es for patterns. When Pedro the Cruel
had prevailed upon the prince to defend his cause, the princess bitterly
bewailed her husband's decision. 'I see well,' said the prince, to whom
her expressions were related, 'that she wishes me to be always at her
side and never to leave her chamber. But a prince must be ready to win
renown and to expose himself to all kinds of danger, as in days of old
did Roland, Oliver, Ogier, the four sons of Aimon, Charlemagne, the great
Leon de Bourges, Juan de Tournant, Lancelot, Tristan, Alexander, Arthur
and Godfrey whose courage, bravery, and fearlessness, both warlike and
heroic, all the romances extoll. And by Saint George, I will restore
Spain to the rightful heir.'

Occleve, a little later, has no doubt as to the beneficial effects of
perusing the romances. Indeed he goes so far as to exhort his friend, Sir
John Oldcastle, to leave off studying Holy Writ, and to read 'Lancelot de
lake, Vegece, or the Siege of Troie or Thebes.' 'What do ye now,' says
Caxton in 'The Order of Chivalry,' 'but go to the baynes and playe atte
dyse? . . . Leve this, leve it, and rede the noble volumes of Saynt
Graal, of Lancelot, of Galaad, of Trystram, of Perseforest, of Percyval,
of Gawayn, and many mo. Ther shalle ye see manhode, curtosye, and
gentylnesse.'

What other system in this world could have bestowed that absolute
serenity of mind which those who practised chivalry retained amid the
tumults of their life? The Saracens, abashed by the tranquil spirit of
their royal prisoner, Louis IX., mistook his humility for pride. In vain
did they threaten him with torture: the king only replied 'Je suis
prisonnier du Sultan, il peut faire de moi a son vouloir.' And when at
last the Sultan's murderer rushed into his prison, his hands dripping
with blood, and crying, 'What will you give me for having destroyed him
who would have put you to death?' the king was more struck with horror at
the crime than with fear for his own safety, and remained motionless,
disdaining to answer. Thereupon the Saracen, maddened by a tranquillity
which he rightly attributed to the immense power of Christian chivalry,
presented the point of his blood-stained sword to the king's breast,
crying, 'Fais moi chevalier, ou je te tue.' 'Fais toi Chrestien,' replied
the intrepid king, 'et je te ferai chevalier.'

We are accustomed nowadays to look upon chivalry merely as a knightly
institution which had to do solely with tournaments, banqu