One of the earliest forms of idolatry is undoubtedly that which was paid to rude stone pillars. These, whether erected for the purpose of marking the last resting place of some renowned patriarch or warrior, or set up with the design of indicating a spot specially appropriated to religious rites, or perhaps, simply as a boundary or landmark, came to be regarded, at first, as sacred, and in process of time, as a symbol of the Deity himself. Gradually any elevated rock, and especially if it presented a striking and unusual appearance, was looked upon with veneration. We find that this was particularly the case in the north of Europe, and that the hardy mariners who navigate the tempestuous seas of Scandinavia, are, even now, in the habit of paying a sort of superstitious respect to the lofty “stacks,” as the isolated masses of rock are called, which form the extremity of many of the headlands, and that, in passing, they salute them, and throw old clothes, or a little food, or a drop of spirits, into the sea, as a sort of propitiatory offering. It is strange to find that the same custom still exists in Guernsey, notwithstanding that a thousand years or more have elapsed since the Northmen first invaded these shores.
“Le Petit Bonhomme Andrelot, ou Andriou.”
Everyone who has visited Guernsey must know the lovely bay of Moulin Huet,[67] and the remarkable group of rocks, which stretches out into the sea at its eastern extremity beyond the point of Jerbourg. These rocks are called “Les Tas de Pois d’Amont,” or “The Pea-Stacks of the East.” There being a chain of rocks off Pleinmont which are called the “Tas de Pois d’Aval”—the westerly Pea-Stacks—“Amont” (meaning “en haut”) is the Guernsey word for east, aval meaning “en bas,” their word for west.[68]
Each rock composing the Tas de Pois d’Amont has its own special name. They are “Le Petit Aiguillon,” “Le Gros Aiguillon,” “L’Aiguillon d’Andrelot,” ou “du Petit Bon-Homme.”
The united and increasing action of the winds and waves has worn the hard granite rock into the most fantastic forms, and from certain points of view it is not difficult to invest some of these masses of stone with a fancied resemblance to the human form. One of them in particular, when seen at a certain distance, has all the appearance of an aged man enveloped in the gown and cowl of a monk.
So singular a freak of nature has not escaped the attention of the peasantry, and the rock in question is pointed out by the name of “Le Petit Bon-Homme Andriou.” The children in the neighbourhood have a rhymed saying:
which may be translated
and the fishermen and pilots who frequent these parts of the coast show their respect by taking off their hats when passing the point, and are careful to insist on the observance being complied with by any stranger who may chance to be in their company. Formerly it was not unusual with them, before setting sail, to offer a biscuit or a libation of wine or cider to “Le Bon Homme,” and, if an old garment past use chanced to be in the boat, this was also cast into the sea.[69]
There are other rocks on the coast which the fishermen are in the habit of saluting without being able to give any reason why they do so; and it is not impossible that the honour paid to the little island of Lihou,[70] on the western coast of Guernsey, by the small craft, in lowering their topmasts while passing, may have originated in the same superstition, although it is generally supposed that they do it out of reverence to the Blessed Virgin, the ruins of whose Chapel and Priory are still to be seen on the isle. The circumnavigation of a certain rock by the fishermen of the parish of St. John, in Jersey, on Midsummer Day, may, perhaps, be traceable to the same source.
[67] Editor’s Note.—“Moulin Luet,” according to Mr. Métivier—“Vier Port”—still in the mouths of the old country people.
[69] Editor’s Notes.
There are several legends still repeated by the country people about “Le Petit Bon Homme Andriou.”
One is that he was a man searching for hidden treasure among the rocks of the Tas de Pois and that the guardian spirit of the treasure appeared and turned him into stone for his sacrilege.—Collected by Mr. J. Linwood Pitts, of the Guille-Allès Library.
Another is that he was an old Arch-Druid, the last of the Druids to hold out against Christianity. Miserable at his brethren’s apostacy from the faith of their fathers, he went to live in a cave at the end of Jerbourg Point. His favourite occupation was standing on the rocks of the Tas de Pois and gazing out to sea, for he was passionately fond of the sea and sailors. One day, during a violent gale, he saw a ship in great distress out at sea, so he prayed to his gods to stop the storm and save the ship. They took no notice of his prayers, the storm still raged, and the ship was driven nearer and nearer to the dangerous rocks on which he stood. Then, in desperation, he prayed to the God of the Christians, and vowed that if only the ship were saved he would turn Christian and dedicate a Chapel to the Blessed Virgin. As he prayed, the gale ceased, and the ship made its way safely to the harbour. And Andrillot, after being baptised as a Christian, dedicated a Chapel; some say it is the one of which the ruins on Lihou Island can still be seen, which is dedicated to “Notre Dame de la Roche;” others say it was the Chapel, long since destroyed, which was on the Fief Blanchelande in St. Martin’s parish, and which is believed to have stood where the parish school now stands.
