Part 8 (2/2)
Sometimes two knights would fight in mortal combat. If one knight accused the other of crime or dishonour, the latter might challenge him to fight with swords or lances; and, according to the superst.i.tion of the times, the victor was considered to be the one who spoke the truth.
But this ordeal combat was far removed from the domain of sport.
When jousts and tournaments were abandoned, tilting on horseback at a ring became a favourite courtly amus.e.m.e.nt. A ring was suspended on a level with the eye of the rider; and the sport consisted in riding towards the ring, and sending the point of a lance through it, and so bearing it away. Great skill was required to accomplish this surely and gracefully. Ascham, a writer in the sixteenth century, tells us what accomplishments were required from the complete English gentleman of the period:--
”To ride comely, to run fair at the tilt or ring, to play at all weapons, to shoot fair in bow, or surely in gun; to vault l.u.s.tily, to run, to leap, to wrestle, to swim, to dance comely, to sing, and play of instruments cunningly; to hawk, to hunt, to play at tennis, and all pastimes generally which be joined to labour, containing either some fit exercises for war, or some pleasant pastime for peace--these be not only comely and decent, but also very necessary for a courtly gentleman to use.”
In the days of pageants and royal progresses these old castles were the scenes of very lively exhibitions of rustic histrionic talent. The stories of Greek and Roman mythology were ransacked to provide scenes and subjects for the rural pageant. Shepherds and shepherdesses, G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, clowns and mummers, all took part in the rural drama which kings and queens delighted to honour. When Queen Elizabeth visited the ancient and historic castle of Sudeley, great preparations were made for the event, and a fine cla.s.sical pageant was performed in her presence, a sketch of which may not be without interest.
The play is founded on the old cla.s.sical story of Apollo and Daphne. The sun-G.o.d Apollo was charmed by the beauty of the fair Daphne, the daughter of a river-G.o.d, and pursued her with base intent. Just as she was about to be overtaken, she prayed for aid, and was immediately changed into a laurel tree, which became the favourite tree of the disappointed lover. The pageant founded on this old cla.s.sical legend commenced with a man who acted the part of Apollo, chasing a woman who represented Daphne, followed by a young shepherd bewailing his hard fate. He, too, loved the fair and beautiful Daphne, but Apollo wooed her with fair words, and threatened him with diverse penalties, saying he would change him into a wolf, or a c.o.c.katrice, or blind his eyes. The shepherd in a long speech tells how Daphne was changed into a tree, and then Apollo is seen at the foot of a laurel tree weeping, accompanied by two minstrels. The repentant G.o.d repeats the verse:--
”Sing you, play you; but sing and play my truth; This tree my lute, these sighs my note of ruth: The laurel leaf for ever shall be green, And chast.i.ty shall be Apollo's queen.
If G.o.ds may die, here shall my tomb be placed, And this engraven, 'Fond Phoebus, Daphne chaste.'”
A song follows, and then, wonderful to relate, the tree opens, and Daphne comes forth. Apollo resigns her to the humble shepherd, and then she runs to Her Majesty the Queen, and with a great deal of flattery wishes her a long and prosperous reign.
Such was the simple play which delighted the minds of our forefathers, and helped to raise them from sordid cares and the dull monotony of continual toil. In our popular amus.e.m.e.nts the village folk do not take part, except as spectators, and therefore lose half the pleasure; whereas in the time of the Virgin Queen the rehearsals, the learning the speeches by heart, the dresses, the excitement, all contributed to give them fresh ideas and new thoughts. The acting may not have been very good; indeed Queen Elizabeth did not always think very highly of the performances of her subjects at Coventry, and was heard to exclaim, ”What fools ye Coventry folk are!” But I think Her Majesty must have been pleased at the concluding address of the players at Sudeley. After the shepherds had acted a piece in which the election of the King and Queen of the Bean formed a part, they knelt before the real queen, and said--
”Pardon, dread Sovereign, poor shepherds' pastimes, and bold shepherds'
presumptions. We call ourselves kings and queens to make mirth; but when we see a king or queen we stand amazed. At chess there are kings and queens, and they of wood. Shepherds are no more, nor no less, wooden.
In theatres workmen have played emperors; yet the next day forgotten neither their duties nor occupation. For our boldness in borrowing their names, and in not seeing Your Majesty for our blindness, we offer these shepherds' weeds; which, if Your Majesty vouchsafe at any time to wear, it shall bring to our hearts comfort, and happiness to our labours.”
When the queen visited Kenilworth Castle, splendid pageants were performed in her honour. As she entered the castle the gigantic porter recited verses to greet Her Majesty, G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses offered gifts and compliments on bended knee, and the Lady of the Lake, surrounded by Tritons and Nereids, came on a floating island to do homage to the peerless Elizabeth and to welcome her to all the sport the castle could afford. For an account of the strange conduct of Orion and his dolphin upon this occasion, we refer our readers to Sir Walter Scott's _Kenilworth_; and the lover of pageants will find much to interest him in Gascoigne's _Princely Progress_.
