The knight was accompanied into the field by his squires and pages, by his armed vassals on horseback and on foot, all bearing his cognisance. The number of these attendants varied necessarily with his estate, and also the occasion that induced him to arm; and I should weary, without instructing my readers, were I to insert in these volumes all the petty details of history regarding the amount of force which in various countries, and in different periods of the same country’s annals, constituted, to use the phraseology of the middle ages, the complement of a lance. Armies were reckoned by lances, each lance meaning the knight himself with his men-at-arms, or lighter cavalry, and his foot soldiers.

The knight was not only supported by his vassals, who formed the furniture of his lance, but by his brother in arms, when such an intercourse subsisted between two cavaliers; and instances of such unions are extremely frequent in chivalric history: they may be met with in other annals. In the early days of Greece, brotherhood in arms was a well-known form of friendship: the two companions engaged never to abandon each other in affairs however perilous, and in pledge of their mutual faith they exchanged armour. No stronger proof of affection could be given than thus parting with what they held most dear. Among barbarous people the fraternity of arms was established by the horrid custom of the new brothers drinking each other’s blood: but if this practice was barbarous, nothing was farther from barbarism than the sentiment which inspired it.

The chivalry of Europe borrowed this sacred bond from the Scandinavians, among whom the future brothers in arms mingled their blood, and then tasted it.

“Father of slaughter, Odin, say,
Rememberest not the former day,
When ruddy in the goblet stood,
For mutual drink, our blended blood?
Rememberest not, thou then dids’t swear,
The festive banquet ne’er to share,
Unless thy brother Lok was there?”[133]

This custom, like most others of Pagan Europe, was corrected and softened by the light and humanity of religion. Fraternal adoptions then took place in churches, in presence of relations, and with the sanction of priests. The knights vowed that they would never injure or vilify each other, that they would share each other’s dangers; and in sign of the perfection of love, and of true unity, and in order to possess, as much as they could, the same heart and resolves, they solemnly promised true fraternity and companionship of arms.[134] They then received the holy sacrament, and the priest blessed the union. It was a point rather of generous understanding than of regular convention, that they would divide equally all their acquisitions. Of this custom an instance may be given. Robert de Oily and Roger de Ivery, two young gentlemen who came into England with the duke of Normandy, were sworn brothers. Some time after the conquest, the king granted the two great honours of Oxford, and St. Waleries, to Robert de Oily, who immediately bestowed one of them, that of St. Waleries, on his sworn brother, Roger de Ivery[135].

Fraternity of arms was entered into for a specific object, or general knightly quests, for a limited term, or for life. It did not always occur, however, that the fraternity of arms was established with religious solemnities: but whatever might have been the ceremonies, the obligation was ever considered sacred; so sacred, indeed, that romance writers did not startle their readers by a tale, whose interest hangs upon the circumstance of a knight slaying his two infant children for the sake of compounding a medicine with their blood which should heal the leprosy of his brother in arms.[136]

This form of attachment was the strongest tie in chivalry.

“From this day forward, ever mo
Neither fail, either for weal or wo,
To help other at need,
Brother, be now true to me,
And I shall be as true to thee.”

So said Sir Amylion to Sir Amys, and it was the common language of chivalry. Friendship was carried to the romantic extremity of the Homeric age. Brethren in arms adopted all the enmities and loves of each other,

“A generous friendship no cold medium knows,
Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.”

And so powerful was the obligation that it even superseded the duty of knighthood to womankind. A lady might in vain have claimed the protection of a cavalier, if he could allege that at that moment he was bound to fly to the succour of his brother in arms.

Thus accompanied, the knight proceeded to achieve the high emprises of his noble and gallant calling. Both the principles and the objects of chivalry having been always the same, a general similarity of character existed through all the chivalric ages; and as certain moral combinations divide human nature into classes, so the knight was a distinct character, and the qualities peculiar to his order may be delineated in one picture, notwithstanding individual and national variations, which had better be described when we come to mark the degrees of the influence of chivalry in the different countries of Europe.

