CHAPTER V.

ND here I must pause awhile, and from this mount "which healeth him who climbs," look back upon the scenes which so often arrest the early steps of men while conversing with the forms of mundane chivalry. Many, like Stesichorus in classic story, have had, before the course was done, to sing their palinodia. Cornelius Agrippa, practised in every slight of magic wile, lamented his vain labor in books of dangerous science: Erasmus, whose pleasant shafts have often wounded piety, expressed himself afflicted at the result of many of his writings: others of more antique days, whose names are too venerable to mention here, have left whole books of their retractions; and, in sooth, whoever has eulogized the chivalry of this proud world, returning unto the holy triumph, may well add himself to the number, and smite upon his breast; for, although he may hope to have avoided gross offence, yet is there always ground to fear that somewhat has been uttered not in harmony with lowliness, meekness, poverty of spirit,-the weapons of the just, who must conquer by yielding,*-peacefulness, and the awful sanctity of the school of Christ, whose sweet food can hardly then be tasted "without the cost of some repentant tear."

It is true the motive of honor is not always vicious. The doctrine of St. Thomas, the angelic teacher, and of the school is, that honor being despised meritoriously, when we refuse to commit a bad action, in order to possess it, may be also desired with praise, when we commit no evil that can destroy it : but so is also true that sentence which in lower regions is but seldom heard, "Sunt viæ quæ videntur hominibus rectæ, quarum finis usque ad profundum inferni descendit:" and there is an honor to be gained on earth which no favor wins in Paradise. It is not that I am willing to level those images of dignity and grace which so essentially belong to every form of chivalry that presents itself to the young imagination. It is not that I would add my puny efforts to aid those who are laboring to destroy every relic of the antiquated shrine of heroic virtue that has been left in the world. A modern writer, who seems to think, that to understand the spirit of the middle ages it is merely required to observe that of the nineteenth century among the people of the north, says, "the truth is, a very large

*St. Ambrosii Officior. Lib. 1. 5.

number of the knights errant, comprising the chivalry of every country, were mere idle adventurers, bent only on the gratification of their own passions and seeking to enjoy life in the easiest and best manner possible.” No coarse destruction of beautiful and ennobling thoughts is my object in this retrospect. A son of ancient chivalry was often extravagant, proud, intemperate, sensuous, and yet he was not what our modern sentimental pigmies would represent him; I rather hold with the wiser poet, where he says of his ideal hero,

Yet in his worst pursuits, I ween

That sometimes there did intervene

Pure hopes of high intent;

For passions link'd to forms so fair

And stately, needs must have their share

In noble sentiment."*

the ways of men, one

But from this station, on which we now stand to survey feels the importance of distinguishing broadly between the modern idea of chivalry as an institution self-existing, and the source, as it is thought, of the greatest benefit to mankind, extending its influence even to our times, (for to this length do many writers now proceed in speaking its praise,) and that which represents it under the forms of Christian knighthood, the humble and constant dependent upon religion, drawing all its excellence from the faith and influence of the Catholic Church, in its specific character and peculiar circumstances, framed only to meet the particular evils which, during a certain period, existed in society, and in its general and primary state presenting nothing but a ground more than commonly favorable to the reception of that religious instruction, without which, its best faith, however beautiful when seen from far, would be delusive even as the apples on the Dead Sea shore, which, when touched, are discovered to be only ashes and bitterness. It is in this latter sense alone that chivalry can be defended with truth and justice, as being a Christian form of life, and consistent with the first qualifications for beatitude. Whereas, in these latter times, when men have begun to recur to the days of chivalry with a poetic admiration, contrasting them with the wretchedness and sensuality around them, the system is invariably represented under the former character; and against this manifest error, or rather perhaps this artful invention of proud men, who concert every ingenious measure to deprecate the benefits of that religion whose graces were common to the rich and poor, it is the solemn duty of every Catholic Christian who has ever loved the real spirit of the ancient chivalry, to express his convictions without disguise. To begin then with the impressive formula of the Homeric heroes :

