ISLE OF MAN
DESCRIBED BY AGNES HERBERT
ILLUSTRATED BY DONALD MAXWELL
Southern Branch
of the
University of California
Los Angeles
Form L. 1
610
ANCH
below
THE ISLE OF MAN
BOOKS BY AGNES HERBERT
Two DIANAS IN SOMALILAND: The Record
of a Shooting Trip. With numerous Illus-
trations. Demy 8vo.
Two DIANAS IN ALASKA. By AGNES
HERBERT and a SHIKARI. With
numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
BOOKS BY DONALD MAXWELL
THE LOG OF THE GRIFFIN : The Story of a
Cruise from the Alps to the Thames.
With no Illustrations by the Author and
COTTINGTON TAYLOR, of which 16 are in
colour. Demy 8vo.
A CRUISE ACROSS EUROPE : Notes on a
Freshwater Voyage from Holland to the
Black Sea. With nearly 200 Illustrations
by the Author and COTTINGTON TAYLOR.
Demy 8vo.
THE PROMENADE, DOUGLAS
. I . THE . i
ISLE OF MAN
DESCRIBED BY AGNES HERBERT
WITH FOREWORD BY A. W. MOORE
C.V.O., M.A., SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE
OF KEYS, AND 32 COLOUR PLATES
BY DONALD MAXWELL & & &
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMIX
74797
COLOUR BLOCKS AND PRINTING BY CARL HENTSCHKL, LTD.
TEXT PRINTED BY WM. BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PLYMOUTH
JPA
n o
TO
V. E. BRADDA FIELD
MY LOVE TO THEE IS SOUND, S4NS CRACK, OR FLAW
The climate's delicate ; the air most sweet ;
Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing
The common praise it bears.
The Winter's Tale
\
FOREWORD
FRESH from her triumphs in the mighty hunting-
grounds of Somaliland and Alaska, Miss Herbert
comes to the tiny, but, as her book shows, the happy,
hunting-ground of the Isle of Man. Manx-men and
Manx-women are her quarry, not lions and bears.
To me the chief charm in a charming book are the
keen, yet loving and delicate, appreciation of the
^YTO people and their country, and the intimate and
humorous description of their manners and customs ;
an appreciation and a description possible only to one
who, like Miss Herbert, was brought up amongst
them. There is, however, much besides this. Archae-
ology, Folklore, and the Herring Fishery are lightly
and pleasantly dealt with. Even the Serbonian bog
of Manx history is not shunned, and, in the manner
of Waldron of old, is enlivened with apt anecdote
and illustration. It is clear, nevertheless, that Miss
v^ Herbert leaves the Duke of Athol and his congeners
with relief, and that she gleefully betakes herself to
the more congenial society of the Phynnodderee, the
Glashtin, and the Buggane.
I have been trying to find original epithets to depict
the effect of this book upon me, but, as I am obsessed
x FOREWORD
with the words "bright, breezy, and bracing," used in
a well-known advertisement to describe Mona's Isle,
I have tried in vain. After all, these words do describe
Miss Herbert's book. I am certain that, when any
native of Mona reads it, he or she will not
"... hear the wavelets murmur
As they kiss the fairy shore."
On the contrary, they will see the big waves sparkling
in the sunlight and romping into Port Erin bay before
a stiff north-wester.
It is a book which should appeal to the visitor,
who, though not a student of things Manx, wants
something more than a guide-book. It will certainly
appeal to the native, who will promptly enrol Miss
Herbert in the little band which, in the words of our
beloved poet, Tom Brown, endeavours
" To unlock the treasures of the island heart ;
With loving feet to trace each hill and glen,
And find the ore that is not for the mart of commerce."
A. W. MOORE
PREFATORY NOTE
IN presenting this slight record of the Isle of Man as I
know it, I hope it may not be thought that I pre-
tentiously lay claim to have attempted the writing
of a history of Manxland. That has been compre-
hensively done again and again, and by very able
pens. It has been considered advisable to touch
lightly on the Great Happenings which have given
the island its unique and distinctive character ; and
although inadequately dealt with, many far-reaching
events having been disregarded altogether as being too
technical for a book of this kind, the brief outline
of historical fact is, I think, correct and reliable.
With no sinister piratical intention, I have freely
pillaged contemporary histories and picked the ancient
records of other times. By a general refining process,
a system of odious comparisons, the historical items
have been arrived at and garnered together. In the
archives of the ages I found all that is required to com-
pound what might be called " an original recipe for a
Manx haggis."
Colour books, as you know, must, for some occult
reason, run on the tramlines of tradition. The history,
folk-lore, customs, natural beauties, etc., etc., of the
xii PREFATORY NOTE
chosen country constitute the literary raison d'etre of
these volumes. " Spade work " does not daunt me ;
but when the ground has been previously dug for miles
around, what can the most conscientious tiller do
save throw up the soil afresh, and re-plant it ?
My best thanks are due to my friends, Mr. P. G.
Ralfe and Sir John W. Carrington, C.M.G., for much
kindness and help in connexion with this book.
I would also like to acknowledge the generosity of
Mr. A. W. Moore, c.v.o., M.A., Speaker of the House
of Keys, whose kindly good-will permits me to make
use of much of his research, and who honours my
book by contributing a foreword.
AGNES HERBERT
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PACE
I. INTRODUCTORY . . . . 3
II. DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL . . 19
III. TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION . . . 32
IV. TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY . . 44
V. MIDDLE HISTORY . . 60
VI. LATER HISTORY . . 75
VII. HERRING FISHERY AND SOME INSULARITIES . 89
VIII. A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE . . .no
IX. A TOUR INLAND . . *33
X. FOLKLORE . . . . 169
XI. CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT . . . 195
XII. MANX WORTHIES . ... 218
XIII. THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE . . . 235
XIV. MARRIAGE CUSTOMS . ... 253
XV. THE CLOSE AND SPRING TIME . . . 268
GLOSSARY . . ... 273
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE PROMENADE, DOUGLAS . > . . Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
MANNANAN'S MANTLE . . . ... 4
DOUGLAS: THE ARRIVAL . . ... 8
THE FAIRY GLEN . . . ... 12
MAP OF THE ISLE OF MAN . . ... 20
SNAEFELL, FROM SULBY GLEN . . ... 22
THE VERGE OF THE CURRAGH . . 24
DHOON GLEN . . . ... 32
RAMSEY . . . . ... 38
BRADDA HEAD . . . ... 54
JURBY POINT . . . ... 72
A VALLEY IN THE SOUTHERN HILLS . . 82
THE QUAY, FROM THE CASTLE, PEEL . . . . 90
PEEL BAY . . . . ... 94
PEEL HARBOUR . . . ... 100
MAUGHOLD HEAD . . . . . . no
ST. PATRICK'S ISLE, PEEL . . . . . 112
CRONK-NY-IRREY-LHAA . . . . . 116
THE SOUND . . . . ... 122
CASTLETOWN . . . . . . 126
OFF DOUGLAS HEAD . . . . . . 130
CASTLE RUSHEN . . . ... 146
DOUGLAS HEAD . . . ... 154
THE CURRAGH COUNTRY . . ... 158
xvi ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGB
THE AYRE . - . . ... 162
A MANX GLEN . . . ... 176
LAXEY . . . . ... 202
LEAD MINE AT LAXEY . . ... 212
GLEN AULDYN . . . ... 220
THE CAVES OF BRADDA . . ... 230
SULBY VILLAGE . . . ... 242
OLD LEAD MINE IN RUSHEN . . ... 250
THE RETURN . ... 268
THE ISLE OF MAN
THE ISLE OF MAN
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
Steering with due course toward the isle.
Othello.
This island's mine.
The Tempest.
I AM invited to write the text for a " colour book "
on the Isle of Man, and I ask myself, " What is a colour
book ? " A volume of painted scenes, an artist's
conception, a world of beauty limned for you on India
paper ? Or may the letter-press take a hand in the
colour scheme as well ? For the Isle of Man, " this
little world, this precious stone, set in the silver
sea," is all colour, from the golden glowing glory of the
cushag and the gorse, the precipitous grey-black cliffs,
seamed across with myriad tints, the green of the
swelling hills, the crimson heather, to the whiteness
of the straw-thatched cottages whose tiny windows
reflect in shafts of quivering light the fierce slanting
rays of the summer sun.
Come. We'll see the little island Manx people
always call it " the lil islan'," because there is only
4 THE ISLE OF MAN
one island in all the world to a son or daughter of
Mona in the early afternoon of a sleepy summer day.
We are making for Port Erin, on the south side of the
small territory, coming from Ireland, and as yet can
see but a dim grey wraith on the horizon, enveloped
in a filmy cloak of gossamer. That is Mannanan's
mantle. He was a magician of olden times, a selfish
magician enough, and all his energies were directed
towards the successful weaving of a fairy web of gauze,
which he cast about the island at will, rendering it
undiscoverable. When the cloak and the sky merged
the land was hidden, so that none knew a little world
lay beneath the enshrouding mist, and Mannanan
indulged his mania for solitude to the full, and lived
the simple life in solitary state.
Mannanan has gone now. He was driven away by
unbelief, for here, in Britain, we are too clever nowa-
days to take magicians seriously. Even the Manx
children are beginning to have their doubts of the
authenticity of the fairy rings, and question very much
whether the Phynnodderee, the King of the Manx
Brownies, really did haunt the glens, and rang the
fairy bells o' nights. The soft haze which sometimes
lies over the Isle of Man is all that is left of the reign of
Mannanan. He quitted the scene of his necromantic
reign so hurriedly he had no time to pack !
The faint ghost of the land takes on clearer pencil-
lings, darker grows the outline, clearer yet, masses of
emerald green streak off into the purple hills. A little
winding riband, intensely blue, curves in a semi-
circle ahead, and marks our port, where tiny ships
INTRODUCTORY 5
lie at anchor, with bowsprits all turned one way in
mathematical precision.
The rampart of the mighty Bradda cliffs faces us,
magnificent and menacing, and the low churning
thud of the sea in the labyrinthine caves comes out
and gives us greeting.
My small cottage where I escape the servant
question and the militant suffragette is a tiny affair,
just a little larger than an out-sized dry-goods case.
Over it the roses, white and pink, run a-riot, in a
strenuous race for supremacy, and a fuchsia hedge cut
in steps, afire with crimson bells, guards my in-
finitesimal garden from the wild winds of winter. The
sea most bewitching of friends is at my very door,
and behind me rises tier upon tier of gorse-covered
slopes, until a sharp-pointed peak, sombre and grey,
erects his pinnacled mightiness from out the encircling
wreath of gold.
I have only one very near neighbour, the Warrior.
Our gardens adj oin. The wages of war and the smallness
of a wounds pension drove him to the island, reviling
his fate, but, after a summer, he thanked all his gods,
settled down in complete contentment, and planted the
beginnings of a fuchsia hedge, which is, he says, to
rival mine some day.
We share our boats, the Warrior and I, quite a
flotilla. A Berthon atom, smallest of coracles, which
rides the waves like a sea-bird, a Mersey canoe, a
dinghy, and a stalwart for use when we go out to raise
our lobster creels. The Warrior does the hauling, and I
control the oars. Then there's " the long line " to
6 THE ISLE OF MAN
shoot every other day, for our creels use up a lot of
bait, and we ourselves get through a quantity of fish.
Herring and mackerel, of course, are too wary to
impale themselves on some of the many hooks of the
long line, but the local "callig," the "blockan," the
conger, the fluke, and many small codlings fall
victims readily. And all's fish that comes to our
net.
The Warrior will have our head-corks resplendent,
and re-paints them very often, in the colours of his old
regiment, " finest regiment in the Service," and we can
see our tiny beacons gleaming from afar.
I don't know anything much more exciting than the
appearance of the great mysterious brown creel as it
swings to the surface of the water, hitting the side of
the boat, its dark small round mouth cunningly
fringed about with seaweed to hide and veil the depths
of treachery below. Unless indeed it is the instant when,
with a mighty heave, the dripping creel rests on the
gunwale, and you hear an irritated lobster a-clapping
of his tail in furious expostulation. You cannot see
him yet now, part the seaweed carefully, and look
down into the gloom. A lobster, two, and a mighty
crab frothing in inexpressible expostulation. Warily !
Take the crab behind his rear pincers he's helpless so ;
the blue-black mottled lobsters by the back. The bait
is all gone ; the captives have enjoyed a glorious
meal, if they enjoyed nothing else. They made the
most of it ; drank their fill without wasting a drop ;
took old Omar's advice, for all the world as if they
had realized what lay in front of them.
INTRODUCTORY 7
The split halves of a callig fixed to the thongs,
set on the walls of the prison house, and the creel
returns to the rocky deep, a line of bubbles marking
the passage; the bobbing head-cork, like some gaily
painted bird, tossing on the waves, marks the spot for
" next time." The creels are hauled every other day
in good weather. Sometimes a week passes if King
Neptune is alert, and His Majesty forbids trespassers
on his domain. In the raging of the tempest and the
anger of the sea the heavy creels, weighted with
stones, are frequently moved to other hunting grounds,
and we must needs search the face of the waters for the
beacons of our head-corks. There are so very many.
Everyone's corks cast together in a heap, what a tangle
to disentangle !
It is unheard-of infamy to lift another man's creel,
save in the way of kindness. It is almost as shocking as
cheating at cards. A little bent Manxman, a sun-dried
ancient, lives at the nearest village to me, and success-
fully poaches rabbits from anyone's fields, and sells
them to the Douglas market. He is not ostracized
for this. The inhabitants cheerfully buy the over-
plus at half-price, and even the Warrior and I do not
quibble at three-quarters, but when black rumour,
" messenger of defamation, and so swift," pointed to
Johnny-Polly as the tamperer with the creels, he was a
marked man, and his set knew him no more. A most
unusual and persistent shortage of lobsters followed
invariably on the little Manxman's solitary excursions
in his antediluvian tarred boat. The very children
held the lobster poacher in mystified awe, and looked
8 THE ISLE OF MAN
askance at him. A cloud of suspicion and distrust
clung about him like an aura.
The lobster creels, or pots, as they are more generally
termed in the " lil islan'," are made from the graceful
bending osier stems. And now you know what those
protected triangular patches of ground in the corners
of many fields are for. They are the osier gardens,
and the massive sod fences shield the delicate saplings
from the winter tempests. If you climb inside the
sheltered radius in spring, the finest primroses of them
all will reward you. The cool damp of the osier
plantations brings out the yellowest and sweetest
flowers.
The Isle of Man is too storm-swept for big timber to
flourish upon it, and in some parts there are no trees at
all ; but the glens, the wonderful deep lush glens, are
thickly studded with stems of slight girth ; the dark
green of the fir, the feathery tops of the spruce, mingle
with the shivering leaves of willow, mountain ash,
sycamore, and oak.
Blundell, in his History of the Isle, 1648 - 56,
wrote : "I could not observe one tree to be in any
place but what grew in gardens." And in 1789
Townley endorses this by saying : "A wood, a lofty
grove, or even a holt of trees, being an object very
rare to be met with." In the records of other writers,
however, there are occasional references to small
forests. Planting trees on a large scale apparently
was set about at the end of the eighteenth century.
Alas ! the natural glens, handiwork of Nature's
genius, are few and far between now ; the exploited
INTRODUCTORY 9
article is more in favour with the August visitor.
One sees the beauty spots of Mona distorted and defiled.
You can still discover remote unspoiled glades, if you
will hunt about ; exquisite nooks of deep sombre
silences, with the sun glinting through the trees,
lighting up the gold and silver glory of the streams.
The train may not be scheduled to stop near your glen ;
indeed, there may be no railway in the vicinity at all.
If it were so, your find would not be for long the vision
of beauty which you see it now.
Manx trains are very accommodating. The quickest
" express " is never too energetic to put you down
wheresoever you request. Ask, and it shall be granted
unto you. Visions of possible actions for libel prevent
my dwelling unduly on the inner mechanism of the
railways of the island, so I desist. Perhaps they are
the most delightfully conclusive proof that as yet, in
spite of all temptations, some of the institutions of
Mona's Isle are still prehistoric and primeval.
Shall I take you first to a glen malformed, a work
of Nature's marvellous finesse, grafted on modern
vulgarism ? Then, as a refresher and you will need
one badly we'll to a slumbrous glade, a forest of
Arden, and wander by the stream, unbridged by
rustic cork atrocities.
Here are multitudes of trippers, trippers to right of
you, trippers to left of you, volleying and thundering.
Rollicking humour, of the variety which finds an outlet
in the forcible exchanging of hats, prevails. The few
remaining natural beauties in the once sylvan spot
are passed by for the much-advertised greater attrac-
io THE ISLE OF MAN
tion of a sea-lion imprisoned in a tank by the sea, the
exploring of the glen is set aside in a rush for places
in the tiny carriages of the " smallest railway on
earth."
There are penny-in-the-slot machines at every turn,
frail cork bridges, and hanging-on-to-the-side-of-the-
glen wooden walks, which suspend the gay tripper over
half a foot deep of trickling stream decoyed from its
course.
A Manx girl, disguised as a pearl - necklaced,
sequin-collared houri, presides at the turnstile to
collect the fourpence entrance fee. Her coiffure is a
mass of puffs and curls, and on her forehead a wisp of
hair is arranged like a note of interrogation upside
down. You would never dream that in her grand-
father's cottage they still speak the Manx.
Refreshment booths, with popping corks, and
pertinacious photographers have their places, and, as a
final beautifier, some long wire cages are provided,
with the request that all banana peel and waste paper
should be placed therein.
Artistic people, of the variety who write to the
papers, are shocked indeed, and speedily air their
grievances in the columns of The Daily Wail, the
editor heading their diatribes with the query, "Are
we Vandals ? " But the proprietors of the Manx
glens wax fat and flourish, and the trippers care not at
all. Each has what he wants, which is, after all, the
main thing in this hurrying scurrying age the one
filthy lucre, the other a chance to spend money freely,
without the trouble of going far to find a place to
INTRODUCTORY n
stroll about in. One glen, not so very far from Douglas,
which is, you must remember, the head-quarters of
the majority of the visitors to the island, amuses me
vastly. It is an entirely manufactured place, and
when you wander in the " glen " you have to bend
your shoulders and lower your head to keep within
the place at all ! The trees are so pitiably youthful.
All over the exquisite unknown glens are for the ex-
plorer. Follow up the winding devious course of any
small river we have no really large rivers on the island
and before you know it you will find yourself deep
in an enchanted fairy glade, with great blue-black
boulders lying in mid-stream, overgrown with moss,
smoothed and polished to ebony by the rushing,
swirling waters of all the centuries. Everywhere is
luxuriant foliage. From the trees hang festoons of
ivy, interlaced in triumphal arches ; below, the ferns
lift their fronded forms in swaying grace. Somewhere
above the arch of the trees a lark is singing, in liquid
trilling notes, a song of joy to the sun.
The air is laden with sweet perfumes and the scent
of soft deciduous grasses, and drowsy with the hum
of myriad bees. A trout rises in the stream splash !
The mottled beauty disappears beneath the stones of
the little dubb, fringed round with ferns. The trees
stand in lines down the glen, and the brown leaves
carpet all the glade. The summer sun glints on
the boles of the silver birch, and over all the song of
the river falls and rises, rises and falls, dwells and
enraptures.
We are going to Douglas to-day, the Warrior and I.
12 THE ISLE OF MAN
We have to go sometimes, much as we dislike to leave
our solitudes for the busy humming world. There
are stores to be obtained, luxuries the village shop
wots not of. The local Whiteley only runs to such
necessaries as paraffin and bread. An odd juxta-
position, but there they are. Fortunately they form
a mechanical mixture only when they come in close
contact, and not a chemical combination. There are
bottles, too, full of Manx " nobs," frizzling in the
sun, and surprise packets for the alluring of the half-
pennies of the children. They are not surprises really,
these persuasive-looking envelopes. Every child in the
village knows exactly what to expect. Similar packets
have been there so very long ; history repeats itself so
very sadly. A few bright-coloured comfits, and a tin
wedding ring, perhaps, or a thimble, or a tiny wooden
goblet for a doll's house. The infinitesimal cups are
the most appreciated, and of course they must be
filled at once at the village pump, universal provider.
If you happen to be passing you, too, must drink from
the " lil cup." The water tastes like a new house.
How can a new house taste at all ? Well, perhaps it
can't, but if it could the result would be like this.
If you want to see the wonder world of Mona at its
best, I pray you do not come in the season. Some-
how the manufacturing classes at play effectually
knock all the romance of the island beneath their feet,
and trample on it. Yet, if you never see Douglas in
August, you will have missed one of the most amazing
sights in Britain. People, people everywhere. Hatless
femininity in gay summer dresses, and attendant
THE FAIRY GLEN
INTRODUCTORY 13
swains garbed in flannels and wondrous fiery ties.
The sands swarm with human beings, the steps of the
great boarding houses, the boats on the bay, the shops,
the promenade, and at the Victoria Pier the great
steamers constantly arriving disgorge a further com-
plement of surging humanity to swell the turmoil.
" All the world loves a lover." Everyone in Douglas
in August plays the lover enthusiastically, vigorously.
The game may be ephemeral, a " different girl again "
system, but it is played for all the hand is worth.
None of your shyness and reticence here ! The young
man and his Cynthia of the moment hug each other
in joyous abandon on every available seat, the glens
are crammed with rampant lovers, and the most in-
accessible crannies of the caves given over to " Let's
Pretendia " love affairs.
" And then they put the blame on Cupid."
On the margin of the wonderful bay, replica of
Naples, are the great glass dancing halls. All roads
in Douglas lead in the season to the dancing palaces o'
nights. The vast floor of inlaid woods, polished to
glittering point, is crowded with swirling figures, danc-
ing lightheartedly in all sorts and conditions of styles.
The more remarkable the style, the more noticeably
incongruous, the more partners are forthcoming. It
is quite de rigueur for a man to ask a hitherto unknown
girl to trip the light fantastic with him, and if he cannot
persuade her to venture, the M.C., as the Master of
the Ceremonies is called, comes to the rescue. He is
a wonderful personage in immaculate evening kit, and
a new pair of white kid gloves every night, a hang-
14 THE ISLE OF MAN
the-expense extravagance which carries its own weight
of commanding conviction. Graciously the great man
walks round the fringe of the seated crowd, resting
between the dances, gripping the arm of the despised
and rejected, and says persuasively to every damsel,
" Will you oblige this gentleman, miss ? " Such per-
tinacity is always rewarded in the end, and the couple
glide off to the strains of a beautiful waltz.
It is an amazing sight, this orderly, well-conducted
crowd, with the deep throbbing current of pulsing
life behind it, humorous and haunting, pleasure-seeking
and pathetic.
" Names," as the Irishman said, " had better be
nameless." Everyone thinks so in a Douglas dancing
palace. A young man introducing a new-found ladye
to the man with whom he is holidaying shrouds the
presentation in the mystery of, " My friend my
friend." If they are not friends, they are " fiong-
says." It is one of the compensations of the lower
orders that an engaged couple can go away for a
summer holiday together without appreciably dis-
turbing Mrs. Grundy. If this beneficent arrangement
could be extended, a much greater knowledge of one's
" fiongsay " could be arrived at, and the dangers of
the matrimonial precipice reduced to a minimum.
This by the way.
All the young bloods who frequent the dancing
palaces, the straw-hatted-thirty-shilling-suited-on-
conquest-bent-clerks of Lancashire and Yorkshire, are
officers of the Scots Greys on leave ; and they are all
captains. They are not Scotch, they are far from grey,
INTRODUCTORY 15
but " the Greys " attract them as no other regiment
can ever hope to do. Don't disconcert them, and
throw things out of gear by asking where they are
quartered. The officers cannot tell you. The air of
Douglas is fatal to memory. The very name of their
colonel has escaped them. Accept these gallant
soldiers, as they wish, if you would make a success of
the acquaintance. What matter if this glut of warriors
wear made-up ties, and little tin badges which every
good tripper in Douglas pins upon his cap or hatband,
the three legs of Man, which are at the same time, by
the law of contraries, the arms of Man as well ? Now
for the spectacle of the evening. " The snow dance."
An exquisite dreamy waltz rises and falls rhythmically,
sensuously ; the whole room quakes 'neath the multi-
tudinous feet ; the hum of voices breaks like the waves
of the sea upon a stony beach. From the glass roof,
glowing with many coloured lights, a steady rain of
small pieces of white paper descends thickly, a snow-
storm indeed. Steadily, in lavish extravagance, the
fragments of snowy paper glide to the floor, burying it,
until the dancers are ankle deep. This is the last waltz
of the evening. God save the King ! In the enthusiasm
of the moment the officers of the Scots Greys forget to
remove their hats everyone dances in hats lese-
majeste and no mistake. Gathering the " snow " in
handfuls, the lighthearted crowd pelt one another
with vigour, and all the curving promenade of the
beautiful bay is dotted with myriad bits of fluttering
paper as the game goes merrily on. There's the
" shadow dance," too, earlier in the evening, most
16 THE ISLE OF MAN
popular of all, when the room is in murky darkness,
infinitely gloomy, which lightens up in drifts, usually
at the most embarrassing of moments. But the Scots
Greys were ever resourceful, and, in Douglas, at any
rate, live up to their motto every time. " Second to
None." I should think so, indeed ! They seize the
psychological moment on the up-grade.
There is nothing Manx in all this ? You are quite
right. But if I write of the Isle of Man the tripper
element cannot be left out. Douglas is not Manx. It
is just the playground of Lancashire and Yorkshire.
It might be Blackpool, or Margate, anywhere, save for
the surroundings. It is not representative of the Isle of
Man. In all one day in Douglas in August you may
not meet one really representative Manxman. The
car drivers are not representative thanks be ! tne
boatmen are not either, being hybrids from the race
of deep-sea fishermen, and many of the proprietors of
the vast boarding houses hail from England; those
who do not are a make-believe type of Manxmen who
can interest not at all.
In my little port, and at the Niarbyl, Maughold,
Cregneish, and countless other parts, there are still old
people who speak no tongue save the Manx, to whom I
can do no more than pass the time of day. In such
remote corners the local colour is all Manx still,
unspoiled by the passing of the ages, undefiled by the
race for gold.
" Summer boarders," as the Americans say, first
began to visit the island in the early decades of the
nineteenth century, and in 1829 regular steam sailings
INTRODUCTORY 17
were instituted three times a week. Previous to that,
from 1798, passengers prepared for a trip to Manxland
as for a lengthy voyage. The sloop " Duke of Athol "
or the " Lapwing " conveyed mails and passengers at
varying times, as the wind and weather commanded.
After the close of the Great War, in 1815, many Army
officers resorted to the isle, enticed thither by the
cheap living ; but as the number of summer visitors
doubled, and the end of the halcyon smuggling days
brought about a general rise in living expenses,
many of the half -pay warriors returned to England.
Several of our old soldiers of to-day are semi-Manx,
and spent the days of their youth on the once
economical shores of Mona. In the early days of the
visiting industry disembarkation had perforce to be
effected in small boats, very different from the mar-
vellous mechanism of the landing and lading of the
thousands to-day.
It is the summer visitor who has made the island
prosperous, built her piers, paved her streets. Now
is the winter of our discontent made glorious by the
sun of Yorkshire and Lancashire. The staple industry
of the little territory to-day is people ; its exports
people, its imports people, people in such numbers,
such overwhelming myriads, that we might exclaim
with the Immortal One, " Mercy o' me, what a multi-
tude are here ! From all sides they are coming, as if
we kept a fair here ! "
From every direction a wealth of gold flows into the
insular coffers from this molten summer stream. The
penny poll tax on every ticket, levied and paid through
i8 THE ISLE OF MAN
the Steamship Company, yields a worth-having revenue
of thousands a year.
If I were to listen to the advice of Marcus Aurelius,
I should keep right on talking of the tripper element,
and how it benefits our island. The book of the
Master happens to lie open beside me as I write.
" We have only to deal with the present," he says,
" with the eternal NOW."
The eternal NOW is all for the exploitation of Mona,
perhaps very naturally, for the pleasure of the in-
habitants of the greater island lying so close to our
shores. But there is a greater past, a record and
history of imperial grandeur, a picture glowing with
colour, brighter and clearer far than the gaudy flam-
boyance of the tints stamped upon the canvas of
to-day.
CHAPTER II
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters.
Cymbeline.
THE contour of the island as it lies has been fancifully
likened, by Hall Caine, to the carrane, the shoe of
the Manx people in olden times, which was a rough
cover of dried hide laced across the instep. The heel
of the carrane is the coast-line from Port St. Mary
and Port Erin to Peel, the toe is the long waste of
land stretching away to the Ayre, and the instep is
the greatest of the Manx mountains, Snaefell.
I cannot see it like that myself. The outline of
the Isle of Man to my mind resembles far more the
shape of the strange little fish, with a big head and
bulgy body, which the Manx, in their usual otta podrida
of languages, call " bull-kione," meaning bull-head
(Cottus scorpius). The Bay of Ramsey is its wide-
open mouth, the Point of Ayre its upper lip, Maughold
Head the lower. Jurby plays its rounded head, Peel
a fin, the rest of the island the squat body of this
illustrative atom, and the Calf of Man and the Stack
form its apology for a tail.
19
20
THE ISLE OF MAN
From England the Isle of Man is distant but thirty
miles, from Ireland twenty-seven, from Scotland a short
twenty-one, and from Wales a travel of forty-five. The
summit of Snaefell, on a clear bright day, commands
a view of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,
faintly limned in filmy grey outlines. It is, of course,
owing to its get-at-able proximity to greater territories
that the little Manx nation suffered so severely in
early history from the harassing depredations of the
myriad armed marauders who laid waste the country,
times and times over, through all those remote ages.
A great rampart of high land forms the centre of the
isle, and the mountain summits of many peaks raise
lofty shoulders on every side. Heather-grown, grass-
covered Snaefell and oddly-shaped Pen-y-phot erect
their humped outlines skywards, up and up until
little fleecy clouds, gossamer-webbed, rest on the
emerald-tinted scarps with the grace and deftness of
a coryphee. Grand North Barrule, with massive front-
age, is matched in the south by a dominating twin on
whose desolate gorse-crowned summit fragmentary
traces of old-time fortifications are still extant.
Looking down on to the even land stretching away
to the Ayre, the multi-coloured fields look like a
miniature map of the world traced by Nature's genius.
The flowering sod fences are the divisions of countries,
the little silver streams the rivers, and the dark shady
bits, where an infinitesimal copse tries to flourish, are
the great mountains of the universe. Nowhere in all
the world does gorse grow in such profusion and splen-
dour as in the Isle of Man. The wide fences which
ISLE OF MAN
English Miles
-1 *
t .-*t_ frvjeftalltailway
Eoadt a^^v. Eleztric Jramiray a >
Thf Cotottruig represents the Sheadings
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL 21
divide the fields are grown again and overgrown with
the golden glory, the great claddaghs, or wastes,
are fairy gardens, lit with pharos-fires. They say
the all-knowing mysterious " they " that when Lin-
naeus, the Swedish naturalist, saw the gorse in blossom
in England, a plant hitherto unknown to him, he fell
on his knees, and thanked his God for the wonderful
sight. What, I wonder, would Linnaeus have done
had he seen the gorse of Mona's Isle ? Lifted up his
voice, and chanted a hymn of praise.
On a hot day, when the sun is powerful, the myriad
gorse pods burst one after another in tiny salvoes of
artillery, saluting rapturously the coming of the mur-
murous bees. The small sweet sounds mingle with
the drowsy hum of the honey-gatherers, and the potent
scent of ten thousand blooms is borne on the light
summer breeze, which wafts away the tender per-
fumed message to the sea.
Lofty green mountains shake their swelling shoulders
free from out the encircling band of gold, others are
crowned kings, and farther again, rising high, high
above the gorse line, great cloven grey peaks leave
the glowing glory clinging low about their sombre
slopes.
To the cragsman who finds his heart's delight in
the conquering of the Pillar Rock, or the climbing of
the mountain Tritons of England, Scotland, and Wales,
the "green hills by the sea" will seem tame indeed.
But to one who loves the desolation of uplands, and
breezy heather-covered moors, the curved heights of
Mona's Isle possess a charm which ever insistently
22 THE ISLE OF MAN
urges us to seek again the lovely billowy tops, whose
every ridge, smoothed to graceful roundness by the
ice-cloak of glacial times, has something new to show
us. Across the desolate tracks of peat-gatherers,
by the shallow beds where little pools of sienna-
coloured water fill up the gaps made by the fuel-
storers of years, the golden plovers, in solitary pairs,
with chequered wings, light on the grassy expanse,
and sing " their wild notes to the listening waste."
Ever and again the newly acquired love-call rings
out, the shrill whistle changed to a tender cry, alluring
and joyous. The Manx call the golden plover Ushag-
reaisht, or Fedjag-reaisht, bird of the waste, whistler
of the waste. Ushag is bird in the vernacular, but the
Celtic Eean is occasionally met with.
Snaefell scales 2034 feet, and is climbed very easily.
An electric tramway runs from Laxey, the village by
the sea to which the mountain stands sentinel, right
up to the summit. The green monarch of Mona is
not chiselled like the snow-crowned Snaefell of Iceland,
whose name the Northmen probably bestowed as a
remembrance, not reminder. They came with a little
bit of home in their hearts, and wished to record it
somewhere. North Barrule, with its deep colour
tints and massive outline, is 1842 feet in height,
sharply carven Pen-y-Phot 1772 feet, South Barrule
1585 feet, and forming wall-like ranges are the scarps
of majestic cones which dot the central valleys, and
stretch away to the south-west, in varying elevations.
We have no important rivers in the Isle of Man, but
there are hurrying, scurrying streams with winding
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL 23
reaches and whispering volume of dancing, laughing
water rushing to meet the sea. The beautiful Silver-
burn, poetically called Awin-argid, or silver river,
which flows through the historical grounds of Rushen
Abbey, is perhaps as lovely as any of our streams,
and the winding, haunting Sulby, murmuring sweet
music as it channels its way from the heart of the
island, comes next, perhaps. The Neb, upon which
Peel is situated, and the Colby, running through an
exquisite little-known glen, are large streams also.
The meeting waters of the Awin-dhoo, or Dark River,
and the Awin-glas, or Bright River, give Douglas its
name. The united stream runs into the old harbour
below the rising uplands of Douglas Head. Every
glen, and they are very many, has its own gliding,
flickering cascade.
" God," said the old chronicler, Blundell, " hath
gratified the island, with excellent fresh water, so pure
and pleasant to y e taste of necessitated passengers as y*
I have heard them protest y 1 in their opinion there was
not anything y* equalled y e goodness of their water."
Mona has every physical equipment of the British
Isles, save lakes. There is not a lake in the country
now, but evidence goes to prove that aeons ago, before
the face of the little territory changed, and the great
curraghs were drained in the seventeenth century,
lakes enfiladed the fen ground. A map of the sixteenth
century shows us three pieces of water, with islands
set in them, and previous to this again, in the Middle
Ages, we read of a Lake Myrosco, with a well-fortified
island among its other islets.
24 THE ISLE OF MAN
The Manx curraghs have infinitesimal islands still,
dry-tufted hummocks of grass set clear above the
marsh, filched from the water-sprites, where the thorn
and the honeysuckle take root and run a-riot. Rang-
ing from Sulby to Ballaugh is this curragh country,
this wonderful, enchanting, mysterious tract of marsh,
of shallow lagoons, and damp meadow lands. 'Tis
a glorious garden of flowers. All the air is laden with
the clean sweet smell of sweet-gale and soft scraa
grass. The heavy cloying scent of the gorse clings
low in banks of perfume. Here, in the tangle of
vegetation, countless birds make their nests, their
slender silvery notes cleaving the air in joyous trills.
A small water-hen hurries through the pond, pushing
the water before her in agitated ripples, and, quiver-
ing like the disturbed hum of a prisoned bee, the
love-call of the snipe carries across a separating quarter
mile of grass hummocks. The little Ushag-Vuigh, the
yellow-hammer, sits on a flowering spray of gorse,
his coat as gorgeous as the flower itself, and his tender
song, in greedy measure, rings out rhythmically : " A-
little-bit-of-bread-and-no-cheese ! A-little-bit-of-bread-
and-no-cheese ! "
In the Curragh Mooar, the big Curragh, and the
surrounding swamps lived the Tanoo-Ushtey, a fear-
some minotaur-like creature, of whom I have written
elsewhere. His wild bellow at nights caused the very
ground to tremble !
The first inhabitants of Man of whom the historians
can find any trace or clear evidence were the Gaels,
and the small dark-haired people known as Iberians.
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL 25
The Manx belong to the Irish and Gaelic Celtic race,
not to the Welsh or Cornish. Professor Rhys, in his
Ethnology of the British Isles, says : " It is a common-
place of our glottology that the Neoceltic dialects
divide themselves into two groups ; a Goidelic group,
embracing the Celtic idioms of Ireland, Man, and
Scotland ; and a Brythonic group, embracing those
of Wales, Cornwall, and Brittany."
It all sounds very awe-inspiring and thrilling, but
the Manx are quite a simple people really, and the
high-sounding " Goidelic group," when you come to
analyse it, means that the Manx are Celts, just ordinary
Celts. Since the incursion of the hardy Northmen,
Scandio-Celts.
Tradition has it that when a ship of the Armada ran
on the scarps of the foot of Spanish Head, some of the
shipwrecked mariners scaled the cliff, and making their
way to Cregneish, liked the island so much, the feminine
inhabitants pleasing them still more, that they decided
to settle down where fortune had so strangely placed
them. There is no direct evidence to prove that a
Spanish vessel was ever wrecked on the rocks of Man,
but certain it is that now and again, in the south-west
of the isle, you come on a flashing-eyed swarthy fisher-
man particularly I call to mind one such illustration
of the most pronounced Spanish type, rowing out to
the creels maybe with a merry fair-haired, keen repre-
sentative of all that is best in Scandinavia.
Prehistoric monuments are thickly dotted about the
island, and archaeologists have found in the great stone
barrows and monoliths interesting vestiges of Neolithic
26 THE ISLE OF MAN
man. Following the Neolithic men are those of the
Bronze Age, to whom some of the stone circles, stone
cists, and graves are ascribed. Most scholars agree
that cremation was the approved method, in the
Bronze Age, of disposing of the dead, and the
small cists and urns discovered can only have been
the receptacles of cremated bones. Many of the
tumuli and cists when uncovered betrayed that they
had been previously opened and despoiled, notwith-
standing the fact that the places of the dead were held
in superstitious awe, a feeling of reverential aversion
which to this day exists.
There is a particularly fine circle, among many other
fine specimens extant in Man, on the heather-crowned
hills of the Mull, near Port Erin. Pottery, weapons of
bronze, flint arrow heads, and charcoal have been
unearthed from many of these remarkable sepulchres.
The hollows in the stones, or cup-markings, are the
places reserved for the oblations probably in the
form of some variety of fat made to the spirits of the
dead, who were said always to haunt their tombs.
Governor Chaloner, who ruled from 1658 to 1660,
did a considerable amount of excavation among the
various ancient sepulchres, and gives us a description
of " earthenware pots, placed with their mouths down-
wards, and one more neatly than the rest in a bed of
fine sand, containing nothing but a few brittle bones
(as having pass'd the fire), no ashes left discernible."
The stones and circles and other prehistoric re-
minders are too numerous to be detailed, but the great
tumulus near Laxey, which Manx tradition has fixed
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL 27
as King Orry's grave, is worthy of special mention.
Previous to the cutting of the road through it this
wonderful barrow measured some two hundred feet in
diameter, and was encircled by many standing stones.
Professor Montelius and Dr. Monroe are of opinion
that the great place of burial is much older than the
Orry dynasty, and belongs to the space of time be-
tween the Stone and the Bronze Ages.
On many of the lonely out-post rocks, on mountain
scarps and craggy fells, are the crumbling remains of
fortified aboriginal camps, and by their illustrative
name, so prevalent about the island, Cronk-ny-Arrey,
Hill of the Watch, these old look-out stations may be
recognized.
Full-length tombs also abound, and kist-vaens with
stone coffins, as inhumation ousted cremation, and on
the summits of the rounded cronks of the coast, with
the resonant fugue of the sea in the caves chanting an
everlasting lulling requiem, are the desolate green
barrows that tell of Vikings dead and turned to
dust.
Fine specimens of early Christian sculptures are
very numerous, and the whole of the prehistoric
monuments and monoliths have been assigned by
antiquaries to a period of time embracing nine centuries.
Thus the simplest and roughest are allotted to the dim
ages of the fifth century A.D., and the more elaborate
and pretentious work which followed on the heels of
the primeval era is allocated to the Celts of the tenth
century. The wonderful sculptured crosses and Runic
monuments with the old Norse inscriptions are the
28 THE ISLE OF MAN
carvings of early Scandinavian settlers, which merged
into the more skilled designs of the thirteenth century.
One cross at Maughold is held by competent authorities
to be of fourteenth- or fifteenth-century origin ; but,
barring this exquisite specimen, it is not thought that
any other of the Manx crosses date from a later period
than the middle of the thirteenth century. Clear
evidence of Roman occupation in Man is not forth-
coming, although sundry Roman architectural features
are extant, and tradition has it that the mines at
Bradda and elsewhere were worked by the Romans.
In the History of Scotland by Hollinshed we read
that the Manx fought with the Picts against Ostorius
Scapula, and the chronicler says that Vespasian
intended to subdue the island.
The origin of the name " Man " is wrapped about
with some uncertainty ; numerous and varied are the
solutions of the enveloping mystery. Train, one of the
many historians of the isle, considered that the deriva-
tion was found in Menagh, or Meanagh, meaning
middle island, as the small territory can certainly be
described. Another opinion is to the effect that the
origin of Man is reflected in Mannanagh, the name of a
tribe who once lived in the little country which Caesar
wrote of as Mona. Ptolemy gave it the poetical
name of Monaoida and Monarina ; Pliny varied things
by altering the designation to Monabia ; Gildas
christened the much-named land Manan ; and Bede
wrote of Menabia. The Sagas of the Norse sang of
Mon, transliterated Maun.
The Manx people themselves and perhaps they
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL 29
count the most of all consider that Mannanan
had more than a little to do with the naming
of his island. He was the marvellous wizard who
" kept by necromancy the Land of Mann under
mists," by which marauding enemies were confounded.
If any would-be conquerors did manage to effect a
landing, Mannanan had still another trump card to
play. He had the power a faculty Mr. Haldane must
envy of making " one man seem a hundred by his art
magick." Ten men set on a hill looked so formidable
that the most redoubtable foes fled back to their ship
at once. The necromancer lived at Keamool, with
occasional Sittings to Barrule, whither he went to
receive the rents from all those who held land of him.
This was paid once in a year in green rushes. The
wizard king flourished somewhere about A.D. 447,
when, tradition records, he was routed by the advent
of St. Patrick, who, like everyone else, almost passed
the island by, so cleverly was it concealed in the thick
haze of Mannanan s weaving. A curlew called thrice,
and betrayed the proximity of land. We are told that
the bird was blessed afterwards by the Saint for the
inestimable service rendered.
Mannanan and all his tenants, being of very small
stature, changed into sprites, and hied them to the
ancient places of sepulture scattered about the isle,
where they armed themselves with the flint arrow
heads found in the barrows. There the elves have
remained to this age, the age of children who don't
believe in fairies.
The quaint national arms of Man with the motto,
30 THE ISLE OF MAN
" Quocunque Jeceris Stdbit " whichever way you may
throw it, it will stand is not the least original and
interesting of the many unconventional signs in Mona.
The celebrated legs appear on everything. From the
minute you land to the time you get hence the three
legs will confront you, unabashed and eye-compelling.
How Americans must suffer in the face of such
blatancy ! The nation which covers up the extremities
of a piano, the people who invite you to have a " limb "
of chicken, how much they must endure in this island
of barefaced flaunting of so embarrassing a sacred
emblem !
One or two of the numerous chroniclers of Manx
history are of opinion that the adoption of the trique-
trum does not date further back than the Scotch era,
or occupation of the Isle of Man, and is the line of
demarcation between the Norwegian and Scottish
suzerainty. When the Northmen held the isle the
national flag depicted an emblazoned war-galley, with
the motto, "Rex Mannice et Insularum." Harald, King
of Man in 1245, used such a symbol on his official seal,
with a lion rampant on the reverse.
It is quite possible, indeed most probable, that the
Scandinavian conquerors used the Three Legs a
symbol found upon ancient coins of the Island of
Sicily, haunt of the Vikings of old through many ages
in conjunction with the well-known device of the
war-galley. The earliest authentic representation of
the triad is found on the Manx sword of state, said to
date from 1216. Scandinavian rule did not come to
an end in Man till 1245. The legs carven upon the
DESCRIPTIVE AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL 31
wonderful old weapon have the nakedness of them
girt about with chain armour, and spurred heels.
Before the hardy Northmen conquered the Isle of
Man it cannot be conclusively proved that the Celtic
Manx boasted Arms at all. Somewhere about 1265
the Three Legs entirely superseded the war-galley,
and has continued its proud career ever since, under-
going in its trek through the centuries many changes.
The earliest known example of the present condition
of the device, emblazoned in the recesses of the fifteenth
century, portrays the heraldic emblem without its
motto, which originated in comparatively modern
times.
" Quocunque Jeceris Stabit " appeared on the copper
coinage issued in 1668, below the Three Legs, and on the
reverse "John Murrey His Penny 1668. I X M."
Up to that time leather money had been in use. In
1709 the Earl of Derby of the day issued a copper
coinage, with their well-known crest and motto upon
one side, and the Manx arms and motto upon the
other.
CHAPTER III
TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION
The act of order to a peopled kingdom
Henry V.
I stand here for law. The Merchant of Venice.
You can hardly realize the inner meaning of Tynwald
unless you happen to be a Manxman. The importance
of it is bound up in his being, and reverence for the
old-time ceremony is bred in the bones descended
from the Norsemen who, over a thousand years ago,
brought to a small island, set in the Irish Sea, the
manner and fashion of the Government which obtained
in Scandinavia. It was usual with the Northerners
to hold in the open all courts for the making of laws,
settling of petty disputes, and dividing of property.
The measures which were to govern and bind a free-
man must be promulgated in full assembly of freemen,
and wheresoever the Scandinavians went they estab-
lished this open-air legislative procedure.
It would seem that in the word Tynwald we have a
relic and reminder of the Icelandic Thing, Ting, or
Ding. Palgrave, in writing of these out-of-doors
courts, explains that the Scandinavian colonies in
England and Scotland held their Parliaments on
32
DHOON GLEN
TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION 33
natural or manufactured hillocks, and observes that
it is noticeable how many of the eminences, old-time
seats of satrapy, are distinguishable by the inclusion
of the name Thing, Ting, or Ding in some stage of
corruption or alteration. As, for instance, Ding wall,
Tynwald Hill in Dumfriesshire, and its namesake of
Mona.
In Iceland the Parliament, Althing, was held every
other year in the deep -set valley of Thingvellir, or
Parliament Field, not far from the capital Reykjavik.
The Althing has gone the way of so many old usages,
is nothing now but a memory, but the shadow of it,
the link, the outward and visible sign of the close
connexion between Althing and Tynwald, lives on in
the quaint ceremony still held in the Isle of Man every
fifth of July.
As Professor Worsaae, the great Danish historian,
said : " It is indeed highly remarkable that the last
remains of the old Scandinavian Thing, which, for
the protection of the public liberty, was held in the
open air, in the presence of the assembled people and
conducted by the people's representatives, are to be
met with not in the north itself, but in a little island
far towards the west, and in the midst of the British
Kingdom."
And since under old Scandinavian ruling the laws
must be proclaimed in open concourse, any measure,
before it becomes binding, is still, in the one-time
Scandinavian kingdom of Man, now a tiny jewel in
the British Crown, promulgated from the Hill of Tyn-
wald, situated at St. John's, a central village, backed
34 THE ISLE OF MAN
by the emerald slopes of Greeba, and dominated by
the sombre frontage of Slieau Whuellian, down whose
fearsome scarps the witches of long ago were rolled
in spiked barrels.
No English Act of Parliament, unless specifically so
stated, applies to this little land of Home Rule, and
though in many ways alterations and additions in
keeping with the upward sweep of civilization and
the trend of modern needs have been introduced,
the general outline of the Government at the present
time is the same as it was in " Orrey's Dayes," cen-
turies agone.
The Governor of the Isle of Man is a sort of latter-
day Pooh-Bah. He is Governor, Home Secretary,
Finance Minister, President of the Local Government
Board, and Chancellor all rolled into one. A most
ubiquitous " Lord High Everything Else." In money
matters he has the right of veto. He may prorogue
the Legislature, and dissolve the House of Keys.
Tynwald is adjourned by him, not of itself, and when
my lord speaks he does so sitting. In this modern
Utopia, this country of no income-tax and no death
duties, the suffragette ceases from troubling, and the
strident cries of " Votes for Women" echo not at all.
In the " HI islan' " women have the vote, and having
it one is surprised to observe how valueless it appears.
Of the component parts which go to make the in-
tegral whole of the legislative powers that be we
have : The Sovereign of England, as Lord of Man ;
the Governor and Council, who form a sort of Upper
House ; and the Keys, who may be said to correspond
TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION 35
with the Commons, although the Manx claim that
their representatives existed long before the counties
sent members to the Court of England.
The Council consists practically of every potentate
on the island, a splendid let-them-all-come method of
eliminating jealousy. The two Deemsters, the Clerk
of the Rolls, the Attorney-General, the Receiver-
General, the Bishop, the Archdeacon, and the Vicar-
General are all of the select band. The Deemsters, as
everyone knows, are the judges of the Isle of Man.
In Iceland the spokesman, or lawgiver, was called
Dom-stiorar. In the Insular Statutes of old times the
expression " to deem the law truly " occurs now and
again. Bishop Wilson in his writings used this sen-
tence, thus showing that he held the etymology of the
word Deemster to be self-contained. The quaint oath
which the lawgivers of Man take on appointment runs
as follows :
" By this Book, and the Holy Contents thereof, and
by the wonderful works that God hath miraculously
wrought in Heaven above and in the earth beneath in
six days and seven nights, I do swear that I will,
without respect of favour or friendship, love or gain,
consanguinity or affinity, envy or malice, execute the
laws of this Isle justly, betwixt our Sovereign Lord
the King, and his subjects within this Isle, and betwixt
party and party, as indifferently as the herring back-
bone doth lie in the midst of the fish."
The last sentence, with its unusual simile, is another
proof of the important part played by the silver
herring in the economic history of the island.
36 THE ISLE OF MAN
The exact origin of the House of Keys is enveloped
in the mists of ages, wound about with the gossamer
web of enshrouding mystery. We know it existed in
some wise so far back as the remote recesses of the
centuries following the coming of the Northmen in 912.
There are twenty-four Keys, and no parties.
I wonder !
As regards their odd designation many extraordinary
solutions are put forward. One ingenious writer con-
siders that the problem is solved by comparison with
the Scandinavian word Keise, meaning " the chosen."
Another historian evolved the idea that Keys is the
English method of pronouncing Keare-as-feed, the
Manx for twenty-four !
In the Insular Statute Book of 1417 the Keys are
referred to as Claves Mannice et Claves Legis, Keys of
Man and Keys of the Law, and from this probably,
by devious routes and the expenditure of a little
originality, comes the title of the members of the
Manx House.
In 1710 the oath taken by the Keys was recorded
for the first time in the Liber Scaccarii, or Exchequer
Book :
" Your allegiance to the King's Majesty reserved,
You shall true faith and fidelity bear to the Right
Honble William, Earle of Derby, and his heirs during
your life. You shall be aiding and assisting to the
Deemsters in all doubtfull matters, the Lord's Councill,
your ffellows', and your own you shall not reveal.
You shall use your best endeavours to maintaine
the antient Laws and Customes of the Isle, you shall
TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION 37
justly and truley deliver your opinion and do right in all
matters which shall be put unto you, without favour
or affection, affinity or consanguinity, love or fear,
reward or gaine, or for any hope thereof ; but in all
things deale uprightly and justly, and wrong noe man.