Be that as it may, that little figure standing, looking out to sea, petrified there that he may yet bring good luck and fine weather to his beloved sailors, is still looked upon by them with fond reverence, and they still throw him in passing their drop of spirits, or doff their flag, for luck.—From Mr. Isaac Le Patourel and others.
“L’Bouan Homme Andriou,” as correctly printed in Gray’s map. This is a petrified Druid, or rather Arch-Druid,—An An Drio—the Primate of the Unelli, and now the guardian of Moulin Huet and Saints’ Bays, Guernsey; for, according to Rowland, our ancestors called that mighty Prelate thus, and Toland in his Celtic Religion, p. 60, says “The present ignorant vulgar believes that these enchanters the Druids were at least themselves enchanted by the still greater enchanter Patrick and his disciples, who miraculously confined them to the places that bear their names. And let me not be thought over minutious should I notice the peculiar propriety of the epithet applied by rural tradition to this most reverend rock of ours—“Le Bouan Homme,”—“bon homme” in France, and “good man” in England, still denoting a Priest two centuries ago, particularly a priest of the old régime.”—From Mr. Métivier.
“La Belle Lizabeau.”
Another instance of a traditionally petrified human being is a rock off the Creux Mahié, standing straight out into the water. It is called “La Belle Lizabeau,” and a little rock at the foot of it is called “La Petite Lizabeau.” It is said that “Lizabeau” was a beautiful girl of Torteval, who was turned out of the house with her baby by her infuriated father. Mad with despair she rushed to the cliffs and leapt into the sea with her baby in her arms, and she and her child were turned into the rocks which now stand there.—From Dan Mauger, an old fisherman of St. Martin’s Parish.
La Roque Màngi was a natural granite formation having a very artificial aspect. It stood on one of those sandy downs which extend along the north-west coast between “Le Grand Havre” and “Les Grand’ Rocques,” and consisted of a slender upright mass of rock of from eight to ten feet in height, surmounted by a large stone, projecting about half a foot on every side, resting on the narrowest part of the supporting stone, and looking at a little distance like a petrified giant. It was destroyed by the proprietor of the land about the middle of the present century in the hopes of finding below it a profitable quarry of granite, in which, however, he was disappointed.
Of this rock a curious legend was related by the neighbouring peasants. It was said that the Devil, having quarrelled one day with his wife, tied her by the hair of her head to the upright stone, and that, in her frantic efforts to disengage herself by running round and round, she wore away the solid granite to the narrow neck which supported the superincumbent head.[71]
The origin of the name seems doubtful, some tracing it to a family of the name of Maingy, who possessed land in the parish in which the rock was situated. Others, with more probability, attributing it to the “eaten”—“mangé”—(in the local dialect “màngi”) appearance of the stones, where the upper one or head joined the supporting upright.
This was also called “La Chaire au Prêtre,” and was situated in the district of the Hamelins, a little to the north of the property known as St. Clair. It was a very regularly formed natural obelisk of about eight to ten feet in height, rising from the summit of one of those hillocks, or “hougues” as they are locally called, which, before the great granite industry took its rise, abounded in St. Sampson’s and the Vale parishes, and along the whole western coast. At the foot of the upright rock was a large flat stone, giving the whole mass the appearance of a gigantic chair or pulpit. Seven stone hatchets have been unearthed in its vicinity. It was evidently used by the Druids as one of their sacred chairs, in which their Pontiffs sat to instruct the people. It is probable that towards the end of the seventh century, St. Bonit, Bishop of Auvergne, who was known to have been a great traveller, visited the land previously converted by St. Samson, St. Magloire, St. Paterne, and St. Marcouf, and sat and preached to the people in this erst-while Druid’s throne, which henceforth bore his name.
