No. XX.

A TOUCH AT THE "TIMES."

We are very partial to a kind of dozing stare over the great advertising broadsheet of the Times. With reverence we speak it, we have often enjoyed as much instruction and as much amusement from it, as from a perusal of those interior columns wherein float the awful thunder-clouds. Not that we presume to be indifferent to the magical words which duly appear under the time-worn emblem-the dial, pointing everlastingly to precisely five minutes past six, and reminding us of all that has taken place in Printing-house Square during our tranquil slumbers; and the three books-the book of the Past, and the yet unopened book of the Future; while in the centre, broad, conspicuous, and staring, stands THE TIMES, claiming instant attention

"The present moment is our ain,

The neist we never saw!"

But it is of the times, as reflected in the advertising sheet of the Times, that we wish now to talk to our readers. Lackington, the bookseller, in his "Life," and Fearon, the wine and spirit merchant, before a committee of the House of Commons, have spoken of the gratification which their respective businesses afforded them, in the study of the physiognomies and appearance of their customers. On the same principle, the collecting clerk in the counting-house of the Times must have a profound insight into the structure of our social state. The bearers of that flood of advertisements, which sets in daily and incessantly to Printinghouse square, must present to him a study of the most varied and interesting nature. Yet, after all, he may be only an "honest rogue," who considers that looking in folks' faces is no part of his business, which is simply to take money, give receipts, and enter results accordingly.

To us every advertisement has eyes, mouth, and ears: it is the shadow of somebody; it is the expression of some individual's wishes, hopes, fears, or anxieties. We look upon the Times as a sort of social mash-tun, where the bruised malt of human society is laid, to undergo the first process of being converted into liquor. Cravers and canters, beggars and boasters, the poor and the proud, the careless loser and the honest finder, the enthusiastic inventor and the embarrassed tradesmen, the shabby genteel and the genteel shabby, the sanguine lazy man and the struggling industrious one, horse-dealers and quacks, ship-owners and auctioneers, booksellers and tailors, all meet here, as on common ground: it is a sort of great "shooting gallery," where every man, whether he be a marksman or not, may try his luck, on payment of an entrance-fee. There is but one door for the literary man, the author of several popular works, and the laundress who has good drying grounds and fine air. Are you a young man, a good classical scholar, a university graduate, willing to make yourself generally useful, and to whom salary is no object? Go to the Times, any day of the year, and you will be suited. Would you like board and lodging in a musical family, without young children, and where you could enjoy good society? Advertise in the Times, and you will receive 365 applications. Have

VOL. I.

[PRICE TWOPENCE.

you a sum of money "lying idle at your banker's?" Publish it in the Times, and you might as well upset a bee-hive. Do you want a baby taken care of "from the month," or a widow of respectability to superintend "your domestic arrangements?" or a young lady, who teaches music, drawing, manners, morals, and all the accomplishments, and speaks French as fluently as a native? or a young man who knows four languages, and has travelled much on the Continent? or a share in a lucrative business, where you can be a sleeping partner, and realise fifty per cent.? Go to the Times, for these and a thousand other wants, and it will be marvellous if you do not get somebody or something that will

do.

sum.

There are certain titles and certain expressions in the adver. tisements, on which the Times must realise a handsome annual Such, for instance, as-" Respectable references given and required," "Board and Lodging," "Sales by Auction," and "Want Places-all letters to be post-paid." A professional gentleman has a house larger than he can occupy himself, and would be glad to meet with two brothers or friends, or a married couple without children, who would help him to fill it—“ respectable references given and required." A commercial man, whose flourishing business would be the better for additional capital to extend it, is desirous of meeting with a gentleman possessed of two thousands in cash-" respectable references given and required." A party who have engaged a yacht for a pleasure-trip to the Mediterranean, wish a few ladies and gentlemen to join them -"respectable references given and required." The friends of a lady, who has moved in good society, are desirous of obtaining for her a situation to preside over a gentleman's establishment-respectable references given and required." The constant recurrence of such a phrase in the many advertisements of the Times, reminds us of the kissing of the marble toe of a statue by thousands of devotees.

