The Siege of La Rochelle, 1627 - 1628. Protestant Huguenots Flee France, Seeds of Values Resulting in American Revolution Planted in the Colonies.

The fall of La Rochelle marked the definitive end of French toleration for Protestantism, dismantling any illusions of coexistence under the Edict of Nantes. This event triggered an exodus of Huguenots, tens of thousands fleeing persecution to seek refuge abroad, reshaping societies across Europe and the Americas.

La Rochelle. September 10, 1627 - October 27, 1628.
Huguenot Forces: Unknown, Likely Entire Male Population of La Rochelle.
British Forces: ~ 5,000 Troops.
French Forces: ~ 30,000 Troops.

Additional Research and Episode Research:

• Lockyer, Roger. Buckingham.
• Roche, O.I.A. the Days of the Upright: The story of the Huguenots.
• Burckhardt, Carl. Richelieu and his Age.

www.HistorysGreatestBattles.com

Transcript

 Thanks for tuning into this episode of History's Greatest Battles, season two, where we explore history's greatest sieges. If you know somebody that enjoys this genre of history, please share the podcast with them.

The early 17th century was a time of profound upheaval in Europe. The Protestant Reformation had shattered the unity of Christendom, and nations across the continent were grappling with the consequences. France, the largest and most powerful Catholic nation in Europe, was deeply divided. For nearly a century, religious conflict between the Protestant Huguenots and the Catholic majority had left the kingdom bloodied and fractured. The French Wars of Religion had come to an uneasy close in the late 16th century, but the peace was tenuous at best. The Edict of Nantes, issued by King Henry IV in 1598, granted the Huguenots religious freedom and political privileges, but this fragile compromise was always at risk of unraveling.

By the 1620s, those tensions began to boil over once again. King Louis XIII, who inherited the throne after the assassination of his father, ruled a kingdom on the brink. Determined to consolidate power and assert the monarchy’s authority, Louis relied on his brilliant and ruthless first minister, Cardinal Richelieu, to confront any challenges to royal absolutism. Among those challenges, none loomed larger than the Huguenots, whose fortified cities and semi-autonomous status represented a direct threat to the king’s control. What followed was not merely a military campaign but a battle for the soul of France, a confrontation that would determine whether the kingdom would remain fractured or emerge as a unified, centralized state.

The consequences of what unfolded in western France would ripple far beyond its borders. The suppression of the Huguenots marked a decisive moment in the rise of the modern French state, establishing the foundation for the absolute monarchy that would dominate Europe under Louis XIV. It also delivered a crushing blow to Protestantism in France, leading to a mass exodus of Huguenots whose skills and labor reshaped economies and societies across Britain, the Netherlands, Prussia, and the Americas. These events contributed to a broader shift in the balance of power in Europe, defining the trajectory of nations and empires for generations.

This episode examines a turning point in European history, one that shaped the future of religion, governance, and society in ways still felt today.

 Welcome to History's Greatest Battles, Season Two, Episode Eight: The siege of La Rochelle, the 10th of September 1627, to the 27th of October 1628.

Huguenot Forces: unknown, but likely the entire male population of the city, estimate unknown.
British Forces: roughly 5,000 troops. 
Royalist Forces: roughly 30,000 troops.

The fall of La Rochelle marked the definitive end of French toleration for Protestantism, dismantling any illusions of coexistence under the Edict of Nantes. This event triggered an exodus of Huguenots, tens of thousands fleeing persecution to seek refuge abroad, reshaping societies across Europe and the Americas.

The Huguenots, those defiant French Protestants, had carved out a place for themselves in France as early as the 1520s, yet their presence stirred constant tension in a land fiercely loyal to Catholic tradition.

From 1562 to 1597, the kingdom of France was ripped apart by eight ferocious religious wars, with the Catholic monarchy standing as the standard-bearer of one side and the Protestant Huguenots rallying their forces on the other.

This bloody conflict reached a turning point when Henry of Navarre ascended as King Henry IV, the man who would inaugurate the powerful Bourbon dynasty.

Though born and bred a Protestant, Henry embraced Catholicism to secure the loyalty of his divided subjects. Yet in 1598, he issued the Edict of Nantes, a bold decree that extended religious freedom across the kingdom, a gesture of unity and pragmatism in a fractured realm.

