The listed errata have been corrected (although the list is by no means comprehensive), as have obvious typos. However, the original text contained inconsistencies in hyphenation, accents and sometimes spelling—these have been retained.

Much of the text of this book is in old French or the Guernsey French dialect, and may not conform to the expectations of a modern reader of the language.

GUERNSEY FOLK-LORE.

SIR EDGAR MacCULLOCH

In his Robes as Bailiff of Guernsey.

GUERNSEY FOLK-LORE

A COLLECTION OF
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS, LEGENDARY TALES,
PECULIAR CUSTOMS, PROVERBS, WEATHER SAYINGS, ETC.,
OF THE PEOPLE OF THAT ISLAND.

FROM MSS. BY THE LATE
SIR EDGAR MacCULLOCH, Knt., F.S.A., &c.
Bailiff of Guernsey.

Edited by Edith F. Carey.

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS PHOTOGRAPHS OF OLD PRINTS, ETC.

LONDON:
ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
Guernsey: F. Clarke, States Arcade.
1903.

“IN WINTER’S TEDIOUS NIGHTS SIT BY THE FIRE

WITH GOOD OLD FOLKS, AND LET THEM TELL THEE TALES

OF WOEFUL AGES LONG AGO BETID.”

—K. RICHARD II., ACT V., SC. 1.

“LA LEGENDE, LE MYTHE, LA FABLE, SONT, COMME LA CONCENTRATION DE LA VIE NATIONALE, COMME DES RESERVOIRS PROFONDS OU DORMENT LE SANG ET LES LARMES DES PEUPLES.”—BAUDELAIRE.

AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

Of late years the ancient superstitions of the people, their legendary tales, their proverbial sayings, and, in fine, all that is designated by the comprehensive term of “Folk-Lore,” have attracted much and deserved attention. Puerile as are many of these subjects, they become interesting when a comparison is instituted amongst them as they exist in various countries. It is then seen how wide is their spread—how, for example, the same incident in a fairy tale, modified according to the manners and customs of the people by whom it is related, extends from the remotest east to the westernmost confines of Europe, and is even found occasionally to re-appear among the wild tribes of the American Continent, and the isolated inhabitants of Polynesia. The ethnologist may find in this an argument for the common origin of all nations, and their gradual spread from one central point,—the philosopher and psychologist may speculate on the wonderful construction of the human mind, and, throwing aside the idea of the unity of the race, may attribute the similarities of tradition to an innate set of ideas, which find their expression in certain definite forms,—while the historian and antiquary may sometimes discover in these popular traditions, a confirmation or explanation of some doubtful point. Lastly, he whose sole object is amusement, and whose taste is not entirely vitiated by the exaggerated and exciting fiction of modern times, will turn with pleasure to the simple tales which have amused his childhood, and which are ever fresh and ever new.

Much of this ancient lore has already perished, and much is every day disappearing before the influence of the printing press, and the consequent extension of education. This would scarcely be regretted, if, at the same time, the degrading superstitions with which much of these old traditions are mixed up could disappear with them, but unfortunately we find by experience that this is not the case, and that these popular delusions only disappear in one form to re-appear in another, equally, if not more, dangerous.

A desire to preserve, before they were entirely forgotten, some of the traditional stories, and other matters connected with the folk-lore of my native island, induced me to attempt to collect and record them, but I have found the task, though pleasant, by no means easy. The last fifty years has made an immense difference here as elsewhere. The influx of a stranger population, and with it the growth and spread of the English tongue, has changed, or modified considerably, the manners and ideas of the people, more particularly in the town. Old customs are forgotten by the rising generation, what amused their fathers and mothers possesses little or no interest for their children, and gradually even the recollection of these matters dies away. There are good grounds for supposing that, although the belief in witchcraft attained its greatest development in the century which succeeded the Reformation, and was as much the creed of the clergy as of the laity, other popular superstitions were looked upon with disfavour, and especially all those customs which were in any way, even remotely, connected with the observances of the ancient form of religion. The rapid spread of dissent among the middle and lower classes of society within the last half century has certainly not had the effect of diminishing popular credulity with respect to the existence of sorcerers and their supernatural powers, but, by discouraging the amusements in which the young naturally delight, and in which the elders took part, it has broken one of the links which connected the present with the past.

Doubtless did one know where to look for it much might still be gleaned among the peasantry, but all who have attempted to make collections of popular lore know how difficult it is to make this class of people open themselves. They fear ridicule, and cannot conceive what interest one can have in seeking for information on subjects which—whatever may be their own private opinion—they have been taught to speak of as foolishness.

Some of the stories in the following compilation were related to me by an old and valued servant of the family, Rachel du Port, others were kindly communicated to me by ladies[1] and others, who had derived their information from similar sources, and whose names I have appended to them, and much is the result of my own research and observation. The subject matter of the following pages, having been collected at various times, and written down as it came to hand, is not arranged as it ought to be, and there are necessarily some repetitions. Whether, after all, the work is worthy of the time that has been spent on it, the reader must decide for himself. Suffice it to say that as far as regards myself it has afforded an occupation and amusement.

Edgar MacCulloch.

Guernsey, February, 1864.

[1] The legends collected by Miss Lane (Mrs. Lane Clarke) were subsequently published by her in the charming little book called Folk-Lore of Guernsey and Sark, of which two Editions have been printed.

EDITOR’S PREFACE.

Sir Edgar MacCulloch at his death, which occurred July 31st, 1896, bequeathed his manuscript collection of Guernsey Folk-Lore to the Royal Court of Guernsey, of which he had been for so many years Member and President.

This collection was subsequently handed over to me by Sir T. Godfrey Carey, then Bailiff, and the other Members of the Court, to transcribe for publication: it was contained in three manuscript books, closely written on both sides of the pages, and interspersed with innumerable scraps of paper, containing notes, additions and corrections; as Sir Edgar himself says in his preface, the items were written down as collected, local customs, fairy tales, witch stories, one after the other, with no attempt at classification. In literally transcribing them I have endeavoured to place them under their different headings, as recommended by the English Folk-Lore Society, and have inserted the notes in their proper places; and I am responsible for the choice of the quotations heading the various chapters. In every other particular I have copied the manuscript word for word as I received it. It took me over three years to transcribe, and was placed by the Royal Court in the printer’s hands in February, 1900.

It will be noticed that three sizes of type have been used throughout the book; Sir Edgar MacCulloch’s subject matter has been printed in the largest, the Author’s notes to his own text being in the medium, while the notes printed in the smallest type contain additional legends and superstitions, which have been told me, or collected for me, by and from the country people, and which I have added, thereby making the collection more complete. Also, at the end of the book, is an appendix containing a few of the legends collected by myself, which were too long to insert as notes, and a small collection of old Guernsey songs, which I have written down from the lips of the older inhabitants, and which, in one of the last conversations I had with Sir Edgar MacCulloch on the subject, he strongly recommended should be included in any collection of Guernsey Folk-Lore that should ever be published.

I was well aware of the difficulties of the task which I undertook, and how unworthy I, a mere novice, was to edit the work of so eminent an antiquary as the late Sir Edgar MacCulloch; but it was represented to me that I was one of the very few who took any interest in the fast vanishing traditions of the island, that I understood the local dialect, and that I had had many conversations and much assistance from Sir Edgar MacCulloch during his lifetime on the subject; and, more especially, that if I did not do it no one else would undertake it, and thus the result of Sir Edgar’s labours would be lost to the island. This, I trust may be my excuse for assuming so great a responsibility. I feel I should never have accomplished it without the unfailing assistance and kindness of H. A. Giffard, Esq., the present Bailiff of Guernsey, and John de Garis, Esq., Jurat of the Royal Court, members of the Folk-Lore Committee, who have, in the midst of their own hard work, gone through all the proofs in the most untiring manner, and have helped me in every possible way.

The illustrations are from photographs, collected by myself, of old pictures and views illustrating the Guernsey of which Sir Edgar MacCulloch wrote, and which is now so sadly changed, and it will be noticed that in various instances where Sir Edgar writes of “wooded valleys and cornfields, etc.,” in 1864, now (1903) there are nothing but quarries or greenhouses.

