Get the full ebook with Bonus Features for a Better Reading Experience on ebookmeta.

com

Essentials of Pricing Analytics Tools and

Implementation with Excel 1st Edition Erik Haugom

https://ebookmeta.com/product/essentials-of-pricing-
analytics-tools-and-implementation-with-excel-1st-edition-
erik-haugom/

OR CLICK HERE

DOWLOAD NOW

Download more ebook instantly today at https://ebookmeta.com

 Recommended digital products (PDF, EPUB, MOBI) that
you can download immediately if you are interested.

Essentials of Cemented Knee Arthroplasty 1st Edition Erik

Hansen

https://ebookmeta.com/product/essentials-of-cemented-knee-
arthroplasty-1st-edition-erik-hansen/

ebookmeta.com

Advanced Analytics with Excel 2019 Perform Data Analysis

Using Excel s Most Popular Features 1st Edition Nigam

https://ebookmeta.com/product/advanced-analytics-with-
excel-2019-perform-data-analysis-using-excel-s-most-popular-
features-1st-edition-nigam/
ebookmeta.com

Essentials of Marketing Analytics 1st Edition Hair

https://ebookmeta.com/product/essentials-of-marketing-analytics-1st-
edition-hair/

ebookmeta.com

Enabling 6G Mobile Networks 1st Edition Jonathan Rodriguez

https://ebookmeta.com/product/enabling-6g-mobile-networks-1st-edition-
jonathan-rodriguez/

ebookmeta.com
Oxford IB Diploma Program Chemistry Course Companion 2nd
Edition Geoffrey Neuss

https://ebookmeta.com/product/oxford-ib-diploma-program-chemistry-
course-companion-2nd-edition-geoffrey-neuss/

ebookmeta.com

Introduction to Biomedical Engineering Third Edition

Solutions 3e Instructor s Solution Manual John Enderle
Joseph Bronzino
https://ebookmeta.com/product/introduction-to-biomedical-engineering-
third-edition-solutions-3e-instructor-s-solution-manual-john-enderle-
joseph-bronzino/
ebookmeta.com

Papers presented at the Eighteenth International

Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 2019 Volume
3 Deacons and Diakonia Bishops Presbyters and Laypeople
1st Edition Koet B.J.
https://ebookmeta.com/product/papers-presented-at-the-eighteenth-
international-conference-on-patristic-studies-held-in-
oxford-2019-volume-3-deacons-and-diakonia-bishops-presbyters-and-
laypeople-1st-edition-koet-b-j/
ebookmeta.com

Fall Into Me 1st Edition Terri Cutshall

https://ebookmeta.com/product/fall-into-me-1st-edition-terri-cutshall/

ebookmeta.com

Religion and Science The Basics The Basics 2nd Edition

Philip Clayton

https://ebookmeta.com/product/religion-and-science-the-basics-the-
basics-2nd-edition-philip-clayton/

ebookmeta.com
In the Case of Heartbreak Fern Falls 2 1st Edition
Courtney Kae

https://ebookmeta.com/product/in-the-case-of-heartbreak-fern-
falls-2-1st-edition-courtney-kae/

ebookmeta.com
Essentials of Pricing Analytics

This book provides a broad introduction to the field of pricing as a tactical function in
the daily operations of the firm and a toolbox for implementing and solving a wide range
of pricing problems.
Beyond the theoretical perspectives offered by most textbooks in the field, Essentials of
Pricing Analytics supplements the concepts and models covered by demonstrating prac-
tical implementations using the highly accessible Excel software, analytical tools, real-​life
examples and global case studies. The book covers topics on fundamental pricing theory,
break-​even analysis, price sensitivity, empirical estimations of price–​response functions,
price optimization, markdown optimization, hedonic pricing, revenue management, the
use of big data, simulation, and conjoint analysis in pricing decisions, and ethical and
legal considerations.
This is a uniquely accessible and practical text for advanced undergraduate, MBA
and postgraduate students of pricing strategy, entrepreneurship and small business
management, marketing strategy, sales and operations. It is also important reading for
practitioners looking for accessible methods to implement pricing strategy and maximize
profits.
Online resources include Excel templates and PowerPoint slides for each chapter.

Erik Haugom is Professor in Business Administration at Inland Norway University of

Applied Sciences, Norway.
“A refreshingly new approach to the teaching of pricing from a very practical point of
view.”
Nicholas Perdikis, Professor of International business,
Aberystwyth Business School, Aberystwyth University,
Wales, UK

“This book explains the impact of pricing on companies’ profit in a highly accessible way.
Excel examples help readers to further deepen their understanding of these topics. I highly
recommend this book to anybody who wants to learn the basics of pricing analytics in a
very short time.”
Peter Molnar, Associate Professor at University of Stavanger, Norway

“More and more businesses are embracing analytics. But not everyone can afford a price
analytics software. This book is a good way to get started, learn, and practice the pricing
fundamentals. The ‘cookbook’ approach breaks down the barriers to getting started. Now
every business professional can start answering real pricing questions by using a tool they
are familiar with.”
Stephan M. Liozu, Chief Value Officer of Thales Group

“Essentials of Pricing Analytics is a valuable and original contribution to the pricing lit-
erature. Managers and academics will appreciate up-to-date tools that enable them to esti-
mate demand curves, optimize prices and increase profits. Highly recommended.”
Andreas Hinterhuber, Associate Professor of Marketing,
Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, Italy
Essentials of Pricing Analytics

Tools and Implementation with Excel

Erik Haugom
First published 2021
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2021 Erik Haugom
The right of Erik Haugom to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him
in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised
in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or
hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,
and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-​in-​P ublication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​P ublication Data
Names: Haugom, Erik, 1982– author.
Title: Essentials of pricing analytics: tools and implementation with excel/Erik Haugom.
Description: New York: Routledge, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020026974 (print) | LCCN 2020026975 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780367363222 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367363239 (paperback) |
ISBN 9780429345319 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Pricing. | Pricing–Computer programs. |
Microsoft Excel (Computer file)
Classification: LCC HF5416.5 .H378 2021 (print) |
LCC HF5416.5 (ebook) | DDC 658.8/160285554–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020026974
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020026975
Figures 1.4, 9.3 and 9.5 are adapted from Pricing and Revenue Optimization by Robert L. Phillips.
Copyright © 2005 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Jr. University. All rights reserved.
Used by permission of the publisher, Stanford University Press, sup.org
ISBN: 978-​0 -​3 67-​3 6322-​2 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-​0 -​3 67-​3 6323-​9 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-​0 -​4 29-​3 4531-​9 (ebk)
Typeset in Times New Roman
by Newgen Publishing UK
Visit the eResources: www.routledge.com/​9 780367363239
To Alexander and Leon
Contents

