y 
 

T H E L I F E 
 
 r 
 
 CHEVALIER BAYARD 
 
 an» peur et sans reprocfje." 
 
 BY W. GILMORE SIMMS. 
 
 And now, 1 dare to say, Sir Lancelot, there as thou lyest, thou were never matched of none earthly 
 knights' hands. And thou were the curteist knight that ever bare shield. And thou were the truest 
 friend to thy lorer that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever 
 loved woman. And thou were the kindest man that ever stroke with sword. And thou were the good- 
 liest person that ever came among prece (press) of knights. And thou were the meekest man, and the 
 gentlest, that ever ate in hall among ladies. And thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that 
 ever put spear in rest. — Morte Arthur, ■ 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 82 CLIFF STREET. 
 
 184 7. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand 
 eight hundred and forty-seven, by 
 
 Harper 6c Brothers, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District 
 of New York. 
 
-DGS</ 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN IZARD xMIDDLETON, ESQ., 
 
 OF SOUTH CAROLIxXA. 
 
 I DO not suppose, my dear Middleton, that any thing 
 contained in these pages will be new to you, but I 
 persuade myself that you will find pleasure in being 
 reminded of a history which, I am very sure, must appeal 
 to your sympathies in as great degree as to those of 
 any other living man. You will not be displeased, at 
 least, that, in pursuing the career of so perfect a char- 
 acter as that of the Chevalier, distinguished par excellence 
 as without reproach, I should, at the same time, have 
 naturally thought of yours. 
 
 Very faithfully, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ivi^assBSS 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The works followed and consulted in the prepara- 
 tion of this memoir are these: 
 
 I. " Les gestesense mble la vie du preulx Chevalier Bay- 
 ard, avec sa genealogie ; comparaisons aulx aiiciens 
 preulx chevaliers; gentilx, Israelitiques et Chretiens. 
 En semble oraisons ; lamentations, du dit Chevalier 
 Bayard, contenant plusiers victoryes des Roys de 
 France, Charles VIII., Loys XII., et Francoys pre- 
 mier de ce nom. By Symphorien Champier, Lyons, 
 1525." For the use of this rare and quaint old 
 volume, I am indebted to the unique and admirable 
 hbrary of Mr. A. A. Smets, of Savannah, Geo. 
 
 II. La tres-joyeuse and plaisante histoire, composee par 
 le Loyal Serviteur, des faits, gestes et prouesses du 
 Bon Chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche. ... In the 
 English translation by Coleridge's daughter. 
 
 III. Histoire de Pierre Terrail, dit le Chevalier Bayard, 
 sans peur et sans reproche. Par Jean Cohen. 
 Paris, 1822. 
 
 The preceding works form the basis of mine. But 
 I have consulted many others, which relate to con- 
 temporaneous events, as well as to those in the life of 
 Bayard. Among these are Philip des Comines, Mon- 
 strelet, St. Palaye's Ancient Chivalry, Robert Macque- 
 reau, Gaspard de Saulx-Tavannes, Roscoe's Leo X., 
 Bacon's Francis I., Quintana's Gonzalvo de Cordova, 
 Hume's England, Roberts' Henry VIII., Sismondi's 
 and other Histories of France. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Introduction — His Birth and Family — Choice of Arms as a Profes- 
 sion Page 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Bayard enters the Service of the Duke of Savoy— Is distinguished for his 
 Riding — Makes the Friendship of his Comrades — Is presented to the King 
 of France and taken into his Service . , . . . .11 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 The Court returns to Lyons — Tournament appointed — How Bayard 
 raises Supplies — His Passage-of-Arms with the Knight Claude de Vau- 
 dray , . . 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Bayard joins the Garrison in Picardy — His handsome Reception — An- 
 nounces a Tournament — Two days' Passages-at-Arms — His Successes, 
 and remarkable Popularity ....,..,. 30 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Invasion of Italy by Charles VIII. — Conquest of Naples — Retreat from 
 Italy— Bayard distinguishes himself at the Battle of Fornovo . . 46 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Louis XII. invades and conquers the Milanese — Bayard's Duel with Si- 
 monetta, a Knight of Milan — He visits the Duchess of Savoy — Gives a 
 Tournament at Carignan, and is declared the Conqueror . . .56 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 New Invasion of Milan by the French — Bayard's Defeat of the Lombards 
 under Cazache — Rash Pursuit and Captivity in Milan — The Fall of Lu- 
 dovic Sforza 69 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 How Bayard disposed of the silver Plate of the People of Loghiera ~ The 
 French and Spaniards conquer Naples — They quarrel about the Spoil — 
 How Bayard conquers and makes Captive of Don Alonzo de Sotomayer 79 
 
VIU CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Showing how Don Alonzo de Sotomayer, admitted to the Privileges of the 
 Castle, proved faithless and fled ; how he was recaptured and afterward 
 ransomed ; how he spoke falsely of his Entertainment ; and how he fought 
 with Knight Bayard, and was slain in the Lists 90 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Combat of Thirteen against Thirteen, and the Success of the Good 
 Knight— How the Good Knight takes a Purse after the Fashion of Knight- 
 hood, and what he does with it 103 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Disasters of the French in Italy ; their Defeat at Cerignola — The Camp 
 on the Banks of the Garigliano — The Defence of the Bridge by Bayard 
 alone against two hundred— His Pursuit of the Spaniards — His Capture, 
 and Rescue by his Comrades .... ... 1 16 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Defeat of the French at Garigliano — Cessation of the War — Bayard re- 
 turns to France — Suffers from Ague and old Wounds — Hears of new Wars 
 in Italy — Joins the Army — Captures a Genoese Fortress — Organizes the 
 French Infantry — War with the Venetians, and Battle of Agnadello 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Padua falls into Possession of the Venetians — The Emperor solicits Help 
 from Louis to recover it — Bayard volunteers with the Force sent — He 
 leads the Assault upon the Barriers at Padua, and captures them . 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Of the Bombardment of Padua, the Defences of that Place, and of the 
 Manner in which our Good Knight amused himself at the Expense of 
 Messire Lucio Malvezzo 152 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Showing the Adventure of Bayard and his Troop against the Captains 
 Scanderbeg and Contarini — He makes them Prisoners, and captures the 
 Castle of Bassano— The Achievement of Guy Guiffray — How he captures 
 the Venetian Standard-bearer, and what followed thereon . .162 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 How the Emperor discovers that the Breach is sufficiently large for the 
 Assault — How ingeniously he seeks to convert the French Gendarms 
 into Foot-Soldiers for that Purpose— What Counsel Bayard gives on the 
 Occasion — And how, finally, the Breach was left unoccupied . . 172 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Bayard in Command of the Garrison at Verona — How he issues forth 
 against Captain Manfrone — The Ambuscade of the said Captain, into 
 which the Good Knight falls— Of the Fight that followed thereupon— How 
 Bayard became a Prisoner twice in one Day — Of his Escape, and how he 
 smote the Infantry of the Venetians, Hip and Thigh, at Midnight . 182 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 How Captain Manfrone devises a precious Scheme by which to circum- 
 vent and capture our Good Knight — How the Secret is extracted from 
 the Spy; and how Bayard plants a Snare for the Fowler, and what 
 ensued thereon 191 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Showing the Rupture of the Alliance formed by the League of Cambray 
 — The Capture of Legnano by the French — How Bayard goes to assist 
 the Duke of Ferrara — And how nearly he came, not having the Fear of 
 the Church in his Eyes, to capturing the Holy Father himself . . 202 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Of the Sortie of Sir Guyon de Cantiers from Legnano, and how he perished 
 by the Treachery of a Spy — How the Pope, having taken Mirandola, lays 
 Siege to La Bastia to the great Disquiet of the Duke of Ferrara, and 
 how the good Knight Bayard plans a Method to relieve it and to defeat 
 the Besiegers 214 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 The Pope's Efforts against the French — The Agreement of Messire Au- 
 gustino Guerlo with the Duke of Ferrara to poison him — Denounced by 
 Bayard — The taking of Bologna by the French, in which Bayard distin- 
 guishes himself^Of the Duel between Santa Cruz and the Seiior Aze- 
 vedo, and the Laws of the Combat 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Holy League — The Swiss — Bayard defeats them — The allies lay Siege to 
 Bologna — The Astrologer of Carpi — His Predictions — The Adventures 
 of Captain Caumont and his Passage-at-Arms — Bologna relieved by the 
 Duke de Nemours 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The Venetians capture Brescia and beleaguer the Citadel— The Duke de 
 Nemours marches to its Relief— Bayard at the Head of the advance Guard 
 encounters and defeats the Venetian Army under Gian-Paolo Baglione — 
 The French make an Assault upon and recapture Brescia with terrible 
 Slaughter — Bayard leads the Assault, and entering the Barriers at the 
 Head of his Men, is put Hors de Combat by the Stroke of a Pike . 251 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Portrait of Chevalier Bayard . . . Frontispiece. 
 Bayard's first Specimen of Horsemanship . . Page 1 
 Bayard smiting the Shield of Claude de Vaudray . 21 
 Bayard and the Lady op Fluxas 56 
 
 Duel between Bayard and Alonzo de Sotomayer 
 Bayard leading his Troops through a Morass at 
 
 Battle of Agnadello .... 
 
 The Young Archer and the Venetian Prisoner 
 
 Bayard and the Spy 
 
 The Prediction of the Astrologer of Carpi 
 Bayard and his Hostess at Brescia . 
 Funeral of the Duke de Nemours 
 Bayard and the Lansquenet 
 The Battle of Marignan .... 
 Death of Bayard 
 
 90 
 
 129 
 162 
 191 
 239 
 262 
 295 
 312 
 346 
 384 
 
*"'■"« ..■.,, 
 
 LIFE OF BAYARD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was at a time when chivalry was at its lowest condi- 
 tion in Christian Europe ; when the fine affectations of the 
 order, erring always on the side of generosity and virtue — 
 its strained courtesies, its overwrought delicacies, its ex- 
 travagant and reckless valor — every thing, in short, of that 
 grace and magnanimity which had constituted its essential 
 spirit and made of it a peculiar institution — ^had given way 
 to less imposing and less worthy characteristics ; when, 
 ceasing to be the distinguishing boast of courtliness and 
 noble blood, it had yielded on every hand, in Spain, in 
 France, England, Italy and Germany, to a growth of the 
 grossest passions, a disregard of the point of honor and ot 
 
 A 
 
X FIDELITY AND MODESTY. 
 
 those pledges of faith which it had been the great end of 
 chivalry to maintain, at every hazard, as the first tests of 
 courtesy and manhood, — it w^as even at such a time that 
 the now decaying institution was destined to furaish to the 
 world the happiest illustration, in a single gi-eat example, 
 of its ancient pride and character, and of those virtues 
 which had made it fruitful of good to humanity, in spite of 
 many curious anomalies. The name of the Chevalier Bay- 
 ard has grown into proverbial identification, in modem 
 times, with all that is pure and noble in manhood, and all 
 that is great and excellent in the soldier. It is not that he 
 ranks among brave men as one wholly without fear in bat- 
 tle. This character would scarcely afford him, in a period 
 wholly given up to war, and remarkable for its sanguinary 
 conflicts, any very peculiar distinction. That he had the 
 virtue of a rare courage, in its utmost perfection, is undeni- 
 able ; but the equally distinguishing and more beautiful 
 qualities of his heart, accord him an eminence among his 
 contemporaries which none has ever presumed to question. 
 He was not only the Chevalier sans peur, but sans reproche 
 also ; so equally good and brave that his character furnish- 
 es the most admirable model to the generous ambition of 
 the young that we find in all the pages of history. His 
 valor he shared, in a great measure, with his associates ; but 
 his truth and fidelity were singularly his own. His period 
 was one distinguished for its small possession of faith and 
 virtue. It was a time exemplary for its treacheries, par- 
 ticularly among the great. To deceive and to betray, were 
 practices too common among nobles and princes, to make 
 these offences against virtue any longer odious in the sight 
 of men ; and the perfidy which was taught to Italy, not less 
 by her seeming necessities than by the subtle studies of her 
 statesmen, had become wide-spread lessons for the misdi- 
 rection of the whole civilized world. Breathing this very 
 atmospheie for a considerable period of his life, the naturei 
 of Bayard imbibed none of its unwholesome influences. 
 
GRACE AND GENEKOSITY. 3 
 
 He still kept the whiteness of his soul free from spot, in 
 spite of the contagion in which he lived. His fidelity and 
 truth soon gi'ew to be as remarkable as his valor, and his 
 talents for war were no less conspicuous than these. Yet 
 these talents never urged him to any of that undue self-es- 
 teem which makes the highly endowed person recoil from 
 the command of others. His possessions were tempered 
 by a wonderful modesty, which taught him the propriety 
 of submission to his superiors. Obedience, indeed, as the 
 first duty of the soldier, was a lesson which he had happily 
 learned when alone it can be properly acquired — in the days 
 of his youth. This lesson gave stability to the native vir- 
 tues of his character, and forms one of the distinguishing 
 traits in his high reputation. Never was hero more unself- 
 ish. His generosity and disinterestedness, struggling stead- 
 ily against his successful valor, left him always poor while 
 in the constant acquisition of money. He gave as rapidly 
 as he gained, and, in conferring favors upon his friends and 
 followers, he frequently denied himself the means for en- 
 countering his own necessities. True to his word, his en- 
 emies, equally with his firiends, yielded every where the most 
 ready faith to all his assurances. He was scarcely less lib- 
 eral to the one than the other. His captive, whom he al- 
 ways treated with kindness and courtesy, went forth fre- 
 quently without ransom, while his acquisitions were made 
 the means for sei-ving his companions, and for exhibitions 
 of chivalrous pageants, which drew together all young and 
 ambitious cavaliers, emulous of gallant trophies to be distrib- 
 uted by the hands of beauty. And, in all these relations, 
 nothing could exceed the sweetness and nobleness of man- 
 ner for which Bayard was remarkable. His successes, his 
 high fame, never made him regardless of the claims of others. 
 He never haughtily presumed upon his superiority nor 
 abused its advantages, but, defemng gently to the inferior, 
 he made his way to all hearts, and, with the virtues of a 
 Scipio blended the gi"aces of an Alcibiades. Admirable in 
 
4 BAYARDS MAXIMS AND VIRTUES. 
 
 council, his opinions won their way to the understandings 
 of his hearers by tlieir native justness, urged without pre- 
 sumption, and enforced by that modest deference with 
 which he first hstened to the thoughts of others. Always 
 solicitous of gallant undertakings, he betrayed no disquiet 
 if their results enured to the renown of rivals. His moral 
 sense was singularly sound and reflective. He often said, 
 " The best lordship is the communion with virtuous per- 
 sons ; the gi-eatest evil to a lord is in the counsels of igno- 
 rant and vicious men, as there is nothing more dangerous 
 than audacity when unsustained by wisdom." A gentle- 
 man once asked him, " What goods a noble man should 
 leave to his children ]" " Those," heanswered, " which 
 fear neither rain nor st onn. nor human i njustice, nor all the 
 power of man — wisdoj m and virtue." His maxims were 
 illustrated by his life. His respect and admiration for the 
 sex prompted him to the frequent tournament. The lady 
 whose colors he wore might safely repose as well upon his 
 loyalty as his valor and skill. Modesty and innocence never 
 looked to him in vain. It will be our province, in the course 
 of this history, to give one curious example of his generos- 
 ity in this respect. His sympathies were always given to 
 the good ; his succor gladly sustained the weak ; his boun- 
 ty helped the indigent. He alleviated, where he could, 
 the miseries of war, over which he mourned with earnest 
 commiseration. To complete the beauties of his charac- 
 ter, his piety was deep and unaffected. He enjoyed, with- 
 out any of the enfeebling superstitions of his age, a pro- 
 found sense of his obligations to the Deity, and an abiding 
 confidence in the saving mercies of Jesus Christ. His 
 moraing began, and his evening closed, with prayer. He 
 prepared himself for battle by becoming devotions, recom- 
 mending his soul to God, and invoking the pardon of his 
 sins. His life, indeed, furnishes an admirable example to 
 the soldier, of a career in which the most heroic valor may 
 be blended with the most gentle virtues, with mildness of 
 
HIS PA-RENTAGE 5 
 
 temper, sweetness of demeanor, generosity without display, 
 and the most humble submission to human and Divine au- 
 thority. True to his God, his country, and his duty, he 
 found it no ways arduous to share in the vicissitudes of war 
 and the incongruous associations of the camp, without 
 yielding to the brutalities of the one, or partaking of the ex- 
 cesses of the other. As a partisan warrior, he was, per- 
 haps, one of the greatest captains that France has ever pro- 
 duced — eager and watchful, observant every where, always 
 secure against surprise himself, and always prompt to seize 
 upon the error of his enemy. Considered in every point 
 of view, we are constrained to affirm the spontaneous judg- 
 ment of his contemporaries, who knew him proverbially as 
 the " Good Knight," and in the comprehensive surname of 
 the Chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche, have left to us the 
 model of a perfect character, with which none among them- 
 selves could presume to compare. It is for us now, from 
 the too meagre chronicles, to procure the proofs upon which 
 this noble reputation rests. 
 
 The House of Terr ail, to which Bayard owes his origin, 
 was one of the most ancient in the province of Dauphiny. 
 It was well placed at the extremity of the beautiful valley 
 of Gresivaudan, which Louis XI. used to call the Garden 
 of Dauphiny, and \ns> fourth wonder. The lords of TeiTail 
 had been distinguished fi'om the earliest periods by their 
 valor and intrepidity. His grandsire of the fifth remove, 
 Aubert, was mortally wounded at the battle of Varces ; 
 Robert, the son of Aubert, was killed in the service of the 
 Dauphin ; Humbert the First, in an action with the Sa- 
 voyards ; Philip, the grandfather of Bayard in the third re- 
 move, perished at the feet of King John, at the fatal battle 
 of Poictiers ; Pierre, his gi'eat-grandfather, was killed at 
 Agincourt; the brother of this PieiTe perished in the fight 
 of Vermeuil, in 1224, where no less than three hundred of 
 the Dauphinese gentry — called by way of honorable dis- 
 tinction, "The Scarlet of France" — lost their lives. His 
 
 *« 
 
O HIS MOTHER. 
 
 grandfather, wlio was called Pierre also, maintained the 
 military distinction of the family, and acquiiing great credit 
 in the wars with the English, gained the surname of L'Epee 
 Terrail — the sword of the House of Terrail. He was hon- 
 ored with the respect and friendship of Charles VII., whom 
 he served with tried fidelity. He contributed more than 
 any other individual to the defeat of Louis of Chalons, 
 Prince of Orange, at the battle of Auton ; and when the 
 Dauphin, afterward Louis XL, presumed to claim his in- 
 dependence, and to assert the rights of a sovereign in Dau- 
 phiny, our Lord of Terrail, having no fear of the future, 
 adhered faithfully to the monarch, and was fortunate, by 
 this manly fidelity, not to forfeit the respect and confidence 
 of the young prince, whom it was not always safe to offend. 
 This brave chieftain shared the fate of his ancestors, and 
 died on the field of battle at Montlhery. Aymond, his son, 
 and the father of him whose biography we wiite, followed 
 the example of his house, and in good season took the pro- 
 fession of the soldier. At the mature term of sixty-five 
 we find him in the battle of Guinegate, disabled from all 
 future conflicts by four wounds, by which he lost the use 
 of his arms. 
 
 Helene des Allemans, the mother of Bayard, is described 
 as exceedingly small of person, but of great heart and in- 
 trepid spirit. In one respect she differed largely from her 
 husband, who is represented as of great stature and vigor- 
 ous fi:ame. Our hero shared the characteristics of both. 
 Honorably descended, and with an unbroken series of good 
 examples before him, of courage, conduct, and fidelity, his 
 own nature seemed destined, even at an early period, to 
 embody and to perfect all the virtues of his race. If it is 
 greatly honorable to found an illustrious family, it is no less 
 meritorious to maintain its character, and finish nobly its 
 career. This destiny was reserved for Bayard. He was 
 bom, the second of four sons, in 1476, in the castle the 
 name of which he bears. His father, at the mature age of 
 
CHOOSES THE PROFESSION OF ARxMS. 7 
 
 eighty, and when Bayard was only thirteen, finding his end 
 approaching, called his children to his bedside, and exam- 
 ined them as to their choice of vocation. While two of the 
 brothers declared for the church, and one of them for the 
 homestead. Bayard boldly avowed his passion for the camp. 
 He was a lively lad, of playful disposition, gay as a lark, 
 and with an open, laughing countenance. But the face and 
 manner of the boy served only to conceal, not to impair, 
 the wisdom of a far maturer peiiod. His answer was ex- 
 pressed with sufficient gravity. " I should like to remain 
 with you, my father, to the end of your days ; but your own 
 discourses, daily, in my hearing, of the noble men by whom 
 our house has been distinguished in times past, leads me 
 to desire, with your permission, that I may also embrace 
 the profession of arms. This is the pursuit which I most 
 affect, and I hope, with the grace of God, to do you no 
 dishonor." 
 
 The tears of the old man followed this speech. It prob- 
 ably met all his expectations, and may have been the anti- 
 cipated fruit of his own training. " God grant that it may 
 be so, my son. Already in face and figure thou lookest like 
 thy grandsire, who was one of the best knights in Christen- 
 dom. I will put thee in the way of obtaining thy desire." 
 
 We need not linger for the answers of the remaining 
 brothers. They did not share in the military tastes of 
 Bayard. These, in him, were quite too decidedly ex- 
 pressed to be mistaken. It is true he had shown nothino- 
 of that fierce, unrestrainable temper, which is supposed to 
 mark the character of those who incline to arms at an early 
 period. Though eager, his moods were mild — though firm, 
 his bearing was always gentle. He was the slave to no 
 reckless passions, and his will, except in this one respect, 
 was prompt in submission to that of his superiors. It was 
 fortunate that the views of his father seem to have kept 
 pace with his own ; or, with so strong a desire for arms, he 
 might, for the first time in his life, have shown himself insub- 
 
8 
 
 FAMILY ASSEMBLAGE. 
 
 ordinate. In the direction his infant mind had taken, he 
 was fully resolved. He obeyed an instinct. It was not 
 that he chose war as his vocation — the vocation had chosen 
 him. His natural endowments required him to go and be 
 a soldier, and the stories which he daily heard of the 
 achievements of his ancestors but strengthened his desire 
 for the performance of his duties. His father did not hes- 
 itate. He sent for the Bishop of Grenoble, the uncle of 
 the boy, and gathered the gentry of the neighborhood 
 around him. The affair was one of solemn import. It was 
 no less than the dedication of his son to the country, and 
 the matter needed deliberation. The aged man sat like a 
 patriarch, with his friends and children grouped around 
 him. Dinner was served to the guests, and Bayard offi- 
 ciated as a waiter. This custom, which would in our day 
 equally offend the father and the son, was, in that, one of 
 the essential features in the training of the young man am- 
 bitious of distinction. It was no bad way, we may add, 
 for securing the object of desire. It taught obedience to 
 authority, veneration for age and superiority, and a patient 
 submission to the will of others. These are the great and 
 necessary lessons by which the otherwise imperious nature 
 is rendered methodical and endued with the requisite 
 strength for the due endurance of the unavoidable evils of 
 life. 
 
 When dinner was over, the patriarch declared the busi- 
 ness which had led to the assembling of his guests. " You 
 are all," said he, " my relatives and fiiends. Give me your 
 counsel as to the disposition of my children. Pierre, my 
 second, has given me inexpressible delight, in declaring 
 his preference for arms. In whose house shall I place him 
 — to what noble prince or lord shall I confide him, in order 
 that he should acquire a proper deportment, and prepare 
 himself for this profession]" 
 
 Various was the counsel. One was for sending him to 
 the King of France ; another, to the House of Bourbon. 
 
9 
 
 But the Bishop of Grenoble recommended the Duke of 
 Savoy, who had always been a friend of the family, and 
 who was then in the neighborhood, at Chambery. It was 
 thought that the duke would not hesitate to adopt him as 
 one of his pages. The advice was taken, and the tailor 
 was kept busy with velvet and silks all night to make our 
 young page ready in the morning. There were no long 
 delays in that period ; and the moment breakfast was over, 
 the next day, the horse was brought, and all the company 
 went forth into the court of the castle, to see what sort of 
 figure Bayard would make in appealing before the duke. 
 The horse was one which he had never crossed before; — 
 but the boy was fearless. He leapt boldly upon the steed, 
 which, accustomed to a weightier burden, and suddenly 
 pricked by the spurs of his new rider, dashed away with 
 an impatience of spirit which alarmed the family for the 
 safety of the youth. But it was with the spirit of an Alex- 
 ander that our Bucephalus of Dauphiny had to contend. 
 While the company were looking to hear the boy cry out 
 in apprehension, he bestrode the animal, not only without 
 fear, but with such a tiiumphant courage as to change their 
 doubts into delight and admiration. He struck the rowel 
 into the flanks of the beast, set him off in rage, and brought 
 him back in docility and foam, as effectually mastered as 
 if he had been his rider for twenty years. 
 
 The old father was happy beyond expression. " What ! 
 you are not afraid ]" he said to his son, when he had re- 
 turned fi'om his gallop. " I hope," said the boy, " before 
 six years be gone, to make him, or another, bestir himself in 
 a more dangerous place. Here I am among friends. I shall 
 then probably find myself among the enemies of my mas- 
 ter." At parting, the father gave him his blessing, and, in 
 few words, exhorted him to be faithful to the prince he 
 served, never to forget that his natural sovereign was the 
 King of France, and never to bear arms against him or 
 against his country. His pride kept down all other feel- 
 
10 
 
 ADVICE OF THE MOTHER. 
 
 ings. But there was no restraint of this sort upon his 
 mother, who did not seek to conceal her tears. Not that 
 she had any misgivings, or felt any dislike to the profession 
 he had chosen. She was proud of the boy, and not un- 
 willing that he should engage in a career, of which his 
 youthful promise showed such grateful auguries, and which 
 had already been so honorable to his ancestors. But, in 
 spite of these feelings and connections, the mother declared 
 herself warmly in the tenderness with which her parting 
 charge was given him. "Pierre, my son," she said, "you 
 are going into the service of a noble prince : now, as much 
 as a mother can command her child, look, there are three 
 things which I commend to you. First, you love and sei-ve 
 God in all things without offending him ; night and morn- 
 ing recommend yourself to him. He gave us all that we 
 have, and without him we can do nothing. He will aid 
 you. Second. — Be you mild and courteous to all, casting 
 away pride. Be humble and obliging. Be not a liar nor 
 a slanderer. Be temperate in eating and drinking. Avoid 
 envy — it is a mean excess. Be neither talebearer nor flat- 
 terer — such people never excel. Be loyal in word and 
 deed. Keep your promise. Succor the widow and orphan, 
 and look for your reward to God. The third is, be bounti- 
 ful to the poor and needy. To give for the honor of God 
 makes no man poor — your alms will profit your body and 
 soul. Go now, my son, this is all with which I have to 
 charge you. Your father and I shall not live long, but God 
 grant that while we do live we may hear nothing but good 
 of you." 
 
 The answer of Bayard was appropriate, but brief The 
 farewell was soon over, and, with a change of linen, and a 
 little purse containing six crowns in gold, which his moth- 
 er at the close of her advice bestowed upon him, our hero 
 departed, in the company of his uncle, " thinking himself," 
 in the language of one of his early biographers, "in Para- 
 dise, while on the back of his good steed." 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 The course of the Bishop of Grenoble lay for Chambery, 
 a town within his diocese. Here, also, for the time, the 
 Duke of Savoy resided. The bishop did not at first pre- 
 sent his charge to the duke, but waiting for the next day, 
 which was Sunday, called upon him on his way to church, 
 at which he was to officiate. The service over, the bishop 
 dined with the duke, whose eyes were insensibly drawn to 
 the graceful carriage and modest bearing of Bayard, who 
 waited upon his uncle during the feast, as he had done the 
 day before at home. ** My Lord of Grenoble," said the 
 prince, " who is this young child who gives you to drink ?" 
 ** He is one, my lord, whom I have brought to enter your 
 sei-vice as a man of arms, if you please. He is not now in 
 the condition in which I am desirous to give him to you. 
 After dinner, if it be your pleasure, you shall see him." 
 The behavior of the boy had already found favor in the 
 eyes of the duke. " Truly," he exclaimed, " he must be a 
 strange person who should refuse such a present." Dis- 
 missed to his own repast, Bayard ate little. He was too 
 eager for the promised presentation ; and, getting his horse 
 saddled, and himself in readiness, he soon made his appear- 
 ance in the court of the palace. The duke, fi'om his galle- 
 ry, beheld the entrance of the boy, his horse bounding and 
 curvetting beneath the spur of his rider, who kept his seat 
 with a bearing as firm and confident as if he had been a 
 man of thirty, who had seen battles all his life. The duke 
 was delighted with his acquisition. " Verily," he exclaimed, 
 "this boy is to become a man. I accept him willingly. 
 
12 TRAINING OF CHIVALRY. 
 
 Your present, my Lord of Grenoble, is a good and hand- 
 some one." 
 
 Bayard was placed in charge of one of the most faithful 
 of the duke's equeries. He was now to be trained to 
 serve and to perform. We have all some general idea of 
 the sort of training which was considered necessary to pre- 
 pare the page to become the man-at-arms. In the modem 
 period of which we write, the scheme of training had be- 
 come far less rigorous than it was when chivalry was in 
 fashion. Still, as it contemplated the duties of the soldier, 
 it was moderately severe and rigid. The education was 
 calculated to make the pupil manly and robust, to practice 
 him in the use of his weapons, and to exercise him in 
 horsemanship. To wait and to obey, required a term of 
 years, and this was the apprenticeship. Though the duties 
 were humble, and the superior exacting, there was nothing 
 degrading in the situation. It was regarded rather as 
 highly becoming and honorable, being held absolutely es- 
 sential to future usefulness and distinction. It was the 
 ordeal through which only was the novitiate to lise. The 
 page performed the duties of a domestic. He attended his 
 master in his walks and wanderings, bore his messages, fol- 
 lowed him in the chase, and poured out for him the drink 
 at table. He was taught by the conversation of his supe- 
 riors, and this constant attendance afforded as constant op- 
 portunities for the acquisition of knowledge and just opin- 
 ion. In this school he was taught good manners and im- 
 bued with elevated and refined tastes. Lessons, in partic- 
 ular, were regularly given in matters of religion — the love 
 of God was specially insisted on, and, with scarcely less 
 earnestness, the love of women, and a pure respect and de- 
 votion for the sex. The youth was required to choose 
 from the young damsels of the court one to whom he could 
 refer his sentiments and thoughts. She was the immediate 
 image, symbolical of the pure and delicate, which, in the 
 moment of action and difficulty, became at once obvious to 
 
EXERCISES OF CHIVALRY. 13 
 
 his mind and eye. These associations taught decorum and 
 gentleness of manners, which were among the essential 
 requisites of perfect knighthood. Leisure for sports of va- 
 rious kinds was accorded to the pages, and the games in 
 which he exercised were made to operate in his moral and 
 physical instruction. These were usually of a manly char- 
 acter, calculated to provoke emulation, and to impart vigor 
 and elasticity. The objects of the school being understood, 
 it will not be difficult to conceive the various processes em- 
 ployed, by which such objects were to be attained. To the 
 young and ardent spirit, eager for glory, and burning to 
 ascend the heights of distinction, the ordeal was at once in- 
 oppressive and exacting. To Bayard, already in great 
 part trained by the lessons of his father, and the contem- 
 plation of the histories of all his ancestors, the duties of his 
 new life were comparatively easy. He soon won the heart 
 of the equerry who had been assigned him, and the hearts 
 of all others who beheld his docility, the meekness of his 
 temper, the purity and truthfulness of his soul. The youth, 
 his companions — the sei-vants, his attendants — the knights, his 
 superiors — all, in short, with whom he came in connection, 
 grew subject to the rare fascination with which he con- 
 trived to spell the affections. Never did pupil do more honor 
 to his master. He remained with the Duke of Savoy but 
 six months, doing ample justice to his seiTice. In this pe- 
 riod he learned to excel all his associates, wdthout offend- 
 ing their pride or provoking their enmity. In leaping, run- 
 ning, wrestling, hurling the bai' and horsemanship, he won 
 the prize from all competitors, noble and simple. When 
 the old chronicler tells us that " he was serviceahle to the 
 lords and ladies, even to a marvel," we perceive, in some 
 measure, the secret of his success ; since, to become grate- 
 fully useful to those around us, is to exhibit the surest sign 
 of affection, and to practice the happiest benevolence. 
 Winning the esteem of lords and ladies by his grace and 
 docility, and the attachment of his inferiors by his affable 
 
 B 
 
14 THE PAGE IN LOVE. 
 
 sweetness of demeanor, he soon succeeded in making an- 
 other conquest — that of a sweetheart. The personal ap- 
 pearance of our page, at this period, is described by his 
 biogi'apher as not unworthy of his bearing and his charac- 
 ter. His person was erect and tall, and his carriage was 
 easy and full of grace. His features were sweet and be- 
 nignant, his eyes black and full of fire, his nose aquiline, 
 his skin fair and smooth, and of fine complexion, and his 
 hair, which he wore short, of a rich chesnut-color. In all 
 respects he was the person to persuade and please the eyes 
 of a lady. 
 
 Among the damsels who were attached to the court of 
 the Duchess of Savoy, bearing a like relation to that dame 
 with that of the page to the duke, there was one nearly the 
 same age with Bayard. She was of noble family, but 
 without fortune. But she had all besides which could win 
 the regards of a warm and affectionate nature. She was 
 amiable and lovely, and possessed of numerous accom- 
 plishments. She was among the first to become conscious 
 of the noble qualities of our page. He, too, very soon dis- 
 covered the impression which he had made upon her. To 
 be loved at all, by one equally beautiful and virtuous, is 
 enough to affect favorably the heart of a boy ; and from the 
 moment that he made his discovery, the thoughts of young 
 Bayard ran upon nothing so much as the maiden. His 
 usual exercises, his most favorite sports, were neglected, 
 and he soon contrived a meeting in secret with his little 
 lady. The school in which they were mutually taught had 
 rendered easy the expression of his attachment ; but it was a 
 school in which the passions were not enlivened at the ex- 
 pense of the principles. Bayard had been too well tutored 
 by his parents to harbor any but the purest sentiments, 
 and, precocious as he was in these, he had received no im- 
 pelling suggestions of evil from any other source. Without 
 a thought but that of simple devotion, the boy threw him- 
 self at the feet of the girl and poured forth the most 
 
THE maiden's counsel. 15 
 
 tender assurances of love. She answered him with tears, 
 and with an avowal of her own affections. But she was 
 more prudent than her lover, and asked mournfully to what 
 his boy-passion would conduct. ** I am young," said Bay- 
 ard, "but I am animated with a passion for glory as well 
 as for yourself I will make myself famous, and when I 
 have acquired distinction by my exploits, I will return and 
 make you my wife." The noble little damsel was gener- 
 ous in her sentiments. " Alas !" she said, " we must not 
 entertain such projects. I am without fortune, and you 
 may reasonably pretend to the greatest. In accepting your 
 affections, I destroy your hopes. That I love you, I can 
 not disguise ; but let us subdue the sentiment, for our mu- 
 tual sakes, to a sincere and tender fiiendship. This senti- 
 ment will biing us no reproaches." The ardent boy would 
 have caught her in his arms ; but the circumspect little 
 maiden reproved the rashness in her prettiest manner. 
 " Do not forget, dear Terrail, what is due to a young crea- 
 ture who is the protegee of the duchess." The words in- 
 stantly restrained the impulse of the enamored youth. The 
 instinct of duty and propriety at once brought him to his 
 senses — " I will violate no hospitality — I will not forget 
 what is due to the noble benefactors whom we serve, nor 
 be wanting in respect to the being that I love ; but I will 
 not for this renounce my hope. I will speak to the duch- 
 ess, declare my love, and implore her sanction of a flame 
 as warm as it is pure." 
 
 But fate interposed to thwart the gallant purpose of our 
 page. That very evening, the Duke of Savoy gave orders 
 to prepare the next day to depart for Lyons, where he was 
 to join the king. Bayard was required to accompany him. 
 But a single opportunity was afforded him for speaking 
 with the duchess, and his heart failed him at the proper 
 moment. The chance was never given him again. The 
 next day saw him on the road to Lyons, where Charles 
 VIIL, a feeble but ambitious monarch, was making merry 
 
1(3 ATTRACTS THE EYE OP THE COUNT DE LIGNY. 
 
 •with his courtiers. Each day was distinguished by tilt and 
 tourney ; and, deficient in many of the higher qualities of the 
 sovereign, it is but just to accord to this prince the merit 
 of being a good companion, affable among his noblesse, and 
 indulgent to his people. His ambition led him to attempt 
 objects which his feeble will and intellect never suffered 
 him to attain. He had the vanity to emulate the career 
 of Charlemagne, and to attempt the conquest of foreign 
 countiies, when the peaceful tourney should have satisfied 
 him in his own. 
 
 Hearing of the approach of the Duke of Savoy, Charles, 
 with whom he was a favorite, dispatched the Count de 
 Ligny, with an escort of gentlemen, to meet and conduct 
 him to his presence. The eyes of the count were very 
 soon drawn to the peculiar elegance of our page's horse- 
 manship. " Your page rides a steed of mettle, and knows 
 how to manage him deftly." " It is but half a year that I 
 have had him," was the answer of the duke, " and he had 
 then just left school ; yet never have I seen a lad of his age 
 who carried himself more manfully either on foot or horse- 
 back. He comes of a bold and spirited race, and he will 
 take after them." Then, speaking to Bayard, he com- 
 manded him to give his horse the spur. Our page desired 
 nothing better, and proceeded to exhibit such feats of 
 horsemanship as compelled the admiration of the company. 
 " On my faith," said the Count de Ligny, " this young gen- 
 tleman will become a noble gallant, if he lives. You will 
 do well, my lord, to present both horse and rider to the 
 king." " On my soul," said the duke, " since you ad\'ise, 
 it shall be done. I love the youth, but could not confide 
 him to a better school than that of the Court of France." 
 
 The day following, the king entertained the duke at din- 
 ner, together with the lords of Ligny and Avenues. During 
 the repast, the discourse turned upon dogs and horses, love 
 and war, the chase and deeds of arms. The occasion re- 
 minded the Count de Ligny of the performance of Bayard. 
 
THE KING DEMANDS TO SEE HIM. 17 
 
 " Sire." said he, " I swear to you on my fay that my lord 
 of Savoy hath a mind to give you a page who rides a steed 
 as well as ever I saw youth in my life. He is not more 
 than fourteen years old, yet he manages his horse like a 
 man of thirty. If you will be pleased to go and hear ves- 
 pers at Esnay, you shall have some pleasure in beholding 
 him." The king, who was too devout a Christian to swear 
 any but a pretty little oath, exclaimed, " By the faith of my 
 body, I am willing. But, cousin," to the Duke of Savoy, 
 " whence got you this proper page whom our cousin of 
 Ligny speaks of?" He was answered, and the duke was 
 no ways slow to insist upon the remarkable merits of 
 the boy. Bayard was not present at this conversation, 
 but it soon reached his ears, for his comrades loved him too 
 well to withhold any news which might gratify his ambition. 
 It would have delighted him less to have gained the whole 
 city of Lyons. He at once hurried to the head groom of 
 the stable, Pison de Chenas, and said to him, " Friend 
 groom, they tell me that the king wills to see my horse af- 
 ter dinner, and me thereon. Now, I pray you to put him 
 in proper order, and I will give you my short dagger, with 
 all my heart." " Nay, keep your truncheon," said the 
 gi'oom, with whom he was a favorite as with all the rest. 
 ** Do you go and get yourself in trim, and your horse will 
 be in readiness. God give you this fortune, my friend, that 
 the King of France may take you into favor, so that you 
 may arrive at a high prefemient. Some time or other, 
 when you are a great lord, I may find my account in it.** 
 " On my faith, master," said the youth, " I shall never for- 
 get your kindness and good lessons ever since I have been 
 in the household of my lord, and if God ever do biing me 
 to preferment, you shall be made sensible of my remem- 
 brance." A few hours brought him a summons to attend 
 the king, to whom the duke had presented him, and who 
 wished to see his performance in the meadow of Esnay. 
 The messenger was that same equerry to whom the duke 
 
18 
 
 had given the page in charge when he first entered the 
 sei-vice of the former. He, too, had grown aifectionately 
 fond of his pupil, and he conveyed his message in tones of 
 real disquietude. *' It is not that I grieve at your advance- 
 ment, my friend, but that we are to part with you." Bay- 
 ard replied to him with a grateful heart, thanked him for 
 all his past insti-uctions, and pledged himself neither to be 
 ungrateful for, nor unworthy of them. 
 
 There was no time for delay. The king had gone by 
 water on the Saone, with the duke and their respective 
 suites. The first object that drew his attention as he 
 reached the land was our page on horseback, in charge of 
 the equeny. He, like all the rest, was struck by the per- 
 fect grace and the consummate address of this youthfiil 
 squire, and as Bayard subdued his steed to a pause, the 
 delighted king cried out to him across the plain, to give the 
 animal the spur, and renew his exercise. There needed no 
 second summons. The young cavalier yielded the bridle 
 to the straining neck of the horse as he sent him headlong 
 forward under the shai'p urgency of the spur, took the 
 circuit of the plain, made him take several leaps, and dart- 
 ing at full gallop toward the king, stopped him short with 
 a curvet, at a proper distance from the royal person. 
 
 Charles was delighted beyond measure, and exclaimed 
 to the Duke of Savoy, " Cousin, it is impossible to do bet- 
 ter." Turning to Bayard, he said, " Again the spur — spur 
 him again ;" and the surrounding pages, echoing the king's 
 words, cried, " Spur, spur — fiquez, fiquez^' so frequently, 
 that the surname of 'Piquet was for some time after fas- 
 tened upon our hero. His second performances were equal 
 to the first. " All is true," said the king to the duke, *' that 
 my cousin of Ligny told me. I will not wait till you give 
 me your page and horee — 1 beg them at your hands." 
 " The master himself is yours," answered the duke, " and 
 the rest may well be so. God give the boy grace to do 
 you some great sei-vice." " It is impossible," replied the 
 
IS MADE A MAN-AT-ARMS. 19 
 
 king, " tnat he should not become a man of worth. Cousin 
 of Ligny, I put the page under your care." The count 
 was grateful for a commission which promised to do him 
 honor. He placed the boy among his pages, and, during 
 the three years in which he held this position, he succeed- 
 ed in gaining for himself the affections of the new house- 
 hold as certainly as he had won those of the duke's. The 
 count himself became sincerely attached to him, and his 
 confidence in his future greatness was increased and con- 
 firmed by the daily development of his various qualities of 
 gentle and noble heart, and generous, ingenuous nature. 
 When he was but seventeen, he was raised to the station of 
 man-at-arras, and took his place in the company under the 
 immediate command of the Count de Ligny. This promo- 
 tion did not imply a place simply in the army. In the case 
 of Bayard, it was the rank of a gentleman of the household, 
 about the immediate person of his captain — a post equiv- 
 alent to that of the aide-de-camp of modem times, with this 
 addition, that the man-at-arms, in turn, held his immediate 
 retainei's, the number being regulated by royal ordinance, 
 and varying according to circumstances, under the several 
 decrees of the king. For this the knight paid as for a license, 
 the amount of fine or assessment going to the public reve- 
 nue. The force thus allotted to a lance, or man-at-arms, 
 was of a mixed character, so as to represent most of the 
 several elements of an army. He himself bore lance and 
 sword, or battle-ax, and, in the time of Bayard, was follow- 
 ed by three archers, a page and an esquire. One hundred 
 lancers thus implied six hundred men, and fifteen compa- 
 nies of a hundred lancers each, made a select body of nine 
 thousand troops. To be a man-at-arms was a much-desired 
 privilege at this period, as it was seldom given but to favor. 
 It was sought wdth eagerness by the gentry, and numerous 
 volunteers, from the class of wealthy plebeians, augmented 
 the ranks as volunteers, with the hope that, by gallant per- 
 fprmances, they might be admitted to supply the vacant 
 
20 THE MAN-AT-ARMS. 
 
 places. The corps constituted an aristocracy, proud of its 
 distinction and jealous of its reputation. This feeling con- 
 tributed to its high renown. During the reign of Charles 
 VIII. and his immediate successor, it was considered in 
 some sort invincible. It will be seen how much our youth- 
 ful hero contributed, by his personal prowess, to this grate- 
 ful reputation. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Charles was absent from Lyons some three years, mak- 
 ing the tour of his realm. Meanwhile, our page prospered, 
 as we have seen — gradually passing into a premature man- 
 hood, and acquiring the tmsts which belong only to that 
 character. When the king returned to Lyons, there was 
 naturally a resumption of all the courtly pleasures and pas- 
 times which made him a favorite with his people in spite of 
 his many royal deficiencies. Among the events which oc- 
 cuiTed to increase the animation of the Lyonese, after the 
 return of the court, was the appearance among them of a 
 celebrated Burgundian cavalier, named Claude de Vaudray. 
 He was a knight of extraordinaiy address in arms, who 
 loved nothing better than to display his ability. He de- 
 manded of the king a tournament, by which to occupy his 
 young noblesse, and keep them from idleness and rust 
 The king, whose piety did not interfere either with his 
 
22 CLAUDE DE VAUDRAY. 
 
 pleasures or his ambition, and who loved the sports of chiv- 
 alry as becoming images of w^ar, readily gave ear to the 
 application. The touraey, as arranged by Claude de Vau- 
 dray, vi^ho vv^as well skilled in all such matters, was to con- 
 sist of several courses of knights on horseback, and com- 
 bats between foot and horse, with the lance and battle-ax. 
 Those who desired to prove their courage and skill had 
 nothing to do but to enter the arena where the gentleman 
 of Burgundy had hung up his shield, awaiting the chal- 
 lengers ; to touch it with the hand or lance, and send in 
 his name to the master of the tourney. 
 
 Our man-at-arms passed before the shields with mo- 
 mently-increasing interest. He stood before that, in par- 
 ticular, which belonged to Claude de Vaudray, with eyes of 
 longing and despondency. His meditations were sufficient- 
 ly discouraging. To touch the shield was easy enough, but 
 the conditions of chivalry were such as to put entirely out 
 of the question the claims of a gallant who could not ap- 
 pear in certain style and with a certain equipage. Bravery 
 was a term in that day of a twofold signification. The 
 knight must not only be, but he must look brave ; and the 
 pomp and splendor of the exhibition made no small part 
 of the attraction among the spectators. Our man-at-arms, 
 with a small stipend nicely calculated for his absolute ne- 
 cessities, was without the means to furnish himself with the 
 appointments proper to the combat. Armor, and fine 
 clothes, and horses, were essential before he could pre- 
 sume to take his station with the ambitious company which 
 Claude de Vaudray had gathered around him. His melan- 
 choly drew the notice of one of his companions, named 
 Pierre de Bocquieres, lord of Bellabre — a gentleman, hke 
 himself, of the suite of the Count de Ligny, a very brave 
 fellow, and one whom Bayard had inspired with a very 
 warm attachment which continued through his life. " Wliat 
 troubles you, comrade 1 You seem thunder-struck," said 
 Bellabre. ** I feel so," was the reply ; " and this is the 
 
TOUCHES THE SHIELD 6f THE CHALLENGER. 23 
 
 reason. Here, now, I am no longer a page. Our good 
 lord hath made me a gentleman, but I have not the means 
 to appear as one. I long to touch the shield of Messire 
 Claude de Vaudray ; but when I have done so, where am 
 I to find the armor, and where the horses V 
 
 Bellabre was something older than Bayard, and knew 
 much more of the world. He was a bold fellow, with 
 possibly a sly humor of his own, which did not always 
 hesitate to seek indulgence at the expense of his neighbor. 
 He answered his sorrowful comrade with a smile, " Why 
 should these doubts distress you? Have you not a fat 
 priest for a kinsman ] Is not your gi'eat uncle the rich 
 Abbot of Esnay ] We will go to him ; and I vow to God, 
 if he won't furnish us the means, we will lay hands on 
 crosier and mitre." This was a very irreverent boldness 
 on the part of Bellabre ; but the anxiety of Bayard to en- 
 counter the challenge prevented him from the indulgence 
 of many unnecessary scruples. His companion made so 
 light of the difficulty that he at once proceeded to smite 
 the shield. We may imagine him to have done so with 
 something of the spirit and force of Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, 
 when he thrust the bright shaft of his lance, for the combat 
 a Voutrance, against that of Brian de Bois Guilbert. The 
 sensation was quite as great among the spectators. ** How, 
 my friend Piquet" — for the surname of the king still clung 
 to him — " How !" exclaimed the master-at-arms, " will you, 
 with a beard not of three years' growth — will you presume 
 to fight with Messire Claude de Vaudray, one of the 
 fiercest knights that you may hear of" Admirable as they 
 thought the youth in his bearing and ability, there were 
 none who did not regard this boldness as so much boyish 
 presumption. But Bayard answered with laudable mod- 
 esty — "It is not fi:om pride and aiTOgance, my finend, 
 but that I desire to have a knowledge of arms, wherever I 
 can, fi-om those who can best bestow it. I would learn by 
 little and little, and it may be that God may give me grace 
 
24 THE ABBOT OF ESNAY. 
 
 to do something which shall please the ladies." The an- 
 swer provoked the laughter of the king-at-arms, and de- 
 lighted all who heard it. The noise of the proceeding soon 
 ran through the court. Piquet had touched the shield of 
 the Burgundian challenger. The Count de Ligny carried 
 the tidings to the king, who rejoiced greatly, exclaiming, " By 
 the faith of my body, cousin of Ligny, your breeding of this 
 boy will bring you honor, as my heart tells me." The 
 count, though pleased, was not without his anxieties. " We 
 shall see what will come of it," he replied : " Piquet is 
 yet very young to stand the blows of Messire Claude de 
 Vaudray. But I would rather than ten thousand crowns 
 that it should be so." 
 
 To touch the shield boldly did not by any means over- 
 come the worst difficulty in the way of our champion. To 
 procure the means for the adventure from the miserly gi'asp 
 of his fat uncle was a toil from which Bayard shrunk, natu- 
 rally, with doubt and apprehension. He knew the nig- 
 gardly disposition of his kinsman, and how little he was 
 sensible to the deeds of chivalry. To have obtained the 
 means from the Bishop of Grenoble, had he been at hand, 
 would have been an easy matter ; — but this Abbot of 
 Esnay ! Our man-at-arms turaed to his comrade, Bellabre, 
 who was by no means disposed to desert him at his need. 
 They went together to the abbot whom they found walking 
 in his garden at Esnay, with one of his monks, and at his 
 devotions. The news had already reached the reverend 
 father of the audacity of his nephew in touching the shield 
 of Claude de Vaudray. He anticipated, accordingly, the 
 mission upon which he came, and his reception, though 
 warm enough, was any thing but cordial. "What!" said 
 he, " you, a boy but seventeen years old — but three days 
 ago a page — who made you so bold to touch the shield of 
 Messire Claude de Vaudray 1 You grow too presumptuous, 
 and should be made to feel the rod again." The youth 
 modestly replied : " I assure you, my lord, it is not pride 
 
FORCED CONTRIBUTIONS. 25 
 
 which has made me do this, but solely the desire to become 
 worthy of my ancestors and yours. I beseech you, then, as 
 the only near relative whom I have at Lyons, that you will 
 furnish me with the means for this occasion." " On my 
 faith," said the reverend father, " you get no money fi'om 
 me ; the wealth of the church is for the service of God, 
 and not to be wasted in jousts and tourneys." 
 
 The bishop looked inflexible, and Bayard blank; but 
 Bellabre here took up the parole, and significantly remind- 
 ed the reverend father that, but for the prowess of knight- 
 hood there had been no Abbey of Esnay to endow — that it 
 was the military reputation, indeed, of his own ancestors 
 which had obtained for him his abbacy. " A sense of past 
 benefits alone," said the speaker, " to say nothing of what 
 may follow hereafter, should make you incline to the ap- 
 plication of your nephew. He has already won honor for 
 his name, is in high favor with the king and my lord of 
 Ligny, and will you, for a matter of two hundred crowns, 
 endanger his future prospects, which may be worth to you 
 ten thousand." A hint adroitly administered, that his nig- 
 gardliness toward his nephew, with whom every body else 
 was pleased, would be very apt to provoke the disgust of 
 the king and all the courtiers, concluded the discussion, 
 which had taken place in the garden. Sore, but consent- 
 ing, the penurious abbot led the way to the dwelling, and 
 opening a window, he drew from it a little purse, which he 
 put into the hands of Bellabre. '* Here," said he, with a 
 biting sarcasm, " are an hundred crowns, which I put into 
 your charge, that you may buy two horses for this valiant 
 man-at-arms, seeing that he is himself quite too young to 
 handle money. I shall write to Laurencin to furnish him 
 with the necessary habiliments." The good abbot never 
 fancied that these habiliments would cost more than a hun- 
 dred francs; but as the order was unlimited, Bellabre as- 
 sumed the privilege of judging for his young friend what 
 should be the proper extent of the expenditure. Possessed 
 
 r 
 
26 MORALS OP CHIVALRY. 
 
 of the purse and order, they took their leave with many 
 expressions of gi-atitude, to which the abbot seems to have 
 listened with indifference. Once out of his sight, Bellabre 
 conveyed to his companion a portion of that peculiar moral 
 philosophy which, in those days, did no discredit to the 
 soldier. " You must know, comrade, that when God be- 
 stows good fortune upon men, as he has done this day upon 
 you, they should do WTong not to profit by his bounty : the 
 bread is holy which we rob from the priesthood. Here, 
 now, is the order to Laurencin — let us use it quickly, ere 
 the abbot reconsiders. When he remembers that he hath set 
 no limits to his bounty in this order, he will amend it. Let 
 us use it quickly to procure all your accoutrements, not 
 simply for the tourney, but for the year to come. You will 
 get nothing farther from his hands." 
 
 Bayard laughed at the philosophy of his fiiend, the pro- 
 priety of which he had no reason to doubt. The age, in 
 which religion was quite too fi'equently employed as the 
 cloak for crime and idleness, did not visit, with much sever- 
 ity, offences of this sort against a luxurious priesthood. 
 The advice of Bellabre was adopted. Laurencin was wait- 
 ed upon the moment that they reached Lyons ; the order 
 was promptly honored by the merchant, to whom Bellabre 
 told a story highly creditable to the abbot ; whom he repre- 
 sented as greatly delighted with the rising fame of his 
 nephew, to whom he had given a good breakfast, three 
 hundred crowns, and the ample order, of which Laurencin 
 was possessed already. The tradesman placed his shop 
 at the service of the two. He paraded his stuffs of gold 
 and silver, his rich velvets, embroidered satins, and gor- 
 geous silks, commodities in which that age was even more 
 luxurious than ours. The young knight was not suftered 
 to stint himself, by the shrewd companion at his side. He 
 took what was necessaiy to his wants, and what was grate- 
 ful to his eye, and the tailors were soon put in requisition 
 to convert his goods into becoming garments. 
 
TRIBULATION OP THE ABBOT. 27 
 
 Our abbot was not slow to discover the excellence of the 
 jest. Boasting at dinner of his forced generosity, he told 
 what he had done. The sexton of the abbey applauded 
 the act, expressing a doubt, however, whether he had done 
 altogether wisely in not limiting the order to Laurencin. 
 *' I fear," said he, "that your nephew will take more than 
 you intend, and, instead of a hundred crowns, you may have 
 to pay for two thousand." The abbot was instantly alarm- 
 ed, and despatching his steward to Laurencin, was con- 
 founded to learn that the amount of Bayard's purchases 
 was eight hundred francs instead of one hundred. " Eight 
 hundred francs! St. Maiy!" exclaimed the reverend fa- 
 ther, as he received this intelligence. " Make haste to his 
 lodgings," he cried to his steward, " and say to him that if 
 he does not instantly restore to Laurencin what he hath 
 taken, he shall never be the better by another franc of mine." 
 
 But our friends had anticipated this mission, and the 
 servants were instructed that none of the people of the 
 Lord of Esnay were to find their way to the presence of 
 their master. The pages amused themselves, accordingly, 
 at the expense of the messenger. When the steward asked 
 for him in his own lodgings, he was reported to be at those 
 of the Count de Ligny. There, he is told that Bayard has 
 gone forth beyond the Rhone to try his horses ; and thus, 
 until he was weary, the steward was kept passing to and 
 fro between the angry abbot, his master, and the house- 
 hold of the offending nephew. Very solemn then was the 
 oath of the former that the boy should repent of his wicked- 
 ness. The Clime of defrauding the church of its revenues 
 might well, by an abbot, be held as an unpardonable one. 
 He did not pardon the offence, and not another copper of 
 his money found its way to the purse of the offender. 
 
 Bayard shared his livres equally with Bellabre. Their 
 friendship hitherto had been such that they partook without 
 scruple of each other's goods. Two horses were bought 
 between them for the tourney, the day assigned for which 
 
28 THE TOURNEY. 
 
 was rapidly approaching. An interval of three days was 
 busily employed in preparations — in going through the 
 hands of the tailor, in choosing and fitting armor, and dec- 
 orating, in the customary style of the times, the persons 
 of horse and rider. The tourney took place on Mon- 
 day, the 20th July, 1494. The pubHc and private prep- 
 arations were such as to draw together numerous specta- 
 tors. The lists were duly set in order. Place was assigned 
 to the king and courtiers, the noblesse, and the citizens, 
 and the ladies of Lyons made no inferior part of the im- 
 posing spectacle. The knight, Claude de Vaudray, the 
 challenger, was the first person to make his appearance in 
 the field. He was encountered, in order, as the names of 
 the champions had been enrolled, by many gallant gentle- 
 men of the court and of the royal army. There were the 
 Seneschal Galiot — who proved himself an expert cavalier, — 
 the young Bonnival, Sandri court, Chastillon, Bourdillon, all 
 intimates of the king, and many others, all doing their best, 
 and all more or less creditably. To stimulate the spirit of the 
 combatants, one of the rules of the tourney was, that each 
 champion, afl;er he had run his course, should be conducted 
 round the lists, that he might receive the plaudits of the spec- 
 tators. Such a proceeding would naturally prompt the am- 
 bition of the cavalier to the utmost exertion of his powers. 
 The time at length came for Bayard to make his appear- 
 ance in the lists. He was at this time not yet eighteen 
 years of age, had not attained his full growth, was tall and 
 spare of form, and of delicate complexion. His boyish as- 
 pect and person, in spite of his manly bearing, awakened 
 the sympathy, rather than the expectations, of the specta- 
 tors. It was known that he had to do with one of the most 
 experienced and vigorous of living knights. But Bayard 
 was of rare agility, and possessed, what was not apparent 
 to the eye, a degree of sinewy strength and well-developed 
 muscle, which were not common to his years. He com- 
 menced rudely, we are told, abashed most probably by the 
 
bayard's first triumph. 29 
 
 novelty of the situation, and somewhat tremulous from the 
 excited desires of his own heart. But he soon recovered 
 all his grace and courage, and the issue furnished a suffi- 
 cient sanction for his audacity. " How it happened," re- 
 marks the quaint old chronicler from which we translate, 
 " I can not tell ; whether it was that God willed that he 
 should have the glory, or that Messire Claude de Vaudray 
 was pleased to forbear somewhat in consideration of his 
 youth ; but there was no man in the whole course of the 
 tourney, whether on horse or foot, who performed his de- 
 voir better than he, or indeed quite so well !" And this was 
 the opinion of all the spectators — an opinion which the fair 
 ladies of Lyons did not hesitate to avow with the frankness 
 of hearts delighting in deeds of gallantry. When it came 
 to Bayard's turn to make the round of the lists, they 
 awarded him, in their Lyonese tongue, the highest honors 
 of the day — " Vey vos cesteu malotru ! il a mieux fay que 
 tous los autrosT "See you this awkward lad — he hath done 
 better than all the others !" Nor was this opinion confined to 
 the Lyonese ladies ; the courtiers were quite as much pleased 
 with his performance. The king said at supper, " Piquet 
 hath made a fine beginning ; in my belief he will go on to a 
 good end ; — cousin" — to the Lord of Ligny — " I never made 
 you a better present in my life, than when I gave you that 
 boy." To which the count answered, " Sire, it will be 
 more to your profit than mine if he becomes a man of 
 merit. It is your commendation that hath made him un- 
 dertake so nobly." He added, " There is one, however, 
 who takes no pleasure in his performances — his uncle, the 
 Abbot of Esnay. He alone looks reprovingly at the course 
 which brings such pleasure to us ;" and the count proceed- 
 ed to tell the story of the unlimited order, the eight hundred 
 crowns for which our two friends had assessed the reverend 
 father, and of his unavailing dunning through the medium 
 of the steward ; — a story which provoked king and courtiers 
 to a very hearty fit of laughter. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 This successful initial passage-at-arms led to the promo- 
 tion of our hero. Some short time after the event, he was 
 called into the presence of the Count de Ligny, who said to 
 him, "Piquet, my friend, you have begun your careei 
 happily. We shall have more war, and I will put you into 
 my company, with an allowance of three hundred crowns 
 a-year, and three horses. You will still hold your place in 
 my household, but will now go to the garrison and see your 
 comrades. You will find them as gallant a set of fellows 
 as there are in Christendom. They will give you sufficient 
 exercise in arms, as they constantly hold joust and tourney, 
 to win honor and the favor of the ladies. You will be bet- 
 ter thus, exercising with them, until we are actually re- 
 quired to take the field." 
 
 No intimation could have been more agreeable to our 
 young knight than this. His blood bounded for the exer- 
 cises of which his recent taste had been so pleasant and 
 honorable. He acknowledged with gratitude the bounty 
 and kindness of his superior, and declared his perfect satis- 
 faction with the disposition which was made of him. His 
 eagerness was such that he avowed his desire to depart 
 without delay, and the count was willing that he should do 
 so, but first announced to him that he should take leave of 
 the king. Charles had just risen from dinner as they came 
 into his presence. " Sire," said the count, " here is your 
 Piquet. He is about to join his comrades in Picardy, 
 and comes to take leave of you." The graceful ease, and 
 manly but respectful manner with which Bayard made his 
 obeisance, was particularly pleasing to the king; and he 
 
BAYARD GOES INTO GARRISON. 31 
 
 said to the young soldier, with a smile, "Piquet, my friend, 
 may God keep you as you have begun, and you will be a 
 noble gentleman You go to a country where the ladies 
 are very charming; you must be sure to exert yourself 
 and win their favor. Adieu, my friend, adieu." 
 
 Taking leave of the princes and noblesse, he was honored 
 with their embraces. All of them expressed regret at losing 
 him from court : he himself felt but little ; his heait yearned 
 for the more stirring military career to which he was des- 
 tined, and he was impatient to be gone. It does not ap- 
 pear at this time that he remembered the sweet damsel of 
 the Duchess of Savoy, to whom he had so vainly paid his 
 vows. He had probably begun to perceive the wisdom of 
 her counsel. A new world had opened upon him, and a 
 more enlarged ambition. New excitements of a more im- 
 perious nature had seized upon his imagination, and in the 
 more various aspects of society, to which he had recently be- 
 come familiar, the force of his boy-passion might well be 
 subdued. That it was not eradicated, however, we have 
 reason to know from the progress of this history. But we 
 must reserve these matters for the period when they shall 
 more properly appear. Enough, that he still retained in 
 his bosom the impression of an attachment which he yet 
 concealed from sight beneath the cuirass. It was through 
 the ranks of war that he was to cleave his way to love, or 
 avoid its dangers. But there is no doubt that he loved his 
 profession, and detested a life of sloth. His eye, trained 
 from infancy to contemplate the eagle career of his ancestors, 
 had made this career a part of each desire in his soul. It 
 was his duty to become a wanior, a knight brave and gen- 
 tle, conquering all foes by deeds of arms, all hearts by deeds 
 of loveliness and gi'ace. 
 
 It was not his " adieus" alone that Charles bestowed upon 
 his youthful soldier. Just before his departure, a purse of 
 three hundred crowns was brought him from the monarch, 
 with one of the finest horses from his stables. To those 
 
32 COUNSEL OF DE LIGNY. 
 
 about him he bestowed freely of the money, while, in the 
 courser, he beheld a token not less of what was expected 
 at his hands, than of the favor of his master. His parting 
 with the Count de Ligny was serious and impressive. This 
 nobleman had learned to love the boy, as if he were his 
 own son. He brought him to his lodgings and gave him a 
 world of counsel, affectionately urged and expressed. " It 
 is a false notion, Piquet," he remarked, " that the life of 
 the soldier confers upon us the right to forget God and re- 
 ligion. There is nothing in our profession which is incom- 
 patible with a becoming devotion. God expects not from 
 us, indeed, the same continued meditation and frequent 
 prayer, the rigorous penances and long abstinences which 
 are practiced by the professed religious in the life of the 
 cloister ; but there is nothing in our duties to prevent our 
 love of God, our obedience to his will, and fear of his an- 
 ger. These, with the exercise of charity, are virtues in all 
 human conditions. Keep these always active in your soul, 
 for without these even that sentiment of honor which you 
 have received from your ancestors would be of little lasting 
 value or account. It is only proper when coupled with the 
 fear and love of God. I pray you to respect the priest- 
 hood — their profession not less than their persons. Yield 
 not to any evil example of your comrades, when they would 
 make a mock of these honorable men. Priests are like 
 other men. Piquet ; they have their weaknesses, and may 
 have their vices, but they endure many provocations, and 
 these should make us indulgent to their faults. See them 
 in the cottage of the poor, at the bed of the dying, and 
 close by the side of the cnminal who is marching to his 
 doom. The merit which the brave soldier acquires in the 
 day of battle is not very unlike to that which the man of 
 God obtains every day of his life. His life, indeed, is one 
 long combat and victory, and this, too, without any of that 
 glory and applause which mortal honor brings to compen- 
 sate those who toil bravely in her behalf. Think of these 
 
PARTING OF THE FRIENDS. 33 
 
 things, my son, and they will secure you equally the favor 
 of God and man. But the hour wears, and you have 
 need of sleep, as you will depart early in the morning. 
 As you will leave before I rise, you must take my farewell 
 to-night. Go, my son, and may God conduct you always." 
 
 The lessons of chivalry, from teachers such as the Lord 
 of Ligny, were not unworthy of the pretensions of the or- 
 der, in its most noble and honorable periods. Tears filled 
 the eyes of Bayard as he listened, and he answered with the 
 affectionate respect of one whose gratitude was equally 
 warm and without constraint. He retired to his own lodg- 
 ings escorted by his young companions, by all of whom he 
 was honored and beloved. They did not part from him 
 without many embraces. Having reached his chamber, he 
 found the tailors of the Count de Ligny awaiting him with 
 two complete suits of clothes, the gift of that nobleman. 
 " Give my thanks to my lord," said the youth, " for this and 
 the many favors he hath conferred upon me, none of which 
 have I deserved." Twenty crowns rewarded the bearer 
 of the gift, and ten crowns were left for the groom who 
 brought his courser. The night was half spent before he 
 laid himself down to rest, and he slept but little. He was 
 about to enter the great world, to begin a life of independ- 
 ent action, a boy no longer, and among new comrades. 
 He rose with the dawn, and sent off his baggage and 
 horses. Of these he had six of a large size, suitable for use 
 in actual war, and five or six more, of smaller size, for ordi- 
 nary purposes. His friend Bellabre accompanied him as 
 far as Brele, where they dined, and parted. Their separa- 
 tion was not a sad one, as it was understood that the for- 
 mer, as soon as he received certain horses which were on 
 their way from Spain, would follow fast upon his footsteps. 
 
 Our hero traveled by short stages, for the better ti^eat- 
 ment of his horses, several of which were led. Arrived 
 within a few leagues of the town of Aire, he sent forward 
 one of his people to look for lodgings. His reputation had 
 
34 TARDIEU, A GOOD COMPANION. 
 
 gone before him, and when it was known to his future 
 companions that he was approaching, more than six-and- 
 twenty of their number came forth to meet him and form 
 his escort. These were all sons of noblemen, or of noble 
 family. They were curious to see the youth who had dared 
 cross lances with Claude de Vaudray, and of whose equal 
 skill, courage and modesty they had already heard so 
 much. Their welcome was joyous, and the approach to 
 Aire was that of a triumph. The ladies, too, had heard 
 of our hero, and the windows were thronged as the gay 
 cavalcade rode through the streets. Escorted to his lodg- 
 ings by his comrades, some of them remained with him to 
 supper. He found them a merry set, fond of pleasure, but 
 without the means to indulge their passion to much ex- 
 tent. They questioned him freely as to his resources, and 
 were delighted to find that he had more money than them- 
 selves. His passage-at-arms in the tourney occupied their 
 conversation to such a degree, and their applauses were so 
 lavish, as somewhat to disquiet and abash our modest hero. 
 They could not beguile him into a forgetfulness of his hu- 
 mility, and, without any transports, he replied — " There is 
 nothing yet to praise me for, my friends ; but, please the 
 Lord, with your good help, I may do something hereafter 
 to do me credit among persons of merit." 
 
 Among his new companions was one named Tardieu, a 
 lively fellow, full of humor, and fond of gayety. " Com- 
 rade," said he to Bayard, " I must tell you that the ladies 
 of this town are the handsomest in all Picardy, and by the 
 way, your hostess, whom you have not seen, is one of the 
 prettiest among them. She is now absent, gone to the wed- 
 ding of a niece. You will see her to-morrow, and see that 
 what I tell you is the truth. Now, as you can not have 
 come to keep gamson without a well-filled purse, you must 
 do something with it to please the ladies. You must 
 maintain your reputation by worthy actions. It is a long 
 time since we have had a tourney here. You must give 
 
PREPARATIONS FOR A TOURNEY. 35 
 
 one, to take place in the next eight days. Wliat say you 1 
 Come, do not deny me the first favor that I ask." 
 
 The proposition no ways displeased our man-at-arms. 
 It must be remembered that there was nothing in the sug- 
 gestion of Tardieu that did not comport with the customs 
 of the time and country. The tourney was the proper ex- 
 ercise for the young warrior in seasons of repose, by which 
 he kept up a knowledge of the aits which he had acquired, 
 and prepared himself for future exigency. Bayard replied 
 to Tardieu precisely as he wished. *' Had you asked for 
 a greater matter, I could not have refused you. This 
 proposition is quite as pleasing to me as to you. Send me 
 the trumpet to-morrow, and, with the captain's leave, we 
 will give the necessary notice." This captain was one 
 who had acquired the highest reputation in the armies of 
 France. He was one of the most famous of his time. 
 His name was Louis D'Ars, fi-om Dauphiny also, the kms- 
 man and neighbor of Bayard. Tardieu, who knew him 
 well, replied — " Doubt not that we shall have leave in this 
 business from our captain, as we contemplate nothing evil. 
 He is now absent, but will return in four days. If there 
 be blame, let it rest on me." Bayard yielded his scruples 
 without reluctance. He remembered the injunctions of the 
 king and Count de Ligny to be sure and please the ladies, 
 and the lessons of chivalry taught no better process than 
 by deeds of arms in the tournament. When Tardieu ap- 
 peared the next morning, bringing the trumpeter, our young 
 knight was ready for him. He had scarcely slept that 
 night. Wearied as he had been by the travel of the day, 
 and kept up by his comrades to a late hour, the pleasing 
 excitement occasioned by the suggestion of Tardieu, had 
 totally baffled the approach of slumber. His visitor 
 scarcely paused to give him the good-day, when he re- 
 minded him of his promise, and introduced the trumpeter. 
 " No excuse," said he ; " here's your man, and now for the 
 ordinance." To his surprise, the proclamation was ready 
 
36 THE CHALLENGE TO ALL-COMERS. 
 
 to his hand. Bayard, who was well versed in the laws 
 and practices of chivalry, had employed his sleepless hours 
 in devising the courses and preparing the publication of the 
 tourney. The paper was already written out in a fair 
 hand, and ready for exhibition. His heart was in the 
 scheme, though, but for Tardieu, he would scarcely have 
 conceived it at so early a day. He would have waited 
 until his acquaintance with the ladies and gentlemen of 
 Picardy had somewhat ripened into familiarity. 
 
 His comrade perused the document with unconcealed 
 delight. It ran thus : 
 
 *' Pierre de Bayard, young gentleman and novice in 
 arms, a native of Dauphiny, and one of the king's men-at- 
 arms, in charge of, and under conduct of the high and puis- 
 sant lord, Count de Ligny, hath caused a tourney to be 
 cried and published within and without the town of Aire, 
 to take place on the twentieth day of July ; to consist of 
 three strokes of the lance, without lists, and twelve of the 
 sword, with edged weapons, in armor of war, on horse- 
 back; and the whole in good earnest. To him who does 
 best his devoir, shall be given a golden bracelet, of the 
 weight of thirty grains, enamelled with his own device. 
 The day following is appointed for a combat on foot, at the 
 point of the lance, and within lists as high as a man's waist. 
 The lance being shivered, the fight to be followed up with 
 strokes of the battle-ax, at the discretion of the judges, and 
 of those who keep the field. To him who does best in this 
 combat shall be awarded a diamond of forty crowns value." 
 
 The terms of the combat, " a fer esmoulu^^ shows that no 
 child's play was intended. Our hero styles himself, mod- 
 estly, a novice in arms ; he was soon to prove himself a pro- 
 fessor. Tardieu was delighted as he read. " By , 
 
 comrade," he exclaimed, " not Launcelot, nor Tristrem, nor 
 Gawaine, could have done better." We have not said that 
 the early education of Bayard was rather better than was 
 common to his order in that day j and, before he left school 
 
PROSPECTS OP ^HE TOURNEY. 37 
 
 he had learned to write a gi-aceful hand, and to express 
 himself with simplicity and clearness. " Go," cried the 
 eager Tardieu, to the trumpeter — " go, cry this tourney 
 through the town, and from garrison to garrison, for the 
 space of three days, that all the lovers of good deeds may 
 have knowledge thereof." And this said, and the trumpet- 
 er dismissed, he turned to the young knight, and renewed 
 his congi-atulations. The prizes, though seemingly small, 
 were in that day considerable ; and they were to be paid 
 out of Bayard's purse. We are to understand that the 
 purse of a man-at-arms, in time of peace, was never likely 
 to be burdensome ; and the liberality which our hero dis- 
 played in the ready acquiescence which he gave to the 
 somewhat expensive suggestion of Tardieu, proved to all 
 parties that he was not more brave than unselfish. It was 
 one of the noble virtues in the character of Bayard, that he 
 valued money only in regard to the power which it gave 
 him of being useful to his friends and followers. 
 
 A single fact will show the somewhat bold character of 
 this challenge. There were at this time in garason in 
 Picardy some eight hundred men-at-arms, many of whom 
 were long practised and experienced soldiers. There were 
 the companies of Marshal des Cordes, Philippe de Creve- 
 cceur, one of the Scotch, and one of the celebrated Lord de 
 la Palisse. There was certainly a wide range of adversaries 
 for the challenger, and it might reasonably be expected that, 
 of so many warriors, and so many who were distinguished, 
 there would be no lack of combatants ; and there was not. 
 Bayard's own captain, Louis d'Ars, returned, in the mean 
 while, and gladly gave his sanction to the tournament. 
 Bayard promptly waited upon him, and tendered his re- 
 spects. He was received with many affectionate caresses. 
 The brave men of that day were always glad to enroll 
 among their followers every person who promised to do 
 honor to their commands. To complete the happiness of 
 our young knight, his friend Bellabre anived in season for 
 
 D 
 
38 THE TOURNEY. 
 
 the fete. It had been scarcely satisfactory without him. 
 The days pending the toumey were passed in becoming 
 preparation. The young soldiers practised daily with steed 
 and weapon ; and their military exercises were reHeved by 
 frequent parties, given to the ladies, in which love and gal- 
 lantry suggested the materials of conversation, and the dance 
 was closed with the banquet. In these courtly pastimes, 
 our young knight was the observed of all obsei'vers. The 
 ladies, who were not those of the town only, but of the 
 surrounding country also, were never weary in his praise. 
 His grace of bearing, the modesty of his discourse, and his 
 frank and generous spirit, won for him applauses which 
 they bestowed upon no other of his comrades ; and their 
 praises were redoubled when it was found that none of the 
 favors which he received had filled his heart with pride. 
 In the enjoyment of the smiles of the ladies, he neither for- 
 got himself nor them. It is thus that merit, when combined 
 with modesty, bewitches all the world. The envious 
 themselves will forget the superiority which they are never 
 required to acknowledge. 
 
 The day appointed for the tourney came at last, and our 
 little world of Aire was in gi'eat and pleasant commotion. 
 There was no faltering among the combatants, all of whom 
 were promptly mustered into opposing ranks. Every prep- 
 aration had been made, that the spectacle should be a brill- 
 iant one. The knights were in their gayest caparison ; and 
 the ladies who looked on, whose favors they wore, and 
 whose smiles and cheers encouraged them, were never 
 more solicitous in the display of their choicest fashions. 
 The judges of the field were Captain Louis d'Ars and the 
 Lord of St. Quentin. The trumpets sounded, and forty- 
 six combatants appeared in armor, and on horseback. 
 They were divided into two equal bodies. The second 
 peal of the trumpets announced the beginning of the tour- 
 ney. At this signal. Bayard was the first to present him- 
 self. He was opposed by Aymon de Salvaign, lord of Bois- 
 
FIRST PASSAGE WITH tHE LORD OF BOISSIEU. 39 
 
 sieu, whose surname was Tartarin, as that of Bayard was 
 Piquet. This gentleman was of an illustrious house, of 
 Dauphiny, and from our young knight's own neighbor- 
 hood. He was known to be veiy formidable in the use 
 of his weapons. The charge was sounded ; and, as they 
 mshed together, the encounter of the passage was so keen 
 as to shiver both lances ; that of Boissieu breaking off near 
 the head, at the junction of the iron with the wood, while 
 that of Bayard, smiting the top of the great vantbrace, was 
 broken into several pieces. It was a marvellous fine pass- 
 age, and the trumpets sounded furiously, as if in emulation 
 of the opposing champions. The first course accomplished, 
 they prepared for the second with fresh spirit and new lances. 
 Again they rushed together, and the charge was not less 
 beautiful than before. In this passage, it was the fortune of 
 Boissieu to pierce the vantbrace of Bayard about the elbow. 
 It was thought by all that the arm had been wounded ; but 
 this was a mistake. The spear of our knight smote his ad- 
 versary above his visor, and bore away the chaplet of 
 feathers from his helm. Once more the joy of trumpets, 
 and the two champions, who had sufficiently convinced all 
 spectators of their skill and spirit, gave place to other com- 
 batants. 
 
 The next who succeeded were Bellabre, our knight's 
 fiiend, and a Scottish gentleman, a captain in the French 
 service, named David de Fougas. They fractured their 
 opposing lances with admirable success, and gave way to 
 other parties; and thus, two by two, until the courses had 
 been run by all the combatants. The conflict of the lance 
 was followed by that of the sword. The foe who en- 
 countered our young knight with this weapon is not men- 
 tioned ; but the sword of Bayard was shivered at the first 
 collision.* But this did not seem to lessen, but rather 
 
 ■* Some say the third, but we prefer to follow his secretary, " the loyal 
 servant," who says the first. The matter, fortunately, is of no great im- 
 portance. 
 
40 AFTER THE TOURNEY. • 
 
 aroused him to the exercise of all his powers of defence. 
 So well did he continue the conflict with the fragment re- 
 maining in his grasp, that his opponent failed to gain any 
 advantage from the mishap which seemed so decidedly to 
 give it him. The prescribed number of blows having been 
 given, without damage, these adversaries were made to 
 give place to others. And thus the day passed as joyously 
 as it had begun. There was nothing to impair the gayety 
 of the assemblage. The spectators were all agreed that 
 better play, whether with lance or sword, had never been 
 shown. All had done well and were honored, but the 
 palm of excellence was borne away confessedly, first, by our 
 young knight, and then by Bellabre, Boissieu, Captain 
 David of Fougas, and our pleasant comrade, Tardieu. 
 
 The supper and the dance followed at the lodgings of 
 Bayard, where the ladies were sumptuously entertained, 
 and the approach of midnight found nobody tired. But 
 they did not fancy such late hours then as they do at mod- 
 em parties. The ladies, many of whom had come from a 
 distance of ten miles, had to seek lodgings for the night ; 
 and the young gallants saw them safely home, just as they 
 do now, in less chivalrous seasons. It was late the next 
 day before they had risen, and then, we are told, they 
 were never weary of commending our good knight, who, 
 for prowess in arms and courtesy, was not thought by them 
 to have his equal in the world. 
 
 But the sports were not over, and some of the details of 
 the next day may well be recorded in illustration of the 
 manners of the time. The champions, with Bayard at their 
 head, repaired at an early hour to the house of their cap- 
 tain, to make their respects, and to entreat him to honor 
 them with his presence at a dinner, to which the Lord of 
 St. Quentin and other noblemen were invited also. There 
 they were to meet vnth the ladies whom they had found so 
 agreeable the night befol'e — and this, we must remember, 
 was at the lodgings of our bachelor, and he but eigh- 
 
CUSTOMS OP CHIVALRY. 41 
 
 teen years of age. We find it difficult in out: day to under- 
 stand the singular blending of so much humility, in some 
 respects, in the training of the youth, with so much confi- 
 dence and boldness, in other regards, which seems to have 
 been encouraged in them and looked for at their hands. 
 There was then no indecorum in the damsel visiting the 
 young knight, and supping at his lodgings ; for it was the 
 lesson of that day, that the maiden might properly dress the 
 wounds of the cavalier, though there were no ties of blood 
 between them. 
 
 The invitation of Bayard was accepted, and the whole 
 party then proceeded to hear mass ; after which, bestowing 
 themselves upon the ladies, they escorted them to the lodg- 
 ings of our young knight, discoursing by the way of love, 
 and all those various pleasant fancies, through the medium 
 of which the young heart declares an instinct as certainly 
 as a sentiment. The entertainment of the day was not less 
 grateful to the company than that of the preceding night. 
 The dinner of Bayard was pronounced to be quite as ex- 
 cellent as his supper ; and he himself was constantly found to 
 improve upon acquaintance. But the dinner of that period 
 was not the prolonged festival — the tour of duty — which 
 we have made it ; and it took place comparatively at an 
 early hour. Nor could the repast itself have been of that 
 weighty and benumbing character which it commonly 
 proves with us, denying all but moderate exercise after it 
 has been discussed. On this occasion, when our young 
 soldiers rose from table, it was to resume their places in the 
 tournament. The order of the second day was to be per- 
 formed, and expectations were not less high among the 
 champions themselves and the spectatoi-s than on the day 
 before. The tilt was begun by Bayard in the usual man- 
 ner. The knight who came against him, in this new en- 
 counter, was one Hanotin de Sucre, a gentleman of Hai- 
 nault, who had a high reputation for bravery. He did not 
 discredit his renown. So fiercely did the adversaries rush 
 
42 CLOSE OF THE TOURNEY. 
 
 to the encoui^er, and so well did they aim their lances, 
 that both spears shivered in the charge. These were flung 
 aside, and the combat was resumed with the battle-ax, hon- 
 estly, after the terms of the challenge, a fer esmoulu, in 
 downright earnest. The combat threatened to be a mortal 
 one ; many were the strokes given and received ; heavy, 
 hard blows on helm and cuirass, which the champions baf- 
 fled, as well as they might, with all their skill, and bore with 
 all their fortitude. For some time the parties fought with 
 pretty equal success, but finally our young knight suc- 
 ceeded in planting an ugly blow upon the ear of his oppo- 
 nent, under which he staggered and sunk upon his knees. 
 Still seeming to offer fight, Bayard, with a second blow, 
 made him fairly kiss the earth ; a feat which he performed 
 so unwillingly that the judges of the field came to his re- 
 lief, with the cry, " Halloo ! halloo ! enough ! Let them 
 retire !" 
 
 Bellabre followed, in an encounter with one Amaulton 
 de Pierreforade, a gentleman of Gascony, according to the 
 prescribed routine, and taking to their battle-axes when 
 their lances were splintered. Then came our jovial 
 friend Tardieu, and Captain David, the Scotchman; and 
 so on through the whole train of combatants, each pair in 
 turn, until all had enjoyed a sufficient taste of the tourney. 
 The sports of this day occupied seven hours, and gave no 
 less satisfaction than those of the day before. The fighting 
 was considered admirable all round, but the field had its 
 favorites, and there were prizes to be distributed. The 
 day was far from finished when the champions had put 
 off their armor and donned more courtly habits. They as- 
 sembled again to a banquet at Bayard's lodgings, where 
 the ladies were already waiting them. There, also, were 
 the two judges of the field, Louis d'Ars and the Lord of 
 St. Quentin. The discussion of die supper and of the 
 merits of the champions went on together. The ladies freely 
 shared in both. After supper, a vote was taken upon the sub- 
 
AWARD OF T^IIE JUDGES. 43 
 
 ject. The opinions of gentlemen experienced in matters of 
 war and chivalry were then demanded by the judges. These 
 were required to declare themselves upon their honor. A 
 similar demand was made for the judgment of the ladies ; 
 but they were required to pronounce their verdict accord- 
 ing to their consciences. The distinction is not so subtle a 
 one but that we can easily perceive it now ; even now, 
 while we may require the oath of the man, we are content 
 with the simple assurance of the lady. While he would be 
 required to asseverate, we are satisfied if she affirms. The 
 law which makes the distinction is one of courtesy, and in 
 the days of chivaliy it took cognizance of very subtle mat- 
 ters. The result of the discussion was that all had 
 done remarkably well, but that our young knight — or, as 
 he even then began to be called, the good knight — ^had 
 proved himself the ablest champion. They accorded to him 
 the prizes of both days to distribute as he thought proper. 
 
 The judgment of the court was pronounced with flourish 
 of trumpets by the Lord of St. Quentin, who said, " Gen- 
 tlemen here assembled, especially you that have done bat- 
 tle in this tourney, for best performance in which Master 
 Pierre de Bayard hath offered prizes, know ye, that we the 
 judges commissioned by you all to make the award, after 
 having duly inquired of all the brave and honorable gentle- 
 men who have seen the fight, and likewise of all the noble 
 ladies here present, do declare that each has played his part 
 well, and with much credit. But, without taking from the 
 merit of any, we decree, according to the common voice, 
 that the Lord of Bayard hath, on both days, shown himself 
 the most worthy combatant, wherefore the gentlemen and 
 ladies award to him the honor of bestowing the prizes as he 
 shall deem most fit. And now," turning to the young 
 knight, "bethink you. Lord of Bayard, to whom you will 
 deliver them." 
 
