THE HUGUENOTS.
About the middle of the sixteenth century a great religious quarrel
arose in France, because some of the people wished to leave the Roman
Catholic Church and found a new religion. These people were called
Huguenots, and the king of France and the priests of the Church, and
most of the great noblemen, thought they would be doing a very nice and
good thing if they could make the Huguenots come back into the Church
again and be satisfied with their old faith. So many cruel things were
done by the king and his ministers, and the poor Huguenots had a very
hard time of it. They were shot and burned and hanged--men and women and
little helpless children; and the more Huguenots were murdered, the more
the king thought that he was doing God good service.
But there was one great nobleman who thought the Huguenots were right,
and joined himself to them and said he would give his money and his life
to protect them. This man was Admiral Coligny; and as he was very rich
and powerful he decided to send the Huguenots away from France to
America, where they would be able to live peaceably, without fear of the
cruel king.
So Coligny sent out some ships, carrying as many Huguenots as they
could, to the New World, and every one thought that the trouble would be
nicely settled in this way and that France was well rid of the
Huguenots.
The company was commanded by John Ribault, a very good and brave man,
and one not likely to be discouraged, for it needed a brave heart to
lead these people so far from their loved France and find homes for them
in a strange land. The voyage was very long and so stormy that it seemed
sometimes they would never reach America at all, and they grew very
tired of the sight of the sea, always so gray and threatening, looking
like a great monster ready to devour them all; but at last, one
beautiful spring day, as they stood looking wearily toward the west, a
very fair and pleasant country met their view.
A shining, level beach stretched up and down, and behind this the land
was green with great trees whose waving branches seemed to nod a welcome
to the strangers. As far as they could see this beautiful forest was all
that met their eyes, not a sign of hill or mountain; and the next day,
when, after sailing along the coast a little way, they entered the mouth
of a deep, broad river, and saw the fresh meadow grass, and smelled the
perfume of the shrubs and flowers, they thought that they had been
indeed led to a pleasant home, and hoped that their troubles were over.
It was on the first day of May, 1562, that they landed on the banks of
this river, and for that reason they called it the river of May--it is
now known as the St. John. The Indians, no doubt, wondered very much to
see these white strangers, but they received them very kindly and showed
them by signs and gifts that they wished to be friends; they brought
them finely-dressed skins, and leather girdles, and strings of pearls,
and golden ornaments; and the French gave in return some colored beads
and shining knives, and--most wonderful of all to the Indians--squares
of tiny looking-glasses. These seemed very beautiful to the simple
natives, who had never seen their faces before except in the clear
waters of their lakes and rivers.
The second day after the landing Ribault set up a stone column on which
were engraved the arms of France. He meant by this that he claimed all
that country for the king of France, and for any Frenchmen who might
want to come there and live, and that no other European nation would be
allowed to settle there without his permission. The Indians did not in
the least know what the stone column meant; they did not suppose for a
moment that these kind-looking strangers, whom they had received so
cordially, meant in return to take possession of their land just as much
as if it had been given them by their chiefs. But this is just what the
French did mean to do, and if the Indians had been unfriendly there
would have been a great deal of trouble; but the natives of Florida were
among the most peaceable of the Indian tribes, and they and the
new-comers got along very peaceably and grew very fond of one another.
Everywhere in America the Indians were treated better by the French than
by any other nation, and wherever the French settled the Indians soon
became their friends. So the Huguenots took possession of their new home
and found living there very pleasant, indeed; and in fact they could
scarcely have chosen a better place than this fair land, with its
abundance of fruits, its rivers full of fish, and its forests abounding
in animals, valuable for food and skins. But although this pleasant
country seemed almost like heaven after the troubles they had had in
France, still they were not satisfied. They noticed that the Indians
wore ornaments of gold and silver, and that they had great strings of
pearls and turquoises; and these things seemed, in the eyes of the
French, of more value than anything else. And then, too, they had heard
marvellous stories of Cibola, a place on the Pacific coast, where there
were great cities with houses built of lime and stone, and whose
inhabitants wore garments of wool and cloth, and decked themselves with
turquoises and emeralds, and all their household utensils were made of
gold and silver, and the walls of their temples were covered with gold,
and their altars were studded with precious stones. A wonderful place
was Cibola, containing, perhaps, a valley of diamonds and rivers of
gleaming pearls. So they decided not to stay quietly here, but to look
around a little and see if they could not find a place as rich in gold
and silver and precious stones as Cibola itself.
