The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1875-12-22
THE HAUNrs OF A POET.
A VISIT TO KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE
ON THE CORNISH COAST.

THE POET TENNYsoN AND HIS SUMMER RE
soRr-HIsToRIcAL GROUNDS.
| A correspondent of the st. Louis Globe
Democrat writes: sat upon a projecting
rock on the Isle of Tintagel, hundreds of
feet above the sea, which was rolling in
upon the beach below with wayward indo-
lence. Close by rose the tall cliffs Of the
Cornish coast, with their rock-ribbed sides.
It was such a scene that which John Rus
kin must have had IN his ''mind's eyer
when he said: "And the command went
| forth that the earth should be sculptured.
The dry land appeared not in level sands
| forsaken by the surges, which those surges
might again claim for their own; but in
range beyond range of swelling hill and
| iron rock, forever to claim kindred with the
| armament and be companioned by the
clouds Of heaven"
1t was midday; not cloud could be
seen. The heavens above were
| For tickle, short-lived clouds to occupy,
Or pass through; but rather an abyss
In which the everlasting stars abide.
| 1t was solitude that seemed almost OPP
pressive, yet every spot around was in i'm
aginatiOn peOpled by heroes and fair
women. This little island was where King
Arthur built his castle, held his court and
founded his order of knighthood.
glorious company; the flower Of men men,
And be the fair beginning OF a time
THE RUINS OF THE CASTLE,
with its decayed and tottering stones, rose
again, in Imagination, in all of its barbaric
splendor, tower and battlements, glistened
with the spears of armed men; the rafting
of arms and tramp of steeds were heard
coming down the rsvine-a goodly COM
pany of brave knights and fair lsdies-st
their head he, Arthur, their king, and
riding by his side, on her snow-white pal
behind them, foremost among
the train, Lancelot. With merry
laughter and many courtly jest,
they passed over the bridge (which new the
waves of the Atlantic have swept away,
leaving but few rough stones) into the
castle. Then the scene changed, and upon
the bosom of the blue waters beneath.
bark was slowly approaching, under the
high cliff, aud in il lay the body of Elaine,
the fair maid of Astolat:
In her right hand the lily, in her left
The letter, all her bright hair streaming down,
Down to her waist, and she herself ia white,
All but her face, and that clear featured face
Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead,
But fast asleep, and lay as though she smiled.
Gustave Dore has drawn beautiful pic
ture of this scene, where
Steered by the dumb, went upward with the
flood.
but he never looked upon the ruins of King
Arthur's castle, or his picture would have
been more truthful to Nature. My day
dream was suddenly interrupted by discov-
ing stranger near me. L arose from my
seat and approached him. It was one of
those wild solitudes, tar away from any hu-
man habitation, where you would always tor
get the ordinary formalities of life, and adj
1ffrnf hoV RI
meet. Before L reached him knew, al
though had never looked upon his face
before, that stood 10 the presence OF the
great magician who had peopled the ruins
and the solitude around me with such
bright visions. 1t was the poet Tennyson;
the face and the figure that had
so often seen pictured could not be
mistaken. Like most men of mark, he had
q striking appearance, and wherever you
met him, you would at once have set him
down as a man OF no ordinary character;
tall, but looking taller than he really was,
on account of his spare frame; sallow COM
plexion, with keen dark eyes and shaggy
eyebrows, unshaven with long beard and
mustache turning iron-gray, and long haiI
Of the same color falling to his shoulders, he
had a general unkempt appearances; his
dress did not appear to have been made by q
fashionable tailor, and it looked as if some
years had elapsed since it was first worn; in
his mouth he had a short black pipe, which
he was smoking. Not the kind of man
that the reader would imagine wrote
"coME INTO THE GARDEN MAUD"
first accosted him saying:
"I believe have the honor of speaking to
Mr.. Tennyson7"
In reply he stif1y bowed his head, some
what surily thought.
! told him who 1 was, and that had
come to Tintagel to look upon the scenes
he had made so familiar to the reeders of
English literature. He commenced asking
me questions, mostly concerning the Uni
ted States, its literature, and the English
authors that were mostly read
there. He expressed great
admiration for Longfellow, whom he knew
personally. He then pointed out various
objects of interest that had escaped my no.
tice among the ruins of the castle, on the
island and the shore, among others King |
Arthur's drinking-cup, huge piece of rock |
followed out into the shape OF bowl, and |
large enough to hold the contents of a |
barrel; and a small chapel, the foundations |
of which can be traced, and in which the |
altar-stone, a solid piece OF hewn rock, still
remains perfect. The island is but few |
hundred yards in diameter. 1t Is almost |
circular and rises out of the sea with abrupt, |
precipitous sides at least 200 feet high. On
the nearest point of the mainland q con- |
Siderable portion OF the ruins OF the casIle
are to be found. The poet stated that be
believed that the island had been originally
connected with the mainland by a narrow
istbmus that the sea had washed away, or
else that bridge had been built over, which
had shared the same fate. There are traces
of masonry on both sides, and at low tide
you can still walk across. We walked up
the ravine which leads down to the sea into
the highland, and he pointed out to me the
supposed field OF Camelot,
THE SCENE OF THE KINGS LAST STRUGGLE.
where
GAIL day long the noise of battle rolled
Among the mountains by the winter sea,
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their lord"
''There," said he, "is panorama. Every
annt ON which vnnr eve rests has soma his |