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.
In former days the most lucrative occupation of the people was that of knitting woollen goods for the English and French markets. This branch of industry was of great importance—in fact, after the decay of the fisheries, which followed the discovery of Newfoundland, it constituted the staple trade of the island, and the memory of the manufacture still subsists in the name of “Guernsey jackets” and “Jerseys,” given to the close-fitting knitted frocks worn by sailors. So highly were the Guernsey woollen goods esteemed that they were considered a fitting present for Royalty, and in 1556 Queen Mary[6] did not disdain to receive from Sir Leonard Chamberlain, Governor of the Island, four waistcoats, four pair of sleeves, and four pair of hose of “Garnsey making.”[7] In the accounts of the Royal Scotch wardrobe for the year 1578, mention is made of woollen hose and gloves of Garnsey.[8] In 1586, the keeper of Queen Elizabeth’s wardrobe paid the high price of twenty shillings for one pair of knitted hose “de facturâ Garnescie.” It is true that these are described as having the upper part and the clocks of silk. (“Accounts of the Keeper of the Gt. Wardrobe, Elizabeth XXVIII. to XXIX., A.D. 1586”). And finally the unfortunate Mary Stuart wore at her execution a pair of white Guernsey hose.
The sheep kept in those days in the island were few in quantity, of an inferior breed, described by old writers as having four or more horns, producing coarse scanty wool, far from sufficient to furnish the supply of raw material required to meet the demand of the manufactured article. It was necessary therefore to have recourse to England, but the restrictive laws of that day prohibited the exportation of wool, and it was only by special Acts of Parliament that a certain quantity, strictly limited, was allowed annually to leave the kingdom for the use of the islands. The Governor who could succeed by his representations in getting this quantity increased was sure to win the lasting gratitude of the people.
Men and women of all ages engaged in this manufacture, and time was so strictly economised that the farmer’s wife, riding into market with her well stored paniers, knitted as the old horse jogged on through the narrow roads, and the fisherman, after having set his lines, and anchored his boat to wait for the turn of the tide, occupied the leisure hour in fashioning a pair of stockings, or a frock.
In the long winter evenings neighbours were in the habit of meeting at each other’s houses in turn, and while the matrons took their places on the “lit de fouaille,” and the elderly men occupied the stools set in the deeper recess of the chimney, the young men and maidens gathered together on the floor, and by the dim light of the “crâsset,”[9] plied their knitting, sang their songs, and told their stories—the songs and tales that appear later on in this collection. Our thrifty ancestors too were well imbued with the wisdom of the old saw that bids one “take care of the pence,” and the saving of fuel and oil, which was affected by working in company under the same roof, entered for something in their calculations. These assemblies were called “veilles” or “veillies,” and were well adapted to keep up a pleasant neighbourly feeling.
The wares thus made were brought into town for sale on the Saturday, but there was one day in the year when a special market or fair for these goods was held, and that was the day before Christmas. The night previous to that—the 23rd December—was employed in preparing and packing up the articles, and, being the termination of their labours for the year, was made an opportunity for a feast. Masters were in the habit of regaling their servants—merchants treated those with whom they had dealings—and neighbours clubbed together to supply the means of spending a joyous night. It may be that the restraint imposed by the Puritan Clergy—de la Marche, La Place, and others—on all convivial meetings connected in any way with religious observances, caused this occasion for rejoicing—which could not by any possibility be branded with the imputation of superstition—to be more highly appreciated than it would otherwise have been, and to replace in some degree the usual festivities of the season.
Although the manufacture of woollen goods as a staple article of trade has come to an end, and the social “veilles” are no longer kept up, “la longue veille,” or the evening of the 23rd of December, is still observed as an occasion for family gatherings in many Guernsey households, though there is perhaps not one person in twenty who can tell the origin of the custom. Mulled wine, highly spiced and sweetened, and always drunk out of coffee cups, with mild cheese and a peculiar sort of biscuit—called emphatically “Guernsey biscuit”—is considered quite indispensable on this evening, and indeed on all occasions of family rejoicing; while on every afternoon of the 23rd of December the old country people were met riding home from town with their panniers full of provisions for the night. The next day, Christmas Eve, is called the “surveille,” and the town on that evening is flocked with pleasure-seekers, buying and eating chestnuts and oranges.
