Story Telling.
“In winter tedious nights sit by the fire,
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales.”
--_King Richard II._
When, in former days, neighbours were in the habit of meeting
together on such occasions as “_la grande querrue_,” “_la longue
veille_,” or the more ordinary “_veillées_,”--at which the women of
the neighbourhood, young and old, used to assemble in turn at each
other’s houses, and ply their knitting needles by the light of a single
lamp and the warmth of a single hearth, thereby economising oil and
fuel,--it was customary to break the monotony of the conversation
by calling on each of the company in turn to relate some tale or
anecdote. Most of these are simple enough, but in the mouth of a
skillful story-teller are still capable of exciting a laugh among the
unsophisticated audiences to whom they are addressed.
A favourite class of stories were those in which the inhabitants of the
sister islands of Jersey, Alderney, and Sark, were held up to ridicule,
and the following tales, trifling and absurd as they are, may suffice
to give some idea of this sort of narrative.
HOW THE MEN OF ALDERNEY SOWED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
Once upon a time, before the lighthouse on the dangerous reef of the
Casquet rocks was erected, a vessel was wrecked on Alderney. Such
occurrences in those days were not uncommon, but so cut off from
intercourse with the rest of the world were the inhabitants of the
island, that they were, for the most part, totally ignorant of the
nature and value of the goods which the waves so frequently cast up on
their inhospitable shores, and it is related that when a Dutch East
Indiaman, laden with cinnamon, was wrecked on the coast, the people
rejoiced in the seasonable supply of fuel that was afforded them, and
employed the precious bundles of aromatic bark in heating their ovens.
On the occasion, however, to which our present story refers, among
the articles saved from the wreck there was a barrel, which, on being
opened, was found to contain a number of small packages carefully done
up in paper. Some of these were opened and proved to be needles of
various sizes, but the oldest inhabitant had never seen anything of the
sort, and many were the speculations as to what they could possibly be.
A general meeting of the islanders was called to deliberate, and many
conjectures were hazarded. At last the opinion of an old grey-headed
man prevailed. He expressed it to be his firm conviction that the
strange commodity could be nothing else but the seed of some new kind
of herb or useful root, and that the best thing to be done was to make
choice of one of the most fertile spots on the Blaies, and to proceed
forthwith to plough and sow.
His advice was received with acclamation, and immediately acted upon,
but alas for their hopes! Spring came, and nothing but an unusually
fine crop of weeds--always too common--appeared on the carefully-tilled
land.[219]
[219] “Semer des Aiguilles.” See _Proverbes du Pays de Béarn_, page 17.
“Semia Agulhes--Semer des Aiguilles. Se donner une peine inutile, faire
un travail qui ne produira rien. En Béarn, comme dans la Gascogne,
(Bladé, Prov.) on attribuait aux habitants de quelques villages le fait
d’avoir semé des aiguilles, dans l’espoir qu’elles multiplieraient
comme du blé.”
HOW THE JERSEYMEN ATTEMPTED TO CARRY OFF GUERNSEY.
It is not easy to understand why it should be so, but it is
nevertheless a fact that the inhabitants of Jersey, although conceiving
themselves a far superior race, have always looked with eyes of envy
and jealousy on the smaller and less pretentious island of Guernsey.
Perhaps the greater commercial prosperity which the possession of a
good roadstead and port conferred on the latter at a time when Jersey
could boast of neither, and the advantages arising in consequence from
a freer intercourse with strangers, in days when these islands were
almost cut off from the rest of the world, may have contributed to
produce and keep alive these feelings. Certain it is that the Jerseymen
have at all times had the reputation of being always ready, when an
opportunity presented itself, to play a bad turn to their neighbours of
Guernsey.
It is said that three audacious mariners, who had come over from the
larger island with a cargo of agricultural produce, after disposing of
their wares to good advantage, and having indulged perhaps a little
too freely in the excellent cider of the place, conceived the bold
design of carrying away the island with them and joining it on to
Jersey! Could they succeed in effecting the annexation, what credit
would they not gain for themselves! What advantages would not accrue to
their native isle!
