University of Virginia Library

12. XII.
THE CHEVALIER AT HOME—MONTLUC COUNSELS GOURGUES
FROM HIS COMMENTARIES.

Having taken his farewell of the Floridians, and embarked with
all his people, it was on board of his vessels, with their wings
spread to the breeze, that the Chevalier De Gourgues offered up

solemn acknowledgments to Heaven, for the special sanction which
he had found in its favor for the enterprise achieved. It was
with a heart full of gratitude, that he bowed down on the deck of
his little bark, and offered up his prayer to the God of Battles
for the succor afforded him in his extremity. It was with a light
heart that he meditated upon the sanguinary justice done upon
the cruel enemies of his people; the honor of his country's flag
redeemed by a poor soldier of fortune, when disgraced and deserted
by the monarch and the court, who derived all their distinction
from its venerable and protecting folds. It was with a just
and honorable pride that he felt how certainly he had made the
record of his name in the pages of history, by an action grateful
to the fame of the soldier, and still more grateful to the fears and
sympathies of outraged humanity. The acclamations of the wild
Floridian—their praises and songs of victory, however wild and
rude—were but a foretaste of those which he had a right to expect
from the lips of his countrymen in la Belle France! Alas!
the hand of power covered the lips of rejoicing! The despotism
of the land shook a heavy rod over the people, silencing the
voice of praise, and chilling the heart of sympathy. But let us
not anticipate.

The Chevalier De Gourgues sailed from the mouth of the Tacatacorou,
on the third of May, 1568. For seventeen days the
voyage was prosperous, and his vessels ran eleven hundred leagues;
and on the sixth of June, thirty-four days after leaving the coast
of Florida, he arrived at Rochelle. The latter half of his voyage
had been far different from the first. As at his departure
from France, he suffered severely from head winds and angry
tempests. His provisions were nearly exhausted, and his people
began to suffer from famine. His consorts separated from him in

the storm, one of them, the patache, being lost with its whole
complement of eight men; the other not reaching port for a
month after himself. His escape was equally narrow from other
and less merciful enemies than hunger and shipwreck. The bruit
of his adventure, to his great surprise, had reached the country
before him. The Spanish court, well served, in that day, by its
emissaries, had been advised of his progress, and that he had appeared
at Rochelle. A fleet of eighteen sail, led by one large
vessel, was instantly despatched in pursuit of him.

Received with good cheer and great applause by the people of
Rochelle, it was fortunate that he did not linger there. He set
forth with his vessel for Bordeaux; there he went to render an account
to his friend, the Marechal Blaize de Montlue, of his adventures.
This timely movement saved him. The pursuing
Spaniards reached Che-de-Bois the very day that he had left it,
and continued the chase as far as Blaze. He reached Bordeaux
in safety, and made his report to the king's lieutenant.

Montlue was one of those glorious Gascons who would always
much prefer to fight than eat. He was proud of the chevalier as
a Gascon, and he loved him as a friend. But the approbation
that he expressed in private, he did not venture openly to speak.

“You have done a famous thing, Monsieur De Gourgues, you
have saved the honor of France, and won immortal glory for
yourself; but the king's lieutenant must not say this to the king's
people. I praise God that you are a Gascon like myself, and no
race, I think, Monsieur De Gourgues, was ever quite so valiant as
our own; but my friend, I fear they do not love us any the better
that they have not the soul to rival us. I fear that the glory
thou hast won will bring thee to the halter only. Hearken, my
friend, Dominique, dost thou know that, at this very moment, thy

vessel is pursued by a host of Spanish caravels? the winds rend
and the seas sink them to perdition! Thou knowest, how I hate,
and scorn, and spit upon the cut-throat scoundrels! Well!
That is not all. I tell thee, Dominique, my friend, there is a
courier already on his way to the ambassador of Spain, who will
demand thy head from our sovereign, that it may give pleasure
to his sovereign, the black-hearted and venomous Philip. What
would he with thy head, my friend? I tell thee, it is his wretched
selfishness that would take thy head—not that it may be useful to
him, but that it shall no longer be of use to thee! Was there
ever such a fool and monster! Thou shouldst keep thy head,
my friend, so long as thou hast a use for it thyself, even though
it ache thee many times after an unnecessary bottle!”

“Think'st thou, Montlue, that there is any danger that the
court of France will give ear to the king of Spain?”

“Give ear! Ay, give both ears, my friend! Our head is in
the lap of Spain already. She hath the shears with which she
shall clip the hair by which our strength is shorn; and, if she will,
me thinks, she may clip head as well as hair, when the humor
suits. It is not now, my friend, as when we fought against the
bloody dogs at Sienna, remembering only to outdo the famous
deeds of the stout men-at-arms that followed Bayard and La
Palisse in the generation gone before. Ah! Monsieur, thou wast
with me in those days. Thou rememberest, I trow, the famous
skirmish which we had before the little town of Sêve. But I will
read thee from my commentaries, which I have been writing in
imitation of Roman Cæsar, of the wonderful wars and sieges in
which I have fought, and in which I have evermore found most
delight.”

And he drew forth from his cabinet, as he spoke, the great

volume of manuscripts, afterwards destined to become the famous
depository of his deeds.

“I have written like a Gascon, Monsieur De Gourgues, but let
none complain who is not able to do battle like a Gascon! He
who fights well, my friend, may surely be allowed the privilege of
showing how goodly were his deeds. I will read thee but a passage
from that famous skirmish at Sêve; not merely that thou
shouldst see the spirit of what I have written, and bear witness
to the truth, but that thou mayst find for thyself a fitting lesson
for thy own conduct in the straight which is before thee.”