Peace held for a time, but it unraveled violently when Henry was struck down by an assassin’s blade, leaving his son, Louis XIII, to ascend the throne.

Under Henry’s reign, the Huguenots had risen to prominence, securing influential roles in the royal court and enjoying local autonomy surpassing that of their Catholic counterparts.

Their unyielding faith and fiercely independent spirit soon sparked resentment and fury among France’s Catholic majority.

Guided by the cunning and relentless Cardinal Richelieu, Louis XIII became convinced that his dream of absolute power could not be realized so long as the Huguenots retained their political clout.

At the helm of the Huguenot cause stood two men: Duke Henri de Rohan, a seasoned commander, and his brother Soubise, fiery and determined.

It was the younger brother, Soubise, who struck the first blow against Louis XIII’s new policies. In January 1625, he mustered a modest force in Poitou and seized the island of Rhé, a stone’s throw from the Huguenot stronghold of La Rochelle.

Not stopping there, Soubise commandeered ten ships and overwhelmed the royal garrison on the neighboring island of Oléron, a sharp and humiliating blow to the Crown.

Meanwhile, Henri de Rohan rallied troops from the staunchly Protestant strongholds of Languedoc, preparing for the battles ahead.

Richelieu, ever the strategist, recognized the danger. Noble support for the Huguenots could easily draw England, or even the Netherlands, into the fray, not necessarily for faith, but for the cold calculus of politics.

The Huguenots, defiant as ever, presented Louis with their demands.

Louis replied with thinly veiled menace: “I incline to peace, and I shall assure Languedoc and other provinces to you. But as for La Rochelle, my intention is different” (Burckhardt, Richelieu and his Age, p. 218).

Louis demanded brutal terms for La Rochelle. The city’s formidable defenses, constructed since Henry IV’s reign, would be torn down, leaving it confined to its ancient, crumbling walls. A royal superintendent would preside as the supreme authority, and no warships would ever again be allowed to anchor in its harbor.

Only under these oppressive terms could La Rochelle retain the rights granted to them under the Edict of Nantes, a bitter compromise that reeked of subjugation.

La Rochelle, the unshaken bastion of Protestantism in France, was undone by internal divisions. Among its citizens, bitter factionalism thwarted Rohan’s attempts to forge a united front against Richelieu’s tightening grip.

Desperate to save La Rochelle, Soubise sought salvation across the Channel, appealing to England for aid.

French politics, as always, spiraled into a web of intrigue and treachery.

Richelieu, ever calculating, had secured treaties with both England and the Netherlands, wary of igniting their Protestant populations into action.

Spain, though Catholic, was an ever-watchful predator, eager to seize any opportunity to extend its power. A Protestant revolt in France could provide the perfect pretext for unleashing a counter-Reformation bolstered by Spanish armies.

The Duke of Savoy, fickle and self-serving, would lend his support only where it promised the greatest gain.

Richelieu, shrewd as ever, kept his sights fixed on La Rochelle alone, avoiding a broader war with the Huguenots, for now, and calculating that this narrow focus would deter foreign intervention, save for the English.

In England, Soubise found eager allies among the populace and secured the backing of George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham, a powerful confidant of King Charles.

By June 1627, Buckingham assembled a force of 5,000 men, supported by a fleet, and set sail for La Rochelle with grand ambitions.

La Rochelle was a fortress by design. Guarded by three islands, Rhé, Aix, and Oléron, its harbor was fortified by two towering sentinels, connected by a heavy chain that could rise to block any ship from entering.

While the sea offered little hope for an assault, the landward approach was hardly more inviting. The city’s northern flank was shielded by treacherous marshes, leaving attackers with only a narrow and perilous path to advance.

Fort St. Louis commanded the landward approach, and behind it stood the city’s freshly built walls, towering and unyielding.

Every able-bodied Huguenot man within the city stood ready to fight, while their merchant vessels had been ingeniously outfitted for swift conversion into warships.

When Buckingham’s fleet appeared on the horizon, Richelieu had already reinforced Rhé and Oléron with royal troops, and even stationed a weak garrison at Fort St. Louis. Yet the fort’s Royalist presence was a constant source of anger for La Rochelle’s citizens.

Buckingham had the opportunity to storm Fort St. Louis and establish himself within La Rochelle, a move that might have rallied Huguenots across France. But he hesitated, fearing the Royalists’ control of the seas, and turned his attention to the island of Rhé instead.

