Chapter III

EARLY FRENCH SETTLERS IN NORTH AMERICA, AND THEIR STRUGGLE
WITH THE SPANISH IN FLORIDA.

THE work begun by Vasco Nuñez de Balboa in the great journey already related, which terminated so disastrously for himself, was completed in 1522 by the sailing round the globe of one of the ships of the Magellan expedition, thus proving the existence of a southern oceanic passage to the East, and stimulating the eagerness with which the European nations sought to find a shorter north-western route. The French, hitherto indifferent to what was going on in the New World, seem now to have been suddenly aroused to a sense of the fact that the English, Portuguese, and Spanish were contending, not, as was at first supposed, for the possession of scattered and unimportant islands, but for that of a vast continent of as yet undetermined extent; and Francis I., then smarting under the loss of the Imperial Crown he had so eagerly coveted, resolved to make up for the priority of his rivals in the field by new discoveries in the North. “Why,” he is reported to have said, “should the Kings of Spain and Portugal divide all America between them without suffering me to take a share as their brother? I would fain see the article in Adam’s will that bequeaths that vast inheritance to them.”

The first result of this new interest in the affairs of the West was the fitting out of an expedition, consisting of four ships, under the command of Giovanni Verrazano, a native of Florence, already mentioned. Of these four vessels, three were disabled almost before they set sail, leaving to the sole survivor, the _Dauphine_, the whole burden of the trip. In that vessel Verrazano left the Madeiras in January, 1524, with the intention of reaching the American coast somewhere above Florida, and thence sailing due north till he came to the North-West Passage.

The first part of this programme was duly carried out, the _Dauphine_ having made land about 34° N. lat., whence she cruised down the coast in search of a harbor some two hundred leagues, thus passing the most northerly point visited by the Spaniards. The natives of the coasts, belonging probably to the same race as those who had so hospitably received De Ayllon before his real character appeared, crowded to the beach to stare at what must have seemed to them a strange monster of the deep; and when they found the “monster” was, after all, the servant of men such as themselves, they beckoned their visitors to land.

Illustration: MOUTH OF THE HUDSON RIVER.

One sailor alone had the courage to respond to the invitation, and he was nearly drowned in attempting to swim to the shore. Picked up in an exhausted condition by the Indians, he was, however, restored by their tender treatment. Fires were lighted, by which his clothes were dried; and when he was completely restored, he was allowed to return to his comrades, who had all the while been watching the proceedings on shore in horror-struck silence, expecting the lighting of the fires to be the preliminary of a human sacrifice. In the hands of a true leader of men this little episode might have been made the foundation of lasting and, eventually, beneficial relations between the Indians and their guests. Verrazano, however, was no exception to the explorers of his day; he rewarded those who had saved the life of his sailor by carrying off a young boy as a slave, and then, weighing anchor, he set sail with his solitary prize for the North, arriving, after a long cruise, in what is supposed to have been the harbor of New York. Then, as now, though its aspect is so materially changed, the mouth of the Hudson presented a beautiful appearance, with what are now known as Staten and Long Islands on one side, and the magnificent sheet of water flowing into the sea on the other. Instead of the stately vessels and trim little gun-boats which now guard the approach to the capital of the Metropolis, Indian canoes were shooting here and there on the sunlighted waters, their rowers pausing again and again to look at the strange intruder from the South.

Verrazano remained at anchor off the mouth of the Hudson for about fifteen days, receiving visits on board from the natives――a kindly, cheerful race, with regular features, clear complexions, long, straight hair, and good figures. Then steering up the shores of New England for some forty or fifty leagues, he came to the harbor of Nova Scotia, where he would gladly have rested awhile, but finding his provisions failing him, and the Indians meeting his advances with coldness and suspicion, he turned the _Dauphine’s_ head eastward-ho, arriving at Dieppe after an absence of only six months.

Illustration: JACQUES CARTIER.