I am very grateful to Mr. Grigg, of High Street, for allowing me to use the photographs, taken by his grandson, Mr. William Guerin, of original pictures of Guernsey in his possession; also to Mr. Edgar Dupuy, of the Arcade, and Mr. Singleton, photographer, for the use of photographs done by them of Guernsey scenery.

I cannot conclude without thanking the many friends who have helped me by collecting folk-lore and songs, especially I must mention my cousin, the late Miss Ernestine Le Pelley, who gathered many traditions for me from the west coast of the island, and who, alas! never lived to see the book, in which she took so great an interest, in print. The late Miss Anne Chepmell, who died in 1899, also gave me most valuable assistance, and so have also Mrs. Le Patourel, Mrs. Charles Marquand, Mrs. Mollet, Miss Margaret Mauger, Mrs. Sidney Tostevin, and many others in St. Martin’s parish, who have racked their brains to remember for me “chû que j’ai ouï dire à ma gran’mère.”

Edith F. Carey.

Le Vallon, Guernsey, April, 1903.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

The Arms of Guernsey, illustrated on the [cover], are from a sketch by Sir Edgar MacCulloch himself, drawn many years ago, and then described by him as from the most ancient seal of the island to be found among the records at the Greffe.

ERRATA.

Part I.
Times and Seasons,
Festivals and Merry-makings.

CHAPTER I.
Festival Customs.

“Many precious rites

And customs of our rural ancestry

Are gone, or stealing from us.”

—Wordsworth.

The observance of particular days and seasons, and of certain customs connected with them, has been in all countries more or less mixed up with religion. Many of these customs have, it is well known, descended to us from pagan times. The Church, unable altogether to eradicate them, has, in some cases, tacitly sanctioned, in others incorporated them into her own system. At the Reformation some of these observances were thought to savour too strongly of their pagan origin, or to be too nearly allied to papal superstitions. Accordingly we find that in a country like Scotland, where reformation amounted to a total subversion of all the forms which had hitherto subsisted, even such a festival as Christmas was proscribed, and of course with it have fallen all the joyous observances which characterize that season in England. In Guernsey, from the reign of Queen Elizabeth to the Restoration of Charles II., the Presbyterian form of Church government reigned supreme, and the ministers seem to have set their faces strongly against anything which in their estimation could be looked upon as superstitious. In the reformed churches of Geneva and France, whose discipline the islands had adopted, all Saints’ days had been abolished, and, although the greater festivals of Christmas and Whitsuntide were retained, there were those in the insular congregations who would gladly have seen these also discarded. Dr. Peter Heylin, who visited the islands in 1629, tells us how “the Ministers were much heartened in their inconformity by the practice of De La Place, who, stomaching his disappointment in the loss of the Deanery of Jersey, abandoned his native country, and retired to Guernsey, where he breathed nothing but confusion to the English Liturgy, the person of the new Dean (David Bandinel), and the change of government. Whereas there was a lecture weekly every Thursday in the Church of St. Peter’s-on-the-Sea, when once the feast of Christ’s Nativity fell upon that day, he rather chose to disappoint the hearers, and put off the sermon, than that the least honour should reflect on that ancient festival.”

We find that in the year 1622 the Clergy of the Island complained to the Royal Court of the practice that existed in the rural parishes of people going about on the Eve of St. John and on the last day of the year begging from house to house—a custom, which, in their opinion, savoured much of the old leaven of Popery, and which, under the guise of charity, introduced and nourished superstition among their flocks; whereupon an ordinance was framed and promulgated, forbidding the practice under the penalty of a fine or whipping.

“Les Chefs Plaids Cappitaux d’apprés le jour St. Michell tenus le Lundy dernier jour du mois de Septembre, l’an 1622, par Amice de Carteret, Esq., Bailly, présents à ce les Sieurs Pierre Careye, Thomas Beauvoir, Thomas de l’Isle, Thomas Andros, Eleazar Le Marchant, Jean Bonamy, Jean Fautrart, Jean Blondel, et Jacques Guille, Jurez.

“Sur la remonstrance de Messieurs les Ministres de ceste isle, que la vueille du jour St. Jean et celle du jour de l’an se fait une geuzerie ordinaire par les paroisses des champs en ceste isle; laquelle se resent grandement du viel levain de la Papaulté, au moyen de quoy, soubs ombre de charité, la superstition est introduite et nourye parmy nous, au grand destourbier du service de Dieu et manifeste scandalle des gens de bien; desirants iceux Ministres qu’il pleust à la Cour y apporter remede par les voyes les plus convenables—A sur ce Esté par exprès deffendu à toutes personnes qu’ils n’ayent en aulcun des susdits jours à geuzer, ny demander par voye d’aumosne aulcune chose, de peur d’entretenir la susdite superstition, à peine de soixante sous tournois d’amende sur les personnes capables de payer la dite amende, et s’ils n’ont moyen de payer, et qu’ils soyent d’aage, d’estre punis corporellement à discretion de Justice; et quant aux personnes qui ne seront point d’aage, d’estre fouettés publicquement en l’escolle de leur paroisse.”

A little later, begging at Baptisms, Marriages, and Burials was prohibited on like grounds, and about the same time sumptuary laws were passed controlling the expenses on these occasions, and limiting the guests that might be invited to persons in the nearest degrees of consanguinity. Dancing and singing were also forbidden, and any persons convicted of these heinous crimes were to perform public penance in their parish church, barefooted and bareheaded, enveloped in a sheet, and holding a lighted torch in their hand.

It is not therefore to be wondered at if many observances and customs, innocent in themselves, came to be forgotten, and this would be more especially the case with such as were connected with the festivals of the Church. Still some few observances and superstitions have survived, and of these we will now endeavour to give the best account we can. We would, however, previously remark that the Guernsey people are an eminently holiday-loving race, and that, notwithstanding their long subjection to Presbyterian rule, and the ascetic spirit of modern dissent, the love of amusement is still strong in them. Christmas Day and the day following, the first two days of the year, the Monday and Tuesday at Easter and Whitsuntide, Midsummer Day and the day after, are all seasons when there is an almost total cessation of work, and all give themselves up to gaiety—and the household must be poor indeed where a cake is not made on these occasions.

But before launching into a description of their ceremonies, festivals, and superstitions, perhaps it might prove of interest if we here attempt to give a slight description of the dress of our island forefathers at different periods, during the last three hundred years, drawn from various sources.

We will begin by an extract from a letter written by Mr. George Métivier, that eminent antiquary, historian, and philologist, to the Star of June 20th, 1831:—

A Guernseyman Three Centuries Ago.

“Knows’t me not by my clothes?

No, nor thy tailor.”

—Shakespeare.

“Suppose we conjure up a Guernseyman in his winter dress—a specimen of the outer man, such as it appeared on high-days and holidays ‘sighing like a furnace to its mistress’ eye-brow’ in the reign of the most puissant King Henry VIII., and under the long dynasty of the five Westons—(James Guille, the son-in-law of one of them, was then Bailiff). It is probable that the insular gentleman, in the highest sense of that important word, copied the dress of his English and Norman friends, as well as their manner, whether in good or evil.

“Similitude excludes peculiarity: we have therefore nothing to do with Monsieur le Gouverneur, or Monsieur le Baillif, or the most refined in wardrobe matters of his learned assessors. It is certain, however, that the generality of our ancestors—‘l’honnête’ and sometimes ‘le prudhomme’—derived the materials and cut of their raiment from St. Malo’s—whence their very houses were occasionally imported—ready built. We are indebted to a writer of the Elizabethan era for the source of the following portrait.