Soe God you help, and the contents of this Book."
The House of Keys ceased to be a self-elected body
in 1866, the first General Election taking place in the
year following. Previous to the House of Keys
Election Act a member sat for life, or until he chose to
resign. The statutory time limit of the continuance
of the House is now five years, unless sooner dissolved
by the Governor.
The sacred Hill of Tynwald is a manufactured mound,
said to be composed of earth brought from every parish
in the island. It is completely round, some two
hundred and fifty feet in circumference at the base, cut
in narrowing circles or steps, like an out-sized wedding
cake of four tiers. Each platform is three feet higher
than the last, which makes the height of the hillock
just twelve feet.
Before the ceremony of Tynwald the mound is
thickly strewn from base to top with green rushes
gathered from the Curragh, according to ancient usage
and precedent.
In the fifteenth century it was set down how the
King of Man should come to Tynwald. Answering
the questions put to them by the obviously puzzled
Sir John Stanley, as to how he was to comport himself
at this old-new ceremony, the Deemsters and Keys
replied :
74797
38 THE ISLE OF MAN
" Our doughtfull and Gratious Lord, this is the
Constitution of old Tyme, the which we have given in
our days, how you should be governed on your Tynwald
Day. First, you shall come hither in your royal array,
as a king ought to do, by the prerogatives and royalties
of the Land of Mann. And upon the Hill of Tynwald
sitt in a chaire, covered with a royal cloath and
quishions, and your visage unto the east, and your
swoard before you holden with the point upward ;
your Barrens in the third degree sitting beside you,
and your beneficed men and your Deemsters before
you sitting ; and your Clarkes, your Knights, Esquires,
and Yeomen about you in the third degree ; and the
worthiest men in your land to be called in before your
Deemsters, if you will ask anything of them, and to hear
the Government of your land, and your will ; and the
Commons to stand without the Circle of the Hill, with
three Clearkes in their surplisses. And your Deemsters
shall make call in the Coroner of Glenfaba ; and he
shall call in all the Coroners of Man, and their Yards in
their hands, with their weapons upon them, either
swoard or axe. And the Moares, that is, to witt, of
every Sheading. Then the Chief Coroner, that is, the
Coroner of Glenfaba, shall make affence, upon paine of
lyfe and limb, that noe man make any disturbance or
stirr in the time of Tynwald, or any murmur or rising
in the King's presence, upon paine of hanging and
drawing. And then shall your Barrens and all others
know you to be their King and Lord, and what time
you were here you received the land as Heyre Apparent
in your Father's days. And all your Barrens of Man,
TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION 39
with your worthiest Men and Commons, did you faith
and fealtie. And in as much as you are, by the Grace of
God, now King and Lord of Man, yee will now that the
Commons come unto you, and show their Charters
how they hould of you. And your Barrens that made
no faith nor fealtie unto you, that they make now."
Across the misty ages the ancient formula calls to
us. The keeping of Tynwald ! It means a lot to a
Manxman. It is his birthright, his pride of place, his
Independence Day.
The proceedings of the Court always open with
prayer in " the little grey church on the windy hill," a
new edifice as one counts years at St. John's, but built
upon the site of a very old sanctuary.
The procession from the church to the hill is regu-
lated by strict precedent, as potent here as the law
itself.
Of late years the island has not been a military
station. The East Yorkshire Regiment furnished the
last detachment of men to garrison Castletown, and
this small force was removed altogether in 1896.
The Naval Reserve men from Peel and the local
volunteers keep the path down which the Governor in
" his royal array" from a sartorial point of view a
regal failure passes to the green rush-covered mound,
running the gamut of the sotto voce remarks of half-
holiday making Lancashire and Yorkshire.
A few stalwart policemen lead the way, the coroners
of the island and the captains of the several parishes,
the clergy, the four high bailiffs, the two Deemsters,
and the Members of the House of Keys follow in their
40 THE ISLE OF MAN
places. Then the bearer with " the swoard before him,
holden with the point upward," preceding His Ex-
cellency.
The Manx Sword of State which is carried before the
Governor at Tynwald was borne in front of the kings
of Man from time immemorial. The weapon is con-
sidered to be of thirteenth-century origin, and is
described as : " Three feet six inches and one-eighth
in length ; but the point having been broken off by
improper usage, it was no doubt some four or five
inches longer originally. On each side of the sword,
near the hilt, the arms of Man, with the legs girt in
armour, appear."
The silk hats worn by the assembly as a whole must,
I think, have been brought to Man by Orry himself,
and bequeathed to the archives for use on great
occasions. Hall Caine, late the honourable member
for Ramsey, disdained the Orry headgear, and in-
vented a hat for himself. His creative genius evolved
one that had no counterpart on earth. A top-hat
stands for the individual always, and if you have any
imagination, are psychic even in the slightest degree,
given the hat you can construct the owner. So with
that of the celebrated author ; it stood alone, and was
like no other. It was Hall Caine.
Arrived at the mount, upon which a solid phalanx
of humanity struggle for a foothold the ladies who
have their votes being very much in evidence the
Governor seats himself beside the chair presently
occupied by the Bishop of Sodor and Man, and the
Court is " fenced," Anglice, a sort of warning off, a
threat of dire penalties which will surely overtake a
disturber of the harmony.
The fencing of the Court to-day is set about in the
following words :
" I fence this Court in the name of our Sovereign
Lord the King. I do charge that no person do quarrel,
brawl, or make disturbance, and that all persons answer
to their names when called. I charge this audience to
witness that this Court is fenced ; I charge this
audience to witness that this Court is fenced ; I
charge this audience to witness that this Court is
fenced."
The charmingly picturesque ceremony of the deliver-
ing up of the wands of office insignificant canes with
ribbon attachments by the coroners follows, and the
First Deemster swears in the new coroners.
All legislative measures must pass both Council
and Keys, and receive assent from the Sovereign
before reaching the Tynwald promulgation stage.
Up to quite recent years the laws were read out in full,
first in Manx, then in English ; but to-day merely the
titles of the Acts, with brief recapitulatory notices, are
proclaimed in the two languages.
Special sittings of Tynwald are convened on occasion,
and the same customs and procedure obtain as on the
day of tjie great annual function. If the fifth of July
falls on a Sunday, then the Court sits the day following.
The business on the hill duly completed, the pro-
cession re-forms and returns to the church, where the
promulgated Acts are attested, and the Court stands
adjourned.
42 THE ISLE OF MAN
And so on through all the ages, every year the same,
save that each successive Tynwald as it comes round
sees the crowd greater, the green sward surrounding
the famous old eminence more like a replica of
Barnum's than ever. The simple country fair of olden
time, the engaging of the servants and the farm-hands,
the bartering of cattle, is ousted by the roystering
pushing cheap-jack, the pertinacious hawker, the
fortune-teller, and the intinerant musician. The great
concourse of freemen of Man gather to hear their laws
read no longer. The glories of the sun of Tynwald sink
low to the horizon, the relic of primordial times is
but another raree-show for the summer visitor, and
the whole proceedings of the ancient Parliament are
regarded by the majority as an intensely amusing
indigenous-to-the-country spectacle, got up specially
and solely for their good entertainment. They look
on with tolerant amusement, and go in between times
for the style of humour peculiar to them. Almost
everyone of the overflowing contents of the myriad
chars-a-banc and brakes wear each other's hat. It is a
real slap in the face for the traducer who said that the
English take their pleasures sadly. At the bare idea
of exchanging headgear with a neighbour happiness
simply happens, as naturally as the success of a
Kipling poem or the whimsicalities of a Barrie play.
Alas, poor Tynwald ! Fallen from much of its high
estate, forced into the hybrid condition of antiquity
veneered by modernism, but interesting still, thought-
compelling, and wonder-provoking by reason of its
ancient history and memories. In Tynwald is memo-
TYNWALD AND LEGISLATION 43
rized a custom of bygone ages, for as the Manx proverb
fittingly reminds us : " Mannagh vow cliaghtey,
cliaghtey, nee cliaghtey coe." (If custom be not in-
dulged with custom, custom will weep.)
Many of the ancient statutes in Man which have
fallen into desuetude of late years have never been
repealed, and therefore presumably stand for law.
There is a little story of one of the Governors, playing
Pooh-Bah in the Appeal Court, being called upon to
give his opinion as to whether or no a certain ante-
diluvian Act was worth revoking, and without troubling
to investigate the matter thoroughly, His Excellency
pronounced the unrepealed Statute to be of no moment
at all, whereupon a member of the Court pointed out
how very awkward it would have been for everyone
if a similar enactment, considered to be of no conse-
quence at the time, had not been abrogated in 1697.
And this was the revoked law : " All Scots to void
the island, with the next vessell that goeth to Scot-
land, upon paine of forfeiture of his goodes and his
bodye to prison."
The Governor happened to come frae the North
himself !
History does not tell us the upshot of the whole
affair, but it seems likely that many unrepealed Acts
were " put upon the list " forthwith, with the com-
ment from His Excellency that " they never would be
missed, they never would be missed."
CHAPTER IV
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage
With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault. Macbeth.
With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.
King Henry VI.
THE Isle of Man has a wealth of tradition and history
surpassing that of any other territory having an equal
geographical area, and as it clings pathetically, with
ever-lessening hold, to its fast-vanishing language,
which received its death-blow forty years ago, when it
ceased to be taught in the schools, and upholds its
ancient forms and constitution, customs and privileges,
proud relics of long-ago times, our hearts are ineffably
touched by the spectacle of the grand little nation
striding alongside, and, untarnished by many of the
so-called benefits of advanced civilization, endeavour-
ing to keep pace with its mighty neighbour of Great
Britain.
The small country of some two hundred and twenty-
seven square miles is a Palestine, full of holy places.
From north to south, from east to west, are the grand
and glorious relics of primordial times times of so
long ago that even to speak lightly of them is to juggle
44
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 45
with the centuries. The mysterious whispers of the
distant ages call to us insidiously from the rugged
mountain peaks, from the marge of the storm-washed
rocks, ripple in the tinkling clamour of the streams,
and keep an eternal tryst with the sighing wind as it
sweeps gently over the sepulchres of the mighty dead.
" That's for remembrance ! " murmurs the breath
of the gorse-covered mountains. " That's for remem-
brance ! "
Looking back over all the centuries, we see the little
island
Compassed murkily about,
With ravage of six long, sad hundred years.
An era of fable and much fabrication, a strenuous time
of pillage and wars which closed with the establish-
ment of Christianity.
As to the exact period which saw the conversion, as
also over the name of the first man to preach the
Word there, historians differ. One or two contend that
Crathlent, King of Scotland, influenced the isle to
adopt the new faith, and sent Amphibalus as Bishop,
A.D. 360. Others, again, hold that to St. Patrick the
Isle of Man owes its conversion from paganism. All
the conflicting statements are made without any real
evidence, for there are no ecclesiastical records in
existence which deal with an era previous to A.D. 1134.
Christianity came to Ireland long before St. Patrick's
Day, and the Irish monks at once set forth all over
Europe converting and missionizing. It would seem
unlikely then, if hi their zeal and fervour these nomadic
men of God passed by the small country lying so
46 THE ISLE OF MAN
close to their hand, a poor ravaged territory crying
out for help and guidance. But it can only be guess-
work. There is nothing to tell us, very little to guide
us.
The Cistercian monks of Rushen Abbey commenced
the Chronicon Mannice in the depths of the thirteenth
century, and they began their list of the Manx bishops
with Roolwer, who reigned at the end of the eleventh
century. The Cistercians put on record that it was
considered sufficient to commence their ecclesiastical
"Who's Who" with Roolwer, because "We are entirely
ignorant who or what were the bishops before Rool-
wer's time ; for we neither find any written documents
on the subject nor have we any certain accounts
handed down by our elders."
This chronicle, the oldest Manx record, the one
authoritative piece of literature dealing with the
Scandinavian period in Man, is now in the British
Museum. Only the other day I held the wonderful
relic in my hands. The worn, much-mended pages
are set in the centre of other manuscripts, the whole
bound together in a leather-covered book of small
size. The parchment is in places very discoloured
and smoky, and the writing, English Half - Uncials,
shows with the whole of the ancient MS. the plain
evidences of a hoary weight of years.
Following the establishment of Christianity, and up
to the tenth century, princes from the adjacent isles
in turn, as one by force of arms ousted the other, held
sway, until a great warrior of Norse blood, said by
some chroniclers to be the Orry of Manx tradition,
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 47
conquered and became the first Norwegian King of
Man.
Into the period of early Scandinavian rule, the days
of pillage and devastation by the Vikings, interesting
and comprehensive though it all is, I do not propose
to dip very deeply. The history of those strenuous
times has been recorded again and again, and by very
competent pens.
The Manx people count many kings of the first
Norwegian dynasty. Historians give varying num-
bers, and the real dates of accession, as also the names
of the ascended monarchs, are more or less rather
more than less chimerical. Governor Sacheverell, in
his Account of the Isle of Man, written in 1703, re-
marking on the remote period following the subjuga-
tion of Mona by the Northmen, gives it as his opinion
that many of the said kings were just mythical imagi-
native creations, evolved from the fertile brains of the
monks to amuse the people.
The Cistercians are supposed to have taken up their
residence at Rushen Abbey in the reign of Olave
Kleining (Olave the Dwarf), who had given to the
Abbot of Furness great tracts of land for the establish-
ment of a monastery. This monarch also gave to the
churches of the isle great privileges and belts of
country.
In all the enveloping quagmire of fact inextricably
muddled up with fiction the historian treads cau-
tiously, and the cleverest "chiel" among them only
feels himself on safe ground as he trenches upon 1077,
the date of the battle of Scacafell, or Skyehill, and the
48 THE ISLE OF MAN
conquering of the much-harassed island by Godred
Crovan, who beat and killed in fierce affray the mon-
arch of Man, Godred Mac Sytric. The name Godred
in those days was something like the glut of Jameses
and Johns with us to-day.
In Godred Crovan, a romantic commander and
mighty warrior, who had subjugated the Hebrides and
the Out Isles, Mr. A. W. Moore sees the outlines of
the semi-mythical Orry, beloved of Manx tradition.
Godred Crovan brought to the island the Scandinavian
methods of legislation. So did Orry. The conqueror
from the North was of superhuman strength. So was
Orry. In all things Godred Crovan was more like
Orry than Orry himself.
This Godred, son of Harald the Black of Iceland,
happened to come as a fugitive to Man, and was kindly
received by the reigning monarch. Observing the
fertility and resources of the isle, and also the un-
popularity of its King, Godred, rewarding hospitality
in rather an unprincipled fashion, meditated conquest,
and, returning to Iceland, fitted out an extensive ma-
rauding expedition. Tradition has it that the Icelandic
forces were twice repulsed by the Manx, but on the
third effort the victory in the great battle of Scacafell,
as the verdant slope of Skyehill was then called, went
to the Northmen.
This royal struggle is one of the landmarks of time
in Mona ; poets have sung of it, great litterateurs have
written of it. Down the corridors of time the echo of
its clamour rings and trembles yet.
Under cover of the night the Vikings landed and
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 49
lay in lager for the night, and as the day dawned the
craft and strategy of Godred placed three hundred
men in ambush on the wooded hill, which stands
sentinel to the higher mountains of purple and gold
behind, dominating the plateau land through which
the winding, rippling Sulby river flows to meet the sea.
The Manxmen held the ground on the outskirts of
Ramsey, awaiting the expected on-coming troops of
Godred from that quarter, and a small division of these
presently engaged the attention of the islanders. Then,
at the crashing volleying overture of sword beating
against shield Godred's signal the three hundred,
with pomp of artifice and excellence of design, fell on
the unprotected rear of the enemy, who, in dense
column, flanked by slingers and bowmen, with showers
of stones, arrows, and spears, repelled for a while the
overwhelming attack.
With his great sword ever a-swing Godred Crovan,
clad in ring mail, a rare panoply, with golden pinions
uprising from his gleaming helmet, carved a way
through the solid ranks. Like grass before the mower
fell all who opposed him. Holding his shield firmly
by the cross bar within the boss, the giant Viking
parried on its broad disc the battering onslaughts.
One agile thrower cast a spear so deftly that it
pierced the uplifted shield, and struck through to the
golden rim of the marauder's helmet. A low sigh like
the breath of the wind in the trees sounded tremulous
and startled, the victorious line of the invaders paused
for an instant, then rallied and surged on, a relent-
less o'er-mastering wave.
E
50 THE ISLE OF MAN
To the men who had followed his fortunes from
Iceland the new King of Man offered choice of land or
loot, and those who chose the former were allotted
the South of the Isle, the natives being forced to move
to the northward. And with this arrangement the
great injustice of the system of land tenure set in, an
evil which was not remedied for centuries afterwards.
No right of inheritance went with the holdings pre-
sented by Godred. The occupants were merely his
tenants, his tenants-at-will.
The dynasty of Godred continued for close upon
two centuries, and nine monarchs of his House are
said to have reigned until the middle of the thirteenth
century, when the small territory passed from King
Magnus II, the last of Godred's line, to the suzerainty
of Scotland.
The period between 1266 and 1405 was indeed a
troublous one for the poor little land tossed from
one to another, with all sorts of over-lords to harass
the long-suffering inhabitants.
Robert Bruce besieged Castle Rushen in 1313, and
afterwards presented the Isle of Man to the Earl of
Moray. Shortly after the Battle of Bannockburn we
read of the island being again devastated, this time by
a lot of Irish free-lances. History here becomes very
involved, and though historians make valiant efforts
to fill in all the gaps, we cannot help feeling with
Schlegel that "it is extremely hazardous to attempt
the explanation of everything." This era in Manx
history cannot be accounted for reliably. The middle
of the fourteenth century saw the satrapy of English
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 51
kings once more established, and the over-lordship of
the Isle of Man was bandied shuttlecock-wise from one
favourite of the reigning monarch of England to the
other. During the sovereignty of Edward III the
island must often have wondered if indeed the power
of speculation was left to the much-harassed natives,
whose condition was described by Edward I as " Deso-
lata et multis miseriis occupata," to whom on earth
they were to look.
Piers Galveston, Gilbert MacGascall, and Henry de
Beaumont in turn wore the unstable crown of Mona.
Knights who made no hobby of collecting islands sold
the small territory to others who did. For a passing
second the crown, which appeared to lie so uneasily
upon every brow, went to Henry Percy, Earl of North-
umberland, but with the rebellion of the Percies the
island reverted once more to the giving of the English
King.
At last the great dawning of the era of the Stanleys
flashed across the grey horizon. In April, 1406,
Henry IV bestowed the Isle of Man on Sir John
Stanley, a most courageous knight, and valued ad-
herent of His Majesty, " To him and his heirs for ever,
with the regalities, franchises, and rights belonging
thereto, with the patronage of the Bishopric, under
the title of King of Man, per servitium reddendi duos
falcones, by the feudal service of offering a cast of
falcons to the monarchs of England upon their Corona-
tion Day."
At the time of the accession of Sir John Stanley his
new country was in parlous case indeed. For so long
52 THE ISLE OF MAN
a tumultuous battle-ground, the whole island was a
neglected waste. Cultivation was at its lowest ebb,
and in consequence of the insecure tenure of land
agriculture played an exceedingly small part in the
economic history. The power of ecclesiasticism was
at its zenith, the Church was shark-like in insatiable
rapacity, and the tithes levied on fishermen and lands-
men were cruelly extortionate. A great portion of
the land was held by the Barons of Man, all high
ecclesiastical dignitaries, resident and non-resident.
The most worth-having bits, together with mining
rights, were possessed by the priests, whose immense
and arbitrary power was all owing to the mistaken
gifts of former Kings of Man. Olave of Man, one of the
Godred dynasty, had even thrown away his power of
appointing a bishop, and bestowed that right on the
Church of the Blessed Mary of Furness, thus, in one
fell swoop, depriving the Manx of any say in a matter
so fraught with consequences to themselves. For the
Bishop of the Isle had immense powers over life and
limb, ran his own private gallows, and even up to the
eighteenth century was only approachable on bended
knee ! To the King of Man the ecclesiastical poten-
tate made some small pretence of allegiance, but it was
very indifferent, very " Let's pretend."
In the great warrior Sir John Stanley, the outposts
of Rome met with a decided " check mate." In ex-
pressly bestowing the gift of the bishopric, a mark of
royal condescension almost unique, Henry of England
put a trump card into the hand of his doughty knight.
The new King of Man never visited his territory,
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 53
and its government was vested in one Michael
Blundell, a bit of an original, at a time when a spark
of this excellent attribute stood out like a nimbus.
Forsaking the tramlines of tradition, the Governor
occupied himself during his sojourn in writing down all
the laws which the over-freighted Deemsters had
hitherto carried loose in their heads. Blundell felt
that this haphazard system of administering State
affairs contrasted ill with the carefulness of the Church,
and its written laws and set measures, denning almost
the exact amount of air a right-thinking Manxman
was permitted to breathe.
The first member of the Stanley family to visit
Man was the son of John I, upon whose arrival " the
worthiest men did faith and fealtie to him as Heyre
Apparent." It was to this Stanley that the Deemsters
and Keys explained the constitution and ancient
customs a rescript given in Chapter III of this book.
On succeeding to the throne of his father, John II
set about carrying into effect many salutary measures,
and compiled an amusingly comprehensive code de-
fining the powers of the Bishop. The ecclesiastical
powers that were did not, evidently, take kindly to the
new regime, for we read a pregnant manifesto from the
King of Man addressed to the Bishop, ordering " The
Abbots of Rushen, Furness, and Bangor, and of
Saball, the Priors of St. Beade and Whithorne, and
the Prioress of Douglas," all barons in Man, to come
" in their proper persons within forty days, and if
they come not to lose all their temporalities." Un-
substantiated tradition has it that the Prior of Whit-
54 THE ISLE OF MAN
home failed to make faith and fealtie, and in conse-
quence lost his barony.
In the great and lofty mind of Sir John Stanley,
action and thought played engineer to all the great
schemes for the island's betterment. The power
of the Church reeled to its foundations as with regal
power the Sovereign divested the priests of the much-
abused right of giving sanctuary, a remedial measure
which at once allocated wrong-doers to the jurisdiction
of the civil authorities. The marvellous equipoise of all
Sir John Stanley's reforms and laws is only equalled
by their courage and steadfastness. In England at
that time many crying abuses like those which Sir John
dared to put down dominated the country, and reform-
ation was not so much as hinted at.
John II was succeeded by his son Thomas, created
first Baron Stanley, who is not really very famous for
anything save that to him was allotted the task said
to be entirely apocryphal by many historians of
playing custodian to the Duchess of Gloucester, who
was held prisoner on a charge of treasonable witch-
craft against the King's Majesty. It was alleged that
the Duchess, wife of Duke Humphry of Gloucester,
with others " devised an image of wax like unto the
King, the which image they dealt with so that by
their devilish sorcery they intended to bring the King
out of life."
Although we are shown the historical apartment
supposed to have been occupied by Her Grace in the
ecclesiastical prison beneath the Cathedral of St.
German's at Peel, and although Shakespeare has by his
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 55
magic art kindled the dry dust of this tradition to
everlasting fire, there is no authentic record extant to
prove that either custodian or prisoner ever set foot
upon the Isle of Man.
Baron Stanley's son was the great warrior of Bos-
worth Field, and his inestimable services were ac-
knowledged by King Henry VII with an earldom.
This powerful nobleman, occupying as he did many high
and important offices in England, had little leisure to
attend to insular matters, and the island was governed
by deputy, often by cadets of the House of Stanley,
who styled themselves lieutenants or captains.
The Earl of Derby married the Dowager Duchess of
Richmond, mother of Henry VII, and died in 1504,
being succeeded by his grandson Thomas. This
monarch of Man resigned his regal title, saying that he
considered the name of a great lord infinitely preferable
to that of a petty king. In writing of it years after-
wards, the seventh earl remarked that he did not know
whether this action on the part of his ancestor was
" one of modesty or policy." A little of both, perhaps,
with a preponderance in favour of the latter. The next
earl, Edward, was Lord of Man for fifty years, and if he
ever visited the isle he made but little impression.
The fourth earl succeeded in 1572, and was followed by
Ferdinand in 1593. This noble is confidently reported
to have been the victim of poison, administered to him,
the story goes, by unscrupulous adherents who had
used their utmost efforts to persuade the Lord to lay
claim to the Crown of England, by reason of his descent
from Henry VII. On the loyal Stanley refusing to
56 THE ISLE OF MAN
adopt this idea, his doom was practically pronounced.
Certain it is that he died very mysteriously a year
after coming into his lordship of Man. He left two
daughters, and no son, therefore the baronies of
Stanley and Strange fell into abeyance, and William,
brother of Ferdinand, succeeded to the earldom.
Now began a squabble royal among the relatives
and no quarrel can be more acrimonious and difficult
of settlement as to whom the Isle of Man belonged.
William claimed it, his nieces claimed it, and finally
the matter in dispute was referred to Queen Elizabeth
for settlement. That high-handed dame settled the
matter effectively by annexing the isle herself, and
appointing a governor. It was during the suzerainty
of Elizabeth that Castle Rushen became possessed of
the wonderful old time-piece which still sets the hours
for Castletown. Her Majesty presented the clock
to the seat of Manx satrapy as a token of royal
favour.
The vexed question of ownership was never settled
in Elizabeth's day, and it was not until James I had
been on the throne for some time that it was decided
to award the Isle of Man to the daughters of the fifth
Earl of Derby. By this time both had found husbands,
the present over-crowded state of the marriage-market
not having cast any shadows before; and, possibly
because their husbands dreaded the necessity of re-
siding on a distant island, with inadequate means of
getting away from it, or because of indifference brought
about by monotonous controversy, both heiresses
willingly made over the isle to their uncle, the sixth
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 57
earl, with all their rights and privileges. The King, by
Private Act of Parliament, 1610, re-bestowed Man on a
Stanley, " in the name and blude of William, Earl of
Derby."
As the throes of the Reformation rent England
from end to end, the sweep of the rising turmoil
engulfed the little territory in the Irish Sea. The
statutes of Henry VIII, putting down monastic
habitations, did not apply to the Isle of Man, and the
monasteries of Mona were not completely dissolved
until the reign of Elizabeth, and then the passing of
them was not due to any statute, but by right of the
might of a Sic volo, sic jubeo spoken by the English
monarch. Rushen Abbey, for so long the home of the
powerful Cistercians from Furness, was, I understand,
the last monastic house m the British Isles to be
broken up, and with its closure sic transit gloria the
barons of Man. The Bishop alone remained.
As Elizabeth settled herself on the throne, the
Captain of Man, in striking fashion, handed in " her
Majestie's commands " for reading in the churches, a
quaintly-worded formula putting down, on paper at
least, every practice of the Church of Rome.
History does not tell us that the inhabitants tried
to quit the country nobody in those days could leave
the island without a licence! but in reading over
Her Majestie's inj unctions it is very clear to us that
among all the hatefully puritanical abodes existent
at that time the Isle of Man must have ranked high.
Perhaps the natives did not really feel the edict or the
imprisonment. With the sea as a permanent escape
58 THE ISLE OF MAN
ladder, an island had no terrors for a nation bred to
regard the ocean as a mighty friend.
The autocracy of the Lord was now paramount;
with his barons gone, his every authority was on the
up-grade. The statutes of the isle confirmed and
ratified his myriad privileges, and pages and pages of
the Statute-book devoted themselves to regulating the
mechanism of my Lord's domestic affairs. All allow-
ances and rations were minutely settled, and the
noble household must have been run on lines of the
greatest economy, and the bills of the butcher, the
baker, and the candlestick-maker reduced to a mini-
mum. We read that most of the necessary household
commodities were given, or sold, "at the Lord, his
price."
" No man to have choice wine but my Lord, the
Captain, the Abbott, or Archdeacon, and to drink it of
free cost or else to have none, saving my Lord."
All things paid him toll. Treasure trove was his,
wreckage, however valuable, toll of all fish taken was
paid him, and the goods of felons also fell to the share
of this great potentate.
As the Armada threatened, the immemorial ancient
custom of watch and ward was detailed and elaborated.
This system of keeping everlasting watch for possible
enemies was " One of the Constitutions of old tyme
that every man had to perform the duties of Watch and
Ward." The usage was continued until after 1815. The
watch-places, exclusive of fortified castles and strong-
holds, were many, and scattered about the island
sentinel-wise. The look-out never ceased summer or
TRADITION AND EARLY HISTORY 59
winter, night or day. Snaefell was the central conning
tower, and all the surrounding hills played their parts
in the safeguarding of Mona. South Barrule was
originally called Ward Fell. At the sign of a strange
sail every peak and summit blazed forth a flaming
signal to the natives to hurry to the trysting places.
All the inhabitants of Man, as the Lord's tenants, were
compulsorily armed with bows and arrows, swords and
bucklers, and these weapons of war passed from
father to son and were called corbes, heirlooms.
We read of Governor Randolph Stanley asking the
Deemsters, at the time of the threatened Armada
invasion, to answer this conundrum :
" I pray you certify me what punishment your laws
impose on the Wardens of the Watch, if they do not
nightly see the Watch sett at the hours appointed."
And the all-knowing law-men give it that " the
Wardens are to be punished at the discretion of the
Captain."
The Earl of Derby, who received back the island by
special gift en seconde noces in the history of his family,
gave up his interests and tenure in 1637, some five
years before he died, to his son, Lord Strange, who had
been for some time in full authority over the isle. To
this outstanding figure in Manx history is universally
accorded with proud acclaim the style and title of
Yn Stanlagh Mooar, the Great Stanley.
CHAPTER V
MIDDLE HISTORY
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
Julius
The elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world,
This was a man. Julius Casar.
THE Great Stanley has been compared by one of his
biographers to a Russian nobleman among his vassals,
and the comparison is not inapt. In fact it is quite
a tolerant way of viewing the autocratic character of
the Earl. Most biographers have but two points of
view ; they either write with intention of making
a man into a demi-god, or of branding him as a knave
who has cheated the world.
{^Though the seventh Earl of Derby undoubtedly
held lofty ideals for the betterment of his island, there
always abode with him the settled conviction that a
vast and impassable gulf lay 'twixt him and his in-
feriors. The teachings of his time were all for the
slavish dependence of dependants, for autocratic
sovereignty, and these tenets were imbibed and rigidly
adhered to by this typical cavalier. By no means a
perfect ruler, he yet strove to check the still unbounded
60
MIDDLE HISTORY 61
exactions of the Church, to evolve some degree of order
from chaos, and his wide intelligence and princely
diplomacy contrast oddly with one or two crying in-
justices of his reign. As a loyal servant of his King, for
whom he showed his love by the giving of life itself, the
Stanlagh Mooar ranks high among the gallant men
who staked their all on the fortunes of the vacillating
Charles. Such devotion was worthy of a better King,
to whom the allegiance of the Earl of Derby under
stress and storm was magnificent in spontaneity and
generosity.
In 1627 the then Lord Strange appointed an act
fraught with vast after-consequences to the Stanleys
Edward Christian as Governor of the island, the
Edward Christian so often confused with his kinsman
William, called by the Manx Ittiam Dhone (Fair-
haired William), who has furnished poets with verses
and historians with dissertations.
The Governor was described by his patron in the
following illustrative words : "A Manxman born, as
rude as a sea captain should be, but refined as one
that had civilized himself half a year at Court, where
he served the Duke of Buckingham."
For many years this choice of Governor seemed the
inspiration of genius ; but at last a little rift within
the lute made itself apparent, and culminated in the
following trenchant expression from my Lord, which
sums up the whole situation : " But I observed that
the more I gave the more he asked. After a while I
sometimes did refuse him, and it was sure to fall out,
according to the old observation, that when a prince
62 THE ISLE OF MAN
hath given all and the favourite can desire no more,
they both grow weary of one another." The weariness
evidently ended in crucial fashion. In 1640 Edward
Christian was superseded as Governor by Captain
Greenhalgh, of whom the Earl writes : " His ancestors
have dwelt in my house, as the best, if not all, the
good families in Lancashire have done. This certainly
might breed a desire in the man that the house where
his predecessors have served might flourish." In this
connexion, dwelling on the ingratitude of his former
favourite, the Earl made use of the old Manx proverb :
" Ta scuinys y laue dy choyrt scuirrys yn veeal dy
voylley." (When the hand ceases to give, the mouth
ceases to praise.)
The acute crisis in monarchical affairs in 1642 caused
the Earl of Derby to raise a considerable force and join
his King at York. His staunch allegiance stood firm
as a rock in spite of unjust suspicions and calumnies.
The evil little bird was a-wing to whisper in the ear of
Charles that Derby, even as the King himself, was
descended from Henry VII. The disinterested devotion
of the most loyal of subjects was contorted and mis-
understood. We read of Prince Rupert informing the
Earl of all " those undeserved jealousies and suspicions
subsisting against him by the great ones at Court, and
also of their vile and scurrilous suggestions and in-
sinuations to His Majesty."
Through all vicissitudes the gallant Cavalier had no
blame for his King. The King could do no wrong. The
gross mismanagement which threw the Earl's own
county of Lancashire into the Parliamentary cause
MIDDLE HISTORY 63
was never ascribed by the mortified nobleman to the
detrimental policy which engendered it. On the little
island discontent was rife. The crises of England were
nothing to the wrongs of the natives, smarting under
personal grievances which cried out for redress. They
would pay no more tithes. They could live very
comfortably without a bishop, therefore desired none.
And, most shocking of all, without any " by your
leave," or " with your leave " to my Lord, a wholesale
invitation to " foreigners " to visit the sacred preserve
of the Isle of Man had been extended by the Manx.
A ship of the Manx navy the island boasted a navy
in those days was seized by a prowling Parliamentary
man-o'-war. Everything seemed to cry aloud for
attention and arrangement. And the Earl set out for
his territory visiting it, as it is thought, for the first
time leaving his great Countess to defend Lathom
House against Fairfax.
With consummate tact the artful noble met the
simmering islanders in tolerant and engaging fashion.
" When first I came among the people," he wrote, " I
seemed affable and kind to all, so I offended none. For
taking off your hat, a good word, a smile or the like,
will cost you nothing, but may gain you much."
The rising discontent was caused mainly by the
exactions and rapacity of the Church, and the unfair
system of land tenure, and to quell the local excitement
Lord Derby convened a meeting that he might judge of
the complaints, " and give best remedy I could ; by
which I thought those that had entered into evil
designs against me, or the country, might have time to
64 THE ISLE OF MAN
find some excuses for themselves by laying the blame
and charge upon others. Thus I chose rather to give
them hopes, and prevent them falling into violent
measures before I could be provided for them. I gave
them a few good words, upon which they appeared
easy, and departed."
The dragon of discontent was only scotched by these
methods, and rose again, hydra-headed, to menace the
Lord's peace. A second mass meeting was appointed
at " Castle Peel, where," writes his Lordship, " I
expected some wrangling, and met with it, but had
provided for my own safety, and if occasion were to
curb the rest."
His prophetic soul had seen the need of a detective-
like intelligence department, who mingled with the
people to ascertain " what likeliest might best content
them. I had spies," continues the careful Lord of Man,
" among the busy ones, who, after they had spoken
sufficiently ill of my officers, began to speak well of me,
and of my good intent to give them all the satisfaction
their grievances required, and that if any man were
so unreasonable as to provoke me, they would run to
great hazard, as I had to maintain my actions, from
which there was no appeal."
There spoke with clarion note the autocratic states-
man, and it may be that his firm front might have
lulled the clamour of the people but for the dramatic
fact that the ex-favourite and ex-Governor Edward
Christian was present, who, to quote once more the
words of his one-time patron, " at the rising of the
Court asked me if we did not agree thus and thus,
MIDDLE HISTORY 65
mentioning something he had instructed the people
to ask, which very happily they had forgot. Presently
some catched thereat. ... I assured the people that
they needed no other advocate than myself to plead
for them . . . so I bade the Court to rise, and no man
to speak a word more." The Earl naively adds,
" Christian hereat grew very blank."
The Nemesis which would naturally overtake a man
who set himself against the steel-like will of the island's
monarch overtook Edward Christian, and he was tried
by the Keys, on the charges : " That he had said that
the Keys should be elected by the people. That the
Deemsters should be chosen out of the twenty-four
Keys, one by the Lord, the other by the people, and
that they should hold office for three years only.
That he had encouraged the people to resist the
payment of tithes. That he had endeavoured to get
Peel Castle into his power. That he had urged the
people to behave seditiously to the Lord."
For these " greate and manifest misdemeanors "
Edward Christian was incarcerated at Peel, where he
remained for many years. An entry in the register
at Maughold Church, where Christian is buried, de-
fines the offence for which the ex-Governor was im-
prisoned as " Some words spoken concerning ye King
when ye great difference was betwixt King and Par-
liament."
In the little world outside the grim grey prison
which had swallowed up the unfortunate sea-captain
great things went forward. The Earl set about in-
vestigating some of the complaints, and by way of a
66 THE ISLE OF MAN
start called on the clergy for explanations, and made
promises of reform. With characteristic impetuosity
he did not wait for some of these to take effect, and
of his own immediate command put an end to the
delightful arrangement of ecclesiastical grabbing which
directed that all small tithes must be paid on Easter
Day, and unless they were so, the Sacrament should
be withheld ! Lord Derby artfully altered the day of
payment to Monday or Tuesday in Easter week, thus
giving anyone who desired to take the Sacrament the
opportunity of doing so.
Unfortunately the matter of the land-tenure was
not dealt with in the same broad-minded spirit. It
will be remembered that six centuries before Godred
Crovan had granted to his followers portions of the
island, which they held from him as tenants-at-will.
In the course of years the people had come to regard
the holdings as their own, without charter certainly,
but so much their own individual property that they
claimed the right of land-transmission from father to
son. If there was no heir in the direct line it had
become the custom for proclamation to be made on
three successive Sundays, when the next-of-kin suc-
ceeded.
The Earl of Derby never ceased to regard the latter-
day land tenure system as detrimental, and laboured
strenuously to enforce his absolute ownership. In
1645 he manoeuvred and cajoled the Tynwald Court
into newly denning the right of holdings, whereby the
tenants became mere leaseholders by law. Everyone
had to make over his land to the Lord, who handed
MIDDLE HISTORY 67
it back on a marvellous lease arrangement, which
brought him into possession again after no great lapse
of time. The direct consequence of all this was a com-
plete neglect of agriculture, and everyone turned his
attention to the more profitable livelihood of smuggling,
for which the island was the most splendid natural
entrepot imaginable.
Before the promulgation of his most unfair Act Lord
Derby left for England and hied him to Lathom,
where he received Prince Rupert on the raising of the
famous siege. The Battle of Marston Moor saw the
warrior Earl in the fighting line again. He then re-
turned to Man, whither his Countess, his children, and
his chaplain, Rutter, had preceded him.
At the end of 1644 the Parliamentary Committee
offered to do their best towards procuring the reconcilia-
tion of the Earl with the Cromwellian Government.
His English estates were to be restored if Lord Derby
would but yield the Isle of Man. To this it would
seem that the gallant Cavalier did not deign a reply.
He amused himself with fortifying his small territory
and holding high revelry at Castle Rushen.
The Rev. Thomas Parr, then vicar of Malew, the
quaintest Manx cleric of his or any age, describes a
typical entertainment of the time, in the vivid word-
painting with which he was wont to adorn his episcopal
and parish registers, an admiring eulogy, forerunner
of the exclamatory notes abounding to-day in the
social columns of the Society papers. Indeed, I think
that to Thomas Parr instead of Mr. T. P. O'Connor
really belongs the credit of discovering the so-called
68 THE ISLE OF MAN
new line of journalism for the most part composed of
comments on a circle in which, d propos de rien or very
little, all the women are hailed as beautiful houris,
each one possessing the very finest pearl necklace in
the whole world, and the men inevitably as hand-
some dashing creatures, distinguished and amazingly
amiable. If by some unlucky chance the subject in
hand is ugly enough to smash a looking-glass to
smithereens, then is he juggled into an intellectual
rara avis, that doubtful port in a storm. The women
of the Rev. Thomas Parr's world, as in Mr. T. P.
O'Connor's to-day, could never, I'm sure, lucky
dames, be plain.
Now let us read the M.A.P. of Manxland of A.D.
1643. " The Right Hon. James Earle of Derbie, and
his Right Hon ble Countesse invited all the Officers,
temporall and spirituall, the Clergie, the 24 Keyes of
the Isle, the Crowners, with all their wives, and like-
wise the best sort of the rest of the inhabitance of the
Isle, to a great maske, where the Right Hon ble Charles
Lo. Strange, with his traine, the Right Hon ble Ladies,
with their attendance, were most gloriously decked
with silver and gould, broidered workes, and most
costly ornaments, bracellets on there hands, chaines on
there necks, jewels on there foreheads, eatings in there
ears, and crowns on there heads, and after the maske
to a feast which was most royall and plentifull with
shuttings of ornans, etc. And this was on the twelfth
day (or last day) in Christmas, in the year 1644. All
the men just with the Earle, and the wives with
the Countesse ; likewise, there was such another
MIDDLE HISTORY 69
feast that day was twelve moneth at night, being
1643."
For some reason or other the Cromwellian Govern-
ment did nothing further in the matter of annexing the
Island until 1649, when the Earl was formally required
to hand over his kingdom, a procedure which wrung
the following magnificent reply from Yn Stanlagh
Mooar :
" I received your letter with indignation and scorn,
and return you this answer : that I cannot but wonder
whence you should have gathered any hopes of me
that I should, like you, prove treacherous to my
sovereign, since you cannot but be sensible of my
former acting in his late Majesty's service, from which
principles of loyalty I am not one whit departed. I
scorn your offers, disdain your favours, and am so
far from delivering up this island to your advantage,
that I will keep it, to the utmost in my power to your
destruction. Take this your final answer, and forbear
any further solicitation. For if you trouble me with
any more messages on this account I will burn the
paper and hang the bearer. This is the immutable
resolution and shall be the undoubted practise of him
who accounts it his chief est glory to be his Majesty's
most loyal and obedient servant -P.
JJERBY.
" CASTLETOWN, July i2th, 1649."
Following these grand words and bold, the Earl made
a declaration of fealty to His Majesty, and invited all
other faithful subjects to hie them to the island,
70 THE ISLE OF MAN
" where we will unanimously employ our forces to the
utter ruin of those unmatchable regicides."
The Government retaliated by presenting the Isle
of Man to Lord Fairfax, but no written trace of this
Deed of Gift by the Long Parliament, said to have
been effected on the 2gth September, 1649, is extant.
No further attempt was made to annex the little
country until March, 1651, when the Manx navy beat
the Parliamentary ships in a mighty affray, and drove
them back in great disorder.
April of that year saw Lord Derby in England,
whence he returned again, and gathering together a
strong fleet, besides " men of qualitie, and some Manks
soulders," the redoubtable Cavalier, accompanied by
Greenhalgh, hurried to England to assist Charles II.
Sir Philip Musgrave, an ardent Royalist, undertook
the Governor's duties, and with Receiver-General
William Christian, a son of the Deemster of that
name, kinsman of Edward, still in prison, in com-
mand of the insular troops, the brave Countess of
Derby faced the situation nobly.
At first the tidings which reached the island were
hopeful and encouraging, but as the turmoil and stress
of repeated captures and disasters crushed down the
leaping hopes of the loyal Derby, sombre words suc-
ceeded " the comfortable lines." Three days before
his execution the Stanlagh Mooar wrote to his wife and
told her of the strength of the Parliamentary force
about to proceed against the Isle of Man, advising
her to make no resistance " to the end that you may
go to some place of rest where you may not be concerned
MIDDLE HISTORY 71
in war." Through this bravely beautiful and pathetic
letter, which is given in full in Seccombe's House of
Stanley, we see rising above its commanding courage
the grim tragedy of what Mr. Edward Dowden would
call " the setting of thick darkness on a human soul."
The Earl of Derby was defeated in an affray with
the forces of Cromwell between Chorley and Wigan
in Lancashire, but managed to get through to his
King at Worcester, only to be captured in Cheshire by
one Major Edge, who took the Earl " upon condition
of quarter."
The trial of Lord Derby took place at Chester. He
was indicted under the "Act for Prohibiting Corres-
pondence with Charles Stuart and his Party," which
was enacted on the I2th August, 1651. The brave
Cavalier was virtually sentenced before he was tried,
for on the 2oth September Cromwell wrote to Colonel
Rich, " Darbie will be tried at Chester, and die at
Boulton."
On the i5th October, 1651, at Bolton-le-Moors, the
gallant Stanley was executed, giving his life for his
Sovereign.
The Countess, meanwhile, ignorant of the death of
her husband, was having a none too easy time on the
isle. Though there were probably two parties, a very
strong section of the natives advocated going over
wholesale to Cromwell. On hearing of the capture of
the Earl of Derby, the Countess had communicated
with Colonel Duckenfield, offering to render up the Isle
of Man if her husband might be released.
On the 25th October, Colonel Duckenfield, with
72 THE ISLE OF MAN
twenty-four sail, three regiments of foot, and two troops
of horse, made the island, seeing " the country people
in what numbers they could make, both horse and
foot, mustering in what strength they could engage,
which for aught we knew was against us." The
amiable residents of Ramsey, where Duckenfield's
fleet anchored, headed by Receiver-General Christian,
backed up by his Deemster relative, assured the Parlia-
mentary warrior that their true intent was all for his
delight. Only two castles in the island still held out,
Peel and the residence of the Countess of Derby,
Castle Rushen. All other forts should be handed
over instanter.
The importance of the actions of the Christians has
been raised out of all focus mainly by the genius of Sir
Walter Scott in Peveril of the Peak. In the eulogies
which now hail William Christian as the Manx Martyr,
we cannot, in spite of poet's licence, get away from
the patent fact that he was also suspiciously like that
unusual anomaly, a Manx traitor.
After a time of storm, in which the very elements
fought the battle of the Countess, a night of surging
sea which drove one of the Parliamentary ships to her
doom, Duckenfield landed, summoning the Countess
to surrender her fortress. The bluff warrior used the
words " the late Earl of Derby," in his ultimatum,
and this terse expression was the first intimation the
Countess had received that her great lord was no more.
At this the wonderful woman became " extreamely
passionately affected, as in a kind of fury," and any
idea she may have had of surrendering the castle
MIDDLE HISTORY 73
promptly left her. She stood practically alone in her
resolve to hold the fortress. Her Council, her Receiver-
General, her Deemster, all had gone over to the enemy.
Even gallant Rutter, the chaplain who assisted at the
defence of Lathom, who some years afterwards became
Bishop of Man, counselled surrender. At last, listen-
ing to his advice, the Countess offered to give up the
castle on condition that her jointure be secured to her,
that her servants' property be assured to them, and
that all be given safe conduct to England.
Duckenfield vouchsafed no answer, and laid siege to
the castle.
Within the great stronghold discontent raged among
the traitorous henchmen. Some joined the besiegers,
others wrenched open a sally-port and provided the
enemy with safe conduct to the outer wall and tower.
The day was lost, and on the ist November the Countess
yielded up her castle with all its stores, and Peel on
the following Monday. She was accorded safe con-
duct to England, and her knights and followers received
passes enabling them to go wheresoever they desired.
The Government next voted the island a guard of
two hundred and forty men and two vessels to guard
" and defend them from pirates," and to the messenger
who took the glad tidings of the capture of the isle
a hundred pounds was awarded. Deemster Christian
and Receiver-General Christian were bidden to London
to attend a Council under the most unrecognizable
description of " two of the honestest and ablest
gentlemen in the Island." Lord Fairfax then came
into his own, and in due course John Chaloner, one
74 THE ISLE OF MAN
of the judges who sat at the trial of Charles I, but who
withdrew before the close, was appointed Governor.
On the 29th May, 1660, Charles II was proclaimed
King at Castletown, and all over the island the news
was hailed with every sign of joy and thankfulness.
Once more a scion of the House of Stanley received
back the dominion which had been lost to his family
for eight and a half years.
CHAPTER VI
LATER HISTORY
The sun of Rome is set ! Our day is gone.
Julius Ccesav.
WITH the coming of an Earl of Derby to his country
the island settled down to the new-old condition of
things as though the great change to the Parliamentary
control had never been. The days of the short-lived
Commonwealth were conveniently forgotten. If we
seek a reason for this turncoat method of procedure
we have it, I suppose, hi that oracular remark, that
all-embracing explainer of impenetrable situations,
" the swing of the pendulum." The pendulum swing-
ing hard-a-port saw the Earl of Derby meting out
punishment quietly and unobtrusively to all who had
failed in loyalty to his House, the while the islanders
looked silently on and endeavoured to play-act that
the feelings of the whole community had never wavered
from sentiments of faith and fealty to the rightful
Lord. Transcending every other thought in the mind
of Lord Derby was the passionate desire to punish
William Christian, whose actions had so materially
assisted towards the temporary downfall of the House
of Stanley in the island.
75
76 THE ISLE OF MAN
On coming to the throne Charles II, as is well known,
promulgated a General Act of Indemnity, and under
the cloak of this supposed powerful protection Illiam
Dhone returned to Man from England. At once Lord
Derby, choosing to ignore the Royal manifesto, wrote
from Lancashire to order the immediate apprehension
of the ex-Receiver-General.
" Soe far forth as I may to revenge a father's blood,
I take it to be a duty to command you (which I doe
with these presents) that forthwith upon sight thereof
you proceed against William Christian of Ronasway
for all his illegal actions and rebellion, and that he be
proceeded against according to thelawes of my island."
With lightning rapidity Christian was apprehended,
and forced to stand his preliminary trial at Castle
Rushen, and the evidence adduced unquestionably
went to prove that he was, at the time of Duckenfield's
arrival in the isle, the ringleader of a proposed general
insurrection, and the moving spirit in a secret scheme
for an attack upon the garrison at Castletown. The
next move in this great drama was the demand of the
Lord of Man of his Deemsters and Keys as to whether
or no " the case of Mr. William Christian of Ronasway
was within the Statute of 1422," which gave it for
law that " whosoever riseth against the lieutenant,
he is a traytor by our law, for that is against the
Lord's prerogative."
Did the Deemsters advocate a " sentence without
quest, or to be tryed according to the ordinary e course
of tryall for life and death in this country " ?
The law-givers gave it that Christian must be tried
LATER HISTORY 77
by the course of life and death, and on the 26th Novem-
ber, 1661, at Castle Rushen, Illiam Dhone was brought
before a Court of General Gaol Delivery. Deemster
Norris sat alone, Deemster Edward Christian, the
prisoner's nephew, and not entirely blameless himself,
being absent.
The Earl of Derby, with his mind fully made up as
to the course he intended should ultimately be followed,
now affected a total ignorance and innocence of the
judicial aspect of the case. He became a veritable
Rosa Dartle in his desire for information on matters
which none knew so well as he. First, my Lord
would know what happened in the case of a prisoner
refusing to plead a mistaken policy Christian had
followed and it may be that in this one item the
thirst for knowledge was genuine, for in the answer
of the Deemster that such a person would be " in ye
mercy of ye Lord for life and goods, as we find by
ancient records," Lord Derby suddenly realized that
the sentencing of Christian, which he intended to foist
on to anyone else, was in a fair way to be flung upon
his own shoulders. Again the wily Lord summoned his
Deemster and Keys and desired to have the informa-
tion whether a person who would not plead, and who
was in consequence, under the laws of Man, adjudged
a traitor, was entitled to be tried by a Grand Jury.
If such a prisoner was not worthy of trial, ought not
the Deemster to proceed to pass sentence, and if the
Deemster did not see his way to doing so who would,
or could, or should ?
The case of Christian was evidently considered one
78 THE ISLE OF MAN
for hearing by a Grand Jury, and a Gilbertian pre-
arranged trial took place. Lord Derby set the stage
for the wild drama with managerial care and fore-
thought. Seven of the Keys were superseded alto-
gether by the Lord's command, and seven amenable
minions substituted, and, with Attorney-General Can-
nel sitting as second Deemster in Deemster Christian's
stead, the Court found no difficulty in coming
to a conclusion that William Christian had forfeited
any right to any mortal thing at all, and gave it that
" the doome and sentence for life and death " must
be pronounced by the Deemsters, or the one of them,
"in due obedience."
