CHAP. V.

DAMES AND DAMSELS, AND LADY-LOVE.

Courtesy ... Education ... Music ... Graver Sciences ... Dress ... Knowledge of Medicine ... Every-day Life of the Maiden ... Chivalric Love ... The Idolatry of the Knight’s Passion ... Bravery inspired by Love ... Character of Woman in the Eyes of a Knight ... Peculiar Nature of his Love ... Qualities of Knights admired by Women ... A Tale of chivalric Love ... Constancy ... Absence of Jealousy ... Knights asserted by Arms their Mistress’s Beauty ... Penitents of Love ... Other Peculiarities of chivalric Love ... The Passion universal ... Story of Aristotle ... Chivalric Love the Foe to feudal Distinctions ... But preserved Religion ... When Attachments were formed ... Societies of Knights for the Defence of Ladies ... Knights of the Lady in the Green Field ... Customs in England ... Unchivalric to take Women Prisoners ... Morals of chivalric Times ... Heroines of Chivalry ... Queen Philippa ... The Countess of March ... Tales of Jane of Mountfort and of Marzia degl’ Ubaldini ... Nobleness of the chivalric Female Character.

Courtesy.

If we fancy the knight of chivalry as valiant, noble-minded, and gentle, our imagination pictures to our minds the lady of his love in colours equally fair and pleasing. But we must not lose her individuality in general expressions of admiration, for she had a distinct and peculiar character, which from the circumstances of her life can be accurately traced. The maiden of gentle birth was, like her brother, educated in the castle of some knight or baron, her father’s friend, and many of her duties were those of personal attendance. As the young candidate for chivalric honours carved at table, handed the wines, and made the beds of his lord, so his sister’s care was to dress her lady, to contribute by music and conversation to her amusement, and to form a part of her state retinue[201]: and while there was no loss of dignity in this description of service, the practice being universal and of immemorial antiquity, feelings of humility insensibly entered the mind, and a kind consideration for those of harder fortunes softened the severity of feudal pride. Thus a condescending deportment to inferiors was a duty which their moral instructors enforced. It was represented to them by the pleasing image of the sparrow-hawk, which, when called in gentle accents, would come and settle on her hand, but if, instead of being courteous, she were rude and cruel, he would remain on the rock’s pinnacle heedless of her calls. Courtesy from persons of superior consideration was the fair right of people of gentle birth though of small estate, for gentility was always to be respected, and to the poor man or woman it ought to be shown, because it gives pleasure to them, and reflects honour on those who bestowed it. A lady once in company of knights and ladies took off her hood and humbled herself courteously unto a mechanic. One of her friends exclaimed in astonishment, “Why, noble dame, you have taken off your hood to a tailor.”—“Yes,” she replied, “and I would rather have doffed it to him than to a gentleman:” and her courteous friends reputed that she had done right well.[202]

Education. Music.

The mental education of women of those days was not of a very high polish. To repeat the prayers of the church, to sing the brief piece of poetry called the lai, or the longer romaunt were the only tasks on the intellect.

The ladies also played upon the harp.

The same particular of ancient manners is recorded by another poet:

Graver sciences.

But sometimes the graver sciences were introduced into female education, and Felice, the daughter of Rohand, Earl of Warwick, was not without parallels.

Maidens were taught that a mild dignity of demeanour beseemed them, and moralising their duty into a thousand similies, their teachers declared that they ought not to resemble the tortoise or the crane, which turn the visage and the head above their shoulders, and winde their head like a vane; but their regard and manner ought to be steadfast, in imitation of the beautiful hare, which always looks right on. If an occasion required a damsel to look aside, she ought to turn the visage and body together, and so her estate would be more firm and sure; for it was unmaidenly lightly to cast about her sight and head, and turn her face here and there.[207]

Dress.

Simplicity of dress was another part of instruction: but there was to be no lack of jewels of price and other splendid ornaments on festive occasions, and, consistently with the general magnificence of religious worship of the age, maidens were commanded to wear their gorgeous robes at church, and not merely at courtly festivals. There was a gravity about chivalry which accorded well with the recommendation for women not quickly to adopt new dresses introduced from strange countries. Modesty of attire was the theme of many a wise discourse, and every castle had its story of the daughter of a knight who lost her marriage by displaying too conspicuously the graces of her figure, and that the cavalier who was her intended suitor preferred her sister who had modesty, though not beauty, for her dower.[208]

Knowledge of medicine.

All the domestic œconomy of the baronial mansion was arranged by these young maidens: and the consideration which this power gave them was not a little heightened by their sharing with the monks in the knowledge which the age possessed of vulnerary medicaments. This attribute of skill over the powers of nature was a clear deduction from that sublime, prophetic, and mysterious character of women in the ages which preceded the times both of feudalism and chivalry. The healing art was not reduced to an elaborate system of principles and rules, for memory to store and talent to apply, but it was thought that the professors of medicine enjoyed a holy intercourse with worlds unknown to common minds. The possession of more than mortal knowledge was readily ascribed to a pure, unearthly being like woman, and the knight who felt to his heart of hearts the charm of her beauty was not slow in believing that she could fascinate the very elements of nature to aid him. There are innumerable passages in the various works which reflect the manners of chivalric times on the medicinal practice of dames and damsels. A pleasing passage of Spenser illustrates their affectionate tendance of the sick.

Chirurgical knowledge was also a necessary feminine accomplishment, and we will accept the reason of the cavalier with “high thoughts, seated in a heart of courtesy,” for such a remarkable feature in their character. “The art of surgery,” says Sir Philip Sidney, “was much esteemed, because it served to virtuous courage, which even ladies would, even with the contempt of cowards, seem to cherish.”[210] A fair maiden could perform as many wonderful cures as the most renowned and skilful leech. The gentle Nicolette successfully treated an accident which her knight Aucassin met with.

Spenser favours us with the ladies’ method of treating a wound.

Every-day life of the maiden.

The every-day life of a young maiden in chivalric times is described with a great deal of spirit in the fine old English tale, of the Squire of Low Degree. I am not acquainted with any other passage of the metrical romances which contains so vivid a picture of the usages of our ancestors. To dissipate his daughter’s melancholy for the loss of her lover, the King of Hungary says,

Chivalric love.

In that singular system of manners which we call chivalric, religion was a chief influential principle of action; but scarcely less consequence ought in truth to be given to another feeling apparently incompatible with it; and if Venus, in the Greek mythology, was called the universal cause, her empire seems not to have been less extensive in days of knighthood. A Latin poet, of no mean authority in such subjects, has described love as the sole employment of woman’s life, and of man’s only a part[221]; and Boccacio says, that he composed his tales for the solace of fair and noble ladies in love, who, confined within their melancholy chambers, had no other occupation, but perpetually to revolve in their minds the same consuming thoughts, rendered intolerable by shame and concealment: while man might hunt, hawk, fish, and had a thousand channels for his thoughts.