[9] Editor’s Note.—The Guernsey “crâsset” was very unlike the English “cresset,” which was in the form of an iron lantern, filled with inflammable materials. Ours was suspended from a hook or a cord along which it was pulled to the required point, and was rounded at one end and pointed at the other, and filled with oil. It is derived from the Fr. “creuset” from Latin crux a cross, because anciently crucibles and all vessels for melting metals were marked with a cross.
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:—
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:—
In Scotland Hogmanay is the universal popular name for the last day of the year. “It is a day of high festival among young and old—but particularly the young.… It is still customary, in retired and primitive towns, for the children of the poorer class of people to get themselves on that morning swaddled in a great sheet, doubled up in front, so as to form a vast pocket, and then to go along the streets in little bands, calling at the doors of the wealthier classes for an expected dole of wheaten bread. This is called their Hogmanay.”[15]
The first day of the year is with all classes in Guernsey the one most strictly observed as a holiday, and, in all but the religious observance, is more thought of than even Christmas Day. Presents are given to friends, servants and children; the heads of families gather around them those who have left the paternal roof; more distant relatives exchange visits; young people call at the houses of their aged kinsfolk to wish them many happy returns of the season, and, in many cases, to receive the gifts that are awaiting them; and receptions—now become almost official in their character—are held by the Lieutenant-Governor, the Bailiff, and the Dean. Cake and wine are offered to visitors, and the day ends in most households with a feast in proportion with their means and rank in society. All the morning the roads and streets are crowded with groups of persons hurrying from house to house, hands are warmly shaken, kind words are spoken, many a little coolness or misunderstanding is forgotten, and even breaches of long standing are healed, when neighbours join in eating the many cakes for which Guernsey is famous, and which are considered suitable for the occasion. The favourite undoubtedly is “gâche à corinthes,” anglicé “currant cake,” also a kind of soft bread-cake, known by the name of “galette;” and on Christmas Day a sort of milk-cake, called “gâche détrempée” is baked early in the morning, so as to appear hot at the breakfast table; and so completely is this repast looked upon in the light of a family feast, that parents living in the country send presents of these cakes to their children who have taken service in town. A younger brother will leave the paternal roof long before daybreak to carry to his sister, at her master’s house, the cake which the affectionate mother has risen in the middle of the night to bake for her absent child.
[10] Editor’s Note.—In Contes Populaires, Préjugés, Patois, Proverbes, etc., de l’arrondissement de Bayeux, par M. Pluquet; seconde édition, 1834, it is said: “During the eight days before Christmas (Les Avents de Noël) apparitions are most frequent, and sorcerers have most power.”
[11] Editor’s Note.—This belief also prevails in Normandy, for M. Du Bois says:—“Les paysans sont persuadés que, la veille de Noël, à l’heure du sacrement de la messe de minuit, tous les bestiaux, et surtout les bœufs et les vaches, mettent un genou en terre pour rendre hommage à Jésus naissant. Il serait imprudent, disent-ils, de chercher à s’assurer de ce fait par soi-même; on courrait le risque d’être battu.”—Recherches sur la Normandie, Du Bois, 1843, p. 343. And in the centre of France and Berry:—“On assure qu’au moment où le prêtre élève l’hostie, pendant la messe de minuit, tous les animaux de la paroisse s’agenouillent et prient devant leurs crèches.”—Croyances et Légendes du Centre de la France, par Laisnel de la Salle, Tome 1er, p. 17.
[12] Editor’s Note.—In Sark the superstition is that the water in the streams and wells turns into blood at midnight on Christmas Eve, and they also tell you that if you go and look you die within the year. One Sark man said that he was determined to go to the well and draw water at midnight, come what might. So on Christmas Eve he sallied forth to reach the well in his back yard; as he crossed the threshold he tripped and hit his head against the lintel of the door, and was picked up unconscious the next morning. Most people would have taken this as a warning and desisted, but he was obstinate, and the following Christmas Eve he left the house at midnight as before, but as he approached the well he heard a voice saying:—
Then at last he was frightened, and rushed back into the house, and never again did he attempt to pry into forbidden mysteries.—From Mrs. Le Messurier, of Sark.
