# Protestant Exiles from France/Volume 2 - Book Third - Chapter 5 - Section I

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Chapter V.
REV. JAMES FONTAINE, M.A. AND J.P., ENSIGN JOHN FONTAINE, AND THE MAURY FAMILY.
I. Rev. James Fontaine, M.A. and J.P.
It was in the year 1535, that two members of the noble family of De La Fontaine, a father and son, became converts to the principles of the Reformed Church. The son, Jean, was born in 1500, and died a martyr in 1563, himself and his wife being assassinated one night in the mansion of the family estate in the Province of Maine. His scattered family fled and was at last re-united within the walls of La Rochelle. The eldest surviving son was Jacques de la Fontaine, who was fourteen years old, and destitute, but soon learned to support his younger brothers as a journeyman shoemaker. He became a merchant of competent fortune, and died in 1633, aged eighty-three. His only son was Jacques Fontaine, the Huguenot pastor of Vaux and Royan, who dropped the aristocratic prefix to his surname from motives of humility. In his youth he travelled as tutor to a young French gentleman, and spending some time in London, he betrothed himself to Miss Thompson. He married this lady in 1628, and she left several children at her death.
The refugee, Jacques, or James, Fontaine, was the youngest child of the pasteur, by his second wife, Marie Chaillon, daughter of the proprietor of Rue au Roy, near Pons, in Saintonge. He was born on April 7, 165S, and during his infancy became lame for life through the carelessness of a nurse. His father died in 1666, so that his boyish education was irregular; but being placed at the age of seventeen under the tuition of the eccentric De la Bussière of Marennes, he took the degree of M.A. with distinction at the College of Guienne in 1680. About this time his mother died; and by buying off his brothers and sisters he became sole proprietor of the estates of Jenouille and Jaffe, with an annual income of 1000 francs and a dwelling-house.
His sister Marie had married Pastor Forestier of St Mesme in Angoumois, and under his roof young Fontaine studied theology. Forestier had to take refuge in England soon after. Fontaine, finding the Protestant population without a temple, encouraged public worship in the open air, and he sometimes officiated. For this crime he was imprisoned and tried, and was condemned in the inferior courts. But his accusers having specified a meeting for worship, at which he was not present, he carried his plea of alibi to the Parliament of Paris, and was acquitted; this was in 1684. “The history of our persecution,” he writes, “spread far and wide, and I received many letters of congratulation upon the courage and successful result of my appeal to the Parliament. Among others the Marquis de Ruvigny, father of Lord Galway, wrote me a complimentary letter.”
The dragoons visited the district of Royan early in 1685. Several shiploads of Protestants had escaped a few days before, but Fontaine was not among them. He fled, accompanied by his valet. Both were on horseback, remarkably well mounted, and his saddle was decorated with scarlet housings and black fringe, and pistols within holsters. His clerical costume was secularised by the fashionable wig which he wore and by a band of crape round his hat. As he sat well on his horse, his distinguished appearance was not marred by his lameness. Officers and soldiers, whom he frequently met, saluted him as an orthodox gentleman. He passed some time in paying visits to relatives and friends. At length, that he might not waste his money, which at his setting out amounted to 500 francs, he dismissed his valet and fixed his headquarters with a peasant on the estate of the Comte de Jonzac. The Comte’s ​groom (his master being absent) was engaged to attend one horse at grass, while Fontaine rode about the country on the other, professedly on business.