A clever lady has told us "how to observe" when we are on our travels; and as there is no reason why we may not observe at home as well as abroad, we may here point out one or two facts to be observed by the reader of the advertising broadsheet of the Times. 1. From the great number of advertisements, in which respectable or unexceptionable references are offered to be given, as compared with those which also require them, we infer (of course) that more people ask favours than bestow them. 2. From the great standing number of BOARD AND LODGING ads. (this is the save-time abbreviation of the printers) we infer that there are a great number of unmarried young and middle-aged men resident in London, and that a considerable number of families live by administering to their creature-comfort. 3. From the number of offers of "Apartments," furnished or unfurnished, we infer that it is difficult in London to get a small comfortable house in a genteel situation, adapted to a limited income, or a small family; and that, therefore, people who wish to be thought respectable (though possessed of limited means) take larger houses than they require, in the hope of meeting with families to share them with them. Now, these three inferences are about as

X

good as some to be met with in travellers' books, sold at ten shillings or a guinea the volume.

But we have another "how to observe" observation to make, more important than the preceding-namely, the sameness, the want of distinctive character, which pervades the great mass of situation-asking advertisements. We do not allude to the advertisements of butlers, cooks, and housemaids, who must ask after a given and approved fashion; but to the advertisements of educated ladies and gentlemen. When we have read the advertisement of one governess, we have read five hundred. Poor things! | it would not do for them to appear the least outré, or to scare the conventional proprieties of phrase; so they all march in full dress, wear a melancholy smile, drop a dignified curtsey, and, in quiet, lisping accents, announce, that they are competent to instruct in English, French, and Italian,-can handle the harp and piano,-and give the most unexceptionable references to families where they have had the pleasure of living for the last three or four years. Casually taking up a copy of the Times as We write, we observe that a family near town want a governess, who must be "a lady of decided religious principles and of cultivated mind, capable of instructing advanced as well as younger pupils in the usual branches of a refined and solid education, and of forming their characters on Christian principles." Here are lofty demands, qualifications, mental and moral, required of the rarer order; and one is tempted to ask what salary this family near town intends to give to such a qualified lady, should they meet with one, and what treatment they intend to give her. All we know is, that marriages, comfortable marriages, would be more numerous even than they are, if such ladies were more abundant. Teaching ladies are certainly more entitled to sympathy than teaching gentlemen; and yet we frequently feel our gorge rising at the numerous advertisements of Messrs. Squeers and Co., all of them asking for intelligent and educated young men to come and be kicked. It was, therefore, with a genuine hearty relish, that we read one the other day, asking for a tutor to go out with pupils to the East Indies, at a salary of first 2007., and then 3007., and to pass the hot months of the year at a cool station on the Nilgherry hills. Run, run, ye graduates of Cambridge and

Oxford !

Talking of want of character in the advertisements, we may observe, further, that our pleasure in reading the advertisements in the Times is derived more from their variety in matter than in manner. When an advertising Englishman steps out of the usual routine, he rarely does it well, unless he be a professional quack, and advertising is a part of his regular business. Some time ago, an advertisement appeared, repeated at intervals, which announced that the advertiser wanted a situation as a sort of confidential hanger-on to a gentleman: he could talk, walk, run, ride, shoot, and sing an excellent song, but never better than his patron, unless required. This was out of the usual order, but it was vulgar, and But, geneonly suited to catch the eye of a Marquis Fordwater. rally speaking, situations are sought, and people ask for partners, clerks, and servants, in a certain established phraseology, unless occasionally a young man announces that his abilities are greater than his means," and that, therefore, he would like "to take a leading situation in a house, at a liberal salary, with a view of becoming a partner." Listen, however, to a foreigner. "I a says Meyer, the Director of the Bibliographic Institution at Hildbourghausen in Saxony, "the sole proprietor of a vast copper ore formation, which, proved by two years' researches made upon it, extends over a tract of one and a quarter English miles in length." Then, after describing the present and prospective value of this property, and his wish to associate with persons of capital

to "form an establishment on joint-account," he bluntly says, "in Germany it would be very difficult, if at all possible, to find qualified partners, therefore I will not try it."

