined Christianity into deism. We
can admire the heroes of the days of Edward III., placing their swords'
points on the Gospels, and vowing to defend the truth to the utterance;
but how absurd was the fanaticism, and contemptible the vanity, of him who
expected that Heaven would declare its will that he should deliver to the
world the vain chimeras of his imagination!
[Sidenote: Decline of chivalric education.]
The history of English chivalry is now fast drawing to a close. We may
mark the state of the system of chivalric education in the castles of the
nobility. Every great lord, as his ancestors had been, was still attended
by several of the inferior nobility and gentry, and such service was not
accounted dishonourable. The boys were, as of old, called pages, though
perhaps the age for this title somewhat stepped beyond the ancient limit.
But this was not the only change in that class of the chivalry of England.
In former days pages had been the attendants of the great in the
amusements of the chace and the baronial hall; and had sometimes shared,
with the squire, the more perilous duties of the battle-plain. In the
course of time, as the frame of society became more settled, the arts of
peace smoothed the stern fierceness of chivalry, and the page was the
honorary servant of the lord or his lady, in the proud ceremonial of
nobility, and never mixed in war. He continued to be a person of gentle
birth, and his dress was splendid; circumstances extremely favourable to
that singular state of manners which permitted a woman, without any loss
of her good name, to follow him she admired in the disguise of a gentle
page, and gradually to win his affections by the deep devotion of her
love. Poetry may have adorned such instances of passion, for the subject
is full of interest and pathos; but the poets in the best days of English
verse so frequently copied from the world around them, that we cannot but
believe they drew also in this instance from nature. This form of manners
was romantic; but it certainly was not chivalric: for in pure days of
chivalry the knights, and not the damsels, were the wooers.--But every
thing was changed or degraded.
The general state of the page in the last days of chivalry may be
collected from one of the dramas of Ben Jonson, where Lovel, a complete
gentleman, a soldier, and a scholar, is desirous to take as his page the
son of Lord Frampul, who was disguised as the host of the Light Heart Inn
at Barnet:
"_Lov._ A fine child!
You will not part with him, mine host?
"_Host._ Who told you
I would not.
"_Lov._ I but ask you.
"_Host._ And I answer,
To whom? for what?
"_Lov._ To me, to be my page.
"_Host._ I know no mischief yet the child hath done,
To deserve such a destiny.
"_Lov._ Why?
"_Host._ * * * * * *
Trust me I had rather
Take a fair halter, wash my hands, and hang him
Myself, make a clean riddance of him, than----
"_Lov._ What?
"_Host._ Than damn him to that desperate course of life.
"_Lov._ Call you that desperate, which by a line
Of institution, from our ancestors,
Hath been derived down to us, and received
In a succession, for the noblest way
Of breeding up our youth, in letters, arms,
Fair mien, discourses, civil exercise,
And all the blazon of a gentleman?
Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,
To move his body gracefuller, to speak
His language purer, or to tune his mind
Or manners, more to the harmony of nature,
Than in these nurseries of nobility?
"_Host._ Ay that was when the nursery's self was noble.
And only virtue made it, not the market,
That titles were not vented at the drum,
Or common outcry, goodness gave the greatness,
And greatness worship: every house became
An academy of honour, and those parts
We see departed, in the practice now,
Quite from the institution."[132]
Something must be abated from this censure, for the speaker was a
disappointed man, and therefore querulous. But whatever might have been
the education of the page, the character itself was lost in the political
convulsions in the time of Charles I. So many of the old institutions of
England were then destroyed, that we need not be surprised that the one
should not escape, which had long survived its purpose and occasion. At
the restoration of the monarchy the ancient court-ceremonial was revived,
and therefore the page was a royal officer: but he is scarcely ever
mentioned in the subsequent private history of the country; and his duties
at the court were altogether personal though gentilitial, and had no
reference at all to military affairs.
The military features of chivalry had been rudely marred in the wars
between the houses of York and Lancaster, and by the days of James I. not
a lineament remained. The graceful sports of chivalry had been sustained
by the bold and vigorous Henry VIII., and romance could not but be
pleasing to a maiden queen. With Prince Henry the tournament died.
Mightier questions than those which knighthood could resolve were before
the world; and there was nothing in the bearing of the friends of Charles
I., misnamed Cavaliers, to which the character of chivalric can be
applied.
[Sidenote: Important change in knighthood by parliament of Charles I.]
The reign of Charles I. is, however, in one respect a memorable epoch in
the history of English knighthood. By the ancient constitution, as we saw
in the last chapter, the King had the power of compelling his vassals to
be knighted. In all ages, however, whether of the high power, or the
decline of chivalry, many persons, considering the duties and charges of
the honour, had been wont to commute it by a fine; and this custom had
often whetted the avarice of monarchs. Elizabeth was the last of our
sovereigns who enriched her exchequer by receiving these commutations.