The latter arrangement lasted about three months. Then came the month of October, and with it the Edict of Revocation, whereupon he went to Marennes, and arranged with an English captain to embark himself and a party at Tremblade. The party consisted of Anne Elizabeth Boursiquot (to whom he was betrothed), her sister Elizabeth, and his niece, Janette Forestier. They intended to rendezvous on the sands near the Forest of Arvert, until, hearing that the Custom-house was on the look-out for them, they abandoned that plan. By the advice of the captain they went out in a boat to meet the ship, after the voyage had begun. One of His Christian Majesty’s frigates hove in sight, searched the British ship, and providentially found no prisoners, but compelled it to proceed on the straight course for England. The fugitives were immediately concealed in the bottom of the boat, and covered with an old sail. The boat being hailed by the frigate, the boatman and his son counterfeited drunkenness, and thus contrived both to quiet the suspicions of the naval captain and to give the appointed signal to the Englishman, by letting their sail drop three times while they seemed to be earnestly attempting to hoist it. The frigate sailed away towards Rochefort, and in a little time the boat made for the English vessel which had slackened its speed, and the exiles were received on board while the frigate was still in sight. After a voyage of eleven days, the party found a refuge in Barnstaple. Fontaine was hospitably received into the house of Mr Downe, along with his property, which consisted of twenty pistoles and six silver spoons, one of which was gilded and engraved with the infantine initials of his father, I.D.L.F. His betrothed accepted the hospitality of Mr Fraine.
The necessity of quickly earning a livelihood made him doubly acute. By his very first purchase, a cabin biscuit, which cost only a halfpenny, while in France the price would have been twopence, he was led to speculate in shipping grain for France. Mr Downe became his partner, getting one-half of the profits, and advancing all the money. The first cargo realised a fair profit. But, writes Fontaine, “the English seldom know when they are well off,” and Mr Downe insisting on naming a different consignee for the two subsequent cargoes, the speculation was ruined by dishonest agents. Mr Downe was the owner of an estate near Minehead, valued at £10,000. He was about forty years of age, and unmarried. A maiden sister took charge of his house.
There was every probability that the state of Fontaine’s purse would for some years be an inexorable argument against naming the day for his marriage with Miss Boursiquot. Miss Downe with the self-satisfaction of a lady endowed with £3000, resolved to announce herself as a rival candidate for the hand and heart of the refugee, although she was his senior by at least six years. Fontaine describes the English lady as totally destitute of personal attractions, while he gives this glowing picture of his lovely affiancee:—
“She was very beautiful; her skin was delicately fair; she had a brilliant colour in her cheeks, a high forehead, and a remarkably intellectual expression of countenance; her bust was fine, rather inclined to embonpoint, and she had a very dignified carriage which some persons condemned as haughty, but I always thought it peculiarly becoming to one of her beauty; the charms of her mind and disposition were in no way inferior to those of her person.”
Mr. Downe and Fontaine were able to keep up a connected conversation by having recourse to Latin, French, and English, according to the exigencies of the moment. And, at least in course of time, Fontaine’s knowledge of English enabled him to understand Miss Downe’s hints as to the folly of his engagement, and as to new and prosperous arrangements which might result from breaking it off, when both he and Miss Boursiquot might look hopefully in another direction. He, however, took refuge, in “n’entends pas,” successfully feigning his inability to follow her to the end of her sentences. But one day, when the farcical dialogue was being repeated, her brother came into the room, and was abruptly called upon by her to explain the two-fold project which they had agreed to suggest. Mr. Downe was embarrassed; he hesitated, but at length he said, “The plain truth of the matter is, my sister wishes to marry you, and if you will agree to it, I have promised to help to remove the difficulty which we see in the way, by taking for my wife your intended lady, whom you brought with you from France.” Fontaine silently drew out of his pocket the written engagement between his countrywoman and himself, and then answered Mr. Downe (who had read the document without remark). He said that his heart was engaged irrevocably, and as for Miss Boursiquot, he felt confident that her feelings were unchangeable; nevertheless he was so disinterestedly ​anxious for her welfare, that he would communicate to her this offer to become the wife of a rich man.
On the evening of that very day Fontaine went to Mr. Fraine’s house. The scene, by readers who are not natives of France, might be called rather dramatic, but it was all true love and honesty. The lovers met, and he presented the Downe double proposal before her mind in such a business-like way, that she supposed that his judgment was convinced in favour of his own marriage to Miss Downe. She burst into tears, but at last commanding herself, and scarcely raising her eyes, she said slowly and distinctly, “You are free; I release you. Think no more of me; I am contented to remain as I am; only be so good as convey to Mr. Downe a request not to repeat to me himself what I have heard from you, for I will never be his wife.” Fontaine, of course told her at once that if she had accepted Mr. Downe, he would have remained single. He returned home with a light heart to deliver himself of the brief message or monosyllable, No! and he observed, “Mr. Downe was a man of good sense and kind feelings, and I verily believe he was relieved by the issue of the negotiation. It was otherwise with his sister; she was displeased and aggrieved, and made no secret that she was so.”