“Le cadaû,[2] the chief article of a Guernseyman’s winter costume, exactly resembled, both in name and form, the primitive Irish mantle. Generally composed of wool, or of a kind of shag-rug, bordered with fur, it descended in ample folds till it reached the heels. A surface of such extraordinary dimensions might have exposed the wearer to some inconvenience in stormy weather: but our fathers, no novices in the art of cloak-wearing, knew how to furl and unfurl this magnificent wrapper, and suit its folds and plaits to all changes of the season. In the first Charles’ reign, the Jersey farmers, who still ‘bartered the surplusage of their corn with the Spanish merchants at St. Malo’s,’ were far better acquainted with that long-robed nation than we can now pretend to be. To the cadaû was attached a carapouce[3]—an enormous hood. If made of serge or good cloth, it was still a carapouce; if the material was coarse—such as friars wore through humility, or mariners and fishermen from motives of economy—the carapouce degenerated into a couaille. The sea-farer’s top-coat affords an instance, not yet quite obsolete, of this island’s former partiality for Armorican tailors, dresses, and names—a Tardif and a Dorey will show you their grigo.[4]

“The residence of mind—for our ancestor, this ‘fine fleur de Norman,’ probably had one—was not forgotten. Muffled up in a voluminous hood, like that of a Spanish frayle, it was further protected by the native wig—‘la perruque naturelle’—and kept warm by a bonnet, part of the cadaû uniform, yclept la barrette. The original biread—a lay mitre, not then peculiar to Ireland—was a conical cap, somewhat resembling the foraging military bonnet.…

“His Grace, or Holiness—we are a bad hand at title dealing—the Right Reverend Primate of Normandy, having once preached a most godlie and comfortable sermon against long bushy perriwigs, descended from his pulpit in the Cathedral of Rouen, scissors in hand, then doing merciless execution therewith on King Henry I. and all the princely and noble heads committed to his charge, exhorted them to perpetrate a crime for which that traitor deserved to lose his own.”

‘The people vary too,

Just as their princes do.’

So sings Nat Wanley, who was no nightingale; but even when the eighth Harry, and the whole nation, aping him, shore their beautiful locks, in spite of many a fond wife, what luxuriant male tresses continued to flourish in the Norman Isles! Our friend of the Star may remember the time when the dangling chevelure of our village beaux and ‘Soudards de Milice,’ though confined with whipcord on working days, was regularly let loose in honour of Sunday and other grand festivals. It is true that burly wife-killing Tudor did interfere. Ah, woe is me! He requireth from his Normans as well as from his Irish lieges ‘conformitie in order and apparel with them that be civill people’ (A.D. 1537). At least, the alteration took place in both places exactly at the same period; for the censorious terms of this statute were neither applicable nor applied to our ancestors. Indeed, from the size and structure of here and there a yeoman’s house, richly overlaid with the golden moss of antiquity, it would seem that the dwellings of our peasantry were very different from the mud-built[5] and chimneyless cottages of old England. (Such as Jean Lestocq’s house in la Vingtaine des Charités, Câtel—the traditional residence of an individual mentioned in a spirited ballad of the year 1371).

Ruins of an Old Guernsey House, Les Caretiers, St. Sampson’s.

“Be this as it may, ‘Though the language of such as dwell in these Isles was French, the wearing of their haire long, and their attire was all after the Irish guise till the reigne of King Henrie the VIII.’ These are the words of Ralph Holinshed, who quotes Leland.”

The following description of the dress of the people of Sark in 1673, is taken from a letter in the Harleian MSS.; it is quoted in full in the “Historical Sketch of the Island of Sark,” in the Guernsey Magazine for 1874:—

“Sure I am the genius of the people cannot but be docile, since they are naturally of a courteous affable temper, and the least tainted with pride that ever I saw any of their nation; that apish variety of fantastic fashions, wherewith Paris is justly accused to infect all Europe, has here no footing, where every one retains the same garb their ancestors wore in the days of Hugh Capet and King Pippin; so that I can give small encouragement to any of the Knights of the Thimble to transport themselves hither, where cucumbers are like to be more plenty than in the back-side of St. Clement’s; each man religiously preserving his vast blue trunk-breeches, and a coat almost like a Dutch frau’s vest, or one of your waterman’s liveries. Nor are the women behindhand with them in their hospital-gowns of the same colour, wooden sandals, white stockings and red petticoats, so mean they are scarce worth taking up. Both sexes on festivals wear large ruffs, and the women, instead of hats or hoods, truss up their hair, the more genteel sort in a kind of cabbage net; those of meaner fortunes in a piece of linen; perhaps an old dish-clout turned out of service; or the fag-end of a table-cloth, that had escaped the persecution of washing ever since the Reformation; this they, tying on the top, make it shew like a Turkish turban, but that part of it hangs down their backs like a veil.”

In Jersey the “fantastic fashions” of Paris seem to have penetrated at an early date, for on the 22nd of September, 1636, a sumptuary law was passed, forbidding anyone, male or female, to put on garments “au-dessus de sa condition;” and also forbidding women to ornament their bonnets with lace costing more than “quinze sols” (a “sol” was worth about a franc) a yard, or to put on silken hoods, the wear of which was reserved for ladies of quality. A short time after this ordinance was passed, a Madame Lemprière, wife of the Seigneur de Rosel, noticed in church, one Sunday, a peasant woman wearing the most magnificent lace in her bonnet. She waited for her after church, tore it off before the whole congregation, covering her with abuse the while; and her friends stood round and applauded her action!

The most picturesque of our island costumes must have been that of the Alderney women in the last century as described by Mrs. Lane-Clarke in her “Guide to Alderney.” “A scarlet cloth petticoat and jacket, a large ruff round their necks, fastened under the chin by a black ribbon, or gold hook, and a round linen cap, stiffened so much as to be taken off or put on as a man’s hat. On one occasion, when the island was menaced by a French man-of-war, the Governor ordered out all the women in their scarlet dresses, and, disposing them skilfully upon the heights, effectually deceived the enemy with the appearance of his forces.”

At about this period the dress of the old Guernsey farmer was “a large cocked hat, and thin ‘queue à la française,’ a long blue coat with brass buttons, flowered waistcoat and jean trousers. Of course this was only for Sundays and festivals. The women wore the black silk plaited Guernsey bonnet, accompanied by a close mob cap underneath, with a narrow muslin border; plain on the forehead and temples, but plaited from the ears to the chin. A petticoat of black stuff, thickly quilted, the gown—of an old fashion chintz pattern—open in front, and tucked into the pocket holes of the petticoat; the boddice open in front to the waist, with a coloured or starched muslin handkerchief in lieu of a habit-shirt; tight sleeves terminating just below the elbow; blue worsted stockings, with black velvet shoes and buckles.”

This description is taken from an old guide book of 1841. The dress was rapidly becoming obsolete then, and has now, like almost every other relic of the past, completely disappeared.

We will now return to the account of our local feasts and festivals.

Beginning with the commencement of the ecclesiastical year—the holy season of Advent—the first day that claims our attention is that dedicated to Saint Thomas, not because of any public observance connected with it, but on account of its being supposed to be a time when the secrets of futurity may be inquired into.

Under the head of “Love Spells” we shall describe the superstitious practices to which, it is said, some young women still resort, in order to ascertain their future destiny.

It is not improbable that some of these observances have been kept alive by the constant communication that has always existed in times of peace between the islands and continental Normandy, not a few young people of both sexes coming over from the mainland to seek for employment as farm servants.

[2] A covering or defence. (Celtic.)

[3] Carabouss bras. (Breton).

[4] A wrapper (Celtic). These terms are still used in the country.

[5] At least wattle-built and plastered with mud, if not mud-built altogether. Holinshed exclaims against the innovation of chimneys, and regrets that “willow-built houses” are no longer fashionable.

La Longue Veille.

“Meanwhile the village rouses up the fire;

While well attested, and as well believ’d,

Heard solemn, goes the goblin story round;

Till superstitious horror creeps o’er all.”

—Thompson.

In former days the most lucrative occupation of the people was that of knitting woollen goods for the English and French markets. This branch of industry was of great importance—in fact, after the decay of the fisheries, which followed the discovery of Newfoundland, it constituted the staple trade of the island, and the memory of the manufacture still subsists in the name of “Guernsey jackets” and “Jerseys,” given to the close-fitting knitted frocks worn by sailors. So highly were the Guernsey woollen goods esteemed that they were considered a fitting present for Royalty, and in 1556 Queen Mary[6] did not disdain to receive from Sir Leonard Chamberlain, Governor of the Island, four waistcoats, four pair of sleeves, and four pair of hose of “Garnsey making.”[7] In the accounts of the Royal Scotch wardrobe for the year 1578, mention is made of woollen hose and gloves of Garnsey.[8] In 1586, the keeper of Queen Elizabeth’s wardrobe paid the high price of twenty shillings for one pair of knitted hose “de facturâ Garnescie.” It is true that these are described as having the upper part and the clocks of silk. (“Accounts of the Keeper of the Gt. Wardrobe, Elizabeth XXVIII. to XXIX., A.D. 1586”). And finally the unfortunate Mary Stuart wore at her execution a pair of white Guernsey hose.