αλλο δέ τοι ἐρέω, συ δ' ἐνὶ Φρεσὶ βάλλεο σῇσιν·

chivalry was a noble and beneficial mode of life, so far as it was a Catholic mode

* Wordsworth

of life; but out of those limits it was only one of the many forms in which pride and sin ensnare the hearts of men ; it was evil and unholy, and on that ground alone not deserving of the ridicule of which some have thought it the proper object. For, in the first place, to return to that love of honor which is thought to have been its soul, there must be always danger here, not only of forgetting to glory in the cross, but even of falling short of the natural magnanimity of which we find traces in the ancient sages. Thus Crito's argument to persuade Socrates to leave the prison was, that the world would say that he had been neglected and forsaken by his friends, who might have enabled him to escape if they had chosen, but that they preferred their money to their friend. "O good Crito!" replied Socrates, "what is it to us what the world may say? for they who are honest and wise, whose opinion alone is worth considering, will conclude that these things have been done precisely as they have been done."* Cicero, even though he had said man was born for glory,† yet, coming to speak of true magnanimity, bids men remember," unam esse omnium rem pulcherrimam, eoque pulchriorem, si vacet populo, neque plausum captans, quin etiam mihi quidem laudabiliora videntur omnia, quæ sine venditatione et sine populo teste fiunt : non quo fugiendus sit, sed tamen nullum theatrum virtuti conscientia majus est."‡ And in another place he reckons those who seek glory among men who are opposed to philosophers.§ Codrus, indeed, was really devoted, for if he proposed to die for his country, he was willing to forego the honor, and therefore he took effectual measures to enable him to accomplish the offering of himself, by assuming the habit of a slave. But with men who speak of honor, with these admirers, I do not say with the actual possessors of the chivalrous spirit, it is often more the fame than the substance which they regard. It is only a respect for fame which actuates them: they speak in the Homeric style to their own conscience, "if I do so and so, men will accuse me of such and such things; men will say that I am poor-spirited, superstitious, extravagant,"

ὡς ποτέ τις ἐρέει· τότε μοι χάνοι εὐρεῖα χθών.

Ibycus wrote a celebrated sentence, "I fear lest I should commit an offence against the gods and receive in return honor from men." So just a sense had even this heathen of the essence of human honor.

With respect to those philosophers who have of late endeavored to conceive a purer and more spiritual idea of honor, as a self-existing principle, it seems to the Christian ear as if the subtility of their words may have only aggravated the evil, spreading a thin varnish over the wide separation between pride and that spirit with which they attempted to unite it, if indeed such an union was in their thoughts; and such seems to be the case in that passage + Id. 26. § Tuscul. V. 3.

*Plat. Crito. | II. IV. 182.

Tuscul. Lib. II. 41.
Suidas.

where Fichte says, that the hero whom the world supposes to be influenced by glory, "is only actuated by his own private judgment of right, and that in acting as he acts, he is no way led by the hope of applause, but that he achieves the act which bursts forth in all its purity within his own mind from the primal fountain of honor, and imposes on mankind the obligation of approving of it and honoring it; that is, provided he takes any thought about their judgment; utterly despising both them and their judgment, in case it is not the echo of that which he himself has pronounced for all eternity."

If this be the only language with which chivalry could prove that it had a humble spirit, the cause must assuredly have been hopeless: but we may believe, that in ages of faith it was often with men in the ranks of temporal chivalry as with the saints; they gained honor more by flying from it than by pursuing it. Among the papers of the Archduke Leopold of Austria, son of the Emperor Ferdinand II., was found certain rules of life which he had drawn up for himself in 1639, on taking the cross of the Teutonic order. Among these we read as follows: "I resolve to have in aversion and hatred of heart, which shall be shown by my deeds, as far as my condition and profession will permit, all that the world possesses of honor, glory, pride, vanity, ambition, commodity, and power, and I wish to live with great joy in detachment and poverty of spirit, stript of affection, for all that the world esteems, that I may possess God alone, my infinite treasure, and that I may be useful to others, desiring, so far as is possible, to follow the example and traces of my Lord Jesus, who was put naked on the cross, for my love."*