The refugee pair now resolved to share each other’s poverty, and they were married in the parish church of Barnstaple by the Rev. Mr. Wood, the rector, on the 8th February 1686. Mr. Fraine “took upon himself the furnishing of a wedding feast for us, to which he invited almost all the French refugees in the neighbourhood. Mr. Downe invited the same party to a similar entertainment at his house the day following.” The poverty of the young couple was relieved by the great liberality of the inhabitants of Barnstaple. He had no assistance from the national fund, collected for the refugees, because he would receive the Lord’s Supper for spiritual benefit only, and not as a qualification for pecuniary benefactions. He did receive £7, 10s. as the first quarterly payment; but for want of the Episcopal sacramental certificate he received no more, except, indeed, a gratuity of £3 when in person he appealed to the committee against the regulation.
After various straits he settled at Taunton. There he made a livelihood by teaching boarders, also by extensive provision dealing, and by the manufacture of calimanco. He prospered as well as the jealousy of the native tradesmen would allow. At last, having realised £1000, and being weary of the turmoil of business carried on amidst so much ill-will, he resolved to resume the life of a pastor. A French Protestant Synod at Taunton had some years previously (on June 10th, 1688) admitted him to holy orders. In 1694 he set out for Ireland in search of a congregation.
As a specimen of his trials at Taunton, I shall give an account of his appearing according to citation before the mayor and court of aldermen, as an interloper and a “jack of all trades” — being a wool-comber, dyer, spinner, and weaver, grocer and retailer of French brandy, hatter, dealer in St. Maixant stockings, and dyed chamois leather, and in tin and copper ware.
The mayor (who was a wool-comber) enquired, “Have you served an apprenticeship to all these trades?” Fontaine replied:—
“Gentlemen, in France a man is esteemed according to his qualifications, and men of letters and study are especially honoured by everybody if they conduct themselves with propriety, even though they should not be worth a penny. All the nobility of the land, the lords, the marquises, and dukes take pleasure in the society of such persons. In fact, there a man is thought fit for any honourable employment, if he is but learned; therefore my father, who was a worthy minister of the gospel, brought up four boys (of whom I was the youngest) in good manners and the liberal arts, hoping that wherever fortune might transport us, our education would serve instead of riches, and gain us honour among persons of honour. All the apprenticeship I have ever served, from the age of four years, has been to turn over the leaves of a book. I took the degree of Master of Arts at the age of twenty-two, and then devoted myself to the study of the Holy Scriptures. Hitherto I had been thought worthy of the best company wherever I had been; but when I came to this town, I found that science without riches was regarded as a cloud without water, or a tree without fruit — in a word, a thing worthy of supreme contempt; so much so, that if a poor ignorant wool-comber or a hawker amassed money, he was honoured by all, and looked up to as the first in the place. I have, therefore, gentlemen, renounced all speculative science. I have become a wool-comber, a dealer in pins and laces, hoping that I may one day attain wealth, and be also one of the first men in the town.”
This sally was received by the audience with a general laugh. The Recorder laid down the law as follows:—
“King Charles II., of blessed memory, issued a Declaration, whereby he invited the poor Protestants, who were persecuted in France for the cause of the Gospel, to take refuge in the kingdom. If the poor refugees who have abandoned country, friends, property, and everything sweet and agreeable in this life for their religion and the glory of the Gospel, if they had not the means of gaining a livelihood, the parish would be burdened with their maintenance, for you could not send them to their birth-place. The parish is obliged to Mr. Fontaine for every morsel of bread he earns for his family. In the desire he has to live independently, he humbles himself so far as to become a tradesman, a thing very rarely seen among learned men, such as I know him to be from my own conversations with him. There is no law that can disturb him.”
