Part 6

On entering St Sampson's church, the whole of the interior will be remarked to be exceedingly rude, plain and massive in its architecture, and the walls partially deepened with the dark green tints of age and antiquity. Most of its original character is lost and buried beneath the continued alterations of modern art, and the observer of ancient tracery and sculptorship will find but little to amuse him beyond a mutilated piscina or circular door-way. A squinch thrown across an arcade may be conjectured for strength were it not confuted by two buttresses on the outside.

St Sampson's Harbour is almost the attraction of every one, as it is one of those excellent inland waters formed by nature, which by a comparatively low expenditure may be converted to an excellent purpose, and the mechanical genius will readily declare the feasibility. The Valle Castle is apparently situated on an abrupt mound, and as it were overlooking the sea, that gives it a truly picturesque effect meriting the attention of the artist. On entering one is pleasingly disappointed to find its interior far superior to what may be expected, as it is kept in good order, and is replete with every necessary preparation of barracks, which purpose it represents. The area within is spacious and open, and will afford room for the exercise of some hundred troops; the apartments are numerous, and the ramparts above well worthy the attention of the visitor.

It is said a late Lord Mayor of London was formerly a stone-cutter at this harbour, and that he subsequently acquired great wealth. It appears that having left England for a youthful frolic, he came to Guernsey in great distress, where he was employed as a journeyman stone-cutter by a respectable farmer in the Valle. Returning to London, he fell in with a street paved with Guernsey stone, and from his knowledge of the island was hired by the contractor as a foreman, when by his industry he amassed a fortune, was elected Alderman, and finally elevated to the civic dignity of Lord Mayor of London. Strange to remark it remained unknown to the island until Sir John Doyle, then Lieutenant-Governor of Guernsey, dining one day at the Mansion-House, was asked by the Alderman next to him how his old master was at the Valle? "Your master!" replied the General, somewhat surprised. "Yes," said the Alderman, "the master for whom I worked as a journeyman stone-cutter at St Sampson's harbour, when I was a wild young man; pray remember me kindly to him as William Staines, and say that I shall be most happy to receive him in London."

Pursuing the road, you arrive at the entrance of Lancresse Common, where there is a small public-house called the Valle Tavern, which from the encouragement given it on race days and annual reviews, affords every comfort for the traveller. Here he can unload his basket, and call for a pint of good wine, or if he likes can order a beef-steak whilst he takes a peep in and about the adjoining church. Such being the case, he will find it an antiquated building, but which, from many modern alterations, smacks of deformity, especially the vaulted roof. The chancel is the earliest part, but of a much later Norman style than that of St Sampson's. The tracery on an East window in the North aisle is wrought up to a considerable effect by the chisel, and somewhat represents a lyre. The aisle is altogether of the decorative style, and in the East end is a stone, in which was once a monumental brass containing effigies of a man, his wife, and children, and which for some time was given out as the Abbot of St Michael.

Having refreshed himself and smacked his lips over a good glass of tawny-port, he will in all probability proceed towards the Cromlechs. If so, I would remind him on entering the common, to cast his eye to the right, where, as an artist, he will see a pretty wooded ait, called "Snipe-Isle," half hid among tall spear and standing in the middle of a glittering pool of water. There is a small flat bottomed boat, but as the water is exceedingly shallow it forms only a winter pool, being dried up throughout the summer. The back scenery enriches the picture in clumps of trees, hoary rocks, and the expansive ocean; and the little holme is a dense mass of trees.

Lancresse Common forms an annual race course, which in the summer, during the race week, is rendered exceedingly gay from the erection of booths and other displays. About the centre of the Common, on a gentle rising, are a number of immense stones, forming a cave in which one can stand erect. They once contained human ashes, pottery, celts, and an arrow-head, together with many other curious remains. The sepulchre is covered with several ponderous stones, one of which is of an immense size, and apparently only supported on the pinnacles or edges of two erect smaller ones. These remains are surrounded by an elevated circular mound, with two evident entrances through the North and West sides, which may be perceived to resemble those spots of convocation among the ancient Druids, which so frequently occur in other countries. Standing on the apex of the large altar stone the views become very extensive, and combine a great diversity of scenery. The Valle Castle with the immediate foreground, and the tapering masts of the shipping forms a fine picture in contrast with the back scenery of the town and the adjacent heights of Fort George.

