After the forfeiture of Normandy by King John, it was long before the inhabitants of that Province acquiesced cordially in their change of masters; and the district known as Le Cotentin, to which the islands naturally appertained, was last to give up their allegiance to their ancient Dukes. Indeed, it can scarcely be said to have been lost entirely to England, until the final expulsion of our kings from all their continental possessions in the reign of Henry VI. During the long wars between the two nations, the possession of these islands was of the utmost importance to England, commanding as they did so long a line of the French coast. Guernsey alone at that time possessed a tolerably secure haven, the early existence of which is proved by a charter of William the Conqueror, dated prior to his invasion of England, in which St. Peter Port is mentioned. Edward I. allowed of certain dues on merchandise being levied for the improvement of this harbour, and that an active trade was carried on between Guernsey and the English possessions in Acquitaine is undoubted. No wonder then that we find the names of Guernsey ships in the lists of those chartered for the conveyance of troops to France in time of war. But what, perhaps, more than anything else contributed to form a race of hardy and courageous seamen were the important fisheries, which, before the discovery of America and the banks of Newfoundland, gave employment to an immense amount of men, in catching, salting, and drying for exportation, the fish which abound in the neighbourhood of the islands. The dangerous nature of the coast, and the surrounding seas, is owing to sunken rocks, strong currents and tides, which vary from day to day. It requires a life-long apprenticeship to become well acquainted with all the hidden and open perils which threaten a seaman’s life. No wonder then if some of our fishermen, brought up to the sea from their earliest youth, become experienced and fearless pilots, knowing every reef, every set of the tide, and able to reckon to a nicety, how long the current will run in one direction, and when it may be expected to take a different course. In making their calculations they are very much guided by the bearings of certain marks on land, such as churches, windmills, or other conspicuous buildings, and the following anecdote, related of one of our pilots, Jean Breton, is well worthy of being remembered, not more for the skill he displayed under very trying circumstances, than for the significant and touching answer he gave when questioned whether he was sure of his marks.

In the year 1794, Captain Sir James Saumarez was at Plymouth, in command of H.M.S. Crescent and a squadron consisting of two other frigates, the Druid and the Eurydice, and two or three armed luggers and cutters. He received orders to sail for Guernsey and Jersey, to ascertain, if possible, the enemy’s force in Cancale Bay and St. Malo. On the 7th of June he left Plymouth, having, a day or two before, accidentally met Jean Breton, whom he knew. He asked him what he was doing there. “I am waiting, Sir, for a passage to Guernsey,” was the reply. Sir James, whose active benevolence always prompted him to do a kind action when it was in his power, offered to take him across, and his kindness to his poor fellow-countryman was amply repaid in the sequel. The day after their departure from Plymouth, when about twelve leagues to the N.N.W. of Guernsey, and with a fresh N.E. breeze, the English ships fell in at dawn with a French squadron of considerably greater force. The superiority of the enemy being much too great to be opposed with any chance of success, it became the imperative duty of the English commander to effect, if possible, the escape of his ships. Observing that his own ships, the Crescent and the Druid, had the advantage in sailing, and fearing that the Eurydice, which was a bad sailer, would fall into the enemy’s hands, he shortened sail, and, having ordered the Eurydice, by signal, to push for Guernsey, he continued, by occasionally showing a disposition to engage, to amuse the enemy and lead him off until the Eurydice was safe. He now tacked, and, in order to save the Druid, closed with the enemy, passing along their line. The capture of the Crescent now seemed inevitable, but the Druid and the Eurydice escaped in the meanwhile, and arrived safely in Guernsey Roads, the smaller craft returning to Plymouth.

But Sir James had, for his own preservation, a scheme, to effect which required great courage, consummate skill in the management of his ship, and an intimate knowledge of the intricate passages through the reefs which render navigation, on that part of the coast in particular, so very dangerous. The providential presence of Jean Breton on board enabled him to put this scheme into execution with an almost certainty of success. Sir James knew that if there was a man in Guernsey thoroughly acquainted with every danger that besets that iron-bound shore, Jean Breton was that man; and, making a feint to run his ship on the rocks to avoid being captured by the enemy, but trusting implicitly in his pilot’s skill, he ordered him to steer through a narrow channel, a feat which had never before been attempted by a vessel of that size. The result of this manœuvre was watched with the utmost anxiety from the shore, and remarks were made by the lookers-on that Jean Breton alone, of all the pilots in Guernsey, would venture on such a perilous feat, little suspecting that it was indeed he, to whom, under God, was to be attributed the safety of the ship and her gallant crew. The frigate was soon brought to in a secure anchorage under shelter of the fire of the batteries on shore, and the French, mortified at being baulked of a prize of which they had made quite sure, had to retire from the contest.

The scene of this daring adventure was to the westward of the island, off the bays known as Le Vazon and Caûbo, on the shore of the former of which Jean Breton’s cottage was situated, and full in view of Sir James Saumarez’s own manorial residence, a position truly remarkable, for on one side was a prospect of death or a French prison, on the other side home with all its joys! When in the most perilous part of the Channel, Sir James asked the pilot whether he was sure of his marks? “Quite sure,” was Jean Breton’s reply, “for there is your house and yonder is my own!”

CHAPTER XV.
Nursery Rhymes and Children’s Games.

[Some of these I have found lying loose among Sir Edgar MacCulloch’s MSS. I have put them together, and added to them a few I have collected among the old country people.—Ed.]

Children’s Game.

A number of children seat themselves in a circle on the ground, as near to each other as possible, and one of the party is chosen to stand in the centre of the ring. Those who are seated keep their hands in their laps with their fists closed, and endeavour to pass a pebble or other small object from one to the other, without its being perceived by the child who is in the middle. While the game is going on they recite the following rhyme:—

The child in the centre of the circle is in the meantime on the look out to discover into whose hands the pebble is passing, and, if he can succeed in arresting it in the possession of any one of the players, he takes his place in the ring, and the one in whose hands the pebble was caught, replaces him in the centre.