William Christian meanwhile had appealed to King
Charles, reminding His Majesty of the Act of Indemnity,
and pleading for a fair trial, which could not be had on
the island, and but for the unconscionable time occupied
in those days for news to travel, this demand would
undoubtedly have been Illiam Dhones salvation. Some
idea of the isolation of the Isle of Man, and its com-
plete aloofness from the great humming world outside,
even up to quite recent years, may be gathered when
we remember that the victory of Waterloo was not
known in Mona for six weeks after the battle had
been fought.
The matter being satisfactorily adjusted from the
Earl of Derby's point of view, the Deemsters were
commanded to pass this sentence upon the prisoner :
" That hee bee brought to the place of execution
called Hango Hill and there shott to death, that
thereupon the lyfe may departe from his body."
LATER HISTORY 79
We can imagine the unfortunate Illiam Dhone
waiting and watching for the news from England, for
the reprieve which never reached him. Realize also
the anxiety of Lord Derby to wreak his vengeance ere
it should be taken out of his power to do so. Does
not Bacon call revenge " a kind of wild justice " ?
If may be that in this wolf-like and cruel procedure
the Lord of Man saw the only way by which his great
father's death might in some sort be avenged.
On the last day of the old year Deemster Norris, in
due obedience, passed sentence on William Christian,
" in a patheticall speech ! " Two days afterwards,
as the New Year dawned brightly on the world,
Christian met his death at Hango Hill the place of the
hanging a little eminence outside Castle town, upon
which a block-house stood. The ruins of it are to be
seen to-day, and the Manx have it that the spirit of the
ex-Receiver-General haunts his death-place still.
The strange superstition against letting blood fall
upon the ground, which was so prevalent among the
Manx people, a superstition which exists in lesser
degree to this day, prompted the executioners to
lay blankets down for Christian to stand upon. To let
blood fall on the bare earth was considered in those days
to be an unnecessary flight right into the face of
Providence. Just asking for trouble.
The soldiers wished to bind their prisoner, but he
would none of it. Pinning a scrap of white paper
over his heart as a plain-to-be-seen target, Illiam Dhone
himself gave the signal " Fire ! " by stretching out his
arms, and thus, all valiant, tasted of death but once.
80 THE ISLE OF MAN
Whatever else he was or was not, the ex-Receiver-
General had no taint of cowardice about him.
The parish register at Malew records the sinister
revenge of Lord Derby in these words : " Mr. William
Christian of Ronaldsway, late receiver, was shott to
death at Hango Hill, the 2nd of January, 1662. He died
most penitently and most curragiously, made a good
end, prayed earnestly, made an excellent speech, and
next day was buried in the chancel at Malew."
The quaint entry is one of the inimitable gems
inserted in the register by the Rev. Thomas Parr to
whom I have referred elsewhere one of two con-
spicuous brothers who were clerics in Man.
The dying speech protested against " the prompted
and threatened jury, a pretended court of justice, of
which the greater part were by no means qualified."
Disavowing all thought of treason, the ex-Receiver-
General claimed that his actions did not, in the least
degree, intend the prejudice of the Derby family.
In ballad and prose the life history of Illiam Dhone
has been recounted again and again. In Peveril of
the Peak we find his semblance in a personality in-
extricably muddled up with Edward Christian, just
as Peel Castle and distant Castle Rushen telescope and
intermingle. All this, of course, was artistic licence.
Sir Walter Scott, whose brother lived in Man, was well
acquainted with the actual history and happenings of
Mona's Isle. It is now the generally accepted theory
that Illiam Dhone was a patriot, with the accent on the
" riot " perhaps, but still a patriot, a loyal subject, a
martyr sacrificed for the country. The ballad of
LATER HISTORY 81
Iliam Dhone voices the popular attitude, as in softening
touch the poignant narrative sets forth the woes and
wrongs of the " murdered " Manxman.
Let no one in greatness too confident be,
Nor trust in his kindred, though high their degree ;
For envy and rage will lay any man low ;
Thy murder, Brown William, fills Mona with woe.
The old ballad, which is to be found in the Mona
Miscellany, was originally translated by George
Borrow and published in Once a Week in 1862. There
are not wanting out-spoken critics who call William
Christian by another name than " martyr," and pull
him down from the full meridian of glory. Hall
Caine, with his knowledge of, and insight into, things
Manx, writing of his long-dead countryman, says :
" He a hero. A Manx Vicar of Bray. Let us talk of
him as little as we may, and boast of him not at all.
Man and Manxmen have no need of him. No, thank
God, we can tell of better men. Let us turn his picture
to the wall."
On the 1 6th January the belated reprieve came to
hand, and Lord Derby was ordered by the Secretary of
State to bring his prisoner to London for trial, and all
that remained of the one-time captive lay in Malew
Church ! Now the finesse of the Lord of Man rose to
histrionic heights. With great acumen he affected to
regard the matter as of no sort of moment whatever,
a method of allaying suspicion, and wholesale gloss-
ing over which ought, by its very audacity, to have
carried all before it. In a communication full of every-
G
82 THE ISLE OF MAN
thing under the sun other than the important subject
in hand, the Earl made casual passing reference to one
Christian who had " been condemned and executed by
the laws of the Isle of Man," much regretting that the
Secretary of State should have had any bother or
trouble " concernynge " so trifling an affair.
Unfortunately for the well-laid plans of Lord Derby,
the sons of the late Receiver-General appealed to
England for redress, and the Privy Council, moving
with unwonted rapidity, commanded the presence of
everyone who was in any way implicated in the trial.
The King in Council sat in judgment, and the Earl of
Derby himself was obliged to give account of his
procedure.
The only rebuke which the Council managed to
administer to the powerful noble was to the effect that
the Act of Indemnity was of course a Public General
Act of Parliament, and ought so to have been regarded
in the Isle of Man. The estates of the late Receiver-
General were restored to his sons, and all costs of the
play-acting trial were ordered to be paid by Lord
Derby. Cannell and Norris, who made " the patheti-
call speech," received "condign punishment," what-
ever that might be.
Edward Christian, the one-time favourite of the
Stanlagh Mooar, and the immediate cause of all the
trouble, had been released from his durance vile by
Colonel Duckenfield ; but after the Restoration he
was again clapped into prison, where he died in
January, 1661.
The Earl of Derby bestowed the bishopric of Man
LATER HISTORY 83
on the worthy Rutter, staunch adherent of the late
Lord of Man. Isaac Barrow succeeded Rutter on the
death of the latter, and this potentate was the last of
the Manx " sword bishops," clerics who doubled the
part of head of the ecclesiastical see with that of
Governor. After three more unimportant bishops the
great Thomas Wilson, so famous for his discipline and
his long struggle with the civil powers, accepted the
bishopric of the isle, where he laboured fifty-eight
years.
One of the first crying questions for redress to which
Bishop Wilson turned his attention was the still shock-
ing evil of the system of land tenure. The far-reaching
consequences of so unfair a method of tenancy being
so apparent to the prelate as he went among his people,
the attention of Lord Derby was asked for by the
Bishop, who advocated the necessity for a drastic
change. So strongly did Bishop Wilson plead the
cause of the islanders that the Earl of Derby came
from England expressly to talk matters over. Un-
fortunately this noble did not live to see any good
intentions which he may have entertained towards the
Bishop's project carried into effect.
James, Earl of Derby, who succeeded in 1702, being
a broad-minded and generous man, readily continued
the negotiations thus begun, and to this Stanley, the
last Earl of Derby to rule in Man, belongs the proud
and immortal honour of having passed the greatest
and most far-reaching Act in the annals of Manx
history, a palladium of liberty, the Magna Charta of
Man, known as the " Act of Settlement." Under the
84 THE ISLE OF MAN
beneficent operation of this Act, by consent and
acquiescence of this second Great Stanley, an entire
people was converted from mere holders of fragile
leases to tenants whose tenancy knew no end.
Smuggling in the Isle of Man, the natural con-
comitant of the phase of landlordism which had made
it hardly worth the while of a farmer to become an
ardent agriculturist, had attained such proportions
that the annual loss to Great Britain was estimated
at 350,000 !
Everyone, rich and poor, had thrown themselves
enthusiastically into the fascinating business, and few
countries were better equipped by Nature for the head-
quarters of a great smuggling trade. The illicit trade
of the island was not wholly put under until 1853,
when the diminution of duties and the vigilance of the
armed revenue cutters suppressed what had been for
many years the staple trade.
As James, Earl of Derby, neared the close of his
life, the Treasury made tentative efforts to arrive at
some idea of the value set upon the island by its Lord,
with a view to purchasing what had become a serious
menace to the home Exchequer. Negotiations were
closed by the death of Lord Derby, whose title went to
a distant kinsman, and the Isle of Man passed, under
the conditions which governed the re-granting of the
small domain to the sixth Earl, by James I of England
(which grant was to the effect that, on failure of heirs
male to the sixth Earl of Derby, the Isle of Man
should descend to the heirs general of James, seventh
Earl, the Stanlagh Mooar) to Lady Harriet Ashburn-
LATER HISTORY 85
ham, grandchild of the ninth Earl of Derby. Lady
Harriet died a minor, and her territory in the Irish
Sea passed in 1736 to the Duke of Athol, whose mater-
nal grandmother was a daughter of the great Stanley.
The island still continued a record-breaking centre
for the smuggling trade, and the last straw to break
the back of the British Government was the passing
of an Act, at the instance of the Duke of Athol, which
made the isle for wellnigh a hundred years afterwards
the sanctuary of British and foreign debtors, who fled
to this Utopia in myriads. Of this Train, the much-
quoted chronicler, records that it " rendered Man the
sanctuary of the unfortunate and profligate of sur-
rounding nations, who flocked thither in such numbers
as to make it a common receptacle for the basest of
their kind."
Of this degenerate period a whimsical versifier
relates :
When Satan tried his arts in vain
The worship of our Lord to gain,
" The world," said he, " and all be thine
Except one spot, which must be mine,
That little place 'tis but a span,
By mortals called ye Isle of Man ;
This is a place I cannot spare,
For all my choicest friends live there."
With the passing of the Act of 1814 by the Manx
Legislature, which nullified the mistaken one of 1736,
and again made it possible to prosecute a debtor on
the island for debts contracted outside it, his Satanic
Majesty presumably withdrew these shocking asper-
sions.
86 THE ISLE OF MAN
James, Duke of Athol, died in 1764, and his daughter
Charlotte, having married her cousin John, heir to the
dukedom, inherited Man, and thus kept the small
country in the family.
After many abortive negotiations the Duke and
Duchess were prevailed upon by the British Govern-
ment to make over in some part their over-lordship
of the island, receiving as a solatium the sum of
70,000 and an annuity of 2,000 a year, together
with the retention of many of the ancient rights, the
possession of all minerals, presentation to the bishop-
ric, and the proud feudal service. On the death of
her husband the Duchess transferred all her claims
on the Isle of Man to her son, who at once began to
formulate a series of demands against the British
Government, contending that his parents were not
legally entitled to make away with their island, and
that, if they were, the sum awarded was not adequate.
Vigorous claims were put forward in 1781 and 1790.
In 1793 the Privy Council offered the Duke a sop to
Cerberus the Governorship of the Isle of Man, which
His Grace accepted, and thus, with many of his heredi-
tary rights intact, the Duke of Athol commenced a
semi-royal reign which lasted for many years.
The last feudal service was made by this Duke on
the Coronation of George IV, and writing of the
picturesque ceremony the Manchester Guardian thus
described the scene : " Among the feudal services the
two falcons from the Isle of Man were conspicuous.
Seated on the wrist of His Grace's hawking gauntlet,
the beautiful peregrine falcons appeared in their usual
ornaments. The birds sat perfectly tame on the arm
of His Grace, completely hooded, and furnished with
bells."
It is stated, on the authority of Mr. Kermode of
Ramsey, that the last coronation falcons were taken
from the cliffs of Maughold, by a relative of his.
In 1829 the British Government purchased out and
out from the Duke of Athol all his hereditary rights,
regalities, privileges, and franchises, and the Isle of
Man passed unreservedly to the Crown for the princely
sum of 417,000.
On the completion of the purchase Cornelius Smelt
remained in office as Lieutenant-Governor, and upon
his death Major-General Ready succeeded. And since
nobody and no country can be really happy without
a grievance, the inhabitants of the little island found
one in the fact that they were getting rulers trained
to the use of the sword rather than that of the law.
Manx Constitution demands that its Pooh-Bah-like
head must sit also as Chancellor. " Therefore," said the
natives, " give us a Governor learned in the law." Ever
willing to oblige, the powers that were appointed the
Hon. Charles Hope, and, as he was a member of the
Scotch and English Bars, it was thought he might be
able to cope with the Manx variety as well. Mr.
Hope wrestled with the intricacies of the laws remark-
ably well, and introduced some measures which bene-
fited the country considerably. On his resignation
Francis Pigott, M.P. for Reading, succeeded, and
earned instant unpopularity because he moved the
seat of local satrapy from Castletown, the ancient
88 THE ISLE OF MAN
locale, to Douglas. In selecting Douglas as the hub
of the Manx Universe, it is possible that Lieut.-
Governor Pigott saw that the trend of things all
pointed to the town as a coming sea-port and centre.
To-day the various Government departments are all
in the newer town, and Castletown, with its old-world
fortress, the home of the Kings or Lords of Man,
through the centuries, is left to dream sleepily of
its ancient and royal recollections.
On the death of Lieut. -Governor Pigott, in 1863,
Henry Brougham Loch was appointed in his place.
The career of this able officer is too well known to
need comment. He was succeeded in May, 1882, by
Spencer Walpole, who governed the isle until he was
appointed Permanent Secretary of the Imperial Post
Office. Sir West Ridgeway followed, and Lord Henni-
ker afterwards held the reins of government. This
peer died at Douglas in July, 1902, and to-day Lord
Raglan is Lieut.-Governor in Manxland.
CHAPTER VII
HERRING FISHERY AND SOME INSULARITIES
His bark is stoutly timbered, his pilot
Of very expert and approved allowance.
Othello.
THE herring fleet have anchored in the port, and the
night's catch is being transported from the nickeys
to the shore. The staccato chatter of the gulls, " Tuk-
a-tuk-a-tuk ! Tuk-a-tuk-a-tuk!" wakened me at day-
break. On every nickey the big brown lug-sails are
furled, but the mizzens of all are set stiffly. Deep
blue-green rolling waves, slumbrous and gentle, break
in ripples of foaming, sparkling drops of crystal against
the black rampart hulls of the stalwarts. Lop ! lop !
lop ! The sleepy sound of the myriad craft spurning
the small wavelets as they dash in mimic wrath on
the tarred sides comes rhythmically on the still air.
Not a capful of wind stirring, but a purple riband of
misty haze ominously outlines the horizon. A Manx-
man pronounces that word with level intonation, and
gives the " i " no special recognition.
To-night is a night of nights for the Warrior. He
is going " out to the herrings " for the first time !
I have been so often myself I am getting blase. Still
89
go THE ISLE OF MAN
I am going again. It is so wonderful an experience
that it well bears the strain of undue familiarity.
Of course I know that herring is plural as well as
singular ! Why do you ask me ? Niceties of grammar
trouble the great blue-jerseyed fishermen not at all.
They go out to the herrings, they catch herrings, they
sell herrings. The herring, according to the Manx, is
the king of the sea, as the wren is of the air. Long,
long ago the fishes were derelicts, driven hither and
thither as disputes of territory arose, for there was
nobody to arbitrate and settle quarrels. Tradition
naively says, " They had no Deemster to tell them
what was right." Time came when a sovereign must
be chosen, and all the inhabitants of the deep hied
them to the Great Congress. Every fish tried to
make the best of himself. The bollan re-tinted all
his wonderful tones of purple and red, the carp polished
his glittering flanks until he glinted sparks of golden
fire, the fluke bedaubed himself with disc-like spots of
vermilion and was so long in doing it that he arrived
at the fish Tynwald far too late to vote. The herring,
sheathed in his silver coat of mail, was acclaimed
monarch of the deep. The disappointed fluke, with
the memory of his useless strenuous labour strong
within him, sneered contemptuously at the bare idea
of electing so insignificant a fish as the herring King
of all the Seas ! And the sneer has remained about
his mouth ever since.
The sun is just setting, lighting up a path of glowing
glory for so far as the eye can reach, and the little
village is drowsing in the slanting evening shadows as
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 91
we make our way down to the quay preparatory to
going aboard our chosen nickey, the "Amy Moore."
Her skipper's wife waves us a smiling adieu from the
door of her white-washed thatched cottage, as she sits
rocking the cradle of an embryo skipper, hushing him
to rest with the song of every Manx mother of olden
days, the quavering, haunting, melodious chant of the
little Ushag-reaisht, the golden plover. On the sleepy
silence the lightsome lilt breaks in murmurous
lullaby. It sets one pondering, thinking of all the
many babies who have heard the weird sweet song,
and the many, many gentle mothers who have sung it
down the centuries. It is very slow, very haunting,
and the basis of the tune is hum-drum, " Here we go
round the mulberry bush."
Ushag veg ruy ny moanee doo,
Ushag veg ruy ny moanee doo,
Ushag veg ruy ny moanee doo,
C'raad chaddil oo riyr syn oie ?
(Little red bird of the black turf ground.
Where did you sleep last night ?)
Chaddil mish riyr er baare y dress,
Chaddil mish riyr er baare y dress,
Chaddil mish riyr er baare y dress,
As ugh my cadley cha treih !
(I slept last night on the top of the briar,
And oh, what a wretched sleep !)
Our kindly hosts, eight of them and a half, help
us to clamber over the gunwale. The half pushes
strenuously from behind as he stands in the none-
too-clean jack-of-all- trades punt which we came off in.
92 THE ISLE OF MAN
Presently it is hauled to the deck and set amidships.
One after the other the sails of each nickey are
hoisted, the first and second weigh anchor and begin
to move gracefully, then a compact bunch, bows
almost level, leave port together. On no one nickey
must fall the ill-luck of being third boat out !
As the last rays of the sun glint on the lofty shoulder
of Cronk-ny-Irrey-Lhaa, the powerful vessels glide,
lightly as strong-pinioned sea-birds, towards the fish-
ing grounds. Gradually the little colony breaks up,
and sails the seas at varying distances. The faint grey
outline of the Mourne Mountains looms ahead ; almost
one can pick out landmarks ! My fancy paints white-
washed cottages pencilled against a world of green.
The Warrior says it is just imagination, that we are
so far from Ireland we cannot really see the substance,
only a very shadowy shadow.
The faint odour of the nets is in the air, and the
gigantic lug-sail keeps the best of a freshening breeze.
A Manx fishing boat can stand up against a hurricane.
Well-built and seaworthy, they combine lines of use-
fulness with the speed of a yacht. Fully equipped, the
value of the latter-day nickey averages 750.
We are to have supper before the nets are shot. I
always shrink before the lavish hospitality of these
kindly seafarers. It is so overwhelming. My big blue-
banded cup holds so very much, and ship's cocoa needs
such a good sailor to tackle it with any sort of success.
I am but a play-acting mariner, and the tiny cabin,
multum in parvo of a fishing boat, is so close and
stuffy. The small stove blazes away, and the boy a
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 93
youth who does the odds and ends of everything
turns over the frizzling, spluttering herrings.
" One, please," I say, in trepidation.
" What's the good of one at you, at all ? " quibbles
the chef, obliterating my plate with a giant helping.
Furtively he watches me, ready to instruct. As
though I did not know ! Everyone in Manxland
understands that you must not turn a herring on your
plate, although it does not matter in a pan. You
remove the backbone as the fish lies. If you do any
ill-advised turning, then there is every probability of
the ship from which the herring was caught turning
turtle also.
If you do not regard herrings as your natural food,
and take to them as an Englishman does to beef, or an
Innuit to seal-oil, then you are not a real Manxman,
only a make-believe. Tradition records that when the
Duke of Athol came into his domain of Man, he was so
desirous of converting himself into a colourable imita-
tion of a Manxman that he ate twenty-four herrings
straight off the first time he breakfasted in Mona,
a herring for each Member of the House of Keys ! If
His Grace didn't feel himself a Manxman when the
meal was over, it certainly was not for want of trying.
Careful historians the literary bandits who rudely
shatter so many of our most cherished fancies say
that what the Duke really consumed was a small piece
at the back of the head of twenty-four herrings, the
most succulent morsel. They maintain these tradi-
tion smashers that twenty-four herrings whole would
be rather much even for a duke !
94 THE ISLE OF MAN
I go on deck ere long, a combination of herrings and
fo'castle driving me to seek the air. Below, in the
depths of the cabin, prayers are being said, and up the
companion the rugged extempore words of the skipper
float murmurously, interspersed with the emphatic
ejaculations, all very earnest and heartfelt, of the
crew.
Now to the setting of the nets ! In olden times the
herring nets were home-made from home-spun hempen
thread called by the Manx jeebin. The industry of
manufacturing cotton nets sprang up early in the
fifties.
The nickey is brought head on, and gradually the
fathoms of brown mesh are paid out to starboard and
drop astern. So on and on until the top of the nets
is reached, and the great head-corks, inflated, tarred,
whole sheep-skins, caricatures of former grace, float
on the purple-black waves. Inaction sets in, a drowsy
time of inertia. The stars, like little marguerites
peeping out from a coverlet of ultramarine, overspread
the heavens, and threading through the star-sown way
trails the shimmering misty path which is called by
the Manx " Yn raad mooar ree Gorree " the great road
of King Orry.
It was at the Lhane Mooar, near Ramsey, where the
great artificial drains of the Curragh now meet the
sea, that Orry, the first of the line of Norwegian Kings
of Man, landed aeons ago. His great fleet of shadowy
Viking ships made the isle as night had fallen, and all
the sky was luminous with a glorious wealth of stars.
The wind was light, and the enormous lugsails could
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 95
not alone propel such weighty crews. Thirty- two
great oars, or " sweeps," sixteen of a side, pulled by
as many men, drove each ship over the quiet waters.
That each vessel contained warrior crews of some
strength was evidenced by the number of shields hung
all round the gunwales. A large oar, the " steer-
board," was affixed to the right-hand side of every
ship, and at the peak of the foremost a flag, crimson,
with a jet black raven, fluttered and realistically
flapped in the gentle breeze. The bows of this mighty
vessel were carved roughly into the form of a dragon's
head, gilded, with lurid eyes aflame, and at the stern
curved a monster tail, going up and up until it shadowed
the giant Norseman standing at the " steer-arn." The
wonderful Viking figure, now dear to Manx tradition
as is Owen Glendywr to Wales, robed in a red tunic
with a golden border, trousers of yellow leather, cross-
gartered from knee to foot, with a trellis-work of golden
bands, was the Orry of tradition, Godred, or Godred
Crovan, to be precise.
The great ships were broached on the sandbanks,
and the Berserk, his yellow hair crowned by a leather
cap with a comb of red, the civil dress of warriors,
stepped ashore to meet the few frightened natives
who, wondering, questioning, would have the Viking
tell whence he came and why.
" That is the road to my country," said King Orry,
in the Volapuk or Esperanto of the time, pointing to
the Milky Way, streaking off to the northward ; and
this beautiful symbolical remark has sung through
the centuries, and up to our time the gossamer path
96 THE ISLE OF MAN
across the heavens is called by the Manx " Yn raad
mooar ree Gonee."
The gleaming lights of fifty fishing boats shine all
about us a little town at sea. Every one of the crew,
save a solitary watch-dog, faithful attendant of the
cheery skipper, is below, and the huge bunks, set
around the fo'castle, airless compartments, Black
Hole of Calcutta-like, receive the drowsy fishermen.
Presently Morpheus holds them. Stentorian snores
break the silence. Even such prosaic reminders cannot
quench the romance and witchery of the night. A gull,
lonely sentinel of the deep, cries somewhere, its chatter
changed to indescribable desolation of solitude. The
" lil islan' " is lost to sight. Up to a short time ago a
gleaming necklace of lights had hung low about her
shoulders. Gone now the world is sleeping.
Sunrise ! The first blush of the morning tinges the
grey clouds, and from the amber-hearted dawn
Phaethon in chariot of gold drives his molten steeds
in shafts of quivering light across the dimness of
night's still brooding shadows, putting the stars out.
Afar on the dim horizon, wrapped about in a gauzy
mantle outlined in fire, the little island is sighted once
again.
Rising clear out of the enveloping mist stands
Cronk-ny-Irrey-Lhaa, the Hill of the Rising Day, its
summit touched with the splendour of the morning
sun. This beautiful and poetical name has been
bestowed because its rounded peak at sunrise gives
the fishermen the time for the net-hauling.
The nickey's crew, clad in yellow oilskins and big
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 97
sea-boots, prepare to bring in the nets. The capstan
clicks heroically, and slowly, laboriously, the dripping
spoil come aboard, the water running in rivers to the
scuppers.
The great still deeps of the nets seem an abyss of
mystery. Such a well of possibilities, of secrets of the
deep, of weird, grim, illimitable tragedy ! The memory
still lingers with me of a golden dawn, of a laden net,
heavy and sagging, ominously torn, and I see again
the fearsome outline of a blue-clad form, terrible in
stillness, with a knife upstanding between its shoulders !
There is nothing eerie this haul. Just a marvellous
mass of fish, and curtaining the whole, enmeshed with
the iridescence, is a wonderful tangle of every shade of
weed, gorgeous sprays of blood-red sea-fern, pale star-
like flowers of the deep smothered in leafy foliage, an
artist's dream in colour. The myriad tints of browns
and crimsons, delicate and aesthetic, push off into the
silver of the shimmering herrings. Little arrow-like
tongues of phosphorescent light outline the meshes.
The weed is ruthlessly tossed back to the sea, and
in a Niagara of crystal the catch comes in, nets and
all, into the net-hold.
Our ship heads for home, and every vessel of the
little colony of the sea turns almost at the same
moment with clock-work precision.
The boy serves breakfast, herrings again, the freshest
herrings you have ever tasted ; but a short space ago
and they were swimming free as the sea itself.
All the fishermen climb on the edge of the net-hold,
and set about releasing the prisoned catch, throwing
98 THE ISLE OF MAN
the fish nonchalantly into the next compartment.
There are a few other captures besides the glut of
herring, monsters too large to be welcome, for such
giants play sad havoc with the nets. Two huge cod-
fish, a small writhing conger, small for a conger, a
fearsome ray, some sportive dabs, who turn somer-
saults of vexation as they are taken from their element,
strangely silent and inert now. The morning sun
shines on the silver glory of the gleaming spoils. A
good night's work. Our skipper says we have " done
well, and a thrifle batthar."
A snow-white trio of majestic gannets fished as-
siduously in our wake, rising high, high into the blue,
and then descending from the great height with arrow-
like darts to the surface of the sea. It is a wonderful
sight to see these winged fishermen at work. Such
swoops, such darts, such marvels of spontaneous
action, such command of the air, such knowledge of
all the laws of graceful flight !
Gannets are sometimes caught in the herring-nets.
Tempted by the glittering silver just below the sur-
face of the sea they dive to destruction. I remember
a sad day when one of these exquisite birds impaled
itself through the beak on a too-near-the-surface hook
of our long line. But it is a gloomy story, and I'll
not tell it you.
In the Museum at Castletown there are some copies of
unpublished sketches in the British Museum, dating
from the seventeenth century, and one of them por-
trays " A landskip with gaunts." Two gannets sit
on a rock, a thing they rarely, if ever, do in the Isle
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 99
of Man, and the words, " being birds that mount
like falcons i' th' aire, and when they see their prey
strike into the water," explain exactly how these sea-
faring creatures do conduct the modus operandi of their
fishing. The gannets fly northward at night, towards
Ailsa Craig, and never nest upon the island.
As we glide into port one after another, we see the
waiting carts and would-be buyers standing on the
quay. Each skipper disposes of his catch so much
a maze, more often than not spelt " meaze," which is
six hundred and twenty fish.
In the days before the Isle of Man passed to the
British Crown the Lord claimed one maze, or its
equivalent, out of every five, and his revenue from
this source during the halycon days of the local herring
fishery was considerable. The Church also, from such
remote times as 1291, levied a toll on all fish caught,
and received this tithe up to the end of the eighteenth
century. Well might Bishop Wilson add the little
petition to the Litany : " That it may please Thee to
restore and continue to us the blessings of the sea,"
which is still used in the churches of Man.
The Warrior and I go ashore with a row of shimmer-
ing gift-herring, strung on a knotted osier thong. In
the " little harbour," a sheltered cove tucked away in
the greater, "Johnny-Polly" is adding to the number
of the crabs in the " stews " half a dozen more. So
the garnering goes on until a sufficient number are in
hand to make it worth while to send the lot to the
English market. In the big hamper the poor shell-
fish, just submerged in sea-water, live for a week or
ioo THE ISLE OF MAN
more. Lobsters cannot be meted out such treatment
or they go off in condition.
As we tread our way homewards through a short
cut across the rock-strewn shore, two infinitesimal
Manx boys are making pretence to gather limpets,
" flitters," as they call them, playing pranks between
whiles. One has a mind to form a miniature lake
on a rounded boulder where no water ever lodges.
" You're squartin' the wather at me ! " complains
the atom directly in the way of the irrigator.
" Come off the rock I want to squart the wather
on to then ! " returns the enthusiastic splasher, in
the high sing-song of the Manx children.
Tragedy hangs on the heels of our home-coming !
A wandering, marauding cat had eaten up the entire
family of the blackbirds who had been a joy to us
from earliest spring. Perhaps the parent birds will
never nest near us any more ! There's a ruined
tholthan at the bottom of my garden ; the roof is off,
and in the still standing chimneys masses of ivy and
green trainman run wild. In the tumbled-down grate
overgrown with cushag poor outlaw by Act of
Tynwald ! our blackbirds had got well under way
with a second family, nestlings who have made a
Roman holiday for a treacherous feline. We held the
tholthan sanctuary against all comers.
The Warrior's henchwoman says " the lil Lhondhoo "
mother flew in the very face of the enemy until the
sated creature fled away.
Manx people call the blackbird " Lhondhoo " because
" Ihon " is thrush, and " dhoo " means black. Black
I'EEL HARBOUR
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 101
thrush. Is it not a poet's name ? All the Manx are
poets at heart.
Around the Lhondhoo and the golden plover, the
Ushag-reaisht of Manx nomenclature, " bird of the
waste," is hung one of the prettiest of the folk-legends
abounding in the isle. It has been told very often,
and told very well, but it is so charming it will bear
repetition once again, I think.
Ancient history has it that once on a time, in a far-off
bygone age, the golden plover did not live on the high-
lands, amid dreary wastes of heather-grown mountain
scarps and wind-swept moors, but down in the sheltered
glens, near the shady pools, where the blackberry
grows a-riot. The blackbird had his habitat where the
golden plover lives to-day, and never then sought the
lowlands, because he knew them not, or their beauty
and myriad comforts. One day the two birds met as
they flew to the confines of their little worlds, and in an
evil moment the Ushag-reaisht described the lush green
glens and sequestered nooks where life was a smile
and a song. The Lhondhoo, fascinated, begged to be
allowed to change places for a week, and so it was
arranged, each bird flying off into the unknown. The
wily Lhondhoo, growing daily more in love with the
dells and dingles and mild atmosphere of the lowlands,
resolved never to go back to the bleak, windswept moun-
tains, to conveniently forget the day of returning.
The Ushag-reaisht kept the tryst, but the Lhondhoo
never came, and now the former calls for ever in sweet
reproachful pipe :
" Lhondhoo, vel oo cheet, vel oo cheet ? "
(" Blackbird, are you coming, are you coming ? ")
102 THE ISLE OF MAN
And the well-contented blackbird, resolved to stay
where he is so happily placed, answers briskly :
" Cha-nel dy bragh I Cha-nel dy bragh ! "
(" No, never ! No, never ! ")
Then very sadly, very mournfully, with philosophical
acceptance of the situation, the poor Ushag-reaisht
whistles forlornly :
" Teh feer feayr, t'eh feer feayr I "
(" It is very cold, it is very cold ! ")
In this beautiful old legend it will be noticed what a
wonderful imitation is given of the representative
calls of the birds; the liquid notes of the blackbird
and the alluring whistle of the plover both so perfectly
reproduced. The birds of Manxland, as patriotic birds
should do, sing their songs in the language of the
country, and all have Manx names.
I believe I have kept you waiting all this long time
until I am pleased to speak seriously of the celebrated
Manx cats and chickens, tailless flesh and fowl of Mona.
I have been silent the while I have been thinking,
cogitating however I am to explain these strange
phenomena. And I just cannot ! I know that these
freaks of Nature do exist in dozens in the isle, seem,
indeed, indigenous ; but why and wherefore I am not
clever enough to fathom. Perhaps only a Darwin
could do it only a Darwin determine the origin of
species. That master mind held that all types have
their exceptions. Perhaps the exceptions in the cat
and chicken genus hied them, ages ago, to the Isle
of Man, and there started the race of cats and fowls
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 103
which we speak of as Manx. One great naturalist
considers that the tailless felines were imported from
Japan somewhere about the seventeenth century.
Others, again, maintain that the Manx cat is the out-
come of a spontaneous deviation from the normal. It is
difficult to account satisfactorily for the odd creatures,
and perhaps the simplest of all would be to accept the
poet's version. With an artist's licence he explains
the whys and wherefores thoroughly :
Noah, sailing o'er the seas,
Ran high and dry on Ararat ;
His dog then made a spring and took
The tail from off a pussy cat.
Puss through the window quick did fly,
And bravely through the waters swam,
And never stopped, till high and dry,
She landed on the Isle of Man.
This tailless puss earned Mona's thanks,
And ever since was called Manx.
The islanders themselves always refer to their tailless
felines and chickens indiscriminately as " rumpies,"
accenting the three last letters, and getting it to " ees."
A self-respecting Manx housewife would not think of
supporting a cat who boasts a tail ; she regards such an
animal as an all too fashionable creature of impossible
airs and graces. A " rumpee " it must be in a Manx
cottage, or no cat at all.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, we know (and
if we did not we should soon grasp the fact from a
regular perusal of the society papers), and in the sight
of a loyal Manx citizen no cat is beautiful who waves
aloft a tail, however furry and resplendent. Pour moi,
104 THE ISLE OF MAN
I cannot see much to admire in the pussy minus her
caudal appendage. She looks ridiculously undressed
and unfinished, almost a caricature ; but in the hens I
can find quaint charms. With their " waterfall "
backs of curving feathers they are the prettiest oddities
of the hen-yards.
I wish I really knew, and if I knew I would tell you
at once, how it is that Manx cats and chickens do seem
to belong to, and thrive and flourish more upon, the
Isle of Man than in any other part of the world. That
they are not the exclusive property of Mona we know.
Accidents will happen in the best regulated families.
I once owned a couple of hum-drum cats in far distant
Montana, U.S.A., a pair of grey mongrels fitted out
with irreproachable tails ; and lo ! when the first
batch of kittens appeared on the scene we were as-
tonished to find that every furry atom was without a
tail ! A good specimen of a Manx cat has no tail at all
nothing but a little tuft of fur, with a cobby body, and
face of extraordinary cunning ; others, again, also
real Manx cats, have an inch-long stump. I say " real
Manx " because quite a lot of the pussies you see with
tiny stumpy tails are manufactured articles. In the
days of my inquisitive youth I discovered that many
tailed felines were docked yearly to meet the insistent
demands of the summer visitors who want to take
back to England a living representative of the famous
Manx cats. There are, I think, many more pussies in
the island without tails than with, but still not enough
to go round. When the docked tail is healed up few
are the wiser. Ten shillings the usual price asked
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 105
is ten shillings, however you get it. The potent words
of the philosopher have penetrated afar. " Get money,
honestly if you can, but get money."
I know of an expensive crateful of chickens who
sailed away to England, and after a short sojourn in a
Lancashire hen-yard the new-comers all sprouted
splendid tails ! But the person who cannot tell a
Manx rumpy hen from a make-believe affair is un-
sophisticated, indeed. The feathers of the real article
are so wondrously fashioned, and rise over a comical
little eminence, to curve over in graceful downward
slant.
The Manx people are (naturally) so very used to
their tailless cats that they find it difficult to under-
stand the interest and astonishment of a visitor who
views the famous animals for the first time. I heard
a quaint little story the other day in this connexion.
Kelly, the guard, a well-known local worthy, who
died recently, was scurrying past the ticket office as
the station cat walked out. An ecstatic visitor taking
his ticket turned to the hurrying guard, . and with
delighted questioning appreciation said, " Manx ? "
" No, 12.30 express," answered Kelly laconically.
Up to a century ago the common wild cat (Felis
catus) was accounted the progenitor of all domestic
cats, but to-day naturalists discover the origin of
our "fireside sphinx" in the many-named Egyptian,
Libyan, or Caffre cat (Felis libyca).
\ In the utilitarian rifling of the vast charnel-houses
set in the fields of Speos Artemidos, many of the little
swathed mummies, much-loved pensioners of ancient
106 THE ISLE OF MAN
Egypt, were found to be minus tails ! Perhaps the
sacred roamers of the temples of Bubastis and Beni
Hasan were the ancestral prototypes of the cats of
Manxland. If we might but unwrap some of the
tightly bandaged mummied felines in the great col-
lection at Boulak, we might perhaps be able to link
the companions of the Pharaohs with the " rumpees "
of Mona's Isle.
Archaeologists and antiquarians, who know every-
thing nowadays, and can lucidly connect the Chinese
with the Hittites, the Chaldeans with the inhabitants
of Mars, have not " hitched up," as the Americans say,
the Egyptian pussy with the Manx. And yet the
Roman colonists in Great Britain possessed many
specimens of the " harmless, necessary cat," as is
evidenced by discovered remains. The Romans
traded with those ubiquitous inter-traders the Phoeni-
cians, and with a little ingenuity and some imagination
I see no reason why we should not trace the direct
descent of the Manx cat, via the Romans, together with
all domestic pussies, from the Felis libyca of Egypt.
Mommsen, the German historian, refers somewhat
reproachfully to the manner in which antiquarians
pass their time he said " pass," but he meant waste
really in hunting for replies to questions which
simply cannot be answered, and if answers were forth-
coming they would probably be quite unimportant.
Surely everything is important to the seeker after
unpossessed knowledge, and therefore, however im-
material and trivial it seems, and absurd as the great
Mommsen, an' he lived, would consider it, I beg some
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 107
delver into the abstruse to tell me whether the Manx
" rumpee " really can trace a proud descent from the
very dawn of history, back through dizzy centuries of
time to the sacred cats of royal Egypt, or is he just a
mere perpetuated freak ?
There is an old existent tradition to the effect that
the tailless cat came to Man via the Spanish Armada.
From out the wrecked galleon thrown on to the scarps
at the foot of Spanish Head came a half-drowned
kitten, minus a tail, progenitor-to-be of the world-
famous " rumpees." Unfortunately for it is a charm-
ing little story, and I would it were really true there
is no record of a Spanish vessel ever having been cast
on the rocks of Mona's Isle. Such an event would
certainly have received official notice in the chronicles
of the time.
Mr. Louis Wain, titular god of cats, on whom the
mantle of the gracious Pasht has surely fallen, says
that the Manx rumpy was called the Cornwall Cat a
hundred years ago, and that the Cornish feline was
arrived at from some imported Abyssinian cats. Corn-
wall may have had its tailless pussies also, but the
Manx genus has been resident in Man for a much
longer period than a hundred years. It is not very
difficult to go back so long. By talking to the really
aged folks of the island one may easily shake hands
across the space of a century. They can delve into
untold ages, and always in the luminous remembrance
of the household of their mother's mother a Manx cat
sits by the chiollagh, warming itself by the smoulder-
ing turf fire,
io8 THE ISLE OF MAN
I am old enough to dimly remember the kitten which
was considered beautiful enough by the inhabitants of
Port Erin to present to Mr. Gladstone as truly repre-
sentative of the island's tailless cats during his visit
to Mona. Our gardener's wife had an inexhaustible
supply of the real and manufactured article, and from
her numerous treasures a comical black and white
atom was selected and duly offered to the Grand Old
Man. We decorated the kitten in readiness, tying
a huge bow of red ribbon round its infinitesimal neck ;
but Mrs. Quilliam, with a fine disregard for colour
meanings, tore it off, and adorned the baby creature
with a vast blue tie, which she said " bet all," and,
what was more, suited the small thing's complexion.
Certainly the black and white kitten looked " mortal
gran', for all," as it was carried off for presentation
to the island's welcome visitor. There were many
quaint stories going about after Mr. Gladstone's
sojourn. Some of them were chestnuts in the ripest
stage before they were picked locally, but the following
little tale will bear retelling because it so compre-
hensively illustrates the independence of the native
character. Anything with a flavour of patronage,
meant or unmeant, raises ire at once.
Mr. Gladstone made a detour across a small holding
in Rushen, and his way lay through the haggart where
the stacks are harvested. A strong, powerfully-built
Manx woman stood throwing up the straw to the
stack, using her fork as deftly and quickly as a farm
labourer.
" That is very hard work, my good woman," the
HERRING FISHERY, ETC. 109
Grand Old Man is reported to have said graciously,
" but you look well and strong. May I ask how old
you are ? "
The toiler scarce turned as she answered sharply,
" How ouT art thou thyself, thou imperent ouT
man ? "
The worst or is it the best ? of these taking little
stories of catapultic variety is that one never hears
the end. There must be an end. We do so long to
fathom it. But always the annoying veil falls to
curtain the interesting finish, and we fear, if we
question further, to be charged with a love of anti-
climax.
CHAPTER VIII
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE
And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' Isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place, and fertile.
The Tempest.
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune. Richard II.
THERE are so many beauty spots in Mona which can
only be viewed as a whole from the seaboard that I
think you must set out with me on a mythical summer
excursion, the while, like Ariel, I put a girdle round the
little world and show you all the qualities o' th' isle.
We set out from Douglas and curve across the semicircle
of the beautiful bay towards the grass-covered cliffs
of Banks Howe, passing directly in front of the modern
town with its huge boarding establishments and dancing
palaces nestling by the slumbrous summer sea, border-
ing the whole semilunar sweep of the inlet, its glaring
whiteness backed by the green hills and highlands
rising tier upon tier to merge with the lofty mountain
peaks of the interior.
On, past the frowning escarpment of Clay Head,
across whose seamed serrated edges the restless sea-
birds streak in whirling bands of white and grey. The
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE in
wonderful blue-green sea thuds into the caves, and
on the face of the shining waters the opalescent clouds,
fragile and filmy as gossamer, reflect in patches of
fringed shadow their changing passing evolutions.
We are so close to the rocks that in the translucence
of the sea we can watch the weed moving and waving
in the flower garden of the deep, a world of labyrinthine
colour, and follow for a moment the darting shoals of
silver fish flashing with lightning speed through the
phosphorescent green. Little glens burrow upwards
from the coast-line, lovely emerald-tinted rifts lost in
tree-filled luxuriance, but near Laxey the rocky ram-
part of the isle frowns fiercely once more, and black
forbidding cliffs rise up and up in menacing grandeur.
The little village of Laxey lies in the hollow cup of
two green rounded cronks, and creeps down to the
baby harbour, with its pier in miniature.
Many beautiful inlets indent the face of the rocky
wall to the northward; Port Mooar, the Dhoon, all
beauty spots of Mona, and Corna Glen, pronounced
Cornay, bewitchingly pretty ; and from here runs the
cable to St. Bee's Head, which brings the island into
telegraphic communication with England.
Southern outpost to Ramsey stands the humped
outline of Maughold Head you must pronounce the
word with the fine abandon of a Scotsman giving ejacu-
latory point to a lightsome reel ! and on the land-
ward side of the headland you may catch a glimpse
of the old churchyard and the holy well. And now
comes Ramsey town, replica in little of Douglas, backed
by green wooded heights, with the Sulby River glinting
ii2 THE ISLE OF MAN
and gliding and tinkling its message from the heart of
Mona.
The snake-like peninsula of the Ayre flings itself sea-
wards, the great o'erhanging crags cease, and low
dunes take the place of the Gargantuan precipices.
The extreme point of jutting land is a flat uncultivated
waste, with khaki-coloured sands gaily broidered with
clumps of pink and white rock flowers, and tufts of
purple heather, a matchless fairy carpet in labyrinth-
ine tints of Nature's weaving. The stony beach
slopes in steep contour to the marge of the sea, and
the fine lighthouse keeps ever wakeful watch and
ward o' nights. To the south-east, eight miles off, is
the Bahama Lightship guarding the bank of treachery.
All the way to Peel is the flat monotonous line of
boulder clay, whose dull tones contrast finely with the
emerald slopes above. Here on these sandy reaches
the Vikings of old time drew up their ships ; here, at
the Lhane Mooar, King Orry landed; here the great
drains of the curraghs meet the sea.
Presently the great sandstone bluffs of Peel come in
sight, and you see Peel itself, wonderful, historical, fas-
cinating Peel. The word, you remember, means " fort,"
and there is the fortress, rearing its hoary walls, grey
and glorious, on the little islet of St. Patrick. I do
not know a more beautiful sight than the ruined pile
of the old castle, standing alongside the still more
ruinously ancient cathedral, with the blue line of the
bay dotted with brown-sailed fishing craft, and the
shafts of the sun tinting the ramparts of the stone-
work to flaming red and gold.
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 113
Peel islet, walled to its edge, was called in long-ago
times Inis Patrick, in nearer, though still very distant
days, Holme, and sometimes Sodor. The Northmen
always called an island which stands at the mouth of
a river the Neb flows past the castle walls Holme.
The cathedral, dedicated to St. German, built on a
portion of the islet, was the ecclesiastical centre of the
diocese of Sodor. Everyone knows that the style of
the bishopric of Man is Sodor and Man. Historians
differ about the exact derivation of the title. Pro-
fessor Munch, in his translation of the Chronicon Man-
nice, derives the name Sodor from the Norwegian
Sudreyjar, or Southern Islands, which in the Chronicon
was latinized into Sodorensis. The isle in Peel
Harbour was for years known as Sodor, and as,
moreover, the cathedral of the diocese was built
upon it, the derivation of the name Sodor is
probably to be found in itself of itself.
The ecclesiastical ruins on St. Patrick's Isle are the
most interesting of their kind in Man. They are
beautifully situated on a green slope at the east side
of the walled-round islet. The outer wall surrounding
the whole grey pile of ruins dates, it is thought, from
the end of the fifteenth century, and the chancel of
the old cathedral is probably of twelfth century origin,
with added quotas of fourteenth and fifteenth century
work. From the time of the Reformation the cathe-
dral was allowed to decay and dilapidate, and by the
eighteenth century the roof had entirely gone a piece
of vandalism for which the great Bishop Wilson,
backed by Act of Tynwald, stands guilty. He needed
H4 THE ISLE OF MAN
the lead for the roofing of a neighbouring church, so
robbed Peter to pay Paul. The Chronicon Mannice
gives Bishop Simon as the builder of St. German's,
and he is buried there. The last bishop to be enthroned
in St. German's was Hildesley, in 1755.
Now beneath the bold Contrary Head we pass on
towards the finest rock scenery of the island, and as
far as the eye can reach the panorama of cliffs and
cloven peaks continues until the vista is lost in the
distant outline of the Calf of Man, standing out to
sea.
Here are caves innumerable, old-time haunts of the
smugglers, where the shags and the seagulls build.
Glen Meay the Vale of Luxuriance creeps insidi-
ously into the frowning wall, and, farther, the white
beaches of Dalby glimmer in the sunshine.
The Niarbyl, with its reefs and rocks, is one of the
most noted places on the coast for lobsters. So many
times I have helped to haul the creels here ! So often
shot the long line, for every sort of fish abounds.
From the Niarbyl onwards the vista holds one
spell-bound. Each rounded height is succeeded by a
mightier one, and all along this expanse wild desola-
tion reigns sovereign, and the coast-line is uninhabited.
This is the wonderland of the island. Here are dark,
mysterious caves into whose hollow depths the waves
tumble and roar ; there are vast grey-black, heather-
crowned, Olympian heights, across whose sombre
scarps the sea-birds fly and turn and whirl unceasingly ;
dark, deep-set, rock-strewn beaches, backed by water
of crystal clearness, contrast with luxuriant axe-like
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 115
clefts, where the honeysuckle and the hart's-tongue
fern triumph on the verge of the rippling silver stream
dancing to the sea.
From the jagged slits above the caves the snaky
heads of nesting shags strike up, swaying to and fro
in the rocky fastnesses like Indian well - serpents.
Listening, with alert eyes, the long necks stretch out
towards the light, then subside again out of sight
within the cavity.
Colossal Cronk-ny-Irrey-Lhaa curves and slopes in
great abrupt contours to the ocean, and its giant con-
torted sides swell onwards and continue ridge upon
ridge into The Carnanes, until they meet and merge
with the bluffs which rise and fall, fall and rise, to
culminate in the great escarpment of Bradda Head,
whose Titanic frontage, seamed across with rich
metalliferous veins which catch the dancing sunbeams
and hold them in myriad glinting sparks of golden
light, beats back with mighty strength the never-
ceasing surge of the sea. This splendid cliff ranks,
to my mind, with Spanish Head, as the finest piece of
masonry hi Man which the hand of the Great Crafts-
man has devised. The copper and lead mines, ruined
and forsaken now, lie at the sea's edge, and were
worked at a very early date. Harald of Man granted
them to the monks of Furness in 1246, and mining
operations have gone on intermittently till towards
the end of the nineteenth century.
As we cross the sweep of Port Erin Bay, with its
natural harbour and ruined breakwater, the dark mass
of Ghaw Dhoo conjures up memories to me, surging
n6 THE ISLE OF MAN
recollections of childhood's golden age, of wonderful
never-to-be-forgotten moments of swinging on a
rope over the edge of the cliff, followed by the wild
unexplainable joy of niching from the deep recesses
of a vasty interstice the greeny eggs of the greyback,
or a sienna-splashed treasure from out a hawk's
nest. Ghaw, a word of Icelandic origin, means chasm
or cleft, and is a familiar place-name in the south-west
of the island.
The great crescent of the Mull, or Meall, Hills slopes
to the sound, the narrow strait which divides the Calf
of Man from the greater island. This south-western
extremity of Mona is an uncultivated rocky expanse,
gorgeous with rosy rock flowers dotted about the
brilliant green turf. Between the mainland and the
Calf surges the most furious tidal race of the coast,
and through this channel of some five hundred yards
wide the fretting seas rage and toss, and competing
tides " set the wild waters in a roar." No boat, save
a row boat or very small sailing vessel, undertakes
the passage through or across with any safety. If
they do so, it is at their own risk. Insurance companies
waive payment here ! In this narrow channel another
small island blocks the already congested way, Kitter-
land, called after the unfortunate Baron Kitter who,
tradition has it, perished here.
Kitter was a Norwegian, who lived in the island
during the reign of Olave, one of the Godred dynasty.
The Baron was a prototype of the big-game hunter of
to-day, and was only really happy when stalking some-
thing on four legs, so much so that, with the decimation
R9P&
c
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 117
of all the wild animals, the Manx began to fear for the
safety of the tame quadrupeds. On so small a place
as the Isle of Man it did not take long for the redoubt-
able shikari to slay every undomesticated creature.
The country had been alive with " bison and elk "
before Baron Kitter came over from Norway, and in
no time not a single specimen of the genus was left to
tell the tale ! The Baron was evidently what the
Americans would call " a big-game hog " of the deepest
dye.
The bones of elk have been found in the curraghs,
but history is very silent about the bison ! Deer lived
in Man, and on the Calf, introduced by the House of
Stanley. In 1653, someone pathetically remarks in an
old record, " The deare of this island have been much
neglected."
