CHAPTER IVFROM RAMSEY TO LAXEY

GLEN MAYE.GLEN MAYE.One of the picturesque little glens with which the island abounds. It is near Peel, on the western side.

GLEN MAYE.One of the picturesque little glens with which the island abounds. It is near Peel, on the western side.

The truth indeed is this, that this central range of Man, though akin to Westmoreland and Carnarvonshire in its actual make of rock, is altogether aloof from them in all tangible characteristics. This is not to dispraise the hills of Man, but only to rescue them from the ignominy of an obvious, but quite unfair, comparison. Manx mountains, in fact, though thus composed of slate, have really much more resemblance to the limestone hills of Yorkshire. They have no pretensions to rank with the best; but, judged by themselves, they are quite satisfactorily noble. We are likely, indeed, to appreciate them all the better, just because we do not approach them in a mood of too exalted expectation. On the whole they are less dull than the Cheviots; and even the Cheviots are full of all kinds of delightful surprises.

Moreover, as we win higher among the moorlands by the lane that climbs from Baregarrow, we realize more and more that charm of all-round seascape that distinguishes these hills above all compeers, and gives them their imperishable charm. The wonderful extent of the view from Snaefell was noted down as long ago as the "spacious times of great Elizabeth." Thus, Camden says quite truly: "In medio montibus densius attolitur, e quibus aeditissimus Sceafell,unde sudo coelo Scotia, Anglia, and Hibernia prospici possit"â€”that is, England, Scotland, and Irelandâ€”and Wales must be addedâ€”can all be seen from the top on a clear day. Drayton, in hisPolyolbion(Canto xxvii.), has just the same remark translated into poetical diction:

Her midst with mountains set, of which, from Sceafel's height,A clear and perfect eye, the weather being bright(Be Neptune's visage ne'er so terrible and stern),The Scotch, the Irish shores, and th' English may discern.

"In clear weather," says Mr. Baddeley, "not only is the 'tight little island' itself mapped out beneath the eye, with the exception of a strip of the coast here and there, but Scotland is plainly visible, from the Mull of Kintyre to beyond Dumfries; Ireland is represented by the Mourne Mountains; England by the giants of the Lake District; and even Wales shows up, with the Peak of Snowdon, the 'Carnedds'â€”Dafydd and Llewelynâ€”and the range extending thence, Penmaenmawr to the Great Orme, with, maybe, the Clwydian range, in cloud-like outline, far away in the south-east. The nearest point of England to Snaefell is St. Bees Head, 38 miles distant; of Scotland the Whithorn Promontory, 30 miles; of Ireland the entrance to Strangford Lough,36 miles; and of Wales the northern coast of Anglesey, 56 miles; Scafell is 50 miles away; Merrick, the highest Scottish mountain south of Edinburgh and Glasgow, 60; Slieve Donard, the highest in the North of Ireland, 60; and Snowdon, 80."

The lane by which we are now travelling, though sufficiently rough-and-tumble, is one over which it is possible to push a bicycle; the writer himself has done it. It is not, in fact, the least strange feature of these Manx hills that they are thus traversed by high-level roadsâ€”not actually, indeed, climbing to the tops of the mountains, but winding in and out among them not far below their summits. One of these, between Douglas and Ramsey, and immediately under the shadow of Snaefell itself, has been engineered, I fancy, of quite recent years. One is reminded a little of the many new upland roads that the French are now constructing in Auvergne among the mountains of Mont Dore. Climbing along the south breast of Sart Fell, with the Rhenass stream below us on the right (which flows ultimately down Glen Helen), we come presently to the slightcolbetween the valleys of the Rhenass and the Sulby, just before surmounting which theheavy, dome-like top of Snaefell starts suddenly up through the nick of the pass, with its castellated hotel on its summit. The electric rail from Laxeyâ€”a hideous double lineâ€”almost completely encircles the bare, flattened cone of the hill as it winds round it in gradual ascent, exactly in the fashion in which the line from Clermont-Ferrand (though this is served by an ugly monster that vomits out volumes of smoke) winds up the Puy de DÃ´me, almost like the peel of an orange. It must be pleaded, however, in excuse of the tram-road up Snaefellâ€”if any plea may be heard to extenuate its bare existenceâ€”that at least it has not scarred harsh lines round the hill, as is the case with its central French rivalâ€”lines that are plainly visible, on a reasonably clear day, eighteen miles away, or thereabouts, from the top of the Puy de Sancy. The view now opens on the left into the head of Sulby Glenâ€”more properly Glen Mooar, the Big Glenâ€”the strength of which lies further to the north, where it deepens beyond the inn at Tholt-y-Wilt. This is usually reckoned the finest in the island, and has certainly best pretensions to recognized mountain grandeurâ€”if any spot, indeed, in the whole of the Isle of Man may properly be styled either mountainous orgrand. Hereabouts, in succession, two rough roads turn down, to the south, to Injebreck, deep in the green valley between Colden and Carraghan (1,520 feet), and the terminus of a good driving-road from Douglas. Neither can be ridden on a bicycle, and one at least, when we descended itâ€”but we speak of now two years agoâ€”was rapidly being swept away by the fury of mountain torrents. Thus Injebreck is practically acul-de-sac, secluded in the greenest of dale-heads; and those who are lucky enough to drop down into it, as the writer dropped down, just towards sunset on a mild February evening, with nearly a score of croaking ravens circling above his head, will reckon it perhaps the most beautiful spot in the island, and one that still remains entirely unspoilt, serene in the possession of its pleasant rustic graces.