[13] Editor’s Note.—Hence the country people’s term for the effigy of Guy Fawkes on the 5th of November “le vieux bout de l’an.”
[15] Editor’s Note.—The old people of St. Martin’s parish still (1896) talk of having in their youth gone to the neighbours’ houses on New Year’s Eve singing the following rhyme:—
And a little bowl or bag of pennies was always at hand for gratuities.
La Grand’ Querrue.
The parsnip seems to have been cultivated at a very early period in Guernsey, the soil appearing to be particularly well suited to the growth of this valuable root. We have proof that tithe of them was paid in times long anterior to the Reformation, although not claimed in the present day. In order to secure a good crop, it is necessary that the ground should be deeply trenched, and this operation, which takes place at the beginning of the year, and entails a great amount of labour, is, nevertheless, looked forward to with pleasure, as it gives rise to social meetings. The trenching of the soil was formerly, and is still occasionally, effected by the spade alone. This was done by farm labourers and hired men with a peculiar spade called “Une bêque de Guernesi.” Made by the country blacksmiths of the island, the handle was of wood, generally ash, and so was the upper portion of the blade, which was heart-shaped, the tip of the blade being of steel. It was a very slow operation, four perches a day being the utmost one man could accomplish, so that it had to begin very early in the year, “whilst eating the bread baked at Christmas,” as the old farmers said. But about a hundred years ago the “grand’ querrue” or big plough was introduced at Les Fontaines, in the Castel parish, the house of the Lenfesteys. This is preceded by one of the ordinary size to trace the furrow. The large plough, being an expensive instrument and one that is only wanted occasionally, is often the joint property of several neighbours, who unite together to assist each other in working it. Each brings his quota of labourers, and as many as twenty-two animals have been sometimes seen harnessed to the same plough, to wit, six bullocks and sixteen horses. Every man who is fortunate enough to be the possessor of a beast deems himself bound in honour to produce it on these occasions. The plough is generally guided by the owner of the field, and a furrow is made about twelve inches deep by about eighteen to twenty-four inches wide. As the labour is social, all work with good will and emulation, and the scene is one of great animation. Of course the assistance given is gratuitous, or, to speak more correctly, is to be returned in kind when required. The farmer, however, who avails himself of the labour of his neighbours, is expected to feed them. The consequence is that the “grand’ querrue” is made the occasion of a rural feast. The cider, for which the island is famous, circulates freely throughout the day, and the prettiest girls are selected as cup-bearers. Work begins about seven o’clock in the morning; about ten o’clock a sort of luncheon called “mi-matin” is provided; this consists of bread and butter, with cheese, fried cod fish, and strong tea or coffee. At noon the cattle are unharnessed and put to feed, and then comes the dinner of cabbage-soup, a large boiled ham or “pâlette,” a breast-piece of pork, and perhaps a round of beef. At two o’clock work is resumed, with a stoppage at four for a “mi-relevée” of tea and currant cake, and occasional intervals for “une petite goutte;” for it is well known that “i’faut prendre une petite goutte pour arrousaï, ou bien j’n’airons pâs d’pânais,”—“one must take a sip to moisten the field, or there will be no parsnips.” The day closes with a substantial supper, more beef, more ham, enormous plum-puddings, baked, not boiled, in the old ovens, (“grosses houichepotes”) with plenty of cider.
To this feast it is customary to invite the members of the respective families who have not taken part in the labours of the day, and the richer farmers send presents of pudding to their poorer neighbours who are not invited to share in the work. Friends and relations who reside at a distance, or in town, also join the gathering, and the best part of the night is spent in singing, dancing, story-telling, blind man’s buff, or the ancient roundelay of “mon beau laurier.”[16]
[16] Editor’s Note.—One curious custom at the supper or “défrique” was that the men had their meal first, and not till they had finished did the women sit down to have theirs.
Shrove Tuesday 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.