Charles I. endeavoured to augment his revenue by similar means; but the
spirit of the age was hostile to his claim; and, certainly, as the
military system had changed, it was absurd and unjust that the burden
should survive the benefit of the ancient system. The people triumphed,
and Charles conceded a prerogative which was only known as a means of
public oppression. By a statute passed in the sixteenth year of his reign
(cap. 20.) the right of compelling men to receive knighthood was
abolished.
[Sidenote: Application of chivalric honours to men of civil station.]
One branch of English chivalry, namely, knighthood as connected with
property, knighthood as the external symbol of feudalism, was thus put an
end to. But knighthood still continued as an honourable distinction. In
this, the most interesting part of the subject, a great change had taken
place: but it is impossible to mark the exact time of its occurring. We
only know that even in the time of the Lancastrian princes knights could
not, of their own free will, add new members to the order of chivalry, and
that link of honourable equality, which used to bind all men of gentle
birth in one state, was broken. The whole power of creating knights was
usurped by the crown. The first step, which apparently led to this
usurpation, was made even in the purest age of chivalry, the reign of our
Edward III.: for at that time civil merit was rewarded by chivalric
distinctions. The judges of the courts of law were dignified with
knighthood.[133]
In the subsequent reigns of the Lancastrian princes, it seems to have been
regarded as a well established custom, that men who deserved highly of the
commonwealth should be honoured with some title above the state of a
simple gentleman. Chivalry, as the great fountain of honour, was again
resorted to, and the title of esquire was drawn forth. It was then applied
to sheriffs of counties, serjeants-at-law, and other men of station; and
afterwards courtesy added it to the names of the eldest sons of peers, of
knights, and many others. The honour, like the rest of the chivalric
honours, was personal, not hereditary, and in strictness could be enjoyed
only by virtue of creation, or as a dignity appurtenant to an office. The
mode of creation was copied from the investiture of a knight. The person
who was to be admitted into the squirehood of the country knelt before his
sovereign, who, placing a silver collar of scollop shells mixed with esses
round his neck, cried, "Arise, Sir Esquire, and may God make thee a good
man."[134]
[Sidenote: Knights made in the field.]
This right of conferring chivalric honours upon persons of civil station
was exercised by the sovereigns only, and it furnished the pretence of
their assuming the right of judging upon what occasions it should be
conferred on men whose profession was war. The custom of creating knights
in the field of battle by the general in command prevailed in England so
late as the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Robert, the second son of Sir Henry
Sidney, and brother of the famous Sir Philip, was knighted by Leicester,
for his chivalric deportment at the battle of Zutphen. Essex, while
commanding in Spain and Ireland, distributed chivalric honours with such
profusion, that the Queen, who was always jealous of her power, made his
conduct, on this subject, the matter of one of the articles of accusation
against him.
[Sidenote: Carpet knights.]
Knighthood, when conferred in the field, was ever held as a very
honourable distinction. When men, who were undistinguished by valour[135],
were raised to chivalric rank, they were called Carpet Knights, as we are
taught by the old ceremonials; and society always used the expression
contemptuously, as we learn from our dramatists, who are as good witnesses
for the customs of their times as romancers had been for those of earlier
days. "He is knight, dubbed with unhacked rapier, and on carpet
consideration," is the character which Sir Toby Belch gives of his friend
Sir Andrew Aguecheek. In a passage of surpassing beauty Fletcher has
described the characters of the chivalric and the carpet knight.
"Oh the brave dames
Of warlike Genoa! They had eyes to see
The inward man, and only from his worth,
Courage, and conquests, the blind archer knew
To head his shafts, or light his quenched torch;
They were proof against him else! No carpet knight
That spent his youth in groves or pleasant bowers,
Or stretching on a couch his lazy limbs,
Sung to his lute such soft and pleasing notes
As Ovid nor Anacreon ever knew,
Could work on them, nor once bewitch'd their sense;
Though he came so perfum'd, as he had robb'd
Sabea or Arabia of their wealth,
And stor'd it in one suit."[136]
The order of knighthood was indeed wretchedly degraded in the days of
James I., if we can allow any truth to the remarks of Osborne. "At this
time the honour of knighthood, which antiquity reserved sacred, as the
cheapest and readiest jewel to present virtue with, was promiscuously laid
on any head belonging to the yeomanry (made addle through pride, and a
contempt of their ancestors' pedigree,) that had but a court friend, or
money to purchase the favour of the meanest, able to bring him into an
outward room when the King, the fountain of honour, came down, and was
uninterrupted by other business; in which case, it was then usual for him
to grant a commission for the chamberlain, or some other lord to do it."