About the contributors  viii

Preface  ix

1 Introduction  1
2 Fundamentals of price theory  12
3 Segmentation and price differentiation  36
4 Break-​even analysis  49
5 Price sensitivity and willingness to pay  64
6 Empirical estimations of price–​response functions  82
7 Price optimization  105
8 Case study: Optimal prices of movie theater tickets  128
9 Markdown optimization  154
10 The hedonic pricing model  169
11 Revenue management  178
12 Big Data and pricing analytics  188
13 Monte Carlo simulation for pricing decisions  218
14 Conjoint analysis for pricing decisions  245
15 Acceptance, ethics, and the law  264

Bibliography  274
Index  277
About the contributors

Author biography
Erik Haugom holds a PhD in Managerial Economics, Finance and Operations from
the Norwegian University of Science and Technology and an MSc in Business
Administration from Copenhagen Business School. His employment experi-
ence includes positions as a taxi driver in Lillehammer, child welfare, and research
planner at Omnicom Media Group. Today he is employed as a Professor in Business
Administration at Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences. He is also project
manager of the ongoing research project, Innovative Pricing Approaches in the Alpine
Skiing Industry. His special fields of interest include energy price and volatility model-
ling and forecasting, risk analysis, risk management, demand and price analyses, and
econometric modelling and forecasting in general.

Contributor biography
Andrew Musau is a senior research fellow at the Inland Norway University of Applied
Sciences and a statistical consultant for the social sciences research institute
Agderforskning. He obtained his PhD in Economics and Management from the
University of Trento. His research interests are in behavioural and experimental eco-
nomics, energy economics and macroeconomics.
Gudbrand Lien has a dr. oecon (PhD) in finance and a cand. oecon. degree in business
administration from the Norwegian School of Economics (NHH), and a cand. agric.
degree in agricultural economics from the Norwegian University of Life Sciences. He
is currently a Professor in Business Administration at Inland Norway University of
Applied Sciences. His main fields of research have been within energy finance, energy
economics, agricultural economics, quantitative innovation studies, and econometric
modelling in general.
newgenprepdf

Preface

Essentials of Pricing Analytics –​Tools and Implementations with Excel is written for academics
and practitioners who want a “cookbook approach” to learning and understanding pri-
cing analytics. The book is an introductory text to pricing analytics and offers the basic
theoretical foundation needed to understand the numerical examples better.
Most of the material in this book is at the introductory level and the majority of readers
should be able to follow the examples without any prior knowledge of the field of pricing
analytics. It is an advantage to have some prior knowledge of microeconomic theory, or
at least a strong interest in quantitative analysis in general. Some of the topics covered
are at a more advanced level. An example is the chapter on conjoint analysis for pricing
decisions.
I would like to thank the many people who have contributed to improving this text.
These include Steinar Veka, Gudbrand Lien, Iveta Malasevska, Sophia Levine, Emmie
Shand, Louise Bolotin and three anonymous reviewers.
I would also like to thank students of the course, Pricing and Revenue Management, at
the Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences for their valuable feedback on earlier
versions of the manuscript.
Finally, I send very special and warm thanks to Andrew Musau, who has contributed
with writing and editing parts of the manuscript.
Lillehammer, 2020
Chapter 1

Introduction

In this first chapter, the following topics will be covered:

• The purpose of the book.

• The impact of price management on profit.
• Pricing analytics.
• Who can use pricing analytics.
• Alternative approaches to pricing.

1.1 The purpose of the book

The purpose of this book is to provide a broad introduction to the field of pricing
analytics with a special focus on how the various models can be implemented in Excel.
My main goal is that you as a reader can be helpful to a current or future manager when
they want answers to specific questions related to the use of pricing as a tactical or oper-
ational function from day to day. Examples of such questions, which I want you to be
able to answer, include:

• Do we have an opportunity to use price as a tool to increase operating profits at all

in this company?
• What is the impact on operating profits from price improvements compared to
improvements in costs?
• What change in sales volume is required for a 5% price increase to break even?
• What is the break-​even sales change for a range of price changes?
• How can we determine the uncertainty associated with a volume change stemming
from a specific price change?
• How can we estimate our customers’ willingness to pay from historical transactions
or empirical data?
• How can we use information about our customers’ willingness to pay to form price–​
response functions and subsequently adjust the price to maximize profits?
• How can we sell the same product or service to different buyers at different prices to
increase profits?
• How can we dynamically adjust, and possibly mark down, the price to maximize
profits?
• How can we make use of big data to make better pricing decisions?
2 Introduction

• What would make our customers accept a new pricing scheme?

• What are the ethical and legal aspects we should be aware of before implementing
new pricing schemes?

More generally, the focus will be on introducing you to a range of basic techniques that
are useful in many practical business situations, rather than on the technical nuances of
algorithms. By following the instructions in the book, you should be able to reproduce
all the examples and/​or exercises using Microsoft Excel. If you are not familiar with
Microsoft Excel, you should spend some time in the beginning to familiarize yourself
with the interface and some basic formulas for doing simple calculations in a spreadsheet.
The book is accompanied by Excel files containing both the examples and solutions to
the problems at the end of each chapter.

1.2 The impact of price management on profit

To illustrate how changing the price can affect the profit, consider the following model
that computes the total profit accruing from the number of items sold, v:

Z = pv − cv v − c f (1.1)