This very singular name is given to a picturesque mass of rock which forms the termination of a hill in the parish of Ste. Marie du Castel, and abuts on the road leading from the village of Les Grands Moulins—better known as The King’s Mills—to Le Mont Saint. Mr. Métivier gives as his explanation of this name that all this region—from the Mont-au-Nouvel (now called Delancey Hill) to the Castiau Roc—was the centre of the Druids and their observances. “The Eagle,” “The Cock,” “The Partridge,” “The Curlew,” were the names of various degrees in Theology[72] among the Druids and among the western sun worshippers. This “Coq” was the Prophet, the “Magician,” of the Canton. The Arch-Magician of the King of Babylon was Nergal or “Le Coq.” It is said to be a very favourite haunt of the fairies and witches, and it is commonly reported that an immense treasure lies concealed within it. In olden days it was the fashion to walk round it, stamping at the same time, the soil resounded under their feet, they heard, or thought they heard, the monotonous sound of a bell, tolling a far-away knell, and hence the belief of a subterranean fairy cavern and hoards of concealed treasure.[73]
Editor’s Note.—In Traditions et Superstitions de la Haute Bretagne, Tome I., p. 38, M. Paul Sebillot says:—“Presque tous les monuments préhistoriques passent pour renfermer des trésors, il en est de même des gros blocs erratiques qui se trouvent dans les champs ou sur les landes.”
Old people say that there was formerly a very large stone in St. Andrew’s parish on which was engraven an inscription in ancient characters. Some men who passed it every day in going to their work at last succeeded in deciphering it, and read as follows:—
This inscription roused their curiosity, and they determined on making a strong effort to raise the stone, fully persuaded that it concealed an enormous treasure. They procured crowbars and levers, and, at last, with much labour and great loss of time, succeeded in lifting it, but who can describe their disappointment when they found nought but the following words, legibly engraved on the other side:—
A little inland, about halfway between the points of land which are the northern and southern extremities of the picturesque bay of Rocquaine, there is a rocky hillock known generally by the name of “Le Câtillon,” probably from some small castle or fortification which may have existed there in former days. Old people say that the true name of the hill is “La Hougue ès Brinches,” from the broom which once grew there in large quantities. At the foot of this hillock, on the northern side, there is a flat stone imbedded in the earth, and on it are the marks of two feet, pointing in opposite directions, as if two persons coming, one from the north, and the other from the south, had met on this spot and left the impress of their footprints on the stone. Of course a story is not wanting to account for these marks. It is said that the Lady of Lihou and the Lady of St. Brioc (or some say the Abbess of La Haye du Puits) had a dispute as to the limits of their territorial possessions, and that, in order to settle the question, they agreed to leave their respective abodes at a certain hour before breakfast, and walk straight forward until they met. The spot where the meeting took place was to be henceforth considered as the boundary, and to avoid any further disputes a lasting memorial was to be placed on the spot.
If the country people are asked who these “Ladies” were, they can give no further information about them, but they evidently consider them to have belonged to the fairy-folk, who have left behind them so many traces of their former occupation of the island. Antiquaries are disposed to look upon the stone as having been placed there to mark the boundary line between the Priories of Notre Dame de Lihou and St. Brioc.
Another story of this rock is that at Pleinmont lived a hermit who was much respected by all the island, and many people came to visit him in his cell, which he never left, except to administer the Holy Sacrament to the dying. He used to be seen kneeling for hours at the foot of a cross upon the cliff; but one night a fisherman, anchored in Rocquaine Bay, saw by the moon’s light this hermit cross the sands and meet a tiny shrouded figure which came from the direction of Lihou. They met on this rock, and stood talking there for some time, and then each returned the way he came, and in the morning, when the fisherman came to examine the place, he found the print of two feet. He could not make himself believed when he told the story, until it was discovered that the hermit had disappeared, never to be seen again.[75]
In the year 1829 a large quantity of coins, amounting, it is said, to nearly seven hundred in number, were dug up at no very great distance from this stone. The greater part were silver pennies, but there were a few copper pieces among them; they were of the reigns of Edward II. of England, and Philip IV. of France. The discovery of this treasure induced some men who lived in the neighbourhood to seek for more, and, under the firm persuasion that the most likely spot to find it was under the stone itself, they resolved on braving the danger which is supposed to be incurred by removing stones which have been placed by the fairies, and devoted a whole morning to clearing away the ground around it with a view to lifting it. They had, with great labour, succeeded in loosening the stone just as the sun in its zenith marked the hour of noon, an hour when all good workmen cease from their toil to eat their frugal mid-day repast, and to enjoy their siesta under the shelter of a hedge. They felt sure of success, and probably dreamt of the uses to which they would put their treasure, but, alas, for their hopes. When they returned to their work at one o’clock, they found the stone as firmly fixed as ever, and resisting their utmost efforts to remove it. They were more convinced than ever that immense riches lie buried in this spot, but that it is useless to seek for them, and none since that time have been bold enough to renew the attempt.[76]
