Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
signs=.
[Illustration]
_Beautiful Britain_
_The Channel Islands_
_By_
_Joseph E. Morris B.A._
_London Adam & Charles Black_
_Soho Square W_
_1911_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. JERSEY 5
II. GUERNSEY 32
III. ALDERNEY, SARK, AND THE LESSER ISLANDS 53
INDEX 63
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. ST. PETER PORT, GUERNSEY _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
2. THE CASQUET ROCKS AND LIGHTHOUSE 9
3. MONT ORGUEIL CASTLE, JERSEY 16
4. LA CORBIÈRE LIGHTHOUSE, JERSEY 25
5. THE NEEDLE ROCK, GRÈVE AU LANÇON, JERSEY 27
6. THE PEA STACKS, JERBOURG, GUERNSEY 30
7. MOULIN HUET, GUERNSEY 32
8. HERM AND JETHOU FROM GUERNSEY 43
9. A FIELD OF CHRYSANTHEMUMS IN GUERNSEY 46
10. THE COUPÉE, SARK 49
11. THE SISTER ROCKS, ALDERNEY 56
12. NOIRMONT POINT, JERSEY _On the cover_
THE CHANNEL ISLANDS
CHAPTER I
JERSEY
If on a fine day we take our stand on one of the terraces, or
battlements, of Mont Orgueil Castle--and there is hardly a pleasanter
spot in Jersey in which to idle away a sunny summer afternoon--we
shall realize more completely than geography books can tell us that
the Channel Islands really constitute the last remnants of the ancient
Norman dukedom that still belong to the English Crown. For there,
across the water, not more than twenty miles away, and stretching from
north of Carteret far southwards towards Granville and Mont St.
Michel, is the long white line of the Norman coast itself--on a clear
day it is even possible to make out the tall, twin spires of
Coutances, half a dozen miles inland, crowning, like Lincoln or Ely,
their far-seen hill. No part of France, it is true, approaches so
closely to Jersey as Cap de la Hague (the extreme north-west point of
the Cotentin) approaches to the north-east corner of Alderney. Still,
under certain atmospheric conditions--such, for example, as Wordsworth
experienced when he wrote his fine sonnet headed _Near Dover,
September, 1802_--the "span of waters"--hardly greater than the
Straits of Dover themselves--really seems almost to shrink to the
dimensions of "a lake or river bright and fair." Contrast with this
proximity the long stretches of open sea that separate these islands
from Weymouth or Southampton, and we begin to realize how, physically
at any rate, Jersey is more properly France than England:
Elle est pour nous la France, et, dans son lit des fleurs,
Elle en a le sourire et quelquefois les pleurs.
The impression thus gained is hardly diminished when we quit our lofty
watch-tower and descend to the plain. The Channel Islands are
doubtless destined in the end to be wholly anglicized, but the process
is one of imperceptible transition. A curious French patois, that is
really the last relics of the ancient Norman speech, is still the
common language of the people. "It is probably," says Mr. Bicknell,
in his charming _Little Guide_, "the nearest approach now extant to
the French spoken at the time of the Norman Conquest by the Normans in
England." French is also the language used commonly in the country
churches; and it is strange to follow the familiar English liturgy
rendered thus in a foreign tongue. The Channel Islands, though
jealously retaining their ancient independence, and as separate in
many respects from England as are Canada and Australia, are yet
integrally part of the established English Church. The Reformation
freed them from the yoke of Coutances only to subject them to the yoke
of Winchester. French, too, or rather Norman, is the curious "Clameur
de Haro" that plays so strange a part in the ancient island law. This
is the regular machinery, in actions connected with real estate, to
maintain the existing _status in quo_ till the action can be fought
out at length; and in Jersey is set in motion by the plaintiff
himself, whereas in England it is necessary to invoke the Courts of
Law. "At the disputed place the aggrieved person, in the presence of
two witnesses, orders the aggressor or his agent to desist by
exclaiming: 'Haro! Haro! Haro! A l'aide, mon Prince, on me fait
tort.' After this he denounces the aggressor by exclaiming: 'Je vous
ordonne de quitter cet ouvrage'; upon which, unless he desist
instantly, he is liable to be punished for breach of the King's
authority, the property being supposed to be under the King's special
protection from the moment the 'cry' is made." Afterwards the action
is tried; and, of course, if it prove that the complainant has invoked
the "haro" wrongly (the word is said by some to be derived from the
Frankish "haran," to cry out, or shout; but by others to be a
corrupted form of "Ah Rollo"--the first Norman Duke--or "Ah Rou"--Oh
my King), he is liable to be fined by the court. It is sometimes said
that this strange process was in constant use in Normandy long before
the arrival of Rollo and his fierce followers from the North.