On the Eastern part of the plain, immediately below the hill above mentioned, is another cromlech, circumgirt on all sides with curious stones, the position of which are very singular, if placed in contrast with those adjoining. About an hundred yards from hence, towards the North-east, may be seen the portion of a circle rendered perfect by the upright stones still standing; and in 1837, in an adjacent spot, were discovered several stone graves. A little to the right may be perceived a cairn, which is called "La Rocque Balan," where Fancy can fashion divine honours were paid to the God of Belenus, the Sun or Apollo. There are many of these remains in this locality, and a logan stone, with some others, have been swept away by the ruthless hands of the peasantry.

Extending the walk to the extreme point, the geologist will discover spacious quarries of blue and grey granite, which are worked for exportation to London. This is a very solitary spot, and being a considerable jut into the sea, is defended by quantities of immense rocks in the utmost state of confusion, amongst which are found many curious marine plants.

Taking an inland direction, the agriculturist will perceive extensive fields of a deep sandy loam, well charged with vraic or sea weed, that put forth considerable crops of beet-root, which in this light soil attain their utmost bulk, by reason of the freedom allowed for their proper expansion. Contrary to the English fashion, the fields contain a mixed crop, such as brocoli plants, potatoes, and parsnips, the former of which are generally well bestrewed with vraic. In the neighbourhood is the rock, "La Hougue Patris," which is almost hid among the furze, and which contains an impression that Fancy may whimsically fashion into the tread of an hoof. The peasantry regard it as something mysterious, and call it "Le Pied du B[oe]uf." The resemblance is so exact that it is no marvel it should thus forcibly draw their attention. "Les Brayes," the rocks opposite, are said to contain the same kind of impression on which ignorant speculation has worked up many superstitious and base stories.

Making a circuitous bend, you pass through a low, flat, kind of valley, or immediately under the residence of Mr Augustus Dobrée, whose house is situated on a mound or height, that can scarce fail to be recognized, as it is the only one of importance in the neighbourhood. The country, in this part, still continues marshy, subject to damps and inundations, and yielding but scanty crops of potatoes, parsnips and beet, which latter rarely attains a bulk beyond three inches in thickness and thirteen in length. The botanist will be amused with a variety of specimens of aquatic plants and by an unbounded quantity of cotyledon umbilicus which shrouds every old wall. The artist will find a picture combining wood, hill, vale and rustic buildings, completed by a brilliant gleam of inland waters.

Continuing the road to Grande Rocque, the gardens on either side continue to increase in beauty, until they break out into full bloom at the Friquet and other richer parts of the Câtel parish. On this rout the botanist will fall in with the Queen's meadow, which in the months of July and August, literally speaking, is a sheet of camomile flower.

From Grande Rocque the views are very excellent; to the right, on an eminence at the Western point of the bay, is Roc-du-Guet, or Watch-Rock, a small battery that in war time was a telegraphic station.

Straight a-head is a small, but neat cottage, standing alone on the sand plains, the residence of a Mr Saunders; behind are the sloping uplands of Câtel, which, as they approach the town, are diversified with sylvan beauty and elegant houses. To the left, on some distant sand plains, and on a gentle rising is a curious old rock, technically called the "Giant's Head," from its vast resemblance to that fancied form. It is the resting place of the cormorant and other wild birds of prey, and the hollow on the top of the head is filled with half digested fish bones and beetles. In summer it is generally the resort of pic-nic parties, whose groups form a very quaint appearance at this curious place. Between this and Grande Rocque is Grande Mare, which was formerly a noble sheet of water abounding with carp and other fish. At present only a vestige of it can be seen during the winter months, as it has been drained off at a considerable expence.

Continuing the road, on the right is a fine old Saxon arch leading to Blancbois, a large farm belonging to Mr Lainé. A little further is Saumarez, the mansion of the Lady Dowager De Saumarez, a quadrangular building, remarkable for a kind of belfry on the top which gives it a curious effect. It is built of granite and is surrounded with umbrageous trees, and tastefully laid out gardens, abounding in flowers. In the front is a small pool, which from being hemmed in by a wall is rather a deformity than an addition, as it smacks of the artificial. The adjoining grounds are pretty, but of the usual character, small and circumscribed, and some connected gardens figure boldly for a number of fine myrtles, outlandish trees and numerous lillies of the valley. The district is nearly the same as we have just past, with the exception of the orchard scenery being much more florid, the fields sheltered with trees, and the ground much better dairy land.

A cow generally yields from twelve to fifteen pounds of butter throughout the summer, and the farms are somewhat remarkable for their fine ducks. The grounds connected with the curious house of Miss Le Marchant have an English aspect to a considerable degree, and in the centre of one, the property of the late Mr Le Pelley, is a curious old elm.