The courage of the knight is the part of his character which naturally calls for our first attention. It was daring and enterprising: but I cannot insist upon recklessness of danger as the quality of chivalry only, for in every nation’s battles, to be the first to advance and the last to retreat have been the ambition of warriors. The knight however cared little for the cause or necessity of his doing battle so that he could display his valour. About the year 1370, Sir Robert Knowles marched through France, and laid waste the country as far as the very gates of the capital. A knight was in his company, who had made a vow that he would ride to the walls or gates of Paris, and strike at the barriers[137] with a spear. And for the finishing of his vow he departed from his company, his spear in his hand, his shield suspended from his neck, armed at all points, and mounted on a good horse, his squire following him on another, with his helmet. When he approached Paris he put on the glittering head-piece, and leaving his squire behind him, and dashing his spurs into his steed, he rode at full career to the barriers which were then open. The French lords, who were there, weened that he would have entered the town, but that was not his mind, for when he had struck the barriers according to his vow, he turned his rein and departed. Then the knights of France immediately divined his purpose, and cried, “Go your way; you have right well acquitted yourself.”[138]

About the same time a band of English knights advanced to the French town of Noyon, and spread their banners abroad, as a defiance to the garrison. But the French made no sally; and a Scottish knight, named Sir John Swinton, impatient of rest, departed from his company, his spear in his hand, and mounted on a cheval de lance, his page behind him, and in that manner approached the barriers. He then alighted, and saying to his page, “Hold, keep my horse, and depart not hence,” he went to the barriers. Within the pallisades were many good knights, who had great marvel what this said knight would do. Then Swinton said to them, “Sirs, I am come hither to see you; as you will not issue out of your barriers, I will enter them, and prove my knighthood against yours. Win me if you can!” He then fought with the French cavaliers, and so skilfully, that he wounded two or three of them; the people on the walls and the tops of the houses remaining still, for they had great pleasure to regard his valiantness, and the gallant knights of France charged them not to cast any missiles against him, but to let the battle go fairly and freely forward. So long they fought that at last the page went to the barriers, and said to his master, “Sir, come away; it is time for you to depart, for your company are leaving the field.” The knight heard him well, and then gave two or three strokes about him, and armed as he was he leapt over the barriers, and vaulting upon his horse behind his faithful page, he waved his hand to the Frenchmen, and cried, “Adieu, Sirs, I thank you.” He then urged his noble horse to speed, and rode to his own company. This goodly feat of arms was praised by many folks.[139]

This love of causeless perils was often accompanied by curious circumstances. On the manners of the ancestors of the heroes of chivalry it has been said,

“In the caverns of the west,
By Odin’s fierce embrace comprest,
A wond’rous boy shall Rinda bear,
Who ne’er shall comb his raven hair,
Nor wash his visage in the stream,
Nor see the sun’s departing beam,
Till he on Hoder’s corse shall smile
Flaming on the fun’ral pile!”

And king Harold made a solemn vow never to clip or comb his hair till he should have extended his sway over the whole country. Tacitus informs us, that the youthful Germans, particularly those among the Catti, did not shave the hair from the head or chin until they had achieved renown in arms. The same feeling influenced the knight of chivalry. He was wont to wear a chain on his arm or leg until he had performed some distinguishing exploit; and when his merit became conspicuous, the mark of thraldom was removed with great solemnity.[140] A young knight would not at first assume his family arms, but wore plain armour and shield without any device till he had won renown. He would even fight blindfold, or pinion one of his hands to his body, or in some other manner partially disable himself from performing his deed, of arms. Before the gate of Troyes there was an English squire, resolved to achieve some high and romantic feat. His companions were unable to judge whether or not he could see, but with his spear in his hand, and his targe suspended from his neck, he recklessly spurred his horse to the barriers, leaped over them, and careered to the gate of the town, where the Duke of Burgundy and other great lords of France were standing. He reined round his foaming steed and urged him back towards the camp. The duke shouted applause at his boldness: but some surrounding men-at-arms had not the same generous sympathy for noble chivalry, and they hurled their lances like javelins at the brave squire, till they brought him and his horse dead to the ground, wherewith the Duke of Burgundy was right sore displeased.[141] Equally singular, and more fantastic, was the conduct of certain young knights of England during the French wars of Edward III., for each of them bound up one of his eyes with a silk ribbon, and swore before the ladies and the peacock, that he would not see with both eyes until he had accomplished certain deeds of arms in France.[142]

