Decorative floral chapter header 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.” 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.
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 factur 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. 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.
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.
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] 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.
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. 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.”
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. 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. 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]
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.
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.” Decorative floral chapter footer
Decorative floral chapter header 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. It is known that previous to the Conquest of England by Duke William,[27] NÉel de St. Sauveur, Vicomte of Le Cotentin, was patron of six of the ten parish churches in Guernsey—those of St. Samson, St. Pierre Port, St. Martin de la Bellouse, La TrinitÉ de la ForÊt, Notre Dame de Torteval, and St. AndrÉ; and it is probable that he was lord paramount of all the land contained in these parishes. He was one of those barons who conspired against William, and having been defeated by him in the Battle of Val des Dunes, all his possessions were confiscated. On his submission he was again received into favour, and his continental possessions restored, but such does not seem to have been the case with what he held in Guernsey; for the patronage of the churches mentioned above was given by William, a year before the Conquest of England, to the great Abbey of Marmoutier near Tours; and from that time we hear nothing more of the Viscounts of St. Sauveur in Guernsey. The other four parishes, St. Michel du Valle, Notre Dame du Castel, St. Sauveur, and St. Pierre du Bois, were in the patronage of the Abbey of Mont St. Michel, and the lands in the greater part of these parishes were held in nearly equal proportions between that famous Monastery and the Earls of Chester—those held by the Abbey being known as “Le Fief St. Michel,” and those belonging to the Earl being called “Le Fief le Comte.” A local tradition says that it was Duke Robert, the father of William the Conqueror, who first bestowed these lands on the Abbey, and on the ancestors of the Earls, but of this there may be some doubt. These lands were held direct from the Sovereign, to whom these lords were bound to do homage, but in process of time they came to be sub-fieffed by their possessors—that is, divided into smaller manors, which, instead of owing direct allegiance to the Crown, depended on their own lords, to whom they had certain services to render, and dues to pay, and in whose Courts they were bound to make an appearance thrice in the year. These Courts had jurisdiction in civil matters, in causes arising between the tenants on their respective fiefs, and had their seals, by which all written documents emanating from them were authenticated, the seals of the Court of the Priory of St. Michel representing the Archangel trampling Satan under foot, and that of the Fief le Comte, St. George, near whose ruined chapel the Court still holds its sittings. As there was always an appeal from the decision of these Courts to the supreme tribunal of the island, the Royal Court, they gradually ceased to be held, except for the purpose of collecting the seignorial dues, and, by an Order of Her Majesty in Council, the Court of the Fief St. Michel was abolished, the life interest of the seneschal, vavassors, prevÔts, bordiers, and other officers of the Court being preserved. One of the duties of the Court of St. Michel was to see that the King’s highway (le chemin du Roi), and certain embankments against the encroachments of the sea were kept in proper order and in due reparation; and in order to insure this they were bound to make an inspection once in three years. We will now go back and consider the origin of the Fief St. Michel. Among the many fiefs in Guernsey, held in chief from the Crown, one of the most ancient and important is certainly that of St. Michel-du-Valle, extending over the greater part of the northern and western shores of the island. According to a tradition generally accepted by the historians of the island, and which is in part corroborated by documentary evidence, preserved in the “cartulaires” of the famous Abbey of Mont St. Michel in Normandy, and in the Record Office in England, certain monks who had been expelled from that monastery for their irregularities, or had left voluntarily in consequence of reforms in the community which they disapproved of, came over to Guernsey about the year 966 and established themselves in a part of the island called Le Clos du Valle, which at that period, and until the beginning of the present century, was cut off from the mainland by an arm of the sea, and could only be reached by a way across the sands when the tide had receded. The monks are said to have brought the whole of the western part of the island into cultivation, and to have led such a pious life, and effected such a reform in the manners of the inhabitants, that Guernsey acquired the appellation of “l’Île sainte.”[28][29] It is also said that Robert I., Duke of Normandy, father of William the Conqueror, called by some Le Magnifique and by others Le Diable, having been driven by stress of weather to take refuge in Guernsey, when on his way to England with a fleet to assist the Saxon Princes Alfred and Edward in their resistance to the Danish invader Canute, was received and hospitably entertained by the monks, and in return confirmed them in the possession of the lands they had been the means of reclaiming, at the same time constituting the community a priory in dependance on the great monastery from which they had originally come; a connexion, which although frequently interrupted during the long wars between England and France for the possession of Normandy, existed until the suppression of alien priories in England by Henry V. Like all other fiefs the priory had its own Feudal Court, by means of which it collected its rents and dues, and which had jurisdiction in civil matters between all its tenants, subject, however, to an appeal to the higher authority of the Royal Court of the island. The Court of St. Michel-du-Valle consisted of a seneschal and eleven vavassors, who, in virtue of their office and in consideration of their services, held certain lands on the fief. The officers of the Court were a greffier or registrar, four prevÔts, who had duties analogous to those of a sheriff, six bordiers, who had certain services to perform in collecting dues and attending the meetings of the Court, and, though last, not least, an officer styled porte-lance—of whom more hereafter. The principal duties of the Court seem to have consisted in legalizing sales of real property, in which tenants on the fief were interested, and settling disputes concerning the same arising among them. But there appear to have been attempts made from time to time to encroach on the prerogatives of the Royal Court, and various ordinances of the latter are in existence restraining the seneschal and vavassors from doing certain acts, and even fining them for having gone beyond their powers. There was one function, however, of the Court of St. Michael which it seems to have exercised without dispute from time immemorial, but which it is impossible to account for—the inspection and keeping in order of the King’s highway throughout the island, and of certain of the works for preventing the encroachments of the sea. Possibly it may have originated in marking out the bounds of the Fief St. Michel and its dependencies only, and with this keeping in order the sea defences.