Fontaine then retired amidst showers of benedictions.
Strange to relate, he was in personal danger after the landing of William of Orange. Some of the inhabitants had denounced him as a Jesuit.“On the arrival of a company of soldiers at Taunton,” says Fontaine, “they were informed that there was a French Jesuit in the place who said mass in his house every Sunday. The captain of this company was a French Protestant, who had taken refuge in Holland. He was determined to be the first to seize the Jesuit. He was posted opposite to the door of my house with a guard of soldiers, before any of the family were stirring, except a female domestic, who was a Frenchwoman. He asked her who lived in that house. She replied, ‘Mr. Fontaine, a minister from Royan, in France, lives here.’ The captain immediately desired her to go up to my room, and tell me that Captain Rabainières was be!ow. I waited only long enough to get on my dressing-gown, and went down to welcome a dear friend; for we had been intimately acquainted with each other in France, and our residences were only four or five miles apart. We embraced one another with the warmth of fraternal affection. I was then introduced to the rest of the officers, who were most kind in their offers of friendship. They went to the door to disperse the crowd, which was not an easy matter, under the disappointment they felt at not seeing the Jesuit punished. They told them that their captain knew Mr. Fontaine to be a good Protestant — better than they were in all probability.”
When Fontaine went to Ireland, a new home was soon chosen. He found a congregation in Cork, where he arrived in 1694, and was installed by an Act of Consistory, dated January 19th, 1695. His settlement attracted many refugees to Cork, and the congregation increased. He turned his £1000 to account, and established a manufactory of broad cloth. This provided much welcome employment, and was also necessary for his own support, because the congregation could not give him any stipend. He also received the freedom of the city. All this happiness was destroyed in consequence of his sermon on the text, “Thou shalt not steal.” In his expository details he upbraided dishonesty so effectively, that a merchant interpreted the discourse as a personal attack, he having just perpetrated a swindling act, of which, however, Fontaine had not heard. The said Mr. De la Croix took his revenge by propagating notions of the advantages of Episcopal ordination, which Fontaine had not. By this artful scheme the Bishop of Cork was drawn into the quarrel, and also His Excellency the Earl of Galway; and so Fontaine resigned the pastorate in 1698. But Lord Galway recommended a French Presbyterian as his successor, Mr. Marcomb, who was appointed, to Fontaine’s satisfaction.
Soon after this, Fontaine took a farm at Bear Haven on Bantry Bay, being anxious to found a fishery. He took also other small farms, including the island of Dursey. In 1699 his son Aaron’s death affected him and his family so much, that they finally quitted Cork. Some London merchants took shares in the fishery; but becoming engrossed with the wine trade, they detained the vessels that should have transported the fish, and the fishery company failed. Fontaine, however, still resided at Bear Haven. He thus describes his neighbours:—
“My Irish neighbours were in the habit of pillaging and cheating me in a thousand indirect ways. I had brought thirteen destitute Frenchmen into the neighbourhood, who had served in the army under King William, and had been discharged (the war being over), and they knew not where to lay their heads. I gave them land to cultivate; but whether it was owing to their ignorance of agriculture, or their habits of indolence engendered by a military life, or the perpetual injuries they received at the hands of the Irish, I know not, but certain it is, they became discouraged, and most ot them left me before the end of the three years. I lost £80 by them, having advanced so much for their use.
“There was a Court held for the Barony of Bear Haven, which was competent to decide in all causes under forty shillings. I do not believe that there were mere than half-a-dozen Protestants in the adjacent country besides my own family and those I had brought with me; so that when I or any of my Protestants demanded what was due to us, the matter was referred to a jury of Papists, who invariably decided against us. If the Irish took it into their heads to ​make any claim upon us, however unfounded, they were sure to recover. After some little experience, I put a stop to this system of cheatery and false swearing, by appealing from the decision of the Barony to the County Assizes.”
Fontaine made himself conspicuous as a Justice of the Peace, in endeavouring to break up the connection between the Irish robbers and the French privateersmen. This came to a height in June 1704, when a French privateer entered the bay, and attacked his settlement, but was signally discomfited.