In this model Z is the total profit, p is the price, cv is the variable unit costs, v is the
volume, that is; the number of items sold, and cf is the fixed costs. The first term ( pv) in
Equation (1.1) constitutes the revenues, while the two latter terms reflect the total costs.
A local coffee shop has done a market survey of consumers’ preferences related to
regular black coffee. The survey indicates that setting a price of $1 per cup will lead to
a demand of 100 cups per day. Increasing the price to $2 reduces demand by 40 cups/​
day. It turns out that the variable unit costs associated with producing one cup of coffee
are $0.50 and the fixed costs are $20 (this will not affect the solution; why?). What price
should the local coffee shop charge per cup of coffee to achieve the highest profit?
To help the manager of the coffee shop with this problem, we can calculate the total
profit using Equation (1.1) and check which of the two price levels induces the highest
profit. This problem is small enough to be solved with pencil and paper. However, as
this book makes extensive use of Microsoft® Excel, we shall do the calculations needed
to advise the manager on what price that maximizes the profit from selling coffee in an
Excel spreadsheet. Another reason for implementing the problem in Excel right away
is that we can adjust the calculations quickly once new information arrives. And soon
enough the problems we want to solve get so big that just using pencil and paper would
be a very tedious task.
The results of the Excel calculations are illustrated in Figure 1.1 and show that char-
ging a price of $2 is most profitable. By charging a price of $2 instead of $1, the total
profit ends up at $70 instead of $30 even though the sales volume is 40 cups lower per
day at the high price level. Even though this example is simple, it illustrates the major
impact price can have on demand and profit. Without doing the survey, and the subse-
quent analysis, the manager could wrongly believe that a price of $1 induces the highest
profit.
 Introduction 3

A B C D
1
COMPUTING TOTAL PROFIT FROM SELLING COFFEE
2
3
4 Price Demand Profit (Z) Formula
5 $1.00 100 30 =A5*B5-0.5*B5-20
6 $2.00 60 70 =A6*B6-0.5*B6-20

Figure 1.1 Implementation of the profit function for two price/​demand combinations in Excel.

However, it is important to note already at this stage that there could be several other
good reasons for setting a price of $1 to achieve a demand of 100 cups, even though
this price in isolation induce a lower profit compared to setting a price of $2. One such
reason could be that the coffee shop sells other items, such as cookies, and that this
bundling aspect justifies a lower profit on the coffee.
Another aspect worth mentioning is the potential bias occurring in a survey where we
ask about the customers’ intended behavior instead of measuring their real actions. It
turns out that there rarely is a 100% match between stated purchase preferences and real
purchase behavior.
The manager of the coffee shop is somewhat concerned about this potential bias
and decides to run a simple price experiment. For four consecutive weeks the price is
adjusted by $1 per week. The price/​demand data for the four weeks are handed over to
us and are presented in Table 1.1
This time we decide to impress the manager even more with our Excel skills and
choose to first depict the relation between the various price levels and the corresponding
demand. This is presented in Figure 1.2. The dots in this figure represent the quantity
demanded (Y-​axis) at each price level, which is referred to as a price–​response function in
pricing analytics. As the data points are discrete, we refer to it as a discrete price–​response
function. A price–​response function specifies the quantity of coffee cups demanded
at various price levels for this particular coffee shop and therefore contrasts with the
market demand curve for coffee. An illustration of the price–​response function will help
the manager to understand how the quantity of coffee demanded varies by price for her
own shop. The information in this graph can also indirectly be used to imagine how a
continuous price–​response function may look. This will become clear in later chapters.
The objective now, though, is still to set the price that will maximize the total profit
accruing from selling coffee. Hence, we should make it easy for the manager to make the
correct decision based on the data we have at hand. To do so, we can calculate the profit

Table 1.1 The price experiment results for the coffee shop

Week Price Demand

1 $1.00 121
2 $2.00 84
3 $3.00 42
4 $4.00 12
4 Introduction

140

120

100
Demanded quan ty
80

60

40

20

0
$0.00 $1.00 $2.00 $3.00 $4.00 $5.00
Price

Figure 1.2 A discrete price–​response function for coffee based on the data given in the text.

120

100

80

60

40

20

0
$1.00 $2.00 $3.00 $4.00

Figure 1.3 Total profit accruing from selling coffee at various prices.

using the same formula as in Figure 1.1 and then create a graph that shows the results.
This is done in Figure 1.3.
The graph clearly shows that charging a price of $2 induces the highest profit. In fact,
the difference between the optimal price and the next-​best price in this example is as
much as 25%. The impact from improved price management on operating profit has also
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
be in the Scheldt, struggling in his gun-boat against a gale which, in
spite of all his endeavors and seamanship, drove him ashore, under
the guns of the Belgians. A crowd of Belgian volunteers leaped
aboard, ordered him to haul down his colors and surrender. Von
Speyk hurried below to the magazine, fell upon his knees in prayer,
flung a lighted cigar into an open barrel of powder, and blew his ship
to atoms, with nearly all who were on board. If he, by this sacrifice,
prevented a Dutch vessel from falling into the enemy’s power, he
also deprived Holland of many good seamen. The latter country,
however, only thought of the unselfish act of heroism, in one who
had been gratuitously educated in the orphan house at Amsterdam,
and who acquitted his debt to his country, by laying down his life
when such sacrifice was worth making. His king and countrymen
proved that they could appreciate the noble act. The statue of Von
Speyk was placed by the side of that of De Ruyter, and the
government decreed that as long as a Dutch navy existed there
should be one vessel bearing the name of Von Speyk.
To return to the knights of earlier days, I will observe that indifferent
as many of them were to meeting death, they, and indeed other men
of note, were very far from being so as to the manner in which they
should be disposed of after death. In their stone or marble coffins,
they lay in graves so shallow that the cover of the coffin formed part
of the pavement of the church. Whittingham, the Puritan Dean of
Durham, took up many of their coffins and converted them into horse
or swine troughs. This is the dean who is said to have turned the
finely-wrought holy-water vessels into salting-tubs for his own use.
Modern knights have had other cares about their graves than that
alluded to above. Sir William Browne, for instance, one of George
II.’s knights, and a medical man of some repute, who died in 1770,
ordered by his will that when his coffin was lowered into the grave,
there should be placed upon it, “in its leathern case or coffin, my
pocket Elzevir Horace, comes viæ vitæque dulcis et utilis, worn out
with and by me.” There was nothing more unreasonable in this than
in a warrior-knight being buried with all his weapons around him.
And, with respect to warrior-knights and what was done with them
after death, I know nothing more curious than what is told us by
Stavely on the authority of Streder. I will give it in the author’s own
words.
“Don John of Austria,” says Stavely, “governor of the Netherlands for
Philip II. of Spain, dying at his camp at Buge” (Bouges, a mile from
Namur), “was carried from thence to the great church at Havre,
where his funeral was solemnized and a monument to posterity
erected for him there by Alexander Farnese, the Prince of Parma.
Afterward his body was taken to pieces, and the bones, packed in
mails, were privately carried into Spain, where, being set together
with small wires, the body was rejointed again, which being filled or
stuffed with cotton, and richly habited, Don John was presented to
the King, entire, leaning upon his commander’s staff, and looking as
if he were alive and breathing. Afterward the corpse being carried to
the Church of St. Laurence, at the Escurial, was there buried near
his father, Charles V., with a fitting monument erected for him.”
Considering that there was, and is, a suspicion that Philip II. had
poisoned his kinsman, the interview must have been a startling one.
But Philip II. was not, perhaps, so afraid of dead men as the fourth
Spanish king of that name. Philip IV., by no means an unknightly
monarch, was born on a Good Friday, and as there is a Spanish
superstition that they who are born on that day see ghosts whenever
they pass the place where any one has been killed or buried, who
died a violent death, this king fell into a habit of carrying his head so
high, in order to avoid seeing those spirits, that his nose was
continually en l’air, and he appeared to see nobody.
Romance, and perhaps faithful history, are full of details of the
becoming deaths of ancient knights, upon the field. I question,
however, if even Sir Philip Sidney’s was more dignified than that of a
soldier of the 58th infantry, recorded in Nichols’s “Anecdotes of the
Eighteenth Century.” A straggling shot had struck him in the
stomach. As he was too dreadfully wounded to be removed, he
desired his comrades would pray by him, and the whole guard knelt
round him in prayer till he died. Bishop Hurd remarked, when this
was told him, that “it was true religion.” There was more of religion in
such sympathy than there was of taste in the condolence of Alnwick,
on the death of Hugh, Duke of Northumberland—a rather irascible
officer, and Knight of the Garter. “O,” cried the Alnwick poet—

