In all this we can observe the operation of a principle which acted as great a part in the moral world of chivalry as in its political-the consciousness of personal obligations, and therefore, in some sense, of personal importance; the opinion that there is a spiritual monarchy, constituting to each man individually the kingdom of his soul, in which he has to govern according to truth and justice, and to oppose error and evil without regard to the policy of other powers.' Frederick Schlegel has made some excellent observations on the danger of abandoning this principle in relation to all the great duties of life. His words are these. "The point wherein human charity chiefly fails is, in its being too much concerned with general views and grand abstractions, but not sufficiently exercised in the little detail of daily life, in the innumerable cases of trouble and care which it might be employed in relieving. As with the charity, so is it with the faith of men; it is not sufficiently personal; it is not sufficiently confiding. The greatest part of men have by far a too high opinion of their own worth, and an over-great confidence in their own strength; but of their vocation, of the end to which they are destined, they have, in general, a sense far too low; they do not believe in it; they look upon their calling and destiny and themselves as from the point whence they survey the whole world: but in this they are guilty of a great error and of great injustice, for every man is a separate world in himself- a true microcosmus in the eyes of God and in the plan of the whole creation. Every man has a separate calling and an end peculiar to himself."2 As in the warfare of the middle ages, when each man was regarded as a power, so in the spiritual combats of all times, chivalry requires every man to believe that he is personally called upon to pronounce between error and truth, injustice and justice, vice and virtue.

It may be observed also, with respect to the great characteristics of chivalry, that at all times a foundation of honesty for honour to rest upon is indispensable: "Where I could not be honest," says Albany, "I was never valiant:" and that, where duty and honour call, no fear of suffering can cause chivalry to fail. The boys of Sparta 1 Lewis of Grenada, Cat. part i. c. 33.

2 Philosophie des Lebens, 156.

would endure whipping till their very entrails saw the light through their torn flesh, and some of them to death, without crying or complaint. The whole system is more concerned with action than with discourse, and therefore may often render useless the contrivances of legislation; according to the opinion of Charillus, who being asked why Lycurgus had made so few laws, replied," they who use few words have not occasion for many laws."

It would be foreign from the design of these sheets to attempt to enter into any deep investigation respecting the original sources of chivalry in the human soul; nor, indeed, can such an inquiry be desired; for theology has long since revealed the only spring from which all virtue must proceed. The sophist knew by the young man's tone of voice, or manner of opening his lips as he spoke, that he would never make a sophist:

πῶς ἂν μάθοι ποθ ̓ οὗτος ἀπόφευξιν δίκης;

Scipio Africanus was wont to commend that saying in Xenophon, that the same labours of warfare were easier far to a general than to a common soldier, because he was supported by the great appetites of honour, which made his hard marches nothing but stepping forward and reaching at a triumph; but the difference of character observable in men does not depend, as this would imply, upon any accident or circumstance of their situation. The full development of the chivalrous spirit seems to depend upon the direction which is given to that agitation of mind peculiar to man, from which the ancients argued in support of its celestial origin,2 and this secret principle of action is often too powerful for any circumstances to resist.

Buesching gives a passage from a great chivalrous poem, called the Knight Gamuret, by Wolfram von Eschenbach, which relates how this Knight Gamuret, having left his wife in France, great with child, fell in battle against the Paynims of Asia. Shortly after his death, the lady was delivered of a son, who was called Percival, whom she carried away into a wild forest, that the child might be separated entirely from the life and bustle of the

1 Aristoph. Nubes, 874.

3 Ritterzeit und Wesen.

2 Quinctil. lib. i. c. 1.

world. Then she gave orders to all the men and women who attended upon her, that they should never speak of knighthood; "for," said she, "if the dear one of my heart should become aware of chivalry, then must great suffering be his portion." So he was kept in ignorance of knighthood, of what love and honour commanded, and within the bounds of the forest was all his knowledge confined. Here he ranged about, with his own hands cut a bow and arrows, with which he might shoot the birds of the forest, and, with a small javelin, slew wild beasts. Thus, without knighthood and the world's titles, he waxed strong, and chivalrous power was instilled into his limbs. He was still a youth when first he beheld a knight appearing in his pomp, like a god, who told him that he was a knight, and that King Arthur conferred knighthood. Then did Percival run to his mother, and tell her what he had seen and heard. From that hour nothing could stay his departure. Upon leaving his mother, in order that she might be sure of his return, she dressed him like a fool instead of a knight; but he became, in process of time, one of the stoutest and most glorious knights whose deeds are the theme of ancient minstrelsy. As nature, therefore, when favoured and assisted, seems to impel men to pursue the generous paths of chivalry, the debt is repaid by a return of affection and docility; for nothing harmonises with the spirit of chivalry but what is at least consistent with the grace and majesty of nature. Her simple pleasures and her grand distinctions are ever uppermost in the thoughts of this favoured part of men; even the most pompous and imposing contrivances of art seem never more than half enjoyed by them. The ancients said that Erichthonius, though of a comely body from the middle upward, had his thighs and legs like the tail of an eel, small and deformed; of which monstrosity being conscious, he became the first inventor of the use of chariots, whereby his deformed parts might be concealed. Rather than descend to a life of effeminate luxuries, chivalry would seek to imitate the creatures, "whose naked natures live in all the spite of wreakful heaven."