More important was the work done by Verrazano’s successor, Jacques Cartier, of St. Malo, who, at the instigation of Admiral ♦Cabot, was sent out in April, 1534, with two ships of about 130 men, by Francis I., with orders to found a colony somewhere in the North-west. Acting on these somewhat vague instructions, Cartier first made the land at Bona Vista Bay (N. lat. 48° 50′, W. long. 53° 20′), on the eastern coast of Newfoundland. With a knowledge of geography scarcely to have been expected at that early date, Cartier lost no time in steering, first north and then north-west, for the straits of Belle Isle, dividing Newfoundland from the Mainland; and, though his course was considerably impeded by the ice, he passed without accident into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, crossing which, in a south-westerly direction, he entered a bay on the coast of Canada, which he named Chaleur (N. lat. 49° 55′, W. long. 65° 25′), on account of the heat.

♦ ‘Chabot’ replaced with ‘Cabot’

Landing on the shores of what he describes as an inviting country ――though the natives were half-naked savages, living on raw fish and flesh, and with no houses but the canoe tents already noticed in speaking of the discoveries of the Northmen――Cartier took possession of the land in the name of the King of France, setting up a huge cross upon the beach, with the _Fleur de Lys_ carved upon it, in spite of the deprecatory gestures of the natives, who well knew what the proceeding portended.

By dint of the exercise of a good deal more tact than was usually shown by early explorers, Cartier disarmed the suspicions of the natives, and even persuaded their chief to allow him to take his two sons, Taignoagny and Domagaia, to France, for which country he sailed shortly afterward, to report progress and receive further instructions.

Illustration: CARTIER’S SHIP.

Pleased with the description given of the new country, Francis I. sent Cartier back in the following spring with three well-manned vessels under his command, and full powers to plant French colonies wherever he chose, also to prosecute the search for a short cut to the East, and to convert the natives to the true faith.

With the two Indian lads――whose full confidence he seems to have won――beside him on the deck of the foremost vessel, the future founder of Quebec arrived at the mouth of a large river, the St. Lawrence of the present day, on the 10th August, 1534; and being informed by the natives that its name was Hochelaga, and that it came from a far country which no man had ever seen, he determined to ascend it, thinking that it might perhaps be that strait leading to the Indian Ocean which had so long been sought in vain.

Naming the new river the St. Lawrence, in honor of the saint on whose festival day he first entered it, Cartier made his way slowly over its broad waters till he came to the point at which it receives the Saguenay, beyond which he anchored off a little island, which he called the Isle aux Coudres, on account of the hazel-trees abounding on it. Eight leagues further on, the island now known as the Isle d’Orleans was reached, and here the natives, reassured by the sight of their two fellow-countrymen, flocked on deck, eager to hear of their adventures in the strange land beyond the sea. Delighted with their accounts of the kindness shown them in France, Donnacona, the chief or lord of Saguenay, embraced Cartier, and swore eternal friendship with him and his people, little dreaming that the advent of the French meant the death of his own race as a nation.

Illustration: ISLANDS AT THE MOUTH OF THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER.

From the Isle d’Orleans the French vessel sailed on, past the mouth of the St. Croix, now the St. Charles, to the village of Stadacona, on the site of the modern Quebec; thence, undeterred by various stratagems of the natives, intended to intimidate the explorers, to the more important town of Hochelaga, where Montreal now stands; and then past Huron, a settlement of some fifty huts, inclosed within a triple barrier of palisades.

Landing at Hochelaga, among crowds of gesticulating natives, Cartier and his chief followers were led into the public square, where they were at once beset by women and girls, who brought children in their arms to be touched by the white men from beyond the sea. In the center of the square lay the king of the land, Agouhanna, a martyr to the terrible disease of paralysis. Looking up into the face of his visitor, the monarch, with pathetic confidence in his omnipotence, begged that he might be freed from his sufferings; and Cartier, touched by the appeal, kneeled down and rubbed the poor shrunken limbs of the sufferer, receiving in return for the momentary relief thus afforded a present of the royal sufferer’s own crown of porcupine quills.

The ready help given to their leader was the signal for the bringing into the market-place by the natives of all the lame, halt, blind, and aged; and Cartier, finding himself the center of an eager group, could think of nothing better to do than to pray for them all, so he read them a chapter from the Bible, and then kneeled down and addressed a petition to Heaven on their behalf in his own language, the Indians imitating every gesture, under the idea that some magic spell was being performed. We can imagine their disappointment when no immediate result ensued from the ceremony; and we are glad that the explorer showed so much consideration for their ignorance as to distribute presents of knives, beads, rings, etc., among them, which, we are told, they received with joy.