Their hated rivals--for so, as true Jerseymen, they looked on the quiet
industrious inhabitants of Guernsey--would be obliged to acknowledge
their superiority, and submit quietly to the supremacy of the larger
isle.
They were not long in putting their project into execution. Maître
Ph’lip, the captain of the boat, gave directions to his cousin Pierre
to make fast a hawser to one of the needle-like rocks that stand out so
boldly from the extremity of St. Martin’s Point. The order was obeyed,
the wind was fair, all sails were hoisted and they steered towards
Jersey, singing out in full chorus:--
_“Hale, Pierre! Hale, Jean!_
_Guernsi s’en vient!”_
They made sure that Guernsey could not resist the tug, and that the
morning light would find it stranded in St. Ouen’s Bay. But they had
miscalculated the strength of the hawser. It snapped short, and the
sudden jerk sent them all sprawling to the bottom of the boat, too much
bruised and discomfited to think of renewing their bold attempt.[220]
[220] See _Melusine_, p. 321. Note (i).
[Illustration: Old Farm House at St. Saviour’s.
From a Pencil Drawing, early in the Nineteenth Century.]
THE JERSEY GALLOWS.
In Guernsey it is told as a joke against their neighbours the
Jerseymen, that when there was a question of rebuilding the gallows,
hitherto a wooden structure, but falling to pieces from rottenness, the
Procureur de la Reine recommended that the uprights should be of stone,
as more desirable, and strengthened his argument by saying, “It will
last for ever, and serve for us and for our children.”
Proverbial Stories.
The terse form of an aphorism is not only one in which the proverbial
philosophy of a people may be expressed. The idea is frequently
expanded into a short tale or fable, and in this shape is often alluded
to and understood, although perhaps the story or anecdote is unknown or
forgotten.
To give an example. The meaning of the words “A Cat’s Paw” is perfectly
comprehended by many, who possibly have never heard or read of the
fable of “The Cat, the Monkey, and the Chestnuts.”
A few of these stories, as they are related in Guernsey, are given
below.
LA DÉLAISSANCE.
Although scarcely a year passes without some fact coming to light which
shows the folly and imprudence of the proceedings, it is by no means
uncommon for old people to make over by a legal instrument, called
“_Contrat de Délaissance_,” the whole of their property to a child or
other relative, on condition of being maintained for the rest of their
days in a manner befitting their station in life. They have generally
cause to repent the deed, for, even if kindly treated, there is a
feeling of dependence, and a want of liberty of action, which cannot
fail to be irksome to one who has hitherto been his own master, and
free to act in any way he pleased.
It is related that a man who had given over his estate, and all that he
possessed, to an only son, ordered, after a time, a strong coffer, with
a secure lock, to be made. The son indulged him in the fancy, wondering
what he could want the box for, but hoping perhaps that he might have
kept back some hoard of money or other valuables he wished to secure.
The old man kept his own secret. Not a soul but himself knew what the
box contained. At last he died. The son hastened to open the coffer,
hoping to find a treasure. What was his astonishment and disappointment
at finding only a large mallet, such as is used for driving in the
stakes to which the cattle are tethered. A writing attached to it
explained the old man’s meaning. The person who related the story had
forgotten the exact words, but it was a rude rhyme, beginning thus:--
“_Ce maillot--ou un plus gros s’il le faut_.”[221]
The substance of the whole was that the mallet would be advantageously
employed in knocking out the brains of the man who was fool enough to
dispossess himself, during his lifetime, of the control of his own
property.[222]
The following legend, from the supplement to the _Illustrated News_,
February 7th, 1874, seems to have a common origin with the preceding.
