History repeating itself

They had made the dangerous Channel crossing in small, open boats. Destitute, persecuted, they arrived in their hundreds on the English shore, hoping to make a new and safe life. In total, more than 100,000 came here.

This could be relevant today. Nothing changes. But the refugees I am writing about arrived from the 16th century onwards, from France, victims of religious intolerance. France was a fiercely Roman Catholic country, and it persecuted Protestants, there known as Huguenots. They were followers of the controversial and intellectual French theologian John Calvin. His brand of religion appealed to the well-educated, who were prepared to question the teachings of the Catholic faith. Some of them were leading military and trade figures, and because of their influence, they were, at first, tolerated. In January 1562, King Charles IX issued the Edict of St. Germain, which, within limits, allowed them to practice their religion. They had to be unarmed and could not practice their worship in towns or at night, for fear of fomenting revolt. By 1562 the Huguenots numbered some two million, their name possibly derived from the German word Eidgenossen, meaning confederates, the name given to Swiss Protestants. Calvin had once lived in Basel, thus the connection makes sense.

Undoubtedly the catalyst for the exodus happened on March 1 of that year. About 300 Huguenots were at prayer in a barn outside Vassy, when they were attacked by the soldiers of Francis, Duke de Guise, a leading opponent of the Protestant religion. The casualties were severe; more than 60 Huguenots died, with more than 100 injured. The duke falsely claimed that his men were acting in self-defence as they had by set upon, with stones thrown at them.

It was after the Massacre of Vassy that the refugees began to leave, mostly, it seems, from the area around Dieppe. A very long crossing, so perhaps the area around the ports closest to England, like Calais and Boulogne, were being watched for evidence of escape. On arrival at Rye, they knelt on the shore and thanked God for their safe crossing and arrival. More and more arrived, nearly every day. They received a warm welcome and by May something like 500 had made the perilous crossing and were in Rye. So many came that the town could no longer afford to maintain them. The mayor, Robert Marche, was obliged to petition Queen Elizabeth for a grant to provide nourishment for them. Later, two ships full of refugees arrived, again from Dieppe, with another carrying 150 docking in November. Others made the terrible journey throughout the winter. There are no records of those who left but never arrived.

Rye has a prominent and permanent reminder of their arrival. The church clock dates from about 1562, and was made by one of the refugees, Lewys Billiard, who was paid £30 for his careful work. Allowed to worship in St. Mary’s, from 1621 the Huguenots were formally given the use of the church for a part of each day. Some of their descendants still worship there. Their arrivals continued through the decade. One of those who arrived during the particularly cold winter of 1568-9, was the Huguenot minister of Bacqueville in Normandy, Hector Hamon. He moved his flock to less heavily populated Winchelsea.

Bad though the persecution had been, much worse was to follow. On August 18 1572 Margaret, daughter of the King of France married the Protestant King Henry III of Navarre in Paris – a centre of anti-Huguenot feeling. It was an event that attracted many of France’s most prominent Huguenots, among them one of their leaders, Admiral Gaspard de Coligny, a close and influential friend of the King of France. On August 22, on his way home from a reception at the Palace of the Louvre, he was shot and seriously wounded. The king visited him and vowed that those responsible would face justice. The palace of the Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici, was invaded by Huguenots, whilst she was at dinner, with demands for justice. Deeply concerned at the influence of the Huguenots, especially that of de Coligny on the king, she met with the king on August 23 and the decision was taken to kill probably three dozen of the Huguenot leaders still in Paris. That was a serious understatement. The municipal leaders of Paris were ordered to close the gates, whilst Swiss mercenaries employed by the king were given the names of those to be disposed of.

During the night of August 23-24, the killings began, the eve of the feast of St. Batholomew the Apostle. Coligny was taken from his bed, killed and thrown out of his bedroom window. He seemed to be expecting them. One of the killers said later that, ‘he never saw anyone less afraid in so great a peril, nor die more steadfastly.’ Huguenot leaders in the Louvre were dragged out and killed in the street.

This seemed to encourage more violence, even from the ordinary citizens, who blockaded Huguenots in their homes and killed them, men, women and children. It became an orgy of slaughter. Carts were used to collect the dead, with their bodies denied burial; rather they were dumped uncoffined into the River Seine. To think of the terror makes the blood run cold, just as the Seine must have run red with Huguenot blood. The killings in Paris continued unabated for three days, spreading across France for several weeks. It’s impossible to give an accurate number of dead for what became known as the St. Bartholomew’s Eve Massacre, but it may have been upto 30,000. Some were captured and horribly tortured until they recanted and took the Catholic faith.

Following the massacre, another 641 Huguenot refugees arrived in Rye. They were all sorts of people, from gentry through to doctors, teachers, tradesmen and ordinary labourers. By 1582, more than 1,500 Huguenots had settled in Rye. By 1584 they accounted for about a third of the population as a whole. Jeake’s House in Mermaid Street was owned by a Huguenot family, with Jeakes probably being an anglicised version of Jacques. It was first taken by William Jeaque in the late 16th century. His son, Henry, became the local baker, with his premises in the High Street. His grandson, Samuel Jeakes II, used the building to store the wool in which he traded.

In April 1598, King Henry IV signed the Edict of Nantes, which gave Huguenots the right to practice their religion and guaranteed freedom of conscience. It also gave them the right to travel through their own country without being stopped and searched, the right to hold a public office without becoming Catholic, the right to their own militia, financed by the French government, the right to run their own state funded schools and universities, the right to build walls around their own towns and the right to bury their dead in Huguenot cemeteries. Even this didn’t stop numbers of them from leaving France. They were clearly blessed with the gift of foresight because, in 1685, King Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes. Despite state restrictions on emigration, the south of England experienced a veritable tsunami of refugees, anxious to live life free from autocratic and tyrannical control.

Image Credits: Kt Bruce .