Editor’s Note.—In this chapter are collected all the loose and unclassified bits of Folk-Lore scattered among Sir Edgar MacCulloch’s manuscripts.
The widely-diffused idea that the spirits of the dead sometimes return in the form of birds, is not altogether obsolete in these islands.
A widow, whose husband had been drowned at sea, asked the Seigneur of Sark whether a robin that was constantly flying round her cottage and alighting on her window-sill, might not possibly be the soul of the departed.[241]
The robin is a bird specially reverenced in Guernsey, as the widely-accepted belief is that it was the robin who first brought fire to the island. In bringing it across the water he burned his breast, and this is the reason why, to this day, the breast of the robin is tinged with red. “My mother,” said the old woman who told me this, “had a great veneration for this little bird, which had been so great a benefactor to those who came before us, for who can live without fire.”[242]
Soucique. This is the name given in Guernsey to the marigold, and also to the fire-crested or golden-crested wren, the word being derived from the Latin “solsequium.” It is probably the same as the “heliotropium.” The shape and colour of the flower, resembling the disc of the sun surrounded with rays, and the fact of the flower opening at sunrise and closing at sunset, would naturally cause it to be associated with that luminary, and considered sacred to Apollo. It is not quite so easy to account for the same name being given to the fire-crested and golden-crested wren, but we know that the wren plays a considerable part in the mythology of the Aryan nations, and is one of those birds which is believed to have brought fire from heaven for the use of man.[243] The story of its outwitting the eagle, in the contest for the sovereignty among birds, and getting nearer the sun by perching on its back, may have gained for it a name, which, as we have seen, signifies “a follower of the sun.”
Portion of the Old Town House (on the left) of the de Sausmarez Family, situated where St. Paul’s Chapel now stands.
The willow-wren is known among us as “Le Ribet,” from Ri (roi), and “bet,” the form known in the province of Bearn of “bel.” Vallancey says:—“The Druids represented this as the king of birds, hence the name of this bird in all the European languages. Latin, Regulus; French, Roitelet; Welsh, Bren (or “king”); Teutonic, Konig Vogel; Dutch, Konije, etc.”
A magpie crossing one’s way is of evil augury, portending vexation, or trouble of some kind. Crows cawing much in the neighbourhood of a house is also a sign of impending trouble.[244]
When the cuckoo is heard for the first time in the year one ought to run a few steps forward in order to ensure being light for the rest of the year. If you have money in your pocket, and turn it, or shake it, it will ensure good luck, and you will not want money throughout the rest of the year.[245]
“Money should be turned in the pocket when the cuckoo is heard for the first time.”
An old woman, living at the Vale used to say:—“En Guernesi nous a coutume de dire en oyant le coucou pour la première fais:—‘Si tu ne cuers pas tu seras lourd toute l’annâie.’ Nous remue étout l’argent qu’nous peut aver dans les paoutes, en les secouant—et il y a des gens qui se mettent à genouaïx. La première fais que nous-ôt le coucou il faut mettre une grosse roque sus sa tête, arroütaïr à courre, et nou sera légier toute l’annâie.”
Editor’s Notes.
“Another version of this story is: The robin redbreast brought fire to the Island, and by so doing burnt his breast, as he had been carrying a lighted torch in his beak. When he arrived with his breast-feathers burnt and raw and red, all the other birds were so sorry for him that they each gave him a feather, except the owl, who would not, so that is why he no longer dares show his face by day.”—Told me in 1896 by the late Miss Annie Chepmell, who had heard it from an old servant.
“Quand la rouge-gorge alla chercher l’ feu, ses plumes furent toutes brulées, alors les oiseaux en eurent pitié et ils résolurent de lui donner chacun une plume pour la réhabiller. Seul le chat-huant, oiseau orgueilleux et peu compatissant, refusa. C’est pour cela que, lorsqu’il se montre au jour, tous les petits oiseaux crient après lui, et la rouge-gorge en particulier, qui, par son cri, lui reproche son orgeuil.”—Traditions et Superstitions de la Haute Bretagne, Tome II., p. 201.
(See Notes and Queries, 4th Series, Vol. III., 1869.)
