It is good to possess knowledge, but, like all other possessions, the benefit to be derived from it depends on the uses to which it is applied, and there is no doubt that it exposes the possessor to temptations which the more ignorant and simple-minded escape—to say nothing of the envy and calumny which often follow the man who by his superior acquirements, rises above the vulgar herd.
In the past century, the parish of St. Michel du Valle was fortunate in having secured the services of a man of more than ordinary attainments as its schoolmaster. Pallot was no common character, and his studious and retiring habits were but little appreciated by the surrounding farmers. They wondered at his superior knowledge, but could not understand his shutting himself up in his schoolroom after the labours of the day were over. In their opinion it would have been far more wise and natural for him to follow the example of his scholars, and throw aside his books until the next day. It was known that his studies were often prolonged far into the night, and, little by little, it came to be whispered about that these studies were of a nature that could not bear the light of day, and, in short, that the schoolmaster was in league with the powers of darkness. Pallot felt hurt at the imputation, but at the same time somewhat flattered at the deference paid him by his ignorant neighbours.
“Knowledge puffeth up,” and of all pride the pride of intellect is the most dangerous, and exposes the man who gives way to it to the greatest temptation. Satan knows well how to make use of the opportunities which are afforded him to extend his empire and work the ruin of souls. The schoolmaster—one whose influence over the youth of the parish was so great—was a prize worth securing, and the great enemy of mankind laid siege to him in due form. His approaches were made with skill, but with little or no success. At last he determined on a desperate expedient—that of a personal interview. The conference lasted for some hours, the most tempting offers were made, but Pallot, now thoroughly on his guard, was firm, and had grace to resist. He had too much regard for his soul to yield in anything to the enemy, and Satan, out of patience, rushed out of the schoolroom, carrying off with him the gate of the inclosure, which was found next morning on a large hawthorn bush on the summit of the Hougue Juas.
“Looking up Fountain Street, 1825.”
The thorn, which was previously green and flourishing, was blasted as if struck by lightning, and, although not killed, never recovered its former beauty, but retained for ever afterwards the same scathed and withered look.[138]
It is related that in days long past there lived in the vicinity of the Roque Balan, at L’Ancresse, a man of very superior acquirements. It is true that he was commonly suspected of knowing more than was altogether lawful, but as he ostensibly gained his living by instructing the youth of the parish, and as there was no doubt that his scholars profited by his teaching, the neighbouring farmers made no hesitation in sending their sons to him. Among his pupils was one lad of whom he was justly proud, for a prying curiosity and love of acquiring knowledge, joined to a retentive memory and a sharp intellect, had made the boy, in the opinion of many, almost a match for his master. Curiosity and a love of acquiring knowledge may be good in themselves, but they can be carried too far, and this proved to be the case with the young scholar.
He had noticed some old-looking tomes which his preceptor kept always carefully locked up in an old carved oak chest, and had long felt most anxious to pry into their contents. The clearest hints he could give, and even the openly-expressed wish to be allowed to peruse the hidden volumes, met with no response on the part of his teacher. He determined to watch his opportunity, and to get a sight, by hook or by crook, of the contents of the mysterious books, and one day, when the master had been called away suddenly to make the will of a dying man, and had inadvertently left his keys behind him, the youth seized on them, and, as soon as his back was turned, proceeded to examine the contents of the chest. He lifted one of the ponderous tomes, opened it at hazard, and commenced to read out aloud the first passage which met his eye. Unfortunately this proved to be the spell by which the Prince of Darkness can be summoned to this upper world to do the bidding of his votaries. Great was the terror of the indiscreet youngster when a sudden violent storm arose, which went on increasing in intensity, and Satan in person appeared before him and demanded what he wanted of him. The unfortunate boy knew not what answer to make, nor what task to impose on the demon to get rid of him at least for a time, until the return of the master. Pallot, who was already at some distance from home, hastened back, and entered the house just at the moment when Satan, tired of waiting and enraged at having been unnecessarily called up, had seized on the inquisitive scholar and was on the point of flying off with him. The master, at a glance, perceived how matters stood, and, uttering a hasty spell, arrested the demon in his course. He then proceeded to set him a task, promising him that if he succeeded in accomplishing it before sunset he should be at liberty to carry off his prey.