[Illustration: THE CASQUET ROCKS AND LIGHTHOUSE.
This group of rocks lies N.N.E. of Guernsey, and is passed by the
steamers which serve the islands from England.]
French, again, is the architecture of the churches, that in some ways
has no parallel in England. French, in many particulars, is the aspect
of the towns, whose long rows of whitewashed houses, with their
never-ending sun-blinds, testify to a warmth and sunlight too
conspicuously rare in England. Actually French are many of the faces
that one encounters in the streets or on the quays. The Channel
Islands of late years have become a favourite touring-ground for
summer visitors from France, who so seldom venture to cross the
Channel to explore the beauties of England itself. The admirable
little _Guides Joanne_ now include a volume on the _Iles Anglaises de
la Manche_. It is amusing, however, to read in this work that in one
respect at least Jersey is still definitely English. "L'observation
stricte du dimanche règne à Saint-Hélier comme en Angleterre. La ville
déserte, avec ses boutiques fermées, offre un silence sépulchral." But
the closed shops, if not the sepulchral silence, are now becoming
common in France itself.
Mont Orgueil, where we stand, is not a bad starting-point from which
to commence our exploration of Jersey. Happy, indeed, the visitor who
arrives at this little port from France--and the steamer comes from
Carteret in little more than an hour. Most English tourists, on the
other hand, make Jersey first at St. Helier, which happens to be a
town of considerable dulness, and compares very badly with St. Peter
Port, in Guernsey. Mont Orgueil, however, may be reached at once from
St. Helier by one of the two strange little railways that traverse the
south coast of the island. The traveller should quit the train at the
previous station of Gorey Village, and walk thence across Gorey Common
to the Castle. This last, placed bravely on its boss of rugged rock,
grows more and more impressive the nearer we approach it. Superb in
situation, and unusually picturesque, this "hill of pride" has yet few
features of real architectural interest. Parts of it date from about
the end of the twelfth century, and the archæologist, of course, will
gather "sermons" from every stone of it. But the ordinary sight-seer
will be best delighted with the picturesque approach up long flights
of steps past successive gateways; with the beautiful views of land
and sea to be got from its towers; and, best of all, by the general
view of the castle itself, dominating the little harbour that crouches
below its walls. The structure is built of a soft-red granite, that is
very pleasant to look on, and not least so in spring, when its broken
walls are beautifully variegated with a thousand brilliantly orange
wallflowers. One is reminded for a moment of the famous verse--
A rose-red city, half as old as time--
which is said to have won the Newdigate prize for Dean Burgon's poem
on _Petra_. Nor is Mont Orgueil by any means lacking in tragic
"foot-notes" to history. William Prynne had been condemned to lifelong
imprisonment by the Star Chamber in 1634, and to lose both his ears in
the pillory. Two years previously he had published his _Histriomastix_,
"a volume of over a thousand pages," in which he had upheld, with many
ancient and modern instances, the immorality of the drama and of
play-acting. Unfortunately, at about this time Henrietta Maria had
herself taken part in some private theatricals, and a certain passage
in the index, "reflecting on the character of female actors in
general, was construed as an aspersion on the Queen." For this, and
other offences, he received the savage sentence, which was carried
into execution with unrelenting cruelty. At first he was imprisoned in
the Tower; but three years later (having in the meanwhile been found
guilty of another "seditious libel," and branded on both cheeks) he
was removed, first to Carnarvon Castle, and afterwards to Mont
Orgueil. With the meeting of the Long Parliament, in 1640, Prynne was
immediately set at liberty. In Jersey he had occupied an enforced and
tedious leisure by indulging a propensity for verse-making. His
_Mount Orgueil, or Divine and Profitable Meditations_, was
published in 1641; and _A Pleasant Purge for a Roman Catholic_ in
1642; "Rhyme," says Mr. C. H. Firth, in the _Dictionary of National
Biography_, "is the only poetical characteristic they possess." A line
or two may be quoted from _Mount Orgueil_ as a sample:
_Mount Orgueil Castle_ is a lofty pile,
Within the Easterne parts of _Jersy Isle_,
Seated upon _a Rocke_, full large and high,
Close by the Sea-shore, next to Normandie.