Nothing appears incredible in romances after reading these tales of a very faithful historian; but we should wrong chivalry were we to suppose that this wild, this phrenetic, courage was its chief character. Perhaps it was in general the quality of young soldiers only; for discretion was certainly a part of cavaleresque valour. That a knight was sage is frequently said to his honour. Not, indeed, that his skill ever degenerated into the subtlety of stratagem, for bold and open[143] battle was always preferred to the refinements of artifice, and he would have debased his order if he had profited by any mischance happening to his foe. But in the choice of ground, in the disposition of his squires and men-at-arms, he exerted his best skill, for to be adventurous was only one part of valour. The soldier in chivalry was also imaginative, a word constantly used by our old authors to show a mind full of resources, and to express military abilities.[144]

There was not so much ruthlessness in his heroism as distinguished those ages of the ancient world which fancy and poetry have sometimes painted as chivalrous. The prostrate and suppliant foe seldom sued for mercy in vain from the true knight. It was a maxim, that a warrior without pity was without worship.[145] Even the pride of knighthood often softened the fierce and rugged face of war, for inferior people were spared, because they were unworthy of the lance. A knight trained to warlike exercises cared little for a battle unless he could prove his skilful bearing; and what honour could he gain from slaying rude and unarmed peasantry? The simple peasant was often spared from motives of prudence. Richard Brembrow, an English knight, was ravaging Brittany, in the year 1350, but was reproached for his conduct by Beaumanoir, a partisan of the house of Blois, who was astonished that a valiant cavalier should make war, not only on men bearing arms, but on labourers and others. “In all wars guided by chivalric principles,” continued the knight of Brittany, “true soldiers never injure the tillers of the ground; for if they were to do so, the world would be destroyed by famine.”[146] More generous feelings, however, sometimes had their influence. The stern Du Guesclin, when on his death-bed, desired his old companions in arms to remember that “neither the clergy, nor women, nor children, nor poor people, were their enemies;” and the charge came with peculiar propriety from him, for his past life could furnish no instance of needless severity.

To show the reverse of such mildness was the unhappy fate of the Black Prince, who, by his massacre of three thousand people at Limoges[147], tarnished the lustre of all his former glories. The narrative of this affair which Froissart has left us, shews that such barbarities were not so frequent in chivalric times as modern hatred of aristocratical power has represented. We may learn from our historian that the massacre at Limoges proceeded from the unhappy disposition to cruelty which at that time clouded the mind of the Prince of Wales, and not from the general principles of chivalry; for he tells us, that the knights prepared themselves to do evil, to slay men, women, and children, because they were so commanded; and he whose heart leaped for joy in describing a manly conflict, where banners and standards waved in the wind, with horses barded, and knights and squires richly armed, yet sighs over the massacre of Limoges, and says it was “great pity” to see the slaughter.[148] It was only when cities that belonged to the enemies of the church were taken, that the sword of the victorious Christian was embrued in blood to the very hilt; for pagans, Saracens, Jews, and heretics were not considered within the pale of the humane courtesies of chivalry.

Frequent pauses were made in the single encounters of knighthood, for generousness was thought an essential part of bravery, and the soldier would rather vanquish by his skill than by any accidental advantage. A giant of the first enormity requested of his antagonist, Sir Guy of Warwick, a momentary respite for the purpose of slaking his thirst in a neighbouring stream. The noble knight assented to this request, and the giant, perfectly recovered from his fatigue, renewed the combat with fresh vigour. Sir Guy, in his turn, was oppressed by heat and fatigue, and requested a similar favour; but the uncourteous giant refused.[149] In a battle between the celebrated Roland and a Saracen knight, named Sir Otuel, a stroke of the former’s sword cut into the brain of his antagonist’s horse. The paladin of Charlemagne, with true chivalric courtesy, reined in his steed, and rested on his arms till Sir Otuel had disengaged himself from the equipments of his horse. The Saracen rallied him for want of skill in missing his gigantic frame; but on the renewal of the battle Otuel was guilty of a similar awkwardness, and conscious that his raillery might now be retorted with double force, he imitated the knightly courtesy of Roland, and waited till his foe was completely free from his fallen steed.[150] The preliminaries of a battle between the famous Oliver and a Saracen cavalier, hight Sir Ferumbras, was still more courteous, for the Christian knight assisted his foe to lace his helmet, and before they encountered, the combatants politely bowed to each other.[151]

