their duty, of a fine of twenty shillings for each offence. On the same days, the tilt-yard at the hall or castle was thrown open, and the young men of rank amused themselves with similar exercises. Fighting, or mock fighting—and the imitation was not unlike the reality—was at once the highest enjoyment and the noblest accomplishment of all ranks in the State; and over that most terrible of human occupations they had flung the enchanted halo of chivalry, decorating it with all the fairest graces, and consecrating it with the most heroic aspirations.
The chivalry, with much else, was often perhaps something ideal. In the wars of the Hoses it had turned into mere savage ferocity; and in forty years of carnage the fighting propensities had glutted themselves. A reaction followed, and in the early years of Henry VIII. the statutes were growing obsolete, and the 'unlawful games' rising again into favour. The younger nobles, or some among them, were shrinking from the tilt-yard, and were backward on occasions even when required for war. Lord Surrey, when waiting on the Border, expecting the Duke of Albany to invade the northern counties, in 1523, complained of the growing 'slowness' of the young lords 'to be at such journeys,'[1] and of their 'inclination to dancing, carding, and dicing.' The people had followed the example, and were falling out of archery practice, exchanging it for similar amusements. Henry VIII., in his earlier days
- ↑ Ellis's Original Letters, first series, vol. i. p. 226.