But the state of society at Rome was not similar to that in days of knighthood, and though Boccacio lived in those days, he describes the manners of commercial cities rather than of chivalric courts, of fair Florence and not of a frowning baronial castle. The ideas of God and of love were always blended in the heart of the true knight, and to be loving was as necessary as to be devout. Cervantes expresses the feelings of chivalry in the declaration of Don Quixote, that “a knight without a mistress was like a tree without either fruit or leaves, or a body without a soul.” A ship without a rudder, a horse without a bridle, were other illustrations of the prevailing sentiment, and more expressive of the characteristic of chivalric love, which assigned superiority to woman, which made her the directress of the thoughts, and inspirer of the courage of her chosen cavalier. “A knight may never be of prowess, but if he be a lover,” was the sentiment of Sir Tristram, a valiant peer of Arthur, and it was echoed by every gentle son of chivalry.[222] Not, indeed, that every knight felt this strength and purity of passion. Spenser has described four cavaliers, and each represents a large class.

The idolatry of the knight’s passion.

The true knight, he whose mind was formed in the best mould of chivalric principles, was a more perfect personification of love than poets and romancers have ever dreamed. The fair object of his passion was truly and emphatically the mistress of his heart. She reigned there with absolute dominion. His love was,

Our old English poet, Gower, whose soul was filled with romantic tenderness and gallantry, says,

And every gallant spirit of Gower’s days, the reign of Edward III., said of his mistress,

Gower, in describing the knight’s mode of tendance on his mistress, has drawn a pleasing picture of the domestic life of chivalry.

These quotations show that the expression in ancient times of knights being servants of the ladies was not a mere figure of the imagination. The instances from Gower, however, which prove the propriety of the title, may not be thought exclusively chivalric. A story in Froissart will fully supply the want. A Bourbon knight, named Sir John Bonnelance, a valiant soldier, gracious and amorous, was once at Montferrand, in Auvergne, sporting among the ladies and damsels of the town. While commending his chivalry, they urged him to undertake an enterprise against the English, and she who, as his lady-love, was ruler of his actions, told him that she would fain see an Englishman, for she had heard much of the valiancy of the knights of England. Bonnelance replied, “that if it should ever be his good fortune to take one, he would bring him into her presence.” Soon afterwards he was able to perform his word. He took to Montferrand some English prisoners, and addressing her who fancied the wish of seeing an Englishman, he said “that for her love he had brought them to the town.” The ladies and damsels laughed, and turned the matter to a great sport. They thanked him for his courtesy, and entertained him right sweetly during his three days abode at Montferrand.[225]

Love inspired bravery.

The knight, whose heart was warmed with the true light of chivalry, never wished that the dominion of his mistress should be less than absolute, and the confession of her perfect virtue, which this feeling implied, made him preserve his own faith pure and without a stain. Love was as marked a feature in the chivalric character as valour; and, in the phrase of the time, he who understood how to break a lance, and did not understand how to win a lady, was but half a man. He fought to gain her smiles, for love in brave and gentle knights kindled aspirations for high desert and honour. “Oh! that my lady saw me,” was the exclamation of a knight in the pride of successful valour as he mounted the city’s wall, and with his good sword was proving the worth of his chivalry.[226] He wore her colours, and the favour of his lady bright was the chief ornament of his harness. She judged the prize at the tournament, assisted him to arm, and was the first and the most joyous to hail his return from the perils of war.

Character of woman in the eyes of a knight.

A soldier of chivalry would go to battle, proud of the title, a pursuivant of love[230], and in the contests of chivalric skill, which, like the battles of Homer’s heroes, gave brilliancy and splendour to war, a knight challenged another to joust with a lance for love of the ladies; and he commended himself to the mistress of his heart for protection and assistance. In his mind woman was a being of mystic power; in the forests of Germany her voice had been listened to like that of the spirit of the woods, melodious, solemn, and oracular; and when chivalry was formed into a system, the same idea of something supernaturally powerful in her character threw a shadowy and serious interest over softer feelings, and she was revered as well as loved. While this devotedness of soul to woman’s charms appeared in his general intercourse with the sex, in a demeanor of homage, in a grave and stately politeness, his lady-love he regarded with religious constancy. Fickleness would have been a species of impiety, for she was not a toy that he played with, but a divinity whom he worshipped. This adoration of her sustained him through all the perils that lay before his reaching his heart’s desire; and loyalty (a word that has lost its pristine and noble meaning) was the choicest quality in the character of the preux chevalier.

Peculiar nature of his love.

It was supported, too, by the state of the world he lived in. He fought the battles of his country and his church, and he travelled to foreign lands as a pilgrim, or a crusader, for such were the calls of his chivalry. To be the first in the charge and the last in the retreat was the counsel which one knight gave to another, on being asked the surest means of winning a lady fair. Love was the crowning grace, the guerdon of his toils, and its gentle influence aided him in discharging the duties of his gallant and solemn profession. The lady Isabella, daughter of the Earl of Jullyers, loved the lord Eustace Damberticourt for the great nobleness of arms that she had heard reported of him; and her messengers often carried to him letters of love, whereby her noble paramour was the more hardy in his deeds of arms.[231] “I should have loved him better dead than alive,” another damsel exclaimed, on hearing that her knight had survived his honour.

Qualities in knights admired by women. A tale of chivalric love.

No wonder that in those ages of violence bravery was the manly quality, dear, above all others, in woman’s eyes. Its possession atoned for want of every personal grace; and the damsel who, on being reproached for loving an ugly man, replied, “he is so valiant I have never looked in his face,” apologised for her passion in a manner that every woman of her time could sympathise with. As proficiency in chivalric exercises was the only distinction of the age, it would have been contrary to its spirit and laws for a gentle maiden to have loved any other than a knight who had achieved high deeds of arms. The advancement of his fame was, therefore, among the dearest wishes of her heart, and she fanned his love of noble enterprise in order to speed the hour of their union. The poets and romance-writers of the days of chivalry bear ample testimony to the existence of this state of feeling, and to the perils which brave men underwent to gain fair ladies’ smiles; but all their tales must yield in pathos to the following simple historical fact:—When the Scots were endeavouring to throw off the yoke which Edward I. had imposed on them, the recovery of the castle of Douglas was the unceasing effort of the good Lord James. It was often lost and won; for if the vigilance of the English garrison relaxed for a moment, the Scots, who lived in the neighbourhood, and were ever on the watch, aided their feudal lord in regaining the fortress, which, however, he could not maintain long against the numerous chivalry of England. The possession of this castle seemed to be held by so perilous a tenure, that it excited the noblest aspirations for fame in the breasts of the English; and a fair maiden, perplexed by the number of knights who were in suit of her, vowed she would bestow her hand upon him who preserved the adventurous or hazardous castle of Douglas for a year and a day. Sir John Walton boldly and gladly undertook the emprise, and right gallantly he held possession of the fortress for some months. At length he was slain in a sally which Douglas provoked him to make. On his person was found a letter which he had lately received from his lady-love, commending his noble chevisance, declaring that her heart was now his, and praying him to return to her forthwith, without exposing himself to further peril. The good Lord James of Douglas grieved when he read this letter, and it was generous and gallant of him to lament that a brother knight should be slain when his fairest hopes of happiness seemed on the point of being realised.[232]

Constancy.