Someways to the left in a well screened valley, and immediately behind the parsonage-house, is the country hospital. It was built in 1753 and has upwards of forty vergées of excellent land attached to it which in part supports its inmates, who are employed in its cultivation, thereby enjoying the advantage of constant fresh air and exercise. The apartments are commodious and cleanly, and are the receptacle of the destitute and infirm of all the country parishes, as also two-thirds of those orphans and widows who are left by soldiers dying in garrison. The sick ward conveniently fronts a sunny garden abounding with flowers and fruits, the former of which goes much towards exhilarating the sick. Divine Service is performed by the country ministers in turn, and the children which attend have nurseries and schools.

St George, the residence of Colonel Guille, our present Baillif, is charmingly situated amid woods of stately oak, beech and other timber, and is esteemed by Englishmen and others of sound taste to be a better specimen of English country scenery than any other in the island. The stranger perhaps will see but little to attract him in the house, as it is small, and but little discretion in the style; but then this is amply compensated in the back scenery, which includes park-like grounds, rendered doubly interesting from being beautified with sheep, which may be perhaps the only opportunity he will have of seeing them in the island, and even here they are, according to the law, either tied by the leg or pent in folds.

Diverging towards the sea on an eminence overlooking the wide main, and a considerable territory of fens, called the "Pontine Marshes," is a kind of look-out house or summer retreat belonging to the above gentleman. Here the stranger has a broad-cast view of the fenny country beneath, which in the winter is the beat of the wild-fowl shooter, as it is the resort of the bittern, the heron, and a variety of other curious birds[A]; therefore if he can regard the gunner and his dog wading through a wild tract of rushes, marshes and vistas of tall spear, with a picturesque eye, this is the spot. Looking inland he will see the beautiful wooded district he has just left, connecting itself in an apparently unbroken chain until it loses itself amid the beautiful confines and valley of the King's Mills, where, on retreating back a little, he will soon find himself. Throughout this rout the botanist will fall in with digitalis purpurea, convallaria majalis, artemisia vulgaris, and a curious specimen of salix, together with abundance of teucrium scordonia, which is as common and unregarded an herb as any in the island, though possessing such excellent medical properties as a tonic. However, hoping he will take this hint, and give it a trial, we must leave him for the sake of the conchologist and geologist, whom no doubt have both taken a rout by the sea-shore, and by this time must have bagged a variety of shells, inasmuch as this line of coast displays some beautiful sorts, such as black, white, yellow and red.

[A] A certain town gentleman shot a fine bittern in these marshes, as also that beautiful bird, the egret, or lesser-bittern.

The neighbourhood abounds in a deep and rich soil capable of producing the best crops, such as wheat, barley, potatoes and parsnips, which latter crop, if the stranger has been here any time, he must have discovered, is the chief growth of the Guernsey farmer. There are many rich fields in this vicinity that can and do grow about twenty and a quarter tons to the English acre, which, when dug, generally sell at about one shilling per bushel, but afterwards rise in proportion. In the more sheltered parts are waving corn fields, which though equally fine elsewhere, nevertheless are shaken by the winds from the altitude of the situation. Vraic is not so much used as in the Valle.

The King's Mills is a secluded and delightful situation, and more or less is the attraction of all visitors. The orchard scenery is florid, and the ground exceedingly good from being stimulated by the invigorating salts of the vraic, and the cyder has been considered the best in the island. The scenes abound with much interest, and are by no means too clogged for the pencil of the artist. The herbs are generally medical and of the tall kinds.

A little way up the stranger will break upon the most lovely valley he ever sat eyes on. It is in fact a bason, circumgirt on all sides, with a more or less quantity of beautiful trees and underwood. In the centre, on a gentle rising, are the farm premises of Mr Dorey, which is entered from the road by a curious old broken Saxon arch. Adjoining the farmyard, is a gigantic holly-tree, measuring at the base seven feet two inches in circumference, and midway up four feet six inches and one eight, having for its recommendation a clean and healthy stem whereon not a single knot or other imperfection can be traced upon its silver-skinned bark from the root upwards. The tree itself stands about fifty feet, and the trunk twenty-five feet. In the above valley is every thing that can fascinate the poet, the painter, and the admirer of the picturesque, and if the stranger's visit to this charming spot should be in the autumn, he may perhaps indulge with the author; for it was a beautiful day, on the threshold of winter, that he visited it under the following impression:--