[30] Once in three years, the seneschal and vavassors of the Court were bound to perform this duty, which, judging from their later records, they appear to have considered rather onerous, as we find several Acts of the Court dispensing with the ceremony, the reason given being generally the interruption it caused in agricultural labours, and the loss occasioned thereby, at a time when farmers were far from being in the prosperous condition in which they are at present. Another very substantial reason was the expense, which had to be defrayed out of the Crown revenue. According to some of our historians, who, however, give no evidence in support of their assertion, this inspection of the roads, commonly known as “La ChevauchÉe” from the fact of the principal performers being mounted on horseback, was originally annual, and was instituted with a view to having the roads put in order preparatory to the grand religious procession of the Host on Corpus Christi Day, but this origin of the ceremony seems hardly probable, as it is well known that the procession in question is strictly limited in Roman Catholic countries to parishes, and is conducted by the parochial clergy. It is difficult to understand how it came to pass that a subaltern Court, such as was that of the Fief St. Michel, came to be allowed to exercise a quasi jurisdiction over lands which had never been subject to it, but as it was impossible for the Court to proceed to every part of their domain without occasionally trespassing over other manors, what was originally allowed by courtesy came to be looked upon at last as a right. A somewhat similar means of assuring the keeping in due repair of the high roads existed, and probably in a modified form still exists, in the sister island of Jersey, where it is conducted by the vicomte, assisted by two or more jurats of the Royal Court, and the officer, called the “porte-lance,” who exercises the same functions as the official bearing the same designation in the “Cour St. Michel.” It is known in Jersey as “La Harelle.” But it is time to come to a description of how this ancient ceremony was conducted in Guernsey. As has been said before, it ought to have taken place every third year, at which time the Court of St. Michael used to meet in the spring to settle preliminaries in fixing the day on which the ceremony was to take place, regulating the costume to be worn by the “pions” or footmen in attendance on the Court, and other matters. The month of June was usually chosen, and on the day appointed the Court assembled, with all the officers who were to take part in the procession, at the small Court House adjoining the remains of the ancient monastic buildings still dignified with the name of “L’Abbaye,” although the establishment had been for centuries no more than a priory dependent on the famous monastery of Mont St. Michel in Normandy. The following are translations of a few of the Acts and Regulations of the Court of St. Michael:—[31] 31 March, 1768. Seneschal nominated by the Governor. 24 May, 1768. The ChevauchÉe being due to take place on the following 8th of June, the Court has ruled the dress of the pions. A black cap (calotte) with a red ribbon at the back. A ruffled shirt, with black ribbon wristbands, and a black ribbon round the neck. Black breeches with red ribbons tied round the knee. White stockings; and red rosettes on their wands. N.B.—This Act does not seem to have been put in force. 27th April, 1813.—The ChevauchÉe of His Majesty is appointed to take place on Wednesday, the 9th of the following June, for the reparation of the quays and roads of the King, and it is ordered that it shall be published throughout the parishes of this island, and cried in the Market Place, so that no one can plead ignorance. The 27th of May, 1813.—Before Thomas Falla, Esq., Seneschal of the Court and Jurisdiction of the Fief St. Michel, present, Messieurs James Ozanne, Nicholas Le Patourel, James Falla, Pierre Falla, Jean Mahy, Richard Ozanne, Nicholas Moullin, Daniel Moullin, and Jean Le Pettevin (called Le Roux), vavassors of the said Court. The Court being to-day assembled to regulate the order to be pursued on Wednesday, the 9th of June proximo,—the day appointed by the Court for the ChevauchÉe of His Majesty to pass—has ordered that all the pions be dressed uniformly as follows, to wit: Black caps with a red ribbon behind. White shirts, with white cravats or neckerchiefs. Circular white waistcoats, with a red ribbon border. Long white breeches, tied with red ribbon round the knee. White stockings, and red rosettes on their wands. And Messieurs les prevÔts of the Court are ordered to warn all those who are obliged to assist at the said ChevauchÉe to find themselves with their swords, their pions, and their horses, the aforesaid 9th of June at seven o’clock in the morning at the Court of St. Michael, according to ancient custom, in default of appearance to be subject to such penalties as it shall please the Court to award him. And also shall Monsieur Le Gouverneur be duly warned, and Thomas Falla, Esq., seneschal, and Messrs. Jean Mahy and Nicholas Moullin, vavassors, are nominated by the Court to form a committee so as to take the necessary measures to regulate the conformity of the said act concerning the dress of the pions. (Signed) Jean Ozanne, Greffier. On the above day, conformably to the said Act, all the pions, dressed in the afore-mentioned costume, met at seven o’clock in the morning at the Court of St. Michael, and there also were found the King’s officers, vavassors, who had to serve there as esquires. The King’s officers and the seneschal each had two pions on either side of his bridle rein, the vavassors were only entitled to one. They began with a short inspection and a good breakfast on the emplacement east of the Yale Church. After breakfast, the members of the cortÈge, with their swords at their sides, got on their horses opposite the said Court of St. Michael, where the greffier of the said Court said the customary prayer, and the seneschal read the proclamation, and then they started in the following order:— The Sheriff of the Vale and his pion. The Sheriff of the King and his two pions. The Sheriff of the Grand MoÛtier and his pion. The Sheriff of the Petit MoÛtier and his pion. The Sheriff of Rozel and his pion. The King’s Sergeant and his two pions. The King’s Greffier and his two pions. The King’s Comptroller and his two pions. The King’s Procureur and his two pions. The King’s Receiver and his two pions. The Lance-Bearer and his two pions. The Greffier of the Court St. Michel and his two pions. The Seneschal of the Court St. Michel and his two pions. The eleven vavassors of the Court St. Michel, and one pion each. Whilst they are on their march, the five sheriffs carry by turns a white wand in the following order:— The Sheriff of the Vale, from the Vale Church to the end of Grand Pont. The King’s Sheriff, from the end of Grand Pont, as far as the Forest. The Sheriff of Grand MoÛtier, from the Forest to the King’s Mills. The Sheriff of Petit MoÛtier, from the King’s Mills to the Douit des Landes in the Market Place, and the Sheriff of Rozel from the last mentioned place to the Vale. During the procession the lance bearer carried a wand of eleven and a quarter feet long, and any obstacle this wand encountered, stones of walls, branches of trees, etc., had to be cleared away, and the proprietor of the obstacle was fined thirty sous, which went towards the expenses of the dinner. From time immemorial the privilege of the pions,—who were chosen for their good looks—was that of kissing every woman they met, whether gentle or simple, their only restriction being that only one pion was allowed to kiss the same lady, she had not to run the gauntlet of the gang. This privilege of course was invariably exercised! At the entry of the Braye du Valle the seneschal freed the pions from their attendance on the bridle reins, and gave them authority to embrace any woman they might encounter, recommending good behaviour and the rejoining of their cavaliers at the Hougue-À-la-Perre. Parish Church of St. Peter Port. Showing houses demolished to make room for present New Market.
