Natural Objects and their Superstitions.
“Yon old grey stone, protected from the ray
Of noontide suns.…
And thou, grey stone, the pensive likeness keep
Of a dark chamber where the mighty sleep:
Far more than fancy to the influence bends
When solitary nature condescends
To mimic time’s forlorn humanities.”
--_Wordsworth._
“This is the fairy land: oh spight of spights
We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites.”
--_Shakespeare._
There are many spots in Guernsey connected with stories and legends
besides the Druidical remains. The caverns of the Creux des Fées and
Creux Mahié; the various curiously shaped rocks, formed by the hand of
Nature, or by the wearing action of the waves; the marks of footprints,
whether human or diabolical, on various stones; and above all the
sacred fountains, which are still regarded as medicinal, have given
rise to many a tradition, which, though they lose much of their charm
from being translated from the quaint Guernsey French in which they are
originally related, we will here endeavour to render.
LE CREUX DES FÉES.
Between the bays of Vazon and Cobo is found the peninsula of Houmet,
and here is situated the “Creux des Fées.” It is a small cavern,
worn away by the action of the sea. The granite surrounding its mouth
abounds in particles of mica, which glitter in the sun like streaks
of gold. It can only be approached at low tide, and necessitates much
scrambling over the rocks which are heaped round the mouth of the
grotto. It is said that by a hole not larger than the mouth of an
oven, you gain access to a spacious hall, hollowed out of the rock,
that in the middle of this hall is a stone table on which are dishes,
plates, drinking cups, and everything necessary for a large feast, all
in stone, and all used by the fairies, but no one has had the courage
to penetrate inside and test the truth of this assertion. It is also
believed that beyond it there is a subterranean passage which leads
to the bottom of St. Saviour’s Church, which is distant more than two
miles. This tradition of a subterranean passage leading to a church at
a considerable distance is told of other caverns in Guernsey. Of the
Creux Mahié, where there is also said to be a passage leading to St.
Saviour’s Church, of a large cave in Moulin Huet Bay, which is supposed
to lead to a passage going straight to St. Martin’s Church, and one at
Saints’ Bay, also supposed to lead to St. Saviour’s Church.
EDITOR’S NOTE.--“Le groupe le plus important de demeures de fées que
j’aie rencontré est celui des Houles (l’anglais _hole_, caverne,
grotte).” … “Elles se prolongent sous terre si loin, que personne,
dit-on, n’est allé jusqu’au fond … parfois on les appelle Chambres
des fées. Il y en a où l’on voit, dit-on, des tables de pierre sur
lesquelles elles mangeaient, leurs sièges, et les berceaux en pierre de
leurs enfants.”--_Traditions et Superstitions de la Haute Bretagne_, p.
84.
LE CREUX MAHIÉ.
The whole of the southern coast of Guernsey, from Jerbourg, or St.
Martin’s Point, to Pleinmont in the parish of Torteval, is extremely
precipitous, but abounding in picturesque beauties of no common
character. Bold headlands, with outlying granite rocks rising like
pyramids and obelisks from the clear blue sea, alternating with caves
and bays to which access is gained through deep glens and ravines,
some richly wooded, some hemmed in on both sides by rugged hills,
but through all of which a tiny rill of the purest water trickles,
keeping up a perpetual verdure--slopes covered in early spring with
the golden blossoms of the gorse, in summer with the purple bells of
the heather, and in autumn with the rich brown fronds of the withering
bracken--cliffs mantled in parts with luxuriant ivy, in other with many
coloured lichens, and out of every crevice of which the thrift, the
campion, and other flowers that delight in the vicinity of the sea,
burst in wild profusion--all combine to form pictures which the artist
and the lover of nature are never tired of studying.
The constant action of the waves for unnumbered centuries has worn out
many caverns in these cliffs, the most considerable of which is that
known by the name of “Le Creux Mahié,” or as some old writers wrote it
“Mahio,” and it undoubtedly took its name, so says Mr. Métivier, from
its ancient proprietor, the king of the infernal regions.
“The Prince of darkness is a gentleman;
Modo he’s called and _Mahu_.”
--_King Lear._ Act 3, Sc. 4.
The Hindoos have the same name in their _Maha-Dêva_, a giant of the
family of the dives or demons.[65] In the province of Mayo, there is a
Sorcerer or Druid, the Priest of _Mayo_, who lives in a cavern, and is
called “the King of the Waters.”