Here, fain would we look back or linger where we are, for many charms yet surround us; true, indeed, a fairer vision is receding from us,--brighter skies and a greener earth; but when we look around, and see the beauteous hues which yet garnish the woods, and the few blossoms that still faintly smile upon their stalks, we feel a sympathy with the melancholy cast of the season; and almost fancy that neither the cheerful visions of the spring, the glowing luxuriance of summer, nor the mellow tints of autumn, equal the sombre charm of the closing scene. Surely none speak to the heart with such impressive language, none so full of calm thoughts, sober recollections, and gentle feelings. Who that ever trod this sylvan valley, rustling beneath his feet the heaps of leaves that once danced greenly and gaily on the outstretched bows, but dwells on abject prospects, blighted hopes, joys, loves, affections cherished and buried? Who that hears amid this stillness, the drop of a leaf amid its companions, but is feelingly and touchingly reminded that all natural things decay. He feels that the holiday of youth is past into summer--summer into autumn, and that he too must soon drop as noiseless and as silent as that leaf before him in the winter of his life. But let me for a moment part from this moral strain, and walk in fellow companionship to yonder mound and beat the leaves in our way, for there are many lovely pictures which linger before the eye as we wade through them in the stillness of an October noon; such as the deep red of some, the ashen hue of others, with all the intermediate tints of orange and yellow, and the brown duskier hues that deepen into nothingness and decay. The dark shining green of the holly, with its scarlet berries in connexion with the adjoining laurel, bears to the poetic feeling amalgamized ideas of youth and age,--the berry bearing tribe of bushes bending to the earth with the weight of their neglected riches, and the dark sloe with its hoar-frost film, all tend to form a fit subject for the pen of the immortal Gilpin in his Northern Tints of Forest Scenery, in which peculiar strain he is the most exalted of all living and dead writers--

"The little red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as long as dance it can, Hanging so light and hanging so high On the top-most twig that looks up to the sky."

Now we have emerged from the trees, let me point to yonder water-mill, that lies immediately under the côtil. How beautifully plays the feathery foam over the wheel, and how it dances and leaps over the little one which so swiftly runs round! In October everything is clear and distinct; there is none of that raw mistiness which in summer clogs the distant prospect, nor any of that dancing vapour which a mid-day sun exhales from the heated earth. We can almost count the leaves of the trees, and as the slanting sun-beam thwarts the level of the meadow, high-taper and fox-glove rise conspicuously into view. It is in October that a boundless prospect is enjoyed to the full, and all that the horizon embraces is distinctly laid before us. Oft do I recollect from Le Hocquette, watching with intense interest the fiery setting of the evening sun, which, as it dipped the horizon sent up rich spires of rays, and as it were in a flood of heavenly light gilding it with an eternal glory, while the heavy gloom of Noirmont point was distinct even to a mushroom on the outline, all contributing to render the scene gorgeous in the extreme.

Connected with this valley, and intersected with a variety of hill and dale, is Woodlands, perhaps the most beautiful estate in the island. The building is somewhat irregular, and unfortunately situated in the lowland that causes dampness, and enforces the idea of gloom. This, however, is amply compensated in the diversity of the scenery, which comprehends a tasteful display of wood, garden, and upland; altogether forming a spot of true monastic seclusion, which the visitor can scarce fail to identify. The intersectional valleys are so screened from the winds, that the magnolia grandiflora is a mere ornamental shrub in the adjoining woods, and attains the extraordinary height of forty feet, and blossoms every year. A species of syringa, from Constantinople, with long pendant flowers, and the spice plant, with many others equally rare, seem to invigorate as though in their native soil. It is here the excellent seedling apple called "la Pomme Susanne," or Mollet Pippin was raised, named from a former proprietor, who left an orchard rich with a variety of sorts.

On this estate, in a sequestered little nook, half hid by the waving umbrage of the beech, is the Domaillerie cottage, remarkable as the only place where the Guernsey Lily grows wild, the leaves of which, in the month of September may be seen sprinkled as if with original gold dust, and at times there are from seven to nine bells on each stalk. This cottage is also the subject of a legend which represents it as once being inhabited by an extraordinary old woman, of a tall stooping figure and fierce black eyes. Until of late years it has been the cause of some superstitious speculation among the neighbouring peasantry, and a large stone, hid under piles of deep green foliage, still marks the spot where she expired. At present, the cottage is converted into a lumber-house, and a gothic window in the gable, gives it the appearance of an old catholic chapel.

At Lassy is a comfortable little inn, kept by one Alexander, who has got himself famous for a peculiar method in making pan-cakes, whereby he can almost suit the palate of every one. Here the stranger has an opportunity of a return by the omnibus, which on certain days passes this way.