 The youth was quite abashed at this address, and re- 
 mained a brief space silent ; then, gathering confidence, he 
 
44 BAYARD BESTOWS THE PRIZES. 
 
 answered, " My lord, I know not wherefore I should have 
 this honor. It seems to me that there are other knights 
 who have better deserved it than myself. Since, however, 
 your decree has placed the prizes at my disposal, I entreat 
 my companions of the tourney not to be displeased if I 
 bestow the prize of the first day upon the Lord of Bellabre, 
 and that of the second upon Captain David of Fougas." 
 Saying this he bestowed the prizes. Nobody complained 
 of this decision, the justice of which, he himself being no 
 longer a party among the claimants, was recognized by all. 
 And thus finished our hero's first public passage in Picardy. 
 It was a highly successful experiment, and lords and ladies 
 augured well equally of a career which was so well begun, 
 and in favor of a character which continued to charm the 
 more, the more its noble and graceful qualities became de- 
 veloped to his associates. And this experience of all, un- 
 derwent no change during the two years that Bayard 
 remained in garrison at this place. Many were the tourna- 
 ments that followed, all graced by the presence of the brave 
 and fair, and crowned with the banquet, the dance, and 
 other sports of the time. In most of these he continued to 
 bear away the crown, winning hearts and prizes together. 
 His biographers all agi'ee in ascribing this to one cause 
 chiefly. He never suffered any rivalship in grace and gener- 
 osity ; his successes never made him forget his moderation, 
 and his nice regard to the 'feelings and the pride of others. 
 He was the most gracious and most liberal of gentlemen; he 
 Was, indeed, the gentle man, taking the word as resolved 
 into its elements and in its time signification. He shared his 
 money to the last crown with his companions ; he never 
 saw one of them dismounted whom he did not help to rise 
 — ^no small favor, where the struggling knight was made 
 fast from head to heels, in iron garments — ^lie was regular 
 at his devotions, a great giver of alms, and never withheld 
 a boon which it was in his power to bestow. The pure, 
 sweet lessons of his mother, as she yielded him to the 
 
HIS POPltLARITY. • 45 
 
 world — the manly and honorable counsels of the Lord de 
 Ligny as he sent him into gan-ison — none of these had been 
 forgotten. He lost nothing of the fair blossom of his youth 
 in the opening flower of his manhood ; and the two first 
 years of his military life which he passed in Picai'dy, while 
 it conferred upon him much of the knowledge which man- 
 hood must necessarily acquire, and which men only can 
 impart, still left him free from those degrading vices and 
 wretched moral taints which are but too often supposed to 
 be inseparable from the sterner training which one acquires 
 fi'om the world. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Thus, pleasantly enough, and with great profit to him- 
 self, passed the first two years of the military experience 
 of our young knight. His blood was exhilarated, and his 
 body strengthened, by constant muscular exercises; his 
 person had expanded into symmetry and manhood; his 
 tastes were refined and elevated by frequent intercourse 
 with the other sex; his heart had developed the noblest 
 sensibilities, while his mind had acquired acuteness and 
 vigor, leading him to pi'ompt combinations of thought, to a 
 wonderful soundness in the formation of opinions, and to con- 
 clusions which were equally correct and rapid. These re- 
 sources of intellect and person were now to be put to use 
 in actual warfare. The shadows and images of war were to 
 give place to its stern realities, and the ardent desires of 
 our man-at-arms were soon, in some sort, to be gratified. 
 Charles VIII. had resolved to assert, by arais, his claims to 
 the crown of Naples. These claims were such only as 
 could be urged by power; the right was shadowy and 
 unsubstantial, and, but for the intrigues of Ludovic Sfor- 
 za, then in the government of Milan, and doubtful of his 
 seat, who represented the conquest as easy, and who flat- 
 tered Charles that he might become another Charlemagne, 
 would never have been suffered to disquiet the peace of the 
 nations. Naples overcome, and the next step was to dis- 
 possess the Turk of Constantinople. This was one of the 
 lures of Sforza, and, wild as was the project, it had its in- 
 fluence not less upon the French nation than upon its mon- 
 arch. The younger part of the nobility were eager for the 
 invasion. The people were prepared to regard it as a 
 
WAR AGAINST NAPLES. 47 
 
 preparatory step to another Holy War — a cnisade in which 
 they were to acquire claims upon heaven by their bold as- 
 saults upon a heathen enemy. The more judicious coun- 
 sellors of the realm opposed themselves to the design. 
 They knew the infirmities of the monarch's character, and 
 were probably not insensible to the weakness of his claim,* 
 though, on this head, they may have said nothing. They 
 represented to him the impolicy of quitting his kingdom, the 
 danger to himself and country of exposing his person in a for- 
 eign war, the numerous enemies whom he would make active 
 by the invasion, the ability in war of some of his opponents, 
 and his own exhausted finances. They warned him against 
 the meshes of the Italian politicians, and urged him not to 
 incur perils from which his more prudent predecessor 
 shrunk with becoming caution, if not in fear.t But their 
 arguments were unavailing against those of the cunning and 
 faithless Sforza, the impatient eagerness of the king's 
 younger barons, and his own restless vanity. The young 
 and ardent enterprise of the nation longed for employ- 
 ment, and the associates of Charles, who was himself just 
 anived at manhood, naturally made a more decided im- 
 pression upon his mind than the counsels of graybeards, 
 with whom he had no sympathy. There were thousands 
 of gay gallants, brave and chivalrous, in the aniiies of the 
 king, who, seen in the frequent passages of the tourney, 
 might readily persuade themselves and their monarch that 
 they were equal to any enterprise. They would naturally 
 urge him upon this. The war was, accordingly, decreed, and 
 the preparations for carrying it on were made with a vigor 
 which surprised all who knew the uncertainty and weakness 
 of his character. An immense army was rapidly brought 
 together, which, variously estimated, was probably about 
 
 * See on this subject the well-argued paper contained among the mis- 
 cellanies of Gibbon, entitled, " Critical Researches concerning the Title of 
 Charles VIII. to the Crown of Naples." 
 
 t Roscoe's Leo the Tenth. 
 
48 ITALY OVERRUN. 
 
 « 
 
 forty thousand men. Our young knight took the field under 
 the command of the Count de Ligny. 
 
 But the war did not at first promise much for his youthful 
 ambition. It was a triumphal progress rather than the 
 march of an army into the country of an enemy. The Ital- 
 ians were overwhelmed by the greatness and suddenness of 
 the invasion. Sforza himself, who had contemplated noth- 
 ing farther than a war of intrigue, and whose aim was sim- 
 ply to occupy the ear of the French king for his own pur- 
 poses, was astounded by what he had done, and soon began 
 to play false with his ally, though, for* some time, he contin- 
 ued to maintain appearances. He met and welcomed him 
 into Italy, which was quickly overrun, without making an 
 effort to defend her plains. Florence made a vain show of 
 resistance, which was instantly quelled, and the French 
 araiy penetrated the temtories of the Church. Charles 
 entered Rome on the last night of the year 1494, by the 
 light of a thousand torches, and in the habit of a conqueror. 
 Here, by way of duly asserting his seignorial rights, he 
 raised that simple structure which wits have denominated 
 the most certain proof of civilization — the gallows. His 
 first act of authority was the prompt punishment of certain 
 malefactors, by hanging, drowning, whipping, and mutila- 
 tion, showing that, " as a true son of the Church, and most 
 Christian king, he enjoyed the same power of executing 
 justice in Rome, as in his tovni of Paris." * The pope, the 
 notorious Alexander VI., though bitterly grieved at heart, 
 had no reproaches. He dared not even murmur at this 
 gross derogation from his civil and spiritual authority. 
 Wholly at the mercy of the conqueror, he honored him 
 with his embraces and garbed his hostility in smiles. From 
 Rome an equally triumphant progi'ess brought the French 
 monarch upon Naples ; no warlike opposition being offered 
 which was not instantly subdued. He entered the city on 
 the 22d February, 1495, assumed the government, and in a 
 * Monstrelet. 
 
EXCESSES OF THE FRENCH. 49 
 
 few days was hailed as the sovereign of the kingdom. Never 
 was progress so complete. The pope, concealing his own 
 dissatisfaction, sarcastically said that " the French had over- 
 run Italy with wooden spurs, and conquered it with chalk," 
 alluding to the custom in those days of marking with chalk 
 the doors of those upon whom the soldiery was to be quar- 
 tered.* 
 
 But the spirit which was wanting to resist the invasion 
 was not wanting to punish and avenge it. The Italians 
 were deeply mortified at the disgrace of their country ; their 
 resentments were increased by the licentiousness which 
 marked the progress of the French soldiery, whose excesses 
 are admitted by their own historians.t They were scoraful 
 and contemptuous when dealing with the better classes, 
 brutal and fierce when they happened among the common 
 people. " At our first entrance into Italy we were adored 
 as saints, . . . but that opinion lasted not long ; our own dis- 
 orders, and the clamors and false reports of our enemies, 
 quickly convinced them of the contrary." The disorders 
 of the French are all to be traced to their superiors, and 
 particularly to their monarch. His conduct was that of a 
 boy suddenly possessed of an abundance of novel play- 
 things. Instead of devoting himself to his new government, 
 strengthening its defences, providing against its exigencies, 
 and soothing the public mind until he had won its confi- 
 dence, he gave himself up to practices, now of pleasure, and 
 now of superstition, which were neither of them often of a 
 kingly nature. But he was not selfish in his pleasures, and 
 among other modes of employing his cavaliers, and amus- 
 ing his subjects, a solemn tournament was decreed, which 
 continued day by day for a week. It was attended nu- 
 merously from all parts of Italy. The great lords of Flor- 
 ence and other states were present, forgetting their country 
 in the love of change and pleasure, and declaring for the 
 invader with as much zeal as if he had been the monarch 
 * Roscoe's Leo the Tenth. t Philip de Comines, B. vii. 
 
 E 
 
50 THE ITALIANS ROUSE THEMSELVES. 
 
 of their choice. The great ladies of Naples and the sur- 
 rounding country did not withhold their presence, and, in 
 the exhibition of his power, Charles seemed to forget all 
 precautions for its security. We do not learn that our hon 
 chevalier took any part in this tourney : his name is not 
 mentioned by the chroniclers. Doubtless, he would have 
 been present if this had been possible or proper. The 
 honors of the field seems to have remained with the more 
 aristocratic, if not more noble names of Chastillon and 
 Bourdillon ; and, if our young knight jousted at all during 
 these passages at Naples, it was probably in conflict with 
 more youthful champions like himself, whose deeds were 
 lost sight of in their inferiority of rank and name. We 
 shall find, however, that the chronicles, which are silent in 
 respect to his perfomiances at the solemn tournament of 
 Charles, at Naples, exhibit no such reserve in regard to his 
 general conduct. They are at some pains to separate his 
 career from that of his associates, in all that concerns the 
 cause of purity and humanity. The noble propriety of his 
 deportment toward the people among whom he moved as 
 an enemy, proved him to have forgotten none of his early les- 
 sons of gentleness and good faith. The pride of success, the 
 exulting passion which makes triumph so fiequently forget- 
 ful of humanity and right, particularly in the bosom of impet- 
 uous youth, seems never for an instant to have beguiled him 
 from those virtues which had always been his distinction. 
 
 While Charles was wasting time, which was precious 
 for the safety of his acquisition, his enemies were busy. 
 The always conflicting states of Italy, urged by the neces- 
 sity of the case, and each trembling for its own safety, were 
 quickly brought together. To expel an invader, too pow- 
 erful for them all separately, was obviously the common 
 object. The royal family which had been driven out by 
 Charles from Naples, had sought, and succeeded in obtain- 
 ing, the alliance and support of the Spaniards. Ferdinand, 
 the selfish and avaricious monarch of that country, had his 
 
CHARLES RETREATS FROM NAPLES. 51 
 
 own interests to subserve in giving succor to the exiled 
 Prince of Naples ; though, in so doing, he violated the ex- 
 press stipulations of a treaty w^hich he had made with 
 Charles, before the invasion of Italy by the latter, in which 
 he solemnly engaged not to interfere in the concerns of 
 Naples. Ludovic Sforza, who had chiefly instigated the 
 French king to the invasion, now abandoned him. The 
 Venetians, who had been quieted by Sforza, so as to look 
 with indifference on the advance of the French, shared nat- 
 urally in his caprice, and joined the league against them ; 
 urging foi'ward the preparations for their expulsion v^dth a 
 vigor singularly contrasted with their previous unconcern. 
 In a short time the ambassador of Charles at Venice was 
 coolly informed that an army of forty thousand men were 
 about to take the field, the purpose of which he was suffer- 
 ed to conjecture as he pleased.* 
 
 The peril of Charles was now very gi'eat ; and had the 
 movements of the allies, in assembling their forces, been a 
 little more rapid, he could never have regained his king- 
 dom. No sooner had he been advised of the league against 
 him than he prepared to quit his newly-acquired dominions. 
 In thus deciding, he committed the eiTor of leaving behind 
 him a part of his army in possession of the capital and of 
 the fortresses of the kingdom. Inadequate to the mainten- 
 ance of the conflict, they were left only to be sacrificed in 
 detail, while the fierce which accompanied his person was 
 scarcely equal, but for the smiles of a veiy favoring fortune, 
 to have saved him fi'om the numerous enemies who were 
 crowding to prevent his flight. Some of the errors which 
 were made by Charles at this period, are ascribed by Co- 
 mines to the master of our young knight, the Count de 
 Ligny, against whom the old chronicler seems to entertain 
 a grudge. It is evident enough that, in one instance, the 
 warmth and generosity of his feelings, served, in some de- 
 gree, to lessen his own, and the securities of his sovereign, 
 * See the interesting narrative of Comines, B. vii, viii. 
 
52 THE FRENCH CROSS THE APENNINES. 
 
 and to peril the safety of a select body of troops. His 
 counsel, against the advice of older heads, to ganison Pisa 
 and not restore her people to the tyranny of Florence, was 
 the rejection of a large sum of money, never more necessary 
 than at that moment to the king ; and the diminution of the 
 already too small army which was to enable him to reach 
 his kingdom. The Duke de Montpensier was left in charge 
 of his Italian possessions, with assurances of early succors 
 from France. 
 
 Our young chevalier was one of those who attended the 
 steps of the retreating monarch. At Pisa, Charles was re- 
 ceived with triumphal honors, the people being anxious for 
 any change which promised to relieve them fi'om their for- 
 mer tyrants. At this place he remained a week, then pro- 
 ceeded leisurely through Lucca and Pietra Santa, to Sar- 
 zana. Here he was persuaded to send a small force to 
 assist the Genoese, who were described as anxious to throw 
 oif the yoke of the Duke of Milan. But the Genoese re- 
 tained their fidelity, and the expedition was defeated. 
 Approaching Pontremoli, a fortified town at the foot of 
 the Apennines, where the French expected some oppo- 
 sition, the place was yielded to their advance without offer- 
 ing any resistance ; but a quari'el between some of the in- 
 habitants and a party of Gennan soldiers in the French 
 service, in which forty of the latter lost their lives, led to a 
 tert'ible massacre of the people and the destruction of the 
 town. This affair, at once disgraceful and impolitic, was 
 the act of the auxiliaries. We do not find that the French 
 portion of the forces of Charles were at all concerned in the 
 proceeding, and it was highly resented by the king himself. 
 He now crossed the Apennines, having consumed six weeks 
 in his march, and at a time when his safety chiefly depend- 
 ed upon his passing the mountains before his enemies could 
 assemble in sufficient strength to oppose his progress. He 
 had passed the summit of those hills which form the northern 
 extremity of the Apennines, when the plains of Lombardy 
 
BATTLE OF FORNOVO. 5t3 
 
 opening upon his sight, displayed the tents and pavilions of 
 a numerous army. It was here that the Marquis of Man- 
 tua, the generalissimo of the allied powers, had accumula- 
 ted a force of nearly forty thousand men : that of Charles 
 not exceeding nine thousand. The opposing armies came 
 together near the little town of Fornovo. An attempt was 
 made to treat for the free passage of the King of France 
 to his own dominions. The celebrated Philip de Comines, 
 who was the commissioner for Charles, advised him, 
 however, before the negotiation w^as opened, that it 
 would result in nothing. " I never saw two great armies 
 so near," said the experienced statesman, " but they fought 
 before they parted." This meeting might have been 
 avoided by the French ; but their progress was a series 
 of blunders, the final escape from which seems almost 
 to confer a sacred sanction upon the predictions of the 
 monk Savonarola, who claimed the gift of prophecy, and 
 who told Comines that his master would reach France in 
 safety. The negotiation failed ; the battle was no longer to 
 be avoided. It began with the attempt at the passage of the 
 river Taro, of the advanced guard of the French with the 
 artillery. The Italian forces were in motion as soon as the 
 French ; the cavalry of the latter followed, with the king 
 in person ; the rear was brought up by the Count de Foix. 
 Upon this body the Italians fell with their greatest force. 
 Led by the Marquis of Mantua, they forced their way to 
 the very person of Charles, and nothing but his own gal- 
 lantry, and the devoted service of his cavaliers, saved him 
 from death or captivity. He himself did the duty of a com- 
 mon soldier, threw off his constitutional timidity, and did 
 honor to the great empire which he swayed. His person 
 was several times in danger, but he was always saved by a 
 happy occurrence of events, such as could not have been 
 predicted in a combat so very desultory and full of caprice 
 as that of Fornovo. It is difficult now to designate the 
 events which singly or together brought about the final re- 
 
54 bayard's valor. 
 
 suit; but the victory lay with the French. The Itahans 
 were defeated, and fled in every direction. . . . Ten thousand 
 of them are reported to have perished, while the loss of the 
 French was less than one thousand. The confederates con- 
 soled themselves with the spoils of the French camp, which 
 they succeeded in carrying in their flight. Their eagerness 
 in the appropriation of these, in all probability, led to the 
 discreditable result of the battle. Those who were not thus' 
 beguiled, fought bravely, and their leaders paid dearly for 
 the desertion of their followers. " I myself," remarks Co- 
 mines, " saw a list of eighteen considerable persons, and 
 among the rest four or five Gonzagas, which are of the 
 marquis's (of Mantua) own family, who were slain." 
 
 This was the first stricken field in which Bayard fought. 
 Here, properly speaking, he fleshed his maiden sword. He 
 began his career in such a manner as to confirm all the 
 hopes which had been formed of his fearlessness and skill. 
 At the first blush of battle he rushed into the mel6e, and 
 bore himself triumphantly throughout all the charges of the 
 day. Two horses were killed under him, but he himself 
 escaped unhurt. The battle was one almost wholly of 
 sword and lance ; but few were slain by the artillery ; and 
 this fact is enough, by itself, to show the efficiency of that 
 arm in the French array, in which Bayard distinguished 
 himself. His conduct did not escape the notice of his su- 
 periors. He received from the king a reward of five hun- 
 dred crowns for his valor, and in return laid at his feet the 
 standards of the enemy's cavalry which he had captured in 
 the pursuit. 
 
 The farther progress of the French araiy was unembar- 
 rassed by their enemies, and Charles reached his capital in 
 safety. He had succeeded in the conquest of Naples, had 
 placed its crown upon his head, had traversed Italy as a 
 conqueror, yet had failed shamefully in all the substantial 
 purposes of his expedition. Naples was soon repossessed 
 by its former masters, the garrisons of the French fell one 
 
DEATH OP CHARLES VIII. 55 
 
 by one into the hands of the Italians and their confederates, 
 and, though fighting bravely, and disputing the arms of 
 their foes at every point, the forces which he left behind 
 him were formally expelled from Italy, after the loss of 
 great numbers and the endurance of great privation. The 
 finances of France were in the worst condition, and the 
 nation was emban-assed with a heavy debt. The people 
 no less than soldiery were demoralized by the new lessons 
 of licentiousness which the latter brought from the war ; 
 and Charles himself, always a feeble prince, soon sank into 
 an imbecile. He may have meditated preparations against 
 the Italian states, and for the recovery of his kingdom of 
 Naples, but he effected nothing; and died suddenly of 
 apoplexy at a game of tennis. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Charles VIII. was succeeded on the throne of France 
 by his cousin Louis, duke of Orleans, who took the title of 
 Louis XII. He soon declared his intentions with regard 
 to Italy, by adding to his titles those of Duke of Milan and 
 King of the Two Sicilies. The states of Italy greatly re- 
 joiced at the death of Charles, whose last days were spent 
 in idle resolves for the resumption of his Neapolitan domin- 
 ion. But Louis was a much more dangerous enemy to 
 their peace than Charles had ever shown himself. He was 
 a man of gi-eater courage and gi'eater sagacity, and had 
 acquired considerable experience of a kind the most valua- 
 ble to him in his present projects, during the expedition of 
 his successor, in which he had borne an active part himself. 
 He began his preparations at an early period by negociating 
 with the other powers of Europe, and particularly with the 
 Italian governments. His aim was to secure their assist- 
 
THE FRENCH INVADE THE MILANESE. 57 
 
 ance, or, at least, their neutrality. The Pope was gained 
 over to his interests by a maniage of Caesar Borgia with 
 a daughter of the King of Navarre, and near relation of 
 Louis, and by other favors which the latter knew how to 
 confer with grace and to profitable ends. The Venetians, 
 for a consideration, became a party to his ambitious proj- 
 ects; and Spain, tempted by a share of the spoil which 
 was to be obtained by the conquest of Naples, agreed by 
 secret treaty to assist in the operation. The French army, 
 commanded by the Count de Ligny and Stuart d'Aubigny, 
 crossed the Alps, and forming a junction with Trivulzio, an 
 able but faithless Italian Condottiero, who had obtained the 
 rank of a marshal of France, occupied the chief towns in the 
 Milanese, and at length captured and sacked the capital. 
 This place was held by the thrice-dyed traitor, Ludovic 
 Sforza, who made his escape with difficulty. The King of 
 France entered Milan as a sovereign on the 6th of October, 
 1499, amid the acclamations of the people. The states of 
 Milan and Genoa were taken into the allegiance of France. 
 Cremona was given to the Venetians, and Caesar Borgia, 
 now called the Duke of Valentinois, at the head of the Pa- 
 pal and a portion of the French forces, proceeded to con- 
 quer for himself a principality out of the territories of other 
 Italian states. The war was not such as to yield reputation to 
 the young knight ambitious of distinction. The invasion, 
 quite as rapid and as successful as that of Charles had been 
 at first, afforded no enemy worthy of the arms of the inva- 
 der. Bayard, who made the campaign, still under the 
 banner of the Count de Ligny, sighed at the inglorious 
 progress which brought victory to the French banners with- 
 out in any wise tasking French valor ; and the peaceful 
 garrison life to which he was consigned on the return of 
 Louis to France, though somewhat relieved by the sports 
 of the tourney, failed now to satisfy the appetite of one 
 who, in actual warfare, had already been made to relish 
 the superiority of stronger food. Still, these sports were 
 
68 BAYARD SLAYS HIS OPPONENT IN THE TOURNEY. 
 
 not always peaceful, and, in the case of our young knight, 
 the issue of one of them proved serious enough. Among 
 the frequent tourneys which took place in Lombardy, in 
 most of which he shared, there was one in which he en- 
 countered a Milanese gentleman named Giacinto Simonet- 
 ta. Simonetta was a brave and skilful knight, but his 
 conceit and arrogance were insufferable ; and, fighting with 
 Bayard, he so provoked him by his insolence, that the pas- 
 time became a combat a V outrance, and our young knight 
 slew him in the lists. The chroniclers give us no farther 
 particulars of an affair which was yet regarded as a prog- 
 nostic of the calamities which threatened the House of 
 Sforza. 
 
 Left with a considerable portion of the French army in 
 Lombardy, Bayard, after this event, availed himself of the 
 apparent quiet of the country, to renew his acquaintance 
 with the surviving members of the House of Savoy. 
 Charles I., duke of that House, to whom he owed his ear- 
 liest military training, was now no more. His widow, 
 Blanche, maintained a little court at the town of Carignan 
 in Piedmont, which had been assigned her for a dowry. 
 The heart of Bayard warmed toward the lady of whose 
 lord he had been a favorite page. He had a tender recol- 
 lection of the happy months spent in his service ; and other 
 recollections of peculiar force served to render him anx- 
 ious once more to renew his intimacy with a family, some 
 of whose members still held a large influence over his 
 heart. The duchess was a very generous and noble prin- 
 cess, and came of a famous stock. Blanche Paleologus 
 was the daughter of William VII., marquis of Montfen^at, 
 and her husband had been surnamed " the wanior." The 
 fame of Bayard had reached her ears, and his welcome 
 was that of a kinsman. She received him with equal 
 kindness and distinction; his achievements were gratefiil 
 to her pride, as they might in some degi'ee be ascribed to 
 her own and husband's training ; and she had no imperfect 
 
RENEWS AN ANCIENT FRIENDSHIP. 59 
 
 memory of the graceful and modest page whose native ac- 
 complishments had won her regards, as they had won those 
 of all other persons. Bayard was greatly rejoiced, as we 
 may suppose, at this reception ; but, with the profoundest 
 attachment and gratitude for this noble lady, it must be ad- 
 mitted that there was yet another motive for the visit of our 
 young gallant. A feeling something stronger than either 
 gratitude or friendship was actively working in his heart. 
 We have not forgotton the boy-passion of Bayard for the 
 young damsel in the train of the duchess, who, in return 
 for his proposals of love, gave him such admirable exhorta- 
 tions to prudence, just before his transfer to the sei-vice of 
 the Count de Ligny. We have not forgotten his vows of 
 eternal love, and his determination to declare them to the 
 Duchess of Savoy, on the very day when he was command- 
 ed by the duke to prepare for his departure for Lyons. 
 This young lady was still in the service of the noble house 
 which had nourished her childhood ; but our hero could no 
 longer behold her with the ardent admiration of love. She 
 was the wife of another ; she had given her heart to the 
 youth, but she could not oppose herself to the wishes of her 
 relatives and patron. The page was no longer at hand to 
 encourage and justify her resolution by the earnest pledge 
 of his own ; and though they had continued to correspond at 
 intervals, there is a something frigid in the warmest inter- 
 course by letter, which feebly answers to keep together 
 hearts which the hostile and neighboring world is striving 
 to put asunder. The letters of Bayard renewed his assur- 
 ances ; but she might well be taught to regard them only as 
 the becoming expressions of an honorable man, heedful 
 only of his word, when, perhaps, the heart of the writer 
 might gladly avail itself of the privilege of escape. She 
 could easily be persuaded to believe that the natural prog- 
 ress of his years and feelings, from those of boyhood to 
 maturity, — the excitements of the life which he led, — the 
 provocations of war and new companions, — were, in all 
 
60 TOLERATION OF CHIVALRY. 
 
 probability, quite enough to render weak the influence 
 of the juvenile flame which she had inspired. These, 
 united, were considerations of force sufficient to cause her 
 to yield to the persuasions of another. She was now the 
 wife of the Lord of Fluxas, a gentleman of large fortune, 
 who had charge of the household and estates of the Duchess 
 of Savoy. She was still young, still beautiful, and still en- 
 tertained a warm affection for the page who had first won 
 her heart. The feelings of Bayard were no less tender; 
 his memory no less tenacious of those graces and virtues 
 which had first prompted him to love ; but the impassable 
 wall between them was one which neither of these pure, 
 young hearts had any desire or thought to overleap. 
 
 Her marriage had reached the ears of Bayard at the 
 time of its occun'ence, and he had been very much affected 
 by the intelligence. But he had no reproaches, for, in his 
 own mind, he felt how much more eligible as a husband, 
 than himself, was the man whom she had taken ; and he 
 generously preferred her happiness to his own. Though 
 thus separated, the two never lost sight of each other ; and 
 the correspondence which they had continued at intei'vals 
 before her maniage, gave place, after that event, to the in- 
 terchange of an occasional gage d^amitie, such as it was 
 not improper for either party to offer and receive. She had 
 followed his fortunes with an eye which still declared her 
 heart's deep interest in his. None of his achievements had 
 escaped her, and it was easy to see, when they met, that 
 her marriage with another had not expelled him from her 
 affections. She gave him the tenderest reception, and he 
 trembled with all the renewal of his early passion as he 
 carried her hand to his lips. They did not scruple to 
 speak, in the hearing of all, of their past and even present 
 fondness for each other. No one seemed to think, indeed, 
 that the rights of the husband were at all outi'aged by such 
 admissions. Chivalry encouraged this sort of intercourse ; 
 its laws insisted upon it — its own vitality lay in its recogni- 
 
PASSION SUBDUED BY CHASTITY. 61 
 
 tion ; and beautiful, indeed, with a strange seductive love- 
 liness, was the aspect which love put on, artificial to our 
 eyes, in the undress but studied simphcity of that peculiar 
 era. It was the growing prudence of a time in which chiv- 
 ahy was dying out that had prevented their union. Their 
 passion had been more mature than their friends had es- 
 teemed it. It had sui'vived their childhood, their separa- 
 tion, the thousand changing influences of a career full of ex- 
 citements, and the maniage, with another, of one of the par- 
 ties. To declare this was rather honorable than otherwise. 
 We are told that the Lady of Fluxas desired, as far as an 
 honest woman might, to let Bayard see that the love she had 
 borne him in former years had suffered no abatement. He 
 still returned, with all the feelings, to all the recollections of 
 the past. She reminded him of a thousand little anecdotes 
 which interested them both at the time, and which it gave 
 them equal pleasure once more to remember. His achieve- 
 ments contributed the chief topics of the lady, and of these 
 she appears to have cherished a much more copious cata- 
 logue than it will be in our power, with all our painstaking, 
 to gather from the musty chronicles. She suppressed noth- 
 ing of the admiration which she felt for himself and his 
 performances ; and in the simple ardor of a frank and gush- 
 ing heart, she allowed her own secretly-cherished passion to 
 become apparent to any who had eyes to see. But it was 
 in her perfect innocence of soul that she prattled, and the 
 soul of her listener was not less white than her own. The 
 heart of Bayard was chaste like that of a maiden. He could 
 sit beside the lady of his love, as in former days, speak her 
 praises and listen to his own without one evil emotion. He 
 could tell her how much the page had loved her, and how 
 happy it made him to believe that he was still honored by 
 her affections. Yet she was still young and very beautifiil, 
 yielding, in the sweetness of her speech and the graces of 
 her manner, to no woman in the world. And her lips were 
 always pouring forth his praises, and her eyes declaring, as 
 
 F 
 
62 THE LADY ASKS A FAVOK. 
 
 plainly as eyes could declare, that he was still the object 
 of their fondest admiration. We shall not pretend to in- 
 quire if all this intercourse was proper, nor whether it was' 
 consistent with the rights of others. We shall trouble our- 
 selves with no such prudery, but refer the question wholly 
 for solution to the period itself when such were deemed 
 very proper practices. Chivalry, in those days, sanctioned 
 such freedoms ; and we may add, that passion does not seem 
 often to have abused them. The husband looked on and 
 favored an intercourse, of the innocence of which he had 
 no question. It was probably a subject of some gi'atifica- 
 tion that he should have borne away the prize which was 
 so dear in the sight of the distinguished champion. At all 
 events, society had so arranged it that the possessor of the 
 treasure should have no cause of offence in the envy and 
 admiration of his neighbor. The Lady of Fluxaswas per- 
 mitted free communion with her lover, and there was no 
 sort of secret of their affections. Conversing together, she 
 seemed pleased to bring him back to his exploits, from the 
 recital of which he always shrunk with a becoming modesty. 
 But she had her object in recurring to these topics. She 
 reminded him ef his first passage-at-arms with Claude de 
 Vaudray, of the tourney which he won at Aire, in Picardy, 
 and finally of his behavior at the battle of Fomovo, which 
 was gradually spreading his name over France. She rec- 
 onciled him to these subjects by showing her own deep in- 
 terest in their recital. His heart was touched by these 
 proofs of her unfaltering memory, and her continued watch- 
 fulness of his career. His pride was gratified by her ad- 
 miration ; his spirit was roused by her glowing and eager 
 recitals. She saw the impression which she had made in 
 the kindling of his eye and the quivering of his lip, and 
 seized the moment to urge a prayer — the object of which 
 was to give him a new opportunity of distinction, and to 
 gratify her own pride by the exhibition of his prowess. 
 " Bayard, my friend, I have a favor to ask at your hands, 
 
A TOURNEY PROPOSED. 63 
 
 and, I pray you, do not refuse me. You are now with 
 those with whom you had the first lessons of your youth. 
 It were not seemly that you should depart without giving 
 them to behold some shows of that prowess in arms which 
 hath elsewhere made you famous. The Lady Blanche is 
 a great lover of the tournament. She would be enchanted 
 beyond expression if you would declare one at Carignan. 
 There are many gentlemen of the country who would de- 
 light to show themselves in the lists, and no doubt there 
 are many of your owti Frenchmen whom a word from you 
 would summon to the encounter. Methinks the affair might 
 be made very brilliant and well worthy to be seen." 
 
 ** Since you wish it," said Bayard, " the thing shall be 
 done. You are the first lady who ever won my heart to 
 her sei-vice, and your chaiins are still powerful to compel 
 my obedience. But I have also to ask of you a favor, as 
 a condition of my sei-vice." 
 
 ** What is that, dear Bayard V 
 
 " I feel that you know I should ask of you nothing im- 
 proper," he continued, with a somewhat mournful voice 
 and manner. " Of you I well know I can have no higher 
 privilege than that of lips and hands,* and I should rather 
 die at your feet than by any presumption have the misfor- 
 tune to offend you. All that I ask for now, dear lady, is 
 one of your sleeves. For that I have present service." 
 
 This would seem an anti-climax ; but the reader must not 
 smile without a cause. A lady's sleeve in those days was 
 not kept for daws to peck at. It was a badge quite as dis- 
 tinguished as the garter of a countess has since become ; 
 and koni soit qui mat y pense may be quite as properly ap- 
 plied to one token as to the other. We need make no mys- 
 tery of the matter, and it is quite probable that the Lady of 
 
 * We must not misunderstand this expression. It alludes to the usual 
 terms of h»«iage : hommage de bouche et des mains, which is done by a vassal 
 with the head uncovered, hands joined, and a kiss received ; and binds him 
 to fight for his lord only in defence of the land whereof he holds. — Cotgrave. 
 
64 TERMS OF THE TOURNEY. 
 
 Fluxas — who cheerfully gave the sleeve — V7as perfectly con- 
 scious of the use to w^hich it was to be put. Such a badge 
 was of great value in the eyes of the knight-errant. It was 
 worn by the champion to remind him of the charms of the 
 lady, to enable him to blazon them above the field, and to in- 
 spire his valor in asserting them against all opponents. In the 
 language of chivalry, this sleeve was termed a favor, a jewel, 
 or a token, and the wearer became, in courtly parlance, the 
 servant of love to her who gave it. That of the Lady of 
 Fluxas was conveyed into Bayard's doublet the moment he 
 received it, and no more was said of the matter. Thus con- 
 versing together the day was consumed. That night he sup- 
 ped with the Duchess of Savoy, and the repast was followed 
 by the dance. After this the noble lady kept him with her 
 till midnight, pleasantly recalling their mutual histories for 
 mutual edification. She then dismissed him to his couch, 
 but it was not to sleep. Bayard had food enough to keep 
 liim wakeful, if only in meditating the delicious memories 
 of his mistress. He employed the hours when he could 
 not sleep in arranging the conditions of the proposed tour- 
 ney. With the morning he was ready with his ordinance, 
 which he despatched, with sound of trumpet, to all the 
 neighboring towns. Most of these were strongly garrison- 
 ed, and their gentry, such as loved gallant exercises, were 
 invited to repair to Carignan four days after the coming 
 Sabbath, armed at all points, there to contend for a prize 
 which the Lord of Bayard offered, consisting of the sleeve 
 of his lady, garnished with a ruby worth a hundred ducats. 
 The victory was to rest with him who should " perform the 
 best at three strokes of the lance, without lists, and twelve 
 of the sword." 
 
 The tourney was duly advertised in all the contiguous 
 places in which champions were likely to be found. Fif- 
 teen cavaliers responded to the invitation. The Lady of 
 Fluxas was delighted at the promptitude of the knight, 
 and the Lady Blanche not less so. She made liberal prep- 
 
THE GENTLE PASSAGE AT CARIGNAN, 65 
 
 orations for this " gentle passage." The grounds were as- 
 signed and set in readiness, the courses marked out, and 
 scaffolds were erected for the ladies. The day Drought 
 with it a large attendance. Crowds from all quarters 
 came to behold the gallant spectacle, while the little court 
 of our duchess put forth its gayest habiliments. In due 
 time the combatants made their appearance, and the 
 tourney began. Bayard was the first to present himself, 
 armed at all points, and attended by several of his own com- 
 rades. He found himself opposed by the Lord de Roua- 
 stre, a gallant gentleman, who bore the ensign of Duke 
 Philibert of Savoy. He was an expert champion, brought 
 up in a good school, and who knew how properly to use 
 his lance. At the first course, the lance of the Lord of 
 Rouastre was shivered by a handsome thrust ; but that of 
 Bayard was borne so steadily, and so well aimed at the 
 top of his enemy's gi'eat buff as to pierce it through and 
 completely to uncase him. New lances being furnished to 
 the champions, they ran the second course, in which the 
 results were pretty much what they had been before. The 
 spear of the Lord of Rouastre was again well aimed and 
 handsomely shivered; while that of Bayard, smiting him 
 within the visor, knocked oif his crest, and so staggered 
 him in his saddle as barely to suiFer his escape unhorsed. 
 At the third passage, the Lord of Rouastre crossed his lance 
 very adroitly, while that of our young knight was shivered 
 bravely. They were succeeded by the lords of Mondra- 
 gon and de Chevron, who executed similar courses, and 
 these were followed by all the rest, who performed to the 
 satisfaction of the company. We shall say nothing about 
 them, but confine ourselves to the individual champion. 
 At the close of the courses with the lance, this weapon was 
 thrown aside, and the combats were resumed \\dth the 
 sword. The success of our young knight was even great- 
 er with this weapon than the spear. His own sword was 
 broken in the conflict, but, in the same moment, he made 
 
66 THE lady's sleeve. 
 
 that of his adversary fly from his grasp. The other cham- 
 pions contended in hke manner, and with various degrees 
 of success. The spectators were dehghted, and the tour- 
 ney was ended only with the day. A supper followed at 
 the castle of the duchess ; after which came the hautboys. 
 The minstrels struck up their merriest preludes for the 
 dance, which was only suspended until the judges of the 
 tournament should confer the prize. These were the lords 
 of Grammont and de Fluxas. They took the voice of the 
 duchess and that of the other ladies and spectators, not 
 omitting that of the combatants themselves, and these unan- 
 imously decreed the victory to Bayard. The judges ac- 
 cordingly declared the award. He would have refused it ; 
 but none of his pretexts being allowed, he said, " that if 
 he had done well, his performance was solely due to the 
 Lady of Fluxas, whose sleeve he had worn. The prize, 
 therefore, must be conveyed to her to be bestowed as she 
 thought fit." 
 
 This declaration surprised nobody. The Lord of Fluxas 
 himself, flattered rather than made jealous by the speech 
 of our knight, whose nobleness he knew, conveyed the 
 prize to his wife and repeated what her champion had 
 said. His lady was noways confused by the circumstance. 
 Smiling sweetly upon her champion, she thanked him for 
 the honor he had done her, and said " Since the Lord of 
 Bayard asciibes to my sleeve the merits of his victory, I 
 will keep it myself, and wear it all my life for his sake. 
 With regard to the ruby, since he will not accept it, I give 
 it to the Lord of Mondragon, who, after him, is thought to 
 have done the best." 
 
 Her decision met with general approbation. The piize 
 being given, the dancing commenced, and lasted till afl;er 
 midnight. These sports continued for six days longer 
 at this brilliant little court, and each day served only to 
 increase the esteem and reputation which our good knight 
 nad already won. At length, the French gentlemen re- 
 
bayard's memory' of former services. 67 
 
 turned to their several garrisons, and it became necessary 
 that Bayard should depart also. He had not passed his 
 time unprofitably, nor in sports wholly. One or two anec- 
 dotes are preserved of him which show how warmly he 
 felt, and how fondly he remembered former benefits. There 
 was, if the reader will remember, a groom in the household 
 of Duke Charles, one Pison de Chenas, who had rendered 
 Bayard dutiful service while in his apprenticeship, and 
 who had refused all compensation at the time, telling him 
 it would suffice when he. Bayard, had become famous. A 
 particular circumstance of the kind will be remembered cis 
 occuiTing at the very moment when our young knight was 
 first about to exhibit his horsemanship before the king ; and 
 when, to encourage the groom in getting his horse in readi- 
 ness, he offered to present him with his dagger, which the 
 latter had refused. This man was still in the service of 
 the duchess. Bayard did not need to be reminded of his 
 former service. He sought him out, took him to his lodg- 
 ing where he entertained him handsomely, and then pre- 
 sented him with a horse worth fifty crowns. Hearing, fi'ora 
 the groom, that the ancient equeiTy to whom he had been 
 entrusted while with the Duke of Savoy, was now gouty 
 and infirm at Montealier, he left for him, in trust with the 
 groom, a good and handsome mule. He thus always re- 
 quited the services of his fiiends, never forgetting in man- 
 hood the benefactors of his early years. 
 
 The Lady Blanche parted from our herewith reluctance. 
 She felt a becoming pride in having contributed to the train- 
 ing of so courtly and gallant a gentleman ; and the kind- 
 ness of her farewell was only another foiTn of the sweetest 
 welcome. Bayard told her that " there was no prince or 
 princess in the world, after his own sovereign, to whose 
 service he was more devoted ; and declared the joy which 
 he should feel at being useful in her cause." She thanked 
 him with expressions of admiration, in which she was 
 echoed not only by her own household, but by the voices 
 
68 
 
 DEPARTURE FROM CARIGNAN. 
 
 of the whole town of Carignan ; where, says the " loyal ser- 
 vant," nothing was talked of " for a month but the prowess, 
 honor, gentleness and courtesy of the good knight." His 
 parting with the Lady of Fluxas was equally tender on 
 both sides. He was greatly moved, and her tears were 
 fi'eely shed. Their intercourse, always affectionate and 
 innocent, lasted till subdued by death ; and not a year pass- 
 ed without an interchange of gifts between them. It was 
 probably to this attachment that we may attribute the reso- 
 lution of our hero not to many. A heart like his, formed 
 for an attachment equally pure and tender, could only have 
 enjoyed life properly in the connubial state. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The arms of France, meanwhile, had suffered some re- 
 verses in Italy. The force left to garrison the several towns 
 which had been taken by Louis XII. proved inadequate to 
 the purpose. Ludovic Sforza, who had been expelled 
 from Milan, fled to the Emperor Maximilian, whom he in 
 vain solicited for succors. Being not wholly without mon- 
 ey, however, he met withtbetter success among the Swiss, 
 from whom he gathered an army of eight thousand men. 
 With this force and that of his own Italian levies he sud- 
 denly descended into Italy, and gradually repossessed him- 
 self of most of the cities of Milan. The inhabitants, weary 
 of the authority of the stranger, and chafed by the ex- 
 cesses which an invading and conquering army are always 
 more or less disposed to practice, opened their gates to 
 their ancient master, forgetting, with easy caprice, the for- 
 mer tyranny under the immediate. The capital city of 
 Milan itself was thus acquired through the treachery of the 
 citizens, with whom Sforza maintained a secret intelligence. 
 The French fought valiantly but vainly, and still kept pos- 
 session of the citadel, by which the town was commanded. 
 Driven out from other places, they retired slowly and sul- 
 lenly, holding their gi'ound where they could, and looking 
 eagerly for those succors from France which were to re- 
 cover their lost possessions and avenge their shame. The 
 war, for a season, was that of the dagger and the lance. 
 The French gend'armerie occasionally dashed out upon a 
 convoy and carried off a courier, while the stiletto of the 
 Italian peasant took redress upon the sleeping or the strag- 
 gling Frenchman. 
 
 Such a mode of warfare could not long continue. The 
 
70 THE FRENCH IN ITALY. 
 
 King of France was not disposed to relinquish his conquest. 
 Fresh levies were made, consisting of six thousand French 
 and ten thousand Swiss mercenaries. These, commanded 
 by the Count de Ligny and Trivulzio, were poured over 
 the Alps, and again threatened destruction to the House 
 of Sforza. But, in order not to lose sight of our young 
 knight, we must anticipate the arrival of these new troops, 
 and briefly glance at the condition of those which had just 
 been expelled from the cities of Milan. They had found 
 shelter in various contiguous places, in which they could post 
 themselves strongly, and there lay, impatient for the first 
 signs of the coming of their comrades to their relief. Bay- 
 ard, as we remember, had not left Italy. Seizing a mo- 
 ment of respite from war, he had paid the debt of grati- 
 tude to his former mistress ; but he had returned in season 
 to share in the vicissitudes of his countrymen. The re- 
 verses which the French had sustained were not even soft- 
 ened by the consciousness of a noble struggle. There had 
 been but little gallant fighting to which a brave captain 
 could refer for consolation afi;er defeat. The towns had 
 risen and opened their gates to the forces of the enemy, 
 and treachery was made to do the work of valor. The 
 French knights burned with shame at their disasters, and 
 eagerly desired to avenge them. By none of them was 
 this passion more earnestly felt than by our young cheva- 
 lier. He had remained in Italy, at his own entreaty, in 
 anticipation of the retura of Sforza, and of battles yet to be 
 fought. That the latter should return only to victoiy — that 
 the French should be defeated without conflict — was a 
 humiliation quite as unexpected to Bayard as it was 
 difficult to bear with patience. He was in gamson some 
 twenty miles from Milan, afl;er Sforza had repossessed 
 himself of that capital ; and, in this position, he soon began 
 to display those talents of the partisan warrior by which he 
 afterward won such great distinction. The proximity of 
 the Italians kept the French wakeful. They had not the 
 
BAYARD SEEKS ADVENTURE. 71 
 
 force to attempt any enterprises, but they kept themselves 
 in readiness for the performance, whenever opportunity 
 should offer, by the practice of all the military exercises 
 of the day. The tourney was their favorite pastime. Let 
 it not be conjectured that, because of the pomps and festiv- 
 ities which usually accompanied these sports, they were 
 mere pageants, the fruit of vanity, having no object but 
 personal display. Undoubtedly, an appeal was made to 
 the vanity of knighthood. But an important motive lay 
 beyond, and the pomps and festivities of the scene were 
 only meant to reconcile the timid to its real dangers and 
 severities. Hard blows were to be given and to be en- 
 dured. The tourney was the school of practice for the 
 gend^armerie, which, at this period, constituted the most 
 important part of a French army. It gave them the secrets 
 of the manege, made them masters of spear, sword and 
 battle-axe; and, until the general adoption of firearms, 
 constituted them the true arbiters of every well-fought 
 field. 
 
 But though Bayard practised daily with his comrades 
 in all the usual exercises of the soldier, these by no means 
 sufficed to satisfy his courage. He longed for more im- 
 portant employment, and maintained a close system of 
 espionage upon the troops of the enemy. The small town 
 of Binasco lay at a little distance from his garrison. Upon 
 this place he kept his eye. It was held by a body of Ital- 
 ian horse, three hundred in number. One of his spies 
 brought him tidings which led to the conclusion that this 
 force might easily be defeated. The spy was probably a 
 traitor, and in the pay of the Italians also ; but the tempta- 
 tion offered by the prospect of combat was such as kept 
 our hero fi'om any extreme incredulity. One morning, be- 
 times, he persuaded some forty or fifty of his companions 
 to join him in a visit to Binasco. They set forth full of 
 spirits; for already it was the case that the simple word of 
 Bayard was quite enough to inspire his comrades with 
 
72 ENCOUNTERS THE ITALIANS. 
 
 confidence in his fortunes. Their inequality of number did 
 not make them doubtful ; for, in that day, it was usual with 
 the French knights, lating the Italians, to hold them as 
 humbly as, in after times, the British affected to hold the 
 French themselves. The captain at Binasco, whose name 
 was Cazache, was ready for them. He smiled grimly at 
 the approaching adventure. He was a brave fellow, well 
 practised in war, and always on the alert. He had been 
 apprised of the coming of our Frenchmen, and prepared 
 for the conflict, putting himself in a good posture of de- 
 ence, having drawn out his whole force a couple of bow- 
 shot from the gates of the town. The smallness of the 
 party led by Bayard encouraged him, satisfied that his 
 troop was sufficient to overwhelm them. When, there- 
 fore, the French came on with the war-cry of, " France ! 
 France !" they were nothing daunted, but answering with 
 "Moor! Moor!"* hurried to the encounter. The shock 
 was terrible; but few of either party kept their saddles, 
 and many never recovered them again. Bayard was busy 
 all the while, solicitous only for the proper disposition of 
 his enemies. " Whoever had seen him," says one of his 
 biographers, " doing martial deeds, cutting off" heads, and 
 hewing arms and legs, would have sooner taken him for a 
 wild lion of the forest than a tender-hearted lover." But 
 Cazache was not so easily overcome. Bayard and his 
 Frenchmen might do wonders, but the odds were very fear- 
 fully against them. The combat had already lasted more 
 than an hour, and the victory was still doubtful. Our young 
 knight felt the necessity of concentrating all his abilities on 
 a final effort. ** How, my comrades," he cried to his coun- 
 trymen, " shall these keep us all day at work 1 Let us 
 take heart and beat them off" the field ; for if those yet in the 
 town come to hear of it, we shall not one of us escape." 
 He did not wait for their answer — did not pause to see 
 whether he was supported or if he fought alone — but 
 * Sforza was so called on account of the darkness of his complexioa 
 
PURSUES THE' FOE INTO MILAN. 73 
 
 dashed forward with rare and reckless intrepidity upon 
 the masses of the Lombards. His comrades answered to 
 his call. His words, his voice, his desperate charge, earned 
 them forward as irresistibly as they did himself Darting 
 all at once, headlong, upon the opposing ranks, they tore 
 the enemy asunder. These yielded, slowly at first, and 
 still disputing every inch of the ground. But the sharp and 
 repeated onslaughts of the French chivalry were not to be 
 withstood, and the retreat became a flight. Whether pre- 
 meditatedly or through terror, the fugitives made their way 
 toward Milan. It is probable that the French had con- 
 trived to throw themselves between them and Binasco. 
 The impulse to pursuit was irresistible. Smiting as they 
 flew, our Frenchmen drove their enemies before them. 
 Bayard, well mounted, with the wild impetuosity of his na- 
 ture, kept ii\i advance of his troop. They cried to him to 
 return. He heard them not. They drew back, as the fugi- 
 tives rushed through the gates of Milan ; but he left them be- 
 hind him, and, unconscious that he was alone — unconscious 
 of any thing but that he was successfully striking at his foe — 
 he burst into Milan at the heels of the enemy, carrying 
 slaughter to the very palace of the duke. It was only 
 when he heard the clangor of the gates closing behind him 
 that he becamQ. conscious of the novelty and danger of his 
 situation. The three white crosses which he bore, the 
 badge of the French, announced him to the people of the 
 tovm as a foe. " Piglia ! piglia !" " Take him ! take him !" 
 was the cry of the citizens. Then it was that Cazache, 
 with his fugitives, turned upon him, and our young knight 
 was suiTounded on every hand. He was yet a very youth- 
 ful and inexperienced warrior — certainly a rash one, and 
 not aware that, if courage is the wing of combat, prudence 
 is her eye and shield. He had yet much to leam of that 
 mixed audacity and caution which made him famous in 
 afi;er-days, and which constitutes the great essential of the 
 partisan warrior. To oppose resistance to such a crowd as 
 
 G 
 
74 BAYARD A CAPTIVE. 
 
 that by which he saw himself surrounded would be to 
 crown his rashness by a worse folly. He yielded, therefore, 
 with a becoming grace to Cazache, who was confounded to 
 find him so youthful. At this time he was not more than 
 twenty-three years old. Sforza, who had been disturbed 
 by the tumult, was soon made acquainted with the event. 
 The audacious gallant was conducted to the presence of 
 the duke. His appearance pleased Sforza. The modest 
 dignity of his bearing, the sweetness of his manner, the 
 grace and spirit of his replies, and the gentle mood with 
 which he resigned himself to fortune, were, in one so 
 young, equally new and grateful to his captor. 
 
 " Come hither," said the duke, " and tell me, young 
 gentleman, what it is hath brought you into this town." 
 
 " Faith, my lord," said Bayard, no ways daunted, " I 
 did not think to enter it alone, and supposed that my com- 
 rades were at my back. But they were better soldiers 
 than myself, else they had shared my captivity. Howbeit, 
 my lord, with the exception of this mishap, I commend my 
 fortune which hath placed me in the hands of so good a 
 conqueror." 
 
 Sforza asked him to declare, upon his honor, the num- 
 ber of the troops in the army of the king of France. 
 
 " On my soul, my lord," was the ready answer, " they 
 consist of some fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and sixteen or 
 eighteen thousand foot. But they are picked men, and will 
 labor diligently till they secure this State of Milan for the 
 king, my master. It appears to me, my lord duke, that 
 you were quite as safe in Germany as here. Your people 
 cannot match with us in war." 
 
 The duke affected to be pleased with the boldness of this 
 reply, and no doubt was, so far as he thought of Bayard 
 himself; but the opinions which the latter gave were not 
 calculated to afford him pleasure ; and it required an effort 
 to enable him to say, jestingly, that he cared but little for 
 the boasted prowess of the French. 
 
IS RELEASED BY SFORZA. 75 
 
 " On my honor, young gentleman," said he, " I have no 
 greater wish than to see our armies meet in battle, that 
 we may know to whom this territory rightly belongeth. 
 There seems to me no other way of settling our affairs." 
 
 *' By my troth, my good lord," was the prompt reply of 
 Bayard, " and I would it were to-morrow, provided I 
 were out of these bonds." 
 
 Ludovic Sforza was capable of a generous action. The 
 youth's deportment had charmed him ; and it was, perhaps, 
 his policy to appear magnanimous. 
 
 " Truly, it shall not stick there," he responded to the 
 ardent expression of our young knight, " for I set you free 
 from this moment. Ask what you will of me and it shall 
 be granted." 
 
 Bayard, equally surprised and delighted with this noble 
 courtesy, knelt in making his acknowledgements — knelt, 
 in the language of his contemporaries, "«5 was right,^^ and 
 thus expressed himself: 
 
 " My lord, I can ask nothing further at your hands, 
 except that you will so far extend your courtesy as to 
 vouchsafe me my horse and arms, and grant me an escort 
 to my gaiTison, which is twenty miles from hence. You 
 have already done me a very great favor, for which I shall 
 be thankful all my life ; and so far as it may comport with 
 the sei'vice of the king, my master, and my own honor, I 
 shall be glad to obey you in whatever you may command." 
 
 The armor of Bayard was sent for, and Sforza made him 
 arm himself in his presence. His steed was brought, ready 
 saddled, into the court. When equipped, our young and 
 agile knight, vdth a buoyant heart, leapt upon him without 
 putting foot in stirrup. Then, asking for a lance, he raised 
 his visor and exclaimed, " My lord, I thank you for your 
 courtesy — may God requite you !" The scene took place 
 in a large and beautiful court. Bayard put spurs to his 
 horse, sending him forward in a succession of bounds, in 
 which he had practised him — then coursing him fi'eely 
 
76 
 
 REJOINS THE FRENCH. 
 
 around, he shivered the lance which had been given him 
 against the ground, as handsomely as if it had been the 
 breast of an enemy. All this was done in the presence 
 of Sforza, and by way of acknowledgment for his courte- 
 sy; but it afforded little pleasure to that person, who 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Verily, if all the French gens d^arins were such as this, 
 I should be at a fearful pass." 
 
 But he did not regret his liberality, or seek to recal the 
 gift of liberty which he had bestowed upon the youth. 
 This he might have done, at that period of faithlessness, 
 without incurring any reproach of his contemporaries. But 
 Sforza was in his better moods, and the noble bearing and 
 frank grace of our Chevalier, so unwonted in his eyes, 
 were not to be resisted. His departure was uninterrupted, 
 and under the escort of a trumpet he had gone but ten or 
 twelve miles from Milan, when he met, in full march, 
 the banners of his countrymen. The whole army of the 
 French was approaching. The news of his wild and 
 indiscreet valor, and his subsequent capture, had already 
 reached them. Their astonishment was great at his reap- 
 pearance. Instances of generosity like that of Sforza were 
 not looked for ; and nothing but money — or ransom corre- 
 sponding with the supposed value of the capture to his 
 friends — could ordinarily remove the knight's bonds. The 
 Count de Ligny came forth to meet the captive. 
 
 ** Ah ! Piquet," he cried, laughingly, " who hath paid 
 your ransom ] How are you released from prison "? In 
 truth, I was about to despatch one of my trumpets to dis- 
 charge it." 
 
 Bayard recounted the particulars of all that had taken 
 place. Trivulzio, one of the generals of the army, then 
 inquired whether there were any hopes, from what he saw 
 or heard, that Sforza would give them battle. The young 
 knight answered — 
 
 " Truly, my lord, he let me not so far into his councils, 
 
SFORZA ABANDONED BY HIS TROOPS. 77 
 
 but he looks like one whom it is not easy to daunt. Yet a 
 few days must determine, as most of his troops are in 
 Novara, and he hath resolved upon joining them there, or 
 sending for them to Milan. For my part, I must not speak 
 iU of him, for he hath behaved well and honorably toward 
 me!" 
 
 In a few days Sforza was himself a prisoner, without, 
 however, experiencing any of that generosity of which he 
 had just given so grateful an example. But Bayard has 
 no share in this reproach. The French moved immedi- 
 ately forward upon Milan. Its citadel was aheady in 
 their hands. The heart of Sforza failed him at their ap- 
 proach. He was badly served by his troops, and the vari- 
 ous nations of which his army was composed afforded good 
 reason to make him doubtful of their fidelity. His watch 
 must have been badly kept to have suffered the French to 
 appear wdthin striking distance while their approach was 
 totally unsuspected. The unhappy duke fled by night 
 from Milan, leaving but a few troops with his brother, 
 Cardinal Ascanio. He made his way to the main body 
 of his forces at Novara, whither the French pursued him. 
 He was destined to be overcome by that veiy treachery 
 which had been his own favorite and frequent pohcy. The 
 Swiss in his sei-vice had again sold themselves. At the 
 moment when he required their fidelity they abandoned 
 him. His forces were superior in number to the French, 
 and he led them out of Novara for the purpose of doing 
 battle, confident of success. His aiTay was drawn forth for 
 this purpose, yet, when the signal was about to be made, the 
 lansquenets refused to fight against their countrymen who 
 were in the ranks of the enemy. The French, meanwhile, 
 marching to the charge, the Milanese army surrendered 
 without striking a blow. The unfortunate prince attempt- 
 ed his escape by disguising himself, and mingling in the 
 ranks of his soldiers — his followers having first cii'culated 
 a report that he was already fled and on his way to Ger- 
 
78 ' SPORZA A CAPTIVE. 
 
 many. But the same treachery which had betrayed his 
 seignorial rights most probably betrayed his person. The 
 method of his disguise was no doubt indicated to the French 
 general, who made the vanquished army pass under the 
 pikcj and tlius detected the unhappy fugitive. The fates 
 decided against him, though he kept an astrologer in his 
 pay, and had marched into the field with the fullest as- 
 surances of victory. After an eventful history, he was 
 about to be made secure against future vicissitudes. His 
 career had been of a kind distinguished by crime and 
 treachery no less than courage and talent, which was sup- 
 posed to justify the severity which he encountered among 
 the French. Conveyed to the Castle of Loches, in the 
 duchy of Belli, he was kept in a magnificently cheerless 
 prison, where he contrived to amuse the hours of weari- 
 ness by covering the walls of his chamber with rude draw- 
 ings from scripture, done in charcoal. But this sort of 
 employment failed him at last ; and he languished thus for 
 ten years, alive but scarcely living, and only released from 
 his prison when released from life. His generosity to our 
 young knight makes us willing to forget his crimes and 
 errors ; and, in sympathizing with his misfortunes, we al- 
 most persuade ourselves that he did not deserve them. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The French recovered the cities of the Milanese as rap* 
 idly as they had been lost, and with quite as little fighting. 
 The inhabitants, who dreaded nothing more than being 
 sacked and plundered, were as eager in their submission 
 to Louis XII. as they had been to Sforza. In the in- 
 vasion of Italy by Charles VIII., that monarch had dis- 
 tiibuted the captured towns among his favorites. To the 
 Count de Ligny had been given Tortona, Loghiera, and 
 sundry other places. They had, like Milan, availed them- 
 selves of the approach of Sforza to throw off the yoke of 
 the French ; and, in the final overthrow of the former, they 
 naturally expected the penalties due to revolting subjects. 
 When, therefore, they heard of the near approach of the 
 Count de Ligny, breathing fire and sword, they were seized 
 with the greatest consternation. The count was accom- 
 panied by his famous lieutenant, Louis D'Ars, and his 
 standard was borne by our good knight. Bayard. When 
 at Alessandria, he declared his resolution to yield Tortona 
 and Loghiera to his soldiers for pillage, though vdthout 
 really entertaining such a purpose. His scheme was simply 
 to alarm the fears of a people, whose habitual levity made 
 them too easily forgetful of the salutary lessons of defeat. 
 His secret feelings were known to his lieutenant, who was 
 permitted to act as advocate for his repentant subjects. 
 They came to him from these towns, formidable deputa- 
 tions, clad in garments of humility and entreating mercy. 
 They met him when within two miles of Loghiera, and be- 
 gan their excuses of former faithlessness, with fi-esh assur- 
 ances of fidelity. But the count passed on, without seeming 
 
80 YM VICTIS. 
 
 to have seen or heard them. This increased their terrors, 
 and they addressed themselves to Louis D'Ars, M^ho prom- 
 ised to solicit their forgiveness. He succeeded in obtaining 
 the desired audience, and fifty of the piincipal citizens 
 appeared at the lodgings of the count, bareheaded, and 
 threw themselves at his feet, entreating " mercy." One of 
 their chief men then addressed him very eloquently, be- 
 seeching forgiveness. He acknowledged the crime of which 
 they had been guilty, but pleaded their inability to hold 
 out against the armed forces of Sforza. Their affections, 
 he said, had always been, and still were, with the French. 
 Their offence, at worst, had been their timidity; and this 
 he promised should never again conduct them to a similar 
 trespass. He put their wdves, children and possessions at 
 the disposal of the count, as a guaranty for their fiiture 
 conduct, and concluded by tendering a present of silver 
 plate, to the value of three hundred marks. 
 
 The basins, cups and goblets, covering two tables, were 
 produced and spread before the angry captain. But he 
 deigned them not a single glance. It was necessary that his 
 part should be played out as he had begun it ; and, with fury 
 in his accents, he demanded how they dared present them- 
 selves before him, supposing it possible that he should 
 pardon. " Have you not, without cause or provocation, 
 but like traitors and cowards as ye are, revolted at the 
 first appearance of the enemy. How can I believe in you 
 again. Had your town been assaulted, had you made 
 good fight, it had been another thing ; but you waited not 
 even that the enemy should show his face. If I served you 
 right, you should now, each of you, be hanging at your 
 own windows. Away with you. Let me never see you 
 more." 
 
 Here Captain Louis D'Ars, taking off his cap, judi- 
 ciously and humanely interposed. " My lord, for the honor 
 of God and his passion, let me entreat you to pardon this 
 people. Grant this boon to me, as I have promised that 
 
THE GTFTS OP BAYARD. 81 
 
 you would, and I trust that you will find them true and 
 faithful henceforward." The deputation, with one voice, 
 echoed the promise of fidelity which the captain had made 
 for them. The count had already forgiven them in his 
 heart. Their tears and humiliation provoked his pity, 
 and, almost weeping himself, he bade them rise. 
 
 "Go," said he; "the entreaties of my lieutenant have 
 won your forgiveness. His services to me might well 
 obtain for him a much gi-eater matter. Go ; you are par- 
 doned, but beware how you eiT again. As for your present, 
 you deserve not that I should take it at your hands. Pi- 
 quet!" addressing Bayard, "Take this plate — all of it — 
 I give it you for your kitchen." 
 
 If the astonishment of the deputation was great at this 
 scornful rejection of so rich a gift, the reply of Bayard was 
 productive of still greater surprise in the mind of tlie count 
 himself, not less than of all other spectators. 
 
 " I thank you, my lord, for the favor you would do me, 
 but God forbid that the goods of such wicked people should 
 enter my house. They would bring me ill luck." 
 
 This said, he took the several vessels, piece by piece, 
 and distributed them among the spectators, reserving noth- 
 ing for himself The deputation disappeared in doubt and 
 wonderment, and Bayard followed them. When he had 
 left the apartment, the Count de Ligny exclaimed, " What 
 say you, my lords, to this spirit of Piquet I Hath not for- 
 tune done him gi-eat wrong in not making him the monarch 
 of some mighty realm ] He would then have won the 
 whole world by his magnificence. Believe me, he will yet 
 become one of the most perfect characters on earth." 
 
 The admii-ation of the count was not affected. He was 
 determined that the generosity of Bayard should not leave 
 him bare, and the next day sent him a beautiful dress of 
 crimson velvet, an excellent horse, and a purse of three 
 hundred crowns. The money was instantly shared with 
 his comrades. It was the distinguishing merit of his chiv- 
 
82 THE ARMY AGAINST NAPLES. 
 
 airy that in all cases it rose superior to self. No accusa- 
 tion of ingratitude, of a want of liberality or magnanimity, 
 could be laid to his account. To divide his' purse with his 
 friend — with the stranger — to yield himself up to the ne- 
 cessities of others, and to betray the profoundest scorn and 
 contempt for most of the objects of human avarice, was 
 simply to be himself, and to behave according to the most 
 natural impulse of his soul. The examples are continually 
 occurring of his indifference to money. At the moment 
 when he rejected the splendid present of the Count de 
 Ligny he had not ten crowns in the world, and knew not 
 where he could procure them ! 
 
 This invasion of Milan had afforded our young knight 
 but small chance for distinguishing himself. The Count 
 de Ligny soon returned to Milan; and the conquered cities 
 being once more quiet, he returned to France, accompanied 
 by our man-at-arms, who was, if we remember, not only 
 of his regiment, but of his household. Here he remained 
 until the preparations of Louis XII. had been completed 
 for the attempted recovery of his Neapolitan dominions. 
 We have already briefly narrated the events connected 
 with the expulsion of the French from Naples and the 
 other places where the feeble policy of Charles VIII. had 
 insulated them, and where his follies and superstitions had 
 left them the sacrifice to his indifference and neglect. The 
 invasion, which he consumed the last days of his life in medi- 
 tating only, — his successor, with undeviating perseverance, 
 applied himself to attempt. How he strove to secure the 
 support or the quiescence of other sovereigns has been 
 shown already. His precautions taken, his preparations 
 made, the army of the French monarch, consisting of ten 
 thousand foot and one thousand horse, approached Italy, 
 under the command of Stuart d'Aubigny. This command 
 had been earnestly solicited by the Count de Ligny. He 
 supposed himself to have particular claims to be prefeiTed. 
 His interests were considerable in the kingdom of Naples. 
 
PARTITION OF NAPLES. 83 
 
 He had married a lady of that country, and by her, and by 
 the gifts of Charles VIII., he was the proprietor of lands in 
 Puglia, Venosa, and other places, the whole constituting 
 a veiy large pecuniary interest. Denied the command 
 which he desired, he is thought to have sunk under the 
 mortification. The event is supposed to have shortened 
 his days ; and when Bayard obtained his leave to join the 
 company under Louis d'Ars, he separated from his patron 
 never to behold him again. 
 
 At this period Frederigo, king of Naples, was in close 
 alliance wdth Spain. He never dreamed of the secret 
 treaty between the selfish and faithless monai'ch of that 
 country and the King of France. On the contrary, so as- 
 sured was he of the fidelity of the former, that his troops 
 and fortified places were confided, on the approach of the 
 French, to the Spanish general — the celebrated Gonsalvo 
 de Cordova — the Great Captain, as he was proverbially 
 known among the Spaniards — a wanior of unquestionable 
 excellence and genius — of equal courage and conduct, but 
 one who proved as faithless as his master. Fidelity was 
 not in those days the virtue of knighthood, and hence the 
 superior lustre with which the qualities of Bayard distin- 
 guished his valor. But we must not anticipate. 
 
 All Italy was suspended in tremulous anxiety at the ap- 
 proach of the French aimy. They were led by one of the 
 most experienced leaders of his time, and opposed to one 
 of the most renowned, with numbers so nearly equal, and 
 forces so equally excellent, none but the most bloody issues 
 could be expected from the encounter. But the entrance 
 of the French troops into the territories of the Church dis- 
 pelled all anxiety. The envoys of the allied monarch s 
 met at Rome, where they announced their treaty, and de- 
 clared the division of the kingdom of Naples between them. 
 A pontifical bull deprived Frederigo of his kingdom, and 
 the forces under Gonsalvo abandoned his defence. Fred- 
 erigo still held out, but hopelessly. The defence of Naples 
 
84 CAPUA TAKEN BY ASSAULT. 
 
 was entrusted to Prospero Colonna, a very distinguished 
 Italian captain ; and the first trial of strength was made at 
 Capua, which was taken by assault. The capitulation of 
 Naples soon followed; and Frederigo, in despair of his 
 throne, exchanged it for a duchy, and became a pensioner 
 of France. 
 
 The war had again failed of its promise to our young 
 knight. We have no means of knowing what part he took 
 in the storming of Capua, or whether he was or was not 
 present. We may safely assert that he did not participate 
 in the sack which followed, and the guilty excesses which 
 are charged upon the French soldiery when they were 
 once in possession of the city. The excitement of battle is 
 a species of madness which, in the instance of mere brute 
 valor, is almost without responsibility. The teiTors of a 
 storm must heighten amazingly the insanity of ordinary 
 combat. It is scarcely possible to suppose such an event 
 without assuming the continuance of violence and passion 
 long after the absolute necessity is over, by which they 
 have been provoked and justified. At all events, the sub- 
 ordinate position of our young knight saved him firom any 
 share in the responsibility of a command on this occasion ; 
 and we know enough already of his character to feel very 
 sure that he himself indulged in none of the excesses of his 
 troops. 
 
 The conquest of the realm of Naples being fully 
 achieved, the army of the French was broken up into small 
 bodies and distributed throughout the conquered temto- 
 ries. The command of the Count de Ligny was quartered 
 upon the seignorial domain of that lord — a possession which 
 he had acquired by right of his wife, Elinor de Baux, 
 princess of Altamira. The count had espoused this lady 
 in the brief period during which Charles VIII. had held 
 his court in Naples ; and when the French were compelled 
 to abandon their conquests, the departure of her husband 
 is said to have caused her death. The protector of these 
 
FRENCH AND SPANIARDS aUARREL. 85 
 
 domains was especially confided by his captain to the vigi- 
 lance and courage of our young knight, who acquitted 
 himself of the trust to the general satisfaction. 
 
 Meanwhile, the royal plunderers quaiTelled over their 
 prey. The division of the spoils was a subject of more 
 difficulty to the French and Spaniards than their acquisition 
 had been. In the partition of the country it appeal's that 
 they had not sufficiently known the landmarks, or that they 
 were now pleased to misconceive them. The claims of the 
 Spanish monarch were urged tenaciously by Gonsalvo, 
 while those of France were as warmly upheld by Louis 
 d'Armagnac, duke de Nemours, who asserted the general 
 rights of his sovereign as king of Naples, and maintained 
 his arms in that country. Negotiations followed, but with- 
 out any good result, and the dispute resulted in open hos- 
 tilities between the allies. Italy was again made to trem- 
 ble at the trial of strength, on her own fields, between 
 the rival houses of Anjou and Arragon. Gonsalvo had 
 anticipated this issue, and had kept himself in readiness 
 for it. 
 
 The French, on the other hand, had received a reinforce- 
 ment of two thousand Swiss and a body of Gascons, and 
 were somewhat stronger, numerically, than the Spaniards. 
 To compensate this inequality, the latter were more cer- 
 tainly in possession of the popular sympathies, in spite of 
 the treachery of their master to the late sovereign of Italy. 
 The excesses of the French troops and their Swiss merce- 
 naries, had most effectually weaned fi'om them the affec- 
 tions of the Italians. The viceroy of Louis XII., the Duke 
 de Nemours, was now pitted against Gonsalvo. D'Aubig- 
 ny, second in command, but the best officer, marched with 
 a division into Calabria, while Louis himself, the French 
 monarch, hurried from Lyons to Milan, where he tarried 
 to watch the progress of a game, for the issue of which he 
 was naturally anxious. 
 
 The opening of the war was greatly favorable to the 
 H 
 
86 SIEGE OF BARLETTA. 
 
 French. Gonsalvo was forced to relinquish all the places 
 of which he held possession, and to retire for safety to the 
 town of Barletta, where he was soon closely besieged by 
 the Duke de Nemours. Similar successes attended the 
 progress of D'Aubigny, who, having taken and sacked the 
 city of Cosenza, defeated a large body of Spanish and Si- 
 cilian troops, oveiTun with his forces the rest of the king- 
 dom, to all of which, having full possession, Louis asserted 
 his claim, without regard to his previous treaty stipulations. 
 With his troops everywhere triumphant, and with the 
 strongholds of the country everywhere in their hands, the 
 French monarch returned to his own country in full confi- 
 dence of the complete expulsion of the Spaniards. But 
 the obstinacy of this people, and of the captain to whom 
 they were confided, rendered this confidence more and 
 more doubtfiil every day. The siege of Barletta was a 
 protracted one, calculated to wear out the patience of an 
 ardent and impetuous soldiery such as the Duke de Ne- 
 mours commanded. Its monotony was relieved, however, 
 by the frequent passages-at-arms which took place between 
 the opposing forces. Many of these were of a character 
 as brilliant as any which the chroniclers of chivalrous times 
 have put on record. The defence of Barletta itself was an 
 instance of amazing patience, courage, prudence and self- 
 denial; showing instances of skill, heroism and audacity 
 which could not be surpassed, and contributing one of the 
 most enduring chaplets in the wreath of the Great Captain. 
 The great events of the field were varied by those in which 
 individual combatants alone performed. These were equal- 
 ly singular from the fierceness of the duel and the chivalric 
 courtesy with which the champions coupled their animosity. 
 For a brief period the age of feudal romance was restored, 
 and the grace and splendor of the strife were quite equal to 
 its terrors and its blood. Holding keen watch in garrison 
 near Barletta, at a place called Monei-vino, some of these 
 events concern our hero. He was not the last to fly to the 
 
BAYARD SEEKING ADVENTURES. 87 
 
 summons of the trumpet ; and here it is that his character 
 began first to receive the appreciation of other nations than 
 his own. 
 
 There had been an interval of repose and inactivity 
 somewhat longer than was usual, when Bayard expressed 
 his impatience to his comrades. 
 
 *' Gentlemen," said he one day to his troopers, " we are 
 likely to become very worthless in this state of sluggish- 
 ness and inactivity. We shall impart courage to our ene- 
 mies by our seeming want of it. I am sick of this idling. 
 Let us go out to-morrow and stir up the Spaniards. Be- 
 tween this place and Andri, or B arietta, we may happen 
 upon some of their detachments, and then the victory to 
 whom God shall please to give it !" 
 
 These words were quite acceptable to his companions. 
 Under such a leader, glory was a specific something in 
 itself, and apart from any considerations of duty. Bayard 
 had infused something of his own spirit into the bosoms 
 of his followers ; and a single word from him, which prom- 
 ised adventure, promised achievement and triumph also. 
 By dawn his little force was ready, some thirty in number, 
 the good knight at their head, and on the road, with all 
 possible speed, for the gamsons of the enemy. Fortune 
 favored their desires. They had not covered half the space 
 between Monervino and Andri when they met a body of 
 Spaniards, something larger than their own, commanded 
 by a gentleman of distinction, one Don Alonzo de Soto- 
 mayer, a near relation of the "Great Captain" himself. 
 The followers of Sotomayer were all chosen men. He 
 himself ranked as a man of skill and valor, not less than as 
 a gentleman of noble blood. It was with mutual if not 
 equal satisfaction, that the opposing captains discovered 
 each other about cannon-shot distance, and on the descent 
 of opposite hills. 
 
 "And now," said the "Good Knight," closing his visoi 
 and putting his lance in rest, " let each man take care of 
 
88 
 
 ENCOUNTERS THE SPANIARDS. 
 
 his own honor, and if I do not my devoir this day call me 
 ever after a braggart and a coward." 
 
 He was answered with lively cries of satisfaction. 
 With shouts of " France ! France !" as the war-cry on one 
 side, and "Santiago" on the other, the two opposite par- 
 ties, without farther preliminaries, darted at once to the 
 embrace of battle. The first reckless shock of horse and 
 man overthrew several of the combatants. Both sides 
 were borne down to the earth by the irresistible impulse, 
 and some of them were raised with difficulty by their com- 
 rades. The fight was long and doubtful. If the French 
 were temble in the charge, the capacity of the Spaniards 
 for endurance was equally remarkable. To the furious 
 impulse of the one was opposed the obstinate firmness of 
 the other. For nearly an hour so near were the parties 
 matched, that neither might exult with hope or droop with 
 apprehension. It was left for the indomitable valor and 
 skill of our young knight to determine the struggle. His 
 unreckoning will, his hearty onset, his glorious ciy, re- 
 newed the impulse of his first onset; and, leading the way, 
 the French broke through the serried ranks of the enemy. 
 Seven of the Spaniards lay dead upon the field, as many 
 more were already prisoners, when the rest took flight — 
 their captain at the rear of the fugitives. Bayard led the 
 pursuit close at his heels, and ever and anon he taunted 
 him with a speech somewhat after this fashion : 
 
 " Turn thee, cavalier, if thou be'st a man. Let rae 
 not strike thee on thy back. Great will be thy shame, if 
 thou shalt die flying. Better a thousand deaths than a 
 flight so disgraceful !" 
 
 The sting was felt of these reproaches. Besides, the 
 peril was imminent. Don Alonzo de Sotomayer turned 
 like an enraged lion upon his keen assailant, and though 
 abandoned by his surviving followers, who still continued 
 their flight, he rushed fiercely a second time into the bat- 
 tle. The comrades of Bayard passed forward in pursuit. 
 
MAKES CAPTIVE THEIR LEADER. 89 
 
 No one thought to interfere between these champions. 
 The French men-at-arms knew their leader and had no 
 fear of the result, though the Spanish captain fought 
 with gi-eat skill and resolution. But the strength of his 
 steed began to fail him. More than fifty strokes of the 
 sword had been given and received by the combatants. 
 Enough had been done by the Spaniard to maintain his 
 honor. Bayard perceived the increasing weakness of his 
 ai-m and the failing vigor of his steed. 
 
 " Yield thee, man-at-arms, or thou diest." 
 
 ** To whom shall I yield me V demanded the Spanish 
 knight. 
 
 The name of Bayard concluded the combat. Don 
 Alonzo dropped the point of his weapon. The valiant 
 deeds of our young hero, — his reputation for generosity 
 and honor, already well known to the Spaniards, — recon- 
 ciled his enemy to the submission which was demanded. 
 Bayard had reason to be pleased with his victory. Not a 
 man of his party had been slain, though several were 
 wounded. Some of their horses were killed in the melee ; 
 but the consolation of the Frenchmen was found in the 
 fact that they had prisoners whose ransom would amply 
 repay them all their losses. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Captivity in the hands of such a foe as Bayard, whom 
 the " Loyal Servant" describes as the " adopted son of 
 Dame Courtesy," but whom we should prefer to call her 
 natural son, implied no humiliations and tasked no great 
 powers of endurance. Our young knight accorded to Don 
 Alonzo de Sotomayer one of the handsomest apartments 
 in his household, supplied his wardrobe, and, upon the 
 pledge of honor of the captive not to quit the castle, gave 
 him the entire freedom of the ganison, putting no guard 
 upon his footsteps. He took his pleasure with the French- 
 men as if he had been one of them, and was treated on 
 all hands with a kindness and consideration which might 
 well have disarmed his situation of all its oppi-essive 
 features. After a brief conference on the subject with his 
 captor, Don Alonzo agreed to pay a thousand crowns for 
 his ransom. This was rating him nobly, as belonging to 
 
THE CAPTIVE VIOLATES HIS PAROLE. 91 
 
 a distinguished house, and as being himself a very distin- 
 guished person. It does not appear, however, that any 
 body considered the ransom high. 
 
 Our Spaniard did not appreciate the courtesy of his 
 captor. At all events he abused it. He determined to 
 avail himself of the liberty he enjoyed, to realize the sense 
 of perfect freedom. Some weeks after he had been in 
 the castle, passing his time, as it was thought, very pleas- 
 antly and in good spirits, going forth and returning when 
 it suited him, and suffering neither reproof nor restraint 
 from any, he determined to coniipt one of the gi'ooms of 
 the gan'ison, an Albanian, named Theodrick. He said to 
 this man — " I am weary of this captivity and of hearing 
 nothing from my people. Serve me in making my escape, 
 and I will make you comfortable for life. Get me a horse 
 in readiness that I may escape. I am under no watch and 
 can readily elude suspicion. You can join me in flight, 
 and four hours will put us both in safety in our garrison. 
 Do this, and you shall have fifty ducats, with a handsome 
 yearly salary." 
 
 The Albanian swallowed the bait, but suggested the 
 danger to the Spaniard from the violation of his pledge. 
 
 "You are upon honor in the castle, and our captain 
 would make it a quarrel with you, were you to break faith 
 with him." 
 
 " I break no faith with him," answered Don Alonzo. 
 "He hath agreed upon a thousand crowns for my ran- 
 som, and he shall have them. I am bound for nothing 
 farther." 
 
 " Very well," said the Albanian, " the horse shall be 
 ready at the castle gate at break of day. When the gate 
 opens, contrive to go forth as in pursuit of your diversion, 
 and you will find me waiting." 
 
 With the morning, under the pretext of taking the air, 
 Don Alonzo was permitted to depart. He found no 
 difficulty in doing so; for, apprised that he was on his 
 
92 IS PURSUED AND TAKEN. 
 
 pledge of honor, the porter no longer took any heed of 
 his movements. The Albanian and the horse awaited him 
 in the place appointed, and they rode away together to- 
 ward the garrison of Andri. 
 
 Whether Don Alonzo really designed to defraud his 
 captor of the stipulated ransom, or was simply impatient 
 of the delay in procuring it, must be left wholly to con- 
 jecture. It was doubly unfortunate that he was not suc- 
 cessful in his treachery. It was not long after his flight, 
 when Bayard descended into the lower court of the castle, 
 and missing the captive, whom he was wont to converse 
 and walk with every morning, he naturally asked after 
 him. Something excited his suspicions, and being always 
 vigilant, he pressed his inquiries with some earnestness, 
 and learned from the porter that the Spanish knight had 
 gone through the gate as soon as it was opened. Farther 
 inquiiy discovered the absence of Theodrick and his horse, 
 and then it was that Bayard conjectured the flight of his 
 thousand crowns. Indignant at the faithlessness of one 
 whom he had treated with so much confidence and cour- 
 tesy, he called up one of his officers named Le Basque, 
 whom he despatched with ten men in pursuit. His in- 
 structions were sufficiently prompt. " Ride full speed 
 towards Andri, and bring back the fugitive alive or dead. 
 Seize the Albanian also if you can. He shall hang on our 
 battlements as a warning to other traitors." Le Basque 
 obeyed instantly, and shaping his course towards Andri, 
 he overtook the Spaniard within two miles of that place. 
 He had alighted to readjust his saddle-girths, which were 
 broken, but had not succeeded in repairing them, when 
 the pui'suers came in sight. He immediately strove to 
 remount, but in vain. They suiTounded him before he 
 could divest himself of the useless saddle. The Albanian 
 had, with becoming prudence, separated himself from the 
 fugitive, and escaped his fate. Don Alonzo was without 
 means of defence, and what could they have availed 
 
DB SOTOMAYER RANSOMED. 93 
 
 against a dozen men. He was caught, put on his horse 
 once more, and brought back in shame to Monervino. 
 
 The reproaches of Bayard were not spared as he beheld 
 the prisoner. He did not seek to conceal his scorn and in- 
 dignation. 
 
 " How, seiior," he exclaimed, " call you this the action 
 of a gentleman 1 Is it thus you esteem your word ] Did 
 you not pledge me to remain within the castle until I per- 
 mitted your departure 1 I can confide in you no longer." 
 
 The Spaniard denied that he intended to wrong his 
 captor of the amount of the ransom. Within two days it 
 should have been sent him. He had gone for that pui-pose, 
 and because of the great trouble which he felt at not having 
 heard from his people. 
 
 These excuses did not satisfy our knight, whose sense of 
 punctilio was outraged by a violation of faith so discredita- 
 ble to every claim of knighthood. The thousand crowns 
 were nothing in comparison with the voluntary forfeiture 
 of honor of which the captive had been guilty — his indif- 
 ference to the most sacred pledges, and his abuse of hospi- 
 tality and courtesy. The Spaniard enjoyed no longer the 
 privilege of the household. He was conducted to a lonely 
 tower, where he was kept safely but with good accommo- 
 dations. He was well provided, as before, with food and 
 drink, and though closely watched, was neither ironed nor 
 subjected to any annoyance beyond the constraint and con- 
 finement which his own wilfulness had rendered necessary. 
 At the end of fifteen days a trumpeter brought his ransom. 
 In his own presence. Bayard distributed the whole amount 
 among his comrades, reserving not a penny for himself. 
 Don Alonzo took leave of his captors with due civility, 
 making no complaints at the time, and as it was supposed 
 by all, having no right to make any. But he was sore at 
 heart, and very soon gave utterance to griefs which he im- 
 properly entertained, and to which he too readily gave a 
 tongue. His reception among his comrades at Andri was 
 
94 SLANDERS BAYARD. 
 
 very grateful to his feelings. His relations and friends 
 were there, and his rank in the Spanish army was such that 
 his absence had been seriously felt. Esteemed for his rela- 
 tionship to the " Grreat Captain," his own passion for anus, 
 and his success in their use, had led to large expectations 
 of his future prowess. But these very expectations had 
 rendered his captivity the more mortifying to his pride. 
 His self-esteem was deeply outraged at what he deemed 
 the humiliation of defeat. The attempts of his friends to 
 give him consolation only opened the avenues to his dis- 
 quietude, and he allowed himself to speak of his captors in 
 a manner neither just to them nor honorable to himself 
 When asked by those about him as to the person of Bayard, 
 his manner of life, and the manner of his ovsm treatment, 
 he so seasoned the falsehood with truth as to substitute for 
 his own the faults of others. 
 
 " With regard to the Lord Bayard," he would say, 
 "there is not a bolder or more active gentleman in the 
 world. He is constantly busy. When not engaged in 
 actual warfare, he is still doing something in his gamson, 
 by which to improve it and the soldiers who keep it. His 
 exercises are constant in wrestling, leaping, throwing the 
 bar, and other sports, such as are becoming to the exercise 
 of gentlemen. In liberality he hath no equal. This I 
 know from a thousand instances. The money which he 
 received for my ransom I saw him distribute among his 
 people, keeping not a ducat for himself. In short, to speak 
 truly, he is a man who, if he but live long, will rise to very 
 great eminence. As for his treatment of myself, concern- 
 ing which you question me, I fi'ankly say that I can not 
 exceedingly commend it. Whether by his orders or not, 
 his people have treated me with rudeness, and not as if I 
 were a gentleman, and their indignities will stick with me 
 as long as I live." 
 
 This account of a cavalier who was already proverbial 
 for his humanity and courtesy, sui'prised such of the hearers 
 
bayard's' INDIGNATION. 95 
 
 of Don Alonzo as knew Bayard's reputation for these qual- 
 ities. Some yielded implicit faith to the statements of the 
 Spaniard. Others censured him, and others again ascribed 
 the mood in which he spoke to the natural dislike which all 
 persons are apt to feel for their gaoler. But the subject 
 was a chief topic of conversation at the time in the town 
 of Andri, and the discussion finally reached the ears of a 
 French officer who was then a prisoner in the place. On 
 the retura of this officer to Monei^ino he told Bayard that 
 Don Alonzo complained bitterly of the ill-treatment he had 
 received at his hands, and dealt freely in threats of a sort 
 not to be raisundei-stood among gentlemen. Bayard was 
 equally vexed and astonished at this statement, and imme- 
 diately called his followers around him. He told them in 
 what sort of statements his late captive indulged, and 
 demanded of them if he had done any thing, or left 
 any thing undone in the treatment of his prisoner which 
 rendered it necessary that he should offer him atone- 
 ment. 
 
 " You all," said he, " know this histoiy. In my opinion 
 no prisoner could have been better treated before he sought 
 to make his escape ; nor, when it was necessaiy that we 
 should more closely confine him, does it appear to me that 
 he had any thing to complain of Tell me if you have 
 discovered any thing which hath not come to my knowl- 
 edge, and, on my honor, if he hath suffered any wrong I 
 vrill make him honorable amends." 
 
 Their reply was instant and unanimous. With one 
 voice they answered that if Don Alonzo had been the first 
 prince of the blood he could not have been treated with 
 more kindness and indulgence. They pronounced it a 
 shame and an outrage that he should utter any complaints. 
 Their reply reassured our knight. He was even then suf- 
 fering from an attack of the quartan ague, but this condi- 
 tion did not chill his courage. " Faith," said he, " I will 
 write and tell him that if he asserts that he hath been ill- 
 
96 
 
 HE DEMANDS REDRESS. 
 
 treated by me, I will prove, by force of ai-ms, that he hath 
 greatly en-ed in his assertion." 
 
 The cartel soon followed this resolution. It ran thus : 
 " Seiior Don Alonzo, — It hath reached me that, since your 
 release from prison, you complain of me among your peo- 
 ple, and allege that while in my hands you were not treat- 
 ed as a gentleman. You, senor, very well know the con- 
 trary ; but seeing, if it were believed, what you have 
 said, I should be greatly discredited, I have thought fit 
 to write and to entreat that you will readjust your state- 
 ments in the hearing of those to whom they were origi- 
 nally made. It is only right that you should confess the 
 good and honorable treatment which you have had at my 
 hands, and by so doing you will equally consult your honor 
 and redress mine. If you refuse to do this, know that I am 
 resolved to compel you to this justice by force of arms, 
 your person in mortal conflict against mine, on foot or on 
 horseback, in what manner shall please you best. And so, 
 farewell." 
 
 The answer of the Spaniard was a defiance.* He wrote : 
 " Lord of Bayard, — I have read your letter by the bearer, 
 charging that I had let fall words in the presence of my 
 people importing that you did not treat me as a gentleman 
 while I was your prisoner. You add your determination 
 to fight with me unless I make recantation. I declare to 
 you, sir, that I never unsay what I have once said, and you 
 are not the man to make me do it. In regard to the com- 
 bat you offer, I accept it — to meet you within twelve or 
 fifteen days hence, two miles from the town of Andri or 
 wherever else it may suit yourself" 
 
 The answer was brought back by La LunCy a trumpeter 
 of the Lord de la Palisse, by whom it had been conveyed. 
 
 * Quintana tells us that Don Alonzo would have declined the meeting, 
 but that he was compelled to it by his relative, the Great Captain, who told 
 him that " he should atone for what he had said by the glory of the combat, 
 or else suffer the chastisement he deserved for his injurious expressions." — 
 El Gran Capitan. 
 
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. 97 
 
 Its tenor was so grateful to our hero that, sick as he was, 
 he would not for ten thousand crowns have had it more 
 pacific. He immediately despatched his tiiimpet, with his 
 acceptance of the combat, together with the period and place 
 which the other had proposed. The terms adopted he com- 
 municated to the Lord de la Palisse, who was lieutenant of 
 the Duke de Nemours, entreating permission for the com- 
 bat, which was granted without hesitation. For his gui- 
 don* after God, he took his old friend and comrade, Bel- 
 labre, — the same under whose counsel he succeeded in as- 
 sessing the excellent abbot, his uncle, for his field and per- 
 sonal equipments in his first p ass age-of- arms with Claude de 
 Vaudray. Bellabre, we may say in this place, had subse- 
 quently shown himself as excellent a soldier as he then 
 proved himself a politician. 
 