[Sidenote: Knights of the Bath.]
The carpet, or ordinary knights, must not be confounded with knights of
the Bath, though both classes were knights of peace. Knights of the Bath
had always precedence of knights-bachelors, without any regard to dates of
creation. The knights of the Bath were men of rank and station, or
distinguished for military qualities. They were created by our sovereign
at their coronations, or on other great occasions, from the time of Henry
V., when I last adverted to the subject, to so late a period as the reign
of Charles II., who before he was crowned created sixty-eight knights of
the Bath. When queens were sovereigns a commission was granted to a
nobleman to create knights; and the commission of Queen Elizabeth to the
Earl of Arundel is so rich in thought, and dignified in style, that I
cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing it. After the usual
salutations, "To all men," the Queen declares as follows: "Whereas, we,
minding to proceed to the solemnity of our coronation in such and like
honourable sort as in the coronation of our progenitors hath been
accustomed, and as to our estate and dignity appertaineth, have, both for
the more adornment of the feast of our said coronation, and for the
nobility of blood, good service, and other good qualities, of many our
servants and other subjects, resolved to call certain of them to the order
of knighthood. We let you wete, that for the special trust and confidence
which we have reposed in our right trusty and right well-beloved cousin
and counsellor, Henry Earl of Arundel, Lord Steward of our household, we
have appointed, and by these presents do appoint and authorise him for us,
and in our name, and by our authority, not only to do and exercise every
thing and things to be done and exercised in our behalf, for the full
making of those knights of the Bath, whom we have caused to be specially
called for that purpose, but also to make and ordain such and so many
other persons knights, within the time of two days next ensuing the date
hereof, as by us shall be named, or by himself shall be thought meet, so
that he exceed not in the whole the number of thirty," &c.[137]
[Sidenote: Full account of the ancient ceremonies of creating them.]
The ceremonies of creating those knights furnishes us with such an
accurate picture of the manners of our ancestors, that, though I have
touched upon the subject before, I shall, without apology, describe its
minutest features. When an esquire came to court to receive the order of
knighthood, in time of peace, after the custom of England, he was
worshipfully received by the officers of the court, the steward, or
chamberlain, if they were at the palace, or else by the marshals and
ushers. Two esquires, sage, and well nourished in courtesy, and expert in
deeds of knighthood, were assigned as his teachers and governors. If he
arrived in the morning, he was to serve the King with water at dinner, or
else to place a dish of the first course upon the table; and this was his
farewell to his personal duties of esquire. His governors then led him to
his chamber, where he remained alone till the evening, when they sent a
barber to him, who prepared his bath. Water was not yet put into it, but
the esquire was, who sat, wrapped in white cloths and mantles, while his
beard was shaved, and his head rounded. All this being done, the governors
went to the King, and said to him, "Most mighty Prince, our Sovereign
Lord, it waxeth nigh unto the even, and our master is ready in the bath."
The King then commanded his chamberlain to take into the chamber of him
who was to be made knight the prowest and wisest knights about the court,
in order that they might instruct and counsel the esquire, touching the
order of knighthood.
The chamberlain, preceded by minstrels singing and dancing, and
accompanied by the chosen cavaliers, went to the door of the esquire's
room. When the governors heard the sound of minstrelsy, they stripped
their master, and left him naked in the bath. The music ceased, and the
chamberlain and his knights entered the room. After paying much worship
and courtesy to each other, he to whom precedence was allowed advanced to
the bath, and, kneeling down, whispered these words in the ear of the
esquire: "Right dear brother, may this order bring great honour and
worship unto you; and I pray that Almighty God may give you the praise of
all knighthood. Lo! this is the order: Be ye strong in the faith of Holy
Church, relieve widows and oppressed maidens, give every one his own, and,
above all things, love and dread God. Superior to all other earthly
objects, love the King, thy sovereign lord; him and his right defend unto
thy power, and put him in worship."
When the esquire was thus advised, the knight-counsellor took in his hand
water from the bath, and threw it gently on the shoulder of his young
friend. The other knights counselled and bathed him in a similar manner,
and then, with the first knight, left the chamber. The governors took the
esquire out of the bath, and laid him on a bed "to dry." When the process
of drying was finished, he was taken out of bed, and clothed warmly; and
there was thrown over him a cope of black russet, with long sleeves, and
the hood, like that of a hermit, sewn on the cope. The barber had the bath
for his fee, and the operation of shaving was paid for separately,
agreeably to the estate of the esquire; and if there was any dispute about
the sum, the King's Majesty's judgment was looked to.