The ChevauchÉe then went to Sohier, les Landes, la rue du Marais, la Grande Rue, la Mare Sansonnet, les Bordages, la Ronde CheminÉe, and les Morets. Arriving at the Hougue-À-la-Perre the pions regained their respective stations on the side of their officers, leading the horses, and there, at ten o’clock, they were met by His Excellency Sir John Doyle, the Lieutenant-Governor and his staff, the horses of which were all decorated with blue ribbons, except those of the said Governor and of his family, who, out of compliment, carried red ribbons, matching those of the ChevauchÉe. The Bailiff, with his party and John Guille, Esq., also joined them at this spot, uniformly dressed in blue jackets, white trousers, and leghorn hats. The whole cavalcade then moved on, the Governor and suite at the rear, preceded by the band of the town regiment, dressed as rustics, in long white jackets and large hats with their brims turned down, and followed by six dragoons to bring up the rear. Having passed between eleven and twelve o’clock through Glatney, Pollet, Carrefour, and High-street, they came to the Town Church, where they made the tour around a large round table which had been placed near the westerly door of the said church, which table was covered with a white cloth and supplied with biscuits, cheese, and wine, which had been provided by one of the “sous-prevÔts,” and the Sheriff and the King’s Sergeant, on foot, offered each cavalier who passed the door food and drink. During this interval the band played serenades and marches. At noon they proceeded through Berthelot-street to the College fields, and, passing through the Grange, they reached the GravÉe; here His Excellency took his leave. The cavalcade passed on by St. Martin’s road to the ancient manor of Ville-au-Roi, one of the oldest habitations in the island. The entrance was tastefully decorated with arches of flowers and a crown in the centre, with flags flying, and, on one of the arches, “Vive la ChevauchÉe.” Here, according to old manorial custom, the party was gratuitously regaled with milk. The procession then moved on by Les CÂches to Jerbourg, with the exception of the pions, who proceeded to the village of the Forest, and there waited the return of the Court. Here they danced and amused themselves as before, and being rejoined by the cavalcade at the Bourg they moved on by Les Brulliots, and passing Torteval Church arrived at a house called the ChÂteau des Pezeries at Pleinmont, where a marquee was erected, and cold meats and wine were prepared for the gentlemen. The pions were seated on the grass in a circle which had been hollowed for them, in the shape of a round table,[32] and they also had their repast. Here the procession halted till four o’clock, and by this time were joined by many carriages, filled with ladies and gentlemen, who, with a numerous party of all ranks, moved on by Rocquaine, Roque Poisson, below the Rouvets, Perelle, where a particular stone lies, which they are obliged to go round according to an old custom, from there by the Saint Saviour’s Road to the Grands Moulins or King’s Mills. On their arrival there they were rejoined by the pions, the mill was put in motion, and the miller came out with a plate in each hand, one containing flour of wheat, and the other of barley, which had been ground that instant by the mill. The miller then placed himself on a large stone, and the procession moved round him; this custom has prevailed from time immemorial. The procession then continued by St. George, La Haye du Puits, Saumarez, Le Camp du Roy, Les Salines, to the Clos du Valle, to the aforesaid Court of St. Michael, where they arrived about seven o’clock, and where they were again joined by the Lieutenant-Governor, the Bailiff, and some of the principal residents. The Court having been dismissed they all partook of a sumptuous dinner, at which Mr. Seneschal Falla presided. The pions were also handsomely entertained. The last ChevauchÉe took place in Guernsey on the 31st of May, 1837, but the description of the procession we have given refers to the one in 1825, and is taken from Jacob’s Annals, and the Chronique des Isles, by Syvret. The oldest known Act of the Court of St. Michael is the following, dated the 14th of October, 1204:— “Les Chefs Plaids Capitaux de la Saint Michel tenus À Sainte Anne en la Paroisse du Sarazin,[33] par Nicolle de Beauvoir Bailly, À ce prÉsens Jean Le Feyvre, Jean Philippes, Martin de Garris, Jean Maingy, Jean Le Gros, Jemmes le Marchand, Pierre de la Lande, Robert de la Salle, Colin Henry, Jurez de la Cour de nostre Souverain Seigneur le Roy d’Angleterre en l’Isle de Guernereye. Le quatorziÈme jour du moys d’Octobre, l’an MCCIV. Sur la Remonstrance qui nous a estÉ faicte de la part des FrÈres Jean Agenor, Prieur, en la Paroisse de l’Archange de Saint Michel du Valle et ses aliez Pierre de Beauvoir, Pierre Martin, Jean Effart, Jean Jehan, Pierre Nicolle, Pierre du Prey, Jean Agenor, Michel le Pelley, Jean Cappelle et autres Marchands et Manans, tant en la Paroisse du Valle que de Saint Sampson, qu’ils Éstoyent grandement empeschez et endomagez concernant le desbordement de la mer, laquelle auroit coupÉ le Douvre et passage commode entre les dittes Paroisses, entendu qu’il estoit impossible non seulement de faire Procession, mais aussi d’aller traficquer les uns avec les autres aux Landes du Sarazin, s’il ne nous pleust leur permettre et accorder de faire maintenir un certain Pont passant du Valle À Saint Sampson, estant propre et passable de toutes MarÉes, de Charues, et Charettes, de pied et de Cheval, et À qui il appartiendra de la maintenir en temps advenir. Parquoy ne voulant refuser la Raisonnable remonstrance des avants dits, et pour le bien public, nous leur avons appointÉ Veue sur les Limites les plus cÉlÈbres des dittes Paroisses, dans le jour Saint Barthelemi prochain, et advertiront le commun de s’y trouver, pour ouir ce que par nous sera ordonnÉ touchant la ditte edification.” Another copy, which differs from the preceding in the names of the Jurats, finishes by these words, “donnÉ par copie des roles, signÉ par Colin de la Lande, clerq.” According to this copy the names of the Jurats are “Jean Le Gros, James Le Marchant, Pierre de la Lande, Robert de la Salle, Colin Henry, Raoul Emery, Gaultier Blondel, Guillet Le Febvre.” It is noticeable that the first four names of the copy first cited are not among these, and that the last three on this list are not in the Act which we have transcribed.[34] At the end of the second copy we find the following notice: “N.B.—Mr. Thomas Le MaÎtre, Prevost de St. Sauveur À Jersey en a l’original.” Originally the vavassors[35] of the Court of St. Michael were twelve in number, similar to the Jurats of the Royal Court, but if you ask why the number for the last two hundred years has been reduced to eleven, the answer is—“that the devil carried away Vivien.” All that is known about Jean Vivien is that he was a vavassor of this Court, and that, in a fit of despair, he drowned himself, early in the seventeenth century. Up to about the middle of the present century three letters “I. V. V.” cut by himself on the broken fragment of rock from which he leapt into the gulf, still existed at the end of a footpath, not far from the “Fosse au Courlis”—Curlew’s ditch or grave—a spot haunted by witches. Since then no Christian has dared to replace the suicide Jean Vivien, and, when making the calculation of the symbolic vavassorial stones, his pebble is always omitted. There are but eleven instead of twelve. [27] “There were two Nigels (Neel or Niel), Viscounts of Cotentin, and proprietors of St. Sauveur le Vicomte. I have reference to those two charters, the perusal of which exalts conjectures into genuine facts. It is highly gratifying to possess, at last, extracts from the authentic charters of Robert I. and William II. granted to St. Michel and St. Martin of Tours.”