The knightly character had an important effect on England during the troublous reign of Stephen. As he was deserted by his barons, he called in foreign cavaliers to assist him in his resistance to the Empress Maud. Their valour was rewarded by the grant of estates; and thus a new order of nobility arose to shake the arrogance of the old; and new opinions, feelings, and manners, became blended with English habits.

The arms of chivalry grew rusty in the long and unwarlike reign of Henry II.; but many of the milder graces of knighthood were cultivated in consequence of the love of letters entertained by the sovereign and his queen. The Troubadours found royal and, from the force of example, noble, patronage in England; and, however offensive to a classic ear their conceits and bombast may sound, yet, since they treated love as an affair of the fancy rather than as an appetite, they contributed to purify the manners of the age. By another channel literature promoted the cause of arms. Romance with her bold fictions and splendid colouring inspired the tamest hearts with the love of adventure. Such of the traditions and fables regarding Arthur and the knights of the Round Table as dwelt in the memory of the people of Britanny (that ancient colony of England) were collected by an Archdeacon Walter, of Oxford, and formed part of a Latin history of Great Britain that was written in the time of Henry I. by Jeffry of Monmouth. Wace, the translator-general of the age, turned it into Anglo-Norman verse, mingling with it all the stories of his hero that were floating in the English mind. The subject was fitted to the martial taste of the time; and as the book was now rendered into the language of the upper classes of life, it found its way into the baronial hall and the lady’s bower. This was the earliest of the French metrical romances; and before the close of the twelfth century nothing was read by the nobility but romances of Arthur and his knights. And the sports and exercises of the time nourished the chivalric spirit. A writer of those days has given us a graphic description of them. “Every Sunday in Lent, immediately after dinner, crowds of noble and sprightly youths, mounted on war-horses, admirably trained to perform all their turnings and evolutions, ride into the fields in distinct bands, armed with lances and shields, and exhibit representations of battles, and go through all their martial exercises. Many of the young nobility, who have not yet received the honour of knighthood, issue from the king’s court, and from the houses of bishops, earls, and barons, to make trial of their courage, strength, and skill in arms. The hope of victory rouses the spirits of these noble youths; their fiery horses neigh and prance, and champ their foaming bits. At length the signal is given, and the sports begin. The youths, divided into opposite bands, encounter one another. In one place some fly, and others pursue, without being able to overtake them. In another place, one of the bands overtakes and overturns the other.”[387]

Martial daring, thus fostered and promoted, broke out with fresh vigour in the reign of Richard Cœur de Lion; and England, which hitherto had but partially and occasionally engaged in the crusades, now took up those sacred and perilous enterprises with the ardour of the French. Richard was the first king of England of knightly character; for I cannot, with some writers, place William Rufus among our chivalric sovereigns. I cannot with them see any thing magnanimous in his receiving under his banners an enemy’s soldier who had unhorsed him, and who had foreborne to slay him because he declared himself king of England. The conduct of the soldier merited reward; and William acted only with common selfishness in taking so good a soldier into his service. Rufus had mere brutal courage, but that quality was not the character of chivalry. His bravery was not directed either by religion or the love of fame, nor was it tempered into virtue by the charities of life. When with Robert he besieged his brother Henry in his castle, Rufus was guilty of one of the most unchivalric acts on record. Henry’s supply of water was exhausted, and he solicited some from his brothers on the true knightly principle that valour should decide a triumph, and that it was unworthy of a soldier’s pride to gain a victory merely by the circumstance of his antagonists being in want of the common necessaries of life. Robert, with fine chivalric generosity, supplied his brother, much to the regret of William, who ridiculed and was angry at his simplicity.[388]

But in Richard the whole knightly character appeared in all its martial dignity and splendor. His courage was not the mere savage confidence in superior strength, but the fine display of chivalric exercises. Such was the might of his arm, and such the fierceness of his spirit, that he could sweep from the field whole squadrons of knights. When we see his javelin transfixing a Turk on the walls of Acre[389], the exploits of Grecian heroes appear to be no longer poetical fictions; and when he appears on the plains of Palestine, grasping his lance and riding from wing to wing of the Saracenian host without meeting an enemy who dared to encounter his career, the stories of Arthur and the Round Table seem the calm relations of truth.