It is thought lucky to shake one’s pockets and run a few steps, the first time one hears the cuckoo sing. The following lines are also repeated by some, and the number of times the cuckoo utters his note is taken as an answer to the question.
I remember when I was a child, my aunt, Miss de Sausmarez, making me remark how chickens, when they drink, lift up their heads at every sip, and telling me that they did so to thank God.[248]
The bone of the cuttle fish, which is found at times thrown up on the beach, is called in Guernsey “Pépie.” It is supposed to possess the quality of healing the “pip” in chickens, also known as “la pépie.”
A stye in the eye is called in Guernsey “un laurier,” and is to be cured by bathing the eye with an infusion of laurel leaves or “lauriers.”
If a fisherman, on setting out, sees a humble bee flying in the same direction as he is going, he considers it a good omen, and that he is sure of a plentiful catch. If, however, the insect meets him, it is quite the reverse. The ill-luck, however, may be averted by spitting thrice over the left shoulder. Omens of good or bad luck are also derived from sea-birds. All depends on whether a gull or a cormorant is seen first, as, if a cormorant, no fish is to be expected that day. All fishermen also know how unlucky it is to count one’s fish until the catch has been landed, as, however freely they may be biting, counting them would inevitably stop all sport for the day.[249]
If a pair of bellows is put on a table, some great misfortune is sure to happen in the household.[250]
Richard Ferguson, fisherman, of the Salerie, tells me that there is a great objection against taking currant cake with them when they go a-fishing, it is sure to bring bad luck.
Editor’s Note.
The following scraps of Folk-Lore I have gathered from old people in St. Martin’s parish, in the years 1897-99.
The Man in the Moon.
“J’ai ouï dire à ma gran’mère i’y a be’tôt chinquante ans qu’l’bouan homme que nou veit dans la lune enlevit un fagot de bouais le Dimanche, et pour chut fait le Bon Gyu le condamnit à s’en allair dans la lune jusqu’au Jour du Jugement. V’la l’histouaire de chut poure Mâbet que non vait si souvent perqui là-haut.”—From Mrs. Le Patourel.
A robin flying to the window or in the house is a sign of death. Crows flocking together and cawing over the house are most unlucky. To go out and meet three crows or three magpies means good luck, all other numbers mean misfortune.
None should ever cut their finger nails on either a Sunday or a Friday if they wish to prosper. A baby’s first nails should never be cut, but bitten.
On being given a present of scissors or a knife, a double[251] should always be given in exchange. Parsley should never be taken as a gift, but it is very lucky to steal some (!).
No berried plants such as ivy, etc., should be brought into the house before Christmas, and it is especially unlucky if, when they are brought in, they are allowed to touch the mantel shelf. May should never be brought into a house, and many people, especially in Alderney, consider that to bring in furze or gorse means to introduce sorrow.
Should an unmarried woman go in and out of a house through a window which is not destined as a means of entrance or exit, she will never marry.
An umbrella should never be opened in a house, or placed upon a table, quarrelling and strife are sure to follow.
It is supposed to be very unlucky when going out of the house, if the first person you meet is a woman. Never pass her if you can avoid it, but stand still and let her pass you.
To keep witches from entering a stable and molesting the cattle a piece of naturally pierced flint-stone should be tied to the key of the stable door. On going down to a beach it is considered lucky to pick up a small stone and bring it away with you. Never give away money with a hole in it.
If you think you are bewitched or that any one has a spite against you, throw a lump of salt on the fire, and as it burns blue the spite will evaporate.
Fanny Ingrouille, of the Forest parish, from whom the foregoing was obtained, also repeated the following formula, which apparently was a programme for the week of a Guernsey country girl.
[251] The smallest local coin, value one-eighth of a penny.
[252] “Martin” and “Mauger” are two of the most widely spread of the country names.
Alderney = Vâques (Cows).
Sark = Corbins (Crows).
Jersey = Crapauds (Toads).
Guernsey = Anes (Donkeys).
St. Pierre Port = Les Cllichards (See Métivier’s Dictionnaire, p. 134.)
St. Samson = Raïnes (Frogs.)
Le Valle = Ann’tons (Cockchafers.)
Le Catel = Le Câtelain est un âne-pur-sang.
St. Sauveur = Fouarmillons (Ant lions.)