The English troops stormed ashore at the eastern tip of the island, where they clashed with 200 Royalist cavalry and 2,000 infantry. The Royalist forces were driven back, unable to withstand the ferocity of the English advance.

The Royalists fell back to the safety of Fort St. Martin, but Buckingham swiftly encircled it, cutting off their escape and supplies.

Amid the relentless cannon fire pounding the walls of Fort St. Martin, the nobles of both sides exchanged stiff, formal courtesies, even as the fort’s defenses held firm against every assault.

Envoys dispatched to negotiate with King Louis returned empty-handed. The monarch refused to yield or order his men to surrender the fort.

The siege stretched into the long, grinding months of autumn, with no decisive breakthrough on either side.

While Buckingham’s forces continued to receive supplies from England and Holland, the people of La Rochelle found themselves paralyzed by uncertainty, divided over which path to follow.

The Anglo-French treaty still stood officially unbroken, and inviting the English into La Rochelle would all but guarantee a full-scale assault by the Crown.

In August, King Louis arrived at the gates of La Rochelle, bringing with him 11,000 infantry, 600 cavalry, and 24 cannons. His words to the people carried both a promise and a threat: “If the citizens are prepared to show themselves good Frenchmen, they have nothing to fear” (Burckhardt, Richelieu and his Age, p. 228).

Inside the walls of La Rochelle, moderates and radicals bickered endlessly, even as Buckingham’s blockade slowly strangled the garrison at Fort St. Martin.

The townspeople, caught between two armies, sold their goods to both the English and the Royalists. Yet in doing so, they drained their own vital resources, edging closer to starvation.

Cut off from the rest of France, they were barred from harvesting their fields, leaving them entirely dependent on what little they had left within the city walls.

Despite their growing desperation, the people of La Rochelle worked tirelessly to bolster their defenses. But with Louis refraining from an all-out attack, the Protestant strongholds elsewhere in France remained frustratingly silent, unwilling to rise in support.

Louis dangled the promise of peace, while Buckingham pledged men and resources, if only Fort St. Martin could be brought to its knees.

The stalemate dragged on until September 10, when Royalist engineers began reinforcing the defenses of Fort St. Louis, signaling a shift in momentum.

Had Louis relinquished Fort St. Louis to the Huguenots, they might have cast the English out. But when he chose instead to strengthen its defenses, the city’s leaders saw his promises for what they truly were: empty words cloaked in deceit.

The tension erupted into violence as the Huguenots unleashed a volley against the fort. The Royalists returned fire, and the last remnants of fragile peace were obliterated in an instant.

The situation for the Protestants unraveled with brutal swiftness. On October 7, a fleet of forty-six supply ships exploited a storm to break through and deliver desperately needed provisions to Fort St. Martin, just as its commander had warned of imminent surrender from starvation.

Though initially well-provisioned, the English forces fell victim to the ravages of dysentery, their strength ebbing away with every passing day.

The biting chill of autumn set in, while back in England, both public and royal support for the campaign began to waver.

On November 7, Buckingham launched a desperate assault on Fort St. Martin, hurling his men against its defenses. Yet despite their efforts, they could do little more than seize the outer walls.

As Buckingham prepared to retreat, Royalist reinforcements landed under cover of darkness. By dawn on November 8, 4,000 fresh troops stood ready to confront the battered English force.

Buckingham’s cavalry charge failed to break the French resolve, forcing him to lead a grueling, bloody retreat back toward his waiting ships.

As the English staggered back, 600 men from Fort St. Martin stormed out to join the Royalist assault. The retreat turned into a slaughter, with English soldiers falling in droves under the relentless onslaught.

Among the few survivors who escaped to the ships under cover of darkness was Buckingham himself, his ambition dashed and his army broken.

By January 1628, Richelieu’s besieging army swelled to 30,000 men. Yet La Rochelle’s lifeline remained intact, the sea was still open, and supplies continued to trickle in.

Unable to muster enough ships to fully blockade the harbor, Richelieu turned to the ingenious proposal of the visiting Marquis de Spinola. A dike would be constructed across the mouth of the harbor, an unyielding barrier to choke off all supply routes by sea.

Throughout the early months of 1628, Richelieu’s engineers toiled relentlessly, driving pilings deep into the seabed and sinking boats laden with stone to form an unbreakable breakwater.