They sailed up the Atlantic coast and found the country just as
beautiful and promising as their first view of it, and found also the
same kind welcome from the natives. By and by they entered the harbor of
Port Royal, and it was decided that this would be a good place to make a
settlement, leaving some of their number there while the rest returned
with Ribault to France to report the success they had met with. It,
perhaps, would have been better if they had all gone back home, for a
very sorry time had those who were left behind. Instead of making
provision for the future, they thought only of the gold and silver they
might get, and depended entirely on the Indians for their food; and
although the Indians were most generous, still their food gave out at
last and the Frenchmen had nothing to do but wait for Ribault's return.
But as the months passed and he did not come, they set off for France in
a small vessel they had built, and after almost perishing of hunger and
thirst, were picked up by an English ship and taken on their way. The
feeble were sent on to France, but all the strong were taken to England
as prisoners; and so ended the first attempt of the Huguenots to settle
America.
But Coligny decided to try again, and in 1567 another company of
Huguenots left France under the command of René de Laudonnière. They had
a pleasant voyage and arrived in June at the River of May. As soon as
they stepped on the shore they were greeted with shouts of welcome from
the Indians, who came crowding around crying out Ami! Ami! the only
French word they remembered.
How glad they were to hear this familiar greeting. Like their friends
who had been there before, they felt that this pleasant place would be a
haven of rest from the stormy times in France. Then Satournia, the
Indian chief, led them to the stone pillar that had been set up two
years before, and which they found crowned with wreaths of bay and
having at its foot little baskets full of corn which the Indians had
placed there. The simple-hearted natives kissed the stone column
reverently and begged the French to do the same. And to please them the
Huguenots also kissed the pillar on which were engraved the lilies of
France, and it seemed for a moment as if they were back in their own
loved homes again, peaceful and happy, and that all the trouble that the
cruel king had caused them was only an ugly dream.
The next day the chief gave the new-comers a stately reception, for
these Indian chiefs believed just as much in ceremony as did the great
kings of Europe, and the Europeans who came to America were very much
surprised to find such respect paid to rank and station. But this
reception was something very different from any they had ever seen at a
French court, gorgeous as they always were. Instead of a glittering
throne and tapestry of cloth of gold, they saw a beautiful bower of
trees and flowers. Dark pines and drooping palms formed a great,
graceful arch, which was made still more beautiful with clusters of
shining orange blossoms and heavy white magnolias. All the grass beneath
was strewn with flowers, and the air was sweet with perfume, and
thrilled with the songs of birds. The little Huguenot children, looking
on this wonderful scene, thought it must be very pleasant to live in
such a place as this, where one might have fruits and flowers all the
time, and where even the grown-up men and women had time to take part in
such festivities as they had never shared before, except on very rare
_fête_ days; and they looked shyly at their little dark-colored Indian
friends and held their hands out to them, and they all clasped hands and
stood there a very happy circle. Satournia stood under the shadow of
the arbor and received his guests with great courtesy. He was clothed in
skins so finely dressed that they were as smooth and soft as satin, and
painted with strange pictures in bright colors, and so well were the
pictures drawn and colored that the French said that no painter, no
matter how great he might be, could find fault with them. And then the
Indians gave their guests beautiful gifts, but the greatest gift of all
was a great wedge of silver which was the present of Athore, the son of
Satournia. Athore was a very handsome youth, and had gentle manners and
a noble disposition; and as he stood there under the trees and offered
the silver wedge to Laudonnière, the Frenchman thought he had never seen
a more princely boy than this Indian lad, who had been brought up in the
wilds of Florida.
The sight of gold and silver made the French very eager to leave this
place, in search of the rich mines which the Indians said were in the
interior of the country; and one party after another was sent out to
find the treasures that they so much desired. The Indians were
constantly telling wonderful stories of the wealth of other tribes, and
advising the French to undertake expeditions against them. It was said
that the Indians of one tribe wore complete armor of gold and silver,
and that the women had ornaments and girdles of the same precious
metals; and another tribe was so rich that they had a great pit full of
gold for which they had no use; and above all, far back from the sea,
were the Apalichi Mountains, which were as full of gold as the trees
were full of blossoms.
