The Ballad of Ivon de Galles.

Before the invention of printing, oral tradition was almost the only way in which the people—generally ignorant of writing or reading—could transmit the recollection of facts and circumstances which they deemed worthy of being remembered; and it was soon discovered that versification afforded a very strong aid to memory. Hence arose that species of metrical tale which we call a ballad. These ballads, passing from mouth to mouth, soon became corrupted. Whole verses were sometimes omitted, by which the thread of the story was lost or rendered obscure, and others were supplied by borrowing from the work of another bard, or by the invention of the reciter. Nevertheless, in the historical ballads, facts and details were often preserved which had escaped the notice of the more regular chroniclers.

Whether, in former days, Guernsey could boast of any number of these metrical histories, it is now impossible to say. Unless we include in this category, a sort of “complainte,” written in 1552 by the Roman Catholic priests, whom the progress of the doctrines of the Reformation had driven out of their cures, the ballad of “Ivon de Galles, ou la descente des Aragousais,” is the only one which has come down to us.[230] Many copies of it have been preserved, differing but slightly from each other in the main, although there are one or two verbal differences of some importance. Most of the copies conclude with the twentieth verse, but some have a second part, consisting of six stanzas, and purporting to give an account of Ivon’s adventures after he left Guernsey, and the subsequent melancholy fate of himself and his fleet. As this account is quite different from what has come down to us in history, it is probably the work of some later bard, who wished to make the story more complete than he found it, and by a sort of poetical justice to punish Ivon and his followers for the evil they had inflicted on the island.

The ballad agrees in the main with the account of the invasion as given by Froissart and Holinshed. The adventures in the second part probably relate to some other of the numerous descents on the island during the reign of Edward III., perhaps to that by Bahuchet, a French naval commander, about the year 1338. This Bahuchet landed in England, and committed great atrocities at Portsmouth and Southampton, for which, when he was taken prisoner in the great engagement off Sluys, in 1340, Edward ordered him to be hanged at the main-yard.

From Froissart’s Chronicles we learn that Ivon, or as he calls him, Yvain de Galles, was the son of a Prince of Wales whom Edward III. had put to death, and whose possessions he had seized upon. Ivon, thus disinherited, took refuge in France, where he entered into the service of the King, Charles V., and was by him entrusted with the command of ships and three thousand men. It appears from another part of the Chronicle, that Henry of Trastamara, King of Castille and Aragon, had supplied his ally, Charles, with a large fleet, well armed and manned, and it is probable that the galleys which Ivon commanded formed part of this fleet. If so, the name of “Aragousais,” or men of Aragon, given in the ballad to the invading force, is accounted for. With these troops he sailed from Harfleur and reached Guernsey.

Aymon, or Edmund, Rose, esquire of honour to the King of England, and Governor of the island, advanced to meet him with all the force he could muster,—about eight hundred men. The battle was long and hotly contested, but ended in the discomfiture of the insular force, with the loss of four hundred of their men, and in the retreat of Aymon Rose into Castle Cornet, to which Ivon laid siege. Several assaults were made on the Castle, but, as it was strongly fortified and well provisioned, they were not attended with success. How long the siege lasted we are not informed, but the French King, requiring the services of Ivon elsewhere, and believing Castle Cornet to be impregnable, sent orders for the siege to be raised. A few years afterwards, Ivon lost his life by the dagger of an assassin of his own nation, a Welshman of the name of Lambe, apparently at the instigation of Richard II.

According to the ballad, Ivon landed his troops early on a Tuesday morning in Vazon Bay. A countryman, who had risen early to look after his sheep, perceived the invaders and gave the alarm, upon which all the inhabitants assembled and endeavoured to repel them, but without success. A stand was at last made on the hill above the town of St. Peter Port, and a sanguinary engagement took place, in which five hundred and one of both sides were killed.

Tradition points to a spot near Elizabeth College as the scene of this encounter, and the locality to this day bears the name of “La Bataille.”

A deep lane, which formerly passed to the eastward of the strangers’ burial ground, but which has been long filled up and enclosed within the walls of the cemetery, was said to owe its name of “La Ruette Meurtrière” to the same event.

