were too short, and docking those who were too long; together with others of less note, and similar habits. That Plutarch believed in these stories is evident, from the tone in which he recites them; a corroboration, indeed, of no great weight, for he proceeds with equal gravity to relate things which no one will credit; but in this instance his account of the state of Greece gives warranty for his belief, and is itself confirmed by our knowledge of later ages. The passage has often been quoted, but it is striking, and to the purpose, and its want of novelty, therefore, shall be no bar to its insertion. 'The world at that time brought forth men, which for strongness in their arms, for swiftness of their feet, and for a generall strength of the whole body, did farre pass the common force of others, and were never weary for any labour or travail they took in hand. But for all this, they never employed these gifts of nature to any honest, or profitable thing; but rather delighted villainously to hurt and wrong others; as if all the fruit and profit of their extraordinary strength had consisted in cruelty and violence only, and to be able to keep others under and in subjection; and to force, destroy, and spoil all that came to their hands. Thinking that the more part of those which think it a shame to do ill, and commend justice, equity, and humanity, do it of faint, cowardly hearts, because they dare not wrong others, for fear they should receive wrong themselves; and, therefore, that they which by might could have vantage over others, had nothing to do with such qualities.'*

The enormities ascribed to Sinnis and his fellows have discredited the whole train of adventures to which they belong: but this is an untenable ground

*We quote here, and in future, from Sir Thomas North's translation, A.D. 1579. North translated from the French of Amyot. His version has been compared with the original, and corrected.

of doubt. He who reads descriptions of the state of England, before laws were strong enough to control private violence, given by contemporaries who saw what they relate, and whose narratives bear the impress of sincerity, will better appreciate the extent of human ferocity. In the reign of Stephen disorder was at its height. The barons cruelly oppressed the wretched men of the land with castle-works, and when the castles were made, they filled them with devils and evil men. Then took they those whom they supposed to have any goods, both by night and day, labouring men and women, and threw them into the prison for their gold and silver, and inflicted on them unutterable tortures: for never were any martyrs so tortured as they were. Some they hanged up by the feet, and smoked them with foul smoke, and some by the thumbs, or the head, and hung coats of mail on their feet. They tied knotted cords about their heads, and twisted them until the pain went to their brains. They put them into dungeons where were adders, and snakes, and toads, and so destroyed them. Some they placed in a crucet house; that is, in a chest that was short and narrow, and not deep, wherein they put sharp stones, and so thrust the man therein, that they broke all the limbs. In many of the castles were things loathsome and grim, called Sachenteges, of which two or three men had enough to bear one. They were thus made; they were fastened to a beam, having a sharp iron to go about a man's throat, so that he could in no direction either sit, or lie, or sleep, but bear all that iron. Many thousands they wore out with hunger. I neither can, nor may I tell all the wounds and pains, which they inflicted on wretched men in this land."*

Some, seeing the sweetness of their country turned

* Ingram's Saxon Chronicle.

into bitterness, went into foreign parts: others built hovels about churches in hope of security, and there passed life in fear and pain, subsisting for lack of food (for famine was felt dreadfully over all England) upon the forbidden and unused flesh of dogs and horses, or relieving hunger with raw herbs and roots, until throughout the provinces men, wasted by famine, died in crowds, or went voluntarily with their families into a miserable exile. You might see towns of famous name, standing lonely, and altogether emptied by the death of their inhabitants of all ages and sexes; the fields whitening under a thriving harvest, but the husbandman cut off by pestilential famine ere it ripened: and all England wore the face of grief and calamity, of misery and oppression. In addition to these evils, the savage multitude of barbarians who resorted to England for the gains of warfare was moved neither by the bowels of piety nor by any feeling of human compassion for such misery: everywhere they conspired from their castles to do all wickedness, being always at leisure to rob the poor, to promote quarrels, and intent everywhere upon slaughter with all the malice of a wicked mind.' Even churchmen amused themselves

with these pastimes. The bishops themselves, as I am ashamed to say, not all indeed, but many of them, clad in handsome armour, rode up and down on prancing horses with these upsetters of their country; shared in their booty; exposed to fetters, or torture, knights, or any wealthy persons soever, whom they intercepted; and being themselves the head and cause of all this wickedness, they threw the blame not on themselves, but only upon their followers.'*

Enough of general descriptions, which are fully borne out by the particulars related. 'In the reign

* Gesta Stephani, ap. Duchesne, Script. Normann. p. 961, 2.

of Stephen, Robert, the son of Hubert, had gotten possession of the castle of Devizes. He was a man exceeding all within memory in barbarity, and blasphemy, who used freely to make boast, that he had been present when twenty-four monks were burnt together with their church, and profess that he would do as much in England, and ruin utterly the abbey of Malmsbury. If he ever dismissed a prisoner unransomed, and without the torture, which very seldom happened, at such times, when they thanked him in God's name, I have with these ears heard him answer, "God will never own the obligation to me." He would expose his captives naked to the burning sun, anointed with honey, to attract flies, and such other tormenting insects.’* This worthy met with a fit end, being taken and hanged; but this act of retribution was one of illegal violence, being done by a knight who held Marlborough castle, without a shadow of authority, and apparently on the principle that any one had a right to abate a nuisance.

In these times (the reign of William Rufus) men come not to great name but by the highest wickedness. Thomas, a great baron near Laudun in France, was great in name, because he was extreme in wickedness. At enmity with the surrounding churches, he had brought all their wealth into his own exchequer. If any one by force or guile were holden in his keeping, truly might that man say, 'the pains of hell got hold upon me.' Murder was his glory and delight. Against all usage, he placed a countess in a dungeon, whom the foul ruffian harassed with fetters and

torments to extort money. He would speak words of peace to his neighbour, and stab him to the heart with a smile, and hence, under his cloak, he more often wore his sword naked than sheathed.

* William of Malmsbury, Hist. Novell, lib. ii.

Therefore, men feared, respected, worshipped him. All through France was he spoken of.

Daily did his estate, his treasure, his vassalage increase. Wouldst thou hear the end of this villain? being stricken with a sword unto death, refusing to repent, and turning away his head from the Lord's body, in such manner he perished: so that it might well be said, "Befitting to your life was that death." You have seen Robert de Belesme, a Norman baron, who when established in his castle was Pluto, Megæra, Cerberus, or any thing that can be named more dreadful. He took pains not to dismiss, but to despatch his captives. Pretending to be in play he put out his son's eyes with his thumbs, while he was muffled up in a cloak; he impaled persons of both sexes. Horrid slaughter was as a meat pleasant to his soul: therefore was he found in all men's mouths, so that the wonderful doings of Robert de Belesme passed into proverbs. Let us come at length to the end. He who had afflicted others in prison, being at last thrown into prison by King Henry, ended his wicked life by an enduring punishment.'*

The

It was this state of disorder which produced knighterrantry, and there is nothing absurd in believing that equal lawlessness in another country was checked by the same sort of interference. reality of knight-errantry has, indeed, been questioned; it has been pronounced a fiction, suited to the wants of the period in which it was supposed to exist. If this were so, and the tales of Hercules and Theseus equally groundless, it would still be curious to see that men had been led to imagine the same means of making amends for the want of an executive power: but we do not believe this to be the case. The romances gave system and consistency to the

* Henry of Huntingdon, De Episcopis sui temporis.