{"id":2933,"date":"2012-05-07T19:17:31","date_gmt":"2012-05-07T19:17:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/?p=2933"},"modified":"2012-05-08T09:04:29","modified_gmt":"2012-05-08T09:04:29","slug":"the-cell-by-the-sea","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/?p=2933","title":{"rendered":"‘The Cell by the Sea’"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

THE CELL BY THE SEA<\/strong><\/p>\n

How wildly sweet by Hartland Tower,
\nThe thrilling voice of prayer:
\nA seraph, from his cloudy bower,
\nMight lean to listen there.<\/p>\n

For time, and place, and storied days,
\nTo that great fane have given
\nHues that might win an angel’s gaze,
\n‘Mid scenery of heaven.<\/p>\n

Above \u2014 the ocean breezes sweep,
\nWith footsteps firm and free:
\nAround \u2014 the mountains guard the deep,
\nBeneath \u2014 the wide, wide sea.<\/p>\n

Enter! the arching roofs expand,
\nLike vessels on the shore;
\nInverted, when the fisher-band
\nMight tread their planks no more;<\/p>\n

But reared on high in that stern form,
\nLest faithless hearts forget
\nThe men that braved the ancient storm,
\nAnd hauled the early net.<\/p>\n

The tracery of a quaint old time
\nStill weaves the chancel screen:
\nAnd tombs, with many a broken rhyme,
\nSuit well this simple scene.<\/p>\n

A Saxon font, with baptism bright,
\nThe womb of mystic birth,
\nAn altar, where, in angels’ sight,
\nTheir Lord descends to earth.<\/p>\n

Here glides the spirit of the psalm,
\nHere breathes the soul of prayer:
\nThe awful church \u2014 so hushed \u2014 so calm \u2014
\nAh! surely God is there.<\/p>\n

And lives no legend on the wall?
\nNo theme of former men?
\nA shape to rise at fancy’s call,
\nAnd sink in graves again?<\/p>\n

Yes! there, through yonder portal stone,
\nWith whisper’d words they tell,
\nHow once the monk, with name unknown,
\nPrepared that silent cell.<\/p>\n

He came with griefs that shunned the light,
\nWith vows long breathed in vain:
\nThose arches heard, at dead of night,
\nThe lash, the shriek, the pain;<\/p>\n

The prayer that rose and fell in tears,
\nThe sob, the bursting sigh:
\nTill woke, with agony of years,
\nThe exceeding bitter cry.<\/p>\n

This lasted long \u2014 as life will wear,
\nE’en though in anguish nurs’d \u2014
\nFew think what human hearts can bear
\nBefore their sinews burst.<\/p>\n

It lasted long \u2014 but not for aye:
\nThe hour of freedom came:
\nIn that dim niche the stranger lay
\nA cold and silent frame.<\/p>\n

What sorrows shook the strong man’s soul,
\nWhat guilt was rankling there,
\nWe know not: time may not unroll
\nThe page of his despair.<\/p>\n

He sleeps in yonder nameless ground,
\nA cross hath marked the stone;
\nPray ye, his soul in death hath found
\nThe peace to life unknown.<\/p>\n

And if ye mourn that man of tears,
\nTake heed, lest ye too fall;
\nA day may mar the rest, that years
\nShall seek but not recall.<\/p>\n

Nor think that deserts soothe despair,
\nOr shame in cells is screen’d;
\nFor Thought, the demon, will be there,
\nAnd Memory, the fiend.<\/p>\n

Then waft, ye winds, this tale of fear,
\nBreathe it in hall and bower.
\nTill reckless hearts grow hushed to hear,
\nThe Monk of Hartland Tower.<\/p>\n

[Printed in Ecclesia<\/em>, 1840, in Echoes From Old Cornwall<\/em>, The Cornish Ballads<\/em>, etc.]<\/p>\n

*\u00a0 *\u00a0 *\u00a0 *\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

St. Nectan’s, the parish church of Hartland, is situated between the town and Hartland Quay in the village of Stoke. The room above the north porch is traditionally known as Pope’s Chamber; the Pope in question being a local resident of that name. Access is via a steep and narrow stairway and the chamber contains an interesting collection of odds and ends, among which I was delighted to find a glass case with an oak shingle from the roof of Morwenstow church. Despite Hawker’s lively imaginings it seems doubtful that the place ever served as a monk’s cell – it contains a large fireplace and the atmosphere is more homely than ascetic. A leaflet that I picked up during our visit suggests that the chamber may have been used by a priest or sexton, and to store the parish armour in Elizabethan and Stuart times.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

In the Life & Letters<\/em> Byles includes an account of a visit made by Hawker and Charlotte in 1838, just over three years after their arrival in Morwenstow:<\/p>\n

HARTLAND<\/p>\n

“On the – of June 1838 Charlotte and I drove to Hartland. Day showery. Saw first Grave-ground and Church. The yard-paths clean, but the Vicar cherishes for his Horse the grain that grows from out the Bosoms of the Dead. No green and shaven mounds like my own Church Yard. By the Chancel door there is an Altar Tomb, an epitaph, but no surviving name – The Words ‘ Who art thou that judgest another man’s servant ? ‘ &c. ‘ Rejoice not against me, oh mine Enemy,’ &c. Legend. One of the Doctons of Docton smote his Son in ire with His Sword belt. The buckle struck him in the temple that he died. Hence Remorse evermore – hence the nameless Tomb – The fierce anticipation of reproach &c. Cf<\/em>. and dl<\/em>.<\/p>\n

“Next the Church. The Screen nearly complete. On its upper ledge the Singers stood, within the tradition of one generation. The last Chancel Choir of which I ever found tracery in the West. The Roof of the Church painted thick with Stars in imitation of Heaven. I hence perceive why and whence our carved projections – they are all meant to be starry tokens to meet the lifted eye with memorials of Heaven.<\/p>\n

” We ascended by a narrow stair of stone from the North Wall into a small low chamber, called still the Monk’s Room – it is an obvious cell. There lived a solitary man. There dwelt Thought as a Demon and Memory arrived in the garb of a Fiend. Long years, long years – the vigil of the night, the abstinence of the day, the solitary yell, the lonely psalm, the Mea Culpa of a goaded Mind. ‘Mother of God! why is thy face so like to hers I slew? O let my Hell burn now. Let those who torture come before the time’ and then ever and anon in the pauses of the public Mass, a sob, a wail, an echo from that Wall – a whisper from a Man to to his Mate, ‘It is the Monk.’ Kurie Eleeson. Ave Maria. Pater noster qui es.”<\/p>\n

Life & Letters<\/em> (p.54)<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Text and photos \u00a9 Angela Williams 2010, 2012<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A poem by Robert Stephen Hawker<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2952,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[63],"tags":[36,224,28,201,178,225,226],"class_list":["post-2933","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-devon","tag-hartland","tag-poem","tag-poetry-2","tag-st-nectans","tag-stoke","tag-the-cell-by-the-sea"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2933","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2933"}],"version-history":[{"count":25,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2933\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2960,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2933\/revisions\/2960"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2952"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2933"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2933"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.robertstephenhawker.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2933"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}