The loves of chivalric times must often have been shaded with gloom, and so convulsed was the state of Europe, so distant were its parts often thrown from each other, that the course of true love seldom ran smoothly, and affianced knights and damsels more frequently breathed the wish of annihilating time and space than is necessary in the happier monotony of modern times. In almost every case of attachment absence was unavoidable, and constancy, therefore, became a necessary virtue of love in chivalry.

His mistress was ever present to his imagination, and he felt there would be a witness to his disloyalty. Even if he could dismiss her picture from his mind, his own sense of honour preserved his virtue, and the reply of a knight to a beautiful temptress, that though his sovereign-lady might never know of his conduct, yet his heart, which was constantly near her, could not be ignorant, was conceived in the purest spirit of chivalry.

Absence of jealousy.

The troubadours, who were the teachers of the art of love, refined upon this respectful passion of the knight in a very amusing manner. They were wont to affirm, that though a knight saw cause for jealousy, yet if his lady-love were to deny the circumstances, he was to reply that he was convinced of the verity of her assertions; but he really did believe he had witnessed such and such matters.[234]

Knights asserted by arms their mistress’ beauty.

Chivalric love had, indeed, its absurdities as well as its impieties. It was a pleasing caricature of chivalry, when the knight of La Mancha stationed himself in the middle of a high road, and calling to the merchants of Toledo, who were bound to the silk fairs at Murcia, forbad them to pass, unless they acknowledged that there was not in the universe a more beautiful damsel than the empress of La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso. For the knights of chivalry were not satisfied to fight in defence of the ladies, and to joust in their honour, but from the extravagancy of their love, each knight maintained at the point of his lance, that his mistress surpassed all other ladies in beauty.[235] The knight Jehan de Saintré (whose education in chivalry has been already described by me) vowed to wear a helmet of a particular shape, and to visit, during three years, the courts of Europe, maintaining against all their chivalry the beauty of his mistress. Four knights and five squires, who had made a similar vow, were his companions. At a tournament held by the Emperor of Germany, the noble undertaking was held to be accomplished, and the emblems of the emprise were unchained from the left shoulder of the gallant knights and squires.[236] Indeed, wherever a knight went, to court or to camp, he asserted the superiority of his lady and his love, but he hurled his defiances not against simple merchants, as our right worshipful knight Don Quixote did, but against persons of his own rank, who were in amours as well as himself. Instances of this chivalric disposition occur frequently in chivalric history: but Cervantes caricatured the romances, and not the sober chronicles of chivalry, when, in reply to the natural enquiry of one of the merchants regarding the beauty of the lady, he made his hero exclaim, “Had I once shown you that beauty, what wonder would it be to acknowledge so notorious a truth? the importance of the thing lies in obliging you to believe it, confess it, affirm it, swear it, and maintain it, without seeing her.” But the display of chivalric bravery in avowal of woman’s beauty proceeded from so noble a feeling, that it must not be censured or satirised too severely, for

Penitents of love.

As history, however, should be a record, and not a panegyric, I proceed to observe, that the most marked display of the extravagancies of our knights took place in the courts of love; but as I have dilated on that topic in another work, I am precluded of treating the subject here, and it is the tritest of all the subjects of chivalry. Equally ridiculous among the amatory phrenzies of the middle ages was the society of the penitents of love, formed by some ladies and gentlemen in Poictou, at the beginning of the fourteenth century. They opposed themselves to nature in every thing, on the principle that love can effect the strangest metamorphoses. During the hottest months of summer, they covered themselves with mantles lined with fur, and in their houses they sat before large fires. When winter came they affected to be burning with the fires of love, and a dress of the slightest texture wrapt their limbs. This society did not endure long, nor was its example pernicious. A few enthusiasts perished, and reason then resumed her empire.[237]

Other peculiarities of chivalric love.

The knight was as zealous in the gentle as in the more solemn affections of the soul. He believed that both God and love hated hard and hypocritical hearts. In a bolder strain of irreverence he thought that both God and love could be softened by prayer, and that he who served both with fidelity would secure to himself happiness in this life and the joys of Paradise hereafter. On other occasions the gallant spirit of chivalry spoke more rationally. Love, according to one renowned knight, is the chaste union of two hearts, which, attached by virtue, live for the promotion of happiness, having only one soul and one will in common.

The passion universal. Story of Aristotle.

So prevailing was amatory enthusiasm, that not only did poets fancy themselves inspired by love, but learned clerks were its subjects, and in spite of its supposed divinity some natural satire fell upon the scholar who yielded to its fascination. In Gower’s Confessio Amantis, the omnipotence of love is strikingly displayed; for besides those whom we might expect to see at the feet of the goddess, we are presented with Plato and Socrates, and even him who was the object of veneration bordering on idolatry in the ages which we in courtesy to ourselves call dark. Gower, the moral Gower, says with some humour,

The story whereon this sentence was founded was among the most popular of the times. The delights of love had made Alexander pause in the career of ambition. His host of knights and barons were discontented at the change, and Aristotle, as the tutor and guardian of his youthful course, endeavoured to rouse anew the spirit of the hero. The prince attempted no lengthened reply to this appeal to his chivalry;

