Matanzas Inlet
Back in 2012, I authored a blog that was dedicated to the 245 French Protestants who were killed for their faith near St. Augustine, Florida in 1565. Known as Huguenots,
their story has gone largely unnoticed, and I took it upon myself to
do what I could to change that. Today, as a special memorial post, I am recopying
two posts from 2012. Please join me in remembering these horrific events:
PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER 29, 2012:
Even if the term “Murphy’s Law” was unknown to 16th
century man, the concept of “whatever can go wrong, will go wrong” was
certainly familiar to the French Protestants of Florida. In September of
1565, Admiral Jean Ribault’s intrepid band of explorers had re-boarded
their beautiful galleon Trinité
in the hopes of destroying Spanish San Agustín before the Spaniards
could destroy the French fortress of La Caroline. No such luck. A
tempest later called the “San Mateo hurricane” sprang up, and the French
went down.
One
would think it a good thing that most of the Frenchmen survived the
shipwreck and somehow managed to make it to shore. When one considers
the fate that awaited them, however, survival seems somehow cruel.
Ribault’s men came ashore in two groups. It is unknown if the two bands
had contact with each other, or for how long. This first band --- this
first sacrifice-in-waiting --- collapsed along the shoreline at a place
that would ominously become known as “Matanzas,” “slaughters.” Their
presence would not go undetected for long.
Pedro
Menéndez de Avilés, Spanish “adelantado” and veteran sailor, would
tolerate neither foreigners nor Protestants in Spanish-claimed lands.
Spanish chaplain Father Francisco Lopez de Mendoza Grajales provides an
eerie narrative of what happened next: (I have reproduced his exact
commentary, even the grammatical no-no’s, for the sake of authenticity).
“As
soon as he had called to them, one of them swam towards and spoke to
him; told him of their having been shipwrecked, and the distress they
were in; that they had not eaten bread for eight or ten days; and, what
is more, stated that all, or at least the greater part of them, were
Lutherans. Immediately the general sent him back to his countrymen, to
say they must surrender, and give up their arms, or he would put them
all to death. A French gentleman, who was a sergeant, brought back the
reply that they would surrender on condition their lives should be
spared.
After
having parleyed a long time, our brave captain-general answered ‘that
he would make no promises, that they must surrender unconditionally, and
lay down their arms, because, if he spared their lives, he wanted them
to be grateful for it, and, if they were put to death, that there should
be no cause for complaint.’ Seeing that there was nothing else left for
them to do, the sergeant returned to the camp; and soon after he
brought all their arms and flags, and gave them up to the general, and
surrendered unconditionally.
Finding
they were all Lutherans, the captain-general ordered them all put to
death; but, as I was a priest, and had bowels of mercy, I begged him to
grant me the favor of sparing those whom we might find to be Christians.
He granted it; and I made investigations, and found ten or twelve of
the men Roman Catholics, whom we brought back. All the others were
executed, because they were Lutherans and enemies of our Holy Catholic
faith. All this took place on Saturday (St. Michael’s Day), September
29, 1565. I, Francisco Lopez de Mendoza Grajales, Chaplain of His
Lordship, certify that the foregoing is a statement of what actually
happened.”
That
chilling narrative leaves little to the imagination.
PUBLISHED OCTOBER 12, 2012:
In my post of September 29th,
I talked of the first Matanzas massacre near St. Augustine, Florida,
and how over one hundred men were slaughtered for their Protestant
beliefs and for upholding the French flag. That event was nearly too
horrendous to be believed and certainly puts a different spin on early
American history. Yet even more horrendous is that the exact same thing
happened thirteen days later. The rest of Admiral Jean Ribault’s men
were discovered near the same spot --- oddly enough --- and also became
the subject of Spanish Captain-General Pedro Menéndez de Avilés’
scrutiny. He went forth to meet them and stood head-to-head with the
great corsair Ribault.
At
least in terms of prestige, the two men were evenly-matched, but
Ribault’s troops were tattered, hopeless, and starving. It is said that
Ribault was taken to see what had become of the previous company of
Frenchmen. Unable to believe that the same fate would be his, he hoped
for Menéndez’s mercy, trusting that perhaps for some reason this second
band would not be seen as a threat. He agreed to surrender and advised
that his men must each decide if they would do the same. Many of the men
disappeared in the night, choosing to take their chances. Yet the rest,
exhausted, bruised, and hoping for the best, agreed to surrender.
October 12th,
1565 dawned over the Florida shoreline. Menéndez, carefully planning
the coming horrors in such a way that subsequent groups would not know
their countrymen’s fates, ferried batches of ten Frenchmen across the
Matanzas River. Ten by ten they came, silent, full of dread,
apprehensive, and praying for mercy. The following account was penned by
Father Gonzalo Solís de Merás, Menéndez’s brother-in-law: I have left
the narrative exactly as I found it.
“The
Adelantado immediately directed Captain Diego Flórez de Valdés, admiral
of his armada, to bring them across ten at a time, as he had the
others, and taking Juan Ribao behind the sand dunes among the shrubbery,
where he had taken the others, the Adelantado made him bind Ribao’s
hands behind him and thus it was also done to the others with him, as it
had to the ones before, telling them they must march 4 leagues by hand,
and at night, so that he could not permit them to go unbound; and when
all were tied, he asked them if they were Catholics or Lutherans, and if
there were any who wanted to confess.
Juan Ribao responded that he and all who were with him here were of the new religion, and he began to say the psalm of Domine memento mei;
and having finished, he said that from earth he was and unto earth must
they return; and twenty years more or less did not matter, the
Adelantado should do what he wanted with them. The Adelantado commanded
them to march, as he had the others, and with the same order, and at the
same line that he had marked before in the sand, he commanded that what
had been done to the others should be done to all; he spared only the
fifers, drummers and trumpeters and four others who they said were
Catholics, in all 16 persons; all the others were slain.”
There
are some who are unwilling to give the title “martyr” to Florida’s
Huguenots. Examples are cited that Fort Caroline was not solely a
religious base, that they “happened” to claim the Calvinist faith though
it was not the reason they died. But I find that an odd assertion. The
Huguenots of Matanzas were told they would be spared if they accepted
Catholicism. Those who already claimed the faith were treated reasonably
well, though taken captive. Those who refused were slaughtered. In my
eyes there is no better proof of religious martyrdom.
After
reading contemporary accounts by Father Mendoza Grajales and Father
Gonzalo Solís de Merás, which state matter-of-factly that the Huguenot
captives were killed for their Protestant faith, it seems fruitless to
deny that this was indeed a martyrdom and should be remembered as such.
The fact that they “happened to be Calvinists” was not some passing note
. . . it was one of the major reasons Pedro Menéndez took the course he
did. Also, if Fort Caroline was meant to be a military bastion alone,
it is very doubtful that there would have been ministers, women, and
children.
Thank you for taking the time to learn about these events which are very near to my heart.
2015 St. Augustine Fridays