—Extract from MS. letter from George MÉtivier to Sir Edgar MacCulloch, Nov. 1846. “Briser La Hanse.” This was a curious civic ceremony which was abolished in the early part of this century. In each of our parishes there are a certain number of functionaries called douzeniers, because the corps in question consists of twelve (douze) members, except in St. Peter Port, where there are twenty, and at St. Michel du Valle, where there are sixteen. When one of these officers was elected, he had to give a feast, to which the electors carried an enormous bouquet of flowers “À deux hanses”—with two handles. The dinner finished and the cloth removed, each man filled his glass, and the abdicating douzenier (le douzenier dÉhansÉ) broke one of these handles, previously dipping the bouquet into his glass, and drinking the health of the douzenier hansÉ. Then the bouquet went round from hand to hand, each man, while moistening it with the spirit that bubbled in his glass, adding his toast to the newly elected or hansÉ douzenier. Local Customs—Aquatic. “Heureux peuple des champs, vos travaux sont des fÊtes.” —St. Lambert. Vraicing. The months of June, July, and August, form one of the principal seasons for the collection of the seaweed with which the rocky shores of Guernsey abound, and which, from time immemorial, has proved a most valuable resource to the farmer, not only as affording an excellent manure for the land, but also, in the case of the poorer cottagers and fishermen who inhabit the coast, an unfailing supply of fuel. Many indeed of these gain almost their entire livelihood by collecting the “vraic” as it is locally termed, which they sell to their richer neighbours for dressing the land, or which, after drying on the shore, they stack for their winter firing. The ashes, which are carefully preserved, always command a ready market, being considered one of the best manures that can be applied to the land in preparing it for certain crops. The qualities of seaweed in general as a fertilizer are so highly appreciated that it has given rise to the agricultural adage “point de vraic, point de hautgard”—no sea-weed, no stack yard. It has been remarked that dry seasons are unfavourable to the growth of sea-weed, and that rain is almost as essential to its development as it is to that of the grass of the field—a singular fact, when we remember that the marine plant has always a supply of moisture.
Sea-weed is distinguished into two kinds “vraic venant”—drift weed, and “vraic sciÉ”—cut weed. The former is that which, like the leaves and branches of a tree, are severed from the place of growth by natural decay, or by the violence of storms, and is thrown up by the action of the waves on the shore. The latter is that which is detached from the rocks by the hand of man, generally with the aid of a small sickle. The collecting of sea-weed, whether drift or cut, is subject to stringent regulations, framed with a view both of preventing dangerous quarrels among those engaged in the occupation, and also of ensuring a regular supply of so precious a commodity by allowing sufficient time for its growth. In Guernsey the Royal Court has always legislated on the subject, but on the coasts of Normandy and Brittany it appears to have been the province of the Church to regulate the matter, and the harvesting of the sea-weed never began until the parish priest had solemnly blessed the undertaking. Driftweed may be collected at all seasons, but only between sunrise and sunset. It is found left on the beach by the retiring tide, or is dragged on shore by means of long rakes from amidst the breakers that roll in during, or after, heavy gales. This is hard work, and not unattended with danger. The men are frequently up to their waists in the water, and the shelving pebbly beach affords but an insecure footing. The rakes are often wrenched out of the men’s hands by the violence of the waves, and hurled back among them, inflicting severe bruises and sometimes even broken limbs. The collecting of the cut weed or “vraic sciÉ” is quite another thing. Although entailing a great deal of labour, it is looked upon, especially in summer, as a sort of holiday. There are two seasons during which it is lawful to cut: the first begins with the first spring-tide after Candlemas, and lasts about five weeks, during the whole of which time every person is allowed to collect as much as he wants for manuring his lands. The second cutting, which is chiefly for fuel, commences about Midsummer and lasts until the middle of August. Immemorial usage, strengthened by legal enactment, has consecrated the first eight days of cutting at this season to the poor. During this time none but those who are too poor to possess a horse or cart are allowed the privilege of gathering the vraic, which, when cut, they must bring to high water mark on their backs. After this concession to the less fortunate brethren, the harvest is thrown open to all. Then it is that the country people, uniting in parties consisting frequently of two or three neighbouring families, resort to the beach with their carts, to watch the ebbing tide, and secure a favourable spot for their operations. All who can be spared from the necessary routine work of the farm attend on these occasions. The younger people adorn their hats with wreaths of flowers, the horses’ heads are decked with nosegays, and even the yoke of the patient ox is not without its floral honours. Once arrived on the sea-shore, not a moment is lost, for time and tide wait for no man, and first come, first served. The sickle is plied vigorously, and small heaps of the precious weed are collected and marked with a flat pebble, on which the name or initials of the proprietor are chalked. The men wade across the “cols” or natural causeways leading to the outlying rocks, and, when the tide begins to flow, hastily load the carts, or the ample panniers with which the horses are provided, and hurry off to deposit their hard-earned store above high-water mark. In the meantime the younger members of the party range along the beach, turning over the stones in search of that esteemed mollusc the “ormer” or sea-ear (Haliotis tuberculata) which, when well cooked—a secret only known to a native of the isles—is really a delicious morsel. Not unfrequently crabs of various kinds are turned out of their hiding places, and hurry off, holding up their formidable pincers in defiance and defence, but are soon adroitly transferred to the “behotte”—a small basket, narrow mouthed and flattened on one side, which hangs by a belt from the shoulder of the youth or maiden. Here and there a larger mass of rock is with difficulty raised, and a goodly sized conger-eel, disturbed from his snug retreat, glides away like a snake and endeavours to hide himself in the grass-like “plize” (Zostera Marina). A blow on the head stuns him, and he goes to join the captive ormers and crabs. Perhaps one of those hideous monsters of the deep, the cuttle fish, is dislodged. His long tentacles, armed with innumerable suckers, which attach themselves strongly to anything they touch, his parrot-like bill and large projecting eyes, staring with a fixed gaze, are calculated to inspire alarm, but the trenchant sickle makes short work of him, and his scattered limbs remain on the spot to form a meal for the crabs. The laugh and the jest are to be heard on all sides—even the brute creation seem to enjoy the change. The horses, generally quiet, scamper over the sands