Sunday, August 23.
On waking, the morning was so lovely that we could not help regretting that we could not delay our trip a little, by one day at least, as the Council which was to have been on the 25th is now on the 29th. We thought, however, we could do nothing but sail for Torbay, at half-past nine, and for Osborne on Monday. While dressing, I kept thinking whether we could not manage to see Falmouth, or something or other. Albert thought we might perhaps manage to see one of the Channel Islands, and accordingly he sent for Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, and it was settled that we should go to Guernsey, which delighted me, as I had so long wished to see it. The day splendid. The General and Admiral came on board to take leave. Sir J. West is the Admiral, and General Murray, the General; and at about half-past nine we set off, and the sea the whole way was as calm as it was in ’43. Plymouth is beautiful, and we shall always be delighted to return there.
For two hours we were in expectation of seeing land; but it was very hazy, and they did not know where we were—till about six, when land was seen by the “Fairy,” who came to report it, and then all the other vessels went on before us. As we approached we were struck by the beauty of the Guernsey coast, in which there are several rocky bays, and the town of St. Pierre is very picturesquely built, down to the water’s edge. You see Sark (or Sercq) as you enter the harbour to the right, and further on, close opposite St. Pierre, two islands close together—Herm and Jethou. The bay with these fine islands is really most curious. We anchored at seven, immediately opposite St. Pierre, and with the two islands on the other side of us. We dined at eight, and found on going on deck the whole town illuminated, which had a very pretty effect, and must have been done very quickly, for they had no idea of our coming. It is built like a foreign town. The people speak mostly French amongst themselves.
August 24.
St. Pierre is very picturesque-looking—with very high, bright-coloured houses built down almost into the sea. The College and Church are very conspicuous buildings. This island with its bold point, and the little one of Cornet with a sort of castle on it (close to which we were anchored), and the three islands of Herm, Jethou, and Sark, with innumerable rocks, are really very fine and peculiar,—especially as they then were in bright sunlight. We both sketched, and at a quarter to nine got into our barge with our ladies. The pier and shore were lined with crowds of people, and with ladies dressed in white, singing “God save the Queen,” and strewing the ground with flowers. We walked to our carriage, preceded by General Napier, brother to Sir Charles (in Scinde), a very singular-looking old man, tall and thin, with an aquiline nose, piercing eyes, and white moustaches and hair. The people were extremely well-behaved and friendly, and received us very warmly as we drove through the narrow streets, which were decorated with flowers and flags, and lined with the Guernsey militia, 2,000 strong, with their several bands. Some of the militia were mounted.
The vegetation beyond the town is exceedingly fine; and the evergreens and flowers most abundant. The streets and hills steep, and the view from the fort, which is very high, (and where General Napier presented me with the keys,) is extremely beautiful. You look over the bay of Guernsey, and see opposite to you the islands of Herm, Jethou, and Sark; with Alderney, and the coast of France, Cape de la Hague, to the left in the distance, and to the right in the distance, Jersey. The island appears very flourishing. In the town they speak English, but in the country French, and this is the same in all the islands. They belonged to the Duchy of Normandy, and have been in our possession ever since William the Conqueror’s time. King John[61] was the last of their sovereigns who visited them. We drove along the pier, and then embarked amidst great cheering. It was all admirably managed; the people are extremely loyal.
[61] For King John’s visit, see Roger de Wendover, a contemporary chronicler.—Ed.
We got under weigh a little before one and in about an hour-and-a-half we came close to Alderney, seeing all the time the French coast, Cape de la Hague, very plainly to our right, and leaving the Casquets Lights to our left. Alderney is quite different from all the other islands, excessively rocky and barren, and the rocks in and under the sea are most frightful.