 The day soon came for the combat. The Lord de la 
 Palisse was the keeper of the field on the part of our cheva- 
 lier. He appeared accordingly, accompanied by two hun- 
 dred gens d'armes, in compliance with the particulars of the 
 arrangement already made by the seconds of the parties. 
 Bayard was conducted by him to the place of meeting, 
 mounted on a handsome courser, and clad in white in token 
 of humility — a fact which will help somewhat to illusti'ate 
 the changes of social custom and the singular caprices of 
 fashion. His enemy had not yet made his appearance. 
 The trumpeter. La Lune, was sent forward to hasten him. 
 Of La Lune he asked in what manner the Lord of Bayard 
 had taken the field ] When told on horseback and as a 
 gend'arme, *' How say you ?" he cried, " Go to him, trum- 
 peter, and tell him that I prefer to fight on foot. The choice 
 of weapons is mine." This decision was iiTegular. The 
 terms of the combat had been already arranged by the sec- 
 onds, and they were to fight on horseback. The right now 
 claimed by Don Alonzo, to vary the conditions of the field, 
 
 * Literally, standard-bearer— but probably his guide, companion, friend 
 on the field— equivalent to the second of our times. 
 
 I 
 
98 TERMS OF COMBAT. 
 
 might fairly have been questioned. His claim was not less 
 ungenerous than unreasonable. His person was robust, 
 tall, and muscular j that of Bayard, though of good height, 
 was slender and delicate, displaying much less strength 
 than agility. Besides, he had been for some time suffering 
 from the quartan ague, the chills of which occuiTed on the 
 very day chosen for the combat. He was under their in- 
 fluence when the answer of Don Alonzo was brought to 
 him ; but neither his sufferings, nor the seeming inequalities 
 upon which his enemy insisted, could subdue his courage or 
 lessen his ardor for the fight. Bayard waived all his rights 
 rather than afford any pretext by which his enemy could 
 escape the issue. " In a good cause," he said, " I can do bat- 
 tle, whether I am challenger or defendant. Go to him. La 
 Lune, and say to him that this shall not stand in the way of 
 redressing my honor ; and, with God's favor, I will this day 
 fight him in whatever way he pleases." 
 
 This, in the feeble condition of our chevalier, was ac- 
 cepting fearful odds. To fight on foot with an ague upon 
 him seemed to his friends to be certainly fatal to his hopes. 
 He was already looked upon as a vanquished man. The 
 Spaniard, it was thought, had chosen this method of com- 
 bat, knowing equally the physical debihty of our knight and 
 his superior excellence on horseback. Here, indeed, he 
 was not believed to have an equal in all Europe — certainly 
 it was not pretended that there was his superior. As he 
 alighted from his horse and entered the lists, his friends 
 could scarcely hide their anxieties. His feebleness was ap- 
 parent in his step and countenance ; but it is very wonder- 
 ful how, under the ardent impulse of a great soul, the fail- 
 ing flesh can be roused into power and strengthened for 
 endurance. 
 
 The readiness of Bayard to fight on any terms was in 
 no respect agreeable to our Spaniard, who, though brave in 
 the ordinary sense of the word, was certainly no fire-eater ; 
 and the prospect of an encounter a Voutrance with one so 
 
THE FIELD. 99 
 
 highly renowned as his opponent, the skill and weight of 
 whose weapon he had already felt, might naturally oppress 
 him with doubts of the issue, whatever might be the advan- 
 tages upon his side. But there could be no longer any eva- 
 sion of the combat, and he put on a cheerful countenance. 
 He was attended by those in whose presence he did not 
 dare to seem afraid. His Mends were Don Diego Qui- 
 noiies, the lieutenant of the "Great Captain;" Don Pe- 
 dro Valdez, the Marquis Licite, Don Francisco de Alta- 
 mese, and many other brave and noble gentlemen. The 
 escort of Bayard was similarly distinguished. He had 
 with him the Lord de la Palisse, who was lieutenant to the 
 Duke de Nemours as Diego de Quiiiones was to Gon- 
 salvo ; the lords d'Orose, Humbercourt, and Fontrailles, 
 the Baron of Beam, and others of like chai'acter. Bay- 
 ard was already in the field, having been placed by 
 Bellabre, when Don Alonzo sent him the weapons fi'ora 
 which to choose. These were the long rapier and the 
 poniard. He was not long in choosing. The persons of 
 the knights were protected by steel cap and neck-piece. 
 When the Spaniard had entered the lists at their opposite 
 extremity. Bayard threw himself on his knees and breathed 
 a prayer to God ; then, stretching himself at his full length, 
 he reverently kissed the earth. We shall comment hereaf- 
 ter upon what seems to us a strange inconsistency in this act 
 of pious devotion, at the veiy moment one is about to vio- 
 late the laws of that Being before whom he kneels in hope 
 and supplication. This brief prostration over, the good 
 knight rose, and, making the sign of the cross, walked 
 sti'aight toward his enemy, as confidently and calmly as if 
 he were within the limits of a court and about to dance 
 with ladies — the rapier gTasped in his right and the pon- 
 iai'd in his left hand. Don Alonzo met him with a daunt- 
 less aspect, and bearing similar weapons in like manner. 
 " Sehor de Bai/ardo" said he, as our knight approached, 
 " que me quieres .?" — " what would you have of me 1" 
 
100 THE COMBAT. 
 
 Bayard replied in French, " Je quiers defendre mon 
 honneur, dont faussement et mauvaisement m^as accuse /" 
 And thus began the conflict. 
 
 With the first thrust the rapier of Bayard gi-azed the 
 face of his opponent, but without mischief, and only pro- 
 voking the courage of the latter. Beautiful was the play 
 that succeeded. Never were two champions more equally 
 matched. The Spaniard put forth his best powers, and 
 they were deservedly held in high estimation. How brisk 
 were their assaults, how prompt the recovery, how ad- 
 mirable the defence. For a long time, though there were 
 many lunges, there were no hits. The efforts of Don 
 Alonzo were chiefly directed to stunning his adversary, 
 by striking him on the head — an aim in which, had he been 
 successful, he must have gained the victory, as, in the 
 debilitated condition of Bayard, such injuries must have 
 soon left him Jwrs de combat. But our knight supplied by 
 art and agihty what he lacked in strength ; and, baffled in 
 his aim, Don Alonzo became excited, and his caution be- 
 came diminished in proportion as his choler was awakened. 
 A slight wound which Bayard gave him in the eye made 
 him furious, and, raising his arm to revenge himself for 
 the hurt, by a furious thrust, he gave an opportunity to his 
 opponent which the latter did not suffer to escape him. 
 Practising a ruse, for which the Spaniard was not pre- 
 pared, he raised his weapon at the same moment with the 
 other, but held it aloft, as if threatening the face of his 
 enemy, without doing any thing more. Then, as the 
 thrust of his adversary was put by, he sprang forward 
 with wondrous dexterity, while Don Alonzo stood un- 
 moved, and drove his dagger to the hilt, through the gor- 
 get, and into the neck of the latter. The steel penetrating 
 four inches, became fastened, so that Bayard failed to 
 draw it forth, and while the blood gushed forth upon him 
 in a turbid torrent, the fatally-stricken Spaniard, dropping 
 his rapier, gi'asped him involuntarily around the body, and 
 
BAYARD SLAY^ DE SOTOMAYER. 101 
 
 they both fell to the ground together. This circumstance 
 shows the feebleness of Bayard at the time of the combat. 
 It was the death-spasm of Don Alonzo, from whose em- 
 brace our chevalier extricated himself in a moment, and 
 rising to his feet, clapped his dagger to his nostrils, ciying, 
 — " Yield, Don Alonzo, or you die." But the victim was 
 no longer sensible to such a threat. His second, Don 
 Diego de Quinones, intei-posed, saying, " Senor Bayardo^ 
 ja es muerto, vencido aveisT — *' He is akeady dead. You 
 have conquered !" 
 
 "Yet," said Bayard, with unaffected son'ow, — "I could 
 have wished it had fallen out otherwise. Senor, have I 
 done enough." 
 
 " Troppo, Senor Bayardo, por Vonor d^Espana.^^ — " Too 
 much. Lord of Bayard, for the honor of Spain." Bayard 
 again knelt and returned thanks to God for the favor shown 
 him, again kissed the earth with reverence, and, having 
 risen, presented the body of the Spaniard to his friends, 
 for it was the prize, in those days, of the victor. The 
 behavior of Bayard on the field, won the applauses even 
 of his foes. All parties admitted that his enemy deserv-ed 
 his fate, and that good knight never before administered 
 punishment so courteously and with a grace so exquisite. 
 To do our chevalier justice, he did not aim at the life of 
 the Spaniard. He had probably undeiTated the force of 
 his arm when he gave the fatal blow. The "Loyal Ser- 
 vant" assures us that he was right sorry that the thing was 
 done, and that he would rather have given an hundred 
 thousand crowTis to have conquered his man alive. His 
 regi'ets offered no consolation to the Spanish gentlemen. 
 They had lost their sympathies for de Sotomayer, for he 
 was a dishonored man. But the pride of the nation was 
 outraged, and when does the Spaniard forget his pride % 
 The event stung them into a desire for revenge, — the re- 
 sult of which we shall see hereafter. Meanwhile, Bayard 
 was conducted back to Monervino by his comrades in a 
 
102 HIS GRATITUDE TO GOD. 
 
 sort of triumph, to the sound of hautboys and other instru- 
 ments. His first act after reaching his garrison was one 
 of devotion. Hunying to the House of God, he again 
 rendered thanks for the favor which had been shown 
 him; and, this duty performed, he gave a magnificent 
 feast to his friends and comrades. Certainly, seen through 
 the medium of our more prosaic era, this institution of 
 chivalry was a thing of marvellous caprice and incon- 
 sistency. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 It may be thought something strange, in Christian wri- 
 ters, to insist upon the piety of one professing Christianity, 
 who yet engages in single combat. We have seen Bayard 
 on his knees, making confession of sins, partaking of the 
 sacrament, and entreating the favor of the Deity, just before 
 entering upon more than one fatal duel. Were we super- 
 ficially to examine this conduct by the recognized moral 
 standards of our day, we should conclude that one who 
 should practise after this fashion was either a hypocrite or 
 a fool. But we must fall into no such error. In the time 
 of Bayard duels were frequent, and were under the sanc- 
 tion equally of the church and the laws. They received 
 these sanctions with the most ostentatious solemnities. 
 They were regarded in some sort as the only modes for 
 arriving at the truth in matters where human evidence was 
 wanting, and the divine justice was supposed to determine 
 in a case where the decision of man might most probably 
 result in injustice. Nor did pious men lack sufficient 
 examples in sacred history. They could refer to the great 
 duel between David and Goliath, to the terrible passage of 
 arms at Helkath-Hazzurun, of twelve against twelve, the 
 followers of David against those of Ish-bosheth, under the 
 challenge of Abner to Joab ; and many other cases. Be- 
 sides, to the Christian the arguments which lie against sin- 
 gle combat, lie also, with equal cogency against any mode 
 of human warfare — against that of nations quite as much 
 as that of individuals. Religion, which invited whole na- 
 tions to go forth in the Crusades, for the destruction of 
 other nations, under a divine pretext, could urge no objec- 
 
104 THE LAWS OF THE DUELLO. 
 
 tions to the duel, unless as a mere matter of social and 
 domestic policy. It was inexpedient that our sons, whom 
 we need to war upon the heathen, should be suffered to 
 war upon each other. Civil regulations, accordingly, inter- 
 posed at an early day, under the dawning light of civiliza- 
 tion, in checking the frequency of single combat. In af- 
 fairs which gi'ew out of the point of honor, the permission 
 of the king, during the time of Bayard, was absolutely 
 necessary to be obtained ; and this was rigorously with- 
 held where the occasion of the quaiTel was one of a frivo- 
 lous nature, not affecting the good name and honor of the 
 parties. When leave was granted by the monarch, he, or 
 one who was recognized as his representative, was required 
 to be present, having the right to arrest the combat at 
 whatever stage of it he thought proper, nor did either of the 
 parties dare to censure this interposition. It was in this 
 way that the raonarchs sought to arrest and prevent the 
 abuses of a system which they yet recognized as necessary 
 to the institutions of war, and sometimes essential to the 
 higher purposes of justice. Bayard, in giving his counte- 
 nance to the practice of duelling,* not only acquiesced in 
 the ordinary usage of his times, but in one which found its 
 sanctions equally in the civil and religious authorities of 
 Christendom. We need not, therefore, defend his supposed 
 aben-ations from piety in this particular, when we find his 
 lessons taught him by his spiritual father. But, in comply- 
 ing with a practice, the propriety of which he had never 
 been taught to question, we have no reason to suppose that 
 he would have ever dreamed of going out to the field on 
 frivolous or small provocation. Nor would he ever have 
 persisted in error, when his frank admission of his fault was 
 all that was necessary for atonement. We find him, for 
 
 * Bayard is frequently quoted, by those who argue against duelling, as 
 one who had steadily opposed the practice. We have shown that such is 
 not the case. They must look for their examples elsewhere, but nee'd not 
 be at any loss, since the biographies of valiant men are full of them 
 
THE SPANIARDS DISSATISFIED. 105 
 
 example, in this very duel with Sotomayer, just recited, 
 calling upon his companions to say whether he had been 
 guilty of misconduct in his treatment of his captive, declar- 
 ing his perfect readiness to confess his wrong, should they 
 advise him that he had been really erring. Regarding the 
 modes of fighting prior to the use of gunpowder, we must 
 perceive that every battle was but a series of personal 
 combats. Hence the wondrous difference in the loss of life 
 in modem battles in comparison with those of ancient 
 times, where each soldier took his foeman by the throat, 
 and where one or other must submit to captivity or to be 
 slain. Habits, engendered by such conflicts, must neces- 
 sarily have produced the duello. Every passion of the 
 heart was inflamed when each warrior grappled with an 
 individual enemy, and where the encounter was foot to 
 foot. The space which separates the opposing forces in 
 battles of modem times, while the cannon and the musket 
 do their work, tend greatly to lessen the bloody results of 
 every pitched battle ; and the duel seems to have gi'adual- 
 ly declined in popularity in proportion to the improvement 
 of the implements for destructive warfare. Weapons which 
 render skill unavailing, and which tend to equalize the 
 chances of the combatants^ contribute greatly to the objects 
 of the peace-maker. 
 
 The Spaniards, as we have said, were very far from 
 being satisfied that the French champion should triumph, 
 under circumstances so unfavorable, over one of their most 
 distinguished waniors ; and they strove, accordingly, in 
 some way to recover their renown and quiet their outraged 
 self-esteem ; but a truce which took place about this time 
 between the two armies, by preventing the possibility of a 
 general action, or of any affairs of small parties, seemed 
 unfavorable to the gratification of their wishes. This in- 
 terruption to the usual game of war lefl; no safety-valves 
 for the surplus passion which the late combat had stimu- 
 lated into eagerness and warmth, and greatly increased 
 
106 
 
 DIEGO DE BISAIGNE. 
 
 the restiveness of their champions under a discredit which 
 they improperly assumed to have disparaged the renown of 
 their whole nation. Having many distinguished combat- 
 ants among their men-at-arms, they availed themselves of 
 the armistice to pursue their sports, and spend their leisure 
 in and about the hamlets and towns which the French were 
 known to visit. On such occasions they tried various modes 
 of provocation, such as may be permitted to rivals, who, 
 eager for the adjustment of their claims, are yet compelled 
 to keep up certain conditions of forbearance and courtesy. 
 With the mood to quari'el, their disputes were frequent 
 with the French, though without realizing the results at 
 which they seemed to aim. The French were not quarrel- 
 some — were satisfied with themselves, their champions, 
 and with all the world ; and the Spaniards, for some days, 
 had to curb the impatience which they found no legitimate 
 mode at that time to pacify. It so happened, however, 
 that one of these little parties of adventure-seeking Span- 
 iards rode forth directly toward the town of Monervino, 
 where Bayard kept garrison. They were eleven or thir- 
 teen in number, and among them were some of the very 
 bravest and hardiest of the Spanish cavaliers. They had 
 got within half a league of Monei-vino, when they encoun- 
 tered our good knight riding forth in company with his 
 friend, the Lord d'Orose. Our cavaliers saluted the Span- 
 iards with courtesy, and the two parties instantly fell into 
 conversation. By gradual transitions, the restless Span- 
 iards soon began to exhibit the feeling of impatience and 
 discontent under which they suffered. At length a bold fel- 
 low, one Diego de Bisaigne, an officer in the company of the 
 late Don Alonzo de Sotomayer, and the last person either 
 to forget or to forgive his death, introduced the subject of 
 his wishes in the following manner : 
 
 " I know not, gentlemen of France, whether this truce, 
 now a week old, pleases you or no ; but to us it is terribly 
 annoying, and we should like to relieve its tedium in any 
 
TERMS OF COMBAT. 107 
 
 pleasant manner. Now if, while it lasts, a band of you, 
 ten or twenty, more or less, are willing to fight upon our 
 sovereign's quan'el, I will undertake that you shall not 
 want a like number to engage you on our side ; the beaten 
 party to remain prisoners of the other." 
 
 Bayard was one of the very last persons in the world to 
 suggest any obstacles to so pleasant an arrangement. 
 
 " The gentleman speaks very discreetly," said the Lord 
 d'Orose; and Bayard concuiTed with him in the compli- 
 ment. 
 
 "Be it as you wish," he replied promptly to the Span- 
 ish knight who had addressed him. " My companion and 
 myself understand you, and agi'ee with you perfectly. 
 You are here some thirteen cavaliers. We will meet you 
 eight days hence with an equal number, armed and mount- 
 ed, and he then who hath a brave heart let him show it." 
 
 The Spaniards agi-eed to the arrangement, and the par- 
 ties separated for the time, after having made all their 
 aiTangements for the place and circumstances of the com- 
 bat 
 
 The combatants assembled at the appointed time and 
 place according to agreement. Crowds, of all nations, 
 came also as spectators. The ground was carefully meas- 
 ured off, and bounded. It was stipulated that he who 
 passed beyond the boundaries was to remain a prisoner, 
 and not engage in the fight again that day. It was also 
 arranged that he who should be unhorsed in the combat 
 was to continue it no longer. This was an unhappy eiTor 
 on the part of the French, as we shall see hereafter. The 
 fight was to continue till nightfall, and no longer; and 
 neither party was to be held the conqueror as long as one 
 of its champions could maintain himself in his saddle. In 
 such case, he was to leave the field in equal honor at least 
 with his antagonists, cairying off his comrades without 
 ransom. It was fortunate for the French that this was a 
 feature in the stipulations. Bayard was the first to make 
 
108 BAYARD IN THE LISTS. 
 
 his appearance in the field. We take a description of his 
 entree on this occasion from the pen of one of the Italian 
 novelists of modem times. It answers to the truth of his- 
 tory, so far as it is known ; though our author, who is very- 
 partial to his own countrymen, as a matter of course, and 
 who, in the description of this combat, confounds two very 
 distinct and dissimilar events, is by no means an authority, 
 except as to matters of description and the social costume 
 of the times. 
 
 " Bayard, the warrior and glory of knighthood, was the 
 first to enter the lists. He rode a beautiful bay of Nor- 
 mandy, with a mane of sable, and three silver-spotted feet. 
 According to the customs of chivalry, the fine proportions 
 of this charger were concealed by an ample saddle-cloth, 
 which completely covered his body. This was of a bright 
 green, striped with crimson, and terminating in a rich fringe, 
 which descended to his knees. The arms of the knight 
 were embroidered on this garment, where it covered the 
 broad shoulder and flank of the charger. There was 
 nothing remarkable in the personal appearance of Bayard 
 himself; and, without venturing to judge of what the aiinor 
 might conceal, he did not seem to promise the ordinary 
 degree of vigor of the wamors of the time. His steed, 
 curbed as he rode within the lists, and nettled by the spur 
 at the same moment, bore impatiently upon the rein, pran- 
 cing forward with arching neck, and proudly curvetting from 
 side to side under the restraint, while his flowing tail swept 
 
 the gi'ound about his course Bayard, who till this 
 
 moment had kept his visor closed, now exhibited a face so 
 very pale, that all the spectators were surprised to see him 
 take the field. When it was shut by his esquire, he said 
 that, though a suflerer for four months from ague, he 
 believed that he should that day bring no dishonor upon the 
 arms of France."* The rest of our author's description is 
 
 * The challenge of Barletta, by Massimo d'Azeglio, an Italian imitator 
 of the school of Scott. For a translation of this interesting novel, by Mr. 
 
BASENESS OP THE SPANIARDS. 109 
 
 purely fanciful. The scene which he describes never took 
 place ; but we must not forget the rights of the novelist ; 
 and, in stating the fact, and denying his, we do not propose 
 to censure him, or dispute his privileges. 
 
 To return to our combatants. The preHminaries being 
 all completed, and the parties ranged in opposition, the 
 signal was given for the combat. The lances were couched ; 
 the spurs given to the chargers; and the knights rushed 
 into the thick melee with wonderful courage and impetu- 
 osity. But it was soon found that the clause in the terms 
 of the combat which rendered the knight hors de combat 
 who happened to be unhorsed, had led to the practice of an 
 unexpected baseness on the part of the Spaniards, who 
 now addressed themselves to the dishonorable toil of slay- 
 mg horses, rather than men. It was not a combat man to 
 man, but man against beast — and this seemingly by a plan 
 previously concerted among themselves, for they were all 
 governed by a like desire. Eleven of the horses of the 
 French were killed; and their riders — without suffering 
 hurt — without incuiTing the slightest discredit for want of 
 skill, either in arms or horsemanship — were thus, at an 
 early period in the day, excluded from farther participation 
 in the stiife. Bayard and the Lord d'Orose alone main- 
 tained their saddles ; and so skilfully and gallantly did they 
 maintain them, that the treacherous Spaniards took nothing 
 by their baseness. It was in vain that they concentrated 
 their whole efforts, and made combined assaults upon these 
 two champions. These, retiring behind the slain horses 
 whenever assailed by the whole force of the enemy, found 
 in them an excellent bulwark, from which they darted, 
 whenever occasion offered, upon single foes, and succeeded 
 in keeping the field, in defiance of the numbers against 
 them: and thus the day was consumed until the shades of 
 night closed the combat. Individuals could do them no 
 
 Lester, see the " Medici Series of Italian Prose," from the American press 
 of Paine & Burgess. 
 
 K 
 
110 ANOTHER PASSAGE. 
 
 hurt ; and, when charged by too gi'eat numbers, they shelter- 
 ed themselves behind the horses of their comrades, and no ap- 
 plication of the spur, on the part of the Spaniards, could per- 
 suade their less gallant steeds to take the leap also. The 
 honor of the day was accorded to the French ; since, with 
 but two knights against thirteen, they could not be over- 
 come in a conflict which lasted four hours. The parties 
 separated with the night, the Spaniards leaving the field 
 with increased admiration of the exquisite prowess of our 
 knight, and his wonderful skill and spirit. 
 
 This event was followed by others of a similar kind, with 
 one of which it has more than once been confounded.* 
 This was an affair which occasioned considerable excite- 
 ment, and was productive of much exultation on the side 
 of the Spaniards, and their allies, the Italians. It appears 
 that, pending some negotiations between the two armies, 
 a French officer, Charles de Torgues, visited the town of 
 Barletta to effect an exchange of prisoners. Here, at a 
 convivial meeting, a dispute arose respecting the compara- 
 tive merits of the French and Italian knights. In the course 
 of the discussion, de Torgues was incautious enough to say 
 that the Italians were an effeminate and timid people, and 
 no match for the chivalry of France. This roused some 
 of the company, one of whom replied that he had under 
 his own command a troop of Italians who w^re fully equal 
 to the same number of Frenchmen. The dispute ended in a 
 challenge, thirteen against thirteen, the victors being enti- 
 tled to the arms and horses of the vanquished, and one hun- 
 dred gold crowns each. The fight took place on the 13th 
 Febi-uary, 1503, in a plain between the towns of Andri and 
 
 * As in the instance of the romance by Massimo d'Azeglio, already quoted, 
 historians have also fallen into the same error. It is one easily made, since 
 the events happened about the same time, and the combatants, of like num- 
 ber on each side, were drawn from the same opposing nations. Some dis- 
 pute has arisen with regard to the number of champions in the previous 
 combat, but the difference between eleven and thirteen of a side is nowise 
 important. 
 
A NEW ADVENTURE. Ill 
 
 Coirato. The Frenchmen were defeated, and the triumph 
 of the Italians and Spaniards was duly increased by the ex- 
 ceeding novelty of their good fortune in the tourney, for 
 the " Great Captain" thought that the French cavalry were 
 the best soldiers in the world. But Bayard was not pres- 
 ent on this occasion, neither as a combatant, as some of the 
 accounts report, nor as one of the judges of the field, as as- 
 serted by other authorities. The author of the challenge 
 of B arietta lugs him in by the head and shoulders, in his nar- 
 rative, simply that the honor gained by his countrymen on 
 this occasion should derive additional lustre from classing 
 among the beaten party the mirror of modem chivalry. A 
 like error prevails in the account of the affair by the Spanish 
 biogi'apher, Quintana, who has strangely wrought up in 
 one naiTative the several details of the two combats. We 
 are, fortunately, in possession of the names of the several 
 knights, on both sides, who were engaged in this last pass- 
 age. That of Bayard is not among them. He was not 
 present at the fight. He was probably still a victim to the 
 ague under which he had suffered more or less severely for 
 several months. The termination of the truce found him 
 better, or, at all events, willing to think himself so, since we 
 find him engaged in a little expedition requiring some ac- 
 tivity, and in which he gave an admirable illustration of 
 one of his most noble virtues. 
 
 It appears one day that our good knight received a hint 
 fi-om his spies, that there was a certain treasurer of Naples 
 who was upon the road for Barletta vdth money-bags of 
 ample size, which he was conveying for the use of Gon- 
 salvo de Cordova. The pleasant, not to say humane and 
 charitable idea, suggested itself to our knight that he would 
 relieve his enemy of this burden ; and the " Loyal Servant" 
 tells us that from this moment he never laid himself down 
 to sleep without setting a strict watch upon the route which 
 the treasurer was compelled to pursue. He soon received 
 tidings which were decisive of his approach. But a day 
 
112 RELIEVES THE TREASURER. 
 
 was left for the operation as he was now but fifteen miles 
 from Monervino, and attended by a small body of cavalry. 
 Bayard had somehow set his heart upon this charitable per- 
 formance. He had another reason, scarcely less potent 
 than that of relieving the treasurer of his cares, the desire 
 of rewarding the good service of his soldiers. The motives 
 were each sufficiently noble to keep him sleepless. With- 
 out waiting for his breakfast, he rose before day, and, 
 putting himself in ambush between two snug and pleasant 
 little hills, he despatched his companion Tardieu, with five- 
 and-twenty soldiers more, upon another route, so that if 
 the good treasurer should be so unfortunate as not to find 
 the desired relief at his hands, he might afford an oppor- 
 tunity to his lieutenant to do him the needful service. Tar- 
 dieu obeyed orders, watched patiently and well, but took 
 no prey. Bayard was more fortunate. Crouched in a 
 narrow gorge which enabled him thoroughly to hide his 
 men, he suffered the treasurer to pass him by without in- 
 teri'uption. When they had fairly got beyond him, how- 
 ever, and retreat was impossible, our good knight darted 
 out of cover with his war-cry — " France ! France ! kill ! 
 kill!" 
 
 Suiprised by the suddenness of the assault, disordered 
 by the charge, and supposing that ten times its number 
 was upon them, the Spanish escort offered but a feeble 
 defence, and fled toward Barletta. Bayard did not pursue 
 the fugitives very far. His great anxiety was the relief of 
 the poor man who bore the money. Him he approached 
 with affectionate interest, and took him, and his man, and 
 his bags, all at once, under his special protection. These 
 he conducted in safety to Monervino, The treasurer and 
 the money-bags were both conducted to our knight's apart- 
 ments, where the gold was tumbled forth upon a table, 
 making a pile which delighted the eyes of our French- 
 men. 
 
 An attempt being made to count the spoils, the ti*easurer 
 
TARDIEU'S VEXATION. 113 
 
 prevented it, by saying that they might save themselves 
 the trouble, the amount being just fifteen thousand ducats. 
 Fifteen thousand ducats was no trifling sum in that day, 
 and in the sight of a greedy and expensive young soldiery. 
 While it lay ostentatiously heaped upon the table, Tardieu 
 made his appearance, his eyes gloating over the treasure 
 spread before him, and his mind vexed and imtated at 
 the ill fortune which had kept him from the prize. How- 
 ever, putting on his most amiable visage, he said to our 
 knight — 
 
 " Comrade, I go shares with you. I was of the under' 
 taking, you know ]" 
 
 "Very true," rejoined Bayard, with a pleasant smile, 
 "but you were not of the taking, comrade !" 
 
 Something more was said, and the good knight, in order 
 to subdue the tone of the lieutenant, reminded him coolly 
 that he was under his command, not his equal, and could claim 
 nothing that he, Bayard, was not willing to give. An angry 
 man was Tardieu that day, and he swore a bitter oath that 
 he would have justice. He made his complaint accordingly 
 to the Duke de Nemours, who, on inquiring of Bayard the 
 particulars, and taking the opinions of his officers as to the 
 usage in such cases, confirmed our hero in his right to all 
 the money. Tardieu got neither sympathy nor satisfaction. 
 Tardieu, we must not forget, was the same person who led 
 the escort which welcomed Bayard at his first going into 
 gan-ison at the town of Aire, and who had prompted the 
 tournament which the latter had given at that place. He 
 was a lively and pleasant fellow, though he could be angry, 
 and swore famously when the fit was on him, like any other 
 trooper. When he heard the decision of the Duke de Ne- 
 mours, he cried out — 
 
 " By the blood of St. George, I am vastly unlucky. 
 Nevertheless, comrade," addressing the good knight7 " it is 
 pretty much the same thing. You will have to maintain 
 me so long as we tarry in this land." 
 
114 bayaed's liberality. 
 
 Bayard laughed. The proceeding caused no ill-blood 
 between them ; and they returned in company to Moner- 
 vino, from their visit to the duke. When they had reached 
 our knight's lodgings, he caused his ducats to be displayed 
 once more before the yearning eyes of Tai'dieu. 
 
 " Comrade," said he to the disappointed man, as his fin- 
 gers played among the heap, " these ai'e very pretty play- 
 things." 
 
 " What's that to me 1" answered the other. " I have no 
 part in them. Had I but the half of them, I were a made 
 man all my life !" 
 
 ** You shall have them, comrade !" was the response of 
 the generous knight. " What you could not wrest fi'om me 
 by force, I give you with all my heart." 
 
 The act followed the words. Seven thousand five hun- 
 dred ducats were instantly counted out in the presence of 
 the incredulous man, and put in his possession. He could 
 scarcely believe his eyes, and thought the whole proceed- 
 ing a jest, until perfectly convinced by the assurances of his 
 superior. Tardieu was overconie. His heart smote him 
 for what he had done ; and, sinking upon his knees, with 
 tears in his eyes, acknowledged the bounty and noble 
 generosity which he felt ashamed ever to have questioned. 
 WTien he spoke of the benefit, Bayard relieved him. 
 **Hold your peace, Tardieu, this is nothing to what I 
 would do for you were it in my power." But Tardieu 
 found it adequate to his wants. It was indeed the making 
 of his fortune; for when, at the conclusion of the war, he 
 returned to France, it enabled him to marry a noble lady, 
 who had three thousand crowns a year. 
 
 The lavish bounty of the good knight, " whose heart," 
 according to the " Loyal Ser\^ant," was " pure as a peai'l," 
 did not stop when it had made one man happy. Calling 
 together all his troops, he shared with them the remaining 
 moiety of his prize, without reserving a single ducat for 
 himself He even suffered the treasurer to depgtrt without 
 
HIS FORBEARANCE. 115 
 
 ransom, and without subjecting his person to a search — a 
 forbearance greatly to the joy of the latter, who still car- 
 ried with him, in rings and money, the value of five hun- 
 dred ducats more. But Bayard was moderate in his de- 
 sires, and was quite satisfied with having contributed, even 
 partially, to lessening the poor man's burthen. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 The several tourneys between the French, Spanish and 
 Italian cavaliers, had raised the courage of the two latter 
 immeasurably. According to the Spanish proverb, " The 
 French had many fine horses, but few Bayards." That 
 the Italians should be able to maintain their ground at all 
 against the cavaliy of France was matter of great exulta- 
 tion among a people to whom the neighboring nations of 
 the continent were disposed to deny the ordinary quality 
 of courage. The training which they were daily receiving 
 from the " Great Captain," with the examples afforded 
 them of stubborn endurance and fierce enthusiam by the 
 Spanish champions, were altogether different from those 
 lessons for which they had been hitherto indebted to their 
 mercenaries. These, under the command of a Condottieri, 
 who had no interest in the conflicts in which they engaged, 
 other than flowed from the certainty of pay, seldom perilled 
 themselves or their people, where danger might by any pos- 
 sibility be avoided. Under different leaders the morale 
 of Italian knighthood underwent large improvement. The 
 nation was inspirited by their displays of an unexpected 
 skill and audacity; their poets found inspiration in their 
 deeds, and the popular feeling was roused to a high de- 
 gree of enthusiasm. All this was unfavorable to the prog- 
 ress of the arms of Louis, whose troops do not seem to 
 have been well commanded. The Duke de Nemours was 
 not the general to oppose to Gonsalvo, and the latter was 
 supplied with new troops from Spain, while the former 
 was left to maintain himself without adequate succours. 
 The allies of Louis were of a sort to discredit and to be- 
 
SUCCESSES OF THE SPANIARDS. 117 
 
 tray any alliance. These were the Borgias, father and 
 son, who, having won over the Cardinal d'Amboise, the 
 French minister, succeeded in poisoning and misleading 
 the counsels of the monarch. Under these evil influences, 
 the foreign policy of Louis became diverse and incon- 
 sistent ; and the King of Spain, whose whole nature was 
 alive to artifice, had recourse to his favorite weapon still 
 more to enfeeble the action of his enemy. He held out to 
 Louis, through his son-in-law, the Archduke Philip, then 
 travelling through France, the promise of a new and favor- 
 able treaty, by which Naples was to be brought as the 
 dowry of the Princess Claude, in an alliance with young 
 Charles, the grandson of Charles and Maximilian. Louis 
 was duped by this negotiation, and entertaining these 
 suggestions, relaxed in his exertions for strengthening his 
 arms in Italy. He was awakened from this delusion when 
 it was too late to repair the evil. Ferdinand had em- 
 ployed the time, thus lost by the French monarch, in 
 sending the most ample succoi-s to Gonsalvo ; and the 
 successes of the Spanish general were tlie first events by 
 which Louie was taught to see the faithless policy of his 
 rivaL Hitherto, Gonsalvo had been content to maintain 
 his gi'ound at B arietta, environed by the French army, 
 which, having possessed itself of the suirounding towns 
 and villages, had sought to enclose him in an impassable 
 circle. He was now to assume the offensive. Suddenly 
 falling upon the town and fortress of Ruvo, which was 
 defended by the Lord de la Palisse, he carried the place 
 by stoi-m. Castellaneta, another town which the Span- 
 iards had taken, was besieged about this time by the 
 French. Hearing of the siege of Ruvo, the Duke de 
 Nemoui'S raised that of Castellaneta, in order to relieve 
 the former, and by this proceeding lost both. These un- 
 toward events were followed by the defeat of D'Aubigny 
 in Calabria, and by a disaster still more severe in the 
 bloody battle of Cerignola, which resulted from the aban- 
 
118 DEFEAT AT CERIGNOLA. 
 
 donment, by Gonsalvo, of his long-held post at Bai'letta. 
 Finding himself in sufficient strength to emerge from this 
 position, he announced his intention to the Duke of 
 Nemours, by way of chivalric defiance ; and, calling in 
 all his unnecessary outposts, he sallied forth in force 
 to meet his enemy. Having reached Cerignola, where 
 the French possessed large store of munitions and pro- 
 visions, he was soon apprised that the army of Nemours 
 was in close pursuit. Had the latter been able to have 
 overtaken Gonsalvo in the plain, and before he could have 
 attained the heights of Cerignola, the defeat of the latter 
 would have been certain. But he attained the eminence 
 in safety, and, throwing up a small fortification among 
 the numerous vineyards upon the slope of the hill, and 
 strewing the ground before it with stakes and broken iron 
 for the embarrassment of the French cavalry, he waited 
 their approach, still very dubious of the event, and in a 
 state of temporary despondency from which nothing but 
 the actual approach of combat seemed to awaken him. 
 It was twilight when the forces of Nemours drew nigh, 
 his troops necessarily fatigued by a long and arduous 
 march. His prudence counselled a halt for the night, but 
 his destiny, in the shape of an insidious associate, in- 
 sinuated that such a delay would carry with it every 
 attribute of cowardice. Stung by the suggestion, the 
 French commander followed the guidance of his evil 
 genius. He placed himself at the head of the men-at- 
 arms forming his vanguard, and gave the signal for the 
 action. His advance drew upon him a teiTible fire from 
 the musketry and artillery of the Spaniards, to escape 
 from which he charged at full gallop up the heights. At 
 first the French were successful, but their advantages 
 were temporary ; and their leader, the Duke de Nemours, 
 struck by a musket-shot, falling dead from his horse, was 
 the signal for a general panic, which terminated in flight. 
 The fight was well maintained while it lasted, but it was 
 
MISFORTUNES OF THE FRENCH. 119 
 
 one of a kind in which there could be no displays of in- 
 dividual valor. It was a melee, — a wild and bloody one, 
 — hardily fought under very unequal conditions, in which 
 no audacity of knighthood could avail much against a foe 
 stubbornly planted and in a position of considerable 
 strength and security. The body of the French general 
 was found among the slain. The debris of the army was 
 collected at Gaeta, a place of considerable strength. 
 
 The city of Naples, after this event, was surrendered to 
 Gonsalvo. Its castle was taken by mining — a mode of 
 offence, we may here remark, which was first employed 
 during these wars in Italy. In a little time the fortress of 
 Gaeta was the only strong post in the kingdom that was 
 held by the French. 
 
 Louis was exceedingly mortified by these defeats, and 
 put in force all his energies to repair and redress them. 
 Despatching a powerful army through the Papal states into 
 the kingdom of Naples, under the Duke de la Tremouille, 
 he determined also to assail his enemy in his Spanish do- 
 minions. Large bodies of troops entered the provinces of 
 Roussillon and Fontarabia, while the French fleets infested 
 the coasts of Valencia and Catalonia. But all these prepa- 
 rations ended in disappointment. La Tremouille fell ill, and 
 Gonzaga, the marquis of Mantua, who succeeded him in the 
 command, as wanting, probably, in zeal as in talent, succeed- 
 ed in achieving nothing. The Pope, the ally of Louis, was 
 about this time taken in his own snare, being poisoned by 
 wines which he is supposed to have medicated for certain 
 of his guests. His son, Caesar Borgia, escaped the same fate 
 only by means of antidotes promptly administered and the 
 strength of a vigorous constitution. These events had their 
 influence upon the armies of France by involving them in 
 the intrigues for the papal succession. With his eye fixed 
 upon the chair of St. Peter, the minister of Louis, Cardinal 
 d'Amboise, had the art to persuade his master to direct the 
 troops intended for Naples to the vicinity of Rome, their 
 
120 THEIR STRONG-HOLD OF GAETA. 
 
 presence being thought likely to give him potency in the 
 conclave which was to assemble for the election of the new 
 Pope. They were kept in this subordinate position, the 
 jest of the Italians, without effecting any thing toward the 
 desired object, and at the expense of all the designs which 
 had been entertained against Naples. .The season became 
 too far advanced for active operations; and severe marches 
 in winter, with a heavy artillery, over roads which the 
 heavy rains had converted into quagmires, told fearfully 
 upon the morale of the French army. Several attempts 
 which they made upon fortified towns on the confines of 
 Naples were either repulsed or only partially successful; 
 and, with a junction of all his forces, and the aid of new 
 levies, Gonsalvo was prepared to throw himself across their 
 path, whether this contemplated invasion or retreat. 
 
 The whole efforts of the French seemed now to be ad- 
 dressed rather to a retarding of the progress of the Span- 
 iards than to the acquisition of new conquests. The re- 
 mains of the old army, after the defeat of Cerignola, were 
 collected by the Duke d'Alegre at Gaeta. Here Gonsalvo 
 sat himself down with his forces, but without being able to 
 make any impression upon the garrison. The approach of 
 the newly-recruited levies of the French caused the aban- 
 donment of the siege, and he retired, to wait events, upon 
 Castellone. Gaeta was relieved by the Duke de la Tre- 
 mouille, who, being now joined by the Marquis of Mantua, 
 possessed himself of the duchy of Trajetto and the district 
 of Fondi, as far as the river Garigliano. 
 
 From this territory it was now the object of Gonsalvo to 
 dispossess him; and the attempt to do so brings us to one 
 of those interesting passages in the life of Bayard which 
 contribute to form the peculiar renown upon which his 
 reputation rests. Hitherto, from the period of the severe 
 battle of Cerignola, we have been peimitted to see nothing 
 of him as an individual. He simply ranked with the brave 
 but unfortunate chivalry, who, led by feeble generals, were 
 
THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 121 
 
 required to atone by tlieir valor, and consecrate, by their 
 blood, the folly and crimes of their superiors. Of his own 
 hairbreadth 'scapes and brave exploits during all this in- 
 terval we have no record ; and the degree of credit which 
 he could hope to assert, as one of a baffled army, must neces- 
 sarily be small. Indeed, it is in contrast with the deeds of 
 the army, at this period, that his own acquire reputation. 
 " The campaign," says an impartial historian, "served but 
 to display the valor of the brave Bayard, who alone de- 
 fended the passage of a bridge against a body of Spaniards 
 for a considerable time."* This achievement acquired for 
 him the surname of the French Codes. t The facts were 
 these : — The troops of the French were posted somewhat 
 disadvantageously on the marshy banks of the Garigliano, 
 over which they had succeeded in throwing a bridge, which 
 would facilitate their march upon Naples. This having 
 passed, it was calculated that the whole intermediate tract 
 of country between them and the capital would lie open to 
 the invaders, with no greater obstacles in their way than the 
 presence of Gonsalvo. This, itself, was something of an 
 obstacle. He, with the Spanish forces, lay in waiting, the 
 river only separating the opposing armies. His ti'oops 
 were in high spirits from recent and continued successes. 
 The French, from the same cause, were doubtful and dis- 
 pirited. Besides, they lacked confidence in their leader, 
 the Marquis of Mantua, who was a foreigner of small tal- 
 ents and no enterprise. Gonsalvo was not unwilling to 
 give his enemy battle. There were two ways of crossing 
 the river : by the bridge which the French had raised, and 
 of which they were in possession, and by a ford at some 
 distance from it, which they also guarded. It was deter- 
 mined that a feint should be made at the ford, while a 
 
 * Crowe's History of France, vol. i., p. 145. 
 
 t See Livy, for the achievement of Publius Horatius Codes, who defend- 
 ed a bridge against the whole army of Porsenna. See, also, Macaiiley's 
 fine poem among his admirably-conceived ballads of ancient Rome. 
 
 L 
 
122 DON PEDRO PAZ. 
 
 Strong body of men should attempt the bridge. The pass- 
 age of the ford was entrusted to one Pedro Paz. This 
 was, in several respects, a very remarkable person. Though 
 one of the most fearless and sagacious warriors, he was yet 
 scarcely more than half the height of an ordinary maii ; a 
 hunchback to whom Richard Crookback was a model 
 of manly beauty ; of whom, when he was mounted on horse- 
 back, you could see little above the saddle than an enor- 
 mous head and pair of shoulders. But never did character 
 more completely give the lie to outward seeming. Don 
 Pedro could use his lance and steed with any of his com- 
 rades ; and, admitted to counsel, it was acknowledged that 
 none surpassed him in the exhibition of a judgment at once 
 bold and circumspect, adventurous and sage. This doughty 
 warrior, the preparations of the cooperating parties being 
 all completed, proceeded somewhat ostentatiously to effect 
 the passage of the river by the w^ell-known ford. He had 
 under him a couple of hundred horsemen, each of whom 
 earned a foot-soldier behind him. The ruse was so far 
 successful as to draw upon Senor Pedro the attention of the 
 whole French army. At the first alarm — on the first wild 
 intimation that the van of the w^hole Spanish army was 
 about to cross the river at the ford — the French, turning out 
 simultaneously, hunied to prevent the passage. They 
 probably succeeded in doing so, for we learn that, satisfied 
 that no farther danger was to be apprehended from this 
 quarter, they retired to their tents, fully beheving that they 
 would be vexed with no more alarms that day. Bayard 
 alone seems to have been wary and suspicious. He must 
 have known and felt, quite as painfully as any other person, 
 the inferior abilities of the generals by whom the French 
 troops were sacrificed rather than commanded. At all 
 events, it happened, fortunately for his own fame and for 
 the army, that he was well armed, mounted, and near the 
 bridge, when the more serious attempt was to be made in 
 that quarter by the Spaniards. He had with him but a 
 
BAYARD DEFENDS THE BRIDGE ALONE. 123 
 
 single companion, one PieiTe de Tardes, surnamed Le 
 Basque, an equeiTy to the King of France ; and not a single 
 follower. These two, hearing the tread of horse, looked 
 forth to the Spanish side of the river, and discovered about 
 two hundred horse making directly for the bridge. The 
 danger was imminent, for the loss of the bridge, at that 
 moment, involved the safety of the whole army. To sound 
 the alarm and fly would have been the probable course, 
 under such circumstances, with nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine men in the thousand. To dream of arresting the 
 torrent by the single will and resistance of one man -vVould. 
 scarcely be thought of by one person in the million. Yet 
 such was the instinct of our chevalier. It does not seem to 
 have been a matter of reflection with him. It was a thing 
 of course that he should keep the post at all hazards. 
 
 " Speed you, my friend," he said to the equerry, " and 
 gather some of our men to maintain the bridge, or we are 
 all ruined. I will endeavor to keep the enemy in play 
 till you return ; but hasten, for there is no time to be lost." 
 
 The equerry disappeared on the instant ; and Bayard, 
 crossing the bridge, upon the extremity of which the Span- 
 iards were about to pass, chose his position with some re- 
 gard to the difficulty which he should probably have in 
 maintaining it. Putting his lance in rest, he charged the 
 head of the advancing column at the very threshold, tum- 
 bling two of them headlong into the river, from whence they 
 never emerged, and two more upon the banks, at the veiy 
 first thrust of his weapon. This brought upon him a host ; 
 but their veiy numbers, impeding their progi'ess in the nar- 
 row gorge which he defended, contributed somewhat to his 
 security. Never were charges more desperate or more 
 successful than those which he made that day. Great was 
 the sui-prise of the Spaniards to behold one man thus 
 furiously darting upon their squadrons. At first they re- 
 garded him as one delivered up and devoted to destruction ; 
 but not so when they sunk beneath his assault, and were 
 
124 HIS PROWESS. 
 
 hurled, by his adroit exercise of horse and lance, by 
 threes and fours, headlong into the stream. Astounded, 
 almost appalled at first, they recoiled from before him; but 
 eoon recovering, they gave him enough to do. With his 
 back to the railing of the bridge, so that they might not 
 assail him from behind, he confounded them by the rapidity, 
 the dexterity and the force of his movements. As many 
 as might do so assailed him at the same moment These 
 he was not only to encounter and resist as vi^ell as he was 
 able, but he was to do this and keep his position at the 
 same time, so that none of them might contrive to get be- 
 tween him and the bridge. This was no easy performance. 
 But Bayard was not only a brave and skilful wanior — 
 skilful beyond his time — but he was one of those wondrous 
 horsemen whose power of managing the steed is a mys- 
 tery — such as the Arab of the desert possesses, but such as 
 orrlinary riders cannot understand. With an eye that 
 seemed to look out from every part of his body at the same 
 time, and a hand and weapon that seconded admirably 
 every movement of his eye, he beheld, and foiled his as- 
 sailants, crowding in on every side. The powerful, but 
 docile and well-trained animal that bore his weight, seemed 
 imbued with his own spirit ; and the two wrought together 
 so admirably and so successfully, that the Spaniards were 
 persuaded of a miracle — such as they themselves so fre- 
 quently beheld wrought in their own behalf on the field of 
 battle, when their patron saint took up the cudgels of war, 
 and came to their rescue at the lucky moment. They could 
 make no impression on our chevalier — could advance no 
 footstep ; and, looking upon him as a fiend, rather than a 
 mortal, were compelled to admire the skill and courage 
 which promised still to bafl[le their best attempts. How 
 long a conflict so unequal might have been maintained, it is 
 not easy to conjecture. Reason assures us that it must 
 terminate at last in the exhaustion and overthrow of the 
 single champion, however gloriously endowed with ability 
 
DEFEATS AND PURSUES THE SPANIARDS. 125 
 
 and strength. In sheer desperation and shame the baffled 
 host would press upon him, and bear him forward as a leaf 
 borne by the storm, by the very impulse of their headlong 
 weight and momentum. But he was relieved before it was 
 too late. Smiting fiercely with his sword (his lance hav- 
 ing long since been shivered), he heard the approach- 
 ing gallop of his gallant comrades. The war-cry of his 
 faithful gens d'arnis rose behind him, and crowned his de- 
 fence with ti'iumph. As they came thundering down across 
 the bridge, he assumed the offensive ; the Spaniards yielded 
 before him; and, leading his companions, the exulting 
 chevalier pressed fiercely upon them in pursuit. 
 
 This was an error. The jiarty that came to the relief 
 of Bayard, and which Pierre de Tardes had hastily col- 
 lected in the emergency, consisted of only a hundred men. 
 They were soon encountered by a large body of the Span- 
 ish horse, seven or eight hundred in number, huiTying for- 
 ward to support their comrades, or to make secure the post 
 which it was supposed they had acquired. It was at sight 
 of these that Bayard arrested the pursuit, "We have 
 done enough," said he, " my comrades, in having saved the 
 bridge. Let us now retire, keeping as close together as 
 we can." But they were not permitted to retire so quietly. 
 The retreat was begun in an orderly manner, but soon 
 became a flight. Bayard, who usually led into action, in a 
 retreat always brought up the rear. Such was his position 
 now. But, in taking it, he had not allowed for the hard 
 service which his horse had already endured that day. The 
 faithful animal soon show^ed signs of distress and exhaustion, 
 and the knight soon found it impossible to keep up with 
 his comrades. As the Spaniards pressed more closely upon 
 them, they began to scatter, and a concentrated rush of 
 their battalions tumbled several of the Frenchmen from 
 their saddles, and drove the survivors out of sight — all but 
 Bayard. His steed was the first to falter. He had wheeled 
 about to do battle as the enemy drew nigh, and was forced 
 
126 BAYAllD A CAPTIVE. 
 
 backward in the shock, his horse sinking up to his haunches 
 in a ditch. Surrounded by twenty or thirty assailants, 
 fettered as it were by the situation of the animal, our hero 
 continued to bear about him bravely, giving hard blows, 
 and never thinking of suiTender. *^Rende, Rende, Sefior /" 
 was the cry of the Spaniards. '* I fear I can not choose but 
 surrender," was the answer of Bayard, "since alone I can 
 not well withstand you all !" 
 
 They deprived him of the battle-axe with which he had 
 been fighting, leaving him in possession of his sword. Had 
 they conjectured the name and quality of their prisoner, 
 they would not have been guilty of this en'or. But he had 
 kept his secret. His face concealed by his visor — his per- 
 son in ai-mor — they only knew that they had captured a 
 very powerful and valiant knight, but had no idea that he 
 was the man of all others whom they most desired to make 
 captive. Bayard knew the danger to himself, to his life, 
 probably, by letting his name be known. He had long 
 been the teiTor of their cavalry, and had no reason to think 
 that his life would be spared should he fall into their hands 
 in the heat of battle. When questioned of himself, accor- 
 dingly, he gave them another name for his own. They nev- 
 er thought to exact from him his parole d'honneur. Secure 
 of their prize, and confident in their numbers, they scorned 
 to betray any doubts that they could keep him safe among 
 them, and rode slowly away with their captive on their 
 return to camp. The party having him in charge brought 
 ujD the rear of their battalion, the greater body having 
 withdrawn from the ground after the dispersion of the 
 French, and when they learned that the force which had 
 been sent for the purpose had failed in securing the bridge. 
 
 But our good knight was not abandoned by his comrades. 
 When they reassembled at the bridge, and found that he 
 was not among them, the alarm was given instantly. The 
 first to speak was the Chevalier Guiffray, a gentleman of 
 Dauphiny, and near neighbor of Bayard. " Ah ! gentle- 
 
HE IS RESCUED. 127 
 
 men, said he " we have lost every thing, since the good 
 Captain Bayard is not w^ith us. He is either slain or tak- 
 en. And shall we, whom he hath so well conducted, and 
 for whom he hath won so much honor this very day, shall 
 we not see what has become of himl I vow to God that 
 I will have tidings of him, at all hazards, though I return 
 alone to seek them !" 
 
 The resolve of the knight Guiffray was that of all. All 
 were equally afflicted and equally resolute. " We will all 
 return !" was the cry, and each man alighted to tighten the 
 girths of his horse. They were soon remounted and speed- 
 ing away " at a great gallop after the Spaniards who were 
 cariying away the flower and perfection of all gentility." 
 They were successful in overhauling the retiring enemy 
 before they had regained the camp. Their first cry, as 
 they rushed upon them, informed them of that which the 
 wary Bayard had kept secret. '* Turn ye, Spaniards, turn ; 
 and think not thus to cany off with ye the flower of all 
 knighthood !" The Spaniards did face about, and, being 
 still numerous, received the shock of the assault with 
 spirit and firmness. But in this shock several of them were 
 dismounted. In the moment of the rush and struggle which 
 followed, Bayard freed himself fi'om his guard and threw 
 himself from his jaded steed upon the ground. At that for- 
 tunate moment, the equeny, he Basque, succeeded in tum- 
 bling out of his saddle a brave Spaniard, named Salvador 
 de Borgia. This man had been well mounted. To seize 
 upon the bridle of the freed horse — to leap into the seat 
 without touching the stirrup — to draw his sword and lay 
 about him among the enemy, was, for our chevalier, the 
 work of a single moment and impulse. His well-known 
 battle-cry, " France ! — Bayard !" — "■ Bayard, who was late 
 your prisoner!" struck ten'or into the Spaniards, and suffi- 
 ciently taught them who had been their captive. They lost 
 heart as the French gained it, by this discovery. The loss of 
 such a prisoner was, indeed, the loss of hope and victory. 
 
128 VIRES AGMINIS UNUS HABET. 
 
 " Let us away to camp," was the cry among them, " we 
 shall do nothing great to-day !" This cry struck a panic 
 through their ranks. They fled shamefully from a contest 
 in which their numbers and previous successes should have 
 ensured them a complete victory. The approach of night 
 found the French safe in camp, too happy in having helped 
 to extricate their guidon d'honneur from the hands of the 
 enemy. Here, for a week, nothing was spoken of but the 
 prowess of our chevalier. It was at this period, and in 
 relation to his defence at the bridge, that he received for his 
 device a porcupine, with the appropriate motto, " Vires 
 agminis unus habet'" — " One alone is equal to an army." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 But the bridge thus vahantly defended by a single man 
 was not to be maintained even by an army. The gallantly 
 of the few availed little against an enemy when he was 
 succored by the incompetence of their own captains. The 
 French chivalry were indignant at the fortune which assigned 
 them to the command, not only of a foreigner, but one so to- 
 tally devoid of entei-prise and skill ; who kept them station- 
 ary when courage and shame equally demanded their ad- 
 vance, and who opposed even their occasional successes by 
 the paralysing influence of his own evil fortune. They did 
 not conceal their indignation and contempt, and the expres- 
 sion of their disgust and scom became so open and humili- 
 ating at last, that the incompetent general withdrew from the 
 command, which he had shown so little capacity to fill. He 
 earned with him a large body of Italian troops whom he 
 had brought into the field, and this defection tended still more 
 
130 BATTLE OF GARIGLFANO. 
 
 to lessen the hopes of the French, whom continued ill suc- 
 cesses had done so much to depress and dispirit. Gon- 
 zaga was succeeded by the Marquis of Saluces, but his 
 generalship was not more fortunate than that of his prede- 
 cessor. It required something more than an ordinary sol- 
 dier and man of spirit to oppose Gonsalvo, acknowledged 
 as the greatest captain of his time ; and the declining 
 morale of the French troops demanded a stimulus to exer- 
 tion of a kind equally novel and imposing. 
 
 Foiled in the attempt to carry the bridge, of which the 
 French had possession, and despairing to cross the ford, 
 which was equally difficult and guarded by their whole 
 army, Gonsalvo, with great secrecy, proceeded to the con- 
 struction of a bridge a few miles above, at Suio, while 
 he kept his enemy busily employed in front. A succor of 
 three thousand men about this time reached the camp of 
 the Spaniards. This emboldened the decision of Gonsalvo. 
 His bridge at Suio was soon finished. To pass this bridge 
 secretly with a large body of his forces, while the rest of 
 his army should assail them on the front, was the well-con- 
 ceived project of the Spanish captain. He crossed the 
 Garigliano, accordingly, on the night of the 28th of Decem- 
 ber, 1503, the French totally unsuspecting danger from this 
 quarter. This strange neglect of some of the first princi- 
 ples of warfare will suffice to show how miserably they 
 were still commanded. On the following morning the 
 French were attacked by the enemy in front, led by Bar- 
 tolomeo d'Alviano. The engagement that followed was a 
 terrible one. The French fought with gi'eat bravery, and 
 their artillery did immense execution upon the Spanish 
 columns. ]5ut, in the midst of the conflict, and while all the 
 probabilities of the field were with the former, they were 
 suddenly assailed in the rear by the fresh army under 
 Gonsalvo. The suiprise was complete, a panic followed, 
 and the day was lost. The French fled, at first, in confu- 
 sion, but their order was soon recovered by the great efForts 
 
THE FRENCH LEAVE ITALY. 131 
 
 of their men-at-arms. These kept the rear, turning occa- 
 sionally to the encounter with their assailants, whenever their 
 pressure furnished the provocation, or whenever the ground 
 gave them an opportunity to fight with advantage. Our 
 hero was necessarily one of those to whom this dangerous 
 and arduous duty was assigned. A feeble attempt was 
 made by the French, at the bridge of Mola, to an-est the 
 progi'ess of the exulting and advancing Spaniards, but the 
 effort was in vain. With little confidence in their own for- 
 tune, or in the genius of their general, they opposed but 
 a feeble resistance to their foes. The rout became com- 
 plete. The French lost their baggage, their artillery, and 
 eight thousand men. And this was the issue of the splen- 
 did efforts which Louis XII. had made for the recovery of 
 Naples. He had set his heart upon the possession of this 
 lovely kingdom, and the failure of his hopes was nearly fatal 
 to his life. 
 
 The gi-eat body of the French troops soon disappeared 
 from Italy after the rout of the Garigliano. But Bayard 
 did not depart with the main army. He, with some small 
 garrisons, still held for the French in Puglia, in company 
 with his captain, Louis d'Ars, for more than a year after 
 the rout of the army. These kept their ground successfully, 
 and in the teeth of all opposition. We are told in general 
 terms of fi-equent sallies in which he engaged during this 
 time, always coming off with honor and success ; but the 
 details of a partisan warfare are seldom put on record in the 
 histories of a nation, and the biogi'apher fails us here except 
 in similar generalities. The garrisons of the French, and 
 Bayard along with them, were finally recalled from Italy. 
 Before his final departure he received a visit from a noble 
 Italian, who attempted to win his confidence by caresses 
 and flatteries, which were quite too little to the taste of 
 our hero to render the gentleman successful in his object. 
 He came from Rome, despatched by the pope, Julius II., 
 with proposals to Bayard that he should enter the service 
 
132 BAYARD RECEIVES AN OFFER FROM THE POPE. 
 
 of the Church, and take command of its armies, with a large 
 salary and the title of generalissimo. But Bayard did not 
 forget the counsels of his father. He was neither won by 
 the flatteries of the embassador nor by the tempting offers 
 which he brought. He replied, respectfully and gratefully, 
 to the successor of St. Peter, that he could never serve but 
 in the armies of the King of France, and that he was bet- 
 ter pleased to be a common soldier under his natural sov- 
 ereign than be the head of an aniiy under a foreign prince. 
 Before leaving Italy, and when first commanded to do 
 so. Bayard assured his superior that he could still keep 
 his ground in spite of all the forces of the Spaniards. But 
 the orders of the French monarch were peremptory. He 
 was not willing to risk, by any temerity, some of his most 
 able warriors. The retreat which was made by the small 
 body of men commanded Ijy Louis d'Ars, has been consid- 
 ered a remarkable proof of military skill. Reaching the 
 royal residence. Bayard was made equeiTy to the king, 
 and honored with the first vacant company of horse. Peace 
 followed with the Spaniards ; and, if the eyes of the French 
 were ever turned upon the kingdom of Naples, it was with 
 an appetite that did not seem impatient for the object of 
 its desire. Our hero lay inactive. Indeed, he had reason to 
 do so. His quartan ague, to which he had been a victim at 
 intervals for more than seven years, still clung to him with 
 the tenacity of a revengeful foe. He also suffered some- 
 what from an old wound of a pike, which, having been ill 
 attended, perhaps neglected, had produced an ulcer which 
 was difficult to heal. In this condition of body, the good 
 knight remained at Lyons. There, in 1506, he was found 
 when a revolt of the Genoese, at the instigation of Julius 
 II. and the Emperor Maximilian, again called for the pres; 
 ence of the French arms in Italy. 
 
 The Genoese had long been oscillating between their 
 desire for freedom and their fear of the power of France. 
 Incapable of the former condition, they were scarcely equal 
 
BAYARD REJOINS THE ARMY. 133 
 
 to the resolution and vigor which were necessary to extri- 
 cate them from their dependence upon the French. They 
 were stimulated by those who did not succor them. The 
 King of France himself prepared to lead his armies against 
 them, and, with this knowledge, the spirit of Bayard 
 would not suffer him to rest. Still suffering from his wound 
 and ague, he regarded it as a sort of baseness to permit 
 his sovereign to seek the wars, and to withhold himself. 
 A few days sufficed to set his house in order, and we 
 find him again on horseback, and in the wake of the 
 army. He soon presented himself before the king, and was 
 well received. He came at a seasonable moment. The 
 Genoese were somewhat surprised by the rapid move- 
 ments of the French, not having received from their allies 
 the succors which had been promised them ; but they took 
 heart with the approach of danger, and proceeded to foitify 
 themselves vigorously against attack. They had occupied 
 the top of a mountain, which the French were compelled 
 to pass, with a fortress of considerable strength. This was 
 well manned and served with an efficient artillery. The 
 invaders were disquieted by this unexpected obstacle. A 
 council of war was held, in which opinions were divided, as 
 is usual on such occasions, and so divided as to lead to no 
 satisfactory results. Bayard, though present, was silent, 
 until the king looked to him and commanded him to speak. 
 Then he answered, " On my honor, sire, I know not yet 
 what to say. I must first make a reconnaissance : give me 
 but an hoar's leave, and I will ascend the mountain and 
 see what is the strength of the place. In that time, unless 
 I am taken or slain, I shall bring you the necessary infor- 
 mation." The king consented, and Bayard disappeared. 
 He soon gathered around him a select body of his friends 
 and followers, to the number of a hundred or a hundred 
 and twenty. Some of these were distinguished noblemen, 
 among whom were two noble lords of the House of Foix ; 
 the lords of Barbasan and of L'Esparre, sons of Viscount 
 
 M 
 
134 SKIRMISH WITH THE GENOESE. 
 
 Lauti'ec ; all willing to follow a leader whose experience 
 and chivalry, it was well known, would never lead to 
 any but paths of honor and distinction. His comrades 
 assembled, he led the way by commencing the ascent of 
 the mountain, which, on the side that he chose to assail, 
 was so steep that the object could only be effected by la- 
 borious climbing on hands and knees. The toil was hard 
 to reach the summit, where, taking breath a little, he made 
 his preparations for advancing upon the fortress. Mean- 
 while, he caused the alarm to be sounded by the army be- 
 low, by which to effect something like a diversion in his 
 favor. Resuming his advance, he soon encountered a body 
 of the enemy, with whom a sharp conflict ensued, resulting 
 in the dispersion of the Genoese. His followers would 
 have pursued them, but this Bayard would not allow— ob- 
 sei-ving that it was necessary to see what the fort contained, 
 lest they should find themselves between two fires. The 
 event justified his caution. The fort was full of men. The 
 troop which had been dispersed was one that was set to 
 watch one of the avenues of approach. A rapid survey 
 satisfied Bayard that the fort itself should, be attempt- 
 ed. His men were eager for the contest, and they were 
 such mostly as might be relied on. The Genoese were 
 three hundred in number and beaiing a good countenance. 
 We must suppose that our hero took his precautions 
 properly, in bringing on the fight, so as to lessen the dis- 
 parity between his force and that of the enemy. The latter 
 fought bravely for a while, but could not long resist the im- 
 petuous ardor of the French. The place was captured by 
 a coup de main. The Genoese fled at length from its walls as 
 their foes entered ; and, inishing down the mountain precip- 
 itately, made their way toward the city ; but not without 
 leaving many of their number upon the field. This single 
 achievement, due entirely to the courage and conduct of 
 Bayard, was enough for the Genoese. They offered no 
 farther opposition to the arms of the French monarch, who 
 
THE MEETING OF THE KINGS. 135 
 
 entered their city, and, in making the inhabitants defray the 
 expences of the war, received them to his gracious mercy. 
 Beheading a couple of their generals, and building a strong 
 castle at their cost, and for their protection, he was sup- 
 posed to have sufficiently punished the revolters, for one 
 season at least. The Pope, who had promised the Genoese 
 several thousand Bressignols — a class of foot-soldiers, the 
 best in Italy — failed to do so, and Maximilian came too late, 
 and was not permitted by the Venetians — then the allies of 
 France — to march into Italy. They defeated him, and com- 
 pelled him to a disadvantageous treaty, in which, as they 
 neglected to make the French a party, they naturally dis- 
 pleased their allies ; the consequences of which were not 
 slow in showing themselves. Meanwhile, the kings of 
 France and An-agon once more embraced in bonds of peace 
 and amity ; the niece of the former becoming the wife of the 
 latter. The two kings met in the town of Savona, where 
 four days were spent in secret conferences, and where, it is 
 not unreasonably conjectured, was originated that cele- 
 brated league of Cambray which involved Italy in new 
 calamities. The King of Airagon was attended, among 
 others, by the famous captain, Gonsalvo, to whom Louis 
 paid the most grateful attentions ; while Bayard and Captain 
 d'Ars were, in like manner, distinguished by the Spanish 
 monarch. " Happy ! my royal brother," said the King of 
 Arragon, " happy is the prince who can boast of two such 
 knights as these !" But the applauses bestowed by the 
 French monarch upon Gonsalvo, were probably far less 
 grateful to his master than were those to the ears of Louis 
 which the former tendered to his knights. It was at the 
 solicitation of Louis that Gonsalvo was permitted to dine 
 wdth the two sovereigns. This distinction was the last that 
 he enjoyed. As if he resented or suspected these compli- 
 ments, the Spanish monarch, from that day, dismissed his 
 great commander to unmerited disgrace. The very favors 
 of the French king may have offended the hauteur of the 
 
136 SPORTS AND PASTIMES. 
 
 jealous Spaniard. This was ever the characteristic of the 
 race. Gonsalvo, dismissed to obscurity, without trust or 
 employment, and living in the frown of his sovereign, did 
 not long survive. Death relieved him of the odium in 
 which the latter years of his life were passed, and a splendid 
 funeral at the expense of Ferdinand may have been thought 
 amply to atone for the injustice which shortened his days, 
 and doomed his great talents to oblivion. His career, in 
 this respect, was far less fortunate than that of Bayard. 
 
 On his route homeward, Louis was received at Milan with 
 great honors, and entertained after the fashion of the times. 
 The brief description of this entertainment, as given us by 
 more than one early chronicler, will not fail to interest the 
 modern reader : " On this journey the Lord J. J. Trevulzio 
 entertained the king at a banquet where there were as 
 many ladies, with bunches of feathers to fan their faces 
 withal, as you may see plumes in a company of a thousand 
 gens d'arms. After supper the dancing began, and the 
 king himself, who could perform very well in this way, 
 danced with the rest, but not very much. His partner was 
 the Marchioness of Mantua, a wondrous fair lady. Then 
 he made the princes and lords who were there dance, not 
 even excepting the cardinals of Narbonne and St. Sevcrino, 
 and some others, who acquitted themselves as well as they 
 could." '' It was impossible to be better entertained than 
 they were, with dishes of the first and second course, with 
 farces, plays, and other pastimes T 
 
 Some time elapsed, after the return of Louis XII. to his 
 own kingdom, before events had sufficiently ripened to 
 bring about those results, to which, it is highly probable, the 
 conferences between himself and Ferdinand, at Savona, were 
 directed. In October, 1508, the plenipotentiaries of Maxi- 
 milian, of Louis, of the Pope, and of the King of Spain, 
 met in the city of Cambray, where they concluded a ti-eaty 
 for the overthrow and disniembernient of Venice, that 
 gT*eat, proud and mercenary republic ! She had lived some- 
 
THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC. 137 
 
 what at the expense of all the neighboring states and cities, 
 and had made her harvest out of their misfortunes. Her 
 advantages of situation, the prudence of her councils, the 
 selfishness of her cares, her enterprise and military spirit, 
 had all combined to sustain her triumphantly and prosper- 
 ously, while the neighboring states of Italy were convulsed 
 by internal strifes, and torn by the army of the invader. 
 Her part had always been to act on the offensive. The 
 wealth of other states had maintained her armies ; and even 
 for her very conquests she had exacted compensation fi'ora 
 her allies. At peace with all the neighboring states, and at 
 the height of her prosperity, she sat unconscious, on the 
 edge of the volcano, whose teiTible fires were silently boil- 
 ing beneath. She had offended, in turn, all the powers 
 whose representatives at Cambray had determined upon 
 her destruction ; or from her pride, position and power, 
 she was likely to offend them. Pretexts are easily found to 
 justify a war upon which princes find it their policy to 
 enter; and Louis XII. promptly began his preparations for 
 invading the territories of his recent allies. By the terms 
 of the treaty he was pledged to begin the war in person, 
 on the 1st of April, 1509. The Pope and the King of Ar- 
 ragon were to take the field at the same time, and forty 
 days were allowed the emperor. Louis proceeded in good 
 faith, and with zeal, upon his task. In making his levies 
 he determined to effect an improvement in their character, 
 which his previous experience had shown him was necessa- 
 ry. The Swiss mercenaries were not to be trusted. Clam- 
 orous always for their pay, faithless themselves, they yielded 
 no faith to the promises of an employer ; and they too fre- 
 quently seized upon the moment of necessity and danger to 
 urge the most rapacious claims and exactions. In hiring 
 still a body of six thousand of this people, the French mon- 
 arch was resolved to resuscitate the native infantry. The 
 jealous fears of Louis XL had forborne to train the 
 French peasantry to arms. A national militia was a terror 
 
138 FRENCH INFANTRY. 
 
 to despotism. Hitherto, the armies of France, for several 
 reigns, were composed of gentlemen, foiming a large body 
 of cavalry ; w^hile the infantry consisted of foreign mercena- 
 ries, with a small sprinkling of Gascons. Such an army, 
 good always at the commencement of an invasion, is apt to 
 become unserviceable as it continues. Cavalry is easily 
 disorganized. Its supplies are drawn from large tracts of 
 country, over which, in proportion as it scatters itself, it 
 becomes enfeebled — and once unhorsed, the cavalier is of 
 little use. At such a juncture, if the infantry prove unfaith- 
 ful, the army is sacrificed. The true remedy was in the 
 scheme that Louis proposed. He levied an infantry force 
 of fourteen thousand men, and to make it equally popular 
 and efficient, he persuaded Bayard, Molard, Cabannes, and 
 other gallant cavaliers, to command these new brigades, 
 and to fight on foot. To this requisition it was not easy to 
 persuade the French gentlemen. It required all the king's 
 influence to make them submit to a disposition of their 
 persons which they looked upon as degrading. Bayard 
 alone offered no objections. To him, and a few others, the 
 French are indebted for the first formation of a national 
 infantry. At the first summons for the new levies the king 
 sent for our hero, and declared his wishes, and the motives 
 by which he was governed. 
 
 "I give you," said the king, " the company of Captain 
 Chabilart. Your lieutenant, Pierrepoint, shall lead your 
 gens d'arms." 
 
 " As you please, sire ; but what number of foot will you 
 give me to conduct ]" 
 
 *' A thousand," was the answer ; " no man hath more." 
 
 ** Sire," replied the good knight, " even these are quite 
 too many for me. Five hundred will suffice. I swear to 
 you, sire, on my honor, that these shall do you good service. 
 Metliinks even these are a heavy charge for one who should 
 do his duty." 
 
 There spoke the partisan warrior. The genius of Bay- 
 
THE SWISS INFANTRY. 139 
 
 ard was evidently of this class. A small, compact body, 
 which he could keep always on the alert, and fly with, 
 hither or thither, at a moment's warning, sufficed for him, 
 and suited his peculiar talent best. The command of an 
 army would only have encumbered him — would have fet- 
 tered the promptness and rapidity of his movements, and 
 delayed those peculiar enterprises, in which he took such 
 delight, until the happy moment had passed in which they 
 might have been successful. No doubt, to descend from 
 the vocation of the man-at-arms to that of the foot soldier, 
 was, in itself, a change of duty which, without regarding 
 the supposed humiliations of the change, was somewhat 
 inconsistent with the exercise of his peculiar talent. His 
 whole passion was in the service to which his youth was 
 trained. That he might succeed as well in another was 
 scarcely possible. But he offered no objections, and the 
 king was satisfied. 
 
 " Away," said he to Dauphiny, " and be in my duchy 
 of Milan by the end of March." 
 
 The time of Bayard, from this moment, was actively 
 employed. To him in particular was the French monarch 
 indebted for the first organization of his infantry. The 
 model was derived from the Swiss. To them, in part, was 
 due the overthrow of the old systems which chivalry had 
 engendered. They showed the ability of a close-wedged 
 body of foot-soldiers, bristling with pikes on every side, to 
 withstand the most accomplished knighthood in the world. 
 Their discipline was due to their organization. It was 
 good in the day of battle, and the Swiss were mostly faith- 
 ful to each other. The timid soldier was always sure of a 
 brother at his back and elbow. Their armor was gener- 
 ally simple. It consisted of casque and breast-plate ; the 
 latter as frequently made out of the skin of a wild beast as 
 of metal. They carried, for weapons, a halbert (which, 
 when not in use, swung at the shoulder), a sword, and a 
 pike eighteen feet long. Their example, strength, sue- 
 
140 WAR WITH VENICE. 
 
 cesses — all so frequently shown as to make them the gi'eat 
 fighting nation of Europe, after their overthrow of Charles 
 the Bold, and his chivalry — originated the regular system 
 of infantry in Europe, began under the auspices of Louis 
 XII., by such captains as Bayard. By the end of March, 
 the French had about twenty-five thousand men in Italy, 
 of whom more than half were foot-soldiers. 
 
 In sight of these preparations, the Venetians, on their 
 side, were far fi-om idle. With the first signs of danger 
 they prepared for a vigorous defence. Their efforts to ob- 
 tain a foreign alliance were unsuccessful. They applied 
 to the Pope, to the King of England, and to Bajazet, the 
 Turkish emperor. The republic was compelled to stand 
 alone against an alliance more powerful than had been 
 known in Europe since the Crusades. But, with vast re- 
 sources of wealth and intelligence, they had a spirit not 
 easily subdued or broken, and their generals were soon 
 enabled to take the field with an army of forty thousand 
 men. Their chief captains were Nicolo Orsino, count of 
 Pitigliano, and Bartolomeo d'Alviano ; both of them men of 
 ability and bravery. Of the latter we have already seen 
 something in the famous battle of the Garigliano, when the 
 French were defeated, and where he was second in com- 
 mand under the famous Gonsalvo. These generals differed 
 in respect to their modes of managing the war. The senate 
 heard them both, and took the counsel of neither entirely. 
 Preparing for the defence of their strong cities, their armies 
 were not suffered to emerge beyond the Adda. Scarcely 
 had they taken the field, when the storm of war burst upon 
 the devoted ten-itories of Venice, from the simultaneous 
 advance of all the allies. The Duke of Urbino, leading the 
 armies of the Pope — who was also firing off" much holy ord- 
 nance, in the shape of ban and interdict, against his ene- 
 mies — passing through the territories of Faenza, stoiTned 
 the town of Birsinghalla, where he committed the greatest 
 enormities. The Marquis of Mantua assailed the district 
 
BATTLE OF AGNADELLO. 141 
 
 of Verona, where he was vigorously opposed by d'Alviano; 
 while the French, with Louis at their head,, crossed the 
 Adda at Cassano, and captured the towns of Trevigli, Ri- 
 volto, and other places — all of which were sacked. Retir- 
 ing before the superior forces of Count Pitigliano, they 
 recrossed the river, having first garrisoned the fortress of 
 Trevigli. The count, bombarding this place with heavy 
 artillery, caused its sun-ender after an obstinate defence ; 
 but his very success was hurtful to his objects, since the 
 excesses of his soldiery, unrestrained, led to the destruction 
 of the town by fire ; and their own demoralization rapidly 
 ensued upon their excesses. These little disasters brought 
 Louis back to the scene of action ; and, crossing the Adda 
 again at Cassano, he was soon confronted with the whole 
 Venetian army in the district of Ghiaradadda. We have 
 scarcely thought it necessary to say that in all the several 
 conflicts at which we have glimpsed, the " Good Knight" 
 continued to distinguish himself with his usual gallantly. 
 
 Louis for some time vainly endeavored to bring the Ve- 
 netians to a general action. They were restrained by the 
 commands of the senate, and by the prudence of Count 
 Pitigliano. But the impetuosity of Count d'Alviano favor- 
 ed the wishes of the French, and the engagement which 
 Louis sought, and which it was the Venetian policy to avoid, 
 became inevitable. The van of the French army was led 
 by the Marshal Trivulzio, the centre by the king in per- 
 son, and the rear by the Lord de la Palisse, with whom 
 was Bayard. D'Alviano led the Venetian attack; the Count 
 di Pitigliano, with the cavalry, held the centre ; while the 
 rear guard was entnisted to Antonio de Pii, with the Vene- 
 tian commissaries. The action took place on the 14th of 
 May^ 1509, at or near a little village called Agnadello. 
 The onset of the Venetians was most brilliantly made, and 
 for a time the issue was doubtful. At this crisis the 
 French nobility would have had their king retire fi'om the 
 danger ; but he replied boldly, " I fear nothing, and why 
 
142 BAYARD DETERMINES THE BATTLE. 
 
 should you ] He who fears, let him get behind me." See- 
 ing the troops staggered for a moment, La Tremouille cried 
 to them, " Soldiers ! the king's eye is upon you." The 
 words filled them with heroic ardor. Again the battle 
 closed with renewed fury, but the event still remained in- 
 decisive. Then it was that Bayard, with a part of the rear 
 guard, made a bold movement which determined the fate 
 of the day. Plunging through a morass which was deem- 
 ed impracticable, he made his way, breast deep, through 
 mud and water. He came unexpectedly upon the Venetian 
 infantry and put them to the route. This body of troops 
 was commanded by d'Alviano. He himself, covered with 
 wounds, fell into the hands of the rear guard, while the 
 Count di Pitigliano, beholding the defeat of the infantiy, 
 offered no farther provocation to his fortune. He assured 
 himself of safety by flight, leaving nearly ten thousand men 
 upon the field, the rich harvest made by havoc in a short 
 conflict of little more than three hours. The French, who 
 suffered but little compared with their enemies, remained 
 in full possession of the field, with all the artillery, standards, 
 and ammunition of the vanquished. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The progress of the French, after this decisive battle, 
 was simply one of triumph. The ten'or of their arms facil- 
 itated their conquests. The districts of Ghiaradadda and 
 Caravaggio, the cities of Cremona, Bergamo, Brescia, and 
 Crema, were carried, some of them by a glance, while oth- 
 ers, such as the castles of Caravaggio and Peschiera, held 
 out bravely till taken by assault and storm. Great cruel- 
 ties, on the part of the French, stained these victories. 
 Louis is said to have forgotten, in this terrible progress, his 
 own maxims of clemency. It is probable that he knew not 
 all that was done by a wild soldiery, newly raised, many 
 of whom were foreigners, in a foreign country, and who, 
 no doubt, simply retorted the brutalities and cruelties of 
 their enemies. These events were all accomplished in the 
 space of a week. The remains of the Venetian army, mean- 
 while, fled toward Trevisano and Friuli, apprehensive mo- 
 mentarily of a pursuit which the conqueror did not contem- 
 plate. Satisfied with what he had done, Louis retired upon 
 the city of Milan, and soon afterward to his French do- 
 minions. 
 
 Such terrible reverses of fortune struck the Venetian sen- 
 ate with unwonted terror. Despairing of maintaining them- 
 selves by arms, they had recourse to policy, and now sought 
 to mollify the anger or gratify the ambition of their many 
 adversaries. To the pope, Julius II., they offered to sur- 
 render their possessions in Romagna; to Ferdinand of 
 Spain, their cities on the Neapolitan coast ; to Maximilian, 
 the cities of Verona and Vicenza; and, if they tendered 
 nothing to other and inferior spoilers, it was because, in the 
 
144 BAYARD JOINS THE EMPEROR. 
 
 general spoliation, the latter had contrived to help them- 
 selves. But their proposals vvrere not treated with indul- 
 gence. For the present, neither the pope nor the emperor 
 gave any heed to the supplications of the half-subdued 
 seignory. Stung with resentment and sustained by pride, 
 the first feeling of defeat and danger having subsided, the 
 Venetians gathered courage and began to recruit their 
 army. They soon worsted the emperor in several small 
 engagements, and at length succeeded, by treachery and 
 force, in rescuing from his possession the city of Padua, 
 which he had garrisoned with an inadequate body of eight 
 hundred German lansquenets. These people fought brave- 
 ly, but in vain. They were all put to the sword, but sold 
 their lives dearly, for they slew nearly twice the number of 
 their enemies. The place was soon fortified strongly by 
 Count Pitigliano, who took charge of its defences in per- 
 son. 
 
 The loss of this place threw the emperor into a fury, 
 and he despatched letters to Louis at Milan to lend him 
 five hundred horse, for a few months, to assist him in re- 
 covering what was lost. The prayer was complied wdth. 
 The detachment was commanded by the Lord de la 
 Palisse, and Bayard went with it as a volunteer, having 
 under him thirty valiant knights, the choicest of the army, 
 each of whom, according to the " Loyal Servant," de- 
 served to be a captain over an hundred. He was once 
 more in his element — on horseback, a knight seeking 
 adventures. He was followed by two hundred more 
 — gentlemen volunteers — in other words, knights — who 
 sought for honor in the paths of peril. " There was the 
 Baron of Beam, who commanded part of the company of 
 the Duke de Nemours ; and the Baron de Conti, who led 
 three hundred horse ; and the Lord Theode de Trivulzio, 
 and the Lord Jules de St. Severin, the Lord of Humber- 
 court, Captain de la Clayette, the Lord de la Crote, lieu- 
 tenant to the Marquis of Monferrat ; and our * Good 
 
SIEGE OF PADUA. 145 
 
 Knight.' Among others, there went the Lord of 
 
 Bussy's eldest son, cousin-geraian to the Grand Master 
 Chaumont, who gave him twenty of his horse ; and two 
 gallant gentlemen, the one a native of Bretagne and a very 
 famous knight, named the Lord of Bonnet ; the other, the 
 Lord of Mypont, of the duchy of Burgundy: both of 
 whom the * Good Knight' looked upon as brothers, and 
 honored exceedingly, well knowing how gi'eat was the 
 prowess which they bore within them. And now the gen- 
 tle Lord de la Palisse, having made the needful prepara- 
 tions, began to march with these noble companions in the 
 direction of Peschiera." 
 
 Having taken Padua, the Venetians soon conquered 
 Vicenza, which was a place of little strength. They had 
 already aiTayed themselves before Verona, which would 
 also have fallen into their hands, but for the force under 
 La Palisse. The appearance of Bayard, on this occasion, 
 by whom the van was led, drove the Venetians back upon 
 Vicenza. The French reached Verona in time to relieve 
 the Bishop of Trent, who held the place for the emperor, 
 from a tenible fright. From Verona they marched upon 
 Vicenza, from whence the Venetians fled at their ap- 
 proach. Here they were joined by the Prince of Anhalt 
 with six thousand lansquenets. The emperor next made 
 his appearance after a tedious delay, which had nearly 
 exhausted the patience of the Frenchmen ; and the army 
 of Maximilian proceeded, with some delay, to the invest- 
 ment of Padua. " The emperor," says the " Loyal Servant," 
 ** made the French wait for him a long time, which they 
 found exceedingly irksome ; but when he did make his 
 appearance it was after an imperial manner. Had his 
 forces done their part, they might have answered for the 
 conquest of the world." Our naive chronicler proceeds to 
 a description of the train of artillery brought by the em- 
 peror, something of which may be suggestive of novelty in 
 our own time. " He had six hundred pieces of ordnance 
 
146 ANCIENT CANNON. 
 
 on wheels, the least whereof was a falcon,* and six large 
 brass bombards,! which were not capable of being drawn 
 on carriages, but were conveyed along, each on a strong 
 cart and loaded with engines. When these great guns 
 were to be employed for the battery, they were laid upon 
 the earth, the muzzle of the piece a little raised, and a 
 thick billet of wood placed beneath it, giving it the proper 
 elevation. Behind it, as a protection against its recoil, a 
 huge barrier was erected. These great cannon were 
 charged with balls of stone, since those of metal were not 
 to be carried. It was only possible to play them, at the 
 utmost, four times during the day.'' 
 
 Maximilian was accompanied by at least one hundred 
 and twenty princes, dukes, counts and other lords of Ger- 
 many. He had with him about on« thousand two hundred 
 hoi'se, and five or six hundred gens d'arms from Hainault 
 and Burgundy. The German infantry, a host not to be 
 counted, were estimated at fifty thousand. Nor was this 
 all. The Cardinal of Ferrara brought twelve pieces of ar- 
 tillery, five hundred horse and three thousand foot. The 
 Cardinal of Mantua brought as many more. The whole, 
 monstrous rather than mighty, army of the emperor was 
 at least one hundred thousand men. The French subsidy 
 might have been dispensed with. With such a force at 
 command, it seems discreditable to have solicited it. But 
 Maximilian had, as we shall see, a modest distrust of his 
 own genius, which was not without proper justification. 
 With this numerous array he sat down before Padua. 
 
 * The falcon was a small piece of artillery, such as might be used from 
 •walls or towers, or the windows of a dwelling. In the time of Elizabeth, 
 according to Meyrick, it carried a ball of a pound and a half in weight, and 
 measured two inches in the bore. 
 
 t The bombard was simply a great gun, as the name seems to signify, 
 whose size was not arbitrarily determined — the bigger, if manageable, the 
 better — such a gun as Captain Stockton prefers, might be called a bombard. 
 Bombarda— a bombo et ardere, so named because it vomits or throws forth 
 iron balls with a noise and flaming fire — cum somniter et flamma. See 
 Richardson's Dictionary. 
 
THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN. 147 
 
 " Sat down" is the proper phrase in this instance, for the 
 feeble prince under whom the French were now to serve, 
 was not the person for any bold or vigorous achievement. 
 The Emperor Maximilian was ambitious without genius, 
 tenacious without iii-mness, and arrogant without pride. 
 He had the soul of a shopkeeper, rather than a prince — 
 was mean, mercenary and cowardly — audacious when the 
 danger was remote, and impotent when it approached him. 
 It was not long before he betrayed himself, in all his 
 aspects, to the French chivalry whom he had summoned to 
 his assistance. He loved the pomp and display of arms ; 
 and, in his camp, with a hundred thousand men of war, in 
 the presence of their enemies, he got up betimes of a 
 morning, and kept them parading till afteraoon in the 
 month of August — " by no means refreshing," says our 
 chronicler, " to troops with their helmets on." His mas- 
 sive artilleiy was too cumbrous for use, and the approaches 
 to Padua were as slow as if to a funeral. It was, indeed, 
 a subject of some discussion, whether the place were to be 
 attacked at all. The council of war showed great diversity 
 of opinion. The lieutenant-general of the emperor was a 
 Greek named Constantine, whom the French suspected of 
 treachery, and whom the Lord de la Palisse wished to fight 
 upon this issue ; but the Greek could never be persuaded of 
 the propriety of complying with the Frenchman's wishes. 
 He opposed all action, and shared, in every respect, the 
 timidity of his employer. But it was agreed in council 
 that Padua was to be besieged; as how, with such an army, 
 should they have determined otherwise. It was aiTanged 
 that the approaches should be made by the French gen- 
 d'arms and the lansquenets under the Prince of Anhalt. 
 But first, a little town named Monselice, having a strong 
 castle, some six miles from Padua, was to be taken. There 
 arrived in camp about this time a young Frenchman, the 
 Lord of Millaut, a son of the Lord d'Alegre, with a thou- 
 sand or twelve hundred adventurers — the veiy men for 
 
148 THE DOGE LOREDANO. 
 
 active exploits and guerilla warfare. It will scarcely be 
 believed that this mighty army suffered this little band of 
 adventurers to capture town and castle before their eyes — 
 none of them emulous of an exploit which they left to 
 strangers. Monselice taken and garrisoned, the emperor 
 appeared before Padua. 
 