For ourselves, when we wish to enjoy one of the advertising broadsheets, we begin with the beginning, and read on to the end. We have neither the intention nor the means of moving from our domicile in this great metropolis; yet we like to see what ships are sailing for Calcutta or Jamaica, and what steam-communication there is between London and St. Petersburgh, or London and Aberdeen. We have but little to spare in the way of charity; yet we read with keen interest appeals "to the benevolent and humane," not without suspicion, at times, that they are speculations on what five or ten shillings may produce; or in the hope that, if one be a “case of real distress," the humanity of Englishmen will not be appealed to in vain. We have but little interest in buying and selling; yet we like to see what chances are in the way, or what bargains are on the wind. Not a particle of concern have we in any company, either for making a railroad, or manufacturing moonshine; yet we sometimes con fresh issued prospectuses as earnestly as if we were about to take from two to five hundred shares. We require neither tutors nor cooks, governesses nor housemaids, roan geldings nor dappled grey cobs—but somebody always does; and, therefore, as we affect to be philosophers, we say, in the spirit of the old Roman, "I am a man; whatever concerns humanity concerns me." Above all do we sympathise with the ingenious inventors, who are persuaded that if any kind body would just hold out his purse to be emptied, they would realise fortunes. Such may be seen in every paper. We pick up one, out of several recent papers lying at our elbow, and looking in the most random manner. find one addressing "Promoters of Science," but warning people not to apply unless they can command £10,000; another telling "Capitalists" that he offers them an opportunity, "which is seldom or ever to be met with, of yielding an immense fortune," and asking for a gentleman with from £2000 to £3000; and a third from a lady-dear, honest, ingenious soul !-who would fill the pockets of anybody that would advance her £60.

But we cannot say that we like to see a clergyman "in full orders," and of "evangelical principles," advertising for a chapel to rent or buy, for that looks (though the transaction may be right enough in particular cases) like turning religion into a job; nor can we sympathise with those who offer five, ten, fifty, or a hundred pounds, for a situation, for that has the appearance of a sneaking bribe;-in Dublin they do it after an Irish and droll fashion, for, instead of saying openly and broadly fifty pounds, an advertiser offers fifty thanks. Nor do we like to see advertised, as was the case the other day, a genuine lock of Milton's hair, for that is on a par with the offer of a child's caul. And we feel a kind of halfnervous sensation when we see an advertisement for a secretary, or for a master to an endowed school, or for a matron to a workhouse, or for a manager to a banking company, or even for a porter to a warehouse: for we can see the news running like wildfire, the crowds running like mad, the certificates signing, the letters writing, heaven and earth moved, to secure the "berth." Oh! may it never be our lot to form one of a thousand candidates for a situation of £300 per annum; nor one in five hundred competitors for a prize essay, the successful candidate to receive fifty pounds!

And this brings us to our last observation, for our glass is ru: firstly, newspapers, in providing for the mere passing gratification of the moment, are storing up far more ample materials for future history, than an absolute monarch could accomplish, with a whole host of clerks, chroniclers, and annalists, in his train; and, secondly, if all materials for future history perished,

except the advertising columns of the Times, what estimate would be formed of our social state? "The people of the island which was called Great Britain," might the historian of the year 2555 write, "were cannibals of a strange and peculiar order; they not only lived upon one another, but they swallowed each other whole; and there was a huge worm in the entrails of their social existence, which had a million mouths, and every mouth cried Give, give! and yet they were never satisfied !"

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.

THE CHEVALIER BAYARD. PIERRE DU TERRAIL, of Bayard in Dauphiny, who obtained the enviable distinction of the good as well as that of the courageous knight, was born in the year 1476. He was the second son of Aymon de Terrail, also a distinguished knight; who, at the age of fourscore, feeling that death was fast approaching, called his four sons to his bedside, in the presence of their mother, to learn from their own lips the paths of life they each wished to pursue. The eldest, George, hoping to keep up the dignity of his family, desired never to leave the chateau, and dutifully to attend upon his father to the end of his days.

"Very well," replied the old man; "since thou lovest the house, thou shalt stay at home to fight the bears." An occupation, it must be stated, neither easy nor inglorious; for Sir Bruin was by no means a despicable enemy, and kept the hunters not only constantly vigilant, but afforded them great and frequent peril. Pierre's turn came next; and, to the delight of his father, he chose the profession of arms; hoping, as he said, to emulate the fame of an ancestry, whose warlike deeds already graced the pages of history.

"My child!" exclaimed the father, weeping for joy, "may God give thee grace to do so."

The other two sons chose the church, of which they afterwards became important dignitaries. How Pierre fulfilled the high vocation he had selected, we shall presently relate; but what success the elder brother met with against the bears no historian

hath recorded.