“O rueful sight! Behold, how lost to sense

The millions stand, suspended by suspense!”

But all fruitlessly were the millions so suspended, for as the minstrel
remarked in his Threnodia—

“When Time shall yield to Death, Dukes must obey.”

“Dying in harness,” is a favorite phrase in chivalric annals to illustrate

the bravery of a knight falling in battle, “clothed in complete steel.”
So to die, however, was not always to die in a fray. Hume says of
Seward, Earl of Northumberland, that there are two circumstances
related of him, “which discover his high sense of honor and martial
disposition. When intelligence was brought to him of his son
Osborne’s death, he was inconsolable till he heard the wound was
received on his breast, and that he had behaved with great gallantry
in the action. When he found his own death approaching, he ordered
his servants to dress him in a complete suit of armor, and sitting
erect on the couch, with a spear in his hand, declared that in that
position, the only one worthy of a warrior, he would patiently await
the fatal moment.”

See how the chief of many a field

Prepares to give his latest breath;
And, like a well-trimmed warrior, yield
Becomingly t’impending death—
That one, stern conqueror of all,
Of chieftain in embattled tower,
Of lord within his ancient hall,
And maiden in her trellised bower.

To meet that surest of all foes,

From off his soft and pillowed bed,
With dignity old Seward rose,
And to a couch of state was led.
Fainting, yet firm of purpose there,
 Stately as monarch on his throne,
Upright he sat, with kingly air,
To meet the coming foe, alone.

“Take from these limbs,” he weakly cried,

“This soft and womanish attire;
Let cloak and cap be laid aside—
Seward will die as died his sire:
Not clad in silken vest and shirt,
Like princes in a fairy tale;
With iron be these old limbs girt—
My vest of steel, my shirt of mail.

“Close let my sheaf of arrows stand;

My mighty battle-axe now bring;
My ashen spear place in my hand;
Around my neck my buckler sling.
Let my white locks once more be pressed
By the old cap of Milan steel;
Such soldier’s gear becomes them best—
They love their old defence to feel.

“’Tis well! Now buckle to my waist

My well-tried gleaming blade of Spain
My old blood leaps in joyful haste
To feel it on my thigh again.
And here this pendent loop upon,
Suspend my father’s dagger bright;
My spurs of gold, too, buckle on—
Or Seward dies not like a knight.”

’Twas done. No tear bedimmed his eyes—

His manly heart had ne’er known fear;
It answered not the deep-fetched sighs
Of friends and comrades standing near.
Death was upon him: that grim foe
Who smites the craven as the brave.
With patience Seward met the blow—
Prepared and willing for the grave.

The manner of the death, or rather of the dying of Seward, Earl of

Northumberland, was in part, unconsciously, imitated by the great
Mansfeldt. When the career of the latter was nearly at its close, his
fragile frame was already worn out by excess of action—his once
stout soul irritated by disappointment, and his former vigorous
constitution shattered by the ravages of a disease which had long
preyed on it in secret. The erst gallant knight lay helpless in the
miserable village of Zara, in Dalmatia. As he found his last moment
drawing near, he put on one of his richest uniforms, and girded his
favorite sword to his side. It was the one he most constantly carried
in battle. Thus accoutred, he summoned his chief officers to attend
him. He was held up by the two whom he most wished to distinguish,
because of their unwavering fidelity. Thus upheld, he exhorted all to
go on, unwearied, in the path of glory; and, living or dying, never to
bate a breath of inveterate hatred for Austria—whose government
has been accursed in all time, since there has been an Austria, for
its unmitigated infamy. “With the indifference of a man preparing for a
journey of no extraordinary importance,” thus speaks Naylor, when
describing the scene, “he continued tranquilly to converse with his
friends to the latest moment of his existence. His body was interred
with military pomp at Spalatio, in Dalmatia, at the expense of the
Venetians. Thus was the emperor delivered from an enemy who,
though often defeated, never ceased to be formidable; and whose
transcendent genius was so fertile in resources, that, without the
smallest funds to support the expenses of war, he maintained an
honorable contest during seven campaigns against the most
powerful monarchs in Europe.”

His hour at length is come:

The hero of a hundred fields,
Who never yielded, only yields
To Him who rules the tomb.

He whose loud trumpet’s blast,

Carried upon the trembling gale
The voice of death o’er hill and dale,
Is struck himself at last.

The same who, but of late,

Serenely saw destruction hurled,
And slaughter sweeping through the world,
Serenely meets his fate.
 The spirit of the brave,
That led him o’er the embattled plain
’Gainst lines of foes, o’er countless slain,
Waits on him to the grave.

And with his latest breath

The warrior dons his proud array,
Prepared to meet, and to obey,
His last commander—Death!

The mournful tears and sighs

Fall not for him who, like the swan,
Wears his best plumes, sings sweetly on,
Sounds his last song—and dies!