 The city was a large one and difficult of approach. It 
 was defended by Count Pitigliano in person, with a force 
 of one thousand gend'arms, twelve thousand foot, and 
 some two hundred pieces of artillery. A canal passes 
 through the city conducting to Venice, which was distant 
 only eighteen miles. Leaguered however closely, of the 
 use of this canal it was not possible to deprive the garri- 
 son. The Venetians were in excellent spirits, and noways 
 daunted by the formidable preparations of their enemies. 
 They were indefatigable in preparing their defences. With 
 a courage and magnanimity which has seldom been equal- 
 led, the Doge Loredano requested that the senate would 
 permit his children to be sent and shut up in the besieged 
 city. The proposal inspired the utmost confidence, and 
 was received with joy. The effect was farther to induce 
 three hundred of the young nobility of Venice to volunteer 
 as the escort and companions of the children thus destined 
 by their parent to the horrors of a siege. Something of 
 the enthusiasm of the Venetians, as well as their patriotism, 
 may be inferred from these events. 
 
 With his camp pitched before the city of Padua, Maxi- 
 milian called his captains together, those of the French 
 especially, in whom he had great confidence, and demand- 
 ed their opinions as to the mode of operations. At the 
 conclusion of the conference it was ordered that the princi- 
 pal camp, occupied by the emperor in person, together with 
 that of the French, should be pitched near the gate leading 
 out to Vicenza. Another of the gates of the city was to 
 be confronted by the Cardinal of Fcjrrara, the Burgundians 
 and Hainaulters, with some ten thousand lansquenets. A 
 
BAYARD BEGINS THE ASSAULT. 149 
 
 third was to be assailed and watched by the Cardinal of 
 Mantua and the six thousand lansquenets under the Prince 
 of Anhalt. These two divisions were to derive their suc- 
 cors from the main camp in the event of any necessity. 
 Minor details are here unnecessary, The gi-eat extent of 
 the city and its admirable defences made the duties of the 
 besiegers equally difficult and arduous, and rendered their 
 approaches no easy matter. 
 
 The opening of the tenible game was allotted to Bay- 
 ard. Ordered to make his approaches, he took with him 
 his own company and those of the young Lord de Bussy 
 and of the captains La Clayette and La Crete. These 
 officers accompanied him. In order to reach the gate look- 
 ing toward Vicenza, Bayard found it necessary to advance 
 upon a large and perfectly straight and open road, upon 
 which were four strong barriers or forts, each well filled 
 with combatants. The sides of this road were ditched, 
 rendering it impossible for the assailants to make any prog- 
 ress toward assault, except directly in the face of their 
 enemies. The road itself, being commanded by the city 
 walls, and those literally sown with artillery, the advance 
 of the French was necessarily made, even upon the exte- 
 nor batteries, in the teeth of the most formidable dangers. 
 Their appearance upon the gi'eat road was accordingly 
 followed by a terrible discharge of ordnance from the city. 
 But this, instead of discouraging the good knight and his 
 gallant companions, only prompted a brisker movement. 
 Once engaged in the assault upon the bamcade they seem 
 to have been out of the sweep of the city artillery. The 
 first bariicade was vigorously assailed. The Venetians 
 stood the contest bravely but the enthusiasm of the 
 French gens d'arms was not to be withstood. 
 
 The barriers of the Venetians did not long oppose their 
 entrance ; and, after a vigorous contest, the first of the re- 
 doubts was carried. The second offered more decided 
 obstacles. The fighting here was even better than at the 
 
 N* 
 
150 THE LAST BARRIER. ' 
 
 first. Here Bayard was seconded by the arrival of the 
 young Lord of Millaut, with a hundred and twenty peas- 
 antry, trained as foot-soldiers, who did famous execution. 
 The contest at the second barrier was maintained for half 
 an hour. It was then earned ; the defenders who were in 
 it were driven out, and so hotly pursued, that their entrance 
 to the third barrier was in company with their enemies. 
 From this they rushed headlong to the fourth, which was 
 held by twelve hundred men, with three or four pieces 
 of artillery. These played upon the approaching French, 
 but without doing much mischief Bayard, with his 
 eager followers, was soon beneath the bulwarks ; and 
 the fight was now confined to the use of pikes and arque- 
 busses. This last barrier was well defended. It was but 
 a stone's throw from the city walls, and this imparted 
 courage to the Venetians. The force within was consid- 
 erable, and its exertions were well directed. Chafed at 
 the length of the struggle, and at the little progress which 
 had been made toward a victory. Bayard cried to his im- 
 mediate companions, " Comrades, these people keep us 
 quite too long. Let us dismount, and press forward to the 
 barricade." Forty of them obeyed his summons. They 
 dismounted, raised their visors, couched their lances, and 
 drove straight upon the barricade. It was now as a foot- 
 soldier that our knight was fighting. The lance was equiv- 
 alent to our modern musket edged with bayonet. Bayard 
 found the Prince of Anh alt at his side, the Lord of Millaut, 
 Great John of Picardy, and Captain Mauleverer. These 
 were all choice spirits. A common impulse carried them 
 forward. They were men to be relied upon ; and the 
 slaughter was immense, which followed upon their desper- 
 ate assault. But the Venetians were so near the city, that 
 they were continually supplied with reinforcements. Bay- 
 ard, seoinfif this, encouraged his comj^anions by crying out, 
 " They will keep us here six years, with their new succors, 
 unless our attack be more resolute, and all together. 
 
BAYARD LEAPS THE BARRIER. 151 
 
 Now, every one follow me !" They cheered, and the cry 
 was, " Lead on!" Then said Bayard, " Sound ti-umpet!" 
 And, with the blast, the compact body of chosen captains, 
 each fit to lead an hundred men, dashed into the Venetian 
 an-ay. The port of Bayard, as he rushed against the ene- 
 my's ranks, is described by the old chronicler as that of a 
 she lion robbed of her whelps. " On, comrades, they are 
 ours!" he ciied, as he bounded over the barricades. He 
 was follow^ed by thirty or forty more, upon whom the 
 whole force of the beleaguered was now concentrated. But 
 their followers did not abandon them at their peril. The 
 trumpet did its duty. The ciy of Bayard was heard be- 
 yond the walls ; and when his form disappeared behind the 
 barricades, his troops were no longer to be kept from fol- 
 lowing. ''France!" and "Empire!" — "France and Em- 
 pire !" — sounded wildly and courageously from the equal 
 throats of Gaul and German, as they severally, or in emu- 
 lous squads, leapt over the walls ; and a few moments suf- 
 ficed to put the Venetians to the rout on every side. The 
 barriers were thus won at noonday, by hard fighting, hand 
 to hand. The deeds of every wan-ior could be seen, and 
 this wonderfully stimulated the courage of the ambitious 
 soldier. But the palm was borne away from all by Bay- 
 ard. He led the assault, and was the first everywhere in 
 the front of danger. If his reputation was great before, 
 this close and constant struggle, before the barriers of 
 Padua, contributed greatly to increase it. But these were 
 outer barriers, not those of the city proper. These were 
 only set to baffle the regular approaches of the besiegers. 
 Their capture simply removed certain obstacles to the 
 proper commencement of the leaguer. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The siege of Padua now began in right good earnest. 
 Works were raised, and the great guns, bombards, and fal- 
 cons, were brought down and planted within speaking dis- 
 tance of the Venetians. How the conversation was carri- 
 ed on between the parties shall be the subject of this chap- 
 ter. If the Germans were most numerous, the Venetians 
 were better counseled and defended ; and if the physique 
 of the former was beyond measure superior to that of the 
 latter, there was something in the supeiior spirit of the be- 
 leaguered people to compensate for their deficiencies of this 
 description. As managed, the siege was a slow and tedi- 
 ous business, which it required no great deal of prophetic 
 vision to see must end in defeat at last. The forces of 
 Maximilian occupied three camps, as we have shown 
 already ; and these camps, such were their numbers, were 
 spread over more than four square miles of land. Some 
 idea of the productive abundance of this region may be 
 gathered from the fact that, during the siege, which lasted 
 about two months, the foragers never had occasion to go 
 farther than six miles into the country to procure ample 
 supplies of corn, hay, oats, meal, poultry, wine, and other 
 necessaiies. When, finally, the siege was raised, there 
 were destroyed, of surplus provisions, the value of more 
 than one hundred thousand ducats. It surely was not 
 because of a deficiency of food that Maximilian failed 
 to conquer Padua. Let us look to other causes for his 
 failure. 
 
 On the day after the approaches had been made, the ar- 
 tillery of Maximilian opened upon the city, and was main- 
 
BOMBARDMENT OF PADUA. 153 
 
 tained for eight days with unvarying constancy and regu- 
 larity. Such a bombardment had not been witnessed for a 
 thousand years before. The three camps of the emperor 
 discharged more than twenty thousand shot in this space 
 of time, and were answered with quite as many from the 
 two hundred pieces of ordnance which guarded the walls 
 of Padua. Count Pitigliano was no ways sparing of his 
 responses, and betrayed a stubborn resolution in defence of 
 the beleaguered city, to which it finally owed its safety. 
 Still, it was not possible, in that early day, in the con- 
 struction of fieldworks against artilleiy, to protect his walls 
 thoroughly against the monstrous ordnance which the em- 
 peror had brought against them. At the end of the eight 
 days of bombardment, three breaches, made by the shot 
 fi'om the several camps of the besiegers, were battered into 
 one. The passage, thus made, was sufficiently ample for 
 the entrance of the assailants ; but the providence of Count 
 Pitigliano had taken such precautions that the breach avail- 
 ed the besiegers nothing. As soon as he discovered the 
 effect of the enemy's battery upon his walls, he opened a 
 trench in the rear of his lines, twenty feet in depth and 
 nearly as many in width, which he slightly covered with 
 fagots and dry wood, and strewed with gunpowder. At 
 every hundred paces along this trench he threw up a por- 
 tion of earth, garnished well with artillery, by which it was 
 completely swept. Assuming the enemy to have succeed- 
 ed in passing this trench, an esplanade opened before them 
 sufficiently spacious for the operations of the whole garri- 
 son. Cavalry and infantry were ready to do battle upon 
 its margin, while behind them were platforms of such eleva- 
 tion that their cannon might play over the heads of the gar- 
 rison, and upon any body of the foe who should prepare to 
 pass the trenches. These, also, covered the several breach- 
 es which had been made, and sei*ved to make the defences 
 of the city even more ample than before. The precautions 
 taken by Count Pitigliano were such that, against the will 
 
154 PROGRESS OF THE SIEGE. 
 
 of the beleaguered, five hundred thousand ti'oops would 
 have found it scarce possible to enter. 
 
 The besiegers, by means of spies, reconnaissances, and 
 the reports of prisoners, were soon made aware of the im- 
 potence of their performances. Count Pitigliano himself 
 was at some pains to let them know what they had to ap- 
 prehend in case of an assault. He took especial pains to 
 convey messages to the French, artfully designed to soothe 
 their vanity and to render tliem indifferent to the progress 
 of the emperor. " But for your presence," was his mes- 
 sage on one occasion, " I should sally forth, and in twenty- 
 four hours compel the emperor to abandon the siege/' 
 He knew Maximilian better than the French. He took 
 care to remind them of the long existing friendship and 
 alliance between the King of France and the Venetian 
 seignory, and intimated that they must soon resume their 
 former ties of amity. These communications had their 
 object, but do not appear to have produced any effect 
 upon the French in the army of the emperor. They were 
 in his service at the instance of their own sovereign, and 
 were bound to yield obedience to his commands. But they 
 chafed very much at the authority of one of his creatures. 
 This was that Lord Constantino, a Greek, of whose sup- 
 posed treachery we have already spoken. The instance 
 which more particularly provoked the suspicions and an- 
 ger of the French originated in the detection of the mal- 
 pi'actice of a cannoneer. This man, it was discovered, 
 instead of firing into the city, sent his bullets against one 
 of the three camps of Maximilian. Detected in the act, 
 he was thrust into one of the bombards, and shot piece- 
 meal among the Paduans, whose cause he had sought to 
 serve in another manner. The French not only claimed to 
 have traced his treachery to Constantino, but it was said 
 that the latter daily conveyed to Count Pitigliano a notice 
 of all that was designed against him. It is probable that 
 the unlucky cannoneer invented the story to divert from 
 
LUCIO MALVEZZO. 155 
 
 himself the wrath of those who were about to subject him 
 to the horrible death which he suffered. Whether true or 
 not, the Greek escaped detection if not suspicion. Cha- 
 bannes, the Lord de la Palisse, pronounced him a base vil- 
 lain to his face, and challenged him to fight ; but the Greek, 
 answering nothing to the purpose, refeiTed the whole mat- 
 ter to the emperor, in whose infatuation he well knew he 
 should always find impunity. 
 
 But these developments brought the besiegers no nigher 
 to their object. The artilleiy had done its work. The 
 breaches were made wide — great avenues of ruin — more 
 than sufficient to admit of a thousand men abreast. The 
 question then followed, shall the assault be made, and 
 when 1 While the emperor debates this question with his 
 council, we will take up some of our fallen threads, and 
 proceed to show how our hero employed himself with his 
 gens d'anns during the time when the only warfare upon 
 Padua was made through the mouths of the bombards. 
 
 The Venetians, as we have more than once intimated, 
 were by no means wanting in the pride and courage 
 which make a daring soldiery. They had many young 
 captains among them of great enterprise and spirit, who 
 were emulous of a reputation such as that which had 
 been accorded to the cavaliers of France. The knights of 
 the tovni made frequent sallies, and the encounter, hand 
 to hand, brought liberal ransoms to the pockets of the 
 French chivalry. But they had a bold and well-trained 
 garrison at Treviso, some twenty-five miles from Padua, 
 wherein was one Lucio Malvezzo, as enterprising a war- 
 rior as the times could show. This bold gallant, with no 
 more grateful music than sword and battle-axe, beat up the 
 camp of Maximilian some twice or thrice a week. He 
 gave no warning by trumpet, but dashed upon his prey at 
 a single swoop. If his quarry was a good one, he made 
 the most of it, for he was not the person to spare himself 
 when there was any good result to come of his peril ; but 
 
156 bayard's stratagem. 
 
 if the game was against him, he wormed himself with 
 gi'eat discretion out of the snare, and contrived, in the 
 alarm which he gave his enemy, to get quietly beyond his 
 reach. Messire Lucio Malvezzo grew to be famous after 
 this fashion, and was greatly talked about, as well by ene- 
 mies as friends. To prepare for him, was probably to 
 lose time from other objects, since nobody could con- 
 jecture at what moment he would make his appearance. 
 Nevertheless, the annoyance of Bayard at these experi- 
 ments of the Venetian, upon the repose and patience of 
 his comrades, determined him to try if something might 
 not be done to fetter the flight of this gay falcon. So, 
 putting his spies on the qui vive — and he always had spies 
 in pay, to whom he was so liberal that they would have 
 sooner died than deceived him — he one day procured 
 certain intelligence upon which he prepared to act. He 
 had communicated to none, hitherto, his intentions ; well 
 knowing, that secrets of this sort, if in the keeping of more 
 than one, are out of all keeping. One night he strolled 
 quietly to the lodgings of Captain La Clayette and the 
 Lord of Crete, both men of conduct and spirit, and said to 
 them: — "This Captain Malvezzo gives us much disturb- 
 ance. He routs us up with the dawn, when it were far 
 pleasanter, after the day's fatigue, to sleep a little. We 
 hear, indeed, of nobody but him. Now, I am by no 
 means jealous of his exploits, but it grieves me that he 
 should have so little respect for us. I have learned some- 
 thing in regard to his movements, and if it so pleases 
 you, we shall get something of a fight out of him. It is 
 two days since he gave us the last alarm. I trust that we 
 shall meet him to-moiTow morning. What say you ?" 
 His comrades professing their readiness to join in the ad- 
 venture, he continued : " Then let each of you arm thirty 
 of your bravest gendarms two hours after midnight. I will 
 bring my own company, and bring with me also certain 
 good fellows. Bonnet, Mypont, Cosscy, Brezon, and others 
 
THE AMBUSH. 167 
 
 whom you know. We need blow no trumpet ; we must 
 make no noise ; but, quietly taking the saddle, we will be 
 off. Look to me for finding you an excellent guide." 
 
 So said, so done. Between the hours of two and three, 
 in a soft September morning, the party was all in readiness 
 with a proper guide. This man was put in front, but 
 given in charge of four archers. Bayard gave him to un- 
 derstand that if he proved faithful his reward should be 
 ample — if false, his life should be the forfeit. The guide 
 was honest. He had conducted them some ten miles into 
 the country, when the day began to dawn. They had' 
 reached a gi'eat palace which its owner had deserted. The 
 place was unoccupied. It was environed by a long wall, 
 and offered a good harborage. 
 
 " Here," said the guide, " if you conceal yourselves, 
 you shall have the opportunity you seek. Should cap- 
 tain Lucio Malvezzo come forth from Treviso to-day, 
 seeking your camp, he must, of necessity, pass this place. 
 Here you may lurk in safety, unseen, yet seeing all that 
 passes." 
 
 The fellow spoke very fairly, and his counsel pleased 
 our adventurers. They posted themselves accordingly with- 
 in the abandoned premises, under the direction of Bayard. 
 They had not been in watching more than two hours when 
 a distant sound was heard as of horses. There was an old 
 archer of Bayard's company, named Monart, a man of gi'eat 
 experience, whom the good knight instructed to climb up 
 into a dove-cot, within the grounds, from whence he might 
 note the face of the surrounding country. The archer did 
 as he was commanded, and soon reported the approach 
 of Messire Lucio Malvezzo, still at some distance, accom- 
 panied by a hundred gend'arms, armed from head to 
 heel, and followed by some two hundred Albanians, all 
 well mounted and effective men, under the command of 
 one Captain Scanderbeg, who, for ought we know, may 
 have been a son or grandson of the famous Piince of Alba- 
 
 O 
 
158 MALVEZZO IN THE SNARE. 
 
 Ilia.* This force was rather more numerous than Bayard 
 bargained for, but in such cases his net was a capacious 
 one. It was with no feeling but that of gratification that 
 he saw them appear. Keeping his own people snug, he 
 suffered Malvezzo and Scanderbeg, with their men, to 
 approach, and to pass them undisturbed. They went by, 
 within a stone's throw of the edifice in which the French 
 lay hid. When they had fairly passed, and Monart, de- 
 scending from his perch, had detailed all his particulars. 
 Bayard put his men in readiness. Each good knight 
 drew his horse's girth and prepared himself. Each was his 
 own groom, for Bayard wished not to buithen himself with 
 unnecessary followers, who were only apt to be trouble- 
 some and in harm's way. 
 
 " And now," said Bayard to his companions, " gentle- 
 men, we have not met with so fortunate a chance for ten 
 years. True, they are twice our number, but if we acquit 
 ourselves bravely that is nothing. Let us after them !" 
 
 "Agreed," was the unanimous response; and off they 
 darted at a quick trot on the heels of their enemies. 
 
 The chase of a mile brought them in sight of their game. 
 Then said our good knight to the trumpeter, *' sound, 
 tmmpet, sound !" which he did incontinently. They 
 were on a fine broad road, the very one which a troop of 
 knights would prefer upon which to make a headlong 
 charge. The blast of the bugle somewhat astonished the 
 Venetian captains, swelling as it did behind them. They 
 had no expectation of enemies in the rear ; nor, indeed, 
 until the French were nearly upon them, did they suppose 
 it to be other than some small squadron of their own peo- 
 ple. They halted just long enough to discover v/ho the 
 strangers were. This known, the effect was that of a 
 surprise. It dismayed them somewhat to find themselves 
 
 * George Castriotto, Scandcrbc^-, or Aloxander Bey, was born in 1404. 
 The date of the events before us is 1509. The name Scanderbeg is simply 
 Ef compounding of the two words, Ale.xander Mey 
 
THE CHARGE OF STEEDS. 159 
 
 enclosed by their enemies — on one hand a pursuing caval- 
 ry, on the other the vast camps of the emperor. There was 
 no alternative but to face the immediate assailant. It was 
 some comfort to see that these were not numerous ; and 
 Messire Lucio Malvezzo, always fearless, now put on his 
 bravest aspect, and enjoined his men to do their devoir gal- 
 lantly. They were shown that their only hope lay in their 
 own valor. Escape was none. They must vanquish or 
 be vanquished. But few words were necessary for this 
 explanation. Each wanaor beheld the necessity for him- 
 self. Flight, even to the right or left, was cut off. The 
 road was bordered on each side by monstrous ditches, 
 beyond the leap of any horseman. Fortunately, it was one 
 of sufficient breadth to enable the gallant knight to course 
 famously. A fine rider might achieve wonders on so excel- 
 lant a track. Fight was ine^'itable. The trumpets on 
 both sides began to blare, and when the foes were a bow- 
 shot asunder they began to rush into the melee, with the 
 mingling war-cries of "France," and "Empire," and "San 
 Marco !" Verily, says the " Loyal Servant," who him- 
 self beheld the deeds of his master, the good knight — "ver- 
 ily, it was a joy to hear them." It must have been. At 
 the first encounter many knights went dowTi and the fight 
 went over them. Bonnet, one of Bayard's companions, 
 was the first to send his lance through the breast of an 
 enemy. The shaft showed itself on the other side. But 
 this was not the only gallant stroke. It was an hour for 
 hard blows and deadly thrusts, and each man did his best. 
 It was while the strife was liveliest that the keen eyes 
 of Bayard saw the Albanians suddenly disappear from the 
 high road, leaving their cavalry to carry on the conflict. 
 Oui" hero was too good a partisan to suiTer this movement 
 to escape him. Turning to La Crete, he said — " These 
 people would take us in the rear. See to it, that we be not 
 surrounded, and the day is ours." A word was sufficient 
 for La Crete, who, detaching certain of the command, put 
 
160 MALVEZZO ESCAPES. 
 
 himself in readiness, and when the Albanians least expected 
 resistance, gave them an encounter so hot and heavy as to 
 disperse them in a moment, a score of them remaining on 
 the ground, while the rest betook themselves to unhesitating 
 flight. The " gentle" captain did not suffer himself to lose 
 time in pursuit, but returned at once to the assistance 
 of Bayard. But the work was finished ere he reached the 
 ground. The Venetians were already routed, and each 
 gend'arm, no longer thinking of blows, was busied only in 
 securing his prisoner. The thought now was of the ransom 
 of the field — its glory was already secure. Lucio Malvez- 
 zo, after making gallant fight in vain, made off successfully. 
 He succeeded in baffling pursuit by means of the noble 
 animal he rode. Twenty or thirty more escaped with him, 
 being well mounted, and fled with all speed to Treviso. 
 The pursuit was feebly urged. The French were encum- 
 bered with their prisoners, whose numbers were greater 
 than their own. No less than an hundred and eighty cap- 
 tives rewarded this adventure, whose ransom promised to 
 replenish coffers which were almost as soon emptied as 
 filled. These captives, disarmed of their swords and 
 maces, were placed in the midst of the French, and in this 
 way were earned safely into camp. 
 
 Maximilian was ravished at the sight. The intelligence 
 of the adventure soon reached him from a dozen quarters. 
 He sallied out to enjoy the spectacle. It was one which 
 he had not often witnessed. Two standards, and nearly 
 two hundred prisoners, won by a less number of lively 
 Frenchmen. He was exceedingly gracious, and saluted our 
 good knight and his companions in a fashion less imperial 
 than usual, perhaps, but far more gracious. His com- 
 mendations were no ways stinted. Each captain had his 
 share of praise. To Bayard he said : 
 
 " Lord of Bayard, my brother, King Louis, is very for- 
 tunate in having such a captain as yourself. I would give 
 a hundred thousand florins a vear for a dozen such." 
 
bayard's fidelity. 161 
 
 " Sire," answered Bayard, " it is your pleasure and not 
 my deserts that move you to this praise. For your com- 
 mendations I must humbly thank you. Thus much I am 
 able to say, that while my prince is your ally, you will find 
 no captain more faithful than myself." 
 
 0* 
 
,i| . Ui^ U f VI A^ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 This adventure contributed gi'eatly to relieve the monot- 
 ony of the camp, and w^as particularly interesting, as it so 
 strikingly contrasted with the slov\^ progress of the main 
 action. Bayard, of course, carried away the chief honor, 
 though his admirers are careful to tell us that he himself 
 ascribed the merit mostly to his two companions, " for a 
 more gracious and generous knight the whole world could 
 not produce." Bayard was not one of those persons who, 
 having done well, cease performance and rely upon the 
 credit of past achievements. He knew well that repu- 
 tation was to be maintained by renewed performances, and 
 that the only way to keep one's honor bright was to refresh 
 it frequently with new deeds of honor. Once in the saddle, 
 and with lance couched, his spirit was no longer satisfied 
 to rest, and a few days after the excursion against Messire 
 LucioMalvezzo, he prepared for a second, in another quar- 
 
ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 163 
 
 ter. His spies, always on the alert, had apprised him that 
 the Albanian chief, Scanderbeg, with his squadron, whom 
 Captain La Crete had dispersed in the late affair, had re- 
 tired into the Castle of Bassano, whence, in company with 
 a troop of crossbow-men, commanded by Rinaldo Conta- 
 rini, they made frequent sallies upon the small parties, for- 
 agers, herdsmen, lansquenets and othei-s, as they went to 
 and from the camp of the Germans. Operating thus, and 
 with some judgment and spirit, they had, in the course of 
 three days only, defeated several parties and relieved them 
 of four or five hundred head of cattle. There was a pass, 
 close by the foot of the mountain upon which th6 Castle 
 of Bassano stood, where, it was shown to Bayard, these 
 excellent captains might be encountered almost any pleas- 
 ant morning by those who had the heart to seek them. 
 Bayard had reason to confide in this report, which was 
 confiraied by one of his emissaries, in whose fidelity he 
 could trust. Having ascertained that the number of Alba- 
 nians and archers under Scanderbeg and Contarini were 
 only about two hundred, he determined to carry the ad- 
 venture through himself, without calling for the help of 
 other captains. He had a select body of thirty gend'arms, 
 and some eight or ten gentlemen, who had volunteeied 
 under his banner for the good will they bore him, and in 
 order to acquire the art of war from one of its best practi- 
 cal teachers. This force he well knew was not of a kind 
 to be baffled easily — not to be scattered in a panic — but 
 one which could stand a mortal buffeting for several hours. 
 To these only he revealed his purpose. They at once de- 
 clared their delight in being made partakers in the adven- 
 ture ; and he counselled them how and when to put them- 
 selves in readiness. An hour before daybreak, one fine 
 Saturday morning — our chronicler is precise in particulars 
 of this sort — in the month of September, they were in the 
 the saddle, and fifteen miles on the road before they drew 
 bridle. Reaching the pass which they were to occupy in 
 
164 THE aUEEN OF CYPRUS. 
 
 ambush, without being discovered, they put themselves in 
 as snug a harborage as possible, within cannon-shot of the 
 castle on whose inmates they designed to pounce. Their 
 patience in this ambuscade was not too severely tried. 
 After a little while they heard the trumpet of the garrison 
 sounding to horse, at which each trooper pricked his ears 
 with exultation. Bayard then consulted with his guide as 
 to which road the enemy would probably take. The an- 
 swer was that it mattered nothing, for, whatever might be 
 their, object or destination, they must still pass a certain 
 little bridge, a mile from the plac§ of arabush, which a 
 couple of men might keep against as many hundred. This 
 bridge passed, it was only necessary to hold it with a 
 small force, so that their return might be prevented. This 
 done, another pass enabled Bayard to make a sudden cir- 
 cuit of the mountain, so that the Albanians must necessa- 
 rily be encountered on the plain. The guide designated 
 the place more particularly as between the spot they occu- 
 pied and the palace of the Queen of Cyprus. This Queen 
 of Cyprus, by the way, was no mock, though retaining only 
 the title of a queen. She was a Venetian lady, one Car- 
 lotta Carnaro, who became the wife of James, king of 
 Cyprus. At the death of this prince, and conformably to 
 his will, the widow succeeded to the sovereignty of the 
 island. But those cunning traders, her countrymen, so 
 managed as to inveigle her out of her little empire, which 
 she abdicated in their favor. In return for this civility 
 and crown they conferred upon her the vague title of 
 Daughter of St. Mark — no doubt to the equal gratification 
 of the lady and the saint — and gave her certain estates be- 
 sides in the Trevisan. Here, eight miles from Padua, she 
 built a palace — a house of pleasure — which the Venetians 
 calkid t;lje palace of the jQueenof Cyprus. But the nymph 
 not^^i^gei' *)ccupied the gardens, and the palace, abandoned 
 at the approach of contending armies, no longer maintained 
 the seductions which might have beguiled knighthood from 
 
TH£ SKIRMISHERS. 165 
 
 its severer duties. Our gend'arms heard of the Cyprian 
 palace without forgetting Scanderbeg and his Albanians. 
 " Very good," said Bayard, at the suggestions of the spy, 
 " and now, gentlemen, which of you will maintain the 
 bridge ]" 
 
 The Lord of Bonnet said, " My horse and I, with a few 
 of your people, will guard it if you please !" 
 
 " Be it so," answered Bayard. " Take with you Little 
 John de la Vergne, and half a dozen gend'arms, with as 
 many archers. These will probably suffice." 
 
 While they were arranging this matter, they discerned the 
 Albanians and crossbow-men descending from the castle. 
 They went forth as if going to a marriage feast. Their 
 spoils and successes during the three preceding days had 
 beguiled them into a forgetfulness of the usual caprices of 
 fortune ; and the French knights as they looked forth and 
 beheld the life and confidence with which the enemy 
 emerged fi'om their fastnesses, thought, with a giim delight, 
 of the fate of that goodly pitcher, of which the proverb tells 
 us, that was carried once too often to the well. They wait- 
 ed in cool decision, and a patience that knew how to confide 
 in their leader, until the Albanians had fairly gone by ; then 
 sending Bonnet with his squad to secure the bridge. Bayard, 
 with the rest, under the guidance of the spy, set forward 
 by the shorter pass. In less than an hour they reached the 
 open plain — so open and so level, that, from the position 
 which they occupied, a man on horseback might be seen 
 some six miles off. They were seasonably in position. 
 Their enemies were soon discovered, at long culverin- 
 shot, on the road to Vicenza, and thinking only of their 
 spoils. 
 
 " Now !" said Bayard to the Bastard Du Fay, who bore 
 his standard — '* Now, sir, take with you twenty of your 
 archers, and go skirmish with these people. Seeing you 
 so few, they will charge upon you no doubt. At this, turn 
 you the heads. of your horses, as though you were afraid, 
 
166 SCANDERBEG DEFEATHD. 
 
 and bring them hither. I shall await you by the foot of 
 this mountain, and you shall enjoy brave sport." 
 
 Du Fay needed no clearer instructions. He was an old 
 soldier, and thoroughly versed in all the little strategics of 
 the partisan. Putting spurs to his charger's flanks, he at 
 once led off his archers, and before long brought them within 
 the vision of the Albanians. All turned out as Bayard had 
 anticipated. Scanderbeg, at the sight of the white crosses, 
 the badges worn by the Frenchmen, soon put his bands in 
 motion, and setting fiercely upon the archers, made the air 
 ring with the cry of " San Marco !" Struck, as by sudden 
 terror, Du Fay wheeled incontinently round, and made with 
 moderate speed for the mountain where the good knight had 
 planted his ambush. But the keen pursuit of Scanderbeg 
 compelled Du Fay to exchange his easy retreat for a hurried 
 flight. The standard-bearer did his part excellently well, 
 and brought the easily-beguiled Albanian into the very 
 jaws of the lion. Heated and scattered by the chase, the 
 people of Scanderbeg, in the moment of their utmost confi- 
 dence and triumph, were encounteied by a fi'esh and pow- 
 erful party. Suddenly, at a bound, Bayard and his men- 
 at-arms were out upon him. At the first shock thirty of 
 the foe were tumbled headlong from their saddles, and 
 this first shock decided the conflict. The Albanians fought, 
 and fought well, all the circumstances considered ; but such 
 a blow as they had received at the opening of the conflict was 
 more than half the battle. They fought vainly; and, after a 
 struggle more or less fiercely disputed, in which they failed 
 to recover that delightful state of assurance with which they 
 had pursued the archers of Du Fay, they themselves turned 
 in flight, at a great gallop, thinking to gain their fortress of 
 Bassano. The French pursued with all their ardor, but 
 the light-horse of the Albanian force would have escaped 
 the more heavily-mounted troopei*s of the French, but for 
 the precaution which had left; Bonnet and Mypont in pos- 
 session of the bridge. The captains, Scanderbeg and Con- 
 
GUY GUIFFUAV, 167 
 
 tarini, found a new enemy in waiting where they least ex- 
 pected one. They must now either fly at a venture across 
 the country or resume the fight. But the hard knocks 
 which they had ah-eady received determined them against 
 the latter alternative, and the pursuit had been so hotly 
 urged as to make it doubtful whether they should succeed 
 by flight. But the attempt was made, and proved unsuc- 
 cessful. So well had the French knights scattered them- 
 selves over the plain, that all the avenues were guarded. 
 The result gave them sixty Albanians and thirty crossbow- 
 men pnsoners. Both Scanderbeg and Contarini were 
 among the captives. The rest of the force escaped to 
 Treviso. 
 
 In the course of this combat, one of those exciting little 
 incidents occun'ed, by which we have a whole volume in 
 regard to the manners of the time and of chivalry. There 
 was, in the troop of Bayard, a lad of sixteen or seventeen, 
 one Guy, or Guiges Guiffi-ay, a son of the Lord of Boutieres. 
 He came of good stock, and belonged to what was called, 
 in Dauphiny, the scarlet of the nobility. His uncle was one 
 of those brave fellows who fought under Bayard in the 
 combat already related, of thirteen French against thirteen 
 Spaniards. The nephew, destined hereafter gi'eatly to dis- 
 tinguish himself, made a beginning on this occasion which 
 gi'eatly pleased his master. The boy had only six days 
 before been admitted among the archisrs of Bayard, and 
 naturally longed to distinguish himself, and to emulate his 
 kindred. It was while the combat was raging most fiercely 
 that he beheld the standard-bearer of Rinaldo Contarini's 
 crossbow-men throw himself over a ditch, with the intention 
 of escaping. Guy Guiffray; seeking a prominent foe, took 
 the leap after him ; and the first salutation of the standard- 
 bearer was a thrust from the demi-lance of the boy, which 
 brought him to the ground. The lance was shivered by 
 the blow, such was the honest earnestness of the assailant. 
 Throwing away the useless weapon, Guiffray drew his 
 
168 
 
 BASSANO. 
 
 sword, and bestrode his enemy, "Yield, ensign," said he, 
 " or I kill thee." The ensign saw not the size of the lad — 
 saw nothing but his own danger ; and still entertaining a 
 decent sense of the pleasures of life, he found it prudent to 
 comply with a summons so imperatively urged. He gave 
 himself up accordingly ; and Guiffray, happier than if he 
 had found a purse of a thousand crowns, made his captive 
 remount, and led him straightway to Bayard, who, having 
 more prisoners than he well knew what to do with, had 
 caused the retreat to be sounded. The Lord of Bonnet 
 first beheld the approach of young Boutieres, and ciied to 
 Bayard, " Look you, sir, I pray you, at Guy Guiffray, who 
 cometh with a prisoner and a standard, both of which he 
 hath taken." Bayard, who loved the boy, and had him in 
 special training, was as much delighted with the event as 
 Guy himself; and when the youth approached, he said to 
 him, " How, Boutieres, have you alone won this prisoner 
 and standard ]" ** Yes, indeed, my good lord," replied the 
 boy, " such was God's will ; and he did wisely to suiTen- 
 der, otherwise, I should have killed him." 
 
 His answer delighted the company — the good knight in 
 particular — the company laughing at the earnestness with 
 which the boy declared himself. " Boutieres, my friend," 
 said Bayard, " you have made a gallant beginning. God 
 grant that you persevere always in the same manner." 
 The words did not fall upon unheeding senses. The train- 
 ing of our chevalier was not wasted on the lad, who, in 
 process of time, commanded vrith great distinction in Pied- 
 mont, and made such a gallant defence of Mezieres against 
 the army of the emperor, as to anive at the command of an 
 hundred gend'arms. For the present, we put him out of 
 Bight ; though the adventure with the standard-bearer, his 
 captive, is by no means finished. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bayard had been examining the castle of 
 Bassano. " Gentlemen," he said to those around him, ** we 
 must have this castle. There is great booty, no doubt, 
 
BASSANO YIELDED. 169 
 
 within its walls, which would be useful in the hands of 
 our people." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," was the answer; "but how are we to 
 come at it ] It is strongly fortified, and we are without 
 artillery." 
 
 " Hold your peace," answered Bayard, good-humoredly. 
 " I have a method which, it strikes me, will give us the 
 place, with all its booty, in half an hour." 
 
 This said, he called up the two captains, his prisonere, 
 Scanderbeg and Contarini, and thus addressed them : 
 
 " Gentlemen, we must have this castle of Bassano, and 
 you must cause it to be delivered to us immediately. You 
 are here in command, and it is in your power to yield it. 
 Your lives depend upon it ; for I vow to God, if you re- 
 fuse, your heads shall swing before its gates within the 
 hour." 
 
 We are not sure that the character of modern warfare 
 would justify the process which was employed by Bayard 
 to effect his object. It will suffice, for his justification, how- 
 ever, that the proceeding was sanctioned by the military 
 practice of his time, and found no rebuke then, even " in 
 mouths of wisest censure." Reasoning with regard to in- 
 trinsic laws — war itself having fii-st found its sanction — it 
 does not seem that we can rebuke any of the acts by which 
 a victory is won. Convention, however, sets up different 
 standards, according to the caprices rather than the progress 
 of civilization, and we must always guard against assump- 
 tions arising fiom what is simply a practice, wathout look- 
 ing, while we do so, to the application of first principles. 
 Enough for us that Scanderbeg and Contarini were very 
 greatly frightened by this declaration, which, it is highly 
 probable, was meant only to intimidate them. They prom- 
 ised to do whatever they could, and as the commandant left 
 with the garrison was a nephew of Scanderbeg, the result 
 was favorable to the wishes of our knight, who, within the 
 
 P 
 
170 THE VENETIAN ENSIGN. 
 
 time specified, found himself in possession of the castle, with 
 all its goods and chattels. 
 
 The spoil was considerable, and belonged, according to 
 the usage of the time, entirely to the captors. There were 
 more than five hundred cows and oxen, with a great vari- 
 ety of other plunder, which was equally divided to the sat- 
 isfaction of all the parties. The cattle made its way to the 
 markets of Vicenza ; the other spoil was disposed of more 
 summarily. The distribution over, our knight sat down to 
 a repast which had been prepared, and the two Venetian 
 captains were invited to his table. Here, as they were 
 about to finish theii' meal, the youthful Boutieres made his 
 appearance, bringing his prisoner with him. The contrast 
 was so odd and striking between the two that Bayard 
 laughed outright. The prisoner was thirty years of age, 
 and almost twice the height of the little archer. Then said 
 our chevalier to the Venetian captains, " Gentlemen, this 
 young lad whom you see was but six days ago a page — 
 his beard has not a three years' growth, yet you see he hath 
 taken your standard-bearer. We hold this to be a curious 
 circumstance. Now, I know not what is the custom with 
 you, but we French are wont to confide our standards to 
 none but the most valiant." 
 
 The Venetian ensign was deeply mortified. He saw that 
 he had lost his honor by the event, but he was not without 
 
 his apology " Faith, captain," said he, " I yielded to 
 
 him by whom I was taken, not through any fear of him, 
 for he, of himself, is not the person to make me captive. I 
 might easily have escaped out of his hands, or from those 
 of a better warrior, but I could not hope to contend with 
 your whole troop alone." 
 
 Bayard looked significantly to the little Boutieres, and 
 said — " Do you hear, Guy, what your prisoner says — that 
 you are not the man to take him V 
 
 The answer of the boy was precisely what the chevalier 
 
THE YOUNG ARCHER. 171 
 
 expected. In great heat, he replied, — ''I entreat of you a 
 boon, my lord." 
 
 " Ay, marry," quoth the knight, *' and what is the boon, 
 Boutieres 1" 
 
 "Only," said he, "that I may restore the prisoner his 
 arms and his horse, that I may mount mine, and that we 
 may both go at once to the courts below. But if I con- 
 quer him a second time, let him look for nothing but death 
 at my hands. If he does escape, let him go free of ran- 
 som." 
 
 Never had Bayard been better pleased. This was in 
 the very spirit of chivalry. " In good sooth, Boutieres," 
 cried the knight, aloud, "you have my permission; be 
 it as you desire." 
 
 " Hear you, prisoner *?" cried the boy to the Venetian. 
 But he spoke to vacant ears. The poltroon shrunk from 
 the alternative proposed to him, and the result was fatal 
 to his character. The triumph of the young archer was 
 complete, and none was more proud of his pupil than the 
 master. It was not the smallest merit of Bayard that he 
 knew so well how to infuse, with his own noble and fear- 
 less spirit, all who served beneath his banner. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 If the drowsy-headed MaximiHan was charmed with 
 the adventure of Bayard against Messire Lucio Malvezzo, 
 that which he had just achieved in the capture of Bassano 
 and the taking of the two captains, Scanderbeg and 
 Contarini, ravished him still more; and was, indeed, the 
 talk of the whole camp for a week and more. Such per- 
 formances were not common under the banner of a prince 
 so really feeble and unperforming as the emperor. The 
 skill, spirit, confidence and prompt military resource which 
 Bayard's performances usually displayed, were such as 
 would have made him remarkable under any leader. The 
 French, of course, were full of glee and exultation, while 
 the Germans, Burgundians, and Hainaulters, all contend- 
 ed in bestowing the warmest applauses upon our cham- 
 pion. Nor was little Boutieres without his share of the 
 glory. His achievement excited meniment wherever it 
 was related, but a merriment which honored the subject 
 of it, without disparagement either of his spirit or his 
 performance. 
 
 But the partisan was to give way for the heavily-armed 
 soldier. The proceedings of the camp must now receive 
 our attention. Padua has been battered, as we have seen, 
 into a breach sufficiently capacious to receive an army. 
 Shall the army penetrate this breach] It was while Maxi- 
 milian and his chiefs were discussing this question, that 
 Bayard went forth seeking adventures. At his return, the 
 question was still unanswered. There was no lack of con- 
 sultation on the subject. It was time to come to a conclu- 
 sion. The emperor, deliberative as he was in his move- 
 
THE BREACH. 173 
 
 ments, at length began to feel somewhat ashamed of the 
 delay, particularly after a personal survey of the breach, 
 which was nearly half a mile in extent. Of course, we 
 remember the precautions taken by Count Pitigliano, 
 within Padua, against the assault. These were all known 
 to the besiegers. In some degree, they were the cause 
 of this delay. 
 
 The result of the emperor's personal inspection of the 
 breach was the following letter to Chabannes, the Lord de 
 la Palisse, commanding the French troops in his army : — 
 
 "My Cousin, 
 " I examined, this morning, the breach we have made 
 in the walls of the town, and find it sufficiently large for 
 such as will do their devoir. I deem it expedient, there- 
 fore, that we should this day make the assault. I must 
 entreat of you accordingly, that, when you shall hear my 
 great drum sound, which will be at noon, you will, with 
 the gentlemen under your command, in my service as in 
 that of my brother, the King of France, repair to the said 
 assault along with my foot-soldiers. With the aid of God 
 I hope we shall cany the place." 
 
 This was a communication to astonish Chabannes. He 
 certainly regarded it with some dissatisfaction as well as 
 surprise. But, dissembling his thoughts and feelings, he 
 said to the secretary of the emperor, who, in person had 
 brought the letter, " Really, sir, I wonder that the em- 
 peror hath not thought it proper to send for my companions 
 and myself, the better to advise upon this assault. How- 
 ever, you will say to him that I shall call them together 
 and communicate what he hath wiitten. I may venture 
 to say, whatever we may think of it, that none of us will 
 fail in yielding obedience to what he is pleased to com- 
 mand." 
 
 The offensive feature of this communication lay in the 
 p* 
 
174 PREPARATIONS FOR ASSAULT. 
 
 requisition that they who came as knights, as wamors on 
 horseback, men of good family and gentle blood, were to 
 fight as common soldiers along with the German infantry. 
 But the discussion which followed among the French cap- 
 tains will better declare their feeling on the subject. While, 
 therefore, the secretary of Maximilian returned to his mas- 
 ter with the answer of Chabannes, the latter called his offi- 
 cers together, and the consultation proceeded in his tent. 
 Meantime, the bruit had gone abroad that the assault was 
 to be made that day, and the religious feeling of the gen- 
 d'arms rose to the ascendant. The "Loyal Servant," who 
 was Bayard's secretary, was no good friend to the priest- 
 hood. The abuses of the holy office in which they offici- 
 ated have too often brought discredit upon the faith which 
 they professed. " Then," says our chronicler, " were the 
 priests retained by sums of gold to hear confession — a mar- 
 vellous circumstance — all being anxious to be put in prop- 
 er condition for such change as might happen at such a 
 juncture. And many gens d'arms gave them their purses to 
 keep ; by reason whereof, no doubt, their reverences would 
 have been far from displeased had they whose wealth was 
 in their keeping perished in the assault." And the amount 
 of money seems not to have been small. The writer from 
 whom we quote says, that " so much money, had not before, 
 for five hundred years, been seen in the camp of any 
 prince." 
 
 Leaving the gens d'arms at the confessional, we return to 
 the consultation in the tent of Chabannes. On the entrance 
 of his officers, this nobleman addressed them, playfully, in 
 this language : " Gentlemen, it is fit we dine; for that which 
 I have to relate, might, if you heard it before your dinner, 
 somewhat diminish your relish for it." " Now," says the 
 " Loyal Servant," " these were only words in jest. Chaban- 
 nes knew his companions well. He knew that not one 
 among them but was a second Hector or Orlando, not to 
 be confounded by any thing that he either saw or heard. 
 
THE LORD OF HUMBERCOURT. 175 
 
 Still less could he suppose that his communication would 
 daunt the spirit of our * good knight.' " They proceeded, 
 accordingly, to dinner, which the chronicler describes as a 
 merry one. They broke their jests as well as their bread 
 together, and bore with a world of raillery, which they re- 
 turned, all in the best of humor. The Lord de la Palisse 
 was particularly keen in his thrusts at the Lord of Humber- 
 court, who gave him as good as he sent, and in the same 
 blight metal. The repast was finished as it had begun, in 
 a joyful and pleasant temper. And now for business. 
 
 The letter of Maximilian was read by Chabannes, twice 
 over, in order that nothing of it might be misunderstood. 
 This duty performed, the laughter of the knights succeed- 
 ed. But no one, for some time, thought of offering any coun- 
 sel. The subject was one of considerable difficulty. They 
 were sent, by the special order and choice of their own sov- 
 ereign, to honorably serve another. Undoubtedly, had the 
 King of France required them to march on foot into the 
 trenches of Padua, they had done so without a murmur. 
 Should they refuse to serve, in like manner, the prince to 
 whom they were sent ? The point of honor made each of 
 them hesitate to answer in the affirmative. And yet, there 
 was a substantial difference. They were sent to Maximil- 
 ian as knights, to serve on horseback, and not as foot-sol- 
 diers. They were sent as nobles, and not as hirelings. The 
 distinction, in our day still obvious, was far more apparent 
 then. "We have, only a short time before, seen the French 
 monarch consenting to arm his peasantry and make a na- 
 tive infantry, to command which it was difficult to persuade 
 his nobles. This fact will convey some faint idea of the dis- 
 gust which the requisition of the emperor caused among 
 the French cavaliers in his army. The Lord of Humber- 
 court was the first to break the silence. The nut was too 
 hard for him to crack, and he was prepared to swallow it. 
 
 " Why all this pondering and hesitation, my Lord de la 
 Palisse % Say to the emperor that we are all in readiness. 
 
176 THE KNOT UNTIED. 
 
 For my part, I begin to tire of tlie country. The nights 
 are getting cold, and, what is worse, the better sorts of 
 wine are failing us." Merrily laughed these gay compan- 
 ions at the speech of their comrade. His philosophy was 
 that of most around him. They felt as he did, and were 
 not prepared to handle the difficulty with better skill. All 
 spoke, expressing themselves after the same fashion — all 
 except Bayard. He alone kept silent, picking his teeth, or 
 pretending to do so — a practice which does not appear to 
 have been unbecoming in those days after dinner, as we 
 pronounce it to be now. He seemed to pay very little 
 attention to what the rest had been saying. At length, 
 Chabannes addressed him in particular, and with a smiling 
 manner, " Come ! you French Hercules, what do you say 
 to this matter 1 This is no time to be picking your teeth. 
 Remember, it is an emperor that waits." 
 
 The sagacious warrior had not been idly meditating the 
 subject. He alone saw how the knot was to be untied — 
 in what way to crack the nut which each captain had turned 
 between his teeth in vain. The good knight, who had 
 ever a habit of jesting, replied gayly, " If we are to credit 
 my Lord of Humbercourt, we have nothing to do but to 
 march into the breach. For my part, as I conceive it soiTy 
 sport for gendarms to go afoot, I would prefer to be ex- 
 cused. However, since it is my opinion that you seek, you 
 shall have it. The emperor, it appears, commands, in his 
 letter, that you should make all the French gentlemen, go to 
 the assault on foot, along with his lansquenets. Though 
 possessed of little wealth, my lord, I am still a gentleman. 
 All of you are great lords, and of great families : so are 
 many of the gendarms under us. Does the emperor deem 
 it a fitting thing that such noble persons should be placed 
 in the same ranks, exposed to the same service, with his 
 rabble of all sorts, the scum of his people, none of whom 
 have any sense of what is due to men of high degree, or 
 even of honor ? Saving his imperial grace, there is some- 
 
NEW DIFFICULTIES. 177 
 
 thing very unseemly in such an aiTangement." A pause 
 followed, in which the justice of this opinion was admitted. 
 Bayard continued — 
 
 *' My counsel is, my Lord de la Palisse, that you convey 
 •to the emperor this answer — that you have had your cap- 
 tains assembled in consultation ; that they are prepared to 
 execute his orders, as it was given them in charge to do by 
 the king their master. You will then remind him of what 
 he knows — that the King of France admits none but per- 
 sons of gentle birth among even his ordinary men-at-arms. 
 Say to him, then, that to require such as these to fight 
 among common foot-soldiery — persons of low condition — 
 would be treating them with indignity. You will then say 
 that, as he has with him many counts, lords, and noblemen 
 of Germany, if he will order them to go on foot with the 
 gendarms of France, we will cheerfully show them the 
 way into the breaches of Padua. His lansquenets may 
 then follow if the assault should promise to be successful." 
 
 This was the way to get at the kernel of the difficulty. 
 The sentiments of Bayard, and his suggestion, at once 
 seized upon the convictions of the rest. His plan was at 
 once respectful and reasonable. It did not deny the required 
 service, but it coupled it with the only condition which 
 could keep them fi'om being dishonored and disgraced by 
 it. The Lord de la Palisse yielded his consent ; and, couch- 
 ing the views of the French knight in the most deferential 
 language, in a letter to the emperor, he required them to put 
 themselves in armor, awaiting the summons of that august 
 personage, to the battle and the breach. The communica- 
 tion opened new difficulties to Maximilian, which he does 
 not seem to have anticipated. He professed to think the 
 views of the French captains to be only proper, and forth- 
 with commanding his drums and trumpets to be sounded, 
 he called together his retinue, consisting of all the princes, 
 lords and noblemen then in his camp, from Germany, Bur- 
 gundy and Hainault. But when he unfolded to them the 
 
178 MAXIMILIAN IN COUNSEL. 
 
 response and the requisition of the French knights — show- 
 ing the readiness of these to enter the imminent deadly 
 breach, on foot, as infantry, provided the gentlemen of Ger- 
 many would do the same — when he concluded with entreat- 
 ing them to concur in the arrangement, which would surely 
 vanquish the Paduans at the first assault — there arose such 
 a universal hiss and hubbub as saluted the ears of Satan, 
 when he unfolded to his followers the successes which he 
 had had in Eden-^ 
 
 " Expecting 
 
 Their universal shout and high applause, 
 
 To fill his ear ; when, contrary, he hears 
 
 On all sides, from innumerable tongues, 
 
 A dismal, universal hiss, the sound 
 
 Of public scorn ; he wondered " 
 
 And so did the emperor ; who was then made to under- 
 stand, for the first time seemingly, how monstrous had 
 been the requisition which he had made upon the French 
 knights. It was a good half hour before the hubbub could 
 be allayed among his Germans, Burgundians and Hai- 
 naulters. They soon let him know " that they were not 
 persons to be driven to the breach on foot — their place was 
 on horseback, fighting like gentlemen." And the excellent 
 Maximilian could extort from them no more favorable 
 reply. The valiant emperor was confounded. He called 
 to him his best counsellors, he viewed and reviewed the 
 matter, and the result was that there must be farther delib- 
 erations. There was no entering the breach that day, and a 
 special message to this effect was sent to the Lord de la 
 Palisse. Then it was, according to our "Loyal Servant," 
 that the gendarms forgot their prayers of the morning, and 
 withdrew from the priests the money which, had they per- 
 ished, would no doubt have been applied to pious uses. 
 The priests, alone, according to this satirical character, 
 were dissatisfied with the event. " Certes, the priests were 
 not over-delighted when they had to restore what they had 
 in keeping." The French knights threw aside the weap- 
 
HE DISAPPEARS. 179 
 
 ons of war, for that day, more or less satisfied with the 
 respite. 
 
 It is due to the Prince of Anhalt to declare, that he 
 openly avowed his disgust at what had taken place ; and 
 avowed his personal readiness, with his immediate compan- 
 ions, to join with the French knights in entering the breach 
 on foot. He made this offer to the emperor while all the 
 rest hung back ; and, seeking the French, renewed the 
 offer to them also. But the attempt, with so small a body 
 of men, was simply devoting them to destruction, and such 
 a sacrifice was needless for any other object than simply 
 to retrieve the disgrace of the commander-in-chief, the em- 
 peror himself. There was yet one more proceeding neces- 
 sary to fasten upon this prince the discredit of being faith- 
 less to his allies. The very night of this famous council 
 he stole away from the camp, and took post no less than 
 forty miles distant from it. The fact was not known among 
 the French till the day after. What prompted this move- 
 ment it is difficult to suggest. Maximilian was not a per- 
 son of the very nicest sensibilities ; yet there may have been 
 some little shame to annoy him, as there was certainly some 
 mortification, when he found his own chivalry unwilling to 
 do that which he had not scrupled to require the French 
 knights to perform. Accompanied by six hundred chosen 
 followers, he took the route toward Germany, and the next 
 day sent word to his lieutenant-general, Constantine, and to 
 the Lord de la Palisse to raise the siege as decently as they 
 could — a most lame and impotent conclusion, which filled 
 the besiegers with shame and amazement, and the besieged 
 with equal joy and exultation. But there was no remedy. 
 The breach being made, they did not stop to repair it, 
 though that might have been only a becoming and Christian 
 act on the part of the emperor. A council was held among 
 the leaders in the camp, in order to a compliance with the 
 will of their superior. They had only to obey, and their 
 dehberations concerned only the mode of doing so with 
 
180 THE SIEGE OF PADUA RAISED. 
 
 most propriety. To raise the siege was a job quite as 
 serious as to begin it. The bombards and the cannons, 
 and the falcons, were to be withdrawTi, and there were 
 no longer carriages for one half of them. To the French 
 was assigned the arduous duty of keeping guard while 
 they were carried away. They were assisted in this most 
 troublesome and perilous duty by the generous impulse 
 of the Prince of Anhalt, who, with seven or eight hun- 
 dred men, volunteered to share the task. The burden of 
 the war really fell upon this small fragment of this mon- 
 strous araiy. The Venetians, emboldened by the flight 
 of Maximilian, and the breaking up of a camp which, 
 having threatened so much, had done nothing, now indulged 
 in continual sallies. The gendarms were kept fighting 
 from the break of day till two hours after night, scarcely 
 suffered time to take their food, and never entirely without 
 an alarm. The sallies from the town were conducted with 
 great spirit and in large numbers ; and the miserably-inef- 
 ficient mode of conveying the artillery subjected the escort 
 to a delay so tedious as to exhaust their strength and elas- 
 ticity, even if it left their courage unimpaired. The French 
 were compelled to protect themselves equally against 
 the lansquenets and the Venetians. The former were ter- 
 rible incendiaries. They burnt, invariably, the lodging 
 that gave them shelter, and would have burnt the house- 
 keeper also, were he so unwise as to afford them the 
 opportunity. Some of the handsome houses which the 
 troops occupied were protected with difficulty from these 
 wretches, by the soldiers and painstaking of our " Good 
 Knight." At length the artillery was fairly on the road for 
 Germany, and, with but small loss to the defenders, consid- 
 ering the frequent fighting. The French finally reached 
 Vicenza, the emperor not seeing them, but in some degree 
 atoning for his deficiencies in other respects, by sending 
 presents of various value to their chief captains, our hero 
 not being forgotten. The Lord de la Palisse and his com- 
 
VERONA. 181 
 
 panions returned to the duchy of Milan, while Bayard, 
 with the greater number of the gendarms who had been 
 lent to Maximilian, went into garrison at Verona, Here we 
 shall have occasion to hear of him, as the war still continued 
 between the King of France and the Venetians, the latter 
 holding a large garrison at Legnano, which frequently 
 engaged the attentions of the Veronese. 
 
 Q 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 To Verona soon came the feeble gamson which the em- 
 peror had placed in Vicenza. They were driven out by 
 the approach of a large force of the Venetians, against 
 which they knew that the place could never be maintained. 
 They added somewhat to the strength of Bayard's garri- 
 son, which the contiguous enemy kept busy. The Vene- 
 tians occupied several neighboring places, from which they 
 constantly sent forth parties, equally strong and enter- 
 prising, by which our gendarms were frequently annoyed 
 and straightened. The winter season was approaching, 
 and the garrison, in order to obtain their own and the sup- 
 plies necessary for their horses, were compelled to seek it 
 from a great distance. The foragers were so frequently lost 
 that a convoy became necessary for their protection ; and 
 scarce a day passed that the French had not to fight for it 
 with their eager and active neighbors. The conflicts were 
 usually sharp and inspiriting. The Venetians had, among 
 other valiant captains who gave our Frenchmen disquiet, 
 a certain Giovanni Paolo Manfrone. He was so bold as 
 to make his incursions up to the very gates of Verona. 
 He did this so frequently, and with so much audacity, that 
 the piide of knighthood was wounded in the bosom of our 
 hero ; and he resolved, quietly, the very next time when the 
 foragers went a-field, to lead the escort himself, and to 
 practice some neat little stratagem by which to take Sigiior 
 Manfrone into his own kindly keeping. But, secretly as 
 Bayard designed this civility, it was not possible for him to 
 keep it wholly from his own household, and there was 
 treachery in his councils. It appears that Captain Man- 
 
CAPTAIN MANFRONE. 183 
 
 frone was well served in Verona. He had a spy in his 
 pay who was also in the pay of Bayard, and who 
 dwelt, while in Verona, in the family of the latter. This 
 scoundrel went between the parties, and, inclining more 
 to the Venetian than the Frenchman, contrived to convey 
 to the former the most valuable information. He apprised 
 Manfrone of Bayard's intention on this occasion, and the 
 former prepared for him. The route being also known 
 which the foragers were to pursue, it was easy to do so. 
 He resolved, therefore, that whenever Bayard went forth 
 his own force should be sufficiently strong to make the 
 knight's defeat certain. 
 
 Bayard, meanwhile, planned his little stratagem, never 
 suspecting the pleasant preparations which his enemy, 
 under the directions of his own spy, was, in turn, making 
 for him. It was on a pleasant Thursday morning, says 
 our minute biographer, when Captain PieiTepont, one of 
 Bayard's lieutenants, with some thirty or forty gens d'arms, 
 was sent forth with the foragers. PieiTepont was a sensi- 
 ble and spirited soldier, and a cautious one ; but he had 
 every confidence in the skill and policy of his superior. 
 Quitting the main road, this troop sallied forth into the 
 country, seeking the victualling-houses and all those places 
 in which their bargains for provisions were to be made. 
 Meanwhile, Bayard, taking with him an hundred gendarms 
 more, made his way, as secretly as possible, to a little vil- 
 lage on the high road, called San Martino, some s'ix miles 
 from Verona. Here, believing himself equally unsuspect- 
 ed and undiscovered, he sent forth his scouts, who were 
 not long absent before they returned, reporting the ap- 
 proach of the enemy, some five hundred horse, who were 
 moving straight on the route which the foragers had taken. 
 Pleased with these tidings, our chevalier at once set his 
 men in motion, and hun-ied away to the meeting with the 
 strangers. 
 
 Captain Manfi'one was not less pleased than our hero. 
 
184 BAYARD OVERTHROWN. 
 
 His spy had duly apprised him of eveiy step which was 
 to be taken; and the Venetian had accordingly set an 
 ambush along the road that Bayard must pursue, con- 
 sisting of an overwhelming force of five or six hundred 
 pikemen and arquebusiers. These were all infantry, and, 
 lying close behind the walls of a deserted palace which 
 lay convenient, he counselled them not to come forth till 
 they beheld him in flight and the French pursuing. He 
 was at particular pains in showing them his plans. His 
 flight was a pretext only, by which to draw the gens d'arms 
 into the folds of the ambuscade. All happened as he in- 
 tended. Bayard, after a ride of a mile or two, caught 
 .sight of the mounted men of Sigiior Manfi'one. With the 
 old cry of " France and Empire !" he set upon them with 
 his wonted impetuosity ; and, after some reasonable show 
 of resistance, quite enough to excite their enemies and 
 disarm suspicion, the Venetians took to their heels, on the 
 road leading straight into the jaws of the ambush. Having 
 passed a small distance beyond it, they wheeled boldly upon 
 their pursuers, and, with cries of " San Marco," renewed 
 the fight with equal spirit and confidence. Then it was 
 that Bayard found that he had been betrayed. The infantry 
 quitted their place of concealment with loud outcries, and 
 the arquebusiers, pouring in their shot at the same moment, 
 they rushed upon the French, who found themselves taken 
 in flank and front, and on all sides. At the first fire the 
 horse of Bayard was mortally wounded, and fell, fasten- 
 ing his rider by one of his legs to the ground. In this 
 situation he was surrounded ; and, though his men made 
 a desperate onset in his favor, and one of his followers — a 
 faithful fellow named Grandmont — extricating him from his 
 horse, and stood gallantly to the encounter at his side, yet, 
 girdled by a small but determined body of their foes, the 
 two fought vainly, and were made piisoners. But ere the 
 captors could disarm them, Captain Pierrepont made his 
 appearance, having left the ft)raging party. He darted 
 
RESCUED AND RESUMES THE FIGHT. J 85 
 
 at once to the rescue. It was a seasonable succor. At 
 their approach, Bayard suddenly struck down the men by 
 whom he was guarded, and, with Grandmont, renewed the 
 fight with desperate ferocity. The rescue forced the cap- 
 tors to relinquish their prey for the moment, and to retire 
 from the melee in order that the arquebusiers should re- 
 sume their fire without endangering their own people. 
 Bayard and Grandmont were then supplied with fi'esh 
 horses, and the former renewed the engagement at the 
 head of his gendarms. These still struggled at great dis- 
 advantage. The Venetians had environed them precisely 
 as, on a previous occasion. Bayard had laid his snare for 
 Messire Lucio Malvezzo ; but our knight had a more 
 happy genius for extricating himself from his meshes than 
 had that smart young cavalier. Assailed from all sides, 
 with a force of more than four to one against them, and 
 with the arquebusiers sending their shot whenever the 
 field would so open as to suffer them to distinguish be- 
 tween firiend and foe, the French had fearful odds with 
 which to contend. But nothing could impair the coolness 
 of Bayard. He saw all his difficulties at a glance, and re- 
 marked to Pierrepont, — " We must gain the high road, 
 captain, or we are lost. If we can do that, we shall make off 
 in spite of them, and without much loss." Pierrepont con- 
 curred in this opinion, and, to this object, their efforts were 
 directed. Their losses, so far, had been inconsiderable ; their 
 horses having chiefly suffered by the bullets of the musketry. 
 Such had not been the case with the Venetians, who had 
 paid severely for the predicament into which they had 
 brought their enemies. They had lost forty or fifty of the 
 infantry, hewn down by the keen swords of the gendarms, 
 whose tempered armor had saved them comparatively un- 
 scathed. Hard was the fight that followed, on the part of 
 the French, to regain the road — on that of the Venetians to 
 embarrass and prevent them. But, driven forward as a 
 wedge, clinging close to the Venetian cavalry, and thus 
 
186 
 
 PROTRACTED CONFLICT. 
 
 baffling the assaults of the arquebusiers and foot, the high- 
 bred chivahy of France at length succeeded in breaking 
 through all impediments. The light-horse of the Venetians 
 were scattered from the path. The high road was gain- 
 ed after a stern and tenible struggle. It was then that the 
 retreat begun — an affair scarcely less arduous than their 
 late extrication. To fly pell-mell would be to lose every 
 thing. Their hope lay in keeping close and compact, and 
 in moving off with a deliberation equal to their fiminess. 
 To raw soldiers, this would have been impossible, after 
 such a conflict. To the veterans of Bayard it was much 
 more easy than flight. " Sauve qui pent" was never the 
 cry in his battalions ; and his men had learned, among 
 their first lessons, to retreat as the lion does, -vvath his face 
 to the foe. A wound in the back was a death to reputa- 
 tion. Thus, then, the retreat was, conducted — slowly, firm- 
 ly, in a compact body, which, at eveiy two hundred paces 
 wheeled about and gave battle to the pursuers. But they 
 were not suffered to escape thus. The worst was not over. 
 The ambuscade was not passed. They had freed them- 
 selves from the actual incumbrance and physical weight of 
 the Venetian foot and horse together. They could baffle 
 and beat the latter when they pressed too closely upon 
 them ; but the accursed arquebusiers still lay upon their 
 wings, and still were the shot poured into their retreating 
 ranks. Bayard, who ever hated this teixible implement, 
 which he looked upon as fatal to chivalry, was destined 
 twice, on this occasion, to suffer from its missiles. A second 
 time was his horse shot under him. Finding him about to 
 fall, he leaped from the saddle at the moment when the 
 Venetians were making another terrible charge ujion his 
 ranks. Fighting, sword in hand, he was again surrounded. 
 He achieved miracles with his sword, but must a second 
 time have become a prisoner, but for a gallant charge of 
 Du Fay, his standard-bearer, who, at the head of his arch- 
 ers, put in at a most fortunate time and succeeded in rescu- 
 
THE FRENCH ESCAPE. 
 
 181 
 
 mg bim. The assailants had set thek hearts upon this 
 one noble victim, seemingly indifferent to any other 
 prize. They gnashed their teeth vainly at the prey thus 
 plucked a second time from their grasp. Again did our 
 hero find a horse, and, heading his men for a new assault 
 upon their pursuers, drove them back, and was per- 
 mitted to resume the retreat without farther inteiTuption. 
 The peril to the French was over for the day. They had 
 passed through a terrible conflict, and against the most fear- 
 ful odds. Nothing but the most determined valor, the most 
 accomplished skill and training, and an exquisite esprit du 
 corps, which is almost always the secret of success in battle, 
 could have saved them from utter destruction by their foes. 
 The battle ceased only with the night. They had passed 
 without the range of the arquebusiers and the ambuscade. 
 Assured of this. Bayard commanded that no farther at- 
 tacks should be made. Enough, he said, that they should 
 retire without loss of honor, as they did. They reached 
 San Martino, whence they had set forth in the morning. 
 Their first halt was at a little bridge which was furnished 
 with barriers. To this point had they been pursued by the 
 force under Manfrone. Here he saw, with mortification, 
 that he could do them no more hurt ; and, sounding the re- 
 treat, he returned toward San Bonifacio, his infantry pre- 
 ceding him. They were all very weaiy of their day's work, 
 and not quite satisfied with the issue. Their preparations 
 had contemplated greater results.^ They had looked to 
 destroy, or at least to have taken captive, all the little com- 
 mand of our hero. Instead of that, they had suffered his 
 escape from an ambush which ought to have held thrice 
 his numbers as securely as the complex netting of the 
 mammoth spider secures the fly in spite of all its feeble 
 struggles. Besides, they had been roughly handled, and 
 the chief object of the snare had broken through it with- 
 out loss of wing or spirit. The five hours which had been 
 spent in fighting had exhausted the Venetians. Their 
 
188 FRESH ADVENTURES. 
 
 foot-soldiers resolved to tarry in a village but four or five 
 miles from San Bonifacio. Manfrone, who vi^as a prudent 
 captain, counselled them against doing so ; but they never 
 dreamed that they had any thing to fear from tlie troop 
 they had just driven before them. Their captain kept on 
 his vv^ay to San Bonifacio, leaving them where they chose 
 to stay. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bayard and his troop recovered their confi- 
 dence in a survey of the events of the day, and in the con- 
 solations of a good supper. When they reflected upon the 
 smallness of their losses, and the large number they had 
 slain of the enemy — when they considered the perils of the 
 ambush in which their eager valor and the treachery of 
 their spy had involved them, and then of the admirable re- 
 treat which they had effected — they felt nothing ashamed 
 of what had taken place. They had little to regret, and 
 much which might justify their exultation. Meantime, one 
 of their spies made his appearance, coming direct from 
 San Bonifacio. Bayard had him up instantly for exam- 
 ination. When asked what was doing in the Venetian 
 camp, he answered that a large body of troops were in 
 San Bonifacio, the talk with whom was, that they should 
 soon have possession of Verona, and that they had much 
 good intelligence from that town. The spy added, farther, 
 that, just as he was about to depart. Captain Manfrone made 
 his appearance, terribly chafed and heated, who said he 
 had "fought with devil|from hell, rather than men." " Oii 
 my way hither," concluded this emissary, " some four or 
 five miles back, I passed through a village full of their foot, 
 who are heartily worn out, and are lodging there to-night." 
 "On my life!" exclaimed Bayard, "they are the infantry 
 we fought with to-day. They have not chosen to go so far 
 as San Bonifacio ! Well ! if you say, gentlemen, they are 
 ours ! The moon shines brightly. Let us give our horses 
 a fresh feed, and, in two or three hours, stir up these foot- 
 men with the points of our lances." 
 
SURPRISE OF THE VENETIANS. 189 
 
 Now this is the genuine spirit of the partisan, who, when 
 he has done a good day's work, does not, for that reason, 
 refuse to do a good night's work also. The elasticity of a 
 spirit, to whom the opportunity of adventure never comes 
 amiss, is one of the chief requisites of a cavalry officer. 
 Bayard's suggestion found no obstacle among his followers. 
 They yielded to the scheme with delight. Their horses 
 were provided with food ; and, with a strong watch set, 
 commanded to arouse them at a certain hour, the troopers 
 addressed themselves to sleep. Bayard was one of those 
 who, on such occasions, and when meditating any enter- 
 prise, slept but little. He was up and awake long before 
 the rest, and had them roused about three hours past mid- 
 night. There was no noise — no unnecessary flourish of 
 trumpets. The villagers were not allowed to suspect the 
 departure of their guests. Soon, the troop was in motion, 
 and, as if shod with felt, were stealing off* to the harborage 
 of their drowsy enemies. They reached, in little time, the 
 village where the Venetian infantry were reported to have 
 taken up their quarters. They found the tidings of the spy 
 correct. There they lay, like swine, without any watch 
 set, and sleeping, totally unconscious of an enemy. The 
 cry of "France and Empire!" — "Kill! kill!" — roused 
 them to a fearful consciousness. At this midnight chaunt, 
 which our old biographer calls a "joyous one," the sleepers 
 aroused themselves, only to rush upon the lances of the 
 French. Many were slain as they issued from their beds ; 
 but the captain of the Venetians contrived to rally a force 
 of two or three hundred within the market-place, and here 
 offered resistance. But, half awake only, and paralyzed by 
 the sudden outcry, assailed by an enemy on several quar- 
 ters, the conflict was soon finished. The massacre which 
 followed was a fearful one. The gendarms seldom spared 
 the musqueteers, whom they equally feared and hated. 
 Besides, the weapons fought with — the sword and spear, 
 making the conflict usually one of hand-to-hand — rendered 
 
190 BLOODY CONFLICT. 
 
 it necessary that, where one would not submit, he must be 
 slain. The captain of the Venetians and two other gentle- 
 men were made prisoners. The great body of the soldiers 
 perished in the fury and desperate havoc of that midnight 
 charge. Bayard returned to Verona, in every sense of the 
 word, a conqueror. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The excellent captain, Joseph Paul di Manfrone, burned 
 like a true knight of chivalry to avenge his disappoint- 
 ment, which had so nearly been a defeat. He w^as the 
 more goaded to this desire, as, independently of his dis- 
 appointment, he was severely censured by the Provveditore 
 of the Seignory for having left his unlucky foot-soldiers be- 
 hind him at the village where Bayard surprised them. It 
 is true, he vindicated himself, in this respect, against these 
 reproaches, by showing that he strove in vain to bring the 
 wearied wTetches to a sense of their danger; but the re- 
 proach and the disappointment, rankling together in his 
 mind, prompted him to brood over some new schemes, by 
 which to extract the desired atonement from our more for- 
 tunate chevalier. Having reason to confide in the spy by 
 whom he had been already apprised so truly of the move- 
 ments of Bayard, and who continually went between the 
 
192 NEW SCHEMES OF MANFRONE. 
 
 parties, he gave him his instructions, after allowing a little 
 time to elapse after the recent affair. " You are," said he, 
 " on your return to Verona, to assure Captain Bayard that 
 the Seignory of Venice hath written here to the Provvedi- 
 tore, that Captain Manfrone must be despatched to Leg- 
 nano for its better defence ; that the captain now there 
 is to be withdrawn, and sent, with a number of galleys, to 
 the Levant ; that, to your certain knowledge, Manfrone 
 will set forth to-morrow, at the break of day, with but 
 three hundred horse and no infantry. Now," continued 
 the wily Venetian, ** it is very certain that his spirit is so 
 elated at what hath passed between us already, that he 
 will not suffer me to travel, after what you shall have told 
 him, without making a second attempt upon me. This, if 
 he does, he will scarcely happen to escape so well as he 
 did formerly, as I shall take with me two hundred horse and 
 as many thousand foot. The latter I shall place in ambush 
 at Isola della Scala, where, if he comes, he shall find good 
 preparation made for him. Do your commission well and 
 faithfully, and you shall have an hundred golden ducats." 
 
 The worthy spy, whose name was Vincentina, being 
 quite satisfied with such liberality, promptly undertook to 
 execute the trust confided to him. The secretary of Bay- 
 ard does not seem to have appreciated — certainly, he did 
 not relish — the vocation of the spy. " Spies," he remarks, 
 " as the whole world should know, are creatures of avarice 
 alone. If one, therefore, out of six of them escape, surely 
 he hath reason to thank God for his mercies, — seeing that 
 there is but one remedy for the ailing they are cursed 
 with, and that must be the halter." We shall not gain- 
 say this charitable opinion. From Captain Manfrone to 
 Captain Bayard, the flexible Vincentina made his way. 
 Supposed to be devoted wholly to the interests of our cheva- 
 lier, the servants and soldiers readily made way for him. 
 He was brought to Bayard's presence just as the latter 
 was finishing his supper. He was received kindly and 
 
THE SHIP. 193 
 
 with the affable welcome so natural, to our knight. 
 *' What news," said he. " You are not here without some 
 tidings." 
 
 " Good tidings, God be thanked, sir," answered the spy; 
 so, taking him apart fiom all ears but his own, Bayard 
 was circumstantially furnished with all the details of his 
 budget precisely as he had received it fi-om the subtle 
 Captain Manfrone. The judicious Vincentina so garnish- 
 ed his naiTative with other matter, which he thought would 
 be acceptable to our knight, that never hearer was more 
 delighted with his tidings. Ordering an excellent supper 
 and the best of wines for this worthy intelligencer. Bayard 
 proceeded to call his favorite captains into consultation. 
 There was Captain Pierrepont, and La Varenne, and 
 the Bastard Du Fay, and a certain Burgundian captain, 
 whom our knight that evening had at supper — a gi^acious 
 person it would seem, from his name, which was the Lord 
 de Sucre. These heard the intelligence with pleasure, and 
 all agreed to be present at the proposed farewell confer- 
 ence with the excellent Captain Manfrone, as he was about 
 to leave them for Legnano. It required but few words to 
 persuade them to be in readiness before the break of day, 
 each with two hundred gendarms. The Lord of Conti 
 also joined, with pleasure, in the enterprise. All things 
 were working quite smoothly to the end which Captain 
 Manfi'one and his emissary desired ; and, but for the Bm'- 
 gundian captain with the sugary name, the issue might 
 have amply atoned for the previous disappointments and 
 mortification of the Venetian captain. But it so happened 
 that when the spy departed it became necessary for the 
 Lord de Sucre to depart also. His lodgings were at 
 some distance, and it required that he should leave his 
 companions early to be seasonably prepared for the gallop 
 at daybreak. The event turned out most providentially. 
 It was on his return that the Burgundian beheld the spy 
 suddenly emerging from the residence of a Veronese gen- 
 
 R 
 
194 TREACHERY. 
 
 tleman, one Messire Battista Voltiggio, who was known 
 to be well affected to the Venetian interests, and very hos- 
 tile to those of the emperor. " San Marco was written in 
 his heart," says the " Loyal Servant." The Burgundian 
 knew the spy, having noted him while at supper ; and spies 
 are natural objects of suspicion. The times were such as 
 required prompt action when there was reason to doubt 
 the faith of one's follower, and our Lord of Sucre was one 
 of those gentle knights with whom a word and a blow are 
 close and kindred associates. Addressing the spy sternly, 
 and finding him change colo**, he at once took the fellow 
 by the throat, and,^thus encumbered, returned to the place 
 where he had taken supper. Bayard was just about 
 getting into bed, hoping to snatch a little sleep before the 
 time for moving, when his servants gave readmission to his 
 guest. The spy was given into safe keeping, while the 
 Burgundian took his seat in the chamber of our knight, 
 who, in his night-dress, got up to receive him. The two 
 sat over the fire while the visitor told his story. The cir- 
 cumstances were quite enough to awaken his suspicions. 
 The temper of the Veronese gentleman whose house the 
 spy was seen to leave, was one of well-known sympathy 
 for the Venetian cause ; and the conduct of the spy when 
 arrested, betrayed his treachery. As Captain Sucre said, 
 " When I sui-prised him he was marvellously confounded." 
 The fellow was sent for instantly, and subjected to a 
 close examination. Thoroughly confused and terrified by 
 his predicament, he told half a dozen stories in accounting 
 for his visit to the house of Battista Voltiggio. At first he 
 stated that his visit was to see a relation, but this tale 
 he did not long rely upon. He contradicted himself at 
 every sentence ; and, as they could not bring his tongue to 
 proper subordination, it was necessary to seek the truth 
 from other members. A pair of thumbscrews were sent 
 for, and these being put upon him, Bayard thus addressed 
 him — " Declare the truth now, Vincentina, without any re- 
 
THE spy's confessions. 195 
 
 serve or concealment, and, on the faith of a gentleman, no 
 harm shall befall you. No matter what you may reveal — 
 even if you shall have plotted my death — only unfold the 
 truth and I promise you safety. If, on the other hand, I 
 find you in a lie, you shall sw^ing from the battlements by 
 break of day to-morrov7." 
 
 The counsel thus given was conclusive. The excellent 
 spy, thus idly hoping to serve two masters, no longer think- 
 ing of the hundred golden ducats of the one captain, with 
 the iron screws of the other upon his fingers, — finding his 
 secret detected, and his neck in danger — made a clean 
 breast of it, and implored for mercy. He showed the 
 exquisite little scheme of Captain Manfrone — told of the 
 ambush of two thousand men at Isola della Scala — and 
 confessed that his visit to the house of Messire Battista 
 Voltiggio was to engage him in another nice little ari'ange- 
 ment, by which one of the gates of the town was to be 
 hospitably thrown open the very same night to the Prov- 
 veditore, Messire Andrea Gritti, a gentleman who promised 
 to bring with him guests enough to fill all the empty 
 chambers in Verona. The spy made other confessions, 
 which do not concern us. It is due, however, to Voltiggio, 
 for, to say, that the former acquitted him of having become a 
 party to the last mentioned-treachery — the prudent citizen 
 declaring that being in the allegiance of the emperor, he 
 was resolved to continue faithful to his authority. 
 
 The confessions of the spy proved as satisfactory as they 
 were ample. Bayard addressed him in terms of pity and 
 sorrow rather than anger. He had yielded his full faith to 
 the traitor. He was one of a temperament to whom it is 
 pleasant to confide. Every detection of faithlessness, ac- 
 cordingly, in one to whom he had trusted, was a source of 
 pain and disappointment, aside from the immediate con- 
 sequences which might follow upon the footsteps of the 
 treachery. " I have bestowed my money and my confi- 
 dence upon you unprofitably," he said to the miserable 
 
196 COUNTERPLOT. 
 
 wretch before him, — " Within that breast of yours is hid- 
 den a base and wicked heart. Were I now to treat you 
 as you deserve, you should suffer death ; but I spare you 
 as I promised. You shall be kept safely till it is proper 
 that you be dismissed. No evil shall befall you in my 
 hands. But beware, when once you have parted from my 
 sight, how you appear before me again. The moment that 
 you do so you shall surely die." 
 
 Thus exhorted, the spy was taken out of sight, but held in 
 close keeping for the present. His discharge could not be 
 suffered until the interview with Captain Manfrone was 
 over. For this our chevalier began his consultations with 
 the Burgundian instantly. But little time was left them 
 for their preparations. As for avoiding the meeting, and 
 letting the excellent Venetian captain retire to Legnano 
 without any proper military attentions, that, of course, was 
 never thought of by our freux chevalier. " And now, my 
 friend," said he to the Lord of Sucre, " we must match 
 craft with craft, in the case of this Captain Manfrone. If 
 we can accomplish this meeting after the plan which I 
 contemplate we shall perform an exploit as glorious as 
 any that hath taken place these hundred years." Captain 
 Sucre was all attention, and professed his readiness to do 
 as was required of him. 
 
 "Go then," said Bayard, "to the Prince of Anhalt, com- 
 mend me to his grace ; and, after laying the whole affair 
 before him, entreat him, on my part, to let me have two 
 thousand of his lansquenets before the dawn. We will 
 take them along with us, bestow them in secrecy upon the 
 route, and if, by the time the affair is over, you do not say 
 you have seen wonders, lay all the blame of the failure 
 upon me." 
 
 The Burgundian proceeded to rouse the Prince of Anhalt, 
 which he did without scruple. He conveyed the message 
 of Bayard, and obtained, as our knight well knew that 
 he would, a rendy consent to all he asked. Bayard had 
 
BAYARDS AMBUSH. 197 
 
 completely won the affections of this brave German, as, 
 indeed, he was apt to do in the case of all his associates. 
 It must have been a strange and impossible thing that 
 he would have refused to such a solicitor. The prepara- 
 tions were all well in progress before the Lord of Sucre 
 returned to his superior. With the dawn of day the lans- 
 quenets and men-at-arms were in readiness, and the gates 
 silently unclosed, opening the way for them to Isola della 
 Scala. 
 
 "And now," said Bayard to the Burgundian, "do you, 
 with the lansquenets, lie in wait at Servode.'^ 
 
 This was a little village but two miles from the place of 
 Manfrone's ambush. 
 
 " Give yourself no concern about any thing," continued 
 Bayard, "for I will contrive to bring your enemy within 
 your jaws. Only do your duty like gallant fellows, and 
 you will win your brightest honors to-day." 
 
 When they reached Serv-ode, accordingly, Sucre and 
 his lansquenets went into ambush. Bayard then, having 
 properly disposed of them, set forward, accompanied by 
 the Lord of Conti and others, with their men-at-arms, pro- 
 ceeding toward Isola della Scala, as if they had no suspi- 
 cions of the place. 
 
 This town commanded a vast extent of plain, over which 
 the unobstructed vision could take in objects at a consider- 
 able distance on every side. Some light-horse were sent 
 forward to reconnoitre, and an advance of archers under 
 the conduct of the standard-bearer, Du Fay, went after 
 them to skirmish. Bayard proceeded leisurely on the 
 same trail, at the head of the cavalry, which, in those days, 
 was called the hattle. It was not long before the Vene- 
 tians became visible. Their foot was seen to sally out from 
 Della Scala, accompanied by a troop of horse. Bayard, 
 then, to impress his enemy with the notion that he was 
 dismayed, bade his trumpets sound the recall of his advance. 
 Hearing this, Du Fay retired agreeably to his instructions. 
 
 R* 
 
198 THE BATTLE. 
 
 He kept his men closely together, and seeming to make for 
 Verona, yet contrived to incline for the village of Servode, 
 where the lansquenets were in ambush. An archer sped 
 forward to intimate to Sucre to hold himself in readiness. 
 All this seems very simple, rehearsed briefly without detail; 
 but all the perforaiances of the party were distinguished by 
 great good conduct and much wariness. 
 
 Meanwhile, the horse of the Seignory, flanked by their 
 troop of infantry, made quick and frequent charges upon 
 the French, with such clamor, halloo and clatter, that thun- 
 der could scarcely have been heard above it. They were 
 already in high spirits with the conviction that the French 
 could not well escape them. The latter did not fly, but, 
 retiring slowly, continued to skirmish coolly and discreetly, 
 gradually drawing on the Venetians, until, within a bow- 
 shot of Servode, they all at once, to the great consternation 
 of the latter, discovered the lansquenets, who were moving 
 out from their hiding-places in admirable order, precisely 
 as if the enemy had been expected. Then it was that the 
 good knight made his trumpets sound the charge, while he 
 cried aloud — "Gentlemen, it is now that you must fall upon 
 them!" He had timed all things to a niceiy, and the fray 
 commenced with superior terrors. No longer curbing in their 
 steeds, and their own brave spirits, the gens d'arms darted into 
 the faces of their foes, falling upon the Venetians with a fury 
 proportioned to the patience with which they had hitherto 
 forborne. The latter proved themselves good soldiers, which 
 men are not apt to do always, when coming to ensnare they 
 are themselves caught. Their cavalry were at no time 
 able to stand the charge of the men-at-arms of the French; 
 and their foot had been too far beguiled from their place 
 of refuge to render it possible to fly in safety. The only 
 alternative was fight; and to this they addressed them- 
 selves right valiantly. But the cavalry of Captain Manfrone 
 soon sunk under the superior force and dexterity, strength and 
 spirit of the gens d'arms ; and, charged fiercely on all sides by 
 
FATE OP THE SPY. 199 
 
 the lansquenets, the foot were cut to pieces. Caught in 
 the disorder occasioned by pursuit, they were taken at van- 
 tage by fresh men, in greater numbers than their own, who 
 were seldom known to spare. The Germans took no pris- 
 oners unless such as were able to pay ransom. It was in 
 vain that Captain Manfi'one sought, by desperate valor, to 
 retrieve his misfortunes. The tide of battle was against him, 
 not to be withstood ; and it was only when all hope was lost 
 of retrieving the day — when it was sheer desperation to 
 linger — that he wheeled about, and turned his horse's head 
 toward San Bonifacio — a long and dreary ride, particularly 
 in his circumstances. The pursuit was not severely pressed. 
 There was no policy to waste time and incur unnecessary 
 peril, when the day was already won, and the prisoners were 
 numerous. Bayard ordered the trumpets to sound the 
 recall, when each trooper began to look to the captive of 
 his bow and spear. The gain was gi'eat in men, horses 
 and other booty. The loss of the Venetians was very 
 severe. Twenty-five horse and two thousand foot are 
 computed to have been slain. Sixty of the cavalry were 
 made prisoners and taken to Verona. There arrived, Bay- 
 ard ordered the spy, Vincentina, to be brought before him. 
 
 "Go," he said, "you are free ! Say to Captain Man- 
 frone that Captain Bayard will always be ready to meet 
 with him, and trusts to satisfy him yet, that he is not the 
 only Captain who can devise subtly against his enemy." 
 
 The fate of this miserable creature, thus sent back to the 
 friends whom he had so unfortunately and fatally served, 
 was such as those persons are apt always to incur who hope 
 to play a double game with parties engaged in contests of life 
 and death. Dismissed from Verona, the spy had no refuge 
 but San Bonifacio, where, no sooner had he reappeared, 
 than the furious Manfrone set upon him, and, refusing to 
 listen to his story and his prayers, had him strangled 
 instantly and hung. No excuse that he could offer could 
 possibly restore to the infuriate Venetian the self-esteem 
 
200 
 
 and the gallant troop which the wretched creature had 
 most unwittingly caused him to lose. 
 