The grave saws of the sage took root, however, in Alexander’s heart, and he absented himself from his mistress. She wailed her fate for some time in solitude, but at length assured that it was not the mere capriciousness of passion which kept him from her, she forced herself into the presence of her lord. Her beauty smiled away all dreams of glory from his mind, and in the fondness of his love he accused Aristotle of breaking in upon his joy. But the dominion of his passion was only momentary, and recovering the martial tone of his soul, he declared the sad necessity of their parting. She then requested a brief delay, promising to convince the king that his tutor’s counsel derived no additional recommendation from his practice, for that he stood in need of as much instruction as Alexander himself. Accordingly, with the first appearance of the next morning, the damsel repaired to the lawn before the chamber where Aristotle lay. As she approached the casement, she broke the stillness of the air by chanting a love ditty, and the sweetness of her wild notes charmed the philosopher from his studious page. He softly stole to the window, and beheld a form far fairer than any image of truth which his fancy had just previously been conceiving. Her face was not shrouded by vail or wimple, her long flaxen tresses strayed negligently down her neck, and her dress, like drapery on an antient statue, displayed the beauty of a well-turned limb. She loitered about the place on pretence of gathering a branch of a myrtle-tree, and winding it round her forehead. When her confidence in her beauty assured her that Aristotle was mad for her love, she stole underneath the casement, and, in a voice checked by sighs, she sang that love detained her there. Aristotle drank the delicious sounds, and gazing again, her charms appeared more resplendent than before. Reason faintly whispered that he was not born to be loved, and that his hair was now white with age, his forehead wrinkled with study; but passion and vanity drove away these faint remonstrances, and Aristotle was a sage no more. The damsel carelessly passed his window, and in the delirium of his love he caught the floating folds of her robe. She affected anger, and he avowed his passion. She listened to his confession with a surprize of manner that fanned his flame, and she answered him by complaining of the late coldness of Alexander. The greybeard, not caring for a return of love, so that she accepted his suit, promised to bring his pupil to her feet, if she would but confer some sign of favour upon himself. She feigned an intention of compliance, but declared that, before she yielded, she must be indulged in a foolish whim which long had distracted her fancy. Aristotle then renewed his professions of devoted love, and she in sentences, broken by exclamations of apparent shame at her folly, vowed that she was dying to mount and ride upon the back of a wise man. He was now so passionately in love, that the fancies of his mistress appeared divinest wisdom to his mind, and he immediately threw himself along the ground in a crawling attitude. She seated herself in a gorgeous saddle which she placed on his back, and, throwing a rein round his neck, she urged him to proceed. In a few moments they reached the terrace under the royal apartments, and the king beheld the singular spectacle. A peal of laughter from the windows awoke the philosopher to a sense of his state, and when he saw his pupil he owned that youth might well yield to love, as it had power to break even the frost of age.

Such was the lay of Aristotle which the wandering minstrel chanted in the baronial hall, and the damsel in her lady’s bower, and the pleasing moral of the fable was not more sincerely echoed by the shouts of the gallant knights and squires than by the broken sighs of beauty.

It is singular to observe that in the north and in the south, in Germany and in Languedoc, the love of the cavalier bore the same character, the same blending of tender and devotional feelings. The troubadour burned tapers, and caused masses to be said for the success of his love, and when the fervour of passion for his mistress was crossed by religious awe, he declared that the part of his heart which God held was still under the superior dominion of his lady-love. The German knight wrote poems to the honour of the Virgin Mary and the damsel of his heart, and it is not always easy to distinguish to which of these persons his vows are addressed.[240] He adored the shadow, nay, the very neighbourhood of his mistress, and declared that nothing could induce him to violate his vow of fidelity. Here, however, the resemblance ceases, for the knights of France, England, and Spain were not more highly distinguished for chivalric courtesy, than the Germans were remarkable for ferocity and savageness.[241] Once, and once only, were there courts of love in Germany. They were established by Frederic Barbarossa, and they did not long survive their founder.

Chivalric love the foe to feudal distinctions.

Chivalric love took delight in reconciling and joining the opposites of the world.[242] It was no cold and calculating principle; it abrogated the distinctions of wealth and rank, and many a knight, whose whole fortune lay in his prowess, gained the hand of high-born beauty. “How can I hope,” observed a young candidate for chivalry to a lady of high estate, “how can I hope to find a damsel of noble birth, who will return the affection of a knight that, ungraced by rank, has only his good sword to trust to?”—“And why should you not find her?” replied the lady; “are you not gently born? are you not a handsome youth? have you not eyes to gaze on her, ears to hear her, feet to move at her will, body and heart to accomplish loyally her commands? and, possessed of these qualities, can you doubt to adventure yourself in the service of a lady, however exalted her rank?”[243]

A squire of low degree often aspired to the hand of a king’s daughter:

The intenseness of passion, and the generousness of soul implied in this state of manners, were sternly opposed by feudal pride and tyranny; but chivalry could not always beat down the absurd distinctions of society. When the Countess of Vergy returned the passion of Sir Agolane, she was obliged to love in secret, lest the dignity of the court of Burgundy should be offended.[244] The maidens themselves sometimes sanctioned the prejudices of feudalism, in opposition to the generous feelings of chivalry and nature. Felice, daughter of Rahand, Earl of Warwick, disdained to return the passion of Guy, her father’s steward, till an angel in a dream commanded her to love him.[245]

But preserved religion.

Agreement in religious opinions was as necessary as sympathy of souls in the loves of chivalry; and many a story is related of a knight reposing in a lady’s chamber, where, instead of adoring the divinity of the place, he assailed her with a fierce invective against her religious creed.[246] On such occasions he forgot even his courtesy, and shamed his knighthood by calling her a heathen hound:

But

When attachments were formed.

The occasions which kindled the flame of love in the heart of the knight and the maiden of chivalry were various, and many of them well calculated to give rise to romantic and enthusiastic attachments. Sometimes the parties had been educated in the same castle, and passion insensibly succeeded childish amusements. The masque and the ball were often the theatre of love; but, above all other scenes, it spread its light over the brilliant tournament. Performed in honour and in view of the ladies, it was there that love exerted its mightiest power. She who gave the prize bestowed almost universally her heart upon the brave and skilful vanquisher, and many were the tears she shed, if she found that the knight had been proving his puissance only to win the heart of some other fair one. It often happened that the circumstances of life carried a young cavalier to a baronial castle, where he found more peril in the daughter’s fair looks than in the frowning battlements of her father. At the feast which welcomed the stranger, eyes mingled in love, and the suddenness of passion was always considered as the strongest proof of its purity and strength. The damsel might then avow her affection without any violation of maidenly shame; for generous, confiding love, reading another’s heart in its own, dreaded no petty triumphs of vanity from confessing its fondness. It often occurred that a knight, weary and wounded, was confided to the ministrations of woman’s tenderness; and Spenser, who had read the history as well as the romance of chivalry, tells us,

Societies of knights for defence of ladies. Knights of the Lady in the Green Field.