But all of this was ages after the day of the redoubt-
able Baron Kitter. Having cleared the isle of all
the wild things, nothing remained but the few red deer
upon the Calf, so leaving his baronial hall on Barrule
in charge of his cook, off hurried the eager Nimrod
to his new hunting grounds. The chef's name was
Eaoch, which being translated means, " a person who
can cry aloud."
In the middle of the dinner preparations Eaoch fell
asleep, whereon a witch, with the comfortable and
homely name of Ada, for no particular reason that can
be adduced, save a desire to make a diversion, caused
the fat boiling in the neglected frying pan to bubble
over, and set fire. In an instant the house was in
flames. The cook, awakening, used his powers of
u8 THE ISLE OF MAN
crying aloud to such good purpose that, though Barrule
is a goodish way off the Calf, Kitter heard him, and
actually stopped chasing deer, which just shows
how upset and astonished he must have been, con-
sidering that it was always said locally the Baron
hunted in his sleep. Urged on by the yells of the cook
Kitter made for Cow Harbour, seized his coracle,
jumped into it, and began to paddle furiously across
to the mainland. Alas, the tides were meeting, and
the excited hunter drifted right on to the rock, which
is now his memorial stone, and there was dashed to
pieces. This is " an 'orrible tale," I know, but as it
is history you must hear it.
The south of the Calf islet is a turfy expanse
ablaze with blossoms, and away to the west this
tiny territory frowns into chasms and mighty riven
cliffs, going down, down to the grim forbidding stack.
Stack, you know, is Norse for a columnar detached
rock. Very many of the names on the Calf are of
pure Norse origin.
The Calf island, which is some five miles in circum-
ference, is of no importance now, but in ancient days
it was strongly garrisoned and fortified. Landing is
made at Cow Harbour on the north, and at the South
Harbour near the Burrow. By the southern landing
is the extraordinary natural formation called the Eye
of the Calf, and at high tide we can sail right through
this rocky optic as easily as the water which in the
passing of the centuries has worn and won its way.
Where the turfy surface lies flat and low the purple
heather fights for the mastery over a riot of bracken,
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 119
and in the spring such primroses and such hyacinths
bloom, of such colour and such scent as would seem
to be unmatchable elsewhere. Gorse does not flourish
on the Calf, and perhaps that is why the summer lovers
who go everywhere else cease here from love-making.
They have a saying on the " lil islan'," " When the
gorse is out of bloom, kissing is out of fashion."
The yellow glory is to be found flowering somewhere
in Mona always. Possibly herein lies the secret of the
unnatural exuberance of insular love affairs, which
are unrivalled in publicity and abandon. I do not
mean the quiet courtings of the Manx folk ; I refer
to the variety of " affection " imported by the visitors.
Like its greater counterpart of the many glens, this
little isle has one infinitesimal specimen, an exquisite
in tiny glades, a green rift of interlacing ivy and
miniature arching trees.
Rising up white and gaunt, three-quarters of a mile
away, amid the wide waters, is the Chickens' Rock
lighthouse, standing sentinel over a dangerous tidal
reef.
Set high on the loftiest shoulder of the Calf are the
ruins of an ancient keeil, which was unfortunately
pulled to pieces by vandals who needed the stones
for the building of modern walls. A very remarkable
carven stone was discovered, and taken possession of
by the then tenant of the Calf, Mr. Quayle, of Castle-
town, in whose family this priceless relic remains. It
is perhaps the greatest treasure of all the treasures
found in Man, and represents the Crucifixion. Mr.
Kermode, our greatest Manx authority, writes of this
120 THE ISLE OF MAN
monument, which, we are told, dates at latest from
the beginning of the ninth century, that " for fineness
and delicacy of workmanship it exceeds anything that
is known of stone-work of that early period, while in
respect of the treatment, which is early Byzantine art,
it is unique."
Down in the smiling valley lies the house where
the lord of the Calf must live if he would reside on
the lonely isle. Just now the little territory is in the
market, and if you are a man who would be a king
you must haste and make an offer for this faceted
crown. It is not every day a country cries out for a
monarch.
The small islet was in former times, if tradition can
be believed, the refuge of sundry individuals seeking
Nirvana. On almost the highest point of the Calf
we come on a ruinous little hut, called BushelTs
House, and the primitive abode is said to be the
one-time home of a follower of Lord Bacon, who was
involved in the failures of the celebrated English
philosopher and statesman. Retiring from the Court,
the broken adherent of the obsequious Bacon fled to
" the desolate island called the Calf of Man, where,
in obedience to my dead lord's philosophical advice,
I resolved to make a perfect experiment upon myself
for the obtaining a long and healthy life (most necessary
for such a repentance as my former debauchedness
required), as by a parsimonious diet of herbs, oil,
mustard, and honey, with water sufficient, most like
to that of our long-lived forefathers before the Flood
(as was conceived by that lord), which I most strictly
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 121
observed, as if obliged by a religious vow, till Divine
providence called me to more active life."
Kione Rouayr faces Spanish Head on the mainland
of Mona with menacing mien, and of this last mighty
headland, so-called, tradition has it, because one of
the ships of the Armada was wrecked at the foot of
the perpendicular mass, I find it almost impossible
to speak. It is difficult for any ordinary pen to do
the scene justice. I should like some Shakespeare to
see it and try his art. What glory of words, save
such as the Immortal One could command, can de-
scribe the unparalleled wonders of the Titan cliff !
The etchings are so perfect, the contour so graceful,
the rainbow effects on the rocks so bewilderingly
beautiful. The seamed surface, veined and scored in
myriad tones of purple, brown, and dull sombre
splashes of crimson, is so bright in tint, so shimmering
in the sunlit way, that the marvellous pigments in
this artist's dream seem as yet wet upon the gigantic
canvas. Below the tide-mark is an even yellow band,
a demarcation line of contrasting paleness, and at its
limit frets the wonderful iridescent sea, hushed now,
its mighty power slumbering, with ceaseless low mur-
mur and song filling the air with entrancing melody.
On the face of the grim cliff a bunch of cushag, propa-
gated by the winds of heaven, has taken root, and gives
a gleam of gold to the great scarped battlements. A
little handful, a tender flowering note of interrogation :
Why Nature out of fifty seeds,
Should bring but one to bear.
GO softly here, for all about is haunted ground.
122 THE ISLE OF MAN
Myriad on this coast are the spirits of the shipwrecked,
of smugglers, trolls, and " goblins damn'd."
Waldron tells of the disturbed spirit of a shipwrecked
person who " wanders about, and sometimes makes so
terrible a yelling that it is heard at an incredible dis-
tance. Whenever it makes this incredible noise it is
a sure prediction of an approaching storm." Mr.
Ralfe, in his beautiful book on The Birds of the Isle
of Man, suggests that this sound may have been due
to the well-known nocturnal clamour of the celebrated
Manx shearwaters, who once lived in their thousands
on the Calf of Man.
All the old-time chroniclers had something to say
of the " Puffines " of the Calf, which were a source of
revenue, and, it is said, paid tithe to the Church.
Bishop Wilson describes the birds as " almost one lump
of fat," and adds, " They who will be at the expense of
wine, spice, and other ingredients, to pickle them,
make them very grateful to many palates, and send
them abroad ; but the greatest part are consumed at
home, coming at a very proper time for the husband-
man in harvest."
Governor Chaloner wrote of the flesh of the birds as
" nothing pleasant fresh, because of their rank and
fish-like taste ; but, pickled or salted, they may be
ranked with Anchoves, Caviare, or the like ; but profit-
able they are in their feathers, and Oyl, of which they
make great use about their Wooll."
Mr. Ralfe, who gave us such an interesting account
of the Manx shearwaters in his recent book, says that the
puffins (Puffinus Anglorum) disappeared from the Calf
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 123
before the year 1827, but that individual birds are
occasionally seen still. Fratercula artica is very
numerous about the islet, and tosses on the wild
waters of the narrow strait in serried throngs.
Near by is the cave where you may see, if you are
there at just the right moment, on just the right day,
a spectre boat, rowed by a spectre crew. Into the
black mouth of the cavern the apparition disappears,
and darkness envelops it. It is only a fleeting phantom,
real as it seems, for once, many years ago, a venture-
some fisherman followed hard on the tracks of this
spirit boat, and lo ! when he had penetrated the re-
cesses of the cave it was quite, quite empty.
Out of The Chasms, the awful gaunt three-hundred-
feet-high cliffs, rent and torn in mighty fissures from
base to top, come weird sounds of Satanic revelry o'
nights, the noise of clinking cups, and Bacchanalian
drinking songs.
Guarding the riven heights, outermost crag of the
deep, is the massive pillar known as the Sugar Loaf,
one hundred and fifty feet high, its many- tinted
colours curving round and round in fibrous lines.
Governor Chaloner, Cromwell's myrmidon, used to
call this rock " Chering Cross," because it reminded
him of the Queen Eleanor Cross then standing in Lon-
don town. Now comes Kione y Ghoggan, a line of
rampart cliffs, with heights so magnificent and o'er-
whelming that the sea-birds are dwarfed to sparrow
size and
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Seem scarce so gross as beetles.
124 THE ISLE OF MAN
Little grey beaches burrow into the pinnacled walls,
and on every ledge, crowding out the ubiquitous sea-
pinks, is an amazing wealth of bird life. Gulls and
jackdaws, choughs which Train tells us were always
called kegs by the Manx in his day and greybacks,
and on the cliffs of Spanish Head the peregrine falcon,
royal bird of Man, still nests in lofty isolation. For
many centuries the falcons have nested on the grim
face of Spanish Head. Chaloner mentions them in
1656. " Here," he says, " are some Ayries of mettled
falcons, that breed in the Rocks."
The beautiful birds were evidently held sacred, for
we find in the Insular Statutes of centuries ago the
following dictum emanating from the Deemsters, a
law which had evidently previously existed for some
years: "Also we give for law that whosoever goeth
to the Hough where the Hawkes do breed or Hyrons
likewise, he forfeiteth for every of them, that is to
sy, if he take any of the old or young ones, or Eggs,
m a piece for soe many as he or they may be proved
to have in the Court."
Every ledge has a complement of guillemots, and
at the sea's edge the blithe sea-lark skims gaily close
to the water, to alight with flickering tail on wave-
washed rocks.
Perched high on an isolated rocky pinnacle, with the
swirl and dash of the waves below, was a solitary grey-
back (hooded crow), one of the devastating " ra vinous
creatures " upon whose heads a price was set in 1687.
Still as a carven stone, the large bird merges with the
background, as he keeps watch over infinite space,
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 125
silently standing gazing out to sea, a mysterious spirit
of the vasty deep.
Port St. Mary the port comes into view, its har-
bour set in the sheltered cove. The small town creeps
up the rising shoulder of a green rounded cronk, ter-
mination of the stalwarts curving away behind it to the
sound. In the vast inlet, Poolvaash, the Bay of Death,
ominously wreathed in foaming surge, is the fateful
Carrick Rock, whose cruel points have rent asunder
many a ship, and with them hearts and homes. A
beacon marks it out, and ever, even in a calm sea,
the waters wash and swirl about it. The Bay of Death,
however, does not take its grim name from the ship-
wrecks it has seen, but from a battle, one of the multi-
tudinous fights which took place in the early history
of Manxland, fought out upon its shores.
Battalions of snowy gulls, with outposts and flanking
parties, dot the great stretch of sand below Mount
Gawne, bodies equidistant from each other, heads all
turned one way in quaint precision. Here and there
among the elders stands an ugly duckling, a youthful
mottled nursling, the lil Gubb of Manx nomenclature.
The seagulls of Man are protected by the Preserva-
tion Act of 1867, which lays it down that " the birds
are considered of great importance to persons engaged
in the herring fishing, inasmuch as they indicate
localities where bodies of fish may be : And also that
they are of much use for sanitary purposes by reason
that they remove the offal of fish from the harbours
and shores."
Away ahead of us the land lies low once more is
126 THE ISLE OF MAN
the Stack, another of the very many stacks, of Scarlett,
the crater of an extinct volcano. In a little creek
on the Scarlett side of Poolvaash Bay are the quarries
where the black " marble " is obtained, black marble
of a variety I am no geologist which requires to be
adorned with a varnish to give it the necessary polish
it has not of itself. One always hears of the steps at
St. Paul's Cathedral as the product of the Scarlett
quarries, but as a matter of fact, the great slabs pre-
sented to the cathedral by Bishop Wilson wore out
long, long ago.
Towards the greensward of Scarlett, out beyond the
Stack, you can see the little winding path among the
boulders which is christened after the Protector,
Cromwell's Walk. The name was probably given to the
place by Colonel Duckenfield, or some other Parlia-
mentarian, for Cromwell himself never came to the
island.
The view from the great Stack is wonderfully strik-
ing, with the majestic sweep of the coast-line, rising
higher and higher in mighty pinnacles, a vista of
Nature's marvellous craft and workmanship, extend-
ing to the dim outline of the Calf of Man, through
whose weirdly gleaming eye the shafts of the sun slant
and sparkle like some living giant orb. And so white,
so strong, so massive, the graceful lighthouse, lonely
outpost of the deep, rears its lofty tower.
Inland, away and away, the green land swells up-
wards to the ramparts of high land whose solid walls
here are rent only by the little sombre cleft of Flesh-
wick, and the wide opening where lies Port Erin.
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 127
Afar to the south-east the summits of many peaks
rise to Heaven's gate, their lofty wildness and gorse-
crowned slopes dominating the witching scene with
splendour of solemnity.
South Barrule rears an historical head, sovereign of
all the southern mountains. The name Barrule comes
from Baareooyl, the Manx for " top of an apple."
The rounded summit has a resemblance to some green
giant " Lord Suffield." Who first saw the likeness, I
wonder, and changed the ancient name of Ward Fell
to the present title ? On the summit are the relics of
a mighty entrenchment and fortification, and on this
mountain Mannanan, the necromancer, had a country
residence. Baron Kitter also, the great shikari, who
was drowned in the sound.
In the field lying betwixt us and the hills the white
gulls flutter and fly behind the plough, picking up the
worms as they appear in the loamy furrows. Jack-
daws too, with deep-set solemnity of purpose, follow
on the heels of the ploughman, and the agile-pied
wagtail, or U shag-meek, (pied bird), is of the little
colony also. If the Ushag-vreck failed to put in an
appearance, the luck would be out, and the crops not
half so plentiful.
Castletown, with its hoary fortress, looms next in
our line of vision. The vast grey bulk, ancient home
of the Kings of Man, stands proudly up from the centre
of the surrounding town. On the line of the bay,
behind Hango Hill, with its ruined blockhouse, the
dark pile of King William's College arrests attention.
At this well-known public school many great men
128 THE ISLE OF MAN
have been educated, Field-Marshal Sir George White,
General Sir Charles Warren, Dean Farrar, and the
Rev. T. E. Brown among others. The origin of the
institution lies in the forethought of Yn Stanlagh Mooar.
Writing of his project, in 1643, the Earl said : "I had
a design, and God may enable me to set up a university
without much charge (as I have conceived it), which
may much oblige the nations round about us. It
may get friends into the country, and enrich this land.
This would certainly please God and man."
The strenuous life and tragic end of the Great
Stanley prevented the furthering of the splendid
design, and it was not until the reign of the last sword
bishop, Isaac Barrow, 1663-71, that the scheme was
materially continued, with the result that an excellent
school, with scholarships and exhibitions to Oxford,
Cambridge, and Dublin, is now one of the valuable
assets of the island.
Farther, towards the promontory of Langness Point,
is the racecourse, where the Derby was run a full
century and a half before the great race became in-
digenous to Epsom. Yn Stanlagh Mooar originated it
in his island, to celebrate his birthday, the 28th July.
The races were in abeyance during the tenure of
Cromwell, but they were revived on the coming to
his own again of the eighth Earl of Derby. " It is my
good will and pleasure y * y e two prizes formerly granted
for hors running and shooting shall continue as they
did, to be run for, or shot for, and so continue dureing
my good will and pleasure. Given under my hand att
Lathom y e 12 of July, 1669."
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 129
The Derby was evidently intended to encourage
local horse breeding, for : "No horse, or gelding, or
mair shall be admitted to run for the said plate, but
such as was foaled within the said island, or in the
Calfe of Mann. . . . That every person that puts in
either horse, mair or gelding shall at the time of their
entering depositt the sume of five shill. a piece, which
is to goe towards the augmenting of the plate for the
year following, besides one shill. a piece, to be given
by them to the said cleark of the rolls for entering
their names."
Towards Langness Point are many deep rocky
caverns, disturbed, broken-up sea-caves, a ruinous
battlefield of fallen stones dating from post-glacial
times. At the end of the peninsula a lighthouse lifts its
warning shaft, looking out in snow-white majesty over
the dreadful Skerranes. On the east side of Langness
are the cruel chasms and knife-edged rocks of Grave
Gully, the last resting-place of many hapless mariners.
That is St. Michael's Isle, set in the natural harbour
of Derbyhaven. The ruinous fort upon it is another
monument to the Stanlagh Mooar, the fort builder. A
very ancient treen chapel shares the miniature islet
which Camden all erroneously labelled the Sodor of
history.
Tucked away in the north-west corner of the haven
is Ronaldsway, where lived the unfortunate Illiam
Dhone. Hereabouts also was fought one of the fierce
battles of ancient days, when the Manx were defeated
by the Scots, immediately previous to the Scottish
annexation of the little territory.
130 THE ISLE OF MAN
Port Greenilaugh the word means " sunny "
closely guards the secret of its wonderfully wooded
glen, covering it up jealously with verdant trees and
encircling rounded slopes. The silvery stream flickers
down the luxuriance, its little quavering, flashing light
betraying its merry presence, until with a smile and a
song it tumbles out on to the pebbles of the creek.
Set high above the grim cavities of myriad black-
mouthed caves, the remnants of one of the old-time
Watch and Ward posts can be seen, and on an oppo-
site cliff, where the heather and gorse commingle, is
Cronk-ny-Marroo, the Hill of the Dead, a mighty burial
place of immense size and antiquity. The Santon
River pours its waters to the coast, winding among
contorted natural archways and rocky caves down to
the sea. Santon Head is the outpost for a return to
a precipitous line of cliffs.
Nearing the great scarps of Pistol, the Titanic nature
of the wild architecture continues to Port Soderick
with its caves, decorated with the shells of the multi-
tudinous oysters consumed in every month which has
no " r " in it by the courageous summer visitors. The
once lovely glen is exploited within an inch of its
beauty. It is alive with people, making their way
to the oyster stalls ! They have come, Hall Caine
says, " after eleven months and two weeks imprison-
ment in factories, with little more of the country than
is to be got out of their town parks, and out of their
back gardens, where they are like larks on a sod in a
cage."
The cove is defaced by the Marine Drive, with its
A CRUISE ROUND THE ISLE 131
whirling, skirling trams, which continue along the
fa9ade of the precipices past the " Nuns' Chairs," the
two water- worn rocks which, tradition says, were the
punishment seats of refractory nuns from the Priory
of St. Bridget, near Douglas. Of these two hollow
places, set in the grim heights of the How, Waldron
says : " Whether these are made by art or nature I
cannot pretend to determine, nor did I ever hear ; but,
on the slightest accusation, the poor nun was brought
to the foot of this rock, when the sea was out, and
obliged to climb to the first chair, where she sat till
the tide had twice ebbed and flowed. Those who had
given greater cause for suspicion went up to the second
chair, and sat the same space of time. Those who
endured this trial and descended unhurt, were cleared
of the aspersion cast upon them ; but the number of
the fortunate could not be great, for besides the
danger of climbing the rugged and steep rock (which
now very few men can do above thirty or forty paces)
the extreme cold when you come to any height, the
horror of being exposed alone to all the fury of the
elements, and the horrid prospect of the sea, roar-
ing through a thousand cavities, and foaming round
you on every side, is enough to stagger the finest
resolution and courage, and without all question
has been the destruction of many of those unhappy
wretches."
Here the rock scenery is awe-inspiring. Tiny beaches
run up into the grey mass, insidiously claiming right
of entry into the solid frontage. Vast pieces of
masonry tremble on the brink of the slanting preci-
132 THE ISLE OF MAN
pices, and over all is the hum and the drone of the
sea in the caves.
The white lighthouse and out-buildings herald Doug-
las once more. We have put a girdle round the golden
island. Shall we penetrate now to the interior, and see
the treasures and the wonders there ?
CHAPTER IX
A TOUR INLAND
Pr'thee, see there ! behold ! look !
Our monuments.
Macbeth.
This Castle hath a pleasant seat, the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.
Macbeth.
AN ecclesiastical tour of the " lil islan' " comes into
our local colour scheme. We must visit some old-
world churches and pre-Reformation fanes, besides
historical castles and ancient ruins impossible to
classify with any authenticity. Strictly modern
churches we will not notice.
The established Church in Man is considerably out-
numbered as a body by Dissenters, but a pleasing
toleration exists among all sects. The travellers along
the half-dozen different routes to Paradise show a
delightful indisposition to throw the customary brick-
bats at each other a spirit of " Live and let live,"
vastly different from the old Puritanical times, and
the troublous days of Quaker prosecution in the seven-
teenth century. The Quakers' little colony in Maug-
hold, where their burial-place, Rhidlick-ny-Quakeryn, is
134 THE ISLE OF MAN
still to be seen, was broken up and ruthlessly destroyed
during the over-lordship of Lord Fairfax. After suffer-
ing fines, imprisonment, and many deprivations, the
Manx Quakers were banished the island. On the
Restoration they straggled back again.
John Wesley visited Man on two occasions, and his
followers to-day are the strongest religious denomina-
tion on the island. The serious-minded worshippers
attend their often insignificant chapels without the
baits and encouragements adopted by many of the
proselytizing evangelical establishments " across the
wather," the " Men Only " and " Side-talks with
Women " services which revivify waning interest in
remarkable and expectant fashion, and cause the walls
of the holy place to bulge outwards. Don't you always
smile at those wily notices ? They give one so furiously
to think. They remind me of the ingenious artist
whose particular bent lay in the delineation of the
" altogether," who was about to exhibit some of his
works in a provincial city where the Committee of the
local art gallery possessed Nonconformist consciences
of the most active variety. Without delay the painter
set about renaming his masterpieces, delicately dis-
guising an insouciant Phryne under the title of " The
Mother of Moses," labelling an enchanting Aphrodite
and Dione as " Ruth and Naomi," whilst " rosy-
fingered " Aurora obligingly turned into " Potiphar's
Wife," thus casting an aura of sanctity over the ex-
hibition which saved the situation.
The Bible and Prayer Book were translated into
Manx by a little army of divines. Bishop Wilson com-
A TOUR INLAND 135
menced the great work, and on his death it was pro-
ceeded with by Bishop Hildesley, aided by the clergy
of the diocese. The idea of Sunday schools originated
with Bishop Hildesley, who successfully established
them in Man, where they flourished for some time
previous to their adoption elsewhere. Church service
is never conducted now in the fast-dying language,
but preaching in Manx continued in Nonconformist
chapels until quite recently. Mr. A. W. Moore tells me
that he listened to a most eloquent sermon in the old
tongue but six years ago. This he heard in the
Salisbury Street Chapel, Douglas. The Rev. John
Qualtrough, who died in 1879, nearly always took
morning and evening prayer in Manx. Either he or
the Rev. W. Drury, the much-loved Vicar of Kirk
Braddan, preached in the native tongue for the last
time in the established Church.
Would you like to see how the Lord's Prayer looks
in Manx ? Its looks are nothing to the big deep tones
of it.
Ayr ain t' ayns niau. Casherick dy row dt' Ennym.
Dy jig dty reeriaght.
Father our Who art in heaven. Holy be Thy
name. Come Thy kingdom.
Dt' aigney dy row jeant er y thalloo myr te ayns niau.
Cur dooin nyn an an jiu as gagh laa. As leih dooin
nyn loghtyn myr ta shin leih dauesyn ta jannoo loghtyn
nyn 'oi.
Thy will may be done on the earth as it is in heaven.
Give to us our bread to-day and every day. And for-
136 THE ISLE OF MAN
give to us our trespasses as are we to forgive to those
are committing trespasses us against.
As ny leeid shin ayns miolagh ; agh limey shin veih
oik.
And not lead us into temptation ; but deliver us
from evil.
Sons Ihiats y reeriaght as y phooar as y ghloyr, son
dy bragh as dy bragh.
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the
glory, for ever and ever. Amen.
In the Manx tongue the adjective almost invariably
follows the substantive, instead of coming before it.
A " true Manx- man," as we should say in English,
becomes Mannanagh dooie, Manxman true, and " a big
man " lapses into dooiney mooar, a man big. Nouns
are never neuter, always masculine or feminine.
Of all the ruinous ecclesiastical structures in Man
the most important is St. German's Cathedral. St.
Patrick's Church, also, lying close to the larger dilapi-
dated pile, is in its decay and desolation a very fine
relic indeed of early Christian times. Standing at its
one-time door are the remains of the round tower about
whose hoary pillar the battle of the archaeologists rages
as to whether the fine example is an Irish round tower,
a purely Manx round tower, or an impossible-to-classify
piece of masonry. Whatever it may be, and con-
trasted and compared as it has been with other shafts
extant elsewhere, most authorities agree that the
tower was erected in the tenth century. The Church
itself is assigned to a still more remote period.
A TOUR INLAND 137
The ruined cathedral is built from the red sandstone
of the neighbourhood, and eight bishops of Man are
said to lie buried in the precincts. Of these Bishop
Rutter is perhaps the best known, by reason of his
intimate connexion with the life of the Great Stanley,
and his gallant assistance in the defence of Lathom
against Fairfax. Bishop Rutter's tomb was opened
and examined in 1865, and was afterwards carefully
repaired. The broken slab found some inches below
the surface of the ground bore the following inscrip-
tion, on a brass plate a quaint requiem said to have
been composed by the episcopal lord himself.
In Hac Domo Quam A Vermiculis
Accepi Confratribus Meis Spe
Resurrectionis Ad Vitam
Jaceo Sam : Permissione Divina
Episcopus Huius Insulae
Siste Lector Vide ; Ac Ride
Palatium Episcopi
Obiit : XXX Die Mensis Maiae Anno 1662
(" In this house, which I have received from the little
worms, my brethren, in hope of the resurrection to
life, I lie, Samuel, by divine permission Bishop of this
Island. Stop, reader ; behold ! and smile at the
palace of a bishop. Died on the 3oth day of May, in
the year 1662.")
The myriad-minded Samuel Rutter, when chaplain
to the Great Stanley, was a verse-maker of some
account. His rhymes, written avowedly for " the
Right Hon. James, Earl of Derby, to divert his pensive
spirit and deep concern for the calamities of his country,
138 THE ISLE OF MAN
occasioned by the Grand Rebellion," continued to be
favourites in Man for many years.
Let the world run round,
Let the world run round,
And know neither care nor sorrow.
Our glory is the test of a merry, merry breast
In this little quiet Nation,
sang the Touchstone of Castle Rushen in a merry lilt
which formed the prologue to a playlet produced, " for
the first time on any stage," at the old fortress of
Castletown.
Grave and gay rhymes besides the worthy Rutter
penned, eulogies on Mona's Isle, and musings sad and
simple.
Descending to the crypt by a cleverly concealed
passage in the wall, the terrible fastness used for the
incarceration of ecclesiastical offenders may be seen.
Here the Duchess of Gloucester is said to have passed
eleven years, and here, tradition says, she died. Her
troubled spirit, it is said, haunts the chill stone stair-
case still, and in the dead of every night the light
sound of her dragging footstep can be distinctly heard.
In this Black Hole of Calcutta, with the graves of the
long dead above it, and the surge of the sea washing
below, the great Bishop Wilson was imprisoned for
refusing to pay certain tithes, and the decaying place
was used as an ecclesiastical gaol until 1780.
The ruins of the Episcopal Palace, with vast roofless
banqueting hall, and the civil prison, known as War-
wick's Tower, are all breaths from the eternal past.
Thomas, Earl of Warwick, was held captive at Peel,
A TOUR INLAND 139
by command of Richard II, during the time of Sir
William le Scroop, who purchased the island from the
Earl of Salisbury, " with all the right of being crowned
with a golden crown." In later years Captain Edward
Christian, the one-time favourite of the Great Stanley,
dragged out here the pitiful ending to his adventurous
life.
In Peel Castle itself, one of the fortified garrisons
of old time, is the guard-room celebrated for its ap-
parition, the ghostly visitant referred to by Scott, in
his " Lay of the Last Minstrel," as a " spectre hound."
The hound is not a hound really, but a black spaniel,
which Irishism Waldron, the credulous chronicler of
ancient days in Mona, shall explain for you :
" They say that an apparition, called in their
language, the ' Mauthe * Dhoo,' in the shape of a large
black spaniel, with curled shaggy hair, was used to
haunt Peel Castle, and has been frequently seen in
every room, but particularly in the guard chamber,
where, as soon as the candles were lighted it came
and lay down before the fire in the presence of the
soldiers, who, at length, by being so much accustomed
to it, lost great part of the terror they were seized
with at its first appearance."
It will interest the psychic to be told that, during
some excavation operations in which the skeleton of
Bishop Simon was uncovered, the remains of a dog,
with perfect teeth and jaw bones, lay at the feet of the
rebuilder of the ancient cathedral. Archaeologists had
* This should be " Moddey" ; "Mauthe" is not a Manx word,
although phonetic.
140 THE ISLE OF MAN
a good deal to say about this peculiar find at the time,
but the matter was never, of course, satisfactorily
elucidated.
The remains of Bishop Simon, with those of his
canine companion, were carefully re-interred, and on
the face of the stone erected we may read the following
inscription :
" In repairing the ruins of Peel Castle, in 1871, by the
Authority of H. B. Loch, C.B., Lieut. -Governor, the
Remains of Simon, Bishop of Sodor and Man and the
Re-Builder of the Cathedral, were here discovered and
Re-interred. He died 28th February, 1247, m tne
2ist year of his Episcopacy."
There is no reason why the ecclesiastical pile on St.
Patrick's Isle should have reached such a state of
dilapidation, save that at times all hands seemed to be
against the upstanding of the ancient fabric. The
stripping of the lead roofing by Bishop Wilson handed
over the choir to the complete mercy of the elements,
and was an action which Keble, Bishop Wilson's
biographer, justly calls " passing sentence on the
cathedral, and agreeing to despair of its restoration."
At a later period the work of devastation was helped
on materially by an energetic captain of engineers,
who was instructed to fortify the islet in martial readi-
ness for the expected onslaught of Napoleon Bona-
parte. The gallant officer constructed some fine
batteries, but at the pitiful expense of all facings,
groins, and movable stones which could possibly be
press-ganged into service.
It is said that the right of burial within the pre-
A TOUR INLAND 141
cincts of St. German's, which was the old-time privilege
of all inhabitants of Peel, has never been rescinded.
It is a right never exercised now, and was apparently
beginning to be questioned during Bishop Wilson's
time, if we may judge from the following characteristic
letter from the prelate to the then Constable of the
Castle :
" Captain Mercer, complaint is made to me that you
have refused to let the body of Isabel Cannon be buried
in the parish church of K. K. German, and the place
where her child is buried, unless her friends shall first
obtain license from the governor so to do. You would
do well to consider that this is the first instance of
such a practise, and will be an invasion of the Church's
rights and the subject's property ; for if a license
must be asked, it may be refused, and then the bishop
may be shut out of his own cathedral, and the people
from their parish church, for such it ever was before
it was a garrison. I think it fit to give you this
hint, that you may not create new trouble to yourself
or me. I am, your friend,
" THO. SODOR AND MAN."
Any encroaching on ecclesiastical rights always
roused the great Bishop, who held that " the Church
should have nothing to do with the State," and whose
strict regime warranted the supporting encomium of
Lord Chancellor King to the effect that " if the ancient
discipline of the Church were lost, it might be found
in all its purity in the Isle of Man."
After the cessation of burials in St. German's a
142 THE ISLE OF MAN
most inconvenient site one would imagine for funeral
parties to get to the people of Peel interred their
dead in the churchyard of St. Peter's, an old un-
dated structure, set in the Market Place.
All over the Isle of Man the little treen chapels or
keeils abound, and some of these tiny places, where
monks and the religious-minded lived in recluse
fashion, are of immense age and interest.
Up to really quite recent years the wonderful
memorials and remembrances, dating in some cases
from primeval times, precious relics of the great past,
have been remorselessly destroyed. Labour-saving
vandals, disguised as stonemasons, have used many
of the sacred stones and monoliths in building opera-
tions. Numberless historical masterpieces have been
scattered ruthlessly, or have suffered utter demolition.
If the grim stones set here and there in the strong
grey walls bordering the roads could speak, what tales
they might unfold to us ! Of a little keeil where some
religieuse lived in solitary deprivation, of a solemn
funeral ceremony in Stone Age times, or the martial
ringing call to arms of a Viking force in lager for the
night, amid a stronghold of garnered rocks. Myriads
of strange scenes have the vast silent broken monoliths
witnessed, wonderful nights and days of stirring deeds
and colossal happenings, gliding like shadows through
the fleeting years.
One after another, historical remnants, ancient
fortified camps, and stone barrows were cleared away.
Happily a realization of the vandalism came to us
ere it was too late to stay the mad sweeping career
A TOUR INLAND 143
of Juggernaut destruction. A trust for the care of
the old monuments has power now to control and
guard all the heirlooms of the past. Peel Castle and
Cathedral and Castle Rushen are vested property of
the Crown. The spirit of reverence is abroad, and
regard for the remaining multitudinous standing
evidences of the proud and royal history of the
island grows and increases year by year.
My pen is like the Magic Carpet of The Arabian
Nights, and flies whithersoever it listeth. It is gliding
now right across the green swelling hills, high over
the shoulder of Cronk-ny-Irrey-Lhaa, down, down,
into Rushen parish. I have nothing very wonderful
in the ecclesiastical line to show you here. Why did
I come then ? " Because," as the Manx say when
pressed for an answer, " am'n't I lawngen for home ?
That's the for I came ! "
Though Rushen Sheading is rich in ancient sepul-
tures, a stone circle, and keeils, the parish church of
the name built in 1770 is but the usual type of insular
church, barn-like, white-washed, with exposed bell
hanging in a little pepper-pot tower at the western
end. Port St. Mary and Port Erin, two of the sea-
ports of Rushen, possess very modern fanes, and the
representative place of worship in Port Erin stands on
high ground just above the old well sacred to St.
Catherine.
That philosopher and thinker (free) of the Renais-
sance, Franois Rabelais, describes somewhere a spring
where waning beauty may be stayed, and looks and
youth renewed. Perhaps he was writing of St.
144 THE ISLE OF MAN
Catherine's Well at Port Erin. Its potent powers of
rejuvenation were well known to all the Manx women.
A little dabble in the charmed water, and you ought
to emerge more fascinating at seventy than ever you
were at seventeen. This is not an advertisement, a
cruel attempt to spoil the businesses of Bond Street
beauty specialists. There are so many methods of
retaining youth without the necessity of resorting to
the help of St. Catherine ! They tell me that suf-
fragetting if you survive it is a great set-back to
the fiend Anno Domini, but this rejuvenating strenuous
sport is denied to the ladies of Manxland.
Kirk Arbory, where the great naval hero, Captain
Quilliam, is buried, is a replica of Rushen. In a
sheltered copse not far away are the fragmentary
remains of the Bimaken Friary, once the home of an
establishment of Franciscans. A band of that order
sojourned a while in Man, but were more or less over-
shadowed by their longer-established and more power-
ful neighbours of Ballasalla, the Cistercians.
Over the fields, towards Castletown, lies Malew, yet
another twin to Rushen and Arbory.
Many interesting divines have ministered here, the
two worthies Robert and Thomas Parr among the
number. The Rev. Thomas was Vicar of Malew in
1641, and held the living for many years. He is
celebrated for the quaint philosophies which he
scattered, like the pebbles of Little Poucet, about his
church register. Of these odd musings dotted about
the parish record Archdeacon Gill says : " Thomas
Parr has so impressed his own character upon almost
A TOUR INLAND 145
every page of the book, that it reads more like an
autobiography than a Parish Register, and the very
self of the worthy vicar stands out before us."
In the carefully worded sentences, the rounded
periods dragged from afar, and the studied value of
each insertion, we see the Rev. Thomas Parr as of
the band of learned philologists whom Cowper told us
of:
Who chase
A panting syllable through time and space,
Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark,
To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's Ark.
Robert Parr held the living of Malew previous to
the tenure of his brother. He was a diplomat, and
very careful to observe the direction in which the
traditionary cat Manx, of course jumped, so that
he might be ready to jump with it. Derby or Cromwell,
Cromwell or Derby, were all the same to the accom-
modating padre, who evinced a Gilbertian partiality
for whichever side happened to be paramount.
At Malew the author of this book was confirmed, on
an unforgettable day of completing dressing opera-
tions in a corner of the old Kirk, " doing " my hair
mysterious rite with the curate's brush whether his
reverence would let me or no before a diminutive
cracked looking-glass propped against a window jamb.
We had driven a long way in the teeth of a winter
gale in a make-believe Irish car, and had " jaunted "
tidiness and neatness to the winds. This little inter-
lude is not meant to be taken as presumptively assum-
ing ! I quite understand that it has no bearing on
I
146 THE ISLE OF MAN
the history of the Isle of Man, or its colour scheme.
It is a "by the way," a sort of fill-gap, because I
cannot think of anything else to tell you of Malew.
Of the ancient Abbey at Ballasalla there are but
fragmentary remains. A square tower still guards the
entrance, and the standing refectory does duty as a
stable. The relics of the once great House are few,
a small collection of stones, and an uninscribed figured
coffin lid, which probably encased a king. Olave the
Black, his son Reginald, and Magnus, the last of the
Orry dynasty, were all buried in Rushen Abbey. Over
the mill dam, of which, it is thought, the Cistercians
were the engineers and contractors, is the Monk's
Bridge, the Crossag, a specimen of thirteenth century
work in wonderful condition. How many great and
venerable ascetics have plotted and planned as they
paced their handiwork !
Seawards lies Castletown, and Castle Rushen, ancient
home of the Kings of Man. This serenely quiet centre,
with its large square into which the narrow streets
open, is the oldest town in Man, and from Neolithic
times some sort of a stronghold existed here. Tradi-
tion says that Godred Crovan built part of the castle
now standing, but this is not thought to be probable,
though the Northmen undoubtedly set up a fortress of
sorts upon the present site. A castle was standing in
the fourteenth century, for it was besieged by Robert
Bruce in 1313, and we read in the Chronicon the fatal
word " demolished." In dilapidated condition the
grim pile held together for something like three hun-
dred years after Bruce's day, when the Stanley of the
A TOUR INLAND 147
era set about repairing his " two garrisons of the Castles
of Rushen and Peel."
The walls of the keep are of immense thickness, and
surrounding the vast stronghold is a mighty embattled
wall, twenty-five feet high, nine feet through, with
square towers at intervals. Outside this wall runs
the now filled-up moat, and the protective trench
was supplemented by a glacis added, historical tradition
records, by Cardinal Wolsey, during his guardianship
of Edward, third Earl of Derby.
The hoary fortress was used until recent years as an
insular gaol, a very happy-go-lucky gaol as I remember
it. Not that I comprehensively sampled its inner
mechanism. We are not suffragettes in Man. I often
made one of a band of visitors going through the old
place, and took a childish interest in the prisoners
who wandered about in unprisoner-like haphazard
fashion, as I followed a warder of immense girth, a
character and a half. Pacing along close behind him
I was always in imagination measuring his giant waist
with a dream tape, averaging the circumference,
and saying regretfully to myself, " Forty-five inches
round, and then very likely it would not meet ! "
We knew the parrot-story of the wonders of the
castle almost as well as the janitor, and sometimes
knocked the ground from under his feet as he came
to a chestnut joke, a jewel he placed so carefully in the
hope that all would see it scintillate. It always came
off in a large bare room, with great window em-
brasures, where the prisoners worshipped on Sundays.
A thick partition of wood divided the apartment,
148 THE ISLE OF MAN
thus separating the sexes, and the pulpit was set on
high, a lighthouse to command both seas of faces.
" The men sit on that side, the women upon this,"
said the warder, casually, " and, and," impressively,
" there's no looking over the garden wall ! " He
always smiled in a way which told everyone how often
he had sprung the allusion before, and how very,
very pleased he was with the coruscating gem. My
sisters and I invariably prepared for it, and chanted
the jokelet with the joker, which rather took off from
its crisp effect.
Here, in the castle, temporarily gathered together,
is the nucleus of a representative collection of insular
antiquities, and among the many interesting relics
there are some granite querns, or hand-mills, going
back through the centuries to the Stone Age, a
specimen of the antiquated obsolete push-plough, and
the black and gold mace which was always carried
before the Bishops of Man on ceremonial days. There
are bronze weapons and ornaments in plenty to be
marvelled over, stone implements from prehistoric
days, and a fine specimen of an Irish elk recovered
from Close-y-garey. Remnants of the big deer have
been found in several boggy localities on the isle.
You reach the first portcullis of Castle Rushen by
travelling down a long narrow strait, whose high walls
at times exclude the light, and only a jagged line of
blue tells us that the sky is there. The buildings in
the outer court were added to by the Great Stanley,
who lived hi them. Many Governors in turn resided
in the sombre pile.
A TOUR INLAND 149
In the ancient chapel in the tower is the clock of
Queen Elizabeth's presenting. Clockmakers knew
their business in her day ! The old timepiece ticks
on still, stolidly, dutifully, and the bell which tolls
the hours was an addition to the castle's trophies
made by the tenth Earl of Derby, in 1729. Here, in
the solemn fortress, Time, " envious and calumniating
time," as the Bard has it, seems nothing, and the
whole structure gives the idea of immortality, and
" Time, this vast fabric for him built."
From the top of the square tower, where a little
army of agile starlings whirl and chatter, crowding
each other off the battlemented walls, wrangling,
jangling, discussing, a picture of Nature's limning
spreads itself in glory of lavishness before us. The
colours are Nature's own, and therefore perfect.
Range on range of dark, low, rounded hills block our
landward vision, and up their slopes the multi-coloured
fields, in oddly-cut shapes, cover the face of the baby
territory. It is such a tiny land. Smaller than any
English county, save Rutland, and from the top of the
old tower a great part of the isle lies in its witchery
before you. Across the mystery of waters Santon
Head, Langness Point, and Scarlett, and afar, in the
blue haze, the sweep of the Mull Hills swelling to the
treasure caves of Spanish Head, backed by the outline
of the Calf, with its watchful outpost, sentinel of the
surfy deep.
Sacredly historical apartments abound in the fort-
ress, and deep, dark underground cells into which the
prisoners of long-gone times had to be lowered by
150 THE ISLE OF MAN
means of ropes. Weird subterranean burrowings,
built into the very foundations, exist, and tradition
tells of a lengthy passage-way which runs to Rushen
Abbey, a track used but by the priests, which no other
foot has ever trod. Nobody knows to-day where to
look for the entrance, and if we discovered it dare
we penetrate ! Might it not be the doorway to that
terrible place Waldron wrote of, the very spot " which
has never been opened in the memory of man," the
weird corner of the castle which every native of the
isle knows has " something of enchantment in it " ?
For down, down in the bowels of the earth, far below
the foundations, the spellbound giants live, and of
all who in former times went to explore the secrets
of the vasty depths none ever returned.
The Parish Church of Santon is now quite modern,
but the surrounding country is rich in memorials of
the historical past. Almost every part of the isle
has its ruinously ancient keeils, old-time tumuli, stone
circles, and here and there the foundations of what
archaeologists call " Hut circles/' in which flint im-
plements and other treasures have been unearthed.
A very wonderful relic of the kind is set on the Mull,
or Meayll, Hills, below the fine stone circle. The
natives call it Lag-ny-Boirey , meaning " hollow of
trouble," or an Iliad of woes. Nobody can tell with
any authenticity why so depressing a name has been
bestowed upon this remnant of the ages.
The great standing stones, or Menhirs, which are
scattered about the face of the little country, in
single file or in very small battalions, are thought to
A TOUR INLAND 151
be almost certainly of sepulchral origin. A beautiful
example at Glen Mooar in Michael parish has the cup-
marks for the holding of oblations, cut in the rock at
the foot of the unhewn stone.
Old Kirk Braddan is the best known of all the in-
sular churches. Its summer services, held in the open
churchyard for the old kirk is seldom used now
with the clergyman preaching from a flat tombstone,
have become one of the features of the Douglas season,
to which town the ancient fane is conveniently near.
The tower is of 1773 origin, the rest of the church
probably much older, and therefore we have here
a most interesting collection of tombstones dating
from bygone centuries to almost the present era, as
well as very many fine specimens of Scandinavian
pieces. On these Scandinavian sepulchral slabs, in-
scribed in runes, we see the odd intermixture of Norse
mythological traceries used as adornments for Christian
sepulchres.
An obelisk, with a little frill of menacing cannon
balls, stands up amid the grey stones, a lofty shaft
erected to Lord Henry Murray, of the House of Athol,
by the officers of the Royal Manx Fencibles, a regiment
formed in Man, as part of the regular army, to serve
only in the British Isles, in 1780. The force was dis-
banded in 1810.
The remains of the Priory of St. Bridget, which is
situated very close to Douglas, are sparse, and the
fragmentary portions of the chapel and few collected
stones give but small idea of the once great stronghold
of a Prioress who was a Baron in Man, with powers
152 THE ISLE OF MAN
and rights of amazing importance. On the site of the
ancient religious establishment a fairly modern house
now stands, which is known as The Nunnery.
The Priory, which tradition says was founded in or
about the year 567 A.D. by Bridget of sacred memory,
who came from Ireland, and received the veil from
the hands of St. Maughold, is referred to in the Chroni-
con, and for many centuries was the home of Sisters
who retired to the Manx nunnery from all parts.
Ecclesiastical strongholds in Man of " ould tyme "
were always of unimposing architecture, and when
compared to similar retreats in the adjacent isles
quite insignificant, therefore the pen picture drawn
for us by Governor Sacheverell, in 1703, suggests that
the Priory must have been very considerably improved
and added to during the latter years of its history,
or that the chronicler was possessed in no slight degree
of the divine attribute of imagination which Washing-
ton Irving told us of, the necromantic power which
" can conjure up glorious shapes and forms, and brilliant
visions."
Here is a sketch of the Priory of St. Bridget's as
Governor Sacheverell saw it : " Few monasteries ever
exceeded it, either in largeness or fine building. There
are still some of the cloisters remaining, the ceilings of
which discover they were the workmanship of the
most masterly hands. Nothing in the whole creation
but is imitated in curious carvings on it. The pillars
supporting the arches are so thick as if the edifice was
erected with a design to baffle the efforts of time ;
nor could it, in more years than have elapsed since
A TOUR INLAND 153
the coming of Christ, have been so greatly defaced,
had it received no injury but from time. But in some
of the dreadful revolutions this Island has sustained,
it doubtless has suffered much from the outrage of the
soldiers ; as may be gathered from the niches yet
standing in the chapel, which has been one of the
finest in the world, and the images of saints deposited
in them torn out. Some pieces of broken columns are
still to be seen ; but the greatest part of them have
been removed."
We must to Douglas for a space, the Douglas which
is really the capital of the isle now, whatever Castle-
town may formerly have been.
The Douglas that was lay for the most part close
around the square where the modern market stands
to-day, extending down the quay-side, spreading away
to Castle Street in a maze of twisting, winding alleys
and narrow, confusing streets, all built with the idea
of furthering the trade which practically gave Douglas
its inception, for it is not an old town as we count
time in Man, not ancient in the sense that Castletown
is ancient, or Peel, or Ramsey. Since the demolition
of St. Matthew's Church, St. George's, of 1761-80 date,
is the oldest religious edifice. The old-time cobble-
paved streets and uneven houses, now small, now
large, with vast cellars and twisting underground
passage-ways running in all directions, where the
great Free-traders lived and loved, are faUing, almost
they have all gone, before the housebreaker, and the
Town Improvement Scheme. Very soon the last re-
maining misshapen buildings, with their histories and
154 THE ISLE OF MAN
memories, will give place to the interminable mansions
of glazed red brick, Elizabethan or Stuart period,
or to frankly glaring cemented piles, where the dinner-
tables are ever set, and brilliant red and blue wine
glasses eternally support the twisted spiral damasks
which Suburbia calls " serviettes."
The surroundings of Douglas are very, very beauti-
ful, and in olden days, with its long odd houses,
winding streets, low-tide landing pier, the scene must
have been picturesquely effective, as indeed enthusiasts
say the city is in every particular to-day. Given
money, anyone can manufacture a huge magical Mar-
gate, and, save for the perfection of its surroundings,
Douglas is very much the same as many another sea-
side resort. Any lapidary can set a pinchbeck stone
in a rim of gold, but all lapidaries are not lucky enough
to have the pure metal to work upon.
The old Red Pier, built of sandstone faced by
Castletown limestone, once the general meeting place
of Douglas society, is but little used now, save
by the seagulls, who preen themselves at its edge.
" Seeing the boat in " was the only excitement of
the week in Douglas in the early days of the nineteenth
century. It was a custom, also, with the old-time
wedding parties to walk round and round the beacon
tower at the wide end of the old Pier a curious un-
explainable usage with some occult advantage about it.
Government House of to-day stands on the heights
above Douglas, and is an unpretentious building,
press-ganged into official service, and has been added
to and altered as occasion demanded.
A TOUR INLAND 155
The fine grey stone house situated in the centre of
the crescent-shaped bay, near the sea, is Castle Mona,
the home of the last Duke of Athol who reigned in
Man. The proud Athol Arms still adorn the walls on
either side of the majestic frontage. The ducal castle is
now a popular hotel, and the once extensive grounds
adjoining have been split up, and for the most part
form the play-ground of the great dancing palace
adjoining.
From the Douglas of the eighteenth century, and
the commencement of the nineteenth, when the
" town " was just a mass of odd houses, intersected
by the maze of lanes common in all seaports of the
time, the road, lonely then, ran past His Grace's
house, right away by the east, to Ramsey. Castle
Mona was built " in the country," almost a journey
away from the little primitive hamlet lying around
and along the quay-side.
Bishop's Court is in Michael parish, and the prelates
of Man have lived here for hundreds of years. Simon,
who is buried in the cathedral at St. German's, died
at the " Palace " so long ago as 1239. There are still
some remains of the ancient fabric, traces of a one-time
moat and tower. The elm trees are said to have been
planted as saplings by Bishop Wilson as he commenced
his reign, and the wood from one of his forest children
made his coffin. The great prelate, whose private life
was as beautiful as his written works, but whose
ecclesiastical policy was of Inquisition-like character,
lived and worked in the diocese for fifty-eight years.
The village of Michael covers quite a large area,
156 THE ISLE OF MAN
and lies on a flat expanse of tableland stretching away
to the sea on one hand, and on the other to a romantic
range, intersected by glens innumerable, splitting the
hearts of the mountains.
In Glen Wyllin, south of Michael, an exploited
beauty spot, is the Hill of Raneurling, a one-time
Parliament place for the northern inhabitants of Mona.
A Tynwald was held here on one occasion by the second
Stanley who reigned over the island.
The parish church was rebuilt in 1835, and in the
graveyard Bishops Wilson, Hildesley, and Crigan sleep.
Michael is singularly rich in old monuments, and
among the wonderful Scandinavian specimens is the
cross known as Gaut's, carven by the first Scandin-
avian sculptor of whom we have any knowledge. He
invented, or brought to Man, one or two graceful
patterns of tracery which were adopted by subsequent
stone- workers, thus making of the designs a distinc-
tive and characteristic insular art, by which a Manx
cross could be recognized anywhere. The inscription
runs along the outside edge of the stones and has been
translated into :
" Mail Brigde, Son of Athakan, the Smith, erected
this cross for his own soul, (and that of) his brother's
wife. Gaut made this cross and all in Man."
This proud and comprehensive claim was probably
true of that era, as Gaut is the first Scandinavian
sculptor whose work archaeologists can trace and
authenticate.