 Wanting in the smaller details which impart the pic- 
 turesque to such nan'atives, and in which individuals figure 
 always in the foreground with an interest in our minds ac- 
 quired at the expense of the masses, there is necessarily a 
 uniformity in the events, which prevents us from duly ap- 
 preciating the genius of a commander, who, in matters 
 which we do not see, and by efficient orders at a moment 
 when we do not hear, varies, in considerable degi'ee, per- 
 haps, the character of the action. It has been remarked 
 of Bayard, in regard to these successful passages at arais, 
 that, though the events here resemble each other, there are 
 nevertheless some obvious differences between his proceed- 
 ings and those of his opponents, even where they contemplate 
 the same end and the same means, which force upon us the 
 conviction of his superiority, as well in mind as in spirit. 
 Thus, it is shown, that, in the first of the two encounters 
 with Manfrone, the latter comes to the assault with j^ve hun- 
 dred men, while his ambuscade consists of six hundred, 
 Bayard having in all but an hundred and forty. The latter 
 thus boldly comes to an encounter with a foe whose number, 
 even as it is known to him, was nearly four times that of his 
 own. In the second affair, when told that Manfrone is about 
 to go forth with three hundred men, he orders two hundred 
 to put themselves in readiness. Apprised subsequently of 
 the contemplated treachery, and told of the number of foot 
 placed by the Venetian in ambuscade, he contents himself 
 with bringing the exact number into the field against them. 
 There is a real grandeur of soul in this forbearance, such as 
 it was the province of chivalry in its palmy days to inspire. 
 The remarkable fact, in the case of Bayard, was that he 
 had so completely survived that era. Still, the examples of 
 those around him never prompted in him a departure from 
 those laws, which he seems to have imbibed from the bosom 
 of his mother — which he heard in all the lessons of his fire- 
 
HIS FAITH IN GOD AND HIS PEOPLE. 201 
 
 side, and which his whole life continued to illustrate and 
 exemplify, to the last moment of breath and action. His 
 faith was always, after God, in his own and the valor of 
 his followers, and not in any advantages of weapons or 
 numbers. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Thus, in a predatory guerilla warfare, the season for 
 active operations was consumed. The approach of winter, 
 however, did not wholly prevent the incursions of the rival 
 forces. The Venetians, still holding Legnano with a nu- 
 merous gan-ison, were not idle, and the foragers and scout- 
 ing parties from Verona were still kept employed in cir- 
 cumventing the foe, or baffling and escaping him when he 
 showed himself too strong. The opening of the year 1510 
 gave new activity to the French, under stronger impulses 
 of action. The motives which had prompted the confeder- 
 acy, which was the fruit of the league at Cambray, having 
 been in great degree satisfied, the allies naturally fell off 
 from each other. The rapid successes of the French in 
 their Venetian invasion, in which they had done their work 
 without waiting for their more tardy confederates, had 
 alarmed the jealousy of their rivals ; and the Pope, sudden- 
 ly made to apprehend that Louis might acquire a prepon- 
 derating influence in the affairs of Italy, was ready to be 
 reconciled to the Venetians. The destruction of the repub- 
 lic of Venice would have given to the French monarch the 
 sovereignty of all the northern parts of that country, from the 
 gulf of Genoa to that of Venice. Induced by these consid- 
 erations, Julius released the republic from his spiritual cen- 
 sures, and, satisfied with the submission of its authorities, 
 received it once more into his favor. As this reconciliation 
 was an event which could not long be concealed from the 
 public knowledge, he lost no time in strengthening himself 
 against the resentment of France, by forming alliances with 
 its old confederates. Maximilian was won to his wishes by 
 
STORMING OF LEGNANO. 203 
 
 a timely application of money ; an insurrection was excited 
 in Genoa ; and Ferdinand of Spain, having realized from 
 the league all that he desired or expected, was now not un- 
 willing to co-operate against the powerful associate of whom 
 he was always emulous and suspicious. The natural hos- 
 tility prevaiUng between the French and English nations 
 prompted his Holiness to make an attempt on the monarch 
 of the latter people ; and, in order to persuade Henry VIH. 
 to a descent upon the coast of France, the Pope sent him 
 the consecrated rose dipped in chrism and perfumed with 
 musk. Fifteen thousand Swiss mercenaries were engaged 
 in this service ; and the Venetians, having gi-eatly increased 
 their armies by foreign subsidies, not excluding the Turks 
 fi'om participating against Christians under the banner of the 
 Cross, the Holy Father flattered himself that he was fully 
 prepared to encounter the French king at his own weapons. 
 Before, however, these developments were made, and 
 while the terms of the league of Cambray were ostensibly 
 kept by all the parties, the celebrated Gaston de Foix 
 assumed the command of the troops of France in Italy. 
 He brought with him the ancient tutor and old friend of 
 our good knight, Captain Louis d'Ars. The two were 
 mutually delighted at the meeting. Bayard was a favorite 
 and friend of Gaston de Foix, whose own brilliant genius 
 and ardent youth made him naturally desirous of the aifec- 
 tions of a knight who, like Bayard, was a model of such 
 perfect chivalry. The reinforcement of troops enabled the 
 French to lay siege to that town of Legnano, from the in- 
 cursions of whose wan-iors they had suffered so long. The 
 place was taken after a brave defence, and the garrison, 
 according to the terrible custom of the time, were ruth- 
 lessly put to the sword. These cruel massacres — supposed, 
 in our days, to be only tolerated in the event of storm, 
 occasioned by a wanton and hopeless defence, and not to 
 be justified or approved under any circumstances — were 
 not confined to the actual operations of the war. A hor- 
 
204 GROTTO OF LONGARA. 
 
 rible occurrence, about this period and in this region, took 
 place near a great village called Longara, by which the 
 terrible temper of the age and of the conflicting parties may- 
 well be illustrated. It appears that the people of this vil- 
 lage, to the number of two thousand of all sexes ; fearing 
 the proximity of the contending troops, had taken refuge 
 in an extensive cave at the foot of the mountains. This 
 they had stored with abundance of provisions, and had pro- 
 vided themselves with a few guns and sufficient ammunition 
 for defence. The place was easily maintainable, since 
 the mouth or gorge of it was so narrow, that two persons 
 could not assail the entrance of it at the same moment. 
 It so happened that this place of retreat was discovered 
 by that class of banditti which hangs about the skirts 
 of an army, as the jackall haunts the footsteps of the lion, 
 seeking for the prey which bolder hands have struck. 
 These wretches, apprised of the spoil within the cavern, 
 made an effort to enter. The inmates mildly besought them 
 to depart. But they were not to be put off by entreaties ; 
 and the very gentleness of those who expostulated with 
 them served only to increase their audacity. Seeking to 
 penetrate the cave with violence, they were met by such a 
 resistance as slew two of their number, and drove the rest 
 away, seeking assistance from their comrades. These, 
 when they came, seeing at once how impracticable was the 
 attempt to enter by force, were yet unwilling to forego 
 their revenge and prey. Rendered ingenious by evil, they 
 conceived the horrible idea of suffocating the inmates of the 
 grotto. They closed the aperture with sti'aw and fuel, 
 and, setting these on fire, filled the chamber with a smoke 
 so dense as to stifle all its inmates. Their ends were gained. 
 Those who first entered the cavern, found the unhappy vic- 
 tims lying, disposed shigly, or in groups about the apartment, 
 seeming as if they slept, but all lifeless. One person only, 
 a lad fifteen years of age, came forth alive. He had crept 
 to the remotest part of the grotto, where he found a small 
 
TH!e CROAT CHIEFTAIN. 205 
 
 cleft of the mountain, from which he drew the pure air 
 from without. This lad stated that, finding their danger, 
 the inmates would have issued from the cave, but that 
 the peasantry, wath their triple-forked spears, assailed them 
 at the entrance, and drove them back to perish. This mon- 
 strous crime, thus consummated in cold blood, without any 
 of the excitements of war, or provocation of battle, produced 
 a terrible sensation. Bayard was the first upon the spot 
 after the event was known, and devoted himself to the dis- 
 covery of the criminals. The task was not so easy among 
 those upon whose silence alone depended their safety. But 
 two wretches were convicted, and these were hung at the 
 entrance of the cavern where the crime had taken place. 
 Bayard himself superintended the execution. It was with 
 a feeling of relief that he left a place so distinguished by its 
 hoiTors. 
 
 From this neighborhood, the army moved upon Mon- 
 selice, which the Venetians had captured and fortified 
 with a garrison of twelve hundred men. While on the 
 road to this place, the skirmishers of the army were en- 
 gaged by a body of Croats, in the Venetian service, who 
 were either slain or captured. Among the latter, the Lord 
 Mercure recognized in the captain his own cousin-german, 
 by whom he had been dispossessed of his inheritance in 
 Alsatia, and who was the greatest enemy that he had in the 
 world. The captor reminded him of all the evil he had 
 suffered at his hands, and asked what should now prevent 
 him from avenging his injuries. The other answered that 
 he had been taken in open warfare, and should be admitted 
 to ransom. He concluded by proposing, for his freedom, 
 six thousand ducats and six Turkish horses. *' Of that here- 
 after," said Lord Mercure; "but what should have been my 
 fate had I been your captive." " Then," answered the fierce 
 barbarian, "not all the gold in the world should have saved 
 you. I should have had you hewn in pieces without a par- 
 ley." " You have doomed yourself," was the steni an- 
 
206 TAKING OF MONSELICE. 
 
 swer ; and at a word, in their own language, the Albanians 
 fell upon their prisoners with their cimeters. Not a man 
 was spared, and there was not a victim upon whose uncon- 
 scious carcass the keen weapon did not expend unnecessary- 
 blows. Their heads hewn off, were stuck upon poles ; an- 
 other trophy of that barbarous warfare. Our chronicler tells 
 that the head-tire of these Croats resembled the hood of a 
 damsel, and mentions that the part which covered the skull 
 was lined with five or six pieces of paper, glued together, 
 upon which it was found that the edge of the sword could 
 make no more impression than upon a cap of steel. These 
 little anecdotes, unnecessary to our biography, are yet need- 
 ful to afford a fair notion of the manners, the modes, and the 
 conditions of warfare in that wild and savage period. 
 
 The siege of Monselice followed. The works had been 
 so much strengthened as to endure a battery of several 
 days, and might not then have been taken, but for the 
 courage and adventurous spirit of the defenders. They 
 made frequent sallies, skirmishing with the French within 
 a stone's throw of the fort. On one of these occasions the 
 Baron of Montfaucon, with Captain Molart's troop, went 
 unpreparedly to skirmish under the walls. A strong 
 body of the inmates issuing forth, gave them something 
 of a drubbing. The French fled ; — the Venetians some- 
 what too eagerly and too far pursued. The fugitives 
 meeting probably with succors, finally turned upon their 
 pursuers, and succeeded, so hot was the chase, in entering 
 the gates of the tovni along with the Venetians. They 
 opened the way to their comrades. The ganison, driven 
 from the walls, found shelter in the citadel. This was 
 set on fire, and the defenders who did not perish in the 
 flames, met only a milder form of death on the pikes of 
 the besiegers. The place was garrisoned and repaired, 
 and the army was about to move once more upon Padua, 
 when news reached its captains of the defection of the 
 Pope, and of his designs upon the Duke of Feirara, who 
 
War with the pope. 207 
 
 had shown himself a more faithful ally of France than the 
 Holy Father. 
 
 This was intelligence of a serious character. Such was 
 the superstition of the time, that, while no one thought it at 
 all surprising or improper that the Pope, as a temporal 
 sovereign, should make war upon his neighbors, it was yet 
 held something of an assault upon the Church itself to 
 make war upon him. The French nobles and captains 
 entertained feelings of this sort, and listened to the com- 
 mands of the king with some reluctance. The king him- 
 self was not without his fears and scruples. It was re- 
 served for the Commons of France, showing themselves 
 superior to the aristocracy, to declare that the war should 
 be urged, and that if the Pope was not unwilling to use 
 the sword he should be made to feel it also. It was in 
 consequence of this decision of his people that Louis ven- 
 tured to direct his generals to sustain his faithful ally the 
 Duke of Ferrara, against his treacherous ally, the Pope. 
 The grand-master, Chaumont, led a considerable force to 
 Ferrara, having with him, among other famous captains, 
 the good knight Bayard. A body of four thousand mer- 
 cenaries — Swiss — formed a part of this force. They were 
 received with joy by the duke and duchess, who had 
 reason to apprehend equally from the energy and ambition 
 of the Pope. The latter, meanwhile, pretending that Fer- 
 rara was a part of his tenritonal right, declared his pur- 
 poseto regain it. Proceeding to the Bolognese in person, 
 the better to urge his preparations, he took with him his 
 cardinals and chief persons, and established his court at 
 the town of Santo Felice, a large village lying between 
 Concordia and Mirandola. The Duke of Ferrara, mean- 
 while, and the French with him, had taken up their quar- 
 ters some twelve miles fi'om Fen-ara, between two branch- 
 es of the Po, in a place named L'Ospitalletto. Here a 
 bridge of boats was built, and well guarded, — the skir- 
 mishes between the opposing troops now becoming fre- 
 
208 COUNTESS OP MIRANDOLA. 
 
 quent, and this bridge being essential to the ready ti'ans- 
 mission of parties for reinforcement or assault. On reach- 
 ing Santo Felice, Julius sent to the Countess of Mirandola, 
 — a widow, who was a natural daughter of the Lord Jean 
 Jacques de Trivulzio, — to demand that she would sur- 
 render Mirandola to his keeping, as it was necessary to 
 him in his design upon Ferrara. But the brave lady, who 
 was quite as much devoted to the interests of the French 
 as was her father, answered this demand by saying that 
 the town was her own, which on no terms would she yield 
 to his Holiness. With God's aid, she was resolved to hold 
 it fast against all those who should seek to take it from 
 her. The Pope was an angry man at this answer, and not 
 satisfied to swear by St. Peter, he swore by St. Paul also, 
 that, whether by fair means or foul, Mirandola should be 
 his. The very next day he ordered the Duke of Urbino, 
 captain-general of his army, to lay siege to it. This event 
 had been anticipated, and Count Alexander de Trivulzio, 
 a cousin of the countess, who had joined with her in her 
 answer to the Pope's demand, promptly sent for aid to 
 the French captain at L'Ospitalletto. The request was im- 
 mediately complied wdtli, and two cannoneers and an hun- 
 dred good soldiers were instantly sent forward under the 
 conduct of two young gentlemen, one from Dauphiny, 
 named Montchenu, a nephew of the Lord of Montoison, 
 the other, Chantemerle, a native of the county of Beausse, 
 and nephew of the Lord de la Lude. These seem to have 
 been under the training of our chevalier, for, at parting, he 
 gave them counsel in the following language, — such coun- 
 sel as he had heard from his superiors when first setting 
 forth upon adventures : — 
 
 " My sons, you are about to enter into the service of the 
 ladies. You must now approve yourselves gallant com- 
 rades, if you would win their favor. Their applause is 
 reputation. The town to which you go is a strong and 
 good one. ff besieged, you should acquire renown in your 
 
UAYARD SCHEMES TO TAKE THE POPE. 209 
 
 defence of it." He said much more by way, not only of 
 encouraging them, but in order that they might address 
 their eyes and aims to the very noblest objects of ambition. 
 He himself, with a small escort, accompanied them to Mi- 
 randola, where he left them to the entertainment of the 
 countess, of whom they had no reason to complain. In 
 three days after their arrival the siege was begun, the artil- 
 lery playing upon the walls with great vehemence. This, 
 however, produced but little misgivings within the town. 
 Bayard fixed his eyes upon this leaguer, having his own 
 objects. As he never grudged money to obtain informa- 
 tion, he never wanted spies and other emissaries of this 
 sort. He kept them busy in watching the progress and 
 doings of the Pope himself, quite as much as those of the 
 besiegers. His heart was set upon capturing his Holiness, 
 without any disparagement of the claims of St. Peter. 
 This purpose seems rather to conflict with what is said by 
 some of the historians* in regard to his supposed reluctance 
 to engage in this warfare. He had no such reverence for 
 the head of the Church. It is difficult to conceive, if such re- 
 luctance really had been felt as has been asserted in his case, 
 that we should find him scheming, out of the exact line of his 
 duty, to make a personal assault upon the holy father him- 
 self. Yet so it was. When told by one of his spies of the 
 intention of Julius, who was still at Santo Felice, to set 
 forth in a day or two for the trenches before Mirandola, he 
 increased his watches upon that sacred person, and counsel- 
 led his spies to assure themselves, certainly, when he would 
 depart on this journey. This point ascertained, our devout 
 chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche, laid his plans for taking 
 into his pious keeping the Pope of Rome and all his car- 
 dinals. He communicated his sheme to the Duke of Fer- 
 rara and the Lord of Montoisin. " Gentlemen," said he, 
 " I am advised that the Pope will leave Santo Felice to- 
 morrow morning for Mirandola. These two places are six 
 ■* See the suggestion in the History of France, by Crowe, Vol. i., p. 147. 
 
210 THE AMBUSH. 
 
 good miles asunder. I have conceived a project which, if 
 successful, M^ill be apt to be remembered for an hundred 
 years to come. A couple of miles from Santo Felice there 
 are two or three fine palaces which are now abandoned. 
 It appears to me that if I should go to-night and place my- 
 self in watch in one of these palaces, taking with me a 
 hundred gendarms, but attended by neither page nor groom, 
 I shall have an opportunity of laying hold on his Holiness 
 to-morrow. He will be accompanied, I am told, by his 
 cardinals, bishops and prothonotaries, and guarded only by 
 an hundred horse. If this be the case,. I can not fail to 
 have him. The alarm can not reach his camp ere I have 
 made my escape, as it is fully ten miles from that place to 
 this. Even supposing n>e to be pursued, it will be easy 
 for us to guard against mishap, since you, my lord duke, 
 and you, my Lord de Montoisin, have only to pass the bridge 
 in the morning, with the rest of the horse, and wait for me 
 four or five miles on the road." 
 
 The proposal met with the full approbation of the per- 
 sons he addressed, and nothing remained but to put in 
 practice the measures resolved upon. That night, after 
 having seen his horse well fed, and taken all precautions, 
 Bayard set forth with an hundred gens d'arms, such as he 
 well knew would stand valiantly the shock of battle. He 
 was fortunate to encounter no person upon his route ; and 
 he proceeded, as aiTanged, to ensconce himself snugly, an 
 hour before day, in one of the fine palaces along the r^ad 
 which Julius was to pursue. This prince was an early 
 riser, and was in his litter with the dawn. The prothonota- 
 ries, clerks and officers set forth in advance, in order to 
 prepare lodgings for his Holiness This was a precaution 
 which had not been anticipated, and which might, even 
 without the occurrence of any other event, have tended to 
 defeat the ambush of our knight. With the appearance of 
 these people under his walls. Bayard gave the signal, and 
 the men-at-arms darted forth upon their prey. These were 
 
THE pope's narrow ESCAPE. 211 
 
 conquered, captured, dispersed in an instant, some of them 
 nishing back with lamentable outcry to give the alarm. 
 But even this misadventure would not have availed for the 
 escape of the prey, had it not been for a more decided in- 
 terposition of Providence. At the very moment when the 
 Pope had ascended his litter, and before he had left Santo 
 Felice a stone's throw, there fell such a sudden and violent 
 stoi-m of snow as to blind the party and drive them back. 
 The travellers could no longer behold each other. The Car- 
 dinal of Pavia, by whom the movements of Julius were very 
 much governed, ,then said to him — " Holy Father, it is im- 
 possible to go forward while this storm continues. There is 
 no necessity for it, and we should return without proceeding 
 farther." Little dreaming of the fortunate escape which 
 he made by this decision, the Pope assented to the advice. 
 The litter was wheeled about, and well was it for him that 
 his progiess had been so little forward. Bayard, not find- 
 ing his prey among the fugitives he had dispersed, dash- 
 ed them aside ; unfortunately, without stopping to secure his 
 prisoners. Making his way at full speed, he urged the 
 chase almost to the entrance of Santo Felice. He was 
 furious at being baffled in his scheme and defi'auded of his 
 object ; and, such was his impetuosity, that a moment more 
 would have given him the prize he aimed at. Just as he 
 reached Santo Felice, the Pope heard the alarm and out- 
 cry. He was about to enter the gate of the castle. So 
 great was his terror, that he leapt from his litter without 
 assistance, and, with his own hands, helped to raise the 
 bridge which at length separated him from his audacious 
 pursuer. " This was wisely done," says the old biographer, 
 "for, had he only lingered while one should murmur id^ pater 
 noster, he had surely been snapped up." 
 
 The disappointment of our knight was very gi'eat, though, 
 certainly, there was nothing, either in respect to commis- 
 sion or omission, which should subject him to blame. The 
 plot was a good plot — a very excellent plot — and nobody 
 
212 BAYARDS CHAGRIN. 
 
 could have calculated on such a fall of snow, just at the 
 precious moment, as had not fallen for a hundred years. 
 Bayard chafed in his disappointment beneath the walls of 
 the castle which had given shelter to his prey. It was not 
 a place of strength, and with a single piece of artillery it 
 might have been captured in half an hour. But his lancers 
 might have driven at the battlements until they wore away 
 with rust, without displacing a single stone. It became 
 necessary that he should see to his own safely and limit his 
 meditations upon the strength of Santo Felice. They were 
 but six miles from the Pope's camp at Mirandola, a strong 
 force from which, apprised of his whereabouts, might give 
 him a disgraceful discomfiture. With a few prisoners, all 
 men of God — bishops and such pacific sort of people — and 
 many baggage-mules, and, we may suppose much baggage, 
 the gendarms were put in motion for L'Ospitaletto. On 
 the way, they encountered the Duke of Ferrara and the 
 Lord de Montoisin, but they could not console our hero for 
 his disappointment. It did not satisfy him, the assurance 
 that no partisan was expected to regulate the snow-storms. 
 It was not his reputation but his ill-foitune that he 
 deplored. The Pope in his clutches, the war had been 
 finished at a stroke — so much ruin and devastation avoided, 
 so much blood spared, so many noble lives saved. The 
 prisoners were dismissed, on payment of a small ransom — 
 the mules having no. preference for either service, conclud- 
 ed to remain with the French. Our old chronicler chuckles 
 at the great fright which our good chevalier gave to the 
 Holy Father. He sees him, crouching close in the castle 
 of Santo Felice all that day, shaking as if an ague fit were 
 on him ; nor would he again venture forth until his nephew, 
 the Duke d'Urbino, had come to him with an escort of 
 several hundred horse. Then it was that he appeared be- 
 fore Mirandola, where the siege was conducted under his 
 eye with the greatest perseverance. The snow-storms 
 which had begun to work their mischances with knight 
 
CAPTURE OF MIRANDOLA. 213 
 
 Bayard, did not withhold their evil influences from the 
 noble lady who held the garrison. They prevailed to the 
 overthrow of her defences. For six days and nights the 
 snow, falling without intermission, covered the country to a 
 depth of six feet. A hard frost succeeding, paved the 
 ditches and moats around the town so as to make them 
 passable for the enemy. Two wide breaches had been 
 made by their artillery, and the* situation of the Duke of 
 Ferrara and his French allies was such as to preclude them 
 from affording any relief. In this condition the countess 
 was forced to capitulate. The imperious Julius refus- 
 ing to enter through the gateway, marched through the 
 breaches, made by his cannon, into the place which he had 
 captured. 
 
 The effect of this success was to produce some alarm in 
 the camp of the Duke of FeiTara. His forces, being une- 
 qual to those of his opponent, gave him reason to fear that 
 he himself might be besieged in turn. He destroyed the 
 bridge which he had made, cutting off, as well as he might, 
 all the approaches ; and, retiring within the town, determ- 
 ined to maintain it to the last. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 It is due to the old associates of Bayard that we should 
 occasionally look aside from his particular fortunes, in or- 
 der that theirs should not be entirely forgotten ; and a dis- 
 tinguished man lives so much in the career and conduct of 
 his comrades, that these constitute a necessary study for the 
 better appreciation of his merits. He has helped to form 
 and mould their characters, and, in this manner, must meas- 
 urably develope his own. Besides, in a work like ours, it is 
 properly pennitted that, in order to the attainment of a just 
 idea of the moral and social atmosphere in which the hero 
 strives, we must look at the progress of other and rival per- 
 sons under the same influences. We must see how far, 
 with the same means to operate with, and the same agen- 
 cies at work upon them, they approach, in their perform- 
 ances, those from which his distinction has been derived. 
 These motives will cany us back for awhile to the town of 
 Legnano, which we have seen yielded by the Venetians, 
 after a severe and protracted struggle, to their enemies. 
 The place, when taken, was strengthened in its defences 
 and well ganisoned, and was placed in the keeping of one 
 whom we have seen frequently fighting gallantly at the side 
 of our chevalier and under his direction. This was the gal- 
 lant Captain La Crote. La Crote was prudent as well as 
 brave; he had properly learned the lessons of his master; 
 and, being enjoined to keep Legnano safely, and to peril 
 nothing of his charge upon doubtful ventures, he was not 
 to be beguiled fi'om his garrison by the frequent provoca- 
 tions of the Venetians, who, emboldened by his forbear- 
 ance, made their incursions up to his very gates. But 
 
SIR GU YON DE CANTIERS. 215 
 
 La Crote, after awhile, fell grievously ill, so that his life 
 was despaired of, and the active control of the place M^as 
 temporarily confided to less prudent hands. Surrounded 
 by young people and volunteers, who were eager for ad- 
 venture and ambitious of renown, it was no easy matter to 
 restrain them from frequent rashness. There was one 
 young knight in particular, one Guyon de Cantiers, who 
 was passing valiant, but of far less conduct than courage. 
 This Sir Guyon had, among other spies in different quar- 
 ters, one in the Venetian town of Montagnana, a place about 
 twelve or fifteen miles distant from Legnano. This spy, 
 visiting his employer frequently, was liberal always in the 
 news he brought. According to his accounts there were 
 opportunities continually offering for snapping up bodies of 
 the Venetians, small and large, wdth the provveditore, Mes- 
 sire Andrea Gritti, at their head. One scheme, in particu- 
 lar, was greatly insisted on, by which, if Sir Guyon and his 
 companions would establish an ambush at a certain place 
 near the town of Montagnana, the provveditore, who fre- 
 quently came there with two or three hundred light-horse, 
 might be pounced upon and taken by a gallant company, 
 without danger of defeat or disappointment. The town, 
 it was shown by the same grateful oracle, might be captur- 
 ed afterward, on like easy conditions. 
 
 Sir Guyon was greatly inflamed with the idea of this ad- 
 venture, and dismissed the spy with the assurance that the 
 next visit of the provveditore to Montagnana would surely 
 find him in the designated place of harborage. Upon the 
 spy, however, it depended to say when the provveditore was 
 to be looked for. This emissary, in the pay of both parties, 
 disclosed his secret to the Venetians, by whom it was eager- 
 ly entertained. Messire Andrea Gritti accordingly prepar- 
 ed himself for our eager Frenchman, placing in ambush a 
 couple of hundred horse and a thousand foot, and taking 
 with himself, on his next visit to Montagnana, a large force 
 of horse and foot to the number of two thousand more. 
 
216 THE AMBUSH FOR SIR GUYON. 
 
 His ambush was instructed to suffer the advance of the 
 French, but to oppose their return. Meanwhile, our spy 
 returned to Sir Guyon, and reported progress. According 
 to his account, the provveditore had with him but a couple 
 of hundred horse. Sir Guyon, highly charmed with the 
 prospect before him, sought out a comrade named Malherbe, 
 and engaged him in the affair. But it was necessary to 
 gain permission from Captain La Crete for the incursion. 
 They gave him all the details, but he listened with misgiv- 
 ings. " Gentlemen," said he, " you know that my life and 
 honor are pledged to keep Legnano safely. Your adven- 
 ture is full of peril. Should it prove unfortunate, I were a 
 lost man — disgraced forever, and doomed to wear out the 
 rest of my days in neglect and melancholy. I cannot suffer 
 you to undertake this venture." But they would take no 
 denial. They knew their ground, they were sure of their 
 emissary, and, in the infirm health of La Crete, who was 
 still an invalid, they succeeded finally in wresting from him, 
 almost by force, the desired permission. Two hours after 
 midnight they left Legnano, under the conduct of the treach- 
 erous spy; Malherbe leading a small troop of gendafms, fifty 
 in number, while Sir Guyon conducted a larger body of 
 three hundred foot. " Ceites," says the favorite chronicler, 
 "there quitted Legnano, on that day, the very flower of its 
 chivalry — the hardiest of its veterans, and the most prom- 
 ising of its youth." They passed the first ambuscade which 
 the provveditore had set near a little village, but were suffer- 
 ed to pass without any alann or annoyance. When with- 
 in a short mile of Montagnana, their guide said to them 
 . . . . " Now, gentlemen, suffer me to go and see what is do- 
 ing in the town. Do you remain here — stand close, and 
 watch well and patiently till I can bring you tidings." 
 '* Better," says the " Loyal Servant," in his indignation, ** bet- 
 ter had they cut off his head than suffered his departure." 
 He proceeded instantly to the provveditore and informed 
 him that he had brought the fish into his net. " Unless it 
 
THE COMBAT, 217 
 
 be your pleasure," said he, " not one can escape, for they 
 have already passed your ambuscade." The Venetian cap- 
 tain was instantly on horseback. His men, both horse and 
 foot, an overwhelming force, issued promptly from the town, 
 though stealthily ; an hundred men being sent forward to 
 skirmish, and to draw the Frenchmen more completely into 
 their folds. The latter rushed gayly to the encounter, 
 never dreaming of other customers. At the first charge 
 the Venetians retreated, and the French pushing on, soon 
 found themselves in the presence of a multitude. " We 
 are betrayed," said the bold Sir Guyon ; " but must not 
 be daunted ; we can still escape." The flight was conduct- 
 ed properly, and with skill and spirit. If the rashness of 
 youth had involved them in ruin, the young knights were 
 prepared to encounter it with the hardihood and defiance 
 of approved soldiers. The foot were sent forward, while 
 the slender troop of gendarms sustained the brunt of the 
 assault. This was urged fiercely ; but so well did the cav- 
 aliers ply their weapons, that the loss was inconsiderable 
 until they reached the village where the ambuscade had 
 been planted. Then it was that, at the trumpet's signal, 
 the Venetians sallied forth like a swarm of wolves, and 
 throwing themselves across the route to Legnano, the 
 French found themselves enclosed between two armies, 
 each of which was four times their own strength. No 
 quarter was asked or given. The cry of the Venetians was 
 to smite and slay, and in gnm and desperate silence our 
 little troop of young adventurers stood foot to foot against 
 the foe, fi'om whom they had nothing to expect but death. 
 "Never!" exclaims our ancient biographer, "never, since 
 God created heaven and earth, was there better fisfhtingf 
 for one day, according to the number of combatants en- 
 gaged. For four hours did the murderous conflict continue, 
 the French retreating, but still fighting; still falling, but still 
 unconquered. In this desperate struggle they had made their 
 way till within four miles from Legnano. Then it was that 
 
 T 
 
218 STKATAGEM OF THE VENETIANS. 
 
 the provveditore, by mounting certain crossbow-men on 
 horses, succeeded in breaking the perfect and compact ar- 
 ray of the foot. Most of the gendarms were now in this 
 body, their horses having been killed under them. The un- 
 fortunate Sir Guyon, finding that all was lost, rushed like a 
 chafed lion into the ranks of the Venetian infantry, and, after 
 several wonderful instances of valor, killing five or six of the 
 enemy with his own hand, he paid the penalty of his indis- 
 cretion, and atoned in some degree for his lamentable error 
 by a glorious death. He was overpowered and slain, with 
 every man of his three hundred. Malherbe and five-and- 
 twenty of his comrades, were all that survived the carnage, 
 and these were taken prisoners. 
 
 The complete destruction of the party (not one having 
 escaped to convey the intelligence to the garrison at Leg- 
 nano) suggested to the provveditore a scheme for getting 
 possession of that town. Causing the French soldiers, 
 horse and foot, to be stripped of their clothes and aiTnor, 
 he arrayed an equal number of his own people in their 
 habits. To these he delivered some hundred or hundred 
 and twenty others of his people, but in their Venetian cos- 
 tume. These were to be led along among them as prisonei*s. 
 His instructions to this party were, that they should go to 
 Legnano, and, when sufficiently near, should set up cries 
 of " France and Victory." The gates once thrown open, 
 as to their own people, they were .to rush into the town, sure 
 of being followed by the whole force of Messire Andrea 
 Gritti, who was to conceal himself, with his squadrons, 
 within bow-shot of the walls. 
 
 The scheme was well conceived, and nothing was omitted 
 which could add to its plausibility. The French ensigns 
 were to float above their heads. The Venetian were to 
 be seen trailing in the dust beneath their feet. Even cer- 
 tain falcons, with which it appears that some of the young 
 French gallants had set forth on their fatal adventure, were 
 carefully presei-ved and conspicuously carried along with 
 
BERNARD DE VILLAR3. 219 
 
 them. The directions of the provveditore were carried out 
 probably with quite as much spirit as they well could be. 
 With clamors of victory, and every show of joy and exul- 
 tation, the seeming Frenchmen made their way to Leg- 
 nano, and approached within bow-shot, sounding trumpets 
 and clarions. It happened, however, fortunately for the 
 garrison, that the Lord of La Crote had with him one of 
 those shrewd, sagacious persons, who, with rare instincts, 
 perceive a deception at a glance. Such persons are to be 
 found in all armies where there are many veterans. In this 
 case, the sagacious individual was a lieutenant, one Ber- 
 nard de Villars, an old knight, whose life had been one of 
 continued military service. Ascending the tower of the 
 gateway as these exulting Frenchmen appeared in sight, 
 he was struck by the very excess of their rejoicing. This 
 led to a closer scrutiny; and he said to one near him, " De- 
 scend and cause the draw-bridge to be lowered and then 
 drawn up again. These are indeed the horses and accou- 
 trements of our people, but it does not seem to me that the 
 men ride after our fashion. Unless I am very much mis- 
 taken, these are none of ours. Ill luck may have befallen 
 our party. My heart misgives me. If these be our people, 
 they can wait. We shall find that out easily enough when 
 they draw nigh. If they be enemies, betake yourselves to 
 the barricade. I have here two pieces loaded, with which 
 I shall help you if necessary." 
 
 Meanwhile, the disguised Venetians dashed forward, sup- 
 posing the draw-bridge to have been lowered, and not con- 
 jecturing that it had been again drawn up. The man at 
 the bridge having called to them as they approached, with- 
 out receiving any answer, had retreated in safety to the 
 banicades ; and their true character becoming apparent to 
 our veteran, Bernard de Villars, he gave them, as they ap- 
 proached, a blast from his artillery, which stopped them 
 short in their career. Not succeeding by surprise, all farther 
 attempts upon the town were abandoned as hopeless, and the 
 
220 LA BASTIA. 
 
 Venetians retired, satisfied with the spoil and glory which 
 they had won. This event had nearly been fatal to the noble 
 captain of the garrison, who bitterly reproached himself 
 with having yielded, against his better judgment, to the 
 solicitations of his inexperienced and unfortunate young 
 men. He had nearly died of giief under his own sense of 
 error and the extreme displeasure of his king, who was 
 appeased with difficulty. It is very certain that Bayard, 
 with all his eagerness for adventure, would never have al- 
 lowed himself to be persuaded by his captains against his 
 better judgment. To him, after this digression, let us again 
 return. 
 
 The Pope, after the taking of Mirandola, held a council 
 of war, to whom he submitted his views in regard to the 
 siege of Ferrara, which he was anxious to undertake with- 
 out loss of time. While all his counsellors concurred in the 
 propriety of reducing Ferrara, they necessarily differed as 
 to the proper modes of operation. Ferrara, very strong in 
 itself, was well provided with troops. Unless its supphes 
 could be arrested, it would cost many lives before it could, 
 be taken. Having the means in his power for cutting off 
 the supplies by the Po, the Pope fancied he should deprive 
 them of all provisions from above the beleaguered city; 
 while, from below, the vigilance of the Venetians would be 
 equally certain to straighten them in that quarter. To this 
 a Venetian captain, named Giovanni Forte, answered that 
 even this would be inadequate to effect their object. He 
 showed them that the territory under the control of the 
 Duke of Ferrara was itself abundantly productive for the 
 necessities of the garrison, and that provisions could reach 
 him by Argento. " On the other side," said he, " there is 
 a tract of country called II Polesino di Sto Giorgio, which 
 is so rich, that, even if FeiTara derived nothing from any 
 other quarter, this would be amply able to furnish the town 
 for a yea»r. To arrest these supplies, it is first necessary 
 that you should capture the place called La Bastia, about 
 
bayard's counsel. 221 
 
 twenty-five miles from Ferrara. Were that in our power, 
 the fall of Ferrara would be very certain in the space of 
 two months." 
 
 His advice was taken, and the impatient Julius instantly 
 ordered to the attempt the Venetian by whom the suggestion 
 was made and a couple of experienced Spanish captains. 
 To these were assigned a force, consisting of two hundred 
 gens d'arms, five hundred light-horse, and five or six thou- 
 sand foot, the latter provided with six pieces of heavy artil- 
 lery. La Bastia was feebly garrisoned, and the officer in 
 command was terrified — as well he might be — at the pow- 
 erful force sent against him. At the first sign of danger, he 
 despatched a trusty soldier to convey the tidings to FeiTara. 
 Bayard was the first to encounter this messenger, and to 
 ask his business. When told that La Bastia could not hold 
 out a day unless succored, he conducted him at once to the 
 duke. The fort, which was a strong one, had but twenty- 
 five soldiers in garrison — a force not to be spoken of in re- 
 gard to their availableness against such an army as that 
 which Julius had assiofned for the sie^e. The tidings drove 
 
 o o o 
 
 the blood from the cheeks of the duke. "If I lose La 
 Bastia," said he, " I may as well abandon FeiTara. The 
 place is twenty-five miles off, and must be relieved before 
 to-moiTow. To gain the place, it is necessary, at this time, 
 that the troops should pursue a difficult road, so narrow 
 and intricate, that, for the space of half a mile, the men 
 must march singly, one by one. There is one pass in 
 which twenty men might hinder the progress of as many 
 thousand. Of this, however, I believe our enemies know 
 nothing." 
 
 Bayard, seeing the duke so much dismayed by the im- 
 pending necessity, which was certainly an extreme one, 
 presumed to interfere. *' My lord," said he, " we may 
 leave a trifling matter to the hands of chance, but in an 
 affair so vital as this, we should strain every nerve to en- 
 counter the danger. Our enemies are besieging La Bastia. 
 
222 IT IS ADOPTED. 
 
 They deem themselves in perfect security, because, the 
 large army of the Pope being here, they fancy we dare 
 not quit Ferrara to raise the siege. Now, my lord, 
 I have thought of a thing which may be easily executed, 
 and unless fortune prove very adverse, must result in the 
 safety of La Bastia, and our own great honor. You have 
 in this town some four or five thousand foot, very brave 
 fellows, and admirably versed in all the arts of war. Let 
 us take two thousand of them, with the eight hundred 
 Swiss of Captain Zemberg, and pass them over night in 
 boats upon the water. We are still masters of the Po as 
 far as Argento. These forces will wait for us at the 
 passage of which you have spoken. If they arrive first 
 they will take Argento ; and the horse that are here will 
 travel all night by land. With good guides, we can reach 
 La Bastia by break of day, and there join company with 
 our comrades. Our enemies will never suspect such an 
 enterprise. Before they shall have time to place them- 
 selves in array of battle, we will fall upon them with all 
 our might, and my heart assures me that we shall have 
 the victory." " Had one given the duke an hundred 
 thousand crowns," says our chronicler, " he could not have 
 been more delighted." " On my honor," he answered 
 with a smile, " to you, my Lord of Bayard, nothing seems 
 impossible. I think with you; and if our friends here 
 concur in your suggestions, I doubt not that we shall be 
 able to deal with the enemy eve* as you propose. For 
 my part, I earnestly hope that they may concur with us." 
 And thus saying, with a courtly grace, this brave and 
 accomplished prince raised the cap from his head in 
 salutation. 
 
 The captains generally agreed in the wisdom of the 
 suggestion. The plan of Bayard was adopted, and the 
 preparations begun. The troops were put in readiness, 
 boats were procured without noise, and the infantry em- 
 barked at dusk of evening. The cavalry, accompanied 
 
BAYARD PLANS THE BATTLE. 223 
 
 by the duke in person, set out as soon as night offered 
 adequate concealment. The weather was bad, and the 
 roads ; but fortunately, the guides were good, and all 
 parties in excellent spirits. The calculations of Bayard 
 were verified by the results. Half an hour before day 
 the cavalry reached the pass, where the vessels with the 
 foot soon after joined them. It was broad daylight before 
 the whole were prepared for moving. Then sullenly came 
 the booming of the cannon, announcing the commencement 
 of the assault on the part of the besiegers. La Bastia was 
 not yet lost. The troops were within a mile of the enemy, 
 when Bayard thus addressed their captains : — "Gentlemen, 
 it has been often and well said that he who makes no 
 account of his enemy is a madman. We are now hard 
 upon ours, and they have no less than three to one against 
 us. If they knew of our enterprise, we should doubtless 
 have much trouble at their hands, for they have artillery 
 and we none. They tell me, moreover, that the troops 
 before La Bastia are the very flower of the Pope's army. 
 To do well, therefore, we must endeavor, if we can, to 
 take them unprepared. I am of opinion that the Bastard 
 Du Fay, my standard-bearer, who is well skilled in such 
 matters, should go, with fifteen or twenty horse, in the 
 direction by which the enemy came, and give them an 
 alarm. Captain Pierrepont shall accompany him at the 
 distance of a bow-shot with an hundred gendarms, to succor 
 him when he is repulsed. With these we will send Cap- 
 tain Zemberg with his eight hundred Swiss. You, my 
 lord," said he to the duke; "My Lord of Montoisin ; the 
 gentlemen, my companions, and myself, will go straight to 
 the leaguer, where I will proceed first to raise the alarm. 
 If Du Fay shall have done that beforehand, and they all 
 crowd toward him, we enclose them between him and us. 
 If, on the other hand, we give the first alarm. Captain 
 Pierrepont, with his Swiss, shall do as much on their 
 side. By these means we shall so astound and bewilder 
 
224 THE SURPRISE. 
 
 them that they will imagine us to be three times as numer- 
 ous as we are. Above all, let every one of our trumpets 
 sound on approach. 
 
 By this time, it must be remarked, the wonderful cour- 
 age, conduct, enterprise and long experience of our good 
 knight, had rendered him an authority wherever he was 
 known. Familiar with the great events of modem times, 
 he seems to have studied diligently the ancient. He was, 
 according to the chronicles, a very record of battles, not 
 merely the gross event, but the details ; and with these, all 
 the turning circumstances and the peculiar individual policy 
 by which the issue had been probably effected. Enough that, 
 in this instance, all who heard him defeiTed to his opinion. 
 His plan of operations was instantly agreed on, and the 
 two detachments, now within a mile of the leaguer, moved 
 each in the direction assigned it — the one under Du Fay 
 and Pierrepont, with the Swiss, taking the road which the 
 enemy had pursued ; the other proceeding directly to La 
 Bastia, which they approached within cannon-shot unper- 
 ceived. The alarm was raised by Du Fay, sharply and 
 vigorously, startling the Pope's army with astonishment, if 
 not dismay. Arming in hot haste, and mounting their horse, 
 they proceeded at once to the place of uproar. Their foot, 
 compactly marshalled were moved in close order in the 
 same direction. Du Fay was driven before their horse as 
 had been anticipated ; but PieiTepont came to the rescue, 
 encountered them fiercely with his gendarms, and beat 
 them back upon their infantry. These, marching in order 
 of battle, and to the number of five or six thousand, now 
 I crossed weapons with the eight hundred Swiss foot-soldiers, 
 who came to the support of Pierrepont. The Swiss, sustained 
 by the gendarms, made good fight, but must have yielded 
 before the numerous body which was opposed to them, but 
 for the timely arrival of the duke, the lords of Montoisin, 
 Le Lude, Fontrailles, and the *'Good Knight" Bayard. 
 These, with the horse and two thousand foot, operating 
 
THE VICTORY. 225 
 
 upon the rear of the enemy, produced such a diversion as 
 relieved the command of Pierrepont from the immense 
 pressure which must have borne it down. Charging a 
 troop of three or four hundred horse which seemed dispos- 
 ed to rally, Bayard and Fontrailles overthrew them with a 
 single rush. The fight lasted for an hour. The day re- 
 mained with the French. The slaughter was terrible ; as 
 how should it be otherwise — men fighting hand to hand, 
 and at a period when mutual recriminations had banished 
 mercy wholly from the bosom of vsar. More than four 
 thousand foot-soldiers perished of the Pope's army, sixty 
 horse were slain, and three hundred taken, together with 
 all the baggage and artillery. The French, loaded with 
 spoils, returned to their garrison in Ferrara, having taken 
 care to strengthen that of La Bastia against future sur- 
 prises. The event of the day was greatly to the increase 
 of Bayard's reputation. It had shown him fully equal to the 
 command of an aiTny. Hitherto he had been content to 
 lead a squadron. He had conceived the whole scheme, 
 when all schemes seemed hopeless and his general was 
 desponding; and it was one equally simple in its details, 
 and sagacious in its correct appreciation of the views of the 
 enemy whom it was designed to overthrow. But it was 
 not because of the conception only, that he won the 
 applause of all. His conduct and spirit on the field, always 
 timely and always efficient, had contributed, in large de- 
 gree, to render his scheme successful. The Duke of Feira- 
 ra, for himself and people, gave him public thanks. Nor 
 was the duchess, his fair bride, at all slow to recognize the 
 superior merit of one who was the pride of European chival- 
 ry. This lady was the daughter of Galeazzo Sforza, duke 
 of Milan, and worthy of her birth and station. She was not 
 only one of the most lovely, but one of the most accomplished 
 of the ladies of her time — even more remarkable by her 
 talents than her beauties, and quite as rare an instance of 
 learning as of talent among her sex. She spoke and wrote 
 
226 THE DUCHESS OP FERRARA. 
 
 with equal ease and elegance in Greek, Latin, French and 
 Italian; and was in every way well fitted to preside at 
 noble assemblies which brought together the grace and 
 loveliness, the wit and valor, of more than two of the lead- 
 ing states of Christendom. She did not stiive vainly to 
 acknowledge the worth of those who brought triumph and 
 safety to her house and husband. Could we but procure a 
 picture, though faint, of those gorgeous assemblages of 
 chivalry at her court — the superb entertainments, the fetes 
 fittoresque — the thousand various divertissements which 
 followed upon the vicrtory at La Bastia !* What should we 
 now give for such details, from the old chroniclers of the 
 doings of the court, as minutely given as those which they 
 render to us of the camp. But they were a dry, ascetic 
 race — stern and savage amid all their courtliness, who — 
 even in their loves, dreamed rather of making a mistress 
 known to their rivals than of properly enshrining her in 
 their own affections. 
 
 * Guicciardini allows the French to have obtained all the advantages ia 
 this victory at La Bastia, calling it a rout rather than a combat ; but he 
 diminishes the importance of the event, which, by other historians, is re 
 duced to an affair between detachments. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 If the victory at La Bastia brought joy and exultation to 
 the court of Fen-ara, it was productive of an equal degree 
 of rage and disappointment in the bosom of Pope Julius. 
 He w^as nearly beside himself when the tidings reached him 
 at Mirandola; and nothing but the most earnest exhortations 
 of his chief officers succeeded in dissuading him from laying 
 siege instantly to Ferrara itself. They, however, of less im- 
 peiious will and less prevailing passions than the Holy Fa- 
 ther, weie better prepared to see the difficulties and dan- 
 gers of such a leaguer. They described to him the strength 
 of the place, how well it was defended, how amply provis- 
 ioned, and, in particular, with what a host they would have 
 to contend in the person of Bayard alone, who began, about 
 this time, to acquire the appellation of The Invincible ! 
 Satisfied that his policy required that he should avoid the 
 perils and the expense of a siege, he resorted to the hum- 
 bler arts of corruption. There were persons in Fen*ara, 
 citizens, and of good family, who, as the Pope well knew, 
 were not incorruptible. To these he despatched his emis- 
 saries, at successive periods, plying them with arguments 
 and bribes, and suggesting schemes for obtaining the pos- 
 session of the gates of the place. But our Frenchmen kept 
 too good a watch for the success of these practices. The 
 emissaiies, six or eight of them, were detected and hung, 
 and the suspected citizens cast into prison. 
 
 Infirmity of purpose was not the fault in the character of 
 Julius. Baffled in all his plans, he did not forego his object. 
 He now conceived a scheme much more in keeping with 
 well known Italian policy. There was, in the duchy of 
 
228 MESSIRE AUGUSTINO GUERLO. 
 
 Milan, a gentleman of Lodi, named Messire Augustino Gucr- 
 lo. This person, though a subject at the time of the King 
 of France, was yet a creature of the Pope — a great schemer, 
 subtle, intriguing ever, and with a passion for all sorts of 
 treasons, stratagems and spoils. This passion, at a future 
 day, cost him his head, which he lost to Stuart d'Au- 
 bigny, at Brescia. But while he was still in possession of 
 this treasure-house of plot and policy, the Pope called him 
 to his service, and, giving him his lessons, sent him to Fer- 
 rara. There he was empowered to propose to the duke, 
 secretly, that the war should cease between them — that he 
 should send the French away and become the ally of the 
 Church, and, in return for these sei^vices, he was to receive 
 one of the Pope's nieces for his eldest son, while the duke 
 himself should be made gonfalonier and captain-general of 
 the troops of Rome. The French dismissed from the service 
 of the duke, and sent from Ferrara, were to be set upon by 
 the Pope's amiy and easily destroyed by overwhelming 
 numbers and destitution. They could have passed into no 
 place from which, unless by the most miraculous good for- 
 tune, they could have escaped the clutches of their enemy. 
 Such was the scheme of the Pope, and such his offer to 
 the Duke of Ferrara, through Messire Augustino Guerlo. 
 This gentleman made his way to Ferrara, and laid his pro- 
 posals before the person to whom he had been sent. He 
 was received with forbearance, and even kindness. The 
 duke, who, in the acceptation of that time, was a very hon- 
 orable person, felt the claims of the French upon him; and, 
 while he pretended to give a favorable hearing to the Pope's 
 embassador, he secretly and firmly resolved against the 
 treacherous proceeding. He regaled Messire Augustino 
 hospitably, then locking him up in one of the apartments 
 of the palace, went to communicate with the Chevalier 
 Bayard at his lodgings. Bayard was now in sole command 
 of the French at Ferrara. His superior, the " Gentle Lord" 
 of Montoisin, had not long survived the battle of La Bastia. 
 
TREACHERY 229 
 
 He was a very noble and accomplished gentleman, who 
 had done gallant deeds in Picardy, Bretagne, Naples, and 
 Lombardy — "a very merlin was he," quoth the "Loyal 
 Servant" — " unremittingly vigilant." He was greatly the 
 friend of Bayard, by whom his death was honestly and 
 earnestly lamented. 
 
 The Duke of Ferrara communicaXed to our knight, with 
 great frankness, the whole message and proposal of the 
 Pope. We do not see that this proposal contemplated a 
 more extreme degree of treachery than was common to the 
 princes of the time ; but Bayard heard the story with indig- 
 nation ; and, crossing himself with all the devoutness of a 
 good Catholic, declared that he would not believe that so 
 wicked a conception could possibly have found its way into 
 the heart of the Holy Father. But the duke's assurances 
 were positive ; and, to satisfy our hero, he proposed that 
 Bayard should occupy a closet, whence every thing might 
 be heard, while the emissary was made once more to go 
 over all the particulars of his communication. But the 
 latter was satisfied, however reluctantly, of the truth of 
 the narration, without rendering necessary any resort to 
 this espionage. The duke concluded with warm declara- 
 tions of his obligations to the French, and assured our 
 knight that he would sooner be torn asunder by wild horses 
 than yield to any such dishonorable suggestion. Bayard 
 professed himself satisfied, and the duke then proposed that 
 the shearer should go home shorn ; in other words, that the 
 treachery of the Pope might be made to recoil upon him- 
 self, and the emissary whom he had sent should be em- 
 ployed as an instrument against him. The general propo- 
 sition necessarily pleased our hero, who, as a master of 
 stratagem in war, saw something commendable in the pro- 
 cess of turning one's weapons against himself, and he gave 
 his assent to the proposition without scruple. Upon which 
 the duke disappeared. Returning to Messire Augustine, 
 he called him to a second conference. Here it was Italian 
 
2'SO HOW ANSWERED. 
 
 against Italian— the subtle pupils of the same school oppo- 
 sing their kindred wits. After several preliminaries, all of 
 which aimed only at an opportune introduction of his chief 
 policy, the duke reminded the emissary that the Pope was 
 not a person to be trusted ; that he, at least, had no reason 
 to confide in the assurances of one who had so frequently 
 threatened his life — who, it was well known, was the per- 
 son whom he was most hated in the world, and for whose 
 territories and cities Julius had the most longing appetite. 
 " Nextly," said the duke, ** what should I gain by telling 
 the Lord of Bayard that I have no farther need of him and 
 his companions 1 Will he not suspect me, and hath he not 
 a greater force in this town than I myself? Will he not 
 hold his ground till he can communicate to the King of 
 France, or to his lieutenant-general, this side of the Alps ] 
 And will it not be that, in making the Pope my ally, I 
 bring these both upon my head V 
 
 The reasoning of the duke was irresistible, and he pro- 
 ceeded after this fashion — " And now, Messire Augustino, 
 if I find it impossible to rely on the good faith of the Pope, 
 so will it be your impossibility also. You know this Julius, 
 as well as I, to be of a terrible nature, choleric and vin- 
 dictive, and so ti-eacherous, that it is a sure peril to have 
 had his confidence in any affairs of secrecy. Whatever he 
 may show you now of his secret policy, will he punish 
 you for by some cruel trick hereafter. This, surely, is well 
 known to you ; but even supposing him faithful to you so 
 long as he lives, what will be your fortune when he dies 1 
 No pope harbors or keeps the sei-vants of him whom he 
 succeeds. You have no chance of favor, but rather the 
 contrary, from any who shall become his successor." 
 
 These were melancholy truths, which the emissary was 
 compelled to acknowledge. The duke continued. He 
 opened a more pleasing prospect to Messire Augustino : 
 "You know me, and know that I am rich. Now were you 
 to do me any service in helping to rid me of this my worst 
 
BAYARDS SIMPLICITY. 231 
 
 enemy, you shall not only receive a handsome present, but so 
 good an income, that you should live at ease all your life after. 
 
 ** The result of these overtures was, that the Pope's 
 agent was brought over to the duke's sei'vice. The bait 
 was iiTesistible ; and the base and covetous scoundrel, de- 
 claring his intimacy with Julius, and the facilities which he 
 possessed, through this intimacy, for pei-petrating any 
 crime, offered to take him off by poison in the space 
 of eight days. The price of blood was something larger 
 than that required by Judas. The deed being accom- 
 plished, he was to receive two thousand ducats in hand, 
 and five hundred a year afterwards for life. The treaty 
 made, the excellent duke, never doubting but that he had 
 performed a highly praiseworthy action, went out to com- 
 municate with our chevalier. Bayard was travei^sing the 
 city ramparts, amusing himself in watching the process of 
 opening a loop-hole in the walls. Seeing the duke ap- 
 proach, he advanced to meet him. The latter took him by 
 the hand, and leading him off from all other persons, said 
 to him — " My Lord of Bayard, it is very sure that the 
 traitor will always, in the end, be betrayed. Thus it hap- 
 pens that the treachery which the Pope has conceived 
 against us, will fall upon him. This fellow have I won to 
 our cause, so that he will do unto the Pope that which he 
 desired to have done to you. Messire Augustino Guerlo 
 hath assured me that the Pope can not, at farthest, live 
 eight days longer." 
 
 Bayard, in his innocence and simplicity of character, did 
 not really comprehend the meaning of the duke, or desired 
 to discourage him in the proceeding by a refusal to under- 
 stand or to conceive of such a treachery. His answer, 
 which declared his astonishment, must have astonished the 
 subtler Italian. ** Now, how can he know this, my lord ] 
 Is he in the secrets of Providence 1 Hath he spoken with 
 God ]" The duke answered him, significantly — '' Never 
 you mind — so shall it happen !" Then, as Bayard pressed 
 
232 bayard's integrity. 
 
 him farther, he told how the emissary of the Pope had en- 
 gaged to poison him within the designated space of time. 
 The whole heart of Bayard recoiled at the revelation. 
 His idea of policy and stratagem was of that only which 
 should obtain a fair field, and no favor from his enemy. 
 To beguile him from his fortress, — to gain entrance with- 
 in, or to persuade him to forego his advantages, — these 
 were objects, to attain which, chivalry and war equally 
 j ustified a resort to ordinary artifices — to the employment of 
 the secret agent — to the corruption of a sentinel ; but these 
 artifices themselves were only sanctioned by a readiness, on 
 the part of him who employed them, to incur the peiils of 
 the actual conflict to which they were expected to conduct. 
 Poisoning and stabbing were not among the virtues of such 
 a w^arfare. The stern honor of Bayard instantly spoke out 
 with all the eager impetuosity of his character, as he found, 
 not only what was the stratagem designed by the emissary, 
 but that the Duke of Ferrara was really anxious to employ 
 its agency. 
 
 " My lord duke, I can not suppose it possible that a 
 prince so honorable as yourself will consent to so black a 
 treachery. Could I believe it possible, I swear by the life 
 of my soul, I should, ere this night were over, reveal it to 
 the Pope myself." 
 
 The duke expostulated. " He would have done as much 
 for us." 
 
 " I care not for that. I, at least, will not consent that he 
 be murdered thus." 
 
 The duke shrugged his shoulders, then spitting upon the 
 ground, said, " My Lord of Bayard, would that I could dis- 
 pose of all my enemies as easily as that ! Howbeit, since 
 tlie thing is not to your liking, it shall be given up ; but, 
 God help us ! we shall both repent of our forbearance here- 
 after." 
 
 " Not so, please God !" answered Bayard. '* Nay, far- 
 ther, my lord duke, yt)u will do well, and I entreat you, 
 
ITALIAN SOLDIERY. 233 
 
 to deliver into my hands the fellow who proffers to do this 
 beautiful piece of work ; and if I have him not hanging 
 from these battlements within this hour, let me hang there 
 in his stead." 
 
 But the duke had given to Messire Augustino Guerlo a 
 promise of safety, and he dismissed him after formally re- 
 leasing him from the engagement which the virtuous spirit 
 of Bayard had refused to sanction. He returned to the 
 Pope, who was suffered to survive the period to w^hich his 
 career was limited — who never appears to have conjectured 
 the deep treachery of his embassador, and how much he 
 was indebted to the honorable courage of our hero. It 
 does not appear that the Duke of Ferrara felt less kirw31y 
 to our " good knight" because of the inevitable rebuke 
 which was conveyed by the disagreement of the latter to 
 the criminal policy which the foiTner was prepared to adopt. 
 We are not told how long he remained in Ferrara after 
 this event. The place was relieved from present dangers, 
 the Pope repairing to Bologna, for the purpose of meeting 
 embassadors from the different potentates, with whom he 
 was to officiate as mediator. He was not the person for 
 such an office, and his presence only served to kindle new 
 animosities. The negotiation failed entirely, and, as soon 
 as the result was known, the Marshal Trivulzio, at the 
 head of a large body of troops, hastened toward Bologna. 
 With these troops went Bayard. Mirandola was captured 
 and restored to the noble and gallant countess who had 
 fought for it so well. Bologna was yielded, a bloodless vic- 
 tory, to the arms of the French ; the Pope narrowly making 
 his escape to Ravenna. He had faith neither in his own 
 troops nor in the people of the country. The former were 
 by no means prepared to fight the French, and the latter 
 were pleased to welcome them. So worthless were the 
 men-at-arms of the Pope, that one Frenchman captured 
 five or six, and can'ied them off safely ; while an instance 
 is given of one La Bauline, an invalid soldier, with a leg of 
 
234 GRATZ AND GOUETZ. 
 
 wood, who took three prisoners and safely bound them to- 
 gether. The only fighting that was done, took place under 
 Bayard, who led the horse, and who distinguished himself 
 greatly by the surprise and in the assault. The Marshal 
 Tiivulzio declared at supper, on the evening of the victory, 
 that, under God, the success was all due to the Lord of 
 Bayard. The Pope lost every thing, — bag, baggage, tents, 
 arms, artillery, and ammunition. 
 
 In Bologna, our good knight was not suffered to remain 
 idle. The Emperor Maximilian was once more in trouble 
 and needing assistance, or rather once more ambitious of 
 conquest, and anxious to spare his own levies. The coun- 
 try of Friuli, a beautiful region, held by the Venetians, lay 
 temptingly before his eyes. It was easily accessible fi'ora 
 Germany, and was desirable on many accounts. The King 
 of France had no reason to censure the cupidity which 
 sought its gi'atification at the expense of his enemies ; and, in 
 answer to his entreaties, Chabannes, lord de la Palisse, was 
 sent to his assistance with eight thousand foot and twelve 
 hundred horse. Chabannes knew too well the resources of 
 Bayard to fail to procure his companionship. The French 
 found the army of the emperor at Verona, from which place 
 they proceeded to besiege Treviso, where nothing was 
 effected. From this place, taking with him the gendarais 
 of the Duke of Lorraine, and a company under Fontrailles, 
 Bayard was sent against Gratz and Goretz, which he cap- 
 tured. Having garrisoned these places for, and with troops 
 of, the emperor, he returned to the camp, where, through 
 the imbecility of Maximilian's officers, or of himself, noth- 
 ing had been done, and all was distress and confusion. The 
 troops were neglected, and left to starve for six days, without 
 bread or wine, and in a sickly country. Four thousand of 
 the French perished through disease. Chabannes, at length, 
 grew impatient of inactivity and at the condition of his 
 troops. He became earnest to retuni to Bologna ; but this 
 was resisted by tlie emperor's officers, between whom and 
 
GASTON DE FOIX. 235 
 
 the French captain high words follo^/ved. The result was the 
 withdrawal of the French troops, who removed to St. Boni- 
 facio, a village which we remember as one from which, 
 during the previous campaign of the German emperor, the 
 Venetians were wont to make their most vigorous sallies. 
 Here they remained a short time before rejoining the main 
 army of France in Italy. This they found in great distress 
 on account of the recent death of the generalissimo, the 
 Grand-Master de Chaumont. He was reputed to be one of the 
 ablest captains in the French army. He was succeeded in 
 command by the famous Gaston de Foix,duke of Nemours, 
 then no more than twenty-one. The renown of this remark- 
 able youth, who perished before his prime, is matter of history. 
 His bravery and sagacity, his chivalrous spiiit and acute 
 intelligence, have secured him an enduring reputation. 
 That he cherished, loved, and deferred to Bayard, whom he 
 might well have chosen as his model, is not the least proof 
 of his sagacity and worth. 
 
 It was during a brief respite from the actual pressure 
 and emergency of war, that the Duke de Nemours paid a 
 visit of state and courtesy to the Duke and Duchess of Fer- 
 rara, in their city of that name. He was accompanied by 
 Bayard and other of his captains, and was received with 
 those civilities and entertainments which nobody knew bet- 
 ter how to give than the noble Lady of the House of Fer- 
 rara. Among these entertainments was one of a less festive 
 character and occasion than the rest. This was a duel be- 
 tween two Spaniards, one of whom was named Santa Cruz, 
 and the other the Seiior Azevedo. The former had been a 
 colonel of foot in the service of the Pope ; the other had 
 held a command in the same troops and service. The duel 
 arose from an assertion, made by Azevedo, that Santa Cruz 
 had endeavored to compass his death by treachery. They 
 were both of good blood and honorable fame ; and the ap- 
 plication to the Duke de Nemours, to sanction the fight by 
 his presence and that of his gentlemen, was graciously an- 
 
236 COMBAT A l'oUTRANCE. 
 
 swered in the affirmative, after the cause of quarrel had 
 been duly made known. The lists were prepared before 
 the palace of Ferrara, and the champions appeared at the 
 appointed time, both well attended by men-at-arms and gen- 
 tlemen, from one to two hundred in number. Though the 
 terms of the fight were " to the uttermost^'' in other words, 
 though the fight was a deadly one, the fair dames of Ferra- 
 ra were spectators. The opponents were provided with 
 poniards, rapiers, and secrettes, which are desciibed as a 
 kind of axe. Both fell upon their knees, making their 
 prayers to God, and — a commentary upon the faithlessness 
 of the age — their persons were examined to see if they 
 bore any secret armor or w^eapons beyond those with which 
 they had been furnished. This done, the field was cleared, 
 none remaining but the combatants, their seconds, and 
 Knight Bayard, whom, as one that understood such matters 
 much better than any man living, the Duke of Ferrara had 
 appointed master and keeper of the field. Then the herald 
 cried aloud, making the usual proclamation, that no one was 
 to interfere between the combatants, or in any way to coun- 
 sel, assist, or advise them — and this warning extended even 
 to an order against spitting or coughing, or the slightest 
 signs, by which either of the parties might be supposed to 
 be influenced, favorably or otherwise. 
 
 These preliminaries at an end, the champions confront- 
 ed each other for the deadly combat. Deadly, with such 
 weapons, it might well be looked to be, as neither of them 
 wore defensive armor of any kind. Azevedo held his rapier 
 in his right and poniard in the left hand. Santa Cruz kept 
 his poniard in the sheath, wielding the rapier only. And 
 thus they began the fight. Both were active, alert, and 
 good swordsmen, and the conflict promised to be a vigor- 
 ous one. After several thrusts, Santa Cruz made a dex- 
 trous pass at the face of his adversary, wliich Azevedo as 
 doxtrously parrying, his rapier in descending pierced the 
 upper part of his enemy's thigh to tlie bone. Santa Cruz 
 
THE ISSUE. 237 
 
 would have darted forward to avenge his hurt, but fell in 
 doing so. Azevedo then approached him, and, in the lan- 
 guage of a conqueror, cried to him, " Yield Santa Cruz, or 
 I slay thee." The latter made no answer, but, sitting up- 
 right, with sword extended, betrayed a settled detennina- 
 tion to perish rather than surrender. Azevedo, magnani- 
 mously, then proposed that he should rise ; for that he could 
 not strike him in that position. The wounded man accord- 
 ingly struggled once more forward on his feet, and made 
 at his enemy ; but the latter putting by his thrust, Santa 
 Cruz fell again, and this time, with his face to the earth. 
 The victor raised his sword to smite off his head, which he 
 might easily have done, but his generosity arrested the 
 blow. Still, though summoned, Santa Cruz refused to sub- 
 mit or declare himself conquered. This stubbornness would 
 have been fatal to him, as, according to the custom of the 
 time, the successful champion was required to bring the 
 matter to an issue, either in the confession or the death 
 of his foe. The Duchess of Ferrara then interposed with 
 the Duke de Nemours, with clasped hands and pleading 
 eyes, that the warder should be thrown down and the com- 
 batants withdrawn. But this was not within his jurisdic- 
 tion. " Madame," said he, " for your sake I should be 
 well pleased to do so ; but I can not rightfully, and ought 
 not to interfere with the conqueror," 
 
 Meanwhile, Santa Cruz was losing all the blood in his 
 body, and, though his conqueror forbore any farther stroke, 
 the wound would be fatal if he were not instantly relieved. 
 The Prior of Messina, one of his seconds, then said to Aze- 
 vedo, " Senior, I know the spirit of Santa Cruz will not suf- 
 fer him to sun-ender. He will die first, and, since there is 
 no other remedy, I yield myself your prisoner in his place." 
 The pledge was accepted, and, falling upon his knees, the 
 successful duellist uttered his thanks to the Deity for hav- 
 ing spared and crowned him with triumph, for having — 
 violated his most righteous laws. 
 
238 THE ARMOR OF THE VANUUltiHED. 
 
 The surgeon was now peiTnitted to approach the wound- 
 ed man. The flowing blood was staunched, and his people 
 bore him from the field to his lodgings. But, in doing so, 
 they violated one of the laws of the combat. They car- 
 ried with him the weapons of war, which were properly 
 the prize of the conqueror. This seems to have been the 
 case even where the combat was on the point of honor, 
 and when it was urged a Voutrance, — a seeming anomaly, 
 since the objects of the tournament were essentially differ- 
 ent, and since the spoils of the combat can scarcely be a 
 consideration with him who goes into it to rescue his good 
 name from reproach, and with every sensibility outraged 
 by indignity and wrong. Such, however, was the rule at 
 this period in the courts of chivalry, and it was one which 
 the successful party tenaciously insisted upon. Azevedo 
 sent to demand the arms of Santa Cruz, but his followers 
 refused to give them up. He complained, accordingly, to 
 the Duke de Nemours, who referred it to Bayard, by 
 whom it was ruled that if the weapons were not yielded, 
 the vanquished was to be brought back within the lists, 
 his wound again laid open, and he restcned, in all respects 
 as nearly as possible, to the condition in which he lay when 
 his second made the surrender in his place. This neces- 
 sity, which was communicated by our good knight, soon 
 brought the stubborn party to his senses. The arms were 
 given up to Bayard by whom they were delivered to Aze- 
 vedo, who went on his way rejoicing to the sound of clarion 
 and trumpet. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Pope's assumption of the helm and spear of Mars, 
 and his consequent desertion of the office, if not the chair, 
 of St. Peter, led to a bold desire on the part of the Emper- 
 or Maximilian and the King of France to deprive him of 
 his authority. A council of the Church was called, to be 
 held at the city of Pisa, from whence, however, it was re- 
 moved, through fear of the populace, to Milan, where it 
 sat securely under the protection of the French. This 
 measure was the result of long deliberation between the 
 two princes by whom it was planned, and several cardinals 
 were prevailed upon to unite in an alliance against the 
 Holy Father. Against this alliance, which threatened to 
 be formidable, the Pope bestirred himself with his usual 
 diligence. He appointed a general council of the Church 
 to be held at Rome, warned the disobedient cardinals to 
 return to their duty within sixty-five days, under pain of 
 
240 LEAGUE AGAINST THE FRENCH. 
 
 the forfeiture of their dignities and revenues; and suc- 
 ceeded, by certain concessions made to Ferdinand of Ar- 
 ragon, in beguiling him, in the teeth of recent pledges 
 made to France, into a union with himself and the Vene- 
 tians. The Holy League was the imposing title given to 
 this alliance, into which Henry VIII. of England was drawn 
 by the influence of his father-in-law, the King of Arragon. 
 The latter agreed to furnish twelve hundred men-at-arms 
 and ten thousand foot, under the command of Don Ray- 
 mond de Cardona, viceroy of Naples, with a train of artil- 
 lery and eleven war galleys ; the Pope contributed six hun- 
 dred men-at-arms, and the Venetians their whole forces, 
 by land and sea. Henry VIII. was to send an army into 
 Guienne, which province was to be the reward of his ser- 
 vices. A large body of Swiss was also subsidized by the 
 Pope, for the purpose of making a descent upon the Mi- 
 lanese while the allies were engaging the attention of the 
 French in other parts of Italy. A judicious plan of con- 
 cert brought most of the allies into the field at the same 
 moment, and demanded the instant employment, by the 
 French, of all the resources in their power. Fortunately, 
 they had the first and most necessary of all in their famous 
 leader, Gaston de Foix, duke of Nemours. He first turn- 
 ed his attention upon the Swiss, who descended from their 
 mountains about the close of the year 1511. They bore 
 on this occasion the famous standard which had so often 
 been the terror of their enemies, upon whose folds was in- 
 scribed in letters of gold, " Domatores Principum. Ama- 
 
 TORES JuSTICIiE. DefENSORES SaNCT^ RoMANiE EcCLE- 
 
 siA ;" — an inscription, the tenor of which, they had not 
 always shown themselves anxious to observe. The results 
 of their present irivai^ion were in no respects commensurate 
 with the imposing language of their standard. They mark- 
 ed their progress in the destruction of the hamlets through 
 which they passed, and, while the grefit body of the French 
 were employed in garrison at Verona, Bologna, and other 
 
DEATH OF BARON DE CONTI. 241 
 
 towns, they gained some advantages over detachments 
 which the Duke de Nemours sent forward, rather to watch 
 and to retard their progress than to join with them in bat- 
 tle. Skinnishes were frequent between the advance-guards 
 of the Swiss and these patrolHng parties, the French gradu- 
 ally retiring before their enemies, until they found shelter 
 in Milan. From this place, the Baron de Conti, going forth 
 with an hundred horse to make an incursion, was unfortu- 
 nate in meeting with a vastly superior force, by which he 
 was roughly handled, losing several of his men, and he 
 himself retiring wounded to the death. This was a severe 
 loss to Bayard, who was the bosom friend of this noble- 
 man. But Bayard better loved to avenge than to mourn 
 the death of his comrade. Such, indeed, is the usual mode 
 of expressing sonow, among men of war, in all ages. He 
 buckled on his armor and sallied forth the very next day 
 after this event, seeking the very spot where the Baron of 
 Conti had met his death. Here he encountered five hun- 
 dred of the Swiss, whom he overthrew ; and, the blood of 
 his friend still before his eyes, we may well suppose 
 that he did not too suddenly withhold the arm of slaugh- 
 ter. 
 
 The leaguer of Milan was not long maintained by these 
 capricious mountain mercenaries, who carried the proud 
 inscription upon their standard, rather for the eyes of others 
 than their own. Their provisions beginning to fail them, 
 they were not unwilling to listen to terms of composition ; 
 and having his hands full of other arms, with whom hard 
 blows only would avail, the Duke de Nemours found it 
 politic to buy off with money these excellent defenders of 
 the Holy Roman Church. Their leaders were soon per- 
 suaded to retrace their steps across the Alps; and the 
 states of Milan being thus put in security, the French 
 general proceeded to the relief of the city of Bologna, the 
 siege of which had been commenced by the allied army on 
 the 26th .of January, 1512. The Papal troops were en- 
 
 X 
 
242 ALBERTO PICO OF CARPI. 
 
 trusted to the Cardinal Medici, as legate of Bologna, under 
 whom Marc Antonio Colonna acted as general of the 
 Church. Don Raymond de Cardona, who led the Span- 
 iards, was assisted by Fabrizio Colonna and Pietro Na- 
 vaiTo. The city was held by Annibale and Hermes 
 Bentivoglio, with a powerful Italian party, which had ad- 
 hered to the fortunes of the French ; and a strong body of 
 troops of the latter nation, under the command of Lautrec. 
 The allies had made considerable progress in the siege. 
 Their approaches were carried on in due form, and the 
 walls were gradually crumbling under the continual fire of 
 the artillery. A mine, meanwhile, had been sprung in an 
 excavation, which was meant to lay the city in ruins. But, 
 fortunately for the inhabitants, the explosion only lifted 
 from its foundations a chapel of the Virgin, which, after 
 making certain evolutions in the air (which afforded the 
 besiegers a momentary view of the interior of the city), 
 settled down quietly upon the spot which it had formerly 
 occupied, and closed the breach with its own massive 
 ruins. These, as the chapel stood immediately against the 
 walls of the city, sei-ved the purpose of a sufficient tem- 
 porary banicade. The besiegers were somewhat discour- 
 aged by this result of their exertions. The besieged, on 
 the contrary, found something in it auspicious to their 
 hopes of a successful defence. That the chapel of the 
 Holy Virgin del Barracane should have so appropriately 
 occupied the breach made by the enemy, was surely some- 
 thing upon which true believers might base the most flatter- 
 ing hopes of the future. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Duke de Nemours, hearing of the 
 approaches of the Spanish army, to the leaguer of the 
 place, repaired to a village nearer Ferrara, named Finale, 
 where he employed himself in assembling his forces for its 
 relief While on his advance to this place, he stopped for 
 two days at the little town of Carpi, where he was enter- 
 tained by Alberto Pico, count thereof, a nobleman who had 
 
THE ASTROLOGER OF CARPI. 243 
 
 the reputation of being a great master of ancient as well as 
 modem literature. Among the subjects which at that time 
 greatly interested the politicians of this little town, was the 
 presence among them of a great astrologer — a soothsayer, 
 whose revelations of the past, and whose predictions of the 
 future, were the topics in every mouth. The wise, in that 
 day, were not superior to those superstitions which spelled 
 the ears of the vulgar. On the contrary, while the Church 
 forbore to disavow, science and nobility somewhat insisted 
 upon them. An astrologer was still kept by piinces even 
 after the fool had been discarded ; and pride and pomp 
 had their faith in prophecy even while forgetting reli- 
 gion. When the gentle Duke de Nemours heard of the 
 astrologer of Carpi, he became exceedingly anxious to 
 behold him, and his host was not unwilling that the cu- 
 riosity of his guest should be gratified. A certain degree 
 of faith in what he should declare was inspired in the 
 minds of the French gentlemen by what they had heard 
 already of his predictions. " Surely," says the " Loyal 
 Servant," " the true Christian must believe that God alone 
 can look into futurity ; yet did this astrologer of Carpi 
 show so many things, and to so many people, which after- 
 ward proved tiTie, that he turned the heads of a great 
 number." 
 
 The soothsayer readily obeyed the summons of the count, 
 and appeared before him and his guests. He was lean of 
 person, of middle stature, and about sixty years of age. 
 His aspect commanded respect, and his manners secured 
 it. The Duke of Nemours received him graciously, shook 
 hands with him, and was answered with the propriety and 
 dignity of one who knew equally well what was due to him- 
 self and others. Much conversation passed between them, 
 before the duke began his inquiries. He then asked of the 
 astrologer if the Viceroy of Naples (Don Raymond de Car- 
 dona) and the Spaniards would stay to join battle. He an- 
 swered in the affirmative, and added that the engagement 
 
244 HIS PREDICTIONS. 
 
 would take place upon Good Friday, or Easter Sunday, 
 and would be a very bloody one. When asked which side 
 would gain the victory, he replied thus : " The French will 
 keep the field ; the Spaniards will sustain the most grievous 
 loss they have experienced for an hundred years ; but the 
 French will gain little by it, for their losses will also be 
 great, particularly in men of distinction. He spake so that 
 it was wonderful to hear. Chabannes, the Lord de la Pa- 
 lisse, then demanded of him if he should perish in the bat- 
 tle. He told him that he would not — that he would survive 
 twelve years longer, and be slain in another engagement. 
 The answer to a question of the Lord of Humbercourt was 
 similar. Captain Richbourg, he counselled to beware of 
 lightning, and his answers, to all who sought, were equally 
 confident and particular. 
 
 Bayard seems to have treated these predictions of the 
 astrologer with no gi'eat reverence, and made no inquiries 
 at his hands. Seeing the smile upon his lips, the Duke de 
 Nemours urged him to look also into the womb of the fu- 
 ture. " Come, my Lord of Bayard, come, my friend, do 
 you interrogate the master also." 
 
 " And why V answered Bayard ; " it is surely needless, 
 since I well know I can never come to any thing very 
 great; but, since you desire it, so be it." Then turning to 
 the astrologer, " Pray, good master, shall I ever become a 
 greatly rich man ]" 
 
 " Greatly rich in honor and virtue as any captain of 
 France that ever lived ; but of the goods of fortune you 
 will always own but few. These, indeed, you do not 
 covet. You will serve another king than him who now 
 reigns in France, and will be much loved and honored 
 by him, but the envy of rivals will keep him from be- 
 stowing upon you the wealth and the honors which you 
 merit." 
 
 " And shall I escape the battle which impends, and which 
 you say will be a very bloody one ]" 
 
bayard's evasion. 245 
 
 " You will, but you will perish at last in battle, and by- 
 artillery, within twelve years at farthest. But for this, you 
 would never end your days in the field, as none who follow 
 you would ever leave you in jeopardy." 
 
 " It was as good as a comedy," says our chronicler, who 
 seems to have been present, " to hear the inteiTOgatories, as 
 they were put to the astrologer, and to remark his answers." 
 At the close of the interview, observing that, of all the cap- 
 tains, Chabannes and Bayard were the most intimate with 
 the Duke de Nemours, he drew these two aside and said 
 to them — " There is something, my lords, which I have 
 not said to this prince whom you follow, and who seems to 
 be very much beloved among you. This will I say to you 
 — for he merits to be loved and honored. Give heed to 
 him, therefore, on the day of battle, for he is very like to 
 fall therein. Should he survive, he will become one of the 
 greatest and most exalted personages that France hath ever 
 produced. But it will be scarce possible for him to escape 
 this danger ; for, on my head, it is a peril as gi'eat as ever 
 threatened mortal !" 
 
 " Cursed !" exclaims our quaint and simple chronicler — 
 " cursed be the hour, alas ! whereof he so truly prophesied !" 
 The two knights turned, and probably with grave looks, to 
 the assembly ; when the Duke de Nemours asked, with a 
 smile, of what the astrologer had spoken. Bayard answer- 
 ed promptly, with a happy evasion, at the expense of Cha- 
 bannes, " Sir, my Lord de la Palisse hath been enquiring 
 of him whether he be as well beloved of Reffuge as 
 Viverot. He is not over happy that the answer should 
 be ' nay.' " 
 
 The laughter of the duke followed the jest, and, just then, 
 the arrival of a new-comer still farther served to lessen the 
 gravity which the revelations of the soothsayer might have 
 wrought on every face. This person was one of those, who 
 are probably to be found in every camp, whose valor is the 
 only virtue to compensate for a thousand vices. Jacquin 
 
246 JACaUIN CAUMONT. 
 
 Caumont held the office of standard-bearer in one of the 
 bands of Captain Molait. These bands belonged to the 
 class of " free-lances." They were, in fact, mere mercena- 
 ries, such as the wars in Italy particularly encouraged — 
 though having in their ranks numerous persons of good 
 family and blood and of high distinction. Notoriously vicious 
 among his bands, Caumont carried with him no very honor- 
 able odor. But he was brave and audacious, and these are 
 always redeeming virtues in an army. Disposed to share 
 in the pastimes of his superiors, this adventurer drew the 
 astrologer aside, and, using some offensive appellation, de- 
 manded of him his fortune also. The manner of Caumont, 
 and perhaps his well-known character, provoked the other's 
 indignation, who angrily refused to answer any of his ques- 
 tions. Apologizing for his rudeness, Caumont finally per- 
 suaded the astrologer to examine his hand — palmistry and 
 physiognomy being among his modes of divination. But 
 the examination only determined the astrologer to answer 
 none of Caumont's enquiries. " Ask me nothing," said he, 
 " I can tell you nothing good." 
 
 The company laughed aloud, and the adventurer becom- 
 ing disconcerted, now insisted upon his revelations. Thus 
 urged, the astrologer answered : " Then look to your soul 
 in good time, for in less than six months you will be hung 
 and strangled." 
 
 Little did the hearers fancy that this prediction was to be 
 verified. They took for granted that the soothsayer sought 
 nothing farther than to revenge upon the irreverent Cau- 
 mont the insulting language with which the other had ad- 
 dressed him ; and was emboldened to speak thus, as he saw 
 in how little respect the adventurer was treated by the com- 
 pany. But such, verily was the fate of the fellow, who ful- 
 filled his destiny after the battle of Ravenna, of which more 
 hereafter. He was secure, meanwhile, against drowning, 
 thus realizing the tiTith of a famous proverb; to illustrate 
 which, says our ancient chronicler, " I will now proceed to 
 
CAUMONT ON A FROLIC. 247 
 
 tell you what soon befel him ;" and thereupon he tells the 
 following story, which, as illustrative of the manners and 
 conduct of the time, we repeat for the benefit of the 
 reader. It was two or three days after the scene with the 
 astrologer that the Duke de Nemours, with his forces, ar- 
 rived at Finale. This was a great village, through which 
 ran a deep canal which emptied into the river Po. The 
 canal was daily traversed by hundreds of vessels bringing 
 supplies and provisions for the French. It was crossed by 
 a wooden bridge, the dimensions of which, ample enough 
 in the day-light, and for sober people, were perhaps some- 
 what circumscribed at midnight, and for wayfarers who had 
 been pledging their comrades like hearty fellows. Jacquin 
 Caumont was a frolicsome blade, who no more shrunk from 
 his bottle than from his enemy. He had supped late and 
 drank deep with his pot-companions, and the demon seized 
 him, about the ninth hour of the night to do something 
 handsome, in emulation of such knights as Bayard. Tak- 
 ing with him a number of Swiss, bearing torches and tim- 
 brels, he dashed forth gallantly, with gay music and glitter- 
 ing lights, toward the lodging of his captain, the Lord of 
 Molart. He was armed at all points, mounted on a very 
 fine courser, and equipped like a St. George, at least — his 
 pay and plunder, it may be mentioned, sufficing not only to 
 keep him in good suppers, but to furnish him with a varie- 
 ty of splendid apparel and several great horses. His great 
 ambition, we should add, was to be enrolled among the 
 ordinary men-at-arais of France. These, we have al- 
 ready mentioned, were generally select persons, of the 
 best condition ; it being a great favor, on the part of the 
 king, to admit the candidate to this class of his warriors. 
 It was, probably, with some view to commending him- 
 self to the gendarms of the Duke de Nemours that Mes- 
 sire Jacquin Caumont sallied out on this midnight expe- 
 dition. 
 
 When the Lord of Molart beheld the adventurer in this 
 
248 HIS TILT. 
 
 gallant trim, and at that late hour of the night, he laughed 
 loudly, for he saw that the malmsey had been more than 
 usually potent. There was no such rigid discipline among 
 these J'ree companions — as they were called — such as the reg- 
 ular military service in our times demands, and which would 
 have caused such an offender as Caumont to be consigned 
 to the guard. The Lord of Molart laughed memly at the 
 sight of his lieutenant's ecstacy, and cried to him, " How 
 now, Captain Jacquin, are you minded to leave off trail- 
 ing the pike V 
 
 " By no means, my lord," was the answer, " but I come 
 that you should conduct me to the lodging of my Lord 
 of Nemours. I would have him see me break the lance 
 I hold, that he may know whether a saulte-puisson will not 
 run at a tilt as well as a lean jade." 
 
 Molart, himself tickled with the prospect of a merry jest, 
 never doubted that the duke would find a source of pleas- 
 ure in it also. Under his conduct, therefore, Captain Cau- 
 mont crossed the wooden bridge and proceeded to the 
 duke's lodgings. This nobleman came forth with his 
 guests at the summons of the Lord of Molart, and seeing 
 them appear, surrounded by the glare of torches, that made 
 the scene as bright as day, the captain placed himself with- 
 in the lists. " For whom would you break a lance. Cap- 
 tain Jacquin," demanded the duke, " for the love of your 
 lady, or of me '?" 
 
 Swearing a trooper's oath, which was, of course, of am- 
 ple dimensions, the ambitious adventurer answered by say- 
 ing, " that it was for the love of him, and that he was a fit 
 man to serve the king either on foot or horseback." Thus 
 speaking, he lowered his visor, and tilted as well as he was 
 able — inexperience and a skinful of wine making the whole 
 exhibition appear very ludicrous to the accomplished men- 
 at-arms among the French. But with all his tilting he 
 found it impossible to shiver his lance, and, sobered some- 
 what in the shame of his discomfiture, which soon provoked 
 
SIEGE OF BOLOGNA. 249 
 
 the indignation as well as laughter of the spectators, he 
 wheeled about to return to his lodgings, but in no proper 
 mood for riding. His horse partook of his bad humor, 
 being goaded perpetually by the spur of his rider, who, 
 perhaps unconsciously, contrived that it should tickle and 
 offend his flanks with every plunge in his progress. It so 
 happened that this irritating application became more ve- 
 hement just as our Captain Caumont was about to cross 
 the bridge. The steed leapt aside from the torture, the 
 planks of the bridge had been rendered slippery from a 
 recent rain, and the result was that steed and rider were 
 wallowing in the waters of the canal before any of his at- 
 tendants could interfere. They waved their torches and 
 cried aloud for help with sufficient lungs, but as the canal 
 was a flat-bottomed ditch, with abrupt sides, and no conve- 
 nient ascents, they could give him no succor from above. He 
 must have perished but for the numerous boats that crept 
 along the stream. Horse and man were both saved — the 
 latter with more difficulty than the former. The excellent 
 captain, taken out of the water, was hung up by the heels 
 until he had disgorged much more than he had willingly 
 imbibed. That he should have been rescued and saved, 
 thus immersed, at midnight and in midwinter, armed, as 
 he was, at all points, only served, in the opinion of all, to 
 establish the wonderful felicity of the proverb. He was 
 reserved for a still more ignoble fate. 
 