The Devil made some difficulty in acceding to these terms, but the schoolmaster, determined, if possible, to save his unfortunate pupil, was firm, and not to be influenced either by the threats or cajoleries of the arch-fiend. He caught up a peck-measure containing peas, and scattered them on the floor, handing at the same time a three-pronged pitch-fork to the Devil, and ordering him with that instrument to throw the peas over the door-hatch into the court-yard.
Satan took the fork and set to work with right good will, but soon found that it was labour in vain. Not one pea could he raise from the floor. The sun was fast sinking below the horizon. As the last portion of its orb disappeared beneath the western wave, the enraged and disappointed demon wrenched the door-hatch off its hinges and cast it far away in the direction of Les Landes. There it was found the next morning on a thorn-bush, which had been green and flourishing the day before, but which, since that time, is blasted and flattened almost to the level of the ground, though it still lives and is pointed out as a proof of the truth of this history.[139]
Editor’s Note.—This story is still believed. It was told me by Miss Falla in 1896.
The race of journeymen tailors and shoemakers, hired by the day to make up, at the houses of their employers, the materials that have been provided beforehand, or to patch and mend the clothes and shoes requiring repairs, is not yet quite extinct in the rural districts of Guernsey; although the facility of access to the town of St. Peter Port, afforded by the excellent roads which intersect the island in all directions, and the superior make and fashion of the articles supplied by the tradesmen in town,—to say nothing of the ready-made clothing so generally used in the present day—have had the effect of considerably diminishing the number of men who gain their living in this way. Although we have no knowledge that the journeyman tailor was ever the important character here that he is in Brittany and even in Normandy, where he is sometimes employed in the delicate office of negotiating marriages between the families of distant hamlets, and where he is often the sole means of circulating the news of the outer world, or carrying the gossiping tales of one village to another, yet even here his presence for a day or two in a house is looked forward to with pleasure as a break in the monotony of the daily family routine; and if he should chance to be what the French call “un farceur,” or teller of good stories, he is doubly welcome.
It must be acknowledged that, as a rule, this class of men are not supposed to be very particular as to the exact truth of the stories they put in circulation, and that some of them would be better members of society, if, on quitting their work, they were to go straight home, without thinking it a part of their duty to turn into every house where drink is sold, that they may chance to fall in with on their way.
The hero of the following adventure, if fame does not belie him, is one of this sort, and, although he affirms the truth of the story, there is no corroborative evidence that it is anything more than the dream of a drunken man.
It appeared in a letter from a correspondent to the Gazette de Guernesey of the 22nd December, 1873, and is translated literally, omitting only the writer’s sensible remarks on the folly and simplicity of those who could give credence to such an invention, and on the superstition which, in spite of education, is still so prevalent among the lower orders. There is no doubt that the story was widely spread and believed in the country, and that the tailor, when questioned about it, asserts it to be true.
He is an inhabitant of the parish of Torteval, and a Guernseyman born and bred, although bearing a name which shews that his family came originally from another country. One evening, as he was returning from his work, a certain tailor, who shall be nameless, and who bears but an indifferent character, met with an adventure which was far from being agreeable. A man, dressed entirely in black, of a sinister aspect, and mounted on a black horse, met him on his way. This strange looking individual stopped the tailor, and the following conversation took place:
“Hallo, you’re a tailor, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, at your service,” answered the tailor, somewhat alarmed.
“Then I wish you to make me a pair of trousers, which I will come and fetch at your house to-morrow at noon.” And, so saying, the stranger went on his way.
“But, sir,” cried the tailor, running after him, “You’ve forgotten to let me take your measure.”
“Bah! what does that matter?”
“But, sir, I shall never be able to fit you if I’ve not got your measure.”
“Well then, take it,” said the gentleman in black, dismounting from his horse. “There!”
But imagine the poor tailor’s dismay! There were no legs to be seen. Do what he would, it was impossible to take a proper measure for trousers under such circumstances. A horrible suspicion flashed through his mind.
“It must be the Devil,” thought he to himself. “How shall I get rid of him?”
Alarmed, horrified, trembling in all his limbs, feeling his legs giving way under him, our poor tailor only got out of the scrape by stammering out these few words—
“Well, sir, your trousers shall be ready to-morrow at noon.”