No one was more attentive than Richard to the regulations of chivalry. In the course of his crusade he was assailed by some rustics, against whom it was unlawful for a knight to use his sword. He beat them with the flat part of it till it broke, and he then took up stones, and drove them away.[390] Richard’s mind was framed in the finest spirit of chivalric liberality. His largesses, both to his own soldiers and those of his ally, Philip Augustus, while in Sicily during their voyage to Palestine, were so magnificent, that it was acknowledged he had given more treasure in a month than his predecessors in a year.[391]

Like the knights of romance, he revelled in gorgeousness and splendour, and his court resounded with the minstrel’s lay. One of the Provençal poets followed him into Palestine: nor did he entirely want the minds of others to soften into grace his martial spirit; for often his own fancy played with poetical images. In the history of chivalric amusements, Richard is an important character. All his predecessors in sovereignty had forbidden jousts and tournaments; and their absurd regulations had only been violated in the time of Stephen. When Richard was in the Holy Land, he observed the inferiority of the English chivalry to that of the French: his own knights were rude soldiers, with none of the dexterity and skill of their crusading brethren, which could only be acquired in tournaments, the schools of war. Richard broke through the jealousy of adopting foreign customs, and, like a politic monarch, he allowed and encouraged his soldiers to practise martial exercises.[392]

These circumstances and the various other events of his chivalric life, which I have described at length in another work complete the authentic character of our lion-hearted King, for I dare not invest the severe simplicity of history with those golden fictions, which romance has delighted to throw over the story of his Eastern atchievements.

There was nothing chivalric in the character and conduct of his brother and successor King John, or he would not have suffered the foreign possessions of England’s crown to be wrested from it. In the reign of Henry III. the flame of chivalry was kept alive by some English knights, who assisted the Emperor in his Milanese wars, and whose prowess was the most distinguished of the day. The crusades to the Holy Land were not altogether forgotten; but the page of our history is marked with the peculiar disgrace that English knights assisted the French in their inhuman war on the Albigenses.

There was much of the chivalric character in Edward I. He was a diligent reader of the ancient romances; and, as soon as he was invested with knighthood, he went to foreign courts, in order that he might display his prowess.[393] For the sake of acquiring military fame, he exposed his person in the Holy Land, and, during his journey homeward, though ill and forespent with travel, he displayed remarkable heroism at a tournament in Savoy.[394] The challenger was the Count of Chalons; but if pontifical authority could have destroyed chivalry, the knights never would have met. The pope feared that some hostility was menaced, and earnestly dissuaded Edward from the tournament. He warned him of his danger: he exhorted him, as a son of the church, to decline these encounters, which the church had forbidden; and he added, that as Edward now was king, he might decline the challenge, as kings were not wont to risk their persons in these perilous shocks. But most of these reasons were so many stimulants of his courage: the more danger, the greater share of honour, and it was beneath the gallantry of his bearing to have thrown his rank as a shield before his knighthood. Followed by a thousand men-at-arms, and archers on horseback and on foot, Edward pressed his bounding steed upon the chosen plain, and the Count of Chalons met him with equal spirit, and nearly twice the number of companions. The English king soon found that no lofty courtesy, no love of chivalric exercises, had influenced the French lord. The graceful tournament soon became a deadly fray. The cause of honour triumphed, and the knights of Chalons were either slain or driven from the field. After many cavaliers on each side had been disabled, the lords of either host encountered. Their lances met and shivered; and if Chalons had been a courteous knight, he would have passed to the other end of the plain, and seized a new lance to continue his emprise; but, maddened at his weapon failing, he threw himself upon Edward, endeavouring to crush him by his prodigious weight. At that moment Edward’s horse started forwards, and the Count was thrown on the ground. His companions raised him; but he was so much bruised by the fall that he cried for mercy. His conduct had put him without the pale of chivalry, and Edward, therefore, treated him like a base-born churl. He beat him with the flat part of his sword; and, refusing to take him as his prisoner, he compelled him to surrender himself to a man of mean condition.[395]

Edward’s love of chivalric exercises was imitated by his nobility. Tournaments and jousts were held in various parts of the country; and Kenilworth is particularly marked as famous for its Round Table, to which knights from every nation flocked.[396] In his Scotch wars, therefore, his armies were not deficient in chivalric bravery. At the battle of Falkirk the strength of the Scots was foot, as that of the English was horse; and the repeated charges of Edward’s chivalry decided the fate of that memorable day. In his Welsh wars he had sullied his reputation for knightly generosity by making a public exhibition of the head of his worsted foe, Llewelyn ap Gryffyth, the last sovereign of Wales[397]; and his well-known conduct to Wallace betrayed such an absence of all nobleness of mind, that he forfeited his claims to knightly consideration. The beautiful parts, the embellishments of chivalry, were subservient to his ambition. Before his second war in Scotland he vowed, in Wesminster Abbey, by God, and also by two swans which were introduced into the assembly with great pomp and splendour, that he would punish the Scottish nation for their breach of faith, and for the death of Comyn. Nor did any of the courtesies of chivalry grace Edward: the queen of Bruce and her ladies fell into his power, and in defiance of all chivalric gallantry, he treated them as prisoners. There was something peculiarly ferocious in his treatment of the Countess of Buchan, who was also his captive. Her offence was, that she had crowned Bruce. Edward exclaimed, with the deliberation of malignity, “As she has not used the sword, she shall not perish by the sword; but for her lawless conspiracy, she shall be shut up in a stone and iron chamber, circular as the crown she gave; and at Berwick she shall be suspended in the open air, a spectacle to travellers, and for her everlasting infamy.”[398] And the English Tamerlane did not relent.[399]