The sheep kept in those days in the island were few in quantity, of an inferior breed, described by old writers as having four or more horns, producing coarse scanty wool, far from sufficient to furnish the supply of raw material required to meet the demand of the manufactured article. It was necessary therefore to have recourse to England, but the restrictive laws of that day prohibited the exportation of wool, and it was only by special Acts of Parliament that a certain quantity, strictly limited, was allowed annually to leave the kingdom for the use of the islands. The Governor who could succeed by his representations in getting this quantity increased was sure to win the lasting gratitude of the people.

Men and women of all ages engaged in this manufacture, and time was so strictly economised that the farmer’s wife, riding into market with her well stored paniers, knitted as the old horse jogged on through the narrow roads, and the fisherman, after having set his lines, and anchored his boat to wait for the turn of the tide, occupied the leisure hour in fashioning a pair of stockings, or a frock.

In the long winter evenings neighbours were in the habit of meeting at each other’s houses in turn, and while the matrons took their places on the “lit de fouaille,” and the elderly men occupied the stools set in the deeper recess of the chimney, the young men and maidens gathered together on the floor, and by the dim light of the “crâsset,”[9] plied their knitting, sang their songs, and told their stories—the songs and tales that appear later on in this collection. Our thrifty ancestors too were well imbued with the wisdom of the old saw that bids one “take care of the pence,” and the saving of fuel and oil, which was affected by working in company under the same roof, entered for something in their calculations. These assemblies were called “veilles” or “veillies,” and were well adapted to keep up a pleasant neighbourly feeling.

The wares thus made were brought into town for sale on the Saturday, but there was one day in the year when a special market or fair for these goods was held, and that was the day before Christmas. The night previous to that—the 23rd December—was employed in preparing and packing up the articles, and, being the termination of their labours for the year, was made an opportunity for a feast. Masters were in the habit of regaling their servants—merchants treated those with whom they had dealings—and neighbours clubbed together to supply the means of spending a joyous night. It may be that the restraint imposed by the Puritan Clergy—de la Marche, La Place, and others—on all convivial meetings connected in any way with religious observances, caused this occasion for rejoicing—which could not by any possibility be branded with the imputation of superstition—to be more highly appreciated than it would otherwise have been, and to replace in some degree the usual festivities of the season.

Although the manufacture of woollen goods as a staple article of trade has come to an end, and the social “veilles” are no longer kept up, “la longue veille,” or the evening of the 23rd of December, is still observed as an occasion for family gatherings in many Guernsey households, though there is perhaps not one person in twenty who can tell the origin of the custom. Mulled wine, highly spiced and sweetened, and always drunk out of coffee cups, with mild cheese and a peculiar sort of biscuit—called emphatically “Guernsey biscuit”—is considered quite indispensable on this evening, and indeed on all occasions of family rejoicing; while on every afternoon of the 23rd of December the old country people were met riding home from town with their panniers full of provisions for the night. The next day, Christmas Eve, is called the “surveille,” and the town on that evening is flocked with pleasure-seekers, buying and eating chestnuts and oranges.

[6] I am indebted to Mr. Bury Palliser, the accomplished author of “A History of Lace,” for these interesting particulars concerning the ancient staple manufacture of these islands.

[7] New Year gifts to Queen Mary (Tudor), 1556. Sir Leonard Chamberlain, “4 waistcoats, 4 paire of slevys, and 4 paire of hoosen of Garnsey making.”

[8] Scotch Royal Wardrobe: Three pair of wolwin hois of worsetis of Garnsey. Six paire of gloves of the same.

[9] Editor’s Note.—The Guernsey “crâsset” was very unlike the English “cresset,” which was in the form of an iron lantern, filled with inflammable materials. Ours was suspended from a hook or a cord along which it was pulled to the required point, and was rounded at one end and pointed at the other, and filled with oil. It is derived from the Fr. “creuset” from Latin crux a cross, because anciently crucibles and all vessels for melting metals were marked with a cross.

Christmas and New Year.

“Every season

Shall have its suited pastime; even winter,

In its deep noon, when mountains piled with snow

And choked up valleys from our mansion, bar

All entrance, and nor guest nor traveller

Sounds at our gate; the empty hall forsaken,

In some warm chamber, by the crackling fire,

We’ll hold our little, snug, domestic court,

Plying our work with song and tale between.”

—Joanna Baillie.

From St. Thomas’ Day to New Year’s Eve is considered to be a season when the powers of darkness are more than usually active, and it is supposed to be dangerous to be out after dark.[10] Men returning home on these nights have been led astray by the “faeu Bellengier” or Will o’ the wisp, and when they believed themselves to be close to their own doors have found themselves, they knew not how, in quite another part of the island. Others have been driven almost crazy by finding themselves followed or preceded by large black dogs, which no threats could scare away and on which no blows could take effect. Some find their path beset by white rabbits that go hopping along just under their feet.

It is generally believed that just at midnight on Christmas Eve all the cattle kneel and adore the newborn Saviour.[11] The considerate farmer will take care to place an extra quantity of litter in the stall when he shuts up his beasts for the night, but none would venture to wait and see the event. Such prying curiosity is too dangerous, for it is related how, on one occasion, a man who professed to disbelieve the fact remained watching till the witching hour. What he saw was never known, for, as he was leaving the stable, the door slammed violently, and he fell dead on the threshold.

It is also said that, on the same night, and at the same hour, all water turns to wine. A woman, prompted by curiosity, determined to verify the truth of this allegation. Just at midnight, she proceeded to draw a bucket of water from the well, when she heard a voice addressing her in the following words:—

“Toute l’eau se tourne en vin,

Et tu es proche de ta fin.”

She fell down struck with a mortal disease, and before the end of the year was a corpse.[12]

Notwithstanding the supernatural terrors of this night, groups of young men and women from all parts of the country flock into town after their day’s work is done, and assemble in crowds in the market place, where they regale on oranges and roasted chestnuts. The public-houses profit greatly by their presence; rendered valiant by their potations, and feeling security in numbers, they return home at a late hour, singing in chorus some interminable ditty, which, if goblins have any ear for music, must certainly have the effect of driving them far away.

By those in easy circumstances Christmas Day is now celebrated much as it is in England. The houses are decorated with holly and other evergreens—the same substantial fare loads the hospitable board, presents of meat or geese are sent to poor dependants, and families who are dispersed re-assemble at the same table. It is still customary for the poorer classes among the peasantry, who at any other season of the year would be ashamed to beg, to go about from door to door some days before Christmas, asking for alms under the name of “Noel,” in order to be able to add something to their scanty fare; and before grates and sea-coal became so common it was usual to reserve a large log of wood to be burned on the hearth at Christmas. This was called “le tronquet de Noel” and is evidently the same as the Yule log of the North of England.

In the neighbouring island of Alderney, one of the favourite diversions in the merry meetings at this festive season was the assuming of various disguises. Porphyrius, a native of Tyre, and a disciple of Longinus in the year 223 speaks of the “Feast of Mithras, or the Sun, where men were in the habit of disguising themselves as all sorts of animals—lions, lionesses, crows;” and St. Sampson, on his second visit to Jersey, gave gilded medals to the children on condition that they stayed away from these fêtes; so says Mr. Métivier in one of his early letters to the Gazette.

On the last night of the year it was customary (and the practice has not altogether fallen into desuetude) for boys to dress up a grotesque figure, which they called “Le vieux bout de l’an,” and after parading it through the streets by torch-light with the mock ceremonial of a funeral procession, to end by burying it on the beach, or in some other retired spot, or to make a bonfire and burn it.[13]

“How often has it been my melancholy duty to attend, sometimes as chief mourner (or mummer), the funeral of old Bout de l’An! A log of wood, wrapt up in sable cloth, was his usual representative, when, with great and even classical solemnity, just as the clock struck twelve, the juvenile procession set itself in motion, every member thereof carrying a lantern scooped out of a turnip, or made of oiled paper.… Ere the law-suit between old and new style was for ever settled, the annual log—Andrew Bonamy is mine authority—underwent the Pagan ceremony of incineration at the Gallet-Heaume.”—(Mr. Métivier in the Star, March 14th, 1831.)