“Look to yourself if they are not ready. I shall come and fetch them at your house,” answered the dark-visaged and black-coated individual, leaping on his horse and going on his way.
Seized with uncontrollable fear, it is said that the tailor went straight to the Rector of his parish, and told him the whole of his adventure. The good parson advised him to make the trousers, and promised him that he would not fail to be with him the next day to be witness to the delivery of them. Accordingly, the next day, at the hour appointed, and, but a few minutes after the arrival of the clergyman, who was beforehand with him, the Devil knocked at the tailor’s door to claim the trousers; and the hero of our tale, in delivering them, heard his Satanic Majesty utter these words—
“If a man of God had not been present in this house, I would have carried you off also.”
Whatever may be the spread of rationalism in other places, a belief in the personality of Satan still holds its ground firmly in the minds of our peasantry. How can it be otherwise when there are those who, within the last two or three years, have had the rare chance of seeing him “in propriâ personâ;” and this in a locality which, one might suppose, would be about the very last that he would be inclined to honour with his presence? The neighbourhood of L’Erée, it is true, has never borne a very high character. Everyone knows that from time immemorial the hill of Catiauroc and the beach of Rocquaine have been the favourite resort of witches and warlocks, and that their infernal master holds his court there every Friday night, and, seated in state on the cromlech which is called “Le Trépied,” receives the homage of his deluded votaries. But who could suppose that he would leave this time-honoured haunt to become the inmate of a Methodist Chapel? Such, however, if we can attach any credit to the statements of the fishermen and others who inhabit this coast, is undoubtedly the case.
“Looking down Berthelot Street, 1880.”
Within the last few years the Wesleyans have erected several small chapels in various parts of the island, and, among others, one near a place called “Les Adams.” Shortly after the chapel was finished it began to be whispered about that lights were seen in it at hours of the night when it was well known that no one was likely to be there. The light is described by some who had seen it from a distance as if illuminating the whole of the interior, but some fishermen who were bold enough to draw near and look in at the windows could see nothing but a small subdued flame in one corner, which seemed to sink downwards into the earth. A gentleman of strict veracity, formerly residing about a mile from the spot, declared that he had frequently seen the mysterious light. He described it as being of a pale blue colour, and was convinced that it did not proceed from either candle or lamp. He had seen it from various points, from the rising ground inland, to the east of the chapel, and from the low lands lying along the sea-shore to the west. It seemed to occupy a particular spot in the building, for the light appeared brightest through one of the windows, and fainter through all the others. He had observed it on many occasions immediately after dusk, and at hours when it was most unlikely that any person would be in the chapel for any improper purpose. On drawing near, the light always disappeared. The state of the weather or of the moon seemed to make no difference in it. Curiosity, thus excited, had to be appeased, and, at last, some of the fishermen ventured to approach the chapel and peep in at the windows. What they saw they described as “Le Dain,” the name by which his Satanic Majesty is designated when it is thought proper to avoid the more offensive appellation of “Le Guyablle.” Sparks of fire issued from his mouth and nostrils, the traditional horns and tail seem to have been discerned, but the cloven feet were hidden by long boots covering the knees, and which, according to some accounts, were red.
His occupation was as difficult to be accounted for as his presence in so unusual a place. It was that of dancing and leaping with all his might and main! Whether the fishermen really saw anything which their fears magnified into a vision of the wicked one, or whether, for reasons of their own, they wished to impose upon the credulity of their neighbours, it is impossible to say. One thing is certain, and that is that persons of the highest respectability, living in that part of the country, vouch for the fact of the lights having frequently been seen in the chapel at hours of the night when it ought not to have been occupied. It does not seem to have occurred to them that many of the mariners on this part of the coast are employed at times in carrying off packages of tobacco to the English and French boats engaged in smuggling, and that, as a temporary depôt may be sometimes required for these goods, the chapel may have been selected for the purpose, in preference to a dwelling house or other private property, the owner of which, in case of detection, might be subjected to much inconvenience. But the neighbouring peasants have their own method of explaining these supernatural appearances.