The close of the reign of Edward I. is remarkable for a very splendid scene illustrative of the ancient mode of creating knights, and of the chivalric manners of our forefathers. Before his last and fatal journey to Scotland, Edward caused proclamation to be made throughout England, that all persons who were entitled to the honour of knighthood by custom of hereditary succession, or who had estates sufficient to support the dignity, should, at the next feast of Pentecost, repair to Westminster, and that to every one would be delivered out of the King’s wardrobe, at the King’s expence, the festive and inauguratory dress of a knight.

Accordingly, at the time and place appointed, there was a fair and gallant show of three hundred young gentlemen, sons of earls, barons, and knights, and among these aspirants to chivalry were distributed in ample measure, according to their different ranks, purple, fine linen, furs, and mantles embroidered with gold. The royal palace, though magnificently spacious, could not accommodate all these young esquires with their retinue of yeomen and pages. Many of them repaired to the New Temple, where, cutting down the trees and levelling the walls of the garden, they set up their tents and pavilions in brave emulation of actual war. They performed their vigils in the Temple church, while the Prince of Wales, by command of the King his father, passed the night in prayer in Westminster Abbey.

On the following day, the King invested his son with the military belt, and assigned to him the duchy of Aquitaine. The Prince, being knighted, went to the Abbey that he might confer the like military honor on his companions. So close was the press of spectators round the high altar, that two knights were stifled, and several fainted, though each was supported by three knights of experienced prowess. The Prince, accompanied by his father and the chief nobility, at length reached the altar, and his guards made a passage for his friends to receive knighthood at his hands. After he had dubbed and embraced them all, his attendants introduced two swans covered with golden nets, which were adorned and embossed with studs of gold. This was the most joyous part of the ceremony in the eyes of the people, and their rude and joyous shouts drowned the clangor of the trumpets. The King, as before stated, vowed by heaven and the swans that he would go to Scotland; and even if he should die in the enterprise, he would avenge the death of Comyn and the violated faith of the Scots. He then adjured the Prince and the nobles, and his band of knights by their fealty and chivalry, that if he should die in his journey to Scotland, they would carry his body forwards, and never bury it till his son had established his dominion. Every heart assented to this high resolve, and the ceremony closed. The knights were feasted that day at the royal palace; and while they were quaffing muscadel in honour of chivalry and the ladies, the minstrels in their songs reminded them of their duty to pledge themselves before the swans to perform some rare feats of arms. The Prince vowed that he would never rest two nights in one place until he had performed his father’s high behests; and the other knights made various fantastic vows for the promotion of the same object.[400]

The defeat of the English chivalry at the battle of Bannockburn, (24th June, 1315,) was the most remarkable circumstance in the reign of Edward II. On the preceding day, Douglas[401] and Sir Robert Keith, marshal of Scotland, were dispatched by Robert Bruce from the main body of his army to descry whether the enemy was approaching.

“And soon the great host have they seen,
Where shields shining were so sheen,
And basinets burnished bright,
That gave against the sun great light.
They saw so fele[402] brawdyne[403] baners,
Standards, and pennons, and spears,
And so fele[402] knights upon steeds,
All flaming in their weeds.
And so fele[404] bataills[405], and so broad,
And too so great room as they rode
That the maist host, and the stoutest
Of Christendom, and the greatest
Should be abaysit[406], for to see
Their foes into such quantity.”
The Bruce, vol. ii. p. 111.

The English vanguard, commanded by the Earls of Gloucester and Hereford, soon came in general sight. The appearance of Edward’s army is described by Barbour in a rich chivalric style.

“The sun was bright, and shined clear,
And armouris that burnished were,
So blomyt[407], with the sun’s beam,
That all the land was in a leme[408],
Banners right fairly flawinand[409],
And pensels to the wind wawand.”[410]
Barbour, xi. 188-193.

Bruce was riding on a palfrey and marshalling his men, when Sir Henry de Bohun started from the opposite host, and careered his horse against him. Sir Henry was a fierce rather than a gallant knight, or he would not have pressed his war-steed upon a foe who was riding on a palfrey.[411] But his want of chivalric gallantry was justly punished.

