The glitter of burnished steel, the clash of arms, the rude encounter, and all other circumstances attendant upon the arena of martial sport, that had given so much delight to his predecessors, afforded little pleasure to James; as how should they, to a prince whose constitutional timidity was so great that he shuddered at the sight of a drawn sword, and abhorred the mimic representations of warfare!  Neither were the rigorous principles of honour on which chivalry was based, nor the obligations they imposed, better suited to him.  Too faithless by nature to adopt the laws of a Court of Honour, he derided the institution as obsolete.  Nevertheless, as trials of skill and strength in the tilt-yard were still in fashion, he was compelled, though against his inclination, to witness them, and in some degree to promote them.  The day of his accession to the throne—­the 24th March—­was always celebrated by tilting and running at the ring, and similar displays were invariably made in honour of any important visitor to the court.

Even in this reign something of a revival of the ancient ardour for knightly pastimes took place during the brief career of Prince Henry, who, if he had lived to fulfil the promise of his youth, would have occupied a glorious page in his country’s annals, and have saved it, in all probability, from its subsequent convulsions and intestine strife.  Inuring himself betimes to the weight of armour, this young prince became exceedingly expert in the use of all weapons—­could toss the pike, couch the lance, and wield the sword, the battle-axe, or the mace, better than any one of his years.  The tilt-yard and the tennis-court were his constant places of resort, and he was ever engaged in robust exercises—­too much so, indeed, for a somewhat feeble constitution.  Prince Henry indulged the dream of winning back Calais from France, and would no doubt have attempted the achievement if he had lived.

Of a more reflective cast of mind than his elder brother, and with tastes less martial, Prince Charles still sedulously cultivated all the accomplishments, proper to a cavalier.  A perfect horseman, and well skilled in all the practices of the tilt-yard—­he was a model of courtesy and grace; but he had not Prince Henry’s feverish and consuming passion for martial sports, nor did he, like him, make their pursuit the sole business of life.  Still, the pure flame of chivalry burnt within his breast, and he fully recognised its high and ennobling principles, and accepted the obligations they imposed.  And in this respect, as in most others, he differed essentially from his august father.

The tilt-yard, and the various buildings adjoining it, already enumerated, were approached by two fine gates, likewise erected by Henry VIII., one of which, of extraordinary beauty, denominated the Cock-pit Gate, was designed by the celebrated painter, Hans Holbein.  From an authority we learn that it was “built of square stone, with small squares of flint boulder, very neatly set; and that it had also battlements, and four lofty towers, the whole being enriched with bustos, roses, and portcullises.”  The other gate, scarcely less beautiful, and styled the Westminster Gate, was adorned with statues and medallions, and the badges of the royal house of Tudor carved in stone.