From Rachel du Port.

Children’s “Counting-out” Rhyme.

The child in the centre says the first couplet and then “counts out”:

Another.

Sometimes the last three ejaculations are omitted.—From Mrs. W. P. Collings.

Another.

—From Miss Harriet de Sausmarez, aged ninety. Used by children in her youth.

Nurses’ Rhymes.

Names of the Fingers.

The nurse takes the child’s hand, and beginning with the thumb says: “Gros det,” “Arridet,” (for the index finger.)

[Métivier, in his Dictionnaire Franco-Normand, says it comes from an obsolete word, “arrer” or “arrher,” meaning to promise, to ratify, to buy; and quotes the “Speculum Saxonum II., 15, I.” “Celui qui commence une cause devant le juge pour laquelle il est tenu de donner caution … du doigt.”]

“Longuedon,” or “mousqueton,” the middle finger, “Jean des Scéas,” the ring finger, or the finger which wears the signet. Métivier (page 443 of Dictionnaire Franco-Normand) gives as evidence of the signet being worn on this finger, Macrobius VII., 13, p. 722. Edit. de Lyon, 1560. “Dis-moi pourquoi on s’est déterminé, par un assentiment universel, à porter l’anneau au doigt qui avoisine le petit, qu’on a nommé aussi le doigt médical: et cela presque toujours à celui de la main gauche? Voici la réponse de Disarius. ‘Ayant consulté les livres des anatomistes, j’en ai découvert la vraie cause. Ils m’ont appris qu’un nerf passe du cœur au doigt de la main gauche, qui avoisine le petit, et que c’est là, enveloppé par les autres nerfs de ce doigt, qu’il termine sa course. Voilà pourquoi les anciens se sont avisés de ceindre ce doigt d’un anneau, et, si j’ose m’exprimer ainsi, d’une couronne.’”

“P’tit Coutelàs,” the little finger.

The nurse puts the child on her knee and sings:—

The nurse pretends to shoe the baby’s feet and sings:—

Another version of this rhyme is given in Métivier’s Dictionary. Vide Pouliche, namely:—

Métivier in his Dictionnaire gives this version:—

In summer a species of small black beetle, known by the local name of “pan-pan,” is found very commonly in the hedges. Children are in the habit of laying these beetles on their backs, in the palms of their hands, spitting upon them, and then repeating the following words:—

The insect thus tortured emits a drop or two of a blood-red secretion, which is, of course, what the child is looking for.

Compare “Les feux de la St. Jean en Berry,” in Revue des Traditions Populaires, Vol. I., p. 171. “Il existe une petite scarabée d’un noir bleu qu’on nomme ‘petite bête St. Jean.’ Quand on le prend, il rend par les mandibules (la bouche) un liquide rougeâtre; les enfants excitent cette sécretion en mettant de la salive sur l’insecte, et en disant:—

When it Snows.

Cradle Songs.

Dancing Rhymes.

Mon Beau Laurier.

It was formerly customary on holidays for the youth of both sexes to assemble in some tavern or private house to amuse themselves with dancing to the enlivening strains of the fiddle or rote, called in the local dialect the “chifournie.” These assemblies were termed “sons,” and were generally attended also by some of the older portions of the community, whose presence was a guarantee for the orderly conduct of the meeting. Things are now much changed. The presence of a large garrison during the wars that arose out of the first French Revolution, and the influx of a mixed population since the peace, altered the character of these assemblies in town. They came to be regarded with disfavour; parents discouraged their children from attending them; the prejudice against them extended to the country parishes, and the puritanical feeling that grew up with the rapid spread of dissent among the labouring classes was entirely opposed to any species of amusement. Whether the cause of morality has gained much by this over strictness is questionable.

The dances at these meetings were of a very primitive character, consisting almost entirely of a species of jig, by two performers, or in joining hands and moving round at a quick pace in a circle. When a musician was not to be procured, recourse was had to the united voices of the dancers, and an ancient roundelay or “ronde,” no doubt originally imported from France, where such dances are still common among the peasantry, helped to carry on the amusement of the evening. It is still danced occasionally by young people and children, and, as the sole remaining specimen of this kind of diversion, deserves to be recorded.

The performers, who must consist of an equal number of either sex placed alternately, join hands in a circle. They then dance round, singing in chorus:—

One of the girls is then selected and placed in the middle of the circle, and the rest of the party continue to dance round her singing:—

The next verse is:—

On this the damsel curtseys round to the company, who go on singing:—

The dancer must now set her arms a-kimbo, and so figure away in the centre of the ring until the strain changes to:—

This figure generally causes much merriment, for the performer is expected to clasp both arms round one uplifted knee, and hop about on the other foot, the result of which is not unfrequently a fall. Then follows:—

The maiden now makes selection of a partner among the youths, and both join hands in the middle of the circle, while the following words are sung to a different tune and measure:—

A tender embrace follows, and then the assistants sing:—

A kiss is now claimed from the compliant damsel, after which is sung:—

The girl now leaves the young man in the midst of the circle and returns to her original place, when the dance recommences with such verbal alterations as the change of the principal performers renders necessary.

The old-fashioned cushion dance, which delighted the romps of the Court of the merry-monarch, Charles II., is not altogether forgotten on these occasions.

There are several other dancing rhymes and snatches of dancing times in existence—such as the one quoted by Métivier in his Dictionnaire, page 148:—

Another version is:—

One dance consisted of a sort of see-saw in different corners of the room, the couple repeating:—

Dance and repeat!