This Friday is a blog in which I have transcribed a translation of an essay called "Jersey as It Is", published in 1844, as the result of a winning entry by F. Robious de La Trehonnais which won first prize in the competition of the Jersey Emulation Society.
Some items of note. The claim by St Aubin to be a major harbour was clearly a noisy one, and only the building of the Albert Pier seems to have fortified St Helier's position as dominant. It is worth noting that the Pier was originally referred to as the North Pier when its foundation stone was laid in 1847.
Trade with Newfoundland was still profitable and they came to St Aubin not St Helier at this time.
At the time of writing, the road between La Haule and St Aubin was not complete, so the omnibuses (which would have been horse-drawn) had to go up La Haule and down the old St Aubin's High Street.
The date of St Brelade's church is false, it comes from an incorrect manuscript which unfortunately made its way into all the early histories and tourist guides. J.A. Balleine notes:
The alleged date of its consecration, viz., A.D. 1111, is based on a statement contained in the "Livre Noir" of the Cathedral of Coutances in Normandy. But it is now well known that the original "Livre Noir" was stolen some years ago and that the existing book was compiled from memory by a monk of the period who had studied the original MS. very carefully, and early chapters prove that the Church existed prior to A.D. 1111. For example: a charter of Robert I, Duke of Normandy, dated A.D. 1035, "confirms the donations made to the Monastery of Montiviliers", and his son, William the Conqueror, adds thereto, "the half of the revenues derived from eight Churches in Jersey", one of which is-that of St. Brelade. As these allocations confirm previous grants, it is evident that the Churches existed at earlier date than that of the Charter of Robert 1.
Finally, he seems to have met some old lady at St Brelade who told him that the wall paintings in the Fisherman's Chapel were her work! Tourist tales were inaccurate even then, just as today, people have been told of granite coffins containing the bones of dead monks beneath the walls, which Warwick Rodwell (who excavated the site in the 1980s) confirms is a complete fabrication.
Jersey As It Is - Part 7
The harbour of St. Helier’s, though safe and spacious, is too narrow and of insufficient extent for the number of vessels required by the daily increasing commerce of the island ; but a new pier is in the process of building, and though this harbour will not perhaps possess all the desirable qualities of safety, it will, however, prove useful, and will not fail to make up in a short time for the enormous expense it will cost when finished.
When it was talked of beginning this harbour, a contest between the inhabitants of St. Helier’s and St. Aubin as to the relative merits of the two situations for the harbour was carried on with much spirit on both sides ; after serious discussion and some bitterness of feeling had expended itself in noisy meetings, the claims of St. Helier’s were declared superior, and St. Aubin retired vanquished.
Though of much less importance than St. Helier’s, St. Aubin holds the second rank in the island. Frequent communication between the two towns is established by means of omnibuses, and the small distance they have to run allows them to make many trips a day.
A new road is now making under the cliffs, beginning at la Haule. This alteration in the line of the carriages will not only be advantageous by shortening the distance, and avoiding the steep hill, which renders the entrance to St. Aubin so dangerous and toilsome, but will still add to the picturesque beauties of that road already so attractive.
Up to that place it is but a long street, nearly four miles in length, bordered on one side with houses and villas surrounded with gardens, orchards, and shadowy groves ; on the other, is the sandy beach as polished as a mirror, in which the clouds and sea-birds are reflected in their flight.
On the right, the hill, forming the rich and varied outline of the bay, rises up in some parts in a gentle slope, in others steep, and in every part displaying the most luxuriant vegetation. On the left, is the Elizabeth castle, with its old tower, its greyish ramparts, and the enormous rocks which rise on all sides as if to defend it. At length, at the entrance of the valley, appears before you the village of St. Aubin, with an air of sweet tranquillity and mysterious silence, which cannot fail to convey a pleasing impression.
Then, as a contrast to this peaceable picture, is seen the Tower, that inoffensive parody of a fortress. The harbour is large and commodious ; but, as there is no trade whatever going on, it is rare to see more than two or three vessels at the same time, except in winter, when the Newfoundland fishermen return to spend that season. There is also an excellent building-yard, where the largest vessels are constructed.
In summer, the hills that overhang the town preserve in the houses a delicious freshness ; and the tranquillity that reigns through the deserted streets makes it one of those peaceable retreats, where those whose hearts have been wounded by contact with the world and its passions, may come and live alone with their own thoughts, and with but few of the distant echoes of a society they have abandoned, to raise the partially-extinguished embers of their griefs.