The Mal-Lomchen cross is also at Michael, among
the many treasures. It is by the church-gate, on the
A TOUR INLAND 157
north wall. The runic inscription, reading upwards,
has been given by Mr. Kermode, in his monumental
work on the Manx crosses, as the following :
" Mal-Lomchen erected this cross to the memory of
Mal-Mura his foster (mother) daughter of Dugald, the
wife whom Atheol had."
And on the left-hand edge, running upwards :
" Better is it to leave a good foster than a bad son."
To the ordinary visitor, unversed in archaeology,
Bishop Wilson's tomb will be the most interesting.
The inscription on it reads :
" Sleeping in Jesus. Here lieth the Body of Thomas
Wilson, D.D., Lord Bishop of the Isle, who Died March
I7th, 1755, aged 93, in the 58th year of his consecra-
tion. This monument was erected by his son, Thomas
Wilson, D.D., a Native of this parish, who, in obedience
to the express commands of his worthy Father, de-
clines giving Him the Character he so Justly Deserves.
Let this Island Speak the Rest."
The island can never forget its greatest Bishop, so
narrow in some ways, so broad-viewed in others, out-
stripping at times the advanced civilization of the
present. As a Baron of the isle the ecclesiastical lord,
previous to the passing of the island to the Crown,
was the head of a civil court which possessed almost
unlimited jurisdiction over felons, and included rights
and prerogatives of all kinds.
Bishop Wilson hated sin with fanatical zeal. He
would have applied St. Matthew's drastic remedy to
every evil-doer had it been possible or practicable,
158 THE ISLE OF MAN
and in grappling with the traitor Sin with all his
strength, the valiant ecclesiastic thought he would
perchance give the devil time to sleep. And so we
read with mixed feelings the long list of offenders who
were punished by the Church during the reign of the
great cleric. We must not forget that many of the
archaic punishments were in vogue when Bishop
Wilson came to Man, and that in numerous cases he
intervened and set aside the cruel usages of genera-
tions. We must remember this when we read of
Katherine Kinrade, whom the Bishop ordered to be
dragged behind a boat across Peel Harbour in the
cold month of March, for an example to others and
to " prevent her own utter destruction." Katherine
Kinrade, with " the defect of understanding ! "
Well, in every one of us exists a Jekyll and a Hyde.
And so it was with the serenely gentle, fiercely tyran-
nous Thomas Wilson. There abode with him a tender-
ness " deeper than plummet ever sounded," tenderness
which more than atoned for the few harshnesses
of his long reign. If he punished sinners in cruel-to-
be-kind fashion, it was done with the idea of saving
souls in peril. All those in any way afflicted and dis-
tressed were his constant care. In the great famine
which fell on the little land, Bishop's Court was open to
all comers. Poor himself, the Bishop gave all the sub-
stance of his house to his people, and when that came
to a speedy end, he pledged his revenue and bought
corn from England, potatoes from Ireland, and dealt
them out in brimming measures.
Over and over again Bishop Wilson could have
A TOUR INLAND 159
taken preferment, but he would not leave the small
territory which needed him so badly. To each tempt-
ing offer he made reply, " Shall I leave my wife in her
old age because she is poor ? "
The little story of the Bishop's coat is the favourite
of the many anecdotes woven about the great character.
It is a very simple tale, but it shows you the man who
was going to wear the garment as distinctly as any
modern photograph could do.
In olden days, even up to the last century, the
clothes which Manxmen wore were made for them at
home, by a nomadic tailor. The cloth was bought
from the local fidder, and when the journeyman tailor
came along, with his " newses " and his gossip, for he
was always a raconteur, the homespun was fashioned
into the required garments.
The Bishop was trying on a long coat one day, and his
sartorial artist made comprehensive chalk markings
all down the front, guides to show where a multitude
of buttons must go.
" Only one button, just to fasten it together,
Danny," ordered the Bishop. " A poor man like me
must not wear a row of glittering buttons."
But the little tailor had the buttons bought and
ready, so he drew an artful picture of the parlous condi-
tion of the button-makers if everyone thought like his
lordship. The miserable button-workers would scarce
be able to live at all.
The coat was taken off and laid aside. Fingering
it thoughtfully, " Danny," said the Bishop, " Danny,
button it all over,"
160 THE ISLE OF MAN
In the fights for what he considered the right Bishop
Wilson came into collision with the State, and was
imprisoned in Peel ecclesiastical prison and in Castle
Rushen.
In spite of many of his narrow rulings, the complex
ecclesiastic showed the way very often to clerics un-
born. Keble, the biographer of Mona's best-known
Bishop, tells us of an action which might set an ex-
ample to the behind-the-age administrators of to-day.
Bishop Wilson sanctioned the remarrying of a Manx-
man whose wife was alive and transported. Taking
into consideration all the facts the woman was not
to be permitted to set foot in Man again without per-
mission of the Lord, the prelate wrote :
" I have considered yo r petition, and I find nothing
in it contrary to y e rules of our holy religion, or y e
ors (orders) and determinations of learned and judici-
ous Christians in all ages, and therefore I give you
liberty to make such a choice as shall be most for yo r
support and comfort, and I pray God to direct you
" THO. SODOR AND MAN."
Ballaugh old church, a most quaintly fashioned
building, lies in the curragh country, right in the
heart of the romantic, mysterious, flowering wilder-
ness, and the name laugh, or lough, a lake, perpet-
uates the time of long ago when the great boggy
hollows 'twixt the sand-dunes by the sea and the
green hill-sides were set with permanent stretches of
water. The vast territory of the Curragh Mooar
A TOUR INLAND 161
sweeps north and east, draining its superabundant
moisture to the sea.
Jurby parish church, St. Patrick's, stands sentinel-
wise on rising ground near the sea. It has its Scan-
dinavian monuments in common with most of the
insular parish churches, and at the West Nappin a
little treen chapel repays a visit.
Old Kirk Bride was pulled down in 1869, but there
are ancient remains still to lure us here. The cele-
brated Thor cross, with its wealth of carvings and
wonder of design, has sanctuary in the precincts of the
churchyard. Bride is the most northern parish on the
island.
Ramsey, in Scandinavian Hrafnsey, lies in the
parishes of Lezayre and Maughold, and is second only
to Douglas as a popular seaside resort. The historical
records of the place are comprehensively interesting.
Battles innumerable have been fought in the environs,
and the great wide bay has sheltered fleets, very often
marauders, of all sorts and kinds from the days of
the Vikings. Here Bruce anchored in 1313, and, later
again, another band of " our enemies, the Red
Shanks " as the Statute-book terms the Scotsmen,
visited the port on pillage and spoliation bent. The
Manx of old time hated the Scotch nation, and re-
garded them all as piratical ravaging cut-throats, and
though as a rule the little country philosophically
accepted any ruler thrust upon it, the suzerainty
of Scotland was never regarded with contentment.
Nous avons change tout cela. The seven days hallowed
by recent custom by the presence of riotous hundreds
M
162 THE ISLE OF MAN
of " Red Shanks," when the workers from the city of
Glasgow spend their " Fair Week," and many baw-
bees, in Douglas, is now one of the features of the
lucrative visiting season.
Across the bay from the Ayre the vast King William
Banks sweep towards Laxey. The royal name was
bestowed in commemoration of the escape from ship-
wreck of William III, who was " held up " on the
treacherous waste of shallow waters during a voyage
to Ireland.
In the remaining parts of old Ramsey we see again
the winding tortuous lanes, intersecting each other
at all sorts of surprising moments, and the irregularly
built, unmatched houses, now of large size, now of
small, the typical representative architectural features
which hallmark the smuggling centres of bygone
times.
Away to the westward runs out the Ayre we call
all the lowlands of the extreme north the Ayre, and
off the point, rapidly growing by the aid of the silting
sand, is the foamy line of competing tides, contending
forces which the Manx call the Streeus, meaning strife.
Andreas is a treasure house of ancient relics. At
Ballachurry is the " loyall fourt " of the Great Stan-
ley's building, with its ramparts and fosse. Here
Major Thomas Stanley was taken prisoner by Ewan
Curghey, Ittiam Dhone's brother-in-law, when some of
the islanders went over to Cromwell, and captured
the fortified places for handing over to Colonel Duck-
enfield.
The imposing tower of Kirk Andreas, which crowns
A TOUR INLAND 163
quite a modern structure, is a beacon plainly to be
seen from most points in the north. Fine specimens
of Scandinavian stone-work rest here, and of all in
Andreas the most interesting is the grey block which
records that " Gaut Bjornson of Cooley made it."
There is still a farm in Michael which bears the name
of the sculptor's home.
Maughold is one of the real old-world corners of the
isle, with a church of great antiquity, rich in ancient
monuments. The finest examples of pre-Scandinavian
and Scandinavian crosses are found here, and the
beautiful stone which stands at the gate of the kirk
is the only one of its kind on the island. Roolwer,
the first Norwegian Bishop of Man, lies buried in
Maughold churchyard, and all about him are some
of the island's best. Somewhere within the peaceful
acre of God St. Maughold is said to lie. St. Maughold,
whose history makes such " a wonderous tale, yett
so trewe ytt is, That noe bodye ytt denyes." The
holy man, a disciple of St. Patrick, spent the days
of his youth as a gallant freebooter in Ireland, where
he was the dashing leader of a pitiless mob of banditti.
Suddenly the error of his ways struck home to the
embryo saint, and as a self-elected punishment Mace
Cuill or Macaldus for he changed his name with his
life had a fragile craft constructed of plaited alder
stems, and, commanding his men to bind him down in
the fragile boat, directed that the tiny coracle should be
delivered to the sea and the judgment of God. Instead
of filling at once, as his followers naturally expected,
lo ! the cockleshell craft rode the waves high and
164 THE ISLE OF MAN
secure, and Maughold was cast ashore on the Isle
of Man, where high destiny awaited him. For a time
the now thoroughly repentant bandit lived hermit-
wise in the mountains, to emerge later to preach the
Word with " two wonderful men who were in the
island before him." The two are thought to be
Conindrius and Romuilus, who, tradition says, were
the first Bishops in Man.
At Maughold the converted free-lance built his
church, and on the face of the cliff, north-east of the
churchyard, if you search carefully among the riot of
gorse, you will come upon the Holy Well, wherein the
Saint christened his flock.
The old sundial on the green at Maughold bears the
name of Evan Christian, son of Captain Edward
Christian, the displaced favourite of Yn Stanlagh
Mooar. The inscription runs : " Ev. Christian fecit
1666."
Lonan old Church is quite the tiniest edifice of its
kind on the island. The churchyard has its share of
Scandinavian relics (including a very fine cross some
six feet high), as has also Onchan, the latter-day name
for the parish of Conchan.
Almost all the insular churchyards are interesting
in their old-world memorials, so many great and even
illustrious names are carven on such simple tombs.
Onchan is particularly blessed with reminders. Near
the stile is the grave of the last surviving officer who
fought with Nelson on the Victory at Trafalgar, Lieu-
tenant Edward Reeves, R.N., and not very far away
rests a soldier of later date who served the Prince
A TOUR INLAND 165
Consort as Equerry. Away on the other side of the
church, with its lichen-covered spire, amid a tangle of
wild roses, where a blackbird builds each year, is a flat
stone, emblazoned with a proud coat-of-arms, which
tells you that the warrior who sleeps beneath fought
for his country " in the four corners of the globe. "
Of the conducting of funerals of nearly two hundred
years ago Waldron writes : " As to their funerals, they
give no invitation, but everybody, that had any
acquaintance with the deceased, comes on foot or
horseback. I have sometimes seen at a Manks burial
upwards of a hundred horsemen, and twice the number
on foot : all these are entertained at long tables,
spread with all sorts of cold provision, and rum and
brandy flies about at a lavish rate. The procession
of carrying the corpse to the grave is in this manner :
When they come within a quarter of a mile from Church,
they are met by the Parson, who walks before them
singing a psalm, all the company joining with him.
In every Church-yard there is a cross round which they
go three times before they enter the Church. But these
are funerals of the better sort, for the poor are carried
only on a bier, with an old blanket round them fastened
with a skewer."
Nowadays the funeral of one of the people is
conducted with arresting simplicity. The coffin is
brought outside the cottage door, and set down, and,
with all the mourners standing close about it, a hymn
is sung. Almost invariably it is the same hymn,
" Safe in the arms of Jesus." If possible, and it is nearly
always made so, funerals take place on Sundays, and
166 THE ISLE OF MAN
relays of friends carry the coffin to the parish church.
In the country districts hearses were never used until
quite recently. The old custom which required the im-
mediate relatives to attend service at the parish church
on the next Sunday but one after a funeral, when they
should none of them rise throughout, is still observed
in all parts of the Isle of Man.
The old parish church of Marown the one parish
on the island which does not touch the fringe of the
sea on any corner is set on the shoulders of Archa-
llagan. It is quite a simple structure, of the usual
barn-like variety, but it is very ancient, and was
restored so long ago as 1753. The registers are in-
terestingly antiquated, and delve back into the
enshrouding mists of centuries. Tradition has it
that three of the earliest Bishops lie in the grave-
yard.
Marown, with its verdant fields and slumbrous glens,
is a treasure-house of ancient relics. In the Maegher-y-
chiarn, the lord's field, stands St. Patrick's chair,
and all about are sacred remnants of the great historical
past. On this majestic chair, a group of rough-hewn
upright stones, with deeply incised crosses, it is said that
Saint Patrick preached the Word to the early Christians
in Man.
The parish also encompasses the ruined chapel of St.
Trinian's, lately made over to the good care of the
Ancient Monuments Trustees. This fine old chapel,
unroofed, hidden among the trees at the foot of the
great crags of Greeba, is quite unpretentious, though
many of its architectural beauties are in excellent
A TOUR INLAND 167
preservation. Tradition has woven many silken
strands around the desolate place. Legendary lore
has it that the little building was erected aeons ago
as the result of a vow made by a mariner who was saved
in a storm at sea. They say the understanding,
comprehending " they " that the edifice never had a
roof, and never could have one, as the result of the
machinations of a local Buggane, a particularly cussed
specimen, who, Train tells us, " for want of better
employment amused himself with tossing the roof
to the ground, as often as it was on the eve of being
finished, accompanying his achievements with a loud
fiendish laugh of satisfaction. The only attempt to
counteract this singular propensity of the evil one,
which tradition has conveyed to us, was made by
Timothy, a tailor of great pretensions to sanctity of
character. On the occasion alluded to, the roof of
St. Trinian's Church was, as usual, nearly finished,
when the valorous tailor undertook to make a pair of
breeches under it, before the Buggane could commence
his old trick. He accordingly seated himself in the
chancel, and began to work in great haste ; but ere
he had completed his job the head of the frightful
Buggane rose out of the ground before him, and
addressed him thus : ' Do you see my great head,
large eyes, and long teeth ? ' ' Hee ! Hee ! ' that is
' Yes ! yes ! ' replied the tailor, at the same time
stitching with all his might, without raising his eyes
from his work. The Buggane, still rising slowly out of
the ground, cried in a more angry voice than before :
' Do you see my great body, large hands, and long
i68 THE ISLE OF MAN
nails ? ' ' Hee ! Hee ! ' rejoined Tim, as before,
but continuing to pull out with all his strength. The
Buggane, having now risen wholly from the ground,
inquired in a terrified voice : ' Do you see my great
limbs, large feet, and long ? ' but ere he could
utter the last word the tailor put the finishing touch
into the breeches, and jumped out of the church, just
as the roof fell in with a crash. The fiendish laugh
of the Buggane arose behind him, as he bounded off
in a flight, to which terror lent its utmost speed.
Timothy leaped into consecrated ground, where,
happily, the Buggane had not power to follow. But
the Church of St. Trinian's remained without a roof."
CHAPTER X
FOLKLORE
This is the fairy land !
We talk with goblins and elfish sprites.
Comedy of Errors.
My old acquaintance of this isle.
Othello.
THE Isle of Man is particularly rich in folk-lore. Tradi-
tion tells of myriad giants, bugganes, trolls, witches,
elves, and mysterious sprites of all varieties. The
mermaid is called by the Manx Ben-vaney, Woman
of the Sea.
" All nations have their omens drear,
Their legends wild of woe and fear,"
and the belief in the supernatural was, in former times,
profound and universal all over the isle. Every Manx
boy and girl of to-day who is born into this world alive
starts with a belief in fairies, but nowadays the faith
is crushed in early youth. There is nothing to foster
it. Romance and lodging-house keeping do not run
together. There is no connexion between a seaside
landlady and romance. She is quite the most realistic
thing in Nature.
Waldron, the much-quoted chronicler of ancient
169
170 THE ISLE OF MAN
days, after ascribing the extraordinary superstitions
of the people to their colossal ignorance, says : "I
know not, idolizers as they are of the clergy, whether
they would ever be refractory to them, were they to
preach against the existence of fairies, or even against
their being commonly seen ; for though the priesthood
are a kind of gods among them, yet still tradition
is a greater god than they ; and, as they confidently
assert that the first inhabitants of their island were
fairies, so do they maintain that these little people have
still their residence among them. They call them the
good people, and say they live in wilds and forests,
and on mountains, and shun great cities because of the
wickedness therein. All the houses are blessed where
they visit, for they fly vice. A person would be
thought impudently profane who should suffer his
family to go to bed without first having set a tub or
pailful of clean water for these guests to bathe them-
selves in, which the natives aver they constantly do as
soon as ever the eyes of the family are closed wherever
they vouchsafe to come."
Cumming also, at a much more recent date, wrote :
" It would be a mistake to suppose that the minds of
the Manx peasantry are uninfluenced by a supersti-
tious feeling of reverence for the fairy elves, and for
places which tradition has rendered sacred to their
revels."
I know from personal experience that in the more
remote corners of the Isle of Man many of the cottagers
believed in fairies and spirits generally, up to twenty
years ago. At that time, as a child, I saw much of the
FOLKLORE 171
natives, and chatted with many old and middle-aged
and young who did not doubt the existence of the
" little people," or the " good people," in the least.
The word " fairies " was always ostentatiously avoided,
as the small sprites were supposed to dislike the use of
it exceedingly.
Our old gardener, a walking volume of folklore,
had many a yarn to tell of the ways and whims of the
indefatigable Phynnodderee, a sort 'of hairy hobgoblin
of the elves, good and bad, trolls and mermaids. The
particular supernatural being which appealed to the old
man most was the Lhiannan-Shce , or " spirit-friend," a
feminine fairy of a very commg-on disposition, a sort
of Lady Jane on the look-out for a Bunthorne whom
she could follow round and flow over.
Quill iam had actually seen one of these mysterious
creatures. She was waiting for him one night as he
crossed the Rowany fields in Rushen. Charmed she
never so wisely and according to Quilliam she was
very taking indeed he would not speak to her.
Had he done so, by so much as one word, that fairy
would have followed him, invisible to everyone else,
for ever. This catastrophe did befall a tailor in the
village, a friend of Quilliam's, who stupidly spoke to a
chance Lhiannan-Shee, without thinking of what he
was doing, and wherever he went afterwards that
Lhiannan-Shee, like Mary's lamb, was sure to go.
This pertinacious fairy even went the length of accom-
panying her hero into the bars of public houses,
where he often offered the shadowy presence a drink
from his mug of beer to the amazement of the rest
172 THE ISLE OF MAN
of the company. That the beer mug was most probably
the causa sine qua non of the whole episode does not
appear to have struck anyone.
A very ancient Manx worthy lived in Port Erin
the natives call the place Port Iron a grubby old
fisherman of giant stature, who did not agree at all
with the theory of Thales of Miletus that water is the
origin of all things. He wore habitually a drill coat,
fashioned somewhat like a jersey, which had been
white once, but that was ages ago. It had a settled
appearance, a look of long residence, in fact gave you
the idea that its wearer went to bed in it. An old
woman told me that many years previously the
" little people " caught the Great Unwashed as he
passed the scene of their revels in the depths of Lag-
ny-Killey one starry night, and forcibly bathed him
in a big deep dubb. When he returned home in the
morning a second white coat hung over his arm, of
which he could give no account. Everyone accounted
for the phenomenon by saying that the fairies ex-
cavated this garment as they scrubbed away the dirt
of ages. But of all this the old man would say nothing.
I could not get him to admit that he had ever been
touched by a sprite. The sort of fairies the old fisher-
man had seen the most of were always clad in brilliant
blues and greens, with small red caps ; and as they
danced gleefully about the rings, or swung on the
branches of the flowering gorse, a little flickering light
always accompanied them, a tiny glinting brilliancy
which could never be explained. I know now all about
the elusive will-o'-the-wisp. It was the "Tinkerbell "
FOLKLORE 173
of Mr. Barrie's discovering. " Just a common girl.
She washes the fairies' pots and pans."
If one has been brought up among a people steeped
in folklore, with few companions, and those not the
little know-alls of the cities, one is apt to eat greedily
of the bread of Faery, and drink deeply of the
wine of dreams. Some of the stories heard so con-
stantly carried conviction to our minds, and often,
with my enthusiastic sisters and a brother inclined to
play " doubting Thomas," I made a reconaissance in
force to find the fairies. We waited patiently for
them o' nights on the top of the brooghs of the Mull,
and sat shivering, and very much afraid, at the foot
of the Fairy Hill in Rushen, at midnight on Mid-
summer's Eve, the feast night of the elves. Our
longing ears strained for the notes of the spirit music,
for in this green tumulus the king of all the Manx
fairies was said to hold his court. Alas ! no sound
save the tinkling murmur of the wind through the
heather bells, and the dry rustle of the plumed heads
of the myriad nodding grasses. Nobody would have
given the sprites a warmer welcome ! We were pre-
pared to receive them so royally, but they never came !
They never came !
The old people always told us that the thrilling
sound of Elysian music, " strains inaudible to ears
unblest," might often be heard coming from ancient
tumuli. The well-known air of The Bottan Bane, or
White Herb, an indispensable to witch-doctors the
herb, not the air ! was evolved from the witching lilt
of a fairy chorus overheard by an interested musician.
174 THE ISLE OF MAN
The gnomes of Mona, like those in all parts of the
world, seem to be divided into two classes, the
amiable, well - meaning, helpful spirits, and the
malevolent spiteful variety, stealers of babies,
spoilers of the crops, and destroyers of family peace
and quiet. Sometimes child abduction is not meant
cruelly by the little people, and in this connexion I
well remember an episode which was told to me by a
hunchback, the cause of all the trouble. The little
romance took place in Surby, in Rushen Parish, not far
from the tumulus Cronk-Mooar, or Fairy Hill. The
sprites of the island are said to prefer as residences
these ancient places of sepulture, and hundreds of
years ago learned to use the flint arrow heads found
therein.
The fairy hill at Rushen, however, is something
more than a one-time barrow, or burial-place, for it
shows unquestionably by its breastwork, and traces
of a wide moat, that it had its uses as a fortified
stronghold. Such an entrenchment the hill is some
forty feet high, with steep sides would be most
valuable against on-coming forces from Port Erin and
Port St. Mary. Tradition says that upon this eminence
the then King of Man was slain in 1249 by Ivar, the
knight.
In a simple cottage, looking down on to the green
cronk, many years ago, a fisherman and his wife
lived, and every night, in the cold winter, they went
to bed early, in order that the " good people " might
come in and warm themselves by the embers of the
peat fire a practice said to be very general among
FOLKLORE 175
the fairies at that time. The careful housewife never
failed to keep a bit of dough from the baking of the
griddle cakes, never forgot to fill the crock with water,
which she set hi readiness for the sprites. The
cottagers were childless, and, though very poor,
longed for a son more than anything else in all the
world. At last a son was born, a poor pitiful hunch-
back creature, fearsome in feature and in form. The
mother cried for three days and three nights in her
bitter grief and disappointment, and on the fourth
morning, wakening from exhausted sleep, she noticed
that her crippled boy was not by her side. In his place
lay the smallest creature imaginable, perfect in body,
and in his wide-open blue eyes lay all the wisdom of the
ages. His wee face was afire with expression, brimful
of possibilities, and varieties, and shades, and meanings,
and illuminations, and imaginings, without a trace of
sulkiness. But he was not pretty ; that would have
been too much to expect, seeing that he had taken
more than his fair share of wits. He laughed in-
cessantly, and every note was as a chime of silver bells.
Instead of receiving the changeling gratefully, as
the well-meaning fairies evidently hoped she would,
the mother cried more than before, and, like Rachel,
refused to be comforted. Contrary as a woman, she
saw no perfection in this perfect child, fairy though
he was ; she just wept and wept for the misshapen
baby she had lost. In between paroxysms of tears
she fell asleep, and lo, when she opened her eyes, the
deformed figure of the poor hunchback lay beside her
once more, quite unharmed.
176 THE ISLE OF MAN
But the fairies never came again. The glowing
embers of the flickering fire tempted them not at all,
and as the disappointed sprites tossed on the keen
breath of the snow-sheeted mountains they sang, with
the Immortal One :
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude.
All sorts of weird happenings occurred in Manx
fairyland at Christmas time. Every Phynnodderee,
troll, and spirit was bereft of supernatural power, and
no care was exerted to guard a Yule baby from the
thievish elves. At ordinary seasons the most drastic
measures must needs be taken, such as a tight necklace
of red cord wound about the infant's neck, or the
tongs iron is a non-conductor to the sprites were
laid across the little wooden cradle. The sartorial
developments I think, don't you, that amid such a
poetical setting that looks better than the unvarnished
humdrumidity of the word " trousers " ? of the baby's
father were also extraordinarily efficacious in heading
off predatory fairies. A pair, however decrepit, placed
nonchalantly on the bed saved a whole world of trouble
and anxiety.
To keep bad fairies away all manner of charms were
common. Branches of cuirn, mountain ash, fashioned
into a cross without the aid of a knife a fatal assist-
ance which would at once have nullified and ruined
everything were put up over the doors of stables.
Yellow flowers also, gorse, primroses, and cushag, laid
A MANX GLEN
FOLKLORE 177
across a threshold gave sanctuary against the machina-
tions of the evil spirits.
.^Fairies, as is well known, object to any noise, and
therefore we always hear of them haunting the great
silences of the isle. The green hill-tops, the recesses
of the glens, and lonely meadow lands lent their
swards and level nooks to further the fairy revelries.
If the humming world came nearer, and the sound of
the sweep of life insistent, then the disturbed gnomes
would quit the neighbourhood for somewhere more
retired. When the flour mill was built by the glen
side at Colby, the old Manx folk predicted that the
good people would leave their haunts of olden time,
and so it fell out. One early morning a ploughman
going to his work heard a low, pathetic, forlorn moan-
ing, like the gentle breaking of rippling waves on a
stony beach, and there, pressing up to the hills, in
scurrying, hurrying myriads, were many sprites, carry-
ing on their tiny backs their household goods, climbing
on and on, until the mists of the mountains enveloped
their energetic little figures.
Of stories of the Phynnodderee and the Glashtin
there are dozens. These merry trolls have prodigious
strength, and are sympathetically inclined to man on
occasion, and equally vengeful if the whim seizes them.
If you look for the definition of a Phynnodderee in the
Manx dictionary, you will see that Cregeen calls him
a " satyr," and tells us that the Manx Bible refers to
the spirit in that form. Hig beishtyn oaldey yn aasagh
dy cheilley marish beishtyn oaldey yn ellan, as nee yn
phynnodderee gyllagh da e heshey. (The wild beasts
178 THE ISLE OF MAN
of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of
the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow.) But
the Phynnnodderee is not exactly a satyr, for all that.
The word probably just fitted the requirements of the
translator, and the title of the elf was taken in con-
sonant vainness.
We cannot tell whereabouts the Phynnodderee keeps
himself to-day. He may be deep in the green tumuli,
oppressed in this age of sceptical unbelief, or he may
have returned to his brother in Scandinavia. For the
little troll surely came to the Isle of Man with Orry,
perhaps in a fold of the giant Viking's tunic, perhaps
beneath the wings of his golden helmet. When the
fairy made the venturesome journey, he left behind
him a tiny twin, whose name was Swartalfar.
He has hidden himself somewhere, our blithe little
Brownie, and never now flits about the island, or
swings on the branches of the tramman tree. We
miss him, we miss him very much. " There has not
been a merry world since he lost his ground."
The fairies remained en evidence in Mona's Isle for a
longer period than anywhere else, I think. Chaucer
reported the fairies of England to be on the eve of
packing up, if indeed they had not already departed,
in his time, though some savants learned in necro-
mantic lore declare that the sprites continued to exist
until the Reformation, which, for some occult reason,
affected the little people to vanishing point.
The elves of Manxland survived the sturm und
drang of the sixteenth century happenings, and since
the small creatures cannot die utterly no archaeo-
FOLKLORE 179
legist has ever yet found the Pygmaean grave of an
inhabitant of fairyland they must be near us some-
where still.
Many years ago an insular Wesleyan minister claimed
to have actually seen the passing of the local sprites.
He told his congregation that the island would luckily
be f airyless for ever, for he had watched the little people
set out to sea, and their ships were empty rum casks.
In hurrying myriads the tiny elves packed themselves
away as tightly as could be, and then off they went
across Douglas Bay in the teeth of a freshening
breeze.
That is not the way in which a fairy would travel !
In an empty rum puncheon ! So we do not believe
the story. It is a most unmitigated misstatement.
He never saw the Mooinjer-Veggey "little people"
pass away.
The Phynnodderee would sometimes gather the.
harvest if he saw it in danger of spoliation, and fold
the cattle of an evening. He was a simple little fairy,
too, for all. He could not discriminate between a sheep
and a hare. Once upon a time, in amiable mood, the
sprite intended to bring in the herds ere the tempest,
sullenly brewing, broke upon the mountain slopes.
With the sheep, nibbling the grass spears, was an agile
hare, and the fairy would shepherd him too, thinking
the small brown thing was certainly of the band.
To do this the Phynnodderee had first to chase his
quarry three tunes round Snaefell, and when at last the
worn-out hare was captured and folded willy-nilly with
the sheep, the breathless sprite told the farmer that
i8o THE ISLE OF MAN
the " loghtan beg " (little native sheep) had given him
more trouble than all the rest !
The words beg and veg, literally translated, mean
" small," but they are Manx terms of endearment also-
A mother sometimes adds beg or veg to her child's
name, as for instance Tommy Beg or Tommy Veg.
It depends a lot for its meaning on how it is used. If
your mother says it, the tiny syllable is more than
small. It is just the biggest, sweetest, tenderest, most
lovable word in all the Manx language.
Train tells us of a day when the Phynnodderee cut
down and gathered up the grass in a certain meadow
which would have been injured if left out any longer.
The farmer ungrateful specimen expressed his dis-
satisfaction with the work, and upbraided the fairy
for not having cut the grass closer to the ground.
In the following year the Phynnodderee allowed the
farmer to cut it down himself, but went after him
stubbing up the roots so fast that it was with diffi-
culty the farmer escaped having his legs cut off by the
angry sprite. For several years afterwards no person
could be found to mow the meadow, until a fearless
soldier from one of the garrisons at length undertook
the task. He commenced in the centre of the field, and
by cutting round as if on the edge of a circle, keeping
one eye on the progress of the yiarn f older agh, or scythe,
while the other
Was turned round with prudent care
Lest Phynnodderee catched him unaware,
he succeeded in finishing his task unmolested, and
FOLKLORE 181
this field, situated in the parish of Marown, hard by
the ruins of St. Trinian's, is, from the circumstances
just related, still called yn Iheeanee rhunt, or " the
round meadow."
Work never daunted the Phynnodderee. Train re-
calls yet another kindly action of the sprite in the
story of a house which was to be built near Tholt-e-
Will, for which it was necessary to haul the building
materials from a great distance. One white block in
particular, desired as a corner stone of the domestic
temple, resisted all efforts to transport it to the re-
quired site. Evidently the constructor was not super-
stitious. The Manxman of long gone times would
have nothing to do with white stones, and if such were
included in the ballast of a ship the voyage was " off "
until the offenders were removed. Many little white
shore pebbles were found scattered about in the ancient
graves of Man, and the dread which enveloped the
old-time places of sepulture probably descended to all
white stones. Even to this day it is not every Manx-
man who will include one in the masonry of his home.
The familiar saying, " T'on cha doaney-myr clagh vane "
(Thou art as impudent as a white stone), is a pretty
simile suggested by the noticeably conspicuous blocks
of quartz which gleam brightly on the mountain
slopes, and wink in the sun like myriad Argus eyes.
" Imperent " is a word which occurs very often in the
insular vocabulary.
But I am digressing, and that badly.
Forced with the superhuman task of removing the
great stone to the slopes of Tholt-e-Will, the discon-
182 THE ISLE OF MAN
solate builder saw his work at a standstill, until, hey
presto ! the Phynnodderee to the rescue. In one night
the elf conveyed the huge clagh-bane, and all the other
necessary building material, to the chosen site. You
can see the white stone for yourself to-day. Naturally
the gratified Manxman wished to reward his little
coadjutor, who was apparently dressed in more or
less, rather less than more, elfish " altogether." Some
tiny garments were prepared, and scattered haphazard
about the haunts beloved of the Phynnodderee, deep
down in the woodland glades by a rushing stream, o'er-
hung with green tramman. Presently the sprite came
the grateful house-builder had concealed himself that
he might watch proceedings and, looking a gift horse
very much in the mouth, took up the clothes one by
one, examining them carefully. Then with a discon-
solate cry the little elf voiced his feelings thus :
" Bayrn da'n chione, dy doogh d'an chione,
Cooat da'n dreeymn, dy doogh da'n dreeym,
Breechyn da'n toin, dy doogh da'n toin,
Agh my she Ihiat ooilley, shoh cha nee Ihiat Glen reagh Rushen.
(Cap for the head, alas ! poor head,
Coat for the back, alas ! poor back,
Breeches for the breech, alas ! poor breech,
If these be all thine, thine cannot be the merry Glen of
Rushen.)
With a sobbing moan the fairy fled away on the
breath of the wind, leaving the discarded garments
behind him.
i The Glashtin was a goblin, with attributes very
similar to those of the Phynnodderee, and sometimes
FOLKLORE 183
this spirit is confounded with the masculine counterpart
of the Lhiannan-Shee, the Dooiney-oie, or night man.
This friendly supernatural creature attached himself
to particular families, to whom he played herald of
events, or warner of disasters. His voice, we learn
from Train, " was very dismal, and when heard at
night on the mountains, sounded something like
H-o-w-l-a-a, or H-o-w-a-a." Really a depressing
domestic demon.
Bugganes were creatures of evil nature. St. Trinian's
was afflicted with the presence of a very active speci-
men of the buggane genus.
The mermaid, or Ben-varrey history has very little
to say of the merman, Dooiney-varrey is no relation
to the Cughtagh, a spirit of the sea, whose raison
d'etre was just singing to herself in the spectral gloom
of the caves. She sang because she loved to sing,
from sheer joie de vivre apparently, and being woven
into the labyrinthine muffled noises of the waves surging
into the rocky crannies, and always so far from human
habitation, the everlasting chant bored nobody, least
of all the Cughtagh, who was born for no other purpose
than to manufacture carols of the coast. The Ben-
varrey was much more active. Waldron tells us of his
astonishment when he realized that the Manx had a
whole-hearted belief in mermaids, and records several
yarns about the fascinating sea-maidens. He says that
during Cromwell's government the Isle of Man was
little resorted to by trading vessels, and that " unin-
terruption and solitude of the sea gave the mermen
and mermaids (who are enemies to any company but
184 THE ISLE OF MAN
those of their own species) frequent opportunities of
visiting the shore, where, on moonlight nights, they
have been seen to sit, combing their heads, and playing
with each other ; but as soon as they perceived any-
body coming near them, jumped into the water, and
were out of sight immediately." The exclusiveness
which Waldron observed would appear to have been
but transitory, for at some periods the special line of
the Ben-vaney was an overwhelming affection for every
personable Manxman. So frequent and violent were
her amatory affairs that she must have been a perfect
nuisance to herself, and it is no wonder that, with so
many love interests running concurrently, a few of
them ran into one another, and were telescoped,
necessitating stone-throwing at the young mortal a
rude manner of reprisal for which a highly incensed
Ben-vaney showed great partiality. A mortal hit by
one of these fairy-thrown missiles at first suffered no
pain, only very suddenly, an hour or so afterwards,
with an acute stab where the stone had struck, down
sank the victim quite dead.
A gentle spirit, Keimagh, haunted the stiles which
lead to all the old churchyards, and it may be she
does so still. Her thought was all for the dead, and
unless the everlasting sleep of her silent army was
disturbed, the brooding tender Keimagh had no terrors
for anyone. To her the storm-tossed phantom
spirits of the little unchristened babies took their
griefs, burying their tear-stained eyes in the filmy
folds of her misty gown.
In the Isle of Man the stillborn children are buried
FOLKLORE 185
in the night it may be so everywhere, I do not
know as though they would apologize for encroaching
even so far as on consecrated ground. This phase of
Christian Christianity makes my unlogical feminine
mind turn pagan and run amok. It seems so alto-
gether unexplainable why a parson has to withhold
his kindly attentions from an unbaptized baby, and
bestow it, full measure, running over, on some perhaps
utterly worthless grown-up. This by the way.
There is a quaintly charming story of an old Manx-
man passing Arbory Church at midnight one Christmas
Eve, and as he came level with the giant fuchsia hedge
which borders the vicarage garden, he heard a soft
low wailing, piteously insistent, coming from the
shadowy graveyard. As he drew nearer and nearer,
the trailing gentle murmur took voice and words, the
sad grieving lament of an unchristened infant : "Lhian-
noo dyn ennym me I Lhiannoo dyn ennym me / " said
the quiet sighing breath over and over again. (A
child without name am I ! A child without name
am I !)
The old man paused by the wall, and looking up to-
wards the old kirk, with its white bell-turret outlined
in the moonlight, he said clearly, and very tenderly :
" My she gilley eu, ta mee bashtey eu Juan, as my she
inneen eu ta me bashtey eu Joney." (If thou art a boy
I christen thee John, and if thou art a girl I christen
thee Joney.)
With a happy sigh, like the wind sinking to rest, the
little ghost lay content and at peace.
This story rather reminds me of the haphazard
186 THE ISLE OF MAN
christening of a small relative of my own, a poor
weakling, born apparently but to die at once. He
lay upon his nurse's knee, and everything looked as
though the end was at hand. Imbued with the pre-
valent idea that at such times anyone who had the
presence of mind to fling himself or herself into the
breach may conclusively and effectively play padre, the
nurse hurriedly damped her ringer from a bottle of dill-
water standing beside her, and, like a drowning man
clutching at a straw, seized upon the first names which
happened to flit across the disturbed surface of her
inner consciousness. " Wellington Napoleon ! " she
said solemnly, " I christen thee Wellington Napoleon ! "
Instead of this thunderbolt flattening out the infant
utterly, the mere pronunciation of these martial
nominations seemed to help it rally its forces. Like
its great namesakes, the atom held the foe at bay,
and Death drew off with averted head. Sometimes
it falls out that life is not worth the price one pays for
it, and this thought came to the mother as she saw the
possibility of her boy having to go through the world
burdened with the high-sounding, impossible-to-live-
up-to designation, unwittingly bestowed. For nurse
maintained stoutly that under all the circumstances
she was fully qualified to undertake the christening
process, and there was no getting away from the patent
fact that the baby was named, if unsatisfactorily.
How did they get out of it ? Well, they could not
entirely. They compromised. And made things a
trifle easier for the youthful hope by juggling him into
Arthur Bonaparte.
FOLKLORE 187
I am wandering from the subject ! But a big but
did you ever know a woman stick to the point ?
Inevitably she must wander off down every byway
and tempting bridle-path.
Giants, too, we had in Man. One spell-bound
monster, a Triton among the Minnows, lived some-
where I cannot exactly localize the spot in the sub-
terraneous passages of Castle Rushen.
Apparitions of all kinds haunt the " great waste
places," and a stalwart spirit was abroad in the
Tanoo-Ushtey, a water bull, fairy frequenter of the
curraghs, an amphibious creature who has been known
to join the herds of domestic cattle in the fields and
lure away the finest heifer of them all to destruction.
Even so late as 1859 a Tanoo-Ushtey was reported to
be frequently seen in a field near Ballure Glen, and
people journeyed thither from all parts of the island
to " put a sight on it."
Witchcraft, in all its devious branches, flourished
vigorously, in spite of the drastic punishments meted
out to sundry of the necromancers. Suspected witches
we hear very little of wizards were subjected to
the water ordeal until the seventeenth century. This
method of obtaining evidence of the guilt or innocence
of the suspect may have been satisfactory from the
point of view of the promoters, but scarcely so satis-
fying and excellent to the witch herself, who derived
no justice at all from the rough tribunal, the inevitable
result being fatal to her in any case. The accused of
" sorcerie and witchcraft " was thrown into a big
deep pool of the Curragh. If she swam, or managed
i88 THE ISLE OF MAN
in some fashion to keep herself afloat, every allegation
made against her was held to be amply proven, and a
roll down Slieau Whuallian in a spiked barrel, or a fear-
some pile of burning faggots, ended the life which the
bogs of the Curragh had failed to take. If, on the
other hand, a suspected witch allowed herself to drown
decently, with some degree of dignity, her " innocencie
was declared," and she was enthusiastically accorded
Christian burial.
References to the practice and punishment of witch-
craft occur very frequently in the episcopal and civil
histories of the isle ; but the names of the sorcerers
are not now, save in isolated cases, island-wide. The
personalities of the once celebrated myriads who
practised the black art have passed to the dim and
hazy land of forgotten things. Few are labelled and
bracketed as fit to stand by Caesar, who is, of course,
Mannanan, the greatest wizard of them all.
Mannanan Mac Lir, necromancer and navigator,
looms large in the early history of Ireland as a sort of
god of the sea, and in some periods he merges into a
famous merchant-pilot who " understood the danger-
ous parts of harbours ; and, from his prescience of the
change of weather, always avoided tempests." We
glean much of his character and attributes from this
old literature, for throughout the Irish legends the
name of Mannanan in one form or another is scattered
about the ancient manuscripts in most generous
profusion.
Local tradition sometimes exalts the magician
into a giant who dashed about his little territory
FOLKLORE 189
on three legs, and at other times it compresses him
into a Pygmaean creature, so insignificant as to be
almost unnoticeable. Oftenest of all he is a redoubtable
warrior, girt about with an unpierceable coat of chain
mail, and an infallible sword sarcastically named
" The Answerer " not because the mighty blade
made a habit of replying to parleying quibblers con-
trariwise ; its terrible whispers never could receive
response. The canoe used by the famous necromancer
was called " The Wave-sweeper " ; and altogether
Mannanan forces upon our notice the fact that he
had a very nice taste in the christening of things.
I wonder how the high-sounding names of the modern
lodging-houses would strike his artistic mind.
Caittagh -ny - Ghueshag managed to impress her
dominant character on the shifting sands of time,
and the name and fame of Tehi-Tegi, the beautiful
enchantress, linger yet in the annals of necromancy
in Man. Of different calibre was Teare, the great
witch-doctor of Ballawhane, a well-remembered sor-
cerer of sorts.
Caillagh-ny-Ghueshag was an inspired prophetess.
The words mean, so far as they can be correctly
translated, " Old woman of sorcery " or spells. At
one time the word Caittagh meant any old dame ;
but at last it was only used in connexion with witches
and those suspected of dealings with the supernatural.
The manifold predictions of this great and clever
Caittagh are very difficult to fathom, and her ordinary
remarks on every-day affairs possess the same baffling
qualities as do her inspired messages. The majority
igo THE ISLE OF MAN
of her erudite prophecies altogether elude interpreta-
tion. The homely brain is hopelessly puzzled and
befogged by the profound depth of " Dy nee ass
claghyn glassey yoghe sleih nyn an an" an oracular
sentence meaning, " people would get their bread from
grey stones," and " Dy beagh chimlee caardagh ayns
chooilley hie roish jeney yn theill " remains an un-
ravelled mystery to the effect that " There will be a
smithy chimney in every house before the end of the
world."
We have no idea what Caillagh meant to hint at,
but it is evidently something very uncomfortable.
She was a privileged orator, and, like one or two
leaders of our own time, was a licensed coiner of
involved remarks which, from their very unintelligi-
bility, seem so ingenuously ingenious that ordinary
hum-drum brains accept them gratefully as too
Socrates-like and profound to be trifled with or
derided. A " Let sleeping dogs lie " principle which
is not without its advantages.
Tehi-Tegi was an altogether mythical personage, an
irresistible charmer who enslaved the hearts and minds
of every man until the island became a dreary waste,
untilled, unsown, overgrown, neglected ; for the one aim
and object of Manx masculinity was to make love to Tehi.
Teare of Ballawhane was a popular charmer, counter-
acter of spells, and manufacturer of ceremonies for use
against the machinations of fairies and evil spirits. He
had power over the birds of the air and the beasts of the
field. He is described by Train, in his History of the
Isle of Man, as " a little man, far advanced into the
FOLKLORE 191
vale of life. In appearance he was healthy and active ;
he wore a low slouched hat, evidently too large for his
head, with broad brim; his coat of an old-fashioned
make, with his vest and breeches, were all of loaghtyn
wool, which had never undergone any process of
dyeing ; his shoes, also, were of a colour not to be dis-
tinguished from his stockings, which were likewise of
loaghtyn wool. He is said to have been the most
powerful of all these practitioners, and when their
prescriptions had failed in producing the desired
effect, he was applied to. The messenger that was
despatched to him on such occasions was neither
to eat nor to drink by the way nor even to tell any
person of his mission. The recovery was supposed to be
perceptible from the time the case was stated to him."
After the death of Teare his daughter carried on the
witch doctor business. It was always held that the
peculiar gifts which go to make a successful charmer
were hereditary, and descended through the genera-
tions, via alternate sexes. A father would transmit
the recondite virtues to his daughter, that daughter
to her son, and so on. The only possible way for
anyone having the faculty of second sight to dis-
possess himself or herself of it was to marry someone
equally blessed, or afflicted it all depends on the
point of view. Then the great gift died utterly. One
nullified the other, I suppose, just as it will often fall
out with our voting arrangements when we give the
franchise in England to married suffragettes.
Besides the people who inherited the power of
second sight, many babies came into the world fore-
192 THE ISLE OF MAN
doomed to it. Posthumous children, and a seventh
son of a seventh son, were of a band who could lift
the mysterious veil of the Unknown and look behind.
The services of a witch doctor were often requisi-
tioned in a bad herring season, and charms were laid
upon the nets. The witches, who were thought to be
invisibly wreathed about the boats, to the complete
ruination of the harvest of the sea, had to be exorcized.
This driving out of the witches by fire was a very
general practice up to the eighteenth century. Colonel
Townley, who watched the process as performed by
the fishermen at Douglas in 1789, tells us : " They
set fire to bunches of heather, going one at the head,
another at the stern, others along the sides, so that
every part of the boat might be touched."
Written charms and chanted charms were powers
in the land, and the echo of them lingers faintly to-
day in the memory of the old people. I well remember
hearing an old crone in Cregneish, one of the most primi-
tive villages on the island, use the invocation against
King's Evil upon an afflicted grandchild. She was not
an accepted witch-charmer, or dabbler in the occult,
although we held her in considerable awe and respect
in consequence of the many strange tales which were
current about her. Mystery and illusion surrounded
her like an aura. Perhaps she represented the last of
a line of great witch-charmers. Touching the pitiful
scar with gnarled brown fingers, the old crone repeated
with great solemnity : "I am to divide it in the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ;
whether it be a sprite's evil, or a King's Evil, may
FOLKLORE 193
this divided blemish banish this distemper to the
sands of the sea."
This was said three times over in Manx, with great
deliberation.
The celebrated Cadley-Jiargan of the old-time
necromancers is still used playfully to charm away
"pins and needles." "Ping, ping, prash, Cur yn
cadley-jiargan ass my chass."
It is too comprehensively elusive for translation and
relies for its complete effectiveness on its mysterious
impregnability. " Ping, ping, prash " is almost " a
terminological inexactitude." To begin with, it wants
a few more " y's " scattered about it to be really
representatively Manx. " Y " in the Manx language
is an abounding necessity, and is voluminously re-
current. All languages seem to possess an all-per-
vading letter, as all great writers have an all-per-
vading word. " Glamour " permeated De Quincey,
and " winged " perfectly haunted Shelley. " Y "
enfilades the Manx, and forms the bed-rock of most of
the words.
There is an unaccountable insular superstition that
some of the island creatures hibernate. They are
seven in number, and known as ny shiaght cadlagyn, or
the seven sleepers. The " We are seven " has elongated
in the passing of years, making the original list larger,
and varying the names of the drowsy band ; but the
ones who can make good their prehistorical right to
inclusion are Cadlag, a "Let's pretendia" animal of
Jabberwock variety, Cooag, the cuckoo, Craitnag, the
bat, Cloghan-ny-cleigh, the stone-chat, gollan-geayee,
194 THE ISLE OF MAN
the swallow, foillican, the butterfly, and shellan, the
bee.
When a baby was born the old-time folk saw to it
that the little one remained in the room where it first
saw the light until after the baptism. This was the
simplest way by which the threatening dangers of
predatory fairies and the Evil Eye might be reduced
to a minimum.
Train tells us that, in the room where the mother
and baby lay, a wooden hoop arrangement was set,
with lining of sheepskin, evidently a rough tray of
sorts ; and on this a heap of oat cakes was laid, and
cheese, a hospitable offering to the mortal visitors
who flocked to " put a sight on the bogh millish."
" Bogh millish " means " poor dear," and is a frequent
term of endearment.
The fairies had scraps of cheese and bread scattered
all about for the picking up, and this was called the
blithe meat. Cheese seemed to be a sine qua non at
birthday celebrations. The woman who carried the
baby to church for the christening had a pocketful
of the ubiquitous fare, which she presented to the
first passer-by, whether he required it or not, and this
gift was considered to be an infallible recipe against all
kinds of magic and sorcery.
The green trainman, or elder tree, possessed re-
markable fending-off properties. A witch kept her
distance from a cottage so o'ershadowed, and there is
hardly an old tholthan, or well, without its flourishing
protection. In insular superstition the tramman was
the tree selected by Judas Iscariot for his gallows.
CHAPTER XI
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT
Nice customs curt'sy to great Kings.
Henry V.
Stick to your journal course : the breach of custom
Is breach of all.
Cyvnbeline.
IT seems to me that in essaying a chapter on a few
of the customs, past and present, the dress of the
old-time Manx peasantry would make a good be-
ginning. Being a woman, the sartorial aspect of
anything naturally appeals to my mind. It is place aux
robes with me every time. I can remember two decades
ago going so very often to watch the local fidder,
weaving the undyed fleece, which was keeir (dark
brown) of the loghtan (native sheep) into woollen
cloth. He lived in Surby, near the little chapel, and
manoeuvred his primitive loom in a tiny thatched
cottage, working away, early and late, through the
year. Not many, if any, home weavers are to be found
in the island to-day, but in bygone times the weaver
was a concomitant of every village. The dress of
Manx villagers was invariably of this kialter, or woollen
homespun, fashioned into trousers, coat, and waistcoat
for a man, and into a baggy petticoat, called oanrey,
195
196 THE ISLE OF MAN
dyed red or blue, for a woman. A home-spun linen
jacket forerunner perhaps of the ubiquitous blouse
of to-day went with the useful skirt. Footgear also
was home-manufactured. Waldron thus describes the
primitive covering which did duty as a shoe : " Small
pieces of cow's or horse's hide at the bottom of
their feet, tyed on with pack thread, which they call
carranes."
Stockings without feet, oashyr-voynee and oashyr-
slobbagh, must have added to the already overwhelm-
ing discomfort of things. Oashyr-voynee was just a
stocking leg, with a bit of twine at each side to fasten
beneath the foot, and oashyr-slobbagh was extrava-
gantly lavish in a sort of continuation flap which
covered the instep, and looped round the big toe !