The rude state of society, which it was the noble object of chivalry to soften, presented many occasions for the display of generous affections, and love was the grateful return of protection. A cavalier called the Knight of the Swan reinstated a lady in the possessions of which the Duke of Saxony had deprived her. Indignant that the throne, and not chivalry, should be regarded as the fountain of justice, knights sometimes formed themselves into associations for the express object of defending the rights of all ladies that required their aid. At one period (during the reign of Charles VI.) of great violence in France, the ladies and gentlewomen of the country laid before the king grievous complaints of their sufferings from powerful lords, and lamented that gallantry was so much degenerated, that no knights and squires had attempted to defend them. They appealed, therefore, to the king, as the fountain of justice, to afford them protection. This appeal roused the dormant chivalry of France; and the valiant knight and marshal, Boucicaut[248], whose skill as a jouster will be described anon, gathered round him twelve preux chevaliers, and the fraternity avowed themselves champions of oppressed dames and damsels. The gallantry of their object was proclaimed to the world by the device on their shields of a fair lady in a green field, and their letters of arms, circulated throughout France, promised that they would assist all ladies and gentlewomen who were injured in their honours or fortunes.[249]

Custom in England.

The same generous feeling warmed the hearts of the English chivalry. We become acquainted with this feature of our ancient national character, not in dry monkish chronicles, but in the living page of one of our earliest and greatest poets. Chaucer makes all the persons of his dramatic tale speak agreeably to their rank and station in the world; and he puts into the mouth of his very perfect and gentle knight the following spirited description of the gallant feelings of English nobles and gentles in the time of Edward III.

And thus it continued in every age of chivalric history. Noble knights of prowess were ever perilling themselves in the cause of woman. So late as the year 1425, when the title to certain territories in Hainault was contested between the English Duke of Gloucester and John of Brabant on behalf of the lady Jacquiline, those gallant cavaliers, the bastard of St. Pol, and André de Humieres appeared at Hesden with silver rings on their right arms, proclaiming the superior title of Jacquiline.[251]

These are a few of the historical facts, which shew that the ancient romancers did not paint from their imagination when they described gallant cavaliers wandering over the gloomy waste of feudal Europe, in order to redress wrongs and injuries, to relieve widows, and defend the honor of damsels. Sometimes a knight rode alone, and like the valorous Don Quixote left it to his horse’s discretion to go which way he pleased. In other cases they went in parties of three or four in quest of adventures. That they might surprise the enemy they sought for, they changed or disguised their armorial distinctions. A year and a day was the general term for enterprises of this nature; and at the conclusion they rendered to their sovereign mistresses an account of their adventures, and ingenuously confessed their faults and misfortunes.—But I find myself stepping into the regions of romance, which are not the province of this work. I return therefore, to the realities of chivalry, which are no less pleasing than its fictions.

Unchivalric to take women prisoners.

The protection of widows and orphans, and all ladies of virtuous repute, was indeed the serious duty ever present to the imagination of a preux chevalier. The praiseworthy soldier was he who chose to fight for dames and damsels in preference to contending in vain-glorious frays, and with equal spirit it was thought that death was too slight a punishment for the man who could offer scathe or dishonour to, or deceive or wrong a gentle lady. From this generous consideration for woman proceeded the honorable maxim in chivalry, of its not being just or courteous to take ladies in war.[252] When a town was captured, the heralds of the conqueror proclaimed his will, that no violence nor displeasure should be done to any lady or gentlewoman. In the reign of Edward III. Caen fell into the hands of the English, and Sir Thomas Holland preserved many ladies, damsels, and nuns, from outrage worse than death. About the same time the castle of Poys was taken by the English, and two noble knights (one was the renowned Sir John Chandos) saved from violation two fair damsels, daughters of the Lord of Poys. The ladies were conducted into the presence of Edward, who, for his honor, made them good cheer, and caused them to be carried in safety to a town friendly to their family.[253] And the generous feelings of cavaliers for ladies were nobly requited. In the wars of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, the Emperor Conrad, as an offended sovereign, had refused all terms of capitulation to the garrison of Winnisberg; but as a courteous knight, he permitted the women to depart with such of their precious effects as they themselves could transport. The gates of the town were thrown open, and a long procession of matrons, each bearing a husband, or a father, or brother, on her shoulders, passed in safety through the applauding camp.[254]

Morals of chivalric times.

Some writers have severely censured the morals of the chivalric æra, and according to them every species of licentiousness was practised by its dames and damsels. This opinion is as erroneous as the one which it superseded, that in the times we speak of every knight was brave, and every woman was chaste; an assertion bearing more liberality than truth on its face, considering that it refers to a period of seven or eight centuries, and that the objects of the panegyric were the largest part of the European world. For my part, I shall not, like the knight of La Mancha, challenge to a joust à l’outrance any discourteous cavalier who has the audacity to declare that Queen Madasima was scandalously familiar with a barber-surgeon; but I think that our imaginations do not altogether deceive us in painting the days of chivalry as days of feminine virtue.

If we regard the times in reference only to their baronial and feudal features, the view is deeply dyed with turpitude, and the romances, whence the denunciations against the ladies of forepast ages have been drawn, are not sparing in their pictures of licentiousness. But chivalry was the golden thread that ran through the middle ages, the corrective of vice, the personification of virtue. That it did not altogether succeed in colouring with its brightness the surrounding gloom is sufficiently true, and the times warranted the assertion of a character in Amadis de Gaul, that our country yields, as others do, both good and bad. The romances present us with instances of the profligacy of women, and so they also do of the baseness of knights: but as no one will contend that chivalry did not in general inspire its professors with sentiments of honour, so its virtuous influence cannot in fairness be denied to the maidens of its age. Let us not, as Spenser says, blame the whole sex for the fault of one.

The romance writers were satirists, but they had more humour than malignity. Every one of them introduces a magical test of feminine virtue, a drinking cup, a mantle or a girdle. This is harmless; and their general censure of women is without point; for they were for the most part men of profligate habits, and judged the other sex by the standard of their own vices.

This is the burthen of all their declamations against women; and Spenser has shewn how little credit he gave to it, for he does not let it proceed from the mouth of any of his preux chevaliers, but from a wretched profligate, misnamed the squire of dames.[257]

However highly some enthusiastic minds may have coloured the manners of the chivalric ages, still it is unquestionable that the love of the knight was not the mere impulse of passion, but that the feeling was raised and refined by respect. Now, as nature is ever true to herself, as certain causes have had certain operations in all ages and in all countries, so this purity of love must have been followed by a corresponding correctness of morals. Women had every reason to retain and support the virtues of their nature; for it was only in behalf of those of fair reputation and honour, that the knight was compelled by his principles to draw his sword; all others were without the pale of chivalry; and although many instances can be found in the romances of feminine indiscretion, yet the princess in the celebrated romance of Tirante the White accurately describes the general feeling when she submits to lose all her claims on the noble chevisance of knights, if she failed in observing a promise of marriage which she had given to a gallant cavalier that loved her.