Towards the evening, eighty English merchants,—probably the crews of some trading vessels—arrived, and lent their assistance to the islanders. By means of this reinforcement the enemy was prevented from penetrating into the town, but they reached the shore, and, the tide being low, crossed over to Castle Cornet, and attacked it.

Most of the copies of the ballad say that they took the Castle, “par force prindrent le Chasteau,” but one, which has been preserved in the registers of the parish of St. Saviour, where it is inserted about the year 1638, has these words—“Il vouloient prendre le Chasteau,”—which seem to agree better with the other statements in the ballad that Ivon’s ships came round the island by the southward, that they received some damage from the peasantry at La Corbière, and that they re-embarked their troops at Bec de la Chèvre, now known by the name of the Terres point, after which Ivon ordered them to make sail for St. Sampson’s Harbour.

Here they landed. Negotiations were entered on with Brégart, the Prior or Commissary of St. Michel du Valle, a dependency of the famous Abbey of Mont St. Michel in Normandy, and Ivon laid siege to the Vale Castle, whither Aymon Rose, the Governor of the island, whom we hear of for the first time, had retreated and entrenched himself.

Summoned by Ivon to surrender, he refused, but agreed to sanction an arrangement which Brégart had made with the people, and which seems to have had for object to buy off the invaders by payment of a sum of money.

The ballad assigns this as the origin of the charge on land called “champart,” but it is certain that this species of tithe existed long before this time.

Most of the copies end here, but some have a second part, of which we have already spoken, and which was probably written at a later period.

It is difficult to account for the discrepancy between the local account and that of Froissart and others as to the name of the Castle into which the Governor, Aymon Rose, retired, unless by the supposition that the historians knew Castle Cornet by name as a fortress deemed impregnable, and assumed, without further inquiry, that it must be the one in which the Governor entrenched himself.

An event of so much importance was well calculated to make a lasting impression on the people. And to this day “Les Aragousais” are spoken of, and various traditions relating to them are repeated. It is singular, however, to find that with the lapse of time they have come to be looked upon as a supernatural race—in fact, to be confounded with the fairies. The form which this traditional remembrance of them has taken will be found on page 204, and tends in some degree to confirm the idea entertained by some writers on fairy mythology that many of the tales related of those fantastic beings may be accounted for by the theory that they refer to an earlier race of men, gradually driven out by tribes more advanced in civilisation.

The places called “La Bataille[231]” and “La Ruette Meurtrière” have already been mentioned as the spots where the great battle took place. The “Rouge Rue,” leading down the hill to the westward of St. John’s Church, is said to derive its name from the blood spilt on this occasion. If this really be the origin of the name, we may suppose that the islanders, retreating towards the Vale Castle, or perhaps the Château des Marais, were overtaken there, and that a second engagement took place. But there is reason to believe that the tradition relates to another locality in quite a different direction, which in times gone by bore also the name of “La Rouge Rue,” but which has long ceased to be so called. We speak of the upper part of Hauteville, sloping southwards towards the valley of Havelet. According to the late Miss Lauga, who died at the advanced age of eighty-five, her mother, who had inherited from her ancestors property in this neighbourhood, always spoke of it as “La Rouge Rue,” and said that a sanguinary battle had been fought in ancient days on this spot. And, indeed, this name appears in the old contracts and title-deeds, by which property in the neighbourhood is held. The consequence of its having ceased to be known popularly by its ancient appellation would naturally be that the traditionary tale of the name being derived from the blood spilt there would be transferred to another and better known locality, which chanced—perhaps simply from the colour of the soil—to bear the same name.

Firearms were of such recent invention that it is scarcely to be supposed that any had as yet found their way to Guernsey. If, however, any faith can be placed in tradition, their use and construction were not totally unknown in the island, for it is said that the trunk of a tree was hollowed out and bound round with iron hoops, but that when this deadly weapon was loaded, no one could be found bold enough to fire it, until a child, ignorant of the risk he was incurring, was induced, by the promise of a cake, to perform the dangerous feat.