A more graphic picture of the latter days of chivalry could not be presented than that which the memoirs of Bayard affords; for, besides that kind of interest which is derived from adventurous deeds performed at a time when the son of every country gentleman in Europe, who aspired to knighthood, became the hero of many a romantic feat, the biography of the "good knight" exhibits many passing details of the domestic habits of the time, every trait of his character and adventure of his life having been recorded, and carefully preserved.

So impatient was the father to see his young aspirant equipped, that, the morning next after the solemn scene by the bedside, he despatched a messenger for his wife's brother, Monseigneur the Abbot of Esnay, who arrived at the Château de Bayard the same evening. Other relations were assembled, and Pierre "waited on them at dinner." * After which, the family conclave agreed that he should enter the service of the Duke of Savoy, between whom and the house of Bayard there had long existed a firm friendship. The whole matter seems to have been conducted with the utmost haste; for the following morning was the time fixed on for his presentation to the duke. The bishop sent off in all speed to Grenoble for his tailor, who, promptly arriving with sundry assistants, worked all night with such diligence, that, after breakfast, the embryo soldier presented himself in the castle court in his new garments, mounted on a fine little horse, which his uncle had given him; and his daring and successful feats, in spite of the animal's efforts to throw him, excited the admiration of the beholders, and gave earnest of his future proficiency in horsemanship.

His mother, who had been sitting in one of the towers weeping, called him apart, and entreated him "to love and serve God, and never to omit the duty of praying night and morning,-to be loyal * Vide "The right Joyous, and Pleasant History of the Feats, Jests, and Prowesses of Chevalier Bayard, the good Knight, without fear or reproach. By the Loyal Servant." Translated from a curious old French work. London, 1825.

in word and deed,-to be kind to the widow and orphan, and bountiful to the poor." Then taking a little purse, containing six gold crowns, "from her sleeve," gave them to her son, deliof the bishop's attendants, whom she also charged to pray that vering at the same time a little portmanteau with his linen, to one the servant of the squire, under whose care Pierre might be placed, would look well after him till he grew older; a request that was to be enforced by a gratuity of two crowns, with which she also entrusted the bishop's attendant.

Chamberry, the seat of the dukes of Savoy, was at no great distance, and Pierre arrived there with his uncle on the evening after his departure from home, and the next morning he was formally presented to the duke, who courteously accepted him "as a good and fair present; with the hope that God would make him a brave

man.

A period of six months, passed in the family of the Savoy, was leaping, riding, and throwing the bar,-besides frequent precepts so well employed by the young apprenti des armes, in wrestling, and exercises of a moral and spiritual nature,- that he was thought worthy of presentation to Charles the Eighth of France, then at Lyons. But before that event, Pierre, as became an aspirant to all the honours and attributes of knighthood, had chosen from the affections, and who sincerely returned his passion, which he hoped ducal court of his mistress a 66 fayre ladye," on whom he set his to increase by such deeds in her service as should be worthy of her virtue and beauty. The lovers parted with many tears, but alleviated their pangs by the mutual assurance of such frequent correspondence by letter as was practicable in those times; a promise which, notwithstanding an event generally fatal to such pledges, which afterwards occurred, was faithfully kept, even until

death.

the applause of the whole court; which was in a manner perpetuBayard's exhibition of horsemanship before the king drew forth ated by the nickname of "Picquet" it obtained for him. Charles his rider, that, desiring to see Bayard repeat the action, kept was so delighted with the curvetting of the horse, and the grace of shouting to the young horseman, "picquez, picquez!" ("spur, the word, the whole arena resounded with "picques, picquez! spur!")-the royal pages and the rest of the bystanders echoing head of the noble house of Luxembourg, with whom he continued The king transferred Picquet to the care of the Lord de Ligny, rolled in De Ligny's company; but Pierre had made himself so as page until arriving at the age of seventeen, and then was engreat a favourite that he still retained his household appointment,

with an allowance of three horses and three hundred crowns a-year.

tremble for the sans reproche applied to his character; but we are We now approach a passage in Bayard's history which makes us fain to be consoled by the striking example the following transaction affords of the dangers of ambition and bad company. At this time a Burgundian knight, one Claude de Vaudré, hung up his shields-the chivalric signal of a challenge-at Lyons, and, with the king's permission, invited all adventurers to encounter him, either with spear on horseback, or with battle-axe on foot. lord, if I knew how to put myself in fitting array, I would right Picquet looked wistfully at the shields, and said, "Ah, good gladly touch them!" by which action he would have signified his acceptance of the challenge.