Fontaine, as a Justice of the Peace who did his duty, had been introduced to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the Duke of Ormonde, in the autumn of 1703. The Duke was then at Kingsale on an official tour. Fontaine, with the secret support of Lord-Chancellor Cox, represented to His Excellency that a fort should be erected at Bear Haven. The Duke, finding that Fontaine was a refugee, conversed with him in French in the kindest manner; but seeing that his petition was to be enlarged upon by some of the company, he abruptly closed the interview, saying, in a jocular tone, “Pray to God for us, and we will take care to defend you in return.”
After the fight with the privateer, Fontaine wrote to the Duke; and an extract from his letter, and a valuable public document which was obtained, will give the reader some idea of the circumstances. The letter began thus:—
“Since I had the honour of paying my respects to your Grace at Kinsale, I have not failed to pray for you daily, in conformity with the request you then made; but you must allow me to complain that your grace has not been equally true to the promise you then made of defending me; for without your assistance I have had to defend myself from the attack of a French corsair.” . . . .
The following is the public document addressed “To our right trusty and right entirely beloved cousin and councillor, James, Duke of Ormond, our Lieutenant-General, and General Governor of our kingdom of Ireland, and to our Lieutenant-Deputy, or other chief governor or governors of that our kingdom for the time being:” —
“Anne R.
“Right trusty and right entirely beloved Cousin and Councillor, we greet you well. Whereas, James Fontaine, clerk, did by his humble petition to us pray that we would be graciously pleased to bestow on him a pension of five shillings a day on our establishment of our kingdom of Ireland, in consideration of his good services in his defence against a French Privateer, and the great charge he is at in securing the remote port he lives in against the insults of the French, and whereas our High Treasurer of England hath laid before us a report made by you upon said petition, wherein you testify that the petitioner is settled in a very remote port, in Bear Haven in our said kingdom, which place is very much infested with the privateers — that he hath built a very strong house with a small sort of sod fort on which he hath the permission of our said government to mount five guns, — that he hath often been in danger of being attacked by the privateers, and that by the continuance of the said fort he hath protected several merchant ships, — that there hath been produced to you several very ample certificates from the merchants of Dublin and of Cork, of the commodiousness of that place for securing merchant ships, as also from the captains of our ships, the ‘Arundel’ and the ‘Bridgevvater’ — and that upon the whole you are of opinion that the said James Fontaine very well deserves our favour and encouragement, in consideration of his said services and expenses. And in regard he is a French Refugee you propose that a pension of five shillings a day may be inserted for him on the establishment under the head of French Pensioner, to commence from Michaelmas 1705. Now we, having taken the premises into our Royal consideration, are graciously pleased to consent thereunto, and accordingly our will and pleasure is, and we do hereby direct, authorise and command, that you cause the said pension or allowance of five shillings a day to be paid to him the said James Fontaine, or his assignees, from Michaelmas last 1705 as aforesaid, for maintaining the said fort for the better preservation of our subjects of the said kingdom against the insults of French Privateers, the same to continue during our pleasure, and to be placed for him in the list of French Pensioners on the establishment of our expenses in our said kingdom, and paid in like manner as others, the pensions within the said list, are or shall be payable. And this shall be as well as to you for so doing, as to our Lieutenant Deputy or other chief governor or governors of our said kingdom for the time being, and to our Receiver-General and all others concerned in making the ​said payments, and allowing thereof upon account, a sufficient warrant. And so we bid you very heartily farewell.
“Given at our Court of St. James’s the twelfth day of October 1705, in the fourth year of our reign.
“By Her Majesty’s command,Godolphin.”
Besides this, he received a grant of £50 for building the fort, and a rent from government of £23, 16s. for the Island of Dursey.