 But we must take the road to Bologna. The Duke of 
 Nemours was now apprised that, unless immediately re- 
 lieved, it must fall into the hands of the allies. The sea- 
 son was unfavorable for such a progi'ess, but the case was 
 urgent and it was resolved on. The march was begun 
 and conducted with such secrecy that the French entered 
 the city of Bologna, sixteen thousand in number, without 
 having made the besiegers at all conscious of their ap- 
 proach. The allies were as effectually disgraced by this 
 event as if they had been discomfited. They were discom- 
 
250 SIEGE RAISED. 
 
 fited. The siege was raised, the town reinforced with men 
 and supplied with provisions, and the Duke de Nemours 
 ready to pursue such other enterprises as were suggested 
 by his duties or his fate. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 But while the French were thus deser^-edly fortunate in 
 one enterpiise, the Venetians were quite as successful in 
 another, which more than compensated for their failure at 
 Bologna. They succeeded, by availing themselves of a 
 don>estic faction within the city of Brescia, in repossessing 
 themselves of this fine and famous town — at that time one 
 of the most beautiful and strong in Europe — in the lan- 
 guage of one of the chroniclers, " the darling daughter of 
 St. Mark." The events by which they were thus success- 
 ful, merit recital rather by their results than because of 
 their own interest, which, in a narrative like the present, 
 must find only partial development. Brescia had been held 
 by the French for nearly three years. It was one of those 
 lovely and desirable places for which its original owners 
 might well be supposed to repine. A strong party in the 
 city were favorable to revolt, but they were kept in check 
 through fear of the garrison, and, in consequence of certain 
 rigorous measures which had been adopted, on a recent 
 occasion, by Bayard and his associate, the Baron de Conti. 
 These, detecting the Count Giovanni Maria Martininque, a 
 member of one of the first families of the place, and one of 
 its most eminent men, in a conspiracy against the French 
 authority, did not scruple to take off his head, and to cast 
 certain of his confederates into prison. The place was 
 now held by the Count de Lude as governor, and the castle 
 was under the command of a gentleman of Biscay, named 
 Herigorge. These officers probably slept securely over 
 their trusts. At all events, treachery was busy within the 
 walls. There were two houses in the city of Brescia, 
 
252 SIEGE OF THE CASTLE OF BRESCIA. 
 
 between which there existed a mortal feud ; — a thing by- 
 no means uncommon in the Italian cities. These were 
 the houses of Garubara and Avogadro. The former 
 favored the French; the latter were hostile. The sons 
 of the two heads of houses having a personal encounter, 
 young Avogadro was severely wounded. Count Avo- 
 gadro sought redress from the Duke de Nemours while 
 he lay at Milan, but without obtaining it. The duke 
 probably thought the young men equally censurable, 
 and possibly inclined to favor the party whose sympa- 
 thies were with the French. But the anger of Avo- 
 gadro was not thus to be appeased, and his personal 
 resentment brought about an event which his patriotism 
 had never aimed at. Under color of a visit to an estate in 
 the country, he stole away to Venice, and there schemed 
 with the Seignory for restoring Brescia to their keeping. 
 The plan was well digested between the parties, and the 
 revengeful count, subduing all appearance of choler, re- 
 turned to Brescia, and quietly drew his faction to a head. 
 According to arrangement, the Venetians sounded an 
 alarm at the gates of the town, in great force ; the French 
 gallantly encountered them ; and, while engaged with the 
 enemy, the party of Avogadro rose in aims within. The 
 gates were thrown open to the Venetians ; and, assailed on 
 all sides, the Count de Lude was compelled to take shelter 
 in the castle with as many of his people as survived the 
 conflict, or could escape the pursuit of their foes. But 
 these were few; and all the French who were detected 
 within the town were put to the sword without mercy. 
 The siege of the castle then followed, but it was stubbornly 
 defended. The walls were battered into great breaches, 
 and the Venetians, under the provveditore, Andrea Gritti, 
 were making ready for the assault, when the tidings of 
 the affair reached the Duke de Nemours, in a despatch 
 from the Count de Lude; who warned him that he could 
 only hold out for eight days, and must yield to the enemy 
 
THE SKIRMISH. 253 
 
 unless relieved within that space of time. Gaston de Foix 
 was not the warrior to hesitate. It was one of the valuable 
 points in his military character, that his promptness and 
 decision were equal to his skill and valor. He had just 
 repossessed himself of Bologna ; but this good fortune gave 
 no justification to repose. He called his captains to coun- 
 sel, and it was unanimously agreed that Brescia was to be 
 retaken, and might be if the castle had not already fallen. 
 Orders for the march followed instantly, and the French 
 army was soon upon its way. 
 
 The Venetians, meanwhile, were far from idle. The 
 leaguer of the castle still continued ; but, ere it had well 
 begun, the sagacious provveditore had sent his despatches 
 to the Seignory, apprising them of the capture of the town, 
 demanding succor, and counselling that, to secure their 
 conquest, it was not only necessary that they should keep 
 the town, but be prepared to give the French battle in the 
 field. In compliance with these suggestions, they des- 
 patched two bodies of the allied troops, several thousand 
 in number : one of them under the command of Gian- 
 Paolo Baglione, the other under that of the Count Guido 
 Rangone. The former general encountered the advance 
 of the French army in a narrow pass, where he necessarily 
 had them at advantage. This pass he occupied with five 
 or six pieces of artillery. The movements of the Duke de 
 Nemours were executed with great rapidity; but he was 
 not sufficiently near the advance to take part in the action. 
 This was led by the light-horse, under the command of 
 Bayard. It so happened that our hero had been all night 
 suffering from the ague ; and, not expecting the meeting at 
 this point with enemies, of whose approach their scouts 
 had left them unadvised, he was entirely without his 
 armor, wearing only a riding-dress of black velvet. The 
 discharge of artillery apprising him of the presence of the 
 enemy, rendered necessary a change of costume. But his 
 own was not convenient, and borrowing a corslet from one 
 
 Y 
 
254 
 
 of the adventurers, he put this beneath his cloak, and 
 mounting a highly-mettled courser, dashed to the point 
 where the standard-bearer of the Count de Saligny had 
 just been shot down. The main body of the French van- 
 guard was still a considerable distance in the rear, but the 
 circumstances were such as would admit of no delay ; and 
 the good knight, regardless of the inequality of numbers, at 
 once led his troopers to the charge. A rough conflict 
 ensued, which had lasted for a quarter of an hour, when 
 the French troops began to appear in force. At this sight 
 the Venetians were seized with a panic. They had found 
 the conflict sufliciently fierce and doubtful with no other 
 assailants than the light-armed cavalry of their opponents, 
 and might very well suppose the case hopeless when fresh 
 troops, and in larger bodies, came to their relief. The 
 rout was complete. The pursuit was keenly urged, and 
 the sword reaped an ample harvest from the flight. The 
 Venetians lost all their artillery. Their infantry, abandoned 
 by their cavalry, were cut to pieces ; and but few of the 
 latter escaped in the bloody chase which followed upon 
 the desertion of their comrades. The victory was as- 
 cribed to Bayard, as the only leader of the French upon 
 the field. His associate in the command of the advance 
 guard was slain at the first discharge of the Venetian artil- 
 lery, and the Duke de Nemours never reached the field 
 until the victory was won. 
 
 The defeat of the Count Guido Rangone, who led the 
 other body of the allied troops which the Seignory had 
 sent forward to arrest the progress of the French, followed 
 upon this event; the obstacle in both cases exhibiting a sin- 
 gular feebleness in the generals employed, and a lack of 
 that steadfast courage in the troops which alone can achieve 
 successes. Both defeats were signal; and, without farther 
 interruption, the Duke de Nemours made his way to the 
 castle of Brescia, which he rejoiced to find was still in pos- 
 session of the French. Into this, penetrating with all his 
 
FRENCH SUMMON BRESCIA. 255 
 
 captains, he called an immediate council as to the best 
 method for making the assault upon the town. He was 
 not one of those, says our chronicler, who loved to dream 
 over their affairs ; and he felt, in this instance particularly, 
 all the importance of immediate action. The town was 
 strongly defended by eight thousand regular troops, and 
 some twelve or fourteen thousand peasantry who had flock- 
 ed into the city. Add to these the residents of the place, 
 and you have a force in Brescia sufficiently formidable to 
 task all the energies and ingenuity of the young and accom- 
 plished leader by whom the arms of France were led. The 
 town itself was very strong, but without fosse or ditch be- 
 tween the castle and the city. There was a good rampart 
 between the two, however, for the defence of which the 
 Venetians had posted their best troops. The summons of 
 the French general, who promised a pardon to the citizens 
 on their submission to his arms, and who threatened the 
 town with sack in the event of their refusal, produced no 
 compliance. The inhabitants declared themselves ready to 
 defend themselves to the last extremity. The French had 
 been no favorites with the citizens, as perhaps no foreign 
 garrison can well be in any country ; and they exhibited a 
 manly and determined aspect of defiance which seemed 
 prepared to look upon the worst. The women and children 
 were conducted to the monasteries ; their money and all 
 other valuables, which might easily be concealed, were put 
 away with all possible despatch and secrecy; and they stood 
 ready for the fatal issue. This, from the well-known celer- 
 ity of movement and great skill and courage of the Duke 
 de Nemoure, they well anticipated would not be long de- 
 layed. 
 
 The forces under Gaston de Foix did not exceed twelve 
 thousand men. He had left some five thousand of his troops 
 in charge of Bologna. If, however, his numbers fell greatly 
 short of those who defended Brescia, there was this to be 
 claimed in their favor, that they were picked men, a vet- 
 
256 bayard's counsel. 
 
 eran force, having with them the very flower of French 
 knighthood. The conclusion of the council, held in the cas- 
 tle of Brescia, determined that the assault should be made 
 on the morning of the next day, between the hours of eight 
 and nine. The plan of the attack assigned to the Lord de 
 Molart the bringing on of the battle. He- was to commence 
 the assault with his infantry, while Captain Herigorge, with 
 his men, was to skirmish on the advance. He was to be 
 followed by Captain Zemberg with two thousand German 
 lansquenets, which were retained under the banner of 
 France, ignorant that their prince had despatched his orders 
 for their withdrawal. Seven thousand other troops, led by 
 the Bastard of Cleves and others, were to accompany this 
 force, and were to be succeeded by the main body of gen- 
 darmerie. The gate of San Giovanni, the only one which 
 the Brescians kept open, was to be watched by the Count 
 d'Alegre, to prevent all egress from that quarter. The 
 other gates of the town were all walled up securely. 
 
 Such was the general disposition of the assailing forces, 
 to which, after all the captains had agreed. Bayard opposed 
 a single objection : " With your lordship's leave," he said 
 to the duke, *' and that of the other gentlemen, there is one 
 thing necessary to be attended to, of which nothing has 
 been said. You propose to send my Lord of Molart to 
 force the first bamer. Now, while T feel quite sure that 
 he will do his devoir as well as any of us, yet if the enemy 
 understand fighting, and this we are always to suppose, 
 he will be sure not only to put his best men forward to 
 this encounter, but his arquebusiers along with them. 
 Now, on such occasions, it is of the last moment never to 
 give back. If, then, it so happen that the Venetians 
 repulse these, our infantry, gi-eat disorder would ensue 
 among them if they are left without a sufficient body 
 of gendaiTns for their support. I am of opinion, therefore, 
 that the Lord of Molart should be accompanied by an 
 hundred or an hundred and fifty horsemen, who will sustain 
 
PROFFER OF HAZARDOUS SERVICE. 257 
 
 the shock better than infantry, who are arnied after a dif- 
 ferent fashion." The answer of the duke can only be 
 understood by a due regard to the very different duties 
 which in those days were assigned to the separate orders 
 of troops in an army. The cavaky were a nobility. 
 Their duties involved that species of daring and adventure 
 which chivalry had assigned only to noblemen and gentle 
 blood. The infantry belonged to a wholly inferior sei-vice. 
 We may remember the ambition of the adventurer, Captain 
 Jacquin Caumont, belonging to these very foot-bands of 
 Molart, to prove to the Duke de Nemours that he merited 
 promotion to the horse. We shall shortly see something 
 more of Captain Jacquin, and shall be reminded of the 
 prediction of the astrologer of Carpi. Meanwhile, the 
 reply of the duke to Bayard, while acknowledging the 
 justness of this representation, avowed the difficulty of its 
 being complied with. *' Truly, you are right, ray Lord of 
 Bayard ; but where is the captain of gendarms who will 
 expose himself to the fire of the arquebusiers ]" " I will 
 undertake this duty, an it please you," was the reply of 
 Bayard, " and will venture to assure you that the company 
 of whom I have the command will do no discredit to the 
 king or to the service." 
 
 Verily this was a hazardous adventure, and the captains 
 regarded each other in some amazement at a proffer which 
 involved so much peril. The duke hesitated to comply 
 with the proposal ; but Bayard, insisting upon the charge, 
 finally obtained it. The reply of the ganison to the sum- 
 mons of suiTender being a defiance, De Foix exclaimed to 
 his captains — ** Now, gentlemen, we have only to perform 
 well, and show ourselves gallant comrades. Let us march 
 upon the enemy in the name of God and St. Denis !" The 
 words enflame the ardor of our ancient chronicler, who tells 
 us that, with their utterance, the trumpets, the tabours, and 
 the clarions, sounded long and gloriously to the charge; 
 " so that the hair of the cowardly stood on end, while the 
 
 Y* 
 
258 ANDREA GRITTI. 
 
 hearts of the brave swelled in their bosoms." In the 
 morning of the 19th day of February, 1512, the gamson, 
 in all its force, darted from its citadel to the attack; while 
 the Duke de Nemours advanced with all his army against 
 the ramparts. With their shouts came the shots from the 
 town, one of which is described as passing miraculously 
 through the troop, which immediately surrounded the French 
 general, without harming a single person. A slight rain 
 had fallen the night before, which made the ground — which 
 sloped from the castle to the town — -exceeding slippery, so 
 that it was difficult for the assailants to keep their feet. 
 The Duke de Nemours found a remedy against this annoy- 
 ance by throwing off his shoes ; and many of his chief 
 captains did the same. Such an event as that of a gen- 
 eralissimo going barefooted into battle is new to modem 
 chivalry. Meanwhile, the Lord of Molart, with his infantry, 
 attended by Captain Heri gorge and his skirmishers, press- 
 ed forward to the first ban-iers of the town with sufficient 
 spirit. They were accompanied by Bayard, with his men- 
 at-arms, on foot. These were no ordinary infantry. They 
 were not only veterans, but many of them were captains, 
 or had been so ; but who preferred the lead of the " good 
 knight" to being in command themselves. They drew 
 nigh to the ramparts under a shower of bullets, that came 
 thick as hail from arquebuse and artillery. Here the fight 
 began most fei-vently. The Venetians fought passing well; 
 and, for awhile, the cry of " San Marco," sounded as cheerily 
 from within as that of France and Bayard from without. 
 The provveditore, Andrea Gritti, found his true position 
 here. He encouraged his men with all his eloquence and 
 by the bravest example. 
 
 *' Be firm — hold your gi-ound, my men," said he to them 
 in his native tongue. *' Only be firm, and these Frenchmen 
 will soon be weary. But for that Bayard, they had never 
 approached us so nearly!" But the Frenchmen did not 
 tire so soon as the A^enetians. The thunder of the assault 
 
BAYARD GAINS THE RAMPARTS AND IS WOUNDED. 259 
 
 drowned the noise of the arquebusiers, and, hailing the 
 moment of their increased feebleness, Bayard leapt the 
 ramparts first, crying out to his comrades to follow. " In 
 upon them, gentlemen — they are overcome, they are ours." 
 More than a thousand men followed the daring cavalier, and 
 the first barriers were quickly won. But Bayard himself 
 had fallen. The thrust of a pike, which greeted him as he 
 bounded over the ramparts, pierced his thigh. The stroke 
 was so well delivered, the shaft had penetrated so deeply, 
 that the wooden part was shivered, and the iron remained 
 in the wound, causing him such anguish that he believed 
 the hurt to be mortal. Even as he fell, he cried to the Lord 
 of Molart to march forward. " The town is gained, com- 
 panion — on with your people — as for me, I can go no far- 
 ther. I am slain." The blood gushing from his wound in 
 a torrent, after the withdrawal of the pikehead, seemed to 
 confirm his words. He was borne out of the press of bat- 
 tle by two of his archers, who tore off their shirts that they 
 might get cloth to stanch his wounds. Bitterly lamenting 
 the fall of his friend and comrade, the Lord of Molart nev- 
 ertheless hurried forward in obedience to his orders. As 
 the rumor spread that the Lord of Bayard was slain — the 
 " Good Knight, sans peur et sans reproche'^ — the " Flower 
 of the French Chivalry" — the " Mirror of Knighthood" — 
 for such were the titles to fame that his name had already 
 won — it aroused the fierce desire for vengeance on the 
 part of his followers, who, so far from being discouraged by 
 the event, soon forgot all their fears in their fury. Gaston 
 de Foix, by whom Bayard was greatly beloved, felt the 
 blow as severely as if it had fallen upon his own breast. 
 " Ah ! gentlemen, my friends," said he, ** shall we not avenge 
 upon these wretches the death of the most accomplished 
 knight in the world] Let us do our best for it !" This 
 spirit enflamed the bosom of the meanest foot-soldier. The 
 force led on by Molart and Herigorge, meanwhile, had 
 penetrated to the great square of the city ; where a terrible 
 
260 BRESCIA STORMED AND SACKED. 
 
 conflict succeeded. Hither followed the Gennan lansque- 
 nets of Captain Zemberg; while the Count Luigi Avoga- 
 dro, despairing of the event, mshing, at the head of two 
 hundred horse, through the gate of St. Nasaro, opened a 
 passage to the rest of the troops under the Duke de Ne- 
 mours, of which the latter promptly took advantage. The 
 combat was still waged with fearful terrors within the city. 
 The citizens and the women fought from the housetops 
 and the windows, casting stones, bricks, and scalding- 
 water upon the assailants. But the timely appearance of 
 De Foix finished the struggle. Brescia was taken after a 
 dreadful struggle, and the vanquished were subjected to 
 all the horrible penalties which usually followed, in those 
 days, the excitement of such a conflict. Seven or eight 
 thousand of the Venetians perished in the great square 
 alone, and every street and avenue diverging from this 
 centre were strewn with the corses of the slain. Andrea 
 Gritti, the provveditore, was made prisoner and admitted 
 to mercy ; but such was not the fortune of Luigi Avo- 
 gadro, who, captured in the effort to escape, paid for his 
 treason with his head. More than twenty thousand per- 
 sons perished in the defence and taking of this city. It 
 is to the credit of the Duke de Nemours that he strove 
 sincerely and earnestly to arrest the horrors which fol- 
 lowed upon the capture of the place. These continued, in 
 some degree, for several days, in spite of all his endeavora. 
 The mercenaries of the army were too numerous to be re- 
 strained without great delay and difficulty; and were quite 
 too adroit for easy detection. The monasteries were forced 
 and plundered; and though several of the soldiers were sum- 
 marily executed for these and other crimes, the evil scarce- 
 ly found any mitigation in their seizure and final punish- 
 ment. Rapine and brutality were only an-ested by re- 
 moving the army from the city to its former encampments. 
 The conquest, from these circumstances, was perhaps quite 
 as injurious to the fortunes of the French in Italy as a de- 
 
VICTORIES OF GASTON DE FOIX. 261 
 
 feat would have been. The odium with which they were 
 regarded, armed the inhabitants against them ; while the 
 spoils with which they were enriched by the plunder of 
 the city, beguiled thousands from the army, to their own 
 homes, at a moment when their presence was most neces- 
 saiy. Of the conduct and valor displayed by the French 
 in this engagement there has never been but one opinion. 
 That the path was first opened by Bayard is equally ad- 
 mitted ; and there can be no doubt that, had he not been 
 stricken down in the moment of his successful entrance over 
 the baftTiers, his courage, humanity, and vast influence 
 over the troops, would have tended greatly to the preven- 
 tion of those excesses by which the French arms were dis- 
 honored. But for the wrong done to humanity, the suc- 
 cesses of Gaston de Foix would have been among the most 
 admirable examples that heroism has ever furnished to man- 
 kind. In fifteen days this young conqueror had raised the 
 siege of Bologna, had defeated several bodies of the allied 
 troops, and, in the teeth of a vastly superior foe, had re- 
 gained, after a carnage the most terrible, a populous and 
 strongly fortified city. Well might the Venetians begin to 
 tremble. The city and district of Bergamo, without wait- 
 ing for the approach of the French, apprised of the fate of 
 Brescia, at once declared for the conqueror; and it was 
 witli reason that the allies feared that the whole continental 
 possessions of the Venetian republic would follow the ex- 
 ample. Let us now return to our wounded chevalier. 
 
^\l[\ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Bayard was supposed to have received his mortal 
 wound when he fell after the conquest of the barriers. He 
 himself was at first disposed to think that such was the case ; 
 but while the storm of battle was still raging, he very un- 
 willingly submitted to the restraints of his attendants who 
 bore him out of the press of danger. A door, tora from one 
 of the contiguous houses, formed a rude litter upon which 
 he was laid. In this manner, he was borae by his archers 
 to a goodly mansion in the neighborhood, which was open- 
 ed at their summons. This house was the residence of a 
 rich gentleman who was absent, and whose fate was as yet 
 unknown. His wife, a noble matron, having two fair daugh- 
 ters, was concealed with them, after a simple fashion, in a bay- 
 loft and beneath the hay. At the knock of our archers, com- 
 mending herself to God, the good woman proceeded to open 
 the door. This was an act of the greatest peril, in that mo- 
 
THE BRESCIAN MATRON. 263 
 
 ment of Storm and rapine; since it was easy to suppose that 
 those only would desire entrance into such a mansion as it 
 would be most important to keep out. It is not improbable, 
 however, that the wife thought upon her husband. It might 
 be his knock that she heard, and the danger might be im- 
 minent. Arming herself, therefore, with the courage of a 
 Roman matron, she threw wide her portals to our wound- 
 ed knight. He had fortunately retained his consciousness 
 and sense. His gentle accents reassured her. As soon 
 as he was admitted, he caused the doors to be once 
 more fastened, and assigned to a couple of his archers the 
 duty of guarding it. " On your lives," said he, " see that 
 none enter here but my own people. I am sure that when 
 it is once known that this is now my abode, none other will 
 presume to enter. Your spoils have been lessened by your 
 attendance upon me, but let not this concern you. You 
 shall lose nothing by your devotion to my service." 
 
 Our knight was conducted by the lady of the house into 
 a very fine apartment, and lodged with as much comfort as 
 splendor. When his case had been well considered, she 
 fell upon her knees before him, and addressed him in the 
 French tongue. " Noble sir, to you belongs this dwelling 
 and all therein. It is yours, I well know, by the laws of 
 war. But O ! sir, be merciful, and spare the lives and 
 honor of the weak women who are left to keep it, myself 
 and my two virgin daughters !" 
 
 The noble knight, her guest, who, says our chronicler — 
 never once harbored a thought of evil — though suffering 
 grievous pain from his hurts, yet reassured her in the ten- 
 derest manner. " Madam," said he, ** it may be that I shall 
 not recover from this wound by which I am sorely stricken, 
 and I may promise nothing for your safety when I shall cease 
 to be conscious of your danger ; but as surely as I live, and 
 while I live, no harm shall befal your daughters or yourself 
 Let them keep their chamber — expose them not unnecessa 
 rily to evil eyes — and I may assure you confidently that 
 
264 THE WOUNDED KNIGHT. 
 
 while I am your guest, no man shall presume to enter any 
 apartment against your pleasure. Let me tell you that you 
 have one beneath your roof who will not only not plunder 
 you himself, but will not suffer other hands to do so. You 
 shall know him by nothing but the courtesies and civilities 
 of the gentleman." 
 
 Verily, the noble dame was greatly comforted when she 
 heard this language. There was that in the frank, ingenu- 
 ous countenance of our suffering knight, to satisfy her that 
 his words were sooth — the native utterance of a noble soul, 
 and not simply extorted from him by a sense of weakness 
 and anguish. She felt, then, how important to her and to 
 her young daughters was the safety of one who could prom- 
 ise so confidently for her protection, and upon whose words 
 she felt so willing to rely; and, under the conduct of one of 
 the archers, she hunied to a neighboring house, in search 
 of a skilful surgeon, that the wounds of her lodger might 
 be dressed. Fortunately, she succeeded in soon finding him. 
 The inspection of Bayard's hurt showed it to be large and 
 deep, but not mortal ; and, at the second dressing, the sur- 
 geon of the Duke de Nemours was present and confirmed 
 the decision of the Brescian. The duke himself found out 
 the place of refuge of our good knight, and went to visit 
 him daily, for a week, saying to him at the end of that time, 
 that he must hurry with all despatch to get himself cured, 
 as it was highly probable that he should have to give battle 
 to the Spaniards within the month. " And," added the 
 duke fervently, "I had rather lose my whole estate than 
 lose you from that battle. My faith is in you, my friend — 
 in you and your fortune." 
 
 " If there be a battle in that time," was the answer of 
 Bayard, " you will see me present, though I am earned 
 thither on a litter." 
 
 Many presents from the duke accompanied or fol- 
 lowed his visits — among them a purse of five hundred 
 crowns, which our good knight divided between the 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE WAR. 265 
 
 two archers who had kept his house while he lay- 
 wounded. 
 
 The city being at length relieved from the desperate ad- 
 venturers by whom the worst ravages had been committed 
 — though only with gi'eat difficulty and after several terrible 
 examples — and order being somewhat restored, Bayard 
 called his hostess to his bedside, and inquired after her hus- 
 band. The poor lady, bathed in tears, answered that " she 
 knew not whether he was alive or dead." Her hope was 
 that he had found concealment in a certain monastery where 
 he had many acquaintance. Bayard immediately obtained 
 the necessary directions and despatched his archers in 
 search of the husband. He was found, and conducted in 
 safety to the dwelling where our good knight played the 
 host gi'aciously, and gave the still trembling citizen a cheer- 
 ly welcome. " Be not cast down, my friend," said he, 
 " your wife has lodged none but friends." 
 
 For nearly five weeks was Bayard confined by his 
 wound in Brescia, without ever leaving his couch ; not suf- 
 fering from inferior surgery, or bad attendance, for of nei- 
 ther of these things could he complain. But his hurt, 
 though not mortal, was a severe and dangerous one, re- 
 quiring time and patience, as well as proper treatment. 
 Now, time and patience were, of all things, those of which, 
 just at this moment, our captain had the least to spare. 
 Each day brought him tidings from the opposing arms, 
 which fretted his soul, at the expense of his wound. King 
 Louis of France, delighted with the conquests of his ne- 
 phew, the noble Gaston de Foix, was yet eager that he 
 should follow them up. He saw that, while the Spaniards 
 continued to occupy the plains of Lombardy, his State of 
 Milan would never be secure. His policy was to remove 
 the seat of war fi'om this region, and throw the expense of 
 supporting the struggle upon the enemy. It was, also, essen- 
 tial that his troops should find their way back to France, 
 with all possible despatch ; the coasts of that country being 
 
 Z 
 
266 THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 
 
 threatened by great preparations which were making by 
 the King of England. Gaston de Foix was not unwiUing 
 to respond to the wishes of his uncle. His own genius 
 required rapidity, as well as boldness of execution, in his 
 warlike progresses. He, too, had resolved upon doing his 
 utmost to bring about a rapid finish to the war. Assembling 
 his troops, therefore, horse and foot (having left a sufficient 
 gari'ison in Brescia), he returned to Bologna, where he was 
 joined by the Duke of FeiTara, with a large body of 
 troops and an extensive train of artillery, making his 
 army amount to a splendid force of twenty-five thousand 
 men. With these troops he pushed rapidly forward to the 
 meeting of the allied forces. The Pope and the Seignory 
 of Venice, though necessarily alarmed at the fearful prog- 
 ress which the French had recently made, yet conthmed 
 to maintain a firm and unyielding aspect. The former 
 had succeeded, by a bribe of fifty thousand florins, in 
 buying off, from the alliance with Louis, the mercenary 
 Emperor Maximilian, who, thus tempted, concluded a truce 
 for ten months with the Venetians. This event furnished 
 an additional motive to De Foix, in pressing the war to a 
 final issue, particularly while the morale of his troops was 
 heightened by their fresh and frequent victories. The 
 allied forces were scarcely less numerous than those of 
 France. They were commanded by the Cardinal Legate 
 de Medici, and the Viceroy Cardona, and formed one of 
 the best appointed armies that had ever been seen in 
 Italy. Fifteen hundred men-at-arms, eight hundred of 
 whom rode harhed horses,* of the best and most select 
 condition, and were clad in gold and azure, made a sight 
 to ravish the very soul of the lover of chivalrous sights. 
 Three thousand light-horse, and eighteen thousand foot, 
 rendered the allied forces a power to be approached with 
 respect ; and made it doubtful whether, even in the face 
 
 * Richly clad, and partially armed with breastplate and points, as in the 
 tourney. 
 
bayard's impatience. 267 
 
 of such a foe as Gaston de Foix, it was proper to avoid 
 the conflict. But such was the issue of the deliberations 
 among the captains of this host. It was thought more ad- 
 visable to harass the French forces, and cut off their 
 supplies, than to risk the fate of Italy on a single battle. 
 They retired, slowly, before the face of their enemies, and 
 avoided the conflict which Gaston de Foix as earnestly 
 continued to seek. At this play of hide-and-seek the two 
 armies continued for three weeks, or longer. Frequent 
 skirmishes ensued between their outposts and scouts ; scarce 
 a day passing which did not afford prisoners for ransom to 
 one or the other party. But, for any general engagement, 
 the allies were averse. Encamped strongly, they baffled 
 all the attempts of the French to bring them to action ; 
 and, in despair of them, at last, and not to remain inactive, 
 the eager and impatient De Foix turned his arms in the 
 direction of Ravenna, which the Spaniards and Italians had 
 strongly occupied. In his progress in this direction, he 
 stormed the fortress of Russi, putting more than a thou- 
 sand persons to the sword ; then, without waste of time, 
 he pressed forward to the prouder quany, upon which his 
 eagle eye was fixed. 
 
 Such were the tidings that came to Bayard in his weary 
 chamber, and they stung him into a defiance of his surgeon. 
 He resolved within himself, that, if not cured of his hurts, 
 it was high time that he should be so. Leaving his couch 
 accordingly, he tottered over his room to see whether he 
 could walk or not. He found himself veiy feeble, but the 
 spirit striving within him determined that he should be 
 strong. He sent for his surgeon, and said to him — 
 " Prithee, my friend, say to me, honestly, what will be the 
 danger of my setting forth upon a journey. I seem to my- 
 self quite cured, or very nearly so ; and in my own judg- 
 ment, believe me, to tarry longer here in this durance, 
 which frets me exceedingly, will do me much more harm 
 than good.'* 
 
268 THE HOSTESS OF BAYARD. 
 
 The surgeon had long since been aware of the good 
 knight's impatience. His servants had ah-eady apprised 
 him how extreme was his sohcitude about the events of the 
 war, and how intense was his anxiety lest he should fail to 
 be present at the meeting of the opposing armies. He took 
 these things into the account, and, after due reflection, con- 
 curred somewhat in opinion with his patient. " Your 
 wound is not yet entirely closed, my lord ; but all within is 
 healed. We will dress it once more, and I will provide 
 your barber with an ointment which will keep it from ex- 
 asperation. The worst part of the wound is at the top of 
 your thigh; and does not come in contact with the saddle. 
 With care, therefore, there is little danger." 
 
 The answer of this oracle, according to the " Loyal 
 Servant," gave our good knight more pleasure than the 
 sudden acquisition often thousand crowns could have done. 
 The surgeon was recompensed and dismissed, and Bayard 
 proceeded to make his preparations for departure within 
 two days. His people were assembled for this pui-pose, 
 and received his instructions, and his excellent hostess 
 was apprised that she was now to lose her captor and 
 protector. According to the laws of war, herself, husband, 
 daughters, and household, were all his property. The 
 goods and chattels which she held were held only in trust 
 for him. He might take them and herself — all — with him, 
 or dispose of them to others at his departure. This had 
 been the fate of her neighbors who had fallen into the 
 hands of the conquerors ; all of whom had been compelled 
 to ransom themselves at high prices. It is true she had 
 learned to know our knight, as an exception among his 
 fellows. His fame had already reached her ears, and her 
 own eyes had witnessed his benevolence and nobleness of 
 heart. But she still expected to pay her own and the ransom 
 of her daughters, which, if her guest tliought pro]ier, might 
 be assessed at ten or twelve thousand crowns. Her income 
 was but two thousand ; and though he had said nothing to 
 
HER TRIBUTE. 269 
 
 her about a ransom, she yet prepared to make him such a 
 present as she thought might silence him on that subject, 
 particulai'ly as she built, in a great degree, upon his mag- 
 nanimous and generous nature. 
 
 On the morning, therefore, which was assigned for his 
 departure, she entered his apartment, followed by one of 
 her servants, bearing a little casket of steel. Bayard had 
 been exercising his leg by gradual promenading, and was 
 now resting upon a chair. The excellent woman fell on 
 her knees before him, when he instantly raised her kindly, 
 and would not suffer her to say a word till he had seated 
 her beside him. She then opened her business with the 
 following language : " The favor, my lord, which God hath 
 shown me in directing you to this house of yours on the 
 day when Brescia was taken, hath been the saving of our 
 lives and the preservation of my children's chastity, which 
 is much more precious to them than their lives. We have 
 been saved also from all oifence, and your people have 
 treated us with the most perfect courtesy. We have lost 
 nothing, and all that has been furnished by us hath been 
 paid for. My lord, we are all your prisoners. This house 
 and these goods are yours, to be dealt with and disposed 
 of as you think proper. But I have learned to know the 
 unparalleled nobleness of your heart, and I am now come 
 humbly to supplicate your compassion, and to implore that 
 you will deal with us with your accustomed liberality. 
 Here, my lord, is a little gift which I have brought you, 
 and which I entreat you to take in good part." 
 
 Thus saying, she opened the casket which the servant 
 offered, and displayed it filled with goodly golden ducats. 
 To her surprise, the good knight, to whom money had 
 never yet offered any temptations, burst into a fit of pleasant 
 laughter. " Madam," said he, " how many ducats, think 
 you, are there in this box ]" It was now the fear of the 
 worthy matron that he despised the poverty of her gift, 
 regarding the ducats as quite too few to make them ac- 
 
270 HOW ACCEPTED. 
 
 ceptable by way of ransom. She answered hesitatingly — 
 " My Lord, there are but two thousand and five hundred ; 
 but if these do not content you, we will bring yet more." 
 But the generous and gentle knight soon disabused her of 
 her fears. " On my honor, madam," said he, " had you 
 brought me an hundred thousand, I should not be so much 
 beholden to you, as I am, for the kindly treatment and the 
 careful tendance which I have had at your hands. Be 
 sure, madam, that, wherever I may be, and while God 
 permits me to live, you shall always have a gentleman at 
 your service. As for your ducats, I will have none of 
 them. I thank you, but take them back. All my life 
 long, I have loved men better than money ; and I shall 
 leave you quite as well satisfied as if you had placed all 
 this goodly town at my disposal." 
 
 The heart of the good woman was deeply touched and 
 somewhat wounded, as well as astonished, by this rejection 
 of her gift. She again threw herself at his feet, and he 
 again raised her to his side. She urged her present upon 
 him, with a new form of entreaty. " My lord, I implore 
 you to receive our gift. I should for ever esteem myself 
 the most unfortunate of women, if one to whom I owe so 
 much of courtesy, forbearance, and great goodness, should 
 scorn to take this poor tribute of our gratitude and affec- 
 tion." This pleading changed the character of the pro- 
 ceeding. The heart of the woman was now so clearly in 
 her gift — it was so evidently proffered by her esteem and 
 love, and not extorted by her fears, that Bayard replied — 
 " Well, madam, since you so earnestly desire it, I take it 
 for love of you ; but go and fetch your daughters, that I 
 may bid them farewell." 
 
 Overjoyed that she had thus attained her object, the lady 
 disappeared, and returned almost immediately with her 
 daughters. These virgins were arrived at womanhood, 
 and were exceeding comely to behold. They were ami- 
 able damsels, and had been well taught in the various arts 
 
HOW APPROPRIATED. 271 
 
 which belong to women. They, as well as their mother, 
 had attended our knight during his sickness — ^had watched 
 beside him^ and solaced his sadness and weariness with 
 those sweet attentions which none can bestow so well as 
 the gentle sex. They wrought with their needles beside 
 him, as he lay upon his couch, and sung to him songs of 
 chivalry, in which he took great deUght, to the music 
 of lute and virginal, which they knew deftly how to finger. 
 They did not, therefore, come before him as strangers, 
 when they came to receive his adieus. Before they ap- 
 peared, however. Bayard had busied himself in dividing 
 the money which the mother had given him into three 
 parts, — two of a thousiand crowns each, and the third of 
 the remaining five hundred. When they came, they threw 
 themselves on their knees before him, but he immediately 
 raised them. The mother said, " My lord, these two 
 maidens, who owe all that is dear to them in life to your 
 generosity, now come to declare their thanks and gratitude, 
 and to take leave of you. They, as well as I, shall be al- 
 ways bound to entreat the blessing of God upon your head." 
 
 The tears gathered in the eyes of Bayard, as he remem- 
 bered their kindness, and beheld their humihty, " Dear 
 young maidens," said he, " it is I who have to return 
 thanks, and not you. How much do I owe you for iho 
 solace of your sweet company, and most grateful atten- 
 tions ! I shall be your debtor as long as I live. Alas ! I 
 have no exquisite toys, such as become young ladies to re- 
 tain as tokens. We, men-at-arms, are not wont to be thus 
 provided. You must, therefore, suffer me to throw a 
 thousand of these crowns into each of your laps, which 
 your good mother hath been pleased to give me, and which 
 I bestow, as a marriage portion, upon you. From you I 
 ask nothing but your prayers in my behalf." 
 
 He threw the ducats into their aprons, in spite of all 
 their objections. The five hundred ducats he restored to 
 the mother, to be distributed in his name among the poor 
 
272 THE GIFTS OF THE DAMSELS. 
 
 nuns of a convent which had suffered from the pillagers 
 when the city was taken. Then, touching their hands, after 
 the fashion of Italy, as a sign of leave-taking, he was about 
 to turn away, when they all again fell upon their knees 
 weeping bitterly. The matron then, with overflowing heart, 
 thus addressed him with an apostrophe which called the red 
 blood into his thin, pale cheeks : " Oh ! flower of all chival- 
 ry, with whom none living may compare, may our Blessed 
 Saviour and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who suffered death and 
 passion for all sinners, reward you in this and the coming 
 life !" Here they all left him, but when he was about to 
 mount his steed, the two damsels came down to him, bring- 
 ing each a present which they had wrought for him during 
 his illness. One gave him an exquisite pair of bracelets, 
 delicately woven of gold and silver threads, and the other 
 a purse of crimson satin most curiously fashioned. The 
 bracelets he put upon his arms, the purse, as was the cus- 
 tom of knighthood, in his sleeve ; the more conspicuously to 
 do honor to the givers. These, he declared were more 
 precious to him than ten thousand crowns, and he prom- 
 ised to wear them while they lasted and while he lived. 
 The parting was a renewed scene of tenderness — of the 
 sweetest sympathies, which were treasured fondly by mu- 
 tual hearts, and precious to each as well because of their 
 purity as their fondness. Bayard left Brescia in company 
 with his friend the Lord d'Aubigny, who, with two or three 
 thousand other gentlemen who had been left in garrison, 
 was now about to join the aimy of the Duke de Nemours 
 then advancing upon Ravenna. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The army of the Duke de Nemours had made its ap- 
 pearance before Ravenna the very day when Bayard reach- 
 ed the camp. His arrival w^as productive of as much pleas- 
 ure among the knights and captains as if they had received 
 a reinforcement of ten thousand men. The welcome of the 
 duke himself was such as made the full heart of Bayard 
 forget that he was feeble. He felt more happy at being in 
 the field, and once more among his ancient comrades, than 
 if he had suddenly come into possession of a kingdom. 
 Such is the language of the chronicler, who has written his 
 biography in an equal spirit of tnith and fondness. It is 
 very certain that his fame was now so widely extended, and 
 of a kind so superior to that of most, if not all, of his con- 
 temporaries, that his very presence in the camp inspired 
 their foes with apprehension, while it armed his friends and 
 comrades with fresh confidence and zeal. 
 
 AiTived under the walls of Ravenna, the Duke de Ne- 
 mours at once assembled his captains for consultation. His 
 own nature demanded prompt action always, and his pres- 
 ent necessities seemed to require it. Provisions were be- 
 ginning to fail in camp. The Venetians on the one hand, 
 and the Spaniards on the other, were rapidly cutting off 
 his supplies and circumscribing the boundaries from 
 which they were drawn. Bread and wine were essential 
 in those days to an army in Italy, and the necessity of sub- 
 sisting on mere meat and cheese was supposed to be such 
 a hardship as might excuse impatience and discontent 
 among the troops, if not justify defection. There was yet 
 another matter which coatributed to render it necessary 
 
274 JACOB ZEMBERG. 
 
 that Gaston de Foix should do quickly with his forces what- 
 ever he designed. We have seen that the Emperor Max- 
 imilian had been bought over from the cause of the French 
 by the money and the cunning of the Pope. Now, there 
 happened to be some five thousand German lansquenets in 
 the army of France, under the command of Jacob Zem- 
 berg and Philip of Friburg, both stout and excellent cap- 
 tains. To these, Maximilian had written, to retire from the 
 field, leaving the French to continue the warfare by them- 
 selves. One of these letters had been intercepted by the 
 Duke de Nemours ; and, with that lax moral which war and 
 the particular circumstances of the case appeared to justify, 
 le had taken care that it should not reach the person to 
 vvhom it was addressed. But the letter for Captain Zem- 
 oerg came to that officer's hands. It so happened that 
 Zemberg was personally attached to the French. He had 
 visited France, had received some favors from the noblesse, 
 and probably from the king, whose policy it had been to 
 encourage the German and Swiss mercenaries ; and was 
 particularly fond, among other persons, of our good knight 
 Bayard. The intimacy between these two had been of 
 long growth and standing, having originated in the first ex- 
 pedition of our hero, with five or six hundred horse, against 
 Padua, when the emperor, with an army like that of Xerxes, 
 threatened to swallow up the fated city which he in vain be- 
 sieged. As soon as Zemberg received his letter from his 
 master, he hunied to the tent of our chevalier, to whom he 
 related the circumstance, stating the cause of his disquiet, 
 but giving Bayard to understand that his instructions had 
 not been seen by any person but himself The contents re- 
 vealed, he was very sure that the greater number of the 
 lansquenets would refuse to fight, and retire to their homes 
 or to the enemy. For himself, he declared that he was de- 
 voted to the King of France — that he had received his pay, 
 and would rather perish by a thousand deaths than desert 
 his banners while they were waving in the face of his foes. 
 
THE COUNCIL. 275 
 
 But how to manage his lansquenets — how to keep them 
 from a knowledge of the orders which he had received — 
 nay, would not other commands reach them, and of a more 
 imperative sort, such as would be fatal to himself, and which 
 none of them would dare to disobey 1 His difficulties were 
 freely declared to our good knight. Bayard seems to have 
 vei-y well understood the moving principle among the na- 
 tions who in that day drove a mercenary trade in blood. 
 "My friend," said he, "you once gave me to understand 
 that you possess but little in Germany. Now, the King of 
 France is powerful and rich. He can reward with ease 
 and affluence those who serve him faithfully. He thinks 
 much of you, I am well assured. You are a favorite of his 
 already. His esteem for you will necessarily be augment- 
 ed when he understands how devoted you have been to his 
 interests. And he shall know it fiora me, God willing, 
 though all other tongues remain silent. But, come with 
 me to the lodgings of the duke. He hath summoned us to 
 council. I will privately lay before him the matter which 
 you have shown me." 
 
 The council was by no means a harmonious one. There 
 was great diversity of opinion. There were some who 
 opposed themselves to risking every thing in a battle, in 
 which, if lost, the whole of Italy would be perilled, and 
 their own escape cut off — with three or four difficult 
 rivers to cross, and the forces of the Pope, of Spain, of 
 Venice, the emperor, and the Swiss — all combined for 
 their destruction. Their arguments were by no means 
 wanting in force, and they were felt by those who heard 
 them. In the mean time. Bayard had secretly communi- 
 cated to Gaston de Foix the intelligence conveyed by 
 Captain Zemberg. This showed the necessity of fighting 
 at once, before the requisition of Maximilian should be 
 known to his lansquenets, since any delay might endanger 
 the loss to the French of at least one third of the army. There 
 was another impelling influence at work to render battle 
 
276 bayard's opinions. 
 
 inevitable. Louis was threatened by invasion in two or 
 three quarters of his own dominions, and needed the succor 
 of his troops from Italy. Bayard was the counsellor who was 
 employed to reconcile the dissenting voices, and to disann 
 the doubts and fears among the captains. In answer to a 
 question directly proposed to him by the duke (for it may 
 be observed of our " Good Knight" that he was seldom in a 
 hurry to thrust his opinions upon his associates), he replied 
 to the following effect : 
 
 " My lord, having but yesterday arrived, I know nothing 
 of the condition of our enemies. These gentlemen, who 
 have met and skirmished with them daily, and who know 
 much more than I can, are divided in opinion. Some are 
 for giving, and some for avoiding battle. Since you arc 
 pleased to think that my opinions may be of some use in 
 the discussion, with all regard and reverence for your lord- 
 ship, and those who have already expressed themselves, I 
 will freely show you what I think. There is no doubt that 
 all engagements have their hazards. It behooves us, 
 therefore, to consider well before we involve ourselves in 
 action. But, as the case appears to stand at present, 
 between ourselves and the enemy, it seems to me the 
 battle is not to be avoided. "We shall hardly be suffered 
 to depart without doing battle. Here you have already 
 made your approaches. To-morrow it is proposed that 
 you cannonade Ravenna, and, a breach being made, to 
 enter it by storm. Now, surely, we are all aware that the 
 activity of Marc Antonio Colonna hath at least been equal 
 to our own. He hath succeeded in throwing himself into 
 the place with a powerful body of fine troops, and hath 
 done so with a solemn assurance from Don Raymond de 
 Cardona, viceroy of Naples, and head of the hostile army — 
 of his own uncle, the Lord Fabrizio Colonna, together with 
 that of Count Pietro de Navarro, and of all the captains — 
 that, if he can hold out till to-morrow, or, at farthest, till 
 Easter-day, they will succor and relieve him. Now, it is 
 
277 
 
 very certain that these gentlemen mean to make their 
 promises good. They are akeady close upon us, and in 
 all their force. Now, suppose we seek to avoid this battle, 
 what shall we gain by the delay 1 Let us see. Our con- 
 dition just now is bad enough. Our troops are almost 
 without food. Our horses are obliged to subsist on the 
 shoots of willows. The longer we stay, the less will be 
 our sustenance — the more calamitous our situation. This 
 should be consideration enough to move us to the action. 
 But when, in addition, we know the peril in which the 
 king our master stands at this moment — what his wishes 
 are, and what his necessities — how he urges us to give 
 battle, and how he shows us that it is not merely the 
 safety of the duchy of Milan, but that of the whole realm 
 of France which is now menaced by the enemy — it seems 
 to me that we can not doubt of the necessity for action 
 which is before us. We must fight, and fight discreetly, 
 as well as fearlessly. We have to deal with a crafty 
 people, who are good soldiers also. That we shall incur 
 great danger is very true. But there is one thing which 
 gives me heart in spite of all discouraging circumstances. 
 It is this. These Spaniards have now been living for 
 a whole year in Romagna on the fat of the land — living, I 
 may say, in clover — and have gi'own luxurious, and fond 
 of ease. They are pursy and proud, and greatly encum- 
 bered with fat. We, on the contrary, have been forced 
 to live on what we could catch — on scanty fare, which is 
 still our only resource. By reason of this sort of diet — 
 this forced abstinence — we shall be in better wind for the 
 conflict — we shall be longer-breathed — and this is what we 
 most want in such a struggle as the one before us ; for it is 
 very certain that it is that party who can longest hold on 
 in battle by whom the day is to be won." 
 
 Bayard usually dressed up his counsel with pleasantry, 
 in moments when the prospect seemed gloomy before his 
 companions. They laughed heartily at his philosophy, and 
 
 A K 
 
278 THE ASSAULT UPON RAVENNA. 
 
 in their merriment the danger was somewhat lessened in 
 the eyes of those who, before, had been disposed to shrink 
 from the encounter. His reasoning was undoubtedly cor- 
 rect. Had the French, half-starved as they were, avoided 
 the conflict, and shewn any disposition to acknowledge the 
 superiority of their enemies, the morale of their army 
 would have been endangered. A retreat never helps the 
 courage of troops, who are already suffering from starva- 
 tion. The lords of Lautrec, de la Palisse, the Grand 
 Seneschal of Normandy, and, indeed, the great majority, 
 concurred with Bayard in the necessity of giving battle, 
 and such was the final decision. The next day, the pow- 
 erful artillery of the Duke of Fen'ara, always irresistible, 
 opened upon the walls of Ravenna. A breach was soon 
 effected, which the impatience of the French, anxious to 
 achieve the conquest of the city before the allies could re- 
 lieve it, hastened to penetrate. A force, consisting of two 
 hundred gens d'arms, and three thousand foot, were ordered 
 to the assault, and advanced gallantly toward the breach, 
 with the gay demeanor of a bridal party. They mounted 
 the crumbling battlements, when a terrible hand-to-hand 
 conflict took place upon the ramparts. For four mortal 
 hours the attack was persevered in, at an awful expense of 
 life. If the assailants played their parts with an elastic 
 and enthusiastic courage, that never dreamed of peril, the 
 defenders as gallantly maintained their defence, with a 
 hardihood as resolute as that with which they were assailed. 
 Marc Antonio Colonna had placed his best men upon the 
 threshold, and this was quite too small to enable the 
 French to assail them with adequate numbers. Cheered 
 with the conviction of their strength, of the advantages un- 
 der which they fought, and of the rapid approach of the 
 allies, the courage of the garrison grew with the pressure 
 from without. The French, after five or six glorious efforts, 
 were compelled to relinquish the assault, and to retire 
 fi'om the breach, in which more than fifteen hundred men, 
 
BAFFLED. 279 
 
 of both parties, had akeady perished. When the facts in 
 their condition were all known, they drew consolation from 
 their own defeat. The sound of their cannon had reached 
 the camp of the allied forces. The danger to Ravenna 
 compelled them to abandon the temporizing policy which 
 had governed their leaders so long, and forced them to 
 risk a pitched battle, in which their stakes were quite as 
 great as those of the enemy, from whom their recent policy 
 had cut off both provisions and retreat. Had the French 
 obtained possession of Ravenna, by assault, the sack would 
 have left them in no condition to meet the enemy without; 
 and when Gaston de Foix drew off his soldiers from the 
 walls, the former had advanced their camp to within three 
 miles of that of France. But for this near approach of the 
 foe, the assault upon Ravenna would have been renewed, and 
 must in the end have been successful. It was impossible 
 now to persevere, while an army, fully equal in number to 
 his own, lay ready to seize the first opportunity for a favor- 
 able attack. His situation was critical. The battle was 
 now inevitable, as Bayard had foreseen ; and the only hope 
 of the Duke de Nemours was in assailing the enemy in his 
 ti'enches, and forcing him to a general engagement. 
 
 The night of the day when the attempt was made upon 
 the city, many of the chiefs of the French army were 
 assembled at the lodgings of their general. After supper, 
 discoursing of the events of the action, the duke turning to 
 Bayard remarked, — " My Lord Bayard, before you reach- 
 ed the camp, the Spaniards were continually inquiring 
 after you of our people. They seem, from what I can 
 hear, to have a very high notion of your prowess. Now, 
 if it seem good to you, who have long known their ways of 
 fighting, I would advise that you go forth and skirmish 
 vrith them to-morrow. Compel them, if possible, to join 
 battle with you, that we may see what sort of show they 
 make." 
 
 The object was reconnaissance. It was important to 
 
280 TflE BARON OF BEARN. 
 
 feel the foe, to sound his spirit, ascertain his strength, and 
 see properly how it was arrayed, in advance of the main 
 attempt which had ah'eady been resolved upon. Bayard, 
 who was ambitious of nothing better at that moment 
 than such an enteipiise, answered, with spirit and prompt- 
 ness, 
 
 " With God's blessing, my lord, I shall take so close 
 a look at them, ere mid-day to-morrow, that I shall bring 
 back all about them which you may desire to know." 
 
 There happened to be present when this suggestion was 
 made and answered, a certain Baron of Beam, one of the 
 duke's lieutenants, a bold knight, who loved a skirmish 
 quite as well as any of his neighbors. He was probably 
 somewhat piqued at the application made to Bayard only ; 
 and, in evil hour, he resolved within himself that the 
 *' Good Knight" must be in stirrup very early, if he hoped 
 to take the field before himself Secretly assembling a 
 party of his friends and followers, he made his aiTange- 
 ments for setting forth before break of day ; and did set 
 forth, seeking the enemy's entrenchments, long in advance 
 of our hero; who, suspecting nothing of this adventure, took 
 his own course, and, as soon as he had left the duke, called 
 his chief followers together. These were his lieutenant. 
 Captain Pien'epont, his ensign, his guidon, and some others 
 of his company. To these he unfolded his plans as fol- 
 lows : — " I have promised, gentlemen, that we shall recon- 
 noitre the enemy to-morrow, and get certain information 
 in regard to them. The affair is one to be conducted in 
 such a manner as will bring us credit. My purpose is to 
 take the whole command, and to display the banners 
 of the Duke of Lorraine, which the enemy have never 
 seen. They may bring us good luck, and will be more 
 cheering than the sound of comets. To you, Du Fay" — 
 addressing the standard-bearer — " I assign fifty archers. 
 With these you will pass the canal below the artillery of 
 the Spaniards, and, as far as you can, stir up an alarm in 
 
HE STIRS UP THE SPANIARDS. 281 
 
 their camp. When you see that it is prudent to retire, 
 you will run no risk in doing so, supported, as you will 
 be, by Captain Pierrepont, who, with thirty-six horse and 
 the rest of the archers, will be at your rear. He will sup- 
 port you, with the rest of the company. I will be at hand 
 to see that you are not too hard pressed. Manage the 
 affair with caution, and I pledge you that we shall all gain 
 credit by the result." 
 
 Having no field-plans, we must suppose that the scheme 
 was one implying some nice stratagem. His officers per- 
 fectly understood him, and each knew the part which was 
 assigned him. We must not forget to remind the reader, 
 as the old chronicler frequently reminds us, that there was 
 not one of Bayard's gendarms who was not fit himself to 
 be a captain. Their plans did not keep any of them from 
 sleep that night. Retiring, as soon as their arrangements 
 were made, they were all ready by the dawn of day, when 
 they armed and accoutred themselves. The colors of the 
 Duke of LoiTaine were unfurled, for the first time, to the 
 breezes of Ravenna — " a goodly spectacle, which greatly 
 cheered the hearts of the company." They began their 
 march, as previously determined, in three separate bands, 
 each, at a distance from the other, of three moderate bow- 
 shots. Never a bit did any of our good knight's party 
 dream that the adventurous young Baron of Beam had got 
 the start of them, snuffing the breezes of battle and the 
 morning together, in advance of themselves. They were 
 soon, however, to partake in the game which this young 
 gentleman had so gallantly begun. He had gone forth 
 right valiantly, and succeeded in stirring up a delightful 
 alarm in the camp of the Spaniards. Foot and horse were 
 arranged for battle, and the artillerists, a little more rapid 
 than any other arm of the service, had despatched certain 
 bullets of rock into the ranks of the baron's party, which 
 took off an arm of the Chevalier Basillac, a favorite of the 
 Duke de Nemours, as cleverly as a surgeon could have 
 
282 bayard's share in the game. 
 
 done. These shots were seconded by a rush of the Span- 
 ish and Neapolitan gendarms, before which our Baron de 
 Beam thought it only prudent to retire. But his walk 
 soon became a trot, and then a gallop ; and even the head- 
 long race, under the spur of sauve qui pent, would scarcely 
 have sufficed for the safety of the party, but for the timely 
 coming of the Bastard Du Fay, who interposed his squadron 
 between the fugitives and the pursuers. Bayard, apprised 
 of the luckless adventure of the baron, and of the approach 
 of the Spaniards, soon brought his force up to co-operation 
 with that of Du Fay, but without exposing himself to the 
 cognizance of the enemy. It was with no qualified pleas- 
 ure that he beheld them urging the headlong chase, until 
 they had fairly crossed the canal which separated them 
 wholly from the support of the camp. Then it was that, 
 putting lance in rest, and plying the steed with the rowel, 
 he cried aloud to his followers to charge the assailants. 
 The fugitives fell into his rear, while he, never looking to 
 see whether he was or was not supported — taking that for 
 granted, as well he might in consideration of the love borne 
 him by his followers — darted fiercely at once into the very 
 centre of the enemy's squadron, consisting of an hundred 
 horse and more, overthrowing five or six of them at the 
 first encounter. The Spaniards fought well but vainly, 
 and at length fairly wheeled about and fled for the camp, 
 which was now every where in commotion and alarm, the 
 whole army being drawn up in order of battle. Never 
 heeding their gallant array, except to note its aspect ac- 
 curately for the benefit of his general. Bayard continued 
 to drive the party which he had defeated, before him, until 
 they had fairly crossed the canal and entered the camp. 
 Here, as if in the very wantonness of his defiance, he and 
 his company exhibited prodigies of valor, overthrowing all 
 who encountered tliem, and tumbling not a few of the tents 
 and pavilions of the luxurious Spaniards into the dust. It 
 was only when the vigilant eyes of our good knight beheld 
 
HIS SUCCESS. 283 
 
 a troop of three hundred gendarms, close ranged for fight, 
 and hurrying toward him at a quick trot, that he gave orders 
 for the retreat. They repassed the canal without the loss 
 of a man. The Spaniards did not pursue them, though five 
 or six of them, in a spirit of chivalry, proposed to break a 
 lance with an equal number of Frenchmen. But, thinking 
 it would bring on another skirmish, in which his men, heat- 
 ed and exhausted, would be required to cope with fresh 
 soldiers. Bayard would not suffer one of his people to com- 
 ply with the wishes of the challengers. The Duke of 
 Nemours already knew what had taken place. Greatly 
 grieved for Basillac's misfortune, he embraced Bayard as 
 he returned to the camp, saying to him, " You, and such 
 as you only, my Lord of Bayard, are fit to head the skir- 
 mishers. You can both go and return with discretion." 
 Those who beheld the prowess of our knight, in this rude 
 encounter with the Spaniards at once acknowledged they 
 had never seen one who understood war so well, or met 
 its dangers with such feats of arms. But this spirited af- 
 fair was one to sink into insignificance in regard to that 
 which was at hand. It was a taste, only preparatory to one, 
 which French and Spaniards had equal reason to deplore 
 for several seasons after 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 It was not to inquire whether a battle was to be fought, 
 but liow it was to be fought, that, after this reconnaissance 
 of Bayard, Gaston de Foix called his officers again to 
 council. The skirmish of the good knight with the Span- 
 iards had not only enabled him to see somewhat into their 
 arrangements, but had revealed the spirit with which they 
 would be likely to meet the final issue. The very fat 
 feeding to which Bayard had alluded, and which he sup- 
 posed might render his enemies scant of breath in the 
 action, would yet, of itself, furnish sufficient impulse to 
 make them eager for the excitements of the strife. To 
 infuse his own people with the proper spirit, and to plan 
 the mode of attack, — for the French general was resolved 
 upon taking the initiate steps in the business, — was the 
 subject matter of the conference in which we find our 
 good knight once more counselling the mode of procedure, 
 with the satisfaction of finding his opinions adopted by the 
 rest. His discoveries of the morning, in the camp of the 
 Spaniards, and his views of what should be done by the 
 assailants, in great measure determined the order for the 
 attack, which was arranged for the ensuing day, being 
 Easter Sunday. That night a bridge of boats was thrown 
 across the river Ronco for the passage of the infantry 
 and artillery, the esplanades on either bank being 
 such as to enable the horse to ford the stream with- 
 out assistance. The keeping of this bridge was assigned 
 to the Bastard Du Fay, the standard-bearer of our 
 knight. The council separated for the night, each having 
 his post assigned him, and all properly impressed with the 
 
THE RIVAL AEMIE;?. 285 
 
 duties and the dangers which awaited them on the ensuing 
 day. 
 
 This memorable day, in which the flower of both armies 
 was destined to perish, dawned at last, the eleventh of 
 April, 1512. Conspicuous among the leaders, on each 
 side, were men distinguished as the legates of the most 
 high God. Clad in complete armor, towering in his pride 
 of place, full of a wrathful and imperious spirit, and of 
 martial and imposing aspect, the Cardinal Sanseverino, 
 legate of the council of Milan, marched among the captains 
 of the French. On the other side, the Cardinal de Medici, 
 as legate of the Church, held the chief authority in the 
 allied army. His aspect was more peaceful, whatever 
 his spirit might have been. He still, though at the head 
 of a warlike ari'ay, appeared in the habiliments of peace ; 
 to which, indeed, his temper naturally inclined much more 
 than that of his brother cardinal. The Spanish troops, on 
 whom the allies placed their chief reliance, were led by 
 the Viceroy Cardona, the Italians by Fabrizio Colonna; 
 and the command of the light-armed cavalry was entrusted 
 to the young and accomplished Ferdinando Davalos, mar- 
 quis of Pescara. On the French side, the lansquenets and 
 foot-soldiers, to the number of six thousand, were led by 
 the several captains Molart, Bonnet, Maugiron, the Baron 
 de Grammont, and others ; and this force, with two thou- 
 sand Gascons under the immediate command of Captain 
 Odet, and the Cadet Duras, were instructed to take post 
 within cannon-shot of the enemy's camp, which they were 
 to watch, availing themselves of every movement to ply 
 them with the artillery, by which they were to be accojn- 
 panied. The vanguard was commanded by the Duke of 
 Ferrara and Jacques de Chabannes, lord de la Palisse, 
 with their companions. With these came the gentlemen 
 under the Grand Seneschal of Normandy, the Master 
 of the Horse, the Lord of Humbercourt, La Crete, the 
 Lord Theodore de Trivulzio, and other captains, with 
 
286 THE PREDICTION. 
 
 some eight hundred gendarms. With the command of the 
 Duke de Nemours, himself, were associated his cousin, 
 the Lord of Lautrec, D'Alegre, Captain Louis d'Ars, and 
 Bayard, with a force of four or five hundred horse. The 
 Itahan infantry, to the number of four thousand, were left 
 in charge of the camp before Ravenna, for the double pur- 
 pose of insuring the safety of the baggage, and of prevent- 
 ing any sallies from the forces within the city. 
 
 With the opening of the day the French army was in 
 motion. The Duke de Nemours left his tent among the 
 first, armed at all points, but without his helmet, which, 
 before the necessity for its use, was probably carried by a 
 page. He wore a most gorgeous dress, exceeding heavy, 
 and richly embroidered with the arms of Navaire and 
 France. Looking out upon the horizon, he remarked 
 that the sun, which was just risen, wore a red and fiery 
 appearance. One of his gentlemen, named Haubordouin, 
 of whom he was very fond, remarking this appearance also, 
 said to him, " Know you what this bodes, my lord 1 — the 
 death of some great prince or captain to-day. It must be 
 either you or the viceroy (Cardona)." Gaston de Foix 
 gayly laughed at the prediction, and rode away to the 
 bridge of boats, over which his army was then crossing; but 
 his men remembered at this moment the predictions and 
 warning which were given to Chabannes and Bayard by 
 the astrologer of Carpi, and his intimations that the day of 
 greatest danger to the duke would be this very Easter 
 Sunday. After this comment of Haubordouin, which a 
 modem captain would think exceedingly mistimed at the 
 moment when an engagement was drawing on, another 
 instance of the 7idivete of chivalry took place, which our 
 chronicler has deemed it worthy to preserve. While the 
 Duke de Nemours was inspecting the passage of his troops. 
 Bayard approached him, and said, " My lord, while the 
 forces are crossing the river, let us divert ourselves by a 
 stroll along its banks." Gaston agi*eed to this ; and he. 
 
CHIVALRIO COURTErflE. 287 
 
 Bayard, Lautrec, Alegi-e, and some others, to the number 
 of twenty horse, pursued a course along the edge of the 
 river, on the opposite side of which they could distinctly 
 perceive the confusion and preparation in the camp of the 
 allies. While they walked, the duke remarked, " My Lord 
 of Bayard, we present an admirable mark for any arque- 
 busiers that might be concealed on the other side. They 
 might shoot us where we are with the greatest ease." 
 Just then a troop of twenty or thirty Spanish knights 
 appeared on horseback, among whom was Don Pedro Paz, 
 a distinguished cavalier among them, of whom something 
 has been said in our pages already, and who was the 
 leader of all their horse. Bayard, seeing them, advanced 
 some twenty or thirty paces before his companions, and 
 addressed the Spaniards in the following fashion across the 
 stream : " You are amusing yourselves for the present, 
 gentlemen, and so are we. I pray you, therefore, that, 
 until our sports fairly begin, you discharge no guns ii'om 
 your side, and we will trouble you with none of ours." 
 Don Pedro, as king the name of the person by whom he was 
 addressed, and being told that it was Captain Bayard, was 
 marvellously delighted, and answered him thus : " On my 
 honor, my Lord of Bayard, though T know that we gain 
 nothing by your presence here, but, on the contraiy, hold 
 your force to be the stronger thereby, by some two thou- 
 sand men, nevertheless I am right glad to see you. Would 
 to God there were peace between your king and mine, 
 that we might know more of each other, for I have loved 
 you for your prowess all my life." Bayard, who was 
 never surpassed in courtesy by any man, answered the 
 Spaniard in a strain of similar compliment, which he 
 might well do, as Don Pedro, though something of a 
 dwarf, had a most noble and gigantic spirit in a rude and 
 contracted bosom. The latter, seeing the distinction with 
 which all parties joined to treat the Duke de Nemours, 
 asked, " Who is that nobleman, my Lord of Bayard, 
 
288 THE LORD OF MOLART. 
 
 to whom your people pay so much honor 1" " He is our 
 commander-in-chief," repHed the knight, " the Duke de 
 Nemours, nephew to our prince, and brother to your 
 queen." Scarcely had he spoken when Don Pedro and all 
 his knights dismounted, and, addressing De Foix, said, 
 " Lord Duke, saving what is due to the honor and the 
 sei*vice of the king our master, we declare to you that we 
 are, and always will remain, your servants." We still 
 retain some of the stately and artificial courtesies, which 
 originated in those periods, in which the struggle between 
 ferocity and civilization engendered many peculiarities 
 of conduct between fiiends and foes, which we can only 
 comprehend, now, by a due regard to the conventional 
 strife of castes and classes which belongs to every transition 
 period in society. The Duke de Nemours acknowledged, 
 in similar terms, the complimentary address of the Span- 
 iards ; and the parties, thus really full of respect and 
 admiration for each other, separated to engage in the 
 deadliest struggles of a mortal combat. This little episode 
 will serve to illustrate some of the characteristics of that 
 school of civilization which chivalry founded, and which, 
 at the period of which we write, was dying out rapidly, 
 chiefly in consequence of the progress of commerce and 
 the use of gunpowder. 
 
 The German lansquenets in the French army were the 
 first to occupy the bridge in passing. The adventurers, a 
 motley crowd, under the command of the Lord of Molart, 
 impatient of being in the advance, readily yielded to his 
 suggestion when he ciied to them, " What ! comrades, shall 
 the lansquenets lead us to the enemy 1 I would rather lose 
 an eye than we should submit to this reproach. Follow 
 me !" and, armed as he was, he dashed on foot into the riv- 
 er wading gallantly through in advance of the Germans. 
 The passage of the whole army was safely made, the allies 
 offering no obstruction ; and, relying on the obvious design 
 of the French to force their camp, which they had laid out 
 
THE CANNONADE. 289 
 
 judiciously, and had strengthened, as far as possible, with 
 all the appliances of art. Their forbearance c»me from the 
 counsel of Pietro de Navarro, who had great reputation as 
 an engineer, and who earnestly recommended that the array 
 should remain in its entrenchments and should trust for 
 success in the first instance to the artillery, which had been 
 advantageously posted in front of their ranks. Fabrizio 
 Colonna alone opposed this advice. He counselled more 
 wisely, as the sequel would seem to show, that the assail- 
 ants should be met while crossing the river, and attacked 
 as they approached in detached bodies. But the advice of 
 the Spaniard prevailed. The French were permitted to 
 pass the river, and to approach unmolested within a short 
 distance of the allied camp, where they formed their line, 
 and having spread out their artillery in front, opened upon 
 the entrenchments of the allies with a tremendous cannon- 
 ade. This was answered fiercely by the batteries of Pietro 
 Navari'o, which brought tenible havoc u])on the exposed 
 infantry of the French, having played freely upon them 
 during their advance. More than two thousand of these 
 devoted people fell early in the action. The valiant cap- 
 tain, the Lord of Molart, whom we have seen so eager 
 to get ahead of the Germans, fell by the same cannon-shot 
 which slew Philip de Friburg, one of the chiefs of the lans- 
 quenets. The Spanish infantry, meanwhile, lying flat be- 
 hind their entrenchments, escaped, in some degree, that 
 fearful havoc which their artillery had produced among the 
 French. Their pieces were twenty in number, cannon and 
 long culverins, and they had about two hundred arquebusses- 
 a-croc, which seem to have been heavy hand-guns worked 
 upon a rest or pivot. The intervals between their guns 
 they had occupied with a sort of armed cart or wagon, on 
 two wheels, to be worked by the hand, which were barbed 
 on all sides with spears of three prongs. These carts were 
 to be rolled forward upon the foot-soldiers whenever they 
 advanced to the assault. At their wing was the vanguard, 
 
 Bb 
 
290 FABllIZIO COLONNA. 
 
 consisting of eight hundred gendarms, commanded by Fa- 
 brizio Colon»a. The viceroy, Cardona, stationed above 
 this force, had with him four hundred horse and about tv^^o 
 thousand Itahan foot. The horse w^as spoken of as being 
 of the first order, as well in their experience and courage 
 as in their equipment. Thus formidably entrenched and 
 supported, with all the advantages of fighting from an en- 
 trenched camp, upon an advancing and unprotected foe, 
 the day appeared to be going against the assailants ; when 
 its aspect was changed by the artillery of the Duke of Fer- 
 rara, who, having obtained an advantageous position, by 
 which the entrenchments were commanded, now tore his 
 way with his iron messengers through the flanks of the 
 allied army. For two dreadful hours had this cannonade 
 continued, when the mingled slaughter of men and horses, 
 who fell without a struggle, without an opportunity of re- 
 sistance, stung Fabrizio Colonna with fury. His men, mad- 
 dened by the murderous discharges, were no longer restrain- 
 able. " Cuerpo de Dios /" was their cry ; " Somos matados 
 del cielo'* — " we are slain as from the sky ;" " Vamos com- 
 hater los homhres" — " let us go forth and fight with men !" 
 The passionate resolution which they expressed was that 
 of Colonna. Bitterly denouncing the policy which had gov- 
 erned the Spanish generals, he rushed from the entrench- 
 ments, and was followed with more or less rapidity by all 
 the allies. As the van of his gendarms appeared in sight, 
 the keen eyes of Bayard and D'Alegre immediately beheld 
 the danger to which they lay open, and bringing up a cou- 
 ple of pieces of artillery, to a point by which their approach 
 was commanded, swept the track with bullets, mowing down, 
 in successive discharges, more than three hundred of the 
 advancing troop. Thirty-three men were swept away by a 
 single cannon-shot. This brought on a general action. The 
 force led by Fabrizio Colonna, avoiding the vanguard of 
 the French, which was commanded by the Duke of Ferrara 
 and Chabannes, lord de la Palisse, made for a little squad- 
 
STRIFE OF HORSEMEN. 291 
 
 ron of French horse which surrounded the Duke of Ne- 
 mours in person. This prince commanded in the centre. 
 Seeing the approach of the Spanish horse, though nearly 
 twice the number of his own, he lowered his visor and ad- 
 vanced to meet them. As the Italian captain approached, he 
 divided his force into two bodies, in order the more com- 
 pletely to enclose the smaller body of the French. Bayard 
 perceiving this, counselled the duke to make a like division 
 of his force, by which both parties of the Spaniards should be 
 encountered at the same moment. This advice was promptly 
 followed, and the Spaniards rushed on with a shout, crying 
 to each other as they approached, " Espana ! Espaiia ! 
 Santiago ! a los cahallos ! a los cahallos P' — " Spain and St. 
 James ! upon the horses ! upon the horses !" In other 
 words, according to a Spanish proverb, " Muerto de cdbal- 
 lo, 'perdido Vhomhre d'artnas'' — Slay the horses — " When 
 the horse is dead, the horseman is sped." We have not 
 forgot the effect of this policy in the famous duel, already 
 recorded in these pages, of thirteen against thirteen. The 
 shock was terrible between these parties. The Spanish 
 cavalry under Fabrizio Colonna, nearly half as many again 
 as that under the prince, continued the fight for more than 
 half an hour, and still the result was doubtful. Seeing this, 
 D'Alegi'e, who spied at distance the band of Robert de la 
 Marck, whose uniform was black and white, cried to them 
 with a loud voice, " Black and white, march ! march ! and 
 bring up the archers !" These, well knowing that the matter 
 was pressing, or such a summons would never be made, at 
 once hurried to the rescue, and at once decided the event 
 in this part of the field. The archers, with the small hatch- 
 ets which they can-ied at their saddle-bows, dealt very rude- 
 ly with the Spanish cavalry, and the Lord Fabrizio Colon- 
 na was compelled to retreat, retiring in gi'eat disorder and 
 after heavy loss, more than four hundred of his gendarms 
 being left between the fosse of his entrenchments and the 
 river. 
 
292 GASTON DE FOIX. 
 
 Meanwhile, the action had every where become general. 
 The shock of battle in every part of the field had proved 
 equally bloody with that to which we have chiefly confined 
 our attention. The hostile encounter of two such armies, 
 enflamed bynational enmity and mutual resentments — stung 
 by a protracted endurance of loss from the opposing artil- 
 lery, which could not be met — and exasperated to the high- 
 est degree by the preceding events of a fierce and capiicious 
 warfare, was necessarily of a kind the most temble and 
 destructive. Never, says the chronicler, was seen a more 
 desperate conflict ; but the Spaniards at length yielded, and 
 fled for their entrenchments. The French were about to 
 pursue, but they were arrested by Bayard, who stayed 
 them. He approached the Duke de Nemours to exhort 
 him to forbearance at this moment, in regard to the Spanish 
 infantry, who still lay concealed behind their entrench- 
 ments. Seeing the duke covered with the blood and 
 brains of a knight who had been slain at his side by a can- 
 non-shot, he feared that he had been wounded. " No ; but 
 1 have wounded many others !" cried the exulting prince, — 
 the rapture of the strife still glowing in every eager feature 
 of his face. "Now, God be praised!" cried Bayard, "for 
 the battle is yours — your fame is sure — you have covered 
 yourself this day with glory. But you must proceed no 
 farther, my lord. Assemble your cavalry in this place, that 
 they may not begin to plunder the camp before we are yet 
 sure of it. Captain Louis d'Ars and myself will pursue 
 the fugitives, so that they shall not retire behind the foot- 
 soldiers. Meanwhile, my lord, do you stir not hence for 
 any man living, till the said captain or myself come to fetch 
 you !" We may justly suppose that Bayard was not 
 wholly uninfluenced by the counsel which had been given 
 him, in regard to the safety of the duke, by the astrologer 
 at Carpi. Gaston de Foix was neither too proud nor too 
 vain to hearken to the advice of a soldier so experienced. 
 He promised compliance with the counsels of our knight ; 
 
HIS VICTORY AND DEATH. 293 
 
 but it would appear that he was not in this manner to 
 elude his fate. He suffered himself to forget his resolution, 
 and he paid for his error with his life. 
 
 The Spanish infantry, under Pietro Navarro, still kept 
 their ground behind the entrenchments. They were above 
 four thousand in number, and the policy of Bayard was so 
 wholly to isolate them from their cavalry, as to make it easy 
 to take them at disadvantage hereafter. This would have 
 been almost a matter of certainty. The pursuit of the fugi- 
 tives placed all the chief men of the allies in their power. 
 Among the prisoners were the Cardinal Legate de Medici, 
 Fabrizio Colonna, the Marquis of Pescara, and many 
 others ; and, subsequently, Pietro de Navarro was himself 
 added to the list. The farther particulars of the fight, by 
 which this plan was discarded, and the glory of the victory 
 rendered gloomy, by the disastrous losses of the French, 
 are differently told by the historians. It would seem that 
 an unwise attempt upon the Spanish foot, who were retiring 
 in good order, together with the premature excesses of 
 some of the French adventurers, who grew busy with the 
 wine-casks of the Spaniards, before the latter had fairly 
 left them, led to some small reverses, which were greatly 
 exagrorerated in the ears of the Duke de Nemours. At all 
 events, he was prompted to desert the spot where Bayard 
 had left him in safety, and, with but a thousand horse, to 
 throw himself across the path of a body of the Spaniards, 
 consisting of three thousand infantry. At first, his fierce 
 assault was successful, and he made terrible havoc among 
 his enemies ; but the shot of an arquebuse at length brought 
 him to the ground, where he was immediately surrounded 
 by foes, who fell upon him with their pikes, and slew him 
 with innumerable wounds. Thus perished, by an untimely 
 fate, at the early age of twenty-four, one of the most dis- 
 tinguished of French heroes. His fate damped the ardor 
 of his countrymen, and more than compensated the allies 
 for the terrible defeat which thev had sustained. The 
 
294 ITS HEAVY LOSSES. 
 
 French confess to a loss of three or four thousand men, 
 chiefly infantry. The ItaHan historians make their losses 
 more than ten thousand. Of the allies, upwards of nine 
 thousand lay upon the field. All their standards, equipage, 
 artillery, and numerous prisoners, distinguished and obscure, 
 fell into the hands of their enemies. The Viceroy Car- 
 dona effected his escape to Cesena. Among those who 
 perished on the side of the French were many whose 
 nam«s have been made familiar to us in the progi'ess of 
 this history. After the death of the Duke de Nemours, 
 they lamented in particular the fate of Ino d'Allegri, and 
 his son Viverot ; Zemberg and Friburg, the leaders of the 
 German lansquenets ; the Baron de Grammont, Maugiron, 
 Bardasson, Monsacre, Captain Molart, La Crope-Daillon, 
 Auber, and many others. Lautrec received twenty wounds 
 in defending the Duke de Nemours, was left for dead 
 upon the field, but finally recovered. The victory was a 
 great one, but dearly paid for. 
 

 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 It was late in the day before Bayard returned from the 
 pursuit of the fugitives, and bitterly did he deplore the 
 fate of his friend and commander which his prudence had 
 labored to avert. His biogi"apher, the " Loyal Servant," 
 describes him, on his return to the camp and before he 
 had learned the death of the Duke de Nemours, as meet- 
 ing with a portion of the retreating infantry of the allies, 
 in the midst of whom the duke had fallen. Bayard, at 
 this moment, had with him but thirty or forty gendaniis, all 
 of whom were marvellously spent and weary. Still he pre- 
 pared to charge the enemy, who was retiring in good 
 order; when one of the captains, advancing at the head of 
 his men, cried to him, " Sir, what is it that you would do ] 
 You can not, surely, suppose yourself strong enough to 
 conquer us. Be satisfied with what is already done. You 
 have won the battle. You have killed or scattered our 
 
296 p.ayard's letter 
 
 main army. Be content with the honor you have gained, 
 and since, by God's mercy, we have escaped so far, suffer 
 us to go with our Hves." Bayard felt the good sense of 
 what the Spaniard had advanced, and, with scarcely a horse 
 fit to stand upon his legs, he was satisfied to receive the 
 colors of the enemy, and to suffer them to depart in peace. 
 Alas ! exclaims the chronicler, had he but known that the 
 Duke de Nemours was slain, and by these very men, he 
 would have died ten thousand deaths sooner than have 
 left him unavenged. A letter of Bayard to his uncle, 
 Laurent Alleman, describing this battle of Ravenna, has 
 been preserved.* Its details may serve to supply some of 
 the omissions in our narrative. He writes : — 
 
 " My lord, I commend myself, with all possible humility, 
 to your good favor. 
 
 " My lord, since I last wrote you, we have had a battle 
 with the enemy, as, by this time, the tidings may have 
 reached you. The events, fully to acquaint you of them, 
 happened after this manner : 
 
 " Our army drew nigh and lodged hard by the city of 
 Ravenna. Hither our enemies repaired, almost as soon as 
 ourselves, to put the inhabitants in heart. Now, by reason 
 of some rumors, which increased daily in the camp, touch- 
 ing a descent of the Swiss, and in consequence of the great 
 lack of provisions which we experienced, my Lord of Ne- 
 mours resolved to give them battle. Last Sunday, accord- 
 ingly, we passed a little river which separated us from our 
 enemies and engaged them. They marched out in very 
 good order, and consisted of seventeen hundred horse, the 
 most glorious and splendid that ever were seen, and full 
 fourteen thousand foot, as gallant soldiers as could be met 
 with. About a thousand of their cavaliers,t enraged at 
 being so galled as they were by our artillery, rushed upon 
 our middle squadron, where the Duke de Nemours was in 
 
 * By the President Expilly. 
 
 t The cavalry under Fabrizio Colonna. 
 
DESCRIBING THE BATTLE. 297 
 
 person, together with his company, that of the Duke of 
 Lorraine, of Louis d'Ars, and others,* to the number of 
 four hundred horse, or thereabouts, f who received the foe 
 with so stout a heart that better fighting never was beheld. 
 Between our vanguard — which consisted of a thousand 
 gendarms — and ourselves, there were great ditches, and, 
 even were these no impediments, they had enough to do 
 elsewhere, and could render us no assistance ; where- 
 fore, the said middle squadron was forced to bear the 
 brunt of a thousand men. At this juncture my Lord of 
 Nemours broke his lance betwixt the two battalions, pierc- 
 ing one of the enemy's gendarms through the body, the 
 weapon appearing half an arai's length on the opposite 
 side. Thus were the said thousand men defeated and put 
 to flight, and, as we were pressing upon them in pursuit, 
 we fell in with their infantry close by their ordnance, with 
 five or six hundred gendarms, who were posted there, hav- 
 ing in front of them two wheeled carts, whereon was a 
 great piece of iron, with two planks ten or fifteen feet long. 
 These troops soon came to close fighting with our infantry. 
 Their foot above mentioned had so many arquebusiers 
 that they killed, in a manner, nearly all our captains of foot 
 almost as soon as they approached, instead of staggering 
 them or putting them to flight. But our foot were so well 
 supported by the cavalry that, after an obstinate contest, 
 our adversaries were discomfited, lost their artillery, seven 
 or eight hundred of their hoi'se, who were slain, and most 
 of their captains, with seven or eight thousand foot-soldiers. 
 It is not known that any of their leaders escaped except 
 the viceroy. We have prisoners of them — the Lord Fabri- 
 zio Colonna, the Cardinal de Medicis, the Pope's legate, 
 the Lord Pedro Navarro, the Marquis of Pescara, Don 
 Juan de Cardona, and others, whose names I know not. 
 
 * He is silent in regard to himself. 
 
 t A portion of this body of gendarms were detached to hold the bridge 
 under the Bastard Du Fay : hence its smallness. 
 
 N* 
 
298 LETTER CONTINUED. 
 
 The fugitives who escaped were pursued for eight or ten 
 miles, and are scattered among the mountains, where, it 
 is said, the peasantry have cut them in pieces. 
 
 " My lord, if the king hath won this battle, I swear to 
 you that the poor gentlemen have lost it ; for, while we 
 were engaged in the pursuit, the Duke of Nemours, falling 
 in with some foot-soldiers who had rallied, chose to attack 
 them ; but the gentle prince was so ill supported that he 
 fell in the fray, whereat the soitow and mourning that hath 
 been and is still displayed in our camp, is such as hath 
 never been equalled. You would think, indeed, could you 
 behold our grief, that the battle had been lost instead 
 of won. No prince's death, for an hundred years, hath 
 been so great a calamity as this.* Had he but lived, he 
 would have done such things as prince never achieved 
 before. All here declare themselves as if they had lost a 
 father. As for me, my lord, I suffer more than I am able 
 to express, and shall henceforth lead a melancholy life. 
 
 " My lord, in other plsftes fell M. d'Alegre and his son, M. 
 de Molart,six German captains, among them Zemberg, their 
 colonel; Captain Maugiron, the Baron de Grandmont, and 
 above two hundred gentlemen, all of name and reputation, 
 not to mention two thousand of our foot-soldiers. The 
 kingdom of France will not for a century repair the losses 
 which we have sustained in this action. 
 
 ** My lord, the body of the late duke was yesterday 
 morning carried to Milan,t under an escort of two hundred 
 
 * The memory of Gaston de Foix was held in great esteem, and his death 
 lamented even by the Italians themselves. He has been accused of acts of 
 barbarity in his conquests ; but these are rather chargeable to the times than 
 the individual, and many w^ere committed by those under his command 
 whom he had not the power to restrain. 
 
 t The body of the Duke de Nemours was conveyed in great state to 
 Milan, attended not only by the gens d'arms.as above stated, and the flags of 
 conquest, but by the prisoners taken in the battle. The inhabitants of the 
 city came forth in deep mourning to receive it ; and amid the blaze of a 
 thousand torches it was deposited in the consecrated vaults of the cathedral. 
 But there it was not suffered to remain. When, subsequently, the French 
 
MASSACRE AT RAVENNA. 299 
 
 gens d'arms, in the most honorable manner that could be 
 devised. Eighteen or twenty banners gloriously gained in 
 this battle were borne before the corse. Now that he is 
 laid low, I believe that we shall cease from warfare. The 
 Swiss, however, are still making some clamor; but when 
 they hear of this defeat, they will, methinks, abate some- 
 what of their ardor. As soon as matters are fairly adjust- 
 ed here, I shall come and see you. Praying God to give 
 your lordship a very long and happy life, 
 
 " I am your humble sers'ant, 
 
 " Bayard. 
 "Written at the Camp of Ravenna, this 14th day of Ap7-il.^' 
 
 The battle of Ravenna gained, the victorious army 
 returned to the siege of the city. Marc Antonio Colonna, 
 despairing of the defence of the place, withdrew his forces 
 into the citadel, where he defended himself for a few days, 
 at the expiration of which time he was suffered to quit the 
 city, under a pledge not to bear arms against France for the 
 period of three months. The city was left to make its own 
 terms, and, while a deputation of the inhabitants were 
 arranging with the commander of the French the terms 
 of its surrender, a party of Gascons and lansquenets forced 
 their way through the breaches, and a tenible slaughter 
 ensued of the inhabitants. The chief command of the 
 French had devolved on Chabannes, the sieur de la Palisse. 
 It was some time before he was advised of the enormities 
 of his mercenaries. In the mean time, the massacre had 
 become indiscriminate, without regarding age or sex. 
 Even the monasteries on this occasion afforded no security 
 to the unhappy wretches who had hitherto found shelter in 
 
 were expelled from Milan, the Cardinal of Sion ordered it to be disinterred, 
 as the remains of an excommunicated person, and sent for private burial to 
 the church of the monastery of St. Martha. On the recovery of Milan by 
 the French, in 1515, a magnificent tomb was raised to his memory, the mon- 
 ument, surmounted by a statue of De Foix, as large as life, in marble, sur- 
 rounded by ten other marble figures, being designed and exquisitely sculp- 
 tured by Agostino Busti, a Milanese. 
 
300 JACaUIN CAUMONT. 
 
 their sacred privacies. As soon as Chabarmes was ap- 
 prised of what was in progress, he laudably addressed all 
 his energies to the aiTest and punishment of the offenders. 
 He hastened through the city with a select body of his 
 troops, and from the windows of one convent, alone, he hung 
 no less than thirty-four of the wretches who had penetrated 
 its walls with violence. In this decisive act of justice 
 he realized another prediction of the astrologer of Carpi. 
 One of the victims on this occasion, and the chief among 
 the offenders, was that Jacquin Caumont, captain of foot in 
 the bands of the Lord Molart, whom we remember to have 
 seen commending himself to the Duke de Nemours as 
 a gendarm, when he fell into the canal at Finale, saved 
 only from drowning by that destiny which he initated the 
 astrologer of Cai^i to declare aloud. In this manner he 
 finished his career, verifying the prediction in full, even to 
 the time limited for the consummation of his fate. 
 