The knights, though courteous to the highest polish of refinement, were rigid and inflexible censors; and in those days as well as in these, each sex formed the character of the other.[258] The cavalier in travelling would write on the door of a castle where a dame of tarnished reputation resided, some sentence of infamy; and on the contrary, he would pause at the door of a lady of pure honour and salute her courteously. Even on solemn and public occasions distinctions were made between women in matters of ceremony. If any lady of sullied fame took precedence of a dame of bright virtue, a cavalier would advance and reverse the order, saying to her who was displaced, “Lady, be not offended that this lady precedes you, for although she is not so rich or well allied as you are, yet her fame has never been impeached.”[259] Here, therefore, chivalry vindicated its purity, and showed itself as the moral guide of the world. Its tendencies were beneficent; for Christianity was deeply infused into all its institutions and principles, and it not only spread abroad order and grace, but strung the tone of morals to actions of virtue.

Chivalric heroines.

All ladies were not of the opinion of Amadis de Gaul, that their best weapons were sighs and tears. What they admired they imitated; and a high-spirited damsel would, in private, divest herself of her robe, gird round her a belt, and drawing its sword from the scabbard, fight with the air till she was wearied. The gallant youths of chivalry called a lady of this martial temperament—le bel cavalier. Were we to meet in romances with dames engaged in mortal combat, we should say that the writers had not faithfully represented the manners of the times; but such facts are recorded by sober chroniclers. Two ladies decided some fierce disputes by the sword. Each summoned to her aid a band of cavaliers, and the stoutest lances of Normandy felt no loss of dignity in being commanded by a woman. The lady Eloisa and the lady Isabella rode through their respective ranks with the address of experienced leaders, and their contest, like that of nations, was only terminated by burning and plundering each other’s states. In the crusades, parties of fair and noble women accompanied the chivalry of Europe to the Holy Land, charming the seas ‘to give them gentle pass,’ and binding up the wounds of husbands and brothers after a well foughten field with the bold Mussulman. Sometimes they wielded the flaming brand themselves, and the second crusade in particular was distinguished by a troop of ladies harnessed in armour of price, and mounted on goodly steeds. A lady often wore a sword even in times of peace, and every great landed proprietress sat gladio cincta among the justices at sessions and assizes.[260] In England, particularly, was this martial spirit recognised, for in the time of Edward the first a lady held a manor by sarjeanty to conduct the vanguard of the king’s army as often as he should march into Wales with one; and on its return it was her duty to array the rear-guard.[261]

Queen Philippa.

The victory of the English over the Scots at Neville Cross is mainly attributable to the spirited demeanour of Philippa, wife of Edward the third. At her father’s court in Hainault, she had witnessed war in its splendid image, the tournament; and now, in a perilous moment, when the king her husband was far away, and the fate of England was in her hands, she showed that she was not unworthy of her race or her alliance. She rode among the battles or divisions of her host, exhorting them to perform their devoir, to defend the honour of her lord the king of England, and in the name of God she implored every man to bear a good heart and courage, promising them that she would reward them better than if her lord the king were personally in the field. She then quitted the ranks, recommending her soldiers to the protection of God, and of St. George, that special defender of the realm of England. This exhortation of the queen nerved the hearts of the English yeomen, and they shot their arrows so fiercely and so wholly together, that the Scottish battle-axe failed of its wonted might.[262]

The countess of March.

For the heroism of women, the page of Scottish history furnishes a remarkable instance. In the beginning of the year 1338, William de Montague, Earl of Salisbury, by command of the Earl of Arundel, the leader of the army of Edward III., laid siege to the castle of Dunbar, the chief post which the Scots possessed on the eastern coast of their country. The castle stood upon a reef of rocks which were almost girdled by the sea, and such parts of it as could be attacked were fortified with great skill. The Earl of March, its lord, was absent when Salisbury commenced the siege, but the defence lacked not his presence. His wife was there, and while to the vulgar spirits of the time, she was known, from the unwonted darkness of her eyes and hair, as Black Agnes, the chivalric sons of Scotland joyfully beheld a leader in the person of the high-spirited daughter of the illustrious Thomas Ranulph, Earl of Moray. The Countess of March performed all the duties of a skilful and vigilant commander. She animated her little band by her exhortations and munificence; she roused the brave into heroism, and shamed the timid into courage by the firmness of her bearing. When the warlike engines of the besiegers hurled stones against the battlements, she, as in scorn, ordered one of her female attendants to wipe off the dust with a handkerchief, and when the Earl of Salisbury commanded the enormous machine called the sow, to be advanced to the foot of the walls, she scoffingly cried out, ‘Beware, Montague, thy sow is about to farrow,’ and instantly by her command a huge fragment of rock was discharged from the battlements, and it dashed the engine to pieces. Many of the men who were about it were killed, and those who crawled from the ruin on their hands and knees were deridingly called by the Scots, Montague’s pigs. Foiled in his attempts, he endeavoured to gain the castle by treachery: he bribed the person who had the care of the gates to leave them open; but the man, faithful to his duty as well as to his pecuniary interest, disclosed the whole transaction to the Countess. Salisbury himself headed the party who were to enter; finding the gates open, he was advancing, when John Copeland, one of his attendants, hastily passing before him, the portcullis was let down, and Copeland, mistaken for his lord, remained a prisoner. The Countess, who from a high tower was observing the event, cried out to Salisbury with her wonted humour, ‘Farewell, Montague; I intended that you should have supped with us, and assisted in defending this fortress against the English.’

The English turned the siege into a blockade, but still without success. The gallantry of the Countess was supported by some favourable circumstances, and finally, in June, the Earl of Salisbury consented to a cessation of hostilities, and he abandoned the place.[263]

Tale of Jane of Mountfort.

But the most interesting of all the heroines of chivalry was Jane Countess of Mountfort, who, as Froissart says, had the courage of a man and the heart of a lion. She was a worthy descendant of those German women whom Tacitus describes as mixing with the warriors, administering refreshment, and exhorting them to valour. About the year 1341, the right to the duchy of Bretagne was disputed between the Earl of Mountfort and Charles of Blois. The question turned on certain points of inheritance which the earl dreaded the court of Paris would decide in favor of his rival, who was a relation of the French king. He, therefore, sought another alliance, and repairing to England, he performed homage for the duchy to Edward III.[264] His next steps were directed to Paris, but his journeys were not so secretly taken as he expected; for on presenting himself before King Philip he was charged with having acknowleged the sovereignty of the English monarch. The earl pretended that his journey to England had only related to his private affairs, but the king did not credit his story, and in distrust of his purposes he ordered him to remain in Paris. Mountfort, equally suspicious of his sovereign’s honor, effected his escape from the city in the guise of a merchant. He went to Brittany, and took his station in the castle of Nantes. The decision of the court at Paris was adverse to his claims; and the successful candidate, Charles of Blois, levied an army, and pursued his former rival, who was taken in his retreat, conveyed to Paris, and lodged in the Louvre.

