Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

When the war between England and France was renewed, in the year 1369, the Duke of Lancaster (late Earl of Derby) prevented the Duke of Burgundy's descent upon the English shores, by landing a small army at Calais, and ravaging the country near Boulogne. The Duke of Burgundy commanded the heights of Tournehem: the English were in the neighbourhood, and a battle was daily expected. It was feared, rather than desired, by the English; for their handful of men were opposed by more than four thousand French knights. The Duke of Burgundy could not engage without the King's permission; but the policy of Charles forbad a battle, and the Duke then desired leave to retire: the King consented. One night, fires were lighted, and there was an unwonted stir amidst the French camp. Such of the English as were near it were rouzed from sleep. They awoke the Lord Robert Namur, who immediately armed himself, and, preceded by a man bearing his banner, went to the tent of the Duke of Lancaster, who had been already disturbed. The English lords, one by one, drew about the Duke, ranging themselves, from the force of habit, fair and softly in battle-order, without any noise or light, and placing the archers in such a form as to be ready to receive an attack by the French. No attack was, however, made; and, after waiting two hours, the Duke consulted with his lords. It was the sage opinion of Manny that the French had fled, and he advised Lancaster to pursue them. But the Duke declined this course; for he said he never could believe that so many valiant men-of-arms and noble knights would so shamefully depart. As soon as morning arose, it was discovered, however, that the French camp was deserted; and the Duke of Lancaster repented that he had not followed the counsel of his experienced friend.

[Sidenote: His liberality.]

Such was Sir Walter Manny; gallant, hardy, adventurous, and sage. Something still was wanting to the beautiful perfection of his character; for courtesy to the ladies, and bravery and skill in the field, did not of themselves constitute the preux chevalier. Liberality was the graceful ornament of the knightly character; and the charitable annals of the city of London place this crown on the brow of our noble representative of English chivalry.

During a plague in England, in the year 1348, London and its vicinity were the chief places of suffering; and as no church-yard could contain the victims, the Bishop of London bought a piece of ground called _No Man's Land_[44], and consecrated it for burials. In the next year, Sir Walter Manny materially added to the charities of the bishop; for he purchased, and caused to be consecrated to the same object, thirteen acres and one rod of ground adjoining to No Man's Land, and lying in a place called Spittle Croft, because it belonged to St. Bartholomew's hospital. In the very year of the purchase, the purpose seemed accomplished, for (according to certain charters of Edward III. and an inscription on the cross remaining in Stow's time,) fifty thousand people were buried there. Sir Walter built a chapel in the cemetery; and, in the year 1371, he founded an house of Carthusian monks, by the appellation of the Salutation of the Mother of God, to advance charity, and administer the consolations of religion.[45]

[Sidenote: His death in 1372.]

[Sidenote: Buried in the Charter-house.]

The last circumstance of his tale shall be told in the fitting strain of Froissart. "That same season (1372) died the gentle knight, Sir Walter Manny, in the city of London, whereof all the barons of England were right sorry, for the truth and good counsel that they had always seen and heard in him. He was buried, with great solemnity, in the monastery of the Charter-house, near London; and at the day of his obsequy there were present the King and all his children, and all the prelates, barons, and knights of England. His possessions, both in England and beyond the sea, fell to the Earl of Pembroke, who had married the Lady Anne, his daughter and heir."[46]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Heroism of Sir James Audley.]

Among the flower of Edward's chivalry, Sir James Audley must be mentioned; not, indeed, that a detailed history of his exploits would be interesting; but there was one series of circumstances in his life honourable to his name and the chivalric character, and distinct and peculiar from every thing else in the manners of other ages.

Immediately before the battle of Poictiers Sir James said to the Black Prince, "Sir, I have always truly served my Lord your father, and you also, and I shall do so as long as I live; and, to prove my disposition, I once made a vow that the first battle wherein either the King, your father, or any of his sons, should be engaged, I would be one of the first setters on, or I would die in the endeavour. Therefore, I request your Grace, in reward for any service that ever I did to the King your father, or to you, that you would give me licence to depart from you, in order that I may accomplish my vow."

The Prince accorded to his desire; and, taking him by the hand, exclaimed, "Sir James, may God give you this day grace to be the prowest knight of all my host."

Audley then departed, and set himself in front of the English battles, accompanied only by four squires, who had sworn never to desert him.

He was anticipated in his gallant purpose by the Lord Eustace Damberticourt, whose chivalry was inspired by the lady Juliana[47], but he continued in the front of the battle, performing marvels of arms. He lost no valuable moments in taking prisoners, but when he had disarmed one adversary he pressed forwards to another. He was severely hurt, both in the body and in the face; and, at the conclusion of the mêlèe, his four squires took him out of the battle, and, laying him under a hedge, they bound up his wounds.

Edward soon enquired after the fate of his gallant friend; and Sir James, expressing his joy that his Prince should think of so poor a knight as he was, called eight of his servants, and made them bear him in a litter to the royal tent.

The Prince took him in his arms, and, embracing him with true fraternal affection, said, "Sir James, I ought greatly to honour you, for your valiantness this day has passed the renown of us all."

"Sir," answered the knight, with true chivalric modesty, "you say as it pleaseth you. I would it were so; but if I have this day advanced myself to serve you, and to accomplish my vow, no prowess ought to be reputed to me."