Manxmen affected a cap arrangement, and the
women wore sun-bonnets or mob caps. Early in the
nineteenth century buckled shoes and knee breeches
came to the isle brought across, doubtless, by some
local Beau Brummell and also a fearsome tall hat,
perpetrated by home milliners, made from rabbit
skins. One representative old Manxman in Port Erin
wore this weird headgear, summer and winter, up to
fifteen years ago. As children we used to call him
" Old rabbit-skin hat." He seemed a mysterious relic
of the past to us, a something to be greatly feared.
The a6th December, St. Stephen's Day, Laa'l
Steaoin in Manx, is the date set apart for the celebra-
tion of one of the strangest rites in Manx history.
It has been the custom from the recesses of remote
times to " Hunt the Wren," a practice not, as is well-
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 197
known, entirely insular. The wren, held sacred
through all the rest of the year, was hunted from
early dawn of Laal Steaoin by various parties of
boys armed with sticks and stones, who chased
and harried the little brown birds until at last
each band of lads secured a piteous feathered corpse,
which was immediately placed amidst a mass of
evergreens and gay flaunting ribbons wreathed about
a pole, and carried from house to house, the while the
" wren boys " chanted in rough and ready fashion
these verses, set to the old Manx air which follows.
The music was given by Barrow in his Mona Melodies,
in 1820, and has been used in Man as the sacrificial
song for generations.
HUNTING THE WREN.
We'll away to the woods, says Robin to Bobbin ;
We'll away to the woods, says Richard to Robin ;
We'll away to the woods, says Jack of the Land ;
We'll away to the woods, says every one.
What shall we do there ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
What shall we do there ? says Richard to Robin ;
What shall we do there ? says Jack of the Land ;
What shall we do there ? says every one.
The following lines, which for brevity's sake are
not given in full, are chanted the usual four times
over, in the wearisome repetition of the previous
verses.
We will hunt the wren, says Robin to Bobbin ;
Where is he, where is he ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
In yonder green bush, says Robin to Bobbin ;
I see him, I see him, says Robin to Bobbin ;
198 THE ISLE OF MAN
How shall we get him down ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
With sticks and stones, says Robin to Bobbin ;
He is dead, he is dead, says Robin to Bobbin ;
How shall we get him home, says Robin to Bobbin ;
We'll hire a cart, says Robin to Bobbin ;
Whose cart shall we hire ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
Johnny Bill Fell's, says Robin to Bobbin ;
Who will stand driver ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
Filley the Tweet, says Robin to Bobbin ;
He's home, he's home, says Robin to Bobbin ;
How shall we get him boiled ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
In the brewery pan, says Robin to Bobbin ;
How shall we get him in ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
With iron bars and a rope, says Robin to Bobbin ;
He's in, he's in, says Robin to Bobbin ;
He is boiled, he is boiled, says Robin to Bobbin ;
How shall we get him out ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
With a long pitchfork, says Robin to Bobbin ;
He is out, he is out, says Robin to Bobbin ;
Who's to dine at dinner ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
The King and the Queen, says Robin to Bobbin ;
How shall we get him eat ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
With knives and forks, says Robin to Bobbin ;
He is eat, he is eat, says Robin to Bobbin ;
The eyes for the blind, says Robin to Bobbin ;
The legs for the lame, says Robin to Bobbin ;
The pluck for the poor, says Robin to Bobbin ;
The bones for the dogs, says Robin to Bobbin ;
The wren, the wren, the king of all birds ;
We have caught St. Stephen's Day, in the furze ;
Although he is little, his family's great ;
I pray you, good dame, do give us a treat.
As the Manx boys invariably pronounce the last
word " trate," the assonance is preserved. Wren
also they get to " wran."
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 199
HUNT THE WREN
h
Manx Air
JU^ti
200 THE ISLE OF MAN
" If they can catch and kill a poor wren before
sunrising," writes Colonel Townley in 1789, " they
firmly believe it ensures a good herring fishery," and
all the historians appear to agree that the practice
had this central idea as its objective. At every house
visited a feather would be left for luck, in return, of
course, for largesse ; and this feather was considered
an effective security. Shipwreck, witchcraft, evil-
eye, and the like had no fears for the carrier of the
wren's feather. In the dim twilight hours it was the
old custom to bury the piteous little plucked body
of the tiny bird in a corner of consecrated ground,
amid a scene of solemn lamentation, which was
immediately followed by an orgy of games and general
rejoicings.
For many years now the whole performance has been
enacted in wrenless fashion " Hamlet " without the
Prince of Denmark. I have only once ever seen a
wren suspended from the gay sad pole, and that
twenty years ago. The play-acting " Hunt the Wren "
parties still go about the villages of the island ; but
in ever-lessening numbers, haphazard, like the May
Queen nuisances in some parts of England, and signs
are not wanting that the whole ancient practice
is falling into desuetude. Nowadays we are all too
clever to believe in the efficacy of a wren's feather as a
protection against anything. The pendulum has
swung to the philosophical " Kismet " ; to the cynical
" If you must be shipwrecked you must, and there's
an end o't."
The old, old story of the wren conquering the
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 201
eagle in open flight, and thus obtaining sovereignty
of all the birds, has been told in the Manx to the
children for many ages. The Manx mothers of olden
days used to say that the great competition was held
in Mona, and nowhere else at all. Representatives
of the feathered tribe came from every land, and all
the betting was on the champion of the eagle species.
He never doubted, of course, but that he could fly
the highest, and sailed up and up to the sun, to the
gate of Heaven itself. Then, completely tired, unable
to ascend another inch, the splendid bird triumphantly
proclaimed himself king over every winged creature.
Suddenly a little humble wren, concealed 'neath the
great feathers of the lordly eagle, sped from the soft
hiding place, higher and higher, farther than sight
could follow. Chirruping loudly, the small brown bird
cried out that he and he alone was the monarch of
the air.
The Manx do not acknowledge, as so many nations
do, the kingly dignity of the wren in the name they
give him. We do not even know the exact meaning
of his Manx title, " Dreain," though in Kelly's Dic-
tionary the derivation is suggested as Druai-een, " The
Druid's bird."
Another prevalent custom in Man was memorized
just before Christmas, when the quaint mummers,
called locally the " White Boys," used to come round
and " mum " energetically, and I am told that this
performance, which has for its raison d'etre the glori-
fication of St. George of England, still continues in
some parts of the island. The lads at Port Erin never
202 THE ISLE OF MAN
could manage the pronunciation of the letter " w,"
and called themselves in consequence the " Quite
Boys." How we children revelled in their enter-
tainment ! The greatest actor in all the world could
not have charmed us half so much as the primitive
histrionics of our gardener's boy, playing the King
of Egypt, demanding in resonant tones, overlaid with
a strong Manx accent, " O docther, docther, is there a
docther to be foun' ? Who can cure Saint Gurge of
his deep and deadly woun' ? "
"Wound" pronounced to rhyme with "found."
The dramatis persona of the tragi-comedy were
decked out very much after the haphazard fashion
of the " Wren Boys," only with more dabs of white
about them. White cardboard hats, strangely remini-
scent of a mere common or garden bandbox, crowded
with scraps of ribbon and holly leaves, crowned the
energetic heads. Paste-board swords, if nothing more
stalwart was forthcoming, clanked (of course, you had
to pretend a lot about the clank) against the agile
white-trousered legs, and spotless shirts, adorned with
odds and ends of Christmas decoration variety, com-
pleted the taking outfit. Only one of the players
departed from the general scheme, and he wore un-
relieved black, raven-like and dolorous, even to face
and hands. He was the " docther," the invaluable
^Esculapius who was called in to " cure St. Gurge of
his deep and deadly woun'."
Very sheepishly the " White Boys " trailed into
the big kitchen, which had been cleared for the occa-
sion, and the entertainment commenced. First of all,
LAXEY
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 203
" Sambo " weighed in with explanatory prologue. No
relation to the dusky physician, he is called " Sambo "
just to make things more difficult. He played comic
relief, laugh-maker, jester, Touchstone to the whole
affair, which was not lengthy, and ended in a complete
triumph of St. George over all enemies. Then solemnly
the " White Boys " in Rushen, whatever they did
elsewhere, walked, with martial tread and slow, round
and round the room singing at the top of their lungs :
" God bless the master of this house, likewise the
mistress too, and all the little childer-en that round
the table go, that round the table go."
Supper followed, and after a more lasting reward the
well-graced players went off to enact St. George for
someone else.
All Hallow's Eve, Oie houiney as the Manx call it, was
the day for another visitation from another company
of mummers, this time in Hog-annaa, a short piece of
elusive mysterious rhyming. Again our gardener's
boy one man in his time plays many parts carrying
a wand overbalanced by a weighty turnip at the tip,
led the company, who sang, or, more properly speaking,
shouted, this extraordinary doggerel, the meaning of
which we, as children, never even grasped by the
outside edge :
" Hog-annaa This is old Hollantide night," Ed-
ward, the deputy gardener, asserted in strident tones,
dwelling unmercifully on the double "a."
" Trolla-laa The moon shines fair and bright," the
junior cobbler of the village returned, in non-contra-
dictory spirit.
204 THE ISLE OF MAN
" Hog-annaa I went to the well,
TroUa-laa And drank my fill ;
Hog-annaa On my way back,
Trolla-laa I met a witch-cat ;
Hog-annaa The cat began to grin,
Trolla-laa And I began to run ;
Hog-annaa Where did you run to ?
Trolla-laa I ran to Scotland.
Hog-annaa What were they doing there ?
Trolla-laa Baking bannocks and roasting collops.
Hog-annaa Trolla-laa !
If you are going to give us anything, give it us soon,
Or we'll be away by the light of the moon Hog-
annaa ! "
This strange archaic custom is now almost, if not
quite, dead in the island. Of myself, I cannot pretend
to explain its meaning, if it has any, or its significance.
I always just accepted it as one of the strangely
fascinating delights of being a child in Manxland. At
one time the whole thing was said in the native tongue.
Our greatest living authority on the history and
customs of the Isle of Man, Mr. A. W. Moore, explains
Hog-annaa thus : " The words of the chorus Hog-
annaa, trolla-laa, are probably identical with Hog-
manaye, trollalay, the words of a Scotch song which is
sung on New Year's Eve. In France, too, there is a
similar custom and word, as " En basse Normandie les
pauvres le dernier jour en demandant I'aumosne, disent
Hoguinanno." As to the meaning of this word Hog-
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 205
annaa, Hogmanaye, or Hoguinanno, we may venture to
suggest that, supposing the Scotch form to be the
most accurate, both it and trollalay are of Scandinavian
origin, and refer to the fairies and the trolls. We know
that on this night it was considered necessary to pro-
pitiate the dwellers in fairyland, who, with the Phyn-
nodderees, witches, and spirits of all kinds, were
abroad and especially powerful. We may, therefore,
translate Hog-man-aye into Hogga-man-ey " mound-
men (for) ever," the fairies being considered as dwellers
in the hows (or tumuli, or green mounds) and trollalay
into trolla-a-la, " trolls into the surf." The fairies, who
were considered the most powerful of these creatures,
being thus propitiated, would then protect their sup-
pliants against the rest."
Christmas Eve in Mona sees everyone attending the
Oiel Verrey service in the nearest parish church. All
over the island this feast of carol-singing is celebrated
every year. From time immemorial Oie'l Verrey has
been kept. These entertainments for such, indeed,
they were in olden times exploited the Manx " car-
vals," descriptive chants, which went on and on into
the wee sma' hours, wearing out the parson, who left
early. Everyone who attended brought a candle, so
that the lighting arrangements were not dimly religious,
but glaringly irrelevant. Anyone who liked could sing
a carval, of home manufacture or otherwise, and the
service ended in an orgy of pea-throwing and sounds
of revelry by night. I cannot, of course, recall the
real uncorrupted variety of Oie'l Verrey, the wild,
riotous carval singing of long ago. The custom has
206 THE ISLE OF MAN
resolved itself of late years into orderly carol singing
by the choir and congregation. It is still a great
festivity. Not for worlds would I, in the days of my
youth, have missed the universal Christmas appeal
for eventful deliverance the stirring " No-hell ! No-
hell ! " an unconscious paraphrase of the gracious Noel
into which everyone tumbled. For my own part I
always thought it was " No-hell ! "
In 1855 George Borrow spent some time in wander-
ing about the Isle of Man, and, being acquainted with
Scotch Gaelic, together with a smattering of Manx,
he had little difficulty hi making himself understood
by the people. Winning the confidence of the rough
peasants of the time, he was shown much of the repre-
sentative literature, examples of the carvals the
word is, of course, a corruption of carol which were
composed, he tells us, for recitation hi the churches,
by people who thought themselves endowed with the
poetic gift. The sacred manuscripts were kept in the
archives of the poet's family, and some of the grimy,
smoky, time-stained booklets trace back through the
years to distant ages.
A collection of Manx carvals has been published.
They are fascinating in their weirdness, and deal with
a wide range of biblical subjects. One of the most
interesting is the carval of the Evil Women, a cynical
record of all the ill-conditioned feminines who darken
the pages of the Bible. This quaint bit of literature
is said to be the swan song of a redoubtable smuggler
who lived in the eighteenth century.
The old-time love of carval singing and carval manu-
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 207
facture in Man may be ascribed, I think, to the in-
fluence of the Franciscans of the thirteenth century,
a small number of whom established themselves at
Bimaken in Arbory. The followers of St. Francis
of Assisi were the originators of carols, or perhaps
it would be more correct to say that they were the
evolvers of carols. The originals were there to be
pirated, skeleton scaffoldings of weird ballads, and
primeval folk-songs, and under the skilful manipula-
tion of the Grey Friars the primordial chants ceased
to be as ballads, and rose from the smoking ashes in
the bloom of religious themes which were sung before
the altars.
The literature of the old-time Manx, such literature
as they had, as George Borrow among others observed,
was all in manuscript form. No printed book in the
vernacular has come to light bearing a date earlier
than 1699. " There is nothing either written or
printed in their language," wrote Bishop Barrow in the
ecclesiastical records in 1663. Therefore it can be
imagined what excitement and thankfulness greeted
the translation and publication of the Bible. For the
first time many of the islanders became really familiar
with the Scriptures, and no longer depended entirely
on oral teachings.
The harvest festival of long ago, once so great a
feature in Man, is moribund, and the name yn mheittea,
or colloquially the Melliah, harvest-home, is now only
perpetuated by the harvest supper. Perhaps the
modern " reaper " slew the old romantic custom, cut
with a keen knife-edge the strange usage handed down
208 THE ISLE OF MAN
to us from distant years. The Melliah died as the
labour-savers entered the fields.
All the harvest of a holding would be garnered save
a little compact patch of waving barley or shimmering
golden corn. The workers, their toil wellnigh finished,
gathered to see the taking of the Melliah. Quickly a
queen was chosen from out the band of gleaners, the
prettiest and the youngest of them all, and with straight
sheer cut of the sickle her majesty swept away the last
of the harvest. The golden ears fell among the stubble,
with the queen of a day smiling and blushing over the
spoils. " The Melliah's took ! " rang out across the
green valleys. " The Melliah's took ! "
From the few cut ears, the last bunch of the harvest,
was then fashioned roughly a semblance of a tiny
woman, with a face which was beautiful or plain
according to the imagination made of the upstanding
grains, and loose crinoline-like garment of flowing
stalks. Baban yn Mheillea, doll of the harvest, was then
carried with much fun and merriment to the farmhouse,
and set on the high mantelpiece in the kitchen to
remain until ousted by another straw effigy next
harvesting.
When " Himself " came through the gate into the
harvest field to watch or work, he was bound by the
reapers with ropes of straw, and held captive until a
small forfeit tax was paid. This, I remember, was an
elastic practice extended to ordinary visitors. I was
often caught in the sugganes as a child, but my
ransom, I'm sure, was " not worth," which is the Manx
way of expressing inadequacy.
20Q
In the evening the Melliah was kept up with much
more spirit than it is to-day. There was feasting and
revelry, jough (home-brewed beer) to drink, and plenty
to eat, for " Himself " was a generous provider. Games
of all sorts amused the company, always the laare
vane, the white mare. This indispensable part of
old-time rollicking was a make-believe horse's head,
very make-believe indeed, contrived of wool, a bit of
home taxidermy which would not have deceived a
mouse. The laare vane could open its mouth, when
the engineer-in-charge beneath, a lumpy bulging per-
sonage very much hampered by the tripping-up pro-
clivities of a too-long enveloping sheet, touched the
spring, and snap ! snap ! went the snowy equine head.
That was all it did. All it was meant to do, just snap
aggressively at the harvesters, who had to rush at the
rather inane effigy and turn it out of the room.
In these days of each man for himself, a Manx lover
dispenses with the once necessary dooinney-moyllee, or
praising man, until recent years a sine qud non in
insular love affairs. He was a sort of go-between,
whose pleasant duty it was to murmur sweet nothings
to the lass, and impress upon her what a wonderful
impossible-to-match-elsewhere husband was hers for
the taking. The dooinney-moyllee had also to persuade
unwilling parents to countenance the match, and take
charge of a girl in the absence of her betrothed. Very
often the proxy courtship led to changes all round,
and the praising man stepped into the other fellow's
shoes.
I am not quite sure whether Ping-jaagh, or the toll
p
210 THE ISLE OF MAN
of the " smoke penny," would be described as a custom
or a compulsory usage. It was a tax levied on every
house or hovel boasting a chimney, which was col-
lected by the parish clerk as a perquisite. In far
gone-by days Manx cottages possessed no chimneys.
The smoke from the chiollagh, or hearth, a simple
affair enough, composed of a few rough stones a-heap
with smouldering peat, or turf, as it is called locally,
went out through a hole cut in the thatched roof.
With the advent of the assuming chimney the smoke
tax came in. There is an old yarn of a cottager Dalby
way, whose new chimney refused to play the game at
all. Carrying away the smoke was the last idea it
had in the world. It received it and politely returned
it. Bunches of gorse lit beneath the fractious funnel
did no good ; it simply would not do its work.
Into the grey pall came the parish clerk, John
Robbat.
" You're wantin' the penny, iss lek ? " demanded
the incensed peasant. " An' quat for ? "
" For the chimney the smook goes up," answered
John Robbat, " Is't forgot at you ? "
" There's chimney, here's smook," waving his arms
amid the fog, " Do thee bes', and my gough, thou'll
get all the pennies thass in ! "
The ancient law authorizing the yarding of servants,
a system of insular press-ganging, has long been
repealed. This quaint usage consisted of the laying
a straw by the general sumner across the shoulders of
the impressed, with the words : " You are hereby
Yarded for the service of the Lord of Man, in the house
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 211
of his Deemster, Moar, Coroner, or Sergeant of Barony."
Servants refusing to comply with the command to
serve in one of the privileged establishments were im-
prisoned and kept on meagre allowance " till they
yielded obedience to perform their service." The
name of the yarded one was given out next Sunday at
the parish church. The family treasure of any farm
might be wrested at any minute, but the servants of
certain people, as for instance all members of the
House of Keys, were immune from compulsory service.
There was also in the fourteenth century an Act
which forced the services of unemployed agricultural
labourers. These vagrants were " made liable," and,
if they refused to serve, had to " suffer punishment
till they submitt."
The sumner of a parish was an occupied individual.
During the time of Divine service it was his duty to
stand at the door and " whip and beat all the doggs."
The bridle, one of the old-time punishment horrors,
was also the peculiar care of this worthy. The inven-
tion, intended for the terrorizing of evil tongues, was
a contrivance which went round the head, fastening
behind, and held in position a cruel bit of iron which
forced the tongue of the unfortunate wearing it flat
with pressure. Waldron, who lived in Man in 1720,
wrote of this rough penance a punishment frequently
meted out by Bishop Wilson : "If any person be con-
victed of making a scandalous report, and cannot
make good the assertion, instead of being fined or
imprisoned, they are sentenced to stand in the Market-
place on a sort of scaffold erected for that purpose,
212 THE ISLE OF MAN
with their tongue in a noose of leather, which they call
a bridle, and having been thus exposed to the view of
the people for some time, on the taking off this machine
they are obliged to say three times : ' Tongue, thou
hast lied.' '
Stocks were in vogue in Man, as also the pillory,
and the odd punishment called the wooden horse.
The Statute of 1629, which governed this stern re-
prisal, a sort of rough cure by the hair of the dog
that bit you, laid it down that : " Whosoever shall
be found or detected to pull Horse Tayles shall be
punished upon the Wooden Horse, thereon to continue
for the space of two hours and to be whipped naked
from the waist downwards."
Stealing " mutton, sheep, or lambe " was a " fellony
in like manner to death," and the theft or damaging of
bee-hives was regarded with the same seriousness.
We can only learn of the happenings of other days
from tradition or ancient records, and this must be
my excuse for such constant quotation. In the
writings of Bishop Wilson we hear of " many lawes
and customs which are peculiar to this place and
singular." There is one of striking dignity, a pro-
ceeding going back to Saxon times. The prelate
records that " the Bishop, or some priest appointed by
him, do always sit in the great court along with the
Governor, till sentence of death (if any) be pronounced ;
the Deemster asking the jury (instead of " Guilty or not
guilty ?") Vod fir-charree sole? which, literally translated,
is, " May the man of the chancel sit ? " If the fore-
man answers in the negative, the Bishop or his sub-
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 213
stitute withdraws, and the sentence is then pro-
nounced on the criminal.
Of all weird old customs, full of the fierce sad glamour
of the time, the Act which justified a man by the oath
of others, a purgation smiled upon by the Statutes of
1665, strikes us to-day as the strangest of all the
sombrely strange usages of Manxland. It was an
enactment which made it possible for the living " with-
out bill, bond of evidence " to claim an unacknow-
ledged debt from the dead, provided that the claim-
maker " shall prove the same upon the grave of him
or her from whom the debt was due with lawful com-
purgators according to the ancient form ; that is to
say, lying on his back with the Bible on his breast and
his compurgators on either side." This imaginative
old custom, " one of our best lawes (the nature of
that people considered, vizt., the oath for swearing
on the grave, in case where there is not specialty,"
as Bishop Phillips wrote in 1609, has something of the
simplicity of totally untutored peoples about it. It
reminds me reminds me. very strongly of a quaint
little story of superstition, not a custom, wherein the
grave most doleful of " sets " formed the necessary
stage background for a telling drama in a country very
far away from Mona's Isle, a land of limitless space
and desolate mournful silences, Alaska. A withered
old native, with face furrowed into deepest lines which
Time can plough, played Chorus for me by a flickering
fire, beneath a sky of deepest blue, dotted with a
wreath of silver stars.
The mighty chief of a settlement of Innuits, the
214 THE ISLE OF MAN
most numerous of any tribe allied to the Eskimo, who
inhabit the Bering Sea-coast from Bristol Bay to the
mouth of the Yukon River, had just died, and the two
likeliest men of the little colony squabbled between
themselves for the reversion of power. They were
of an age, and with equal claims. Both maintained
that the old chief ever meant to bestow his all on
either of them, both laid claim to the piles of skins
lying in the chief's barabora in readiness for the advent
of the fur trader, both seized the dead man's bidarka
and spearing outfit, and last of all, perhaps most im-
portant of all, each young man swore that their late
Headman had bequeathed his daughter, a veritable
belle Innuit, to his successor in the chieftainship.
The tribe took sides, and championed one cause or
the other, and as to the young lady, she was of " How
happy could I be with either were t'other dear charmer
away " variety. A way out of the impasse had to be
found, and the wisest patriarch in all the tribe sat
in judgment. Let the two would-be chiefs lie out on
the new-made grave one after the other, on nights
to be chosen, with two witnesses, or, as the Manx
Statutes would call them, compurgators. Then would
the wraith of the departed, brooding round his
sepulchre, announce his desires. Legatee Number i
tried the gruesome plan, and lay down between the
wooden paddles, relics of strenuous days, set at the
head and foot of the frozen grave, marks to show
above the snow-line, for the Innuits like not to walk
over their dead.
Before the wraith had time to really consider the
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 215
matter, if indeed it happened to be in the vicinity
that night at all, the vengeful spirits who live in the
Nunatacks, or peaks, which are to be seen hi the heart
of the opalescent glaciers, descended with tempes-
tuous wings, and carried off the perhaps residuary
legatee with his compurgators, leaving nothing but the
shell wherein life had been lived. There the tribe
found them next morning, frozen stiff, each with a
smile on Its face. So look all who are smitten by the
Immortals from the Nunatacks. The natives say
that no man can look upon the internal wonders of
the ice-palaces and survive. And so the would-be
chief Number 2 succeeded without the necessity of
wrestling with justice upon a frozen grave. The furs
were his, the light bidarka fashioned from the skins of
hair seals, the belle of the settlement also. But
there is a but. All triumphs are defeats. This one was
no exception to the rule. The old Innuit who spun the
yarn wrinkled yet more his wrinkly face as he told of
the new chief spending the latter part of his honey-
moon in trying to inveigle the ice-spirits into taking
him away also ! Because he was so eager they would
none of him. Just like the real people of the world.
Am I writing the text for a colour book on Alaska
or on the Isle of Man, you ask ? Forgive me, for the
moment I had forgotten. I am nearly " through,"
as the Americans say, with the Manx customs, and as
you know when a writer nears the end, he is always
allowed a page or two in which to moralize, to point
conclusions, to make comparisons.
Transgression of the ecclesiastical laws, and wrong-
2i6 THE ISLE OF MAN
doing of many kinds, was followed by a committal
to do rigorous penance, on pain of excommunication.
Bishop Wilson describes the severe enactment of his
time as " primitive and edifying. The penitent
clothed in a sheet, etc., is brought into church im-
mediately before the Litany ; and there continues
till the sermon be ended ; after which, and a proper
exhortation, the congregation are desired to pray for
him in a form provided for that purpose ; and thus
he is dealt with, till by his behaviour he has given
some satisfaction that all this is not feigned, which
being certified to the bishop, he orders him to be
received by a very solemn form for receiving penitents
into the peace of the church."
Excommunicated persons who did not correct the
error of their ways, and appeared more or less indif-
ferent to the attitude of the church were imprisoned,
and " delivered over, body and goods, to the Lord's
mercy." This was the formula of excommunication
used in Man in olden days :
" For as much as your crimes have been so great,
repeated, and continued in so long as to give offence to
all sober Christians, and even to cry to Heaven for
vengeance. And you having had sufficient time given
you to consider of the consequence of continuing in
them, without any visible or sincere remorse or proba-
bility of reformation. Therefore, in the name of our
Lord Christ and before this congregation, we pro-
nounce and declare you, , Excommunicate and
shut out of the Communion of all faithful Christians.
And may Almighty God, who by His Holy Spirit has
CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT 217
appointed this sentence for removing of scandal and
offence out of the Church and for reducing of sinners
to a sense of their sins and danger, make this censure
to all good ends for which it was ordained. And that
your Heart may be filled with fear and dread that
you may be recovered out of the same and power of
the Devil and your Soul may be saved, and that others
may be warned by your sad example not to sin nor
continue in sin so presumptuously."
Customs relating to the " first foot," or qualtagh,
are much the same in Manxland as in England. The
qualtagh of New Year must be dark, preferably of
masculine gender, and should never make the mistake
of calling at a house empty handed.
Oie Ynnyd, Shrove Tuesday, saw the pancakes
made for supper, and upon Good Friday, Jy-heiney
chaist, it was the old-time custom, in vogue until to-day,
for young people to gather limpets for boiling as the
time of the tide permitted. We often involved ourselves
in this odd practice, although we had no special pre-
dilection for the shell-fish after we had got them.
The edible seaweed, dullish, was also a feature of the
Good Friday harvest from the sea. Every iron im-
plement in a household was studiously avoided, and a
stem of cuirn, or mountain ash, anathema to fairies,
supplanted the family poker.
CHAPTER XII
MANX WORTHIES
For mine own part
I shall be glad to hear of noble men.
Julius Ccesair.
Unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine.
Julius Ccssar.
CARLYLE tells us, " We cannot look, however im-
perfectly, upon a great man, without gaining some-
thing by him." That is just how the island feels
about her hero sons.
" Those who have boldly ventured to explore
Unsounded seas, and lands unknown before,
Soar'd on the wings of science, wide and far,
Measured the sun, and weighed each distant star,
Pierced the dark depths of the ocean and of earth,
And brought uncounted wonders into birth,
Repell'd the pestilence, restrain'd the storm,
Waken'd the voice of reason, and unfurl'd
The page of truthful knowledge to the world."
Of all the great men surely he who bestrides insular
history like a Colossus is Orry, otherwise Godred
Crovan, Orry the Scandinavian freebooter, Orry the
legislator, Orry, the best king who ever reigned in
Man. The Sagas do not sing to us of the wild sea-
218
MANX WORTHIES 219
rover, and therefore we cannot be certain whether
or no he came of a princely house, or was the
Viking son of a Viking father who lived by pillage
and high-sea piracy. That " enormous camera-
obscura magnifier," as Carlyle calls tradition, says
both. After all, it only matters to us to-day that
Orry was the most worthy leader the Manx nation
ever had. He found them freedom-loving, and he
gave them a free system of government. That is the
finest thing in all the world to give freedom. Orry,
in his understanding, dealt out to his simple subjects
just what they were ready and waiting for, and all
his laws were for the good of the community, common-
sense, roughly thorough, and just withal. Bringing
to Man the legislative mechanism of the kingdom of
Iceland, Orry appointed two Deemsters, one for the
north, another for the south, and divided up the little
land into six ship-shires, which we now call Sheadings,
each to be represented by four members at Tynwald.
The method of government in the island to-day is a
graft on the very first Tynwald, and it all traces to
Orry.
If the many burial-places scattered about the isle
which bear the illustrious name are to be credited,
then the Scandinavian monarch of Man must have
been in death, as in life, a man of many parts. His-
torians differ in regard to the death-place of the old
warrior ; some say that Orry died in his kingdom of
Man, or in Islay during a marauding expedition,
others that he died at sea, and others again de-
clare that no man knows where the sovereign lies.
220 THE ISLE OF MAN
It is my own idea that his sepulchre is set, facing
seawards, high on the summit of Cronk-ny-Irrey-
Lhaa, one of the greenest hills in Manxland, which
curves down in abrupt slopes to the deeper green
edge of the water, and trails off northward into ghosts
of shores towards Peel, southward to the dim horizons
of Bradda. Here, just where the first glint of the
morning sun touches the Cronk with lances of gold,
lies the Viking. And I don't know how my assumption
can ever be conclusively disproved.
If we have but one name which we can confidently
claim as immortal only once in a long time is born
such a one we can number many Manxmen among
the meteoric great, who have distinguished themselves
not only in the services, the glittering stage whereon
a brilliant actor shines constellation-wise even among
a firmament of stars, but in civil, ecclesiastical, and
scientific walks of life.
To the Royal Navy and Army Mona has from long-
ago times contributed of her best. Writing in 1829
of conspicuous service rendered, Lord Teignmouth
put on record that : " The Isle of Man has perhaps
furnished a much larger number of able and excellent
men to the public service in proportion to its popula-
tion than any other district of the British Empire."
The last Duke of Athol to reign in Man used all his
influence to protect the fishermen from being im-
pressed for the Navy; and, in a rescript from the
House of Keys to the Lords Commissioners of the
Admiralty, we gather that from a population of less
than twenty-eight thousand, " without a port that
MANX WORTHIES 221
can boast a square-rigged vessel," the small island
supplied above three thousand seamen to the British
naval service.
Numberless officers in the Navy and Army have
upheld the honour of Manxland in the four corners of
the globe. It was represented in the Indian Mutiny,
the Abyssinian campaign, and the Zulu War, and at
Chitral. Many " Manx ones " lie out on the grim
khaki-coloured veldt of South Africa. The far-flung
battle line has ever had a Manxman at its edge.
Among great sea captains we very proudly number
Rear- Admiral Sir Hugh Christian, who died in 1798,
just as a peerage was about to be bestowed on
him. The illustrious sailor, in acknowledgment
of his direct descent from Ittiam Dhone, proposed
to take his seat in the House of Lords as Lord
Ronaldsway.
Another naval hero is Captain John Quilliam,
Nelson's first lieutenant on the Victory. Quilliam
first distinguished himself at the Battle of Camper-
down, where he was made lieutenant. At the Battle
of Copenhagen he added more laurels to his already
budding wreath. This notable Manxman piloted the
Victory to victory at Trafalgar. The steering gear
having been seriously damaged, it became necessary
to repair the mischief at once, which was done after
some plan of the quick-witted lieutenant's, who,
having some doubts as to the efficiency of the mended
mechanism, undertook to steer the ship into action
himself. He retired from the Navy in 1815, and
was a member of the House of Keys for some years
222 THE ISLE OF MAN
afterwards. His grave is in Kirk Arbory, and his
epitaph records his services as follows :
" Sacred to the memory of John Quilliam, Esq.,
Captain in the Royal Navy. In his early service he
was appointed by Adml. Lord Duncan to act as
lieutenant at the Battle of Camperdown ; after the
victory was achieved this appointment was confirmed.
His gallantry and professional skill at the Battle of
Copenhagen attracted the attention of Lord Nelson,
who subsequently sought for his services on board
his own ship, and as his Lordship's first lieutenant he
steered the Victory into action at the Battle of Trafalgar.
By the example of Duncan and Nelson he learned to
conquer. By his own merit he rose to command ;
above all this he was an honest man, the noblest
work of God. After many years of honour and dis-
tinguished public service, he retired to this land of his
affectionate solicitude and birth, where, in his public
station as a member of the House of Keys and in
private life, he was in arduous times the uncom-
promising defender of the rights and privileges of his
countrymen, and the zealous and able supporter
of every measure tending to promote the welfare and
the best interests of his country. He departed this
life on the loth October, 1829, in the 59th year of
his age. "
Another great Manx sailor, Rear-Admiral H. H.
Christian, who died in 1849, obtained the rank of
commander in the Royal Navy at the extraordinarily
early age of sixteen years ! This circumstance was
MANX WORTHIES 223
the direct result of his able handling of a flotilla at the
siege of Genoa.
The Cosnahans, an old Manx family, served their
country in all sorts of capacities. Philip Cosnahan is
perhaps, because of his youth and bravery, one of the
most beloved of Manx heroes. When he came home
" to put a sight on " his people,
Ev'n to the dullest peasant standing by
Who fastened on him a wondering eye.
He seemed the master spirit of the land.
As a midshipman on the Shannon he fought in the
great action with the U.S. frigate Chesapeake, and was
specially mentioned in Captain Broke's despatches.
" I must mention," reported that officer, " when
the ship's yards were locked together, that Mr. Cos-
nahan, who commanded in our maintop, rinding
himself screened from the enemy by the foot of the
topsail, laid out on the mainyard to fire at them, and
shot three men."
Young Lieutenant Cosnahan was drowned in 1819
in the foundering of a Manx sailing ship which carried
mails and passengers to and from England. The young
sailor arrived at the Red Pier in Douglas rather after
the scheduled time, and the vessel was just loosing
her hawsers and sheering away. With a mighty spring
the agile lieutenant lighted on deck, and gained his
passage, to lose his life in the untimely disaster which
overtook everyone on board.
Sir Baldwin Wake Walker, also an admiral, is
another distinguished Manxman. He died in 1876.
Many natives of the isle have distinguished them-
224 THE ISLE OF MAN
selves before the mast. John Cowell, press-ganged
into the Temeraire, left a fine record of good deeds
behind him, and John Lace, of Bride, who lost his
arm at Trafalgar on the Victory, always maintained
that the bullet which gave Nelson his mortal wound
passed first through his own arm.
A Manxman accompanied Captain Cook on his first
expedition. This was Peter Fannin, who commanded
the Adventure.
We have likewise many notable soldiers among
out great men. Colonel Mark Wilks, warrior and
diplomat, was governor at St. Helena at the time of
Napoleon's arrival. The ex-Emperor had a great
liking for the judicious and kindly Manxman. Speak-
ing of him afterwards, doubtless making odious com-
parisons between the thoughtful diplomat and the
inconsiderate Sir Hudson Lowe, Napoleon asked :
" Pourquoi n'ont-ils pas laisse ce vieux gouverneur ?
Avec lui je me serais arrange ; nous n'aurions pas eu de
querettes ! ' ' (Why have they not left that old governor ?
I could have got on with him. We should not have
quarrelled.)
Sir Mark Cubbon, like his uncle, Colonel Wilks,
was the son of a Manx parson. He went to India as a
cadet, and in 1834 was Commissioner of Mysore.
He adminstered that province of 5,000,000 people
with four European helpers at a cost of 13,000 a
year ! His state remained perfectly tranquil through-
out the Mutiny. Few statesmen or rulers have been
more beloved. Sir Mark died at Suez in 1861 on his
homeward voyage, and on the report reaching his
MANX WORTHIES 225
former province business ceased everywhere for three
days, and the entire population mourned. " Were
Mysore in rebellion to-morrow," the Bangalore Herald
wrote, " his word would be sufficient to suppress it
... no army was required to overawe the millions
subject to his rule." Sir Mark Cubbon's body is
buried in his native island, and lies in Maughold
Churchyard, close to the vicarage where he was born.
Caesar Bacon, who died in 1876, of the old Manx
family of Seafield House, fought gallantly at Quatre-
Bras and Waterloo, and Thomas Leigh Goldie, of the
Nunnery, near Douglas, fell at Inkerman at the head
of his Brigade of the 4th Division.
In every churchyard are remnants of the great host
of public servants. They are so numerous. 'Tis such
a little country to have bred so many worthies.
The name of John Christian Curwen, who died in
1828, politician, legislator, agriculturist, is still remem-
bered gratefully. He was a member of the House of
Keys as well as of the House of Commons.
In science the island is notably represented by
Professor Edward Forbes, one of the greatest palaeon-
tologists, geologists, and naturalists of the nineteenth
century. His brother David also attained considerable
eminence as a geologist and scientist.
Dr. Charles Bland Radcliffe, the late eminent
physician, was a Radcliffe of Ballaradcliffe in Andreas.
His younger brother distinguished himself as a surgeon
in the Crimea, and afterwards made name and fame
as an expert on the cholera scourge.
Of Manx worthies of to-day and they are very
Q
226 THE ISLE OF MAN
many it would be invidious to write. Perhaps it is
even too soon to refer to the celebrated Dr. Clague,
of Castletown. His little pill-box carriage, on errands
of mercy bent, and his bluff interrogatory " 'Joy your
fud ? " are bound up with my earliest recollections.
He was indeed a worthy in the best sense.
Manxland has literary lights to-day, and a few
shining like tiny stars from out the past. Minor verse-
makers also touched the lute prettily. In John Quirk,
of Rushen, we had the composer of many noted Manx
carols, and the Rev. T. E. Brown, one of our greatest,
called Esther Nelson, of Bride, who wrote The
Carrasdhoo Men and The Island Penitent, " a woman
of genius."
I think also the many translators of the Bible into
Manx should be hailed as litterateurs. If you know
the Manx you will understand how great was the work.
Sometimes jealous Britishers say that the Rev.
T. E. Brown was not really a native of the Isle of Man ;
but it does not trouble us at all. We know he was a
Mannanagh dooie, a true Manxman. Both his parents
were island-born, and on all sides his descent was
Manx.
His poems, all murmurous with the song of the sea,
full of vivid fire and the joy of life, his wonderful prose
writings, and his letters, are among the proudest
assets of Mona. Her great son made them. We cannot
let anyone else claim him.
After being vice-principal at King William's College,
near Castletown, " Tom Brown " migrated to Clifton,
as second master, where he laboured for thirty years.
MANX WORTHIES 227
He worked and strove at Clifton, but we all know
where his heart was.
I'm here at Clifton, grinding at the mill
My feet for thrice nine barren years have trod,
But there are rocks and waves at Scarlett still,
And gorse runs riot in Glen Chass Thank God !
Of the famous Christians I have written elsewhere.
Ewan, father of Illiam Dhone, was a Deemster at
twenty-six, and a law-giver for fifty-one years.
The name Christian is a very common one in Man,
perhaps one of the most usual. The great Stanley
noticed this. " There be many Christians in this
country," he wrote, in that comprehensive diary of
his. And indeed there are such a number that almost
we could get along without the myriad proselytizing
missionaries of revivalist variety, who devote a lot of
time to the conversion of the Manx !
One of these ardent soul-savers stopped a Maughold
farmer at his plough one winter day of long ago,
and desired to be told the place of worship which the
tiller of the ground attended.
Did he go to chapel ?
" A chance time, mebbe. Chee-back ! " to the big
brown mare.
' You go to church likely ? "
" A chance time. Commotha ! " to the dapple grey.
" So," very solemnly, " you are not a Christian ? "
" Christian ? No. I'm a Kerruish."
The revivalist was reduced to amazed astonishment.
Joss, Mary Baker Eddy, and the Ali Babas he had
228 THE ISLE OF MAN
heard of, but Kerruish ! This was a brand of religion
which had never yet come within his ken.
" Iss lek you're a stranger in the islan'," said the
farmer pityingly, " there's Christian Bemahague, and
Christian Balldrine, and Christian Baldroma, or is't
Christian Lewaigue you're wantin' ? "
The difficulty of individual identification where so
many people have the same name is readily solved by
tacking on the name of a man's house or farm to his
own. As, for instance, Moore Ballacottier, or Quine
Slegaby. Sometimes a landowner is referred to only
by the name of his farm. " Aw, lek enough 'tis the
Ballacottier callin' me."
Certain surnames appear to be aboundingly recur-
ent in a given radius. In Maughold the inhabitants
are said to consist almost exclusively of
Christian, Callow, and Kerruish ;
All the rest are mere refuse.
Unlanded mortals take on the name of either parent.
Johnny Polly is the son of Polly, and Harry Nickey
means that Harry is the son and heir of Nicholas. So
on and so forth.
If I did not trouble to tell you that Hugh Shimmin,
founder of the once celebrated paper The Porcupine,
was of Manx origin, you would guess it at once,
wouldn't you, from his name ? The Porcupine was a
quill which Shimmin drove with fine effect, and to its
potent power Liverpool owes many striking reforms.
The little island also furnished a President for the
Mormons ! John Quayle Cannon, nicknamed in con-
MANX WORTHIES 229
gress " Small-bore Cannon," from the " persuasive way
at him," was a native of Mona.
The champion of Women's Rights was Deemster
Richard Sherwood, who introduced Women's Suffrage.
In a slight record like this one cannot hope to men-
tion half the notable names which come rushing to
the tip of my pen crying, " Put me down ! Put me
down ! " There are so very many celebrities which
strike one as being typical of their order. Merchants,
headed by John Murrey, issuer of the first Manx
coinage ; farmers, represented by grand old Columbus
Key, to whom an Earl of Derby granted the right of
free shooting all over the isle, an honour meaning a
great deal in the days of the Stanleys; buccaneers,
lawyers, sailors, poets, soldiers, smugglers. Of these
last Quilliam, the quaint clever king of his kind,
deserves a passing mention. This worthy was engaged
in the " running trade," which was how the islanders
politely referred to contrabandism, between the island
and Whitehaven, where he had a feminine confederate
of Manx origin who stored the smuggled spirits in the
cellars of her public-house. Quilliam himself was a
strict teetotaller. There are wonderful stories of the
histrionic ability of the old sailor, romances wherein
he play-acted that all his crew were down and dying
with cholera, which frightened the revenue cutter's
officer so much that a withdrawal was ordered, and the
wily Quilliam immediately landed his entire cargo of
spirits cased in mollags, sheep skins skinned out from
the neck. Sometimes the smuggler, when hard
pressed, would submerge his contraband in the dinghy,
230 THE ISLE OF MAN
and leave it to the tender mercies of the deep, the while
he clapped all sail on his sloop the Moddey Dhoo (black
dog) and gave the revenue cutter a run worth remem-
bering. The derelict dinghy was always found again,
for Quilliam knew a thing or two. We had many
smuggler kings, but Quilliam was the monarch of them
all.
The great labyrinthine caves of the coast played
their parts in this drama of olden times, and often
made effectual temporary store-houses for many a
contraband cargo. Only temporary though, for " the
Customs " knew the ins and outs of the rocky fast-
nesses. Peel and Douglas, Ramsey and Castletown,
with their narrow streets, typical smuggling lairs, and
great cellared houses, tunnelled and channelled from
one to another in a network of subterranean passages,
gave safer sanctuary than the storm-swept caves and
caverns watched over and guarded by the lynx-like
Revenue men. The majority of the islanders had a
hand in the great game, and the words of the old ditty
And there's ne'er an old wife that loves a dram,
But will mourn for the sale of the Isle of Man,
meant a lot to the singers. For with the purchase of the
small territory by the Crown the era of smuggling was
practically ended, and before many years the once
flourishing " running trade " was put down.
A little army of successful Manxmen have " gone
foreign," and settled beyond the seas. The sons of
Mona make excellent colonists, and all over the world,
at the very back of beyond, you meet them. By their
MANX WORTHIES 231
names ye shall know them. The representative names
of the Isle of Man are peculiar, and things apart.
And the clannish they are for all !
To be able in a foreign country to say to a Manxman,
" I am from the island," or to own a Manx name which
will mark you out for " Manx ones " to recognize, is
to be armed with a passport to a freemasonry of the
staunchest description.
I remember, more years ago than I care to count up
now, arriving in a fearsome mining camp in the heart
of the Western States a camp of a few primitive huts,
and eighteen saloons, going night and day feeling
that the bottom had dropped out of the world, and I
hadn't a friend or a hope left in it. Suddenly a little
tap came on the door of the sort of dog-kennel which
was masquerading as my " home," and a big, brown,
breezy stalwart stood on the threshold. He was
dressed as a miner, but I seemed to see him in a blue
knitted Jersey, with trousers of homespun, and big,
well-greased sea-boots reaching to his knees. The
smell of the ocean and the breath of the mountains
clung about him, and crept into the odious little room.
" They're tellin' me you're from the islan'," he said
simply, laying down on an upturned packing case
a wealth of welcome in the shape of primitive luxuries
bought haphazard from the general store. " I'm
from Marown," he volunteered.
" And I'm from Rushen," I said, giving him my
hand to grip.
The shadow of the " green hills by the sea " seemed
over us as we solemnly shook hands,
232 THE ISLE OF MAN
Jim Cannell from Marown is one of our Manx heroes,
too, a worthy fit to stand by the best, but no poet has
ever sung of him. Great as any, he is quite unknown.
Listen. You shall hear about him now.
One night, a hot sultry horror of blackness, just
recovering from the onslaughts of a sandstorm, the
filthy quarter we called Chinatown took fire and flared
up like tinder ; the fierce flames, fanned by the swirling,
curling breeze licked up the wooden shacks in the all-
consuming, gulping mouthfuls of a famishing demon.
In and out their burning dwellings the Chinese crept,
coming laden like loaded ants with salved household
treasures. One house, shooting up flames to high
heaven amid wreathed flumes of smoke, stood silent
and deserted. It crackled to its doom unnoticed.
Evidently its owner was away. Had there been water
to spare, it seemed likely that the desolate homestead
would not get any. I stood with Jim Cannell gazing
at the spectral cabin with its outlining flames of
trickling gold. The light shone full on his curly hair,
and flickered on his firm-set mouth. So must his fore-
fathers have looked as they lit the beacon fires of old
times on some Hill of the Watch at home.
A white face framed in a mass of black hair peered
up at us, and a strange harsh, eager voice began to
speak. I knew her. She was the only Chinese woman
hi the place ; not many Chinese men cart their feminine
belongings into the heart of the Western States.
Round about her was a bright red shawl, dotted with
black discs, and I suddenly found myself repeating in
my mind the quaint little verse we used to address
MANX WORTHIES 233
to the ladybirds who lived in the tree stems of the
Manx glens
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home,
Your house is on fire, your children are gone.
She looked such a little small insect-like creature.
I did not understand her pressing needs, though I
saw she kept including the lonely hecatomb in her
gesticulations. Jim knew ! Dragging his arm from
the clinging clasp, before I could gather his purpose,
the big Manxman was in the lurid doorway, a shower
of sparks signalling his entrance as he displaced the
lintel. We waited breathlessly ; the surging crowd of
excited miners, the chattering Chinese, and the little
woman huddled up on the ground moaning, moaning,
and I
Ah, there he is ! The cruel flames run up his sleeve,
leap to his hair, and curve about him like writhing
serpents. In his burning arms lies a compact bundle,
a little mass of tightly-rolled blanket. Quick as an
arrow from a bow the little ladybird figure takes the
burden from the tottering fiery guardian, and sinks
down with it, murmuring tender words words which
every nation can understand. Then on the strained
air comes a tiny cry, a baby's sleepy disturbed wail.
They rolled Jim in anything handy blankets,
matting, coats putting the flames out. Of the hand-
some stalwart there was nothing but a suffering
charred mass, a poor broken something twisting on the
roughly improvised mattress. No use to try a cure
for Jim ! His rambling course was run, and yet he
234 THE ISLE OF MAN
rambled still. Now he was walking up the Ihergy by
his home, the road he would never take again ; next
he was catching the mottled trout in a small dubb be-
hind the ruined tholthan, the haunted tholthan, you
know, " the ' good people ' are tremenjous for it."
Now and again he lapsed altogether into the Manx,
but it was all " the lil islan', the HI islan'."
" I've got no picture of it at me," he cried regret-
fully. (The Manx always say " at me " when it
should be " with me.") So I drew him one in fancy,
of high green Archallagan, with Slieau Chiarn rising a
Triton among minnows amid the mountain chain, of
the emerald-tinted field where St. Patrick's Chair
stands dominant upon the hill-side, of the little
nestling glens and woods with the silver streams
glinting and winking in the sunlight.
" The lil islan'," he said again, and his voice trailed
off.
Jim Cannell was buried in Montana, and not in
Marown, where his thoughts had always been. I
made a little floral offering from the pink star-like
flowers with the deep red hearts which dot the prairie
ground of the Bitter Root Valley, and fashioned it
into the Three Legs of Man. The miners wondered
very much. Such an odd device, they thought. A
cross, or a wreath, a broken-stringed harp, or an
anchor maybe, all these were understandable, but
this, this the emblem which belonged to the Man-
nanagh dooie, the proud National Arms of his sea-girt
home which blazed on the lonely grave, spoke to them
not at all.
CHAPTER XIII
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE
These are people'of the island.
The Tempest.
This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land.
King Richard II.
SOME chroniclers have it that in the little sentence, so
often on Manx lips, " Traa dy liooar" (Time enough),
the whole character of a native of the island is pre-
sented in comprehensive panorama. In my judgment,
based upon considerable experience, I should say that
the outstanding quality of the Manx as a whole is
inquisitiveness an overwhelming desire to know, to
discover. This remarkable faculty of gathering and
spreading " the newses," which sometimes amounts to
a species of second-sight, is also highly developed in
the northern counties of England, near neighbours of
Mona. Just as the Manx know your business almost
before you know it yourself, so do the inhabitants of
Lancashire, Yorkshire, Durham, and Northumber-
land burrow into and fathom your most private affairs.
But in these counties they call the trait of inquisitive-
ness run rampant " rugged straightforwardness of
character," and affect to be very proud of it. I have
known them go the length of describing the marked
235
236 THE ISLE OF MAN
feature as a touch of " heart in the right place," that
invariable solatium for all the puling weaknesses
human nature goes in for.
And since northerners think it necessary to cover
up their tracks so carefully in the matter of this over-
weening, if useful, curiosity, I shall cast a disguising
cloak over the Manx variety. They are not inquisitive.
They are explorers.
It has been frequently asserted that the Manx have
no sense of humour, and, like the Scotch, require a
surgical operation before it is possible for them to see
even the outlines of a joke. The femininity of Mona's
Isle cannot expect to possess a modicum of the blessed
faculty which keeps one ever young. Why should
they be different from their sisters in all other parts of
the world ? It has been impressed upon us through
all the ages that, when God fashioned Eve from
Adam's rib, He forgot to add the saving grace of
humour. Every other charm, and a few over, He
bestowed upon the wonderful creation ; but the most
worth having, the indispensable gift which helps
mortals to battle with the roughest seas in life, and
grants the whimsical philosophy without which
men are as chaff before the wind, was not remem-
bered ! Only one man has been original enough to
question all this. Mr. Barrie believes that the whole
thing is a mistake, and that Eve was not contrived
from a rib at all, but from Adam's funny bone ! Al-
most he seems*to hint that latent and deep down there
is a sense oHun in humourless women. I have thought
so at times myself. But who am I that I should judge !