Some say that they are a judgment on the original founders of the chapel, who, as it is believed and reported, after having collected ample subscriptions towards the building, pretended that the funds were insufficient, and defrauded the workmen whom they had employed of their just dues. Others say that the original proprietor of the land on which the chapel is built, was importuned by his wife to make a free gift of the site, but, being strongly averse to dissent in all forms, could never be brought by her to consent to the alienation; but that immediately on the death of the old man, the widow, who, after a youth spent in frivolity and pleasure, had turned wonderfully pious in her declining years, took measures to make over the ground to the dissenters, and, not content with this, squandered on them large sums of money which ought rightly to have been reserved for her late husband’s children by a former marriage. The spirit of the departed could not brook such disregard of his wishes, and such disrespect for his memory, and manifests his displeasure by haunting the spot of which his children ought never to have been deprived.
Editor’s Note.—When in Sark in 1896 I was told by one of the old Sark men, how a Sark fisherman defeated the Devil. This fisherman was supposed to be given to witchcraft, and one day he succeeded in raising the Devil, when Satan appeared and asked him what commands he had for him. The fisherman had nothing to say. Finally he said, “You must carry me where I tell you.” They were then on the far end of Little Sark. So the Devil consented, but on the understanding that when they reached their destination, the man, in his turn, should do what Satan commanded. So the man mounted on Satan’s back, and first was carried across the Coupée. “Allez plus loin,” (Go farther) said the man. Then they went on to the Carrefour, near where the Bel Air Hotel now is. “Allez plus loin,” said the man when Satan stopped for a rest. Then they reached the Port du Moulin, where the fisherman’s cottage stood. “Au nom du Grand Dieu—Arrêtez!” (In God’s name—Stop!) At that the Devil had to put him down and fly away shrieking, “for,” as the old man concluded his story, “he is powerless when God’s name is said.”
It is a very common belief that events, particularly those of a melancholy nature, are foreshadowed. Unusual noises in or about a house, such as cannot easily be accounted for, the howling of a dog, the crowing of cocks at unaccustomed hours, the hooting of owls, and many other things are looked upon as warnings of evil to come, or, as they are locally termed, “avertissements.” This term is also applied to a sort of second-sight, in which a person fancies he sees an image of himself, or, to make use of a Scotch word, his own “wraith.” This illusion, arising no doubt from a derangement of the optic nerve consequent on the weakness produced by ill-health, is considered a sure forerunner of death. Two instances of this, both occurring towards the end of the last century, have come to my knowledge. In the one case, a young gentleman, slowly dying of decline, was seated near a window, which commanded a view of the avenue leading to the country house in which he resided. Suddenly he saw a figure, which he recognised as his own, standing at the corner of a pathway which led into a cherry-orchard, a favourite resort of his when in health. His sister was every moment expected to return home from a ride, and, fearing that her horse might take fright at the apparition, he immediately dispatched a servant to meet her, and cause her to return to the house by another way. He died not many hours afterwards.
In the other instance, a young lady, who was known to be very fragile and delicate, was spending the day at her brother’s country-house. It was summer, and the room in which she was seated with the other members of the family looked out on a parterre gay with flowers. Suddenly she interrupted the conversation which was going on, by exclaiming:—
“How singular! I see myself yonder in the garden gathering flowers.”
Her friends tried to laugh her out of her fancy, but neither ridicule nor reason prevailed. She persisted in saying that she had seen her own likeness in the garden. She grew rapidly worse, and before the autumn was over she passed away.
It occasionally happens that both fruit and blossoms are to be seen at the same time on apple and pear trees. When this occurs it is believed to be a sure presage that a death will follow in the family of the proprietor of the tree within the year.[140]
Great faith is also put in dreams by our country people, as the following stories will show. They make use of many charms and spells to invoke certain dreams, and those will be told in a future chapter, but the following show the belief that exists in the truth of dreams.
During the late war with France many privateers were fitted out. A man dreamt that if a vessel were sent out to a certain latitude and longitude, that on a certain day it would meet with a rich prize and take it. He realised all his property, bought a ship, equipped and manned it, and sent it out to cruise, in full faith that his dream would come to pass. Time rolled on, and the ship did not appear. The man’s friends and neighbours began to jeer at him, but he still felt confident that all would turn out as he had dreamt. His faith was at last rewarded, for one day, when all but he had given up any hope of seeing the vessel again, two vessels were seen in the offing. As they drew near one was recognised as the missing ship, and the other was soon made out, by its rig, to be a foreigner. They came safely into St. Peter Port, and it was then found that the latter was a Spaniard, with a very rich cargo. It turned out that the capture had been made in the very place and at the very time that had been dreamt of.