The poet then goes on to tell us how this stronghold is sometimes
assaulted--but assaulted to no purpose--by sea and wind, "two
boystrous foes":
For why this fort is built upon a _Rocke,
And so by Christs owne verdict free from shocke
Of floods and winds; which on it oft may beate,
Yet never shake it_, but themselves defeate.
Less than a decade later and the walls of Mont Orgueil witnessed still
blacker tragedy. The quarrel of the Bandinels and the Carterets is an
ugly page of history that almost recalls in its unrelenting ferocity
some of the worst clan "vendettas" of the Highlands. The trouble
began, apparently, with the action of Sir Philip de Carteret, when
Governor of Jersey, in attempting to deprive David Bandinel--the
writer does not know the rights and wrongs of the quarrel--of part of
his tithes as Dean of the island. Shortly after this the Civil War
began in England, and the Channel Islands were immediately plunged
into internecine strife. Philip de Carteret was leader of the
Royalists, while Bandinel espoused the cause of the Parliament. The
latter at first was triumphant, and Carteret and his wife, Elizabeth,
were respectively besieged by the Parliamentary troops, the one in
Elizabeth Castle, and the other in Mont Orgueil. Carteret was not
quite sixty years old, but the severities of the siege were too great
for him. There were wrongs, no doubt, on both sides; but the Puritans
seem certainly to have acted on occasion with a surly lack of
generosity that goes far to atone for the brutal persecution by the
Royalist party of a man like Prynne. In 1644, when Colonel Morris was
besieged in Pontefract, we read in the diary of Nathan Drake that "the
enemy basely stayed all wine from coming to the Castle for serving of
the Communion upon Easter Day, although Forbus (their Governor) had
graunted p'tection for the same, and one Browne of Wakefield said if
it was for our damnation we should have it, but not for our
Solvation." Similarly, in Jersey, the Parliamentary Committee, of whom
Dean Bandinel was one, refused the dying Sir Philip the last
consolations of religion, and even (according to some accounts) the
presence of his wife. This, too, after an appeal so piteous as might
well have drawn
iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
Send me Mr. La Cloche, implored the sick man, "to administer unto me
such comforts as are necessary and usual in these extremities, and
that you would permitt my poor wife to come unto me, to doe me that
last duty, as to close my eyes. The Lord forgive you, as I doe forgive
you all." One is glad to read, however, in the _Dictionary of National
Biography_, that Lady Carteret was in fact allowed to visit her
husband, though almost at his very last gasp. "When the flooring of
[St. Ouen's] church was altered 229 years afterwards, the body of Sir
Philip enclosed in a leaden shell was uncovered, when it was found by
the late Francis Le Maistre to be as white as wax, to have suffered
very little decay, and to measure 6 feet 4 inches."
Presently the "jade Fortune" changed her favours, and the island was
recovered for the King by Sir George Carteret, nephew and son-in-law
to its former Governor. Dean Bandinel and his son James, the Rector of
St. Mary's, were immediately clapped into prison in Mont Orgueil
Castle, in the same cell that had formerly been occupied by Prynne. It
does not appear that they were treated harshly, but Sir George was a
man of cruel severity, and it may well be that they dreaded his
further resentment. Anyhow, father and son resolved on a romantic
escape. At about three o'clock in the morning, on the stormy night of
February 10, 1644, they attempted to lower themselves from the window
of their cell by a rope made of knotted napkins, sheets, and pieces of
cord. "It is improbable that they had reconnoitred this place in the
daytime," says Durell, "for had they been aware of the great
elevation, they would never have made the attempt, as long as they
were in their senses." Durell wrote in 1837, when the Tour de Mont
(completed by Henry Paulet in 1553) was in existence for the whole of
its height. This is said to have been 200 feet high, and the place of
imprisonment of the Bandinels was immediately under its battlements.