This town of Hochelaga, which is so prominent in Cartier’s narrative, disappeared from history soon after his day; whether it was annihilated under the attack of some rival tribe, or destroyed through some tremendous physical convulsion, history does not tell us. But its name has been revived, and invested with a new interest, in our day; for the geologist――as truly an explorer as the geographer――has been busy upon the site of the ancient town, and has discovered many valuable remains of its strange, forgotten life, which confirm and complete the account given by Cartier. Principal Dawson, of Montreal, in his book on _Fossil Men_, tells us that he has in his possession from 150 to 200 fragments of earthen vessels found upon the spot where Hochelaga stood; and there is abundant evidence to prove that its inhabitants were people of no mean mechanical skill. For instance, traces have been found of pots, in the necks of which are appliances for suspending them, so that the suspending cord might not be burned. Various relics testify also to their artistic feeling, most notable among which are tobacco-pipes, upon which much fine work must have been spent; their peculiar attention to the pipe being perhaps traceable rather to their reverence for the worship in which it had an important place, than to the lighter fancy which dotes upon meerschaums now-a-days. Their food was that which their surroundings provided; and Dr. Dawson says that, among the remains excavated, bones of nearly all the wild mammals have been found, as well as of numerous birds and fishes. Suspicions of cannibalism are roused by the discovery of part of a woman’s jaw among kitchen refuse; and these are, perhaps, increased by the fact that the Hochelagan skulls which have been discovered bespeak a temperament undoubtedly fierce and cruel; but on this point there is nothing to lead to certain conclusions. It might be interesting to follow out this wonderful story of Hochelagan life further, but to do so here would be aside from the purpose of this chapter, and we therefore content ourselves with adding, that there are not wanting traces of a religious sense, simple and rude it may be, but real and even beautiful, among the Canadians of Cartier’s day; while the tokens which accompany the dead are such as to show that the hope of immortality had shed its soft light upon their hearts.

Illustration: MONTREAL.

Naming a hill overlooking Hochelaga Mont Royal――hence the modern name of Montreal――in memory of his visit, Cartier soon returned to the mouth of the St. Charles, where he established his winter quarters and remained until the spring, when, having invited Donnacona and nine other natives on board his vessel, he set sail for France, carrying them with him. All but one little girl died soon after the arrival of the fleet at St. Malo, in July, 1536; but their captain considered he had more than repaid them for their sufferings by their admission into the Roman Catholic Church before the end, and was undeterred by any fear of vengeance for his cruelty to them from undertaking, in 1540, yet another trip to Canada, as the new country was now beginning to be called.

The new expedition consisted of five vessels, and was originally placed under the command of Jean François de la Roque, Seigneur de Roberval of Picardy; but at the last moment, for reasons variously given, he requested Cartier to take his place. Arrived for a third time at his old anchorage off Stadacona, Cartier was at first well received by the natives, who expected now to welcome back their chief and his warriors; but when they heard that they were dead, grief and horror filled their hearts. No longer were they willing to look upon the white men as their brethren, or to aid their settlement among them; and though no open hostilities were resorted to, Cartier found his position throughout the winter so very far from pleasant, that he set sail for France as soon as the weather permitted, meeting De Roberval with reinforcements for the colony――which ought to have been founded――in the harbor of St. John’s, Newfoundland.

The Sieur de Roberval, indignant at the failure of his deputy, ordered him to return to the St. Lawrence at once, but Cartier continued his course to his native land in the night, leaving the original commander of the expedition to complete his work as best he could. The new-comers sailed up the St. Lawrence as far as the St. Charles, but De Roberval was almost immediately recalled to France to aid his sovereign in his struggle with Charles V.; and though he left thirty of his men behind him, they failed to gain any real foothold in the country, and returned home in the ensuing spring, some say under the escort of Cartier himself, who was sent to their relief.

Thus, ruined on the very eve of success by a petty act of oppression, ended alike the first attempt at colonization by the French in North America and the first exploration of the St. Lawrence, which, though it formed no short cut to the Indies, was yet destined, as the largest body of fresh water in the world, to play a mighty part in history as a highway from the coast to the interior of North America.

Illustration: COLIGNY.

