Though these events must have happened nearly two hundred years ago, there are still some recollections of them lingering in the minds of the very old people, who preface them by saying “J’ai ouï dire à ma gran’mère!”
The story runs thus:—About the end of the seventeenth century there was an extremely beautiful girl, living at the Varclin, in St. Martin’s parish, called Rachel Mauger. The Maugers were of a good old Guernsey family, and were, in those days, extremely well-to-do. She was engaged to John Andrew Gordier, a native of Jersey, though of French extraction. One day he sent her word that he was going to sail over from Jersey to see her, and intended landing at La Petite Porte, which was the nearest place to her house. She started to go to meet him. But he never appeared, and she had to return home, fearing that some accident had happened to him. What really had happened was this: There was a wealthy merchant, in St. Peter Port, named Gaillard, who had long wished to marry Rachel; he had formerly been her father’s clerk, so they had been much thrown together, but she did not reciprocate his affection.
The day Mr. Gordier sailed over to Guernsey, Gaillard was down in the bay of La Petite Porte, having previously been refused admission to the Mauger’s house, on the ground that Mr. Gordier was expected, and they were all busy preparing for his reception. Brooding over his wrongs, he looked up, and saw his rival just on the point of landing. Mad with jealousy he waited behind the rocks till he saw him preparing to ascend the winding path which leads to the top of the cliff, then he rushed out, and stabbed him twice in the back with the knife he always carried, and, doubling him up, thrust the body into a cave close by with a particularly small entrance. The cave is still pointed out, and is on the western side of the bay, just below the path, leading from La Petite Porte to Moulin Huet. Before leaving the body, Gaillard searched it, and abstracted a peculiarly-shaped locket from one of the pockets, which Gordier was bringing as a present to his fiancée.
Of course the disappearance of Gordier led to a search, and his body being finally discovered in this cave by some boys, his murder was made manifest. His mother finally resolved to come over and visit her intended daughter-in-law, whom she found in a most depressed and excitable condition, and evidently dying of a broken heart. United to the shock of her lover’s death, she had been exposed to the incessant persecution of her relations, who were determined that she should marry Gaillard, and had insisted that she should accept the locket that he had stolen from Gordier’s corpse, and, with a refinement of malice, had pressed on her. So unstrung was the unfortunate Rachel that she did nothing but sink into one fainting fit after another on seeing Mrs. Gordier, and when the latter, struck with horror on seeing this jewel on her watch-chain, asked her how she had come into possession of a locket which had, she knew, been made specially for her in Jersey by her son’s orders, the unhappy girl turned deadly pale, and, murmuring the word “clerc,” fell in a dead faint to the ground. The final shock, and sudden conviction that they had been harbouring her lover’s murderer, being too much for her in her enfeebled condition, she died in a few moments.
Mrs. Gordier misinterpreted the poor girl’s grief, and, thinking it proceeded from a guilty conscience, intimated that it evidently shewed that Rachel was an accomplice in the murder. Naturally the Maugers were most indignant at such an unworthy aspersion on their daughter, and, after a violent scene, asked her to prove her statements. She replied that the jewel their daughter was then wearing was one which was purchased by her son before leaving Jersey, and she proved the fact by touching a secret spring and shewing his portrait concealed in the locket. The Maugers, knowing that Gaillard had been the donor of this jewel, and connecting “clerc,” the last word Rachel’s lips had uttered, with him, as being her father’s clerk, immediately sent for him. On being confronted with the jewel, and asked to explain how it came into his possession, he replied that he had purchased it from a Jew, named Levi, who had for years paid periodical visits to the island as a pedlar. So Levi was then considered to be undoubtedly guilty, and was taken into custody, but then, remorse, the fear of public shame, and also the conviction that, Rachel being dead nothing made life worth living, so wrought on the miserable Gaillard, that the morning of the day on which Levi was to be brought before the Royal Court, he was found dead, stabbed by his own hand.
A letter was found on the table in his room confessing his guilt and reading thus: “None but those who have experienced the furious impulse of ungovernable love will pardon the crime which I have committed, in order to obtain the incomparable object by whom my passions were inflamed. But, Thou, O Father of Mercies! who implanted in my soul these strong desires, wilt forgive one rash attempt to accomplish my determined purpose, in opposition, as it should seem, to thy Almighty Providence.”[345]
[344] “L’honorable Jean de la Marche, du bas, Commandant-en-Chef de la paroisse de St. Martin, voyant l’isle de Guernesey révoltée contre son Roi, et servant de préférence sous les drapeaux Français; ce vaillant homme, dis-je, ému par un esprit vraiment loyal, et secondé par l’honorable Messire Pierre de Sausmarez, James Guille, Jean de Blanchelande, Pierre Bonamy, Thomas Vauriouf, et Thomas Etibaut, qui allèrent partout chercher des secours, et tâchant de détruire tous les factieux, et animés d’un désir d’assister à leur bienfaiteur pour reprendre le Château Cornet, assistés par les braves habitants de la petite Césarée; la paroisse de St. Martin leva et envoya quatre-vingt-sept hommes, qui se joignirent aux dites honorables personnes, sous le commandement du dit noble Jean de la Marche, du bas; ce nombre était autant que la paroisse de St. Martin pût en fournir dans ce temps là. Ayant été attaqués au Mont Madau (dit les Hubits) ils firent retraite et s’embarquèrent à la petite Porte (qui porte ce nom à cause de cette aventure) sur de frèles barques, parmi les rochers, et arrivèrent enfin à Jersey, et se joignirent sous le commandement de Messire Renaud de Carteret, Grand Gouverneur des Iles, et se battirent vailleusement sous les drapeaux de sa Majesté, après avoir échappé à la fureur d’une mer orageuse. St. Martin était la seule paroisse de cette isle de Guernesey, qui se garda sous l’obéissance du Roi, pour lesquels bons services, il plut à sa Majesté Charles II., leur accorder à leur requête le galon d’argent comme le plus noble. C’est alors que plusieurs habitants de St. Martin donnèrent leurs services pour leurs vies au susdit Renaud de Carteret, Gouverneur-en-Chef, et conçurent un tel mépris pour leurs pays qu’ils habitèrent Jersey. Lisez pour cela le discours que Charles II. donna au Parlement à son retour, et l’estime et l’éloge qu’il fait de ces héros.”—From an old document entitled “Touchant La Preséance d’Honneur chalengée, par Guernesé.”
[345] From Mrs. Le Patourel, Mr. Tourtel, and from my father, who had heard it from his father, and collated with the printed versions of the story.
Le Seigneur de Damèque.
This second story is not at all well known, except among some of the very old people at St. Martin’s. I will not mention the names of the murderers, as descendants of the family still survive, and are among the most respected of the country people.