This is probably one of the superstitious practices against which the ordinance of the Royal Court in 1622 was directed. At the same time, children were wont to go about from house to house to beg for a New Year’s gift, under the name of “hirvières” or “oguinane.” In so doing they chanted the following rude rhyme:—

Oguinâni! Oguinâno!

Ouvre ta pouque, et pis la recllios.[14]

In Scotland Hogmanay is the universal popular name for the last day of the year. “It is a day of high festival among young and old—but particularly the young.… It is still customary, in retired and primitive towns, for the children of the poorer class of people to get themselves on that morning swaddled in a great sheet, doubled up in front, so as to form a vast pocket, and then to go along the streets in little bands, calling at the doors of the wealthier classes for an expected dole of wheaten bread. This is called their Hogmanay.”[15]

The first day of the year is with all classes in Guernsey the one most strictly observed as a holiday, and, in all but the religious observance, is more thought of than even Christmas Day. Presents are given to friends, servants and children; the heads of families gather around them those who have left the paternal roof; more distant relatives exchange visits; young people call at the houses of their aged kinsfolk to wish them many happy returns of the season, and, in many cases, to receive the gifts that are awaiting them; and receptions—now become almost official in their character—are held by the Lieutenant-Governor, the Bailiff, and the Dean. Cake and wine are offered to visitors, and the day ends in most households with a feast in proportion with their means and rank in society. All the morning the roads and streets are crowded with groups of persons hurrying from house to house, hands are warmly shaken, kind words are spoken, many a little coolness or misunderstanding is forgotten, and even breaches of long standing are healed, when neighbours join in eating the many cakes for which Guernsey is famous, and which are considered suitable for the occasion. The favourite undoubtedly is “gâche à corinthes,” anglicé “currant cake,” also a kind of soft bread-cake, known by the name of “galette;” and on Christmas Day a sort of milk-cake, called “gâche détrempée” is baked early in the morning, so as to appear hot at the breakfast table; and so completely is this repast looked upon in the light of a family feast, that parents living in the country send presents of these cakes to their children who have taken service in town. A younger brother will leave the paternal roof long before daybreak to carry to his sister, at her master’s house, the cake which the affectionate mother has risen in the middle of the night to bake for her absent child.

[10] Editor’s Note.—In Contes Populaires, Préjugés, Patois, Proverbes, etc., de l’arrondissement de Bayeux, par M. Pluquet; seconde édition, 1834, it is said: “During the eight days before Christmas (Les Avents de Noël) apparitions are most frequent, and sorcerers have most power.”

[11] Editor’s Note.—This belief also prevails in Normandy, for M. Du Bois says:—“Les paysans sont persuadés que, la veille de Noël, à l’heure du sacrement de la messe de minuit, tous les bestiaux, et surtout les bœufs et les vaches, mettent un genou en terre pour rendre hommage à Jésus naissant. Il serait imprudent, disent-ils, de chercher à s’assurer de ce fait par soi-même; on courrait le risque d’être battu.”—Recherches sur la Normandie, Du Bois, 1843, p. 343. And in the centre of France and Berry:—“On assure qu’au moment où le prêtre élève l’hostie, pendant la messe de minuit, tous les animaux de la paroisse s’agenouillent et prient devant leurs crèches.”—Croyances et Légendes du Centre de la France, par Laisnel de la Salle, Tome 1er, p. 17.

[12] Editor’s Note.—In Sark the superstition is that the water in the streams and wells turns into blood at midnight on Christmas Eve, and they also tell you that if you go and look you die within the year. One Sark man said that he was determined to go to the well and draw water at midnight, come what might. So on Christmas Eve he sallied forth to reach the well in his back yard; as he crossed the threshold he tripped and hit his head against the lintel of the door, and was picked up unconscious the next morning. Most people would have taken this as a warning and desisted, but he was obstinate, and the following Christmas Eve he left the house at midnight as before, but as he approached the well he heard a voice saying:—

“Qui veut voir

Veut sa mort.”

Then at last he was frightened, and rushed back into the house, and never again did he attempt to pry into forbidden mysteries.—From Mrs. Le Messurier, of Sark.

[13] Editor’s Note.—Hence the country people’s term for the effigy of Guy Fawkes on the 5th of November “le vieux bout de l’an.”

[14]

“Oguinâni! Oguinâno!

Ope thy purse, and shut it then.”

There has been much discussion as to the derivation of “oguinâne,” from which the Scottish “hogmanay” also comes. Mr. Métivier, in his dictionary, says that it means the annual present of a master to his servants, of a seigneur to his vassals, of a father to his children, and derives it from “agenhine feoh” or “hogenehyne fee” the present made, or money given, to those who belong to you—a word composed of “agen” one’s own—as the English own, and “hind” servant, one of the family. And he laughs at the theory propounded by various French and English folklorists that it is derived from the rites of the Druids, and comes from their ancient cry “Au guy l’an neuf”—“the mistletoe (gui) of the New Year”—New Year’s Day being the day the pagans went into the forests to seek the mistletoe on the oaks. (See Notes and Queries. Series III. Vol. IV. p. 486.) In the Star of March 14th, 1831, Mr. Métivier tells us that “as late as the reign of Louis XIV. it was usual for the populace round Morlaix to chant a variety of bacchanalian songs on the last eve of the year, and the chorus or refrain of every stanza was precisely what I should never have fancied it to be—our

‘Oghin an eit! Oghin an eit!’

I am informed by a worthy monk that the good news announced by these mystical words had nothing to do with the religion of Christ, and that, being interpreted, they only tell us that ‘the wheat is upspringing—le bled germe.’ Eit and od originally implied not wheat only, but every sort of grain and seed. Thus it appears that what at first sight defied all rational conjecture—the ‘oguinâni, oguinâno,’ cry of our small gentry, once formed the immemorial chorus of an Armorican hymn—the pure heathen liturgical relic of some Gaulish festival. The primitive ditty was full of allusions to the increase of light, the revival of vegetable nature, and other seasonable topics. The noisy little heralds of this pleasing intelligence received for their reward an ‘oguinâne,’ or, as it is now called, ‘leurs hirvières’—an hibernum donum or winter gift. It is true that a few half-learned lexicographers talk of the mistletoe and ‘Au Guy l’An Neuf;’ but the French savans were systematic haters of France’s aboriginal languages, and the minor Latin poet who invented this nonsensical interpretation of a word whose etymon he was too lazy to dig for in its native mine has hardly been dead two centuries.”

[15] Editor’s Note.—The old people of St. Martin’s parish still (1896) talk of having in their youth gone to the neighbours’ houses on New Year’s Eve singing the following rhyme:—

“Bon jour, Monsieur! Bon jour, Madame!

Je n’vous ai pas vu acouâre (encore) chut (cette) an.

Et je vous souhaite une bouâne année,

Et mes irvières s’i’vous plliet.”

And a little bowl or bag of pennies was always at hand for gratuities.

La Grand’ Querrue.

“And at the farm on the lochside of Rannock, in parlour and kitchen,

Hark! there is music—yea, flowing of music, of milk, and of whiskey;

Dancing and drinking, the young and the old, the spectators and actors,

Never not actors the young, and the old not always spectators:

Lo, I see piping and dancing!”

—“The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich,” by A. H. Clough.

La Grand’ Querrue.