In the Vale parish there is a large tract of uncultivated land commonly known by the name of L’Ancresse Common. It is said to owe its name of L’Ancresse—the anchoring place—to the circumstance of the neighbouring bay having afforded a refuge to Robert the First, Duke of Normandy, and his fleet, when in danger of perishing in a violent tempest. Our learned antiquary, Mr. George Métivier, is rather disposed to derive the name from the Celtic “Lancreis,” “the place of the circle,” so many Druidical remains being still to be found on the common as to render it highly probable that one of those circular enclosures, formed of upright stones, in which the Druids are supposed to have held their sacred assemblies, formerly existed here. Along the sea-coast are many eminences, known locally by the name of “hougues.” Their height is not great, but they form picturesque objects in the landscape. Here and there large masses of grey granite covered with lichens rise in irregular forms above the green sward, gay in spring with the bright flowers of the furze and bluebell, and redolent with the sweet perfume of the wild thyme and chamomile. In some of these rocks may be traced those curious excavations known by the name of rock basins, which antiquaries have considered as artificial, but which geologists are ready to prove to be the work of nature.
Of late years many of these hougues have been quarried for the sake of the stone, which is preferred in London to all others for paving purposes, and if the demand should continue many of these hills will be entirely levelled, and with them will disappear some of the most characteristic features in the scenery of that part of the island. While writing (1853), La Hougue Patris is advertised for sale, and stress is laid in the advertisement on the excellent quality of the stone which it contains. This hougue is situated on the north eastern extremity of L’Ancresse Bay, and is remarkable from the circumstance that a portion of the rock, where it appears above ground, bears marks precisely similar to those which would be left by the hoof of an ox on wet clay. So remarkable an appearance has of course attracted the attention of the neighbouring peasants, who call the rock which bears the impression “Le Pied du Bœuf.” Some old people relate that the Devil, after having been driven from the other parts of the island by a Saint whose name is now forgotten, made a last stand on this spot, but that, after a long and desperate conflict, his Satanic Majesty was at last constrained to take flight. In leaping, he left the marks of his hoofs imprinted on the stone. He directed his flight towards Alderney, but on his way thither alighted on the Brayes rocks, where, it is said, similar marks of cloven feet are to be seen. Whether he got beyond Alderney, or settled down quietly in that island, is a point on which the narrators of the tradition are by no means agreed.
Did we not know that a family of the name of Patris was formerly numerous in the Vale parish,[77] and that there is every probability that the Hougue derived its name from some member of that family, to whom, in ancient days, it may have belonged; we might be tempted to suppose that the valiant Saint who forced the demon to fly was no other than the renowned St. Patrick himself, especially as, according to some accounts, the Saint was a native of a village in the neighbourhood of the town of St Maloes, within eight or ten hours of this island.
It is true that, with all the self-conceit of the nineteenth century, we are apt to suppose that before the establishment of packets and steamers, communication between the opposite coasts of the Channel was difficult and infrequent, but we have only to open the lives of the British and Irish Saints to see with what ease and rapidity these holy men effected the voyage, with no other conveyance than a stone trough, a bundle of sea-weed, or perchance a cloak spread out on the boisterous waves.
[77] Editor’s Note.—The Patris were also a family of note in the parish of St. Martin’s in the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries; a “Ville ès Patrys” was among the numerous subdivisions of this parish. Much of their lands passed into the hands of the Bonamy family through the marriage of Marguerite Patris, daughter of Pierrot Patris, of Les Landes and St. Martin’s, to Pierre Bonamy, father of John Bonamy, King’s Procureur in 1495, builder of the old Bonamy house of Les Câches, and translator of the “Extente” from Latin into French in 1498.
“The Devil’s Claw” at Jerbourg.
As the inhabitants of Guernsey may be presumed to be acquainted with the Chronicles of their own Duchy of Normandy, it is not improbable that the following legendary tale, related of Duke Richard, surnamed Sans-Peur, may be known to some of them.