With regard to the burial of knights, we may observe that, down to a

comparatively late period the knights and barons of England were
buried with much solemn splendor. At the obsequies of a baron,
there was an official present who wore the armor of the defunct,
mounted a horse in full trappings, and carried the banner, shield, and
helmet, of the deceased. So, in Henry the Eighth’s time, Lord William
Courtney was buried with the ceremonies observed at the funeral of
an earl, to which rank it had been the king’s intention to elevate him.
On this occasion Sir Edmund Carew, a gallant knight, rode into the
church in full armor, with the point of his battle-axe downward—a
token, like a reversed torch, of death.
The latest instance I have met with of a union of ancient and modern
customs at the burial of a knight, occurred at Treves, in 1781, at the
interment of the Teutonic knight, General Frederick Casimir. This
gallant soldier’s charger was led to the brink of the grave in which
the body had just been deposited; the throat of the steed was swiftly
cut by an official, and the carcass of the horse was flung down upon
the coffin of the knight. Such sacrifices were once common enough.
At the funerals in England of cavalry soldiers, or of mounted officers,
the horse is still processionally conducted to the brink of the grave,
but we are too wisely economical to leave him there, or to fling him
into it.
Where chivalry had great perils and temptations, we need not be
surprised to find that there were many scions of noble houses who
either declined to win spurs by encountering mortal danger, or who
soon grew weary of making the attempt. Let us, then, consider the
unambitious gentlemen who grew “tired of it.”
 THE KNIGHTS WHO GREW “TIRED OF IT.”
“How blest are they that waste their weary hours
In solemn groves and solitary bower
Where neither eye nor ear
Can see or hear
The frantic mirth
And false delights of frolic earth;
Where they may sit and pant,
And breathe their pursy souls;
Where neither grief consumes, nor griping want
Afflicts, nor sullen care controls!
Away false joys! Ye murder where ye kiss;
There is no heaven to that, no life to this.”
Francis Quarles.

