Children's Stories in American History

by Henrietta Christian Wright

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.