The building was supposed to be dangerous, and is now pulled down to
its basement. Anyhow, when James Bandinel came to the bottom of the
rope--he was the first to venture on the perilous descent--he found it
was much too short. He allowed himself to drop on the rocks below, and
was seriously hurt by the fall. His father, still less fortunate, was
only halfway down, when the flimsy rope parted in two. He was thus
dashed to the earth from a much greater height than his son, and was
found lying there next morning in a dying condition. The son, after
wrapping his insensible old father in his cloak, had attempted to make
good his own escape. He was caught, however, a few days later, and
conducted back in triumph to his cell. That same day the gates of Mont
Orgueil had been opened to allow his father's body to be taken to the
grave. David Bandinel was buried in St. Martin's Churchyard, two miles
to the north-west of Mont Orgueil by the Faldouet road. I have
searched for his grave on the east side of the churchyard, but there
seems now to be no memorial, and the hawthorn that once marked it has
vanished. It is said, however, to be in close proximity to the
tombstones of Lucy and Mary Roche Jackson. His wife and son were
afterwards laid by his side.
[Illustration: MOUNT ORGUEIL CASTLE, JERSEY.
The name, meaning "Mount of Pride," is said to have been given to the
castle after Sir Reginald de Carteret's successful defence of it
against du Guesclin in 1374.]
Mont Orgueil was unsuccessfully besieged by the French under the
leadership of the Duc de Bourbon and the great Bertrand du Guesclin,
Marshal of France (whose splendid tomb may still be seen in the north
chapel of St. Laurent, at Le Puy), in 1374. It was in honour of this
achievement that it received its present name from Thomas, Duke of
Clarence, and brother of Henry V.
Looking southward from Mont Orgueil at low tide it is possible to
realize the extraordinary difficulties that attend the navigation of
the Jersey seas. The coast from this point to St. Aubin is flat, but
as far as eye can see the surface of the water is a vast archipelago
of broken rocks and reefs. Still farther out to sea is the hardly
submerged plateau of the Minquiers, with here and there a point that
just lifts above high water. There is a second stretch of low sandy
coast on the west of the island, at St. Ouen's Bay, guarded in its
turn by a second reef of rocks. Nor do these exhaust the possibilities
of coming to ruin on this iron coast. It is not without reason that
the steam-packets from England run in the daytime only in summer,
when the long light evenings give every opportunity of picking their
way through the narrow passages. The fate of the _Stella_ (on the
afternoon of Maunday Thursday, 1899), somewhere in the neighbourhood
of the terrible Casquets, is still too vivid in men's memories to need
re-telling. The exact point of striking is unknown. The _Stella_
settled down in the afternoon mist, and no man has ever traced her, or
identified her grave in "the vast and wandering" main.
Most that is best in Jersey is identified with its coast, except,
perhaps, for the archæologist, who will want to push a little inland,
to investigate the ancient churches of St. Mary, St. Lawrence, and St.
Peter. Inland, too, is the Prince's Tower, built on the Hougue-Hambye
in the eighteenth century. The mound is associated with a serpent
legend, that perhaps has points of contact with the well-known stories
of the Sockburn and Laidley "worms." The old chapel that adjoins it
was remodelled by Richard Mabon, Dean of Jersey, in 1525. He had
returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and constructed an
imitation of the Holy Sepulchre; just as Opice Adornes, a hundred
years earlier, had erected the Church of Jerusalem at Bruges.
Preserved in this now-deserted chapel is a font for the exact parallel
of which we shall look in vain in England, though analogous cases
occur in our country, and some precisely similar instances may be
found in France. Attached to the inside of the bowl is a smaller bowl,
which was probably meant to catch the drippings of the consecrated
water that ran off the baby's head. This is the ceremony demanded in
terms by the _Rituale Romanum_, as cited in Mr. F. Bond's beautiful
book on Fonts (p. 60): "Ne aqua ex infantis capite in fontem, sed vel
in sacrarium baptisterii prope ipsum fontem ex-structum defluat, aut
in aliquo vase ad hunc usum parato recepta, in ipsius baptisterii vel
in ecclesiæ sacrarium effundatur." Modern Roman Catholic fonts are now
often constructed in two separate partitions, and this is said to be
the origin of the plural _fonts baptismaux_, of such constant
occurrence in France.