St. Pierre-du-Bois = Equerbots (Beetles).
Torteval = Anes à pid de ch’vâ (Asses with horses’ feet.)
La Forêt = Bourdons (Drones.)
St. Martin = Dravants (Large Ray-fish.)
St. André = Craïnchons (siftings) “Ce qui reste dans le crible.”[253]
Editor’s Note.
The following is a rhyme describing the girls of each parish, given me by the late Mr. Isaac Le Patourel, of St. Martin’s.
Les Filles des Dix Paroisses.
“They serve to be interlaced in continued speech. They serve to be recited upon occasion of themselves. They serve, if you take out the kernel of them, and make them your own.”—Lord Verulam.
No nation is without its proverbs; but while in many cases these pithy sayings are the same in all languages, and merely literal translations from one dialect to another, in other instances the idea only is present, and the words in which the proverb is expressed have little or nothing in common, as, for example, the English saying:—“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” appears in French in the far less picturesque form of “un ‘tiens’ vaut mieut que deux ‘tu l’auras’.” Sometimes, from the peculiar circumstances of the people using it, a proverb takes a local tinge, and, in so doing, may change considerably from its original wording, while continuing at the same time to convey a similar lesson. Thus the pastoral saying:—“To lose one’s sheep for a penn’orth of tar,” becomes, very naturally, among a nautical population, “to lose one’s ship, etc.”
Some few proverbs are so thoroughly local as to appear to have originated in the place where they are used.
Guernsey is not rich in proverbs properly so called; but, as might be expected among an agricultural and maritime people, weather-sayings are not uncommon. Many of these could no doubt be traced to the mother-country, Normandy, but some few may be indigenous, and the result of local observation.
We will give specimens of each class of these proverbial expressions, with such remarks as may be necessary to explain them as far as they can be explained; and, although many of them might be put into modern French, we have preferred retaining the old Norman dialect still preserved as the language of all the rural parts of the island.
Nou (on) ne va pas au jàn (àjonc) sans ses gànts.—No one goes to cut furze without gloves. If you would undertake an arduous matter, be well prepared for it.
Ch’est la coue (queue) qui est la pière (pire) à écorchier (écorcher).—It is the tail that is the hardest to flay. It is often more difficult to bring an affair to a successful end than to begin it.
Qui sent mànjue (démangeaison) se gratte.—He who itches scratches himself. Nearly equivalent to the English saying, “The cap fits.”
Quand le bouissé (boisseau) est pllein, i’ jette.—When the bushel-measure is full it runs over. The last straw breaks the camel’s back.
Building the south arm of the Town Harbour, connecting Castle Cornet with the Island.
Nécessitaï fait la vieille trottaïr.—Need will make an old woman trot.
Au broue (brouille, embarras) est le gan (gain, profit).—No exact equivalent is to be found for this proverb, but it means that profit, in some way or other, may be made where there is much doing. The English saying “No pains, no gains,” comes near it.
Pûs (plus) de broue que de travâs (travail).—More bustle than work. Much cry and little wool.
Mettre daeux guerbes (deux gerbes) en un llian (lien).—To bind up two sheaves with one wisp. To kill two birds with one stone.
Biautaï (beauté) sans bountaï (bonté), ne vaut pas vin évantaï.—Beauty, without goodness, is not worth stale wine.
L’amour hâle (tire) pûs (plus) que chent (cent) bœufs.—Love draws more than a hundred oxen.
A p’tit pourche (pourceau) grosse pânais.—The little pig gets the big parsnip. The youngest child is the most petted.
Qui paie s’acquitte; qui s’acquitte s’enrichit.—He who pays his way keeps out of debt; he who keeps out of debt gets rich. No comment is needed on this thoroughly practical proverb.
Si nou (on) lli dounne ùn peis (pois) i’ prend une faïve.—If you give him a pea, he’ll take a bean. Give him an inch, he’ll take an ell.
Ch’n’est pas ôve (avec) du vinaigre que nous (on) attrâpe des mouques (mouches).—Flies are not caught with vinegar. Nothing is to be gained by roughness.
Qui peut volaïr (voler) ùn œuf, peut volaïr ùn bœuf.—He who would steal an egg would steal an ox. Be honest in the smallest matters.