“Cow Lane.”
A country gentleman had occasion to make some alterations in the level of a road in the neighbourhood of his house. He employed two men in the work, a father and son. The materials for the work were to be taken from a gravel pit on the estate, and the work was progressing favourably, when, one morning, the gentleman, on coming down to breakfast, said to his wife that he had had an unpleasant dream, and feared that some accident would happen to the workmen before the day was out. He went out shortly afterwards and cautioned the men, as he had done previously, to be very careful in digging out the materials they were in want of from the overhanging banks of the gravel pit. They made light of his admonition, and he left them. Towards noon the elder of the two workmen left the place to go home to dinner, leaving his son behind. On his return, about an hour later, he found that the bank had given way and buried his son in the rubbish. When, after a considerable time, he was dug out, he was found to be quite dead.
“That the dead are seen no more, I will not undertake to maintain against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages and of all nations. There is no people, rude or unlearned, among whom apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. This opinion, which prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only by its truth. Those who never heard of another, would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. That it is doubted by single cavillers can very little weaken the general evidence, and some who deny it with their tongues confess it with their fears.”—Dr. Samuel Johnson.
The belief that the spirits of the dead are, under certain circumstances, permitted to revisit the places which they were in the habit of frequenting, and the persons with whom they were acquainted while in the body, has too strong a hold on the human mind not to be still an article of popular faith in this island; but the doings of these disembodied spirits do not differ sensibly from what is attributed to them in other European countries.
The ghost of the murdered man still haunts the spot where he was foully deprived of life, crying for vengeance on his assassin. The murderer’s form is seen at the foot of the gibbet where he expiated his crime. The shade of the suicide lingers about the spot where he committed his rash act. The spirit of the tender mother is seen bending over the cradles of her darling children, smoothing their tangled locks, washing their begrimed faces, and lamenting over the neglected state in which they are allowed to remain by a careless or unkind step-dame. The acquirer of ill-gotten wealth wanders about, vainly endeavouring to make restitution. And the ghosts of the shipwrecked mariners who have perished in the waves, roam along the fatal shore, and, with loud wailings, claim a resting place for their remains in their mother-earth.
Some also say that the departing spirit occasionally takes the form of a bird, and, from a story told us, it would seem that it also sometimes puts on the form of a mouse.
An elderly woman who lived alone in a house in the neighbourhood of Ste. Hélène was found one morning dead at the bottom of a flight of stairs. From the evidence at the inquest it appeared that she had entrusted the latch key of the front door to a workman, who was to come early to the house next morning to do some small job in the way of plastering. It was supposed that before retiring to rest, at her usual hour between nine and ten, she had intended to go to the door to see whether the door was properly latched, and that, in descending the stairs, she had slipped, and, falling forward, had broken her neck.
She had a first cousin, within a week or two of the same age as herself, with whom she had been brought up, and between whom and herself great affection had always existed. About the time that the accident must have happened, this cousin was sitting with his wife, by whom the story was related to me, warming themselves before the fire, previously to getting into bed. They were speaking of the old woman, and the husband remarked that he had not seen her for some days, and hoped she was well, and then immediately made the remark that he had seen a mouse run across the room, coming from the door towards them. His eyesight was very defective, and his wife endeavoured to persuade him that it was impossible that he could have seen anything of the kind, and that, moreover, she had never seen a mouse in that room.
They went to bed and nothing more was thought about it until the next morning, when the wife, passing the house where the old woman lived, saw a crowd of neighbours assembled round the door, and found that the dead body of her husband’s cousin had just been discovered lying at the foot of the stairs.
