Protestant King William III set up the Bank of England in 1694 to fund wars against his Catholic French nemesis – King Louis XIV, the Sun King.  The first Governor of the Bank was Sir John Houblon, great-grandson of a Huguenot refugee.

Various Houblons were involved in the Bank in its founding years, including Sir James Houblon, one of Samuel Pepys’ best friends.  Sir James was Sir John’s brother; both siblings stood for election to be the first governor of the Bank of England, but Sir John pipped his older brother to the post.  Sir John was commemorated on a £50 note:

Picture shows image of Sir John Houblon as depicted on the £50 note from 1994 to 2011

I find myself looking into the pink face of Monsieur Houblon, and telling myself he looks like me.  Surely we share some facial traits?  A fantasy, of course, because my ancestors were poor weavers –  not prominent city merchants with famous diarists for friends.

I indulge this fantasy constantly at Huguenot events.  I may slide into a church pew next to an elderly gentleman who smiles and makes room for me, and I tell myself he looks like my father.  His manner is the same.  I search his face for my father, and he is kind to me.

What I feel is love, is family.

This poem by Thomas Hardy struck home:

Heredity

I am the family face;

Flesh perishes, I live on,

Projecting trait and trace

Through time to times anon,

And leaping from place to place

Over oblivion.

The years-heired feature that can

In curve and voice and eye

Despise the human span

Of durance – that is I;

The eternal thing in man,

That heeds no call to die

A yearning for recognition lies at the root of my Huguenot research.  As the black sheep of the family, I have come back, and I am planting myself firmly on the family tree - not least because I have taken control of it.  I do exist.  I am here.  I claim my place in the family.