“We indeed who were with him then fled for pity and compassion, and the doctor remained alone with him. When the cautery was finished, we returned, and he said to us: ‘Fearful and of little faith, why did you flee? I tell you truly I felt no pain, nor any heat of the fire. If it is not well seared he may sear it better.’

“The astonished doctor assured them all that the cautery was so severe that a strong man, let alone one so weak, could hardly have endured it, while Francis showed no sign of pain” (Spec. perf. 115). “Thus fire treated Francis courteously; for he had never failed to treat it reverently and respect its rights. Once his clothes caught fire, and he would not put it out, and forbade a brother, saying: ‘Nay, dearest brother, do no harm to the fire.’ He would never put out fire, and did not wish any brother to throw away a fire or push a smoking log away, but wished that it should be just set on the ground, out of reverence to Him whose creature it is” (ibid. 116).

“Next to fire he had a peculiar love for water, wherein is figured holy penitence and the tribulation with which the soul’s uncleanness is washed away, and because the first washing of the soul is through the water of baptism. So when he washed his hands he would choose a place where the water which fell would not be trodden on. Also when he walked over rocks, he walked with trembling and reverence for the love of Him who is called the ‘Rock’; and whenever he repeated that psalm, ‘Thou hast exalted me upon a rock,’ he would say with great reverence and devotion: ‘Under the foot of the rock thou hast exalted me.’”

“He directed the brother who cut and fetched the fire-wood never to cut a whole tree, so that some part of it might remain untouched for the love of Him who was willing to work out our salvation upon the wood of the cross.

“Likewise he told the brother who made the garden, not to devote all of it to vegetables, but to have some part for flowering plants, which in their seasons produce Brother Flowers for love of Him who is called the ‘Flower of the field and the Lily of the valley.’ He said indeed that Brother Gardener always ought to make a beautiful patch in some part of the garden, and plant it with all sorts of sweet-smelling herbs and herbs that produce beautiful flowers, so that in their season they may invite men seeing them to praise the Lord. For every creature cries aloud, ‘God made me for thy sake, O man.’ We that were with him saw that inwardly and outwardly he did so greatly rejoice in all created things, that touching or seeing them his spirit seemed not to be upon the earth, but in heaven” (ibid. 113).

“Above all things lacking reason he loved the sun and fire most affectionately, for he would say: ‘In the morning when the sun rises every man ought to praise God who created it for our use, because by day our eyes are illumined by it; in the evening, when night comes, every man ought to give praise on account of Brother Fire, because by it our eyes are illumined by night. For all of us are blind, and the Lord through those two brothers lightens our eyes; and therefore for these, and for other creatures which we daily use, we ought to praise the Creator.’ Which indeed he did himself up to the day of his death” (ibid. 119).

[547] Translated from the text as given in E. Monaci’s Crestomazia italiana dei primi secoli. Substantially the same text is given in Spec. perf. 120.

[548] The mediaeval term apex mentis is not inapt.

[549] Assurance of the soul’s communion, and even union, with God is the chief element of what is termed mysticism, which will be discussed briefly in connection with scholastic philosophy, post, Chapter XXXVI. II. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries those who experienced the divine through visions, ecstasies, and rapt contemplation, were not as analytically and autobiographically self-conscious as later mystics. Yet St. Theresa’s (sixteenth century) mystical analysis of self and God (for which see H. Delacroix, Études d’histoire et de psychologie du mysticisme, Paris, 1908) might be applied to the experiences of St. Elizabeth of Schönau or St. Hildegard of Bingen.

[550] Ante, Chapter XIII. II.

[551] Neither Othloh’s visions, nor those to be recounted, were narratives of voyages to the other world. The name of these is legion. They begin in Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, and continue through the Middle Ages—until they reach their apotheosis in the Divina Commedia. See post, Chapter XLIII.

[552] Migne, Pat. Lat. 195.