Jehan Connaxa was one of the merchant princes of Antwerp, who is
supposed to have lived in the fifteenth century. His only children
were two daughters, whom he had married to young noblemen. Not content
with the handsome dowries he had given them on their marriage, and
too impatient to wait for the time when all his vast wealth would
become theirs by inheritance, they persuaded him to make it over to
them during his life-time. For a short period he was treated with due
consideration, but it was not long before he began to find that his
presence in the houses of his sons-in-law was irksome to them and their
wives; and at last he was plainly told that he must not expect any
longer to find a home with them. Under these circumstances he hired a
small residence, and turned over in his mind how he could manage so as
to recover the position in his daughters’ houses which he had formerly
occupied. At last he hit on this expedient. He invited his sons-in-law
and their wives to dine with him on a certain day, and, when he was
quite sure they would come, he went to an old friend, a rich merchant,
and borrowed from him the sum of one thousand crowns for twenty-four
hours, telling him to keep the transaction a profound secret, but to
send a servant to his house the next day at a certain hour to fetch it
back. Accordingly, the next day, when his daughters and their husbands
were seated at his table, a message came that his friend had sent for
the sum of money he had promised. He pretended to be displeased at
being interrupted in the midst of his meal, but left the table, went
into an adjoining apartment, and returned with a sack of money, from
which he counted out the full sum of a thousand crowns, and delivered
it to the messenger. The astonishment of his guests, who were not
aware of how the money had come into his possession, was extreme,
and, believing him to be still the owner of unbounded wealth, his
sons-in-law insisted on his taking up his abode with them alternately
for the rest of his days. Each vied with the other in showing him every
attention, hoping thus to secure the greater share of the inheritance.
He always brought with him a heavy strong box with three locks, which
was supposed to contain untold wealth. At last, the time when he was
to quit this world arrived, and on his death-bed he sent for his two
sons-in-law and the Prior of a neighbouring Convent of Jacobins, and
delivered to them the three keys of the box, which, he said, contained
his will, but with strict injunctions that it was not to be opened till
forty days after his funeral had elapsed. Wishing, however, as he said,
to do good while he was yet alive, he begged his sons-in-law to advance
a large sum for immediate distribution among the poor, and also to pay
another large sum to the Prior to secure the prayers of the Church for
his soul. This was done willingly, in anticipation of the expected rich
inheritance, and the old man was sumptuously buried. At the expiration
of the forty days the box was opened with due formality, and was found
to contain a heap of old iron, lead, and stones, on the top of which
was a large cudgel, with a parchment rolled round it, on which was
written the will in these terms:--“_Ego Johannes Connaxa tale condo
testamentum, at qui sui curâ relictâ, alterius curam susceperit,
mactetur hâc clavâ_.”
[221] From Rachel Du Port.
[222]
“He that gives away all
Before he is dead,
Let ’em take this hatchet
And knock him on ye head.”
_Notes and Queries_, IV. Series, Vol. III., pp. 526 and 589. Vol. IV.,
p. 213. See _Gentleman’s Magazine Library_. Popular Superstitions. _The
Holy Maul_, p. 181. Compare representation of a hammer or pickaxe,
sculptured on threshold of west door of Vale Church.
LE RATÉ.
When the means of education were not so good or so plentiful in
Guernsey as they are in the present day, it was customary, with the
better class of farmers, to send their sons to school in England for
a year or two, in order that they might acquire, together with a more
correct knowledge of the English tongue, such acquaintance with the
ways of the world as might fit them to enter upon the active duties
of life on their return home. This object, we may suppose, was to a
certain extent gained, but, like the monkey who had seen the world,
many of these youths returned to their native isle with an inflated
idea of their own consequence, and affecting to despise and ignore all
that had been familiar to them from their earliest childhood.