On Fontaine’s side, a Scotchman, John M‘Liney, and a Frenchman, Paul Roussier, greatly distinguished themselves — but none more than Madame Fontaine, who showed no sign of fear; though a military officer residing in the house was in such trepidation that in loading a musket, he put the ball next the touch-hole, and rammed down two cartridges over and above. She encouraged everybody with pious and courageous words, and acted as aide-de-camp and surgeon. The engagement (which was, in fact, a siege, or a storming of the buildings), lasted from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon, when the French decamped with the loss of three killed, besides seven wounded. They spread in their own country a salutary terror of Fontaine and his battery. In 1705, when Fontaine was in London on the business of his fort and pension (the guest of John Arnauld), a privateer cautiously approached Bear Haven. “But,” writes Fontaine, “my wife was on the alert, she had all the cannons loaded, and one of them fired off to shew that all was in readiness for defence. When they saw this they veered off, landed on Great Island, stole some cattle, and sailed away.”
All was tolerably quiet till the month of October 1708 — a company of soldiers was quartered in the Half Barony, and the captain was a boarder with the gallant refugee family. On the 7th day of the month he was absent. A French privateer came in the evening to reconnoitre and to try stratagem where an assault had failed. She hoisted English colours, which deceived the subaltern, who was temporarily resident. This ensign hastened to get on board to drink with the ship’s officers, and was taken prisoner. He was regaled to his heart’s content and speedily became intoxicated, when he revealed the circumstance that there was no officer in Fontaine’s house. A great portion of the crew were Irishmen, and when they landed an attacking party at midnight, their guide was a man named Sullivan, to whose family Fontaine had shown great generosity. They did not succeed in surprising the household. Fontaine hailed them through a speaking-trumpet. No answer being returned, they were fired upon. They then separated into six detachments, and began to set fire to the offices and stacks; the household, under the directions of Madame Fontaine, protected the dwelling-house from combustion. The men of the family discharged their firearms at intervals, but at random, on account of the smoke from the burning premises. The enemy, with ignited straw tied to long poles, continued to do all the mischief they could; and some of them with crowbars made a breach in the wall of the house. This, however, did not serve their purpose, because the constant firing from the house led them to suppose that it was defended by at least twenty soldiers; they therefore kept at some distance and wasted their ammunition. At length they summoned the besieged to surrender, and offered good quarter. The firing ceased, and Fontaine advanced to the breach for a parley, when one of the Irish lieutenants took aim at him and would have killed him, if Peter Fontaine had not promptly pulled his father aside. This treachery made the Fontaines resume firing, which did not relax for a quarter of an hour. The enemy then threatened to throw in a barrel of gunpowder and blow them up; to which Fontaine replied, that he had enough powder to blow himself and them all into the air together. Terms were then agreed to, by which the enemy got the plunder, and the Fontaines and their followers life and liberty. The brigands secured the plunder; but they made Fontaine, his sons James and Peter, and two servants, their prisoners.
Against this violation of a treaty Fontaine protested; but the commander replied, “Your name has been so notorious among the privateers of St Maloes, that I dare not return to the vessel without you. The captain’s order was peremptory, to bring you on board dead or alive.” When he appeared on deck the crew shouted “Vive le Roi,” and repeated it three times in grand chorus. Fontaine called out to them in a loud tone, “Gentlemen, how long is it since victories have been so rare in France that you sing in triumph on such an occasion as this? A glorious achievement truly! Eighty men, accustomed to warfare, have actually been so successful as to compel one poor minister, four cowherds, and five children, to surrender upon terms.”
In the cabin Fontaine represented to the captain that his being taken prisoner was a breach of treaty, and that the Government would retaliate on French prisoners ​of war. This was actually done; French officers in Kingsale were put in irons, and also the French prisoners at Plymouth. In the meantime the captain landed the ensign (not yet sober) and all the captives, except Fontaine. He opened up a communication with Madame Fontaine on Dursey Island, and fixed her husband’s ransom at £100. She paid £30, which she contrived to borrow; whereupon Fontaine was liberated and his son Peter was carried off as a hostage, to guarantee the remaining £70. This balance was never claimed. The French government, convinced by international law, and by the groans articulated from Kingsale and Plymouth, sent the youth home to his now celebrated parents.
Fontaine had recently made the acquaintance of the Commander of the Forces, General Ingoldsby, who proved a friend in need. He procured for him an immediate grant of £100. His pension was continued; and the general undertook to obtain for Peter and John the position and rights of half-pay officers.