and rocks, neighing joyously to one another; the farm dogs are busy hunting the small crabs that everywhere abound, or rushing into the water after the stones thrown by the children. A more animated scene can nowhere be witnessed, and, when lighted up by a bright summer sun, none more worthy of being studied by the artist. The rich colouring of the rocks, the lustrous bronzed tints of the moist sea-weed, the delicate hues of the transparent water as it lies unruffled in the small pools left by the retiring wave, the groups of oxen and horses with their shining summer coats, and the merry faces of the peasantry, form a picture which no true lover of nature can ever forget. But the tide is rising, and drives the busy crowd before it. Before, however, they leave the strand, the younger men choose their favourite lasses, and lead them, already thoroughly drenched, to meet the advancing wave. Hand-in-hand they venture in; the confiding girl is enticed onwards, and suddenly finds herself immersed over head and ears in the water. Some, more coy, feign to fly, sure to be overtaken and share the same fate. The whole scene is vividly portrayed by Mr. MÉtivier in his poem of the “Sea Weeders” written in 1812. At last, all re-assemble on the grassy sward that lines the shore, and join their respective parties. The careful housewife has baked beforehand a plentiful supply of “gÂche” and biscuits; the rich golden-coloured butter has been kept from the market, much to the annoyance of the thrifty matron in town, who finds the price enhanced in consequence; the small barrel of cider is broached, and all make a hearty meal. The remaining hours of daylight are employed in carting away the vraic or spreading it out on the downs to dry, and, when night has set in, many assemble again at some neighbouring tavern and end the day with song and dance. The old fashioned “chifournie” or hurdy-gurdy—the rote of mediÆval times—has given way to the modern fiddle, but the songs are still those that delighted their ancestors. Most, if not all of them, have been originally derived from France, where it is far from improbable that they are now forgotten except in some remote country villages, but it is curious to find that they are still sung by the Canadian boatmen, and “Belle Rose, au Rosier Blanc” and “A la Claire Fontaine” are as familiar to the American descendants of the Normans as they are to the Guernsey peasant. Ormering. Another favourite amusement of the young people in the country, besides the merry-making which accompanies and follows the collection of sea-weed in summer, is the forming of parties to take the ormer, a shell-fish which abounds at low water at the spring-tides in spring and autumn. The ormer is the Haliotis tuberculata of naturalists, and derives its name from its resemblance in shape to an ear—auris marina—“oreille de mer.” The shell, which was formerly thrown away, is now carefully collected and exported, as it enters largely into the japanned ware manufactured at Birmingham and elsewhere, the lustre of the interior of the shell surpassing in brilliancy and variety of tints that of the best mother-of-pearl. It is not, however, for the sake of the shell that this mollusc is sought, but for the fish itself, which, after being well beaten to make it tender, and cooked in brown sauce, forms a favourite dish. Like the limpet, the ormer adheres strongly to the rock, from which it requires some degree of strength to detach it, but it seems to possess considerable powers of locomotion, and appears to come up from the deep water at certain seasons of the year, probably for the purpose of depositing its ova. It is a curious instance of the local distribution of animal life that, although the ormer is known in the Mediterranean, and is found all along the western shores of Spain and France, and in great quantities on the coasts of Brittany, it has never been discovered much to the eastward of Cherbourg, nor on the English side of the Channel. The localities in which the ormer abounds are the rocky bays, of which there are so many around our coast, and there it is found at the proper seasons adhering to the under surface of the loose boulders. It is no trifling work to turn over these stones, but the searcher often returns home laden with several hundred ormers, and not infrequently he has also added a crab or a conger to his store. Sand-Eeling. The catching of the sand-eel, or “lanchon” as it is locally termed, takes place on nights when the moon is at her full, and at low water: it is pursued more as a recreation than as a source of profit. Parties of young men and women unite and resort to some sandy bay or creek as the tide is ebbing, armed with blunted sickles, two-pronged forks, or any instrument with which the sand can be easily stirred. The fish, on being disturbed, rise to the surface of the sand with a leap. They are very agile in their movements, but their bright silvery sides, glittering in the moon-beams, betray them to their active pursuers, and before they have time to burrow again in the sand they are caught with the hand and transferred to the basket. It is more easy to imagine than describe the fun and merriment to which this sport gives rise; how in the eagerness of the pursuit, a false step will place the incautious maiden up to the waist in a pool of water, and subject her to the good natured laughter of her merry companions; how an apparently accidental push from behind will cause a youth, who is stooping down to gather up the fish, to measure his whole length on the wet sand; or how a malicious step will splash one or more of the party from top to toe. To the lovers of the picturesque the localities in which this sport takes place add not a little to the charm of the scene. The broad sands of Vazon Bay, those of La Saline and other creeks on the western shores of the island, hemmed in on all sides by reefs of rock, and, above all, that most lovely spot called Le Petit Port, which lies at the foot of the precipitous cliffs of Jerbourg, seen in the full light of the harvest moon, leave impressions on the mind that are not easily forgotten. Although the coasts of the island abound in fish of various sorts, sea-fishing, as an amusement, is very little resorted to. The reason of this is no doubt to be found in the strong tides and currents and dangerous rocks which surround us on every side, and which render it imprudent to venture out to sea unless under the guidance of an experienced pilot. Of late years, however, the extension of the harbour works into deep water has brought the fish within reach without the risk of hazarding one’s life by venturing on the fickle sea, and the “contemplative man’s amusement” is becoming daily more and more popular. Crowds of men and boys may be seen in all sorts of weather and at all hours of the day angling from the pier heads, and not infrequently making very fair catches. Although prawns and shrimps are tolerably plentiful, there are but few who take the trouble of catching them for the market, but the pursuit of these delicate crustaceans is a favourite amusement, and is occasionally indulged in by persons of all ranks, the shores of Herm and Jethou, and the bays of the Pezerie and Rocquaine being the best spots at low tide for the sport. Inglis, in his work on the Channel Islands, remarks “that so various are tastes in the matter of recreation, that he has seen individuals who found as much pleasure in wading for half-a-day, knee-deep among rocks, to make capture of some handfuls of shrimps, as has ever been afforded to others in the pursuit of the deer or the fox.” Decorative floral chapter footer
The Parish Church of S. Peter Port. A.D. 1846.
