CHAPTER XIII.

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).

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.

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.