It is also said that the women of the island contributed all their ear-rings and other jewels to buy off the invaders; and it was very generally believed that a peculiar breed of small but strong and spirited horses—now unfortunately extinct—was derived from those that had escaped during the battle, and so had remained in the island after the Spaniards left.

The tradition, which confounds Ivon’s forces with the fairies, relates how all the islanders were killed, except a man and a boy of St. Andrew’s parish, who concealed themselves in an oven, over the mouth of which a woman spread her black petticoat, and so escaped; and how the conquerors, who are described as a very diminutive race, married the widows and maidens, and so re-peopled the island. The small stature and dark complexion of some families are occasionally appealed to as proofs of this origin.

Perhaps this tradition may be an indistinct recollection of a far earlier invasion and possession of the island by some of the piratical hordes from the North, that began to infest the coasts of the Channel as early as the beginning of the fifth century. These were not unlikely to have subjugated the men of the island, and to have taken forcible possession of their wives, and any tradition of the event might very naturally be transferred from one invasion to another, and come finally to be fixed on the last and best known.

The ballad, of which an English translation is attempted, has evidently suffered much from the defective memory of reciters, and the carelessness of transcribers, so that some of the stanzas appear to be almost hopelessly corrupt. The main incidents of the story are, however, tolerably well defined. It seems to have been composed originally in French, and not in the Norman dialect used in the island. The stanzas consist of the unusual number of seven lines, of which the first and third rhyme together, and the second, fourth, fifth and sixth—the seventh rhyming occasionally with the first and third, but more frequently standing alone. In some verses assonances take the place of more perfect rhymes, which may be adduced as a proof of the antiquity of the ballad. Perhaps it would not be impossible, by comparing the various copies, choosing the readings which appear least corrupt, altering here and there the position of a line in the stanza, or the arrangement of the words that compose it, or even sometimes changing a word where the exigencies of the rhyme seem to require it, to produce a copy that would offend less against the rules of prosody; but this is a process which would require great care, and which respect for antiquity forbids us to attempt.

We must take the ballad, with all its faults and imperfections, as we find it.

Evan of Wales, or the Invasion of Guernsey in 1372.

The Recapture of Sark.

At the beginning of the present century, when little more was known of the Norman Islands than their names, it might have been necessary, in speaking of Sark, to describe where it is situated. Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, Sark, and Man, were always associated together in Acts of Parliament and in school books for teaching children geography; and while there were many who believed the five to form but one group, there were many others who would have been very much puzzled to point out on the map the precise situation of any one of them. Now, thanks to the incessant intercourse with England by means of steam, and the attractions the islands present as resorts for tourists and excursionists, they are as well known as most watering places on the English coast.

Sark, though the smallest of the group, is by many considered the most beautiful of the Channel Islands, and, certainly in point of rock and cliff scenery, combined with the ever-varying effects of sea and sky, there are few lines of coast, of the same extent, that can compare with it. So precipitous are the shores on all sides, that there are very few spots where a landing can be effected, and in former days it would not have been difficult to repel an invader, merely by rolling down stones from the heights.

Of the history of Sark but little is known. St. Maglorius, a Briton from South Wales, who succeeded his kinsman, St. Samson, Bishop of Dol, about the year 565, in that see, gave up a few years afterwards his pastoral charge to his successor, St. Budoc, and retired to end his days in meditation and prayer in Sark, where he established a convent and college for training young men as missionaries to the neighbouring nations. As a priory, dependent probably on some one or other of the large monasteries in Normandy, this convent was still in existence in the reign of Edward III., but the wars between this monarch and the French king, seem to have been the cause of the monks withdrawing themselves entirely from the island about the year 1349. After the departure of the monks, Sark appears to have become the resort of pirates, who did so much injury to the trade of the Channel, that, in 1356, a vessel belonging to the port of Rye was fitted out by the merchants of that town and of Winchelsea to endeavour to expel this band of marauders. This they succeeded in doing, and are said to have effected an entry into the island by means of a stratagem, which Sir Walter Raleigh, sometime Governor of Jersey, where he may be supposed to have gained his information, relates as having occurred in the reign of Queen Mary, and attributes to the crew of a Flemish ship.