Most of the interest of Jersey, however, except its fields of giant
cabbage-stalks, and its green lanes of quaint little pollarded trees,
will probably be found on the sea-coast, or near it. Let us, from Mont
Orgueil, set our faces to the west, calling, on our way towards
modern St. Helier, at the two ancient parish churches of Grouville and
St. Clement's. In Grouville churchyard are buried seven soldiers who
fell in a skirmish with a detachment of the French who had been left
behind by Rullecourt, when he landed on this spot and advanced on St.
Helier on January 6, 1781. Grouville church itself has little
interest. Like other churches in the island, it is built of granite,
and has windows with good Flamboyant tracery, except where this last
has been cut away for the insertion of ugly "church-warden" sashes. It
possesses, however, in the south wall of the south chapel, a very
curious feature, the object of which is obscure. This is a niche on
the level of the floor, with a late segmental head, and with what
seems a broken cavity in the lower part at the back. I do not know
whether this was once used as an oven for baking the sacramental
wafer, such as those that are sometimes thought to have been found in
the Surrey churches of Limpsfield, Nutfield, and Dunsfold. St.
Clement's, a mile to the south, and lying off the direct road to St.
Helier, should be visited for the sake of its ancient wall-paintings.
One of these exhibits St. Michael; another St. Margaret of Antioch,
emerging from the body of the dragon, who had vainly tried to swallow
her; and another St. Barbara of Heliopolis, standing near her tower.
Still more interesting are the scanty relics of the "Trois Vifs" and
the "Trois Morts"--the legend of the three Kings, who, when hunting in
the forest, were suddenly confronted by three open graves, or by three
hideous skeletons. The classical instance of this morality is in the
Campo Santo at Pisa; and there is another fine example, in a kind of
vestry, on the south side of the great abbey-church of St. Riquier,
near Abbeville. It was altogether rather a favourite subject with
medieval, religious artists, not less than twenty-three examples being
recorded in England by Mr. Keyser, as well as one at Ste. Marie du
Chastel, in Guernsey. It must not be confounded with the parallel
"Dance of Death," of which there are only five recorded instances, in
addition to the one at old St. Paul's. There is still a grand example
of this last on the back of the north choir stalls, in the strange old
abbey-church of La Chaise Dieu, in Central France.
St. Helier, we have hinted, is a somewhat tedious town; by which we
mean only that the place contains few objects of special interest,
and is a trifle too large and urban for so very small an island. No
doubt some of its aspects are agreeable enough. The parish church is a
restored building of small architectural interest, but contains the
grave of the gallant Major Pierson, who fell in Jersey, in 1781, in
the conflict with the French in the Royal Square. His adversary,
Rullecourt, who also perished, is buried on the north of the
churchyard. Rullecourt landed to the east of St. Helier during the
night of January 5, and took the town by a sudden assault. The
Governor, Major Moses Corbet, was captured in his bed; and was forced
to sign a capitulation, as well as an order to Major Pierson to
surrender the troops in his charge. Pierson, however, charged the
enemy in the Royal Square, where they had barricaded themselves, and
fell at the first assault. Undeterred by the loss of their leader, the
Jersey soldiers and militia-men continued fighting, and cleared the
French from the town. St. Helier possesses yet other claims to
historical distinction, in the mystery of James de la Cloche. This
last was the eldest illegitimate son of Charles II., and is known to
have been a Jerseyman. His story has recently attracted much
attention; and Mr. Andrew Lang, in his _Valet's Tragedy_, once even
went so far as to suggest that de la Cloche was "The Man with the Iron
Mask." This theory he afterwards abandoned; but it is still stoutly
maintained by Miss Edith Carey in her beautiful volume on the Channel
Islands. It is remarkable, indeed, that James de la Cloche disappears
finally from history after November 16, 1668, whilst "The Man with the
Iron Mask" makes his first appearance on the scene on July 19, 1669.
De la Cloche may also, when in London, have easily learned secrets
from his father, as to Romish plots, that imperilled the crown of
Charles II., and may well have caused anxiety to Louis XIV. "Doubts,"
says Miss Carey, "may be cast on a theory which involves an apparently
affectionate father consigning his son to a living tomb, and a King of
France spending money and trouble to keep a King of England's secret.