Very different to that of any of his predecessors was the character of our next hero of North American discovery. Driven to bay in France by the long series of treacheries and cruelties which culminated in the awful massacre of St. Bartholomew on the 24th of August, 1572, the French Huguenots hoped to find in the New World a refuge from religious persecution; and after the failure of an attempt to found a colony in Rio Janeiro in 1555, the good Admiral Coligny sent out an expedition to that “long coast of the West India called La Florida,” under the command of John Ribault, of Dieppe.

Trained in the stern school of adversity, Ribault started on his voyage prepared to face any amount of danger and privation in carrying out his mission of founding a little Huguenot Church in the wilderness. He was accompanied by many heretic noblemen imbued with the same spirit, and by a little band of well-tried troops. After a stormy voyage, the little fleet came in sight of the coast of Florida, in about N. lat. 29½°, on the 27th April, 1562, and, after a brief halt, sailed northward till it reached the mouth of “a goodly and great river,” the modern St. John’s, to which the name of the “River of May” was in the first case given.

Entering the River of May in high delight with the beauty of the scenery lining its banks, the French refugees landed at a little distance from the sea, and set up a stone column bearing the arms of France, on a little hill overlooking the south bank, in token that the land henceforth belonged to his Majesty of France. The natives, who are described as “mild and courteous, well-shaped, of goodly stature, dignified, self-possessed, and of pleasant countenance,” gazed with wonder, but with no notion of its significance, on the strange pillar set up among them; and leaving it as the sole token of their visit, the Frenchmen pressed on up the coast, passing one river after another, till they came, on the 27th May, to the beautiful harbor of Port Royal, near the southern boundary of the present Carolina, where Ribault determined to plant a colony.

A fort was erected to begin with, and named Fort Charles, or Carolina, in honor of Charles IX. of France; and leaving thirty of his men, under the command of an experienced soldier named Pierria, to form the nucleus of a settlement, Ribault returned to France for reinforcements. On his arrival in his native land, however, he found his co-religionists in greater distress than ever, and not until after the peace of 1562 was the good Coligny able to devote any attention to the affairs of the emigrants in the West.

In 1564 three ships were sent out to their relief, under the command of Captain René de Laudonnière, who had been with Ribault on his first trip; but on his arrival at the River of May, he was met with the intelligence that Fort Charles had been abandoned, and by degrees the whole story of the sufferings of his predecessors leaked out. Relying on Ribault’s promise of speedy reinforcements, and missing his bracing influence, the unlucky Huguenots forgot all about the primary object of their exile, the founding of a church in the wilderness, and gave themselves up to indolence and luxury. As a result, their provisions quickly failed, and, though the Indians befriended them to the best of their ability, they began to succumb to famine. Discontent and mutiny ensued; Pierria was assassinated in revenge for the severe discipline he endeavored to maintain, and his successor, Nicolas Barre, determined to build a small pinnace, in which to return to France.

With infinite difficulty this plan was carried out. A vessel of some kind was constructed, and in it, with no provisions but a little corn given by the natives, the survivors embarked. For three weeks they tossed about at the mercy of the waves, unable to make any considerable progress eastward; and then, all the corn being consumed, they resorted to the awful expedient of obtaining food by slaying one of their number. Lots were drawn, and the ghastly ceremony resulted in the murder of a certain La Chère, a soldier who had been pre-eminent in insubordination under Captain Pierria, and banished by him to an island outside Port Royal, had been rescued by his comrades, only to meet with a yet more awful fate than death by starvation.

Soon after the awful banquet, the blood-stained cannibals――for such had the zealous sufferers for the Huguenot faith now become――were met by an English vessel and taken on board, some to be landed in France, others to be carried prisoners to England.

Convinced of the truth of the story told by the Indians of the desertion of Fort Charles, Laudonnière abandoned his scheme of going there, and resolved instead to found a colony on the May; and for this purpose he selected a spot near the mouth of that river, which is now known as St. John’s Bluff. Again a fort was built, to which the now ill-fated name of Carolina was once more given. Again the colonists contented themselves with preparing for imaginary enemies, and neglected to provide against the attacks of famine and fever. Strength and means were wasted in fruitless expeditions in search of that Apalachen, so long the _ignis fatuus_ of explorers in Florida, where gold in plenty was ever sought but never found. Moreover, among Laudonnière’s men were many reckless adventurers, who, not content with rousing the wrath of the peacefully disposed Indians by unprovoked assaults upon them, varied their occupations by piracies against the Spaniards of the Gulf of Mexico. Retaliations ensued, until at last the colonists, with enemies rising up on every side, were reduced to the greatest extremities.

