Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 73, November, 1863 by Various

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 73, November, 1863

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"Followers of Ribaut," answered the swimmer, "Viceroy of the King of
France."

"Are you Catholics or Lutherans?"

"All Lutherans."

A brief dialogue ensued, during which the Adelantado declared his name
and character. The Frenchman swam back to his companions, but soon
returned, and asked safe conduct for his captain and four other
gentlemen who wished to hold conference with the Spanish general.
Menendez gave his word for their safety, and, returning to the shore,
sent his boat to bring them over. On their landing, he met them very
courteously. His followers were kept at a distance, so disposed behind
hills and clumps of bushes as to give an exaggerated idea of their
force,--a precaution the more needful as they were only about sixty in
number, while the French, says Solis, were above two hundred, though
Menendez declares that they did not exceed a hundred and forty. The
French officer told him the story of their shipwreck, and begged him to
lend them a boat to aid them in crossing the rivers which lay between
them and a fort of their King, whither they were making their way.

Then came again the ominous question,--

"Are you Catholics or Lutherans?"

"We are Lutherans."

"Gentlemen," pursued Menendez, "your fort is taken, and all in it put to
the sword." And in proof of his declaration he caused articles plundered
from Fort Caroline to be shown to the unhappy petitioners. He then left
them, to breakfast with his officers, first ordering food to be placed
before them. His repast over, he returned to them.

"Are you convinced now," he asked, "that what I have told you is true?"

The French captain assented, and implored him to lend them ships in
which to return home. Menendez answered, that he would do so willingly,
if they were Catholics, and if he had ships to spare, but he had none.
The supplicants then expressed the hope, that, at least, they and their
followers would be allowed to remain with the Spaniards till ships could
be sent to their relief, since there was peace between the two nations,
whose kings were friends and brothers.

"All Catholics," retorted the Spaniard, "I will befriend; but as you are
of the New Sect, I hold you as enemies, and wage deadly war against you;
and this I will do with all cruelty [_crueldad_] in this country, where
I command as Viceroy and Captain-General for my King. I am here to plant
the holy gospel, that the Indians may be enlightened and come to the
knowledge of the holy Catholic faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, as the
Roman Church teaches it. If you will give up your arms and banners, and
place yourselves at my mercy, you may do so, and I will act towards you
as God shall give me grace. Do as you will, for other than this you can
have neither truce nor friendship with me."

Such were the Adelantado's words, as reported by a by-stander, his
admiring brother-in-law; and that they contain an implied assurance of
mercy has been held, not only by Protestants, but by Catholics and
Spaniards. The report of Menendez himself is more brief and sufficiently
equivocal:--

"I answered, that they could give up their arms and place themselves
under my mercy,--that I should do with them what our Lord should order;
and from that I did not depart, nor would I, unless God our Lord should
otherwise inspire."

One of the Frenchmen recrossed to consult with his companions. In two
hours he returned, and offered fifty thousand ducats to secure their
lives; but Menendez, says his brother-in-law, would give no pledges. On
the other hand, expressions in his own despatches point to the inference
that a virtual pledge was given, at least to certain individuals.

The starving French saw no resource but to yield themselves to his
mercy. The boat was again sent across the river. It returned, laden with
banners, arquebuses, swords, targets, and helmets. The Adelantado
ordered twenty soldiers to bring over the prisoners by tens at a time.
He then took the French officers aside behind a ridge of sand, two
gunshots from the bank. Here, with courtesy on his lips and murder
reeking at his heart, he said,--

"Gentlemen, I have but few men, and you are so many, that, if you were
free, it would be easy for you to take your satisfaction on us for the
people we killed when we took your fort. Therefore it is necessary that
you should go to my camp, four leagues from this place, with your hands
tied."

Accordingly, as each party landed, they were led out of sight behind the
sand-hill, and their hands tied at their backs with the match-cords of
the arquebuses,--though not before each had been supplied with food. The
whole day passed before all were brought together, bound and helpless,
under the eye of the inexorable Adelantado. But now Mendoza interposed.
"I was a priest," he says, "and had the bowels of a man." He asked,
that, if there were Christians, that is to say Catholics, among the
prisoners, they should be set apart. Twelve Breton sailors professed
themselves to be such; and these, together with four carpenters and
calkers, "of whom," writes Menendez, "I was in great need," were put on
board the boat and sent to St. Augustine. The rest were ordered to march
thither by land.