“And when Glosyter and Hertfurd were,
With their battle approaching near,
Before them all there come riding,
With helm on head and spear in hand,
Sir Henry Boune, the worthy,
That was a wight knight, and a hardy;
And to the Earl of Hertfurd cousin;
Armed in arms good and fine;
Come on a steed, a bow-shot nere,
Before all other that there were.
And knew the King, for that he saw
Him so range his men in row;
And by the crown, that was set
Also upon his bacinet,
And towards him he went on haste.
And the King so apertly
Saw him come, forth all his feres[412]
In hy[413] to him the horse he steers.
And when Sir Henry saw the King
Come on forouting abaysing,[414]
To him he rode in full great hy[415]
He thought that he should well lightly
Win him and have him at his will,
Since he him horsed saw so ill.
Sprent[416] they came unto a ling,[417]
Sir Henry missed the noble king.
And he, that in his stirrups stood,
With the axe, that was hard and good,
With so great mayn[418] reached him a dint,
That neither hat nor helm might stynt,
The hewy dusche[419] that he him gave,
That near the head to the harness clave.
The hand-axe shaft fruschyt[420] in tow;
And he down to the yird gan go
All flatlyngs[421], for him failed might.
This was the first stroke of the fight.”
Barbour, vol. ii. p. 122.

The fine generousness of chivalry was very nobly displayed in another circumstance which preceded the great battle. It was a main object with the English to throw succours into the castle of Stirling; and Edward, therefore, commanded Sir Robert Clifford and eight hundred horsemen to make a circuit by the low grounds to the east, and approach the castle. Bruce, in anticipation of the Englishmen’s purpose, had charged Randolph who commanded his left wing to prevent Stirling from being relieved; and when he saw the English troops holding on their gallant course unchecked, he cried, “A rose has fallen from thy chaplet, Randolph,”[422] and bitterly reproached him for his want of vigilance. Nothing but the utmost desperateness of valour could efface this shame; and gathering round him a few hundred bold spirits, the Scottish General advanced against the English. Clifford, in his pride of chivalry, thought that he could soon disperse a band of lightly armed troops of foot-soldiers, who were now being marshalled into a circle with their spears resting on the ground, the points protruded on every side. The English charged, but the resistance was more gallant than what they had foreseen. Still, however, the Scots seemed gradually sinking under the force of numbers; and Douglas, who saw the peril, requested the King’s permission to go and join him. “You shall not move from your ground,” cried the King: “let Randolph extricate himself as he best may. I will not alter my order of battle, and lose the advantage of my position.” But Douglas reiterated his request, and wrung leave from the King. He flew to the assistance of his friend. But before he reached him he saw that the English were falling into disorder, and that the perseverance of Randolph had prevailed over their impetuous courage. “Halt,” cried Douglas, like a generous knight, “these brave men have repulsed the enemy; let us not diminish their glory by sharing it.”

Of the battle of Bannockburn itself little need be said by me, because there was not much chivalric character about it. Some historians describe the defeat of the English as having been principally occasioned by the Scottish cavalry throwing the rear of their archers into confusion. Others affirm that Bruce, seeing the inadequacy of his own cavalry to cope with that of the English, formed the battles or divisions of his army entirely of foot-soldiers, and dug trenches before his line, slightly covering them with turf and hurdles. The gallant knights of England, with the sun streaming on their burnished helms and gilt shields, advanced to charge the bristled front of the Scots: but the turf sunk beneath the pressure of their horses’ feet, and men and their steeds lay at the mercy of their enemy. One or other of these circumstances turned the event of the battle, and the Scotch reserve being judiciously brought up, completed the victory. In every way the generalship of Bruce was admirable: but the fate of the battle reflects nothing on the personal character of the English chivalry; for they were not worsted in an encounter of lance to lance, and horse to horse. The bravery of one English knight must not pass unrecorded. Sir Giles D’Argentyn, upon seeing some of his friends around him pause in alarm, cried that he was not used to fly, and spurring his war-steed into the thickest of the press, gallantly perished. Nor was this a solitary instance of courage; and even Edward seemed for a moment to be inspired with the fire of the Plantagenets. He dashed into the enemy’s lines, and was by force drawn away by the Earl of Pembroke, when courage was evidently unavailing.[423]

Though the chivalric character was only for one moment of his life sustained by Edward II., yet it was too deeply fixed in the national mind to die on account of its neglect by any particular monarch. There is a singular circumstance on record illustrative of the power of this feeling. During his war with the barons, which his system of unprincipled favouritism had provoked, one of the lords refused the Queen the hospitality of his castle. This act of individual insult had general consequences. Disgusted with a cause which was blended with so much uncourtesy, barons and knights immediately flocked round the standard of the King; his arms completely triumphed, and the Spencers were recalled.[424]

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

London:
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INDEX.