It is also sometimes called “Le Creux Robilliard,” from a family of
that name on whose property it was situated. It lies in the parish of
Torteval, and is reached by a narrow pathway, winding down the almost
precipitous side of a steep cliff, into a small creek worn out by the
sea between the headlands. The cave itself, there can be no doubt,
must have been formed by the waves wearing away gradually a vein of
decomposed rock, softer than that which forms the sides and roof. At
some remote period a large portion of the rock which forms the roof of
the cavern has given way, and has partially blocked up the entrance,
leaving only a long low fissure through which access can be had to
the interior, and forming a sort of platform of solid stone, which
effectually cuts off any further encroachment on the part of the sea. A
steep descent over broken fragments of rock leads down to the floor of
the cave, which appears to be nearly on a level with the beach at the
foot of the platform. A glimmering light from the entrance enables one
to see that the rock arches overhead in a sort of dome, and a bundle of
dry furze or other brushwood, set on fire, lights it up sufficiently
to bring out all the details. It is a weird sight; as the flickering
flames illumine one by one the various masses of rock that are piled up
to the roof at the extremity of the cavern, and disclose the entrances
to two or three smaller caves. These are, in reality, of no great
depth, but they are sufficiently mysterious to have given rise to more
than one report concerning them, and there are but few of the peasantry
who would be bold enough to attempt to explore their recesses. It is
firmly believed by them that there is a passage extending all the way
under ground as far as the Church of St. Saviour’s, about a mile
distant as the crow flies; and it is also affirmed that there is an
entrance through a small hole to an extensive apartment, in the midst
of which stands a stone table, on which are set out dishes, plates,
drinking vessels, and other requisites for a well-served feast, all of
the same solid material.[66]
There are obscure traditions of the cavern having been at some early
period the resort of men who lived by stealing their neighbours’
sheep, and plundering their hen-roosts, but these traditions cannot be
traced to anything more definite than what is commonly alleged of all
such places, neither are the tales told of its having been the resort
of smugglers more to be relied on. The difficulty of access to it,
either by sea or land, makes it very improbable that it should have
been used for this purpose; besides, in former days, Guernsey was a
perfectly free port, nothing that entered was subject to any duty that
it would have been profitable to evade, and before the establishment
of a branch of the English Custom House, all exports could be made
without the troublesome formalities of clearance and declaration now
required. Of late years the smuggling of spirits into the island in
order to avoid payment of the local dues in aid of the public revenue,
has been carried on to rather a large extent; but this has taken place
on more accessible parts of the coast. Possibly, however, tobacco made
up in illegal packages, which would subject it to seizure if found
waterborne, may occasionally have been deposited here for a time, until
it could be carried off secretly to the French vessels passing the
island in their coasting voyages between Normandy and Brittany.
In a letter dated May, 1665, to one of his friends in Guernsey, from
the Rev. John de Sausmarez, who, on the restoration of Charles II., was
appointed Dean of the Island, and subsequently Canon of Windsor, he
alludes to “Le prophète du Creux Robilliard.” Who this prophet was does
not appear, but there is every reason to believe that the allusion is
to the Rev. Thomas Picot, Minister of the then united parishes of the
Forest and Torteval, in the latter of which the Creux Mahié--_alias_
Robilliard, is situated; for in the Assembly of Divines held at
Westminster in 1644, articles were exhibited against this clergyman for
troubling the Church discipline established in the island, preaching
Anabaptist doctrines, and prophesying that in 1655 there should be
a perfect reformation, men should do miracles, etc. This conjecture
receives some slight confirmation from the fact that it is still
remembered in the Forest parish that a Minister of the name of Picot
was fond of retiring to caves on the sea-shore for meditation, and one
of these caves in particular, that well known one in Petit Bot bay
with a double entrance, is still known by the name of “Le Parloir de
Monsieur Picot.”
[65] _Recherches Asiatiques_, Tome I., Traduit de l’Anglais.
[66] This last piece of information was furnished by Caroline le
Tullier, of the Parish of the Forest, wife of Richard Murton.
Rocks and Stones.
“LE PETIT BONHOMME ANDRELOT, OU ANDRIOU.”
“Screams round the Arch-druid’s brow the seamew--white
As Menai’s foam.”
--_Wordsworth._
One of the earliest forms of idolatry is undoubtedly that which was
paid to rude stone pillars. These, whether erected for the purpose of
marking the last resting place of some renowned patriarch or warrior,
or set up with the design of indicating a spot specially appropriated
to religious rites, or perhaps, simply as a boundary or landmark,
came to be regarded, at first, as sacred, and in process of time,
as a symbol of the Deity himself. Gradually any elevated rock, and
especially if it presented a striking and unusual appearance, was
looked upon with veneration. We find that this was particularly the
case in the north of Europe, and that the hardy mariners who navigate
the tempestuous seas of Scandinavia, are, even now, in the habit of
paying a sort of superstitious respect to the lofty “stacks,” as the
isolated masses of rock are called, which form the extremity of many
of the headlands, and that, in passing, they salute them, and throw
old clothes, or a little food, or a drop of spirits, into the sea, as
a sort of propitiatory offering. It is strange to find that the same
custom still exists in Guernsey, notwithstanding that a thousand years
or more have elapsed since the Northmen first invaded these shores.
