“Alas! who now shall grace my tournaments,
Or honour me with deeds of chivalry?
What shall become of all my merriments,
My ceremonies, shows of heraldry,
And other rites?”[127]
Military exercises being entirely disused, the mask, with its enchantments of music, poetry, painting, and dancing, was the only amusement of the court and nobility.
Life of Lord Cherbury.
And now in these last days of chivalry in England a very singular character appeared upon the scene. This was Edward Herbert, afterwards Lord Herbert of Cherbury, who was born at Eaton, in Shropshire, in the year 1581. His family were of the class of gentry, and had for many years executed various royal offices of military trust. His grandfather was a staunch royalist in the days of Edward VI., and Queen Mary; and he gained fortune, as well as fame: for it appears that his share of plunder in the wars in the north, and of the forfeited estates of rebels, was the foundation of the family wealth.
Chivalric fame of his family.
The valour of the Herberts rivalled that of the romantic heroes of chivalry. Edward has proudly reverted to his great-great grandfather, Sir Richard Herbert of Colebrook, as an incomparable hero, who twice passed through a great army of northern men alone, with his pole-axe in his hand, and returned without any mortal hurt. The courage which had been formerly displayed in the battle-field was, as times degenerated, reserved for private wrongs, and the patriot sank into the duellist. At the close of his life, Edward recollected, with pleasure, that one of his brothers had carried with him to the grave the scars of twenty-four wounds, many of them the results of private brawls. Another brother was gentleman of the King’s chamber, and the famous master of the revels; and he, too, had given several proofs of his courage in duels.
The infancy of Edward was so sickly that his friends did not think fit to teach him his alphabet till he was seven years old. He would have us believe, however, that he was wise though not early schooled; for when an infant he understood what was said by others, yet he forebore to speak, lest he should utter something that was imperfect or impertinent. When he began to talk, one of the first enquiries he made was how he had come into the world. He told his nurse, keeper, and others, that he found himself here indeed, but from what cause or beginning, or by what means, he could not imagine. The nurse stared, and other people wondered at this precocious wisdom; and when he reflected upon the matter in after life he was happy in the thought, that as he found himself in possession of this life, without knowing any thing of the pangs and throes his mother suffered, when doubtless they no less afflicted him than her, so he hoped that his soul would pass to a better life than this, without being sensible of the anguish his body would feel in death.[128]
He won the acquaintance of the learned languages, and other branches of juvenile literature, with great ease; and when at the age of twelve he was sent to Oxford, he tells us that he disputed at his first coming in logic, and made in Greek the exercises required in his college oftener than in Latin. He married at the age of fifteen, and then applied himself more vigorously than ever to study, particularly the continental languages: but to fence and to ride the great horse were his principal ambition, for such were the exercises in which the chivalry of his time were educated,—and he aspired to fame in every pursuit. From the same feeling of vanity that urged him to publish his deistical dogmas, he complacently says of himself that no man understood the use of his weapon better than himself, or had more dexterously availed himself thereof on all occasions.[129]
In the year 1600, he removed with his wife and mother from Montgomery-castle (the seat of his ancestors) to London, and, prompted by curiosity rather than ambition, he went to court; and as it was the manner of those times for all men to kneel down before the Queen, he was likewise upon his knees in the Presence Chamber, when she passed by to the chapel at Whitehall. As soon as she saw him, she stopped, and, swearing her usual oath, demanded, “Who is this?” Upon being made acquainted with his name and circumstances, the Queen looked attentively upon him, and again giving emphasis to her feelings by an oath, she said that it was a pity he was married so young, and thereupon gave him her hand twice to kiss, both times patting him on the cheek. He was made knight of the Bath by James I.; and with his usual vanity declares that his person was amazingly commended by the lords and ladies who attended the ceremony. The most handsome lady of the court pledged her honour for his, and then the strings of silk and gold were taken from his arm. These strings, as I have already mentioned, were worn by all the knights till they had achieved some high deed of arms, or till some lady of honour took them off, and fastened them on her sleeve, saying that she would answer her friend would prove a good knight. Like all other knights of the Bath he swore to do justice to the uttermost of his power, particularly to ladies and gentlewomen wronged in their honour, if they demanded assistance.
Soon after this circumstance, he was wearied both of literary and domestic pursuits, and he resolved to travel in foreign countries. His skill in fencing was now to be brought into play; for he tells us that in France, in his time, there was scarcely any man thought worthy regard who had not killed another in a duel.[130] He went to Paris, and was hospitably entertained at the neighbouring castle of Merlon, by Henry de Montmorenci, second son of the great Constable Anne de Montmorenci.