The Adelantado walked in advance till he came to a lonely spot, not far
distant, deep among the bush-covered hills. Here he stopped, and with
his cane drew a line in the sand. The sun was set when the captive
Huguenots, with their escort, reached the fatal goal thus marked out.
And now let the curtain drop; for here, in the name of Heaven, the
hounds of hell were turned loose, and the savage soldiery, like wolves
in a sheepfold, rioted in slaughter. Of all that wretched company, not
one was left alive.

"I had their hands tied behind their backs," writes the chief criminal,
"and themselves passed under the knife. It appeared to me, that, by thus
chastising them, God our Lord and your Majesty were served; whereby in
future they will leave us more free from their evil sect, to plant the
gospel in these parts."

Again Menendez returned triumphant to St. Augustine, and behind him
marched his band of butchers, steeped in blood to the elbows, but still
unsated. Great as had been his success, he still had cause for anxiety.
There was ill news of his fleet. Some of the ships were lost, others
scattered, or lagging tardily on their way. Of his whole force, but a
fraction had reached Florida, and of this a large part was still at Fort
Caroline. Ribaut could not be far off; and whatever might be the
condition of his shipwrecked company, their numbers would make them
formidable, unless taken at advantage. Urged by fear and fortified by
fanaticism, Menendez had well begun his work of slaughter; but rest for
him there was none; a darker deed was behind.

On the next day, Indians came with the tidings that at the spot where
the French had been found was now another party, still larger. This
murder-loving race looked with great respect on Menendez for his
wholesale butchery of the night before,--an exploit rarely equalled in
their own annals of massacre. On his part, he doubted not that Ribaut
was at hand. Marching with a hundred and fifty men, he reached the inlet
at midnight, and again, like a savage, ambushed himself on the bank. Day
broke, and he could plainly see the French on the farther side. They had
made a raft, which lay in the water, ready for crossing. Menendez and
his men showed themselves, when, forthwith, the French displayed their
banners, sounded drums and trumpets, and set their sick and starving
ranks in array of battle. But the Adelantado, regardless of this warlike
show, ordered his men to seat themselves at breakfast, while he with
three officers walked unconcernedly along the shore. His coolness had
its effect. The French blew a trumpet of parley, and showed a white
flag. The Spaniards replied. A Frenchman came out upon the raft, and,
shouting across the water, asked that a Spanish envoy should be sent
over.

"You have a raft," was the reply; "come yourselves."

An Indian canoe lay under the bank on the Spanish side. A French sailor
swam to it, paddled back unmolested, and presently returned, bringing
with him La Caille, Ribaut's sergeant-major. He told Menendez that the
French were three hundred and fifty in all, on their way to Fort
Caroline; and, like the officers of the former party, begged for boats
to aid them in crossing the river.

"My brother," said Menendez, "go and tell your general, that, if he
wishes to speak with me, he may come with four or six companions, and
that I pledge my word he shall go back safe."

La Caille returned; and Ribaut, with eight gentlemen, soon came over in
the canoe. Menendez met them courteously, caused wine and preserved
fruits to be placed before them,--he had come with well-stocked larder
on his errand of blood,--and next led Ribaut to the reeking Golgotha,
where, in heaps upon the sands, lay the corpses of his slaughtered
followers. Ribaut was prepared for the spectacle; La Caille had already
seen it; but he would not believe that Fort Caroline was taken till a
part of the plunder was shown him. Then, mastering his despair, he
turned to the conqueror.

"What has befallen us," he said, "may one day befall you." And, urging
that the kings of France and Spain were brothers and close friends, he
begged, in the name of that friendship, that the Spaniard would aid him
in conveying his followers home. Menendez gave him the same equivocal
answer that he had given the former party, and Ribaut returned to
consult with his officers. After three hours of absence, he came back in
the canoe, and told the Adelantado that some of his people were ready to
surrender at discretion, but that many refused.

"They can do as they please," was the reply.

In behalf of those who surrendered Ribaut offered a ransom of a hundred
thousand ducats.

"It grieves me much," said Menendez, "that I cannot accept it; for I
have great need of it."