To those who did not know the noble spirit of his countess the cause of the Mountfort family seemed hopeless. She was at Rennes when he was taken prisoner, and although she had great sorrow in her heart, yet she valiantly recomforted her friends and soldiers, and showing them her little son John, she said, ‘Sirs, be not too sore abashed of the earl my lord, whom you have lost, (he was but a man): behold my little child, who shall be by the grace of God his restorer, and he shall advance you all, and I have riches enough: you shall not lack; and I trust that I shall prosper in such wise that you shall be all recomforted.’[265] All her friends and soldiers vowed to die in her service; and she then went to her other fortresses and towns, replenishing them with warlike stores and provisions, and exhibiting her little son to the people, in order to rouse the allegiance of the friends of her family. She stationed herself in Hennebon, a town seated near the shores of Brittany.[266]

In the following summer Charles of Blois was aided by the whole puissance of France in his attempt to make himself complete master of Brittany; but so able were the dispositions of the countess, that, instead of sweeping over the whole country as they expected, they were detained before Rennes, and it was not till after much labour that they won it. The countess, in the mean while, had sent one of her knights, Sir Amery of Clysson, into England, desiring royal succour, on condition that the Earl of Mountfort’s son and heir should marry a daughter of the king, who was to be adorned with the highly splendid title, the Duchess of Brittany. Edward III., always anxious to strengthen his power in France, accepted the alliance, and ordered one of his noblest knights of prowess, Sir Walter Manny, to join the valiant countess with three thousand archers. Charles of Blois, after the capture of Rennes, was counselled to lay siege to Hennebon; but before he reached that town Jane de Mountfort was apprised of his purpose, and she commanded the watch-bell to be sounded, and every man to be armed, and standing at his post. When Sir Charles and the Frenchmen came near the town, they pitched their tents; but many of their gay and valorous spirits went skirmishing to the barriers. Some of the cavaliers of Hennebon did not suffer them to brandish their swords in the air; and it was only the shades of night that separated those preluders of battle. The next day the Frenchmen spent in council, and it was resolved that a general assault should be made on the barriers. Accordingly, on the third morning they fiercely pressed to the outward works of the town, and continued the assault till noon, when they retired with diminished forces. The lords of France rallied their soldiers, and urged the assault anew; but they that were within defended themselves right valiantly. The countess herself, clad in mail, and mounted on a goodly courser, rode from street to street, exhorting her people to defend their posts; and if in the din of battle her woman’s voice was sometimes drowned, nothing could mar her cheering smiles, which lighted the flame of noble chevisance in every gallant breast. She caused damsels and other women to cut short their kirtels, and carry stones and pots full of lime to the walls, to be cast upon the enemy. She then mounted a tower, and espied that the Frenchman’s camp was deserted. Her resolution was immediately taken: she drew around her three hundred of her best knights, and, grasping a targe and spear, and mounting again her good steed, she quitted the town by a gate which the enemy had overlooked. At the head of her gallant troop she made a short circuit, and then dashed into the Frenchmen’s lodgings. When the assailants, reverting their eyes, saw their tents on fire, and heard cries of terror from a few boys and varlets in the camp, they quickly returned to their lodgings to stop the conflagration. The countess and her noble band could not cope with so vast a force, and her retreat to the city being cut off, she took the road to the castle of Brest, where she was received with great joy. For five days the good soldiers of Hennebon wist not of the fate of their right valiant lady; but on the sixth morning they saw her golden banners glittering in the rising sun, and a hill in the distance crowned by a noble troop of five hundred lances, which her beauty and her just cause had drawn to her side at Brest. With the gay curvetting pace of gallant cavaliers progressing to a tournament, they gallantly held on their way to the town, smiling defiance to the martial front of the French, and entered Hennebon amidst the flourishes of their own trumpets, and the exulting cries of the people.

But the siege was advanced by the French with such courage, and their engines so dreadfully injured the walls, that the soldiers of Hennebon were in time discomfited. All except the countess were anxious to yield the town upon honourable terms; but she hoped for succour from Edward; and while her knights and men-at-arms sullenly guarded the walls which fronted the enemy, a solitary warder paced the ramparts that looked towards England. One day the members of her council were on the point of compelling her to submit, when, casting her eyes on the sea, whereon she had so often gazed in vain, she saw a dark mass rising out of the horizon. Her smile of fearful joy, before she discovered that it was the English fleet, excited the attention of her friends. They all rushed to the window, but her sight was the most piercing, for her heart was the most deeply anxious, and she was the first to exclaim, “I see the succours of England coming!” The joyful news quickly spread, the walls of Hennebon were crowded with the townsfolk, and the English fleet entered the harbour. When the soldiers landed, she went to them with great reverence, and feasted them right hospitably. She lodged the knights and others in the castle and in the town, where she dressed up halls and chambers for them; and the next day she made them a great feast at dinner. The exploits of Sir Walter Manny and his archers will be more appropriately related in another place. The siege of Hennebon was raised, and it is not unworthy of notice as a trait of manners, that on one occasion of valiancy on the part of the English, the countess descended from the castle with a glad cheer, and went and kissed Sir Walter Manny and his companions, one after another, two or three times, like a valiant lady.[267]

After some time a truce was concluded between Sir Charles of Blois and the Countess of Mountfort, their aiders and assisters; and the countess, on the invitation of Edward III., took ship for England, accompanied by the Earls of Richmond, Pembroke, Salisbury, Suffolk, Oxford, the barons Stamford, Spenser, Bourchier, and divers other knights of England, and their companies. When they were off Guernsey they were approached by Sir Loyes of Spain and his fleet. At first the countess supposed it was with a friendly purpose, for Sir Loyes, as the ally of Sir Charles of Blois, was virtually bound by the treaty: but she was soon assured of his unchivalric purpose. The mariners cried to the knights, “Sirs, arm yourselves quickly, for these Genoese and Spaniards will soon attack you.” All in a moment the Englishmen sounded their trumpets, and reared their standards with the great banner of St. George, and marshalled themselves on the decks of the ships, the archers, as on land, being in front.

A.D. 1345.

And in this gallant trim the English fleet bore down upon the superior force of their ungenerous foe. The arrows of the one side, and the cross-bows of the other, did murderous execution; and when the lords, knights, and squires came together, the battle was so dreadful that it furnished matter of song to the minstrels of England and France for years afterwards. The countess that day was worth the bravest knight; she had the heart of a lion, and, with a sharp glaive in her hand, she fought fiercely. They contended till it became so dark that one could scarcely know another. The fleets then separated, the men remaining in their harness, intending to renew the battle next morning. But at midnight a tempest arose so horrible that every one thought the end of the world was approaching; and those very cavaliers who, a few hours before, had gallantly courted death, would now have abandoned their chivalry and their cause, if a safe landing could have been effected.[269] The battle was not renewed the next day; the English fleet sailed to Brittany; the troops landed near Vannes, which they immediately besieged, the countess being always foremost in the press. Soon afterwards Edward III. went to France, in the contest for whose throne the affairs of Brittany were lost, and the noble Countess of Mountfort disappeared from the scene[270], while her husband escaped from prison only to die of a fever at Hennebon.[271]

And of Marzia.