Bear Haven, having been completely desolated, was abandoned. The county of Cork paid Fontaine £800 as damages, it having been proved that Irishmen had been concerned in the attack and robbery. This money enabled him to begin a school at Dublin for instruction in Latin, Greek, and French, geography, mathemathics, and fortification. There were very suitable premises in St Stephen’s Green, with a yard and garden 300 feet in length and 40 feet in breadth. But the house was supposed to be haunted. No one having for several years offered to tenant it, Fontaine easily obtained a lease of 99 years for an amiual rent of £10. The spectres proved to be a gang of Irish vagrants, whose nocturnal howlings did not alarm the brave refugees, and who were ejected without delay. The school was most successful, and Fontaine passed the remainder of his days with serenity. His noble wife died on the 29th of January 1721, and his unmarried daughter, Elizabeth, presided over his housekeeping afterwards. His married daughter and three of his sons had emigrated to Virginia. It was to them that he addressed his autobiography; and he wrote out a verbatim copy of it for his other two sons who lived in London. All this he accomplished in less than three months, namely, between 26th March and 21st June 1722.
Having had no space for more than a very small portion of those memoirs, I have omitted the many pious and unaffected comments and ejaculations which the work contains. The following sentences present a specimen and summary of them all:— “My dear children, I would fain hope that the pious examples of those from whom we are descended may warm your hearts. You cannot fail to notice in the course of their lives the watchful hand of God’s providence. I hope you will resolve to dedicate yourselves wholly and unreservedly to the service of that God whom they worshipped at the risk of their lives; and that you and those who come after you will be steadfast in the profession of that pure reformed religion, for which they endured with unshaken constancy the most severe trials. When I look back upon the numberless uncommon and unmerited mercies bestowed upon myself, may my gratitude towards my Almighty Benefactor be increased, and my confidence in him so strengthened, that I may be enabled for the future to cast all my care upon him. The frailties and sins of the different periods of my life are brought to my mind. Great as is my debt of gratitude for the things of this life, how incalculably greater is it for the mercy to my immortal soul, in God having shed the blood of his only begotten Son to redeem it! O my God! I entreat thee to continue thy fatherly protection to me during the few days I have yet to live, and at last to receive my soul into thy everlasting arms. Amen.”
My readers will be pleased if I give the names of other Huguenot refugees preserved in this exile’s memoirs. The first is Mr. Maureau, an advocate of Saintes, who managed Fontaine’s case before the French courts, and who knew that the successful appeal to parliament had set at liberty twenty of Fontaine’s poor and pious neighbours, for whose sake he had voluntarily surrendered himself for trial. This gentleman, becoming a refugee, was appointed secretary to the Committee in London for administering relief to the necessitous refugees. When the Committee refused Fontaine’s claim, on account of non-conformity to the sacramental test, Mr. Maureau, with much warmth, pled his cause, saying:—
“You will not, I trust, suffer so worthy a man to be reduced to extreme want, without affording him any assistance, — a man who has shown that he counted his life as nothing when the glory of God was in question, and who voluntarily and generously exposed himself to uphold the faith of a number of poor country people. Perhaps there are not four ministers who have received the charity of the Committee, who have done so much for the cause of true religion as he has done.”
In the French Register at Portarlington, the surname of La Lande occurs — for instance, Monsieur Aulnis de La Lande. It is probably to him that Fontaine, among the reminiscences of his own school-days, makes the following allusion:—
“Mr. de La Lande, who now lives at Port Arlington in Ireland (1722), was at Rochelle in Mr. Arnauld’s school, at the same time I was there (1664- 1666). We became the greatest friends, and we desired some mode of showing it to each other. We decided at last that when either of us should be taken to the room for chastisement, the other should follow and call Mr. Arnauld names for his cruelty, which would of course irritate him, and then we should be both punished together. . . . The object was fully accomplished. . . . Mr. Arnauld tried to discover what had prompted such conduct, but we would not have disclosed it for the world. Some of our schoolfellows, however, let out the secret. He tried various expedients to conquer our resolution, but in vain. At one time he punished the innocent, and allowed the guilty to go free; this pleased us mightily, for we were able to testify our affection by saving each other from the rod. At last his mother-in-law, my Aunt Bouquet, persuaded him to adopt the following plan. His habit was to keep a record of the faults of each pupil, and to administer the rod when a certain number had been committed. So when one of us two had reached the limit, the punishment was delayed until the other had filled up his measure, and then both were whipped at the same time. This plan worked well, and made us circumspect, to spare each other.”