Ribaut was much encouraged. Menendez could scarcely forego such a prize,
and he thought, says the Spanish narrator, that the lives of his
followers would now be safe. He asked to be allowed the night for
deliberation, and at sunset recrossed the river. In the morning he
reappeared among the Spaniards and reported that two hundred of his men
had retreated from the spot, but that the remaining one hundred and
fifty would surrender. At the same time he gave into the hands of
Menendez the royal standard and other flags, with his sword, dagger,
helmet, buckler, and his official seal, given him by Coligny. Menendez
directed an officer to enter the boat and bring over the French by
tens. He next led Ribaut among the bushes behind the neighboring
sand-hill, and ordered his hands to be bound fast. Then the scales fell
from the prisoner's eyes. Face to face his hideous fate rose up before
him. He saw his followers and himself entrapped,--the dupe of words
artfully framed to lure them to their ruin. The day wore on; and, as
band after band of prisoners was brought over, they were led behind the
sand-hill, out of sight from the farther shore, and bound like their
general. At length the transit was complete. With bloodshot eyes and
weapons bared, the fierce Spaniards closed around their victims.

"Are you Catholics or Lutherans? and is there any one among you who will
go to confession?"

Ribaut answered,--

"I and all here are of the Reformed Faith."

And he recited the Psalm, "_Domine, memento mei_."

"We are of earth," he continued, "and to earth we must return; twenty
years more or less can matter little"; and, turning to the Adelantado,
he bade him do his will.

The stony-hearted bigot gave the signal; and those who will may paint to
themselves the horrors of the scene. A few, however, were spared.

"I saved," writes Menendez, "the lives of two young gentlemen of about
eighteen years of age, as well as of three others, the fifer, the
drummer, and the trumpeter; and I caused Jean Ribaut with all the rest
to be passed under the knife, judging this to be expedient for the
service of God our Lord, and of your Majesty. And I consider it great
good fortune that he (Jean Ribaut) should be dead, for the King of
France could effect more with him and five hundred ducats than with
other men and five thousand, and he would do more in one year than
another in ten, for he was the most experienced sailor and naval
commander ever known, and of great skill in this passage to the Indies
and the coast of Florida. He was, besides, greatly liked in England, in
which kingdom his reputation is such that he was appointed
Captain-General of all the British fleet against the French Catholics in
the war between England and France some years ago."

Such is the sum of the Spanish accounts,--the self-damning testimony of
the author and abettors of the crime. A picture of lurid and awful
coloring; and yet there is reason to believe that the truth was more
hideous still. Among those spared was one Christophe le Breton, who was
carried to Spain, escaped to France, and told his story to Challeux.
Among those struck down in the carnage was a sailor of Dieppe, stunned
and left for dead under a heap of corpses. In the night he revived,
contrived to draw his knife, cut the cords that bound his hands, and
make his way to an Indian village. The Indians, though not without
reluctance, abandoned him to the Spaniards. The latter sold him as a
slave; but on his way in fetters to Portugal, the ship was taken by the
Huguenots, the sailor set free, and his story published in the narrative
of Le Moyne. When the massacre was known in France, the friends and
relatives of the victims sent to the King, Charles IX., a vehement
petition for redress; and their memorial recounts many incidents of the
tragedy. From these three sources is to be drawn the French version of
the story. The following is its substance:--

Famished and desperate, the followers of Ribaut were toiling northward
to seek refuge at Fort Caroline, when they found the Spaniards in their
path. Some were filled with dismay; others, in their misery, almost
hailed them as deliverers. La Caille, the sergeant-major, crossed the
river. Menendez met him with a face of friendship, and protested that he
would spare the lives of the shipwrecked men, sealing the promise with
an oath, a kiss, and many signs of the cross. He even gave it in
writing, under seal. Still, there were many among the French who would
not place themselves in his power. The most credulous crossed the river
in a boat. As each successive party landed, their hands were bound fast
at their backs; and thus, except a few who were set apart, they were all
driven towards the fort, like cattle to the shambles, with curses and
scurrilous abuse. Then, at sound of drums and trumpets, the Spaniards
fell upon them, striking them down with swords, pikes, and halberds.
Ribaut vainly called on the Adelantado to remember his oath. By the
latter's order, a soldier plunged a dagger into his heart; and Ottigny,
who stood near, met a similar fate. Ribaut's beard was cut off, and
portions of it sent in a letter to Philip II. His head was hewn into
four parts, one of which was displayed on the point of a lance at each
corner of Fort St. Augustine. Great fires were kindled, and the bodies
of the murdered burned to ashes.

