called out. The king wished to prevent his knights from accepting a challenge or resenting such personal insults. But they answered, "Sire, the honor of France is so naturally dear to her children, that, if the devil himself came to challenge us, he would find those among us prepared to fight him."

"At that time," says an old historian, "there were some knights from Spain and Portugal, three of whom, from the latter kingdom of high renown for chivalry, conceived the foolish design of fighting against three knights of France; but, as God is true, in less time than you might go on horseback from the gate of St. Martin to that of St. Antoine, the Portuguese were discomfited by their opponents."

The knights of England were the only champions who could withstand those of France. They, moreover, had fortune on their side, for we were tearing ourselves to pieces with our own hands. The battle of Poictiers, so ruinous to France, was nevertheless honorable to chivalry. The Black Prince, who, out of respect, would never sit down at the table of King John, his prisoner, thus addressed him :-" I am informed that you have great reason to be proud, though the issue has not been according to your wish; for you have this day gained a high reputation for valor, and have surpassed the bravest of your followers. I am not saying this out of compliment to you, sire, for all those of our people who saw both the one and the other are fully convinced of it, and accord you the praise which is your due."

A knight named Ribaumont, in an engagement which took place near the gates of Calais, twice brought Edward III. of England upon his knees; but the monarch, recovering himself, at length compelled Ribaumont to surrender. The English,

having gained the victory, returned to the town with their prisoners. Edward, accompanied by the Prince of Wales, gave a grand entertainment to the French knights, and, going up to Ribaumont, said to him, "Never did I see a knight assault his enemies with greater valor than you." The king then took the crown which he wore, and which was both handsome and rich, and, putting it on my lord Eustace, said to him, "My lord, I give you this crown as the most valiant soldier of the day. I

1 Journal de Paris sous Charles VI. et VII.

know that you are of a gay and amorous disposition, and that you are fond of the society of the ladies; therefore, tell them wherever you go that I gave it you. You are no longer a prisoner, and may depart to-morrow if you please."'1

Joan of Arc revived the spirit of chivalry in France; her arm is said to have wielded the famous sword of Charlemagne, which she had discovered in the church of St. Catherine de Fierbois, in Touraine.

If we were sometimes forsaken by fortune, our courage never failed. Henry IV., at the battle of Ivry, called out to his men, who began to fly, "Turn your heads, if not to fight, at least to see me die." Our soldiers in defeat might always repeat the expression suggested by the genius of the nation to the last French knight at the battle of Pavia, "We have lost every thing but our honor."

Such virtue and valor were certainly entitled to respect. If the hero died in his native land, chivalry in mourning gave him a magnificent funeral. If, on the contrary, he fell in distant expeditions,—if he had no brother in arms, no esquire to afford him the rites of sepulture,-heaven sent one of those recluses to bury him who then inhabited every desert, and who

... Su'l Libano spesso e su'l Carmelo

In aera magion fan dimoranza.

It was this that furnished Tasso with his admirable episode of Sweno. Every day an anchoret of Thebais or a hermit of Lebanon rescued the remains of some knight murdered by the infidels. The bard of Solyma has only lent to truth the language of the Muses:

"Then from the peaceful region of the night

I saw descend a ray of slanting light:

Where on the field the breathless corse was laid,

There full the lunar beam resplendent played,
And showed each limb deformed with many a wound,
'Midst all the mangled scene of carnage round.

He lay not prone, but, as his zealous mind

Still soared beyond the views of human kind,

In death he sought above the world to rise,

And claimed, with upward looks, his kindred skies.

1 Froissart.

One hand was closed, and seemed the sword to rear;
One pressed his bosom with a suppliant air,

As if to Heaven he breathed his humble prayer.

While thus intent, the sage's word I heard;

Where Sweno lay a sepulchre appeared

That, rising slow, by miracle disposed,
Within its marble womb a corse enclosed.
'Graved on the monumental stone were read
The name and merits of the warrior dead.
Struck with the sight, I stood with looks amazed,
And on the words and tomb alternate gazed.

Then thus the sage:-"Beside his followers slain
Thy leader's corse shall here enshrined remain;
While in the mansions of the blest above

Their happy souls enjoy celestial love."