Injebreck, however, on our present route, must be kept for another day: for the moment we keep the level, round the north face of Beinn-y-Phott (1,772 feet), till we fall into the great high-level route already referred to as running from Douglas to Ramsey. This, at the point of junction, is crossed by a gate the closing of which is enforced by the threat of legal penaltiesâ€”atimely reminder that the law of Man is not always co-extensive with the law of England. Beinn-y-Phott itself is a prominent summit that perhaps displays more character than most of its sister peaks. After all, it may be true that the names of Manx mountains present greater interest than Manx mountains themselves. Snaefell, of course, is the "hill of snow"â€”exactly the equivalent of familiar Snowdon (there are said to be two Snaefells in Iceland). Cronk-ny-Irey-Lhaa, on the other hand, which drops so splendidly into the sea between Glen Maye and Port Erin (there is a second hill of the same title in the north division of the island), is said to mean the "Hill of the Rising Sun," and bears witness to conditions and an altitude less rigorous.

From the point where our rough cart-track joins the great high-level road between Douglas and Ramsey we turn north-eastward along this latter, between Snaefell and Clagh Ouyre (1,808 feet). Snaefell itself is easily climbed, if the conditions be really propitious, by diverging to the left up the gentle hill-slope at almost any point we like after crossing the electric tramway. Hereabouts, on our right, we look down into the deep glen, disfigured by a lead-mine, which endson the sea at Laxey. A little beyond this, when Snaefell is now behind us, and growing smaller in the distance, the eye begins to measure the profound and solemn depths of green and pastoral Glen Auldyn. The elevation is maintained till quite near Ramsey, when we plunge down suddenly from our mountain heights by a drop of unexpected and startling abruptness. Of Ramsey I have little to say: there seems little to say about it. It is said to look charming when approached from the sea, but the charm must soon vanish on landing. Down by its quays it is just a little harbour, with the usual local colour of a place that lives by shipping and fishing. Of the parts of the town that live by visitors there is little to be said for good or for evil.