In vain did Laudonnière endeavor to stem the current of adverse circumstances; in vain did he strive, by example and by precept, to inaugurate a new policy, by tilling the ground for future support, and conciliating the Indians, with a view to obtaining present supplies. His men, desperate with hunger, clamored for him to seize a neighboring chief, and hold him as a hostage, till his people ransomed him with corn; and finally, though much against his own judgment, Laudonnière yielded.

Outina, a chieftain of high repute, was carried off, and imprisoned in Fort Carolina. His subjects, at first furious, appeared to acquiesce in the situation, and offered the coveted ransom in corn, to be fetched from a distant village by the Frenchmen. The famished Huguenots fell into the snare. Instead of granaries of the staff of life they found an ambuscade of armed natives, and, after a long and bloody fight, they returned to their camp with diminished numbers, and no trophies of a hard-earned victory but two small bags of corn.

Death now stared the colony in the face, and probably every member of it must have perished miserably, had not Sir John Hawkins, first of the long list of Englishmen who have disgraced their nationality as dealers in slaves, touched at the fort on his way home from a successful cruise. The wealth he had won in his traffic in human flesh enabled Hawkins not only to relieve the present necessities of the French, but to give them a vessel in which to return home; and they were on the eve of a joyful embarkation, when our old friend Ribault appeared on the scene with fresh emigrants and plentiful stores of every variety.

A new era seemed now likely to be ushered in, but its inauguration was saddened by the humiliation of Laudonnière, whose vigorous efforts to carry out the original intentions of his employer, Admiral Coligny, had been misrepresented in France by certain of his insubordinate followers, whom he had sent home in disgrace, and forgotten. When the first enthusiasm at the arrival of his fellow-countryman had subsided, the one man who had striven to avert the evils which had befallen the colony learned that Ribault had come out to supersede him in his command. The fact that the new governor was quickly convinced of the injustice of the charges brought against Laudonnière, and begged him to remain with him as a friend, and to retain the command of Fort Carolina, appears to have done little to soothe the wounded spirit of our hero. He had resolved to return to France at once and stand his trial, when one of those sudden changes in the aspect of affairs, to which early settlements in America have ever been subject, held him to his post.

As we have seen in our previous chapter, the Spanish looked upon Florida, which they took to include the whole of America north of the Gulf of Mexico, as their own peculiar property. The news of the establishment of a settlement of French Protestants in their territory was, therefore, received with a burst of indignation, to which it was difficult to say whether cupidity, religious zeal, or national jealousy most contributed.

After the failure of the expedition of De Luna to Florida in 1561, a certain Pedro Menendez had been appointed by the Spanish monarch to the government of Florida, on the condition of his subduing it in three years. He now received orders to hasten the start of his expedition, and to add to his scheme the destruction of the colony of French heretics.

The rejoicings at the arrival of Ribault were still going on among the unconscious settlers on the May, when the fleet of Menendez was seen creeping into the harbor. A messenger sent to inquire whence it came, and what it wanted, received the laconic answer that Pedro Menendez was in command, and had come, in obedience to the orders of his sovereign, to “burn and destroy such Lutheran French as should be in his dominions.”

Of Ribault’s fleet of seven vessels, three were just then absent on a trip up the river, and not daring to meet the Spaniards with only four, the French commander was compelled to put out to sea with them, leaving his colony totally unprotected. From a safe distance he watched his enemies disembark a little to the north of his own settlement, intending, so soon as they were involved in all the confusion of a march through an unknown country, to fall upon their rear and destroy them. But, alas! at the critical moment a terrible storm came on, dispersing the French vessels, and leaving the women, the children, and the disabled in Fort Carolina at the mercy of the ruthless Spaniards.