But the knight who had formed in his youth these heroic attachments, which were not dissolved but with life itself, had no occasion to be afraid of dying alone in the desert. If the mira cles of heaven were not exerted in his behalf, he was at least attended by the miracles of friendship. Constantly accompanied by his brother-in-arms, he found in him officious hands to dig his grave and an arm to avenge his death. These sacred friendships were confirmed by the most awful oaths. Sometimes the two friends mingled their blood in the same cup; and, as a pledge of their mutual fidelity, they wore either a golden heart, a chain, or a ring. Love, though it so powerfully swayed the bosoms of the knights, had, on these occasions, but a secondary claim upon their hearts; and each succored his friend in preference to his lady.

One circumstance, however, was capable of dissolving these ties, and that was the enmity of their native countries. Two brothers-in-arms of different nations ceased to be united whenever those nations were at variance. Hugh de Carvalay, an English knight, was the friend of Bertrand Duguesclin. When the Black Prince had declared war against Henry of Castile, Hugh, obliged to part from Bertrand, came to take his leave of the latter, and said, "Gentle sir, we must part. We have been good company to one another, and, as we have always had a common purse, and I think I have received more than you, I beg that we

1 Jerusalem Delivered, canto viii.

may settle our accounts together." "No," said Bertrand; "that is but a trifling matter, which I should never have thought of. We have but to do good, and reason commands that you should follow your master. This is the line of conduct which every brave man must pursue. Our attachment was honorable, and so shall our separation also be; but it grieves me much that it must take place." Bertrand then embraced him, and all his companions likewise, and great lamentation attended their parting.1

This disinterestedness of the knights-this elevation of soul which acquired for some of them the glorious title of irreproach able-shall crown the delineations of their Christian virtues. This same Duguesclin, the flower and glory of chivalry, being a prisoner of the Black Prince, equalled the magnanimity of Porus when in the power of Alexander. The Prince having left the terms of his ransom to himself, he fixed it at an exorbitant sum. "Where will you get all that money?" asked the English hero in astonishment. "Of my friends," replied the haughty constable; "there is not a spinner in France who would not contribute her bobbin to release me out of your hands."

The English Queen, deeply impressed with the virtues of Duguesclin, was the first to give a large sum to procure the liberty of the most formidable enemy of her country. "Ah! madam,” cried the Briton knight, throwing himself at her feet, "I thought myself till now the ugliest man in France; but I begin to have not quite so bad an opinion of myself, since ladies make me such presents.".

1 Vie de Bertrand.

1

BOOK VI.

SERVICES RENDERED TO MANKIND BY THE CLERGY AND BY THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION IN GENERAL.

CHAPTER I.

IMMENSITY OF THE BENEFITS CONFERRED BY CHRISTIANITY.1

To have only a superficial acquaintance with the benefits conferred by Christianity would be, in fact, to know nothing of the subject. If we would understand the extent of her beneficence, we must enter into its details. We must consider the ingenuity with which she has varied her gifts, dispensed her succors, distributed her treasures, her remedies, and her intelligence. In soothing all the sorrows of humanity she has paid a due regard to its imperfection, consulting with a wise condescension even our delicacy of feeling, our self-love, and our frailties. During the few years that we have devoted to these researches, so many acts of charity, so many admirable institutions, so many inconceivable sacrifices, have passed in review before us, that we firmly believe that this merit alone of the Christian religion would be sufficient to atone for all the sins of mankind. Heavenly religion, that compels us to love those wretched beings by whom it is calumniated!

The facts which we are about to state form but a very small portion of the mass which we might have adduced, and many volumes could be filled with what has been omitted. Neither are we sure of having selected the most striking illustrations of Chris

On the subject of this whole part consult Helyot, Hist. des Ordres Relig. et Milit., 8 vols. 4to; Herrmant, Etab. des Ordres Relig.; Bonnani, Catal. omn. Ordin. Relig.; Giustiniani, Mennehius, and Schoonbeck's Histories of the Miliary Orders; Saint Foix, Essais sur Paris; Vie de Saint Vincent de Paul, Vies des Pères du Desert; Saint Basil, Oper.; and Lobineau, Hist. de Bretagne.