The romance of Burgundian tournaments.
In the year 1468, the sister of Edward IV. of England married Charles Duke of Burgundy. The banquets and balls which testified the general joy were varied by a martial exercise, called the Passage of the Tree of Gold. It was held in the market-place at Bruges, which, on that occasion, exchanged its wonted appearance for one of chivalric gaiety. The ground was unpaved, and sanded like a royal tilt-yard; and galleries were erected around for the reception of the nobles and dames of Burgundy and the wealthy merchants of Flanders. A door, at one end of the lists, painted with a tree of gold, was defended by the Bastard of Burgundy, who jousted with such cavaliers as, by the permission of the ladies, were allowed to deliver the knight of the Tree of Gold of his emprise. According to the humour of the times, many knights appeared in fantastic disguises. One knight, though, lusty and young, approached the lists in a litter, and presented every mark of feebleness and age. He requested leave to joust for that once only, and declared that he would then retire to some peaceful cell, and forget, in devotion and penitence, the vain delights of war.
At another time, the dames and damsels were informed that a noble knight, who wished to joust, was without the lists; but that he would not present himself to the ladies of Burgundy until they perfectly knew his tale. All his life he had loved a lady of Sclavonia; and although she had not altogether accepted him as her servant, yet she had encouraged him to hope. His mental sufferings for her love deserved compassion; but she, forgetting that feminine virtue, and continuing her pride, had not treated his devotion as it merited; and he, therefore, for the nine months which preceded his appearance at Bruges, had lived among rocks and mountains, a prey to melancholy. When, however, the lady heard of this unquestionable proof of his passion, she repented of her ingratitude, and had sent to him a damsel-errant, who was now his guide. She had beguiled the tedious way to Bruges by telling him that the pleasures of love could only be reached by labours, desires, and sufferings; that pain gave a zest to enjoyment, and that the greatest offence against love was despair. The lady had bade him hope; the damsel-errant had counselled him to go upon some chivalric quest, in order to dissipate his melancholy; and she had promised to accompany him, in order to deliver the tale of his adventures to his lady-mistress.
The dames and maidens of Burgundy accorded permission to this zealous servant of love to attempt the emprise of the Passage of the Tree of Gold. He was preceded into the lists by three men, dressed like Moors, and a lady followed, mounted on a white palfrey, and dressed, as the people thought, like a damsel-errant. She led the knight, who bestrode a cheval de lance, and afterwards came four nobles, clad in the habits of Sclavonia, with the words “Le Chevalier Esclave” worked on their robes. He jousted with a knight who supplied the place of the Bastard of Burgundy, but with what degree of gallantry history is silent.[164]
Last gleams of chivalry in France.
Life of Bayard.
I now return to France, whose chivalry, even in the last days of its existence, is interesting; for if ever the bright glory of one man could have changed the manners of his age, the knight without fear and without reproach would have revived the chivalric fame of his country. Pierre Terrail, or Du Terrail, known under the name of Bayard, was born in the year 1476, at the chateau of Bayard, in Dauphiny. His family was of ancient and noble race, and boasted that their ancestors had fought at the battles of Cressy and Poictiers. His own father had been so severely wounded in the service of his country, that he quitted the army before the usual time for retiring. He passed the evening of his life in Dauphiny, occupied in the education of his children, of whom Peter was the only one that aspired to military glory. His wishes were grateful to his father; and his uncle, the Bishop of Grenoble, promised to introduce him to the Duke of Savoy. In his paternal home Peter Bayard had learned some of the duties of the page of early chivalric times: like him he ministered to his father and his guests at table; and he had acquired admirable skill in horsemanship. The Bishop took the youth to Chambery, the then residence of the Duke, and by the grace of manner with which he attended his uncle at the dinner-table, and by a fine display of horsemanship, the Duke regarded him with kindness, and placed him in his service. Bayard was then about thirteen years old. Not many months afterwards he became an attendant of the King of France; for the Duke of Savoy, preferring Bayard’s interests to his own, wished to advance his fortunes. Charles VIII. put him into the household of the Signeur de Ligny, where he remained till he was seventeen years old, when he was called into the class of the gentlemen of the royal court. Besides acquiring the military exercises of his time, he graced his imagination with fairy and romantic tales: he was a knight in spirit and purpose, and he now aspired to gain the favour of the ladies by the prowess of his chivalry. A very few days after he had quitted his office of page, he broke a lance in a joust with one of the most distinguished cavaliers of the day, and his fame was bruited over all France. He remained all his life, in the service of the French kings. The theatre of his exertions was Italy; but, as a very able pen has lately traced the revolutions of that interesting country[165], I need not follow him through all his chevisance.