F’rine du guiablle (diable) s’en va en bran (son).—The devil’s flour turns to bran. Ill-gotten wealth never prospers.
Chàngement d’herbage est bouan (bon) pour les jânes viaux (jeunes veaux).—Change of pasture is good for young calves. Variety is necessary for the young. “Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.”
I’ ne faut pas faire le cottìn (cabane, crêche) d’vànt que le viau seit naï. (Avant que le veau ne soit né).—One must not make the crib before the calf is born. Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.
S’il ne l’a en breuf, il l’aira (l’aura) en soupe.—If he does not get it in broth, he’ll get it in soup. If he cannot obtain his end by one means, he will by another.
Apprins au ber (berceau), dure jusqu’au ver.—What is learnt in the cradle goes with one to the grave—literally “to the worm.”
La bête d’un poure (pauvre) houme (homme) mourrait pûs-à-caoup (plus tôt) que li (lui).—He would die more opportunely than a poor man’s beast, is said of a person whose death would not leave much cause for regret.
Les p’tits tchiens (chiens) out de longues coues (queux).—Is the equivalent of the French proverb, “dans les petites boîtes les bons onguents;” precious ointments are in small boxes.
Ch’est une querrue à tchiens (charrue à chiens).—It is a plough drawn by dogs, is said of any affair which is badly conducted—where those who ought to work in concert are pulling different ways, like two dogs on a leash.
Un mouisson (oiseau) à la main vaut mûx que daeux qui volent.—A bird in the hand is worth two on the wing.
Il n’y a fagot qui n’trouve sen lliàn (lien).—There is no faggot but what at last finds a band. Every Jack has his Jill; every dog has his day.
I’ n’y a fagot qui n’vaut sa lliache (liasse).—There is no faggot so bad as not to be worth a band.
Qui mange la craïme ne rend pas du burre (beurre).—He who eats his cream makes no butter. You cannot eat your cake and have it.
I’ ne vaut pas grànd burre (beurre).—He or it is not worth much butter; meaning, such an one is not worth much, the matter is not worth going to any expense about; an allusion to a worthless fish on which the butter used in cooking it is so much thrown away.
Ecoute-paret (paroi) jamais n’ot dret (n’ouit droit).—An eavesdropper never hears good.
I’ n’y a rien itaï (tel) que sé (soi) sa qu’minse (chemise) lavaïr (laver).—There is nothing like washing your own shirt. If you wish a thing well done, do it yourself. It is also used in the sense of “Wash your dirty linen at home.”
Nou (on) ne trâche (cherche) pas de la graïsse dans le nic (nid) d’ùn tchien (chien).—No one thinks of looking for fat in a dog’s kennel. Look not for qualities where they are not likely to be found, as generosity in a miser, or honesty in a thief.
Si ùn cat (chat) s’amord (s’adonne) au lard, nou ne sairait (saurait) l’en d’s’amordre.—If a cat takes a liking for bacon you can’t break her of it. It is difficult to get rid of bad habits.
P’tit à p’tit l’ouaisé (oiseau) fait sen nic (nid).—Little by little the bird builds her nest. Rome was not built in a day.
Tout neû g’nêt (neuf balai) néquie (nettoie) net.—A new broom sweeps clean.
I’ n’y a itaïls (tels) que les féniêns (fainéants) quand i’ s’y mettent.—There are none like idlers when they once set to work.
Ch’est cauches (bas, chausses) grises, et grises cauches.—This is the equivalent of the French proverb “C’est bonnet blanc, et blanc bonnet,” and the English, “Six of one, and half-a-dozen of the other.”
Ch’n’est pas les ciens (ceux) qui labourent le pûs près du fossaï (de la haie) qui sont les pûs riches.—It is not they who plough nearest the hedge who are the richest. Economy may be carried too far.
I’ s’y entend coume à ramaïr (ramer) des chaoux (choux).—He understands as much about it as about putting pea-sticks to cabbages. The meaning conveyed being: he knows nothing at all about it.
Tout chu (ce) qui vient de flot se retournera d’èbe.—All that comes with the flood will return with the ebb. Riches too rapidly acquired, or ill-gotten, will disappear as quickly as they came—nearly equivalent to the French proverb “Ce qui vient de la flûte s’en va par le tambour.”