"Sir James," replied the Prince, "I and all my knights consider you as the best doer in arms this day; and, in order that you may the better pursue these wars, I retain you for ever as my knight, with five hundred marks of yearly revenue."

[Sidenote: His generosity.]

Sir James, after expressing his thanks, was taken back to his tent. He then called the four squires before him, and resigned to them the Prince's gift, saying, it was to their valiantness that he owed it. The Prince soon heard of this noble action, and, sending for him, enquired why he renounced his kindness. Sir James craved pardon for his conduct, but affirmed he could do no otherwise; for his squires had that day several times saved his life, and enabled him to accomplish his vow. Edward's nobleness disdained any feeling of personal offence; and, in generous emulation of his friend's liberality, he made in his favour a new grant, more valuable than the former one.[48]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Memoir of Sir John Chandos.]

[Sidenote: His gallantry to ladies.]

But of all the bold and protruding characters of the court of Edward III., none was more distinguished for the greatness and variety of his exploits than that sage and valiant knight, Sir John Chandos. He was the descendant of a Norman family, attached to William the Conqueror, and which had been renowned in every age of its history.[49] While only a squire, he accompanied Edward III. in his first war in France; and, at the siege of Cambray, he amazed the prowest knights by the goodly feats of arms done between him and a squire of Vermandois. At the battle of Vironfosse, immediately afterwards, he was stationed near the person of his sovereign, and, for his valour on that occasion, he received knighthood from the royal sword.[50] Like his friend, Sir Walter Manny, he was gentle, as well as valiant; and it was Chandos that, with another cavalier, saved the ladies of the castle of Poys from the brutal assaults of the rabble.[51] He was in the van, with the Black Prince, at the battle of Cressy; and, at the battle of Poictiers, he never quitted his side.

[Sidenote: Amusing instance of the pride of knighthood.]

On the day that preceded this last great event an amusing proof occurred of the pride of knighthood, regarding armorial bearings. Sir John Chandos, on the part of the English, and the Lord of Claremont for the French, had been reconnoitering the other's forces; and, as they returned to their respective hosts, they met, and were mutually astonished that each bore the same armorial emblem.

The Lord of Claremont exclaimed, "Chandos, how long have you taken on you to bear my device?"

"Nay, you bear mine," replied the English knight; "for it is mine as well as yours."

"I deny that" observed the Lord of Claremont; "and were it not for the truce that this day is between us, I would prove immediately that you have no right to bear my device."

"Sir," rejoined Chandos, with the calmness of truth and bravery, "you shall find me to-morrow ready to prove it is mine, as well as yours."

Claremont passionately closed the conference by saying, "these are common words of you Englishmen; for you can invent nothing new; but you take for your own whatever you see handsome belonging to others."[52]

[Sidenote: The importance of his counsel at Poictiers.]

At the battle of Poictiers the counsel of Chandos was important to the fate of the day: for when the English archers had thrown the French into confusion, he said to the Black Prince, "Sir, take your horse and ride forth; this day is yours. Let us press forwards to the French king's battle, for there lies the stress of the matter. I think, verily, by his valiantness, he will not fly. I trust, by the grace of God and St. George, that we shall take him; and, Sir, I heard you say that this day I should see you a good knight." It was this advice which guided the courage of Edward, and the victory was England's.

[Sidenote: His exploits in Brittany,]

Nothing remarkable is related of Chandos for nine years after the battle of Poictiers. In 1365 he was the hero and counsellor of the Earl of Mountfort in his war with the Earl of Blois. Mountfort took no measures which were not of his suggestion, or met not with his judgment. Chandos was a valiant as well as a sage knight; for at the battle of Auray his mighty curtal-axe battered many a helm of the French. The fate of this battle fixed his friend of Mountfort in the dukedom of Britany; and in the opinion of the French lords, knights, and squires, the victory had been gained by the skill and high prowess of Chandos.[53]

[Sidenote: and in Spain.]

He was seneschal of Aquitain, and of all those countries secured to the English by the treaty of Bretigny. Together with Sir Thomas Phelton, he was summoned into Angouleme to advise the Black Prince regarding the affairs of Spain. The deposed king had arrived at Bourdeaux; and Edward, resolving to assist him, sought to fortify his determination by the judgment of his friends. Chandos and his counsel earnestly endeavoured to change his resolve. When, indeed, no considerations could shake the purpose of the Black Prince, our knight accompanied him into Spain, his duties to his liege lord demanding his military service.

[Sidenote: Is made a knight banneret.]

Before the battle of Navaret he took the rank and title of knight banneret. When the sun arose on that memorable day, it was a great beauty to behold the battles or divisions of the Black Prince's army and their brilliant harness glittering with its beams. The hostile forces slowly approached each other. Edward with a brief train of knights ascended a small hill, and clearly saw their enemy marching straight towards them. The Prince was then followed by his army; and when they had reached the other side of the hill they formed themselves in dense array, and each man buckled on anew his armour and dressed his spear.

Sir John Chandos advanced in front of the battles with his banner uncased in his hand. He presented it to the Prince, saying, "Sir, behold, here is my banner. I require you to display it abroad, and give me leave this day to raise it, for, Sir, I thank God and you, I possess land and heritage sufficient to maintain it withal."