From Ramsey the visitor may travel seventeen miles south to Douglas, returning thence to Peel, if he like, by railway. At the very beginning, however, a digression should be made to Kirk Maughold and St. Maughold's Head, immediately beyond it. Kirk Maughold, beyond question, is one of the pleasantest villages in Man, and certainly for the archaeologist a shrine of the first importance. Even the little church, in this case, has some touches of mediaevalism (thirteenth-century lancets) that redeem it from the general charge of Manx ecclesiological dulness. The churchyard in which it standsâ€”like that of Adel, in Yorkshireâ€”is quite disproportionately large, containing, it is said, nearly four acres. For the sake of its church alone, however, no one would come to Kirk Maughold: the magnet that attracts one is the collection of crosses in the churchyard, now studiously protected in apicturesque shelter. These, of course, are mostly pre-Conquestâ€”the term, it is true, in strictness has no real application to Man, but at any rate it serves roughly to indicate a style, if not to disclose a period. Man is as distinguished for the number and variety of its old crosses as its far away sister, Cornwall. Not that Cornish and Manx crosses have any close affinityâ€”they belong, no doubt, to wholly different schools of ancient Celtic art. Cornish crosses, in particular, like those in Pembrokeshire and Iona, are generally cut more or less to the cross-shape (though it may be only a wheel cross), whereas those of Man are merely carved in relief on a slab of rectangular slate. "The erect cross-slabs," says the late Mr. J. Romilly Allen, "are, with a few unimportant exceptions, peculiar to Scotland and the Isle of Man. They are probably older than the free-standing crosses, because the erect cross-slabs are not treated architecturally (as the high crosses of Ireland are), but resemble more nearly than anything else ornamented pages from the Celtic illuminated MSS. directly translated to stone with hardly any modification whatever to suit the requirements of the new material to which the decoration was applied." "There isno district," says Mr. P. M. C. Kermode, in his beautiful volume on "Manx Crosses," of so small an area which can boast of so great a number of monuments of this class, extending over such a lengthy period, and having such a variety of interestâ€”Ogam, Latin, and Runic inscriptions, Celtic art with its Scandinavian applications and development, Christian symbols and pagan myths. Altogether, according to this same authority, the island has one hundred and sixteen old crosses, extending over a period of six centuries, forty-five of which may be called Scandinavian and seventy-one pre-Scandinavian. Not one of the seventeen old parishes is wholly without an example, though Ballaugh, Lezayre, and Patrick have only one each. Kirkmichael, however, has ten; whilst Maughold has actually thirty-sevenâ€”by far the biggest collection in the island. Kirk Braddon also exhibits some extremely interesting examples. Most of these cross-slabs are commemorative of the dead; and one of the inscriptions at Kirkmichael (as in Black'sGuide to the Isle of Man) may fairly be given as typical of the rest:

Joalf son of Thorolf the Red erected this cross to his mother Frida.

THE CALF OF MAN, FROM SPANISH HEAD.THE CALF OF MAN, FROM SPANISH HEAD.The Calf is at the southern extremity of the island and is separated by the narrow and dangerous Calf Sound, on the right of the picture.

THE CALF OF MAN, FROM SPANISH HEAD.The Calf is at the southern extremity of the island and is separated by the narrow and dangerous Calf Sound, on the right of the picture.

One of those, however, at Kirk Maughold is not strictly a cross-slab at all, but seems merely to have been carved on a face of rock by the village priestâ€”perhaps in a moment of leisure on some pleasant summer afternoon, just as Wordsworth carved the name of "Joanna"

Above the Rotha, by the forest side.

It comes from Keeil Woirrey, Corna, and bears the touching Runic inscription: "Christ Malachi Patrick and Adamnan (perhaps an invocation of the worthy pastor's patron saints): of all the sheep John is the Priest in Corna Dale."

But these prehistoric cross-slabs, if prehistoric we may call themâ€”and though certainly they are not prehistoric in the strict and proper sense of the word, they are prehistoric in the sense of reaching far back into paths of history that are only dimly lighted, and are difficult to traverseâ€”do not exhaust the archaeological treasures in which Kirk Maughold is so rich. On the strip of village green, as we approach the churchyard, is a picturesque, seventeenth-century sundial on three steps, with the inscription:Eus. (Edwardus) Christian fecit, 1666. Christian, I believe, like Quaile, is still a common Manx surname. Hard athand is another old cross, but, of course, far later than those in the churchyard. This, in its present state, measures more than 10 feet in height, and its headâ€”perhaps later than the shaftâ€”which is sculptured with a ring and cross, a chalice and missal, and the famous arms of Man, and surmounted above all by a Crucifixion and Virgin and Child, is a rare and very interesting survival.