We copy Sir Walter Raleigh’s account of the re-taking of Sark, from his History of the World, Part I., Book IV., chapter XI., p. 18, but must premise by saying that he is incorrect in stating that Sark had been surprised by the French in the reign of Queen Mary. It was in the year 1549, during the reign of her brother Edward VI., that the French, being at war with England, and finding the island uninhabited, landed four hundred men and took possession of it. The anonymous author of Les Chroniques de Jersey, written apparently in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, in noticing the recapture of Sark by Flemings, says nothing of the stratagem, but simply that, guided by some Guernseymen, they landed at night and overpowered the French garrison, which, at that time, was very much reduced in numbers.

“The Island of Sark, joining to Guernzey, and of that Government, was in Queen Mary’s time surprized by the French, and could never have been recovered again by strong hand, having Cattle and Corn enough upon the Place to feed so many Men as will serve to defend it, and being every way so inaccessible that it might be held against the Great Turk. Yet by the industry of a Gentleman of the Netherlands, it was in this Sort regained. He anchored in the Road with one Ship, and, pretending the Death of his Merchant, besought the French that they might bury their Merchant in hallowed Ground, and in the Chapel of that Isle; offering a Present to the French of such Commodities as they had aboard. Whereto (with Condition that they should not come ashore with any Weapon, not so much as with a Knife), the French yielded. Then did the Flemings put a Coffin into their Boat, not filled with a Dead Carcass, but with Swords, Targets and Harquebuzes. The French received them at their Landing, and, searching every one of them so narrowly as they could not hide a Penknife, gave them leave to draw their Coffin up the Rocks with great difficulty. Some part of the French took the Flemish Boat, and rowed aboard their Ship to fetch the Commodities promised, and what else they pleased, but, being entered, they were taken and bound. The Flemings on the Land, when they had carried their Coffin into the Chapel, shut the Door to them, and, taking their Weapons out of the Coffin, set upon the French. They run to the Cliff, and cry to their Companions aboard the Fleming to come to their Succour. But, finding the Boat charged with Flemings, yielded themselves and the Place.”

Falle, the historian of Jersey, in citing this anecdote says:—“I have seen Memoirs which confirm the taking of this Island by such a Stratagem; but the other Circumstances of Time and Persons do not agree with the foregoing Story.”

He then quotes, in a footnote, a passage from a MS. chronicle in Latin, which appears to have been in the possession of the de Carteret family, Seigneurs of St. Ouen, in Jersey, giving an account of the recapture of Sark by a vessel from Rye, by means of the stratagem related above, but he does not assign any date to the transaction.

It would be rash to assert that no such event ever occurred in the history of Sark, but it is curious to note that similar stories are told of Harold Hardráda, a Scandinavian adventurer who was in the service of the Byzantine Emperors, and of the famous sea-king, Hastings. The former fell dangerously ill while besieging a town in Sicily. His men requested permission to bury him with due solemnity, and, on bringing the coffin to the gates of the town, were received by the clergy. No sooner, however, were they within the gates than they set down the coffin across the entrance, drew their swords, made themselves masters of the place, and massacred all the male inhabitants.

Hastings, about the year 857, entered the Mediterranean with a large fleet, appeared before the ancient Etruscan city of Luna, professed to be desirous of becoming a Christian, and was baptised by the Bishop. After a time he pretended to be dangerously ill, and gave out that he would leave the rich booty he had amassed to the Church, if, in the event of his death, the Bishop would allow him to be interred in one of the churches of the city. This was conceded, and, shortly afterwards, his followers appeared, bearing a coffin, which they pretended contained his dead body. No sooner had they entered the church and set it down, than Hastings started up, sword in hand, and slew the Bishop. His followers drew their swords, and, in the confusion, soon made themselves masters of the city.