The Chronique de Normandie, printed at Rouen in 1576, gives it in words of which the following is a close translation. (Fol. 4. Sur l’an 797). “Once upon a time, as Duke Richard was riding from one of his Castles to a Manor, where a very beautiful lady was residing, the Devil attacked him, and Richard fought with and vanquished him. After this adventure the Devil disguised himself as a beautiful maiden, richly adorned,[78] and appeared to him in a boat at Granville, where Richard then was. Richard entered into the boat to converse with and contemplate the beauty of this lady, and the Devil carried away the said Duke Richard to a rock in the sea in the island of Guernsey, where he was found.”
He is supposed to have anchored at La Petite Porte and leapt up the cliff and landed on the stone near Doyle’s Column at Jerbourg, where the print of his claw is still to be seen. As you go along the road from the town to Doyle’s Column you see a large white piece of quartz with a deep black splash right across it. It is on the right hand side of the road, just as it begins to rise towards Doyle’s Column, at the head of the second vallum, or dyke, going down towards La Petite Porte. This stone was also the termination of the bounds at Jerbourg beaten by the Chevauchée de St. Michel.
In former days that tract of land lying between St. Sampson’s Harbour and the Vale Church, and known by the name of “Le Braye du Valle,” was an arm of the sea, which at high water separated that part of the Vale parish called “Le Clos du Valle” from the rest of the island. At the beginning of the present century, Sir John Doyle, then Lieut.-Governor of the island, seeing the inconvenience that might arise from the want of a ready communication with the mainland, in the event of an invading enemy effecting or attempting a landing in L’Ancresse Bay, caused the dyke near the Vale Church to be built. The land recovered from the sea became of course the property of the Crown, and was subsequently sold to private individuals, the purchase money being given up by Government to be employed towards defraying the expenses of constructing new roads throughout the island.
Where fishes once swam, and where the husbandman once gathered sea-weed for the manuring of his land, droves of cattle now graze, and fields of corn wave.[79] From the very earliest times, the want of an easy communication between the neighbouring parishes must have been felt, and attempts had been made to remedy the inconvenience by the erection of rude bridges. It would be strange, if the Devil, whose skill in the construction of bridges in every part of Europe has certainly entitled him to the honourable appellation of Pontifex Maximus, had not had a hand in building one of the three principal passages across the Braye du Valle. Accordingly we find that the dyke at St. Sampson’s Harbour, known by the name of “Le Grand Pont,” is also called “Le Pont du Diable,” and old people affirm that it has been handed down as a tradition from their forefathers, that shortly after the building of the Vale Castle, the Devil threw up this embankment, in order to enable him to cross over to that fortress with ease and safety.
Perhaps the bridge may have been built by order of Robert the First, Duke of Normandy, father of William the Conqueror, sometimes called “Robert le Magnifique,” but quite as well known by the less honourable cognomen of “Robert le Diable,” and, if in the absence of documentary evidence, any reliance is to be placed in the tradition hitherto generally received that the Vale Castle, if not originally built, was at least considerably improved and strengthened by this Prince, it is certainly not going too far to suppose that the bridge may owe its name to him, and not to his Satanic Majesty.
One observance connected with this bridge is worth mentioning. From time immemorial persons from all parts of the island have been in the habit of assembling here on the afternoons of the Sundays in the month of August. No reason is assigned for this custom, but as Saint Sampson is looked upon as the first Apostle of Christianity in this island, and as the church which bears his name is said to have been the first Christian temple erected in the island, and is, in consequence, considered in some respects as the mother church, may not this assembly be the remains of a church-wake, observed in ancient times on the Sunday following the feast of St. Sampson, that is to say, the 28th of July.
Similar meetings are common in Normandy and Brittany, where they are called “assemblies” and “pardons.”
The two other principal passages across the Braye du Valle were the bridges called “Le Pont Colliche” and “Le Pont St. Michel.” They consisted of rude slabs of stone resting on huge blocks of rock, and were dangerous, both from the sea-weed which attached itself to them, and rendered them exceedingly slippery, and also from the rapidity with which the tide, when rising, flowed in, for both of them were covered at high water. Many and sad were the accidents which had happened to incautious and belated passengers, and it is not wonderful that superstition believed these spots to be haunted by the ghosts of those who had perished in attempting the crossing. The “Pont St. Michel,” situated near the Vale Church, where the embankment now is, was held in especial dread. At night the “feu bellenger” or will-o’-the-wisp, was to be seen dancing on the sands, and gliding under the bridge, and even at mid-day, when the sun was shining brightly, unearthly cries of distress would be occasionally heard proceeding from that direction, though no living being could be discovered, by whom they could possibly be uttered.