[553] The works of St. Hildegard of Bingen are published in vol. 197 of Migne’s Pat. Lat. and in vol. viii. of Pitra’s Analecta sacra, under the title Analecta Sanctae Hildegardis opera Spicilegio Solesmensi parata (1882). Certain supplementary passages to the latter volume are published in Analecta Bollandiana, i. (Paris, 1882). These publications are completed by F. W. E. Roth’s Lieder und die unbekannte Sprache der h. Hildegardis (Wiesbaden, 1880). The same author has a valuable article on Hildegard in Zeitschrift für kirchliche Wissenschaft, etc., 1888, pp. 453-471. See also an article by Battandier, Revue des questions historiques, 33 (1883), pp. 395-425. Other literature on Hildegard in Chevalier’s Répertoire des sources historiques du moyen âge, under her name.

Her two most interesting works, for our purposes at least, are the Scivias (meaning Scito vias Domini), completed in 1151 after ten years of labour, and the Liber vitae meritorum per simplicem hominem a vivente luce revelatorum (Pitra, o.c. pp. 1-244), begun in 1159, and finished some five years later. Extracts from these are given in the text. Other works show her extraordinary intellectual range. Of these the Liber divinorum operum simplicis hominis (Migne 197, col. 741-1038) is a vision of the mysteries of creation, followed by a voluminous commentary upon the world and all therein, including natural phenomena, human affairs, the nature of man, and the functions of his mind and body. It closes with a discussion of Antichrist and the Last Times. The work was begun about 1164, when Hildegard finished the Liber vitae meritorum, and was completed after seven years of labour. She also wrote a Commentary on the Gospels, and sundry lives of saints, and there is ascribed to her quite a prodigious work upon natural history and the virtues of plants, the whole entitled: Subtilitatum diversarum naturarum creaturarum libri IX. (Migne 197, col. 1118-1351); and probably she composed another work on medicine, i.e. the unpublished Liber de causis et curis (see Pitra, o.c., prooemium, p. xi.). Preger’s contention (Geschichte der deutschen Mystik, i. pp. 13-27, 1874) that the works bearing Hildegard’s name are forgeries, never obtained credence, and is not worth discussing since the publication of Pitra’s volume.

[554] Analecta Sanctae Hildegardis opera Spicilegio Solesmensi parata, p. 523; cf. ibid. p. 561; also Ep. 27 of Hildegard in Migne 197, col. 186.

[555] These questions and Hildegard’s solutions are given in Migne 197, col. 1038-1054, and the letter in Pitra, o.c. 399-400.

[556] Pitra, o.c. 394, 395.

[557] By visio as used here, Hildegard refers to the general undefined light—the umbra viventis lucis, in which she saw her special visions.

[558] Pitra, o.c. 332.

[559] This is from the prologue to the Scivias, Pitra, o.c. 503, 504 (Migne 197, 483, 484). Guibert in his Vita speaks of Hildegard as indocta and unable to penetrate the meaning of Scripture nisi cum vis internae aspirationis illuminans eam juvaret, Pitra, o.c. 413. Compare Hildegard’s prooemium to her Life of St. Disibodus (Pitra, o.c. 357) and the preface to her Liber divinorum operum (Migne 197, 741, 742).

[560] Guibertus to Radilfus, a monk of Villars (Pitra, o.c. 577) apparently written in 1180.

[561] Pitra, o.c. pp. 1-244.

[562] Pitra, o.c. pp. 8-10. The translation is condensed, but is kept close to the original.

[563] Ibid. p. 13.

[564] Pitra, o.c. p. 24.

[565] Ibid. p. 51 sqq.

[566] Pitra, o.c. p. 92 sqq.

[567] Ibid. p. 131 sqq. Of course, one at once thinks of the punishments in Dante’s Inferno, which in no instance are identical with those of Hildegard, and yet offer common elements. Dante is not known to have read the work of Hildegard.

[568] Pitra, o.c. pp. 230-240. I am not clear as to Hildegard’s ideas of Purgatory, for which she seems to have no separate region. In the case of sinners who have begun, but not completed, their penances on earth, the punishments described work purgationem, and the souls are loosed (ibid. p. 42). In Part III. of the work we are considering, the paragraphs describing the punishments are entitled De superbiae, invidiae, inobedientiae, infidelitatis, etc., poenis purgatoriis (ibid. p. 130). But each paragraph is followed by one entitled De poenitentia superbiae, etc., and the poenitentia referred to is worked out with penance in this life. Consequently it is not quite clear that the word purgatoriis attached to poenis signifies temporary punishment to be followed by release.