Veracious chroniclers confirm the stories of romance writers. In a battle of honour between the English and French, when it was thought contrary to chivalry for either party to be more numerous than the other, the knights contended for several hours with intervals of repose. When any two of them had fought so long as to be fatigued, they fairly and easily departed, and sat themselves down by the side of a stream, and took off their helmets. On being refreshed they donned their armour, and returned to the fight.[152]

We commonly refer to the principles of honour in chivalry to account for the interesting fact, that a victorious knight permitted his prisoner to go to his own country or town, in order to fetch his ransom; and we know that his word of honour was considered a sufficient pledge for his return at the appointed season. The true reason of this general practice of chivalry may be learnt from a passage in Froissart. After describing a battle between the English and French in the year 1344, he says, that the English dealt like good companions with their prisoners; and suffered many to depart on their oaths and promises to return again at a certain day to Bergerac or to Bourdeaux.[153] The Scots were equally courteous to the English after the truly chivalric battle of Otterbourn. They set them to their ransom, and every man said to his prisoner, “Sir, go and unarm yourself, and take your ease;” and so made their prisoners as good cheer as if they had been brethren, without doing them any injury.[154] A short while after the battle Sir Matthew Redman yielded himself prisoner to Sir James Lindsay, rescue or no rescue, so that he dealt with him like a good companion.[155] It was, therefore, because all the knights of Europe were united in one universal bond of brotherhood, that one knight showed courtesy to another. It was the principle of fraternity which the Christian religion inculcates, that created all the kindly consideration in war which distinguished chivalry; and base and barbarous, as we may chuse to call our ancestors, I know not whether the principles of Christian friendship were not as well understood in their days as in our own age of boasted light and improvement. There is truth as well as beauty in Froissart’s observation, that “nobleness and gentleness ought to be aided by nobles and gentles.” Not only were prisoners released on their parole of honour, but their ransom was never set so high that they could not pay it at their ease, and still maintain their degree.[156]

One curious particular, illustrative of knightly dignity, remains to be mentioned. It was beneath the bearing of chivalry for a cavalier to surrender himself prisoner to one of the raskall rout, and if he ever was reduced to such a sad necessity he would amuse his pride by raising his conqueror to the rank of chivalry. The Earl of Suffolk, during our wars in France, was taken prisoner by William Renaud; but he would not surrender to him until he had given him the accolade, bound a sword round him, and thus dignified him with knighthood. But there was no loss of chivalric dignity in a knight being taken prisoner by a squire, for a squire, though inferior in rank, was of the same quality as a knight. The renowned Du Guesclin, whom I so often mention as a pattern of chivalry, yielded to the prowess of a squire of England who fought under the standard of Sir John Chandos.

In the course of the fourteenth century the Duke of Gueldres was taken prisoner by a squire named Arnold, and was removed to a castle, where he promised to pay his ransom. The lords of Prussia, hearing that the duke had been captured in his course to their country, summoned a mighty force, and marched to the place of the duke’s confinement. The squire dreaded their power, and resolved to quit the castle: but before his departure he went to the Duke of Gueldres, and said to him, “Sir duke, you are my prisoner, and I am your master: you are a gentleman and a true knight; you have sworn and given me your faith, and whithersoever I go you ought to follow me. I cannot tell if you have sent for the great master of Prussia or not, but he is coming hither with a mighty power. I shall not remain: you may tarry if you list, and I will take with me your faith and promise.” Gueldres made no answer. The squire soon afterwards mounted horse and departed, telling the Duke that he would always find him at such a place, naming a strong castle, in a remote situation. The Prussians soon arrived and liberated their friend: but he resolved to perform his promise to the squire whom he called his master, and neither absolution, nor dispensation, nor argument, nor raillery could induce him to break his faith. His friends and relations then treated with the squire for his freedom, and by paying the customary ransom the Duke of Gueldres recovered that honourable liberty of mind which above all things was dear to the true knight.[157]