[Illustration: “Le Petit Bonhomme Andrelot, ou Andriou.”]
Everyone who has visited Guernsey must know the lovely bay of Moulin
Huet,[67] and the remarkable group of rocks, which stretches out into
the sea at its eastern extremity beyond the point of Jerbourg. These
rocks are called “Les Tas de Pois d’Amont,” or “The Pea-Stacks of the
East.” There being a chain of rocks off Pleinmont which are called the
“Tas de Pois d’Aval”--the westerly Pea-Stacks--“Amont” (meaning “en
haut”) is the Guernsey word for _east_, _aval_ meaning “en bas,” their
word for _west_.[68]
Each rock composing the Tas de Pois d’Amont has its own special name.
They are “Le Petit Aiguillon,” “Le Gros Aiguillon,” “L’Aiguillon
d’Andrelot,” ou “du Petit Bon-Homme.”
The united and increasing action of the winds and waves has worn the
hard granite rock into the most fantastic forms, and from certain
points of view it is not difficult to invest some of these masses of
stone with a fancied resemblance to the human form. One of them in
particular, when seen at a certain distance, has all the appearance of
an aged man enveloped in the gown and cowl of a monk.
So singular a freak of nature has not escaped the attention of the
peasantry, and the rock in question is pointed out by the name of “Le
Petit Bon-Homme Andriou.” The children in the neighbourhood have a
rhymed saying:
_“Andriou, tape tout,”_
which may be translated
“Andriou, watch all,” or “over all,”
and the fishermen and pilots who frequent these parts of the coast show
their respect by taking off their hats when passing the point, and are
careful to insist on the observance being complied with by any stranger
who may chance to be in their company. Formerly it was not unusual with
them, before setting sail, to offer a biscuit or a libation of wine or
cider to “Le Bon Homme,” and, if an old garment past use chanced to be
in the boat, this was also cast into the sea.[69]
There are other rocks on the coast which the fishermen are in the
habit of saluting without being able to give any reason why they do
so; and it is not impossible that the honour paid to the little island
of Lihou,[70] on the western coast of Guernsey, by the small craft,
in lowering their topmasts while passing, may have originated in the
same superstition, although it is generally supposed that they do it
out of reverence to the Blessed Virgin, the ruins of whose Chapel and
Priory are still to be seen on the isle. The circumnavigation of a
certain rock by the fishermen of the parish of St. John, in Jersey, on
Midsummer Day, may, perhaps, be traceable to the same source.
[67] EDITOR’S NOTE.--“Moulin Luet,” according to Mr. Métivier--“Vier
Port”--still in the mouths of the old country people.
[68] (Par la même raison que le vent d’ouest est le vent d’_aval_, le
vent qui vient de la partie la plus haute, la plus montueuse de France,
est le vent d’_amont_.--_Métivier’s Dictionary_, page 36).
[69] EDITOR’S NOTES.
There are several legends still repeated by the country people about
“Le Petit Bon Homme Andriou.”
One is that he was a man searching for hidden treasure among the
rocks of the Tas de Pois and that the guardian spirit of the treasure
appeared and turned him into stone for his sacrilege.--_Collected by
Mr. J. Linwood Pitts, of the Guille-Allès Library._
Another is that he was an old Arch-Druid, the last of the Druids to
hold out against Christianity. Miserable at his brethren’s apostacy
from the faith of their fathers, he went to live in a cave at the end
of Jerbourg Point. His favourite occupation was standing on the rocks
of the Tas de Pois and gazing out to sea, for he was passionately
fond of the sea and sailors. One day, during a violent gale, he saw a
ship in great distress out at sea, so he prayed to his gods to stop
the storm and save the ship. They took no notice of his prayers, the
storm still raged, and the ship was driven nearer and nearer to the
dangerous rocks on which he stood. Then, in desperation, he prayed to
the God of the Christians, and vowed that if only the ship were saved
he would turn Christian and dedicate a Chapel to the Blessed Virgin.
As he prayed, the gale ceased, and the ship made its way safely to the
harbour. And Andrillot, after being baptised as a Christian, dedicated
a Chapel; some say it is the one of which the ruins on Lihou Island
can still be seen, which is dedicated to “Notre Dame de la Roche;”
others say it was the Chapel, long since destroyed, which was on the
Fief Blanchelande in St. Martin’s parish, and which is believed to have
stood where the parish school now stands.