In a vision of the Last Times (ibid. p. 225) Hildegard sees “black burning darkness,” in which was gehenna, containing every kind of horrible punishment. She did not then see gehenna itself, because of the darkness surrounding it; but heard the frightful cries. Cf. Aeneid, vi. 548 sqq.

[569] This is the view expounded so grandly by Hugo of St. Victor in his De sacramentis, post, Chapter XXVIII.

[570] Migne 197, col. 433. All this is interesting in view of the many figures of the Church and Synagogue carved on the cathedrals, most of them later than Hildegard’s time. The “Synagogue” of sculpture has her eyes bound, the sculpturesque expression of eyelessness. The rest of Hildegard’s symbolism was not followed in sculpture.

[571] Migne 197, col. 437 sqq. Cf. St. Bernard, Sermo xix. in Cantica.

[572] Migne 197, col. 449.

[573] Notice the supra-terrestrial term, which can hardly be translated so as to fit an actual wall.

[574] Migne 197, col. 583. Compare this vision with the symbolic interpretation of the cathedral edifice, post, Chapter XXIX.

[575] Cf. St. Bernard’s treatment of this matter, ante, Chapter XVII.

[576] In a Middle High German Marienleben, by Bruder Phillips (13th century) the young virgin is made herself to say to God:

Bobertag, Erzählende Dichtungen des späteren Mittelalters, p. 46 (Deutsche Nat. Litt.).

[577] Vita B. Mariae Ogniacensis, per Jacobum de Vitreaco, Bollandi, Acta sanctorum t. 21 (June t. iv. pp. 636-666). Jacques had good reason to canonize her bones, since one of them, in his saddle-bags, had saved his mule from drowning while crossing a river in Tuscany.

[578] Cant. ii. 5. The translation in the English Revised Version is: “Stay me with cakes of raisins, comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love.” The phrases of Canticles, always in the words of the Latin Vulgate, come continually into the minds of these ecstatic women and their biographers. The sonorous language of the Vulgate is not always close to the meaning of the Hebrew. But it was the Vulgate and not the Hebrew that formed the mediaeval Bible, and its language should be observed in discussing mediaeval applications of Scripture.

[579] “Dum esset Rex in accubitu suo,” Cant. i. 11, in Vulgate; Cant. i. 12, in the English version, which renders it: “While the King sitteth at His table.”

[580] Vita B. Mariae, etc., par. 2-8. Since we are seeing these mediaeval religious phenomena as they impressed contemporaries, it would be irrelevant to subject them to the analyses which pathological psychology applies to not dissimilar phenomena.

[581] It is reported of St. Catharine of Siena that she would go for weeks with no other food than the Eucharist.

[582] I am drawing from her Vita by her contemporary, Thomas of Cantimpré, Acta SS., Bollandi, t. 21 (t. 3 of June), p. 234 sqq.

[583] Cf. Canticles iii. 2; Vita, lib. iii. par. 42.

[584] Cant. iii. 1, 7; i. 16.

[585] Vita, lib. iii. pars. 9, 11. It is well known how great a love of her Lord possessed St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and how she sent her children away from her, that she might not be distracted from loving Him alone. The vision which came to her upon her expulsion from the Wartburg, after the death of her husband, King Louis of Thuringia, is given as follows, in her own words, according to the sworn statement of her waiting-women: “I saw the heaven open, and that sweet Jesus, my Lord, bending toward me and consoling me in my tribulation; and when I saw Him I was glad, and laughed; but when He turned His face, as if to go away, I cried. Pitying me, He turned His serene countenance to me a second time, saying: ‘If thou wishest to be with me, I wish to be with thee.’ I responded: ‘Thou, Lord, thou dost wish to be with me, and I wish to be with thee, and I wish never to be separated from thee’” (Libellus de dictis quatuor ancillarum, Mencken, Scriptores Rerum Germ. ii. 2020 A-C, Leipzig, 1728). The German sermon of Hermann von Fritzlar (cir. 1340) tells this vision in nearly the same words, putting, however, this phrase in Elizabeth’s mouth: “Our Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me, and when He turned from me, I cried, and then He turned to me, and I became red (blushed?), and before I was pale” (Hildebrand, Didaktik aus der Zeit der Kreuzzüge, p. 36, Deutsche Nat. Lit.).