Local Customs—Ceremonial. “What art thou, thou idle ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer’st more Of mortal grief than do thy worshippers! Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form?” —Shakespeare. Although the doctrines of the Reformation were introduced into Guernsey in the reign of Edward VI., and perhaps earlier, and the Liturgy put forth by authority in the reign of that monarch was translated into French and used in the churches,[36] it was not until the reign of Elizabeth that the island became wholly Protestant. Up to this time the Channel Islands had formed part of the Diocese of Coutances in Normandy,[37] an arrangement which led to much inconvenience in times of war between France and England. Queen Elizabeth put an end to this connection in the year 1568,[38] and attached the islands to the See of Winchester; but it was not until the Restoration of Charles II. that the change took full effect, and that the islands were brought entirely within the discipline of the Church of England by authority of the Bill of Uniformity. It is well known that it was part of Queen Elizabeth’s policy to favour the Huguenot party in France; and that in times of persecution the followers of the Reformed faith always met with an hospitable reception in England. The Channel Islands, lying so close to the coast of France, and speaking the same language as was used in continental Normandy, were naturally chosen as places of refuge in times of persecution by the French Protestants, many of whom—and among them several ministers—resorted thither until more settled times enabled them to return to their own homes. The old Roman Catholic rectors of the parishes in Guernsey, who, apparently, had given a sort of half adhesion to the intermediate order of things, and had been allowed to retain possession of a portion, at least, of the emoluments of their benefices, seem to have disappeared altogether shortly after the excommunication of the Queen by Pope Pius V. in 1570. The Governor of Guernsey, Sir Thomas Leighton, who favoured the views of the Puritan party in the Church, filled up the vacant pulpits with French refugee ministers, and probably it would have been difficult at that time to find any others.[39] The same course seems to have been followed in Jersey. These ministers very naturally preferred their own form of conducting divine worship to that of the Anglican Church, and, on the representation of the Governors of both the islands, permission was given by the Queen for the use of the Genevan form in the churches of the towns of St. Peter Port in Guernsey, and of St. Helier in Jersey. This permission was renewed by King James I. on his accession to the throne; and the natural consequence was, that not only the Presbyterian form of worship soon spread into every parish in the islands, but that the Presbyterian discipline and Church government were firmly established, and the authority of the Bishop of Winchester totally ignored. To this discipline the people of Guernsey clung with great pertinacity, and the attempts during the Great Rebellion of the Brownists and other fanatical sects to introduce their peculiar doctrines, met with little or no favour. It was not without some opposition that Episcopacy was brought in, most of the ministers refusing to conform to the new order of things, and giving up their livings in consequence.[40] The people had nothing to say in the matter: they were bound by the Act of Uniformity, but, in deference to their feelings and prejudices, certain practices were allowed to be retained, and certain others dispensed with. No great objection could be made to a set form of prayer, for something of the kind was in use in the French Reformed Church; but the Litany of the Church of England seems to have given great offence—probably from its close resemblance to some of those used in the Romish Church—insomuch that many persons at first abstained altogether from attending the morning service; and, although in the present day no objection exists to this, or any other part of the Liturgy, it is, perhaps, owing to habits then contracted, and handed down from generation to generation, that so many, especially in the rural parishes, absent themselves from church in the forenoon. The use of the sign of the cross in baptism, in deference to the strong prejudices of the people, who seem to have looked upon it as the Mark of the Beast, was not at first insisted upon, but, in order to counteract this feeling, the thirtieth Canon “On the lawful use of the Cross in Baptism,” was inserted at the end of the Baptismal Service in the French translation of the Book of Common Prayer printed for use in the islands, and there is every reason to believe that the objection to this practice soon died out. Probably, kneeling at the Holy Communion was received with little favour, for we find that the first introduction of this practice on the 12th of October, 1662, was thought worthy of a note in a journal kept by a parish clerk and schoolmaster of that day—Pierre Le Roy—who wisely abstained from any comment on the event. To this day appliances for kneeling are rare in many pews, and at the beginning of the nineteenth century most of the congregation remained seated during the singing of the metrical psalms, as is the practice in the Presbyterian churches in Scotland and on the Continent. Baptismal fonts are of recent introduction, the order to put them up in all the parish churches having been given by the Bishop of Winchester (Dr. C. R. Sumner) on the occasion of his primary visitation to this portion of his diocese in September, 1829, he being the first Prelate of that See who had deigned to inspect the state of the churches in the islands since the time that they were placed under the care of an Anglican Bishop by Queen Elizabeth. Before fonts were provided, the rite of baptism was administered at the altar, the minister, standing within the rail, receiving the water at the proper moment from the clerk, who poured it into his hand from a silver ewer. In the absence of periodical visits from a Bishop, the rite of confirmation had, of course, become a dead letter. It was administered in 1818, for the first time since the Reformation, by Dr. Fisher, Bishop of Salisbury, who had been deputed to consecrate two newly-erected churches by the then Bishop of Winchester, who was too old and infirm to undertake the duty himself. Before that time—and indeed for some considerable time later—it was customary to give notice from the pulpit, previously to the quarterly celebration of the Holy Communion, that young persons desirous of communicating for the first time should attend in the vestry on a certain day. This notice was, of course, given in the parish churches in French—the language of the great majority of the people of that time—and the word used for “vestry,” and which we have so translated, was “Consistoire.” No doubt, under the Presbyterian discipline, the examination of catechumens took place before the Consistory, composed of the minister and elders of the church. Till a comparatively recent period the Holy Communion was only administered quarterly, and at the great festivals of Christmas, Easter, Whitsuntide and Michaelmas. A preparatory sermon was generally preached at an evening service held on the day before the communion, and on this occasion a metrical version of the Decalogue was usually sung instead of a psalm or hymn. This