Nevertheless, the opening to dangerous abuse was broad. Hear the sentiments of a daughter of Spain, who had once drunk deep of the high spirit of that knightly land. It is St. Teresa who speaks: "As we forgive those, &c., Remark here my sisters, that it is not said, as we shall forgive, but as we forgive; for it is not to be conceived that any one would approach the eternal majesty to supplicate forgiveness, without having previously forgiven all that have injured him. It was for the saints a subject of joy to suffer persecution and injuries that they might have something to offer to God: but alas! what can a poor sinner like myself offer, who has so seldom had occasion to forgive, and who has such need of forgiveness? Let those who have the misfortune to resemble me reflect seriously upon this. I conjure them to estimate, according to their real value, these miseries to which we give the name of insults and affronts; these false honors of the world, with all these little sensibilities, which are only toys and plays of children, and that in things so vain they may never make a merit of their pretended acts of forgiveness. O my God, my God! if we did but know the real worth of this wicked honor! Alas! there was a time when I esteemed it without knowing what it was, carried away like so many others by the torrent of opinions and customs. What things did I then convert into subjects of trouble and vexation! With what

* Les Vertus Héro iques de Leopold d'Autriche, par N. Avancin, 141.

shame do I now remember it! Certes, I knew not then true honor, the only honor which is profitable to our souls, the only honor which merits our research. O my Saviour, thou who art once our model and our master, what was thy honor in this world? In what didst thou make it consist? Didst thou forfeit it by thy humility in humbling thyself to death? No, truly, and so far otherwise, that this abasement, to which thou didst consent, has become for all mankind a source of glory and honor! Alas! my sisters. Do we believe ourselves offended at what does not even merit the name of offence, and for having forgiven things which are neither injuries nor affronts, and which are not worthy of being named, do we fancy that we have performed something considerable, and do we suppose that God ought to forgive us, as if in reality we had forgiven others? O Lord, diffuse light amidst this darkness. Lighten our ignorance; give us the grace to know that we do not know ourselves, that we come before thee with empty hands, and forgive us our trespasses only by the effect of thy goodness and thy mercy.'

Again, in another place, resuming her saintly strain :-"O my God, how clearly doth a soul see here the sense of that verse of the Psalmist, and that both he had reason, and that all the world should have reason, to desire the wings of the dove. For it is easily and clearly understood of that flight which the spirit makes, by which it raises itself up above all creatures, and in the first place, from above itself. But this is a sweet flight, a delightful and pleasant flight, and a flight without noise. What kind of dominion doth such a soul possess, wich our Lord doth once conduct to this pitch, that she may be able to look down upon all things without being once entangled by any of them! And how full of confusion will she now be, for that time wherein she was entangled before! And how much will she be amazed to look back upon that blindness of hers! How full of compassion will she be for such as do yet remain therein! She is now much afflicted with the thought of that time wherein she had any regard to the point of honor, and for the gross error wherein she was to imagine that to be honor, which the world calls honor; for she now sees that it was all an abominable lie, and yet that every body lives in the practice of it. But now this soul understands that right honor is built, not upon a lie, but upon truth; esteeming that to be worth something, which indeed is so; and holding that, which indeed is nothing, in no account at all, since all is nothing, and less than nothing, which comes to have an end and pleaseth not God."+

In these magnificent passages, where the piety of a saint is expressed in language as noble as that of Plato, he must indeed be slow who does not recognize some shade which did occasionally stain even that fairest and noblest chivalry, which claimed the admiration of mankind. Dante must have had deeper thoughts than meet the ear, when he speaks of having seen in Paradise, though in an inferior star, some good spirits,

The Road of Perfection, Chap. xxiv.

The Life of the Holy Mother St. Theresa.