My family the refugees

On 2 December 1677, a certain Jean Guerier (sic) from Paris was recorded in a list of refugees arriving at the Huguenot Church in Threadneedle Street, London.

That word, “refugee”, was relatively new. According to the OED, it was first used in English in 1628, in specific reference to Huguenots — the Protestant asylum-seekers fleeing persecution in Catholic France.

The “T” in Jean’s listing is for témoignage or “testament”, meaning that when he arrived at the church in London he presented a document to confirm that he was a practising member of the Huguenot church in France.

That the “T” was listed shows that témoignages were important in being granted asylum in England. But not everyone had them — many names in the same list don’t have an accompanying “T”. It seems that some refugees made a point of not carrying them as, in France, being caught with such a document was evidence of trying to escape the Catholic church and state. Penalties included enslavement or execution. 

What courage did it take to acquire this declaration of faith in the first place and then carry it, hidden away somewhere on your person? If Jean got the document in Paris, the place named in the listing, he must have carried it the 125 miles / 200 km to the coast, or about four days’ ride on horseback. Where did he stay along the way? Who helped him or turned a blind eye? What dangers did he face?

Once Jean reached the coast, who took him across to England and how perilous was the journey? There are accounts from the time of would-be refuges drowning in the Channel. Those who made it, often with few possessions, could face a mixed reception.

Officially, the king and Parliament welcomed Huguenot refugees. Charities were set up to support them. But there were also protests and riots against them. Pamphlets accused Huguenots of low standards in morality, housing and hygiene, and of eating strange food.

What did the Huguenots make of London, this utopia of virtue and good health? Sadly, I’ve not seen any accounts from their perspective. Even the log of refugees and their témoignage documents — published as a book by the Huguenot Society of London in 1909 and now available online — is only a partial record. The book explains that the original log got wet, erasing listings on the bottom of each page. The names of members of my family, perhaps ones who traveled with Jean or followed him soon after, may well be lost in these lacunae.

In what survives, we can trace something of the life Jean made for himself in London. There is a listing for a Paul Guerrier, son of Jean and native of (ie born in) London. He was 20 years-old on 24 June 1702, so born c. 1682, five years after Jean arrived. 

The widowed Ester Guerrier listed after Paul, with a témoignage recorded at the Huguenot Church in London on 1 November 1674, is also the first Guerrier ever recorded in England, from when she got married at the same church on 27 September 1654. How Ester and Jean were related isn’t clear and there’s nowhere else we can really go to check. In France, many Huguenots refused to have marriages or baptisms in the Catholic Church and what Protestant records there may have been were largely destroyed.

But the Huguenot Church in London holds other documentation, including baptism records for more of Jean Guerrier’s children: Jacques (on 10 September 1684), Jean Pierre (16 August 1686) and Marie (30 January 1688). Their mother — Jean Guerrier’s wife — is listed as, respectively, “Marie Jenings”, “Marie Jaine” and “Marie Jenngs”, the discrepancy in spelling suggesting some confusion around a foreign name pronounced with an accent. Was she also from France? If so, did she accompany Jean when he escaped from Paris?

There’s no baptism record for Jean’s son Paul and no témoignage listing for Jacques, Jean Pierre or Marie when they reached adulthood (as with Paul). Was Marie Jenings/Jaine/Jenngs Paul’s mother? And what about the Anne Guerrier, listed in attendance at the baptism of Jean Pierre but nowhere else? With partial records, we can only guess connections.

Note that the three children were baptised with French first names, as if to keep some vestige of the culture Jean had left behind. But the Goldsmiths Company has a record of a John Peter Guerrier son of John, which is surely our Jean Pierre and his father Jean. John is listed as a “taylor” based in St Anne’s Westminster; his son was apprenticed as a goldsmith in 1700, aged 14, and allocated his mark in 1717. 

(An article in the Proceedings of the Huguenot Society from 1933 says John Peter was made free in 1716 not 1717, and was then working at the Mitre, on the Strand. His surname was also listed as “Guerrie”.)

Did Jean’s son give the English versions of his own and his father’s names when he signed up with the Goldsmith Company, or did the company impose anglicisation on the teenage apprentice? Why only anglicise the first names and not the Guerrier bit? We don’t know. 

But on 29 September 1698, there’s a record (Pat. Roll. 10. William III part IX) of the denization of Jean Guerrier — not John. Denization was a partial form of citizenship, less expensive than full naturalisation which until 1844 could only be granted to those born outside the country by a private Act of Parliament. Some 21 years after arriving in England with his témoignage document, Jean became a denizen of his adopted country but his children were citizens by birth and adopted English names.

In 1708, a James Guerrier married Hannah Sales in St Clement Danes — then a slum. The groom was listed as “22” but the guess is that this James was Jean’s other son Jacques (b. 1684), so actually 24. Records from the same parish also list an Edward Guerrier. There were so few Guerriers in England at the time — even in the 1881 census, there were just 46 in the whole country — we think Edward was a close relative, perhaps even another brother of James/Jacques, John Peter / Jean Pierre and Paul, ie another son of Jean. 

If so, Jean is my direct ancestor. And if not he's some sort of nth-great uncle.

While Jean’s arrival in London suggests adventure, Edward’s story haunts me. We know little of him except that he was buried at St Clement Danes on 2 October 1730. On 7 February 1732, the Archdeaconal Court of Middlesex recorded his impoverished widow Mary effectively putting up her three surviving sons for adoption. George, Christopher and William Guerrier were given into the charge of guardians David Porter and Jonathan Spalding.

Without that judgment, the boys would surely have starved. But, supported by the local parish, these poor sons of an immigrant prospered. George entered the City of London Draper’s Company as a painter on Grub Street. His son William (born 11 January 1747) was a member of the Painter-Stainer’s guild but seems to have fallen on hard times by the end of his life. William’s son George (born 8 July 1771) was a grazier or farmer on the Isle of Dogs and did well. Indeed, he was the first of a line of successful butchers and cattle salesmen in London, lasting into the 20th century. (George is also the most recent common ancestor I share with Edith Guerrier of Boston.)

I didn’t know any of this until a few years ago. The history of my own distinctive surname was lost in a lacuna, not least because my paternal grandfather was estranged in his teens from that side of the family. He handed down next to nothing of any family lore he may ever have gleaned. 

Thanks to Micol at the Huguenot Library, part of the National Archives in Kew, for helping me untangle all this, and my distant Guerrier cousins who walked the path before me.