[586] Offenbarungen der Schwester Mechthild von Magdeburg oder das fliessende Licht der Gottheit, ed. by P. G. Morel, Regensburg, 1869. See Preger, Gesch. der deutschen Mystik, i. 70, 91 sqq. Preger points out that the High-German version of this work, which we possess, was made from the Low-German original in the year 1344. Extracts from Mechthild’s book are given by Vetter, Lehrhafte Literatur des 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts, pp. 192-199; and by Hildebrand, Didaktik aus der Zeit der Kreuzzüge, pp. 6-10 (Deutsche Nat. Lit.).

[587] We pass over these portions of Mechthild’s book which exemplify the close connection between ecstatic contemplation and the denunciation of evil in the world.

[588] Mechthild constantly uses phrases from the courtly love poetry of her time.

[589] Das fliessende Licht, etc., i. cap. 3. Hildebrand, o.c. p. 6, cites this apposite verse from the thoughtful and knightly Minnesinger, Reimar von Zweter:

[590] Das fliessende Licht, etc., i. 38-44.

[591] “I would gladly die of love, might that be my lot; for Him whom I love I have seen with my bright eyes standing in my soul” (ibid. ii. cap. 2).

[592] Cf. ii. 22.

[593] See i. 10; ii. 23.

[594] i. 13.

[595] ii. 4.

[596] iii. 1, 10.

[597] It is quite true that in the earliest Christian times the marriage of priests was recognized, and continued to be at least connived at until, say, the time of Hildebrand. Yet the best thoughtfulness and piety from the Patristic period onward had disapproved of priestly marriages, which consequently tended to sink to the level of concubinage, until they were absolutely condemned by the Church.

[598] Anecdotes, etc., d’Étienne de Bourbon, ed. by Lecoy de la Marche, p. 249 (Soc. de l’Histoire de France, t. 185, Paris, 1877). This story refers to the years 1166-1171.

[599] Many bishops and abbots held definite secular rank; the Archbishop of Rheims was a duke, and so was the Bishop of Langres and Laon; while the bishops of Beauvais and Noyon were counts. In Germany, the archiepiscopal dukes of Cologne and Mainz were among the chief princes of the land.

[600] There were, however, some (naturally shocking) instances of inheritance, as where the Bishop of Nantes in 1049 admitted that he had been invested with the bishopric during the lifetime of his father, the preceding bishop. See Luchaire, in vol. ii. (2), pp. 107-117 of Lavisse’s Hist. de France, for this and other examples of episcopal feudalism.

[601] Sermo in Cantica, 33, par. 15 (Migne 183, col. 958-959). With this passage from St. Bernard, one may compare the far more detailed picture of the luxury and dissolute ways of the secular clergy in France given in the Apologia of Guido of Bazoches (latter part of the twelfth century). W. Wattenbach. “Die Apologie des Guido von Bazoches,” Sitzungsberichte Preussichen Akad., 1893, (1), pp. 395-420.

[602] Ed. by T. Wright (Camden Society, London, 1841).

[603] The poem called De ruina Romae. It begins, “Propter Syon non tacebo.”

[604] Post, Chapter XXVI.

[605] The “Bible” of Guiot is published in Barbazan’s Fabliaux, t. ii. (Paris, 1808). It is conveniently given with other satirical or moralizing compositions in Ch. V. Langlois, La Vie en France au moyen âge d’après quelques moralistes du temps (Paris, 1908).

[606] Salimbene gives an amusing picture of our worthy Rigaud hurrying to catch sight of the king at a Franciscan Chapter. Post, Chapter XXI.

[607] Regestrum visilationum archiepiscopi Rothomagensis, ed. Bonnin (Rouen, 1852). It is analyzed by L. V. Delisle, in an article entitled “Le Clergé normand” (Bib. de l’École des Chartes, 2nd ser. vol. iii.).

[608] Reg. vis. p. 9.

[609] R. V. p. 10.

[610] R. V. p. 18.

[611] R. V. pp. 19-20.

[612] R. V. p. 222.

[613] R. V. p. 379.

[614] R. V. p. 154.

[615] See e.g. R. V. pp. 159, 162, 395-396.

[616] R. V. p. 109.

[617] R. V. p. 73.