Now, it happened that Bayard had formed an intimacy with a comrade named Bellabre, who was evidently one of those free, daring, unscrupulous young gentlemen with whom the profession of arms had for many years abounded. To this person Picquet communicated his regret that the want of fitting armour and horses would prevent him entering the lists against Vaudré. Esnay? Par Dieu, we will go to him, and, if he will not supply Bellabre replied, "Hast thou not a rich uncle in the fat Abbot of the money, we will make free with crosier and mitre. But I believe, when he knows your good intentions, he will produce it willingly."

"How!

the utter amazement of Montjoye, king at arms, who was stationed Fired by this assurance, Picquet boldly touched the shields, to in due form to write down the name of each appellant. my young friend," exclaimed that officer, "and do you undertake to combat with Messire Claude de Vaudré, who is one of the fiercest knights in Christendom?" Picquet answered modestly, that "he only desired to learn the use of arms from those who could teach him;" and hoped that, "with God's grace, he might do something to please his ladye." In truth, the young adventurer felt much more apprehension at the preliminary interview with his uncle, than at the encounter with the" fiercest of knights."

The two friends instantly set off for Esnay, and the eloquence of

Bellabre so far overcame the scruples of the half-grudging prelate, that it not only procured an hundred crowns for the purchase of a couple of strong horses, but also an order, under the abbot's own hand, to Laurencin, a merchant of Lyons, to furnish the now happy nephew with such apparel as he might require. But here comes that part of the affair which makes one regret that our hero was sans peur of abetting a dishonest act, and that his ready acquiescence in the scheme of Bellabre does not leave him quite sans reproche.

The moment the friends began their backward journey, the tempter exclaimed, while reading the good uncle's order, "Ma foy, when the gods send good fortune men should not refuse it ;the order is unlimited-let us make the most of it!" and, on reaching the merchant's house, Bellabre boldly stated that his instructions were to have his young friend fitted out in a manner that should eclipse the whole court; and, there being nothing to contradict him in the order, Laurencin supplied gold and silver stuffs, embroidered satins, with velvets and other silks, to the amount of eight hundred crowns; while, not many hours after, the abbot's messenger arrived to restrict the order to an hundred and twenty. Perhaps, opinions in the chivalrous ages were much more liberal concerning such matters than they are at present; for the royal serviteur, in relating this story, sets it in the light of an admirable practical joke, which the defrauded priest himself ought to have enjoyed.

The military part of the adventure passed off well. Claude de Vaudré behaved like a good and valiant knight; for, "whether it was Heaven decreed that the honour should be Bayard's, or that Messire Claude de Vaudré did not, in courtesy, exert his wonted prowess against so young a combatant, certain it is that no one in the whole combat played his part better or so well." In short, Picquet obtained from the ladies the honours of the day, and the trick which had been played upon the Abbot of Esnay became a popular court-jest.

After this adventure, Pierre was equally successful in a similar one. Having been sent to his master's company stationed at Aire, he gave a tourney himself, and carried off the prizes against no less than forty-six opponents, who all did their best, and were not, like Claude de Vaudré, merciful to his youth. But this mimic fighting was soon exchanged for active service. The expedition of Charles against Naples called Picquet into Italy, where he at once distinguished himself.

The French king having entered Naples without a struggle, a league was formed between the Pope, the Spaniards, the republic of Venice, and the treacherous Lodovico Sforza, to intercept himself and his whole army: they waited for him at Fornovo, with forty thousand men, but were beaten by the French, who, with their Swiss allies, only numbered nine thousand. Bayard had two horses shot under him; and was afterwards sent with the Lord de Ligny to Ostia, to threaten Rome. Four hundred Spanish men-at-arms having fallen into the hands of the little band of French, one of the captains, named Sotomayer, was, among others, put under Bayard's charge, and having broken his parole, the latter, though suffering from ague, challenged him to fight, and killed him on the spot by a thrust in the throat. This so wounded the pride of the Spaniards, that-there being a truce just then they proposed a combat of thirteen to thirteen, which the French accepted, and won. Bayard and Lord Orosi having battled against thirteen adversaries during four hours, and at last gained the victory. On his return to France, Pierre, who had already attained the honour of knighthood, found the fame of his deeds had preceded him, and he was received with every token of honour by his countrymen.