As marriage or the cloister was the alternative submitted to most

ladies in the days of old, so young men of noble families had small
choice but between the church and chivalry. Some, indeed,
commenced with arms, won knightly honors, cared nothing for them
when they had obtained the prize, and took up the clerical
profession, or entered monasteries. There are many distinguished
examples. There was first St. Mochua or Cluanus, who, after serving
in arms with great distinction, entered a monastery and took to
building churches and establishing cities. Of the former he built no
less than thirty; and he passed as many years in one church as he
had built of churches themselves. He was the founder of one
hundred and twenty cells. He is to be looked upon with respect. Old
warriors in our own days are often moved by the same impulse
which governed Mochua; and when we see retired admirals taking
the chair at meetings where Dr. Cumming is about to exhibit; or
infirm major-generals supporting, with unabated mental energy, their
so-called Puseyite pastors, we only look upon men who, acting
conscientiously, are worthy of respect, and are such Mochuas as
modern times and circumstances will admit of.
We have another example in Adelard, the cousin of Charlemagne.
He was a gay and gallant chevalier at his imperial cousin’s court,
and there was no stouter wielder of a sword in all the army; but
Alard, or Adelard, grew weary of camp and court alike. He fled from
some very pretty temptations in the one, as well as great perils in the
other. The young prince, he was only twenty, took the monastic habit
at Corbie, where he was employed as a gardener, and spoiled
cartloads of vegetables before he got his hand and his thoughts to
his new profession. He was occasionally busy too in the kitchen, but
not to the visible gratification of the monks. Charlemagne often
insisted on his appearing at court, where at last he held one or two
high offices; and, when he left, wrote a book for the guidance of
courtiers generally, by which the latter as little profited, say wicked
wits, as other nobility, for whom a nation has long prayed that grace,
wisdom, and understanding might be their portion. St. Adelard, for
the imperial knight was canonized, lived to be the chief authority in
the monastery where he had commenced as cook and gardener, and
St. Gerard composed an office in his honor, in gratitude for having
been cured of a violent headache through the saint’s interposition.
This seems to me one of the oddest ways of showing gratitude for a
small service that I ever heard of.
I believe that St. Cedd, Bishop of London, in very early days, was
also of a family whose profession was military. When or why he
entered the church I do not know; but he has some connection with
military matters in the fact that Tilbury Fort occupies part of the site
of a monastery which St. Cedd had founded, in which he resided,
and which was the pride of all the good people in the then pleasant
and prosperous city of Tillabury.
Touching St. Aldric, Bishop of Mans, there is no doubt whatever. He
was of a noble family, and commenced life at twelve years old, as
page to Louis le Debonnaire, at the court of Charlemagne. He was
speedily sick of the court, and as speedily sick of the camp. At the
age of twenty-one he withdrew to Metz, entered the clerical
profession, and became chaplain and confessor to the sovereign
whom he had once served as page. His military training made him a
very sharp disciplinarian during the quarter of a century that he was
bishop; and it is only to be regretted that he had not some influence
over the king whose conscience he directed, and of whom a legend
will be found in another part of this volume.
There was a second son of Eric, King of Denmark, known by the
name of St. Knudt or Canute. He was Duke of Schleswig, and was
much more of a monk than a duke. He was canonized accordingly
for his virtues. He had a rough way of joking. His knights were
nothing better than robbers and pirates, and he resolved to make
them forswear violence and live peaceably. They represented, in
vain, that they had a right to live as became knights, which Canute
did not dispute; he simply dissented from the construction of the right
as set down by the knights themselves. To prevent all mistakes on
the matter, he one day condemned seven of these gentlemen to be
hanged for acts of piracy. One of these exclaimed that, “fitting as the
sentence might be for his fellows, there must necessarily be
exemption for him.” He was like the German corporal in the “Etoile
du Nord,” who can very well understand that it is quite proper that a
man should be hanged, but could not comprehend that he himself
should be the man. The Schleswig knight claimed special exemption
on the ground that he was a kinsman of Canute. The latter allowed
that this entitled him to some distinction, and the saintly duke hung
his cousin six feet higher than any of his accomplices.
We come back more immediately to a knight who grew tired of his
vocation, in the person of Nathalan, a Scottish noble of the fifth
century. He sold arms, horses, and estate, divided the proceeds
among the poor, and devoted himself to preparations for ordination,
and the cultivation of vegetables. He bears a highly respectable
reputation on the roll of Bishops of Aberdeen.
We meet with a man more famous, in Peter of Sebaste, whose
pedigree showed more heroes than could be boasted by any of
Peter’s contemporaries. He is not an example, indeed, of a man
quitting the camp for the cloister; but he and two of his brothers
exhibit to us three individuals who might have achieved great worldly
profit, by adopting arms as a vocation, but who preferred the Church,
and became, all three, bishops.
We have a similar example in the Irish St. Felan. His high birth and
great wealth would have made him the flower of Irish chivalry, but he
selected another profession, and despising chivalry, entered the
Church. He went a Mundo ad Mundum, for it was from the hands of
Abbot Mundus that he received the monastic habit. Thus, as it was
wittily said, the world (Mundus) at once drove and drew him into the
Church. It is clear, however, that, like the old war-horse, he pricked
up his ears at the sound of battle, and took an interest in stricken
fields. To such conclusion we must come, if it be true, as is asserted
of him, that the battle of Bannockburn, in 1314, was won by Bruce
through the saint’s especial intercession. The Dukes of Normandy
owed equal obligations to St. Vaneng, who unbuckled the armor from
his aristocratic loins, to cover them with a frock; and built churches
for the Normans, where he offered up continual prayer for the
Norman dukes.
Then again, there was William Berringer, of the family of the Counts
of Nevers. No persuasion could induce the handsome William to
continue in the career he had embraced, the career of chivalry and
arms. His uncle, Peter the Hermit, may have had considerable
influence over him, and his change of profession was by no means
unprofitable, for the once horse-loving William became Archbishop of
Bourges: and he defended the rights of his Church against kings and
councils with as much boldness, zeal, and gallantry, as any knight
could have exhibited against the stoutest of assailants.
Among our English saints, the one who most nearly resembles him
is St. Egwin, who was of the royal blood of the Mercian kings, and
who, after a short trial of the profession of arms, retired to the
cloister, but was ultimately raised to the see of Worcester. The spirit