The parsnip seems to have been cultivated at a very early period in Guernsey, the soil appearing to be particularly well suited to the growth of this valuable root. We have proof that tithe of them was paid in times long anterior to the Reformation, although not claimed in the present day. In order to secure a good crop, it is necessary that the ground should be deeply trenched, and this operation, which takes place at the beginning of the year, and entails a great amount of labour, is, nevertheless, looked forward to with pleasure, as it gives rise to social meetings. The trenching of the soil was formerly, and is still occasionally, effected by the spade alone. This was done by farm labourers and hired men with a peculiar spade called “Une bêque de Guernesi.” Made by the country blacksmiths of the island, the handle was of wood, generally ash, and so was the upper portion of the blade, which was heart-shaped, the tip of the blade being of steel. It was a very slow operation, four perches a day being the utmost one man could accomplish, so that it had to begin very early in the year, “whilst eating the bread baked at Christmas,” as the old farmers said. But about a hundred years ago the “grand’ querrue” or big plough was introduced at Les Fontaines, in the Castel parish, the house of the Lenfesteys. This is preceded by one of the ordinary size to trace the furrow. The large plough, being an expensive instrument and one that is only wanted occasionally, is often the joint property of several neighbours, who unite together to assist each other in working it. Each brings his quota of labourers, and as many as twenty-two animals have been sometimes seen harnessed to the same plough, to wit, six bullocks and sixteen horses. Every man who is fortunate enough to be the possessor of a beast deems himself bound in honour to produce it on these occasions. The plough is generally guided by the owner of the field, and a furrow is made about twelve inches deep by about eighteen to twenty-four inches wide. As the labour is social, all work with good will and emulation, and the scene is one of great animation. Of course the assistance given is gratuitous, or, to speak more correctly, is to be returned in kind when required. The farmer, however, who avails himself of the labour of his neighbours, is expected to feed them. The consequence is that the “grand’ querrue” is made the occasion of a rural feast. The cider, for which the island is famous, circulates freely throughout the day, and the prettiest girls are selected as cup-bearers. Work begins about seven o’clock in the morning; about ten o’clock a sort of luncheon called “mi-matin” is provided; this consists of bread and butter, with cheese, fried cod fish, and strong tea or coffee. At noon the cattle are unharnessed and put to feed, and then comes the dinner of cabbage-soup, a large boiled ham or “pâlette,” a breast-piece of pork, and perhaps a round of beef. At two o’clock work is resumed, with a stoppage at four for a “mi-relevée” of tea and currant cake, and occasional intervals for “une petite goutte;” for it is well known that “i’faut prendre une petite goutte pour arrousaï, ou bien j’n’airons pâs d’pânais,”—“one must take a sip to moisten the field, or there will be no parsnips.” The day closes with a substantial supper, more beef, more ham, enormous plum-puddings, baked, not boiled, in the old ovens, (“grosses houichepotes”) with plenty of cider.

To this feast it is customary to invite the members of the respective families who have not taken part in the labours of the day, and the richer farmers send presents of pudding to their poorer neighbours who are not invited to share in the work. Friends and relations who reside at a distance, or in town, also join the gathering, and the best part of the night is spent in singing, dancing, story-telling, blind man’s buff, or the ancient roundelay of “mon beau laurier.”[16]

[16] Editor’s Note.—One curious custom at the supper or “défrique” was that the men had their meal first, and not till they had finished did the women sit down to have theirs.

Shrove Tuesday.

Shrove Tuesday is observed in the usual way, by a general frying and eating of pancakes, and the custom must be old, and one of the superstitious practices which the zeal of the Presbyterian clergy failed in eradicating; for, had it been re-introduced from England, it is not likely that it would have become so universal, or have taken so strong a hold on the minds of the people.

The First Sunday in Lent.

In the neighbouring island of Alderney, the first Sunday in Lent is known as “Le Dimanche des Brandons”—a name by which it is designated in old calendars, and which it still bears in some parts of France.[17] According to the late Mr. John Ozanne (de la Salerie), a native of Alderney, it was also known as “le jour des vitres,” this last word having, as he said, in the dialect of Alderney, the meaning of masks. This gives rise to the supposition that in days gone by masking formed part of the entertainment. On this day the young people made bonfires and danced round them, especially at “La Pointe de Clanque.” This dance was supposed to have had a bacchanalian origin, but was practised up to fifty years ago; they revolved round these bonfires, and leapt over them, and then, lighting wisps of straw, returned to the town by the fields, throwing about these torches, to the great danger of the thatched roofs.

[17] Editor’s Notes.—That these customs were also kept up in Guernsey is evident from the following extract from the manuscript note book of Monsieur Elie Brevint, who died in the island of Sark in 1674, aged 87. He says:—“Le premier Dimanche de Caresme s’appelle le jour des Brandons; à St. Martin de Guernezé les jeunes hommes par esbat portent au soir du dit jour brandons de glie, etc.”

In Les Archives de Normandie, 1824, p. 164, there is the following notice of “Le Jour des Brandons,” which shows that this custom also prevailed in various parts of France. “À Saint Vaast et à Reville, la veille de l’Epiphanie, des centaines d’enfants et même d’hommes, parcourrent les campagnes munis de brandons allumés. Ils crient, ‘Taupes et mulots, sortez de mon clos, ou je vous mets le feu sur le dos.’ Ou dans quelques autres parties de la Normandie on chante ces vers-ci:

Bon jour les rois

Jusqu’a douze mois

Douz’ mois passés

Rois, revenez!

Charge, pommier!

A chaq’ petite branchette

Tout plein ma grand’ pochette,

Taupes, mulots,

Sortez du clos,

Ou j’ vous brul’rai la barbe et l’s os!

Le lendemain au soir on allume un nouveau feu qu’on appèle une Bourgulée, et l’on renouvelle le même chant, qui commence encore par ‘Adieu les Rois,’ etc. Dans la Commune de Créance, une grande partie de la population passe presque toute la nuit du premier Dimanche de Carême à faire la même sommation aux taupes et aux mulots.… Le Dimanche des Brandons est une date commune et naturelle des actes du moyen age.”

The “Dimanche des Brandons” was also kept up in the centre of France with very much the same ceremonies. See Croyances et Légendes du centre de la France, Laisnel de la Salle. Tome 1er. Page 35.

“At Dijon, in Burgundy, it is the custom upon the first Sunday in Lent to make large fires in the streets, whence it is called “Firebrand Sunday.” This practice originated in the processions formerly made on that day by the peasants with lighted torches of straw, to drive away, as they called it, the bad air from the earth.”—From Nori Bourguinons, p. 148. Quoted in Brand’s Observations on Popular Antiquities, p. 57.

Good Friday.

On the morning of Good Friday it is the custom of the young people who live near the sea shore to make parties to go down to the beach to collect limpets. When a sufficient quantity of these shell fish has been taken, a flat stone or rock of sufficient size is selected, and, after being carefully swept and divested of all extraneous matter, the limpets are arranged on it with their shells uppermost. A head of dry furze or other brushwood is then placed over them and set on fire, and the limpets are left covered with the hot embers until they are supposed to be sufficiently cooked. Bread-cakes, fresh baked—if hot from the oven so much the better—with an ample supply of the rich butter for which the island is so famous, and a few bottles of cider or beer, have been provided beforehand by the members composing the pic-nic, and the limpets, now done to a turn, are eaten as a relish to the simple meal, with a better appetite, and more real pleasure than probably a far more elaborate feast would afford.[18]

Hot cross buns on Good Friday were unknown in Guernsey at the commencement of the present century.

[18] Editor’s Note.—“In Sark, on Good Friday it is the custom for boys to go and sail small boats on the ponds or pools by the sea-shore; and these boats are made a good while beforehand, or treasured up of long standing; this custom they never fail to keep up. Numbers of these same boys also go in the afternoon to the Eperquerie drill-ground, to play a game which they call rounders. It is played with a ball and a stick, and somewhat resembles cricket.”—From A Descriptive Sketch of the Island of Sark, by the Rev. J. L. V. Cachemaille (for many years Vicar of the island), published in Clarke’s Guernsey Magazine, October, 1875.

Easter.

There do not appear to be any particular customs connected with Easter, but some old people can still remember that in their youth the children in some parts of the country used to go about from door to door begging for eggs.[19] This was called “demander la mouissole,” and was evidently derived from the practice, so common in all parts of Europe, of giving presents of eggs at this season. Mouissole is derived from the old Norman word mouisson, which means “a bird.”

[19] Editor’s Note.—In the country the dinner on Easter Sunday used always to consist of fried eggs and bacon. As an old woman said, “it was the only day we ever tasted an egg.” If they could not get fowls’ eggs, they even got wild birds’ eggs, and fried and ate them!

“In the North of England boys beg on Easter Eve eggs to play with, and beggars ask for them to eat.”—De Ludis Orientalibus, by Hyde, 1694. p. 237.

“The custom of eating a gammon of bacon at Easter, which is kept up in many parts of England, was founded on this, viz., to shew their abhorrence to Judaism at that solemn commemoration of our Lord’s Resurrection.”—From Aubrey, 1679.