Si l’houme aïme autre mûx que sé (mieux que soi) au moulìn i’ mourra de set (soif).—If a man loves others more than himself, he will die of thirst even were he in a mill. The mill spoken of in this selfish proverb, which is equivalent to “Look after number one,” is, of course, a water-mill.
Biauture (beau-temps, beauté) d’hiver; santaï (santé) de vieil homme; parole de gentilhomme; ne t’y fie, homme!—A fine day in winter, the health of an old man, the word of a nobleman; trust to none of these, O man! The marked distinction of “noble” and “rôturier,” if such ever existed in Guernsey, died out many centuries ago; and this proverb has all the appearance of an importation from Normandy, or some other part of France, where the peasantry were oppressed by the feudal system. The word “biauture” does not belong to the Guernsey dialect, and when the saying is quoted in the present, it is generally with reference to the two first clauses.
Un tchien (chien) vaut bien p’tit qui ne vaut pas ùn caoup de sufflet (coup de sifflet).—A dog that is not worth whistling for is not worth much.
Les grands diseurs sont de p’tits faiseurs.—Great talkers are little doers.
Où ’est qu’il y a du crottin, il y a du lapìn.—Where you see their droppings, you may expect to find rabbits. Used both literally and metaphorically. There is no smoke without fire.
Il y a terjoûs (toujours) un épi qui mànque à la guerbe (gerbe).—There is always a spike of corn lacking in the sheaf. Nothing is ever perfect.
I’ n’y a bouais (bois) dont non (on) n’fait buche.—There is no wood but what will serve for firing, meaning that everything can be put to some use or other; but the latter half of the proverb is sometimes varied to “dont i’ n’ fait buche,” and it is then equivalent to the English saying “All is fish that comes to his net.”
Va où tu peux, meurs où tu deis (dois).—Go where you can, die where you must. Dispose of your life as you please, death is inevitable.
Il est niais coume Dadais qui se couachait (couchait) dans l’iaue (eau) d’paeur (peur) d’être mouailli (mouillé).—He is as foolish as Dadais who lay down in the water to avoid getting wet in a shower.
Il est niais coume Dadais qui tâte l’iaue pour vée (voir) s’a bouit (bout).—He is as stupid as Dadais who puts his hand into the water to feel if it is boiling.
Il est pûs (plus) niais que Dadais qui se fouittait de crêpes.[256]—He is more simple than Dadais who flogged himself with pancakes. The word “Dadais” is used in the sense of simpleton. In the three sayings that we have just quoted “Dadais” bears a strong family resemblance to the “Simple Simons” and “Silly Billies” of English nursery tales.
Ch’tait du temps du Rouai (Roi) Jehan. Ch’était du temps des Scots.—Are used in speaking of events which took place beyond the memory of man. It is easy to understand how the reign of King John came to form an epoch in the history of Guernsey; for it was then that the connexion with the mother-country, Normandy, was severed, and the islands, until then part and parcel of that Duchy, became attached to the Crown of England, and have so continued ever since. But it is not so easy to say when or how the latter saying originated. It may refer to an invasion of the island by David Bruce, about the tenth year of Edward III., (A.D. 1336); when great atrocities appear to have been committed on the inhabitants; but some old people seem to think—and probably with reason—that the “Scots” were a Scotch regiment sent here in the early part of last century on a fear of hostilities breaking out between England and France. It is right, however, to notice that in the Guernsey dialect “Ecossais” and not “Scots” is used to designate Scotchmen.
I’ mànge coum’ un varou.—He eats like an ogre, is the exact English equivalent of this saying; but there are few who use the saying who could say what is meant by “un varou.” It is, undoubtedly, the same as the French “loup-garou” in English—a were-wolf; and may have reference to the old superstition of men and women being turned into wolves.
I’ s’en est allaï (allé) les pids (pieds) d’vànt.—He has gone feet foremost. He has been carried to his grave.
Il a étaï enterraï la tête ès tchiens (aux chiens) dehors.—Is used in the same sense as “being buried like a dog.”