From Kirk Maughold we need not return to Ramsey to recover the main road to Douglas. On the contrary, we may proceed through pleasant country lanes that are tiresomely up and down hill and not a little roundabout, and enter the highroad after traversing that very Corna Dale of all of whose sheep Presbyter John, we have seen, was shepherd a thousand years ago or more. North Barrule (1,842 feet) all the way is a lovely peak in frontâ€”more shapely, perhaps, and richer in its blending of upland and lowland colour than any other summit in the island. It is this peak which is so graceful and conspicuous in distant views of Man, as seen, for example, from the coast of Cumberland, in the neighbourhood of St. Bees. The great highroad, when once accomplished, proves somewhat too hard, andstraight, and broad, and white for any except the cyclist; for him it is ideal, supposing him to have spent his morning in wheeling his way with sorrow and pain up the steep rough lanes that rise from Kirkmichael towards Snaefell. The sea, however, as we draw near Dhoon Glenâ€”a deep gash down below us on the leftâ€”grows more and more magnificent beneath us; and presently, just before doubling the sudden corner that gives access to Glen Laxey, road and tramway run together (the latter might be spared) on the edge of a sheer cliff that looks down from an almost giddy height on the waves that break far down below. This is one of the finest "bits" on a hard highroad in Man, but to the cyclist it is gone in a moment. Laxey opens out as suddenly, as the road turns the corner of the glen (into which it drops, and out of which it rises, by a huge but inevitable zigzag), as Nice opens out to those who turn the corner of the hill on the road down from Villefranche and Beaulieu. This large and prosperous villageâ€”it is really a little townâ€”occupies a situation entirely different from any other settlement in the islandâ€”it is rather like that of Lynmouthâ€”on the short strath where two glens commingle (Glens Laxey and Roy) before theirunited waters run out into the sea. Laxey, to the writer's taste, is far too big and stragglingâ€”untidy, perhaps, is too unkind a word to use of itâ€”to make an idyllic centre from which to explore the hills. It should be borne in mind, however, that it is a nearer starting-point to Snaefell than any other centre in the island: the mountain tram, in factâ€”if that be not, indeed, a positive detractionâ€”actually starts from its doors. But in the popular imagination the outstanding feature of Laxey (connected with the industry of lead-mining) is undoubtedly the famous Great Wheel, which is probably familiar from photographs and pictures in advertisements to many thousands of Englishmen who have never set foot on the island at all. It was erected in 1854, and measures "72-1/2 feet in diameter (as compared with 50 feet of the big Catrine Wheel in Ayrshire) and about 220 in circumference. The breadth is 6 feet; it revolves at a maximum speed of two rounds with a capacity for raising 250 gallons per minute." Its business is to keep the levels of the lead-mines free from water. "The platform above it, extending from one side to the top, is 75 feet above the ground, and reached by a spiral staircase of nearly 100 steps."

PORT ST. MARY.PORT ST. MARYis a pleasant little watering place on Poyllvash Bay.

PORT ST. MARYis a pleasant little watering place on Poyllvash Bay.

It will thus be seen that this mammoth wheel is less than was the Great Wheel at Earl's Courtâ€”which latter, however, was perhaps, unkind people might suggest, like the melancholy Jacques'ducdame, only "a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle"â€”but probably is otherwise unrivalled in the world. Yet those who love Nature and love the Isle of Man are hardly likely to travel to Laxey just to get a sight of its Great Wheel!

It still remains to explore the south side of the island, commencing again at Peel. Here the chief interest centres in Castletown, with its famous Castle Rushen; in the splendid stretch of coast between Peel and Port Erin; and in the cliff scenery of Spanish Head and the Calf. The direct road from Peel to Castletown, turning off from the Douglas road at St. John's, and proceeding by way of Foxdale, is a dull affair at best, and is spoilt at Foxdale itself by the untidy presence of lead-mines. Beyond Foxdale, indeed, the landscape improves as we skirt the east slopes of South Barrule, which have been covered of late years with extensive fir-plantings, and begin to descend the hill, with the sea splendidly conspicuous in front.

CASTLETOWN AND CASTLE RUSHEN.CASTLETOWN AND CASTLE RUSHEN.Up to 1862 this was the capital. The grim Castle with its massive keep overlooks the harbour and is one of the most interesting features of the island.

CASTLETOWN AND CASTLE RUSHEN.Up to 1862 this was the capital. The grim Castle with its massive keep overlooks the harbour and is one of the most interesting features of the island.

A much better road is to take the lane due south from Peel that skirts the head of Glen Maye, and winds up to the pass on the west of South Barrule. This, of course, is a rougher route, and involves much additional hill. Better still for the pedestrian is a composite, roundabout way that follows the grand coast-line more or less closely to Port Erin, and bends thence to the east for Castletown. Two days may easily be spent on this last journey by sleeping at Port Erin, and spending the bulk of the following day in a leisurely exploration of the Calf.