During the interval of leisure which occurred soon after the accession of Louis XII. to the throne, Bayard paid a dutiful visit to the widow of his first patron, (for the Duke of Savoy had died during his absence); when he learnt, alas! that his "ladye love" had become the wife of the rich Seigneur de Fluxas. Instead of torturing himself with vain regrets, he rejoiced at the fair one's good fortune; while she "desiring, as a virtuous woman might, to let the good knight see that the honourable love which she had borne him in her youth still lasted," advised him to hold a tourney; while Bayard, so far from taking the smallest advantage of so frank a declaration, replied that he would rather die than press her with a dishonourable suit, and merely solicited "one of her sleeves," and presently sent a trumpet to the neighbouring garrisons, proclaiming a prize, consisting of the sleeve, with a ruby worth one hundred ducats, "to him who should perform best at three strokes of the spear and twelve of the sword, in honour of the Dame de Fluxas." As at Lyons, so in this instance, the good

knight was pronounced the victor; and, having referred the disposal of the prize to the lady, she gave the jewel to the knight who was thought to have done best after him, and kept the sleeve "for his sake.' Of all this the husband was a spectator; but so well did he estimate the characters of the dame and her first lover, that he entertained no feeling of jealousy.

In 1499, the Italian wars of Louis the Twelfth commenced, and Bayard was again summoned from jousts and tourneys to sieges and battles. While in garrison, about twenty miles from Milan, the good knight, having led out an adventure against three hundred of the enemy's horse, madly followed up an advantage he had gained into the very heart of the city, and was taken prisoner; but, when the general knew who he was, he generously set him free.

Soon after this occurrence, Bayard, being stationed at an outpost, received intelligence that a rich money-lender, escorted by a party of the enemy's horse, was on his way to the Spanish general. There were two ways by which the party might pass, and, stationing himself at one, and an officer, named Tardieu, at the other of the roads, the chevalier felt pretty secure of his prey. It happened that he fell in with the prize, which was found to consist of fifteen thousand ducats. Tardieu demanded half of the plunder, having assisted, as he said, in the entreprise (undertaking). Bayard refused the claim, saying, with a smile, “Truly-but you were not at the prise" (taking). Tardieu referred the dispute to the commander-in-chief, who decided against him; which, however, he bore with the utmost good-humour, swearing, "by St. George, that he was a most unlucky dog!"

"Are they not pretty things?" asked le bon chevalier, tantalising his comrade by displaying the ducats.

They are, indeed," replied the disappointed Tardieu; “half that sum would make me rich for life!"

Bayard's answer was prompt as it was generous. "Only half?" he said; "then take them." The astonished soldier fell on his knees, and expressed his gratitude with tears of joy.

During this war, the chevalier concerted a scheme for capturing Pope Julius, whose allegiance to their enemies had rendered him extremely obnoxious to the French. His holiness would certainly have been taken, but for a snow-storm, which obliged him to return to the castle of St. Felice, whence he had started. As it was, Bayard so closely pursued him, that, had the Pope not leaped out of his litter, and actually helped to raise the drawbridge with his own hands, he would have been taken.

Though the good knight would have rejoiced in making his holiness a prisoner by stratagem, yet he would not countenance treachery against him. While at Ferarra with the duke, the latter proposed to get the Pope poisoned by means of a spy; whereat the good knight said, "O! my lord, I can never believe that so worthy a prince as you will consent to so black a treachery; and were I assured of it, I swear to you by my soul, I would apprise the Pope thereof before it were night." The duke shrugged up his shoulders, spat upon the ground, and said, "My lord Bayard, would that I had killed all my enemies as I did that! Howbeit, since the thing is not to your liking, it shall be given up." Thus, for the want of the good chevalier's concurrence, the scheme was abandoned.