But in reply it must be urged that Charles's conduct is consistent
with all we read in history respecting his cowardly selfishness. In
reply to complaints made to him of Lauderdale's cruelty in Scotland,
he said: 'I perceive that Lauderdale has been guilty of many bad
things against the people of Scotland, but I cannot find out that he
has acted against my interests.'"
Charles' headquarters, when a boy in Jersey, were in Elizabeth Castle,
whither he was sent by his father for greater safety in 1646. Later in
the same year he left for Fontainebleau, but returned to the Channel
Islands in September, 1649. In the meanwhile the elder Charles had
perished on the scaffold at Whitehall; and Jersey, unlike Guernsey,
still loyalist to the core, was one of the few places--Pontefract
Castle, in Yorkshire, was another--where his son was immediately
proclaimed as King, on February 17, 1649. Elizabeth Castle itself is
another of those picturesque places of semi-insulation that are not
uncommon among historical sites--Holy Island, and the two Mounts St.
Michael, are other famous examples. At time of low water it is
picturesquely approached by a rough and rocky causeway across the
sands; but the building itself has been greatly altered, and presents
very little archæological interest.
From St. Helier westward, round the half-moon curve of St. Aubin Bay,
past West Park, Millbrook, and Beaumont, is now largely a crescent of
continuous houses. St. Aubin's itself is a picturesque little
watering-place, with far greater natural advantages than its bigger
neighbour. Immediately to the south of the town begins at once the
fine, red line of granite cliffs, which, turning definitely westward
at Noirmont Point, continues, past Portelet and St. Brelade's Bays, to
the south-west corner of the island at Corbière Point. Portelet Bay is
a charming recess, with the rocky little Ile au Guerdain in its
centre. On the summit of this last is Janvrin's Tower. It is said that
Philippe Janvrin, returning home from Nantes, then desolated with
plague, was forced to undergo quarantine in this bay in 1721; and that
here the poor wretch died within actual sight of home, but without
ever exchanging a word with his wife and children. He was buried at
first in the Ile au Guerdain, but afterwards removed to St. Brelade's
churchyard.
[Illustration: LA CORBIÈRE LIGHTHOUSE, JERSEY.
The white tower stands at the extremity of a particularly dangerous
reef.]
St. Brelade's Bay, nearly two miles across, if we measure from Le Fret
to La Moye Point, is perhaps the most gracious on the Jersey coast.
The church has a very picturesque outline, with a saddle-backed tower
like that of St. Sampson's, in Guernsey. It was admirably restored a
few years ago, when the plaster was stripped from the vaulted roof
that is common to most old churches in the Channel Islands, and is
probably analogous to the vaulted roofs of the fortified churches of
Pembrokeshire. Mr. Bicknell, however, is wrong in saying that "the
interior walls ... look very dignified in their original condition."
Nothing is more certain than that medieval churches--at any rate in
cases where the walls are of rubble masonry--were plastered, and
commonly covered with wall-paintings. Such plastering and old
wall-painting may still be found at St. Brelade's in the Chapelle ès
Pécheurs, or Fishermen's Chapel, that remains in the parish
churchyard. These, according to Mr. Keyser, represent parts of two
Dooms or Final Judgments, Our Lord before Herod, an Annunciation, the
Assumption of the Virgin, and the Offering of the Magi. They probably
date from the fifteenth century, and the attendant makes them visible
by the simple expedient of throwing the light on them with a mirror.
The existence of this old chapel side by side with the parish
church--the same thing seems formerly to have happened at
Grouville--is a subject of curious inquiry. Chantrey chapels were
sometimes built in churchyards--there is still a fourteenth-century
example at Carew, in Pembrokeshire, and there was formerly one at
Newdigate, in Surrey--but these would be generally of later date;
whereas the Fishermen's Chapel is supposed to date from quite the
beginning of the twelfth century. In the grounds of the St. Brelade's
Hotel is an ancient cross of the kind that is stated by Mr. Bicknell
formerly to have "stood at nearly every place where four cross roads
met in the island."
[Illustration: THE NEEDLE ROCK, GRÈVE AU LANÇON, JERSEY.]