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 237
And so it falls out that I find humour deep, insidious,
penetrating humour in all the Manx nation. You
have but to hear a fisherman of the old school not one
of the new-fangled variety who wears brown kid gloves
on Sundays, and has bartered his sense of the ludi-
crous for a mess of pottage relate some trifling hap-
pening to realize the depth and the height of his
innate comicality. It lies in what he keeps back as in
what he relates, in the quiet knowing glint of his eye,
the slow nod of his head, and the turn, and the twist,
and the drawl of his tongue.
The Manx, as I have said elsewhere, are a very
poetical nation, although I do not think they know
it. Many of their expressions and metaphors have
a peculiar beauty, and the imaginative art in the nam-
ing of commonplace, everyday surroundings is very
striking. Is it not an exquisite fancy to call the
Zodiac Cassan-ny-greiney, the footpath of the sun?
The rainbow is Goll twoaie, going north. The prettiest
simile of all, I think, is the one which expressively
describes an anguish of compunction Craue beg 'sy
cheeau, " a lil bone in the breas'." Do we not all
know that painful, impossible-to-name pricking ? "A
little bone in the breast " just describes it. The phrase
for those up in years, or in failing health, is Goll sheese
ny liargagh, going down the slope. Water does not
prosaically boil. It plays. T'an ushtey cloie, the
water is playing.
Does not the swallow's name, Gottan-geayee, fork of
the wind, illustrate in itself the arrow-like flight and
swift swirls and darts of this small bird of passage ?
238 THE ISLE OF MAN
And in the title of the goldfinch, Lossey-ny-cheylley,
flame of the woods, the most unromantic of us can
see the gleaming lustre of the golden-winged warbler
shining amid the green of forested glades. All these
simple expressions and apt christenings have an artless
beauty all their own, elusive and indescribable.
Many of the old folk-lore stories are hoary with
weight of years, and have been handed down from
one generation to another. In the winter evenings of
long ago, the mothers of all time sitting by the chiollagh,
where the turf smouldered dully, told the children
skeelyn, stories, full of weird strange fancies and
mysterious elfin magic.
This fantastic imagery is found in all nations who
live, or have lived, in tune with the infinite. It is
born of the solitudes, and the silences, fostered by the
glamour of the sea-girt coast, now cradled in slumbrous
opal waters, now storm-washed by the surging waves
dashing up the crannied boulders at the call of the
leaping winds.
The strain of melancholy with which the Manx
regard every manifestation of Nature, natural or
supernatural, comes to them from their ancestors of
the chill fierce waters and wind-swept moors of the
dark and silent north. To the northern races Nature
shows her cruelty, her constant inconstancy and sombre
sadness. Springs are so short, summers so fickle,
winters so dreary and long. The fanciful outcome
is not the Naiad, the Dryad, or the laughing joking
faun, who haunt the glinting streams and enchanted
glades of the leafy balmy south, where all the radiant
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 239
throngs take forms of joyousness, with the song of
spring on their elfin lips, the fragrance of summer
on their floating robes, and the glory and whirl of
merriest life in their laughing eyes.
Manx proverbial sayings are intensely characteristic.
These practical truths jewels, as Tennyson called
them
That on the stretch'd finger of all time
Sparkle for ever
demonstrate vividly the many peculiarities of the little
nation. Here are a few of the most representative
proverbs and precepts :
Keeayl chionnit, yn cheeayl share
Mannagh vel ee kionnit ro ghayr.
Bought wit, the best wit,
If it be not bought too dear.
Ta boa vie ny gha agh drogh Iheiy ee.
Many a good cow hath but a bad calf.
Cha row rieau cooid chebbit mie.
Never were offered wares good.
Oie mooie as oie elley sthie.
Oik son cabbil, agh son kirree mie.
One night out and another in,
Bad for horses, but good for sheep.
T'an aghaue veg shuyr dan aghaue vooar.
The little hemlock is sister to the great hemlock.
Tra ta un dooinney boght cooney lesh doinney boght
elley, ta Jee hene garaghtee.
When one poor man helps another poor man, God
himself laughs.
240 THE ISLE OF MAN
Nagh insh dou ere va mee, agh insh dou ere ta mee.
Don't tell me what I was, but tell me what I am.
Kiangle myr noid, as yiow myr carrey.
Bind as an enemy, and you shall have a friend.
Ny poosee eirey-inneen ny tan ayr eek er ny ve craghit.
Do not marry an heiress unless her father has been
hanged.
Myr s'doo yn feagh yiow eh sheshey.
Black as is the raven, he'll get a partner.
Cur meer d'an feeagh, as hig eh reesht.
Give a piece to the raven, and he'll come again.
Lhiat myr hoittoo.
To thee as thou deservest.
Shegin goaill ny eairkyn marish y cheh.
We must take the horns with the hide.
Cha nee yn woa smoo eieys smoo vlieaunys.
It is not the cow which lows the most will milk the
most.
Tra s'reagh yn chloie, share faagail jeh.
When the play is merriest, it is better to leave off.
Lurg roayrt hig contraie.
After spring tide will come neap.
Ta keeayll ommidjys ny sloo my fee ec dooinney
creeney dy reayll.
Wisdom is folly unless a wise man keeps it.
Baase y derrey voddey, bioys y voddey elley.
The death of one dog is the life of another.
Eshyn nagh gow rish briw erbee t'eh deyrey eh hene.
He who will acknowledge no judge condemns him-
self.
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 241
Caghlaa obbyr aash.
Change of work is rest.
Cha dooar rieau drogh veaynee corran mie.
A bad reaper never got a good sickle.
Sooree ghiare, yn tooree share.
Short courting, the best courting.
Eshyn ghuirrys skeeattey hayrtys skeealley.
He who hatches tales shall be caught by tales.
Faggys ta my Iheiney, agh ny sniessey ta my crackan.
Near is my shirt, but nearer is my skin.
Eshyn Ihieys marish moddee, irrys eh marish jar-
ganyn.
He who will lie down with the dogs will rise up with
the fleas.
Ta lane eddyr raa as jannoo.
There is much between saying and doing.
Myr sloo yn cheshaght share yn ayrn.
The smaller the company the bigger the share.
Foddee yn moddey s'jerree tayrtyn y mwaagh.
Maybe the last dog will catch the hare.
Moyll y droghad myr heu harrish.
Praise the bridge as thou wilt go over it.
Mittish dy ghoaill, agh sharroo dy eeck.
Sweet to take but bitter to pay.
The old-time toast at all dinners was : Bioys da
dooinney as baase da eeast : Life to man, and death
to fish. And a scathing term of referring to the little
island is : Ta airh er cushagyn ayns shen : There is
gold on the cushags there.
242 THE ISLE OF MAN
The chroniclers of old time hold the mirror up to
Nature, and in the crystal depths show us the Manx-
man at home in all his phases. Governor Chaloner,
of the Commonwealth era, tells us that the natives were
contented with " simple diet and lodgings ; their
drink, water ; their meat, fish ; their bedding, hay or
straw, generally ; much addicted to the musick of
the violyne." Thomas Quayle, a Manxman himself,
writing in 1810, describes the homes of the peasantry,
and gives us a picture of the primitive cottages, with
walls " about seven feet high, constructed of sods of
earth, at each side the door appears a square hole
containing a leaded window. Chimney there is none,
but a perforation in the roof, a little elevated at one
end, emits a great part of the smoke from the fire
underneath. The timber forming the roof is slender,
coarse, and crooked. It is thatched with straw, crossed
chequerwise, at intervals of twelve or eighteen inches
by ropes of the same material, secured either by being
tied to the wall by means of coarse slates fixed or
projecting, or by stones hanging from the ends of the
ropes. The floor is of hardened clay ; the embers burn
on a stone placed on a hearth, without range or
chimney ; the turf smoke, wandering at random,
darkens every article of furniture. ... In the northern
district, where quarries of stone are less accessible and
lime more distant, the cottages continue to be built in
the primitive manner. In the southern, where building
materials are comparatively more plentiful, stone and
lime are used in the new cottages more frequently. The
ancient mode of thatching and roping is still general."
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 243
In parts of Man more or less untouched by rampant
civilization, the cottages, though of stone now, with
chimneys, are to this day of very primitive description.
Still thatched, with ropings known as sugganes, locally
twisted by U-shaped willow rods from straw teased
out evenly from the flail, and tiny windows, set, as
Thomas Quayle records, either side of the door. These
small eye-holes are fixtures, and cannot be opened.
Invalids in these poor homes cannot have the fresh-
air cure if they want it, and as a rule ventilation is
not regarded as a vital necessity. I can remember
being in a little hovel at Fleswick, divided into two
compartments with a window (save the mark!) in
either, when the late Dr. Clague, the Manx worthy,
came to pay a visit to a sick child. The mother
wanted " a bottle," just a bottle that is how the
Manx always speak of medicine ; but the child needed
air, only air, and there was none in all the room. The
wonderful understanding little medico looked at the
frame of ever-and-ever Amen variety, and then
methodically knocked out all four infinitesimal panes
one by one.
Speaking of the fare of the Manx of bygone ages,
Waldron says that " the first course is always broth,
which is served up, not in a soup-dish, but in wooden
piggins, every man his mess. This they do not eat
with spoons, but with shells, which they call sligs,
very like our mussel shells, but much larger."
The piggins Waldron writes of were the " noggins,"
wooden tumbler arrangements four or five inches in
height, with a projection for handle.
244 THE ISLE OF MAN
Twenty years ago the first course of every meal in a
Manx cottage was certainly not broth. Broth was the
Sunday dinner, the great event of the week. It was
a jorum of potatoes, vegetables, and treat of treats !
a lump of meat, floating about in a bubbling riot with
a suet pudding, sparsely dotted with currants. Some
of this Gargantuan feast lasted for Monday's dinner,
but through the rest of the week praase as skeddyn
potatoes and herrings formed the diet of the peasantry,
varied occasionally by toasted slices from one of the
hard dried salt conger, hake, cod, or callig, which
gleamed in white rows on the stone hedges or gorse
bushes in the sun of summer, or formed dust-traps in
the rafters of the cottage in winter. Every housewife
laid down a barrel of salt herrings, and they were
salter than salt itself. An afternoon call often meant
the hospitality of a hastily frizzled fish, and all the way
home you held your mouth wide open to cool your
gasping throat.
Bread was a real luxury in those days, and most
fisher folk depended on the griddle cakes, a great heap
of which was always baked by the housewife every
week. These flat half-inch thick indigestion-inviters,
baked upon a dry griddle, yellow with carbonate of
soda, were of flour, mixed up with buttermilk. Fisher-
men setting off to the herrings always laid in a goodly
heap.
We often attended a baking day at a little cottage
in Surby, and fell to on hot cakes fresh from the
griddle. Sometimes our patient friend the gentle
baker would add currants, an unheard-of luxury, and
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 245
then almost we ate her out of house and home. Her
true intent was all for our delight. She was a Hans
Andersen, and in between sweeping away superfluous
flour from the griddle with the white half-wing of a
seagull, wove us stories of the Phynnodderee, and delved
into a treasure chest of fairy lore, bringing up for our
inspection the wonderful jewels hidden there. We
knew that every one was a jewel, but sometimes we
could not quite make out what sort of a jewel it was.
We only felt that all were genuine. And such faceted
gems !
Sometimes I seem to hear the soft low brushing
still, and scent the crackling gorse burning beneath
the griddle, and the murmurous voice of the dear old
woman echoes down a vale of years :
What if the spotted water-bull,
And the Glashtin take thee,
And the Phynnodderee of the glen, waddling
To throw thee like a bolster against the wall ?
The world has no such bakers now, such stories are
not told !
The average Manxman has no enthusiasm ; if he has
the trait latent he suppresses it, and gives no meed of
praise or depth of disapproval. Everything is " midd-
ling". " Middlin' fine day " when the sun turns the
world to gold; "middlin' luck" when his nickey is
loaded to her gunwale with fish ; " middlin' breeze "
when the wind whistles through the gorse bushes, and
lays the scraa grass flat before its gusty breath ;
" middlin' quarrel " when he is fighting his neighbour
246 THE ISLE OF MAN
tooth and nail backed by the power of the law. For
the little nation are one and all great at " having
the law on " each other. It is one of the customs,
and therefore dear whilst it is cheap.
I took a Manx fisherman with me to see the Passing
of the Great Queen through her city for the last time.
We had an excellent place where the majestic pageant
passed in its pomp and pathos just below us. In the
distance the solemn swelling notes of the Marche
Funebre broke on the deep silence, rolling away down
the serried ranks of the mourning concourse of people.
Nearer, nearer yet rang the sombre dirge; and as it
passed, quivering, a strange weird sound, like the hum
of the sea in the distance, rose in indescribable over-
whelming murmur, the united whisper of a multitude.
I could scarcely see the gun-carriage, with its great
small burden, my eyes were so full of tears. But the
Manxman looked and looked unconcernedly, calmly.
" Isn't it magnificent ? " I cried. " Isn't it glorious ?
Isn't it the tribute of a great nation ? "
" Middlin'," he said, " middlin' ! "
The back of his big brown hand brushed non-
chalantly over his eyes, and as I pretended not to look
something told me that the sun-burnt skin was wet.
" Middlin'," he repeated fiercely, " middlin'."
The little nation as a whole are suspicious by nature,
and shy and diffident with strangers, though they
endeavour to hide this under a careless off-hand air,
all the time, as the Manx poet, Tom Brown, has it,
" bittendin' to be cool."
To get a plain answer to a straight question is an
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 247
impossibility. The Manx fence with a query, reply
to it with another, or change the subject altogether.
If they are backward in answering they come forward
in questioning, and being inquisitive I mean ex-
plorers they exercise this faculty in sharp interroga-
tories propounded shrewdly. Voltaire says we must
judge of a man by his questions rather than by his
answers, and this, perhaps, is the way to criticize this
well-known trait in the natives of Mona. They are
gossips too, amazing gossips, " wonderful clevah at
gatherin' the newses," and disseminating more than
they ever picked up, but friendly, familiar, and hospit-
able, " for all," whilst their powers of acute observa-
tion raise the most ignorant peasant to a level far
surpassing that of the same class of person on " the
adjacent isles."
Left to himself a Manxman is not keen on politics,
and he only acquires the taste. He is serenely in-
different to the rack of parties, perhaps because such
ambuscades do not exist in Man, or again perhaps
because he is of too fixed and staunch a character to
grapple successfully with the Proteus-like changes
without which it seems no man can ever be a great
and ardent politician. There is nothing of the chame-
leon about a Manxman. It is " What I have said, I
have said " with him every time.
Religious feeling, sometimes amounting to fanatic-
ism, lies deep at the heart of the Manx nation, and
Sunday is very strictly observed, although, as a whole,
the tension is not so tightly screwed as it was two
decades ago. Many of the inhabitants have " gone
248 . THE ISLE OF MAN
asthray " considerably from the Puritanical tenets of
old times.
I recollect, long ago, watching a small yacht drag
her anchor one breezy Sunday, and wreck herself upon
the rocks, the while many stalwart fishermen watched
her drift to her doom. A small boat and a tow rope
would have saved the situation at once, but because
it was the seventh day of the week the ready help
which would have been forthcoming upon any other
was withheld. It was the hereditary instinct, the
inborn habits of centuries coming out. The old
statutes laid down stringent injunctions for the keeping
of the Sabbath, and the compulsions and penalties
which the civil authorities forgot to enumerate were
attended to by the powers ecclesiastical.
In 1610 nobody was " admitted to fish from Satur-
day morning till Sunday at night after sundown, upon
paine of forfeiture of his boat and netts," and towards
the close of the century the time-limit was extended
to Monday. As Friday was a dies non by reason of
some unexplainable superstition against going out to
the herrings, the toilers of the deep in past generations
had a fair amount of time to bestow on their small
holdings. Almost everyone had his scrap of the
island's surface, and farmed in between fishing. The
great claddaghs, or wastes, were free areas for the cattle,
and to this day many small farmers in different dis-
tricts possess the right to graze three or four sheep
on estates which once formed part of the common
lands.
" Takin' in vis' tors " this has no double entendre*
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 249
may now be considered the staple trade. The fishing
is not what it was, or even what it might be, and in
the height of the season our sea-girt isle gets much of
its fish from Grimsby, the local market standing
paralysed until the arrival of the necessarily large
supply. ,
The great days of the shipbuilding trade have passed
likewise, when the clang of the hammer on the white
ribs of the mighty wooden skeletons echoed across the
harbours of Peel and Port St. Mary.
" I seen the time " when the great fleets making
ready for the Kinsale fishing were packed like sar-
dines in the port, their masts standing straight and
thick as uncleared bush in British Columbia, and the
scent of the tanning of the nets filled the old streets.
In 1840 the shipbuilding trade was at its zenith,
and the island built vessels of the swiftest kind for
all parts of the world. A flourishing business, also,
was carried on with Italy, Spain,, and Portugal. The
Manxmen took over cargoes of their famous salted
fish, and brought back shiploads of the wine of the
countries.
The little island has bettered itself and the position
of its inhabitants by adopting enthusiastically a paying
livelihood, but it is impossible to repress a feeling of
regret for the picturesque days of the vast fleets
setting off to the herrings, with the ways at them,
and the fish at them, and the great brave hearts at
them.
There are, of course, herring boats still in Mona
fishermen too, a few, of the old school ; but the royal
250 THE ISLE OF MAN
days when it counted if the boats went or stayed,
and the old proverb, " No herring, no wedding,"
meant just all the world are, as the unhappy noble-
man in Maritana observed, one of the memories of the
past.
A very few more years now will perhaps see the
death of the Manx language, and the shrewd sayings,
the dry wise knowledge, the wit and the soul and the
heart of it will pass like a shadow. There is a more
than prophetic warning in the old proverb, " Dyn glare,
dyn cheer," No language, no country.
I think the Manx tongue began to decay as the subtle
poetical atmosphere commenced to fade in the nation.
I have noticed in distant corners of the earth, among
primitive peoples, that education and imagination
cannot run in double harness. Poetry and imagina-
tion in the Manx grows less each year ; both traits are
dying out, and with them the tongue which voiced
the beautiful thoughts of the old-time people. The
atmosphere of necromantic fancy, of fantastic imagery,
which we see in our place names, read in our stories,
and know of from the traditions of all time, is almost
gone from the little nation.
" It were much to be wished, for the sake both of
our literature and our life, that imagination would
again be content to dwell with life . . . and that
imagination were again to be found, as it used to be,
one of the elements of life itself."
Of necessity a people change with changed con-
ditions. Every nation embodies in itself what Plato
called the Great Year. Each has a sowing time, a
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLE 251
growing time, a weeding time, an irrigating time, and
then the harvest time, when all things spring to giant
strength. We do not want to garner any tares with
our Manx Melliah. Education is a fine thing, a great
thing, and gives us everything, no matter how poor
we may be. For there is one great consolation for
the poor in these days, and that is that the most
lasting pleasures most worth having cost but little
in actual cash. We may know the greatest men who
ever lived, and for next to nothing. Whilst we exalt
the advantages of education, we cannot but regret the
way it has, the annihilating it does, as we recall the
poetry and the symmetry of thought which exists no
longer.
Well, let us to what Byron calls " sublime philo-
sophy."
Coal is not found in Man, but mines of zinc and
silver lead have been worked successfully for years.
The ancient mines of Bradda are closed now, and the
shafts stand grey and desolate on the coast-line, with
the surge of the sea close about the once busy cavernous
passages.
The salt mine at the Ayre has just begun to pay a
dividend thanks be ! It is a very youthful hope as
yet, with expectations.
The limestone of the south is much used, and among
other monuments the local rock built Castle Rushen.
Sandstone at Peel is a valuable asset also. Manxland
has farms too, prosperous, well-managed farms, and
perhaps they count most of all. Mining and quarry-
ing are forms of devastation ; work may not cease for
252 THE ISLE OF MAN
years upon years, but there is a limit. The farmer is
the man who makes a land prosperous. He is a
benefactor, a home-maker, working for generations yet
unborn. The miner and the quarryman have their
part in the great scheme, but by the decree of Nature
it is the home-maker who lives on and on when the
mines have given of their treasure, and crumbled
cliffs and desolate rifts are the only monuments that
tell of workers turned to dust.
To the Manx farmer we look for the upholding of
the insular characteristics. The race of fishermen
will die out they are dying now, and their nets will
soon be the trammels of the lodging-house keeper. A
fisherman lodging-house keeper ! Sons of the sea who
have left their calling for a life of lazy idleness. Do
they long, I wonder, for the bygone times, for the song
of the wind in the shrouds, and the churn and the toss
of the waves at the bows ?
Yes, they remember !
There's a beautiful insinuating little thing in my
mind, a cry from the heart of a jungle man, a jungle
man condemned to an office stool. It runs :
I was a man
Ere these dull bonds of servitude began ;
And wild in woods, a happy savage man.
Paraphrased, there, a few years hence, will be found
the requiem of the Manx fisherman.
CHAPTER XIV
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments.
Sonnet CXVI.
SARAH GORRY, the buxom Manx girl, who what she
calls " does " for the Warrior, was married yesterday
to Mattoo Gawne, skipper of a herring boat in the
Port. His godfathers and godmothers in his baptism
christened the sailorman Matthew ; but the pro-
nunciation eludes Sarah, and she cannot manage it.
Very nearly we had no wedding at all, for just before
the appointed time the bride-to-be wondered, as so
many have done before her, whether or no matrimony
were not too risky a concern to take a share in. The
wedding took place from the Warrior's house, for
Sarah is an orphan from Laxey way, and had no
relatives to see her over the Great Step.
I was looking to my roses when the Warrior came
in, saying excitedly that his henchwoman was ready,
all in her wedding kit, waiting for Lochinvar to come
in the pill-box on wheels, which is the substitute in
Manxland for a cab, a boxed-in wagonette really, and
now, now, would I believe it, Sarah felt the whole
thing was a mistake, and she was quite sure she did not
253
254 THE ISLE OF MAN
desire to be married at all. " And she must," he
wound up, " because I will not go on eating Manx
curry any longer ! "
So like a man ! Curry ! That was all he cared about.
And Sarah thought of her whole a long life !
" But why, why ? " I asked in surprise. " Why
doesn't she wish to be married ? "
" How can I tell? " answered the Warrior snappishly.
" Unless," here a bright idea struck him " unless
she has been dipping into George Bernard Shaw. I
left him lying open on my desk. Fool that I was ! "
he added. I laughed for who could help it ? and went
to reason with the reluctant bride. There she sat
dolorously in all her finery of " plum-colour." I do
not think a village wedding is legal in the Isle of
Man unless the bride or a bridesmaid wears " plum-
colour." From time immemorial this tint has been
the dominating one for bridal get-ups.
Two attendant maids, in gay hats and multi-
coloured garments, stood by the kitchen fire, obviously
out of conceit with themselves, their hopes of a happy
day under the dripping trees of well-soaked Glen Meay
dashed to the ground.
" What is this, Sarah ? " I asked. " You do not want
to marry Mattoo ? And nearly time to start. Why
have you changed your mind ? "
" For," said Sarah, darkly.
" But you must have a reason. Why are you not
prepared to carry out your promise ? "
" Because."
These two words are the almost invariable replies
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 255
in Manxland to all questions on earth. In the two
catapultic remarks lies the explanation of all mysteries.
If you are not content with "For," if its comprehensive-
ness does not in its amplitude satisfy, then as an
alternative you can have " Because," and with two
such potent keys to a situation surely you see the
door wide open for you.
But I persevered, refusing to be put off. Against all
the canons of Manx conventionality I ruthlessly
tilted.
" ' For' and ' because' do not really constitute any
explanation, Sarah. What is your reason for making
such a fool of Mattoo ? "
At last Sarah was understood to gasp, in between
sobs, that she had nothing against " Himself" no-
thing; but a gull had settled on the chimney that
morning, and every one knows that when a gull settles
on a house it portends a storm.
" But outside, you know," I interrupted ; " not
within ! "
Well, suppose the gull had lighted there to warn the
bride of stress in the future. Suppose just suppose
Mattoo ceased to care for her in time to come. Sup-
pose even that his affection waned even in a little
year ! In such case Sarah would prefer much pre-
fer to " do " for the Major. She was quite certain
she would.
" That is very nice of you, very worthy and proper,"
I said, disregarding the telegraphic message from the
Warrior's eyes. " She has done me long enough,"
they seemed to say ; "do not, I beg of you, urge
256 THE ISLE OF MAN
her to remain ! " But, of course, I was not going to
be put off doing my duty as one woman to another.
I had to forget all about the shortcomings of the Manx
curry and other housekeeping deficiencies, and went on
to explain that Mattoo, being what Mrs. Humphry
Ward calls " a male man," could not be expected to
continue the devoted lover for ever.
" Why not ? " demanded Sarah tearfully.
" Because," I said pompously, " sweet Nature, for
some good purpose of her own, made man with variable
passions, at the same time as she contrived the laws of
heat ; but she made dear woman all steady patience.
A man flares up and scorches himself out, a woman
burns slowly, and lasts longer. And if it were not so,"
I added to myself, rather sadly, " all things would
be awry."
A rumble of wheels. Mattoo and two stalwart sup-
porters. All three emerged from the comical convey-
ance, all three in shiny blue broadcloth, bowler hats,
and outsized gloves, with an inch of emptiness hanging
from each finger-tip.
The face of the bride cleared like the noon of an
April day. Marry Mattoo ? Of course ! The by-
play was merely a lever-de-rideau, put into the morning
to make it more difficult.
The wedding party climbed into the little hot-house
box on wheels, windows well sealed up, and off to the
parish church ; afterwards to spend the day in Glen
Meay. To the house-warming of the evening the
Warrior and I had faithfully promised to go.
As we crossed to the thatched cottage on the beach,
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 257
which was Sarah's new home, a beautiful pure-
plumaged seagull settled on the chimney. We looked
at one another and smiled.
" Ta lhane klinkyn ayns car-y-phoosee ! " the Warrior
said laughingly, quoting the well-known proverb,
" There are many twists in the nuptial song," which
is the polite Manx way of suggesting that matrimony
has its drawbacks.
Inside the cottage the entire village seemed to be
congregated. The postmistress headed the congested
assembly, her reserved attitude betraying the im-
mensity of her condescension, and the subconscious-
ness of the vast social gulf lying betwixt herself and
our hosts. Manx by birth, her official position brought
her into constant contact with the summer visitors,
whose imported airs and graces overlay the strata
of inborn simplicity. Miss Watterson had adopted
so many affectations of speech, remnants of admired
prototypes, that very often, when well embarked on a
sentence, she forgot the particular brand of mannerism
she had commenced with, and the whole word swirled
on its pivot.
" It's a lady's dress, that's what it is," said Miss
Watterson approvingly, as she handled a fold of
Sarah's plum-coloured gown. " A lady's dress. I
should say so anywhere."
" Iss lek iss not a gentleman's, for all ! " interpolated
the village wit.
' 'Deed on, Ambrose ! Hear the clevah tongue
arrim ! " retorted Miss Watterson, lapsing into Anglo-
Manx, " lek enough you'll be in the Keys yet, lad."
s
258 THE ISLE OF MAN
" I would'n' thruss ! " laughed Ambrose.
The table staggered beneath the weight of the entire
tea-service presented by the Warrior, and in moments
of abstraction the bride filled up every cup from a
Gargantuan teapot. Nobody appeared to drink the
tea. The cups stood, grew cold, whereupon an excited
guest poured the whole lot away, and then the bride
filled up as before.
Manx weddings of to-day of the village class vary
but little in their rejoicings from those of any other
part of Great Britain. A jaunt to Glen Helen or
Groudle, or a tiring day among the shops in the
metropolis of Douglas, by the immediate wedding
party, bride and bridesmaids, groom and groomsmen,
is the usual festivity, winding up with a little house-
warming in the new home or the old. There are signs
that evolution is at work among old-fashioned marriage
celebrations in Man as in other things. The excursion
once so looked forward to is being lengthened to " a
trip across the wather." One fashionable fisherman
of my acquaintance went so far as to take his bride
to " Put a sight on London."
Writing of the customs which obtained in Manx
weddings of some eighty years ago, Train says :
" When two persons agreed to become united in
matrimony, and this had been proclaimed in the
parish church on three several Sundays, all the rela-
tions and friends of the young people were invited
to the bridal, and generally attended, bringing with
them presents for the " persons about to begin the
world.' Their weddings, as in Galloway, were gener-
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 259
ally celebrated on a Tuesday or a Thursday. The
bridegroom and his party proceeded to the bride's
house, and thence with her party to church the
men walking first in a body, and the women after
them. On the bridegroom leaving his house, it was
customary to throw an old shoe after him, and in like
manner an old shoe after the bride on her leaving her
house to proceed to church, in order to ensure good
luck to each respectively ; and if, by stratagem, either
of the bride's shoes could be taken off by any spectator
on her way from church, it had to be ransomed by the
bridegroom. On returning from church, the bride
and bridegroom walk in front, and every man with
his sweetheart, in procession, often to the number
of fifty. The expenses of the wedding dinner and
drink are sometimes paid by the men individually.
It was formerly the custom after the marriage had
been performed for some of the most active of the
young people to start off at full speed for the bride-
groom's house, and for the first who reached it to
receive a flask of brandy. He then returned in all
haste to the wedding party, all of whom halted, and
formed a circle. He handed spirits first to the bride-
groom, next to the bride, and then to the rest of the
company in succession, each drinking the health of the
new-married couple. After this the party moved on
to the bridegroom's house, on the arrival at the door
of which the bridecake was broken over the bride's
head, and then thrown away to be scrambled for by
the crowd usually attendant on such occasions."
Fun waxed fast and furious. The chapel organist
260 THE ISLE OF MAN
sampled the new harmonium, playing Mylecharaine
and Ny kirree fo niaghtey, the " Sheep under the Snow,"
to a rousing chorus which reverberated through the
rafters of the cottage. The old-time Manx character
is largely embodied in the ancient airs of Manxland.
Not so much in the words, which are rarely joyous,
as in the mournful weird cadence of the plaintive
music, traditional melodies which give the general
idea of having existed for ages before it was thought
necessary to wed words to them. Very often the
threnetic tunes are noticeably antiquated, whilst the
verses reflect a real latter-day spirit. The best known
of the Manx ballads is the so-called national air
Mylecharaine, with its curious moaning lilt, and Ny
kirree fo niaghtey. They are sung at all sorts of fes-
tivities, in season and out of season.
After winter of snow,
And spring-tide of frost,
The old sheep were dead,
And the small lambs alive.
Then comes the desponding chorus :
Oh ! get up shepherds, and
To the hill go ye,
For the sheep deep as ever
Are under the snow.
They will not sound very wonderful as you hear
them rendered now, but if you could but turn the
hands of the clock back, and Time with it, and listen
to Mylecharaine in old Manx, you might catch the grip,
and the soul, and the weird fascination of it. Perhaps
a lot of its charm lies in its mystery, for we are not
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 261
quite sure what it is all about. T. E. Brown suggests
that " A dowry for the first time in the Isle of Man,
is given to a daughter, and is condemned by the lieges
as of evil precedent," and Mr. A. W. Moore gathers
from the quaint " poem " that the old miser Myle-
charaine, who lived in the Curragh, had a daughter
" who paid more attention to her attire than he did
to his, and that, in consequence of being the first man
in Man who broke through the old custom of not
giving a dowry to daughters on their marriage, he was
the object of a terrible curse."
Evidently an imprecation of Mollaght Mynney
variety, the most comprehensive evil in the Manx
language which it is possible to call down. A curse
of curses, a very Juggernaut of destruction.
George Borrow tells us, in his Notes on the Isle of
Man, how he visited in 1855 a family named Myle-
charaine, who lived in the Curragh, whom he found
to be lineal descendants of the historical miser of the
name. He added that, however niggardly their
ancestor may have been, the offspring, by all the laws
of contraries, were of the most hospitable natures.
And here, after all this preamble, is the famous ballad
in its English robe. It sits more stiffly than the Manx,
and lacks the simple melancholy of the vernacular.
There are many translations of it, and this one from
the Manx Society's publications and Gawne's MS.,
translated and adapted by Mr. A. W. Moore in his
Manx Ballads is perhaps the best, as George Bor-
row's I, who am a Borrovian, should not perhaps
admit this is certainly the very worst.
262 THE ISLE OF MAN
MYLECHARAINE
DAUGHTER :
O Mylecharaine, where gott'st thou thy store ?
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
FATHER :
Did I not get it in the Curragh, deep, deep enough ?
And lonely didst thou leave me.
DAUGHTER :
O Mylecharaine, where gott'st thou thy stock ?
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
FATHER :
Did I not get it in the Curragh between two blocks ?
And lonely didst thou leave me.
DAUGHTER :
Mylecharaine, where gott'st thou what's thine ?
Lonely didst thou leave me.
FATHER :
Did I not get it in the Curragh between two sods ?
And lonely didst thou leave me.
1 gave my web of tow and my web of flax,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
And I gave my ox for the daughter's dower,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
DAUGHTER :
O father, O father, I am now ashamed,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
Thou art going to church in white carranes,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
O father, O father, look at my smart shoes,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
And thou going about in thy white carranes,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 263
Yes, one carrane black, and the other one white,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
Mylecharaine, going to Douglas on Saturday,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
Yes, two pah* of stockings, and one pair of shoes,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
Thou didst wear, Mylecharaine, in fourteen years,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
FATHER :
O damsel, O damsel, thou needst not to be ashamed,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
For I have in my chest what will cause thee to laugh,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
CURSE:
My seven bitter curses on thee, O Mylecharaine,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
For thou'rt the first who to women gave dower,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
A curse on each man that rears a daughter,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
As did Juan Drummey and Mylecharaine,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
For Juan Drummey got the wealth on the hill,
Lonely didst thou leave me ;
Mylecharaine got the wealth on the flat,
And lonely didst thou leave me.
Next the tireless musician wheedled the palpitating
harmonium into a make - believe two - step, and the
wedding guests " danced " on a little earthen floor
as big as a handkerchief. " Oranges and lemons "
followed, everyone, arms round waists, threading be-
neath the outstretched arms of the two tallest people.
What an advantage to be tall ! The Warrior had not
264 THE ISLE OF MAN
to embrace anyone, whereas I had to try and man-
oeuvre my arms round the mammoth middle of the
village cobbler. I suppose a sedentary life makes for
embonpoint. I did wish I had evaded him and clutched
the emaciated postman instead, for all the time Kelly,
the cobbler, slipped like an eel from my grasp, with
the result that half the human chain dashed with
force against the creaking wall.
In the forfeit finale Sarah was a kiss in arrears, to be
paid her by the small Mr. Gorry, the local baker.
" Quat for shouldn't he take the like ? " said Mat-
too, darkly, as everyone laughed and chaffed, and con-
sidered the possible state of Mattoo's feelings. " Quat
f or ? " glaring at Mr. Gorry, in pretended assent, and
a do-it-if-you-dare expression in his eyes.
Tis a valiant flea that dares take his breakfast on
the lip of a lion. The All-Understanding One told us
so, and though perhaps he may not be a personal
friend of Mr. Gorry's, that thoughtful man, being a
master in the art of compiling recipes, knew enough
to feel sure that a measure of the truest courage is
always mixed with the quality of circumspection.
The hour grew so late that it became early, and with
a final chorusing of the somewhat unsuitable Mylecha-
raine the merry guests trooped off homewards, waving
Adieu, adieu, to Sarah standing proudly in the door-
way with " Himself " straight and tall beside her.
The moon, wreathed in filmy gossamer, looked over
a balustrade of stars, limning clear the far faint misty
hills, and shining through her gauzy cloak made
arabesques upon the sea. So silent ! So quiet ! Just
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 265
the tiny wavelets breaking on the stony beach, and
the tinkling clatter, clatter of the tiny pebbles racing
and receding with the sea. Hesperus of the high
heavens has spent his lamp.
Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger.
On the still air the voice of an early shepherd calls
the cows from the fields. Hor ! Hor ! and down in
the rocks and caves of the inlet " the daughter of the
voice," that poetical synonym which the Jews of old
time had for the echo nymph, translated the command
into airy nothingness.
The smoke from the chimney stack of Sarah's tiny
cottage rises and hangs in the still air. The gull has
gone, and his call meant nothing at all. For inside
the little home everything goes very well.
It is " baking day," and griddle cakes are almost
manufacturing themselves. The old dresser, black
with weight of years, supports copper- tinted jugs and
a wealth of bright-blue china handed down to Mattoo
from his ancestors. On a corner he two copies of the
Queen's Christmas gift books, and the " chiss of
drawers " boasts two more. The proverb about look-
ing a gift horse in the mouth is known in the " lil
islan' " almost as well as in the greater, but Sarah
would be forgiven if she looked the historical steed
square in the jaws. Every Christmas present the
poor girl had took the form of a copy of the royal
work. I gave one without consul ting the Warrior,
266 THE ISLE OF MAN
he gave one without consulting me, the vicar's wife
presented a third without thinking, and Mattoo con-
tributed a fourth because he thought too much. It
was really rather like the picnic to which every single
person took a ham, and nothing in the wide world
else. Not a life-saving morsel of bread, or a dab of
mustard, nor a knife, nor a fork, just a glut of hams,
smoked and plain, enough to set up a provision shop
in a creditable way of business.
Fate, tricksy dame, had played no pranks with
Mattoo's happiness. His cup overflowed with the
lavishness of Sarah's thought. She quite overlooked
the counsel of the cynic to femininity, who advocated
the keeping of a deep store-chest, stoutly padlocked,
for the love which often dies of indigestion, and needs
a frugal menu.
" He thinks ter'ble heavy," volunteered Sarah, her
hands in the flour. This was an enigma. Thinks
terrible heavy ! Ah, Mattoo is a deep erudite dreamer,
beyond the ken of his wife, no draw-back this, in these
days of omelette souffle brains.
" Yiss, he sets down there immajent, and ' Aw, the
tired I am for all. Don't talk to me, Sarah, bogh, I'll
be thinking.' And it's asleep he is. He thinks ter'ble
heavy, ter'ble heavy."
Clever Mattoo ! For Sarah's a wearying chatter-
box.
" Think too," I advised. " Retaliate on the prin-
ciple of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
" Aw dear, me think ! " and she laughed.
Well, of course it was rather amusing. She never
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 267
had a thought in her head. Went on expecting the
hens to lay long after they had gone " clorky " and
demanded a dozen eggs apiece for themselves. I for-
get. Perhaps you will not know what " gone clorky "
means. It is the Manx way of saying " broody,"
and a very ingenious definition too, if you come to
think of it, for the fowls do say " clork ! " in between
moments of strenuous fussiness.
Through the small panes of the window we can see
the fleet streaking off to the horizon, Mattoo's craft
forging ahead. Sarah can always pick his vessel from
all the rest. To me, to you, every nickey looks alike,
same fore and aft, same beam, same lug sail, same
mizzen, but to a fisherman and his belongings some
divination, intuition, or second-sight explains who's
who in the herring-boat world.
Do you know why the Manx vessels are called
nickeys ? They used to be termed smacks, until the
Cornishmen came over to the herrings in 1850, or
thereabouts, and introduced a different style of rig
into the island. Almost every Cornishman bore the
Christian name of Nicholas, just as so many Manxmen
bear the surname of Christian, and in revolutionizing
the old type of fishing smack the Manx gave the
Phoenix rising from the ashes the commemorative
title of " Nickey."
CHAPTER XV
THE CLOSE AND SPRING TIME
Flowers o' the Spring.
The Winter's Tale.
Here's flowers for you.
The Winter's Tale.
I'M nearing the port, after a long, long week away. It
is my birthday, too. I want to make haste to the glen
and gather primroses, primroses, a wealth of the
golden stars, to decorate the cake which will be the
piece-de-resistance of my party. There is nobody to
" party " with me save the Warrior, but, after all, he
is like Mannanaris solitary soldier, the necromancy of
my mind makes him seem a host in himself.
Spring is in all the air, and countless birds sing of
summer days to come. On a fragile branch of gorse,
so slender that it dips in bow-like curve, a little yellow-
hammer, his coat in glory of splendour, chants his
trilling song, a different lilt to his greedy summer call,
for 'tis a witching lure, a joyous note of pleading ten-
derness.
" Love-me-a-little-if-you-can ! Love-me-a-little-if-
you-can ! " dropping his voice persuasively. " Love-
me-a-little-if-you-can ! "
268
I
THE RETURN
THE CLOSE AND SPRING TIME 269
Poised like a klipspringer on a pinnacle of rock,
high over the vast labyrinthine caves of the inlet, the
first visitor of summer is climbing on and on, to the
wind-swept uplands. Whether she will ever reach
them is another story, for she battles with a lengthy
skirt as she crawls from point to point, and realizes at
every step, with the Chevalier D'Eon, that it is one
thing to live in petticoats in times of peace, and quite
another hi times of stress.
The glinting staircase of the noonday sun outlines
in gold a lazily drifting boat with a watchful fluke-
spearer gazing intently down, down into the sandy
shallows. His two-pronged trident catches the light
as the gleaming fork strikes into the sea with lightning
dart.
Amid the green-tipped stems of the little glen a
thrush throbbed o'er the silence, and above all is the
hush and the scent and the expectancy of spring.
The glade is carpeted with blossoms, the yellow of the
primroses commingles with the wild hyacinths, whose
nodding bells toll for ever the death of Hyacinthus,
and on the tongued petals we can still trace Apollo's
grief. Look carefully and you can read the fragile
sign, the symbol of the Greek Woe ! Woe ! A cry
from the heart of a god.
Wherever you go a world of colour, wreathing the
marge of the silver stream, and from out the fern-
filled mossy hollows the violets, scentless, sweetly
obtrusive, peep up, and seem to ask to be gathered.
The jewels of the treasure-house are so many I shall
scarce be robbing if I take a few.
270 THE ISLE OF MAN
But someone else is here before me, someone
his hands are full of flowers ! Garden pansies, too,
and that's for thoughts.
The spirit of spring, scattering her wealth, flickers
across the river, and decks the glade with a miracle of
wondrous blossoming. " The time of the singing birds
is come." Down the emerald rift the little harbinger
chants on and on in torrents of melody, sweetly,
sibilantly, " Love-me-a-little-if-you-can ! Love-me-a-
little-if-you-can ! "
GLOSSARY
GLOSSARY
A win, river
Bane, vane, white
Beg, veg, small
Broogh, brow, bank
Carnane, cairn
Carrick, rock
Claddagh, waste
Clogh, stone
Cronk, hill
Curragh, fen
Cushag, ragwort
Dhoo, black
Dubb, pool
Elian, island
Ghaw, chasm
Keeil, chapel
Kione, head
Lag, hollow
Lhergy, hillside
Lough, lake
Meanagh, middle
Mooar, vooar, large,
great
Slieau, mountain
Stack, stacklike rock
Traie, shore, beach
TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND
THE RECORD OF A SHOOTING TRIP.
By AGNES HERBERT. With numerous
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. Price, izs. 6d. net.
Postage 6d. extra. <$> <$ 6 <2> <&
SOME PRESS OPINIONS.
pr .
pleasure, while the whole volume contains such a record of interesting and thrilling
adventure as one rarely meets with."
The Field. " The story is told with great animation throughout, and with a
sense of humour that carries one on attentively to the end. We shall be much
mistaken if this very attractive volume on big game shooting is not soon in a
second edition."
The Athenaum. "That most attractive book, 'Two Dianas in Somaliland,'
which shows the author to be almost as skilful with her pen as with the rifle ; and
that is saying a great deal. The book is exceptionally interesting."
Thi County Gentleman. " Miss Herbert's light, breezy style in dealing with the
humours of camp life is highly entertaining. We have never read a more piquantly
written narrative of big game shooting."
Country Life. " This sprightly and amusing book, full of wild life and adventure,
of difficulties and dangers pluckily overcome is a welcome change after the
innumerable recitals of ' mere man ' in Africa."
The World. " Miss Herbert wields her pen to good purpose. She has a keen
sense of humour, she goes straight to the point, she scorns padding in purple
patches, and yet so vivid is her style that she at once interests the reader in her
subject. No man, and few women, will fail to follow her to the end of her
adventures."
The Liverpool Post. " It is a most chatty and vivacious account. The book
can be enjoyed by all, sportsmen or not, and it will assuredly take an honoured
place among its kind."
The Daily News." Certain to receive a friendly welcome from the general
reader. A keen eye for the humorous side of things, a fluent and lively pen, and
occasionally the display of a somewhat caustic wit, make the volume most amusing
reading. We congratulate the authoress on the lively narrative. One can only
hope that she will once again go a-hunting, and once again tell its story."
The Birmingham Post. "This is a book to read, if only for its delightfully
unconventional vein ; and there is a subtle suggestion of romance about it too."
The Dundee Advertiser. " The book in some respects is marvellous. It is the
revelation of a sportswoman's mind. Miss Herbert has a facile pen."
The Manchester Courier. " Miss Herbert's book is written light-heartedly. It is
a delightfully humorous and witty record. It is also an assuming one."
The Daily Telegraph. "This finely-printed and well-illustrated volume is a
thoroughly entertaining and amusing record. Every sportsman will find this brisk
and vivacious narrative to his taste."
The Daily Mail. " ' Two Dianas in Somaliland ' is a book out of the common
run . . . very attractive reading."
The Scotsman. "Certainly no one who reads this narrative will fail to be
keenly interested and amused."
The D^aily Chronicle. " You need not be a sportsman or a sportswoman to
enjoy this book, because it has a vivacity which would carry any reader along. It
is written with the merry heart that goes all the day, and it has much to record
besides lion killing."
The Evening Standard. " We are sure that no such story was ever related with
greater charm or incisiveness. The volume is very welcome."
TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND.
SOME PRESS OPINIONS Continued.
The Morning Past. " One of the freshest and most attractive books on sport of
the year."
The Nottingham Express. " It can safely be said that not since Selous was at
the height of his fame has such an entrancing story of a big shoot seen the light of
day. It not only deserves more than a little autumn season of fame and then cease
to be ; it is a book which should live long."
The Glasgow Herald. " We have to announce a rarely exhilarating book. One
of the most vivid and high-spirited accounts of a shooting expedition on record.
Miss Herbert gives us entrancing accounts of jungle life."
The Literary World. " So bright and graphic is every page of Miss Herbert's
book, that even the non-sportsman will thrill with the joy of the chase as he reads."
M.A.P. " This is quite a remarkable book. It is something more than a book
of travel and sport. It is light and epigrammatic, and happily humorous. The
reader will have a lively time with this volume. It is certainly entrancing."
Pall Mall Gazette. "The book proved of such interest to the present reviewer
that he found himself in the small hours closing the volume with regret. Miss
Herbert's book is well worth reading."
The Ladies' Field. "This book has the rare charm which an individual style
gives to vivid personal experiences. We hope that everyone who can will read a
book which is the best story of a big game shooting expedition we have read this
year."
The Liverpool Courier. "The book is a most entertaining and readable
narrative. The author has a happy knack of picturesque description, while the
raciness of her style and her keen and witty observation make the reading of the
book a genuine pleasure."
The Western Morning News. " Highly interesting reading."
The Spectator. " Chivajry and fair criticism alike force us to give the place of
honour among recent sporting books to the ' Two Dianas.' We are captivated in
spite of ourselves. By the time the most prejudiced reader gets to the end he will
admit that he has been well entertained."
Forest and Stream, U.S.A. " One lays aside the book with the regret that its
pages number but three hundred. The book is one of the most interesting of
the year."
The Boston Herald, U.S.A. " Such is the manner of this intensely entertaining
book. Miss Herbert can write poetically as well as humorously."
New York Times. " This record is a fascinating one."
The Times of India. "The adventures are graphically related, and the book
forms entertaining reading."
The Pioneer, ludin. " The story, without any straining at the jocose the bane
of most sporting stories is brightened up by flashes of genuine humour and by no
little graphic power. There is not a dull or dry chapter in the book."
The British and South African^ Export Gazette. "Miss Agnes Herbert writes
naturally, always without embellishment or effort, and invariably with a sparkle
that irresistibly brings a smile, qualities which, notwithstanding her mode_st and
unassuming denial to literary pretensions, unquestionably point to her being an
authoress of more than ordinary merit. In short, all who read her delightful
volume will doubtless share our hope that it will not be long before she again
gives the public some further contributions from so capable and facile a pen."
Le Chenil. " ' Tout est dans tout," comme on dit et nous ne pouvons mieux faire
d'imiter Miss Agnes Herbert en emprunant le mot de la fin k son poet favori ; ' Well
roared, lion ; Well run, Thisbe ; Well shone, moon ; Well moused, lion,' pour
applaudir tous les acteurs de ce drame cynegetique vecu au pays Noir."
The New York Tribune. " This book bubbles with the spirit of fun. An enter-
taining and gay record. The reader finds the ' Two Dianas ' delightful company."
The Newcastle Chronicle. " The charm of the book lies in the incidents that are
detached from the actual killing and in the droll observations of the authoress on
men and things."
TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA
By AGNES HERBERT & a SHIKARI.
With numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
Price, I2J. 6d. net. Postage 6d. extra. $ 6
SOME PRESS OPINIONS.
The Sportsman. "The warm and lengthy praise we gave to the companion
volume ' Two Dianas in Somaliland ' might be repeated. They should have a
place in every sportsman's library ; nay, in far more, for the piquancy of the style,
and the charming friendliness of it all, enthral the reader."
The Field. "The story is told by Miss Herbert with all the free and joyous spirit
which characterised her former volume; the same love of exploration, admiration
for the beauty in nature, keenness for sport, and withal a womanly restraint and
tender-heartedness. "
Country Life. "Miss Herbert's hand has lost nothing of its sprightliness, she
describes graphically and with never failing nerve many exciting hunts. It is to
the full as daring and lively as the Somaliland volume."
Vanity Fair. "The most fascinating sporting book I have read this_ year, and
quite the best written. In a dozen ways I found the book captivating. Miss
Herbert's success is as emphatic in book-making as in hunting."
The Academy. " We commend ' Two Dianas in Alaska' to many readers . . .
an amusing and picturesque journey. Scenery is powerfully described, and so are
the effects of light and shade and the flight of birds. But the ways of the moose
provide the most attractive reading of all."
The Daily Telegraph. " This is a delightful book, of equal interest to the
sportsman and the general reader. Light and bright are the pages. We heartily
recommend this book to all readers. It is all admirable."
Ladies' Field. "Not less delightful than 'Two Dianas in Somaliland.' If
anyone turns aside from this book because he or she is indifferent to sport they will
lose some very pleasant hours. It is a charming book, and has not a dull page in it
from first to last."
Daily Graphic. " The whole book is amazing good reading. The best book of
sport and travel that we have seen this season."
Yorkshire Post. "This is a book of high spirits, mixed with philosophy. In
these prosaic days a romance from real life is not to be resisted."
The^ Queen. " Very entertaining reading. It must not be thought that the work
is entirely devoted to hunting, the scenery, places, and human beings are also
described in very happy fashion."
The Morning Post. " This delightful book. Lively is a poor name for it, it
scintillates with life. We are soon carried away with the zest of it, and the irre-
pressible humour which bubbles out on every page."
The_ Manchester Courier. "Those who had the good fortune to encounter the
charming record of the ' Two Dianas in Somaliland ' will want no recommendation
to the equally sprightly description of their adventures in Alaska. Miss Herbert
has a ready sense of humour, and her wayside jottings are inimitable."
Fortnightly Review. " Miss Herbert has a happy knack of amusing the reader
on almost every page of her bright narrative, and this alone places her above the
majority of writers on travel. It is with her asides, her not unkindly satire, her
unabated philosophy, that Miss Herbert attracts the reader."