Bayard next appears at the siege of Padua, which having been recovered by the Venetians, was besieged by the allies associated by the league of Cambray, to which the French were subscribers. The command of the whole army was entrusted to the Emperor Maximilian "the moneyless." The place was fortified with consummate labour and skill, and before the besiegers could take up their ground there were four barricades to be won upon the Vicenza road, two hundred paces apart from each other. The charge of winning them was entrusted to Bayard, who gained the first and drove the enemy back to the second, which was also taken after a good half-hour's assault. The defendants were pursued so closely, and with such good effect, that instead of making a stand at the third barrier, they betook themselves at once to the last; where they made a resolute stand, and the conflict continued for about an hour with pikes and arquebusses. The good knight grew impatient, and said to his companions, "these people detain us too long, let us alight and press forward to the barrier !" Some thirty or forty gens-d'armes immediately dismounted, and raising their visors and couching their lances, pushed on to the barricado. But the besieged were continually reinforced by fresh troops from the city, and Bayard seeing this, exclaimed, they will keep us here these six years at this rate; sound the trumpet, and let every one follow me!" and he led on so fierce an assault that the Italians retired at pike's length from the barricade. “On,

comrades!" he cried, "they are ours!" and leaping the barrier, he was gallantly followed, and not less perilously received; but the sight of his danger excited the French, and he was speedily supported in such strength that he remained master of the ground. Thus were the barricades before Padua won at mid-day, whereby the French horse as well as foot acquired great honour; above all, the good knight to whom the honour was universally ascribed."This was all the glory won by the besiegers, for the town proved too well fortified for their most strenuous efforts, and the siege was raised.

The siege of Brescia, which was laid in 1512 by the French under Gaston de Foix, the young and heroic Duke of Nemours, was not less disastrous to Bayard than it was to the town and inhabitants. The chevalier, having objected to the plan of attack, proposed the substitution of dismounted cavalry for infantry at a particular point, exposed to the deadly aim of the enemy's arquebussiers. The Duke replied, "You say truly, my Lord Bayard, but where is the captain who will expose his troop to so much danger?" "That will I," said the good knight, "and be assured that the company whereof I have the charge, will this day do honour to the king and you."

After the duke had summoned the city, and the assailed had refused to surrender it, a general assault was determined on. The ascent being slippery, De Foix, "to show that he would not be among the last, doffed his shoes," and many followed his example. They won the rampart, and Bayard was the first person who entered, almost immediately receiving a deep wound in the thigh, from a pike which broke and was left hanging in the wound. "Comrades," said he, "march on, the town is won. As for me I can go no further, I am slain !"

As soon as the citadel was taken, they carried him into the goodliest mansion they could find. The owner, a man of great wealth, had fled to a neighbouring convent, leaving his wife and two fair daughters to the mercy of a soldiery, who pillaged and massacred the inhabitants without restraint. The daughters hid themselves in a hay-loft, and the mother beseeching Bayard and his troop to spare their lives, was answered, "Madam, it may be that I shall not recover from this wound of mine; but while I live no wrong shall be done to you or your daughters." He then sent an escort for the husband, who was conducted safely home. The family, however, considered themselves as his prisoners, and all their goods and chattels as his property by the lot of war; and, seeing the generous temper of the good knight, administered to his wants with such assiduity, and treated his wound with so much skill, that he was not long in recovering. On the day of his departure, hoping that a handsome offering might prevent his exacting a ruinous sum, the lady entered his room, and presented him with a steel box full of ducats. Bayard laughed, and asked how many ducats there were there? The lady answered only 2,500, but if he were not content therewith a larger sum should be produced. He refused to take any, but being entreated with an earnestness which proved the sincerity of his hostess, he sent for her daughters, and giving each of them one thousand ducats towards their marriage-portions, desired that the remaining five hundred should be distributed among the poor nuns whose convent had been pillaged. Such instances of Bayard's generosity were by no means few. Indeed, he never retained more of the money which the fortune of war brought into his possession than was sufficient to supply his immediate wants, generally distributing the ransoms he received for his prisoners amongst the soldiers of his troop.