The Prince and King Peter took between their hands the banner, which was blazoned with a sharp stake gules, on a field argent, and after having cut off the end to make it square they spread it abroad; and the Prince delivered it to Chandos, saying, "Sir John, behold your banner, and God send you joy, and honor, and strength, to preserve it!"

Chandos bowed, and after thanking the Prince, he went back to his own company, and said, "Sirs, behold my banner and yours, keep it as your own."

They took it and were right joyful thereof, declaring that, by the pleasure of God and St. George, they would keep and defend it to the utmost of their power.

The banner was then placed in the hands of a worthy English squire, called William Allestry, who bore it that day, and acquitted himself right nobly.

In that battle, Chandos counselled the Duke of Lancaster as sagely as at the battle of Poictiers he had counselled Edward. He performed also wonders in arms, for he was a great and mighty knight, and well formed of all his limbs; but he adventured himself so far that he was closed in among his enemies, and at length pressed to the earth. A Spaniard of gigantic stature fell upon him with dreadful force; but Sir John drew a knife from his bosom, which he recollected he had about him, and struck his foeman so fiercely in the back and on the sides, that he wounded him to death as he lay on him. Sir John turned him over, and rose quickly on his feet, and his men-at-arms at that time joined him, they having with much difficulty broken through the press when they saw him felled.[54]

[Sidenote: Quits the Black Prince;]

[Sidenote: but returns.]

Chandos had not succeeded in dissuading the Prince of Wales from his Spanish war, and he failed also in withdrawing him from the more fatal project of taxing, beyond usage, his French dominions. Finding him resolved in his purpose, and not wishing to bear any blame or reproach about the matter, Sir John took his leave of the Prince, and made his excuse to go into Normandy to visit the land of St. Saviour le Viscount, whereof he was lord, for he had not been there for several years. When the war so fatal to England's power in France broke out, the Black Prince wrote to Chandos to join him without delay. Sir John immediately went to Angouleme, and his liege lord joyfully received him. He was made Seneschal of Poictou at the request of the barons and knights of that country.

[Sidenote: The remarkable generousness of his conduct to Lord Pembroke.]

His deeds of arms equalled his former fame; but it was his chivalric generosity that was most striking, and the circumstances which accompanied the appearance of that feature of his character are very interesting. He wished the Earl of Pembroke, who was in garrison at Mortaygne, to accompany him in an enterprise into the French territory. The Earl was well content to have ridden forth; but some of the knights of his counsel broke his purpose, and said, "Sir, you are but young, and your nobleness is to come; and if you put yourself into the company of Sir John Chandos, he shall have the reputation and voice of it, for you will be regarded only as his companion; therefore, Sir, it is better for you, since you are a great lord, that you perform your enterprises by yourself, and let Sir John Chandos perform his; for in comparison with your estate, he is but a knight bachelor."

The Earl of Pembroke accordingly excused himself; and Sir John Chandos, unaided by him, went into Anjou, accompanied by three hundred spears of knights and squires, and two hundred archers. He achieved all his emprises; and hearing at last that Sir Louis of Sancerre, the Marshal of France, with a great number of men of war, was at Hay in Touraine, he wished to cope with him; but as his own force was inadequate to so great an exploit, he sent word of his intention to the Earl of Pembroke, desiring him to repair with his soldiers to Chatelterault.

Chandos the herald took the message; but the Earl by counsel of his knights again refused. The herald repaired to Sir John at Chatelterault, and the enterprise was broken up in consequence of the presumption and pride of the Earl of Pembroke: Chandos gave leave to most of his company to depart, and he himself went to Poictiers. Some of his men joined the Earl of Pembroke; who, at the head of three hundred knights and squires, committed great destruction in Anjou, and returned with immense booty into Poictou.

The Frenchmen, thinking it a more easy chevisance to discomfit him than Sir John Chandos, assembled seven hundred soldiers from all the garrisons in the country, and Sir Louis of Sancerre took the command. The Earl of Pembroke heard nothing of the enemy, and not having the vigilance of Sir John Chandos he took no pains to enquire. The English were one day reposing in a village called Puirenon, in the territory of Poictou, when suddenly the Frenchmen came into the town, their spears in their rests, crying their cry, "Our Lady of Sancerre, for the Marshal of France." The English were dressing their horses, and preparing their suppers, when they were thus unexpectedly assailed. Several were killed, all the plunder was retaken, many prisoners were made, and the Earl of Pembroke and some of his knights and archers saved themselves in a preceptory of the Templars. The Frenchmen assaulted it gallantly, and it was as gallantly defended, till night put an end to the assault.

The English were so severely straitened for provisions, that they knew they must speedily surrender, unless Chandos came to their succour. A squire, who professed to know the country, offered to go to Sir John, and he accordingly left the fortress when the French had retired to rest. But he soon lost his road, and did not recover it till morning.

At day-break the French renewed their assaults, and mounted the walls with pavesses to defend their heads from the missiles of the English. The Earl of Pembroke and his little band fought so bravely, from morning until noon, that the French were obliged to desist, and to resort to the uncavalierlike mode of worsting their gallant foes by sending to the neighbouring villages for pikes and mattocks, that they might undermine and break down the wall.

Then the Earl of Pembroke called a squire to him, and said, "Friend, take my courser, and issue out at the back postern, and ride straight to Poictiers, and show Sir John Chandos the state and danger we are in; and recommend me to him by this token," added the Earl, taking a ring from his finger: "deliver it to him, for Sir John knows it well."