Be that as it may, that little figure standing, looking out to sea,
petrified there that he may yet bring good luck and fine weather to his
beloved sailors, is still looked upon by them with fond reverence, and
they still throw him in passing their drop of spirits, or doff their
flag, for luck.--_From Mr. Isaac Le Patourel and others._
“L’Bouan Homme Andriou,” as correctly printed in Gray’s map. This is
a _petrified Druid_, or rather Arch-Druid,--An _An Drio_--the Primate
of the Unelli, and now the guardian of Moulin Huet and Saints’ Bays,
Guernsey; for, according to Rowland, our ancestors called that mighty
Prelate thus, and Toland in his _Celtic Religion_, p. 60, says “The
present ignorant vulgar believes that these enchanters the Druids were
at least themselves enchanted by the still greater enchanter Patrick
and his disciples, who miraculously confined them _to the places that
bear their names_. And let me not be thought over minutious should I
notice the peculiar propriety of the epithet applied by rural tradition
to this _most reverend_ rock of ours--“Le Bouan Homme,”--“bon homme”
in France, and “good man” in England, still denoting a Priest two
centuries ago, particularly a priest of the old régime.”--_From Mr.
Métivier._
“LA BELLE LIZABEAU.”
Another instance of a traditionally petrified human being is a rock off
the Creux Mahié, standing straight out into the water. It is called
“La Belle Lizabeau,” and a little rock at the foot of it is called
“La Petite Lizabeau.” It is said that “Lizabeau” was a beautiful girl
of Torteval, who was turned out of the house with her baby by her
infuriated father. Mad with despair she rushed to the cliffs and leapt
into the sea with her baby in her arms, and she and her child were
turned into the rocks which now stand there.--_From Dan Mauger, an old
fisherman of St. Martin’s Parish._
[70] Dr. Heylyn says in his _Survey of the Estate of Guernzey and
Jarsey_, published 1656, p. 298:--“The least of these isles, but yet of
most note, is the little islet called _Lehu_, situate on the north side
of the eastern corner, and neer unto those scattered rocks, which are
called _Les Hanwaux_ appertaining once unto the Dean, but now unto the
Governour. Famous for a little Oratory or Chantery there once erected
to the honour of the Virgin _Mary_, who, by the people in those times
was much sued to by the name of our Lady of _Lehu_. A place long since
demolished in the ruine of it. “_Sed jam periere ruinæ_,” but now the
ruines of it are scarce visible, there being almost nothing left of
it but the steeple, which serveth only as a sea-marke, and to which,
as any of that party sail along they strike their topsail. “_Tantum
religio potuit suadere._” Such a religious opinion have they harboured
of the place, that, though the Saint be gone, the wals shall yet still
be honoured.”
“LA ROQUE MANGI.”
La Roque Màngi was a natural granite formation having a very artificial
aspect. It stood on one of those sandy downs which extend along the
north-west coast between “Le Grand Havre” and “Les Grand’ Rocques,” and
consisted of a slender upright mass of rock of from eight to ten feet
in height, surmounted by a large stone, projecting about half a foot on
every side, resting on the narrowest part of the supporting stone, and
looking at a little distance like a petrified giant. It was destroyed
by the proprietor of the land about the middle of the present century
in the hopes of finding below it a profitable quarry of granite, in
which, however, he was disappointed.
Of this rock a curious legend was related by the neighbouring peasants.
It was said that the Devil, having quarrelled one day with his wife,
tied her by the hair of her head to the upright stone, and that, in
her frantic efforts to disengage herself by running round and round,
she wore away the solid granite to the narrow neck which supported the
superincumbent head.[71]
The origin of the name seems doubtful, some tracing it to a family
of the name of Maingy, who possessed land in the parish in which the
rock was situated. Others, with more probability, attributing it to
the “eaten”--“mangé”--(in the local dialect “màngi”) appearance of the
stones, where the upper one or head joined the supporting upright.
[71] From one of the Le Poidevins, of Pleinheaume.
“LA CHAIRE DE ST. BONIT.”
This was also called “La Chaire au Prêtre,” and was situated in the
district of the Hamelins, a little to the north of the property known
as St. Clair. It was a very regularly formed natural obelisk of about
eight to ten feet in height, rising from the summit of one of those
hillocks, or “hougues” as they are locally called, which, before the
great granite industry took its rise, abounded in St. Sampson’s and
the Vale parishes, and along the whole western coast. At the foot of
the upright rock was a large flat stone, giving the whole mass the
appearance of a gigantic chair or pulpit. Seven stone hatchets have
been unearthed in its vicinity. It was evidently used by the Druids as
one of their sacred chairs, in which their Pontiffs sat to instruct the
people. It is probable that towards the end of the seventh century,
St. Bonit, Bishop of Auvergne, who was known to have been a great
traveller, visited the land previously converted by St. Samson, St.
Magloire, St. Paterne, and St. Marcouf, and sat and preached to the
people in this erst-while Druid’s throne, which henceforth bore his
name.
“LA ROCQUE OU LE COQ CHANTE.”
This very singular name is given to a picturesque mass of rock
which forms the termination of a hill in the parish of Ste. Marie
du Castel, and abuts on the road leading from the village of Les
Grands Moulins--better known as The King’s Mills--to Le Mont Saint.