Pall Mall Gazette. "Miss Herbert has a pretty wit, word-pictures of magic
beauty. The book is witty, picturesque, exciting, and the effect on the tired brain
of a dweller in cities is that of a breeze bringing health from a salutary land."
TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA.
SOME PRESS OPINIONS Continued.
Liverpool Courier. " Lightheartedly attractive. Miss Herbert is an observer
and a thinker, and certainly wields a charming pen."
Daily News " Far superior both in literary merit and interest to the common
run. Should secure a wide popularity."
Literary World. " Right gladly we do renew our acquaintance with the two
Dianas. The book is one of the very best big-game books that we have read."
Manchester Guardian. " Full of interest, and we are constantly amused by her
dry-point observations on men and animals."
Daily Chronicle. "It is an amusing and interesting narrative all through.
Those who do not like killing will find many other things in this book that they will
like. Miss Herbert's humour is of refreshing variety. She can observe and
describe as well as shoot."
Liverpool Post. " The charm of the book is its style, the feminine chatter that
rambles through the pages, the personal equation in all observations made, and
the little battles of quip and counter-quip."
Sporting Life. "A Book that should take a prominent place in the library of
big-game hunters. The authors have written so that the reader feels that he or she
is of the party. We commend the book to all."
The Scotsman. " Very attractive reading. Brightly and wittily told, with a
keen appreciation of the beauties of the wilderness."
Westminster Gazette. " As bright and cheerful a record of sport as any I have
read. Excellent descriptions of the country and natives."
Mrning Leader. "Very brightly written. Miss Herbert has a light, humorous
touch."
The Standard. " This volume may be recommended as sure to_ entertain. It is
voicing the cry of the wild so vividly and sympathetically that gives to this work
its distinctive character."
Dundee Advertiser." ' Two Dianas in Alaska ' is a delightful book. Most
readable. Literary ability much above the average."
The Nation. " Clever to brilliancy."
Outlook. " All the completeness of a well-constructed novel. Racy descriptions
of quaint scenes and quainter peoples."
Western Press. " There is not a dull page in the book. Delightful chapters."
Birmingham Post. " Better we think than Miss Herbert's previous narrative of
sport in Somaliland. We trust there may be other books to follow from this
accomplished sportswoman."
Bristol Mercury. " The whole narrative is presented with a delightful freshness
and buoyancy, keenness of observation being allied to engaging powers of descrip-
tive writing and a full appreciation of humour."
Glasgow News. "One of the freshest and most interesting travel books of the
season."
Yorkshire Observer. "Something more than a book of travel and sport. It
reveals an individual style at once racy and vivid, with here and there an epigram-
matic sentence of quiet philosophical humour peculiar to the writer."
Evening Standard. " The story is told with a, vivid directness and enthusiasm
which, coupled with a marked talent for descriptive prose, make very good reading."
South Africa. "This is surely the most delightful sporting book of the season.
A most fascinating book for the general reader. Get this enchanting and well
illustrated book."
Boston Transcript, U. S. A. "A welcome addition to the literature of big-game
shooting. Love of exploration, admiration of the beautiful in nature, tender-
heartedness of a true woman."
Record-Herald, Chicago. "Lightly written and interesting. Sympathy and
spirit, fun and humour."
THE LOG OF THE GRIFFIN
THE STORY OF A CRUISE FROM THE
ALPS TO THE THAMES. By DONALD
MAXWELL. With illustrations by the Author
and Cottington Taylor. Demy 8vo. los. 6d. net.
PRESS OPINIONS
Spectator. " A lively book, written in a pleasant, leisurely fashion, and giving
details of a most remarkable enterprise. . . . Mr. Maxwell has a genuine humour."
Daily Graphic. " The story of her brief but eventful career is told uncommonly
well, and the author's illustrations are excellent."
Literary World. "Not a dull page from beginning to end. . . . The descrip-
tions of people, customs, and scenery, and the many incidents of travel make up
altogether some of the most entertaining reading it has for a long time been our
pleasure to come across. . . . The illustrations are of a very high order."
Dundee Advertiser. "Since An Inland Voyage delighted countless readers
there has not been a book so fresh, amusing and funny as The Log of the Griffin.
... A thoroughly pleasant and natural book with a fine flavour of the open air
about it."
Pall Mall Gazette. " There is plenty of humour and variety of incident. The
illustrations are quaint, artistic, and appropriate."
St. James' 's Gazette. "Sumptuously framed and illustrated and racily written.
. . . The Swiss pictures are lovely, and all the descriptions as bright as possible."
Glasgow Herald. "His (the author's) bright and genial humour has imparted
to the narrative a charm which no summary, even if it were helped by quotation,
could hope to reproduce, or even faintly to indicate. ... A clever and thoroughly
enjoyable book."
Bristol Times. "Mr. Maxwell tells a most entertaining story. ... It is,
indeed, very rare to get so delightful a series of sketches."
Rapid Review. " Most amusing. . . . A very acceptable gift book."
Daily Mail. " Brightly written, beautifully illustrated, and superbly produced."
T.P.'s Weekly. "The kind of work, I think, that would have pleased Stevenson
. . . pleasant, picturesque, good humoured."
Bookman. " A wonder-book of charm and merit."
Standard. " Finely illustrated. . . . There are many delightful and really
artistic pictures in a book which is written throughout with abundant humour
and in an easy style."
Land and Water. "A book to re-read many a time, this, with new delight at
each fresh perusal."
Leeds Mercury." Entertaining. ... In his method of writing Mr. Maxwell
reminds us of Mr. Jerome at his best."
Notts Daily Express. " Charming. ... It is a veritable edition de luxe, and
one cannot praise the general get-up of the book too highly. The cover is a work
of art in itself."
Birmingham Post. " Mr. Maxwell is a vivacious writer . . . the numerous
artistic illustrations by the author and Cottington Taylor add much to the charm
of the narrative."
Bookseller. "An exceptionally attractive volume. . . . Though the tale itself
is so charming, the illustrations by the author and his friend, Mr. Cottington
Taylor, are, if possible, still more delightful."
Sydney Mail. "There is a freshness of observation and a bubbling humour
throughout, which make this a most entertaining book."
LONDON : JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD, VIGO STREET, W.
A CRUISE ACROSS EUROPE :
NOTES ON A FRESHWATER VOYAGE
FROM HOLLAND TO THE BLACK SEA.
By DONALD MAXWELL. With nearly 200
Illustrations by the Author and Cottington
Taylor. los. 6d. net. $ $> <g>
PRESS OPINIONS.
Guardian. " A book of delightfully unconventional travel. Their illustrations
and sketches are excellent throughout, while the frontispiece 'In the Land of the
Willow Forest,' is a g_em. Such a book will appeal to a select public, but that
public will appreciate it."
Standard. "The volume, which is illustrated with some clever drawings, is
brightly written."
Globe. " A pretty frontispiece in colour and a large number of excellent and
characteristic drawings in black and white give a seasonable look to the book, Mr.
Maxwell's cheery and amusing account of a fresh-water trip undertaken by himself,
and his friend and fellow artist Mr. Cottington Taylor. . . . The trip was on all
accounts an interesting and original one."
Daily Graphic. " This diverting and admirable narrative . . . spontaneous and
entirely delightful humour. Some of the lightest and pleasantest reading we have
met with for a long time past. The illustrations are as charming as the letterpress."
Daily Telegraph. " The illustrations by the author and Mr. Cottington Taylor
are excellent, both they and the letterpress are full of humour . . . the chapter in
which is described the mistake of an entire village which took the travellers for two
holy men under a vow of pilgrimage to Palestine is a gem."
Pall Mall Gazette. " Anyhow it is a very pleasing record of a novel trip, as
amusing and as delightful as Mr. Maxwell's previous book on a Cruise from the Alps
to the Thames."
Speaker. " The book, which is well illustrated by the author and his companion,
is full of interest, showing the lights and shadows of such a trip, and may be used
as a guide book by those who are disposed to try similar ventures."
Literary World. "A good deal of fun, happily and humorously described.
The narrative is lightly and brightly written, and the many good drawings add
much to the interest of the volume."
Yachting Monthly. "Mr. Maxwell has made one of the most extraordinary
fresh-water cruises on record a voyage, moreover, which he has described most
charmingly with pen and pencil."
Liverpool Post. " Mr. Maxwell's story of the Walrus's exciting adventures is one
of the jolliest and most entertaining we have read for ajlong time. Mr. Maxwell
moreover has a considerable gift of humour. The illustrations are of quite excep-
tional interest."
AthentEttm. " Is a racy description. Mr. Donald Maxwell writes brightly and
naturally. Mr. Maxwell's illustrations show a nice feeling for skies and buildings.
The sketches of the willow forests on the Danube, too, are appropriately dreamy."
Leeds Mercury. " There is a spontaneity and a dry humour in the account of
the cruise so often wanting in work of this type. . . . Make amusing reading. From
cover to cover it is packed with most charming drawings which will be an incentive
to most readers to follow in their wake. The frontispiece ' In the Land of the
Willow Forest ' is especially a beautiful piece of work reproduced under Mr.
Maxwell's direction."
THE WORKS OF
ANATOLE FRANCE
IN AN ENGLISH
TRANSLATION EDITED
BY FREDERIC CHAPMAN
Uniform, Demy 8vo.
6s.
$1.75 net.
LONDON : JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY.
TORONTO: BELL AND COCKBURN.
AN APPRECIATION OF
ANATOLE FRANCE
By WILLIAM J. LOCKE
THE personal note in Anatole France's novels is never more surely
felt than when he himself, in some disguise, is either the pro-
tagonist or the raisonneur of the drama. It is the personality of
Monsieur Bergeret that sheds its sunset kindness over the sordid
phases of French political and social life presented in the famous
series. It is the charm of Sylvestre Bonnard that makes an idyll
of the story of his crime. It is Doctor Trublet in Histoire
Comique who gives humanity to the fantastic adventure. It is
Maitre Jerome Coignard whom we love unreservedly in La
Rotisserie de la Reine Pedauque. No writer is more personal.
No writer views human affairs from a more impersonal standpoint.
He hovers over the world like a disembodied spirit, wise with the
learning of all times and with the knowledge of all hearts that have
beaten, yet not so serene and unfleshly as not to have pre-
served a certain tricksiness, a capacity for puckish laughter which
echoes through his pages and haunts the ear when the covers of
the book are closed. At the same time he appears unmistakably
before you, in human guise, speaking to you face to face in human
tones. He will present tragic happenings consequent on the little
follies, meannesses and passions of mankind with an emotion-
lessness which would be called delicate cruelty were the view
point that of one of the sons of earth, but ceases to be so when
the presenting hands are calm and immortal ; and yet shining
through all is the man himself, loving and merciful, tender and
warm. ... In most men similarly endowed there has been a
conflict between the twin souls which has generally ended in the
strangling of the artist ; but in the case of Anatole France they
have worked together in bewildering harmony. The philosopher
has been mild, the artist unresentful. In amity therefore they
have proclaimed their faith and their unfaith, their aspirations
and their negations, their earnestness and their mockery. And
since they must proclaim them in one single voice, the natural
consequence, the resultant as it were of the two forces, has been
a style in which beauty and irony are so subtly interfused as to
make it perhaps the most alluring mode of expression in con-
temporary fiction.
The following Volumes appear in the Uniform
English Edition of Anatole France's works :
THE RED LILY
A TRANSLATION BY WINIFRED STEPHENS
MOTHER OF PEARL
A TRANSLATION BY THE EDITOR
THE GARDEN OF EPICURUS
A TRANSLATION BY ALFRED ALLINSON
THE CRIME OF SILVESTRE BONNARD
A TRANSLATION BY LAFCADIO HEARN
THE WELL OF ST. CLARE
A TRANSLATION BY ALFRED ALLINSON
THAIS
A TRANSLATION BY ROBERT BRUCE DOUGLAS
THE WICKER-WORK WOMAN
A TRANSLATION BY M. P. WILLCOCKS
THE WHITE STONE
A TRANSLATION BY C. E. ROCHE
PENGUIN ISLAND
A TRANSLATION BY A. W. EVANS
BALTHASAR
A TRANSLATION BY MRS. JOHN LANE
THE ELM TREE ON THE MALL
A TRANSLATION BY M. P. WILLCOCKS
ON LIFE AND LETTERS. FIRST SERIES
A TRANSLATION BY A. W. EVANS
THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNE-
BROCHE. A TRANSLATION BY ALFRED ALLINSON
[OVER
JOHN LANE : THE BODLEY HEAD, VIGO ST., W.
AT THE SIGN OF THE REINE PEDAUQUE
A TRANSLATION BY MRS. WILFRID JACKSON
JOCASTA AND THE FAMISHED CAT
A TRANSLATION BY MRS. FARLEY
THE ASPIRATIONS OF JEAN SERVIEN
A TRANSLATION BY ALFRED ALLINSON
THE OPINIONS OF JEROME COIGNARD
A TRANSLATION BY MRS. WILFRID JACKSON
MY FRIEND'S BOOK
A TRANSLATION BY J. LEWIS MAY
ON LIFE AND LETTERS. SECOND, THIRD, AND
FOURTH SERIES
A TRANSLATION BY A. W. EVANS
THE GODS ARE ATHIRST
A TRANSLATION BY ALFRED ALLINSON
In addition to the above, the following
translations of Anatole France's works have
been published
JOAN OF ARC
A TRANSLATION BY WINIFRED STEPHENS
With 8 Illustrations. Two Vols. 255. net. $8.00.
HONEY BEE
A TRANSLATION BY MRS. JOHN LANE
With 1 6 Illustrations in Colour, End Papers, Title-
page, and Cover by FLORENCE LUNDBORG. 55. $i .50.
JOHN LANE : THE BODLEY HEAD, VIGO ST., W.
Those who possess old letters, documents, corre-
spondence, MSS., scraps of autobiography, and
also miniatures and portraits, relating to persons
and matters historical, literary, political and social,
should communicate with Mr. John Lane, The
Bodley Head, Vigo Street, London, W., who will
at all times be pleased to give his advice and
assistance, either as to their preservation or
publication.
Mr. Lane also undertakes the planning and
printing of family papers, histories and pedigrees.
LIVING MASTERS OF MUSIC.
An Illustrated Series of Monographs dealing with
Contemporary Musical Life, and including
Representatives of all Branches of the Art.
Edited by ROSA NEWMARCH.
Crown Svo. Cloth. Price 2/6 net.
HENRY J. WOOD. By ROSA NEWMARCH.
SIR EDWARD ELGAR. By R. J. BUCKLEY.
JOSEPH JOACHIM. By J. A. FULLER
MAITLAND.
THEODOR LESCHETIZKY. By ANNETTE
HULLAH.
ALFRED BRUNEAU By ARTHUR HERVEY.
GIACOMO PUCCINI. By WAKELING DRY.
IGNAZ PADEREWSKI. By E. A. BAUGHAN.
CLAUDE DEBUSSY. By MRS. FRANZ LIEBICH.
RICHARD STRAUSS. By ERNEST NEWMAN.
GRANVILLE BANTOCK. By H. O.
ANDERTON.
STARS OF THE STAGE.
A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED BIOGRAPHIES OF THE
LEADING ACTORS, ACTRESSES, AND DRAMATISTS.
Edited by J. T. GREIN.
Crown Svo. Price 2/6 each net.
ELLEN TERRY. By CHRISTOPHER ST. JOHN.
SIR HERBERT BEERBOHM TREE. By MRS.
GEORGE CRAN.
SIR W. S. GILBERT. By EDITH A. BROWNE.
SIR CHARLES WYNDHAM. By FLORENCE
TEIGNMOUTH SHORE.
A CATALOGUE OF
MEMOIR, 'BIOGRAPHIES, ETC.
THE WORKS OF JOHN HOPPNER, R.A.
By WILLIAM MACKAY and W. ROBERTS. Imperial 410. With
50 Photogravure Plates, the majority of which are taken from
pictures never before reproduced, and a frontispiece printed in
colours from the Photogravure plate. 500 copies only printed.
With supplement, 5 guineas net.
%* Mr. John Lane has pleasure in announcing that he has taken over the 150
copies of this book originally published by Messrs. Colnaghi which still remain
of the 500 copies originally printed. Mr. Roberts is writing an introduction to
bring the work thoroughly up-to-date and this will include all the latest in-
formation on the subject and will further contain extra illustrations. Those who
possess copies of the original and wish to obtain copies of the supplement alone,
will be able to do so at the price of One Guinea net.
THE KEATS LETTERS, PAPERS AND OTHER
RELICS. Reproduced in facsimile from the late Sir Charles
Dilke's Bequest to the Corporation of Hampstead. With full
transcriptions and notes edited by GEORGE C. WILLIAMSON, Litt. D.
Forewords by THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON, an Introduction by
H. BUXTON FORMAN, C.B., and an Essay upon the Keats
Portraiture by the Editor. With 8 Portraits of Keats and 57
Plates in Collotype upon a special hand-made paper designed to
match old letter paper. Limited to 320 copies. Imperial 410.
3 guineas net.
%* The fine collection of Keats' relics formed by the late Sir Charles W.
Dilke, Bart., was bequeathed by his generosity to the Public Library at
Hampstead, as a joint memorial of the poet, and of his friend Charles Wentworth
Dilke, grandfather of the testator. The collection comprises a number of most
important and interesting letters written by and to the poet from the time of the
publication of his first volume of poems in 1817, to October, 1820, and includes a
letter from Naples to Mrs. Brawne shortly before his death. The bequest also
contains a number of books, which were among the most cherished possessions
of the poet, and their interest is considerably enhanced by the numerous marks
and marginal notes by Keats.
ALASTA1R. Forty-three Drawings in Colour and
Black and White. With a Note of Exclamation by ROBERT
Ross. Demy 410. Limited to 500 copies for England and
America. 425. net.
** This beautiful gift book contains thirty-five facsimiles in collotype and
eight in colour, and has a cover and end papers specially designed by Alastair.
This remarkable young artist prefers to be known without the usual prefix
denoting rank or nationality. His astonishing powers as a draughtsman and
decorator have been proved by the unqualified success of his exhibition at the
Dowdeswell Galleries.
A CATALOGUE OF
TAPESTRIES : THEIR ORIGIN, HISTORY,
AND RENAISSANCE. By GEORGE LELAND HUNTER. With
four full-page Plates in Colour, and 147 Half-tone Engravings.
Square 8vo. Cloth. i6s. net.
%* This is a fascinating book on a fascinating subject. It is written by a
scholar whose passion for accuracy and original research did not prevent him
from making a story easy to read. It answers the questions people are always
asking as to how tapestries differ from paintings, and good tapestries from bad
tapestries. It will interest lovers of paintings and rugs and history and fiction,
for it shows how tapestries compare with paintings in picture interest, with rugs
in texture interest, and with Historic and other novels in romantic interest;
presenting on a magnificent scale the stories of the Iliad and the Odyssey, the
.neid and the Metamorphoses, the Bible and the Saints, Ancient and Medieval
History and Romance. In a word, the book is indispensable to lovers of art and
literature in general, as well as to tapestry amateurs, owners, and dealers.
THE VAN EYCKS AND THEIR ART. By
W. H. JAMES WEALE, with the co-operation of MAURICE
BROCKWELL. With numerous Dlustrations. Demy 8vo.
12$. 6d. net.
FROM STUDIO TO STAGE. By WEEDON
GROSSMITH. With 32 full-page Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
1 6s. net.
%* Justly famous as a comedian of unique gifts, Mr. Weedon Grossmith is
nevertheless an extremely versatile personality, whose interests are by no means
confined to the theatre. These qualities have enabled him to write a most
entertaining book. He gives an interesting account of his early ambitions and
exploits as an artist, which career he abandoned lor that of an actor. He goes on
to describe some ot his most notable roles, and lets us in to little intimate
glimpses "behind the scenes," chats pleasantly about all manner of celebrities in
the land of Bohemia and out of it, tells many amusing anecdotes, and like a true
comedian is not bashful when the laugh is against himself. The book is well
supplied with interesting illustrations, some of them reproductions of the
author's own work.
FANNY BURNEY AT THE COURT OF
QUEEN CHARLOTTE. By CONSTANCE HILL. Author of
" The House in St. Martin Street," " Juniper Hall," etc. With
numerous Illustrations by ELLEN G. HILL and reproductions of
contemporary Portraits, etc. Demy 8vo. 1 6s. net.
AND THAT REMINDS ME. By STANLEY COXON.
With a Frontispiece and 40 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. I2s.6d.net.
%* The author, who began life on board a merchantman and ended his
working career in the Indian Civil Service, has put together his reminiscences
in a very readable form. In Burma, India, and Australia, he lived a life of
adventure, and combined his duties with an experience of sport. His stories
include a good deal of big game shooting, and his description ot the social side
of life, and the character-is lies of native races is highly amusing.
The hardships of a life at sea thirty-five years ago are told in true sailor
fashion, and the author's varied experiences have been turned to good account
for the production of a narrative which includes the life of a middy in the
Merchant Service, active service in the Royal Indian Marine and the suppression
of dacoity. The author then spent some yeara in Burma. The visit of Prince
Albert Victor to Rangoon is a pleasant incident in a series of events, all of which
are highly interesting.
MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC.
THE STORY OF DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA.
By PADRE Luis COLOMA, S.J., of the Real Academia Espafiola.
Translated by LADY MORETON. With Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
1 6s. net.
** "This book has all the fascination of a vigorous roman a cltf . . . the
translation is vigorous and idiomatic." Mr. Ostnan Edwards in Morning Post.
A PLAYMATE OF PHILIP II. By LADY
MORETON. Author of " Don John of Austria," etc. With
Seventeen Illustrations. Demy 8vo. xos. 6d. net.
** Don Martin IV. was one of the most distinguished members of one of the
first families in Spain and lived at a time when Spain was at the height of her
glory. He was the playmate and afterwards the personal friend of Philip II. (the
husband of Queen Mary of England) and accompanied him on his visit to this
country. It was indeed this monarch who gave him his nickname of " The
Philosopher of Aragon."
THIRTEEN YEARS OF A BUSY WOMAN'S
LIFE. By Mrs. ALEC TWEEDIE. With Nineteen Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. i6s. net. Third Edition.
% "One of the gayest and sanest surveys of English society we have read
for years." Pall Mall Gaeette.
* M * "A pleasant laugh from cover to cover." Daily Chronicle.
THE ANGLO-FRENCH ENTENTE IN THE
XVIIxH CENTURY. By CHARLES BASTIDE. With Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. IDS. 6d. net.
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. By JOSEPH
TURQUAN. Author of "The Love Affairs of Napoleon,"
"The Wife of General Bonaparte." Illustrated. Demy 8vo.
izs. 6d. net.
* "The Empress Josephine" continues and completes the graphically
drawn life story begun in "The Wife of General Bonaparte" by the same author,
takes us through the brilliant period of the Empire, shows us the srradual
development ana the execution of the Emperor's plan to divorce his middle-aged
wife, paints in vivid colours the picture of Josephine's existence after her divorce,
tells ns how she, although now nothing but his friend, still met him occasionally
and corresponded frequently with him, and how she passed her time in the midst
of her minature court
NAPOLEON IN CARICATURE : 1795-1821. By
A. M. BROADLEV. With an Introductory Essay on Pictorial Satire
as a Factor in Napoleonic History, by J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt. D.
(Cantab.). With 24 full-page Illustrations in Colour and upwards
of 200 in Black and White from rare and unique originals.
2 Vols. Demy 8vo. 425. net.
Also an Edition de Luxe. 10 guineas net.
A CATALOGUE OF
PAULINE BONAPARTE AND HER LOVERS
As revealed by contemporary witnesses, by her own love-letters,
and by the anti-Napoleonic pamphleteers. By HECTOR
FLEISCHMANN. Authorised Translation. Illustrated. Demy 8vo.
I2s. 6d. net.
"As long as human nature delights in the spectacle of dramatic vicissitudes,
the story of the rise and fall of the House of Bonaparte will retain its fascination.
The story of Napoleon himself, of course, is the story of genius seeing its
opportunity and forcing its way : and its personal interest is somewhat obscured
by its historical significance. The story of the various members of his family
belongs to a different category. Their rise in life, due to his genius, which none
of them shared, and his strong sense of the obligations of blood relationship, was
as fortuitous as if they had suddenly "come into money" through the demise
of a long-lost uncle in America ; and the interest which one feels in them is
largely the interest which one always feels in the behaviour of a parvenu in a
station to which he has been promoted through no merit of his own. Some of
them behaved decorously, others eccentrically and extravagantly ; and it is the
latter group which is the most diverting to read about. Jerome, for that reason,
makes a more powerful appeal to our imagination than Joseph, and Pauline
possesses a magnetic attraction denied to Madam Mere ; and Pauline's life is
here related admirably by M. Fleischmann. She was more than frivolous, her
"affaires" were countless. M. Fleischmann has told them admirably with a
sparkling wit and a true feeling for drama." Times.
NAPOLEON'S LAST CAMPAIGN IN GER-
MANY. By F. LORAINE PETRE. Author of "Napoleon's
Campaign in Poland," "Napoleon's Conquest of Prussia," etc.
With 17 Maps and Plans. Demy 8vo. izs. 6d. net.
NAPOLEON AT BAY, 1814. BY F. LORAINE
PETRE. With Maps and Plans. Demy 8vo. los. 6d. net.
THE STORY OF NAPOLEON'S DEATH
MASK. By G. L. DE ST. M. WATSON. Demy 8vo. 6s. net.
%* An historical and critical account of the most faithful and physical
presentment of the great Conqueror. By a study of original sources and re-
searches amongst the contemporary Press, the Lowe Papers, etc., the writer
proves beyond the doubt hitherto existing the English authorship of the death
mask so long a tributed to the Italian surgeon Antommarchi. The value to be
attached to the various casts put up for sale during the past year or two is
established comparatively in the light of an interesting recent discovery. The
book will be an indispensable adjunct to Napoleonic iconography and a sidelight
upon the " Last Phase" as well.
FOOTPRINTS OF FAMOUS AMERICANS IN
PARIS. By JOHN JOSEPH CONWAY, M.A. With 32 Full-page
Illustrations. With an Introduction by Mrs. JOHN LANE.
Demy 8vo. i zs. 6d. net.
** Franklin, Jefferson, Munroe, Tom Paine, La Fayette, Paul Jones, etc.,
etc., the most striking figures of a heroic age, working out in the City of Light
the great questions for which they stood, are dealt with here. Longfellow the
poet of the domestic affections ; matchless Margaret Fuller who wrote so well of
women in the nineteenth century ; Whistler master of American artists ; Saint-
Gaudens chief of American sculptors ; Rumford, most picturesque of scientific
knight-errants and several others get a chapter each for their lives and
achievements in Paris.
MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC.
MEMORIES OF JAMES McNEILL
WHISTLER : The Artist. By THOMAS R. WAY. Author of
" The Lithographs of J. M. Whistler," etc. With numerous
Illustrations. Demy 410. IDS. 6d. net.
%* This volume contains about forty illustrations, including an unpublished
etching drawn by Whistler and bitten in by Sir Frank Short, A.K.A., an original
lithograph sketch, seven lithographs in colour drawn by the Author upon brown
paper, and many in black and white. The remainder are facsimiles by photo-
lithography. In most cases the originals are drawings and sketches by Whistler
which have never been published before, and are closely connected with the
matter ot the book. The text deals with the Author's memories of nearly twenty
year's close association with Whistler, and he endeavours to treat only with the
man as an artist, and perhaps, especially as a lithographer.
*Also an EDITION DE LUXE on hand-made paper, with the etching
printed from the original plate. Limited to 50 copies.
This is Out of Print with the Publisher.
THE BEAUTIFUL LADY CRAVEN. The
original Memoirs of Elizabeth, Baroness Craven, afterwards Mar-
gravine of Anspach and Bayreuth and Princess Berkeley of the
Holy Roman Empire (1750-1828). Edited, with Notes and a
Bibliographical and Historical Introduction containing much
unpublished matter by A. M. BROADLEY and LEWIS MELVILLE.
With over 50 Illustrations. In 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 255. net.
IN PORTUGAL. By AUBREY F. G. BELL.
Author of " The Magic of Spain." Demy 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
%* The guide-books give full details of the marvellous convents, gorgeous
palaces, and solemn temples of Portugal, and no attempt is here made to write
complete descriptions of them, the very name of some of them being omitted.
But the guide-books too often treat Portugal as a continuation, almost as a province
of Spain. It is hoped that this little book may give some idea of the individual
character of the country, of the quaintnesses of its cities, and of peasant life in
its remoter districts. While the utterly opposed characters of the two peoples
must probably render the divorce between Spain and Portugal eternal, and reduce
hopes of union to the idle dreams of politicians. Portugal in itself contains an
infinite variety. Each of the eight provinces (more especially those of the
alemtcjanos, tninholos and bciiocs) preserves many peculiarities of language,
customs, and dress ; and each will, in return for hardships endured, give to the
traveller many a day of delight and interest.
A TRAGEDY IN STONE, AND OTHER
PAPERS. By LORD REDESDALE, G.C.V.O., K.C.C., etc.
Demy 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
** " From the author of 'Tales of Old Japan' his readers always hope for
more about Japan, and in this volume they will find it. The earlier papers,
however, are not to be passed over." Times.
** "Lord Redesdale's present volume consists of scholarly essays on a
variety ol subjects of historic, literary and artistic appeal." Standard.
** "The author of the classic 'Tales of Old Japan" is assured of welcome,
and the more so when he returns to the field in which his literary reputation was
made. Charm is never absent from his pages." Daily Chronicle.
A CATALOGUE OF
THE BERRY PAPERS. The Correspondence
hitherto unpublished of Mary and Agnes Berry (1763-1852).
By 'LEWIS MELVILLE. With 27 Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
zos. net.
THE LIFE OF JOHN WILKES. By HORACE
BLEACKLEY. Author of " Ladies Fair and Frail," " A Gentleman
of the Road," etc. With numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
1 6s. net.
NOLLEKENS AND HIS TIMES. By JOHN
THOMAS SMITH. Author of " A Book for a Rainy Day." First
Complete Edition since 1829. First Illustrated Edition. With
Biographical Introduction and about 900 Notes and an exhaustive
Index. Edited by WILFRED WHITTEN (JOHN o' LONDON). Author
of "A Londoner's London," etc. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 255. net.
AN IRISH BEAUTY OF THE REGENCY : By
MRS. WARRENNE BLAKE. Author of "Memoirs of a Vanished
Generation, 1813-1855." With a Photogravure Frontispiece and
other Illustrations. Demy 8vo. i6s. net.
%*The Irish Beauty is the Hon. Mrs. Calvert, daughter of Viscount Pery,
Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, and wife of Nicholson Calvert, M.P., of
Hunsdon. Born in 1767, Mrs. Calvert lived to the age of ninety-two, and there
are many people still living who remember her. In the delightful journals, now
for the first time published, exciting events are described.
THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY. By STEWART HOUSTON CHAMBERLAIN. A Translation
from the German by JOHN LEES. With an Introduction by
LORD REDESDALE. Demy 8vo. 2 vols. 255. net. Third
Edition.
** A man who can write such a really beautiful and solemn appreciation of
true Christianity, of true acceptance of Christ's teachings and personality, as
Mr. Chamberlain has done. . . . represents an influence to be reckoned with
and seriously to be taken into account. Theodore Roosevelt in the Outlook, New
Yotk.
** ' It is a masterpiece of really scientific history. It does not make con-
fusion, it clears it away. He is a great generalizer of thought, as distinguished
from the crowd of mere specialists. It is certain to stir up thought. Whoever
has not read it will be rather out of it in political and sociological discussions for
some time to come." George Bernard Shaw in Fabian News.
*** "This is unquestionably one of the rare books that really matter. His
judgments of men and things are deeply and indisputably sincere and are based
on immense reading . . . But even many well-informed people . . . will be
grateful to Lord Redesdale for the biographical details which he gives them in the
valuable and illuminating introduction contributed by him to this English
translation." Ttmes.
MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC. 9
IMMANUEL KANT. A Study and Comparison
with Goethe, Leonardo da Vinci, Bruno, Plato and Descartes.
By HOUSTON STEWART CHAMBERLAIN, author of "The Foundations
of the Nineteenth Century." Translated by LORD REDESDALE.
2 vols. Demy 8vo. 255. net.
%* "This is a book, if ever there was one, which should fire the mind of the
reader with the desire to be at home in the region of which it treats. It is a book
which teems with interest. We must not conclude without a reference to the
merits of the translation of Lord Redesdale. The book must have demanded
throughout the most painstaking observance of delicate shades of meaning.
These have been rendered with faultless accuracy, yet in a style of individuality
and animation." The Timts,
THE SPEAKERS OF THE HOUSE OF
COMMONS from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, with
a Topographical Account of Westminster at Various Epochs,
Brief Notes on Sittings of Parliament and a Retrospect of
the principal Constitutional Changes during Seven Centuries. By
ARTHUR IRWIN DASENT, Author of "The Life and Letters of JOHN
DELANE," "The History of St. James's Square," etc., etc. With
numerous Portraits, including two in Photogravure and one in
Colour. Demy 8vo. 2 is. net.
ROMANTIC TRIALS OF THREE CENTU-
RIES. By HUGH CHILDERS. With numerous Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. 123. 6d. net.
** This volume deals with some famous trials, occurring between the years
1650 and 1850, All of them possess some exceptional interest, or introduce
historical personages in a fascinating style, peculiarly likely to attract attention.
THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF WILLIAM
COBBETT IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. By LEWIS
MELVILLE. Author of " William Makepeace Thackeray." With
two Photogravures and numerous other Illustrations. 2 vols.
Demy 8vo. 325. net.
A PAINTER OF DREAMS. By A. M. W.
STIRLING. Author of " Coke of Norfolk." With numerous
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 1 2s. 6d. net.
** These various Biographical sketches are connected by links which
fashion them into one consecutive and singularly attractive whole. Lively and
full of vitality, they throw many curious fresh lights on an age long past, then
lead ub, by gentle stages, down to an age so recent that for many of us it still
seems to breathe of a day not yet fled. Meanwhile alternate laughter and tears,
merriment and pathos mingle in their pages; and each separate life forms in
itself a concise human document vivid and sincere. From the first chapter, in
which we are introduced to the amusing Scrap-book of a fine lady during the
Georgian era, to the last when we dwell, not without emotion, on the life story of
an Idealist during Victorian days, the book teems with incident, humour, and
hitherto unpublished information respecting many historical personages, to
which the author alone has been allowed access.
io A CATALOGUE OF
COKE OF NORFOLK AND HIS FRIENDS.
The Life of Thomas Coke, First Earl of Leicester and of
Holkham. By A. M. W. STIRLING. New Edition, revised,
with some additions. With 19 Illustrations. In one volume.
Demy 8vo. 125. 6d. net.
THE ROMANTIC HISTORY OF THOMAS
COUTTS. By ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE. With numerous
Illustrations. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 255. net.
ANNALS OF A YORKSHIRE HOUSE. From
the Papers of a Macaroni and his kindred. By A. M. W. STIRLING,
author of "Coke of Norfolk and his Friends." With 33
Illustrations, including 3 in Colour and 3 in Photogravure.
Demy 8vo. 2 vols. 325. net.
THE LETTER-BAG OF LADY ELIZABETH
SPENCER STANHOPE. By A. M. W. STIRLING. Author
of " Coke of Norfolk," and " Annals of a Yorkshire House."
With a Colour Plate, 3 in Photogravure, and 27 other
Illustrations. 2 vols. Demy 8vo. 325. net.
*** Extracts might be multiplied indefinitely, but we have given enough to
show the richness of the mine. We have nothing but praise for the editor's
work, and can conscientiously commend this book equally to the student of
manners and the lover of lively anecdote." Standard.
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF ENGLAND
IN 1675. By MARIE CATHERINE COMTESSE D'AULNOY. Trans-
lated from the original French by Mrs. WILLIAM HENRY ARTHUR.
Edited, Revised, and with Annotations (including an account of
Lucy Walter) by GEORGE DAVID GILBERT. With Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. i6s. net.
AUSTRIA: HER PEOPLE AND THEIR
HOMELANDS. By JAMES BAKER, F.R.G.S. With 48 Pictures
in Colour by DONALD MAXWELL. Demy 8vo. 2 is. net.
GATES OF THE DOLOMITES. By L. MARION
DAVIDSON. With 32 Illustrations from Photographs and a Map.
Crown 8vo. Second Edition. 55. net.
MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC. n
THE INTIMATE LETTERS OF HESTER
PIOZZI AND PENELOPE PENNINGTON 1788-1821.
Edited by OSWALD G. KNAPP. With 32 Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
1 6s. net.
%* This work is a most important find and should arouse immense interest
amongst the large number of persons whom the Johnson cult attracts to anything
concerning Mrs. Piozzi.
Mr. Knapps gives 198 letters dating from 1788 to 1821. The letters are most
delightful reading and place Mrs. Piozzi in a somewhat different aspect than she
hasl>een viewed in hitherto. The attitude of her Thrale daughters to her is
shown to be quite unwarrantable, and her semi humorous acceptance of the
calumny and persecution she suffered arouses our admiration.
The Illustrations to this charming work have been mainly supplied from
Mr. A. M. Broadley's unique collection.
CHANGING RUSSIA. A Tramp along the Black
Sea Shore and in the Urals. By STEPHEN GRAHAM. Author of
" Undiscovered Russia," " A Vagabond in the Caucasus," etc.
With Illustrations and a Map. Demy 8vo. ys. 6d. net.
ROBERT FULTON ENGINEER AND ARTIST :
HIS LIFE AND WORK. By H. W. DICKINSON, A.M.I.Mech.E.
Demy 8vo. IDS 6d. net.
GEORGE BUBB DODDINGTON, LORD
MELCOMBE. By LLOYD SANDERS. With numerous Ill-
ustrations. Demy 8vo. i6s. net.
CORRESPONDENCE OF SIR ARTHUR
HELPS, K.C.B., D.C.L. By E. A. HELPS. With numerous
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. i6s. net.
%* Sir Arthur Helps was a notable figure among the literary men of the last
generation, and as Clerk to the Privy Council enjoyed the confidence and
friendship of Queen Victoria, while his magnetic personality drew round him a
distinguished coterie, many of whose witty and wise sayings are here preserved.
Not only was he on terms of intimacy with Tennyson, Dean Stanley, John Stuart
Mill, Gladstone, Disraeli, Ruskin, Frowde, Carlyle, Dickens, Kingsley, and
other men of light and leading, many letters from whom are included in the
volume, but ho was ever in the vanguard of philanthropic movements.
The present collection of letters deals with the topics of the day, and burning
questions such as the Chartist agitation, the American Civil Wai, and the
cholera epidemics ; and they are handled with great acumen by the various
writers, and still possess an absorbing interest. The letters have a peculiarly
intimate touch, and yet carry with them the weight of authority.
12 A CATALOGUE OF
A STAINED GLASS TOUR IN ITALY. By
CHARLES H. SHERRILL. Author of " Stained Glass Tours in
England," " Stained Glass Tours in France," etc. With
33 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
%* Mr. Sherrill has already achieved success with his two previous books
on the subject of stained glass. In Italy he finds a new field, which offers con-
siderable scope for his researches. His present work will appeal not only to
tourists, but to the craftsmen, because of the writer's sympathy with the craft.
Mr. Sherrill is not only an authority whose writing is clear in style and full of
understanding for the requirements of the reader, out one whose accuracy and
reliability are unquestionable. This is the most important book published on the
subject with which it deals, and readers will find it worthy to occupy the
position.
MEMORIES. By the Honble. STEPHEN COLERIDGE.
Witn 12 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
** "Mr. Coleridge's memories are very crisply and clearly written. He
makes a real addition to our knowledge of the essentially human aspects of
justly celebrated figures of the past. He was brought up amid the society of
many of the most cultivated men of the past half-century. Among a host of
notabilities of whom Mr. Coleridge speaks are Lewis Morris, Browning, Jowett,
Jenny Lind, Lord Leighton, Ruskin, Watts, Whistler, and Irving. It was at
Lord' Coleridge's house that Cardinal Newman and Matthew Arnold first met."
Daily Telegraph,
ANTHONY TROLLOPE : HIS WORK, ASSO-
CIATES AND ORIGINALS. By T. H. S. Escort. Demy
8vo. I as. 6d. net.
%* "The whole of this boot is admirably done, and no one who is interested
inTrollope or, indeed, in nineteenth century literature, can afford to overlook
it." Globe.
ORIENTAL RUGS, ANTIQUE AND MODERN.
By WALTER A. HAWLEY. With numerous Illustrations in Colour
and Half-tone. Demy 410. 425. net.
ON THE LEFT OF A THRONE. A personal
Study of James, Duke of Monmouth. By Mrs. EVAN NEPEAN.
With 36 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. IDS. 6d. net.
THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH PATRIOTISM.
By ESM C. WINGHELD STRATFORD, Fellow King's College, Cam-
bridge. In 2 vols. Demy 8vo. With a Frontispiece to each
volume, (1,300 pages). 253. net.
The author may fairly claim to have accomplished what few previous
historians have so much as attempted. He has woven together the threads ol
religion, politics, war, philosophy, literature, painting, architecture, law and
commerce, into a narrative of unbroken and absorbing interest.
** "Mr. Wingfield Stratford is to be congratulated on a great achieve-
ment. " Outlook.
MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC. 13
CHARLES CONDER : HIS LIFE AND WORK.
By FRANK GIBSON. With a Catalogue of the Lithographs and
Etchings by CAMPBELL DODGSON, M.S., Keeper of Prints and
Drawings, British Museum. With about 100 reproductions of
Conder's work, 12 of which are in colour. Demy 410. 2 is. net.
** With the exception of one or two articles in English Art Magazines, and
one or two in French, German, and American periodicals, no book up to the
present has appeared fully to record the life and work of Charles Condor, by
whose death English Art has lost one of its most original personalities. Con-
sequently it has been felt that a book dealing with Conder's life so full of interest,
and his work so full ot charm and beauty, illustrated by characteristic examples
of his Art both in colour and in black and white, would be welcome to the already
great and increasing number of his admirers.
The author of this book, Mr. Frank Gibson, who knew Conder in his early
days in Australia and afterwards in England during the rest of the artist's life,
is enabled in consequence to do full justice, not only to the delightful character
of Conder as a friend, but is also able to appreciate his remarkable talent.
The interest and value of this work will be greatly increased by the addition
of a complete catalogue of Conder's lithographs and engravings, compiled by
Mr. Campbell Dodgson, M.A-, Keeper of the Print-Room ofthe British Museum.
PHILIP DUKE OF WHARTON. By LEWIS
MELVILLE. Illustrated. Demy 8vo. i6s. net.
%* A character more interesting than Philip, Dnke of Wharton, does not
often fall to the lot of a biographer, yet, by some strange chance, though nearly
two hundred years have passed since that wayward genius passed away, the
present work is the first that gives a comprehensive account of his life. A man
of unusual parts and unusual charm, he at once delighted and disgusted his
contemporaries. Unstable as water, he was like Dryden's Zimri, " Everything
by starts and nothing long." He was poet and pamphleteer, wit, statesman,
buffoon, and amorist. The son of one of the most stalwart supporters of the
Hanoverian dynasty, he went abroad and joined the Pretender, who created him
a duke. He then returned to England, renounced the Stuarts, and was by
George I. also promoted to a dukedom while he was yet a minor. He was the
friend of Attenbury and the President o( the Hell-Fire Club. At one time he was
leading Spanish troops against his countrymen, at another seeking consolation
in a monastery. It is said that he was the original of Richardson's Lovelace.
THE MANNERS OF MY TIME. By Miss C.
L. HAWKINS DEMPSTER. With numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo.
1 6s. net.
THE LIFE OF MADAME TALLIEN, NOTRE
DAME DE THERMIDOR (A Queen of Shreds and Patches.)
From the last days of the French Revolution, until her death as
Princess de Chimay in 1835. By L. GASTINE. Translated from
the French by J. LEWIS May. With a Photogravure Frontispiece
and 1 6 other Illustrations Demy 8vo. 1 2s. 6d. net.
%* There is no one in the history of the French Revolution who has been
more eagerly canonised than Madame Tallien ; yet according to M. Gastine, there
is no one in that history who merited canonisation so little. He has therefore set
himself the task of dissipating the mass of legend and sentiment that has
gathered round the memory of " La Belie Tallien" and of presenting her to our
eyes as she really was. The result of his labour is a volume, which combines the
scrupulous exactness of conscientious research with the richness and glamour of
a romance. In the place of the beautiful heroic but purely imaginary figure of
popular tradition, we behold a woman, dowered indeed with incomparable loveli-
ness, but utterly unmoral, devoid alike of heart and soul, who readily and
repeatedly prostituted her personal charms for the advancement of her selfish
and ignoble aims. Though Madame Tallien is the central figure ofthe book, the
reader is introduced to many other personages who played famous or infamous
r61es in the contemporary social or political arena, and the volume, which is
enriched by a number of interesting portraits, throws a new and valuable light on
this stormy and perennially fascinating period of French history.
i 4 A CATALOGUE OF
MINIATURES : A Series of Reproductions in
Photogravure of Ninety-Six Miniatures of Distinguished Personages,
including Queen Alexandra, the Queen of Norway, the Princess
Royal, and the Princess Victoria. Painted by CHARLES TURRELL.
(Folio.) The Edition is limited to One Hundred Copies for sale
in England and America, and Twenty-Five Copies for Presentation,
Review, and the Museums. Each will be Numbered and Signed
by the Artist. 1 5 guineas net.
RECOLLECTIONS OF GUYDE MAUPASSANT.
By his Valet FRA^OIS. Translated from the French by MINA
ROUND. Illustrated. Demy 8vo. I2s. 6d. net.
THE WIFE OF GENERAL BONAPARTE. By
JOSEPH TURQUAN. Author of " The Love Affairs of Napoleon,"
etc. Translated from the French by Miss VIOLETTE MONTAGU.
With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. 125. 6d. net.
ENGLISH TRAVELLERS OF THE RE-
NAISSANCE. By CLARE HOWARD. With 12 Illustrations.
Demy 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
SOPHIE DAWES, QUEEN OF CHANTILLY.
By VIOLETTE M. MONTAGU. Author of "The Scottish College in
Paris," etc. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and 1 6 other
Illustrations and Three Plans. Demy 8vo. i zs. 6d. net.
*.H* Among the many queens of France, queens by right of marriage with the
reigning sovereign, queens of beauty or of intrigue, the name of Sophie Dawes,
the daughter of humble fisherfolk in the Isle of Wight, better known as "the
notorious Mme. de Feucheres, 1 ' " The Queen of Chantilly" and "The Montespan
de Saint Leu " in the land which she chose as a suitable sphere in which to
exercise her talents for money-making and lor getting on in the world, stand
lorth as a proof of what a woman's will can accomplish when that will is ac-
companied with an uncommon share of intelligence.
TRAVELS WITHOUT BAEDEKER. By ARDERN
BEAMAN. Demy 8vo. 75. 6d. net.
%* An entertaining book of unconventional travel unconventional as the
author progressed more on the lines of a tramp than a tourist, from Aden to
Port Said, afterwards through Cairo and Alexandria, then on to Jaffa and
Jerusalem, then into Greece and Turkey, and finally on to Venice. He con-
stantly travelled third class amongst crowas of filthy natives and on at least one
occasion made a steamer voyage in the steerage, but he had experiences he could
not have obtained in any other way, and kept a light heart and amused
countenance through it all.
MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC. 15
MADAME DE BRINVILLIERS AND HER
TIMES. 1630-1676. By HUGH STOKES. With a Photogravure
Frontispiece and 16 other Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 125. 6d. net.
MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM THOMSON, ARCH-
BISHOP OF YORK. By Mrs. WILFRED THOMSON. With numerous
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. i6s. net.
HARRIET HOSMER: LETTERS AND
MEMORIES. Edited by CORNELIA CARR. With 3 1 Illustrations,
Demy 8vo. I2s. 6d. net.
%* These pages are full of interest to the general reader, owing to the fact
that Harriet Hosmer was on intimate terms with so many of her most famous
contemporaries in tlie World of Art and Letters. Particularly valuable will be
fonnd the authentic and charmingly recounted information regarding the home
life of Robert Browning and his wife. The correspondence shows that in nearly
every case the letters of these celebrities were never intended for print. They
are, all the more perhaps, indications ol the true characteristics of the writers.
THE GREATEST HOUSE AT CHELSEY. By
RANDALL DAVIES. With 18 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. los. 6d. net.
** This is a most fascinating account of the great house built at Chelsea in
1520, by Sir Thomas More, and occupied successively by various notable people,
among whom were Sir Arthur Gorges, the Duke of Buckingham, and finally
Sir Hans Sloane. Each of the successive owners is dealt with by Mr. Randall
Davies in most entertaining fashion, and a great deal of historical detail is
brought together which has never seen the light before. The illustrations are
of great interest.
WITH THE TIN GODS. By MRS. HORACE
TREMLETT. With 24 Illustrations from Photographs. Demy 8vo.
izs. 6d. net.
%* Mrs. Tremlett went with her husband and some other members of a
syndicate on a journey in search of tin in Northern Nigeria. This book is a racy,
entertaining and very human account of their adventures. There are no tedious
descriptions of the country or the natives but the atmosphere and the life are
vividly suggested and the narrative is brightened by many stories and touches of
humour. The book is illustrated by some excellent photographs taken on
the spot.
ADVENTURES WITH A SKETCH BOOK. By
DONALD MAXWELL. Illustrated by the Author. F'cap 410.
128. 6d. net.
*<,* This book provides a new departure from the conventional methods of
book illustration. By an ingenious use of tints it is illustrated throughout in
colour. All the text drawings are printed on rough surface paper, and are not,
as in the case of so many so-called colour books, plates printed on a shiny paper.
With regard to the text the reader will feel that he is an active partaker in
Mr. Maxwell's explorations and romantic expeditions in numerous unexpected
places all over Europe. It is a book that will make a delightful possession.
1 6 MEMOIRS, BIOGRAPHIES, ETC.
NAPOLEON AND KING MURAT. A Biography
compiled from hitherto Unknown and Unpublished Documents.
By ALBERT ESPITALIER. Translated from the French by J. LEWIS
MAY. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and i6other Ill-
ustrations. Demy 8vo. izs. 6d. net.
LADY CHARLOTTE SCHREIBER'S JOURNALS
Confidences of a Collector of Ceramics and Antiques throughout
Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Holland, Belgium,
Switzerland, and Turkey. From the year 1869 to 1885. Edited
by MONTAGUE GUEST, with Annotations by EGAN MEW. With
upwards of loo Illustrations, including 8 in colour and 2 in
Photogravure. Royal 8vo. 2 volumes. 425. net.
CHRONICLES OF ERTHIG ON THE DYKE.
From Original Letters preserved in the House. By ALBINIA
CUST. With Illustrations from Photographs. In 2 vols. 255. net.
%* The story is not of a Family but of a House. In the oak-panelled
library are parchments, manuscripts, old printed books, and the letters frail yet
enduring souvenirs of a vanished past. Never intended for publication, they
have an interest so poignant as to be realised only in the reading. The writers
with their joys and sorrows seem to live again in these pages, conjuring up
visions ot the scenes amid which they played their little part.
A MOTOR TOUR THROUGH CANADA. By
THOMAS WILBY. With 32 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 55. net.
** A capital account of a trip from Halifax to the Pacific Coast. Mr. Wilby
brings the scene most vividly home to the reader and he blends, with con-
siderable skill, history and narrative. The Photographs also give an excellent
idea of the tour.
WITH THE RUSSIANS IN MONGOLIA. By
H. G. C. PERRY-AYSCOUGH and R. B. OTTER-BARRY. With an
Introduction by SIR CLAUDE McDoNALD, K.C.M.G., K.C.B.,
etc. With numerous Illustrations from Photographs. Demy 8vo.
1 6s. net.
THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF NAPOLEON. By
JOSEPH TURQUAN. Translated from the French by JAMES LEWIS
MAY. New Edition. With 8 Illustration*. Crown 8vo.
35. 6d. net.
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