A few years after this beautiful display of the chivalric character of woman in France, the gloom of war in Italy was illuminated by a noble trait of female heroism. Marzia, a lady of the family of the Ubaldini, so celebrated for its virtue and noble gestes, was the wife of Francesco d’Ordelaffi, lord of Forli, the only prince in Romagna who maintained his independence against the tyranny of the papal power. Knowing her firmness and spirit, he entrusted the defence of the town of Cesena to his wife, while he himself maintained the more important position of Forli. In the beginning of the year 1357, Marzia tore herself from her husband, and, throwing aside the gorgeous robe of peaceful power, donned the casque and the cuirass. She stationed herself in Cesena with two hundred soldiers, equipped like knights, and the same number of ordinary troops. She was accompanied also by her son and daughter, and that sage counsellor of the Ordelaffi family, Sgariglino de Pétragudula. An army ten times more numerous than all the defenders of Cesena soon beleaguered the place. At the end of April some of the terrified burgesses opened the gates of the lower part of the town to the enemy; but in that moment of peril Marzia remembered that her husband had declared that, unless the pope would treat with him on honourable terms, he would sustain a siege in every one of his castles, and when he had lost them he would defend the walls of Forli, and then its streets, its squares, his palace, and the last tower of his palace, rather than give his consent to surrender that which was his own. Marzia retreated into the upper part of the town with such of the soldiers and citizens who continued faithful to her. She now discovered that Sgariglino had been a traitor. Justice then had her due, and the head of him whom no feelings of honour or gallantry could preserve in the path of virtue was rolled from the battlements among the besieging army. Marzia relied entirely on her own wisdom and courage; she took on herself all the duties of governor and captain, and, wearing her cuirass both by night and day, she braved all those hardships which, in former moments of happiness and ease, she would have thought herself incapable of supporting. But the besiegers smiled with indifference at her courage, for their miners were slowly and surely effecting her ruin. She was compelled to retreat to the citadel with four hundred soldiers and citizens, who vowed to be faithful to death. The miners persevered, and at length the citadel almost hung in air. The father of Marzia at that moment reached Cesena, and his passage had been facilitated by the legate. He entreated his heroic daughter to surrender, as bravery had accomplished its utmost, and still the besiegers were gradually prevailing. Her reply was simple and firm,—that her husband had given her a duty to perform, and that she must obey, without forming any opinion on the nature of his command. Her heroism was not supported by the people, for they unanimously declared the folly of further resistance. Compelled, then, to surrender, she herself opened the negociations; and so skilfully did she act, so much dreaded was the despair to which she might be tempted, that she obtained from the legate a treaty, whereby it was agreed that all the soldiers who had bravely supported her might return home with their arms and equipments. On the 21st of June she opened the gate of the citadel: she disdained to ask any favour for herself; and the legate, untouched by any chivalric sympathy for female heroism, cast her and her children into prison.[272]

Chivalric titles of ladies.

The honorary titles of ladies in days of chivalry favoured this martial spirit in women. The wife of a knight was often called equitissa or militissa, or chevaliére. In France, too, ladies, as ruling over fiefs, having the right of war, judicature, and coining money, could confer the honour of knighthood. But in general the feudal law opposed the chivalry of women, for a woman alone could not hold a fief, it not being supposed that she could head her vassals or accompany her liege lord into the field. The instances, therefore, that are scattered over the middle ages of the brave gestes of women sprang from the spirit of chivalry and not from any other principle of society. They were always praised, and joyfully remembered; and when the direction of war was entirely usurped by men, the world reverted with a melancholy pleasure to the chivalry of womankind.

Though ‘meek-eyed women’ were ‘without fear,’ yet this martial disposition was never displayed at the sacrifice of the sex’s milder qualities. The same lady who placed a lance in rest was in her castle gentle and courteous, dispensing hospitality, tending the sick, or reading romance in hall and bower. Her heart was as tender as her’s who was rocked in pleasure’s wanton lap. Spenser’s picture of his martial maid, Britomart, in love, represents the whole class of chivalric heroines:

There were other points in the character of women in days of chivalry hardly necessary to be noticed as not being peculiar to the times. The artifices and sleights of some of them would beseem more refined ages. To repress the presumption of lovers when circumstances did not favour an avowal of passion, they would reprove the sighs and glances which they pretended to see interchanged between the young squires and maidens of the table; but the admirer of the dame sometimes mistook this demeanour for the sign of a coquettish spirit, and left the lady to lament his dulness.[275] The spirit of chivalry, which disposed the heart to all noble feelings, was not universal in its influence, and we accordingly read of ladies who were deformed by the mood of envy and detraction.

Nobleness of the chivalric character.

But the subject need not be pursued further; for it is woman, as formed by chivalric principles, and not as uninfluenced by that noble spirit whose lineaments it is my purpose to pourtray. That lofty consideration in which she was held had, as we have seen, a remoter origin than the days of chivalry, and to that elevation much of her moral dignity may be ascribed. But chivalry saved her from being altogether oppressed into slavery and degradation under the tyranny of feudalism. That odious system endeavoured to bring under its sway even the very affections of the heart; for not only no woman of rank and estate could marry without the consent of her sovereign, but in some countries she was obliged to accept a husband at his nomination, unless for a large pecuniary payment he restored her to the privileges of her sex. By preserving woman in her noble state of moral dignity, chivalry prevented the harsh exercise of feudal rights. A sovereign who prided himself on his knighthood could never offend the inclinations of one of that sex which by his principles he was bound to protect and cherish. Chivalry hung out the heart-stirring hope that beauty was the reward of bravery. A valiant, but landless knight was often hailed by the whole martial fraternity of his country as worthy the hand of a noble heiress, and the king could not in every case bestow her on some minion of his court. Woman was sustained in her proud elevation by the virtues which chivalry required of her; and man paid homage to her mind as well as to her beauty. She was not the mere subject of pleasure, taken up or thrown aside as passion or caprice suggested, but being the fountain of honour, her image was always blended with the fairest visions of his fancy, and the respectful consideration which she, therefore, met with, showed she was not an unworthy awarder of fame. Fixed by the gallant warriors of chivalry in a nobler station than that which had been assigned to her by the polite nations of antiquity, all the graceful qualities of her nature blossomed into beauty, and the chastening influence of feminine gentleness and tenderness was, for the first time in his history, experienced by man.