CHAPTER IV.

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.

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.

“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.