The accident in all probability had occurred at the very time she and her husband were speaking of the deceased, and when the old man declared he saw the mouse. She was fully convinced that the spirit of the old woman had come in that shape to take a last look and farewell of her kinsman.[141]
It is not many years since, that in making some alterations in the parsonage of St. Michel du Valle, the workmen found under the flooring of one of the rooms a few small coins. They remembered that in the last century, a French priest, who had renounced his own religion, had been appointed curate of the parish by a non-resident Rector after having been duly licensed by the Bishop of Winchester; that, after leading a most irregular life to the great scandal of the parishioners, he had one day disappeared suddenly, and that after his departure the poor box in the church was found to have been broken open and robbed of its contents. It was not long before it was rumoured abroad that mysterious noises were heard in the dead of the night in the parsonage, as of someone walking through the rooms and dropping money as he went. No one doubted that the sacrilegious robber had left this mortal life, and that his ghost was doomed to revisit the scene of his iniquity, vainly endeavouring to make restitution to the widows and orphans, and to the aged and infirm pensioners of the church, of the money of which he had so unfeelingly deprived them.
The workmen were fully convinced that the coins which they had found were part of those which had been so sacrilegiously abstracted. They dared not retain them for their own use, but brought them to the Rector with a request that they might be given to the poor.[142]
In all ages and among all nations the burial of the dead has been looked upon as a sacred duty; and the belief is not yet extinct that until the body is consigned to the earth the spirit is doomed to wander about, seeking rest and finding none.
Great therefore is the guilt of him who, having found a corpse, neglects to provide for its sepulture. “Les morts recllament la terre, et ch’est leû derouait.” (The dead claim the earth, and it is their right).
A man who had gone down at low water to visit his nets, found a dead body stretched out on the sands. It was not that of any of his neighbours. A violent storm had raged a day or two previously, and there could be no doubt that some unfortunate vessel had gone down in the gale, and that the body before him was that of one of the crew. It was handsomely dressed, the clothes being of velvet, richly laced with gold. The avarice of the fisherman was excited, and his first thought was to search the pockets. A purse, containing what to a poor man was a considerable sum, was found, and, content with his morning’s work, the man hastened home, leaving the body to be carried away by the next tide. Great was his astonishment and affright, on entering his cottage, to see the dead man seated by the fireside, and looking sternly and reproachfully at him. His wife, to whom the phantom was not visible, perceived his trouble, and, pressed by her, he confessed what he had done. She upbraided him with his inhuman conduct, and, kneeling down with him, prayed the Almighty to forgive him his sin. They then hastened down to the beach, drew the corpse to shore, and buried it in a neighbouring field. On their return home the ghost of the drowned man had disappeared and was never more seen.[143]
Editor’s Note.—An old fisherman named Mansell told Major Macleane, my informant, that it is most unlucky to keep a suit of clothes belonging to a drowned man, whether they have been washed ashore, or by whatever means they have entered your possession; for his spirit is sure to come back and reanimate his clothes and haunt you. The clothes should always be burnt or buried immediately.
“Qu’est qu’tu ’as? Non dirait qu’tu ’as veu la grand’ garce.” (“What is the matter with you? One would suppose you had seen the great girl.”)
Such were the words with which a gentleman (Mr. Peter Le Pelley, Seigneur of Sark), in the last century greeted his sister-in-law, (Miss Frances Carey, daughter of Mr. John Carey), who had come to spend a few days with him at his manorial residence in Sark, on her appearance at the breakfast table the morning after her arrival. He meant to banter her on her anxious and haggard look, which she attributed to a restless night and headache, occasioned in all probability by crossing the water on the previous day.
In reality, although she did not like to acknowledge it at the time, her rest had been disturbed. Having previously locked her door, as was her habit, she had fallen asleep almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow, but was awakened suddenly,—about midnight, as far as she could judge,—by someone drawing aside the curtains at the foot of her bed. She started up, and saw plainly an elderly lady standing there. She fell back fainting, and when she recovered her senses the figure had disappeared.
It was probably nothing more than a very vivid nightmare, and was followed by no results beyond the effects of the fright which a few days sufficed to remove, but she never again revisited Sark. The question, however, is one which is not unfrequently addressed to a person who has an anxious or startled look, and refers to the apparition of a tall maiden, which is supposed to presage the death of the person who sees it, or that of some near connection.[144]
Editor’s Notes.