The squire took the ring, and immediately mounting his courser, fled through the postern, thinking he should achieve great honor if he could reach Sir John Chandos.

The first squire having lost so much time in the confusion of the night did not arrive at Poictiers till nine in the morning. He found Sir John at mass; and, in consequence of the importance of his message, he disturbed his devotions.

Chandos's feelings had been severely offended by the pride and presumption of the Earl of Pembroke, and he was in no great haste to relieve him. He heard the mass out. The tables were then arranged for the noon repast.

The servants, among whom the message of the squire had been bruited, enquired of Sir John if he would go to dinner. He replied, "Yes; if it were ready."

He went into the hall, and knights and squires brought him water. While he was washing, the second squire from the Earl of Pembroke, pale, weary, and travel-soiled, entered the hall, and knelt before him, and took the ring out of his purse, and said, "Right dear Sir, the Earl of Pembroke recommends himself to you by this token, and heartily desires your assistance in relieving him from his present danger at Puirenon."

Chandos took the ring; but instead of calling his friends to arm, he coldly observed, that it would be difficult to assist the Earl if the affair were such as the squire had represented it. "Let us go to dinner," said he; and accordingly the knights sat down.

The first course was eaten in silence, for Chandos was thoughtful, and the minds of his friends were not idle.

In the middle of the second course, when the generous wine of France had roused his better nature, he started from a reverie, and with a smile of pride and generousness exclaimed, "Sirs, the Earl of Pembroke is a noble man, and of great lineage: he is son of my natural lord the King of England, for he hath married his daughter, and in every thing he is companion to the Earl of Cambridge. He hath required me to come, to him, and I ought to consent to his desire."

Then thrusting the table from him, and rising to the full height of his fine martial figure, he cried, "Gallant knights, I will ride to Puirenon."

This noble and generous resolve found an echo in the heart of every one that was present. The trumpets sounded, the knights hastily donned their armour, and saddled the first horses they could meet with; and in a few moments the court-yard glittered with more than two hundred spears. They rode apace towards Puirenon; but news of their approach reached the vigilant French in sufficient time for them to abandon the siege, and effect their retreat with their prisoners and booty.

The Earl of Pembroke soon found that the terror of the name of Chandos had scared the foe, and he proposed to his companions to ride towards Poictiers and meet their deliverers. They accordingly left the village in a right pleasant mood, some on foot, others on horses, and many a gallant steed carried double that day. They had not ridden a league before they met Sir John Chandos and his company, who much to their regret heard of the retreat of the French. The two parties rode in company for the space of three leagues, holding merry converse on deeds of arms. They then departed, Chandos returning to Poictiers, and the Earl of Pembroke to Mortaygne.[55]

[Sidenote: The last curious circumstances of his life.]

Our knight's career of glory approached its close. By the treachery of a monk, the abbey of St. Salvyn, seven leagues from Poictiers, fell into the possession of the French, who all that year, 1371, had been harassing the English territories. Chandos was deeply mortified at the loss of the abbey, it being within the scope of his seneschalship. To recover it by chivalric skill, or to bring his enemies to fair and manly battle, seemed equally impossible, and his high spirit was wounded at these insults to his military abilities. On the last day of December he made an unsuccessful attempt to recover the abbey; and when he returned to the town of Chauvigny, he dismissed two-thirds of his troops, knights of Poictou and England. Sir Thomas Percy, with thirty spears, had his leave to go in quest of adventures. His own mind was too ill at rest for him to indulge in mere chivalric exercises; and after he had wished them good speed he went back into the house full of melancholy thoughts. He would not retire to rest though the night was far advanced; but he remained in the kitchen warming himself by the fire, his servants endeavouring by their jests and tales to banish his uneasiness.

Before daylight a man with the haste and anxiety of the bearer of news of import came into the house.

"The Frenchmen are riding abroad," said he to Sir John.

"How knowest thou that?"

"I left St. Salvyn with them," was the answer.

"Which way did they ride?" demanded Chandos.

"Their exact course I wot not," replied his informant; "but I saw them on the high road to Poictiers."

"What Frenchmen?" required Sir John.

"Sir Louis of St. Julian, and Carnot the Breton."

"Well," quoth Chandos, "I care not: I have no mind to ride forth to-night: it may happen that they may be encountered, though I am not there."

The conversation closed here, but Chandos could not dismiss the subject from his mind. He mused upon what he had heard, and hope gradually broke through the gloom of his disappointment.

He then told his knights he would ride to Poictiers, and they joyfully caparisoned their horses.

Chandos and forty spears left Chauvigny before daylight, and getting into the Frenchmen's course, they soon overtook them near the bridge of Lusac. They were on foot, preparing to attack Sir Thomas Percy and his little band, who had posted themselves on the other side of the bridge.

Before the Frenchmen and Bretons had arranged their plan of assault, they heard the trampling of Chandos's war-horses, and turning round they saw his dreadful banner displayed. He approached within three furlongs of the bridge and had a parley with them. He reproached them for their robberies and acts of violence in the country whereof he was seneschal.

"It is more than a year and a half," he continued, "that I have set all my aim to find and encounter you, and now, I thank God, I see you and speak to you. It shall soon be known who is prowest, you or I. You have often vaunted your desire to meet me; now you may see me before you.--I am John Chandos: regard me well," he thundered in their ears, his countenance darkening as he spoke.