was a practice borrowed from the French Reformed Church, as was also that of singing the 100th Psalm while the non-communicants were leaving the church, some portions of the 103rd Psalm while the communion was being administered, and, just before the final benediction, the Song of Simeon, “Nunc Dimittis.” Men and women communicated separately, the men first and the women afterwards,—a relic doubtless of the time when they were kept apart in the church. No one thought of leaving the rails until all who knelt at the same time had communicated, when the officiating minister dismissed them with these words:— “Allez en paix; vivez en paix, Et que le Dieu de Paix vous bÉnisse.” Or “Que le Dieu de Paix soit avec vous.” They then retired to make room for others. In parishes where weekly collections were made at the church door for the relief of the poor, it was customary for the minister to say immediately after the final benediction: “Allez en paix; vivez en paix; Et en sortant de ce temple souvenez vous des pauvres.” All these peculiar customs, which had been handed down from Presbyterian times, are rapidly disappearing. In the days when the celebration of the Lord’s Supper was confined to stated days, it was the custom in some of the country parishes to deck out the churches for the occasion with branches of evergreens, as at Christmas. Also, on the day of the communion it was considered irregular to appear in coloured clothes. Black was universally worn, and many old people, both in town and country, but especially in the country, keep to the old custom. The practice of publishing the banns of marriage immediately after the recital of the Nicene Creed, and not after the Second Lesson, as is done in England, has been retained in Guernsey; the Act of Parliament of George II., which was supposed to change the custom of the church in this respect, and to do away with the express injunctions in the rubric, not including the Channel Islands in its provisions. In the country parishes, where the cemeteries are in the immediate vicinity of the churches, it is now—though it was not so in former days—the custom to carry the corpse into the church for the reading of the appointed Psalms and Lesson; but in Town, where the burial-grounds are, for the most part, at some considerable distance from the sacred building, this part of the service was, till of late years, entirely dispensed with. It is customary, however, for the Clergy, sometimes to the number of three or four, to attend at the house of the deceased, if invited so to do, and to head the procession to the church or cemetery. A pious custom existed formerly—which, one is sorry to say, has of late years fallen almost entirely into disuse—no man ever commenced a new work, or even began the usual routine work of the season, without making use of these words “Au nom de Dieu soit!” Wills and many other legal documents, the books in which the Acts of the Royal Court and of the States of the island are registered, as well as those used by merchants and tradesmen in their business, all commenced with this formula. In many cases it evidently took the place of the sign of the cross. All sittings of the Royal Court and of the States of the island, as well as the meetings of parishioners in the Vestry, and of the parochial councils known as Douzaines, are opened by the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, and closed by the Apostolic Benediction.
Birth and Baptism. On the birth of a child notice is usually sent to the nearest relations, and as soon as the mother is sufficiently recovered she receives the visits and congratulations of her friends. It is customary to offer cake and wine to the visitors on these occasions. The wine must on no account be refused, but the health of the child must be duly drunk, and the glass drained, for it is considered extremely unlucky to leave a drop behind. The christening feast still retains the ancient name of “Les Aubailles” from the white garment or alb—in French “aube”—with which, in the early church, the recipients of baptism were solemnly invested. It is customary for the sponsors to make a present to the child, which usually takes the form of silver spoons, or a drinking cup. Before the re-establishment of Episcopacy at the Restoration there appears to have been only one sponsor of each sex. Of course the rubric which orders that every boy shall have two godfathers, and every girl two godmothers, is now complied with, but the second is invariably styled by the people the “little” godfather or godmother, and is often a child or very young person evidently only put in to comply with the requirements of the church. The excess of feasting at baptisms and churchings as well as at marriages and funerals seems to have reached to such an extent in the early part of the seventeenth century as to call for repressive measures on the part of the legislature, at that time deeply imbued with a puritanical spirit, and sumptuary laws of a very stringent nature were promulgated restricting the invitations on these occasions to the nearest relations, and prohibiting entirely all dancing, and even almsgiving. After baptism the child is sent round to its nearest relatives, and the old women say that a present of some sort, preferably an egg, should be placed in the infant’s hands, while visitors to the child are always expected to put some money in the infant’s hand for luck, and as a token that it shall never want, the value of the gift being of little moment. It is thought very unlucky to measure or weigh a child, such a proceeding being sure to stop its growth; and it is also supposed to be very unlucky to cover up a baby’s face when taking it to the church to be christened, until the ceremony is over. It is considered peculiarly unlucky for three children to be presented at the font at the same time for baptism, as it is firmly believed that one of the three is sure to die within the year.[41]—Communicated by the Rev. C. D. P. Robinson, Rector of St. Martin’s. Decorative floral chapter footer
Betrothals and Weddings. “As I have seene upon a Bridall day, Full many maids clad in their best array, In honour of the Bride come with their Flaskets Fill’d full with flowers: others in wicker baskets Bring forth from the Marsh rushes, to o’erspread The ground whereon to Church the lovers tread; Whilst that the quaintest youth of all the Plaine Ushers their way with many a piping straine.” —Brown’s “Pastorals,” written before 1614. From the reign of Elizabeth to the Restoration of Charles II., the Presbyterian form of church government, with its rigorous discipline, prevailed in the Island, and the betrothal—“fianÇailles”[42] of persons intending to take upon themselves the holy state of matrimony was a solemn act, performed in the presence of the ministers and elders of the church, and which by an ordinance of the Royal Court of the year 1572, was to be followed by marriage within six months at the latest. The legislature of that day evidently disapproved of long engagements. The promise was usually confirmed by a gift on the part of the bridegroom of some article of value, which was to be held by the bride as an earnest for the performance of the contract, and returned in case the match was broken off by mutual consent. Traces of this custom are still to be observed in the formal announcement of the engagement to relations, and in the visits paid to them by the young couple in order