Alderney and Sark, 1838: under a bright sun, there is beauty everywhere
Chamber’s Journal, 1838. 'Both Alderney and Serk enjoy an excellent climate, and on that account a few residents, chiefly retired officers, have fixed their abode in these islands. But the luxuries of life are too scarce to render the small Channel isles ever the chosen abode of the wealthy.' 'It may seem strange to say of any portion of the British dominions, that reading is unknown: such, however, is the case in Alderney.'
Though the group of the Channel Islands lies nearer to France than England, the latter country, from prudential motives, has always looked upon its possession of them as important and necessary, seeing that these isles, if held and employed as military stations by a hostile power, might deeply affect the welfare of the Channel commerce. Thus, in intrinsic value and magnitude, these islands must always possess a considerable degree of interest to Britain. Jersey and Guernsey, the largest of the group, are in general well known; the two, however, which approach nearest to them in size, Alderney and Serk, have received less attention, and a brief notice of the most remarkable points regarding them may be interesting.
Alderney lies near the coast of Normandy, within seven miles of Cape la Hague, and is nearly eight miles in circumference. The Channel Islands lie along the eastern coast of the Bay of St Malo; Alderney being the northernmost, and Guernsey, Serk, and Jersey, stretching to the south in the order here laid down. Alderney is exceedingly difficult of access, being composed of high land, surrounded on almost every point of the coast by rugged and lofty cliffs. The entrance, besides, to the harbour of St Anne, the only aggregation of houses in the place, is rendered very dangerous by a bar of shoals, constituting the dreaded swinge of Alderney. Indeed, the whole strait between the isle and France is insecure, and is called the Race. In stormy weather it is impossible for boat or cutter to traverse this point, and visitors are often retained on these occasions for weeks in the island, the harbour itself is very unsafe, the agitation of the sea within it being usually so great that the smallest boats require to be strongly attached to the pier, otherwise they would be very insecure. No vessels above forty or fifty tons burden ever enter the port of St Anne's, and, fortunately, the business of the place is such as to be managed well enough by boats.
The town of St Anne contains nearly the whole population of the island, amounting to about twelve hundred souls. It is customary for the agricultural part of the community, as well as the commercial portion, to reside in it; and hence the place resembles rather a collection of farm-houses than a town. The jurisdiction of Alderney is carried on by a governor and one or two officials, though all criminal causes are decided in the courts of Guernsey, of which the other island is a dependence. St Anne can boast of very few good houses, and these are all of them the residences of the king's officers, or, it may be, of the minister or surgeon. The town has a very deserted look, and this may well be, seeing that so many of its inhabitants do really leave it during the day for their labours in the fields. At one time the farmers of Alderney profited highly by their celebrated breed of milch cows, but long since the British islands have been supplied with the breed sufficiently to render any reference to the original source unnecessary. These cows are small, but produce an immense quantity of milk; and fourteen pounds of butter per week is not uncommon from one animal.
Though the town of St Anne, from the circumstances we have mentioned, is by far the most important point in the island, what may be called the country presents many objects worthy of attention. 'The appearance,' says Mr Inglis,¹ 'of the cultivated part of the island, is singular, owing to the very minute properties, and the odd way in which the proprietors have sown their crops. It is all laid out in narrow stripes of different sorts of grain, and in lucerne, potatoes, clover, tares, &c. These lie in all different directions, straight across and transversely; and to so great an extent has the division of property extended, that, in looking at a proprietor ploughing his stripe, it is difficult to see how he will find room to turn his plough on his own land. The ploughs which I saw at work were small wheel-ploughs, worked by three horses and two men. The total absence of farm-houses and cottages, and the total absence of trees or plantations of any kind, give to the island a bare aspect. Still, under a bright sun, there is beauty everywhere; and the spangled grass, and furze hedges, covered with their bright and fragrant blossoms, and the song of innumerable larks, and the pretty cows tethered among their clover, were sufficient for any traveller, unless for the churl who can walk from Dan to Bersheeba, and say, all is barren.'
The crops of all kinds grown in Alderney are excellent; and in all probability enough of wheat, &c will in a few years be raised to permit of the farmers exporting some of their grain produce, since a part of the island has been only of late put under cultivation. Formerly the part in question was only an open common. The most remarkable point, perhaps, about the husbandry of Alderney, is the means adopted for manuring the land. The substance employed as manure is a fresh sea-weed, termed vraic; and the gathering of this is one of the most important periods in the island. On the evening before the gathering begins, the church-bell rings at the hour of six; and it is the signal for the assembling in the churchyard of all the land-owners. Here the momentous question, whether all are ready to begin the vraic gathering, is discussed with due solemnity. This is done in order to secure the equal enjoyment of what is regarded as a valuable privilege; and if any one can present a sufficient cause for his not being ready, the operations are delayed. If all are prepared, next morning the great bay fronting the south is crowded with the islanders, waiting till the tide should leave their prize within reach.
It may seem strange to say of any portion of the British dominions, that reading is unknown: such, however, is the case in Alderney. Few books, much less any public collection, are to be found in the island. We cannot wonder, under such circumstances, that smuggling should be regarded as no vice; but we may wonder, that, among all the projects for spreading religious and useful knowledge, the Channel Islands should be left utterly disregarded.