Il a tête et bounet (bonnet).—He has a head, yea, and a cap, is said of an opinionated man.
I’ n’en reste ni tchiesse (cuisse) ni aïle.—There neither remains leg nor wing. All is lost, nothing remains.
I’ quient (tient) d’la chouque (souche).—He’s a chip of the old block.
I’ fait rille (raie) de gras.—He is making a streak of fat, is said of a man who is prospering in his affairs, in allusion to a pig that is being fattened.
I’ peut mànger sa gâche (galette) dorâïe (beurrée) des daeux bords (des deux côtés).—He can eat his cake buttered on both sides. He is rich enough not to be obliged to spare himself any indulgence.
I’ mànge sa dorâie (tranche de pain beurré) grajie (grattée).—He spares the butter on his bread, either from poverty or from avarice. It is “bread and scrape.”
I’ prend les cauches (chausses, bas,) pour les sôlers (souliers).—He mistakes the stockings for the shoes. He is a blunderer who does not know one thing from another.
Il a paeux (peur) des p’tits sôlers (souliers).—He is afraid of the little shoes, is said of a man who is unwilling to enter into the estate of matrimony for fear of the additional expenses that it will entail—shoes for the children being a considerable item in the disbursements of a poor family.
I’ n’en prend ni compte ni taille.—He takes no account nor tally. He lets matters take their course.
V’là une fière perruque à débouquèr (démêler).—There’s a fine wig to comb out! Is said of an affair which is almost hopelessly involved.
Il a fait pertus (pertuis, trou) sous l’iaue (eau).—He has made a hole in the water. He has disappeared furtively. Compare with the French saying “Il a fait un trou à la lune.”
I’ vêt (voit) sept lieues dans la brune.—He sees seven leagues through the fog, is said derisively of a man who boasts of being more clearsighted than his neighbours.
Il est montaï (monté) sur ses pontificaux.—He is in his pontificals, is equivalent to the English saying “He is riding the high horse,”—asserting his dignity when there is no need to do so.
Ch’est le bouâine (borgne) qui mène l’aveuglle.—The one-eyed man is leading the blind man.
Nou (on) ne saït pouit (point) où il puche (puise).—One knows not what well he draws from, is said of a man who manages to get on without any very visible means of existence.
Trop de cuisiniers gâtent la soupe.—Too many cooks spoil the broth.
I’ n’y a pas de rue sàns but.—There is no road but has an ending. Equivalent to “It is a long lane that has no turning.”
S’il y avait un démarieur, il airait (aurait) pûs (plus) à faire que tous les marieurs.—If there were an “un-marryer” he would have more work to do than all the “marryers.”
Ce n’est pas tout que les chaous, faut de la graîsse à les cuire.—Cabbages alone are not sufficient, one must have grease to cook them with. Generally applied to “parvenus,” who have money but no manners.
Nou’ n’engraisse pouit les p’tits cochons d’iau fine.—Little pigs are not fattened by pure water.
Vieille pie a plus d’un pertus à son nic (nid).—An old magpie has more than one hole in her nest. Said of a man who is skilful at evasion.
T’as acouare les jaunes talons.—You have still got yellow heels, is said to youngsters who are too presuming in giving their opinion in the presence of their elders. Compare the French “blanc-bec” and “béjaune.”
Ch’est la vermeïne (vermine) qui mànge (mange) l’tâs (le tas).—It is the vermin that eats up the stack. Said of a father who has a large family of children drawing upon him and eating up all his savings.
[256] Editor’s Note.—The version I have heard of this proverb is: “Il est niais coume Dadais qui se fouittait de crêpes et tout-le-temps mourait de faim.”
There are certain popular sayings which contain a comparison, and which, although in a strict sense they cannot be called proverbs, may yet be classed with them. Some of these contain words which have become obsolete, or, at least, antiquated. “Vier (vieux) comme suée” equivalent to “As old as the hills,” may be quoted as an example, for not only is the word “suée” obsolete, but its very meaning is forgotten and unknown. Mr. George Métivier, a learned philologist, author of the Dictionnaire Franco-Normand, ou Recueil des Mots particuliers au Dialecte de Guernesey, is inclined to refer it to the old French suée signifying sueur, sweat, used in the sense of labour. The conjecture is ingenious, but not quite satisfactory.
