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Sketches OF SAINT MICHAEL'S MOUNT,
GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED TO THE LORD DE DUNSTANVILLE AND SIR JOHN ST. AUBYN, Bart.
THE ARGUMENT.
“St. Michael's Mount is one of those rare and commanding objects which arrest and fix the attention the moment they are seen. Its peculiar situation, and the sublime character it assumes from appearing to rise immediately from the waves, singularly interest the imagination of the observer; though, when viewed from the land, its real magnitude is apparently diminished, from the vast extent of the horizon, and the expanded tract of water which surrounds its base—at high water it appears a completely insulated congregation of rocks, towering to a considerable height, gradually decreasing in size, till, assisted by the tower of the chapel on its summit, it assumes the form of a complete pyramid. At low water it may be approached from the shore, over a kind of causeway, of sand and rocks, which are submerged by every rising tide, and the mount rendered again a perfect island. Some of the masses of rock in the intermediate space are immensely large, and all composed of granite, of a close texture, with its feltspar of a pinkish colour. The mount itself consists of a hard granite, in which transparent quartz is the preponderating substance.
“The mount's cornish-appellation was Carakludgh en luz— signifying the ‘gray, or hoary rock in the wood.’ Ptolemy calls the mount Ocrinum—but soon after the 6th century, it seems to have received its present name, from the apparition of St. Michael, whose appearance, according to the monkish legends, to some hermits on the mount, occasioned the foundation of the monastery. The place where the vision sat was a craggy
That guards the western coast?’”
See Beauties of England and Wales.
SKETCH THE FIRST.
Hail to thy castled brow! thy lofty head
Pointed like pyramid! Yes, there the tower,
And there the ramparts rise! But, needless they,
And powerless e'en the utmost art of man
To add to thee or dignity, or grace,
Undeck'd, uncastled, in thy native charms
More awfully sublime! for turrets then
Thou hadst thy rugged peaks—for battlements,
Crags of rough granite—for thy dungeon-keep,
The green recesses in yon beetling crags—
For drawbridge, yonder causeway's rocky sand,
Which it would foil all mortal power to raise,
Or to let fall again—that pathway, left
By the kind waves at morn, or noon, or eve,
Which, with resistless force resume their own,
It was, ere building dared presume to clothe
Thy naked grandeur, that some pious men
First sought thy rock, on holy purpose bent;
And gave the bright angelic vision birth.
Whence comes thy name, oh, fearful phantasy?
How did the brain, which could conceive, survive
The grand appalling image fancy drew?
What says tradition? Did the vision come
In day's bright hour—and in what garb array'd?
He with dark demons awful conflict held,
Meek, yet victorious? Was the lofty crest
Upon his casque of sunbeams fashion'd? No.
Twilight's mysterious hour, or darkest night
Would better suit such advent—gathering mists
Through which the moon would force some slanting rays,
Would easier image such a being forth.
Methinks that through his wide transparent wings
The stars of heaven were seen, and his tall spear
Was tipt with moonbeams! while afraid to gaze
Upon the o'erwhelming vision, to the earth
Appall'd the trembling hermit bow'd his head;
Then to the bright creation added voice.
Do holy legends record bear? Suffice,
That soon upon the mountain's rugged brow
To fortress chang'd—but not for works like these
Would heavenly form descend. Not come to lure
Man, social man, from love's endearing ties,
And life's blest duties—and still less to change
The home of cloister'd peace to scenes of war;
To stain thy verdant turf with human blood,
And for the hymn of praise, bid the loud drum
And din of arms the echoes round awake.
But, be thy rock convent- or castle-crown'd,
If mailed warrior, or if hooded monk
Be ruler of thy walls, and pace along
Or youthful beauties smile away its gloom,
Telling of softer rule and brighter scenes,
Thou art so varied, wild, romantic, grand,
One gazes on thee with untired delight!—
From my lone dwelling, on the terrac'd beach,
To gaze upon thee, in thy varied robe,
At morn, at noon, at twilight, and at eve;
And watch thy various tints, and light, and shade,
Which ever round thee like a garment hang.