Certainly the virtues of a knight were not necessarily patriotic. They were rather calculated to weaken than to strengthen his tendencies to king and country. Although as an individual he was bound to his native land, yet the character of his knighthood was perpetually pressing him to a course of conduct distinct from all national objects. He was the judge of right and wrong[158]; he referred to no external standard of equity; he was an independent agent. These qualities of chivalry gave birth to knight errantry, that singular feature in the character of the middle ages.

“Long so they travell’d through wasteful ways,
Where dangers dwelt and perils most did wonne,
To hunt for glory and renowned praise:
Full many countries they did overrun,
From the uprising to the setting sun,
And many hard adventures did atchieve;
Of all the which they honour ever wonne,
Seeking the weak oppressed to relieve,
And to recover right for such as wrong did grieve.”[159]

It was considered the first praise of knighthood to efface foul outrage, and the advantages arising to society from this disposition are confessed even by satirists.

——————“Knyghtes shoulde
Ryden and rappe adoune in remes aboute,
And to take trespassours and tye them faste.
******
Truly to take, and truly to fight,
Is the profession and the pure order that apendeth to knights.”[160]

The happy consequences to woman of this chivalric principle, and its tendencies to ameliorate manners, will best be seen in our delineation of the character of dames and damsels in the middle ages. With respect to the general interests of society it may be observed, that knight errantry was a very considerable means of correcting the state of violence and misrule in feudal times. The monks of St. Albans held a body of knights in pay, who defended the abbey and preserved the roads free from robbers, whether of the baronial or the vulgar class.[161] Until the discipline of laws had tamed the world into order, force was the only measure of power; and it was by the sword alone that injuries committed by the sword could be avenged. The protection of the wronged being a great principle of chivalry, no oppressed person was at a loss for a mode of redress. Some gentle knight was ever to be found who would lay his lance in its rest to chastise the evil doer. While Edward the First was travelling in France, he heard that a lord of Burgundy was continually committing outrages on the persons and property of his neighbours. In the true spirit of chivalry Edward attacked the castle of this uncourteous baron. His prowess asserted the cause of justice; and he bestowed the domains which he had won upon a nobler and more deserving lord.[162]

When he was neither engaged in his country’s wars, nor errant in quest of adventures, the knight fought among the chivalry of foreign princes. This was a matter of daily occurrence; the English knights obtaining licences from the king on their pledging the honour of their chivalry not to disclose the secrets of the court, nor to fight on the side of the nation’s enemies. It is curious to observe that the service of France was always preferred by the English adventurers to that of Spain or Portugal. France, they said, was a good, sweet country, and temperate, possessing pleasant towns and fair rivers, but Castile was full of barren rocks and mountains, the air was unwholesome, the waters were troubled, and the people were poor and evil arrayed. The wines of Spain formed, however, the principal grievance. The English complained that they were so strong and fiery as to corrupt their heads, dry their bowels, and consume their very livers; and what with hot suns and hot wines Englishmen, who in their own country were sweetly nourished, were in Castile burnt without and within. There is another passage of Froissart which I shall lay before the reader in the right genuine and expressive old English of John Bourchier, knight, Lord Berners. “The Englishmen ate grapes (in Spain) when they might get them, and drank of the hot wines, and the more they drank the more they were set on fire, and thereby burnt their livers and lungs; for that diet was contrary to their nature. Englishmen are nourished with good meats and with ale, which keep their bodies in temper.” In Spain the nights were hot because of the great heat of the day, and the mornings marvellously cold, which deceives them; for in the night they could suffer nothing on them, and so slept all naked, and in the morning cold took them ere they were aware, and that cast them into fevers and fluxes without remedy, and as well died great men as mean people.[163]