I’ s’est maniaï (manié) coume un albroche.—He has conducted himself like a boor. Roquefort in his “Glossaire de la Langue Romane” explains the word Allobroge as “un homme grossier, un rustre, etc.,” and gives Adlobrius, Allobrox, as the Latin forms. According to Ducange, these words signify a citizen or native of Gaul. The Allobroges, however, in the time of the Roman Empire, were the tribes inhabiting Savoy and Piedmont.
I’ bét (boit) coume ùn alputre.—Is used in the sense of “He drinks like a fish,” but why the alputre,—rockling, or sea-loach,—should be singled out among fishes for bibulous propensities, it is impossible to guess.
I’ plleut coume cis (chez) Pierre de Garis.—Is used in the sense of “raining cats and dogs.” A certain Pierre de Garis, a merchant of Bayonne, in the time when Aquitaine was governed by English Princes, was appointed to the responsible office of Bailiff of Guernsey, about the year 1325.[257] In all probability he derived his name from a small town called Garis, about half-way between Bayonne and St. Jean-de-Luz. He became the founder of a family of importance, not only in Guernsey, but also in the neighbouring island of Jersey, and of which there are still numerous descendants. It is not very likely that the saying dates so far back as the fourteenth century, although it has no doubt a very respectable antiquity. We can only conjecture that it must have derived its origin from some well-known Pierre de Garis of indolent or miserly habits, who allowed the roof of his dwelling to fall into decay and let in the rain, and so became a by-word with his neighbours.
Ill’ y en a assaï (assez) pour tous les Tostevins.—There is enough for all the Tostevins—is said when there is an abundance of anything—enough and to spare. The name is extremely common in the western parishes of Guernsey, especially in St. Pierre-du-Bois and Torteval, where many of those who bear it are stone-masons who walk every day into town—a distance of five or six miles—to their work. Perhaps the good appetite they acquire in so long a walk may have had something to do in originating the saying.
Jaune coume q’zette.—As yellow as a daffodil, is equivalent to the English saying “As yellow as crow’s foot.” It is sometimes varied to “jaune coume du murlu,” this last word being the local name of the corn-marigold and the ox-eye daisy.
Vert coume ache.—As green as smallage—a herb closely allied to celery and parsley, and, like them, intensely green—is used where we should say in English “As green as grass.”
Chièr (cher) coume paivre (poivre).—As dear as pepper, is a comparison which must have originated when this useful condiment, now within the reach of the poorest, was a luxury brought from far and obtainable only by the rich. Quit-rents payable in pepper were not unknown in the middle-ages; and in the Extente, or account of the revenues and obligations of the Crown in Guernsey, drawn up in the fifth year of the reign of King Edward III., A.D. 1331, there is an item of a quarter of a pound of pepper to be paid annually at Michaelmas, by a tenant of lands situated in the parish of St. Martin’s. The money payment for which this rent was commuted at that time was twelve deniers tournois, which would make the value of a pound four sols tournois, no inconsiderable sum in those days.
I’ chànte coume ùn orateur.—He sings like an orator. A loud voice is certainly desirable in one who attempts to speak in public. Our countrymen seem to consider it equally necessary and admirable in a singer.
Orguillaeux (orgueilleux) coume ùn pouâis (pou) sûs v’louss (velours).—As proud as that insect which Shakespeare calls “a familiar beast to man” may be supposed to feel when it finds itself on velvet.
Caûd (chaud) coume braïze.—As hot as embers, needs no explanation.
Ch’est coume un bourdon dans une canne.—It is like a humble bee in a can—is said of a droning monotonous style of preaching or speaking.
Ch’est coume les prières de Jacques Ozanne qui n’ont pas de fin.—It is like James Ozanne’s prayers which never come to an end. This is said of any matter which is prolonged to an unreasonable extent; but nothing seems now to be known of the individual whose lengthy supplications gave rise to the saying.
T’es coume Jean Le Tocq.—You are like Jean Le Tocq. This is addressed to a man who is seen abroad at an earlier hour than usual, and contains an allusion to two lines in the old Guernsey ballad of the invasion of the island by Evan of Wales in 1373, where it is said:—