Sometimes I've seen the brightly-bounding waves,
Like liquid emeralds, clasp thy frowning base,
By shadows veil'd—then climbing up thy sides,
Retreating thence—then rushing on again,
Seeming resolved to sport away thy gloom—
As playful children, half afraid, yet bold,
Clasp the lov'd parent's knees, whose brows are dark
With frowns unwonted, then, abash'd retire,
But, since uncheck'd, the bold caress renew—
Were clothed in yellow radiance—and again,
When to the west, on the deep crimson sky
Outlined in dark magnificence, thy form
Stood boldly forth! next, in a gorgeous stole
Of roseate hue, reflected from that sky,
I saw thee clad! then, thou wast dark again,
Save that the sinking sun, as parting gift,
Threw on thy loftiest height a coronal
Of golden rays, which brightest seem'd, methought,
When vanishing. The dying christian thus
In his last hour, sometimes distinctly gains
A glimpse of opening heaven, and sheds around
A brightning radiance, as his soul departs!
“When it was first consecrated to religious purposes is unknown; but the earliest time it appears on record, as a place of devotion, is the fifth century.
“Edward the Confessor founded on it a priory of Benedictine monks, on whom he bestowed the property of the mount.
“At the dissolution, its revenues were valued at £110 12s. per annum, and were bestowed, together with the government of the mount, then a military fort, on Humphrey Arundell, Esq.
“In the first year of Elizabeth, it was granted by patent to Thomas Bellett and John Budden, who afterwards conveyed it to Robert Earl of Salisbury, from whose family it passed to Francis Basset, Esq. (the ancestor of Lord de Dunstanville,) but previous to the last century, was sold to Sir John St. Aubyn, whose descendant, Sir John St. Aubyn, bart, still possesses it.”
See Beauties of England and Wales.“The earliest transaction of a military nature, recorded to have happened at this mount, was in the reign of Richard I.
“The civil contentions, in the reign of Charles I, were the cause of the fortifications of the mount being encreased, till (in a chronicle of the proceedings of the time) the works were styled ‘impregnable and almost inaccessible.’
“They were, however, reduced, after being vigorously defended by the king's adherents, in the month of April, 1646, by Colonel Hammond.
“This was the last transaction of a military description that happened on this romantic spot.”
See Beauties of England and Wales.SKETCH THE SECOND.
Much had I heard of thee, thou sea-girt rock!And I had seen thy wondrous heights portray'd
By him I lov'd—and I had oft admired
Thy grandeur on his canvass—but I found
The real mountain might indeed defy
Art's power to paint—but, till I near thee came
I could not feel thy vastness; and at length
Around thy rocky base with weary feet
I won my arduous way; full oft alarm'd
Lest the fierce wintry wind, which round me blew,
Should sweep me to the waves, or loose the crags
As if about to hurl destruction wide;
And as I upward look'd, athwart me came
Such sense of thy dread magnitude, I felt
My admiration swallow'd up in awe;
And when I laboured up thy steep ascent,
And found, that though the storm was howling round,
And the wide waters roll'd in snow-white foam,
While not a boat could dare their fury brave,
In safety I upon thy brow could stand
Unconscious of their motion—I, secure,
On that tumultuous sea, as on the shore,
Because my feet on thee were planted; then
The thought of Him, the Rock of ages, came
Athwart my mind, whose type thou art, and prayer
To my full heart was given,—to have my faith
On that great Rock secure, as on thy heights
I felt my stedfast feet; and while I prayed,
A calm, a solemn calm, came o'er my soul,
And on the midnight air thanksgiving rose!
“The distant view of the mount excites ideas of impressive grandeur, but the effect is considerably encreased when traversing its base, ascending its craggy sides, as slowly winding beneath its immense masses of pendant rock.” See Beauties of England and Wales.
SKETCH THE THIRD.
The time was midnight; and the wintry windHowl'd o'er the bosom of the foaming deep,
Which to its voice in louder roar replied,
When on the ramparts of that castled rock,
Sea-girt, which bears the great archangel's name,
I held my lonely watch—and held it, awe struck!