These particulars are taken from Bohn’s editions of Mallet’s Northern Antiquities, pages 169 and 170. Perhaps the earliest known germ of this story is to be found in the famous Trojan horse; but it is curious to note that a tale, similar in all its incidents to that related of Sark, is told as having happened in the reign of William and Mary at Lundy, a small isle in the Bristol Channel. It will be found in Murray’s Handbook for Travellers in Devon and Cornwall; and as the date assigned to it is long subsequent to the publication of Sir Walter Raleigh’s History, the natural conclusion is that the incidents in the alleged taking of Lundy, have been borrowed from those of the recapture of Sark, as narrated by Sir Walter. In confirmation of this view of the case we would draw attention to the circumstance that the “Gentleman of the Netherlands,” with his crew of Flemings, of the earlier narrative, becomes in the later edition of this story “A ship of war under Dutch colours.”

With these preliminary remarks, we proceed to copy the account of the surprise of Lundy:—

“The principal event in the history of Lundy is its capture by a party of Frenchmen, in the reign of William and Mary. A ship of war, under Dutch colours, brought up in the roadstead, and sent ashore for some milk, pretending that the captain was sick. The islanders supplied the milk for several days, when at length the crew informed them that their captain was dead, and asked permission to bury him in consecrated ground. This was immediately granted, and the inhabitants assisted in carrying the coffin to the grave. It appeared to them rather heavy, but they never for a moment suspected the nature of its contents. The Frenchmen then requested the islanders to leave the church, as it was the custom of their country that foreigners should absent themselves during a part of the ceremony, but informed them that they should be admitted to see the body interred. They were not, however, detained long in suspense; the doors were suddenly flung open, and the Frenchmen, armed from the pretended receptacle of the dead, rushed, with triumphant shouts, upon the astonished inhabitants, and made them prisoners. They then quietly proceeded to desolate the island. They hamstrung the horses and bullocks, threw the sheep and goats over the cliffs, and stripped the inhabitants even of their clothes. When satisfied with plunder and mischief, they left the poor islanders in a condition most truly disconsolate.”

No reference to any authority for the story is given, and it is difficult to conceive that such an unprovoked and barbarous outrage, leading to no useful end—for Lundy could be of little or no use to either in time of war—could have been perpetrated so lately as the reign of William III.; but in the case of Lundy, as well as in that of Sark, the date assigned to the event is extremely vague, some asserting that it happened in the time of the great rebellion, others that it is to be found related by one of the old chroniclers who wrote the history of that long period of civil strife known as the Wars of the Roses.

The Alarm of Pulias.

A time of war between England and France would naturally cause great anxiety and excitement in all the Channel Islands. Situated as they are, so near to the French coast that buildings of any size may be discerned in clear weather by the naked eye, and coveted by that nation ever since the time when King John, having lost Normandy, the islands, firm in their allegiance to the Duke, followed the fortunes of England, they were peculiarly exposed to a hostile attack.

England, fully aware of the importance of these islands, and knowing well what a command of the Channel the possession of them gives, has always been careful to have them well fortified and garrisoned in time of war, and to keep a fleet cruising in their waters. The local militia—a body of men which may be more correctly termed trained bands, for, by the ancient constitution of the islands, every male capable of bearing arms must be trained to the use of them, and is required to serve his country from the age sixteen to sixty—forms a subsidiary force, frequently and carefully drilled. In times when danger was to be apprehended, watch houses were erected on all the hills and promontories round the coast, where a vigilant lookout was kept up night and day; and near each of these was placed a large stack of dried furze, which might be set on fire at a moment’s warning, and which would convey the intelligence of approaching danger to all parts of the island. The keeping of these guards was confided to the militia, or, to speak more precisely, to householders, who were told off by the constables of their respective parishes for this duty. Every house, in its turn, had to furnish a man, and even females living alone were not exempt, but were expected to find a substitute. These substitutes, being well paid for their trouble, were, of course, not difficult to be met with; but as they were for the most part idle fellows, and as they were enrolled under their employers’ names, these last sometimes found themselves in an awkward predicament. It is said that two maiden ladies, householders, of most unblemished reputation, and belonging to two of the most aristocratic families in Guernsey, were reported one morning as having been drunk and disorderly on guard the previous night!