 The effect of this great victory was immediate. The 
 cities of Imola, Forli, Cesena, Rimini, and several other 
 places, dreading a like fate with Ravenna, sent deputies to 
 testify their obedience to the King of France, and almost 
 the whole extent of Romagna was once more occupied by 
 his arms. But the allies were undiscouraged. The first 
 panic over, they were soon taught to understand that the 
 victory at Ravenna was quite as unfortunate for the French 
 as for themselves. They had lost many of their ablest cap- 
 tains, many of their best men, and were encumbered with 
 their sick and wounded, and were dreadfully demoralized 
 by the sacking of Ravenna. Continued apprehensions in 
 their camp, with regard to threatened descents of the 
 Swiss, necessarily discouraged their enterprise, and kept 
 them rather watchful for their own safety than eager to 
 engage against their enemies. The war began to languish, 
 and the affairs of France to decline in Italy, at the 
 moment in which her armies had obtained their most brill- 
 iant successes. King Louis, entertaining serious appre- 
 
DECLINE OF THE FRENCH POWER. 301 
 
 hensions from the invasions of Henry VIII. of England, 
 was now anxious for reconciliation with the Pope. A 
 treaty was made between them; but the Holy Father was 
 too subtle for the temporal prince, and, advised of the de- 
 bilitated condition of the French army, he contrived, on 
 some slight pretext, to evade its obligations. Meanwhile, 
 the army of Spain was supplied with new reinforcements. 
 A large body of Swiss was subsidized by the Pope, and 
 numerous volunteers, from the same nation, swelled their 
 forces to thrice the number for which he had contracted. 
 It happened, unfortunately for Louis, that he had been 
 heard to speak slightingly of the faith and courage of these 
 mountaineers, whom fi'equent successes and constant em- 
 ployment, as the soldiery of other nations, had enflamed 
 with insolence and vanity. To these were joined the 
 troops of Venice and of Rome, composing an army of 
 more than thirty thousand men. The lansquenets, still in 
 the army of France, were glad of the orders of their 
 emperor, which enabled them, without discredit, to desert 
 a falling cause ; and, menaced with danger on all sides. La 
 Palisse first attempted to fortify himself in Valezzio, but, 
 finding the place too weak for defence, and unable to con- 
 tend with such superior numbers, he distributed a great 
 part of his ti'oops in the strong garrisons of Crema, Brescia, 
 and Bergamo ; and, with the remainder, consisting only of 
 seven hundred lancers, two thousand French infantry, and 
 four thousand Germans, retired to Ponterico. This was 
 a town of considerable strength ; but it was here that 
 the lansquenets — all but about seven hundred — forming 
 the largest portion of his force, was withdrawn from him 
 by the imperial orders. This was the ruin of his army. 
 From Ponterico, he retreated upon Pavia. Here he 
 determined to make a stand. At this place, one of his 
 most valuable prisoners, the Cardinal de Medicis, afterwards 
 Leo X., escaped from his custody. The French had 
 scarcely begun to fortify Pavia when the allies made their 
 
 Cc 
 
302 FLIGHT FROM PAVIA. 
 
 appearance, and entered it two days after its occupation by 
 tlie former. La Palisse, by the advice of Bayard, the 
 better to guard against contingencies, had caused a bridge 
 of boats to be constructed over the Tesino, anticipating the 
 necessity of a flight by some other mode than that afforded 
 by the stone bridge which the city possessed already. It 
 was well he took this precaution. Before the French were 
 altogether conscious of the neighborhood of danger, the 
 Swiss penetrated to the market-place of Pavia. To this point 
 the French captains made their way with all the men they 
 could bring together; and a fierce conflict ensued, in which 
 Captain d'Ars, who had been made governor of the town, 
 La Palisse himself, and the Lord of Humbercourt, fought 
 gallantly, as became their former deeds and the high rank 
 which they enjoyed for courage and command. But none 
 of them equalled the almost incredible things which were 
 performed by Bayard on this occasion. With not more 
 than thirty of his gendarms he stopped the Swiss, and kept 
 them in a prolonged conflict for two hours, while the 
 French artillery was in progress across the bridge. Two 
 horses were killed under him during this unequal struggle, 
 from which he only withdrew when warned by his lieuten- 
 ant, Captain Pierrepont, that the Swiss were passing the 
 liver also, and that he must escape at once if he would not 
 be surrounded by his foes. The order was accordingly 
 given to retreat, which the gendarms did, still fighting at 
 every step. They were closely pressed until the bridge 
 was reached, when the cavalry succeeded, after a boisterous 
 conflict, in passing over. The bridge was kept by a force 
 of three hundred lansquenets. Unfortunately for these ad- 
 venturers, a heavy piece of artillery, called the Lady of 
 Forli, the last to be transported, sunk the first bark to 
 which it was transferred. This broke one of the connect- 
 ing links which held the bridge together, and cut off the 
 only means of retreat for the unhappy lansquenets, who 
 were compelled to escape as they might. Some of them 
 
BAYARD WOUNDED. 303 
 
 iid so ; others were slain by their enemies ; and not a few 
 perished in ihe waters of the Tesino. 
 
 Bayard was one of the last to suffer in this very nar- 
 row escape. He had nearly fallen a victim to his hardi- 
 hood. Always the last in the retreat, as the first in the 
 advance, he had taken his post at one extremity of the 
 bridge which his comrades had already passed, when a 
 falcon-shot from the town grazed him between the shoul- 
 der and the neck, tearing away the flesh and laying bare 
 the bone. Those who witnessed the blow, concluded that 
 he was finally sped ; but he, never dismayed, though 
 conscious that he was desperately wounded, encouraged 
 his companions, who were looking on aghast, and doing 
 nothing for his relief. — " Gentlemen, this is nothing." 
 They proceeded to stanch the blood as well as possible, 
 with moss gathered from the trees and with fragments torn 
 from the shiits of his comrades. And this rude surgery 
 was the work of simple soldiers. The French, in the 
 exigency of the retreat, were unprovided with a surgeon. 
 In this condition, the good knight was borae to Alessandria, 
 where they were not long permitted to remain. Still 
 pressed by their eager enemies, the debris of the French 
 army abandoned Lombardy altogether, those places ex- 
 cepted which have already been mentioned, and in which 
 strong gamsons were maintained. In all other places the 
 people rose against them with the same brutal levity with 
 which they had risen against their native masters. Their 
 capriciousness was only to be gratified with blood. In the 
 city of Milan, the French inhabitants, chiefly merchants, 
 were indiscriminately butchered, to the number of fifteen 
 hundred. In other towns, similar massacres followed the 
 departure of the troops, by whom the native ferocity had 
 been kept in subjection. The peasantry watched for the 
 straggling soldiery, on the retreat to the Alps, and wo to 
 the feeble and infirm who fell in the rear, or the thoughtless 
 who wandered away from the support of their companions 
 
304 BAYARd'b LAMENTATION'. 
 
 The French succeeded in their escape across the mount- 
 ains, and all that remained to them, after this disastrous 
 war, in which so many precious lives were lost, and so 
 much treasure was wasted, was the glory of Gaston de 
 Foix and the famous deeds of Bayard. These make 
 their monuments, and fill their chronicles, and furnish 
 them with models and with morals, which have en- 
 dured, perhaps equally for good and for evil, for successive 
 centuries. 
 
 Suffering from his wounds and from the protracted fa- 
 tigues of a long and perilous campaign, in which the ser- 
 vice was hard and urgent, and the comforts few or none, 
 Bayard proceeded to Grenoble, where he was received 
 most affectionately by his venerable uncle, the bishop of 
 the place, whom he had not seen for many years. He was 
 lodged within the episcopal palace, where he fell grievously 
 ill in consequence of his hurts and previous ailments. For 
 seventeen days his life was despaired of, and he himself 
 became reconciled to a fate which was thought inevitable, 
 only lamenting that he had not perished in the saddle. His 
 wailings in regard to this disappointment have been pre- 
 served by his attendants. "Alas !" said he, " oh, my God, 
 wherefore, since it is thy. pleasure that I should leave the 
 world so soon, didst thou not vouchsafe that I should die 
 in the company of that gentle prince, the Duke de Ne- 
 mours, and with the rest of my companions on the field of 
 Ravenna. Why didst thou not suffer that I should end my 
 days at the assault of Brescia, where I was so perilously 
 hurt 1 Ah ! how much happier to fall, as my ancestors 
 have ever done before, upon the field of battle. Have I, 
 oh merciful God, who have passed through so many and 
 such great dangers from the shot of artillery, the thrust of 
 pike, the stroke of sword and battle-axe ; in assaults, in en- 
 counters, in all varieties of conflict, — ^liave I escaped, by thy 
 grace and mercy, from all these dangers, only to expire 
 like a girl upon her couch. Nathless, though I would it 
 
HE RECOVERS. 305 
 
 were otherwise, thy will be done. Great sinner as I am, 
 I build my hope on thy infinite mercy. Alas ! my Fa- 
 ther, I have in all times past giievously offended against 
 thy holy laws. It had been my hope, as it was my resolu- 
 tion, hadst thou spared me a little longer, with the aid of thy 
 grace, to have amended my evil life. But, to thy mercy I 
 yield myself. Do with me as thou wilt, and let the close 
 of my mortal life be the expiation of its sins." 
 
 The prayers of Bayard were seconded by those of his 
 uncle and his fiiends. Nobles, and priests, and citizens, 
 nuns and monks, joined in the general supplication in 
 behalf of a knight so beloved and so renowned. " Among 
 so many," piously remarks the " Loyal Servant," *' it was 
 not possible that there should not be some one just person, 
 whom the Lord would be pleased to hear ; and this was 
 plainly manifested in the gradual diminution of his fever, 
 and the improvement of his condition." His fever left him, 
 his nights were crowned with the blessing of sound, unbrok- 
 en sleep — he regained his appetite and spirits; and, under 
 good treatment, and cheered with the affectionate solicitude 
 of friends, our hero was soon perfectly restored to health, 
 and with a heart as buoyant and happy as ever. The 
 ladies, in particular, strove with one another to minister to 
 the delight of one who had always been so devoted to the 
 sex. They extolled his virtues, and sought his company, 
 made fetes in his honor, and abashed him by the warmth 
 of their praises. Whether this was the fi'uit of a simple 
 admiration of his prowess, or whether, in those days, as it is 
 supposed to be the case in ours, there were some who 
 entertained a lurking desire selfishly to appropriate the 
 excellences which hitherto had been common to the 
 enjoyment of the whole world of beauty, it would not be 
 proper to insinuate ; certain it is, that no knight has ever 
 been better favored by the sex, more eaniestly entreated, 
 more benevolently smiled upon, or more tenderly solicited, 
 in all the usual walks of society. 
 
 c c** 
 
306 BAYARD NO SAINT. 
 
 Returning health, luxurious ease, and a respite from the 
 anxieties and cares of war, were influences by no tneans 
 favorable to those virtues, in our good knight, which had so 
 endeared him to the admiration of the sex. The conse- 
 quence was, that he yielded to those temptations, for a 
 season, which, in most other men, are found seasonable al- 
 ways. Bayard, with all his virtues, was, alas ! no saint. 
 His recent dangers were forgotten in the renewed activity 
 and flow of youthful blood. He no longer remembered 
 his penitential prayers and pious promises to the Deity ; 
 and, during one of his walks through the environs of Gren- 
 oble, struck with the beauty of a young woman whom he 
 beheld at a window, he longed for the enjoyment of her 
 charms. This criminal desire, which he made no efforts to 
 gratify, preyed upon his thoughts. He was perceived to 
 be melancholy and abstracted, and a little painstaking on 
 the part of one of his attendants, named Cordon, enabled 
 him to discover the secret of his master. Bayard's walks 
 were always in the one direction. His eyes still sought out 
 the beautiful features of the young girl who had inspired 
 his passions ; and the solicitous inquiries of Cordon ex- 
 torted from our good knight the expression of a desire, 
 upon which the ready valet was only too well pleased to 
 act. There are always at hand some convenient creatures, 
 when a vice would find its way into commission ; particu- 
 larly where the vsrrong-doer is a person of any consequence. 
 Cordon reminds us of what King John remarks, when 
 Hubert tells him that he has slain Prince Arthur : 
 
 It is the curse of kings to be attended 
 
 By slaves, who take their humor for a warrant, 
 
 And, on the winking of authority, 
 
 To understand a law. 
 
 Cordon was one of these persons. Bayard did but wink, 
 and the submissive lacquey was ready for the vice. We 
 do not propose, in this, to shield our good knight, hitherto 
 $ans tdclie, from any of the shame which belongs to the 
 
THE DAMSEL. 307 
 
 event. If his creature was ready for the task, his master's 
 weakness furnished him sufficient prompting ; and if there 
 were no apology for him, his employer was equally without 
 excuse. But we shall see how nobly the latter converts a fault 
 into a virtue, and redeems his nature from reproach. Our 
 hero had been absent at a convivial party in the town, and 
 returaed to his lodgings late at night. Entering his cham- 
 ber, he encountered the beauty upon whom his thoughts 
 for several days had been set. She was a beautiful virgin, 
 scarcely sixteen years of age, the only daughter of a 
 wretched woman, a widow, who, in her poverty, was pre- 
 pared to sell her child. The eyes of the girl were red 
 with weeping. The big tears were yet hanging on her 
 cheeks. Her whole aspect was full of grief and terror, and 
 her breast swelled and heaved with emotions which were 
 too evidently those of sorrow and bitterness, to leave any 
 one deceived as to the purity of her soul. Bayard looked 
 at her with equal pleasure and astonishment. Her tears 
 could not conceal her beauties. Her grief did but heighten 
 her charms. These he could not help but feel ; but he felt 
 her sorrows also. " My child," said he, tenderly, " was 
 it only to grieve that you came hither]" Encouraged by 
 his kind looks, his gentle accents, and the delicacy of his 
 manner, the poor girl flung herself at his feet and, with a 
 bursting heart, declared her own horror at the condition to 
 which she had been brought — announced the destitution 
 of her mother as the necessity for her proposed cruel 
 sacrifice ; and, in a passion of tears, implored his mercy 
 and forbearance. She spoke with loathing of the fate to 
 which her mother had devoted her, and, not only persuaded 
 the good knight that her heart was pure, and her virtue 
 without blemish or spot, but that she entertained within her 
 bosom a tender affection for another. Bayard, charmed as 
 m.uch with the simplicity as nobleness of her sentiments, 
 raised her from the floor, saying, " God forbid, my child, 
 that I should wickedly seek to banish such honorable feel- 
 
308 BAYARD'a MAGNANIMITY. 
 
 ings from your heart ; come with me, you shall sleep to- 
 night where you will not suffer shame." 
 
 Thus saying, he wrapped her carefully in his cloak, and 
 commanding his guilty valet to bring torches, he conveyed 
 the damsel to the house of a gentlewoman of Grenoble, a 
 near relation of his own, who dwelt not far from his own 
 lodgings. There he placed her for the night.* The next 
 
 * Mr. Bulwerhas made this anecdote in the life of Bayard the subject of 
 a ballad, which, as the story is one of exceeding difficult handling, in any 
 form, it may please the reader to see. He prefaces his poem by a remark 
 that the avoidance of the literal fact is an imperative condition of the art, 
 whether of poet or painter — a rather vague enunciation of liie simple princi- 
 ple that the literal is not the province of the imagination. But here is his 
 version of the narrative. 
 
 BAYARD.— A Tale. 
 
 Love ofttimes in the haughtiest knight 
 
 His easiest conquest sees ; 
 The plume that leads the foremost fight 
 
 The toy to ev'ry breeze. 
 
 More fair than rose at dawning day 
 
 When May her zephyr seeks, 
 The blossom of the human May, 
 
 The rose on virgin cheeks. 
 
 If Love has charms, why, wealth has pow'r, — 
 
 Her sire the slave of gold. 
 Alas ! that for the glittering shovv'r 
 
 The Danae should be sold ! 
 
 She stood before him at the night. 
 
 Unfriended and alone ; 
 And o'er her charms the tempting light 
 
 From silver cressets shone. 
 
 She stood,— above her bosom's snow 
 
 The modest hands were prest, 
 And voiceless heaved, in ebb and flow, 
 
 The deeps within the breast. 
 
 She stood ; — the ivory shoulders down 
 
 The glittering tresses stray'd 
 Like light that from a martyr's crown 
 
 A halo round her made. # 
 
THE MOTHER. 309 
 
 morning he sent for the mother. *' Woman," said he, stern- 
 ly addressing her, "art thou not the most wretched creature 
 in the world that, having a daughter who hath hitherto led 
 
 So fair a form, in holy cell, 
 
 The saint I ween might see ; 
 And o'er that form his glances fell, — 
 
 " No saint, alas ! was he !" 
 
 He moved, he spoke, he knelt, he sued — 
 
 The noblest of the land ; 
 With gentlest words the master wooed, 
 
 And clasp'd the victim's hand ! 
 
 Then o'er the marble cheek there flush'd 
 
 The hues that went and came ; 
 And to the lip, in trembling rush'd 
 
 The words of hope and shame. 
 
 " Oh ! spare me, — spare me, noble knight, 
 
 The child a sire could doom. 
 And leave to life the stainless light 
 
 That sanctifies the tomb ! 
 
 " This morn mine eyes could greet the sun, — 
 
 Ah ! shall they loathe the ray, — 
 To-morrow, scorn'd by every one, 
 
 Whose love approved to-day ? 
 
 " This morn, methought the voice of pray'r 
 
 The gates of heaven could ope !— 
 To-morrow, — O ! how prays Despair, 
 
 When naught is left for Hope? 
 
 "This morn — why should I blush to speak? — 
 
 I loved, beloved again; 
 Nay, not the love that fires thy cheek — 
 
 A love that could not stain 1 
 
 " This hour, unconscious, sad, alone. 
 
 His lips repeat my name ; 
 To-day his pride ; — to-morrow grown, 
 
 Oh, God ! into his shame ! 
 
 " Before thy thousand wreaths of bay, 
 One leaf how poor and dim ! 
 
310 BAYARD REBUKES HER. 
 
 an honest life, a pure and beautiful creature, with a heart 
 set upon a virtuous affection, thou should'st go about to 
 corrupt her !" 
 
 A thousand flowrets glad thy way, 
 Bui / — am all to him. 
 
 " Turn not, O ! turn not !" From her eyes 
 
 His hands his aspect hid ! 
 Perchance the thought the speech denies, 
 
 The startled conscience chid ' 
 
 Perchance the haunted Past along 
 
 Th' accusing riiemory stray'd, 
 And woke the pale repentant throng 
 
 By young Desire betray'd ; 
 
 Perchance, to that blest hour the birth 
 
 Of holier thoughts was given. 
 And wings, no more to stoop to earth, 
 
 Regain'd their native heaven ! 
 
 " No mail like innocence secure ! 
 
 Await, and tremble not; 
 The angel-buckler guards the pure," 
 
 He said — and left the spot ! 
 
 The midnight hour the church-bell toU'd, — 
 
 Oh ! heart, more loud thy beat ; 
 A step — a voice — a form — behold 
 
 Thy lover at thy feet ! 
 
 " Look up I look up ! — I claim my bride ' 
 
 The evil days are past ; — 
 The gold my fate till now- denied, 
 
 Js mine — is ours at last ! 
 
 " By Bayard's side my father fell, — 
 
 The son the hero found ; 
 And — " ere the rest his lips could tell. 
 
 They heard the bugles sound ; 
 
 They heard the ringing hoofs depart ; 
 
 Aloft the pennon flow'd, 
 And from the town, with lighter heart, 
 
 The noble Bayard rode • 
 
HE PORTIONS THE DAUGHTER. 311 
 
 The mother, who was a reduced gentlewoman, shrunk 
 and trembled before the severe aspect and language of 
 the knight. When she found her utterance, she pleaded 
 her necessities and the poverty of her condition ; but to 
 this plea Bayard gave no ear. 
 
 " That you have been a gentlewoman makes your guilt 
 the worse, and should increase your punishment. But 
 what is this person who seeks your daughter in maniage ? 
 Is he a proper man ] Is he worthy of her love ]" 
 
 The answer was affirmative. The obstacle to their 
 maiTiage was their mutual poverty. Six hundred floiins 
 were required as the marriage portion of the damsel. 
 
 " That shall be no longer an obstacle. Here, madam," 
 said he, giving her a purse, — " here are three hundred 
 crowns, two hundred of which are equal to six hundred 
 florins of Grenoble. The remaining hundred you will 
 give to your daughter that she may procure her bridal 
 garments. Go now, and see that she is married." 
 
 The good knight paused not to listen to the thanks and 
 praises of the wretched mother, whom he thus deprived 
 of all motive to the commission of a most unnatural crime. 
 But his eyes were not withdrawn from those he served. 
 One of his followers was entrusted with the charge of 
 them until the marriage was over, an event which fol- 
 lowed within three days. Certainly, Pierre Bayard was 
 no saint ; but what mortal, not positively a saint, was ever 
 sweeter in his courtesy, purer in his passion, and more 
 generous, with no other motive save that of love for 
 human nature. And love was sufficient motive ; for never 
 has it been that human being more universally acquired 
 the affection of those who came to know him, than himself. 
 His conquests of the heart were even more numerous 
 than those which he made in battle. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Those were not days of repose, and the " tangles of 
 Naeera's hair" could not long detain the soul of knighthood 
 from the fields of war. Recovered wholly from his wounds, 
 Bayard obeyed the requisition of the king, his sovereign, 
 to resume his place in his armies. The provocation this 
 time came from Spain. The small kingdom of Navarre 
 lies on the frontiers between France and Spain. John 
 d'Albret, its monarch, was an ally and friend of Louis. 
 With Louis and John under the ban of the Church — 
 with the araiies of the foi-mer, discomfited in Italy, — it 
 seemed a fitting opportunity for Ferdinand of Arragon, 
 whose arms were at this time greatly strengthened by 
 an English force under the Marquis of Dorset, to possess 
 himself of a very desirable, contiguous tenitory. On vari- 
 ous pretexts, he urged such conditions upon the King 
 of Navarre, as the latter, without discrediting his royalty, 
 
WAR IN NAVARRE. 313 
 
 could not submit to. The consequence, as Ferdinand had 
 determined, was an invasion of the territories of the former, 
 by the Duke of Alva, who soon possessed himself of Pam- 
 peluna and many other towns of the kingdom. The King 
 of NaVarre, whose indolence would have lost all the king- 
 doms that could be confided to him by the most indulgent 
 bounty,* applied for succor to the King of France, who 
 willingly listened to the application. The command of the 
 French troops was confided to the Duke de Longueville 
 and the Count de Montpensier; but they, differing in some 
 respects, chiefly because of the ill success which distin- 
 guished their prosecution of the war, the title of general- 
 issimo was subsequently conferred upon the Count d'An- 
 gouleme, afterward the celebrated Francis I. 
 
 In this army, which did nothing in this war for the de- 
 fence of Navarre, v^e discern the most famous captains of 
 the time — the Viscount Lautrec, La Palisse, with w^hom 
 we are already so familiar, and our own Chevalier Bayard. 
 They penetrated the seat of struggle, and approached the 
 forces of Spain, under the Duke of Alba, who had encamp- 
 ed near Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Here, the Count d'An- 
 gouleme, according to the custom of the time, formally 
 sent a cartel to his enemy ; but the Duke of Alba replied, 
 that though very much honored by the invitation, nothing 
 could persuade him to fight, except w^hen it was his humor 
 to do so. This, if not the actual language, was the amount 
 of his reply. Meanwhile, the king of Navarre, penetrating 
 his kingdom by the Val-de-Roncal, captured several small 
 places, and proceeded to march upon Pampeluna. This 
 drew the eyes of the Duke of Alba upon him, who instantly 
 struck his tents at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, and took the 
 same direction. The king of Navan-e, who had it in his 
 power to seize upon the defiles by which the duke would 
 
 * His queen, a woman of high spirit, is reported to have said to him, 
 " Had you been Mademoiselle Catherine, and I Don John, we had never 
 lost our kingdom." And she no doubt spoke the truth. 
 
 Dd 
 
314 THE SIEGE. 
 
 be compelled to pass, committed the eiTor of neglecting 
 them entirely ; the consequence of which was, that the gar- 
 rison of Pampeluna received ample succors, and the Span- 
 ish general took a position sufficiently contiguous to afford 
 farther assistance to the place, should it be needed. In 
 spite of this blunder, and the evil results which followed it, 
 the King of Navarre persevered in pressing the siege of the 
 place. In doing so, it was found that there was a castle 
 some four leagues from Pampeluna, which, as a source of 
 annoyance, it was necessary to conquer. It is with the di- 
 vision of the French army, led by La Palisse, and accom- 
 panying the King of Navarre in person, that we find the 
 Chevalier Bayard. To him it was confided, to make him-< 
 self master of this castle, which was strong, rather because 
 of its massive works and its position, than because of the 
 number of its defenders. Bayard took with him, on this 
 adventure, his own company of horse, a small troop of ad- 
 venturers from that of Captain Bonneval, and some eight 
 hundred German lansquenets, with four pieces of artillery. 
 A portion of this force was designed to overawe the inhab- 
 itants of a neighboring town, called Puente de la Regna, 
 who might otherwise have been inclined to help the castle 
 in the moment of conflict. His troops, properly disposed 
 for the two objects, of keeping the town in order, and cap- 
 turing the castle ; Bayard summoned the latter to surren- 
 der ; offering to deal mercifully with the gaiTJson, leaving 
 them in possession of life and property, if the place was 
 yielded without a struggle ; and threatening them, on re- 
 fusal, with all the ten'ors of a storm. But the captain of 
 the Spaniards stoutly answered with a defiance, and the 
 artillery promptly opened upon the walls. The garrison, 
 meanwhile, fought stubbornly with their arquebusses-a-croc 
 and falconets, but could not prevent the artillery of the be- 
 siegers from effecting a breach in the space of an hour's 
 cannonade. The opening was sufficiently large, but as it 
 required to be ascended, it was thought a rather inconve- 
 
JOHN DE LA VERGNE. 315 
 
 nient one. Such, at least, was the opinion of the lansque- 
 nets, who, on being required to advance to the assault, put 
 forward a spokesman, who averred, that it was a custom 
 among them, whenever a place was to be taken by assault, 
 to require double pay. They added, that if this rule were 
 not complied with in the present instance, they should not 
 go to the attack. Bayard replied, quietly, that he knew of 
 no such rule ; but said to them, that, if the castle was taken, 
 he would answer for it, that they should receive all that 
 they required. He yielded, against his will, to their requi- 
 sitions, simply to avoid the loss of time. But his concession 
 did not satisfy these mercenaries, and all his arguments 
 failed to persuade a single lansquenet to mount the breach. 
 The French adventurers, from the foot-soldiers of Captain 
 Bonneval, showed a better spirit, and resolutely advanced to 
 the assault ; but their numbers were quite too few for the 
 object, and, after two or three repulses. Bayard saw that 
 other processes were to be tried. The besieged had shown 
 him that they knew something about fighting. Bayard had 
 resources, however, wdthin himself, of which neither the 
 lansquenets nor the garrison had dreamed. Causing the 
 retreat to be sounded, he withdrew his adventurers from 
 the breach, and proceeded to renew his cannonade, osten- 
 sibly with the view to widening the breach ; but, while the 
 artillery was playing, he called to his side a very gallant 
 fellow, one of his gendarms, named John de la Vergne, 
 whom, on account of his diminutive size, they called famil- 
 iarly Little John de la Vergne. Bayard knew his man. 
 He directed his eye to a tower at one of the comers of the 
 castle, opposite to the side which he was battering. " Take 
 with you," he said, " some thirty or forty men, and when I 
 shall recommence the assault, lead them aside, and, with 
 two or three ladders essay to mount that tower. My life 
 on it, you will find none to defend it. They will be here 
 fighting with us. Away now, and win yourself great credit 
 as you win the tower." 
 
316 THE SURPRISE. 
 
 Little John admirably comprehended the duty assigned 
 him. The signal, for the assault in front, was that for his 
 movement also. While the main body of the adventurers 
 rushed to the breach, he stole aside M^ith the companions 
 he had chosen, and succeeded, unseen and unsuspected, in 
 making his w^ay to the foot of the tovi^er. There he planted 
 his ladder and began the ascent. The conflict, meanwhile, 
 was fiercely urged in front. The garrison, as Bayard pre- 
 dicted, had crowded Jfrom every quarter of the castle to 
 that which was threatened with the greatest danger. The 
 clamor at their gates drew all their attention. The clash 
 of their own weapons silenced all other sounds. Little 
 John de la Vergne executed his mission successfully. 
 Man after man ascended the tower, to the number of 
 fifty, and it was only when they took the Spaniards in 
 the rear, with the cry of " France and Navarre" — cries 
 which scarcely fell upon them more suddenly than the 
 blows which followed them — did they dream of any foe 
 but those in front. Daunted as they necessanly were, 
 the besieged fought bravely, but their efforts availed them 
 nothing. The assailants at the breach, encouraged by 
 the cries from within, took new heart, and made their way 
 in, also, in spite of every obstacle. Between the two ene- 
 mies the brave gan-ison were very soon knocked upon 
 the head, or admitted to terms of mercy. The place 
 was then rendered dismantled, and given up to sack and 
 pillage. 
 
 But now came the lansquenets forward. They had 
 the impudence to demand of Bayard the fulfilment of 
 his promise, that, if the place was taken, they should 
 receive double pay. Our "Good Knight" could not 
 suppress his indignation. These mercenaries had done 
 nothing. 
 
 " They are more likely to receive a halter at my hands, 
 than any other compensation !" was his fierce response to 
 their captain ; " away to your worthless scoundrels, and 
 
THE LANSaUENETS. 317 
 
 say to them that I shall indeed speak of the matter to my 
 Lord de la Palisse, and to their captain-general, but it will 
 be to have them cashiered. They are not worth a single 
 
 sous 
 
 I" 
 
 This answer occasioned loud outcries among the lans- 
 quenets, who began to exhibit symptoms of a spirit which 
 led Bayard to apprehend that he should be compelled to 
 fight his way through them, as well as through the walls 
 of the Spaniards. He accordingly made his people sound 
 to horse ; and, arranging his gendarms and the adventurers, 
 in anticipation of their assault, he prepared, if they made a 
 show of hostility, to do his best in cutting them to pieces. 
 But the courage which required double pay, as a stimulant 
 to valor after the battle had begun, was not likely to assail 
 those who, in spite of them, had proved the conquerors on 
 the occasion. The lansquenets were quieted by their offi- 
 cers, and followed with the rest, to rejoin the main army 
 before Pampeluna. 
 
 The affair was destined to have a somewhat ludicrous 
 termination. Bayard that night gave a supper, at which he 
 had many of the chief men of the army, among whom 
 was the Duke of Suffolk, the captain-general of all the 
 lansquenets in camp, and they numbered some six or seven 
 thousand. The repast was nearly over, when a lansquenet, 
 who had been drinking pietty freely, made his appearance 
 at the enti-ance of the apartment, and was somewhat stag- 
 gered at the imposing presence in which he found himself. 
 When asked whom he sought, he answered, 
 
 "Captain Bayard — whom I come to kill." 
 
 This was said in broken French, which Captain Pierre- 
 pont sufficiently understood to report. 
 
 " Here, my lord," said he to Bayard, " here is a lans- 
 quenet, who seeks you that he may slay you." 
 
 Bayard was no martinet. With a mirthful countenance, 
 and with the gi'eatest good-humor in the world, he started 
 instantly from the table, sword in hand, exclaiming, " Oh ! 
 
*S S A SCENE AT SUPPER. 
 
 does he 1" Then, approaching the lansquenet, he said, — 
 "Is it you who seek to slay Captain Bayard*? Well! — 
 here he is, — and now defend yourself!" 
 
 The proceeding was quite too prompt for our lansque- 
 net, who, between bad liquor and bad counsel, had gone 
 badly to work, and, terribly frightened, in broken French, 
 proceeded to say that the determination was not enter- 
 tained by him alone, but by all the lansquenets in the army. 
 " Mercy upon us ! What ! — all the lansquenets !" ex- 
 claimed Bayard. " Then it is time for me to cry peccavi. 
 Quarter, my comrade ! You shall give me quarter. I 
 might fight against you, or any other one man ; but against 
 seven thousand, the case is altered. Comi-ade, we must 
 come to composition!" With these words, scarcely con- 
 taining his laughter — that of the company was uncon- 
 trolled — he conducted the drunken mercenary to the table, 
 and seated him at the board, vis-a-vis with himself, to 
 the satisfaction of his nobler guests. Here he plied him 
 with attentions. The fellow's goblet was filled and refilled, 
 and the good knight drank with him, proceeding, as he had 
 begun, in such playful wise, with so much grace, good- 
 humor, and adroitness that, while the company were con- 
 vulsed with the scene, the redoubtable lansquenet became 
 ravished with his tormentor. So far from killing him, he 
 swore that he would become his champion — that nobody 
 should kill him — that he was the worthiest man he had 
 ever met, and kept the best of liquors. The stoiy was 
 a three days' amusement for the camp, and effectually 
 disarmed the hostility of the lansquenets. 
 
 The siege of Pampeluna was urged unsuccessfully. 
 The place, reinforced by the Duke of Alba, and encour- 
 aged by his proximity, was kept by that " gentle Span- 
 ish knight," Hernandez de Cordoba, Alcayde de los 
 Donzeles. He maintained the defence with a steady 
 valor and an undeviating prudence, which gave the lea- 
 guers no advantages. He had sustained gallantly, and 
 
SKIRMISHES. Slfij 
 
 with success, one temble assault, and repulsed his enemies. 
 They were preparing for a second, when a new army of 
 Spaniards made its appearance, under the command of the 
 Duke of Najara. This compelled the King of Navarre to 
 raise the siege, and begin a retreat in season, from a power 
 which was accumulating very far beyond his own. Other 
 circumstances contributed to this necessity. The besieging 
 troops were suffering great distress for want of proA^sions. 
 They had unwisely ravaged the country, and carelessly and 
 wantonly wasted its resources. A famine threatened them 
 even while they were preparing for a second assault, look- 
 ing for their supplies to the granaries of the garrison. 
 Disappointed in this hope, they raised the siege at noon- 
 day, with a melancholy prospect before them, abandoning 
 their artillery at the foot of the rugged passes of the moun- 
 tains, over which, in their enfeebled state, it was something 
 of a tiial to make their own way. To the providence, the 
 vigilance, the skill, and courage of Bayard, on this retreat, 
 the safety of the araiy is ascribed. But for him, it is 
 admitted, they had never regained theii' country. His 
 renown was increased accordingly. His intrepidity and 
 sangfroid seem to have been equal. He indulged in his 
 pleasantries — which were always graceful, and those of the 
 gentleman, never degenerating into horse play — at the mo- 
 ment of greatest distress and danger ; and thus frequently 
 succeeded in soothing the aspect of that distress which it 
 was not possible in any way to overcome. The " Loyal 
 Servant" tells us an anecdote of this retreat, which displays 
 the graceful and even temper of his mind, and the cheerful 
 elasticity of his moods. The enemy were hanging on their 
 flanks, galling them in their flight by constant alarms and 
 assaults. On one occasion the day had been spent in 
 skirmishing, and no time had been allowed for food or 
 refreshment. With night only did they find a respite ; and, 
 late in the evening, covered with sweat and dust, the Duke 
 of Suflblk, sumaraed, among the French, " The White 
 
320 THE RETREAT. 
 
 Rose,"* went in search of Bayard. When he saw him, he 
 said, " Captain Bayard, I am dying of hunger, and my 
 people tell me that there is nothing at my lodging. Let 
 me sup with you." 
 
 It is probable that the captain of gendarms, sweeping a 
 considerable extent of country on horseback, was better 
 able to provide a supper, under existing circumstances, 
 than even a general of foot. 
 
 " Ay, marry, my lord, I shall entertain you well," 
 was the pleasant reply. " You shall sup as well as if 
 you were in Paris. Ho ! there, Master Inghien," ad- 
 dressing his steward — " see now that you despatch our 
 supper, for your own credit as well as mine." 
 
 The idea of supping as they might have done in Pans 
 consoled the duke while provoking his laughter. He 
 probably contemplated such a feast as that of the Barme- 
 cide in the Arabian Tales. He had fared, for two days, 
 on nothing better than bread of millet. What the material 
 of the repast was, on this occasion, has not reached us ; but 
 if Bayard had a Parisian cook, it is not improbable that, 
 even in the present exigencies of the army, he might 
 astound the heavy islanders by the resources of his genius, 
 if not of the commissaiiat. Of the horrors of this retreat, 
 chiefly because of famine, some notion may be gained from 
 the fact that numbers of the wretched infantry destroyed 
 themselves on reaching Bayonne, by a surfeit of food. The 
 expedition had proved altogether disastrous, yielding neither 
 spoil nor honor to those who had yet gone forth in support 
 of the oppressed. The redeeming circumstance in their 
 progress was their return. The retreat of the French, 
 it is admitted, was admirably performed, the credit of 
 which was almost wholly due to Bayard. Meanwhile, the 
 * Richard de la Pole, brother of the Earl of Suffolk, whom Henry VIII. 
 beheaded. The former attempted to revive the York faction, and to instigate 
 them against the existing government— baffled, he fled to France, and 
 made an oflTicer in the French service, was, as we have seen, allotted the 
 command of the lansquenets. 
 
SEA-FIGHT. 321 
 
 death of Pope Julius had relieved France from an im- 
 placable enemy. His successor, the world-renowned Leo X., 
 at an early period of his reign, declared himself free from 
 any hostile feeling toward the French, and thus opened 
 the door for a pacification. But Louis could not forego 
 his designs upon the Milanese, and the new Pope was 
 sufficiently patriotic to desire the expulsion of all foreign- 
 ers, who came as invaders, from the Italian territories. It 
 was while the King of France was preparing to renew 
 his attempts upon the duchy of Milan that a fleet and 
 army of English made their appearance upon the coast of 
 Brittany. This fleet was of forty-five sail, under the com- 
 mand of Sir Thomas Knevet. He carried with him Sir 
 Charles Brandon, Sir John Carew, and a cloud of young 
 courtiers, anxious to win their spurs and display their 
 valor. But nothing was achieved by the expedition, which 
 was remarkable for a single sea fight, in which the heroism 
 of a French captain was distinguished. While the English 
 were committing some small depredations upon the coast 
 of France, a French fleet commanded by Primaugay, 
 issued from Brest, and boldly gave them battle. The flag- 
 ship of the French admiral was La Cordeliere, a large 
 vessel which the Queen of France had built at her own ex- 
 pense. She selected, as her particular antagonist, the vessel 
 of the English admiral, the Regent, a ship of very great ^ 
 size. La Cordeliere taking fire, Primaugay found it im- 
 possible to save her. He bore down accordingly upon the 
 English admiral, and succeeded in grappling with her. 
 Fastening the two vessels together, he doomed them to a 
 common fate. His design was successful. The opposing 
 fleets hauled off* from the contest, paralyzed at the sight of 
 a conflict which was so terrible. They saw the devouring 
 flames spreading on every side, and heard the mingling 
 cries of fury and despair which came from the doomed and 
 suff*ering combatants. Primaugay, having thus decreed 
 the fate of his foe, did not shrink from his own. He 
 
322 WAR IN ITALY RESUMED. 
 
 avoided the flames by leaping, in full armor, into the sea. 
 When the explosion came, which tore the two ships asun- 
 der, in blackened fragments which covered the deep, the 
 opposing fleets, as if by mutual consent, drew apart in con- 
 sternation, and they separated without farther fighting. 
 
 With this event concluded the efforts of Heniy VIII., for 
 the present season, against the dominions of the French 
 king, and afforded to the latter an opportunity of resuming 
 his long-cherished passion for the conquest of Italy. Leo 
 X., whose family had found protection and favor in France, 
 when expelled from their native place, was anxious to avert 
 all causes of collision with the country where he had found 
 refuge. He was, besides, of a pacific spirit, and loved bet- 
 ter the triumphs of arts than arms. He perceived that 
 Louis had succeeded in persuading the Venetians from their 
 former alliance, and in uniting their efforts with his own. 
 He addressed himself in a friendly appeal both to Louis 
 and the Seignory of Venice, entreating them to spare Italy 
 from a renewal of those terrible calamities of war from 
 which she had not yet recovered. At the same time, not 
 confiding very much in the result of these entreaties, and 
 the argumentative suggestions by which they were accom- 
 panied, the Pope proceeded to the adoption of more effect- 
 ual measures of defence, if not of prevention. Maximilian 
 was subsidized with money beguiled from Henry VIII., 
 and both of these readily entered into a new alliance 
 against France, to which Ferdinand of Arragon was nat- 
 urally a party as well as the Pope. A large body of Swiss 
 mercenaries were also engaged to unite with the Spanish 
 forces, and to second the efforts of Maximilian Sforza, in 
 the defence of his duchy of Milan. This alliance did not 
 discourage Louis from the prosecution of his enterprise ; 
 and an army consisting of fifteen hundred men-at-arms, eight 
 hundred light-horse, and fourteen thousand foot, among which 
 were the celebrated bandes noires, under the command of 
 the Duke de la Tremouille, assisted by the Italian general, 
 
BAl-TLE OF NOVARA. 323 
 
 Gian-Giacopo Trivulzio, marshal of France, descended 
 from Susa into Lombardy. In their progi'ess they possess- 
 ed themselves of Asti and Alessandiia, while their adherents 
 in Milan, succeeded in throwing into the citadel of that place, 
 which the French had continued to hold, additional troops 
 and ample supplies of provisions. Genoa was recovered 
 about the same time by a French fleet, and in consequence 
 of a popular rising in their favor. The Venetians, their 
 allies, were busy, also, attacking the city of Cremona ; they 
 reinforced the citadel, which the French still garrisoned. 
 Bergamo opened her gates to the banner of St. Mark, 
 Brescia followed the example, and all the auspices seemed 
 favorable to the new war of conquest which, so far, had 
 been waged by France and Venice with equal unanimity, 
 -sdgor, and good fortune. The whole of the Milanese was 
 now in their possession, except Como and Novara. These 
 places still adhered to Sforza, who, with his Swiss allies, 
 had retired to the latter. Hither the French advanced, 
 elated with success; and, laying siege to Novara, they bat- 
 tered it with a formidable train of artillery. At this critical 
 juncture the approach of a rather large body of the Swiss 
 was announced to the French commander. This intelli- 
 gence prompted him to retire from before Novara, and to 
 encamp at the Rotta, two miles distant. The Swiss, newly 
 aiTived, having formed a junction vnth the forces in Novara, 
 it was resolved among them to proceed to the attack of the 
 French, without waiting for other forces which were known 
 to be upon the road. Before the break of day, on the 
 7th of June, 1513, they made a furious assault upon the 
 French in their entrenchments. The latter, though scarce- 
 ly prepared for the attack at that moment, had not been re- 
 gardless of the spirit and the numbers of their enemy. An 
 engagement ensued which was supported on both sides 
 with great constancy and courage for several hours. The 
 artillery of the French, brought to bear successfully upon 
 their assailants, disordered their advance and thinned their 
 
324 ROBERT DE LA MARCK. 
 
 numbers, but could not subdue the spirit or discourage the 
 audacity of these fierce and hardy mountaineers. Fighting 
 for pay, they had yet another motive, and were anxious to 
 show their hardihood and superiority when fighting against 
 the French monarch. Louis had spoken sUghtingly of their 
 prowess, and had striven to raise an infantry from his own 
 peasantry. This was a loss of employment to a people who 
 had become the mercenaries of all Europe. Besides, the 
 main body of foot-soldiers in the French army were hirelings 
 like themselves, but they came from Germany ; and a rival- 
 ship in trade naturally provoked an intense ambition on the 
 part of the Swiss to show themselves the better soldiers. 
 They made the most astonishing eflbrts, and, in spite of the 
 slaughter of their van, they beat down opposition, crossed 
 the entrenchments, and succeeded in seizing on the artillery 
 of the French, which they now turned upon its former own- 
 ers. This event decided the fate of the day. The rout of 
 the French became general, though only after the most ad- 
 mirable exhibition of valor. It was their misfortune that, 
 from the unwise position which Trivulzio had taken, the cav- 
 alry could not be brought into action ; and this constituted 
 the chivalry of the whole army, and was tolerably numerous 
 besides. The slaughter was very gi-eat among both the 
 combatants. More than one half of the Swiss perished in 
 their murderous desire to prove their superiority to the Ger- 
 man lansquenets. And they did so most effectively. The 
 latter, deriving but small support from the cavalry, were 
 nearly cut to pieces. In this battle, which exhibited many 
 noble instances of courage and valor, one in particular is 
 recorded of Robert de la Marck, who, at the head of a 
 small body of cavalry, piercing the ranks of the successful 
 Swiss, succeeded in liberating his two sons, both of whom, 
 being wounded, had been made prisoners. The French 
 army recrossed the Alps, a portion of it being despatched to 
 carry on the war in Navarre ; from which, however, it was 
 soon withdrawn to make head against a more serious dan- 
 
FRENCH DEFEATED. 325 
 
 ger, the descent of the EngHsh upon Calais. Thus ended, 
 in defeat, the favorite hope of Louis XII, to possess him- 
 self of Milan. It was reserved for one of his successors to 
 renew the bloody conflict for the attainment of this too- 
 much desired prize. 
 
 E E 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Henry VIII. of England, eager, passionate and young, 
 was readily beguiled by the King of Arragon and the 
 Pope, into the appropriation of his money and his troops 
 in a cause which they persuaded him was common be- 
 tween them. He had found the means for subsidizing 
 Maximilian ; and, by a poll-tax which he imposed upon his 
 subjects, in due proportion to their wealth and dignities, 
 he succeeded in levying a powerful fleet and army for the 
 invasion of France. His army he designed to command in 
 person. The vanguard of this force, amounting to eight 
 thousand men, was sent forward to Calais, under the Earl 
 of Shrewsbury ; another body of six thousand soon follow- 
 ed, commanded by the chamberlain, Lord Herbert ; and 
 the king himself, not long after, attended by most of his 
 nobility, and bringing with him the main body of his ti'oops, 
 and the vanguard, crossed over to Calais. He was soon 
 joined by Maximilian, who was base enough to wear 
 the colors of his brother monarch, and to take pay, at an 
 hundred crowns per diem, for himself, as one of Henry's 
 subjects and captains. Before the arrival of the two kings 
 in the camp, the English earls had formed the siege 
 of Theroiienne, a town situated on the frontiers of Picardy. 
 They attacked the place with vigor. It was held by two 
 intrepid captains, Francis de Teligni and Antonio de Cre- 
 qui. These brave officers opposed to their assailants a 
 most glorious defence. The post was well fortified, but 
 had not a sufficient supply of provisions and munitions of 
 war for sustaining a protracted leaguer. The gamson 
 consisted, along with the companies of these two captains, 
 
HENRY VIII. 327 
 
 of a small body of French infantry, and a similar force of 
 lansquenets under the charge of Captain Brandrec. These 
 were all hardy and experienced soldiers, to whom the 
 town might well be confided, with every assurance that they 
 would honorably maintain it so long as the means remained 
 to them of doing so. 
 
 While the cannon of the Earl of Shrewsbury and Lord 
 Herbert were rattling against the walls of Theroiienne, the 
 King of England commenced his march from Calais for the 
 camp. The French monarch had sent against him a con- 
 siderable force, commanded by Louis de Halucui, the lord 
 of Piennes, and governor of Picardy. Bayard, with his 
 company, was attached to this army. He succeeded in 
 giving a severe fright to the English monarch on the line 
 of march, and might have realized a much more satisfacto- 
 ry success, but for the timidity of his commander. The 
 French horse were twelve hundred in number. The 
 English and Gemians, whom the king led, consisted of 
 twelve thousand men, of whom four thousand were lans- 
 quenets. They had no cavalry. The French hoi-se hover- 
 ed about their flanks, watchflil of every opportunity to 
 pounce down upon their prey. They approached within 
 cannon-shot of the English, and so confident was their de- 
 portment, that Henry began to fancy that he was betrayed. 
 Dismounting from his horse, he placed himself among his 
 lansquenets, who were, fi'om frequent and recent service, 
 better practised in arms than the English at that period. 
 Bayard eagerly demanded permission to make the attack. 
 He urged, to the Lord de Piennes, that no evil results could 
 follow — that, if repulsed, they could not be pursued, and, 
 if successful in breaking through them, the rout of the 
 enemy and the captivity of their king was certain. His 
 companions favored this opinion, but Piennes rejected it. 
 He would incur no responsibility, and if the attempt was 
 made, it should be done without his consent. " I was 
 charged by the king, my master," said he, " on my life, to 
 
 P 
 
328 CAPTURE OF A SAINT. 
 
 attempt nothing, but to guard the country only. Vexed at 
 this denial, Bayard, with his company, yet made a dash 
 at the rear of the enemy, and succeeded in wresting from 
 them one of the twelve pieces of cannon, to which the 
 pious Henry had given the names of the twelve apostles. 
 It was a Saint John upon which the violent hands of our 
 chevalier was laid. He, perhaps, never knew, until after- 
 ward, the irreverence of which he had been guilty. The 
 piece was fairly won and carried off by his gendarms, 
 while the English troops pressed forward, anxious to escape 
 the harassing presence of a foe, against which, strangely 
 enough, they had taken no precautions. The Burgundian 
 and Hainault bands, under Maximilian, with whom came 
 the cavalry, followed after him, and soon added to the for- 
 midable array by which Theroiienne was invested. The 
 cannonading became more and more earnest, and the be- 
 sieged were compelled to communicate to the French 
 monarch that they began to suffer from the want of 
 provisions. 
 
 Louis was at Amiens, suffering from the gout. From 
 this place he sent despatches to the Lord of Piennes, that 
 Theroiienne must be victualled at all hazards. But this 
 was a duty which it was more easy to desire done than to 
 execute. The besiegers were equally numerous and vigi- 
 lant, and the leaguer seemed to be complete. Neverthe- 
 less, in obedience to the king's mandates, the attempt was 
 to be made. A scheme was devised, to be executed on a 
 certain day, by which, while a certain portion of the French 
 cavalry were to raise an alarm in the camp of the be- 
 siegers, another body, eight hundred in number, each of 
 whom carried a sack of gunpowder and two quartei^s of 
 bacon behind him, were to make a sudden in'uption through 
 another part of the encampment, and thus convey to the 
 garrison the relief for which they famished. The attempt 
 was thoroughly successful. The Albanian horse, under the 
 lead of Fontrailles, darted through the lines of the English, 
 
BATTLE OF GUINEGATTE. 329 
 
 surmounting all resistance, and advanced to the fosse of 
 the town, where each trooper threw down his burden. 
 Wheeling about, they were quite as successful, at full gal- 
 lop, in making their way back to a place of safety. In 
 this brilliant, but dangerous attempt, they suffered but little 
 loss. But it soon became necessary again to supply the 
 garrison, and in the same manner. The siege was a tedi- 
 ous one, lasting more than a month ; and the obstinacy of 
 the defence, which delayed the progress of the invaders 
 through France, was an object, in itself, which justified any 
 degree of hazard in its attainment. But a second attempt 
 upon the patience, or the vigilance of the besiegers, did not 
 prove quite so fortunate as the first. There were certain 
 spies employed by the French, whom the English succeed- 
 ed in buying over to their purposes. These betrayed the 
 scheme, and advised the enemy of the day on which it was 
 to be put in execution. The event which followed has 
 been frequently reported, to the discredit of the French 
 chivalry. 
 
 The English laid an ambush for them on one side of the 
 river Lys, at a place called Guinegatte. Here, with six 
 thousand archers, four thousand lansquenets, and eight 
 pieces of artillery, they lay in waiting for the approach of 
 the French gens d'arms. These, some four hnndred in 
 number, were despatched to the heights of Guinegatte, so 
 as to draw upon themselves the attention of the besiegers, 
 while Fontrailles, with the Albanian horse, should again 
 penetrate, with their supplies, to the fosse of the besieged 
 city. The gens d'arms were given to understand that their 
 object was not to fight with the enemy, but to employ and 
 divert his attention. When, accordingly, they encountered 
 the ambush, they naturally wheeled about to retreat. But 
 not allowed to do so at their leisure, by the pressure of the 
 English cavaliy, the retreat became a flight, and, though 
 composed of some of the best gentlemen of France, who 
 had long before, and frequently, distinguished themselves in 
 
 E E* 
 
330 PANIC AND FLIGHT. 
 
 battle, a panic took place among them, and they flew in such 
 wild haste, as to throw into similar disorder the rearguard 
 of their own body, which was drawing nigh to their support, 
 under the conduct of the Duke de Longueville and the 
 Sieur de la Palisse. With these came Bayard and other 
 captains, such as were not to be frightened easily; but, 
 maugre their presence and all their efforts, the panic-strick- 
 en fugitives continued their flight to Blangy, where the in- 
 fantry lay. The brave men paid the penalties of the timid. 
 They threw themselves between the pursuing cavalry of 
 the enemy and their fugitives ; and, by opposing themselves 
 to the unequal struggle, they succeeded in saving the army 
 of the French. It was at their own expense. The Duke 
 de Longueville was already a prisoner, with many more. 
 Bayard, first among those who sought to arrest this dis- 
 graceful flight, was the last to bring up the race. Forced 
 to retire, as the others had done, he did so slowly ; and, 
 with but fifteen knights, succeeded still in repulsing the as- 
 saults of the pursuers, and keeping his forlorn squad togeth- 
 er. Reaching a naiTow bridge, where but two men could 
 pass abreast, he stopped short, and told his companions 
 that it was possible to secure the passage for half an hour. 
 Then, sending one of his archers at full speed to the camp, 
 he bade him say to the captain, that they must put the 
 army in order of battle, and make a prompt but stealthy 
 march toward the spot which he occupied. His scheme 
 was, when the enemy came down upon him in all the dis- 
 array of the pursuit, to encounter them unexpectedly with 
 the army of the French, cool and properly prepared, and 
 take them at surprise and disadvantage. Meantime, the 
 cavalry of the Burgundians and Hainaulters drew nigh ; and, 
 finding themselves so stoutly and successfully withstood by 
 such a handful as that upon the bridge, were exceedingly 
 enraged. Some were sent back to bring on the archers, 
 while a couple of hundred cavaliers, following the course 
 of the stream, at length found a crossing-place near a mill, 
 
BAYARD A PRISONER. 331 
 
 which brought them round in the rear of our hero. Fight- 
 ing gallantly with the foe in front, he found himself sud- 
 denly enclosed on both sides, and by a force, with which, 
 even with fresh steeds, and unwearied arms, he would 
 not have found it possible to contend. While he meditated 
 surrender, in order to avoid the certain death which must 
 follow the arrival of the archers, the enemy set upon his 
 little troop with cries of " Burgundy ! Burgundy !" The 
 French sped across the bridge, and each trooper, at the ad- 
 vice of Bayard, made his surrender to the individual ene- 
 my whom he first encountered. One by one, they yielded 
 themselves — all but Bayard, who, as he left the bridge for 
 the plain, caught a glimpse of a hostile cavalier, in hand- 
 some attire. This person, thinking the fight was over, and 
 not caring to make prisoners, had taken off his helmet, and 
 thrown himself, in heat and exhaustion, at the foot of a 
 clump of little trees. To the consternation of the sluggish 
 knight, our chevalier spuiTed directly upon him, and point- 
 ing his sword to his throat, cried out to him in a voice of 
 thunder, ''Yield, cavaUer, or you die!" Never was good 
 knight so thoroughly dismayed and confounded. To be 
 made a prisoner by one of a party, whom, at that very mo- 
 ment, his own followers were capturing on all hands, was 
 certainly an event which it had never entered his imagina- 
 tion to conceive. But the case was urgent, — and very 
 much chagrined, he answered, 
 
 " Well ; since I am taken thus, I suppose I must suiTen- 
 der ! But who are you 1" 
 
 " I am," said our good knight, " Captain Bayard, and it 
 is I, sir, who surrender to you. Be pleased to take me 
 with you. Here is my sword ; — ^but do me this kindness, 
 to let me have it back should we meet with any English, 
 who may offer at my life." 
 
 The gentleman, whom, by this time, we may suppose 
 perfectly cool, was highly delighted at this new relationship 
 between himself and the stranger, and readily promised 
 
382 A NEW CASE. 
 
 every thing. It was well that the condition had been re- 
 quired ; for both of them, before the English camp was 
 reached, were compelled to use their weapons upon some 
 of the stragglers, whose chief occupation seemed to be the 
 destruction of those who, as the captives of others, could no 
 longer do them hurt, or pay them ransom. 
 
 The knight by whom Bayard had been taken, lodged 
 him, with great respect and distinction, in his own tent. 
 Here, after the lapse of four or five days, his captive said 
 to him, " My good sir, I shall be right glad if you will give 
 me a safe conduct to the camp of my own people, for I am 
 truly wearied with remaining here." 
 
 " How say you ]" said the other. " We have not yet 
 treated of your ransom." 
 
 " My ransom !" exclaimed Bayard, with a look of aston- 
 ishment, whether he entertained the feeling or not. " Your 
 own ransom, you mean. It is you who are my prisoner. 
 You suiTendered to me; and if, after you gave me your 
 word, I then yielded myself up, it was to save my life from 
 others, not from you. Your's was at my mercy !" 
 
 Here was a ruse de guerre. Our excellent gentleman, 
 who had so prematurely paused to cool himself and take 
 his rest before the battle was quite over, was now thor- 
 oughly in amazement. He had never quite understood the 
 nature of the proceeding by which our knight had first 
 made his introduction; and when Bayard added to these 
 words the threat, that, if he did not now keep his word, he 
 certainly should make his escape if he could, and hold him 
 personally accountable hereafter, the obtuse islander knew 
 not well what reply to make. The renown of Bayard had 
 reached his ears, and that was of a sort to make him 
 question the policy of risking himself in a conflict with one 
 who had the credit of being such a thorough master of 
 fence. When he found his tongue, he answered, very 
 courteously, that he was desirous of dealing fairly with the 
 Lord of Bayard, but that the case was quite a new one to 
 
THE KINGS AND THE CAPTIVE. 333 
 
 him, and must refer it to the other captains. This difficulty, 
 for the first time brought it to the knowledge of the camp 
 that the famous Chevalier Bayard, the knight sans peur et 
 sans reproche, was a prisoner. The intelligence was pro- 
 ductive of as much delight as if it were in consequence of 
 a great victory. He was sent for by the emperor, who had 
 been one of his admirers in times past, when he served 
 under him at the abortive siege of Padua. Maximilian had 
 not forgotten those times. " My friend," said he, " it gives 
 me great pleasure to see you. Would to God I had many 
 such as you. I should not then fail in requiting the good 
 offices of the king your master." Then, after a pause, he 
 said, playfully, " I believe, my Lord of Bayard, we once 
 made war together. Methinks at that time it was said 
 that Bayard never fled in battle." 
 
 The answer of our knight was prompt — " Were I given 
 to flying, sire, I should not be here now." 
 
 At this moment the King of England made his appear- 
 ance, who, on being introduced to Bayard, treated him 
 with great cordiality. Henry was then but a young tyrant. 
 His claws had not fully grown. He vtbs ambitious of 
 glory, and took much delight in the graces and the pomps 
 of knighthood. The fame of Bayard was quite as well 
 known to him as to Maximilian, and neither of them was 
 disposed to withhold his compliments and acknowledg- 
 ments. But this did not prevent them from making merry 
 at the recent defeat of the French knights at Guinegatte — 
 a battle, by the way, which received the curious title in 
 history of that of " the spurs." Heniy spoke very scorn- 
 fully of the spirit which they displayed in this affair, 
 observing that he had never seen men fly so nimbly when 
 chased by so small a number. The emperor seconded 
 these sentiments. 
 
 "On my soul," replied Bayard, "the gendannerie of 
 France ought in no wise to have the blame of this affair 
 ascribed to them, for they had express orders from their 
 
334 THE DECISION. 
 
 captains not to fight. It was apprehended that, if you 
 offered battle, you would bring your whole force with you, 
 as in fact you did, and we had neither infantry nor ord- 
 nance." There was some pride in the spirit in which he 
 added, " That the renown of the French nobility for spirit 
 and conduct was known throughout the world, and was not 
 now to be disputed successfully. I do not mean, most 
 high and mighty lords, that you should account me of their 
 number." 
 
 " In good sooth, my Lord of Bayard," said Henry, " if 
 they were all of your mettle, they would soon force me to 
 raise the siege of Theroiienne. It is well for us that you 
 are our prisoner." 
 
 " Sire," replied Bayard, " I do not allow that, and would 
 gladly appeal on the subject to yourself and the emperor." 
 
 Upon this, the gentleman to whom he had yielded 
 himself was summoned to the presence, and Bayard, in 
 his hearing, made a statement of the whole transaction, 
 the other fully confirming his details. The question 
 was full of subtleties. It was a new case for the doctors 
 learned in the law. The two royal personages looked 
 at each other, and the great king, who could argue the 
 case, to his own satisfaction, at least, against a Luther, does 
 not seem to have been quite as prompt in settling this of our 
 captain. The emperor was the first to break the silence. 
 He declared that, in his opinion, our knight was not the 
 captive, but rather the captor. But he conceived that the 
 quid 'pro quo had been fully rendered by the gentleman 
 whom he had so fortunately caught napping. He held the 
 parties to be quits, and that our good knight should be al- 
 lowed to depart whenever the King of England thought 
 proper. This was considered a very lucid decision by that 
 august and reasonable personage, who was liberal enough 
 to determine that Bayard should remain on parole for the 
 space of six weeks, not bearing arms in that time, but 
 permitted to enjoy himself by a stroll through Flandera. 
 
BAYARD IN FLANDERS. 335 
 
 Our good knight seems to have been quite satisfied wdth 
 the arrangement. It is probable that he himself was not 
 so well content with the force of his own arguments 
 against captivity, until they were adopted and made clear 
 by Maximilian. He thanked the two sovereigns for their 
 condescension and justice ! Heniy was anxious to win 
 him over to his service ; and many offers were made him, 
 which would have proved too persuasive for most of the 
 knighthood of his age ; but his heart was with his own 
 land. His reply to these solicitings has been quoted, as a 
 happy instance of patriotic sentiment — made beautiful by 
 its very simplicity. He said, finally, to those who sought 
 him — " I have but one Heavenly Master, who is God — but 
 one master upon earth, who is the King of France. I 
 have no wish to sei-ve any other." His reply, in that day, 
 declared the true military spirit also, and was the just re- 
 buke to the loose morals — to say nothing of patriotism — of 
 an age, when even princes were prepared to hire them- 
 selves, and sell their people, to do the battles of other 
 nations. He never forgot the lessons of duty impressed 
 upon his memory by the counsels of his father, and by all 
 the training of his youth. 
 
 Bayard used his six weeks profitably, at the expense of 
 his purse. He won the affections of his enemies. Ram- 
 bling among the Hainaulters and Burgundians, in the do- 
 minions of the emperor, he was always surrounded by 
 brave gentlemen, whom he knew how to feast sumptuously. 
 They honored his fame — ^for his achievements had already 
 grown into fame ; and when they found this reputation asso- 
 ciated with the most admirable good-fellowship, they were 
 unwilling that he should ever leave them. But he lingered 
 not an hour beyond that to which he had been pledged by 
 the King of England. At the expiration of this time, he 
 returned to France, escorted by a numerous attendance, 
 until within three leagues of the French territories. Mean- 
 while, Theroiienne had been surrendered to the besiegers, 
 
336 CLOSE OP THE CAMPAIGN. 
 
 the garrison having yielded to famine rather than the sword, 
 and being admitted to good conditions. The contest within, 
 and beneath, its walls, was discontinued for a season. Henry 
 found his conquest of very little moment to the grand re- 
 sult. He had harassed the realm of France ; he had 
 gained nothing for his own. His measures betrayed a total 
 ignorance of the art of war. He suffered himself to be 
 beguiled by Maximilian into laying siege to Toumay — the 
 conquest of which would accrue rather to the benefit of the 
 grandson of the emperor than to the English — when he 
 should have pressed forward to the very gates of Paris ; 
 where, expecting nothing less, Louis had caused the trades- 
 men and mechanics of the city to be mustered into service, 
 and uniformed as foot-soldiers. Never was France in such 
 great peril, and never so completely relieved by the blunders 
 of its enemies. The Swiss had penetrated Burgundy with 
 a formidable army, and had laid siege to Dijon, at the very 
 moment when the arms of Henry and Maximilian were 
 triumphant in Picardy. They were met by the veteran 
 Tremouille, governor of Burgundy, who seduced them 
 into a negotiation, in which they were completely out- 
 witted. Touniay was conquered by the English, after a 
 short delay; and, with these successes, the King of England 
 returned to his own dominions, and the emperor to Ger- 
 many. And thus closed the campaign of the year 1513, 
 the army of France being disbanded, and the troops posted 
 in ganison along the frontiers of Picardy. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The close of the life of Louis XII. was clouded with mis- 
 fortunes. We have already seen how melancholy were the 
 results of that ambition which had earned frequent annies 
 for destruction to the seductive plains of Italy. We have 
 shown how narrowly, at the close of this campaign, the 
 territories of France escaped from the common ravages of 
 the English, the Germans, and the Swiss — escaped rather 
 because of the wretched inexperience and inferior judg- 
 ment of the invaders, than in consequence of the resources 
 of the French monarch to contend against them. Other 
 events accompanied and followed these, which tended 
 still farther to distress this gi'eat prince, and to cloud the 
 sunshine in the evening of his life. His ally, James, king 
 of Scotland, was defeated and perished on the fatal field 
 of Flodden, while Louis himself was stniggling doubtfully 
 against the English on his own territories. The close of 
 the year brought home the remains of his several gari'isons 
 in Italy, and, at the opening of the next, death seized upon 
 his wife, Anne, duchess of Brittany and queen of France. 
 This princess was very justly lamented by her nobility 
 and people. She died young, not having completed her 
 thirty-eighth year. She was meek and bountiful, virtuous 
 and well accomplished. Her pleasure consisted in doing 
 good. Her court was the asylum and the school of purity, 
 so much so, that the most illustrious families of France 
 gladly confided their daughters to her keeping as maids 
 of honor. She was the widow of Charles VIII., and his- 
 torians, contrasting her history, while his wife, and as the 
 wife of Louis, have observed a great discrepancy in her 
 
 Ff 
 
338 THE TOURNEY. 
 
 character. To the former she is described as mild and 
 obUging, and Charles frequently sacrificed her to his pass- 
 ing fancies. To Louis, who was devoted to her will, she 
 exhibited a more imperious humor; to characterize the 
 effects of which, he was wont to call her " his Britoness." 
 But this did not impair her virtues or his recognition of 
 them. His attachment was justly founded upon her qual- 
 ities of mind and heart. The discrepancy remarked by 
 the historians, who do not often condescend to analyze the 
 constituents of personal character, might readily be recog- 
 nized by a proper examination of all the circumstances 
 in her career during the two reigns. Her death was bit- 
 terly felt and lamented, but, as our chronicler phrases it, 
 ** whoso would have her virtues and her life worthily set 
 forth must pray God to raise up Cicero for her eulogist in 
 Latin, and Master Jean de Meung for the same in French, 
 none of the moderns being equal to such performance."* 
 But a royal sorrow is not long suffered to interfere with 
 the wishes of a nobility or the interests of a kingdom ; and 
 before the expiration of the year we find the Duke de 
 Longueville — who, taken with Bayard at the battle of 
 Guinegatte, was carried a prisoner to England — negotiating 
 a marriage between the widowed sovereign of France 
 and Mary, the sister of the King of England. She was 
 espoused by Louis at Abbeville. The nuptials were cele- 
 brated at Paris by rejoicings the most magnificent. For 
 upward of six weeks, the joust and tourney took the 
 place of those scenes of actual warfare which they were 
 designed to prepare for and to imitate ; and in these, as in 
 the latter, we find Bayard, Maugiron, Chandieu, and 
 
 * We ask, with wonder, after the works of a modern whom we find, dur- 
 ing an age which could appreciate the Latin of Cicero, ranked with the 
 mighty master of Roman eloquence. Jean de Meung, of whom we know 
 but little, was also named Clopinel. He finished the Romaunt of the Rose, 
 which had been begun, in verse, fifty years before by Guillaume de Loris, 
 and afterward turned into prose and augmented with many allegories by 
 Jean Molinet. 
 
FRANCIS THE FIRST. 339 
 
 Others, taking the field successfully against all competitors. 
 But these pomps and festivities, though natural enough to 
 the celebration of a bridal, agreed neither with the phys- 
 ical nor the political condition of the French king. He 
 sickened in the midst of them, and died in two months 
 after, leaving an enfeebled empire, an impoverished peo- 
 ple, and many dangerous enemies, to his successor. But 
 he died in the odor of popular sanctity. He had been a 
 protector of the people, upon whom, during his whole 
 reign, he had imposed no taxes. He had been the first 
 monarch of France to protect the peasantry from the ra- 
 pacity of the soldiery, who were before accustomed to 
 plunder them with impunity. Well might they call him 
 the " Father of his People " — a title which no one would 
 have been found to question, had the prosperity with which 
 his reign had opened been continued to its close. But the 
 fruitless sacrifice of wealth and blood in Italy — the san- 
 guinary victories which brought him glory at the expense 
 of more substantial possessions, and the evil consequences 
 of his vain ambition for conquest, which were entailed 
 upon his kingdom, for the trouble of future years — must 
 necessarily qualify, in some degree, the honorable title 
 which his subjects conferred upon his name. Louis was 
 but fifty-six yeare old when he died. He was suc- 
 ceeded by Francis I., who was but twenty wheti he 
 ascended the throne, and the favorite of the nobility, as 
 Louis had been of the people. Francis had but just es- 
 poused the Princess Claude, the eldest daughter of Louis, 
 by Anne of Brittany. He was anointed with the conse- 
 crated oil at Rheims, on the 25th January, 1514 ; and went 
 from Rheims to St. Denis, to be crowned. A magnificent 
 entry followed, into Paris ; the twelve peers of France, or 
 their substitutes, officiating according to their duties in the 
 consecration, the crowning, and the exhibitions of chivalry, 
 by which the gi*eat event was celebrated. Tilts and tour- 
 neys succeeded, as a matter of course. Francis was a mag- 
 
340 A NEW INVASION. 
 
 nificent king, as well as an ambitious one. In the former 
 respect he differed largely from his predecessor. He made 
 a progress of state through his dominions, which was every 
 where marked by the most extravagant display. We shall 
 not adopt the details of the chroniclers ; nor did such 
 triumphs seriously employ his mind. Differing greatly 
 from Louis XII., he yet inherited his hungering desire 
 for the possession of the duchy of Milan, and he already 
 meditated the preparations for its conquest. A peace had 
 been negotiated with England ; a treaty was adjusted with 
 the Archduke of Flanders, who was betrothed to the Princess 
 Renee, the sister of Francis. The widow of Louis, Mary 
 of England, much to Henry's disquiet, became the wife 
 of Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk ; and, while the 
 realm of France exhibited nothing but an aspect of peace 
 and joyance, the aiTangements were in progress for con- 
 ducting her chivalry forth, under the lead of their sovereign 
 himself, once more in pursuit of conquest over the passes 
 of the Alps. 
 
 The commencement of the reign of Francis brought for- 
 ward our chevalier upon the theatre of political events. One 
 of the first acts of the new king was to make him lieutenant- 
 general of his native province of Dauphiny — an appoint- 
 ment which gave quite as much pleasure to the people 
 governed as it gave to the governor. Here he recruited 
 his command, and awaited the preparations and the ap- 
 proaches of the king. He was not suffered long to remain 
 in Dauphiny. The army of France was already in motion 
 for the Milanese. It was destined to defile secretly by the 
 Lyonese, the vanguard being led by our hero. With his 
 own command, with some three or four thousand foot- 
 soldiers, he led the way to the confines of Dauphiny. 
 Here, reaching the teiTitories of the Marquis de Saluzzo — 
 territories now held, with the exception of one strong 
 castle, by Prospero Colonna, lieutenant-general of the 
 Pope — Bayard commenced a vigilant inquiry into the 
 
BAYARD IN COMMAND. 341 
 
 various modes by which he could expel the enemy. Co- 
 lonna had the whole country subject to his contributions, 
 while all the strong places were held by his Swiss merce- 
 naries. Bayard soon discovered, by his spies, that, though 
 in common soldiers he was fully equal to his enemy, he 
 was far inferior to him in horse ; Cotonna having at com- 
 mand a chosen body of three hundred gens d'arms, to say 
 nothing of another force of light-horse, all of which were 
 admirably equipped and mounted. This was the very arm 
 of which Bayard was the acknowledged master; and, feel- 
 ing himself deficient in this respect, he immediately sent 
 despatches to the king, stating his deficiencies, and re- 
 questing an additional force of cavalry, in order to effect 
 his objects. In compliance with this demand, the three 
 distinguished captains, La Palisse,Humbercourt, and D'Au- 
 bigny, were ordered to join him with their companies. The 
 first of these was a marshal of France, the two others 
 general officers ; all of them superior in rank and length of 
 sei-vice, yet all of them willing to fight under his orders ! 
 Here, then, is an admirable example and lesson to that 
 wretched self-esteem, which withdraws its strength from 
 the support of its country when its dignity is supposed to 
 be outraged. These brave noblemen had no repugnance 
 to serve under the orders of the younger soldier. We 
 hear of no sullenness — no resignations — no murmurs — 
 no complaints. The truly patriotic soldier regards the 
 claim of his country as the gi'eat consideration, and his 
 own as secondary wholly. He feels no jealousy of his 
 more youthful captain ; opposes no scruples — no reluct- 
 ance — to a service which is always honorable if the cause 
 be so, and which, where the duty is present, never regards 
 the agency by which it is commissioned to be done. By 
 the time that these three captains had reached the post 
 occupied by Bayard, he had succeeded in gaining such 
 intelligence of the movements of Prosper© Colonna as to be 
 able to employ them in immediate service. They found 
 
342 ENTERPRISE. 
 
 him at a little town called Savigliano, in the plain of Pied* 
 mont. He received them with equal courtesy and affec- 
 tion ; and, after they were sufficiently refreshed, addressed 
 them thus : " Gentlemen, we dare not loiter here. To 
 delay is to endanger the knowledge of our enterprise ; 
 and, if once suspected by Colonna, it must fail. He will 
 either retire or summon the Swiss to his succor, of whom 
 there is a goodly number at Pignerol and Saluzzo. We 
 must have our horses well fed to-night, and be prepared to 
 despatch our business with the break of day. A deep 
 water lies between us and our prey ; but there is a ford, 
 and I will find you a guide." They were all mounted a 
 few hours after midnight, silently, and while the stars were 
 shining. Colonna was within Carmagnola. His spies 
 brought him news that the French were out; but, ignorant 
 of the reinforcement that Bayard had just received, he felt 
 no apprehension. Still he thought it but prudent to take 
 his departure the next morning, pursuing his way very 
 leisurely toward the little town of Villafranca, seven or 
 eight miles distant, where he prepared to dine. Our cap- 
 tains were greatly disquieted when they reached Car- 
 magnola and found that the bird had flown. 
 
 But Bayard determined to pursue. " Since we have 
 come so far," said he, "we may go a little farther. We 
 shall hardly fail to gather some of them, let us find them 
 where we may." 
 
 " Perdy," said Humbercourt, " never man spoke bet- 
 ter." 
 
 La Palisse and D'Aubigny were ready, and the Lord ot 
 Morete was sent forward in disguise to gain intelligence. 
 He made good speed and soon brought them tidings that 
 Colonna would dine and take his siesta at Villafranca. 
 This information gave our captains a fresh impulse for puj* 
 suit. Our good knight sent Humbercourt forward with an 
 hundred archers, he following at longbow-shot with his 
 hundred gens d'arms, while La Palisse and D'Aubigny 
 
THE BURPRISE. 343 
 
 brought up the rear. Colonna was not without good spies 
 also. He was on his way to mass in Villafranca, when told 
 that the French were abroad in force. He answered indif- 
 ferently that " such could not be the case, unless they had 
 crossed the mountains with wings — that it could be no oth- 
 er than the company of Captain Bayard, which was too 
 small for any enterprise.'* But, as he returned from mass, 
 the report became more circumstantial. One of his spies 
 assured him that he himself had seen more than a thousand 
 gens d'arms pressing on the route to Villafi'anca. Colonna 
 was now alarmed, and sent out twenty horse to reconnoitre 
 the road to Carmagnola. Meanwhile, he hurried his quar- 
 termaster, bade his trumpets sound, and made his arrange- 
 ments to seek his lodgings at Pignerol. He lingered un- 
 wisely to discuss his dinner. The scouts, whom he had 
 sent out on the road to Carmagnola, were encountered by 
 Humbercourt with his archers, dispersed and pursued, Bay- 
 ard closely following, with his gens d'arms, on the heels of 
 his archers. The chase was so hotly urged that the two 
 parties reached the gates of Villafranca together, and a 
 conflict ensued at the entrance, in the endeavor to close it 
 upon the pursuers. The anival of Bayard put an end to 
 this struggle. The gate was won, and the French dashed 
 through it. Here they found the quartermaster of Colonna 
 already mounted, with some of his gens d'arms, preparing 
 to set forth for Pignerol. These put themselves on the de- 
 fensive, but were soon cut to pieces. Meanwhile, Chaban- 
 nes and D'Aubigny coming up, occupied the two gates of 
 the place, but not before a couple of Albanians had succeed- 
 ed in crossing the drawbridge and running, as though the 
 foul fiend were at their heels, to communicate the tidino-s 
 to a column of some four thousand Swiss who were station- 
 ed only three miles distant. Colonna, meanwhile, apprised 
 of his danger, hastily buckled on his armor and prepared 
 for his defence ; but when he heard by what force he was 
 surrounded, and by what captains it was conducted, he 
 
344 PROSPERO COLONNA. 
 
 yielded, under the most poignant anguish, to his misfor- 
 tune. He could not hide his mortification from his enemies; 
 ** but, cursing his fate, that he should have been thus sur- 
 prised, he deplored that God should not rather have suffer- 
 ed him to meet his foes upon the open field." Bayard kind- 
 ly endeavored to console him, saying, ** Such is the fortune 
 of war, my Lord Prospero, which he who enters upon the 
 game must expect to incur — winning one day to lose the 
 next. But, as for your wish to have met us in the open 
 field, I can safely aver that it is much better for you as it is ; 
 for such was the fury and appetite of our men for the com- 
 bat, that, in such an event, it would not have been an easy 
 matter for you or any of your people to escape." 
 
 ** I should have been right glad," was the answer, " to 
 have confronted even so much peril, had it been the Lord's 
 pleasure." 
 
 The peculiar awkwardness of this aff'air to Colonna arose 
 from one of his own incautious speeches. He had threat- 
 ened, while Bayard as yet had no more than his hundred 
 gens d'arms, that he should soon or late have the good knight 
 in his trap, as a pigeon in his cage. Bayard, no doubt, had 
 heard of this boast, but he was too generous to taunt his 
 captive with it. 
 
 The booty of this conquest was immense. The prisoners 
 were many of them men of distinction, and they had ransoms 
 to pay. There were, besides Prospero Colonna himself, 
 the Count of Policastro, Pi^ro Morgante, Carlo Cadamarto, 
 and other persons of military rank and importance. Six 
 or seven hundred horses were among the spoils, four hun- 
 dred of which were coursers, or Spanish horses, at that 
 time of great value. Colonna was afterward heard to say 
 that his defeat on that occasion cost him no less than fifty 
 thousand crowns in gold and silver plate, coin, and other 
 chattels. The treasure gained by the captors was estima- 
 ted at an hundred and fifty thousand ducats. The neces- 
 sity of a precipitate retreat lost them much more which 
 
FRANCIS CROSSES THE ALPS. 345 
 
 was otherwise available. They were soon apprised that 
 the Swiss infantry, in the Italian service, were pressing for- 
 ward, at full trot, for the rescue of the place and captives. 
 Selecting, therefore, the most valuable of the spoils, and 
 placing their prisoners before them, they went forth at one 
 gate of the town, while the Swiss penetrated the other. 
 But the command of Bayard, with their prisoners, being 
 all mounted, laughed at the proximity of their enemies, 
 which was devoid of danger. Francis I. was even then 
 crossing the Alps by a passage known only to a peasant, 
 and by which no army had ever crossed before. The 
 usual avenues were by Mont Cenis and Mont Genievre, 
 and these were occupied and guarded by the Swiss. The 
 news of the capture of Colonna was as exhilarating to the 
 young monarch as was the mountain of St. Paul, whose 
 summits he then occupied. It was auspicious, he might 
 well regard it, of the future. It encouraged him to press 
 forward with all diligence, and the army of France was 
 in Piedmont and at Turin, while the Swiss awaited them 
 at the ancient passes. 
 
 p* 
 
>A.^W^W^?^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 The army wliich Francis I. led into Italy was one of the 
 finest that France had ever sent into the field. It consisted 
 of two thousand five hundred raen-at-arms — a force which, 
 fully equipped, implied some fourteen or fifteen thousand 
 horse. Besides these, he had, of mounted troops, the gentle- 
 men of his body-guard, the officers of the household and 
 their several followers, with a considerable number of vol- 
 unteers, who joined the army at their own charges. His 
 infantry was composed of two-and-twenty thousand Ger- 
 man lansquenets, eight thousand French pikes, and six 
 thousand Basques and Gascons, with three thousand pio- 
 neers, and a numerous train of artillery. The vanguard 
 was confided to the Constable de Bourbon ; the " battle" 
 was commanded by the king himself; the rearguard was 
 led by the Duke d'AlenQon. The dukes of Lorraine and 
 Vendome, D'Aubigny, the Bastard of Savoy, D'Orval, La 
 
PROGRESS OF THE FRENCH. 347 
 
 Tremouille, Lautrec, the Duke of Gueldres (who had the 
 chief command of the German foot), Claude de Guise, 
 brother of the Duke of Lorraine, with the " Good Knight," 
 Bayard, accompanied the king. Francis had raised this 
 powerful army by the sale of judicial offices and other un- 
 justifiable means. He gained Genoa by the intrigues of 
 the Constable de Bourbon ; confimied a foiTner alliance with 
 the Venetians, and made an offer to treat with Ferdinand 
 and Maximilian ; not so much with the hope of engaging 
 their amity as with the wish to compel them to declare 
 themselves. But his overtures, as he anticipated, were 
 fruitless in both instances. The Pope, filled with selfish 
 pui-poses himself, for the promotion of his own family, and 
 having no apprehensions of so young a prince as Francis, 
 would have remained neutral, but was finally compelled 
 to accede to the league against him, formed by the emperor, 
 the King of Spain, the Duke of Milan, and the Swiss — but 
 this was only after subsequent events had made him alter 
 his opinion of the new French monarch. Thus, with a 
 clear knowledge of friends and foes, and with seemingly 
 ample resources, Francis I. made his way into the bosom 
 of Piedmont. 
 
 The Swiss were veiy much mortified that the French 
 had escaped them. It seemed as if they felt that some dis- 
 grace had fallen upon their arms, and they longed for an 
 opportunity not only to punish the latter for the contempt 
 which they had shown for their ancient allies, but to grap- 
 ple with the Black Bands and the lansquenets, whom they 
 regarded as rivals in the trade of blood. They withdrew 
 from the passes which they had unnecessarily guarded, and 
 retired into the Milanese, plundering whom they could, 
 without regard to the interests of friends or foes. The 
 progi'ess of Francis increased their vexations. Received 
 honorably and joyfully in Turin by his uncle, the Duke of 
 Savoy, he passed through several places which yielded to 
 his arms without the offer of opposition. Novara, the scene 
 
348 THE SWISS. 
 
 of that terrible defeat, which every soldier of the French 
 army regarded as a personal disgrace, yielded the keys of 
 her citadel. It was at Marignan that Francis made a 
 pause, pitched his camp, and opened a negotiation with the 
 Swiss. This proceeding was adopted at the suggestion of 
 the Duke of Savoy, who believed that every thing could be 
 done with the Swiss by means of money, and who properly 
 sought to prevent the effusion of blood. Had Francis 
 determined rather upon fighting them, he would probably 
 have gained all that he could have done by treaty. Their 
 teiTiis were sufficiently extravagant, but the desire to disarm 
 them was such as reconciled the young and chivalrous 
 monarch of the French to the conditions. But they were 
 not suffered to conclude the treaty. The influence of the 
 Cardinal de Sion, always the bitter enemy of the French, 
 his specious eloquence, and adroit counsels, prevented its 
 ratification. Sounding the tambourine, he gathered the 
 simple but mercenary mountaineers around him, and 
 preached to them as a fox does to the chickens. He suc- 
 ceeded in provoking their hatred and their cupidity to- 
 gether. The negotiation itself had given them great ad- 
 vantages ; for while it was in progress their numbers were 
 increased by the arrival of Rost, one of their gi'eatest 
 warriors, with twenty-five thousand men. This reinforce- 
 ment, with the exciting arguments of the Cardinal de Sion, 
 determined them to reject the treaty, and to resume hostili- 
 ties. A spy of Lautrec, in the camp of the Swiss, conveyed 
 to the French a knowledge of a treachery which they had 
 determined upon, by which they were to slaughter their 
 enemies, yet realize most of the advantages of the treaty. 
 This put the latter upon their guard ; and Francis was now 
 quite as willing to come to an engagement as before he 
 had been anxious to avoid it. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the day, on the 13th of Septem- 
 ber, 1515, when, tenibly excited by the arguments of their 
 leaders, the Swiss, with more than their usual impetuosity, 
 
THE BATTLE. 349 
 
 but Still in perfectly good order, rushed out of Milan to en- 
 counter the French army on the plains of Marignan. Fran- 
 cis was about to sit down to supper, when Fleuranges gal- 
 loped in with a message from the Constable de Bourbon, 
 who commanded the vanguard, that the enemy was upon 
 them. The king immediately hurried on his armor, put 
 himself at the head of his division, and hastened to the 
 field. The skiraiishing had already begun, and with great 
 spirit, between the opposing armies. The constable had 
 committed the guard of the artillery to the lansquenets, not 
 only because they were good soldiers, but because he well 
 knew that the hatred existing between themselves and the 
 Swiss would make them fight with more desperation than 
 opposed to any other foe. In the front of the guns a fosse 
 had been dug to increase the difficulties in the way of an 
 assault upon the artillery; the loss of which, at Novara, had 
 been the loss of the battle. Remembering that event, and 
 the success which had attended their efforts against this 
 arm of their enemy, the Swiss naturally directed their 
 greatest energies to a repetition of the like performance. 
 The French cavalry were so placed as to act upon the 
 flanks. The Swiss, meanwhile, came on with perfect 
 silence and in great steadiness. As if disdaining any other 
 martial influence than that of hatred, they had left behind 
 them their drums and fifes, bringing no other music into the 
 field than the ancient horn, with which their primitive ances- 
 tors had been wont to call up equally their flocks and their 
 foes. The artillery of the French opened upon them with 
 a destructive fire, which they bore with unflinching firm- 
 ness ; and still they advanced upon the guns in most admi- 
 rable order. Bourbon immediately discovered the game 
 they were disposed to play, and saw that they were about 
 to attempt the desperate manoeuvre of Novara, seizing the 
 ordnance and turning it upon its owners. He accordingly 
 marched out some companies of lansquenets to the support 
 of the artillery. Upon these, without seeming to regard 
 
350 CHARGE OF THE SWISS. 
 
 the French cavalry, the Swiss darted with all the fury of a 
 hatred that seemed to take the form of insanity. The 
 Germans, it appears, had conceived a most unfortunate 
 suspicion that the treaty between their employers and the 
 Swiss had been completed, and that they were to be sacri- 
 ficed to their implacable enemies. The attack, thus seem- 
 ingly made upon themselves alone, contributed to increase 
 their suspicions. They gave ground in dismay, and, re- 
 treating behind the fosse, suffered the Swiss to enter with 
 them, and actually to get possession of four of the guns. 
 The constable saw his danger, and the fatal consequences 
 which would ensue, if it was not promptly and adequately 
 encountered. Accordingly, giving the signal to the gens 
 d'arms, they charged the Sv^iss in flank with great eifect. 
 Bayard was one of the leaders in this onslaught, fighting, 
 wherever the necessity was most urgent, and always with 
 success. In the mean time Francis himself came up with the 
 Black Bands, and made a vigorous assault upon the oppo- 
 site flank of the enemy. These occurrences were sufficient 
 to disarm the Germans of their fears and suspicions. They 
 recovered their courage, and attempted to regain their 
 former position. The Swiss were finally driven beyond the 
 fosse, and the guns once more permitted to open upon their 
 columns. They were shaken, but not dispirited, and 
 though certainly they had lost by the first assault, this event 
 was not important to the final issue. They presented still 
 an aspect the most formidable ; their close ranks, fi'om 
 which tho long pikes projected, seeming impregnable, and 
 challenging attack. The Constable de Bourbon, at the head 
 of the cavalry of France, charged them repeatedly without 
 being able to disorder or break their an-ay. It was in vain 
 that the chief leaders, furious from disappointment, returned 
 again and again, until almost exhausted, to the assault. 
 The Swiss, baffled in their own first attempt upon the guns 
 of the French, had been taught prudence iu their rage, and 
 were now prepared to see tflUt nothing but the most per- 
 
NIGHT COMBAT. 351 
 
 feet steadiness and coolness could ensure them either victoiy 
 or safety. They beheld unmoved the fierce onset of their 
 chivalrous assailants, their long pikes bristling out at their 
 approach in a levelled line, as evenly and closely as the 
 antennae of some mighty animal that instinctively protrude 
 for its defence at the coming of the foe. At length, sound- 
 ing a fierce and final assault of his cavalry, the French king 
 himself advanced with two hundred of his gendarms, charg- 
 ing one of the wings of the Swiss, consisting of a battalion 
 of four thousand fuot. With this division came Bayard, 
 and other of the best captains of France. The manoeuvre 
 was executed with so much spirit and force, and so oppor- 
 tunely, that the division was wholly routed. The gendarms 
 penetrated the mass on every hand, and it was only by 
 casting down their pikes and crying "France!" that the 
 battalion escaped destruction. 
 