If the island which we have just described is difficult of access, Serk, which lies between Guernsey and Jersey, and is about two miles long by two broad, is a great deal more inaccessible. The flat country in it is more elevated, and presents at every point of the coast a face of rock, nearly perpendicular, and several hundred feet in height; so that if the island is approached at any point, excepting one to which we shall presently allude more particularly, it is a dangerous task to attempt the ascent to the level land. Mr Inglis thus describes his own visit to the coast of Serk:—'It was a fine July morning, and with a stiff breeze, that my little boat ran under the rocks of Serk; and I confess that I was not a little puzzled to understand where the boatman intended to land me; for, everywhere round the creek, or little cove, into which we had run, I could see only perpendicular rocks. However, by the boatman laying aside his oars, and demanding his fare, I concluded that the voyage had ended; though I could not understand how my pilot intended to dispose of me. That is the way, said he, in his broken dialect, pointing upwards, and upon casting my eyes in the direction of which he spoke, I perceived a rope's end dangling upon the rock, and within arm's length of me; and accordingly, concluding this to be the legitimate entrance to the island, I paid my fare—seized the rope—and finding resting-places for the tiptoe, and sometimes for the sole of my foot, reached these various helps a ledge about thirty feet above water. From this spot the ascent was somewhat easier, and, after a toilsome but interesting scramble of between two and three hundred feet, I found myself on the table land of Serk, with a fine and apparently level extent before me, of cultivated land, and abundant vegetation.
It must not, however, be imagined that there is no other way of gaining the table land of Serk, unless by the precipitous and somewhat dangerous path by which I made my entrance. Serk possesses a harbour, though the very least, and most curious, and most picturesque, that can well be.imagined ; but this little harbour lying on the other side of the island, boatmen from Guernsey, whence I came, prefer making their passengers swing up the rock, to the inconvenience of a longer voyage. This little harbour, called the Creux, is the only accessible part of the island—accessible, however, in a singular way; for when one steps on shore from the harbour, he is still outside of Serk. You have still to pass through a tunnel, about twenty yards in length, beneath the solid rock ; and on emerging from it, a winding path, up a narrow valley, leads to the table land.'
The elevation, thus difficult to gain, is well calculated to reward the labour it costs the visitor. Though apparently one continuous level, on further inspection the country is found to be intersected by valleys of great beauty, watered by rivulets that find their way to the sea by passes and hollows inaccessible to the foot of man. Unlike Alderney, Serk is wooded in many places, and thickly studded with cottages and farm-steadings, the habitations of the agricultural population. Singing birds are particularly abundant; and from the great quantity of honeysuckle, woodbine, and heath-flowers, the air is filled at once with fragrance and melody. The land is well cultivated, and the cattle are seen straying in every direction in the enclosures. The abruptness of the cliffs which overhang the valleys, gives a character of mingled beauty to the scene, blending all that is grand in nature with the more peaceful charms that result from the hand and presence of man.
The land of Serk is divided into forty copyhold possessions, and these forty tenants hold of the proprietor, or seigneur of the island, W. Le Pelley, Esq. The seigneur and his forty tenants constitute a council which have the government of Serk, as far as regards local enactments. Guernsey has the jurisdiction of Serk, as far as respects civil, military, and ecclesiastical matters, hut the council of forty are essentially the rulers. By a curious law, the freeholds cannot be divided; and a man may sell all, but cannot sell a part; and thus there can never be more or less than forty possessors. Perhaps this may have tended to check the increase of population, which amounts only to six hundred; while the island, it is certain, could sustain more. From the permanent nature of the farm-tenures, the farms are, as might be expected, in high condition, and the houses good and substantial.
The Serkmen are greatly attached to fishing, many of the farmers and all the remaining inhabitants pursuing this occupation unceasingly. With a boat-load (the boat often of his own building) of potatoes or shell-fish, these islanders will frequently adventure to the coasts of France or England. A good return is frequently obtained; and it may be safely said that the people of Serk live more plenteously than any of their neighbours in the Channel. They are more active too at home, and few of them cannot, in a strait, turn their hands to masonry and carpentry, as well as other more intricate trades. From the partiality of the men for the sea, a good deal of the out-of-door work is thrown upon the women, who are a strong, sunburnt race. The islanders, generally speaking, are moral and religious, their spiritual affairs being under the charge of a perpetual curate. There is a well-attended school on the island, which is a blessing which the people of Alderney do not appear to enjoy.
Before closing this brief account of Serk, we ought to notice a remarkable pass which divides the island into Great and Little Serk. Little Serk is a portion of table land amounting to about one-eighth of the island, and ingoing to it from Great Serk, 'you have to pass (says Mr Inglis) along a narrow isthmus—nearly two hundred yards long, and four or five feet broad, with precipices on either side, of about three hundred feet down to the sea. On one side the descent is perpendicular; on the other, so precipitous that one would be more rash than bold in attempting a descent. The connecting ridge is a solid rock. At one time this pass was more dangerous than it now is. In 1811, a small part of the ridge was detached, and fell; but before this, the width was not more than two feet. It is related that an individual who resided in Little Serk was accustomed very frequently to visit the other part of the island, and being of social habits he often returned home well advanced in inebriety. Conscious of the dangers of his path, he used, before attempting the pass, to test his steadiness by walking along an old cannon that lay on the Great Serk side. If he could not walk backwards and forwards upon the cannon, he ventured not upon the pass, but quietly lay down until his steadiness so far returned as to carry him through the test.'
Both Alderney and Serk enjoy an excellent climate, and on that account a few residents, chiefly retired officers, have fixed their abode in these islands. But the luxuries of life are too scarce to render the small Channel isles ever the chosen abode of the wealthy.
¹ D. H. Inglis (1795-1835), The Channel Islands: Jersey, Guernsey, Alderney, &c.: the result of a two years' residence. London, 1834 and 1844.