But by and by the French began to suspect that the Indians were cheating
them, and that they only told these stories in the hope that they would
go away and leave them undisturbed. So fewer parties were sent out, and
it was thought that they might better have planted corn and wheat than
to have wasted so much time in a vain search for gold. By and by the men
became dissatisfied and said that it was Laudonnière's fault that they
had not done differently, and blamed him for not having provided for the
safety of his people; and one of the men said that he had discovered by
magic a mine of gold and silver which he would lead the rest to if they
would kill Laudonnière, so that they might get the keys of the
storehouse and provide themselves with food for the journey.
But this was not allowed by the officers, who loved Laudonnière too well
to want to see him killed; but it was only the beginning of many plots
and a long time of disappointment and discouragement, and it would have
ended by their all going back to France again, just as the first
Huguenots had done, had not an English fleet appeared, commanded by Sir
John Hawkins, who gave them provisions enough to last them until they
could get back to France. But before they sailed another fleet appeared,
and as the ships came nearer they saw the French flag floating from the
masts, and knew that help had come at last. This fleet was commanded by
Ribault himself, and now it seemed that all their troubles would be
over.
Ribault now took command, and knowing by experience that the search for
gold and silver would only be vain and idle, began, instead, to make
preparations for the coming winter, and to provide against the attacks
of unfriendly Indians. And now it seemed that having been taught by
their sufferings that only honest labor and good-will among themselves
could bring comfort and peace, they really began this time in the right
way.
But hardly had a week passed when the Huguenots learned that they were
now to meet an enemy far more terrible than the Indians, and that all
the trouble they had passed through would not compare with what was
coming. It had been told in Spain that Coligny had sent out a party to
relieve the Huguenots in Florida, and as the Spaniards were all Roman
Catholics the news was received by them with anger and hatred, and they
decided to send immediately a Spanish force to Florida in hope of
reaching there before Ribault arrived. In this they did not succeed, as
Ribault had already brought hope and comfort to the colonists before the
Spanish ships appeared at the mouth of the River of May.
Ribault had left four of his ships there, and when they saw the
Spaniards they sailed off to sea, knowing that was their only chance of
safety. The Spaniards were commanded by Pedro Menendez. He told the
captains of the French ships that he had come there by order of the King
of Spain to burn and destroy all the Huguenots in the country. This
terrible news reached Ribault, who was at the fort up the river, at the
same time with the information that Menendez had landed his troops a few
miles southward and was preparing to attack the fort. Ribault
immediately decided to take the three ships he had with him and sail
down to the mouth of the river, and with the help of the other French,
who had come back as soon as Menendez left the River of May, fall upon
the Spaniards before they had time to build a fort and destroy them.
Laudonnière did not approve of this plan, as he said the ships might be
scattered by sudden storms; but Ribault insisted that his plan was
wisest, so he took all the best soldiers and sailed down the river,
leaving all the women and children and sick at the fort, with only a few
men to defend them. But the ships were scattered by storms just as
Ribault was ready to make the attack, and Menendez then decided to march
at once through the forests and reach Fort Caroline before Ribault could
return there.
It was a very bold undertaking, as no one knew the way through the
forests and swamps; but, as they were about to start, two Indians
appeared, and were made to serve as guides, while a French deserter said
he would show them where the fort could be most easily attacked. They
marched two days through swamps and woods, drenched with cold rains and
suffering from hunger; but their fear of Menendez kept them from turning
back, and on the night of the second day they reached the fort, and
halting before it stood knee-deep in water waiting for the daylight.
The storm had driven the French sentinels into the fort, and only one
man was found at his post, when, at daylight, the Spaniards sent a small
party to see if it were safe for them to advance. This man was
immediately put to death, and then shouting "Santiago!" their terrible
war-cry, the Spaniards rushed into the fort and began their work of
destruction. They killed every one whom they could find--old men and
feeble women and innocent children--and only those escaped who were able
to steal away in the gray twilight of the early morning and hide in the
woods and swamps.