An old woman, still alive, whose youth was spent in that neighbourhood, has assured me that she has repeatedly heard the cries.
“Le Pont Colliche” was situated about midway between the two others, a little to the eastward of the road which now traverses the Braye. According to tradition, there was once a time when the opening at the “Bougue du Valle”—the channel between the Grand Havre and the Braye—was so small that a faggot, weighted with stone, would have sufficed to stop it.
At that time the passage between the islands of Herm and Guernsey was so narrow that a plank laid down at low water enabled the Rector of St. Sampson’s to cross over when his duty called him to perform divine service in the Chapel of St. Tugual. Great quantities of the common cockle (cardium edule), locally known by the name of “cocques du Braye,” used to be gathered on the sands at low water. It is said, however, that even before the enclosure of the Braye they had begun to disappear, and their increasing scarcity was attributed to the impiety of an old woman, who, unmindful of the sacred duty of keeping the sabbath holy, was in the habit of searching for these cockles on that day. A similar story is told to account for the rarity of a particular kind of periwinkle (trochus crassus) known here by the name of “Cocquelin Brehaut.”
A stone, which has evidently served as the socket or base of a cross, and which is said to have come from the Pont Colliche, is still preserved at Les Grandes Capelles.
[79] Editor’s Note.—Of course this was written long before the days of greenhouses and the tomato-growing industry.
The promontory of Pleinmont forms the south-western extremity of the island of Guernsey, and, to the admirer of the wild and rugged beauties of cliff and rock scenery, affords an ever-varying treat. Lofty precipices, in which the sea-birds and hawks nestle—huge masses of granite piled into fantastic forms—covered with grey and orange-coloured lichens, and gay with the flowers of the thrift and other sea-side plants, large rocks detached from the main-land and tenanted by long rows of the sun-loving cormorant, the ever-restless ocean, now smiling and rippling under a summer sky, now lashed into fury by the wintry blast, all combine to add to the charms of this district.
Many accordingly are the parties which frequent this spot during the summer, and it is probable that some of those who have visited this place may remember a small promontory almost detached from the mainland, and forming the westernmost point of the island. To the southward of this promontory there is a sort of ravine, extending from the table-land of Pleinmont to the edge of the cliff, where a small breastwork of earth and stones has been erected. The reason why this spot, which is by no means the most dangerous along the coast, has been thus protected, is not very apparent. The existence of a small spring of water in the ravine, which keeps up a constant verdure and tempts the cattle turned out to pick up a scanty living on the common to the place, suggests a probable solution of the question; but the tradition of the peasantry assigns a far more romantic reason for the erection of the parapet than the mere safety of a few stray heifers.
They say that in days long past, the son of a farmer in the neighbourhood formed an attachment for the daughter of a family with whom his own was at variance. His affection was returned by the maiden, and the wishes of the lovers might, in the end, have triumphed over the opposition of the parents, had not the hand of the girl been promised by her friends to one of the richest men in the parish. In vain did the unhappy maiden urge the cruelty of forcing her into a marriage which her heart abhorred. In vain did her lover employ every means in his power to break off the hated contract. Their prayers and representations were treated with scorn, and the preparations for the marriage were proceeded with. The eve of the day appointed for the solemn espousal—a ceremony which in ancient times preceded and was distinct from that of marriage—had arrived. The lovers met by stealth on the cliffs at Pleinmont, and, driven to despair, mounted together on a horse, which they urged into a gallop, and, directing him down the ravine, they fell over the precipice and perished in the waves below. To commemorate the event, and to prevent the recurrence of a similar catastrophe, the barrier was erected.[80]
“Les Fontaines de Mont Blicq, Forest.”
Though not strictly speaking “Folk-Lore,” the ancient priories and chapels of Guernsey are so closely connected with the holy wells that it may be as well here to give some details concerning them. It appears that these chapels must have been of more than one kind. Some were endowed, and had a priest permanently attached to them with probably a certain cure of souls. Others were most likely wayside oratories, where divine service was only performed occasionally by the rector of the parish, or someone acting under him, on certain anniversaries. Some may have been connected with religious guilds or fraternities.
To begin with those churches and chapels known to have been endowed, and which were probably—at least after the suppression of alien priories—under the patronage of the Crown.