Mr. Métivier gives as his explanation of this name that all this
region--from the Mont-au-Nouvel (now called Delancey Hill) to the
Castiau Roc--was the centre of the Druids and their observances. “The
Eagle,” “The Cock,” “The Partridge,” “The Curlew,” were the names
of various degrees in Theology[72] among the Druids and among the
western sun worshippers. This “Coq” was the Prophet, the “Magician,”
of the Canton. The Arch-Magician of the King of Babylon was Nergal or
“Le Coq.” It is said to be a very favourite haunt of the fairies and
witches, and it is commonly reported that an immense treasure lies
concealed within it. In olden days it was the fashion to walk round
it, stamping at the same time, the soil resounded under their feet,
they heard, or thought they heard, the monotonous sound of a bell,
tolling a far-away knell, and hence the belief of a subterranean fairy
cavern and hoards of concealed treasure.[73]
[72] Christophor: Muyheus apud. Baheum, in Centur. de Script. Brit.
[73] From Rachel Duport.
EDITOR’S NOTE.--In _Traditions et Superstitions de la Haute Bretagne_,
Tome I., p. 38, M. Paul Sebillot says:--“Presque tous les monuments
préhistoriques passent pour renfermer des trésors, il en est de même
des gros blocs erratiques qui se trouvent dans les champs ou sur les
landes.”
INSCRIBED STONE.
Old people say that there was formerly a very large stone in St.
Andrew’s parish on which was engraven an inscription in ancient
characters. Some men who passed it every day in going to their work at
last succeeded in deciphering it, and read as follows:--
_“Celui qui me tournera_
_Son temps point ne perdra.”_
(To him who turns me up, I say,
His labour won’t be thrown away).
This inscription roused their curiosity, and they determined on making
a strong effort to raise the stone, fully persuaded that it concealed
an enormous treasure. They procured crowbars and levers, and, at last,
with much labour and great loss of time, succeeded in lifting it, but
who can describe their disappointment when they found nought but the
following words, legibly engraved on the other side:--
_“Tourner je voulais_
_Car lassée j’étais.”_
(Tired of lying on one side
To get turned over long I’ve tried).[74]
[74] A similar story is told in Scotland. See MacTaggart’s _Gallavidian
Encyclopædia_, under the article “Lettered Craigs.”
See also _Mélusine_, Vol. II., p. 357. Roby’s _Traditions of
Lancashire_, Vol. I., p. 252, and the same story in _Notes and
Queries_, 1st Series. II. 332.
FOOTPRINTS ON STONE.
A little inland, about halfway between the points of land which are the
northern and southern extremities of the picturesque bay of Rocquaine,
there is a rocky hillock known generally by the name of “Le Câtillon,”
probably from some small castle or fortification which may have existed
there in former days. Old people say that the true name of the hill is
“La Hougue ès Brinches,” from the broom which once grew there in large
quantities. At the foot of this hillock, on the northern side, there
is a flat stone imbedded in the earth, and on it are the marks of two
feet, pointing in opposite directions, as if two persons coming, one
from the north, and the other from the south, had met on this spot and
left the impress of their footprints on the stone. Of course a story
is not wanting to account for these marks. It is said that the Lady of
Lihou and the Lady of St. Brioc (or some say the Abbess of La Haye du
Puits) had a dispute as to the limits of their territorial possessions,
and that, in order to settle the question, they agreed to leave their
respective abodes at a certain hour before breakfast, and walk straight
forward until they met. The spot where the meeting took place was to
be henceforth considered as the boundary, and to avoid any further
disputes a lasting memorial was to be placed on the spot.
If the country people are asked who these “Ladies” were, they can
give no further information about them, but they evidently consider
them to have belonged to the fairy-folk, who have left behind them so
many traces of their former occupation of the island. Antiquaries are
disposed to look upon the stone as having been placed there to mark
the boundary line between the Priories of Notre Dame de Lihou and St.
Brioc.
Another story of this rock is that at Pleinmont lived a hermit who was
much respected by all the island, and many people came to visit him in
his cell, which he never left, except to administer the Holy Sacrament
to the dying. He used to be seen kneeling for hours at the foot of a
cross upon the cliff; but one night a fisherman, anchored in Rocquaine
Bay, saw by the moon’s light this hermit cross the sands and meet a
tiny shrouded figure which came from the direction of Lihou. They met
on this rock, and stood talking there for some time, and then each
returned the way he came, and in the morning, when the fisherman came
to examine the place, he found the print of two feet. He could not make
himself believed when he told the story, until it was discovered that
the hermit had disappeared, never to be seen again.[75]
In the year 1829 a large quantity of coins, amounting, it is said, to
nearly seven hundred in number, were dug up at no very great distance
from this stone. The greater part were silver pennies, but there were
a few copper pieces among them; they were of the reigns of Edward II.