Such is the sum of the French accounts. The charge of breach of faith
contained in them was believed by Catholics as well as Protestants, and
it was as a defence against this charge that the narrative of the
Adelantado's brother-in-law was published. That Ribaut, a man whose good
sense and bravery were both reputed high, should have submitted himself
and his men to Menendez without positive assurance of safety is scarcely
credible; nor is it lack of charity to believe that a miscreant so
savage in heart and so perverted in conscience would act on the maxim,
current among the bigots of the day, that faith ought not to be kept
with heretics.

It was night when the Adelantado again entered St. Augustine. Some there
were who blamed his cruelty; but many applauded. "Even if the French had
been Catholics,"--such was their language,--"he would have done right,
for, with the little provision we have, they would all have starved;
besides, there were so many of them that they would have cut our
throats."

And now Menendez again addressed himself to the despatch, already begun,
in which he recounts to the King his labors and his triumphs, a
deliberate and business-like document, mingling narratives of butchery
with recommendations for promotions, commissary details, and petitions
for supplies; enlarging, too, on the vast schemes of encroachment which
his successful generalship had brought to nought. The French, he says,
had planned a military and naval depot at Los Martires, whence they
would make a descent upon Havana, and another at the Bay of Ponce de
Leon, whence they could threaten Vera Cruz. They had long been
encroaching on Spanish rights at Newfoundland, from which a great arm of
the sea--the St. Lawrence--would give them access to the Moluccas and
other parts of the East Indies. Moreover, he adds in a later despatch,
by this passage they may reach the mines of Zacatecas and St. Martin, as
well as every part of the South Sea. And, as already mentioned, he urges
immediate occupation of Chesapeake Bay, which, by its supposed
water-communication with the St. Lawrence, would enable Spain to
vindicate her rights, control the fisheries of Newfoundland, and thwart
her rival in her vast designs of commercial and territorial
aggrandizement. Thus did France and Spain dispute the possession of
North America long before England became a party to the strife.

Some twenty days after Menendez returned to St. Augustine, the Indians,
enamored of carnage, and exulting to see their invaders mowed down, came
to tell him that on the coast southward, near Cape Canaveral, a great
number of Frenchmen were intrenching themselves. They were those of
Ribaut's party who had refused to surrender. Retreating to the spot
where their ships had been cast ashore, they were endeavoring to build a
vessel from the fragments of the wrecks.

In all haste Menendez despatched messengers to Fort Caroline,--named by
him San Mateo,--ordering a reinforcement of a hundred and fifty men. In
a few days they came. He added some of his own soldiers, and, with a
united force of two hundred and fifty, set forth, as he tells us, on
the second of November, pushing southward along the shore with such
merciless energy that some of his men dropped dead with wading night and
day through the loose sands. When, from behind their frail defences, the
French saw the Spanish pikes and partisans glittering into view, they
fled in a panic, and took refuge among the hills. Menendez sent a
trumpet to summon them, pledging his honor for their safety. The
commander and several others told the messenger that they would sooner
be eaten by the savages than trust themselves to Spaniards; and,
escaping, they fled to the Indian towns. The rest surrendered; and
Menendez kept his word. The comparative number of his own men made his
prisoners no longer dangerous. They were led back to St. Augustine,
where, as the Spanish writer affirms, they were well treated. Those of
good birth sat at the Adelantado's table, eating the bread of a homicide
crimsoned with the slaughter of their comrades. The priests essayed
their pious efforts, and, under the gloomy menace of the Inquisition,
some of the heretics renounced their errors. The fate of the captives
may be gathered from the indorsement, in the handwriting of the King, on
the back of the despatch of Menendez of December twelfth.

"Say to him," writes Philip II., "that, as to those he has killed, he
has done well, and as for those he has saved, they shall be sent to the
galleys."