The walk across the south coast of Jersey, from Mont Orgueil to the
Corbière, taking the train for the four dull miles, where there is
nothing to see, between St. Helier and St. Aubin, will probably almost
exhaust, except for the archæologist of the Dry-as-Dust school, the
artificial attractions of the island of Jersey. Of course, there are
other antiquities to see: St. Ouen's Manor, for example, now recently
restored, and the ancient house of the Carterets; the cromlechs at
Gorey and the Coupéron; and the seven old churches that we have not
yet visited. But when we have seen the wall-paintings at St. Brelade's
and St. Clement's; have inspected Elizabeth Castle, and the curious
font at Prince's Tower; and, above all, have made every stick and
stone of Mont Orgueil our own treasured possession, it will be time
for most of us to turn our attention, less to the artificial
attractions of Jersey, than to its wonderful natural beauties. It is
lucky that these lie mostly on the north coast, which is well out of
reach of St. Helier. It would be sad indeed if this silent succession
of bays, stretching in stern sublimity from Grosnez Point to the long
useless breakwater on the south of Fliquet Bay, were infested with
tea-gardens, and boarding-houses, and villas. For this twelve miles of
coast is both wholly unspoilt, and one of the loveliest imaginable.
Brakes, no doubt, in the season, with their hordes of jolly trippers,
invade for a few hours the sacred silences of Grève de Lecq and Rozel
Bay. These, however, are limited to definite times and places; nor
will it be hard for the quiet lover of Nature to evade their unwelcome
gaieties. Every inch of this glorious stretch of coast should be
walked over, if possible; should often be revisited; and should be
lingered over lovingly. Where else have these rose-red cliffs a
counterpart, jutting out into the bluest, or most emerald, of seas,
and haunted by myriads of clanging sea-fowl, unless it be on the
borders of lost Lyonesse? Waters that rest on a granite bed are always
of amazing translucency--
Pleased to watch the waters sleep,
Round Iona green and deep--
and those that never rest round the igneous cliffs of Jersey are no
exception to this beautiful rule. Here and there, of course, the
explorer will come across some special point of interest, though the
coast, to be enjoyed at its best, must always be enjoyed as a whole.
At Grève de Lecq is a cave to visit which thoroughly entails some very
rough scrambling, and some rather giddy climbing up an almost vertical
cliff. Less than two miles to the east, as the crow flies--it adds to
the distance enormously to follow all the sinuosities of this deeply
indented coast--is the Creux-du-Vis, or Devil's Hole--one of those
strange, roofless caverns, connecting with the sea by a tunnel through
which the tide ebbs and flows, but set back some little distance from
the margin of the cliff, that are found again in Sark, in the Creux
Derrible and Pot. In many respects they resemble the famous
"pot-holes" that occur in the mountain limestone of the Craven
district in North-West Yorkshire, though their origin, it is clear, is
wholly different. Creux, of course, is connected with the French
_creuser_, to dig; and "derrible," which has nothing whatever to do
with "terrible," is an old Norman word, unknown to modern French, that
really expresses the same idea: "Cavité d'un rocher formée par un
éboulement de terre, attenant à un précipice." "Creux" is used again
of artificial cromlechs. East of the Creux-du-Vis is the Mouriers
Waterfall, where a little stream leaps down the rocks into the sea.
The path along the cliff is rather giddy, and those who take it must
remember that a slip may be followed by fatal consequences, like the
accident that happened to Mrs. Guille, in 1871, at the Gouffre, in
Guernsey. The steep grass slopes in spring are plentifully sprinkled
with the dainty yellow blossoms of the little wild narcissus. Beyond
Sorel Point comes suddenly the deep hollow of La Houle, guarded by
granite cliffs of sheer sublimity; and beyond this, in long
succession, round innumerable intervening points, come Mourier, and
Bonne Nuit, and Giffard, and Bouley, and Rozel, and Fliquet Bays. A
week may well be spent, and more than a week, in leisurely exploration
of this gloriously broken coast. Or the visitor who has less energy,
or is weary of much scrambling, may sit here day after day in the
sunshine, on promontory or cliff, watching the "blind wave" at its
never-ending business of "feeling round its ocean hall." There are
less pleasant ways than this of spending a summer holiday for those
whose brains are fagged by weeks of dull work in London. And always
across the water, far-seen on the dim horizon, are the faint grey
lines of the Cotentin, and the cliffs of fairy-like Sark.
[Illustration: THE PEA STACKS (TAS DE POIS), JERBOURG, GUERNSEY.
Isolated and wall-sided masses of rock of this type are typical of
the Channel Islands.]