From all this it appears, that nothing can indicate a more complete ignorance of the essential principles which give birth to chivalry, than the assertion, that any age can

witness its final and utter extinction. Times may be more or less favourable to its development, and perhaps circumstances may combine, so as for an interval to stifle its generous sparks; and then every bright image may seem to withdraw, without a promise of return. Such was King Arthur's sorrow when his knights were about to depart in search of the Saint Grayle," the teres fylle in his eyes, and he said, 'ye have sette me in grete sorrowe; for I have grete doubte that my true felowship shalle never mete here more ageyne. I wote wel ther shall no manner of, joye remedye me.' But however it may be, with the little world of one book, in nature there is no such final departure of all chivalry. The noble fellowship of the round table cannot be broken for ever; but fresh aspirants will again appear to revive the generous lists, to keep ahead of the degraded world, and to bear the palm alone.

What is accidental, and not necessarily connected with the inmost soul of chivalry, may indeed have its destined period, beyond which it may be obsolete and lifeless. The plumed troop, and the bright banner, and all quality, pride, pomp, and circumstance of feudal manners, may pass with the age which required them; but what essentially belongs to this great cause must endure to the end. Although all other things are uncertain, perishable, and liable to change, this is grafted upon deep and indestructible roots, which no time can weaken, and no force remove.

XV. So far we have considered the general characteristics of chivalry, as existing under all circumstances; but our object would be only imperfectly obtained, if we did not also take a general view of those features belonging to it which seem to have an especial reference to the Christian religion, and which render it so interesting a portion of the Church of God: a proposition which should not startle any intelligent observer; for it will be shewn hereafter, that as there is a spirit and a language, so there is also a system of philosophy belonging peculiarly to chivalry, the main principles of which shall endeavour

to point out in the course of the present book, which is yet but an introduction to others, in which all these propositions will be exemplified and established in detail. In the first place, every Christian has been told, that in order to profit by the divine words of life, he must receive

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them as a little child, that is to say, according to what we have lately seen, he must receive them in a generous and noble spirit, to which the epithet of chivalrous may be justly applied. Nor let this position sound as if it were an extravagant novelty; for there might be no end of citing passages from the writings of the saints, in which they shew how religion takes advantage of those dispositions which are commonly referred to mere generosity and nobleness of nature. Father Lewis of Grenada, St. Ignatius Loyola, St. Francis de Sales, and Fenelon, may be distinguished as having repeatedly availed themselves of the principles of chivalry, to induce men to turn from vanity to God. It is the constant practice of holy writers to shew that nothing can be more generous than humility, more noble than perseverance, more heroic than the whole spirit of a Catholic Christian. As, therefore, before the coming of our Lord, there was evidence to believe a priori, that if it should please God to make a Divine revelation of his will to mankind, all minds which were under the influence of the philosophy ascribed to Socrates would have hailed it with the utmost joy and gratitude, while the world in general, the philosophers so called, would have rejected it; in like manner it must have appeared highly probable to every wise observer in these ages, that this youthful or chivalrous spirit would have afforded soil in a manner previously prepared, and peculiarly favourable for the reception of the divine seed. This fresh and ingenuous spirit would not, like the corrupted dregs of the heathen world, become a burden and injury, instead of a source of vigour to the Church. St. Augustin says, "he who was formerly an avowed Pagan, having clothed himself in the robe of a Christian, is now, under the veil of religion, a concealed evil."1 Such would never be the consequence of a conversion, where the mind of chivalry existed. That mind would embrace the doctrine of the Cross of Jesus with sincerity and ardour. It would be insensible to that human respect which is so great an obstacle to virtue, and particularly to the sanctification of Christians. There have been Catholics who appeared to take a pride in imitating the adversaries of their holy religion, and in being associated in friendship

1 In Ps. xlviii. Serm. ii. § 1.