Having found the passage, Montlue read as follows:

“As the Signior Francisco Bernardin and myself, who, for that
time were the Marshals of the camp, drew nigh to the place, and
were beginning to lodge the army, there sallied forth from fort,
and church, and trench, a matter of two or three hundred men,
who charged upon us with the greatest fury. I had with me at
that time, but the Captain Charry—a most brave captain, whom
thou must well remember—”

Gourgues nodded assent—

“—with fifty arquebusiers and a small body of horse.
Knowing this my weakness, the Baron de Chissy, our campmaster,
sent me a reinforcement of one hundred arquebusiers.
But my peril was such, that I sent to him straightway for other
help, telling him that we were already at it, and close upon the
encounter. At this very moment, Monsieur de Bonnivet, returning
post from court, and hearing of the fighting, said to the Baron
de Chissy, without alighting from his horse—

“`Do thou halt here till the Marechal shall arrive, and, meanwhile,
I will go and succor Monsieur de Montlue.'

“He was followed by certain captains and arquebusiers on

horseback. We had but an instant for embrace when he arrived,
for the enemy were already charging our men.

“`You are welcome, Monsieur de Bonnivet,' I said to him
quickly; `but alight, and let us set upon these people, and beat
them back again into their fortress.'

“Whereupon, he and his followers instantly alighted, and he
said to me, `do you charge directly upon those, who would recover
the fort.'

“Which said, he clapped his buckler upon his arm, while I
caught up an halbert, for I ever (as thou knowest) loved to play
with that sort of cudgel. Then I said to Signior Francisco Bernardin—

“`Comrade, whilst we charge, do you continue to provide the
quarters.'

“But to this he answered—

“`And is that all the reckoning you make of the employment
the Marechal hath entrusted to our charge? If it must be
that you will fight thus—I will be a fool for company, and, once
in my life, play Gascon also.'

“So he alighted and went with me to the charge. He was armed
with very heavy weapons, and had, moreover, become unwieldy
from weight of years. This kept him from making such speed as
I. At such banquets, my body methought did not weigh an
ounce. I felt not that I touched the ground; and, for the pain of
my hip (greatly hurt as thou knowest by a fall at the taking of
Quiers) that was forgotten! I thus charged straightway upon
those by the trench upon one side, and Monsieur de Bonnivet did
as much upon his quarter; so that we thundered the rogues back
with such a vengeance, that I passed over the trench, pell-mell,
amidst the route, pursuing, smiting and slaying, all the way, till

we reached the church! I never so laid about me before, or did
so much execution at any one time. Those within the church,
seeing their people in such disorder, and so miserably cut to
pieces, in a great terror, fled from the place, taking, in flight, a
little pathway that led along the rocky ledges of the mountain,
down into the town. In this route, one of my men caught hold
upon him who carried their ensign; but the fellow nimbly and
very bravely disengaged himself from him, and leapt into the path;
making for the town as fast as he could speed. I ran after him
also, but he was too quick even for me, as well he might be,—
for he had fear in both his heels!”

Here Montlue paused, and closed the volume.

“It is enough that I have read; for thou wilt see the counsel
that I design for thee. It is not easy for thee to take it, being a
Gascon; but such it is, borrowed from the wisdom of that same
ensign. Thou sawest him scamper, for thou wert on that very
chase;—now, if thou wouldst save thy head from the affections
of the king of Spain, take fear in both thy heels, and run as nimbly
as that ensign.”

“Verily, it is not easy, Monsieur de Montlue, seeing that I
am conscious of no wrong, but rather of a great service done to
my country; and if my own king deliver me not up, wherefore
should I fear him of Spain.”

“That is it, my friend! Our king will, not from his own nature,
but from that of others, who love not this service to thy
country. The Queen-mother will deliver thee up, the Princes of
Lorraine will deliver thee up, and the devil will deliver thee up—
all having a great affection for the king of Spain—if thou trust not
the counsel of thy friends, and wilfully put thy head in one direction
where the wisdom of thy heels would show thee quite

another. Hast thou forgotten that good proverb of the Italians,
which we heard so much read from their lips and honored in their
actions,—`No te fidar, et no serai inganato?' Above all, mon
ami, trust nothing to thy hope, when it builds upon thy service
done to kings. It is a hope that has hung a thousand good fellows
who might be living to this day. Now, in counselling thee
to flight and secrecy, I counsel thee against my own pride and
pleasure. It would be a great delight to me to have thee near
me, while I read thee all mine history;—the beginning, even to
the end thereof;—the thousand sieges, battles and achievements,
in which I have shown good example to the young valor of
France, and made the Gascon name famous throughout the
world.”

The heart of the Chevalier Gourgues was not persuaded. He
could not believe that his good deeds for his country's good and
honor, would meet with ill-return and disgrace.

“The king will do me justice.”

“Verily, should he even give thee to him of Spain, or hang
thee himself, they will call it by no other name,” answered
the other drily.

“But the baseness and the cowardice of flight! This confiding
one's courage and counsel to one's heels, Montlue!”

“Is wisdom, as thou shouldst know from the story of Achilles.
Verily, it requires that the secret meaning of this vulnerableness
of the heel on the part of the son of Thetis, is neither more nor
less than that he was a monstrous coward—that he would have
been the bravest man of the world, but for the weakness that
always made him fly from danger. It was in the form of allegory
that the satirical poet stigmatised a man in authority. You see
nothing in the treatment of Hector by Achilles, but what will

confirm this opinion. He will not fight with him himself, but
makes his myrmidons do so. What is this, but the case of one
of our own plumed and scented nobles, who procures his foe,
whom he fears, to be murdered by the Biscayan bully whom he
buys?—But, let me read thee a passage from my commentaries
bearing very much upon this history.”