I refer to the remarkable passage of Sir Francis Palgrave, Normandy and England, iv. 438;
“Are we not told that ‘the Spirit of Chivalry was the parent and offspring of the Crusades?’ again that in ‘the accomplished character of the Crusader we discover all the virtues of a perfect Knight, the true Spirit of Chivalry, which inspired the generous sentiments and social offices of man?’—the Historian might reply in the words of a great Teacher, whose voice already resounds in History—‘I confess that if I were called upon to name what Spirit of evil predominantly deserved the name of Antichrist, I should name the Spirit of Chivalry: the more detestable for the very guise of the Archangel ruined, which has made it so seductive to the most generous spirits—but to me so hateful, because it is in direct opposition to the impartial justice of the Gospel, and its comprehensive feeling of equal brotherhood, and because it so fostered a sense of honour rather than a sense of duty.’… Take the huge folio of the Gesta Dei per Francos—search it boldly and honestly, turn over its fifteen hundred pages, examine their contents according to the rules of moral evidence, the praises the Writers bestow, and more than their praises, their blame; their commentaries upon deeds of cruelty, and more than their commentaries, their silence—and try how much you can extract which will justify any one of the general positions which the popular enthusiasts for Chivalry have maintained.”
The extract is from a letter of Arnold to Archdeacon Hare in 1829 (Life and Correspondence, i. 255). A note adds;
“‘Chivalry,’ or (as he used more frequently to call the element in the middle ages which he thus condemned) ‘feudality,’ is especially Keltic and barbarian—incompatible with the highest virtue of which man is capable, and the last at which he arrives—a sense of justice. It sets up the personal allegiance to the chief above allegiance to God and law.”
Nothing can be better; only it is not quite clear what Arnold meant by “Keltic;” continental chivalry must be carefully distinguished from devotion to the chief of the clan, though there is much analogy between the two feelings. But, as I have said elsewhere (N. C. vol. v. p. 483), chivalry is Norman rather than English and French rather than Norman; so in that sense it may be called “Keltic.”
Sir Francis Palgrave goes on to discuss one of the stories of the boasted generosity of Bayard. Like some others, it merely comes to this, that he did not act a part which would have been singularly shameful.
About chivalry and other kindred matters, I had my own say in an article on the Law of Honour in the Fortnightly Review, December 1876. But I must decline to pledge myself to Sir F. Palgrave’s condemnation of the crusades. All that he says is perfectly true of the crimes and follies in detail with which the crusades were disgraced. And in those days it would have been hard to carry out a crusade without a large measure of those crimes and follies. And this might be in itself a fair argument, though not one which the age would have understood, against undertaking any crusade at all. But I must hold that the general idea of the crusade itself was something high above all chivalry. I must hold that all the crusades before the fourth, whatever we say of the way in which they were carried out, were in themselves fully justifiable, both in morality and in policy. Surely, in all that bears on this matter, it is Cohen rather than Palgrave that speaks. With all his learning and acuteness, with all his lofty and Christian morality, his deep and wide-reaching sympathy with right and hatred of wrong in every shape, my illustrious predecessor in Norman and English history was still, as a man of the East, unable thoroughly to throw himself into the Western side of a great struggle between East and West.
The Purchase of the Côtentin by the Ætheling Henry.
I have told this part of my story as I find it in Orderic, whose account seems to me to be probable, and to hang well together, while it is confirmed, not indeed in every detail, but in its leading outlines, by the account in the Continuation of William of Jumièges; that is, by Robert of Torigny. But William of Malmesbury and Wace give quite different versions. That of William is found, not in the part of his work where he records the events of the reign of William Rufus, but at the beginning of his fifth book (v. 392), where he introduces the reign of Henry with a sketch of his earlier life. While the rebellion of 1088 is going on in England, and while Robert is waiting—waiting, our historian says, for a favourable wind—to go to help his supporters there, Henry, by the Duke’s order, goes away into Britanny (“Henricus in Britanniam ejus jussu abscesserat”). Meanwhile Robert spends on his mercenaries the money which the Conqueror had left to Henry, which is here cut down from 5000 pounds to 3000 marks—a mistake partly arising from a confusion between the whole sum left to Henry and the sum paid for the Côtentin (“Ille, occasione aucupata, omnem illam pecuniarum vim testamento patris adolescentulo legatam, quæ erat trium millium marcarum, in stipendiarios suos absumpsit”). Then follows a very confused story, how Henry came back and passed over the wrong in silence (“Henricus reversus, licet forsitan ægre tulisset, taciturna præteriit industria”); the reason given being the restoration of peace in England (“enimvero, nuntiata pacis compositione in Anglia, deposita militia ferias armis dedere”). He then goes away into some quarter where the Duke had given or promised him lands, but he is at the same time entrusted with the keeping of the castle of Rouen (“comes in sua, junior in ea quæ frater suus dederat vel promiserat, discessit; namque et in acceptum promissa referebat, custodiens turrim Rotomagi in ejus fidelitatem.” Or can these last words mean that Henry kept the castle of Rouen in pledge till the promised lands were actually put into his hands?). Presently, on the accusation of some very bad people—if the Bishop of Bayeux was one of them, he is not mentioned by name—Henry is unjustly kept in ward for half a year in this same tower of Rouen (“delatione pessimorum cessit in adversum fidelitas, et nulla sua culpa in ipso eodem loco Henricus libere custoditus est, ne servatorum diligentiam [who are the “servatores”?] effugio luderet”). Then he goes by William’s invitation to England, and enters the King’s service; there William keeps him for a year, making promises which he never fulfils. Robert meanwhile sends a message promising redress, on the strength of which Henry goes back to Normandy (“post medium annum laxatus, fratri Willelmo invitanti serviturum se obtulit; at ille, nihilo modestius ephebum remunerans, plus anno inanibus sponsionibus agentem distulit. Quapropter, Roberto emendationem facti per nuntios promittente, Normanniam venit”). There he was exposed to intrigues on the part of both his brothers, which are very darkly described; but he escapes from all danger, and, by seizing Avranches and some other castles, compels Robert to make peace with him (“amborum fratrum expertus insidias; nam et rex, pro repulsa iratus, ut retineretur frustra mandarat; et comes, accusatorum lenociniis mutatus, voluntatem verterat ut blanditiis attrectatum non ita facile dimitteret. Verum ille, Dei providentia et sagaci sua diligentia cuncta evadens pericula, occupatione Abrincarum et quorundam castellorum coegit fratrem libenter paci manum dedere”). Then comes the invasion of Normandy by William, the sedition at Rouen, the death of Conan by Henry’s own hand (see [p. 257]). Robert then ungratefully drives Henry from the city (“parum hic labor apud Robertum valuit, virum animi mobilis, qui statim ad ingratitudinem flexus, bene meritum urbe cedere coegit”). Then, without any explanation, comes the siege of Saint Michael’s Mount, which he had already described elsewhere (iv. 308). Of Domfront and Saint James we hear nothing.