For ever and anon upon the blast,
Already terrible to hear, was borne
The fearful notice of the minute gun,
Distant, yet audible, and asking aid
For drowning wretches—ask'd perhaps, in vain;
And fancy, shuddering at the scene she drew,
Portray'd the vessel sinking in the deep!
Saw the blue lights hung on the shivering mast
In desperate haste, and vainly!—doom'd to serve
Only as funeral torches, to their grave
She hears a dread variety of sounds
At that dread moment! wild appalling oaths
From desperate lips! and there the mortal plunge,
Scarce heard amidst the waters' roar—and then,
The short, shrill, fruitless prayer for help! then comes
The fearful shriek of agonized despair!
But happier thoughts stole on me as the wind
Ceas'd its wild roar—and round the castle walls
I took my solitary walk, and hoped
The dark Atlantic heav'd with gentler swell
Its mighty billows—while the eastern waves
Began to wear a soft and pallid hue,
As yet, the source unseen—that unseen source,
The cause that led me to my midnight watch
On that tall rock, braving the driving storm;
For I was come to see the beauteous moon
In cloudless majesty her state assume;
But I was forced to wait upon her smile
As courtiers watch the smile of earthly queen,
And long I waited, on the battlements
Marking the scene below—wide, billowy, dark,
Save where from lowly cottages which lay
Scattered around the mountain's foot below,
And from the dwellings on the distant shores,
As yet some lights put forth faint twinkling rays;
But when the distant clock, upon the wind,
Gave solemn notice of the midnight hour,
Lo! one by one I saw those welcome lights
Fade from the view, till not a single beam
Was left to tell that in the dark expanse,
And near that wilderness of waters then,
Another eye than mine a vigil kept;
But I, alone, seem'd waking!—Thus methought,
As life advances, one by one we mark
Our dearest friends and relatives expire!
No eye of love remains to cheer our age,
And we are left alone!
SKETCH THE FOURTH.
Of those long-lov'd, the distant, and the dead,
Floated before me on the mists of night.
And wrapt me in forgetfulness of all
I came to gaze upon! till with the clouds
On which my fancy sketch'd them, suddenly
They vanished! then, still slowly stealing forth,
The moon appeared, bidding each object wear
Her pallid livery; while distinctness spread
O'er hill and rampart, and the granite rocks
Below me threw upon their modest gray
A vest of warmer hue; but still night's queen
Delay'd her bright career; for rebels still
Remained to conquer, as dark-frowning clouds
And driving rain cross'd rudely o'er her path,
Till, like successful troops in war's red field,
The winds came rushing on, and, in a trice,
Like soldiers charging on a flying foe;
Then to her throne in undisputed power
The smiling queen arose, and round her shed
Her showers of diamonds—of recovered sway
The brilliant tokens—and with varied gems
Decking her subject waves—but still she had,
Like earthly queen, her favourites; and her gifts
She in one corner of the wide expanse
Heap'd so profusely, that the light they gave,
Made me discern e'en the green turf that sheaths
The rock's rough base, and there with mimic day
The sea, the shore, the crags, and mountain shone.
The scene, the sights I coveted, were mine.
From that steep eminence my eyes beheld
Three seas uniting their deep waters roll,
Clasping the mountain in one glorious zone;
While, as their radiant ruler rose at length
To her supreme dominion; soon she mov'd
Her silver sceptre o'er her subject tides;
Till, hush'd to calmness was each rebel wave;
And as it gently bow'd its shining head,
Seem'd softly murmuring peace, allegiance, love.
To full and cloudless sway o'er every land,
Those mingling waters lave, and shine at length
To earth's remotest bounds! May that pure light,
As yon fair moon the subjugated waves,
Soothe each rebellious passion; drive away
All party bitterness, all bigot zeal,
Till every shore is in truth's radiance steeped;
Till on the mountains, vallies, rocks, and plains,
Love—Christian love—one general anthem pours.
And as those oceans meet around yon rock,
So round the Rock of ages, from whose side
Flow healing fountains, may the nations meet,
And in eternal blessed union join,
Till earth appears a prototype of heaven.
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