The city’s position, far inland, left its guns powerless to disrupt the harbor’s mouth, forcing the defenders to watch helplessly as the dike took shape.

A narrow gap was left in the dike’s center to allow the tides to pass, but it was heavily fortified with floating batteries and a massive chain, making it nearly impenetrable.

Richelieu, ever resourceful, discovered through a deserter the existence of a hidden entrance to the city via its sewers. On the night of March 12, he armed himself and personally led 4,000 infantry and 1,000 cavalry, preparing to storm La Rochelle once the sewer grate was blown apart.

But the plan unraveled. The engineers lost their way in the marshes, and when they finally reached their objective, daylight had betrayed their position, leaving them dangerously exposed.

The defenders wasted no time fortifying the sewer entrance, sealing off what might have been a fatal breach. The siege, now a grinding war of attrition, dragged on.

Richelieu ensured his troops were well-paid, spiritually supported, and rigorously disciplined, but even his careful stewardship could not shield them from the grinding misery of the long winter.

Richelieu’s grim resolve only brightened when reports of mounting desperation within the city reached his ears.

Deserters carried tales of hunger gnawing at La Rochelle’s defenders, with scurvy spreading through the population like a silent plague.

Even the city’s leadership became targets, as plots against their lives surfaced amidst the chaos.

The English garrison, remnants of the failed campaign from the previous summer, grew restless, their demands for additional pay threatening to ignite mutiny.

The promised reinforcements from Languedoc, pledged by Rohan, never came, leaving La Rochelle to face its fate alone.

King Charles of England offered new hope, promising supplies by April, on the condition that the Huguenots recognize him as their benefactor.

But Parliament, mired in bitter disputes and more concerned with condemning Buckingham than aiding the Huguenots, moved painfully slowly to allocate the necessary funds.

When Admiral Lord Denbigh, Buckingham’s brother, finally arrived at La Rochelle with a convoy of supplies, already rotting, he refused to engage the French fleet or challenge the dike blocking the harbor.

Instead, he sent word to the city leaders, advising them to prepare for surrender while his fleet lingered offshore, an empty gesture meant to intimidate the French blockade.

Despite the absence of English reinforcements, Richelieu struggled to convince Louis XIII to authorize a final assault to crush the city outright.

The siege dragged on through the sweltering summer. Hundreds fled the city in desperation, while countless others succumbed to hunger and disease within its walls.

In late September, a fresh English fleet appeared on the horizon, laden with troops and supplies. But Richelieu’s agents, working with surgical precision, spread mutiny among the sailors, ensuring that no aid reached the beleaguered city.

On October 27, with no hope remaining, Jean Guiton, the mayor of La Rochelle, led 4,000 gaunt, broken survivors to Richelieu’s camp.

Two days later, the defeated citizens were brought before King Louis himself. That same day, Richelieu, triumphant, marched into the city at the head of his forces. He refused Guiton’s formal surrender, banishing the defiant mayor as punishment for his insolence.

King Louis made his ceremonial entrance into La Rochelle on November 1, a symbol of his authority. By the 18th, his work complete, he departed for Paris, leaving behind the scars of conquest.

In the aftermath, Richelieu commanded the destruction of La Rochelle’s proud walls, ensuring it could never again rise in defiance.

More significantly, Richelieu celebrated Mass within the fallen city, marking the official restoration of Catholicism to its battered streets.

The fall of La Rochelle was not merely the collapse of a city, it was the death knell for the Huguenot cause in France.

Divided and plagued by indecision, the Huguenots were no match for Richelieu’s relentless focus and strategic mastery.

While Protestants were spared outright persecution for the moment, Louis XIII had taken a decisive step toward the absolute monarchy that would soon define France.

His son, Louis XIV, would complete this transformation. In 1685, he revoked the Edict of Nantes and unleashed unrelenting persecution upon the Huguenots, sealing their fate.

The revocation unleashed a human tide, as nearly 800,000 Huguenots abandoned France, scattering across Britain, Germany, Switzerland, and the North American colonies. Stripped of their homeland but unbroken in spirit, they carried with them an unrelenting belief in freedom of conscience, a belief that would take root in the fertile soil of the American colonies, growing over decades into the ideals of liberty and self-determination that would one day ignite a revolution and forge a new nation.