At that moment an English squire was struck to the earth by the lance of a Breton. The generous nature of Chandos was rouzed at this ungallant act; and, in a tone of mingled expostulation and reproof, he cried to his own company, "Sirs, how is it that you suffer this squire thus to be slain? A foot, a foot!"

He dismounted, and so did all his band, and they advanced against the French. His banner, with the escutcheon above his arms, was carried before him, and some of his men-at-arms surrounded it. Chandos missed his steps, for the ground was slippery from the hoar-frost of the morning, and in his impatience for battle he entangled his feet in the folds of his surcoat. He fell just as he reached his enemy; and as he was rising, the lance of a French squire entered his flesh, under the left eye, between the nose and the forehead. Chandos could not see to ward off the stroke; for, some years before, he had lost the sight of that eye, while hunting the hart in the country round Bourdeaux: unhappily, too, his helmet was without the defence of its vizor.

He fell upon the earth, and rolled over two or three times, from the pain of the wound, but he never spoke again.

The French endeavoured to seize him; but his uncle, Sir Edward Clifford, bestrode the body, and defended it so valorously, that soon none dared to approach him.

[Sidenote: Grief at his death.]

The barons and knights of Poictou were conquerors, and when the confusion was hushed, they flocked round their outstretched friend and seneschal. They wept, they wrung their hands, they tore their hair, and gave way to every violent expression of grief. They called him the flower of chivalry, and lamented the hour when the lance was forged which had brought him into peril of death.

He heard and understood them well, but was unable to reply. His servants then unarmed him; and, laying him upon a pavesse, or large shield, they bore him gently to the neighbouring fortress of Mortimer.

He died on the following day; and a cavalier more courteous, and more worthily adorned with noble virtues and high qualities, never adorned the English chivalry. He was, in sooth, as gallant a knight as ever laid lance in rest.

The Prince of Wales, the Earl of Cambridge, the Earl of Pembroke, and, indeed, all the English barons and knights then in Guienne, lamented his fate, as the loss of all the English dominions in France; and many right noble and valiant knights of France mourned the death of a generous foe, and they wished he had been made prisoner; for they said he was so sage and imaginative that he would have planned a peace between the two nations.[56]

Chandos was never married. All the estates which he had won by his valour went to his three sisters.

CHAP. II.

PROGRESS OF CHIVALRY IN GREAT BRITAIN,

FROM THE REIGN OF RICHARD II. TO THAT OF HENRY VIII.

_Complaints of the unchivalric State of Richard's Court ... Influence
of Chivalry on the national Character ... Scottish Chivalry ...
Chivalric Kindness of Robert Bruce ... Mutual Chivalry between the
Scotch and English Courts ... French Knights' Opinions of Scottish
Chivalry ... Courtesies between English and Scottish Knights ...
Chivalric Battle of Otterbourn ... Hotspur and the Douglas ... A
cavaleresque Story ... Reign of Henry IV. ... Chivalric Parley between
him and the Duke of Orleans ... Henry's unchivalric Conduct at
Shrewsbury ... Henry V. ... Knights of the Bath ... Henry's Love of
chivalric Books ... His chivalric Bearing ... Commencement of the
Decline of Chivalry ... The Civil Wars injured Chivalry ... Caxton's
Lamentation ... He exaggerates the Evil ... Many gallant English
Knights ... Character of Henry VIII. with Reference to Chivalry ...
Tournaments in his Reign ... Field of the Cloth of Gold ...
Introduction of Italian Literature favoured Romance ... Popularity of
Chivalric Literature ... English Knights continued to break Lances for
Ladies' Love ... State of Scottish Chivalry at this Period ... James
IV. ... Chivalric Circumstances at Flodden Field._

In the reign of Richard II. the splendor of England's chivalry was clouded. That monarch had neither spirit nor ambition to recover the possessions which had been wrested from the crown during the illness of his father, the Black Prince, and the imbecility of his grandfather, Edward III.; for though the war with France nominally continued, yet he gave few occasions for his knights to break their lances with the French. Not that England enjoyed a state of perfect peace, but the wars in France and Portugal had no brilliant results, for the English knights were no longer guided by the sageness of Chandos, or the gallantry of Prince Edward.

[Sidenote: Complaints of the unchivalric state of Richard's court.]

England was menaced with invasion by Charles VI. of France; but the project died away, and nothing gave greater offence to the people than the want of spirit in the court, in not revenging itself for the insult. A comparison was immediately instituted between the present and the preceding reign. Where were those great enterprises, it was asked, which distinguished the days of King Edward III.? where could be found the valiant men who had fought with the Prince, his son? In those days England was feared, and was reputed as possessing the flower of Christian chivalry; but now no man speaks of her, now there are no wars but such as are made on poor men's purses, and thereto every one is inclined.[57]

[Sidenote: Influence of chivalry on the national character.]

The expensive wars of England with France were productive of mighty consequences to the English constitution. An application for redress of grievances always met the demand of supplies, and public liberty benefitted by the costly ambition of the crown. The wars did not spring from chivalry, and we cannot, therefore, ascribe to that bright source any general political advantages which resulted from them: but chivalry gave the tone to the manner in which they were waged; hers were all the humanities of the contest; hers was, at least, half the distinction (for we must remember the bow was as formidable as the lance) of establishing the glory of the country; of giving her that proud character for martial prowess, which has outlived her brief and feeble tenure of the territorial consequences of victory.