of England, and Philip IV. of France. The discovery of this treasure
induced some men who lived in the neighbourhood to seek for more, and,
under the firm persuasion that the most likely spot to find it was
under the stone itself, they resolved on braving the danger which is
supposed to be incurred by removing stones which have been placed by
the fairies, and devoted a whole morning to clearing away the ground
around it with a view to lifting it. They had, with great labour,
succeeded in loosening the stone just as the sun in its zenith marked
the hour of noon, an hour when all good workmen cease from their toil
to eat their frugal mid-day repast, and to enjoy their siesta under the
shelter of a hedge. They felt sure of success, and probably dreamt of
the uses to which they would put their treasure, but, alas, for their
hopes. When they returned to their work at one o’clock, they found the
stone as firmly fixed as ever, and resisting their utmost efforts to
remove it. They were more convinced than ever that immense riches lie
buried in this spot, but that it is useless to seek for them, and none
since that time have been bold enough to renew the attempt.[76]
[75] From Miss Lane.
[76] From Jean Le Lacheur, of Rocquaine.
“LE PIED DU BŒUF.”
In the Vale parish there is a large tract of uncultivated land
commonly known by the name of L’Ancresse Common. It is said to owe
its name of L’Ancresse--the anchoring place--to the circumstance of
the neighbouring bay having afforded a refuge to Robert the First,
Duke of Normandy, and his fleet, when in danger of perishing in a
violent tempest. Our learned antiquary, Mr. George Métivier, is rather
disposed to derive the name from the Celtic “Lancreis,” “the place
of the circle,” so many Druidical remains being still to be found on
the common as to render it highly probable that one of those circular
enclosures, formed of upright stones, in which the Druids are supposed
to have held their sacred assemblies, formerly existed here. Along the
sea-coast are many eminences, known locally by the name of “hougues.”
Their height is not great, but they form picturesque objects in the
landscape. Here and there large masses of grey granite covered with
lichens rise in irregular forms above the green sward, gay in spring
with the bright flowers of the furze and bluebell, and redolent with
the sweet perfume of the wild thyme and chamomile. In some of these
rocks may be traced those curious excavations known by the name of rock
basins, which antiquaries have considered as artificial, but which
geologists are ready to prove to be the work of nature.
Of late years many of these hougues have been quarried for the sake
of the stone, which is preferred in London to all others for paving
purposes, and if the demand should continue many of these hills will
be entirely levelled, and with them will disappear some of the most
characteristic features in the scenery of that part of the island.
While writing (1853), La Hougue Patris is advertised for sale, and
stress is laid in the advertisement on the excellent quality of the
stone which it contains. This hougue is situated on the north eastern
extremity of L’Ancresse Bay, and is remarkable from the circumstance
that a portion of the rock, where it appears above ground, bears marks
precisely similar to those which would be left by the hoof of an ox
on wet clay. So remarkable an appearance has of course attracted the
attention of the neighbouring peasants, who call the rock which bears
the impression “Le Pied du Bœuf.” Some old people relate that the
Devil, after having been driven from the other parts of the island by a
Saint whose name is now forgotten, made a last stand on this spot, but
that, after a long and desperate conflict, his Satanic Majesty was at
last constrained to take flight. In leaping, he left the marks of his
hoofs imprinted on the stone. He directed his flight towards Alderney,
but on his way thither alighted on the Brayes rocks, where, it is said,
similar marks of cloven feet are to be seen. Whether he got beyond
Alderney, or settled down quietly in that island, is a point on which
the narrators of the tradition are by no means agreed.
Did we not know that a family of the name of Patris was formerly
numerous in the Vale parish,[77] and that there is every probability
that the Hougue derived its name from some member of that family, to
whom, in ancient days, it may have belonged; we might be tempted to
suppose that the valiant Saint who forced the demon to fly was no other
than the renowned St. Patrick himself, especially as, according to some
accounts, the Saint was a native of a village in the neighbourhood of
the town of St Maloes, within eight or ten hours of this island.
It is true that, with all the self-conceit of the nineteenth century,
we are apt to suppose that before the establishment of packets and
steamers, communication between the opposite coasts of the Channel was
difficult and infrequent, but we have only to open the lives of the
British and Irish Saints to see with what ease and rapidity these holy
men effected the voyage, with no other conveyance than a stone trough,
a bundle of sea-weed, or perchance a cloak spread out on the boisterous
waves.
[77] EDITOR’S NOTE.--The Patris were also a family of note in the
parish of St. Martin’s in the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth
centuries; a “Ville ès Patrys” was among the numerous subdivisions of
this parish. Much of their lands passed into the hands of the Bonamy
family through the marriage of Marguerite Patris, daughter of Pierrot
Patris, of Les Landes and St. Martin’s, to Pierre Bonamy, father of
John Bonamy, King’s Procureur in 1495, builder of the old Bonamy house
of Les Câches, and translator of the “Extente” from Latin into French
in 1498.