[618] R. V. pp. 43-45.

[619] R. V. p. 607.

[620] In Pfeiffer’s ed. No. 159. See also ibid. 162.

[621] The above is drawn from the “Vita Sancti Engelberti,” by Caesar of Heisterbach, in Boehmer, Fontes rerum Germanicarum, ii. 294-329 (Stuttgart, 1845). E. Michael, Culturzustände des deutschen Volkes während des 13ⁿ Jahrhunderts, ii. 30 sqq. (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1899), has an excellent account drawn mainly from the same source.

[622] The Dialogi miraculorum of Caesar of Heisterbach, and the Exempla of Étienne de Bourbon (d. 1262) and Jacques de Vitry (d. 1240) present a huge collection of such stories. For the early Middle Ages, the decades just before and after the year one thousand, the mechanically supernatural view of any occurrence is illustrated in the five books of Histories of Radulphus Glaber, an incontinent and wandering, but observing monk, native of Burgundy. Best edition by M. Prou, in Collection des textes, etc. (Paris, Picard, 1886); also in Migne, Pat. Lat. 142. An interesting study of his work by Gebhart, entitled, “Un Moine de l’an 1000,” is to be found in the Revue des deux mondes, for October 1, 1891. Glaber’s fifth book opens with some excellent devil stories. As there was a progressive enlightenment through the mediaeval centuries, such tales gradually became less common and less crude.

[623] Anecdotes historiques d’Étienne de Bourbon, par. 422, ed. by Lecoy de la Marche (vol. 185 of Société de l’Histoire de France), Paris, 1877; cf. ibid. par. 383.

[624] Dialogus miraculorum, iii. 2. Similar stories are told in ibid. iii. 3, 15, 19.

[625] Exempla of Jacques de Vitry, ed. by T. F. Crane, pp. 110-111, vol. 26 (Folk-lore Society, London, 1890).

[626] Dialogus miraculorum, vii. 34. Caesar’s seventh book has many similar tales.

[627] Ed. in eight volumes by Gaston Paris and U. Robert for the Société des Anciens Textes Français.

[628] Étienne de Bourbon tells this same story in his Latin; Anecdotes historiques etc., p. 114.

[629] See Étienne de Bourbon, o.c. pp. 109-110, 120.

[630] Étienne de Bourbon, o.c. p. 119.

[631] Étienne de Bourbon, o.c. p. 83.

[632] The chief part of the “Chronica Fr. Salembenis Parmensis” was printed in 1857 in the Monumenta Historica ad provincias Parmensem, etc. The manner of its truncated editing has ever since been a grief to scholars. The portions omitted from the Parma edition, covering years before Salimbene’s time, are printed by Clédat, as an appendix to his Thesis, De Fr. Salimbene, etc. (Paris, 1878). Novati’s article, “La Cronaca di Salimbene” in vol. i. (1883) of the Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, pp. 383-423, will be found enlightening as to the faults of the Parma editor. A good consideration of the man and his chronicle is Emil Michael’s Salimbene und seine Chronik (Innsbruck, 1889), with which should be read Alfred Dove’s Die Doppel Chronik von Reggio und die Quellen Salimbene’s (Leipzig, 1873). A short translation of some of the more or less autobiographical parts of Salimbene’s narrative, by T. L. K. Olyphant, may be found in vol. i. of the Translations of the Historical Society, pp. 449-478 (London, 1872); and much of Salimbene is translated in Coulton’s From St. Francis to Dante (London, 1907).

[633] Parma edition, p. 3.

[634] P. 31.

[635] The Latin is a little strong: “Non credas istis pissintunicis, idest qui in tunicis mingunt.”

[636] These qualities led Salimbene to accept the teachings of Joachim and the Evangelium eternum (post, pp. 510 sqq.).

[637] Parma ed. pp. 37-41. This coarse story is given for illustration’s sake; there are many worse than it in Salimbene. Novati prints some in his article in the Giornale Storico that are amusing, but altogether beyond the pale of modern decency.

[638] This in fact became the later legend of Eccelino.

[639] Pp. 90-93.

[640] He whose Regesta we have read, ante Chapter XX.

[641] Parma ed. pp. 93-97.

[642] Post, Chapter XXII.

