Whether the story be founded on an occurrence which did actually take place in this island, whether it originated elsewhere, or whether it be a pure invention, it is now impossible to determine.[122] The name of the principal personage in the tale—Gaultier de la Salle—is to be found at the head of the lists of Bailiffs of Guernsey, with the date 1284, but no written evidence has yet been adduced to prove that anyone of the name ever held that office. There is, however, proof of a certain kind that a person bearing this name did exist at some period of the fourteenth century, for, in a manuscript list of Bailiffs, which appears to have been compiled about the year 1650, the writer, who seems careful not to place any on record for whom he cannot produce documentary evidence, appends this note to the name of John Le Marchant, Bailiff from 1359 to 1383:—“J’en ay lettre de 1370 concernant la veuve Gaultier de la Salle.”
That no document is known to exist in which this name appears is no proof that Gaultier de la Salle did not hold the office. Previously to the reign of Edward I. it appears to have been the custom for the Warder or Governor of the island to appoint an officer with the title of Bailiff, who combined the functions of Lieutenant-Governor, chief magistrate, and Receiver of the Crown Revenues, and who was generally changed annually. The names of many of these dignitaries have been preserved, but there are still several blanks to be filled up, and it is not impossible that the name of Gaultier de la Salle may some day or other be found as holding this important charge, although probably at a later date than that usually assigned to him—1284.
The estate of the Ville-au-Roi is said to have borne originally the name of “La Petite Ville.”[123] It has now dwindled down to a few fields, but was doubtless at one period of far greater extent and importance than at the present time. The house, which may probably be assigned to the fifteenth century, is now much diminished in size from what it was, even a few years since, but it still presents an interesting specimen of the architecture of former days. It consisted, when perfect, of a building, forming two sides of a square, with a tower in the angle, where may yet be seen the holes for arrows. It contained a well-wrought newel staircase in stone, leading to a large room, which appears to have been the principal apartment in the house, if we may judge from the careful workmanship bestowed on the handsomely carved granite chimney piece, the traces of stone mullions in the windows, and the ornamental open timber roof, now hidden by a low ceiling. A wall of unusual thickness divides this portion of the building into two parts; and a few steps from the head of the staircase of which we have spoken, lead to the remains of another newel resting on this wall, which evidently formed part of a turret rising above the ridge of the roof, and which could have served no purpose but that of ornament, or perhaps a lookout over the neighbouring country. There are some detached farm buildings, and traces of a wall surrounding the homestead, intended probably to form an inclosure into which the cattle might be driven at night. The remains of an arched gateway at the end of the avenue, leading from the main road, and connecting the western gable of the dwelling house with an out-building, are still to be discerned. This was exactly opposite the principal door of the mansion, which is of good proportions, with a well-executed circular headway in granite, over which is a square recess in the masonry which doubtless once contained the armorial device of the original proprietor. There is reason to believe this was a member of the De Beauvoir family, once very numerous and influential in the island but now extinct, for it was well known that the family was formerly in possession of this estate, and the existence of their arms—a chevron between three cinq-foils—carved in granite on the mantelpiece of the principal room, is almost sufficient proof of one of the name having been the original builder of the house.[124] The estate afterwards passed into the possession of the De la Marche family—also extinct. From them it descended to a family of the name of Le Poidevin. These last falling into pecuniary difficulties, the property by the legal process called “saisie” came into the hands of the present (1859) proprietor, Thomas Le Retilley, Esq., Jurat of the Royal Court.
Whilst the recently-abolished manorial Court of the Priory of St. Michel du Valle still existed, there was a curious servitude attached to this estate. When this Court made its periodical procession through the island to inspect the King’s highway and see that it was kept in due repair, the proprietor of the Ville-au-Roi was expected to furnish a cup of milk to everyone legally entitled to a place in the cortège, and the procession made a halt at the gate to demand the accustomed refreshment, which was willingly afforded, although immemorial usage alone could be pleaded for the exaction.
It is now time to come to the legend itself. In the earliest records which the human race possesses—the Holy Scriptures—we read that disputes arose about wells and the right of drawing water from them. Where water is scarce, as it is in some parts of the East, this can readily be understood, but why should any disagreement occur in places where this indispensable element abounds? The answer is simply this. The well is for the most part the property of one person, and situated on his ground, and those who claim a right to the use of it, must necessarily pass over their neighbour’s land to get at it. It is clear that this right may be exercised in such a manner as to become vexatious and troublesome.
Gaultier de la Salle had a poor neighbour of the name of Massy, who was the proprietor of a small field containing little more than a vergée of land at the back of the Bailiff’s house, but with this land he possessed also the right,—no doubt by virtue of some ancient and binding contract—of drawing water from a well on De la Salle’s property. Often had the Bailiff offered to buy off this right,—to give a fair and even liberal price for the piece of ground to which the privilege was attached. Massy was obstinate. His answer to every offer was that of Naboth to Ahab—“The Lord forbid it me that I should give the inheritance of my fathers to thee.”
Annoyed at Massy’s pertinacious refusal to accede to his wishes, Gaultier de la Salle formed the horrible design of taking away his life, but how was this to be done without causing suspicion? Open violence, even in those days, was not to be thought of. Secret assassination might be discovered. At last the acute mind of the unworthy Bailiff hit on an expedient which appeared to him perfectly safe. It was to make the forms of the law subservient to his wicked designs, and, under the guise of a judicial proceeding, to cause the ruin and death of the unfortunate Massy. Theft was then, and for too many centuries after, punished with death. If he could succeed in fixing an accusation of this kind on the innocent Massy, he flattered himself that there would be no difficulty in obtaining a conviction, and then would follow the utmost penalty of the law, and the consequent forfeiture of the felon’s lands and goods to the King, from whom he hoped to get a grant or sale of the field. To carry out his nefarious intention, he hid two of his own silver cups in a cornstack, and adroitly contrived to cause a suspicion of having stolen them to rest on his too-obstinate neighbour. Circumstantial evidence, skilfully combined, was not wanting on the day of trial, and, notwithstanding his vehement protestations of innocence, poor Massy was found guilty and condemned to death. The day fixed for the execution arrived, and the Bailiff proceeded to the Court House with the intention of witnessing the death of the unfortunate victim of his own false accusation. But “the wicked man diggeth a pit and falleth into the midst of it himself.” Before leaving home, he gave orders to some of his workmen to take down a certain stack of corn, and house it in the barn. He had barely taken his seat in Court, where the magistrates had assembled for the purpose, as was then the custom, of attending the culprit to the place of execution, and seeing their sentence duly carried out, when a messenger, almost breathless, rushed in and exclaimed—
“The cups are found.”