All this adventurousness proceeded from the principle, that the life of a knight was not to be regarded as a course of personal indulgence. His virtues were of an active, stirring nature, and he was not permitted to waste his days in dark obscurity, or to revel in ease. Like falcons that disdained confinement, he could not remain long at rest without wishing to roam abroad. “Why do we not array ourselves and go and see the bounds and ports of Normandy?” were the words of war by which our English knights and squires would rouse one another to arms. “There be knights and squires to awake us and to fight with us.”[164] And Honour was always the quest of the true knight.

“In woods, in waves, in wars she wont to dwell,
And will be found with peril and with pain;
Nor can the man that moulders in idle cell,
Unto her happy mansion attain.
Before her gate high God did sweat ordain,
And wakeful watchers ever to abide:
But easy is the way and passage plain
To pleasure’s palace: it may soon be spide,
And day and night her doors to all stand open wide.”[165]

It has often been supposed[166] that the chivalric array must have been inconvenient to the feudal and national disposition of armies, and that knightly honours would be continually striving with other distinctions for pre-eminence. But this supposition has arisen from a want of attention to chivalric principles. Chivalry was not opposed to national institutions; it was a feeling of honour that pervaded without disturbing society; and knightly distinctions were altogether independent of ranks in the state. As every lord was educated in chivalry, he was of course a knight; but he led his troops into the field in consequence of his feudal possessions; and any that were attached to his knighthood, it would be in vain to enquire after. The array of an army was always formed agreeably to the sageness and imagination of the constable, or marshal, or whatever other officer of the nation was commander, without the slightest reference to chivalry. A squire frequently led knights, certainly not on account of his chivalric title, but by reason of favour or merit, or any other of the infinity of causes that occasion advancement.

The religion of the knight was generally the religion of the time; and it would be idle to expect to see religious reformers start from the bands of an unlettered soldiery, whose swords had been consecrated by the church. The warrior said many orisons every day; besides a nocturne of the Psalter, matins of our Lady, of the Holy Ghost, and of the cross, and also the dirige.[167] The service of the mass was usually performed by both armies in the presence of each other before a battle; and no warrior would fight without secretly breathing a prayer to God or a favourite saint. Brevity was an important feature in a soldier’s devotion, as the following anecdote proves. When the French cavalier, Lahire, had just reached his army, he met a chaplain, from whom he demanded absolution. The priest required him to confess his sins. But the knight answered he had not time, for he wanted immediately to attack the enemy. He added, that a minute disclosure of his offences was not necessary, for he had only been guilty of sins common to cavaliers, and the chaplain well knew what those sins were. The priest thereupon absolved him, and Lahire raised his hands to heaven, and exclaimed, “God, I pray thee that thou wouldest do to-day for Lahire as much as thou wouldest Lahire should do for thee, if he were God and thou wert Lahire.” He then dashed spurs into his horse, and his falchion was stained with foeman’s blood before the good chaplain had recovered from his astonishment at this singular form of prayer. The union of religion and arms was displayed in a very remarkable manner at a joust which was held at Berwick, in the year 1338. The lance of an English knight pierced the helmet of his Scottish opponent, William de Ramsey, and nailed it to his head. It being instantly perceived that the wound was mortal, a priest was hastily sent for. The knight was shriven in his helm, and soon afterwards died, and the good Earl of Derby, who was present, was so much delighted at the religious and chivalric mode of the Scotsman’s death, that he hoped God of his grace would vouchsafe to send him a similar end.[168]

The knight visited sacred places, and adopted all the superstitions, whether mild or terrible, and the full spirit of intolerant fierceness, of his time. The defence of the church formed part of his obligation.

“Chevaliers en ce monde cy
Ne peuvent vivre sans soucy:
Ils doivent le peuple défendre,
Et leur sang pour la foi espandre.”

The knight knew no other argument than the sword to gainsay the infidel, and he was ready at all times to “thrust it into the belly of a heretic as far as it would go.” This was the feeling in all chivalric times; but St. Louis was the knight who had the merit of arraying it in the form of a maxim.