In the neighbouring island of Alderney, the first Sunday in Lent is known as “Le Dimanche des Brandons”—a name by which it is designated in old calendars, and which it still bears in some parts of France.[17] According to the late Mr. John Ozanne (de la Salerie), a native of Alderney, it was also known as “le jour des vitres,” this last word having, as he said, in the dialect of Alderney, the meaning of masks. This gives rise to the supposition that in days gone by masking formed part of the entertainment. On this day the young people made bonfires and danced round them, especially at “La Pointe de Clanque.” This dance was supposed to have had a bacchanalian origin, but was practised up to fifty years ago; they revolved round these bonfires, and leapt over them, and then, lighting wisps of straw, returned to the town by the fields, throwing about these torches, to the great danger of the thatched roofs.
[17] Editor’s Notes.—That these customs were also kept up in Guernsey is evident from the following extract from the manuscript note book of Monsieur Elie Brevint, who died in the island of Sark in 1674, aged 87. He says:—“Le premier Dimanche de Caresme s’appelle le jour des Brandons; à St. Martin de Guernezé les jeunes hommes par esbat portent au soir du dit jour brandons de glie, etc.”
In Les Archives de Normandie, 1824, p. 164, there is the following notice of “Le Jour des Brandons,” which shows that this custom also prevailed in various parts of France. “À Saint Vaast et à Reville, la veille de l’Epiphanie, des centaines d’enfants et même d’hommes, parcourrent les campagnes munis de brandons allumés. Ils crient, ‘Taupes et mulots, sortez de mon clos, ou je vous mets le feu sur le dos.’ Ou dans quelques autres parties de la Normandie on chante ces vers-ci:
Le lendemain au soir on allume un nouveau feu qu’on appèle une Bourgulée, et l’on renouvelle le même chant, qui commence encore par ‘Adieu les Rois,’ etc. Dans la Commune de Créance, une grande partie de la population passe presque toute la nuit du premier Dimanche de Carême à faire la même sommation aux taupes et aux mulots.… Le Dimanche des Brandons est une date commune et naturelle des actes du moyen age.”
The “Dimanche des Brandons” was also kept up in the centre of France with very much the same ceremonies. See Croyances et Légendes du centre de la France, Laisnel de la Salle. Tome 1er. Page 35.
“At Dijon, in Burgundy, it is the custom upon the first Sunday in Lent to make large fires in the streets, whence it is called “Firebrand Sunday.” This practice originated in the processions formerly made on that day by the peasants with lighted torches of straw, to drive away, as they called it, the bad air from the earth.”—From Nori Bourguinons, p. 148. Quoted in Brand’s Observations on Popular Antiquities, p. 57.
On the morning of Good Friday it is the custom of the young people who live near the sea shore to make parties to go down to the beach to collect limpets. When a sufficient quantity of these shell fish has been taken, a flat stone or rock of sufficient size is selected, and, after being carefully swept and divested of all extraneous matter, the limpets are arranged on it with their shells uppermost. A head of dry furze or other brushwood is then placed over them and set on fire, and the limpets are left covered with the hot embers until they are supposed to be sufficiently cooked. Bread-cakes, fresh baked—if hot from the oven so much the better—with an ample supply of the rich butter for which the island is so famous, and a few bottles of cider or beer, have been provided beforehand by the members composing the pic-nic, and the limpets, now done to a turn, are eaten as a relish to the simple meal, with a better appetite, and more real pleasure than probably a far more elaborate feast would afford.[18]
Hot cross buns on Good Friday were unknown in Guernsey at the commencement of the present century.
[18] Editor’s Note.—“In Sark, on Good Friday it is the custom for boys to go and sail small boats on the ponds or pools by the sea-shore; and these boats are made a good while beforehand, or treasured up of long standing; this custom they never fail to keep up. Numbers of these same boys also go in the afternoon to the Eperquerie drill-ground, to play a game which they call rounders. It is played with a ball and a stick, and somewhat resembles cricket.”—From A Descriptive Sketch of the Island of Sark, by the Rev. J. L. V. Cachemaille (for many years Vicar of the island), published in Clarke’s Guernsey Magazine, October, 1875.
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.”