IN THE ISLE OF MAN
THE holiday which Borrow gave himself the year following his visit to
Wales, that is to say, in September, 1855, is recorded in his unpublished
diaries. He never wrote a book as the outcome of that journey, although
he caused one to be advertised under the title of _Bayr Jairgey and Glion
Doo_: _Wanderings in Search of Manx Literature_. Borrow, it will be
remembered, learnt the Irish language as a mere child, much to his
father’s disgust. Although he never loved the Irish people, the Celtic
Irish, that is to say, whose genial temperament was so opposed to his
own, he did love the Irish language, which he more than once declared had
incited him to become a student of many tongues. He never made the
mistake into which so many have fallen of calling it “Erse.” He was
never an accurate student of the Irish language, but among Englishmen he
led the way in the present-day interest in that tongue—an interest which
is now so pronounced among scholars of many nationalities, and has made
in Ireland so definite a revival of a language that for a time seemed to
be on the way to extinction. Two translations from the Irish are to be
found in his _Targum_ published so far back as 1835, and many other
translations from the Irish poets were among the unpublished manuscripts
that he left behind him. It would therefore be with peculiar interest
that he would visit the Isle of Man which, at the beginning of the
nineteenth century, was an Irish-speaking land, but in 1855 was at a
stage when the language was falling fast into decay. What survived of it
was still Irish with trifling variations in the spelling of words.
“Cranu,” a tree, for example, had become “Cwan,” and so on—although the
pronunciation was apparently much the same. When the tall, white-haired
Englishman talked to the older inhabitants who knew something of the
language they were delighted. “Mercy upon us,” said one old woman, “I
believe, sir, you are of the old Manx!” Borrow was actually wandering in
search of Manx literature, as the title of the book that he announced
implied. He inquired about the old songs of the island, and of
everything that survived of its earlier language. Altogether Borrow must
have had a good time in thus following his favourite pursuit.
But these stories are less human than a notebook in my hands. This is a
long leather pocket-book, in which, under the title of “Expedition to the
Isle of Man,” we have, written in pencil, a quite vivacious account of
his adventures. It records that Borrow and his wife and daughter set out
through Bury to Peterborough, Rugby, and Liverpool. It tells of the
admiration with which Peterborough’s “noble cathedral” inspired him.
Liverpool he calls a “London in miniature”:
Strolled about town with my wife and Henrietta; wonderful docks and
quays, where all the ships of the world seemed to be gathered—all the
commerce of the world to be carried on; St. George’s Crescent; noble
shops; strange people walking about, an Herculean mulatto, for
example; the old china shop; cups with Chinese characters upon them;
an horrible old Irishwoman with naked feet; Assize Hall a noble
edifice.
The party left Liverpool on 20th August, and Borrow, when in sight of the
Isle of Man, noticed a lofty ridge of mountains rising to the clouds:
Entered into conversation with two of the crew—Manx sailors—about the
Manx language; one, a very tall man, said he knew only a very little
of it as he was born on the coast, but that his companion, who came
from the interior, knew it well; said it was a mere gibberish. This
I denied, and said it was an ancient language, and that it was like
the Irish; his companion, a shorter man, in shirt sleeves, with a
sharp, eager countenance, now opened his mouth and said I was right,
and said that I was the only gentleman whom he had ever heard ask
questions about the Manx language. I spoke several Irish words which
they understood.
When he had landed he continued his investigations, asking every peasant
he met the Manx for this or that English word:
“Are you Manx?” said I. “Yes,” he replied, “I am Manx.” “And what
do you call a river in Manx?” “A river,” he replied. “Can you speak
Manx?” I demanded. “Yes,” he replied, “I speak Manx.” “And you call
a river a river?” “Yes,” said he, “I do.” “You don’t call it owen?”
said I. “I do not,” said he. I passed on, and on the other side of
the bridge went for some time along an avenue of trees, passing by a
stone water-mill, till I came to a public-house on the left hand.
Seeing a woman looking out of the window, I asked her to what place
the road led. “To Castletown,” she replied. “And what do you call
the river in Manx?” said I. “We call it an owen,” said she. “So I
thought,” I replied, and after a little further discourse returned,
as the night was now coming fast on.
One man whom Borrow asked if there were any poets in Man replied that he
did not believe there were, that the last Manx poet had died some time
ago at Kirk Conoshine, and this man had translated Parnell’s _Hermit_
beautifully, and the translation had been printed. He inquired about the
Runic Stones, which he continually transcribed. Under date Thursday,
30th August, we find the following:
This day year I ascended Snowdon, and this morning, which is very
fine, I propose to start on an expedition to Castletown and to return
by Peel.
Very gladly would I follow Borrow more in detail through this interesting
holiday by means of his diary, {197} but it would make my book too long.
As he had his wife and daughter with him there are no letters by him from
the island.
Three years later we find that Borrow has not forgotten the friends of
that Manx holiday. This letter is from the Vicar of Malew in
acknowledgment of a copy of _The Romany Rye_ published in the interval:
TO GEORGE BORROW, ESQ.
MALEW VICARAGE, BALLASALLA,
ISLE OF MAN, 27 _Jany._ 1859.
MY DEAR SIR,—I return you my most hearty thanks for your most
handsome present of _Romany Rye_, and no less handsome letter
relative to your tour in the Isle of Man and the literature of the
Manx. Both I value very highly, and from both I shall derive useful
hints for my introduction to the new edition of the _Manx Grammar_.
I hope you will have no objection to my quoting a passage or two from
the advertisement of your forthcoming book; and if I receive no
intimation of your dissent, I shall take it for granted that I have
your kind permission. The whole notice is so apposite to my purpose,
and would be so interesting to every Manxman, that I would fain
insert the whole bodily, did the Author and the limits of an
Introduction permit. The _Grammar_ will, I think, go to press in
March next. It is to be published under the auspices of “The Manx
Society,” instituted last year “for the publication of National
documents of the Isle of Man.” As soon as it is printed I hope to
beg the favour of your acceptance of a copy.—I am, my dear Sir, your
deeply obliged humble servant,
WILLIAM GILL.