And then Menendez, who thought he was doing God service by this cruel
deed, raised a cross above the dead bodies, on which was written,
"I do this not as to Frenchmen, but as to Lutherans."
Which meant that he was not fighting against the French nation, but only
against the Huguenots, who were also called Lutherans by the Spaniards
and Germans.
Among those who escaped was Laudonnière. He was found in the swamp in
the morning, and with the others who were left sailed for France in the
two vessels that Ribault had left.
And now Menendez turned his attention to Ribault and his companions, who
had been wrecked on an island. Ribault's party was divided by an inlet
of the sea, and Menendez first attacked one part and murdered them all,
and then attacked the remainder, among whom was Ribault himself, and
binding their hands behind them led them to the place where their
companions lay dead. Then Menendez gave them one chance for life. All
who would promise to return to the Roman Catholic Church would be
spared. But Ribault and his followers would not accept life on such
terms; they answered that they were all Protestants. So Menendez gave
the signal and all these Frenchmen were murdered also, and their bodies
left exposed on the shore.
And then Menendez went through the swamp and forests of Florida hunting
the Huguenots who were still at large, and finally after much trouble he
succeeded in killing the most of them, so there were few Huguenots left
except the fifers, drummers, and trumpeters, who were spared because
they might be of service. Then Menendez returned to the settlement he
had made, and with great pomp and ceremony took possession of the
country in the name of the King of Spain. And then they sung the _Te
Deum_ and knelt down and kissed the crucifix, and were well satisfied
with themselves, thinking they had done a great and glorious thing.
The Indians looked on wonderingly. It no doubt seemed very strange to
them to see these two Christian nations so easier to kill one another.
But the chief received the Spaniards kindly and gave them his house to
live in, and then a fort was built, and from this humble beginning grew
the city of St. Augustine, the oldest town in the United States.
The news of the massacre of the Huguenots reached France, but for a long
time it seemed that nothing would be done to avenge it. The king cared
very little how many Frenchmen where killed if they were not Roman
Catholics, and the Huguenots themselves had no power to raise money and
arms. But at length a brave soldier, Dominique de Gourgues, returning to
France from foreign service, learned the terrible fate of his
fellow-countrymen and resolved to punish their murderers. It is not
known whether De Gourgues was a Catholic or Huguenot, but he cared
little for difference of religion where the honor of his country was
concerned. He said nothing of his plan, fearing the king might hinder
him from carrying it out. He gave out that he was going on an expedition
to the coast of Africa, and selling his estates and borrowing money from
his friends he left France, August, 1564, with three ships, keeping his
real destination a secret even from his own men. He really did go to the
coast of Africa, and from there to the West Indies, and it was not until
the next spring that he made known the real object of his leaving
France. His ships were lying in a harbor at the western extremity of
Cuba, and calling his men around him De Gourgues declared his intention
of going to Florida and avenging the death of his countrymen, and asked
how many of his soldiers were willing to accompany him. Not a man
refused, and De Gourgues had, in fact, great difficulty in persuading
them to wait until favorable weather for sailing, so eager were they to
reach Florida and begin their work of vengeance. Every man felt, as De
Gourgues repeated the story of the murder at Fort Caroline, that France
had indeed waited too long to avenge this fearful crime.
De Gourgues sailed from Cuba, and as he passed the Spanish force at the
mouth of the River of May, they saluted his little fleet, thinking that
the ships were Spanish. He returned the salute, and then stood out to
sea again, in order to deceive the Spaniards, and going north a few
leagues entered the mouth of a small river. The Indians, thinking that
the strangers were Spaniards, rushed down to the beach with shouts and
yells of hatred, and prepared to prevent their landing. But no sooner
did they see that the new-comers were French than they fell on their
knees and kissed their hands and gave them every possible sign of
welcome. And their joy was increased when they learned that they had
come to make war upon the Spaniards, whom they feared and hated.
Satournia, the old friend of Ribault and Laudonnière, now welcomed their
successor with the same marks of friendship he had shown them, and
declared himself willing to join all his forces with De Gourgues in his
attack upon the Spaniards. All the Indian warriors were called in, and
at a solemn meeting they promised faith and help to the French, and as a
proof of their good intentions the chief placed his wife and son into
the hands of the French.