The glories of our ancient castles have pa.s.sed away; some indeed are preserved, and serve as museums, or barracks, or the country house of some n.o.ble lord; but most of them are in ruins. All traces of many a Norman castle have completely vanished. There was once a castle at Reading, but the only relics of it are the names Castle Hill and Castle Street. The turbulent barons made such terrible use of their fortresses during the troublous times of the civil war in Stephen's reign that in the more settled reign of Henry II. they were deprived of this means of oppression and their castles destroyed wholesale. The civil war in the reign of Charles I. was also another great cause of the destruction of these old fortresses. They were of great service during the progress of the war to those who were fortunate enough to possess them, and many of them in spite of Cromwell's cannon were most gallantly held and stoutly defended. Donnington Castle, Berks.h.i.+re, was bravely held in spite of a prolonged siege during all the time that the war lasted by gallant Colonel Boys, who beat off the flower of the Parliamentary army; and when in obedience to the King's command he yielded up the castle, he and his brave garrison marched out with all the honours of war, having earned the respect of both friend and foe. Many other castles could tell the story of similar sieges in the days when ”the gallants of England were up for the King.”
But these brave sieges were the cause of their destruction. Cromwell when in power recognised their strength; they were too dangerous, these castles, and must be destroyed. His cannon-b.a.l.l.s had rattled against their stone walls without much effect during the war; but their fate was sealed with that of their King, and the gunpowder of Cromwell's soldiers was soon employed in blowing up the walls that resisted him so long, and left them battered and smoking ruins.
Since then the ivy has grown over them to hide their nakedness. Forlorn and lonely the ruined castle stands. Where once loud clarion rang, the night owls hoot; vulgar crowds picnic where once knights fought in all the pride and pomp of chivalry. Kine feed in the gra.s.s-grown bailey court; its glory is departed. We need no castles now to protect us from the foes of our own nation. Civil wars have pa.s.sed away, we trust, for ever; and we hope no foreign foeman's foot may ever tread our sh.o.r.es.
But if an enemy threatened to attack England her sons would fight as valiantly as in the brave days of old, though earthen ramparts have replaced the ancient castles and iron s.h.i.+ps the old wooden walls of England.
CHAPTER XII
MONASTERIES
Beautiful surroundings--Benefits conferred by monasteries--Charity-- Learning--Libraries--Monks not unhappy--Netley--Cluny--Alcuin-- Monastic friends.h.i.+ps--St. Bernard--Anselm--Monks shed happiness around them--Desecration--Corruption of monasteries--Chaucer's prior--Orders of monks--Plan of a monastery--_Piers Ploughman's_ description of a monastery--A day in a monastery--Regulations as regards blood-letting--The infirmary--Food--Hospitium--Chapter-house.
In the neighbourhood of many of our villages stand the ruins of an old monastery. Who were the builders of these grand and stately edifices?
What kind of men lived within those walls? What life did they lead? We will try to picture to ourselves the condition of these n.o.ble abbeys, as they were in the days of their glory, before the ruthless hands of spoilers and destroyers robbed them of their magnificence.
It has often been remarked that the monks knew well how to choose the most beautiful spots for their monastic houses, establis.h.i.+ng them by the banks of some charming river, surrounded by beautiful scenery and fertile fields.
They loved the beauties of nature, and had a keen sense for discovering them. They had a delicate and profound appreciation of the delights of the country, and loved to describe the beauties that surrounded their habitations. Nature in its loveliness and wild picturesqueness was a reflection of G.o.d's beauty, a temple of His light and goodness. Moreover they built their monasteries amidst forests and wild scenery, far from the haunts of men, seeking solitude, wherein they could renew their souls by the sweetness of a life of contemplation, and consecrate their energies to the service of G.o.d. In the days of war and bloodshed, of oppression and lawlessness, holy men found it very difficult to be ”in the world and yet not of it.” Within the monastic walls they found peace, seclusion, solitude; they prayed, they worked, they wrote and studied. They were never idle. To wors.h.i.+p, to labour, to fight as the _milites Christi_ with weapons that were not carnal, these were some of the duties of the monks.
The world owes much to these dwellers in monasteries. They rescued the people from barbarism, and uplifted the standard of the cross. They emerged from their cells to direct councils, to preach and teach at the universities, to build churches and cathedrals, and astonish the world by their skill and learning. Who can tell what services they rendered to their nation and to all mankind by pouring forth that ceaseless stream of intercession day and night for the averting of the judgments of divine wrath which the crimes and follies of men so richly deserved?
”What the sword is to the huntsman, prayer is to the monk,” says St.
Chrysostom; and well did they use this weapon for the spiritual and material benefit of all.
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