A joyous company of knights, with squires dancing, and minstrels singing,
entered the room, and with light pace and gay deportment led their friend
into the chapel. There they were refreshed with wines, spices, and
sweatmeats; and the knights-counsellors, being thanked by the esquire for
their great labour and worship, departed. The governors, the officers of
arms, and the waits, remained in the chapel with the esquire. It was his
duty to pass the night in prayer to Almighty God that he might worthily
receive the honour, and discharge all the offices of knighthood. A taper
of wax was always burning before him.
When the morning dawned a priest entered the chapel, and the more solemn
duties of religion were proceeded with. Shriving, matins, the mass, and
the communion, were performed, the esquire, during the principal
ceremonies of the sacrament, holding the taper in his hand, with a penny
stuck in the wax, near the light; and, finally, he offered them to the
priest, the taper to the honour of God, and the penny to the honour of him
that should make him a knight. His governors then took him from the
chapel, and laid him in his bed, divesting him of his hermit's weeds.
After some time for refreshment had been allowed him, the governors went
to the King, and said, "Most victorious Prince, our master shall awake
when it so pleaseth Your Majesty." The King accordingly commanded the
party of knights, esquires, and minstrels, to go into the chamber of the
esquire, and awake him. They went, and said to him, "Sir, good day: it is
time to arise." The governors raised him in his bed: the most worthy and
the most sage knight presented him his shirt, the next cavalier in
consideration gave him his breeches, the third his doublet, the fourth his
robe of red taffata, lined with white sarcenet; and, when he was thus
partially clothed, two others lifted him out of bed. Two donned his hose,
which were of black silk, or of black cloth, with soles of leather, two
others buttoned his sleeves, another bound round him a girdle of plain
white leather, an inch broad. The combing of the head, and putting on the
coif, were each performed by a knight. Another gentle cavalier also gave
him his mantle of red tartayn, crossed with white on the breast, and
fastened with a lace of white silk, from which depended a pair of white
gloves. How his white-feathered white hat got upon his head I know not;
for the grave ceremonial is altogether silent about the matter.
The dressing being concluded, the esquire was placed on horseback, and led
by the knights into the hall of the King, preceded by a young gentle
esquire, also on horseback, and carrying by its point a sword, in a white
scabbard, with gilt spurs hanging upon the cross hilt. The marshal of
England assisted the candidate for knighthood to alight, and led him into
the hall, where he sat at the head of the second table, surrounded by his
counselling knights, his sword-bearer, and governors. The King, on
entering the hall, demanded the sword and the spurs, and they were given
to him by the chamberlain. The King gave the right spur to one of the
noblest peers about him, commanding that lord to place it on the right
heel of the esquire. The lord knelt on one knee, and, taking the esquire
by the right leg, put the foot upon his knee, and not only affixed the
spur to the heel, but made a cross upon the knee of the esquire, and
kissed it. Another lord attached the left spur to the left foot with
similar ceremonies. The King then, out of the meekness of his high might,
girt the sword round the esquire. The esquire raised his arms, and the
King, throwing his arms round the neck of the esquire, smote the esquire
on the shoulder with his right hand, kissing him at the same time, and
saying, "Be ye a good knight."
The new-made knight was then conducted by his counselling knights into the
chapel, upon whose high altar he laid his sword, offering it to God and
Holy Church, most devoutly beseeching Heaven, that he might always
worthily demean himself in the order. He then took a sup of wine and left
the chapel, at whose door his spurs were taken off by the master-cook, who
received them for his fee; and in the fine style of old English bluntness
reminded him, that "if he ever acted unworthily of his knighthood, it
would be his duty, with the knife with which he dressed the meats, to
strike away his spurs, and that thus by the customs of chivalry he would
lose his worship." The new-made knight went into the hall, and sat at
table with his compeers; but it did not deport with his modesty to eat in
their presence, and his abashment kept him from turning his eyes hither
and thither. He left the table after the King arose, and went to his
chamber with a great multitude of knights, squires, and minstrels,
rejoicing, singing, and dancing.
Alone in his chamber, and the door closed, the knight, wearied by this
time with ceremony and fasting, ate and drank merrily. He then doffed much
of his array, which was distributed among the officers of the household,
and put on a robe of blue with the white lace of silk hanging on the
shoulder, similar to that which was worn in the days of Henry V.; for
however degenerated the world might have become, they could not for
shame's sake despise all the forms of chivalry. The ceremony, of
inauguration concluded by expressions of thanks and courtesy. The knight
went to the King, and kneeling before him, said, "Most dread and most
mighty Prince, I gratefully salute you for the worship which you have so
courteously given to me." The governors thus addressed the knight:
"Worshipful Sir, by the King's command we have served you, and that
command fulfilled to our power; and what we have done in our service
against your reverence we pray you of your grace to pardon us.
Furthermore, by the custom of the King's court, we require of you robes
and fees becoming the rank of King's squires, who are fellows to the
knights of other lands."[138]