Page:ONCE A WEEK JUL TO DEC 1860.pdf/226

218 might compare Jersey to a split kidney, the congeries of vessels running out into the bay of St. Aubin’s. The rocks consist of syenite, with its various modifications, great dykes of quartz and other primary rocks occurring at intervals.

are very considerable. Perhaps the finest view in Jersey is that from near the Manor House at St. Aubin, looking towards the town and Fort Regent. The bay of St. Aubin’s only wants Vesuvius to be the bay of Naples in miniature. The prominent feature is formed by the fantastic rocks of the island (or peninsula at low water) on which Elizabeth Castle stands. Seen with a sunset effect, and at the moment of the explosion of the evening gun, it forms one of the most lovely pictures imaginable.

The second in rank may be that seen on mounting the ridge of hill which divides the bay of St. Clement’s from that of Grouville, where the road winds like an Alpine pass over the crest by the arsenal at Grouville, and as it were suddenly introduces the passenger to a new world, with Gorey Common below, the beautiful castle of Mont Orgueil forming beyond it the extremity of a long shore-like hill, which in Germany would be planted with vines; and beyond, all the dim coast of Normandy, distant some fifteen miles. If the Gorey oyster-fleet, of a hundred or so vessels at a time, are in the offing in full sail, the view is very much enhanced.

The walk round the island will be found most interesting. The beauty of the coast begins with Mont Orgueil Castle—a grand mediæval fortress in beautiful preservation—

A tower of victory, from which the flight

Of baffled hosts was watch’d along the plain.

Here Prynne was confined, and wrote some bad verses on the wall, and Charles II. took refuge in the troubles of the Commonwealth; Jersey being royal, while Guernsey was parliamentary. The house where the Merry Monarch lived at Gorey is just below the grounds of Lady Turner, and was lately tenanted by the estimable clergyman of Gorey. The king gave its tenants the characteristic privilege of keeping a public-house without a licence for ever. Of this privilege our reverend friend did not avail himself. Mont Orgueil looks weirdly grand on the other side, where the shore becomes rocky, and breaks into bays with sands which afford excellent bathing. There is a rugged path of extreme beauty along the cliffs to St. Catherine’s Pier—a very long jetty of stone running out into the sea, favoured in August, 1859, by a visit from her most gracious Majesty, and intended originally to form part of an immense harbour of refuge. As it is, it would wonderfully facilitate the landing of 10,000 Frenchmen, being “convenient,” as the Irish say, to Grouville, Cherbourg, and St. Malo.

From St. Catherine’s way may be made to Rozel Bay, where are the grounds of the late Mr. Curtis, a gentleman who, like the old man of Tarentum in Virgil’s “Georgics,” bought a bit of rock and transformed it into an ornamental garden. Australian gum-trees, and nearly all the products of the southern hemisphere, flourish there under the mild influences of the climate; and one would almost expect to see the southern cross in the sky. Near Bouley Bay, from which a fine view of the opposite coast of France is obtained, the coast becomes barren and almost mountainous, resembling some parts of north Devon. It culminates in the heights of Mont Madoc, where are some most picturesque old granite quarries, and in the heathery promontories which encircle Bonne Nuit Bay.

As the route is pursued, the rocks become steeper and more fantastic, and the shore less and less constantly accessible. Passing the waterfall at Les Mouriers we come to the Creux du Vis—a hole in the cliff where the superincumbent earth has collapsed into a cave, driven into it horizontally from the sea. It is fine, if the difficult descent can be managed, to see the great pent-up waves bursting into the abyss. Farther on is Crabbe, a wonderfully grim chasm, some 300 feet down, but accessible by a winding path. Below it are great pyramids and arches of rock—a feature constantly occurring on this coast, where the force of water produces most extraordinary forms. The effect is aided by the colour of the rocks, which is generally dark red, and in some places nearly black, here and there hoary with the light-green moss of ages, giving the appearance of gigantic ruins of enormous antiquity, and variegated with party-coloured lichens, the yellow the most remarkable, only to be represented in painting by the brightest cadmium.

Near Grêve de Lecq, where is an hotel which continually advertises itself as the “Star and Garter of Jersey,” is another stupendous hollow, with vaulted caverns among its rocky cathedrals, which are better not visited unless the visitor can be sure that the tide is retiring. But the most remarkable caves and pyramids seem to be on the side of Plemont Point, on the bay called the Grêve au Lançon, so called from the sand-eels caught there.

Beyond them is Grosnez Castle, or rather what is left of it, a single arch of a gateway, standing on the neck of a promontory, with precipitous cliffs behind. This is the north-western extremity of the island. It balanced Mont Orgueil in the olden time, and was held by the Lords of St. Owen for the English crown, when the half of the island from Mont Orgueil to the middle was in possession of the French. Its defenders, if hard pressed, could have no alternative between starvation and jumping into the sea, if they did not choose to surrender. Its only access or egress was apparently by the gateway which remains. Following the course of the high cliffs, one more pyramid is seen, grandest of all, the Pinnacle Rock, connected with the shore by a narrow neck of land, and forming a fine object from the distant Corbiêres. There is a break in the series of high rocks at L’Etac, formed by the long sweep of St. Owen’s bay, depreciated by the guide-books as monotonous, but presenting to the painter’s eye, by its great comparative size, the finest aërial effects to be seen in the island. At the other turn of St. Owen’s bay are the Corbiêres rocks, pyramidal again, and insulated at high tide—a place whence to see a storm to perfection;