My cousin, Miss E. Le Pelley, whose great-uncle Peter was Seigneur of Sark, and whose old servant Caroline is still alive and in the service of the Le Pelley family, sends me the following confirmation of the above, which she wrote down from the lips of old Caroline herself. Caroline, as a girl, had one day been teased by some of her fellow servants on the Seigneurie farm, who told her that they would come in and awake her during the night. So she, to prevent such disturbance, locked her door. In the middle of the night she awoke and saw a lady standing at the foot of her bed. She was so frightened that she shut her eyes, but twice curiosity prevailed and she opened them again, and saw the lady gliding away. She had on a crossover shawl, and a beautifully gauffred white cap. Caroline was just going to look again, when she felt something heavy fall on her feet “with a great thump,” which so frightened her that she put her head under the clothes, and did not uncover it until the morning, though she could not sleep again. The lady is supposed to be a Miss de Carteret, sister of one of the original Seigneurs of Sark. She had unaccountably disappeared from that room, which was the last spot in which she had been seen.
Old Caroline went on to say that many others besides herself had seen the ghost. Fifty years previously, an old woman living at Havre Gosselin had been terrified by it. The cook, who was fellow-servant with Caroline, had seen it three times.
Henri, an old man-servant, had also often seen it. But the curious thing about the ghost is that it only appears in the room if the door is locked.
Caroline was very anxious to tell her mistress, Mrs. Le Pelley, what she had seen, but the other servants dissuaded her, and told her that she had brought it all on herself by locking her door, which she never again dared to do.
“Now,” said Caroline, “if only someone had said to her ‘In the name of the Great God what tortures you?’ the poor lady would have unburdened her soul, and her spirit could have found rest, but no one had the wit or the courage to do it.”
As Caroline always ends up her story:—“Oh mon Dou donc, que j’tai effrâïe!” (Oh my goodness, how frightened I was!).—From Miss E. Le Pelley.
Old Mrs. Le Messurier, who used frequently to go in and “help” at the Seigneurie when the Le Pelleys were there, told me that she was there in February, 1839, the time that Peter Le Pelley was drowned, and the night before “La Grande Garce” was seen walking through the passages, and the tapping of her high heels was heard through the house, while some said she was wringing her hands. Knowing that her appearance in this manner was a sure presage of misfortune, the servants all begged Mr. Le Pelley next day not to set sail for Guernsey, especially as there was a strong south wind blowing, but he would go, and the boat was swamped off the Pointe du Nez, and all perished.—From Mrs. Le Messurier, of Sark.
Mr. de Garis, of the Rouvets, told me that he had an old servant who came from Sark, who told him of a lady who appeared at the Seigneurie, if the bedroom door was locked.
In 1565 Queen Elizabeth “conferred on Helier de Carteret and his heirs for ever, in reward of the many services received by herself and her royal ancestors from this family, the aforesaid island of Sark, to be held in capite, as a fief haubert, on the payment of an annual rent of fifty shillings.” Sir Charles de Carteret, Seigneur of St. Ouen, and of Sark, being heavily in debt, made a provision in his will for the settling of his debts by ordering that at his death the Seigneurie of Sark should be sold. This will bears the date of 1713. During his lifetime he obtained a patent from Queen Anne authorising the above sale. And in 1730 it was bought by Dame Susan Le Gros, widow of Mr. Nicholas Le Pelley. Her son Nicholas inherited it, and it remained in the Le Pelleys’ possession until 1852, when, owing to heavy losses incurred in the working of the silver mines in Little Sark, they sold it to Mrs. T. G. Collings, and it is now in the possession of the Collings family.
There is an English saying that “when the gorse is out of bloom, kissing is out of fashion.” This is expanded in Guernsey into the following tales.
A man, who had been long suffering from a lingering illness, was at last lying on his death-bed. His wife was unremitting in her attentions, and profuse in her expressions of sorrow at the thoughts of losing him. He did not doubt her affection for him, but ventured to hint at the probability of her looking out for a second husband before the first year of her widowhood should be expired. She warmly repudiated the bare possibility of such a thought entering her mind, and was ready to make a vow that she would never again enter into the married state.
“Well,” said the man mildly, “I ask no more than that you should promise me not to wed again while any blossom can be found on the furze.”