The wars of these soldiers of the church were not purely defensive. The cavalier fought openly and offensively against heretics. This was part of the spirit and essence of his character, encouraged by the crusades, and the principles of the military orders; and thus no knight’s military reputation was perfect, unless it was adorned with laurels which had been won in Heathennesse as well as in Christendom; for it was the general opinion, that, as Heaven had chosen learned clerks to maintain the holy Catholic faith with Scripture and reason against the miscreants and unbelievers, so knights had also been chosen, in order that the miscreants might be vanquished by force of arms.[169]

The highest possible degree of virtue was required of a knight: it was a maxim in chivalry, that he who ordained another a knight must be virtuous himself; for it was argued if the knight who made a knight were not virtuous, how could he give that which he had not; and no man could be a true son of chivalry unless he were of unsullied life.[170] He was not only to be virtuous, but without reproach; for he considered his honourable fame as a polished mirror, whose beauty may be lost by an impure breath and an unwholesome air, as well as by being broken into pieces. But there was nothing so abstract and refined in the nature of knightly virtue as has been generally thought. It was the duty of the cavalier to peril himself in the cause of the afflicted and of the church; and his exertions and endeavours to perform the conditions of his oath of chivalry were to be rewarded, not by the mere gratification of any metaphysical fancies, but by the hope of joy in heaven. This was the leading principle of his duty, however often it might be abused or forgotten; and this was the feeling which his oath taught him to encourage. But it did not exclude from his conduct the operation of personal motives. Thus, in displaying his love of justice, he displayed his chivalric skill; and by the same action he gratified his laudable aspirations for fame, and soothed and satisfied his conscience.

Certes all knights were not religious, even in the sense in which religion was understood in chivalric times. One cavalier made it his heart’s boast that he had burnt a church, with twenty-four monks, its contents.[171] The joyousness of youth often broke out in witty sentences, and the sallies of the buoyant spirits of the young cavalier were neither decent nor moral. When his imagination was inflamed by chivalry and love, he forgot his rosary, and said that paradise was only the habitation of dirty monks, priests, and hermits; and that, for his own part, he preferred the thoughts of going to the devil; and, in his fiery kingdom, he was sure of the society of kings, knights, squires, minstrels, and jugglers, and, above all the rest, the mistress of his heart.[172]

Of his moral virtues perfect fidelity to a promise was very conspicuous, for his nobleness disdained any compromise with convenience or circumstances. However absurd the vow, still he was compelled to perform it in all the strictness of the letter. Notwithstanding the obvious inconveniences of such a course, a man frequently promised to grant whatever another should ask; and he would have lost the honour of his knighthood, if he had declined from his word when the wish of him to whom the promise had been made was stated. Sir Charles du Blois promised Sir Loyes of Spain whatever gift he might require for the service he had rendered him. “Then,” said Sir Loyes, “I require you to cause the two knights that are in prison in Favet to be brought hither, and give them to me to do with them at my pleasure, for they have injured me, and slain my nephew. I will strike their heads off before the town, in sight of their companions.” Sir Charles was obliged to comply and deliver up the knights; only remonstrating with Sir Loyes on the cruelty of putting two such valiant knights to death, and on the impolicy of such a measure, as giving occasion to their enemies of dealing in a similar manner with them when the fortune of war changed her face.[173]

There was a generousness about chivalry unknown to other warfare. If in these days of improved jurisprudence we revert our eyes with horror and contempt to times when every question was decided by the sword, still an air of graceful courtesy hung over them, which charms the imagination. A cavalier always granted safe-conduct through his territories to all who required it, even to those who asserted pretensions, which, if established, would deprive him of his possessions. When Matilda landed near Arundel, to contend for the throne of England, Stephen gave her honourable conduct to the castle of his brother, the Earl of Gloucester.[174] This instance of chivalric generousness seems scarcely credible to those who view ancient times by the light of modern prejudices. It was not the passive virtue that declined to profit by any mischance happening to an adversary, but it was one knight drawing the sword, and placing it in the hands of his foe.