of the man may perhaps be seen through the legend which says that
on setting out on a penitential pilgrimage to Rome, he put iron
shackles on his legs, the key of which shackles he flung into the
Avon. This is very possible; but when we are told that on requiring
the key at a subsequent period, he found it inside a fish, we see that
the author of the legend has plagiarized from the original constructor
of the story of Polycrates and his ring.
St. Egwin was far less a benefactor to his fellow-men than St.
Benedict Biscop, a noble knight of the court of Oswi, the pious king
of the Northumbrians. When Benedict, or Bennet, as he is familiarly
called, retired from the profession of arms to follow that of the
Church, he continued quite as active, and twice as useful, as he had
been before. He was a great traveller, spent and gave liberally, and
brought over with him, from the continent, workers in stone to erect
that monastery at Weremouth which, in its ruins, commemorates his
name and deeds. He also brought from France the first glaziers who
ever exercised the art of glass-making in England. Altogether St.
Bennet is one of those who find means to effect good to others,
whatever may be the position they are in themselves.
Aelred of Ridal was a man of similar quality. He was a young North-
of-England noble, when he figured as the handsomest cavalier at the
court of that “sair saint to the Church,” the Scottish king, David. He
was remarkable for his good temper, and was as well-disciplined a
monk as he had been a military man; for when he once happened to
inadvertently break the rule of permanent silence, which prevailed in
the monastery at Ridal, into which he entered at the age of twenty-
five, he became so horror-stricken that he was eager to increase the
penalty put upon him in consequence. He had only dropped a single
word in the garden, to a monk who, like himself, had been a knight,
but who gave him in return so edifying a scowl, that in an instant
poor Aelred felt all the depth of his unutterable iniquity, and
accounted himself as criminal as if he had set fire to the neighboring
nunnery. He never afterward allowed himself the indulgence of
reading his favorite Cicero, but confined his reading to his own work
“On Spiritual Friendship,” and other books of a similar description.
The great St. Hilary was another of the men of noble family following
arms as a vocation, who gave up the profession for that of the
Church, and prospered remarkably in consequence. St. Felix of Nola
affords us an additional illustration of this fact. This noble young
soldier found no happiness in the business of slaughtering, and all
the sophistry in the world could not persuade him that it was
honorable. “It is a disgusting business,” said the Saint, “and as I can
not be Felix [happy] in performing it, I will see if I can not be Felix in
the Church;” and the punning saint found what he sought.
There is something more wonderful in the conversion of St. Maurus.
He was the son of a nobleman, had St. Benedict for a tutor, and was
destined to the career of arms. The tutor, however, having awoke
him one night, and sent him to pick a monk out of the river, whom
Benedict, in a dream, had seen fall in, Maurus, although no
swimmer, obeyed, walked upon the surface of the water, pulled out
the struggling monk, walked back with him, arm-in-arm, to the shore,
and immediately concluded that he was called to another vocation
than that of arms. As for St. John Calybyte, he would not be a
soldier, but ran away from home before his wealthy sire could
procure him a commission, and only returned to stand, disguised as
a mendicant, in front of his father’s house, where he received alms
till he died. A curious example of idiosyncrasy. St. Honoratus was
wiser. He was of a consular family; but, in declining the military
profession, he addressed himself with sincerity to be useful in the
Church; and the well-deserved result was that he became
Archbishop of Arles. St. Anthony, the patriarch of monks, made still
greater sacrifices, and chose rather to be a hermit than a
commander of legions. St. Sulpicius, the Debonnair, was both rich
and good-looking, but he cared less for helmet and feathers than for
cord and cowl, and the archbishopric of Bourges rewarded his self-
denial. There was more than one King Canute too, who, though not
surrendering royalty and generalship of armies, seemed really more
inclined, and indeed more fitted, to be studious monks than
chivalrous monarchs. Wulstan of Worcester was far more decided,
for finding himself, one night, most warmly admiring the young lady
who was his vis-à-vis in a dance, the gallant officer was so shocked
at the impropriety, that he made it an excuse for taking to the cowl
forthwith. He did not so ill by the exchange, for the cowl brought him
to the mitre at Worcester.
St. Sebastian was a far bolder man, seeing that although he hated a
military life, he, to the very utmost, did his duty in that state of life to
which it had pleased God to call him; and if half be true of what is
told of him, there never was knight of the actual days of chivalry who
performed such bold and perilous actions as St. Sebastian. What
was a cavalier, pricking against a dragon, to a Roman officer
preaching Christianity to his men, under Diocletian?
In later days we meet with St. Raymund of Pennafort, the wealthy
young lord, who, rather than serve for pay or plunder, went about
teaching philosophy for nothing. St. John, the Patriarch of
Alexandria, might have been known as a conqueror, but he preferred
being handed down, under the title of the Almoner. He was like that
St. Cadoc who chose rather to be abbot in, than prince of, Wales. St.
Poppo of Stavelo exhibited similar humility. He was rapidly rising in
the Flandrian army when he suddenly sunk into a cell, and became a
sort of Flemish John Wesley. He preached against all tournaments,
but only succeeded in abolishing the very exciting combats between
a knight and a bear, which were greatly patronized by Flemish
ladies, and at which parties staked great sums upon their favorite
animal.
St. Francis of Sales, on the other hand, that gentlemanly saint, was
saved from the knightly career which his noble birth seemed to
promise him, by a vow made by his mother, before he was born. She
was resolved that he should be a saint and not a soldier, and as all
things went as the lady desired, she placed her son in a position
direct for the Church, and the world certainly lost nothing by the
matron’s proceeding. I respect St. Francis of Sales all the more that
he had small human failings, and did not scatter damnation over
men whom he saw in a similar concatenation. Sulpicius Severus
was, in many respects, like him, save that he had some experience
of a soldier’s life. But he laid down the sword for the pen, and gave
us that admirable historical romance, in which he details so
graphically the life of another noble warrior, who quitted the
command of soldiers, to take up the teaching of men—St. Martin of
Tours.
There was a lady, St. Aldegonde, of the royal blood of France, in the
seventh century, who at least encouraged young knights to abandon
their fancied vocation, and assume that of monks or friars. She was,
most undeservedly, I dare say, assailed by scandalizing tongues
accordingly. Indeed, I never heard of lady more persecuted in this
way, except perhaps this particular lady’s namesake, who once
belonged to the gay troupe of the Varietés, and to whom the most
rattling of chansonniers alluded, in the line of a song, which put the
significant query of