Richard II. did not emulate the martial fame of his father. His neglect of the warriors of the former reign was not among the slightest causes of that disaffection which ultimately ruined him. One of the public grievances, as stated to the throne by the House of Commons, was that the chivalry of the country had been discountenanced and disgraced, and that the growth of vice had consequently increased.[58]

Richard was a voluptuous prince; the splendour of chivalry hung over his court; his tilts and tournaments were unusually magnificent; but the martial and, therefore, the chief spring of knighthood was wanting. A warlike sovereign could have found rich materials among his people for ambitious enterprises. The increasing wealth of the nation, arising from its improving commerce, displayed itself in luxuries; and the aspiring commonalty imitated the chivalric courtesies of the great. It marks the state of manners, that the splendid tapestries of the citizens represented the martial achievements of Edward III.[59]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Scottish chivalry.]

The names of the Douglas and the Percy were so highly distinguished in the fourteenth century, that the reign of Richard II. is a fit place for some notices of northern chivalry. The battle of Bannockburn proved that, in gallantry and generosity, the essentials of knighthood, the Scots were as noble as the cavaliers of the south; and there was a fine wildness of imagination among the people which was suitable to the romantic genius of chivalry.[60] But those of Scotland's heroes whose lives are known to us were patriots rather than cavaliers, the circumstances of the times in which they lived inflaming them with different passions than those which knighthood could inspire.

[Sidenote: Chivalric kindness of Robert Bruce.]

Sometimes, however, the stern virtues of patriotism were graced and softened by chivalric courtesy. Perhaps the most pleasing instance of this occurred in the conduct of Robert Bruce, in the year 1317, when he was assisting his brother, Edward Bruce, to subjugate Ireland; and I will not injure the story by telling it in any other way than in the simple and beautiful strain of the poet:

"The king has heard a woman cry,
He asked, what that was in hy?[61]
It is the layndar[62], Sir, said ane,
That her child-ill[63] right now has ta'en,
And must leave now behind us here,
Therefore she makes an evil cheer.[64]
The king said, "Certes, it were pity
That she in that point left should be,
For certes, I trow there is no man
That he no will rue[65] a woman than."
His hosts all then arrested he,
And gert a tent soon stintit[66] be;
And gert her gang in hastily,
And other women to be her by.
While she was delivered he bade,
And syne forth on his ways rade.
And how she forth should carried be,
Or he forth fure[67] ordained he.
This was a full great courtesy,
That swilk a king and so mighty,
Gert his men dwell on this manner,
But for a poor lavender."[68]
The Bruce, book xi. l. 270.

At the court of the Scottish kings, knighthood was always regarded as a distinction worthy of the highest ambition. Its objects were the same as in other countries,--the defence of the church, protection of the helpless, and generosity to woman. The form of the chivalric oath has been preserved, and it presents us with a curious picture of ancient manners:

1. I shall fortify and defend the Christian religion to the uttermost
of my power.

2. I shall be loyal and true to my sovereign lord the king; to all
orders of chivalry, and to the noble office of arms.

3. I shall fortify and defend justice at my power; and that without
favour or enmity.

4. I shall never flee from my sovereign lord the king; nor from his
lieutenants, in time of affray or battle.

5. I shall defend my native land from all aliens and strangers.

6. I shall defend the just action and quarrel of all ladies of honour,
of all true and friendless widows, of orphans, and of maidens of good
fame.

7. I shall do diligence, wheresoever I hear that there are any
murderers, traitors, or masterful robbers, who oppress the king's
lieges and poor people, to bring them to the law at my power.

8. I shall maintain and uphold the noble state of chivalry, with
horse, armour, and other knightly habiliments, and shall help and
succour those of the same order, at my power, if they have need.

9. I shall enquire and seek to have the knowledge and understanding of
all the articles and points contained in the book of chivalry. All
these promises to observe, keep, and fulfil, I oblige myself: so help
me God by my own hand, and by God himself.[69]

[Sidenote: Mutual chivalry between the Scotch and English courts.]

Chivalric honours formed sometimes a bond of connection between the Scottish and the English sovereigns. When Prince Henry (afterwards King Henry II.) arrived at the age of sixteen years, his father Geoffry sent him through England with a numerous and splendid retinue into Scotland, to receive the honour of knighthood from his mother's uncle, King David. The ceremony was performed with great pomp, in the midst of a prodigious concourse of the English, Scottish, and Norman nobility; and the Prince spent about eight months in the court of Scotland, perfecting himself in military exercises.[70]

A few years afterwards chivalric honors were conferred by Henry II. of England upon Malcolm II. But the granting of knighthood was not regarded as a matter of mere courtesy. When the kings met at Carlisle, in 1158, the previous cession of the northern provinces by Malcolm to Henry gave rise to such heats and feuds, that the Scottish monarch departed without receiving the honour he desired. In the next year, however, Henry, by excellent address, persuaded Malcolm to accompany him to France for the recovery of Tholouse, which he claimed as part of the inheritance of Eleanor his queen; and the honor which Henry had refused in the last year to give him at Carlisle, he now conferred upon him at Tours in France, in the course of his return from the Tholouse expedition.[71]