Such matters as display the points of his personal character, and show the remaining chivalric features of the time, come, however, within my province. In 1501, he alone sustained on a narrow bridge the efforts of two hundred cavaliers, who attacked him. It was then that he obtained from the King a device having for its emblem a porcupine, with the words “Vires agminis unus habet.” At the taking of Brescia, he received a dangerous wound, and he remained awhile in a private house. When he was about to depart, his hostess wished to present him with two thousand pistoles for the gratitude she felt at his having preserved her honour and her fortune; and he accepted the money only for the purpose of giving it to her daughters, as their marriage-portions. So highly was he esteemed, that Chabannes, a marshal of France, and Humbercourt, and D’Aubigny, general officers, all of higher rank and older service than Bayard, fought under his orders. Yet he never rose to high commands. His greatest dignity was that of lieutenant-general of Dauphiny.
But the most amusingly characteristic story of Bayard regards his gallantry. When he was page to the Duke of Savoy, he loved one of the attendants of the Duchess; but the passion either was not mutual, or was not graced with any character of romance, for a few years afterwards the damsel married the Seigneur de Fleuxas. Bayard met her at the house of the widow of his first master, the Duke of Savoy. During supper, the lady of Fleuxas praised the chivalry in tournaments of her early admirer in such high terms, that he blushed for very modesty; and she added, that as he was now residing with a family who had been the first to cherish him, it would be great blame in him, if he did not prove himself as gallant a knight as he had done before. The answer of Bayard was that of a polite cavalier; for he requested her to tell him what he could do that would please the good and honourable assembly, his Lady of Savoy, and, above all the rest, her fair self. She advised him to hold a tournament. “Truly,” replied Bayard, “it shall be done as you wish. You are the first lady whose beauty and grace attracted my heart. I know that my salutations of you can only be those of courtesy, for I should lose my labour were I to solicit your love, and I would rather die than accomplish your dishonour.” He then prayed her to give him one of her sleeves, for he said that he should have need of it in the approaching tournament. The lady accordingly took it from her dress, and he attached it to his.[166]
The martial pastime was held, and after the supper which succeeded, it was enquired to whom should the prizes (the sleeve and a ruby) be given. The knights, the ladies, and even those who had tourneyed with him, accorded it to Bayard. But he declared that the honour was not his; but that if he had done any thing well, Madame de Fleuxas was the cause, for she had given him her sleeve. He, therefore, prayed that she might be permitted to act according to her judgment and prudence. The Seigneur de Fleuxas knew too well the noble character of Bayard to feel any jealousy at this compliment to his wife, but with the other judges of the tournament he immediately went to her and related the matter. She was delighted at Bayard’s gallantry, and declared that as he had done her the honour to avow that her sleeve had made him gain the prize, she would preserve it all her life for the sake of his love. The ruby she gave to the cavalier, who had next distinguished himself to Bayard.
And thus lived the knight without fear and without reproach, till the retreat of the French out of Italy in 1524, when he was fatally wounded by a stone discharged from an harquebouze. He fell from his horse, crying, “Jesus, my Saviour, I am dead.” He kissed the cross-handle of his sword; and there being no chaplain present, he confessed himself to his esquire, who then, by the knight’s command, placed him against a tree, with his face turned towards the enemy; “because,” said Bayard, “as I have never yet turned my back to the foe, I will not begin to do so in my last moments.” He charged his esquire to tell the King that the only regret he felt at quitting life was the being deprived of the power of serving him any further. The Constable of Bourbon, as he was pursuing the French, found him in this state, and assured him that he pitied his lot. But Bayard replied, “It is not I who stand in need of pity, but you who are carrying arms against your King, your country, and your oath.” The news that he was mortally wounded quickly spread, and excited the deepest grief in the minds of both armies, for he was a valiant soldier and a generous foe. After a while he was removed to a tent and placed on a bed. He was shriven by a priest, and soon afterwards died, as, with true Christian piety, he was imploring his God and his Saviour to pardon his sins, and to show him mercy rather than justice.[167] He was buried at a convent of Minims, half a league from Grenoble, the principal town of his native country.