Que fait Aldegonde avec le monde entier?

One of the most remarkable features in the characters of many of

these young nobles who were disinclined to take up arms, or who
laid them down for the religious vocation, is the dread they
entertained of matrimony. In illustration of this fact, I may notice the
case of St. Silvin of Auchy. There was not a gayer or braver knight at
the court of Childeric II., nor a more welcome wooer among the
ladies. In due time he proposed to a noble maiden, who was in a
flutter of happiness at the thought of carrying off such a bachelor
from a host of competitors. The wedding was brilliant, up to the
conclusion of the ceremony. That over, no persuasion could induce
the bridegroom to go to the breakfast. As he had been brought to the
altar, there he was resolved to remain. He denounced all weddings
as wicked vanities, and darting out of the church-door, left bride and
bridal party to take what course they would. There was no end of
conjectures as to the cause of the sudden fright which had seized
upon the young bridegroom. The latter set it down to inspiration, and
as he took to the cowl and led a most exemplary life, no one
presumed to doubt it, except the bride and her relations.
The case of St. Licinius is easier of explanation. He was the most
rollicking knight-bachelor at the court of Clotaire I. It must, however,
be said for him that he sowed his wild oats early, and fought none
the less stoutly for going to mass daily, and confessing once a
quarter. He was rich, and had a maiden neighbor who was richer.
The families of knight and maiden were united in thinking that the
estates of the two, encircled in one ring fence, would be one of the
most desirable of consummations. The maiden was nothing loath,
the knight alone was reluctant. He too, had his doubts about the
excellence of marriage, and it was only with very considerable
difficulty he was brought to woo the lady, who said “Yes” before the
plume in his bonnet had touched the ground when he made his bow
to her. The wedding-day was fixed, and as the old epitaph says,
“wedding-clothes provided.” On the eve of the eventful day, however,
Licinius, on paying a visit to the bride, found her suddenly attacked
with leprosy. The doctor protested that it would be nothing, but
Licinius declared that it was a warning which he dared not neglect.
He looked at the leprous lady, muttered the word “unpleasant,” and
at once betook himself, not to active military life, but to a religious
mission. In this occupation he is alleged to have performed such
miracles as to deserve canonization, if only the half of them were
true.
Now, a bride afflicted with leprosy may fairly be said to be an
unpleasant sight. Licinius may even be considered authorized to
hesitate in performing his promise, if not in altogether declaring off.
We can not say as much in extenuation of another knight who broke
his word to a lady, and was clapped into the Roman calendar of
deified men. This gentleman in question had a rather unchristian-
sounding name. He was called Abraham of Chiduna. At tilt and
tournament, and in tented field, there was no cavalier who sat more
perfectly in saddle, or handled his lance and wielded his battle-axe
with more terrible effect. He was of noble birth, of course; was
wealthy, somewhat addicted to light living, in his salad days, but a
man who lived soberly enough when those were over. He then
resolved to marry, and he had the “good taste,” if one may use a
term which, we are told, belongs to the literary milliner’s vocabulary,
to offer himself to, and ask the hand of a very pious maiden with a
highly satisfactory dower. The required conclusion was soon come
to, and one fine spring morning saw the two principals and their
respective friends in church. The knight, it is true, was the last to
arrive, and he had been, previously, as unwilling to get up and be
married, as Master Barnardine was to get up and be hanged. He
was finally brought to the altar, and after some little delay, such as
searching for the ring which he had misplaced, and only recovered
after much search, the nuptial knot was tied. When this had been
accomplished, surrounding friends approached to offer their
congratulations; but the icy Abraham coldly waved them back, and
announced his determination, then and there, to end his short-lived
married state. As he immediately rushed into the wood which was in
the vicinity of the church, there was a universal cry that he
contemplated suicide. The bride was conveyed home amid much
sympathy, and a general but an ineffectual search was made for the
“groom.” Yet, not altogether ineffectual, for at the end of seventeen
days he was discovered, offering up his orisons, in the midst of a
marsh. There he had been, he said, for a fortnight, and there he
declared he would remain, unless those who sought him consented
to the terms he should propose. These were, that he should be
allowed to retire to a cell which should be entirely walled up, save a
small square aperture for a window. The agreement was ratified, and
Abraham was shut up according to his desire; and by a long life of
seclusion, passed in preaching to all who approached the window,
and taking in all they brought through the same aperture, Abraham
has had “Beatus” attached to his name, and that name has been
recorded upon the roll of saints.
If there be any reader who objects to this story as unnatural, I would
remark to the same, that similar incidents may be met with in our
own time. In proof thereof I will briefly relate an anecdote which was
told me by the reverend father of a legal knight, who was himself the
officiating minister at the ceremony of which I am about to speak.
To the clergyman of a pretty village in Wales, due notice had been
given, and all preliminary legal observances having been fulfilled, he
awaited in his vestry, ready to marry an ex-sergeant and one of the
girls of the village. The canonical hours were fast gliding away, and
yet the priest was not summoned to the altar. By certain sounds he
could tell that several persons had assembled in the church, and he
had two or three times seen a pretty face peeping in at the vestry-
door, with a look upon it of pleasure to see that he was still there,
and of perplexity as if there was something to be told which only
waited to be asked for. At half-past eleven the face again peeped in,
whereupon the clergyman invited the owner of it to approach nearer.
The invitation was obeyed, and the clergyman inquired the reason
for the unusual delay, remarking at the same time, that if the parties
were not speedily prepared it would be too late to perform the
ceremony that day.
“Well sir,” said the nymph, “I was about asking your advice. I am the
bride’s sister; and there is a difficulty—”
“What is it?” asked the priest.
“Just this, sir,” said Jenny. “Sergeant Jones has promised to marry
sister Winnifred if father will put down five pounds. Father agrees;
but he says that if he puts down the money before the marriage, the
sergeant will walk off. And the sergeant will not come up to be
married till the money is put down. So, you see, sir, we are in a
terrible difficulty; and we want you to propose a method to get us out
of it.”
“There is nothing easier,” said the minister; “let your father put the
money into the hands of a trusty third person, who will promise to
place it in the sergeant’s possession as soon as he has married your
sister.”
Jenny Morgan saw the excellence of the device in a moment, rushed
back to the bridal parties, and they showed their appreciation of the
clergyman’s suggestion, by crowding to the altar as soon as the
preliminary proceeding recommended to them had been
accomplished. At length the clergyman came to the words, “Wilt thou
have this woman to thy wedded wife?”
“Jack,” said the ex-sergeant, looking round at the stake-holder, “have
you got the cash?”
“All right!” nodded Jack.
“Then I will,” said the sergeant; “and now, Jack, hand over the tin.”
The agreement was rigidly fulfilled; but had not the minister thought
of the means which solved the difficulty, Sergeant Jones would have
been nearly as ungallant to his lady as Abraham, Silvin, and Licinius,
had been to theirs.
But to return to Abraham. I have said this knight, on assuming his
monkly character, had caused himself to be walled up in his cell. I
have my suspicions, however, that it was a theatrical sort of wall, for
it is very certain that the saint could pass through it. Now, there
resided near him a lady recluse who was his “niece,” and whose
name was Mary. The two were as inseparable as the priest Lacombe
and Madame Guyon; and probably were as little deserving of
reproach. This Mary was the original of “Little Red Riding Hood.” She
used to convey boiled milk and butter, and other necessary matters
to her uncle Abraham. Now it happened that the ex-knight used also
to be visited by a monk whose name was Wolf, or who, at all events,
has been so called by hagiographers, on account of his being quite
as much of a beast as the quadruped so called. The monk was wont
to fall in with Mary as she was on her way to her uncle’s cell with
pleasant condiments under a napkin, in a wicker-basket. He must
have been a monk of the Count Ory fashion, and he was as
seductive as Ponchard, when singing “Gentille Annette” to the “Petit
Chaperon Rouge,” in Boieldieu’s Opera. The result was, that the
monk carried off Mary to a neighboring city—Edessa, if I remember
rightly—and if I am wrong, Mr. Mitchell Kemble will, perhaps, set me
right, in his bland and gentleman-like way. The town-life led by these
two was of the most disgraceful nature; and when the monk had
grown tired of it, he left Mary to lead a worse, without him. Mary
became the “Reine Pomare,” the “Mogadore,” the “Rose Pomponne”
of Edessa, and was the terror of all families where there were elder
sons and latch-keys. Her doings and her whereabouts at length
reached the ears of her uncle Abraham, and not a little astonished
were those who knew the recluse to see him one morning, attired in
a pourpoint of rich stuff, with a cloak like Almaviva’s, yellow buskins
with a fall of lace over the tops, a jaunty cap and feather on his head,
a rapier on his thigh, and a steed between his legs, which curveted
under his burden as though the fun of the thing had given it
lightness. At Mary’s supper, this cavalier was present on the night of
his arrival in Edessa. He scattered his gold like a Crœsus, and Mary
considered him worth all the more penniless knights put together.
When these had gone, as being less welcome, Abraham declared
his relationship, and acted on the right it gave him to rate a niece
who was not only an ungrateful minx, but who was as mendacious
as an ungrateful niece could well be. The old gentleman, however,
had truth on his side, and finally so overwhelmed Mary with its
terrible application, that she meekly followed him back to the desert,
and passed fifteen years in a walled-up cell close to that of her
uncle. The miracles the two performed are adduced as proofs of the
genuineness of the personages and their story; matters which I
would not dispute even if I had room for it.
The next knight whom I can call to mind as having been frightened
by marriage into monkery, is St. Vandrille, Count of the Palace to
King Dagobert. During the period of his knightship he was a very
Don Juan for gallantry, and railed against matrimony as conclusively
as a Malthusian. His friends pressed him to marry nevertheless; and
introduced him to a lady with a hundred thousand golden qualities,
and prospects as auriferous as those of Miss Kilmansegg. He took
the lady’s hand with a reluctance that might be called aversion, and
which he did not affect to conceal. When the nuptial ceremony was
concluded, Knight Vandrille, as eccentric as the cavaliers whose
similar conduct I have already noticed, mildly intimated that it was
not his intention to proceed further, and that for his part, he had
renounced the vanities of this world for aye. Taking the lady apart, he
appears to have produced upon her a conviction that the
determination was one he could not well avoid; and we are not told
that she even reproached him for a conduct which seems to me to
have been a thousand times more selfish and inexcusable than that
of the clever but despicable Abelard. The church, however, did not
disapprove of the course adopted, and St. Vandrille, despite his
worse than breach of promise, has been forgiven as knight, and
canonized as saint.
Far more excusable was that little Count of Arian, Elzear, the boy-
knight at the court of Charles II., King of Sicily, whom that monarch
married at the age of thirteen years, to Delphina of Glandeves, a
young lady of fifteen. When I say far more excusable, I do Elzear
some injustice, for the boy was willing enough to be wed, and looked
forward to making his lady proud of his own distinction as a knight.
Delphina, however, it was who proposed that they should part at the
altar, and never meet again. She despised the boy, and the little
cavalier took it to heart—so much so, that he determined to
renounce the career of arms and enter the church. Thereby chivalry
lost a worthy cavalier, and the calendar gained a very active saint.