In 1249 when King Alexander III. repaired from Scotland to York to be married to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry III. of England, the ceremonies of chivalry preceded those of marriage. Alexander received the ensigns of knighthood from the King of England on Christmas day, and the hand of his bride on the following morning.[72] Tournaments were occasionally held at the Scottish court, and strangers were courteously received.[73] Knights from Scotland are frequently mentioned in the old chronicles as having won the prize in the chivalric festivals in France and England. In the wars of the Scots with Edward III. no circumstances of a character peculiarly knightly can be selected; and in the intervals of truce chivalry could not, as in the wars between England and France, give the guise of friendship to occasional intercourse. In the year 1341, a time of peace, Edward passed some time in Scotland. Tournaments and jousts formed the occupation of the strangers and the natives; but neither party regarded the gentle rules of the tourney, and two Scottish knights and one English knight were killed.[74]

[Sidenote: French knights' opinions of Scottish chivalry.]

Nothing could contribute more powerfully to the advancement of chivalry in the north than the frequent intercourse between the Scots and the French. The latter people, however, would not always acknowlege the chivalric character of their allies. In the year 1385, a troop of French knights joined the Scottish king; and they soon were grieved that they had ever left their own country. They complained to their leader Sir John of Vienne of their unhappy lot. They had no tapestried halls and goodly castles as in France; and instead of soft beds their couches were as hard as the ground.

Sir John was a true son of chivalry; and he said to them, "Sirs, it behoves us to suffer a little, and to speak fair since we are in the perils of war. Let us take in cheerfulness that which we find. We cannot always be at Paris, Dijon, Beaune, or at Chalons. It behoveth them that live in the world thinking to have honour, to suffer poverty as well as to enjoy wealth."

The reader of English history remembers that Richard II. invaded Scotland; that at the same time the Scots ravaged Cumberland and Westmorland; and that each army boasted that the destruction it had committed was fully as dreadful as the havoc made by the other. It is more curious to notice the trait of manners which general historians have altogether omitted, that when the French knights returned home, they complained that they had never passed through so painful an enterprise. Not that they regarded the perilous mêlée, but it was because they returned without horse or harness, poor and feeble. They wished that the French king, would unite with the English king, and go into Scotland and destroy that realm for ever. The Scots were an evil people, traitors, and altogether foolish in feats of war.[75]

English knights always more rejoiced when the trumpet summoned them to France than to Scotland. The rich wines, the fine country, the superior chivalry of the French were preferred before the poverty and bleakness of the north. When the English knights went to Scotland they were obliged to carry provisions with them; and also horses' shoes and harness, the country not furnishing iron or leather.[76]

[Sidenote: Courtesies between English and Scottish knights.]

The wars between England and Scotland, though fierce and sanguinary, admitted the display of the liberal feelings of chivalry. "Englishmen on the one party, and Scots on the other," says Froissart, "are good men of war; for when they meet there is a hard fight without sparing. There is no pause between them as long as spears, swords, axes, or daggers will endure. When one party hath obtained the victory, they then glorify so in their deeds of arms and are so joyful, that such as are taken are ransomed ere they go out of the field; so that shortly each of them is so content with the other, that at their departing they will say courteously, God thank you."[77]

[Sidenote: Chivalric battle of Otterbourn, 21st July, 1388.]

These remarks of Froissart, so interesting because so characteristic of manners, prelude the most chivalric battle that ever was fought between Scotland and England. Other battles were decided either by the bow or by that general military skill which was not peculiar to chivalry; but the battle of Otterbourn was a knightly mêlée, and was as truly chivalric as an encounter of cavaliers in the tournament. In the reign of Richard II. of England, and a few years after the circumstances in his time already alluded to, the Scots commanded by James Earl Douglas, taking advantage of the troubles between the King and his parliament, poured upon the south. When they were sated with plunder and destruction, they rested at Newcastle, near the English force which the Earl of Northumberland and other border-chieftains had hastily levied.

[Sidenote: Hotspur and the Douglas.]

The Earl's two sons were young and lusty knights, and ever foremost at the barriers to skirmish. Many proper feats of arms were done and achieved. The fighting was hand to hand. The noblest encounter was that which occurred between the Earl Douglas and Sir Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur.[78] The Scot won the pennon of his foeman; and in the triumph of his victory he exclaimed that he would carry it to Scotland, and set it on high on his castle of Dalkeith, that it might be seen afar off.

Percy indignantly replied, that Douglas should not pass the border without being met in a manner which would give him no cause for boasting.

With equal spirit the Earl Douglas invited him that night to his lodging to seek for his pennon.

The Scots then retired, and kept careful watch, lest the taunts of their leader should urge the Englishmen to make an attack. Percy's spirit burned to efface his reproach, but he was counselled into calmness.

The Scots then dislodged, seemingly resolved to return with all haste to their own country. But Otterbourn arrested their steps. The castle resisted the assault; and the capture of it would have been of such little value to them that most of the Scotch knights wished that the enterprise should be abandoned.

Douglas commanded, however, that the assault should be persevered in, and he was entirely influenced by his chivalric feelings. He contended that the very difficulty of the enterprise was the reason of undertaking it; and he wished not to be too far from Sir Henry Percy, lest that gallant knight should not be able to do his devoir in redeeming his pledge of winning the pennon of his arms again.