Thus did Spain make good her claim to North America, and crush the upas
of heresy in its germ. Within her bounds the tidings were hailed with
acclamation, while in France a cry of horror and execration rose from
the Huguenots, and found an echo even among the Catholics. But the weak
and ferocious son of Catherine de Medicis gave no response. The victims
were Huguenots, disturbers of the realm, followers of Coligny, the man
above all others a thorn in his side. True, the enterprise was a
national enterprise, undertaken at the national charge, with royal
commission, and under the royal standard. True, it had been assailed in
time of peace by a power professing the closest amity. Yet Huguenot
influence, had prompted and Huguenot hands executed it. That influence
had now ebbed low; Coligny's power had waned; and the Spanish party was
ascendant. Charles IX., long vacillating, was fast subsiding into the
deathly embrace of Spain, for whom, at last, on the bloody eve of St.
Bartholomew, he was destined to become the assassin of his own best
subjects.

In vain the relatives of the slain petitioned him for redress; and had
the honor of the nation rested in the keeping of her king, the blood of
hundreds of murdered Frenchmen would have cried from the ground in vain.
But it was not so to be. Injured humanity found an avenger, and outraged
France a champion. Her chivalrous annals may be searched in vain for a
deed of more romantic daring than the vengeance of Dominic de Gourgue.

* * * * *

WEARINESS.

O little feet, that such long years
Must wander on through doubts and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load!
I, nearer to the way-side inn
Where toil shall cease and rest begin,
Am weary, thinking of your road.

O little hands, that, weak or strong,
Have still to serve or rule so long,
Have still so long to give or ask!
I, who so much with book and pen
Have toiled among my fellow-men,
Am weary, thinking of your task.

O little hearts, that throb and beat
With such impatient, feverish heat,
Such limitless and strong desires!
Mine, that, so long has glowed and burned,
With passions into ashes turned,
Now covers and conceals its fires.

O little souls, as pure and white
And crystalline as rays of light
Direct from heaven, their source divine!
Refracted through the mist of years,
How red my setting sun appears,
How lurid looks this soul, of mine!

* * * * *

MRS. LEWIS.

A STORY IN THREE PARTS.

PART III.

XI.

When we returned from our journey, Lulu was among the first to greet us,
and with a cordial animation quite unlike the gentle, dawdling way she
used to have. Indeed, I was struck the first evening with a new impulse,
and a healthful mental current, that gave glow and freshness to
everything she said. Mr. Lewis was gone to Cuba, she told us, and would
be away a month more, but "George" was with her continually, and the
days were all too short for what they had to do. She seemed to have
attacked all the arts and sciences simultaneously, and with an eagerness
very amusing to see. George had begun a numismatic collection for her,
and she had made out an historic table from the coins, writing down all
that was most important under each king's reign. George had brought home
some fine specimens of stones, and had interested her much in
mineralogy. George liked riding, and had taught her to ride; and she now
perpetually made her appearance in her riding-habit and little
jockey-cap, wishing she could do something for me here or there. George
moulded, and taught her to mould; and she was dabbling in clay and
plaster of Paris all the morning. George painted beautifully in
water-colors, and taught her to sketch from Nature, which she often did
now, in their rides, when the days were pleasant enough. George not only
thrummed a Spanish guitar, but liked singing; so music went on with
wonderful force and improvement. Nothing that George liked better than
botany, metaphysics, and micrology. And now Lulu was screaming at
dreadful dragons' heads on a pin's point, or delighted with
diamond-beetles and spiders' eyes. She fairly revelled in the new worlds
that were opened to her eager eye and hungry mind. No more long,
tiresome mornings now. Every hour was occupied. Intelligent smiles
dimpled her beautiful mouth; the weary, unoccupied, childish look
vanished from her eyes; and her talk was animated and animating. For
though she might not tell much that was new, she told it in a new way
and with the fresh light of recent experience. Thus she became in a
wonderfully short time a quite different woman from the Lulu of the
early winter.

We acknowledged that she was become an agreeable companion. In a few
weeks of home-education her soul had expanded to a tropical and rich
growth. This we were talking over one night, when Lulu had been with us,
and when George had come for her and extinguished us with his great
hearty laugh and abundant health and activity, as the sun's effulgence
does a house-candle.

"I don't like that Remington, either," said the minister, after we were
left in this state of darkness.

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