Once on this island

From conger eels to witches with creaky joints, Carla Passino and Nicco Bargioni explore Guernsey's rich folkloric heritage

- Nicco Bargioni

THE devil once lived in Guernsey, or so story has it. It came in the early Middle Ages, but didn’t remain for long. A saint, perhaps St Sampson, journeyed to the island to drive it out. The battle between the two stretched across Guernsey, until the devil was eventually beaten by Fontenelle Bay. As it fled, however, it slammed one hoofed leg down before leaping away into the air. The stone that bears the devil’s hoof print may still be seen today, although the deep mark of a cloven hoof has earned it the rather more prosaic nickname of Le Pid du Boeuf (the ox’s foot).

Myths and legends are as integral to Guernsey as its sunny skies, sinuous coastline and pleasant meadows—so much so that, over the centuries, books have collected and preserved the tales (not least Guernsey Folk Lore by Victorian bailiff Sir Edgar MacCulloch) and, today, the Guernsey Museum at Candie has a dedicated Folklore Gallery (www.museums. gov.gg).

Some of the traditions, explains Matt Harvey, curator of the Folklore Gallery, are very similar to English ones: Guernsey’s Lé Faëu Boulanger—mysterious nightlights dancing above the ground—can clearly be likened to the descriptions of Will-o’-the Wisp or Ghost Lights. Others, however, are specific to the island, from La Biche, ‘a giant, spectral nanny goat that was said to haunt a particular corner of La Rue des Grons in St Martins parish’ to Lé Haptalaön, a hobgoblin that lurked in the long grass of the oldest orchards. ‘It would creep up on unwary children, grab them by the ankle and drag them away.’