Many of the Fontaines and their connections became refugees, as appears from the following notes, which may be called their “Refugee Pedigree:” —
Jacques Fontaine, Pastor of Vaux and Royan (born 1603, died 1666), married,
1st, in 1628, Miss Thompson, of London; and
2dly, in 1641, Marie, daughter of Monsieur Chaillon, of Rue au Roy.
His children were
Jacques, Pastor of Archiac, in Saintonge, who died in the prime of life (and before the birth of Jacques, the refugee). After his death, his widow suffered a three years’ imprisonment, and was then banished. She and
Three sons became refugees in London — one of whom became a Protestant minister in Germany.
Pierre, assistant and successor to his father as Pastor of Vaux. His temple was demolished, and he was banished. He became chaplain of the Pest House, in London. He was alive and on active duty in 1697. He had three daughters. His youngest daughter, Esther, became the wife of Jean Arnauld, refugee merchant in London, “whose uprightness and correctness of judgment caused him frequently to be called upon to act as umpire, when differences arose between any of the French merchants in London.” J. A. was the grandson of Madame Bouquet, who was a sister of the first Jacques Fontaine mentioned in this pedigree.
Judith, widow of Monsieur Guiennot, had to take refuge in London.
Four daughters were refugees in London — who, with their mother, were dependent upon needlework for their support.
Elizabeth was the wife of Pastor Sautreau, of Saujon, in Saintonge.
Five children (with the father and mother) having fled to Dublin, set sail for America, but the ship was wrecked, and all seven were drowned within sight of their desired haven, Boston.
[The above were children of the first wife.]
Ann, wife of Leon Testard, Sieur des Meslars — both took refuge in Plymouth, but she died a few months after landing, “rejoicing to leave her children in a land where the pure gospel was preached.”
Marie, wife of Pastor Forestier, of St. Mesme — both became refugees. Their children were —
Janette, whom her uncle brought to England.
Pierre, watchmaker in London.
Jacques (or James), born in 1658, married in 16S6 Anne Elizabeth Boursiquot; “she willingly gave up relations, friends, and wealth.”
His children were —
James, born in 1687, was married in Ireland — a farmer, settled in Virginia in 1717.
Aaron, died young.
Mary Ann, Mrs. Maury.
Peter, B.A. of Trinity College, Dublin, married in 1714 Elizabeth Fourreau. He became a clergyman in Virginia.
John, b. 1693, a military officer.
Moses, B.A., also of Dublin — studied law in London — but became an engraver.
Francis, b. 1697, M. A. of Trinity College, Dublin. He was admitted to holy orders by the Bishop of London (Robinson) in 1721, and settled in Virginia.
Elizabeth, b. 1701. After her father’s death, she lived with John and Moses, and was married to Mr. Daniel Torin.
* ↑ For the facts of this Memoir, I am indebted to a most interesting book, “Memoirs of a Huguenot Family; translated and compiled from the original Autobiography of the Rev. James Fontaine, and other family manuscripts, by Ann Maury, with an Appendix containing a translation of the Edict of Nantes, and Edict of Revocation.” — New York: George P. Putnam & Co., 1S53.
* ↑ It is amusing to observe that Irish robbers were then called Tories. Fontaine uses that word, and his editor remarks, “The word tory having been long known as a cant term applied to a political party, it may not be amiss to remark that it is here used according to its original signification. It is derived from the Irish word TORUIGHIM, to pursue for purposes of violence, and in the days of Queen Elizabeth we discover it first used to signify the lawless banditti who were so troublesome in Ireland during her reign.”