The First of April.

The first of April is not forgotten by children, who amuse themselves on this day by attaching long shreds of paper or bits of rag by means of crooked pins to the clothes of passers-by,[20] and then crying out as loud as they can bawl, “La Coûe! La Coûe!” or “La Folle Agnès.” No one knows the reason of the latter exclamation.

[20] Editor’s Note.—In Lancashire Folk-Lore p. 225, it says, “On Mid-Lent or ‘Bragot’ Sunday it is a custom for boys to hook a piece of coloured cloth to the women’s gowns, and a similar custom prevails in Portugal at carnival times.”

Sundays in May.

On the first Sunday in May the young men and women of the lower orders arise at daybreak and sally forth into the country in groups, returning home with large nosegays generally pilfered from the open gardens that adorn the neat cottages of the peasantry.[21]

There is reason to believe that this custom was introduced from England, but in Alderney it appears to have been a very ancient practice to keep the first of May as a holiday. Garlands of flowers were suspended across the street, under which the young people danced, and the day was generally wound-up by a sort of pic-nic supper or tea-drinking, to which each family contributed its quota. The introduction of late years of a large stranger population into that island, in consequence of the extensive fortifications and harbour works undertaken by Government, has completely changed the primitive character of the place, and has put an end to this picturesque custom.

[21] Editor’s Note.—“Bourne (‘Antiquit. Vulg.’ chap, xxv.) tells us that in his time, in the villages in the North of England, the juvenile part of both sexes were wont to rise a little after midnight on the first of May, and walk to some neighbouring wood, accompanied with music and the blowing of horns, where they broke down branches from the trees and adorned them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. This done, they returned homewards with their booty about the time of sunrise, and made their doors and windows triumph in the flowery spoil.” (Quoted in Brand’s Popular Antiquities, p. 121).

Whitsuntide.

“And let us do it with no show of fear;

No, with no more than if we heard that England

Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance.”

—Shakspeare.

Whit Monday, Midsummer Day, and the day on which Her Majesty’s birth is celebrated, are all kept as holidays, and have long been appropriated to the mustering and exercising of the Militia.

This institution differs in many respects from what goes by the same name in England, and is more in the nature of the “Garde Nationale” of France. It is of great antiquity, for we find among the Patent Rolls of Edward III., one dated May, 1337, appointing Thomas de Ferrers Governor of the Islands, and giving him directions to enrol all the able-bodied inhabitants, to supply them with fitting arms, and to place proper officers over them, in order that they might be able to resist the invasions of the allies of the Scotch, with whom England was then at war, and who had recently made some descents on Sark, and on the coasts of the larger islands. The service is gratuitous and compulsory, for, by the common law, all male inhabitants, from the ages of sixteen to sixty, are liable to be called out, unless prevented by illness, or able to claim exemption on some other legal ground. Nevertheless, with the generality of the people, especially with those of the rural parishes, the service is decidedly popular. An afternoon of ball-practice, or a general review by the Lieutenant-Governor, is looked forward to with pleasure, and the latter occasion is one which affords a treat to all classes of the community. At an early hour the roads are crowded with merry groups, dressed in their best, hastening to the spot where the review is to take place. The country damsels are proud of seeing their lovers set off by their military attire, and when the men are dismissed it is amusing to see the careful wife or the attentive sweetheart produce from the depth of her pocket, or from a hand-basket, a light cap, or wide-awake, to replace the heavy shako, while the young sons and brothers, not yet old enough to be enrolled, dispute who shall have the honour of bearing the weighty musket. The review is generally over by noon, and those who are industrious may return to their work. Most of the men, however, particularly the unmarried ones, prefer making a thorough holiday of it, and for the rest of the afternoon the streets of the town are filled with groups of merry-makers; the public houses ply a brisk trade, and the evening is often far advanced before the joyous groups think of returning to their own homes.

Midsummer.

“At eve last Midsummer no sleep I sought.”

—Gay’s Pastorals.

The custom of making bonfires on the hilltops at Midsummer was formerly so general among all the Celtic nations that it is highly probable that it must have existed also in these islands, the aboriginal inhabitants of which belonged undoubtedly to the Celtic race. In Scotland and in Ireland these fires are called Beltein, or Baltein; they are lighted also on May Day, and are supposed to be a relic of the worship formerly paid to the sun, under the name of Bel, or Baal. Throughout Brittany, and in some of the neighbouring parts of Normandy, “les feux de la St. Jean” are still lighted on all the hills. In some parts of Wales and Cornwall the custom is still kept up. That some observances connected with this season still existed in this island in the early part of the 17th Century is certain, from the fact of the Royal Court having promulgated an ordinance in 1622 prohibiting begging on St. John’s Eve, “as tending to keep alive superstition,” but what these observances were, is now entirely forgotten. It has been asserted that in days gone by “la Rocque Balan,” a remarkable and picturesque mass of granite on the plain of L’Ancresse, used to be resorted to at Midsummer, and that the youths and maidens danced together on its summit, where bonfires used to be lit. The burden of an old song—

“J’irons tous à la Saint Jean

Dansaïr sus la Rocque Balan,”

is quoted as confirmatory of this assertion. Some suppose that “Balan” has the same derivation as “Beltein;” others say that there was once a logan, or rocking stone, “une pierre qui balançait,” on the apex of the rock; but there is also a tradition that the former Priors of St. Michel du Valle caused the merchandise of their tenants and vassals to be weighed, and that the rock derived its appellation from the “balances” used for this purpose.

The most probable and matter of fact solution of the difficulty is that, like many other localities, it took its designation from the person to whom it once belonged, the name “Balan” being that of a family, now extinct, which at one time inhabited this parish.

Every cottage and farmhouse in the island is furnished with what is called a “lit de fouâille” or “jonquière”—now called the “green bed”—a sort of rustic divan generally placed in a recess between the hearth and a window. This, raised about eighteen inches from the ground, is thickly strewn with dried fern, or pea-haulm, and forms the usual seat of the females of the family, when engaged in knitting or sewing, and a very comfortable couch on which the men can repose after the labours of the day. But at Midsummer, after the fresh fern has been cut, the taverns and cottages vie with each other in decorating these seats. A canopy is raised over them, and the whole, floor and all, is thickly carpeted with fresh cut fern, and ornamented with the most brilliant and showy flowers that can be procured, not scattered at hap-hazard, but arranged in formal, and often far from inelegant patterns.[22] The love of flowers is almost a passion with every class of the inhabitants, and displays itself in the variety to be found at all seasons in every garden, and the taste with which they are employed in decorations.

It is difficult to say what gave rise to this custom of adorning the “jonquière,” but it is doubtless one of great antiquity.[23] Old people say that in former days it was customary to elect a girl from among the inhabitants of the district, and seat her in state beneath the floral canopy, where under the name[24] of “La Môme” she received in silence the homage of the assembled guests.[25] Perhaps the whole is a remnant of the old May games transferred to this season—perhaps it is an observance connected with the ceremonies with which in many countries, and especially among the Celtic nations, the sun was greeted on his arrival at the summer solstice, and in which branches of trees and bunches of flowers were used to decorate the houses.

[22] Editor’s Note.—An old country woman described to me a “Lit de Fouaille” she had seen as a child. She described it as being a four-post bed, both mattress and ceiling being one mass of flowers most ingeniously twined together. Each post was garlanded with flowers, and flower curtains hung from the top, woven together, she could not tell how. In the middle sat the girl—silent.

[23] See Folk-Lore Journal, Vol. I, Pp. 297 and 301.

[24] Mr. Métivier writes under the heading of “Lit de Fouaille.”—“Que de gens instruits, peu versés dans l’étude de notre Calendrier Champêtre, se sont imaginés que le lit de feuilles et de fleurs du solstice d’été—fête aussi ancienne que l’homme lui-même, n’était qu’un lit vert—une jonquière! L’apothéose de la beauté sur un trone de roses et de lys se retrouvait autrefois dans tous les climats, où le soleil favorisait la culture de ces trésors de Flore. Presque de nos jours, chaque canton de l’île élisait une tante ou cousine. Vouée au silence—‘La Môme;’ et cette bonne parente recevait de toute la compagnie l’hommage d’un baiser—c’est une allusion au silence de l’astre du jour et à la naissance d’Harpocrate, le doigt sur la bouche, au milieu d’un carreau de vives fleurs.”