A terrible massacre ensued, from which but a few, including Laudonnière, escaped, and got on board the only two vessels which had not been wrecked, in which they at once put to sea, arriving in due time in France, to tell the awful tidings of the fate of their comrades. The French Government took but little notice of the matter――for were not the sufferers heretics?――and the Huguenots, though beside themselves with rage, were unable to send any adequate force to avenge their co-religionists, until two years later, when the services were secured of Dominique de Gourgues and 150 men.

Before any reinforcements arrived in Florida, therefore, fresh horrors were enacted. Menendez, having obtained intelligence from the Indians that a number of Frenchmen were still alive on Anastasia Island, a little to the south, where they had taken refuge on the destruction of their vessel, hastened to the spot, and, after a short parley, induced the Frenchmen to surrender themselves unconditionally into his hands. Then, having weeded out from among them the few who professed themselves to be Catholics, and two or three craftsmen whose services he required, he had them all hewn down before his eyes. This new atrocity over, he returned to Florida, but, being met by the intelligence that Ribault himself, with a little remnant of his immediate followers, had survived, and was now probably on the scene of the massacre of his fellow-countrymen, he hurried back to Anastasia to complete his bloody work.

Knowing what he had to expect, Ribault gathered his men about him, and received his executioners with quiet dignity. Asked were he and his companions Catholics or Lutherans, he replied simply that they were all of the Reformed religion, that from the dust they had come and to the dust they must return; twenty years more or less could matter but little; the Adelantado could do with them as he chose. Again the men who might be of use to him in his work of colonization were led apart by Menendez, again the signal for the massacre was given, again the triumphant cries of the victors were mingled with the groans of the dying; and when all was over, Menendez, with the consciousness of having done his duty, returned thanks to God, and retired to his head-quarters to send home to his king an account of the triumph of the true faith.

Scenes of bloodshed were now exchanged for the peaceful work of founding a Spanish colony. The site chosen was in N. lat. 29° 51′, W. long. 81° 30′, some miles north of the ill-fated Fort Carolina, and was named St. Augustine, because the Spanish fleet had first come in sight of Florida on the festival day of that saint. The boundaries of the settlement were carefully marked out under the supervision of Menendez himself, and though its foundations were laid in blood, it grew with a rapidity hitherto unequaled, and bid fair to be the first permanent settlement of Europeans in North America. The past was forgotten, and not more unconscious of their coming doom than the poor colonists of Carolina were the Spaniards of St. Augustine, when once more a little fleet appeared upon the coast of Florida, coming, not this time from the South, but from the North; for De Gourgues, with the foresight of a true soldier, had paused to secure the friendship of the Indians of the May before venturing to approach the Spanish camp.

The outposts of the Spaniards were surprised, the sentinels were slain at their posts, and a force of four hundred men sent out by Menendez against the enemy was completely destroyed, those taken prisoners being hanged on the very trees on which some of the Frenchmen of Carolina had suffered the same fate at the hands of the Spaniards. With this retribution, however, De Gourgues――who, it must be remembered, was acting without the authority of his government ――appears to have been content. He made no descent upon St. Augustine itself; but having destroyed the forts whose garrisons he had massacred, he bade his Indian allies farewell, and left the country. But his work had been more thorough than he knew himself, for the natives, who had hitherto looked upon the Spaniards as invincible, had seen them fall an easy prey to the French, and the remainder of the career of Menendez was one long struggle against the treacherous schemes of the red men. His efforts at exploration on the North were unsuccessful; the missionaries whom he induced to land on the north-western shores of Florida were led into ambush, and massacred by the natives; and though summary vengeance was exacted for their fate, the enmity of the Indians continued to hamper all the movements of the Spaniards.

To complete the story of early settlements in Florida, we may add that for thirty years St. Augustine was the only European colony north of the Gulf of Mexico, and that in 1586 a visit was paid to it by Sir Francis Drake, who found it under the command of Pedro Menendez, nephew of its founder, who is thought to have been the first European to enter Chesapeake Bay. The English being at this date very bitter against the Spanish, Drake thought it a pious duty to carry off the treasure and burn the houses of St. Augustine, the inhabitants of which fled at his approach, with the exception of a certain Frenchman, a fifer, who had been one of the few spared in the massacres of Anastasia, and who now came to meet the English “in a little boate, playing on his Phiph the tune of the Prince of Orange his song.”

Illustration: VIEW ON THE COAST OF FLORIDA.