 But this decisive success did not necessarily detennine 
 the conflict. Night came on, and she sees no cowardice. 
 The battle raged as furiously as before. The uniforms of 
 the French and Swiss were veiy much alike — each of 
 them bore a white cross ; the Swiss being farther dis- 
 tinguished by canying, as a badge of the Pope of Rome, 
 the keys of St, Peter. The dust which had been raised 
 by the storm of the conflict rendered the twilight still 
 more obscure, and, for a time, the fight was discontinued 
 from the absolute impossibility of distinguishing friends 
 fi'om enemies. But when the moon rose, she afforded 
 sufficient light for combatants resolved on slaughter. 
 The Swiss, having no cavalry, could always find a foe 
 in the gens d'arms. These, however, could not always 
 distinguish their own people. This difficulty nearly 
 lost Francis his life ; for, uttering the word " France" 
 before a body of foot, supposing them to be lansquenets, 
 he called up a host of pikes to his breast, one of which 
 penetrated his buff coat. A timely recoil from the point of 
 danger alone saved him. With the renewal of the con- 
 
352 INTERREGNUM OP BATTLE. 
 
 flict, the Swiss once more turned their assaults upon 
 the French artillery. Upon this point they concentrated 
 all their power, and here the battle raged with its utmost 
 intensity. To this central object necessarily drew nigh all 
 the great hearts of either army. La Tremouille, who 
 had determined that no second Novara should dishonor 
 the arms of France, and his son, the Prince de Talmond, 
 never stirred from this perilous post. Here, too, was 
 Bayard to be found, always foremost where the danger 
 was most imminent, and always making his way triumph- 
 antly wherever his sword descended. Terribly earnest 
 was the fight — without cessation or positive result — till the 
 going down of the moon, a little after midnight, left the 
 combatants in utter darkness ; and, knowing not where to 
 strike, the parties, with a ferocity still unassuaged, but 
 with limbs enfeebled and exhausted, threw themselves 
 down upon the field, even where the fight had found them, 
 to snatch a little rest, if not repose, until the daw^n of 
 another day should arouse them once more to their toils of 
 blood. There they lay, side by side — the Swiss, the French, 
 the German and Italian — not daring to move, or raise a 
 ci*y, lest it should rouse a foeman rather than a friend, 
 and direct him where to seek his victim. Such a condition 
 of things in battle was probably never seen before. Fran- 
 cis himself endured this very peril. Surrounded by some 
 of the nobles who had kept close all day to his person, he 
 laid himself down upon the carriage of a gun. Greatly 
 exhausted by his fatigues, bruised by numerous blows, 
 and slightly wounded by a pike-thrust, he needed and 
 enjoyed the rest of that field of blood and danger as greatly 
 as any of his subjects. Here he asked for some water. 
 It was brought him in a morion, but so mingled with blood 
 that his sickening stomach revolted as he earned it to his 
 lips. At this moment it was discovered that the place 
 where he lay was within fifty steps of the main body of 
 the Swiss. But it wna more perilous to attempt to retreat 
 
BAYARD S ADVENTURE. 353 
 
 than to remain where he was. The torch, whose light had 
 led them to this discovery, was instantly extinguished, and 
 the rest of the night was passed in doubt and darkness. 
 Meanwhile, Bayard had passed through an adventure 
 equally strange and perilous. At the close of the last 
 attack which he made upon the Swiss, in defence of the 
 cannon, he was mounted on a mettled courser, being the 
 second which he had crossed during the combat, the first 
 being killed at the very opening of the action. While 
 closely surrounded by pikes, and hewing his way among 
 them, the biidle of his horse was rent away from the head 
 of the animal, probably by the interposition of their points, 
 or, possibly, severed by the sharp edge of a weapon. The 
 horse, utterly freed from all restraint, and terrified with the 
 conflict, darted headlong through the Swdss as he never 
 would have done under any guidance, and, passing one of 
 their bands, would have carried our knight as recklessly 
 into the bosom of another, had not his career been arrested 
 by some vine-stocks in the field, which were fastened from 
 tree to tree. Bayard, cool and observant, in the midst of 
 his danger, well knowing that to fall into the hands of the 
 Swiss was certain death, quietly glided from the back of 
 the trembling animal, threw off' helmet and tasses, and stole 
 along, following the fosse, and guided by the occasional 
 shouts of " France," which told him where to look for 
 fiiends. He reached the camp in safety, where the first 
 person he met was the Duke of Lorraine, utterly amazed 
 at seeing him in this condition, and on foot. The duke 
 immediately provided him with a horse, one of remarkable 
 character, which Bayard himself had won at the battle of 
 Brescia, and which he had left for dead at the battle of 
 Ravenna, with two pike wounds in his flanks, and more 
 than twenty sword-cuts on his head. It" was taken for 
 granted, when the beast fell, that he was mortally hurt. But 
 the day after the battle he was found on his legs grazing; 
 .g,nd began to whinny, in joyful recognition, at the approach 
 
354 RENEWAL OF THE COMBAT. 
 
 of his friends. He was brought, in consequence, to Bay- 
 ard's lodging, and there tended carefully till healed. Such 
 was his almost human sagacity, that he quietly submitted 
 to the dressing of his wounds ; but ever after, it is stated, 
 whenever a sword was flourished before his eyes, he would 
 strive, with the most decided expression of ferocity, to 
 seize it with his teeth. The statement is no ways incredi- 
 ble. Horses have been known to exhibit a like antipathy 
 to men. " Was never seen," says our "Loyal Sei-vant," " a 
 more courageous beast since the days of Bucephalus." 
 He was called Le Carman. This famous steed, which 
 Bayard had formerly presented to the Duke of Lorraine, 
 was graciously bestowed upon him again. Rejoiced at 
 being so well mounted, he began to feel another want, 
 which was not so easily supplied, that of a helmet. To go 
 bare-headed into another brisk action was out of the ques- 
 tion. He proceeded, accordingly, to supply himself by a 
 ruse, which had its excuse at that moment. Observing th€ 
 helmet of one of his friends in the hands of a page, he 
 said to the former — " Let me have your head-piece while 
 you rest from it. I am afraid of catching cold, having 
 been so profusely sweated." The innocent gentleman 
 consented, never doubting that it would be restored to him 
 before the time when he should need it. But as Bayard 
 had no intention to forego the battle of the next morning, so 
 he had no idea of restoring the head-piece. He found the 
 fit a good one, and it continued to please him till the close 
 of the battle, which lasted till noon the next day. 
 
 With the first flushes of the dawn the combatants were 
 once more astir, both parties being equally soon in order. 
 The battle was renewed by another attempt of the Swiss to 
 possess themselves of the artillery. In this attempt they 
 performed prodigies of valor. The lansquenets and Black 
 Bands finally yielded before their impetuous, self-sacrificing 
 fury, and were driven back. But the well-directed fire o£ 
 the guns, served by Galiot de Genouillac, opened their ad- 
 
THE VICTORY. 355 
 
 vancing ranks in so destructive a manner, that the gen- 
 darms were enabled to pour into the several gaps, and to 
 make terrible havoc in the heart of their several squares and 
 columns. The tide of battle was settling decidedly against 
 them, but the valor of the Swiss was not to be quenched, 
 even in their own blood. They fought on with desperate 
 energy, and, finding it impossible to break through their 
 enemies in front, they detached a part of their force, with 
 instnictions to make a certain circuit, and to fall upon the 
 rear of the French. The manoeuvre was well performed, 
 but was not successful. The detachment encountered the 
 troops of the Duke d'Alencon, which had not hitherto 
 been engaged, and these, reinforced by the bowmen of Ar- 
 mand de Prie, gave them so warm a reception, as totally 
 to rout and drive them back. The vital struggle was now 
 over. The victory was with the French. The Swiss re- 
 tired from the field, still in good order, and still showing 
 their teeth, but leaving fifi;een thousand of their best troops 
 on the field of battle. The Fi'ench also paid heavily for 
 their triumph ; above six thousand of their force perished, 
 among whom were several distinguished victims — Francis 
 de Bourbon, brother of the constable ; Bertrand de Bour- 
 bon Carenci; the Prince de Talmond ; Pierre de Gouffler 
 Boisy, and the gallant Humbercourt. The king was fre- 
 quently in gi'eat peril, and more than once owed his safety 
 to a select body of his gendarms. A battle more stub- 
 bornly contested has seldom been witnessed. Two days 
 and a night were consumed in almost uninterrupted con- 
 flict. Trivulzio called it a fight of giants ; and said that 
 all the battles which he had ever witnessed were mere 
 children's play, when compared with it. It was the first 
 battle of a youthful monarch, and it made him famous as a 
 wanior. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The Swiss dispersed as soon as they lost sight of the field 
 of battle. The French did not offer to pursue them, aware 
 of the policy which should forbear unnecessarily to goad to 
 desperation the still powerful foe. Francis had yet another 
 policy. He did not care to continue the quarrel with the 
 Swiss, which he had inherited from his predecessor. They 
 might be useful to him yet, and this was the suggestion of 
 Bayard. They were left free, accordingly, to retire to their 
 mountain fastnesses. Many of them did so ; some went to 
 Milan, and all but tw^o companies escaped. These, less 
 prudent, or more reckless, took up their quarters at a little 
 village but a short distance from the field of battle. Hither 
 they were followed by the advance guard of the French, 
 by whom they were summoned to surrender. They an- 
 swered, with a ferocity heightened by the bittemes of de- 
 feat and despair, that their enemies should by this time have 
 been taught that the Swiss knew how to die, but not to sur- 
 render. A conflict ensued which justified, on the part of 
 the vanquished the resolute defiance of this answer. They 
 were not to be overcome — they might be destroyed. The 
 strife was not one in which humanity could be heard. 
 The parties were quite too much embittered against each 
 other to suffer any interposition of mercy. The town was 
 fired over the heads of the defenders, and they perished to 
 a man in the conflagration or the fight. Let us return to 
 the plain of Marignan. 
 
 The victory being certain, Francis ordered a chapel to 
 be raised on the field of battle in commemoration of his 
 gi'atitude to God for his triumph. With the old spirit of 
 
BAYARD KNIGHTS FRANCIS. 357 
 
 chivalry, of which he was an ardent disciple, he determin- 
 ed to receive the honors of knighthood on the field where 
 he had so gallantly won his spurs. There was a two-fold 
 reason why he resolved that no hands but those of Bayard, 
 the knight sans peur et sans reproche, should bestow the 
 accolade. The good taste of the monarch at once indicated 
 to him the propriety of choosing for this duty the most mod- 
 est hero, and the most perfect model of knightly virtue of 
 the times. Besides, the signal valor of Bayard, and his 
 great services in the field just won, entitled him fairly to 
 this compliment. Our chevalier was summoned to his 
 presence. 
 
 " Bayard, my friend," said the king, " I desire this day to 
 be knighted, and by your hands. The knight that has fought 
 on foot and on horseback, in many battles, is justly held as 
 most worthy to perform this duty. Thus hath it been vnth 
 you — seeing that in divers battles and conquests you have 
 combated against many nations and always valiantly." 
 
 The king having thus declared his wish, Bayard modestly 
 hesitated. " Sire," said he, " the king of so noble a kingdom 
 as yours is already a knight above all other knights." 
 
 *' Nevertheless," replied the king, " you will do quickly 
 what I ask thee. Tell me not of laws and canons here, save 
 those of steel, and brass, and iron. Do what I entreat 
 thee, if you would have me reckon you my good friend and 
 subject." 
 
 " In good sooth, sire, since such is your pleasure," answer- 
 ed Bayard, " I will gladly perform this duty, unworthy as I 
 am, not once but many times." 
 
 Then Bayard took his sword, and as he laid it upon the 
 shoulders of the king, he said — 
 
 " Sire, may this ceremony be as efficacious as if it weie 
 performed by Roland or Oliver, Godfiey or his brother 
 Baldwin. Verily, you are the first prince that ever I dub- 
 bed a knight. God grant that you never turn your back 
 in battle." 
 
358 THE SWORD OF BAYARD. 
 
 This done, Bayard, lifting his sword to his lips and kiss- 
 ing it, exclaimed, in a sort of sportive rapture, ** Certes, my 
 good sword, thou art thrice fortunate this day, in that thou 
 hast conferred the accolade on the bravest and greatest king 
 in Christendom. Verily, my good sword, thou shalt hence- 
 forward be kept as a thing sacred, and honored beyond all 
 other relics. Here, upon thy hilt, I vow never to use or 
 wear thee, unless in battle against the infidels ; never again 
 will I turn thy keen edge against any people who bear the 
 Christian name !" With these words, and leaping up in 
 the exultation of his spirit, he then returned the consecrated 
 weapon to its scabbard.* 
 
 Francis, thus authorized, then proceeded to confer the 
 same honor on such of his young companions-at-arms as 
 had merited his favor by their deportment in the battle. 
 A great number were knighted. Three days were passed 
 upon the field, in the performance of these ceremonies, and 
 the burial of the dead. The army then marched upon 
 Milan, the people of which threw open their gates, while 
 Maximilian Sforza, the duke, retreated to the citadel, 
 which was well supplied with provisions and ammunition, 
 and reputed to be the strongest in the world. The Swiss, 
 who had fled to Milan, shut themselves in with him, and 
 prepared to defend the castle to the last extremity. The 
 siege was instantly commenced and plied with vigor, and, 
 
 * This sword has been lost. Charles Emanuel, duke of Savoy, requested 
 it of the heirs of Bayard. One of them, Charles du Motet, lord of Chichi- 
 liane, sent him, in lieu of it, the battle-axe which the hero had been wont to 
 use. The duke, writing to this gentleman of Dauphiny, remarked that, " in 
 the midst of the pleasure which he felt at beholding this weapon placed in 
 the worthiest part of his gallery, he could scarce choose but regret that it 
 was not still in the hands of the rightful owner." Some authors suggest 
 that Bayard conferred knighthood upon Francis before, and not after, the bat- 
 tle of Marignan ; but the " Loyal Servant" is explicit, and other writers 
 agree with him. At one time in his life, the period not precisely known, 
 Bayard conferred this honor on the son of the Duke of Bourbon, then in the 
 arms of his nurse. This was done at the request of the prince, whom our 
 knight happened to visit at Moulinea. 
 
THE MILANESE CONaUERED. 359 
 
 after a brief defence, the place was surrendered by capitu- 
 lation, Sforza yielding his castles of Milan and Cremona, 
 and renouncing his ducal rights in favor of Francis, who 
 took him under his protection, promised him a yearly 
 stipend, and pledged himself to use all his influence to 
 procure for him the hat of a cardinal. Sforza retired to 
 France, where he died in 1530. The Swiss in the 
 gaiTison were paid by Francis the arrears due them by 
 their late employer, and an amnesty was signed including 
 all persons who had taken part with the duke. By this 
 treaty Francis became master of the whole of the Mila- 
 nese. He made his entry into the city in the ducal 
 robes, accompanied by five princes of the blood, and at 
 the head of two thousand horse and twenty-four thousand 
 foot. Here he received the faithless assurances of the 
 authorities, and heard for a week the clamorous protesta- 
 tions of fidelity on the part of a people, who had violated 
 their oaths quite as often as they had made them. The 
 victory of Francis astounded his enemies. The Spaniards, 
 who, suspecting the good faith of the Pope, had kept aloof 
 from peril, now retired upon Naples. From the timid 
 Maximilian no farther demonstrations of valor could be 
 expected, and, even the Swiss, though growling in their 
 mountains, showed no alacrity in seeking another combat. 
 The ascendancy of Francis in Italy was now sufficiently 
 decided to prompt the Pope to yield with a becoming 
 grace what he was no longer in condition to withhold. 
 He proposed a treaty by which he relinquished his preten- 
 tions to Parma and Placenza, and withdrew such troops 
 of his as were in the service of the emperor. In return 
 for these concessions, the French kin^ made him a cession 
 of Bologna, and secured to him the exclusive supply of salt 
 fi:om Cervia. This treaty was followed by an interview 
 between the Pope and Francis, which took place at Bo- 
 logna on the 10th of December. The conference occupied 
 three days, in which Leo succeeded in pei-suading the 
 
360 MAXIMILIAN IN THE FIELD. 
 
 French monarch to postpone for the present any attempts on 
 Naples, and endeavored to engage him in a war upon the 
 Turks, offering him, by way of inducement, the imposing 
 title of Emperor of the East. Francis, though young, was 
 not so weak as to grasp at a shadow, while he had more sub- 
 stantial objects, and more obvious duties before his eyes. 
 
 Having accomplished, to all appearances, the pui-pose 
 for which he had invaded Italy, he returned to France, 
 leaving the Constable de Bourbon at Milan, in the capacity 
 of lieutenant-general. Disturbances were threatened on 
 the pait of England, arising from the machinations of the 
 Cardinal of Sion ; and Henry VIIL, but for the good 
 faith and good sense of the English council would, in all 
 probability, have violated his pledges, broken the treaty with 
 France, and once more embarked in an invasion of the 
 tenitories of his neighbor. As it was, he could not be pre- 
 vented from furnishing money to assist in an enterpiise 
 for the recovery of the Milanese on behalf of Francis, the 
 brother of Maximilian Sforza. 
 
 The money of England, the specious promises of Fer- 
 dinand of Spain, and the vehement exhortations of the 
 Cardinal of Sion, soon persuaded the Emperor Maximilian 
 to take the field for this object. To the sui-prise of every 
 body, this sluggish warrior, and most mercenary of princes, 
 suddenly appeared in the field in person, with an army of 
 sixteen thousand lansquenets and fourteen thousand Swiss, 
 of such of the cantons as were not included in the league 
 with France. Lautrec, with his own and the troops of 
 Venice, was about to reduce the gamson of Brescia, when 
 it was relieved by six thousand Gennans, whom Count 
 Roguendolf succeeded in throwing into the town. The 
 French and their allies (the Venetians), who were totally un- 
 prepared for any such enemy, retired to Milan, which the 
 constable put into the best possible posture for defence. 
 Succors were demanded from France. They were promptly 
 sent, and, with them Bayard returned once more to the field 
 
PROGRESS OF THE WAR. 361 
 
 of his frequent prowess. He had previously returned to 
 Dauphiny, and resumed its government as lieutenant-gen- 
 eral. With the French forces came a large body of Swiss 
 auxiharies, thirteen thousand in number, under one of their 
 most celebrated leaders, Albeit de la PieiTe. These presented 
 a formidable foe to Maximilian, the progress of whose anns 
 was by no means so rapid and successful as his prompt ap- 
 pearance in the field had taught the world to expect. But 
 the intrigues of the Cardinal de Sion were more decisive 
 in their effects than the genius of Maximilian and the valor 
 of his army. He succeeded in dissuading the Swiss merce- 
 naries of the French from fighting against their own people ; 
 and this resolution encouraged the emperor with the belief 
 that the French were in his power. He sat down before 
 Milan, threatening the people to raze it to its foundations ; 
 but, before he had done much toward this wished-for con- 
 summation, his own and the money of Henry of England 
 was nearly exhausted. The Swiss demanded their stipends; 
 their officers forced themselves into the emperor's bed-cham- 
 ber to urge their demands ; and, so alarmed him, that he 
 seized an early opportunity to decamp from a proximity so 
 dangerous. Setting off at midnight, with only two hun- 
 dred horse, he left his army to shift for itself. Before his 
 flight was discovered, he was beyond pursuit. He had 
 performed, as we remember, a similar feat when besieging 
 Padua. His fame depends upon such. The Swiss indem- 
 nified themselves by assessing the country, while the Ger- 
 mans fled before the assaults of the Count de St. Pol, 
 Montmorenci, Lescun, Bayard, and other leaders. Bayard, 
 we are told, took a great many piisoners ; but the " Loyal 
 Servant," coolly adds that the ransom of Swiss and Geraian 
 was in pike and dagger only. The conquest of the Milanese 
 was succeeded by the death of Ferdinand the Catholic, of 
 Spain. By this event France was relieved of a faithless 
 and vindictive enemy. Nor did the emperor long sui'vive 
 him. Ferdinand was succeeded by Charles V. The death 
 
 Hh 
 
363 RUBERT DE LA MAROK. 
 
 of the Emperor Maximilian left vacant the throne of the 
 empire, and thus furnished the sovereigns of Europe with 
 a new apple of discord. Charles was the successful can- 
 didate, and Francis bitterly felt the disappointment. Up 
 to this period the King of France had entertained the kind- 
 liest feelings for Charles. He now prepared to transfer 
 them to Henry VIII. We all have some sufficient recol- 
 lection of the famous '* field of the Cloth of Gold," where 
 these two potentates, long adverse to each other, joined in 
 a fraternal embrace ; which, however, implied but a moder- 
 ate degree of brotherly love. Meanwhile, events were in 
 progress which again threatened to disturb the peace of 
 Europe. The benign dispensation of peace was not des- 
 tined for a long duration. It was while Bayard was in the 
 quiet enjoyment of his government of Dauphiny, that he 
 was summoned by the commands of Francis once more to 
 put himself in harness of war. The occasion of these new 
 necessities may be told in few words, though these require 
 us, in some degree, to retrace our steps. Among the 
 friends and adherents of Francis, not of his own people, 
 were Robert de la Marck, lord of Sedan, by whom the 
 Black Bands had been commanded ; and Francis Sickin- 
 ghen, a German adventurer, of extraordinary genius and 
 courage, who led an independent corps of his own. Both 
 of these persons, in consequence of some neglect or in- 
 justice on the part of Francis, went over to Charles V., and 
 contributed, in considerable degree, to the election of the 
 latter to the throne of the empire. But Robert de la Marck 
 subsequently became reconciled to the French monarch ; and, 
 having suffered some indignity at the hands of Charles, was 
 vain and audacious enough to send the latter a defiance, 
 menacing his dominions with invasion. He followed up 
 this defiance by actual inroads into the territory of the new 
 emperor, which brought down upon him a powerful araiy, 
 at the head of which were the Count of Nassau and the 
 German adventurer, Francis Sickinghen. Charles com- 
 
BAYARD AT MEZIERES. 363 
 
 plained to Francis of the proceedings of' his ally, De la 
 Marck, and demanded if they were countenanced by him. 
 Francis disclaimed all sanction of what De la Marck had 
 done, and enjoined him instantly to lay down his arms. 
 De la Marck did so, in the full conviction that his forbear- 
 ance would disarm the emperor's hostiHty. But no sooner 
 had he deprived himself of the means of defence, than the 
 Count of Nassau took advantage of his position, to pursue 
 his attack with redoubled activity and fiiry; and, in a short 
 time, wrested from De la Marck nearly the whole of his ter- 
 ritories. This done, he marched a part of his forces upon 
 the teiTitory of France, captured the French town of 
 Mouzon, and hurried on to the siege of Mezieres. 
 
 This proceeding could neither be endured with safety 
 nor with patience, and Francis immediately began his prep- 
 arations to repel the intruder from his domains. His army 
 was so disposed as to cover all the points most accessible 
 to attack. To Lautrec was assigned the government of 
 the Milanese ; the defence of Champagne was committed 
 to the Duke d'Alencon ; the charge of Picardy was con- 
 feri'ed upon the Duke de Vendome, and the Admiral Bon- 
 nivet was sent to Guienne. Mezieres, an extremely weak 
 place, badly fortified and feebly defended, was committed 
 to the Chevalier Bayard at the moment when, Mouzon 
 having been won, the Imperial troops found all the ap- 
 proaches to it open. Its fate would have been sealed with- 
 out an offer of defence, but for the opinion of our " Good 
 Knight." Francis called a council to determine what 
 should be done. The weakness of the place was urged as 
 a sufficient reason for its abandonment. Bayard alone 
 opposed this decision. " No place is weak," said he, 
 " which has good soldiers to defend it." He was forth- 
 with entrusted with the commission, and threw himself at 
 once into Mezieres. Thus feeble, and thus threatened, 
 the defence could not have been given to better hands. 
 This conviction was universal. The appointment at once 
 
364 HIS ENERGIES. 
 
 enlivened the confidence of the country. The name of 
 Bayard was already a spell- word for the youthful chivalry 
 of France, the most gallant of whom immediately crowded 
 forward to serv^e under his banner. Young Montmorenci, 
 afterward the constable, Charles Alleman, lord of Laval, 
 Gaspard TeiTail, the lord of Bernin, and many more of 
 noble and gentle blood, sought with avidity a place which 
 they knew must soon become the scene of glory. Bayard, 
 seizing upon the moment of enthusiasm, swore them and 
 the chief citizens " never to speak of suiTendering to the 
 enemy — exacting from them a pledge to die one and all in 
 defence of the place. If food failed them, they were to eat 
 their horses and their boots." This spirit extended from 
 the officers to the soldiers. The latter said, among them- 
 selves, " And the beasts once devoured, we will eat our 
 lackeys." But this spirit did not endure throughout the 
 siege. Some of them, as we shall see hereafter, were not 
 equal to the privation and danger which it implied. 
 
 Bayard proceeded, as soon as he reached Mezieres, to 
 increase and improve its defences. Night and day was he 
 employed, not sparing any of his people, in the erection 
 of the necessary works. No labor, however humble, was 
 forborne — no faculty, or talent, or agent, left unemploy- 
 ed — and more than six thousand crowns of his own money 
 — in all probability all that he had or could command — 
 were expended in making the place tenable. It was the 
 habitual rule of our good knight to sacrifice every thing per- 
 sonal to his considerations of duty — to give himself up thor- 
 oughly to the work in hand, well knowing that there is no 
 triumph unless the heart be wholly devoted to its objects, 
 and the whole soul be delivered to the cause which it es- 
 pouses, at the utter sacrifice of self. " What, sirs," he ex- 
 claimed to the young knights around him, as he thus justi- 
 fied the exaction of their physical labor, and gave it his own 
 example, ** what ! shall this goodly town be lost through 
 our fault and non-performance, — we who, altogether form 
 
SIEGE OF MEZIERES. 365 
 
 SO noble a company, and one consisting of so many noble 
 persons ? It is only by this work that we may hope to 
 contend with our enemy. Were we in the field, with a 
 ditch of four feet only between us and the foe, methinks 
 we could baffle all their forces for a day at least, and not be 
 defeated. Now, God be praised, we have ditch, and wall, 
 and rampart, on which, before our enemies can possibly 
 set foot, there shall many a band of them lie sleeping in 
 these trenches." 
 
 Their very nobility was rendered a reason why they 
 should engage heartily in this labor. It was not taken in 
 vain ; a few days were to test its value. These brought the 
 Count of Nassau, with twenty thousand men, and the Lord 
 Francis of Sickinghen, with fifteen thousand, who, occupy- 
 ing opposite sides of the river Mouse, proceeded to the 
 leaguer of the town. The seemingly defenceless place — 
 seemingly defenceless, almost under any circumstances, 
 against so large an army — was summoned to surrender. 
 The herald who brought the demand on the part of the 
 two generals of the emperor, represented to him in consid- 
 erate terms, how impossible it was to hold the place against 
 such a power as theirs. They were aware that the great 
 and laudable spirit of chivalry which filled the heart of 
 Bayard would prompt him almost to attempt impossible 
 things, but they warned him that the capture of the place 
 by storm would not only be a great diminution of his fame, 
 but might also cost him his life. They urged upon him 
 other tender considerations, and offered him favorable and 
 honorable conditions, to persuade him to suri'ender. 
 
 Bayard smiled as he listened, but took no time to con- 
 sider the demand. 
 
 " My friend," said he to the herald, " I am overwhelmed 
 by the condescension of my lords of Nassau and Sicking- 
 hen, in showing such a tender interest for the safety and re- 
 nown of one with whom they have had so little intercourse. 
 You shall retura to them, friend herald, and say that the 
 
366 GREAT JOHN OF PICARDY. 
 
 king, my master, had in his kingdom many captains much 
 abler than myself, to whom he might have committed the 
 defence of this little town of Mezieres ; but since he hath, 
 of all these, conferred the honor of this trust upon me, I 
 shall value it as something too precious to be suddenly 
 abandoned. Tell your captains, that they shall sooner 
 weary of its assault than shall I in its maintenance. I am 
 no child whom horrid words will frighten ; and they shall 
 find, that when it shall so happen that we can make this 
 town tenable no longer, we shall then hope to leave it over 
 a bridge made of our enemies' bodies." To Francis of 
 Sickinghen, in particular, Bayard sent the pleasant mes- 
 sage, that ** The French Bayard, while he acknowledged 
 the valor, had no fear of the German War Horse — the nom 
 de guerre which Sickinghen had acquired. 
 
 When this answer was carried back to Nassau and Sick- 
 inghen, there was present a captain named Great John of 
 Picardy, who knew the character and the resources of 
 Bayard much better than either of the former. He said to 
 them openly : " This knight Bayard will give you trouble 
 before you take Mezieres. Nay, you need never expect 
 to enter it while he remains alive. I know him. I have 
 often followed him to battle. He is that sort of person, 
 who, if the people under him were the greatest cowards in 
 the world, would be sure to make them brave. Depend 
 upon it, they will die in the breach, all of them, and he 
 among them, ere we set foot in this town. For my part, I 
 should rather he were away from Mezieres, though the 
 King of France should put two thousand good soldiers in 
 his place." 
 
 The Count of Nassau was somewhat piqued at this 
 hearty commendation of his enemy. " Captain Great 
 John," said he, " The Lord of Bayard is, I take it, of no 
 more steel and iron than is other men. If he be such 
 a warrior as you speak him, it will need all his fortune 
 to keep Mezieres for the next four days, against the 
 
THE SIEGE OF MEZIERES. 367 
 
 Storm of shot which I shall hurl against him from every 
 side !" 
 
 " We shall see," was the answer of the captain from 
 Picardy ; ** but you will hardly find the upshot of this bus- 
 iness such as you look for." 
 
 Count Nassau did his best to give the lie to the predic- 
 tions of this plain speaker, and opened his batteries, which 
 were well served, from both sides of the river. It is said, 
 by Mezeray, that bombs were first brought into practice 
 during this leaguer of Mezieres. Certain it is, that the 
 bombardment was sufficiently terrible and destructive, — so 
 much so, that some of the garrison, whom we have seen 
 taking a solemn pledge, before the siege began, to defy all 
 its vicissitudes and dangers, however extreme, resolved no 
 longer to partake of a defence which was so desperate. 
 In spite of the threats and entreaties of their commanders, 
 two whole companies deserted, in a body, through a breach 
 which the enemy's artillery had made in the wall. This 
 event did by no means discourage or disconcert our hero. 
 He coolly called together the remainder of his troops, and 
 congratulated them on being fireed firom the presence of 
 those who only encumbered the defence, and who might 
 have claimed a share of the honors which they had not the 
 gallantry to win. " Let them go — such rascals are better 
 far than near. The more the glory to those who remain !" 
 
 And the ganison resumed the defence with as much 
 spirit as if they had suffered no loss, and were in no dan- 
 ger. The details of this defence are only credible as they 
 are consistent vdth all that is known of Bayard's previous 
 career. His resources never seemed so ample as now, 
 when his hopes rested almost wholly on himself. His 
 ordnance was so well served, his sallies so rightly timed 
 and rightly directed, and conducted with such equal dis- 
 cretion and bravery, that the besiegers seemed to gain 
 nothing by all their batteries, though the walls every day 
 betrayed the efficiency of their artillery, and the constancy, 
 
368 bayard's expedients. 
 
 with which it was employed. In less than four days, more 
 than five thousand shots were discharged. But the breaches 
 in the walls were repaired as if by magic. There was no 
 diminution of the spiiit or the industry of the gamson. 
 The night served to remedy the mischief of the day ; and, 
 for six weeks this little town — which it was not thought 
 possible to hold for twenty-four hours — with a force 
 which did not exceed a thousand men, baffled an army of 
 thirty-five thousand, having an ample supply of heavy artil- 
 lery. Well might the assailants show a feeling of weari- 
 ness, if not of shame. It was, probably, about this period 
 that they desired to know what quantity of provisions 
 remained to the garrison. Accordingly, Captain Picart, 
 already mentioned, sent a trumpet to Bayard, as his old 
 companion-in-arms, to ask him for a bottle of wine. The 
 sagacious commandant divined the proper object of the 
 message. He took the trumpeter into a large cellar, well 
 filled with hogsheads, from one of which he drew two 
 bottles, without being at the pains to explain to him that 
 all the rest were filled with water. The garrison, indeed, 
 were in grievous straits. Provisions were failing rapidly. 
 Disease was making fearful ravages among the troops and 
 people, and there was no apparent prospect of relief. It 
 became necessary for Bayard, always fertile in resources, 
 to devise some new expedient for raising the siege. He 
 conceived the idea of sowing dissensions between the two 
 camps of the enemy. This was done by a letter, addressed 
 to Lord Robert de la Marck, then at his castle of Sedan — 
 the only one of which the imperial army had left him the 
 possession — ingeniously worded, to produce an impression 
 on Sickinghen (should it fall into his hands, as it was the 
 purpose of Bayard that it should) that he was about to be 
 sacrificed by his colleague. There were some jealousies 
 already existing between the parties, in regard to the 
 command, an intimation of which had reached Bayard, and 
 of which he promptly proceeded to avail himself. His 
 
SUCCESS OF THE STRATAGEM. SG9 
 
 letter ran thus, after some preliminaries relating to the 
 siege, of which we are already in possession : — ^" If I re- 
 member rightly, my dear lord, you said to me, some six 
 months ago, that you would find the means to persuade 
 the Count of Nassau, your former friend and ally, to enter 
 the service of the king, my master. He is reputed a very 
 gallant person, and I should truly rejoice if this could be 
 accomplished. You will do well to see him on this sub- 
 ject, and better to-day than to-morrow. It will be well 
 for him, and will please me, should he prove of your way 
 of thinking ; for I must tell you that, if not, he and his 
 camp will all be cut to pieces within the next four-and- 
 twenty hours. "Within three short leagues we have 
 approaching an army of twelve thousand Swiss, and 
 eight hundred gendarms. To-morrow, at the break 
 of day, they purpose falling upon his camp, while, on my 
 side, I shall make a sally from the town, and he must 
 be dexterous and fortunate, indeed, to escape us both. 
 Make the most of this information, but be sure and keep it 
 secret." 
 
 The peasant, to whom the letter was confided, fell, just 
 as Bayard had devised, into the hands of Sickinghen. The 
 artifice succeeded. The heart-burnings of Sickinghen 
 were now permitted to take a voice and declare themselves. 
 He swore a bitter oath that "My Lord of Nassau should 
 no longer carry it as he pleased. He seeks my desti'uc- 
 tion," — was his language to his chief officers, to whom the 
 insidious epistle was displayed. They concurred with him 
 in opinion, and, without more ado, he caused the drums to 
 sound a retreat, and prepared to cross the river to the camp 
 of his colleague and superior. Tidings to this effect were 
 carried to the Count of Nassau, who, in great surprise, sent 
 word to him to desist from what he had determined on, until 
 they had first confeiTed together. " Away to the Count of 
 Nassau," cried the suspicious and indignant Sickinghen, ** and 
 say to him that I will not for his pleasure remain here to 
 
370 THE SIEGE RAISED. 
 
 be slaughtered. Let him attempt to hinder me from taking 
 up my station near him, and arms shall decide between us 
 who is to be master of the field." This message was of a 
 character to confound the count, who immediately began to 
 array his troops in order of battle. Those of Sickinghen, 
 as they crossed the river, were also put in order for the 
 fight. Bayard and his captains beheld the whole scene 
 from the walls of Mezieres. In the excitement of Sickin- 
 ghen, or probably with his consent, the peasant, whose 
 intercepted letter had done the mischief, had been allowed 
 to escape, and, in fear and trembling, presented himself to 
 the delighted commandant. His fears were expelled by the 
 undisguised merriment of Bayard, who laughed obstreper- 
 ously as he beheld the excellent results which had followed 
 the meditations of Sickinghen upon his letter to De laMarck. 
 Nothing could have worked better for his objects. There, 
 before his eyes, were the two camps in hostile array, 
 drums beating and trumpets sounding with great vehe- 
 mence, and the opposing parties eager to take each other 
 by the throats. " Perdy !" exclaimed our knight, " since 
 they will not begin the battle, I must ;" and he opened a 
 cannonade among them. This had the effect of diiving 
 them to their tents. The explanation which followed, be- 
 tween the parties, came quite too late to repair the mischief. 
 The delay which was occasioned in the leaguer, by this 
 artifice, enabled Francis to throw a powerful relief into 
 Mezieres, while the Duke d'Alengon advanced the main 
 body of his army to within a few leagues of the place. 
 The predictions of Captain Picart were realized. The 
 assault was never attempted. The siege was raised, and, 
 baffled thus admirably in Champagne, the imperial troops 
 turned their fury upon Picardy, pillaging and destroying 
 wherever they came. 
 
 This defence of Mezieres greatly extended, if it could 
 not increase the reputation of Bayard. Francis visited 
 him in his camp, conferred upon him the collar of St. Mi- 
 
HONORS OF BAYxVRU. 371 
 
 chael, and endowed him with the command-in-chief of a 
 company of an hundred men-at-arms — an honor which had 
 hitherto been conferred only on princes of the blood. All 
 France resounded with his eulogies ; and, as the winter ap- 
 proached, having followed the king to Paris, he Wcis waited 
 upon by a deputation from the parliament, whose members 
 conveyed him the thanks of the nation. The event which 
 secured him these compliments became, long afterward, the 
 subject of a public fete among the people whom he had so 
 well defended; and which they continued to celebrate on 
 each anniversary of the siege. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 From Champagne the imperial troops proceeded to- 
 ward Picardy, their progress being traced in outrages of 
 the most revolting kind. Francis pursued them at the 
 head of his army, taking Bayard with him. Mouzon was 
 retaken ; and, but for a malign influence which had for 
 some time interfered with the proper councils of the French 
 monarch, the Emperor Charles himself, who had met his 
 retreating army at Valenciennes, would have fallen into his 
 hands. Francis desired eagerly to come to blows with his 
 wily rival and enemy, and threw a bridge across the Scheldt 
 for this purpose. The Count of Nassau appeared to dis- 
 pute the passage. A thick fog prevented the French from 
 ascertaining the number of the force which the former 
 brought with him, and the hesitation which this doubt 
 inspired, and against which all his tried veterans argued 
 earnestly, prevailed to deprive Francis of a golden oppor- 
 tunity which fortune a second time never offered to his 
 grasp. The emperor discovered his danger in time to 
 escape it, by a precipitate departure from his position. 
 The same evil influence which had led to this disappoint- 
 ment succeeded in prompting an injustice, on the part of 
 the king, to a powerful subject, which contributed to future 
 disasters. De Bourbon, as constable of France, claimed 
 the right to command the vanguard of the army while 
 crossing the Scheldt. It was coldly denied him, and 
 given to the Duke d'Alenqon. This, and other wrongs, 
 done to the same noble person, were destined to bring the 
 monarch to a perilous defeat, and the most humiliating 
 captivity. But of this hereafter. The successes of the 
 
DISaLIETS IN ITALY. 373 
 
 French continued. The Duke de Vendome penetrated 
 into Artois and Hainault, took and dismantled Bapaurac 
 and Landrecies, and ravaged the country quite as effectu- 
 ally as the imperialists had done that of Picardy. Bonni- 
 vet, who had been despatched with a considerable force of 
 lansquenets to the succor of the young King of Navarre, 
 by a seiies of rapid exploits captured several places of im- 
 portance, and laid siege so vigorously to the strong fortress 
 of Fontarabia, as in a short time to compel its capitulation. 
 Meanwhile, an attempt was made at negotiation, and for 
 the reconciliation of the contending monarchs, under the 
 auspices and arbitration of Henry VIII., or, rather. Cardinal 
 Wolsey; but the proceeding came to no beneficial conclu- 
 sion. The winter passed in skirmishes, which were genei*- 
 ally favorable to the French ; and no events of present im- 
 portance requiring him at the seat of war. Bayard attended 
 the king to Paris, from whence, after a brief sojoura, he 
 proceeded to Grenoble, enjoying, in his native province, the 
 affectionate admiration and attachment of his people. 
 
 But, with the approach of spring, the affairs of Italy 
 grew clouded. Lautrec, who governed in the Milanese, 
 revolted the people by his barbarities, and the fickle Ital- 
 ians sighed once more for the I'estoration of the Sforzas. 
 Lautrec was succeeded by his brother Lescun, the mar- 
 shal de Foix ; but this change brought no improvement. 
 The indiscretions of the governor were endless. The 
 principal citizens of Milan were banished, and the number 
 of exiles, voluntary or constrained, became so great as to 
 draw upon them the persecuting regards of Lescun, even 
 in the places where they had taken refuge. Some of 
 them had found shelter in the Pope's city of Reggio. He 
 pursued them thither, and besieged the place, but was 
 baffled by the defence. This proceeding afforded a pre- 
 text to Leo X. to break with the French and conclude a 
 treaty with the emperor. The result was a resumption of 
 activity by all those who loathed the French authority, or 
 
 Ii 
 
374 BAVARD SENT TO GENOA. 
 
 were interested in its overthrow. These inquietudes in 
 his Italian dominions, disturbed the security of Francis, 
 and, while he gave his attention to other places, he chose 
 Bayard, as one of the most prudent and sagacious of his 
 captains, to proceed to Genoa, which had betrayed and 
 shown a factious disposition. The commission of the king 
 was couched in the most flattering language. ** I entreat 
 you to undertake this charge for the love you bear me. My 
 greatest hopes are in the eflicacy of your presence." The 
 commission was as cheerfully accepted as it was gi'aciously 
 conferred. Bayard crossed the Alps, and was well re- 
 ceived at Genoa by the governor, the nobility, and the 
 people in general, all of whom showed him the greatest 
 deference and attention. What was the particular charge 
 assigned him in Genoa — what duties he performed, and 
 services he rendered, have been kept from the histories. 
 His commie^-" on was, most probably, a secret one. This 
 he seems to have executed satisfactorily. On leaving 
 Genoa, he joined the aiTny of Lescun, marshal de Foix, 
 who was now prepaiing with all energy to repair, by anns, 
 the evil consequence of his own and his brother's admin- 
 istration of the Milanese government. The forces of the 
 emperor and the Pope were strengthened by those of the 
 Marquis of Mantua, the ancient and firai ally of Louis XII. 
 He, too, had been driven from the side of France by the 
 ill-treatment of her government in Italy. A large body of 
 Swiss had also been subsidized for the army of the allies, 
 by the intrigues of the Cardinal of Sion ; and the fertile 
 plains of Italy were again to be made the theatre in which 
 the people of other countiies were to play out their parts 
 in blood. To oppose these enemies, Lautrec, who had 
 now resumed the government of the Milanese, had his own 
 army of French, the troops of the Venetians, and a levy 
 of Swiss which had been made on the first aspect of dan- 
 ger. The return of Lautrec was a signal for the renewal 
 of those odious severities, which had already made the 
 
THE WAR IN ITALY. 375 
 
 French so unpopular. They were doubly impolitic in the 
 moment of impending conflict. The campaign in the Mi- 
 lanese was begun ; and, on the eve of an action near Re- 
 becque,the Swiss were withdrawn from their banners by the 
 artifices of the Cardinal de Sion. This uncompromising 
 enemy of the French had succeeded in intercepting the 
 orders of the Helvetic body to the Swiss in both armies, 
 commanding them to repair instantly to their homes. He 
 suppressed the despatch intended for the Swiss serving 
 among the allies, and suffered those only to be received 
 which were addressed to the stipendiaries of the French. 
 The latter submissively obeyed the order, and, as they 
 left the one army, the cardinal had the address to secure 
 their services for the other, alledging that it was the ser- 
 vice under the French banner, only, that was forbidden by 
 the Diet. Lautrec thus deserted, by a large part of his 
 troops, almost in the moment of engagement, was com- 
 pelled to retreat upon Milan. Closely pursued by his 
 enemy, he continued his retreat to Como, and from Como 
 to the Venetian territories. Italy was once more lost to 
 the French, at a moment when Francis had every reason 
 to believe that he was about to find Henry VIII. arrayed 
 with his numerous enemies against him. The death of 
 Leo X. at the close of this year, was an offset to this evil 
 intelligence. If not always an open, Leo had always been 
 the secret foe of the French. He was jealous of the am- 
 bition of Francis, and he had his own. He was succeeded 
 by Adrian, cardinal of Tortosa, a man of feeble will and 
 irresolute character, who soon showed himse' ^ the rancor- 
 ous enemy of France, and the ally of the emperor, of 
 whose boyhood he had been the preceptor. 
 
 Francis determined to renew the war. He was not less 
 reluctant than his predecessor had been to abandon his de- 
 signs upon the Milanese. Lautrec was again unwisely 
 commissioned as the leader of this new campaign. La 
 Palisse marched a levy of sixteen thousand Swiss across 
 
376 THE SWISS COMPEL A BATTLE. 
 
 the Alps to his assistance, and the French army was once 
 more in the field, with new hopes and unshaken courage. 
 After several small successes, they laid siege to Milan. 
 But the place was strongly fortified, and admirably defend- 
 ed by Prospero Colonna. It was in vain that the French 
 strove equally against the citadel and the walls of the town. 
 His efforts were unavailing, and, convinced of the hopeless- 
 ness of the attempt, he withdrew his forces, and found an 
 easier conquest in the city of Novara. Here he was joined 
 by additional forces brought him by his brother. Among 
 these were Pietro de Navarro and our chevalier. Bayard. 
 Joined by the forces of Sforza, Colonna marched to Bi- 
 cocca, where he took up a very advantageous post. This 
 jilaco consisted of a castle, situated in a spacious park, 
 which had formerly been used as a chase by the dukes of 
 Milan. It was surrounded by deep ditches, well fortified, 
 and but a league from the city of Milan. Lautrec, after 
 reconnaissance, wisely resolved not to attempt it. But this 
 prudent decision was altered in consequence of the mutin- 
 ous temper of his Swiss. These troublesome mountaineers 
 were impatient for their pay, which had been withheld by 
 the griping avarice of individuals who virtually wielded the 
 French government at home. Francis had become the 
 creature of his own debaucheries, and the sword of the 
 enemy was but too frequently sharpened for the throat of 
 his country, by some fair minister of his passions. The bad 
 faith of the ministers, furnished Lautrec with only too good 
 an excuse for his ill-fortune and evil management. His 
 Swiss, clamorous for their money, required, failing in this, 
 either to bo led against the enemy, or suffered to depart. 
 It was in vain that the French commander pointed out to 
 them the great strength of the post which Colonna occu- 
 pied. They insisted on the alternative which they had sub- 
 mitted, and rather than lose one half of his army, he con- 
 cluded to do worse — obey its orders. However reluctantly, 
 he gave the signal for the action at daybreak on the follow- 
 
THE BATTLE. 377 
 
 ing morning. Montmorenci led the advanced guard, Lau- 
 trec commanded the battle, and the Duke of Urbino brought 
 up the rear. The Swiss were chiefly with the first divi- 
 sion. Montmorenci, having reached a defile near the en- 
 trenchments, would have waited for his artillery. But the 
 Swiss despised artillery. They would wait for nothing. 
 They felt their power, and were insolent in its exercise. 
 They would fight only as they pleased ; and, tumultuously, 
 with their usual impatience, they rushed forward to the as- 
 sault. Colonna was every where prepared for them. His 
 spies had faithfully reported events, and he knew where to 
 expect them. His artillery and musketry opened upon 
 their advancing masses with destructive effect. Whole 
 files were swept away as fast as they drew nigh. It was 
 in vain that any of them reached the fosse ; since the en- 
 trenchments were too high for their pikes, which were 
 vainly thrust up from the ditches against the defenders. 
 The carnage was dreadful. Three thousand of the Swiss 
 perished, and among them their famous leader Albert de la 
 Pierre. Montmorenci was badly wounded. His com- 
 mand paid dearly for their insolence. 
 
 Meanwhile, the gendarms, among whom, and at the head 
 of whom, was Bayard — led by De Foix — had forced their 
 way into the enti-enchments. They might have maintained 
 themselves in them — might have retrieved the battle — had 
 they been supported by the Swiss of his division. But, in- 
 solently rash on the one hand, the mountaineers were in- 
 solently cold and indifferent on the other. The devoted 
 gendarms, after a fierce struggle, were either put hors de 
 combat, or expelled from the entrenchments. Colonna, see- 
 ing the advantage gained, directed a sally to be made for 
 the purpose of taking the Swiss in flank. The manoeuvre 
 was fortunately defeated by Pontdoray, who, with another 
 body of gendarms, met the troops sent upon this enterprise 
 and defeated and drove them back with loss. This event, 
 in some degi-ee, saved the credit of the day. Lautrec 
 
378 THE MISFORTUNES OF THE FRENCH. 
 
 would have renewed the battle the next morning, but the 
 Swiss bitterly declared their deteraiination to retire. They 
 would now fight only when they pleased. The French 
 general proposed to attack the fortress on four different 
 points, and offered to relieve the Swiss from the post of 
 danger, by placing the French men-at-arms in the fi'ont of 
 the battle. But they had no stomach for the enterprise, 
 and determined to retreat. This they executed in a manner 
 so disorderly that, but for the protection of the French 
 cavalry, they would have been cut to pieces. Their de- 
 parture naturally dissolved the army of De Foix. With the 
 flight of the Swiss to their native mountains, the gi*eatest 
 portion of his force was lopt away. He could offer no 
 farther opposition to the enemy, and would only peril the 
 wretched remnant of his troops by any attempt to do so. 
 The lilies of France were once more driven out of Italy. 
 
 The fortunes of Francis, chiefly in consequence of the 
 perverse administration of his government, through the un- 
 worthy creatures of his pleasures, were every where unpros- 
 perous. Henry of England concluded a treaty with the 
 emperor, and against France. This was followed by a 
 declaration of war, and the invasion of the coasts of Nor- 
 mandy and Brittany by a force under the Earl of Surrey. 
 Even the Venetians joined the league of the emperor 
 against their ancient allies; and France, in Italy, was almost 
 without a friend. But these events, and this prospect, did 
 not abate the desire of the French monarch to recover the 
 Milanese. Having provided for the defence of his own 
 kingdom, he proceeded to raise a new army for this 
 purpose, in defiance of the powerful confederacy which 
 was formed against him — a confederacy including almost 
 every potentate in Europe. If Francis erred and was 
 feeble as a politician, he was nevertheless a knight of 
 gallant spirit. " I know," said he, "that all Europe is band- 
 ed against me, but I will make head against all Europe. I 
 do not fear the emperor, for he has no money. I do not 
 
THE CONSTABLE DE BOURBON. 379 
 
 fear the King of England, for my frontier is secure against 
 his assaults. I do not fear the Flemings ; they are notori- 
 ously bad soldiers. And, for Italy, I will conquer Milan in 
 person ! I will, in spite of all my enemies, recover every 
 inch of the territory of which they seek to dispossess me !" 
 But there was another enemy, whom Francis did not in- 
 clude in the alliance against him. This was the Constable 
 de Bourbon, whom his own injustice, leagued with the im- 
 patient ambition of the other, had driven into hostility. It 
 was only while upon his march for the frontiers that the 
 discovery of his defection was made. Bourbon was a no- 
 bleman of great talents, a soldier of approved skill, a shrewd 
 politician, a man of popular attractions, against whose loy- 
 alty no doubts had ever been whispered, in whose faith all 
 parties had the most perfect confidence. It does not concern 
 us here to enquire what were the particular moving causes 
 which led to the sacrifice, on his part, of his high character, 
 and the unhappy desertion of his prince and country in the 
 moment of their gi'eatest peril. It is enough for us to show 
 the fact, and to add, that, of the numerous enemies of France, 
 the Constable de Bourbon was, probably, the most dangerous. 
 He counselled the English to the invasion of Normandy, 
 treated with the Spanish emperor to a like purpose, and 
 effectually disarmed the suspicions of his sovereign, until 
 he had succeeded in making his escape from the kingdom. 
 Francis remembered, when it was too late, the value of the 
 subject whom he had lost. He sent him a special messenger, 
 with a pardon, and an offer of the restitution of his proper- 
 ty, the deprivation of which, under circumstances of sup- 
 posed injustice, had been among the causes of Bourbon's 
 anger. But the answer was sternly in the negative, and we 
 next find him, as lieutenant-general, at the head of the em- 
 peror's aimies in Italy. 
 
 The discovery of Bourbon's treachery, and the invasion 
 of his kingdom by the English and the Germans, prevented 
 Francis from assuming the command of his army for the 
 
380 BAYARD TAKES LODI. 
 
 recovery of the Milanese, as he had at first intended. His 
 unwise paitiaUty, and the pernicious influence of the Duch- 
 ess d'Angouleme, induced him to confer this important 
 command on Bonnivet, who was, at the time of receiving 
 the title of generalissimo, a simple volunteer with the army. 
 Bonnivet, without a single requisite for the trust, unless 
 courage, was yet presumptuous enough to accept it. He 
 marched immediately toward Milan, the fortress of which 
 was defended by Prospero Colonna. The forces of the con- 
 federates were not yet assembled, and that of Colonna was 
 too small to oppose any decided obstacle to the arms of 
 France. He himself was also suffering from ill health. 
 But his arrangements to retard their advance, and harass 
 their progress, were judiciously planned; and, while he 
 slowly retreated before them toward Lodi, he despatched 
 Antonio de Leyva to keep the city of Pavia. Bonnivet 
 was not the soldier to cope with Colonna. Had he pushed 
 promptly for Milan, while the latter was taking his course 
 for Lodi, it is thought that the place must have fallen. But 
 his caution prevailed over his fortune ; and when, at length, 
 he reached Milan, its walls were repaired, its towers man- 
 ned by Colonna and other captains, and the place so well 
 victualled, that he was compelled to turn the siege into a 
 blockade. While thus employed. Bayard took Lodi, where 
 he had nearly captured the Duke of Mantua. He then 
 went to the relief of the castle of Cremona — a place which, 
 garrisoned by Lautrec on his expulsion from Italy, had 
 still continued to hold out for the French during a period 
 of eighteen months. Having succeeded in relieving and 
 strengthening the ganison, our *' Good Knight" made a 
 demonstration upon the city ; but it had been well succored 
 by the Duke of Urbino; and the unfavorable weather com- 
 pelled him to forego his desires. 
 
 The blockade of Milan was still continued. Famine had 
 begun to rage in the city. But the condition of the block- 
 ading forces was scarcely better. They also suffered fiom 
 
PR03PER0 COLONNA DIES. 381 
 
 bad food, the unwholesome dampness of the encampment, 
 bad weather, and want of forage. Colonna harassed them 
 with continued skirmishes, and frequently cut oif their sup- 
 plies. The French general proposed a truce. His object 
 was to retire unmolested from a position which he found 
 equally unpleasant and unprofitable. This the Italian com- 
 mander declined, knowing quite as well as himself the dis- 
 quieting circumstances in which his adversary was placed. 
 This determined Bonnivet to withdraw in the face of his 
 enemies. He conveyed his artillery safely across the Ti- 
 cino, and sent a part of his army into winter-quartee-s in 
 Piedmont, Provence, and Languedoc. The remainder 
 were lodged in Biagrassa and Rosat, where the provisions 
 were plentiful. Here he determined to remain and wait 
 the reinforcements promised him from France. This 
 interval was marked by the death of Prospero Colonna, 
 who was literally worn out in the harness. He died at the 
 advanced age of eighty. Adrian VI., another uncom- 
 promising enemy of the French, died about the same time. 
 He was succeeded by the Cardinal de Medici, who as- 
 sumed the name of Clement VII. This sovereign h-ad 
 quite as much at heart as his predecessor, the expulsion 
 of the French from Italy. But he made as little display of 
 his passion as he could, and, soon after his election, ex- 
 pressed the most ardent desires for bringing about a pacifi- 
 cation between France and the emperor. That, for the 
 present, however, was impossible. The strife was too 
 bitter to be appeased by words ; — the prize too precious, 
 in the sight of both parties, to suffer them to estimate the 
 blood and treasure yet to be expended in the insane strug- 
 gle for its attainment ; and the war continued with as 
 much vigor as hate and a selfish ambition could supply, 
 consistently with the unavoidable obstacles of climate, the 
 season, and occasional deficiencies in the several sinews 
 of war. 
 
 These sinews, on the part of France, were but slowly 
 
382 BAYARD AT REBECdUE. 
 
 furnished to her captains in Italy. The teiTors of an 
 Enghsh and Flemish invasion at an end, Francis once 
 more threw himself into the vortex of dissipation and lux- 
 ury, from which his escape had been only momentary. 
 He forgot his heroic resolution to conquer his Milanese 
 possessions in person ; and the finances which should have 
 been devoted to this purpose were exhausted among his 
 creatures in the maddest and most licentious frivolities of 
 a court. Bonnivet looked in vain for the promised suc- 
 cor. With but few resources of his own, for a command 
 so important as that which had been given to his hands, he 
 was made momently sensible of all his deficiencies by the 
 increasing activity of the confederate army. Bourbon, the 
 traitor to his country, had now assumed the supreme 
 command ; and, instead of having her best general to op- 
 pose him, France sent her worst. The issue may be 
 conjectured. 
 
 It was while Bonnivet lay, hoping and dreaming, at Bia- 
 grassa, that he conceived the idea of placing Bayard in 
 quarters at the little village of Rebecque, with some two 
 hundred gendarms, and a small body of infantry under 
 Captain Lorges. His object in occupying this village, 
 which lay close to Milan, was to obtain intelligence of, and 
 to arrest supplies on their way to, the gariison. Almost 
 touching the camp of the enemy, without wall, or fosse, or 
 barricade. Bayard at once saw that the place could never 
 for a moment be secure against surprise. He was not the 
 man to murmur at any commission, however perilous, 
 which was assigned him ; but this he felt to be one in 
 which he could only be sacrificed, hopelessly, and possibly 
 under circumstances of grievous disgrace. He deemed it 
 his duty, therefore, to expostulate with his commander. 
 " My lord admiral," said he, " I know not well how this 
 matter may appear in your eyes, but in mine, the keeping 
 of this village of Rebecque, so wholly defenceless as the 
 place is at present, would be utterly impossible unless 
 
BAYARD DISSATISFIED. 383 
 
 with half your army. Our enemies show themselves to be 
 vigilant and active, and, if they continue in this activity, it 
 is very certain that I shall find it hard, in such a post as 
 Rebecque, and vvdth such a force as that which you assign 
 me, to steer clear of disgi'ace. I feel all this, as I well 
 know that if our enemies kept there a band so small as 
 mine, I should be sure, in some dark night, to take them 
 at disadvantage. Let me entreat you then, my lord, to 
 consider well the deficiencies and diflSculties of this post 
 ere you send me thither." 
 
 Bonnivet was not sensible of the force of these argu- 
 ments. He was disposed, perhaps, to undervalue and to 
 slight them. The danger from the enemy's entei*prise he 
 did not conceive, as he had none of his own. He bade 
 our chevalier be under no concern, as not a mouse should 
 stir in Milan but he should be ready to support him. Bay- 
 ard was silenced but not satisfied. Bonnivet promised to 
 send him additional troops in a few days — a promise which 
 he forgot the next moment ; and Bayard, true to his duty, 
 though greatly troubled in spirit, set off for Rebecque with 
 the force assigned him. He foresaw the fortune which 
 awaited him, and sent his mules and unnecessary baggage 
 into No vara, resolved to lose as little as he could by the 
 perverse ignorance of his superior. 
 

 A 
 
 t: 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Arrived at this miserable village of Rebecque, Bayard, 
 with his usual vigilance, proceeded to enquire into its de- 
 fences. He found the place more accessible to an enemy 
 than he had supposed, and less capable of being made 
 secure against him. He consulted with his officers on the 
 subject, and found no means of providing against attack, 
 except by closing up his avenues with bamcades. This 
 was done ; yet, so inadequate did this sort of defence ap- 
 pear, that entrance might still be eifected by an enterprising 
 and courageous enemy, on every side. Bayard wrote 
 instantly to Bonnivet, describing his condition, and urging 
 the promised reinforcements. To this communication there 
 was no answer. Another and another was sent, and 
 equally neglected. Bayard felt that he was isolated — set 
 apart for sacrifice, and that his only hope of safety must 
 consist in his own vigilance and courage. In these he was 
 
LUPON CAPTUKES A SENTINEL. 385 
 
 not likely to fail. His ban-icades were strengthened by all 
 the means in his power, and his posts were well watched 
 and guarded. But, with an enemy fifteen thousand strong, 
 within striking distance, commanded by a young and en- 
 terprising leader — for such was the Marquis of Pescara — 
 it was not possible to hope for immunity in such a position, 
 and with a force so feeble as that under our chevalier, let 
 his precautions be ever so excellent. His apprehensions 
 were soon to be justified. Pescara soon learned from his 
 spies that Rebecque was held by a very small command 
 under Bayard, and the desire for conquest was heightened 
 by an intense anxiety to overthrow and capture so re- 
 nowned an opponent. Bayard was to be taken, dead or 
 alive. It was an additional misfortune, in the case of our 
 knight, that he was quite indisposed, and had retired early, 
 on the very night which Pescara chose for his enterprise. 
 His indisposition was the result of anxiety and exposure. 
 For two nights he had not slept, having kept the watch 
 himself, and, until his barricades were closed, his troops, 
 divided into two equal portions, had gone the rounds on 
 alternate nights, for the better protection of the place. 
 Pescara went to work with great caution and dehberation. 
 It was first necessary to gain some certain infoiination, not 
 only as to the force, but the disposition of Bayard — ^how 
 his men were distributed, and where he himself lay. He 
 was not the warrior to be approached in his lurking-places, 
 unless all the clues were in the hands of those who sought 
 him. The better to effect his object, the Spaniard sent a fa- 
 vorite soldier, named Lupon, upon this service. Lupon was 
 not only a person of immense physical strength, but of great 
 agility and adroitness. He succeeded in stealing upon 
 one of the French sentinels, and, securing his weapons be- 
 fore he could use them ; then, throwing the fellow upon 
 his shoulders, hurried away with him to the Spanish camp. 
 Fear of death, astonishment at his situation, and probably 
 a lurking apprehension that he was borne away by no 
 
 Kk 
 
386 THE SURPRISE. 
 
 mortal emissary, kept the poor wretch silent. He was 
 forced to speak in the presence of Pescara, and it was 
 upon his deposition that the latter planned his attack. It 
 is highly probable that he had his creatures also among 
 the villagers of Rebecque. 
 
 Pescara took the route for Rebecque, at midnight, with 
 an overwhelming force of six or seven thousand foot and four 
 or five hundred horse. The night was very daik and the 
 rain falling. Well aware, from his own frequent practice, 
 that such a night was the very best for a sui-prise. Bayard 
 gave particular instmctions to his people to watch vigilant- 
 ly, and ordered several captains out on the guard, keeping 
 extra duty. They left his presence, but soon found the 
 night too uncomfortable, and most of them returned from 
 the watch, leaving this duty to a few vnretched archers, who 
 were quite as well satisfied to drowse as their superiors. 
 The Spaniards, meanwhile, were on the march. The bet- 
 ter to distinguish one another from their foes, in the dark, 
 they were each made to wear a shirt over his armor. When 
 the cavalry had approached within a bow-shot of the village, 
 they were somewhat surprised at encountering no sentinels. 
 At first they apprehended that their scheme was blown, and 
 that Bayard had returned to Biagrassa. Such, however, 
 was not his good fortune. They continued their march, 
 and soon happened upon some of the few archers to whom 
 the watch had been left. These, taken by surprise, fled 
 without a blow, giving the alarm as they ran. Their ene- 
 mies were so close upon their skirts that they were slain or 
 captured before they gained the barriers. Bayard, who, 
 with an enemy near him, always slept with vantbrace and 
 tasses on, and with cuirass and helmet by his side, was one 
 of the first to catch the sound of the approaching clamor. 
 He leapt up instantly, and, bridling the steed that was 
 always kept ready saddled, was at least prepared, with 
 sword drawn and in full harness, to encounter the danger. 
 He rushed to the barriers, where he was immediately 
 
387 
 
 joined by Captain TiOrges and a portion of their infantry. 
 Here, then, while a portion of the Spaniards were seeking 
 for him in the village, supposing they should find him in his 
 bed, an invalid, we find him fighting fiercely against their 
 companions. Pescara was particularly solicitous for the 
 one captive. Could they have taken him, the rest was easy. 
 They sought for him in the lodgings which were pointed 
 out as his, then scattered themselves abroad in search of 
 nim. While their horse were thus occupied, the drums of 
 their infantry were heard approaching. At the sound, which 
 indicated an overwhelming force, Bayard felt that now or 
 never was the moment for escape. Addressing the captain 
 of infantry, he said to him, " Lorges, my friend, the game 
 will soon be a very unequal one. We shall hardly be able 
 to keep them out, and, if they pass this barrier, it is all over 
 with us. Do you, therefore, draw off your infantry now, 
 while I keep up the struggle with my gendarms. Keep 
 your men close, and march straight and with all speed to 
 Biagrassa. Heed not your baggage ; that must be aban- 
 doned or destroyed. There is no help for it. But save the 
 lives of your soldiers. I will hold out with my gendarms 
 to the last." 
 
 The order was obeyed. The spirited conflict which 
 Bayard maintained at the barriers covered the silent re- 
 treat of the infantiy. The Spaniards, meanwhile, in their 
 fruitless search after their particular object, had lost precious 
 moments. Seeking the person of Bayard only, their cav- 
 alry had mostly dismounted, hurrying in small bodies from 
 house to house. By this time he had succeeded in getting 
 most of his men to horse. He maintained the struggle at 
 the barriers until he thought his infantry were sufficiently in 
 the advance, then sounding the retreat, retired slowly from 
 the defence, he himself, according to his custom, bringing 
 up the rear. The movement was most happily executed, 
 so that he lost but ten men in its perfonnance. Pescara 
 had not so successfully canied out his scheme as he had 
 
388 HIS aUARREL WITH BONNIVET. 
 
 de^'ised it. While the search was still continued in the 
 houses of Reb6cque for our hero, he was already far upon 
 the road to Biagrassa. 
 
 Here he brought the first intelligence of the disaster 
 which his sagacity had foreseen. Bitter was his reproach 
 to Bonnivet, and sharp was the passage that ensued between 
 them. He had saved his men, but had destroyed his bag- 
 gage ; and this was a necessity which was not reconciled 
 to the fastidious sense of chivalry by which he was governed, 
 or by the conviction which all acknowledged, that the mas- 
 terly defence and retreat which he had made, under such 
 disadvantageous circumstances, was an increase to his 
 already large reputation. He gave Bonnivet to under- 
 stand, at the close of the interview, that, whenever the 
 king's service should afford him leisure, he should compel 
 him to give him personal satisfaction. And, but for a su- 
 perior providence which willed it otherwise, he would most 
 certainly have executed his purpose. 
 
 But events were at hand, of a character to absorb and 
 silence all personal regi'ets and reproaches. While Bonni- 
 vet was still vainly looking to France for succors, the im- 
 perial army was strengthened by a force of six thousand 
 Germans, sent by the Venetians. The Duke de Bourbon 
 was now enabled to assume the offensive. Bonnivet fell 
 back upon Novara, the more readily to effect a junction 
 with a body of twelve thousand Swiss, in two bodies, one 
 of which, he had intelligence, was coming in the direction 
 of Sessia, the other, of Bergamo. This movement prompt- 
 ed a con*esponding one on the part of Bourbon. He im- 
 mediately threw his main force between Sessia and Novara, 
 to oppose one of these bodies, while Giovanni di Medici 
 crossed the Ticino to intercept the other. These movements 
 were successful. The French were thus cut off from their 
 succors, and shut up between two divisions of the imperial 
 army. Biagrassa, the only strong place still in their power, 
 was besieged and taken by Sforza, and the plague, break- 
 
BONNIVET YIELDS THE COMMAND TO BAYARD. 389 
 
 ing out in the town, at length made its appearance in 
 the army. The circle was contracting about the general 
 of the French, the neglect of whose monarch, and whose 
 own inexperience, had devoted to irremediable ruin. His 
 army was thinned by daily desertions, and the Swiss 
 absolutely refused even to attempt the passage of the Sessia. 
 Bonnivet determined to retire into France. But this 
 decision was one full of embaiTassments. His enemies 
 were not likely to suffer the attempt to be made without 
 some interposition, and Bonnivet prepared for it as well as 
 he was able. The retreat began at daybreak. The 
 French general, with becoming manhood, took his place in 
 the rear of the march, along with the gendarms, to 
 receive the attacks of the Imperialists, by whom all his 
 movements were closely watched. They followed the retreat 
 with constant assaults, in all of which they had to encounter 
 the skill and valor of Bayard. It would be doing injustice 
 to withhold from Bonnivet the credit of fighting bravely 
 during this march of peril and exposure. He conducted 
 himself with great valor and ability until his arm was broken 
 by a musket-ball. In the first moment of pain and appre- 
 hension he sent for Bayard, to whom he gave charge of the 
 army, thus recognizing, when too late, the ability which, 
 at an earlier moment would have achieved conquest instead 
 of suffering defeat. 
 
 " My Lord of Bayard" said he, " I pray and conjure you, 
 by the honor and glory of the French name, to defend the 
 ensigns and artillery which I give into your keeping. I con- 
 fide them to your valor and wisdom. You alone can save 
 the army." 
 
 There was a reproach, undoubtedly, but no bitterness in 
 the reply which Bayard made him : " I would, my lord, 
 that you had done me this honor on some more favorable 
 occasion, when our fortune was less unfriendly ; it is 
 now, I fear, too late. Nevertheless, happen what may, 
 I vow and promise to defend these ensigns so, that 
 
 KK* 
 
390 BAYARD MORTALLY WOUNDED. 
 
 while I live, they shall never fall into the hands of the 
 enemy." 
 
 Bayard, accepting this dangerous commission, at such a 
 moment, is a model of devotion and patriotism. He saw 
 no longer in the man before him the spoiled and presump- 
 tuous child of fortune, unwisely placed in the station which 
 belonged only to better men. It was no longer the court- 
 ier, Bonnivet, who addressed him — it was the same man, 
 forgetting his own vanities in the hour of danger, and 
 rising into a just appreciation of the person whom he ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " My life is my country's," said Bayard on leaving Bon- 
 nivet ; " my soul I commend to God." He immediately 
 placed himself at the head of the men-at-arms, while the 
 Lord of Vendenesse took command of the artillery. In a 
 short time the latter was killed by a shot from an arque- 
 buse. The road was lined on both sides by the arquebu- 
 siers of the enemy. From these the missiles of lead and 
 stone were continually projected upon the retreating French, 
 while the Spanish cavalry pressed upon their heels, combated 
 step by step by Bayard and his gendarms. He, meanwhile, 
 retired slowly, keeping up a firm front and close array, and 
 sometimes relieving his troop by a successful charge, which 
 drove back the assailants to the shelter of their main body. 
 It was after one of these brilliant charges that he was struck 
 by the stone bullet of an arquehuse-a-croc^ which smote him 
 across the loins, and completely fractured his spine. His 
 first exclamation was, ^^ Jesus, Mon D'leu ! je suis mort /" — 
 ( Oily God ! I am slain /) In this moment of mortal agony, 
 he clutched the cruciform hilt of his sword, and lifting it 
 before his eyes, repeated a verse of the Miserere. Feel- 
 ing himself about to swoon, he grasped the pummel of the 
 saddle, and supported himself in this posture, until some 
 of his friends came to his assistance, and helped him to dis- 
 mount. At his own instance, he was placed with his back 
 to a tree, and his face turned in the path of the approach- 
 
HIS CONFESSION. 391 
 
 ing enemy. His friends would have bome him away from 
 the melee, but he would not suffer it. 
 
 " Let me die in peace. It is all over with me. I am 
 mortally hurt. — I know it, and I would not, in my last mo- 
 ments, turn my back upon the enemy for the first time in 
 my life." 
 
 Hans Diesbach, a Swiss captain, offered to construct a 
 litter of pikes on which he might be borne with little suf- 
 fering, and to prevent his falling into the hands of the Span- 
 iards ; but, knowing how short was the time allowed him, 
 he entreated that this might be suffered to pass in compara- 
 tive repose. " Leave me thus," he said, " in quiet, that I 
 may make my peace with God. And let me entreat that 
 you will all depart, lest you be made prisoners, an event 
 which would greatly increase my giief For me you can 
 do nothing more. Of you, my Lord of Alegre, I entreat but 
 that you will convey my farewell to the king, our master, 
 and say how deeply I deplore that I can do him no more 
 service. Convey my regards to my companions in arms, 
 and take my adieu. Farewell, my friends — and now leave 
 me !" 
 
 Bitter were the tears shed by the noble gentleman, and 
 the gallant men-at-arms whom he had so often led to victo- 
 ry, particularly as they were compelled to leave him, in his 
 dying moments, to the doubtful care of his enemies. They 
 would have remained with him and shared his fate or cap- 
 tivity, but this he would not suffer; and, with mournful 
 hearts and tearful eyes, they left him on the field of glory 
 and of death. One of his attendants, his maitre d'hotel, a 
 young gentlemen of Dauphiny, named Jacques Joffroi de 
 Milieu, in the absence of a priest, received his confession 
 before he went. To this faithful follower, whose bitter 
 tears provoked his own, he uttered himself thus : " Cease 
 thy complaints, my friend ; God wills that I shall leave the 
 world. It was by his favor only that I dwelt in it so long, 
 and enjoyed so many more honors and blessings than were 
 
392 THE APPROACH OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 my due. Shall I mtirmur, then, that he calls me to himself? 
 There is but one thing which makes me loth to die. It is 
 the thought of evil deeds that I have done — of duties I 
 have left undone — of time lost which is necessary to re- 
 pentance. And now it is of the infinite mercy of God 
 that I must implore compassion. I am not without a hope 
 that he will hear my prayer — that he will not deal with 
 me after the rigor of his justice." .... Then, after a 
 pause, he said, "I prithee, friend Jacques, suffer them 
 not to remove me from this place. When I am stirred 
 I feel the utmost torment short of death ; and that will 
 seize upon me right soon." 
 
 The approach of the Spaniards dispersed his companions 
 in arms, and he alone remained facing his enemies. The 
 tidings of his mortal injuries had already reached them, and 
 produced a profound sensation of grief among their ranks. 
 The foe whom they most feared, honored by their very 
 fears, and whom they so particularly desired to capture or 
 to slay, now that he could do them hurt no longer, remained 
 before their eyes only as the impersonation of all noble- 
 ness, and of the most admirable perfection in arms and 
 chivalry. The first person to approach the dying chevalier 
 was the Marquis of Pescara. " Would to God, most gentle 
 Lord of Bayard," said the Spanish general, ''that by shed- 
 ding my own blood, short of death, or by abstinence and 
 prayer, T could save your precious life, and keep you as my 
 prisoner. Then should you see how highly do I honor 
 your exalted character and prowess. Well do I know the 
 justice of that speech of my countrymen, when I heard 
 them praise you first — * Muchos Grisones, y pocos Baijar- 
 dos' — There are many grey horses, but few Bayards; 
 for since my first lessons in arms have I never seen 
 or heard mention of any knight who can match with 
 you in all admirable quahties. While I know that in 
 your death the emperor, my master, is reheved fiom one 
 most formidable adversary, yet, when I consider the 
 
TO BOURBON. 393 
 
 loss which knighthood sustains this day, I would freely 
 give the half that I am worth to pluck you from the 
 clutches of death. But since this is all in vain, I pray 
 to him who hath made us all in his own image, that 
 he will gi'aciously vouchsafe to receive your soul unto his 
 mercy." 
 
 The Constable de Bourbon next made his appearance, 
 and was profoundly affected, like Pescara, with the ap- 
 proaching fate of the hero. Bending over his prosti'ate 
 person, with hands clasped, he exclaimed, with a feehng 
 which was unquestionably sincere, 
 
 " Alas ! Captain Bayard, that I should behold thus one 
 whom I have always loved and honored for his wisdom, 
 his virtue, and his gi'eat valor. Believe me, fi'om my very 
 soul, I weep for your condition." 
 
 At these words, Bayard raised his noble gaze upon the 
 face of the unfaithful prince : 
 
 ** Waste not your sorrows upon me, my lord, but reserve 
 them for yourself I die as I have lived, an honest man, and 
 faithful to my sovereign. But I pity you — you whom I behold 
 in arms against your prince, your country, and your oath." 
 
 The constable would have justified himself by an expo- 
 sition of the provocations which had forced him into the 
 arms of Spain. He felt the want of sympathies, such as 
 those which a pure, honorable, and unselfish spirit, such 
 as that of Bayard, could bestow. But the latter was too 
 single-minded and too clear-headed to be deceived, even 
 in the moment of his mortal agony, by any subtleties of 
 politics. His simple rule was to sacrifice himself always — 
 his interests, his rights, his vanity, his ambition, to his du- 
 ties — and his leply to the constable was still the same. He 
 exhorted him to seek the earliest means and moment to 
 confess his errors to his prince, and to implore his forgive- 
 ness ; closing his exhortations with a prediction, which was 
 fully verified in the sequel, that, neglecting to adopt this 
 course, his career and its close would be equally without 
 
394 DEATH OF BAYARD. 
 
 honor. Bourbon turned away, stricken to the heart by the 
 dying words of a man whose stern reproaches were but 
 too keenly seconded by the voice of conscience, which 
 still struggled eagerly in his own bosom. 
 
 The Marquis of Pescara did not neglect the dying mo- 
 ments of our hero. Though remarkably apathetic on most 
 occasions^ he did not now seek to disguise his sympathy. 
 He had a pavilion raised over the spot where Bayard lay, 
 evincing the most tender consideration of the pain he suffer- 
 ed, and not venturing to remove him. His own surgeons 
 attended the dying man, and he himself sat beside him till 
 the moment when his eyes were closed. A Spanish priest 
 was brought, to whom he devoutly renewed the confession 
 which he had tendered to his squire. His prayer on this 
 occasion has been preserved. " Oh, God ! my Creator 
 and Redeemer, who hast declared thyself ever ready to 
 receive into thy mercy and to forgive those who shall re- 
 turn to thee with a contrite spirit, I entreat thee, through 
 the death and passion of thy Son, to have mercy upon me 
 — to pardon my innumerable offences, which I repent with 
 all my heart. Alas ! my Father and Redeemer, I have 
 grievously offended thee my whole life long. I have been 
 one of the worst of sinners, and I look to thy grace and 
 bounty only for safety from desei"ved punishment. Well 
 I know that an hundred years spent in abstinence and 
 prayer upon the desert would not avail to secure me an 
 entrance to thy kingdom, were it not for thy infinite grace 
 and goodness. Be pleased, then, to regard me with that 
 clemency which no virtues in the creature might command. 
 Pass over the many faults of which I have been guilty, 
 and show me, instead of thy rigorous justice, thy abundant 
 and saving mercy." 
 
 In the utterance of this prayer he died. The attentions 
 and kindly consideration of his enemies did not cease with 
 his death. His body was embalmed, and conveyed, by the 
 guard which Pescara had assigned him, to a neighboring 
 
HIS BURIAL AND MONUMENT. 395 
 
 church, where a solemn service was perfoiTned over him 
 during two days. The body was then delivered to his 
 friends and domestics, who were provided with passports 
 for France, and who conveyed it into Dauphiny. As the 
 escort which bore it approached Grenoble, the public feel- 
 ing displayed itself in the movements of all classes and 
 orders. The gidef of the province was universal. The 
 public authorities, the noblesse, and all the people of the 
 city, went forth to receive it, and formed a mourning caval- 
 cade, by which it v/as borne to the church of the cathedral, 
 where it was received with the honors usually paid to the 
 remains of a sovereign. The body was then deposited in 
 a convent of Minims, which his uncle had founded, and 
 not in the church of Grignion, where he had expressed a 
 wish to be intended. It was deposited under a gi'eat stone, 
 at the foot of the chancel. To the right, above a door by 
 which you enter the convent, is his bust in white marble, 
 adorned with the collar of his order. On another piece of 
 white marble, placed beneath the bust, is inscribed a Latin 
 epitaph, which contains a summaiy of his exploits, and of 
 the circumstances of his death. This monument was 
 raised by a private gentleman of Dauphiny — one no way 
 related to him — who, through a just admiration of the 
 fame of the hero, executed, at his own expense, what 
 Henry IV. thought to do, and the city of Grenoble vainly 
 projected. The name of this gentleman, Scipion de 
 Pollond, lord of St. Agnin, deserved to have been put upon 
 the edge of the tablet which he raised. 
 
 The Chevalier Bayard died on the 30th of April, 1524. 
 He was but forty-eight years when he was slain, in the 
 full vigor of his manhood, and with his intellect, naturally 
 strong and clear, informed by a various experience, and 
 perfectly matured, without being impaired by age. What 
 might not have been anticipated from his farther career ] 
 Francis, when a captive, after the battle of Pavia, in 
 which he was made a prisoner by his subtle enemy, 
 
396 HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 Charles V., thought of Bayard only as his counsellor. 
 That battle had never been lost, had Bayard been in the 
 place of D'Alencon. When Francis, in his bonds, saw no 
 alternative before him, but a humiliating treaty or pro- 
 longed imprisonment, he exclaimed to the Lord of Mont- 
 chener, " If the Chevalier Bayard had but sursdved — had 
 he been only near me — 1 should never have sunk to this. 
 He w^as v^orth a hundred captains. He could vv^in the 
 confidence of friends, and inspired his enemies v^^ith fear. 
 Ah ! Bayard, had you but lived, I never had been here !" 
 
 The eulogium was just. The reader has not forgotten 
 the moral portrait which we sought to draw at the opening 
 of this history. We feel sure, making due allowances for 
 what belongs to the times rather than to the individual, 
 that nothing of our picture was overdrawn or exaggerated. 
 His merits, as a man and as a soldier, were equally great 
 and remarkable. His delicacy of soul, his genuine piety, 
 charity, and munificence — his utter disinterestedness, and 
 ardent attachment to his country — leave us nothing to re- 
 gret in the perfect fullness and just balance of his moral 
 qualities. Foibles and faults may be charged to his ac- 
 count, but it would be difficult to reproach him with any 
 vice. At all events, none of these seem to have taken 
 the form of habits. Intellectually, he was equal to any of 
 his associates, judging them, when in contact with himself, 
 and in the performance of similar duties. It is true that he 
 was never entrusted with the functions of a general officer, 
 where the command extended to the operations of an 
 army ; but that he was unequal to their performance, will 
 scarcely be believed by those who shall remark carefully 
 the promptness, the shrewdness, and the decision of his 
 counsels, when his opinion was demanded by his associates 
 or his superiors. That he never received the baton of a 
 marshal of France, is due rather to the fact, that he lacked 
 the arts of the favorite — while his native modesty held him 
 back from solicitation, and taught him to express himself 
 
HIS CHARACTER. 397 
 
 always moderately in reference to his own claims. He 
 was not the man to boast. Of his performances and re- 
 sources he always spoke most humbly ; and yet, in the 
 moment of doubt, whose counsels were more clear, more 
 deep, more comprehensive, whether the interest was the 
 skirmish of a squad, the siege of a citadel, or the plan of 
 battle for a gi'eat army 1 In all the tnists confided to his 
 hands, we never once find him faltering — never once a 
 laggard — ^never once forgetful of his vigilance. He be- 
 trayed, at all times, the rare union of an enthusiastic 
 courage and intrepidity with a cool and deliberate wisdom, 
 such as might well become the general-in-chief of a great 
 army, upon whose movements hang the fortunes of empire. 
 
 Bayard never permitted himself to indulge in swearing, 
 a habit which was common during his time, and in all 
 times too much practised among soldiers. He never 
 permitted swearing in his presence where it was possible 
 to restrain or punish it. In rebuking this single practice, 
 he seemed to forget his usual sweetness of temper, and 
 that gentle demeanor which he sought to show to all. 
 Hearing two pages, on one occasion, employ the name of 
 the Deity wdth irreverence, he turned upon them wdth a 
 reprimand so sharp and fierce, as to provoke a brother 
 officer to wonder that he should deal so severely with so 
 small an offence. 
 
 "So small an offence !" exclaimed Bayard. "You can- 
 not mean it. That is no small offence which is the vice of 
 the age !" 
 
 Fierce to his enemies, he was always mild and affable to 
 his friends. With a profound veneration for the truly 
 great, and a becoming deference for all in authority, he 
 fav^Tied upon none, flattered none, and was too great a 
 lover of truth to possess any of the expertness of the 
 courtier. Of noble family himself, and of noble trainini^ 
 according to the fashion of his time, he had no disdain of 
 his inferiors. The poorest soldier of his command was 
 
398 Hlri SAYINGS. 
 
 never dismounted, and needing assistance, tliat he did not 
 come to his relief. He possessed in perfection that ex- 
 quisite art which enables one to bestow a favor without 
 making the object of his bounty sensible of an obligation. 
 Sometimes, he would exchange a fine horse for a very poor 
 one, to reward a squire who had pleased him; and not 
 unfi'equently he left a splendid garment of velvet, damask, 
 or satin, in lieu of a threadbare cloak. In his life, of an 
 hundred thousand crowns, which he received for the ran- 
 som of prisoners, he kept scarcely any for himself. Yet 
 most of his gifts were made in secret. His alms were 
 worthy of princes and rich noblemen. He gave maniage- 
 portions to an hundred oi-phan girls, of gentle and infeiior 
 birth. Never sparing of his money, when any good might 
 be done with it, he was wont to say, " Why should we 
 value money, when the gorget wastes what the gauntlet 
 vnns — employing an ancient military proverb, " Ce que le 
 gauntelet amasse, le gorgerin le depenseT 
 
 His piety was as unostentatious as it was fervent. Al- 
 ways, before quitting his chamber, he recommended him- 
 self to God in prayer; but he preferred always that his 
 adoration should be made in secret. He loved and feared 
 his Creator in all things — never blasphemed or took the 
 name of his Maker in vain, and still, in all perils and neces- 
 sities, sought counsel of him first. His conviction that from 
 him and his infinite grace all manner of good proceeded, 
 was an habitual presence to his mind and thought. His 
 love for his neighbor was manifested by a thousand charac- 
 teristics. Of wealth he took but little account, being at his 
 death no wealthier than he was at his birth. When others 
 dwelt complacently on the treasures of the rich and pow- 
 erful, he turned a deaf ear ; but he was never weary of 
 talking about the rirtuous and the brave. Riches, accord- 
 ing to his saying, did not often ennoble the affections. 
 When, as was sometimes the case, his companions reproach- 
 ed him for throwing away his bounty on the people of cap- 
 
HIS PRAISE OF HIS MASTERS. 399 
 
 tured cities from whom it would be wrested by merce- 
 naries, his answer was, " Never mind — I do my duty. Be- 
 sides, this poor man may hide his money till the war is 
 over, and he will then be able to use it. He wdll then 
 call upon the Lord for me." Justice was his great ideal. 
 He was never known to uphold, even his best friend, 
 when equity demanded his sacrifice. He was wont to 
 say that the empire without justice in its government, 
 was to be compared only to a forest thronged v^^th rob- 
 bers. 
 
 Bayard always delighted to hear mentioned the names of 
 those who had first taught him the ait of war. He honored 
 his teachers always with becoming reverence, and always 
 spoke eagerly in their praise. He had learned the pro- 
 fession in a good school ; and, though he had surpassed, he 
 had just reason to exalt his teachers. He was wont to 
 say that there was no one person in whom you are oftener 
 deceived than in him who professes aims. A man will 
 play the hero in a chamber, who, before the foe, will be 
 timid as a maiden. He spoke with scorn of all those who 
 abandoned their ensigns ; and the men-at-arms that showed 
 themselves eager for plunder were sure to provoke his 
 aversion. His dislike to the arquebusiers amounted to an 
 antipathy which made him more reluctant to show them 
 mercy than any other of his foes. He is thought by some 
 to have had a presentiment of the implement by which he 
 was to fall. But an accomplished knight, relying upon 
 skill, strength, and individual valor, might well dislike an 
 engine which rendered these of little account. Like Ages- 
 ilaus the Spartan, who, on seeing a machine for casting 
 darts, called it " the grave of valor," so " it was a great 
 heart-sore to Bayard," according to one of the old chron- 
 iclei*s, ** that a valiant man should be slain by a paltry, piti- 
 ful ragamuffin." His characteristics as a soldier are thus 
 summed up by the " Loyal Servant :" " He had the three 
 excellences of the accomplished knight — the attack of the 
 
400 EULOGY OF HIS COMRADES. 
 
 greyhound, the wild boar's defbnce, and the speed, in pur- 
 suit, of the wolf." 
 
 In person. Bayard was tall, straight and slender. His 
 countenance was mild and gracious. His eyes were 
 black, his nose inclining to aquiline, and his complexion 
 fair. His painters have shown him to us with a marvelous 
 profusion of beard ; but we are told that, for the more 
 easy use of his helmet, he wore it closely shaven. In the 
 rude portrait which accompanies the biography of Sym- 
 phorien Champier, a scar is placed conspicuously beneath 
 his left eye ; but this is, probably, a fancy sketch, as little 
 like him in feature, as it is rude in execution. Bayard, 
 though, ^ar excellence, the "Good Knight" ^^ sans peur et 
 sens reproche^^ was yet " no saint," as we remember. He 
 left a natural daughter, named Jeanne TeiTail, whose 
 mother was of a noble family in the Milanese. Bayard 
 had promised her marriage, and, doubtless, but for his 
 premature death, would have fulfilled his pledge. He 
 spared no expense in the education of the child, who was 
 said to inherit the virtues of her father. She was received 
 into the family of his brothers as their niece, and afterward 
 married with Francois de Bocsozel, lord of Chastelhaut. 
 The unhappy poet, Chastelar, who perished in consequence 
 of his insane passion for Mary Stuart, queen of Scotland, 
 was a lineal descendant of Bayard. 
 
 Our memoir may fitly conclude with the mournful apos- 
 trophe of his men-at-arms, as they left their dying chief 
 upon the field of battle, waiting for the enemy. " Ah, 
 treacherous fiend !" they exclaimed, apostrophizing Death 
 — " wherein had he, this good and noble knight, proffered 
 thee offence. Thou hast not been content to avenge thy- 
 self on him only, but on us. Thou hast stricken him that 
 thou may'st have us also at thy mercy. Under what shep- 
 herd shall we now go forth a-fleld % Where is the guide 
 whom God will provide for us, who could so well protect 
 us from the foe % With him we had no fear. We felt. 
 
EULOGY OP HIS COMRADES. 401 
 
 each of us, strong as any fortress. What captain will ran- 
 som us from the keep of the enemy — who lift us from the 
 earth when we are cast down — who sustain us, like him, 
 in the day of our tribulation. Cruel destroyer ! this has 
 ever been thy wont ! The more excellent the worth, the 
 more dost thou delight in its overthrow. Yet, though thou 
 hast deprived him of life, and we of him, as our shepherd, 
 know from us, oh. Death ! that thou can'st not play thy 
 part so cunningly as to take from him the glory he hath 
 won. Thy stroke which hath taken him from this life 
 hath but rendered his memory safe through all succeeding 
 ages. He shall still survive to the satisfaction and delight 
 of the valiant and true men that shall come hereafter !" 
 
 THE END. 
 
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