Hotspur was not altogether that impatient spirit which poetry has described him. He longed, indeed, to follow the Douglas, and redeem his badge of honor; but the sage knights of the country, and such as were well expert in arms, spoke against his opinion, and said to him, "Sir, there fortuneth in war oftentimes many losses. If the Earl of Douglas has won your pennon, he bought it dear, for he came to the gate to seek it, and was well beaten: another day you shall win as much of him and more. Sir, we say this because we know well that all the power of Scotland is abroad in the fields; and if we issue forth and are not strong enough to fight with them, (and perchance they have made this skirmish with us to draw us out of the town,) they may soon enclose us, and do with us what they will. It is better to lose a pennon than two or three hundred knights and squires, and put all the country to adventure."

By such words as these Hotspur and his brother were refrained from their purpose; for like sage and imaginative knights they would do nothing against counsel.

Soon afterwards it was discovered that the whole amount of the Scottish force did not exceed three thousand men. Hotspur's heart leapt for joy at the prospect of glory which this news opened to him; and, like a true son of chivalry, he cried to his friends; "Sirs, let us spring upon our horses, for by the faith I owe unto God, and to my lord my father, I will go and seek my pennon, and dislodge the Scots this same night."

Incontinently knights and squires donned their helms and cuirasses, and vaulted on their war-steeds. They rode more than apace to Otterbourn, and reached the Scottish camp by night. They far outnumbered their foemen, but the numerical was not the physical strength, for the English were forespent with travel, while the Scots were fresh and well rested.

The hostile banners waved in the night-breeze, and the bright moon, which had been more wont to look upon the loves than the wars of chivalry, lighted up the Scottish camp. A battle ensued of as valiant a character as any recorded in the pages of history; for there was neither knight nor squire but that did his devoir and fought hand to hand. The English dashed upon their foemen with such spirit, that their charge would have been irresistible, if Douglas, who was of great heart and high of enterprise, had not taken his axe in both his hands, and supported his retreating band. At length he was encountered by three spears at once, and borne perforce to the earth. One of his companions, a gallant knight, and a chaplain who fought on that occasion like a valiant man of arms with a good axe in his hands, skirmished about the Earl as he lay, and kept the press from him.[79]

When it was known that Douglas had fallen, some of his knights ran with breathless anxiety to the spot and asked him how he sped. "Right evil, cousins," quoth the Earl; "but, thank God, very few of my ancestors have died in their beds. But I require you to avenge my death, for I feel my heart fainting within me. Raise my banner, but do not declare my case to any one; for my enemies would rejoice, and my friends be discomforted, to hear that I had been wounded to death."

In a moment the proud ensign of his chivalry waved once again over the Scottish knights, and each gallant man-at-arms cheered his companion's heart by crying the war-cry of the Douglas. The Percys were made prisoners, Hotspur[80] by the Earl Montgomery, and Sir Ralph by Sir John Maxwell. Finally, the Scottish chivalry prevailed, and they remained masters of the field.[81]

Nothing could be more gallant than the demeanor of the Scots. They wished to take alive Thomas Felton, an English squire, whose valour excited their admiration; but, like a true hero, he submitted to be slain rather than to be vanquished.

The Scots, when the Englishmen yielded, were courteous, and set them to their ransom; and every man said to his prisoner, "Sir, go and unarm you, and take your ease;" and they lived together as if they had been brethren.

[Sidenote: A chivalric story.]

Among the circumstances connected with the battle, none is more interesting than this:--When the fate of the night was decided, Sir Matthew Redman, an Englishman, and governor of Berwick, spurred his horse from the field, but was hotly pursued by the Scottish knight, Sir James Lindsay, and he could not escape, for his panting charger fell under him. Lindsay dismounted, and the two knights fought well and chivalrously, the Scotsman with his axe (the favorite weapon of the nation), and the English knight with his sword. The axe prevailed, and Redman surrendered himself, rescue or no rescue. He wished to go to Newcastle, and his master (for such, as we have often seen, was the title of a knight who held another captive,) permitted him to depart, on his pledging his word of chivalry, that within three weeks he would meet him at Edinburgh. The knights then separated; but as Lindsay was returning to the Scottish host, priding himself on his success, he was surrounded by the Bishop of Durham and a numerous troop. Some hours before, they had marched purposely to the succour of Percy; but the clangour of the mêlée had terrified them into a retreat. They possessed sufficient bravery, however, to take a single and battle-worn knight. He was led to Newcastle, where he met Sir Matthew Redman; and these two gallant cavaliers dined right merrily together, and, after quaffing many a cup of rich wine, to the honour and health of their mistresses, they arranged with the bishop the conditions of each other's liberation.[82]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Reign of Henry IV. Chivalric parley between him and the Duke of Orleans.]

The reign of Henry IV. of England was not altogether void of chivalric interest. While Duke of Lancaster he had chosen Louis, Duke of Orleans, for his brother in chivalry. Each had promised to the other that they would live in the warmest affection of true friendship. Each vowed to be a friend and well-wisher to the friends and well-wishers of the other, and an enemy to his enemies, as became the honour and reputation of both; and that at all times, and in all places, they would by words and deeds assist each other in the defence of his person, honour, and estate. These chivalric engagements between the two Dukes had been made known to the world in an instrument called a letter of alliance, dated the 17th of June, 1396.