The environs of the village harmonize in every point with the stamp of quietness that is so deeply impressed on this little paradise. If the visitor slowly ascends the winding alley leading to Noirmont, through the paths of the cliff, he rests on rocks carpeted with ivy; beneath his feet the rippling waves gently break among the pebbles of the creeks, and from the luxuriant canopy of verdure over his head, comes the air cool and light, and hidden birds pour forth the melody of their songs. Everything will appear to him charming and beautiful,-everything will reveal to his heart the exquisite wisdom of their Creator.
To describe this old Noirmont point, with its lonely and mysterious recesses, its green and flowery cliffs festooned with ivy, its rocks carpeted with moss, braving the waves to the level of the tides,-those line sandy coves,-that immense horizon, would be a vain attempt. Who that loves the pleasures of memory, dearer even than those of hope, would not dwell on the hours passed here, till the tears fill his eyes, and the scene rises again before him, even by his own fire-side, by his own sullen shore, when the winds howl, and sea and sky and all is desolate !
Next comes St. Brelade's-bay, which opens wide and majestic to the long waves that roll over the sands. Oh you who love Nature in its wild beauty ; you pious souls who seek solitude to muse on godly things; poets who ask for inspiration and ecstasy ; painters who love the backgrounds that wane, fading away grey and dim,-the cliffs with those rosy tints that dawn casts on them,-and trees warm with the autumnal shades they borrow from the setting sun ;-come all to St. Brelade, where you will find the object of your researches,-the solution of your doubts,-the sparkle of your genius !
In St. Brelade's-bay arose the first feeling of adoration and dependency on a holier power. The walls of the first Christian temple constructed in the island, were hid in this wilderness. How picturesque and venerable is that old church, sitting amidst the remains of so many generations!
It is impressive to think that seven centuries have passed over its walls, bearing in their simplicity so strong a proof of their high antiquity. Built on the shore, the waves beat the old wall that surrounds the enclosure, and on holy days, the distant and hollow sound of the ocean over the sandy beach, joins its deep melody to the sacred chants that arise from the temple.
With what delight I loved to wander over this solitude ; climbing the rugged rocks piled upon the hills around, and from thence overlooking the scene, viewing with one glance all the magnificence spread beneath me, and yielding all my faculties to the delight which such a contemplation created in my mind. Then that old guardian of the mausoleums, a living ruin among so many dead ones, who smiled to every tomb as to a friend, and who was ever seen sitting on the graves, silently grazing a few sheep, and turning her spindle with the undisturbed gravity of one of the Fates. How naturally she used to show visitors about her domains !
For this field of the last rest, that old church, whose date, 1111, she pointed out with her bony hand with so much pride, and the chapel es pecheurs, still older, on the wall of which she explained some remnants of rough paintings representing Herod's massacre, were all her own.
One could have said, on seeing her so crippled, so much bent under the burden of years, that she was a contemporary of all those ruins. But, alas! Where is she at present? the traveller will in vain look for her on the favourite tomb-stone where she was wont to sit: the long grass of the churchyard has long since covered the seat she so much loved : moss, no longer disturbed, has laid its green velvet over the inscription : she is no more ! The old guardian has at last taken her resting-place among the dead over whom she watched so long.
The village of St. Brelade is composed of a few cottages only, with the vicarage, and a hotel has been lately built for the accommodation of the numerous parties that come to visit it. Everywhere the same aspect of solitude and retirement. The steep hills forming the bottom of the bay abruptly rise in their wild and rugged barrenness ; on their slope granite pierces through the thin stratum of vegetable earth that covers them, and sandy hills, no doubt formed by the tempest, crown their lofty brows.
At a short distance from St. Brelade is St. Ouen's bay : if such a denomination can be given to the immense beach that extends from north to south, and forms almost the whole western extremity of the island. This bay offers nothing remarkable but its desolate aspect ; the banks are formed by sandy hillocks, covered with a hard grass of a silvery hue.
Enormous blocks of stone, scattered about by the storms, lie Pêle-Mêle on the beach ; and in the middle of these crags, rises a small square tower having the name of a fort, which it ill deserves.
In the distance are discovered the lofty cliffs of the island of Sark, and still further the isle of Guernsey. On the right, shines the white tower of St. Ouen's church; and on the left, an immense rock issues from the waves as a throne for the god of storms and shipwrecks: it is the Corbière, an awful rock that no one can see without shuddering. Around its base the 'sea knows no calms, and furious currents urge on their rapid course with a thundering noise. How many storms have raged over its blackened sides ! And then, how many victims lashed with wild waves, have been crushed and torn on its sharp edges !
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