From Peel the coast-line may be followed the whole distance to the mouth of Glen Maye; but the path, so far as it exists, is in places rather giddy, and approaches unpleasantly near to the edge of the cliff. We believe that it is examined every year before the beginning of the "season" to make sure that it has not slipped away in the winter months into the gulf below. All inland view is at first shut out by the huge green slopes of Peel Hill on our left; but presently, as we double Contrary Head, the fine southern range of mountain comprising Cronk-ny-Irey-Lhaa (1,449 feet), the Carnanes (1,000 feet), and Bradda Head (768 feet), is seen dropping to the sea, more directly and more abruptly than perhaps any other hills to the south of the Border (in Scotland it ismatched on the southern coast of Mull), except perhaps Penmaenmawr and the north coast of Exmoor. The view hence, looking south, is impressive, or even deserves the epithet "grand"; at no other spot in the island do mountain and sea group in a single picture in such intimate proximity as here. At Glen Maye the line of cliff is abruptly interrupted by the little stream that here descends from Glen Rushen. The best of this glen is probably where it debouches on the sea; higher up, however, it becomes wooded, and exhibits a small waterfall, but is apt, perhaps, in "tripper-time" to be somewhat unpleasantly popular. At the head of the glen we regain the main road, by which we might have travelled, had we liked, directly from Peel. Passing the hamlet of Dalby, and always looking down on the sea on our right, we come shortly to a fork half a mile beyond the church, where a lane drops down due south (the right-hand branch of the fork) into the hollow of Dalby Lhag. At the bottom of this is a tiny rill pleasantly hidden among trees. We are now virtually at sea-level, but in the course of the next mile we rise nearly 800 feet. The ascent is by a kind of rocky staircase, in which the bare ribs of the earth have been stripped of their scantycovering of soil. At the top of this, where we join a better lane that comes over Cronk Fedjag, we strike away to the right, over high grass pastures, to the fairly obvious summit of Cronk-ny-Irey-Lhaa: the lane goes down to Port St. Mary (with a turn to the right for Port Erin), keeping the range of mountain between the sea and itself. On Cronk-ny-Irey-Lhaa and the neighbouring ridge of the Carnanesâ€”the two are only severed by the sudden notch of the Slackâ€”those who are free to wander may well wander a summer day, or bask a whole morning in the sunlight, stretched out on the scented turf,

While the dreaming man,Half conscious of the soothing melody,With sidelong eye looks out upon the scene.

It is astonishing that a hill-range of such minor elevation should clothe itself in attributes of such really mountainous dignity. From the end of the Carnanes we drop cautiously to the sea at Fleswick Bay, whence those who are weary of much up-and-down may soon make their way to Port Erin or Port St. Mary. Those, on the contrary, who are still eager for the hills may yet, if they like, make another pretty climb by scrambling up and over Bradda Head.

Port Erin and Port St. Mary, though only a mile apart, are almost as different from one anotherâ€”though, of course, in a different wayâ€”as are Lynton and Lynmouth, in Devonshire, or any other famous topographical twins. Those who prefer a watering-place that is almost wholly watering-place, and not yet spoilt by extravagant building (though the hands that direct its destinies had better call a halt); who are content to be included in a definite bay that is bounded by definite cliffs; and who are willing to look westward over unlimited space, in which the sun sinks magnificently in his "ocean-bath," will get what they like at Port Erin. Those, on the other hand, who like to face eastward, and to vary the monotony of the seascape by distant lines of low coast; who dislike to be cooped in a narrow space; and who ask the stronger local colour of a busy little port, will probably turn to Port St. Mary.Stat suus cuique honor: each may be praised without dispraising its rival; though the writer, were he asked, would find little difficulty in giving his casting vote between the two. In any case it is intolerable that the little Manx railway, when rebuilding Port St. Mary Station, should have built so conspicuous an erection insuch hideous red-brick. They have done the same at Douglas and Peel. When will builders come to realize that red-brick of all complexions is wholly out of place in a land of grey and green?

Castletown, till 1862, was officially the capital of Man, and is still far the least "developed" of all its four principal towns. It is simply, in fact, a small, quiet country town, even less spoilt for visitors than the inland parts of Peel; though Peel, of course, exhibits, in its peerless St. Patrick's Isle, features of picturesqueness that we shall seek for in Castletown in vain. Castletown, no doubt, would be big and ugly if it could; and by making golf-links at Derby Haven it has certainly given hostages to fortune. After all, there is nothing to see in the place save Castle Rushen, which is principally keep, with a narrow ward, and anenceintewall and ditch that surround the whole. So narrow a ward, and a keep so disproportionately big, can be matched perhaps only at Middleham, in Yorkshireâ€”once the home of the "King-Maker"â€”where the keep is late Norman, and theenceintefourteenth century. At Castletown, it is asserted, no part of the existing structure dates back earlier than thefourteenth, or at earliest the thirteenth, century; though the castle itself is said to have been foundedâ€”the account is perhaps mythicalâ€”by King Guthred the Dane in 947. The keep, moreover, though so-called in all the guide-books, is not really a keep at allâ€”not a single solid tower, that is, in the sense of Middleham Castle, or, to take more familiar instances, in the sense of Rochester, Dover, or London. On the contrary it is really a minute inner ward surrounded by anenceinteof quite disproportionate height. Formerly, under the rule of the house of Stanley, it served, like the Tower and Windsor Castle, for castle and palace alike; after that the place was a prison; and now it is dismantled, save for a handful of rooms, some of which shelter the Manx Museum. Most of the apartments are gloomy enough, and one is glad to escape from them back into the sunlight: the great slabs of slate, however, that serve for floor or ceilingâ€”some of them measure 12 feet in lengthâ€”are surely without parallel elsewhere. The drawing-room, which is the biggest room in the castle, has now an interesting collection of Manx antiquitiesâ€”e.g., old rushlight-holders, and the ancient Bishop's mace; but the object that strikes one most withamazement is the splendid skeleton of an Irish elkâ€”an animal, of course, that has long since been extinctâ€”which was found some sixteen years ago in a marl-pit near St. John's. This is said to be complete, and measures about 10 feet across the antlersâ€”sufficient indication of its general gigantic size.