Then at a council of war they agreed that the French should go by sea
and the Indians by land to a certain place farther south, where they
would join forces and march to St. Augustine.
They met at the place appointed, and De Gourgues leading the French, and
Olotocara, a nephew of Satournia, the Indians, they pushed forward
toward the fort. As the Spaniards had done three years before, they had
to wade through swamps and streams, and make their way through marshy
forest lands, and their feet were bruised and bleeding, and their
clothing torn, and their hands wounded with briers and nettles; but they
did not care, but went on all through the night, and scarcely felt weary
when at dawn they stood in front of the Spanish fort on the north bank
of the River of May.
Only one sentinel stood there as the French and Indians came up in the
gray light of the early day, and as he saw the stern faces of the enemy
he no doubt thought of that other morning, three years before, when he
had stood in the drenching rain waiting for the daylight to lighten the
walls of Fort Caroline. But he was a brave man, and shouting that the
French were upon them he turned his gun upon the enemy, and stood there
bravely to defend the fort. But Olotocara springing upon the platform
ran the sentinel through with a pike, and when the frightened Spaniards
rushed out they were met by French guns and Indian arrows, and knew that
the time for vengeance was come. They tried in vain to escape, and cried
in vain for mercy; they were only met with scorn and hatred, and so
swift and terrible was the work of destruction that in a few moments all
the Spaniards were killed except fifteen, who were found and held as
captives.
The Spaniards at the fort on the other side of the river knew that some
stronger enemy than the Indians must be attacking their friends, but
they could do little to help them, and in a short time were obliged to
think of defending themselves, for no sooner had De Gourgues completed
his work on the north bank than he took ship and sailed across the
river, the Indians swimming by the side of the vessels in their
eagerness to reach the fort. The Spaniards left their works and fled
into the forest, where the Indians hunted them like beasts, and where
their cry for quarter was met with the same pitiless response that had
greeted the ears of their comrades. Fifteen of them were bound and their
lives spared for a short time, and the rest were speedily murdered.
Still another fort remained to be taken. The Spaniards sent out from it
a man disguised as an Indian to find out how many French and Indians
there were; but the quick eyes of Olotocara saw through the cheat and
the man was taken prisoner. There were three hundred Spaniards in the
fort, and they might easily have overcome De Gourgues, who only had
about a hundred men; but the Spaniards thought his force was far
greater, and when, two days after, he appeared in the woods behind the
fort, the Spaniards thought that a great part of his soldiers were still
on the way, and sent out a party to scatter his forces before help could
arrive. But De Gourgues managed to place some of his men between the
fort and the Spaniards who had left it, and thus they were in danger of
the fire from the fort as well as from the enemy in front. The French
fell upon them with their swords, and not a man was left. The Spaniards
in the fort, discouraged at this, sought refuge in the woods; but few if
any escaped. Still the French cried no quarter, and still the Indians
remembered the wrongs they had suffered and rejoiced that their enemies
had fallen into their hands. When the dreadful work of death was over,
De Gourgues hauled down the flag of Spain and raised the French banners
on the fort, and then he had the prisoners brought before him, and told
them he had come there to avenge the insult which France had received at
their hands three years before. Then they were led to the same trees on
which Menendez had hanged his prisoners, and over their heads was
placed this inscription, "I do this not as unto Spaniards, but as unto
traitors, robbers, and murderers."
And then they were all hanged, and De Gourgues thought his revenge was
complete. The Indians were satisfied too. "I am willing now to live
longer, for I have seen the French return and the Spaniards killed,"
said an old squaw, and that was the feeling of all her nation. De
Gourgues did not remain long in Florida, and the Indians were very sorry
to have him go, and parted from him with many kind words and promises of
friendship; and the French, too, parted with regret from their
dark-skinned friends, and promised soon to return and make their home
among them, and so the fleet sailed away again, and reached France in
safety, although the Spanish king hearing of the massacre of his
subjects had sent a force to prevent its return home. But De Gourgues
found that his brave deed was not approved by the King of France, and he
soon had to leave court and live very quietly, lest his enemies should
find out where he was. But everywhere throughout the world he was
looked upon by the Protestants as a hero, and long years afterward the
Indians in Florida remembered affectionately the man who had so bravely
taken up the cause of the unfortunate Huguenots.