[Illustration: “The Devil’s Claw” at Jerbourg.]
“THE DEVIL’S CLAW” AT JERBOURG.
As the inhabitants of Guernsey may be presumed to be acquainted with
the Chronicles of their own Duchy of Normandy, it is not improbable
that the following legendary tale, related of Duke Richard, surnamed
Sans-Peur, may be known to some of them.
The _Chronique de Normandie_, printed at Rouen in 1576, gives it in
words of which the following is a close translation. (Fol. 4. Sur
l’an 797). “Once upon a time, as Duke Richard was riding from one of
his Castles to a Manor, where a very beautiful lady was residing, the
Devil attacked him, and Richard fought with and vanquished him. After
this adventure the Devil disguised himself as a beautiful maiden,
richly adorned,[78] and appeared to him in a boat at Granville, where
Richard then was. Richard entered into the boat to converse with and
contemplate the beauty of this lady, and the Devil carried away the
said Duke Richard to a rock in the sea in the island of Guernsey, where
he was found.”
He is supposed to have anchored at La Petite Porte and leapt up the
cliff and landed on the stone near Doyle’s Column at Jerbourg, where
the print of his claw is still to be seen. As you go along the road
from the town to Doyle’s Column you see a large white piece of quartz
with a deep black splash right across it. It is on the right hand side
of the road, just as it begins to rise towards Doyle’s Column, at the
head of the second vallum, or dyke, going down towards La Petite
Porte. This stone was also the termination of the bounds at Jerbourg
beaten by the Chevauchée de St. Michel.
[78] “Ceux qui effleurent tout au galop ne sauront point que, chez
les Rabbins, _Lilith_, spectre nocturne, est ‘une diablesse’ sous la
forme de cette ‘damoiselle richement aornée,’ qui ne fit les yeux doux
à notre bon duc Richard, qu’afin de traiter ce nouvel Ixion comme la
reine des Dieux avait traité le premier.”--_Georges Métivier._
“LE PONT DU DIABLE.”
In former days that tract of land lying between St. Sampson’s Harbour
and the Vale Church, and known by the name of “Le Braye du Valle,” was
an arm of the sea, which at high water separated that part of the Vale
parish called “Le Clos du Valle” from the rest of the island. At the
beginning of the present century, Sir John Doyle, then Lieut.-Governor
of the island, seeing the inconvenience that might arise from the want
of a ready communication with the mainland, in the event of an invading
enemy effecting or attempting a landing in L’Ancresse Bay, caused the
dyke near the Vale Church to be built. The land recovered from the sea
became of course the property of the Crown, and was subsequently sold
to private individuals, the purchase money being given up by Government
to be employed towards defraying the expenses of constructing new roads
throughout the island.
Where fishes once swam, and where the husbandman once gathered sea-weed
for the manuring of his land, droves of cattle now graze, and fields
of corn wave.[79] From the very earliest times, the want of an easy
communication between the neighbouring parishes must have been felt,
and attempts had been made to remedy the inconvenience by the erection
of rude bridges. It would be strange, if the Devil, whose skill in
the construction of bridges in every part of Europe has certainly
entitled him to the honourable appellation of Pontifex Maximus, had
not had a hand in building one of the three principal passages across
the Braye du Valle. Accordingly we find that the dyke at St. Sampson’s
Harbour, known by the name of “Le Grand Pont,” is also called “Le Pont
du Diable,” and old people affirm that it has been handed down as a
tradition from their forefathers, that shortly after the building of
the Vale Castle, the Devil threw up this embankment, in order to enable
him to cross over to that fortress with ease and safety.
Perhaps the bridge may have been built by order of Robert the First,
Duke of Normandy, father of William the Conqueror, sometimes called
“Robert le Magnifique,” but quite as well known by the less honourable
cognomen of “Robert le Diable,” and, if in the absence of documentary
evidence, any reliance is to be placed in the tradition hitherto
generally received that the Vale Castle, if not originally built, was
at least considerably improved and strengthened by this Prince, it is
certainly not going too far to suppose that the bridge may owe its name
to him, and not to his Satanic Majesty.
One observance connected with this bridge is worth mentioning. From
time immemorial persons from all parts of the island have been in
the habit of assembling here on the afternoons of the Sundays in the
month of August. No reason is assigned for this custom, but as Saint
Sampson is looked upon as the first Apostle of Christianity in this
island, and as the church which bears his name is said to have been the
first Christian temple erected in the island, and is, in consequence,
considered in some respects as the mother church, may not this assembly
be the remains of a church-wake, observed in ancient times on the
Sunday following the feast of St. Sampson, that is to say, the 28th of
July.
Similar meetings are common in Normandy and Brittany, where they are
called “assemblies” and “pardons.”