A Commission was appointed in the reign of Henry VIII. for the purpose of ascertaining the value of all livings within the kingdom, with a view to the duty called first-fruits, owing on the appointment of every ecclesiastic to a benefice, being henceforth paid to the Crown. From this document we learn that besides the ten parochial churches there were four other benefices—the vicarage of Lihou worth five pounds sterling, that of St. Brioc worth twelve shillings, the chaplaincy of St. George worth sixty shillings, and that of “Our Lady Mares,” no doubt Notre Dame des Marais, worth three pounds.
The first of these four, Lihou, was originally a priory dependent on the Priory of St. Michel-du-Valle, which was of itself a dependency of the great Abbey of Mont St. Michel in Normandy. The Prior of Lihou had probably pastoral care of the district comprised in the Fief Lihou, extending along the coast called Perelle,[81] from L’Erée to Rocquaine Castle, where the district of St. Brioc begins. It also comprised certain possessions in the Castel parish and elsewhere, and its feudal court was held near the western porch of the Castel Church, a little northward of the path leading to it, where are still to be seen three flat stones, which mark the spot.
St. Brioc was situated in the valley leading from Torteval Church to Rocquaine. There is reason to suppose that it had a certain district allotted to it, but its limits are not now known.
St. George was only a chaplaincy, intimately connected with the Fief Le Comte, the court of which formerly assembled in the chapel, and still meets in its immediate vicinity. The earliest notice we have of this chapel is contained in the Bull of Pope Adrian IV., dated 1155. In the year following Dom Robert de Thorigny—or, as he is sometimes called, “Du Mont”—abbot of the famous monastery of Mont St. Michel, visited this island, and found one Guillaume Gavin established at St. George as chaplain: he was anxious to retire from the world, and, at his request, the abbot admitted him into his community as a monk, and appointed Godefroy Vivier to succeed him as chaplain at St. George. After some time Vivier followed the example of his predecessor, and took the frock at Mont Saint Michel, having previously made over certain lands which he possessed in the neighbourhood of St. George to the abbey which afforded him shelter.
In 1408 the chaplain was Dom Toulley, who obtained an order from the Royal Court prohibiting any one from trespassing on the road leading to the chapel, it being reserved exclusively for persons attending divine service, or sick people visiting the fountain, the small coin left as an offering at the well being doubtless a perquisite belonging to the chaplain.
This chapel was originally endowed with some lands or rents, probably with the territory still known as Le Fief de la Chapelle, which is one of the many dependencies of the Fief Le Comte.
After the Reformation St. George became in some way the property of the de Jersey family,[82] and by the marriage of Marie de Jersey, an heiress, to Jacques Guille, which took place about the middle of the seventeenth century, it passed into the possession of the latter family, by whom it is still held. This Marie de Jersey made a gift of the chapel to the inhabitants of the Castel in about 1675 to serve as a school house. A more convenient building was erected in 1736 on the site of an old mill, and endowed with nine quarters of wheat rente by Marie de Sausmarez, widow of Mr. William Le Marchant, and the chapel ceased to be used as a school house. Bickerings as to rights of way across the estate, under the pretence that there was a thoroughfare leading to a public building, ensued, even after the removal of the school; so finally Mr. Guille ordered the chapel to be demolished, and only a few ruins are now left.
The Chapel of “Our Lady Mares”—Notre Dame des Marais—is thus mentioned in the Extente of Edward III., “Nostre Sire le Roy n’a rien des vacations des eglises et chapelles, fors la Chapelle de Nostre Dame des Maresqs qui vaut XXX lbts en laquelle iceluy Roy doit présenter en tems de la vacation, et l’Evesque de Coutance en a l’institution.” The chaplain then in possession, 1331, was Robert de Hadis.[83]
The other churches and chapels were not at this time in the gift of the Crown, but belonged to alien monasteries, Marmoutiers, Mont St. Michel, and Blanchelande. The chapel itself was, there is very little doubt, situated within the precincts of Le Château des Marais, now better known as Ivy Castle, and the Livres de Perchage of the Town parish of the time of Elizabeth and James I. mention certain fields in the vicinity as belonging to it.
The Hospice and Chapel of St. Julien was situated at the bottom of the Truchot, in the district called Le Bosq, close to the sea-shore. There are many “St. Julians” in the calendar, one of them being considered the special patron of travellers. In the title of his Legende MS. Bodleian, 1596, fol. 4, he is called “St. Julian the Gode herberjoue.” It ends thus:—