to introduce each other reciprocally to those with whom they are to be hereafter more closely connected, as well as in the importance attached to the presents, locally termed “gages”[43] (pledges) given by the young man to his affianced bride. A round of entertainments usually succeeds the announcement of the intended marriage, at which in former days mulled wine used to be “de rigueur,” as indeed it was at all family merry makings and occasions of rejoicings. Among the trading, agricultural, and labouring classes each party is expected to bring his or her portion of the articles necessary to set up housekeeping. The man, for example, provides the bedstead, the woman, the bed and the household linen, and very often the crockery and furniture. All, however, is looked upon as belonging to the wife, and is frequently secured to her by a regular contract entered into before marriage, so that in case of the husband getting into pecuniary difficulties, his creditors cannot lay claim to the household furniture. The handsomely carved oaken chests, or large leather-covered boxes studded with brass nails, which were formerly to be seen in almost all the old country houses, were used to contain the stock of linen, and appear to have been in early days almost the only piece of ornamental furniture of which the house could boast. This used to be brought to the bridegroom’s residence, with the rest of the articles provided by the bride, a day or two before the wedding, and with a certain degree of form, the bridegroom, or his best man, conducting the cart which contained them,[44] and the nearest unmarried female relative of the bride carrying the looking-glass or some other valued or brittle article. A similar custom still exists in Normandy and Brittany. It is considered highly unlucky for a bride to take any other way in going to the church to be married than that which she follows when going thither for her usual devotions. Flowers and rushes are invariably strewn in the path of the bride and bridegroom as they leave the church, and before the door of their future habitation.[45] On the first or second Sunday after their wedding the newly-married pair appear in church attended by the best man and the bridesmaid, and it is a point of etiquette for the bride and bridegroom to read and sing out of the same book, however many books there may be in the pew. Among well-to-do people a series of parties in honour of the young couple ensue, which in the dialect of the country are called “reneuchons,” “neuches” being the local pronunciation of the French word “noces.” It appears from an ordinance of the Royal Court of 1625, when the puritanical spirit, which had come in with the Genevan discipline, was at its height, that the poor at that time were in the habit of soliciting alms at weddings, baptisms, and burials. This practice, as tending to keep up superstition and as dishonouring to God, was expressly forbidden by the legislation under pain of corporal punishment to the beggar, and a fine to the giver of alms.[46] Deaths and Funerals. As soon as a death occurs in a family a servant or friend is immediately sent round to announce the sad event to all the nearest relatives of the deceased, and the omission of this formality is looked upon as a great slight, and a legitimate cause of offence. If any person enter a house where a corpse is lying it is considered a mark of great disrespect not to offer a sight of it, and it is thought equally disrespectful on the part of the visitor if the offer is declined, as the refusal is supposed to bring ill-luck on the house. When the day is fixed for the funeral a messenger is sent to invite the friends and relatives to attend, and in times gone by if those to be invited resided at any distance it was considered proper that this messenger should be mounted on a black horse. Formerly the funeral feast was universal, of late years it is seldom heard of except in some of the old country families of the middle classes, among whom ancient customs generally abide longer than among the classes immediately above or below them. The lid of the coffin is not screwed down until all the guests are assembled, and the person whose business it is to see to it, comes into the room where they are met, and invites them to take a last look. Hearses are almost unknown, even in cases where the distance from the house to the cemetery is considerable. The coffin is almost invariably borne on the shoulders by hired bearers, but in former days it was only persons of a certain standing in society who were considered entitled to this honour; the poor were carried by their friends, three on each side, bearing the coffin slung between them. Care was always taken that the corpse was carried to the church by the way the deceased was in the habit of taking during his lifetime.[47] The custom of females attending funerals, which was formerly universal, has disappeared entirely from the town, but in the country it is still occasionally observed, the mourners being attired in long black cloaks with hoods that almost conceal the face. The funeral feast, when there is one, takes place when the cortÈge returns to the house of mourning. A chair is placed at the table where the deceased was wont to sit, and a knife, fork, plate, etc., laid before it as if he were still present.[48] Tea and coffee, wine, cider, and spirits, cakes, bread and cheese, and more especially a ham, are provided for the occasion. The last-named viand was, in bygone days, almost considered indispensable, and where they kept pigs,—and almost everyone then kept pigs—every year, when the pig was killed, a ham was put away “in case of a funeral” and was not touched till the next pig was killed and another ham was put in readiness; and from thence it comes that “mÀngier la tchesse À quiqu’un”—“to eat a person’s ham”—is proverbially used in the sense of attending his funeral. The first glass of wine is drunk in silence to the memory of the departed, whose good qualities are then dilated upon, but the conversation soon becomes general, and it not unfrequently happens that more liquor is imbibed than is altogether good for the guests. In fact the mourners had generally to be conveyed home in carts.[49] From ancient wills it seems that money was sometimes left for the purpose of clothing a certain number of poor, and from the ordinances of the Royal Court prohibiting begging at funerals, or even the voluntary giving of alms on these occasions, it is not improbable that the custom of distributing doles was, at one time, almost general. There is no trace of it in the present day. Till within the last few years it was almost an universal custom, even among the dissenters, for the members of a household in which a death had occurred, to attend their parish church in a body on the first or second Sunday after the funeral, and the custom is still kept up to a certain extent. If they are regular frequenters of the church they occupy their usual seats, if not, they are placed, if possible, in some conspicuous part of the building, where they remain seated during the entire service, not rising even during those portions of the service in which standing is prescribed by the rubric. This is called “taking mourning,” in French “prendre le deuil.” Widows remain seated in church during the whole of the first year of their widowhood. Decorative floral chapter footer
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