It is said of one of these young men, that, after a residence of
no long duration in England, he pretended, on his return, to have
completely forgotten the names of some of the most common farming
implements, and, indeed, to have almost lost the use of his mother
tongue. His father was in despair, for it was evident that if the boy
could not converse with the labourers, he would be of little or no
assistance in directing the farming operations. A lucky accident set
the father’s mind at rest on this score. His son, in passing through
the farmyard, put his foot on a rake that was lying on the ground,
partly hidden by some straw. The handle flew up and hit him a smart
blow on the forehead, upon which, forgetting his pretended ignorance,
he exclaimed, in good Guernsey-French, “_Au Guyablle seit le râté_,”
(“Devil take the rake.”) His father, who was standing by, congratulated
him on the miraculous recovery of his memory, and begged him henceforth
not to forget “_sen râté_.” The proverbial saying “_Il n’a pas
roublliaï sen râté_,” (“He has not forgotten his rake,”) is still
applied to a person who remembers what he learned in his youth.[223]
[223] See a story precisely similar in its incidents in that curious
collection MacTaggart’s _Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopædia_, under the
word “Claut.” The story must be an ancient one, to be told in places
so far apart as Galloway and Guernsey, and speaking totally different
languages.
LE COTILLON DE RACHÉ CATEL.
The evils that may result from being over particular, and the wisdom of
letting well alone, are exemplified by the story of Rachel Câtel and
her petticoat. This respectable matron or spinster--for tradition gives
us no clue to her state in life--was engaged in fashioning a petticoat.
She cut it out, and found it somewhat too long. She cut again, and now
it was too short. When, therefore, a thing has been spoilt by too much
care or meddling, old people will shake their heads and say:--“_Ch’est
coum le cotillon de Râché Câtel. A’ le copit et il était trop long. A’
le copit derechef, et il était trop court._”
THE CAT AND THE FOX. A FABLE.
One day a cat and a fox were travelling together and chatting of one
thing and another as they jogged on their way.
At last says the cat to the fox:
“You are always talking of your cleverness. How many cunning devices
have you to escape from your numerous enemies?”
“Oh!” answered the fox, “_j’en ai une pouquie_, (I carry a whole sack
full,) but you, Mistress Puss, pray tell me, how many have you?”
“Alas,” replied the cat, “I can boast but of one.”
Shortly after this conversation they saw a large fierce-looking dog
advancing towards them. It was but the affair of a minute for puss to
climb into the nearest tree and hide herself among the branches, while
Reynard took refuge in the entrance of a drain that was close at hand.
Unluckily the drain narrowed so suddenly that his body only was
concealed, and his long bushy tail was left exposed. The dog seized on
this, and caused poor Reynard to cry out pitifully for help. Puss, from
her safe retreat among the branches, looked down, and called out to her
unfortunate companion:
“Now’s the time to make use of your many devices, _délie donc ta
pouque_!” (“Why don’t you untie your sack?”)[224]
[224] From John Rougier, Esq.
See also _Revue des Traditions Populaires_, Vol. I., p. 201.
THE FARM SERVANT AND THE WEEDS.
The Guernsey workman is industrious and thrifty, working hard when
it is on his own account, but apt to be slow and disinclined to do
more work than what is absolutely necessary to save his credit, when
employed by others. There is a certain amount of calculation in this.
Idleness or laziness are not the only motives. He knows that so long as
the job in hand lasts, he will be paid his day’s wages, and therefore
he is not in a hurry to get it finished. His calculations go even a
little beyond this; for a master workman to whom an indifferent person
made the remark that the work he was executing was not of a quality
to last many years, made the ingenuous reply, “Do you suppose I would
willingly take the bread out of my children’s mouths?” implying that if
the work were done in too substantial or durable a manner, there would
be nothing left for those who were to come after him to gain their
living by.
[Illustration: Old Mill, Talbots.]
A good story is told among the country people, of a farm labourer,
who, when put to clear out the weeds from a field, was observed always
to leave some of the most thriving standing. One day his master
remonstrated with him, and got for answer, “Weeds are bread.” No reply
was made at the moment, but when meal-time came, and the soup was
served out, a bowl full of weeds was handed to the workman with the
remark:--“Since weeds are bread, eat that, for you get no more to-day.”
It is said that the lesson was understood, and that for the future
the farm servant performed his allotted task in a more conscientious
way.[225]
[225] From George Allez, Esq.