The Isle of Man, as belonging to the Stanleys, was pertinaciously Royalist in the great Civil War; and hither retired James, the seventh Earl of Derby, on July 30, 1644, after the crushing defeat at Marston Moor on the previous July 2 had finally shattered the cause of the King in the North. Here he resided with his family in Castle Rushen for the next six years; and well would it have been for him had he resided here till the end. On June 16, 1650, however, Charles II. landed in the Firth of Cromarty to commence the new campaign that was destined to end so disastrously at Worcester; and in the August of the following year Derby, in his turn, set foot again on English soil at Wyre Water, in Lancashire, having been selected by Charles in the previous year to command the Royalist levies out of Lancashire and Cheshire. On sailing for this expedition, from which he was fated neverto return, he left his wife behind him at Castle Rushen, under the care of William Christian, who commanded the insular forces. The Countess was the famous Charlotte de la TrÃ©moille, daughter of Claude de la TrÃ©moille, Duc de Thouars, and was lineally descended, on her mother's side, from the great Dutch patriot, William the Silent. Already, in the course of the great Civil War, she had distinguished herself by the defence of Lathom House, in Lancashire, during the siege of which she had "rejected with scorn all proposals for surrender, declaring that she and her children would fire the castle and perish in the flames rather than yield." The fortunes of her husband need not now be further followed, save briefly to record that he was beheaded by the Parliament at Bolton on October 15, 1651, having been captured near Nantwich whilst trying to make his escape alone after the defeat at Worcester. The unfortunate Countess, on hearing of his arrest, at once despatched overtures to England proposing the surrender of the island in the hope of saving his life. Whether the proposal was scouted, or arrived too late, the Earl, we have seen, was put to death; and it is said that the first intimation that his unhappy wife received of it was a curt and brutal sentence (though it may not have been meant as such)â€”"the late Earl of Derby"â€”in a letter from Colonel Duckenfield that was delivered to her on October 29, calling on her to surrender Castle Rushen.

PEEL HARBOUR AND CASTLE.PEEL HARBOUR AND CASTLE.This is the most picturesque of the Manx towns and its Castle and Cathedral on St. Patrick's Isle are extremely interesting buildings.

PEEL HARBOUR AND CASTLE.This is the most picturesque of the Manx towns and its Castle and Cathedral on St. Patrick's Isle are extremely interesting buildings.

The Parliamentary troops had landed on the island two days previously, it is practically certainâ€”though the point has been disputedâ€”by the treachery of William Christian. The distracted Countess was apparently at first for holding out, but finally surrendered on November 3. She ultimately died at Knowsley, in 1664, and was buried near her husband in the parish church of Ormskirk. She had lived just long enough, however, to see summary vengeance executed on the traitor by her son, the eighth Earl. Christian, of course, was included in the general Act of Indemnity that alone rendered tolerable the return of Charles to England in 1660. Derby, however, was lord in Man, and claimed to exercise there peculiar sovereign powers in his own right. Christian was arrested, but refused to plead, and could not thus technically be brought to trial. "The Governor requested the deemsters and the House of Keys to inform him what the laws of the islandprovided should be done in the case of a prisoner refusing to plead. The reply was that the life and property of the recusant were at the absolute disposal of the lord of the island." In England the old remedy in such a case was pressing to death (thepeine forte et dure), but the goods of the prisoner were not forfeited. It is said to have been for this very reason (that his property might descend to his heir), that Walter Calverley refused to plead when indicted at York for the murder of his children in 1605. On December 29 the deemster pronounced sentence of death on Christian, and four days later he was shot at Hango Hill on the seashore on the way to Derby Haven, and, roughly, a mile to the east of Castle Rushen. The spot is almost exactly opposite King William's College, and is marked by the slight ruins of a blockhouse that was built by the seventh Earl, and by the site of an ancient burial-ground. He was buried at Malew Church, as recorded in the parish registerâ€”the last two sentences in terrible opposition: "Mr. William Christian of Ronaldsway, late Receiver, was shot to death at Hangoe Hill, on January 2. He died most penitently and most courageously, made a good end, prayed earnestly, made an excellentspeech, and the next day was buried in the chancel of Malew." The character of William Christian has been very variously estimated, but the islanders regarded him as a patriot martyr, who died for defending certain of their rights against the encroachments of the reigning house. "Baase Illiam Dhone" (The Death of Brown-haired William) "dwells on the retribution that befell the families of those who were responsible for his execution." On the other hand, it seems certain that Christian was accused in 1658 of having embezzled extensive revenues of the then sequestrated bishopric; and whether guilty of this or notâ€”he was never brought to trialâ€”he certainly fled to England, and this presupposes his guilt. Popular judgment and critical history thus often fall at loggerheads; Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, who was beheaded at Pontefract in 1322, was honoured after his death almost as though a saintâ€”Leland, writing in the time of Henry VIII., speaks of "the Hil, where the goode Duke ofLancastrewas beheddid"â€”whilst theDictionary of National Biographycan find nothing better to say of him than that "despite his tragic end, it is difficult to say anything favourable of Thomas of Lancaster."

In what has been said we have endeavoured to treat generally of all that is really best worth seeing in Man, dwelling briefly on those topics, whether of history or topography, that seem really of most validity, and passing in silence those aspects of the islandâ€”luckily few and often temporaryâ€”that appear to the writer not in harmony with its true and permanent charms, and in some cases even repellent. It would be pleasant in conclusion, did only space permit, to dig down a little deeper into the treasures of its place-names and local traditions, and to review the many quaint notices of its history and curiosities that are scattered up and down in the pages of old writers. It is not clear that Camden had ever visited Man, though he gives a short account of it at the end of hisMagna Britannia. The natives, he observes, lived chiefly on oat-bread; whilst both the sheep and cattle were smaller than in England, "nor have they such stately fronts." Part of his description is embodied in a letter that was sent him by the Bishop, John Merrick. "The women," says this letter, "whenever they go out of their own houses, as if mindful of mortality wrap themselves up in the linen that is to serve for theirshroud." Similarly, the late Augustus J. C. Hare says that a married woman in Northumberland, "in moments of gloom," will take out and try on her grave-clothes, which she always procures as part of her trousseau, "and find comfort in the inspection of the mournful linen." "Such women," continues the Bishop, "as are capitally convicted are sewed up in a sack and thrown from a rock into the sea. The natives in general are clear from stealing and begging from door to door, extremely religious, and to a man exact in their conformity to the church of England." Preaching in Jersey, in 1692, the learned Canon Falk thus boasted, in similar strain, that that island did not then contain a single dissenter. Giraldus Cambrensis, as cited by Camden, has a somewhat amusing story. The island lies, he tells us, "in the midway between the north of England and Ireland, occasioning no small dispute among the ancients to which of the two it belonged. The dispute was at last thus settled. As venomous creatures were found upon trial to live here, it was unanimously judged to the Britans." Ireland, it is well known, now possesses no poisonous reptiles: they were banished from its precincts by St. Patrick.

Camden, very shrewdly, makes the further observation that "the natives, however, in language and manners come nearer the Irish, but with a small mixture of Norwegian." This is curiously confirmed by the modern study of place-names, which indicates a considerable Norse settlement. Other place-names are strongly Erse in characterâ€”e.g., the familiar Balla (in Ballasalla, Ballabooye, Ballaquine, etc., and ninety-three others). Slieau, as a generic name for mountain (Slieau Ruy, Slieau Ree, etc.), and Glen for a mountain-ravine. "The map of the island," says the late Canon Isaac Taylor, "contains about 400 names, of which about 20 per cent. are English, 21 per cent. are Norwegian, and 59 per cent. are Celtic. These Celtic names are all of the most characteristic Erse type." The old Manx language, in fact, is still not altogether dead, though one no longer hears it spoken as Welsh is spoken in Wales, or as Gaelic in the Highlands of Scotland. Gough, in his additions to Camden, prints two specimens of this old tongue, though the present writer will not vouch for their orthography. The charitable disposition of the people, he says, "is marked by this proverb:Tra tayn derrey vought cooney leshbought alley, ta fee heme garaghtee:i.e., When one poor man relieves another, God Himself laughs outright for joy." "It is curious to observe," adds Canon Isaac Taylorâ€”if we may revert for the moment to the subject of place-namesâ€”"that the names which denote places of Christian worship are all Norwegian; they are an indication of the late date at which heathenism must have prevailed, and help to explain the fact that so many heathen superstitions and legends still linger in the island."

The principal reference is given first after names.

Quick Links to Index Letters[A]Â Â Â Â [B]Â Â Â Â [C]Â Â Â Â [D]Â Â Â Â [E]Â Â Â Â [F]Â Â Â Â [G]Â Â Â Â [H]Â Â Â Â [I]Â Â Â Â [L]Â Â Â Â [M]Â Â Â Â [N]Â Â Â Â [P]Â Â Â Â [R]Â Â Â Â [S]Â Â Â Â [T]Â Â Â Â [W]

A.Andreas,21B."Baase Illiam Dhone,"59Ballaugh,18Baregarrow,31Barrule, N.,6,18,31,44"Â Â Â Â Â Â S.,31,48Beinn-y-Phott,38,18,37Bishop's Court,30,29Bradda Head,8,31,49,51Bride,21C.Calf, The,48,49Carnanes, The,49,51Carraghan,37Castle Rushen,53,28Castletown,53,10Christian, William,56,57Clagh Ouyre,18,38Cobham, Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester,13Colden,18,20,37Contrary Head,49Corna Dale,43,44Cronk Fedjag,51Cronk-ny-Irey-Lhaa,51,38,49Cronk Urleigh,31Curraghs, The,21D.Dalby,50"Â Â Â Â Lhag,50Deemsters, The,23,22Derby, Charlotte de la TrÃ©moille, Countess of,56Derby Haven,53Derby, James, Earl of,55Dhoon Glen,45Douglas,7,10E.Eagle Mount,31F.Fleswick Bay,51Foxdale,48G.Glen Audyn,39"Â Â Helen,19"Â Â Laxey,45"Â Â Maye,50"Â Â Mooar,36"Â Â Roy,45"Â Â Rushen,50Great Wheel, The,46Greeba Castle, 19"Â Â Â Â Mill,18"Â Â Â Â Mountain,18Guthred the Dane, King,54H.Hall Caine, Mr.,19Hango Hill,58House of Keys,23I.Injebreck,37,7Irish Elk,55J.John, Presbyter,44Jurby,21K.Keeil Woirrey,43King William's College,58Kirk Braddon,21,42"Â Â Â Maughold,8,21,40Kirkmichael,8,18,25,42L.Laxey,45,36,39Le Scroop, Sir William,26Levinz, Bishop Baptist,27Lhargey Ruy,18M.Malew Church,58Manx arms,26"Â Â Â Crosses,41,40,21,29"Â Â Â Museum,54Merrick, Bishop John,60N.Neb, River,10,19P.Peel,10,7,8"Â Â Â Bay,11"Â Â Â Cathedral,21"Â Â Â Hill,49Port Erin,52,7"Â Â Â St. Mary,52Pre-conquest architecture,11R.Ramsey,39,7,18Reneuriling, Hill of,31Rhenass Fall,20"Â Â Â Â Â River,35Round Tower,11Russel, Bishop Thomas,30Russel, Bishop William,30Rutter, Bishop Samuel,12S.Saint Germain's Cathedral,12"Â Â Â John's,18,22,55"Â Â Â Maughold's Head,40"Â Â Â Patrick's Island,11,8,10"Â Â Â Trinian's Chapel,19Sart Fell,20,31,35Slack, The,51Slieau Dhoo,31"Â Â Â Froghane,31"Â Â Â Ruy,18Snaefell,33,7,18,24,31,32,36,38,46Sodor and Man, Bishopric of,30Spanish Head,48Spectre "Dog,"14Stanley, Sir John,26Stanley, Sir Thomas,13Sulby,18"Â Â Â Glen,31,32,36T.Tholt-y-Wilt,36Tynwald Hill,22,31W.Wilson, Bishop Thomas,25

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