Scarcely recovered from his wound, Bayard was summoned to France to fly to the relief of Terouenne, hotly besieged by the troops of the then young Henry VIII. of England. Though the encounter which ensued did no honour to the French army, Bayard did not partake of the disgrace. From the exceeding haste with which the Gallic horsemen thought it prudent to fly from the English lances, the fray before Terouenne has been celebrated as "the Battle of Spurs." During that precipitous retreat, the good knight, coming to a narrow pass through which only one soldier could advance at a time, he commanded a halt, and succeeded in gaining sufficient time for the French army to re-form and renew the action; but was, unhappily, taken prisoner for his gallantry. Being taunted by one of his enemies with the question, "How came it that Bayard, who it was said never retreated, turned his back upon them?" he replied, "If I had fled, I should not have been here." His country was too sensible of his value to allow of leaving him long in the hands of enemies, and the good chevalier was speedily ransomed.

Soon after the accession of Francis I. to the throne of France, in 1515, Bayard returned to Italy, the old scene of warfare, and fought against the Swiss allies of Ludovico Sforza by the side of his sovereign at the battle of Marignano, one of the most sanguinary conflicts that had ever been fought on Italian ground; for it is a curious fact, that the warfare in those times-before the universal employment of "villanous saltpetre"-were much in the nature of assauts d'armes, performed according to strict rule. Whatever combatants were weary of fighting withdrew, their places being supplied with fresh men; and the battle was always interrupted by the approach of night. Hence the loss of life at Marignano-of which it has been recorded that "all other fights compared with this were but as children's sport; this is the war of giants"-was looked upon by the Venetians, who came up just at its close, as prodigious. Francis having been witness of Bayard's romantic and daring feats, desired to receive the honour of knighthood at the Chevalier's hands, and Bayard had the honour of dubbing his majesty on the field.

After various services-among the most signal of which was the successful defence of Meyières on the Netherland frontierwe again find the good knight in the heat of battle at Ravenna, and though success attended his companions in arms, he received a wound which laid his shoulder-bone bare. He was, however, able to cross the Alps, and visit his uncle at Grenoble, where he was seized with a fever.

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At the disastrous battle of Sesia the bon chevalier received his death-wound. He was conducting the rear of the French army when retreating in good order before the Spaniards, when a stone from a hacquebut struck him across the loins and fractured his spine. He instantly knew it was a death-stroke, and exclaimed, "Jesus!" and, after a pause, added "O God, I am slain!" then drew forth his sword, and kissing the cross at its handle, pronounced these words audibly: "Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam!" He did not immediately fall from his horse but held by the saddle-bow, till his steward lifted him off and placed him under a tree; and there, earnestly gazing on the cross of his sword, confessed to his servant, there being no priest near. No entreaties would induce him to consent to being moved, and he urged his companions not to linger with him lest they might be taken by the Spaniards. When they came up and understood who he was, they treated him with the most honourable kindness. A tent was spread for him, and he was laid upon a camp-bed; and a priest having been procured, he confessed devoutly. The Spanish general, the Marquis of Pescara, on seeing him, exclaimed, "Would God, gentle Lord Bayard, that by parting with a quart of my own blood (so that could be done without loss of life), and by abstaining from flesh for two years, I might have kept you whole and my prisoner; for my treatment of you should have manifested how highly I honoured the exalted prowess that was in you." After this eulogium, Bayard uttered a prayer :"My God! I am assured that thou hast declared thyself ever ready to receive into mercy, and to forgive whoso shall return to thee with a sincere heart, however great a sinner he may have been. Alas! my Creator and Redeemer, I have grievously offended thee during my life, of which I repent with my whole soul. Full well I know, that had I spent an hundred years in a desert on bread on water, even that would not have entitled me to enter thy kingdom of heaven, unless it had pleased thee of thy great and infinite goodness to receive me into the same; for no creature is able in this world to merit so high a reward. My Father and Saviour! I entreat thee to pass over the faults by me committed, and show me thy abundant clemency instead of thy rigorous justice."

With these words expired in the year 1524, at the age of fortyeight, Pierre de Terrail, "the chevalier without fear or reproach," one of the last and best representatives of the days of chivalry.

The Spanish general appointed certain gentlemen to bear his body to a church, where solemn service was performed over it for two days; and his own people carried it home for interment. The magistrates of Grenoble, with most of the inhabitants and nobles of the surrounding country, went out to meet the much-honoured corpse, and it was finally deposited in the convent of minims which the Abbot of Esnay had founded. A monument was afterwards erected to him there, not by the king whom he had served so faithfully-not by the nation of which he is the proudest boast, but by an individual no otherwise connected with him than as being a native of the same province, and an admirer of his worth.