[643] Cf. Tocco, L’Eresia nel medio evo, pp. 449-483 (Florence, 1884).

[644] From Novati, o.c. pp. 415, 416. Cf. pp. 97 sqq. of the Parma ed.

[645] For further interesting allusions to the prophecies of Merlin, see Salimbene, pp. 303, 309 sqq.

[646] Pp. 104-109.

[647] Cf. Joinville’s account, post, Chapter XXII.

[648] P. 225.

[649] Pp. 179, 180.

[650] P. 324.

[651] See Bourgain, La Chaire française au XII^e siècle; Lecoy de la Marche, La Chaire française au XIII^e siècle.

[652] Certain kinds of literature, in nature satirical or merely gross, portray, doubtless with grotesque exaggeration, the ways and manners of clerks and merchants, craftsmen and vile serfs, as well as those of monks and bishops, lords and ladies. A notable example is offered by the old French fabliaux, which with coarse and heartless laughter, rather than with any definite satirical intent, display the harshness, brutality, the degradation and hardship of the ways of living coming within their range of interest. In them we see the brutal and deceived husband, the wily clerk, the merchant with his tricks of trade, the vilain, raised above the brute, not by a better way of life as much as by a certain native wit. The women were reviled as coarsely as in monkish writings; but a Rabelaisian quality takes the place of doctrinal prurience. In weighing the evidence of these fabliaux their satirical nature should be allowed for. Cf. Langlois, La Vie en France au moyen âge d’après quelques moralistes du temps (Paris, 1908); also the Sermons of Jacques de Vitry; Pitra, Analecta novissima spicilegii Solesmensis, t. ii., and Haurèau upon the same in Journal des savants, 1888, p. 410 sqq.

[653] Such immunities were common before Charlemagne. Cf. Brunner, Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, ii. 243-302.

[654] Gesta regum Anglorum, iii. (Migne 179, col. 1213).

[655] Taken from the note to p. 274 of Gautier’s Chevalerie.

[656] See Du Cange, Glossarium, under “Miles,” etc.; where much information may be found uncritically put together.

[657] Cf. Brunner, Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, ii. 202-216.

[658] The way that miles came to mean knight, has its analogy in the etymological history of the word “knight” itself. In German and French the words “Ritter” and “chevalier” indicate one who fought on horseback. Not so with the English word “knight,” which in its original Anglo-Saxon and Old-German forms (see Murray’s Dictionary) as cniht and kneht might mean any armed follower. It lost its servile sense slowly. “In 1086 we read that the Conqueror dubbade his sunu Henric to ridere; this ... is the next year Englished by cniht” (Kington-Oliphant, Old and Middle English, p. 130; Macmillan, 1878).

[659] We naturally use the term “free” with reference to modern conditions, where law and its sanctions emanate, in fact as well as theory, from a stable government. But in these early feudal periods where a man’s life and property were in fact and theory protected by the power of his immediate lord, to whom he was bound by the strongest ties then recognized, to be “free” might be very close to being an unprotected outlaw.

[660] In these respects it exhibits analogies to monkhood, which likewise was recruited commonly from the upper classes of society.

[661] See Gautier, La Chevalerie, p. 256 sqq.; Du Cange, under the word “Miles.”

[662] Cf. Gautier, o.c. 296-308. It must be remembered that an abbot or a bishop might also be a knight and so could make knights. See Du Cange, Glossarium, “Abbas” (abbates miletes).

[663] On this blow, called in Latin alapa, in French accolée, in English accolade, see Du Cange under “Alapa,” and Gautier, o.c. pp. 246-247, and 270 sqq.

[664] Chanson de Roland, 2344 sqq. Lines 2500-2510 speak of Charlemagne’s sword, named Joiuse because of the honour it had in having in its hilt the iron of the lance which pierced the Saviour.

[665] Gautier, Chevalerie, pp. 290, 297. Examples of these ceremonies may be found as follows: the actual one of the knighting of Geoffrey Plantagenet of Anjou by Henry I. of England, at Rouen in 1129, in the Chronicle of Johannis Turonensis, Historiens de France, xii. p. 520; Gautier, Chevalerie, p. 275. Gautier gives many examples, and puts together a typical ceremony, as of the twelfth century, in Chev. p. 309 sqq. Perhaps the most famous account of all is that of the poem entitled Ordene de Chevalerie (thirteenth century), published by Barbazan, Fabliaux, etc., i. 59-82 (Paris, 1808). It relates how a captive Christian knight bestowed the order of chivalry, i.e. knighthood, upon Saladin. See other accounts cited in Du Cange under “Miles.”