During the last wars between England and France there does not appear to have been, except on one occasion, any very serious alarm in Guernsey; but every now and then the sight of ships of war off Cape La Hague, in the neighbourhood of Cherbourg, gave rise to some uneasiness, and put the island on the alert. It is no wonder if some amount of fear was felt by the inhabitants on these occasions, when we remember the panic that Bonaparte’s threatened invasion in flat-bottomed boats from Boulogne, occasioned in England.

It was during the American war, in the early part of the year 1781, shortly after the attempt made on Jersey by the French adventurer, de Rullecour, so gallantly repelled by a small body of the regular forces and the militia of that island, under the command of Major Pierson, who was killed fighting bravely at the head of his troops, that a drunken frolic of three thoughtless youths threw the whole island of Guernsey into a state of consternation, and was the unfortunate cause of the death of several sick persons.

On the night of Sunday, the 4th of March, these men, officers in one of the militia regiments, after attending a muster of the force, which, in those days, generally took place on the Sunday, had finished the day by dining together, and were returning from the Castel parish to their homes in the Vale and St. Sampson’s. Their way was along the sea-coast, at that time not nearly so thickly inhabited as at present, and, on arriving at an almost solitary house, situated near the marsh of Pulias, just at the foot of the hill of Noirmont, on which a watch and a beacon, ready to be fired, were always in readiness, the fancy took them to knock at the door of the cottage, and to represent themselves as part of a French force, consisting of over ten thousand men, who had just effected a landing. They demanded that a guide should be furnished them forthwith to shew them the most direct road to the town, and to the residence of the Governor, promising that he should be amply rewarded for his trouble. It so chanced that the only inmates of the house were an old man and his wife. With admirable presence of mind, the man replied that it was out of his power to serve them as guide, as he had the misfortune to be stone blind, but that if they went a few hundred yards further in a direction which he pointed out to them, they would find another habitation, where, no doubt, the guide they were in search of would be forthcoming. They took their departure, going in the direction indicated to them, and, no sooner were their backs turned, than the old woman opened a window in the rear of the house, and made her way across the fields, over hedges and ditches, and through the thick furze that covers the hill, to the signal station on the summit of Noirmont. She told her story to the men on watch, and it was not many minutes before the beacon was in flames, and the signal taken up by all the others round the coast. A swift messenger was sent into town with the unwelcome news. Before long, the alarm had spread into every part of the island. The troops in garrison were soon under arms, the militia regiments mustered at their respective places of meeting, and scouts were sent out to search for the enemy, and to find out where they had taken up their position. With the return of daylight, the reconnoitring parties came back to headquarters, bringing the reassuring intelligence that not a sign of an enemy was to be seen on any part of the coast. It was then evident that the whole community had been made the victim of a heartless hoax. A strict enquiry was set on foot to discover the authors of it, but, though suspicion pointed strongly in the direction of the real culprits, nothing definite could be brought home to any one in particular; but the surmise was converted into certainty by the sudden departure from the island of the suspected parties, who did not venture to return to their homes till many years afterwards, when the affair was well-nigh forgotten, and when there was no longer any danger of their being called to account for their mad freak. A bitter feeling was, however, engendered in the minds of the people, which found vent in satirical songs, some verses of which are still remembered.

Jean Breton, the Pilot.

From the earliest times of which we have any authentic record, the people of Guernsey appear to have been a seafaring race. Perhaps they inherit their disposition for maritime pursuits from their remote ancestors, those hardy Scandinavian adventurers, who, there can be no doubt, found these islands a very convenient resort in their early piratical incursions, and probably had settled in them long before they took possession of that fertile province of France, now known as Normandy, the land of the Northmen. But, however this may be, the inhabitants of these islands could scarcely be other than mariners, surrounded as they are by a sea abounding in an endless variety of fish, and especially when we take into consideration the small extent of land in them available for agricultural purposes compared with the teeming population which,—exclusive of that of the town, which has increased considerably since the beginning of the nineteenth century—appears from authentic documents to have been quite as dense in the rural districts in the early part of the fourteenth century as it is in the present day.[232]

Their situation gave the islands importance in a strategical point of view, and was favourable also to the development of commerce, possessing moreover, as they did, the extraordinary privilege of neutrality in times of war between England and France.