[25] Editor’s Notes.

By the courtesy of Mr. J. Linwood Pitts I am able to insert the following note, showing the gradual decadence of the old custom.

“Some sixty or seventy years ago, a Mr. and Mrs. Le Maître kept a public-house at Le Cognon, near St. Sampson’s. At the summer vraicking time, they used to deck the green bed with elaborate floral decorations—a veritable “Lleit de feuilles.” A plate was placed in the centre of the bed to receive contributions. The young people used to go there and dance in the evenings after vraicking, Mr. Le Maître playing the fiddle for the dancers. Mrs. Robin (now seventy-three years old) danced there as a girl.”

Stow in his “Survey” tells us “that on the vigil of St. John Baptist every man’s door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, St. John’s wort, orpin, white lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass.…”

In Brand’s Popular Antiquities of Great Britain, Vol. I. p. 190, it is said:—“Hutchinson mentions another custom used on this day; it is to dress out stools with a cushion of flowers. A layer of clay is placed on the stool, and therein is stuck with great regularity, an arrangement of all kinds of flowers, so close as to form a beautiful cushion. These are exhibited at the doors of houses in the villages, and at the ends of streets and cross lanes of larger towns, where the attendants beg money from passengers to enable them to have an evening feast and dancing.” He adds “This custom is evidently derived from the Ludi Compitalii of the Romans; this appellation is taken from the Compita or Cross Lanes, where they were instituted and celebrated by the multitude assembled before the building of Rome. It was the Feast of Lares, or Household Gods, who presided as well over houses as streets. This mode of adorning the seat or couch of the Lares was beautiful, and the idea of reposing them on aromatic flowers, and beds of roses, was excellent.”

Midsummer Day in Sark.

In Sark, Midsummer Day is the great holiday of the year, when every youth who is fortunate enough to be the possessor of a horse, or who can borrow one for the occasion, makes use of it. Bedecking both himself and his steed with bunches of flowers, he goes to seek his favourite damsel, who generally sports a new bonnet in honour of the festival, and they often ride about in couples on the horses’ backs. They then amuse themselves in racing up and down the roads, and even venture sometimes to cross at a gallop the dangerous pass of the Coupée—a narrow ledge of rock with a precipice on either side,—which connects the peninsula of Little Sark with the main island. In the evening they assemble to drink tea, eat currant cake, and dance. This custom is known by the name of “Les Chevauchées.”[26]

[26] Editor’s Note.—Many charms and spells were also resorted to on the eve and on the day of “La Saint Jean,” which will be inserted under their proper heading. Another habit of the young men and girls on Midsummer Day was to go out to the Grand Pont at St. Sampson’s, and there have a supper composed of fried ham and eggs and pancakes, and craûbackaûs or crayfish, the latter placed on the table in the pan, and everyone helping themselves with their own fork. The custom was for the girls to be dressed entirely in white, while the men wore white duck or jean trousers, swallow-tailed coats, fancy waistcoats, and shoes adorned with large white bows. The proceedings finished with songs and dances.

Midsummer Day in Jersey.

In Jersey, the fishermen who inhabit the parish of St. John have a custom of circumnavigating at Midsummer a certain rock, called “Le Cheval Guillaume,” that lies off their coast, and in the same parish, as well as in some other parts of the island, a very singular practice has long prevailed. It is thus described in Plees’ Account of the Island of Jersey. “At Midsummer Eve, a number of persons meet together, and procure a large brass boiler; this is partly filled with water, and sometimes metallic utensils of different kinds are thrown in. The rim is then encircled with a strong species of rush, to which strings of the same substance are attached. When these strings are sufficiently moistened, the persons assembled take hold of them, and, drawing them quickly through their hands, a tremendous vibration is excited in the boiler, and a most barbarous, uncouth, and melancholy sound produced. To render this grating concert still more dissonant, others blow with cows’ horns and conches. This singular species of amusement continues for several hours: it is termed ‘faire braire les poëles.’” The same custom prevailed in Normandy, from whence it doubtless made its way into Jersey. In the former province it is now on the decline. Being observed on St. John’s Eve, it would appear to have a reference to some Christian festival in honour of that saint; or it may relate to Midsummer Day. Large numbers of the middling and lower classes in Jersey are in the habit of coming to Guernsey for the Midsummer holidays, and the natives of the latter island often choose this season for visiting their friends and relations in Jersey. In the Athenæum, September 20th, 1890, it says: “It may not be generally known that in the island of Jersey on St. John’s Eve the older inhabitants used to light fires under large iron pots full of water, in which they placed silver articles—as spoons, mugs, etc.,—and then knocked the silver against the iron, with the idea of scaring away all evil spirits. There are now railroads in Jersey, and these old-world practices have probably disappeared.”

The day after Midsummer used always to be the day of the fair, held in the Fair-field at the Câtel. It was crowded from the early morning by the entire population of the island, and the hedges round the field, and even the sides of the roads in the vicinity, were filled with French women, selling strawberries, and eggs dyed red with cochineal, and who drove a roaring trade.

August.

On the Sundays in August it was customary, a few years ago, for large crowds from all parts of the island to assemble in the afternoon on the causeway at St. Sampson’s called “Le Grand Pont.” The favourite mode of proceeding thither was on horseback, but the only object that the visitors seemed to have in view was that of seeing and being seen. It is difficult to ascertain exactly what gave rise to this custom, or indeed whether it is of ancient date. It is certain, however, that the improvement of the roads at the commencement of the present century, and the works carried on at the same time for the recovery of a large portion of land from the sea, in this neighbourhood, concurred in attracting a considerable number of persons to the spot. If the custom existed previously it must have been one of old standing, and may perhaps be traced to a church wake or feast held in honour of St. Sampson, who is said to have been among the first who preached the gospel in the island, and whose name the neighbouring church bears. The calendar commemorates this saint on the 28th of July, and the practice of meeting together on the Sunday following the anniversary of a saint, in the vicinity of the church or chapel dedicated to him, is universal throughout Brittany, where these assemblies are known by the name of “pardons.” In some parts of Normandy, too, the custom is observed, and the meetings are known as “Assemblées.” If not held on, or near, the actual anniversary of the saint, they are often fixed for some Sunday in August, when, the harvest being over, the peasants have more leisure time for amusements.

Editor’s Note.—“In the southern parts of this nation,” says Bourne, “most country villages are wont to observe some Sunday in a more particular manner than the rest, i.e., the Sunday after the day of dedication, or day of the saint to whom their church was dedicated.” Antiq. Vulg., chap. xxx.

Maison du Neuf Chemin.

September.

On the Sundays in September it was the custom, at any rate in the early part of this century, to ride out to the “Maison du Neuf Chemin,” at St. Saviour’s, which was kept by a man called Alexandre. There they would eat pancakes, apples and pears, and not come home till dusk. This is the “Mess Alissandre” to whom Métivier alludes in “La Chanson des Alexandriens,” “Rimes Guernesiaises,” 1831, p. 52.

“Vouloüs passair dans l’pu bel endret d’l’île

Une a’ r’levaie sans paine et sans chagrin!

Tournai mé l’dos ès sales pavais d’la ville,

Et galoppai sie l’vieil houme du Neuf-Ch’min, etc.”

[Translation].

“Do you wish to go to the most beautiful neighbourhood of the island

One afternoon without difficulty or trouble?

Turn your back on the dirty pavements of the town,

And gallop out to the old man of the New Path.”

CHAPTER II.
Local Customs—Civic, Aquatic, Ceremonial.

“Ordain them laws, part such as appertain

To civil justice, part religious rites.”

—Milton.

La Chevanchée de St. Michel.

“My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,

Ev’n now forsake me; and of all my lands

Is nothing left me.”

—Shakspeare, Henry VI.

Before giving an account of this curious old custom, now abolished, but which seems to have been instituted originally with a view to keeping the highways throughout the island in a due state of repair, it may be as well to say something of the feudal system, as it existed, and indeed, greatly modified of course, still exists in Guernsey. Though, from the loss in the course of many centuries of the original charters, we are left in the dark on many points, and can only guess at the origin of some of the many small manors—or as they are locally termed, “fiefs”—into which the island is divided.