The two other principal passages across the Braye du Valle were the
bridges called “Le Pont Colliche” and “Le Pont St. Michel.” They
consisted of rude slabs of stone resting on huge blocks of rock, and
were dangerous, both from the sea-weed which attached itself to them,
and rendered them exceedingly slippery, and also from the rapidity with
which the tide, when rising, flowed in, for both of them were covered
at high water. Many and sad were the accidents which had happened
to incautious and belated passengers, and it is not wonderful that
superstition believed these spots to be haunted by the ghosts of those
who had perished in attempting the crossing. The “Pont St. Michel,”
situated near the Vale Church, where the embankment now is, was held
in especial dread. At night the “feu bellenger” or will-o’-the-wisp,
was to be seen dancing on the sands, and gliding under the bridge, and
even at mid-day, when the sun was shining brightly, unearthly cries of
distress would be occasionally heard proceeding from that direction,
though no living being could be discovered, by whom they could possibly
be uttered.
An old woman, still alive, whose youth was spent in that neighbourhood,
has assured me that she has repeatedly heard the cries.
“Le Pont Colliche” was situated about midway between the two others,
a little to the eastward of the road which now traverses the Braye.
According to tradition, there was once a time when the opening at
the “Bougue du Valle”--the channel between the Grand Havre and the
Braye--was so small that a faggot, weighted with stone, would have
sufficed to stop it.
At that time the passage between the islands of Herm and Guernsey was
so narrow that a plank laid down at low water enabled the Rector of
St. Sampson’s to cross over when his duty called him to perform divine
service in the Chapel of St. Tugual. Great quantities of the common
cockle (_cardium edule_), locally known by the name of “cocques du
Braye,” used to be gathered on the sands at low water. It is said,
however, that even before the enclosure of the Braye they had begun to
disappear, and their increasing scarcity was attributed to the impiety
of an old woman, who, unmindful of the sacred duty of keeping the
sabbath holy, was in the habit of searching for these cockles on that
day. A similar story is told to account for the rarity of a particular
kind of periwinkle (_trochus crassus_) known here by the name of
“Cocquelin Brehaut.”
A stone, which has evidently served as the socket or base of a cross,
and which is said to have come from the Pont Colliche, is still
preserved at Les Grandes Capelles.
[79] EDITOR’S NOTE.--Of course this was written long before the days of
greenhouses and the tomato-growing industry.
“THE LOVERS’ LEAP.”
“Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale, or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth.”
The promontory of Pleinmont forms the south-western extremity of
the island of Guernsey, and, to the admirer of the wild and rugged
beauties of cliff and rock scenery, affords an ever-varying treat.
Lofty precipices, in which the sea-birds and hawks nestle--huge
masses of granite piled into fantastic forms--covered with grey and
orange-coloured lichens, and gay with the flowers of the thrift and
other sea-side plants, large rocks detached from the main-land and
tenanted by long rows of the sun-loving cormorant, the ever-restless
ocean, now smiling and rippling under a summer sky, now lashed into
fury by the wintry blast, all combine to add to the charms of this
district.
Many accordingly are the parties which frequent this spot during
the summer, and it is probable that some of those who have visited
this place may remember a small promontory almost detached from the
mainland, and forming the westernmost point of the island. To the
southward of this promontory there is a sort of ravine, extending from
the table-land of Pleinmont to the edge of the cliff, where a small
breastwork of earth and stones has been erected. The reason why this
spot, which is by no means the most dangerous along the coast, has been
thus protected, is not very apparent. The existence of a small spring
of water in the ravine, which keeps up a constant verdure and tempts
the cattle turned out to pick up a scanty living on the common to the
place, suggests a probable solution of the question; but the tradition
of the peasantry assigns a far more romantic reason for the erection of
the parapet than the mere safety of a few stray heifers.
They say that in days long past, the son of a farmer in the
neighbourhood formed an attachment for the daughter of a family with
whom his own was at variance. His affection was returned by the maiden,
and the wishes of the lovers might, in the end, have triumphed over
the opposition of the parents, had not the hand of the girl been
promised by her friends to one of the richest men in the parish. In
vain did the unhappy maiden urge the cruelty of forcing her into a
marriage which her heart abhorred. In vain did her lover employ every
means in his power to break off the hated contract. Their prayers and
representations were treated with scorn, and the preparations for the
marriage were proceeded with. The eve of the day appointed for the
solemn espousal--a ceremony which in ancient times preceded and was
distinct from that of marriage--had arrived. The lovers met by stealth
on the cliffs at Pleinmont, and, driven to despair, mounted together on
a horse, which they urged into a gallop, and, directing him down the
ravine, they fell over the precipice and perished in the waves below.
To commemorate the event, and to prevent the recurrence of a similar
catastrophe, the barrier was erected.[80]
[80] From Miss Rachel Mauger.
[Illustration: “Les Fontaines de Mont Blicq, Forest.”]