[666] Not war as we understand it, where with some large purpose one great cohesive state directs its total military power against another; but neighbourhood war, never permanently ended. When not actually attacking or defending, men were anticipating attack, or expecting to make a raid. Perhaps nothing better suggests the local and neighbourly character of these feudal hostilities than the most famous means devised by the Church to mitigate them. This was the “Truce of God,” promulgated in the eleventh century. It forbade hostilities from Thursday to Monday and in Lent. Whether this ordinance was effective or not, it indicates the nature of the wars that could stop from Thursday to Monday!

[667] Courtly, chivalric, or romantic, love as an element of knightly excellence is so inseverably connected with its romantic literature that I have kept it for the next chapter.

[668] The following remarks upon the regula of the Templars, and the extracts which are given, are based on the introduction and text of La Règle du Temple, edited by Henri de Curzon for the Société de l’Histoire de France (Paris, 1886).

[669] The phraseology of the Latin regula often follows that of the Benedictine rule.

[670] Chaps. 33, 35.

[671] Chaps. 40, 41.

[672] Chap. 42.

[673] Chaps. 46, 48.

[674] Chap. 62 Latin regula and chap. 14 of French regle.

[675] Chap. 51.

[676] Chap. 58 of the Latin, chap. 11 of the French. The chapters of the French translation do not follow the order of the Latin.

[677] Page 167 of de Curzon’s edition.

[678] See in de Curzon’s edition, sections 431, 436, 448, 454, and 657 sqq.

[679] It would seem as if military discipline, as moderns understand it, took its rise in these Templars and Hospitallers.

[680] See e.g. de Curzon’s edition, sections 419, 420, 574.

[681] Raimundus de Agiles, Hist. Francorum qui ceperunt Jerusalem, cap. 38-39. (Migne 155, col. 659).

[682] On these poems see Pigeonneau, Le Cycle de la Croisade (St. Cloud, 1877); Paulin Paris, in Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 22, pp. 350-402, and ibid. vol. 25, p. 507 sqq.; Gaston Paris, “La Naissance du chevalier au Cygne,” Romania, 19, p. 314 sqq. (1890).

[683] “Vita Ludovici noni auctore Gaufrido de Belloloco” (Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, t. xx. pp. 3-26).

[684] The Testament of St. Louis, written for his eldest son, is a complete rule of conduct for a Christian prince, and indicates St. Louis’ mind on the education of one. It has been printed and translated many times. Geoffrey of Beaulieu gives it in Latin (chap. xv.) and in French at the end of the Vita. It is also in Joinville.

[685] One sees here the same religious anxiety which is so well brought out by Salimbene’s account of St. Louis, ante, Chapter XXI.

[686] The founder of the College of the Sorbonne.

[687] Chroniques de J. Froissart, ed. S. Luce (Société de l’Histoire de France). The opening of the Prologue. It seemed desirable to render this sentence literally. The rest of my extracts are from Thomas Johnes’s translation, for which I plead a boyhood’s affection. For a brief account of Froissart’s chief source (Jean le Bel), with excellent criticism, see W. P. Ker, “Froissart” (Essays on Medieval Literature, Macmillan and Co., 1905).

[688] Froissart, i. 210.

[689] Froissart, i. 220.

[690] Froissart, i. 290.

[691] Yet the matter was fit for legend and romance; and a late impotent chanson de geste was formed out of the career of du Guesclin.

[692] On the chansons de geste see Gaston Paris, Littérature française au moyen âge; Leon Gautier in Petit de Julleville’s Histoire de la langue et de la littérature française, vol. i.; more at length Gautier, Épopées nationales, and Paulin Paris in vol. 22 of L’Histoire littéraire de France; also Nyrop, Storia dell’ epopea francese nel medio evo. Ample bibliographies will be found in these works.

[693] On the field of Roncesvalles, Roland folds the hands of the dead Archbishop Turpin, and grieves over him, beginning: