Isle of Man is to celebrate 1000 years of Tynwald

Press, 24 February 1979, Page 16

Isle of Man is to celebrate 1000 years of Tynwald

By

HETTY TURNER

Since the 1950 s all over New Zealand, there have been celebrations of centenaries; photographs of elderly people ringing school bells, or cutting anniversary cakes of some group or organsiation, or in commemoration of some build-

Out of all these festivities evolves the fact that the white settlement of New Zealand is firmly set on its way to a second hundred years.

Accounts of the first pioneers excite admiration; the strength of the women as they toiled beside their menfolk engenders sheer wonder that they could take on and surmount such stringent conditions, far alien to their previous life styles. Yet in all these 100 years. New Zealand is only embryonic when compared with one of the smallest kingdoms in the world — which this July meets its millenium — the Isle of Man.

One thousand years ago the Vikings rowed their big boats round the north ern most coastline of Scotland and came down the west coast of Britain to discover this veritable treasurepot of land nestled in that temperamental strip of water, the Irish Sea. Only 30 miles long, by 11 miles at its widest, it was one long struggle for the nation of Celts who lived there to keep their foothold. Their history was as turbulent as the waters surrounding their coastline. They were poor people who lived precariously as they wrestled all the elements which swept across their small land. The soil was rich for farming and there was plenty of fish in the waters, but the winter

storms and gales bereaved many a family when they took the fishermen and their boats.

The Vikings stayed to rule and set up a system of government which has persisted throughout the succeeding changes, until, today, it is the second oldest Viking parliament in the world, after Rejkiavik. Each July 5 in ritual and pageantry, the laws of the land are promulgated at the open-air Tynwald at St John’s in the centre of the island. The canopied dais stands in the shadow of hump-backed Slieu Whelan, down whose sides once were rolled the spiked barrels with their pathetic, condemned cargo of witches. The Scots did not view well the snatching of such a plum from under their noses and a long tussle began. In the eleventh century’. Godred Crovan son of Harold the Black of Islay, conquered the island and built his fortress at the entrance to the Silverbi rn River.

It was primitive — a mound outworks. But the site was superb for it commanded views far out to sea and all over the surrounding land. When Magnus Barefoot’s time came, 30 years later, he pressed the men of Galloway into cutting and delivering timber to its shores from which he built more forts. Another Magnus was important enough to rate a mention from the monks of Rushen Abbey who recorded that Magnus, son of Olave, King of Man and the Isles, died at Rushen Castle on Novem-

ber 24, 1265, and was buried in the Abbey grounds. And how’s' this for a bit of name dropping? Among the Kings of Man were such romantic-sounding names never heard of today’ as Ketill, Ragnill, Anlof, Thorfin, Systric, Fingal, and Macon, to name but a few. In 1313, things got pretty hectic. Simon de Montacule, who had married the Imeal heiress of Man, Aufrica. built four towers and enlarged the keep of the castle so that it would stand longer sieges; but thev did not prevent Robert'the Bruce taking it for Alexander 111 of Scotland. When eventually the Manx tossed him out they passed a law that a Scotsman could be shot on sight. It was about this time that the emblem, a ship in full sail, .was scrapped and the Sicilian three legs was adopted. In 1341, one of Edward Ill’s favourites, the first Earl of Salisbury, Baron William Montacule, was crowned King of Man. The Montacules, who had immense wealth and extensive power in Britain, rarely visited the island but were its kings until 1397.

Even the French had a go at Man in 1377, but were repelled by Hugh Tyrell and his garrison. In the sixteenth century a few survivors of the Spanish armada waded ashore and stayed to endow the Manx with their classical features.

The next powerful families to hold sway were the

Stanleys, the Earls of Derby — and the Athols. During the civil wars, Captain Evan Christian of the Manx Militia handed the island over to Parliament, for which he was later shot on Hango Hill by express order of the eighth Earl of Derby. He was sentenced to be hung, drawn, and quartered but his wife pleaded so piteously on his behalf that he was permitted an honourable execution.

One Earl of Derby incarcerated his Countess, Charlotte de la Tremoulle, in the castle dungeons, where rats abounded and

the tidal waters rose to knee height twice a day. She managed to escape and crossed on foot to Garwick on the east coast where smugglers had a cave. However, she was recaptured before she could persuade them to row her to the British shores. But when Captain Duckenfield accepted the surrender after the civil war he allowed her safe passage to France with her three children. This war-torn land was not even spared a religious upheaval for there was a period when its bishop and all the top officers of the Church were suspended or imprisoned. Through it all the Manx went on waiting for their time of times to emerge; meanwhile, Elizabeth I gave them a clock for the tower of Rushen Castle so they would know what time of day it was.

The natives quietly went about their business, “houldin’ thur tongues” and living alongside "the good folk,” their fairies; aware that their Celtic language saved them a lot of “pother,” and knowing mil well that whoever might come or go, .hey were the real owners of Man.

In 1815, the castle became a. jail and murderers were hung in its court-' yards. Every old castle has its legends and ghosts and Rushen was no exception. The restless spirit that roams its precincts is the Lady in Grey ... reputed to be a young woman who was hanged there for killing her child. There is much folklore, and many other legends and ghosts. The standard of life on the island may be simple, but the culture is rich. Manx choirs and soloists sing successfully alongside the Welsh at music festivals; they have their own Robbie Burns, in the national poet George Brown, who was a most prolific writer in the Manx dialect; and they have the works and novels of Sir Hall Caine, journalist, lecturer, poet, playwright, and friend of Dante Rosetti. His novels with Manx themes were, popular in the early part of this century. Sir Hall Caine built his

home, Greeba Castle, to overlook the pastoral scene which Holland made famous in his painting “The plains of Heaven.” The world only associates the Isle of Man with the T.T. motor-cycle races and the tail-less cat. But it is also the home of an unique breed of sheep, the fo u r-horned Loughtan. They have two strong horns rising from the top of their heads and two as substantial curling round their ears.

Lead and silver was discovered, and mining was started ~.t Foxdale and Laxey. The Manx, who never do anything by halves, bought a huge wheel, the Lady Isabella, from Spain, to pump water out of the Laxey mines. It was the greatest engineering feat of its day, but now the Lady Isabella is only a landmark and viewpoint for the tourist who climbs to its top. The mines have long been the silent tomb of hundreds of men who died '.n the disaster of the early part of this century. Tempted by a low rate of income tax many retired people make their home on the island. A fleet of sturdy ferry boats

and many different airlines unload their human cargoes during the summer months. Commercial money spinners and a casino dominate the present capital, Douglas, whilst some of the once beautiful old homes with their special atmosphere, such as Greeba, The Nunnery, and Fort Anne, have lowered their Standards for those of business tycoons like Guber, Sangster, and Anna Neagle and partners. However, the mystique of the true Manx can still be felt by those who stand amid the stillness of one of the glens. . . where one can almost feel the breath of a butterfly as it flits by, to woo the petulant sunbeam straying through the gently waving branches above, to play intermittently on the moss and fern along the silver stream, which talks quietly to itself as it meanders busily along. Many Manxmen have made their mark in the world, such as Captain Quilliam, who lost his life in the same action as Lord Nelson; Mark Collett, who was manager of the Bank of England; Sir

Ralph Stevenson, British Ambassador to Egypt at the time of the Suez crisis; and George Henry Moore, of Glenmark Station, North Canterbury. But probably best known is Fletcher Christian of the Bounty mutiny. It is less well known that Captain Bligh married a Manxwoman at Onchan Parish Church on the island, or that the Bounty’s youngest midshipman, Heywood, was also Manx. His life was spared because of the pleas of his dying sister who, under much physical suffering, had presented herself at the trials in London. One of the most

respected of the island’s adopted sons was a pure bred black, James Brown, founder and editor of the Isle of Man “Times,” whose motto was “Truth without fear or favour.” His son, George, always maintained that nothing of note took place in this world without the presence of a Manxman. He went to great lengths to prove this through the of his newspaper. When any great event took place, the Manx would fondly nod their heads and say: “Wait for it. . . there’s a Manxman there. . . and George will find him.” And George did. He may have had something though, for of the three men who struggled through almost impenetrable bush to stand enthralled at the sight of Lake Wakitipu in 1863, one of them was Patrick Quirk Caples. Later, with only a compass and a rough map, he was responsible for surveying and naming the Holyford River, and lakes McKerrow, Alabaster, and Harris.

It was doubly dangerous as the area was the home of a tribe of Maoris who had never seen a white man and it was still to be proved whether they were cannibals.

Patrick Quirk Caples settled at Reefton where he became well respected and a director of several quartz mines. He might have been born in Holyford, Ireland, of an Irish father, but he certainly had Manx blood in him, for his middle name wasn’t QUIRK for nothing.