St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall is so well known to most people, either
from sight or from report, that a description of its peculiar features may
be deemed almost superfluous; but in order to start fair, I shall quote a
short account from the pen of an eminent geologist, Mr. Pengelly, to whom
I shall have to refer frequently in the course of this paper.
“St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, he says, “is an island at very high
water, and, with rare exceptions, a peninsula at very low water. The
distance from Marazion Cliff, the nearest point of the mainland, to
spring-tide high-water mark on its own strand, is about 1680 feet. The
total isthmus consists of the outcrop of highly inclined Devonian slate
and associated rocks, and in most cases is covered with a thin layer of
gravel or sand. At spring-tides, in still weather, it is at high-water
about twelve feet below, and at low-water six feet above, the sea level.
In fine weather it is dry from four to five hours every tide; but
occasionally, during very stormy weather and neap tides, it is impossible
to cross from the mainland for two or three days together.”
“The Mount is an outlier of granite, measuring at its base about five
furlongs in circumference, and rising to the height of one hundred and
ninety-five feet above mean tide. At high-water it plunges abruptly into
the sea, except on the north or landward side, where the granite comes
into contact with slate. Here there is a small plain occupied by a
village.... The country immediately behind or north of the town of
Marazion consists of Devonian strata, traversed by traps and elvans, and
attains a considerable elevation.”
At the meeting of the British Association in 1865, Mr. Pengelly, in a
paper on “The Insulation of St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall,” maintained
that the change which converted that Mount from a promontory into an
island must have taken place, not only within the human period, but since
Cornwall was occupied by a people speaking the Cornish language. As a
proof of this somewhat startling assertion, he adduced the ancient British
name of St. Michael’s Mount, signifying _the Hoar rock in the wood_.
Nobody would think of applying such a name to the Mount in its present
state; and as we know that during the last two thousand years the Mount
has been, as it is now, an island at high, and a promontory at low tide,
it would indeed seem to follow that its name must have been framed before
the destruction of the ancient forest by which it was once surrounded, and
before the separation of the Mount from the mainland.
Sir Henry James, in a “Note on the Block of Tin dredged in Falmouth
Harbor,” asserts, it is true, that there are trees growing on the Mount in
sufficient numbers to have justified the ancient descriptive name of “the
Hoar rock in the wood;” but though there are traces of trees visible on
the engravings published a hundred years ago, in Dr. Borlase’s
“Antiquities of Cornwall,” these are most likely due to artistic
embellishment only. At present no writer will discover in St. Michael’s
Mount what could fairly be called either trees or a wood, even in
Cornwall.
That the geographical change from a promontory into a real island did not
take place during the last two thousand years, is proved by the
description which Diodorus Siculus, a little before the Christian era,
gives of St. Michael’s Mount. “The inhabitants of the promontory of
Belerium,” he says (lib. v. c. 22), “were hospitable, and, on account of
their intercourse with strangers, eminently civilized in their habits.
These are the people who work the tin, which they melt into the form of
astragali, and then carry it to an island in front of Britain, called
_Ictis_. This island is left dry at low tide, and they then transport the
tin in carts from the shore. Here the traders buy it from the natives, and
carry it to Gaul, over which it travels on horseback in about thirty days
to the mouths of the Rhone.” That the Island of Ictis, described by
Diodorus, is St. Michael’s Mount, seems, to say the least, very probable,
and was at last admitted even by the late Sir G. C. Lewis. In fact, the
description which Diodorus gives answers so completely to what St.
Michael’s Mount is at the present day, that few would deny that if the
Mount ever was a “Hoar rock in the wood,” it must have been so before the
time of which Diodorus speaks, that is, at least before the last two
thousand years. The nine apparent reasons why St. Michael’s Mount cannot
be the Ictis of Diodorus, and their refutation, may be seen in Mr.
Pengelly’s paper “On the Insulation of St. Michael’s Mount,” p. 6, seq.
Mr. Pengelly proceeded to show that the geological change which converted
the promontory into an island may be due to two causes. First, it may have
taken place in consequence of the encroachment of the sea. This would
demand a belief that at least 20,000 years ago Cornwall was inhabited by
men who spoke Cornish. Secondly, this change may have taken place by a
general subsidence of the land, and this is the opinion adopted by Mr.
Pengelly. No exact date was assigned to this subsidence, but Mr. Pengelly
finished by expressing his decided opinion that, subsequent to a period
when Cornwall was inhabited by a race speaking a Celtic language, St.
Michael’s Mount was “a hoar rock in the wood,” and has since become
insulated by powerful geological changes.
In a more recent paper read at the Royal Institution (April 5, 1867), Mr.
Pengelly has somewhat modified his opinion. Taking for granted that at
some time or other St. Michael’s Mount was a peninsula and not yet an
island, he calculates that it must have taken 16,800 years before the
coast line could have receded from the Mount to the present cliffs. He
arrived at this result by taking the retrocession of the cliffs at ten
feet in a century, the distance between the Mount and the mainland being
at present 1,680 feet.
If, however, the severance of the Mount from the mainland was the result,
not of retrocession, but of the subsidence of the country,—a rival theory
which Mr. Pengelly still admits as possible,—the former calculation would
fail, and the only means of fixing the date of this severance would be
supplied by the remains found in the forests that were carried down by
that subsidence, and which are supposed to belong to the mammoth era. This
mammoth era, we are told, is anterior to the lake-dwellings of
Switzerland, and the kitchenmiddens of Denmark, for in neither of these
have any remains of the mammoth been discovered. The mammoth, in fact, did
not outlive the age of bronze, and before the end of that age, therefore,
St. Michael’s Mount must be supposed to have become an island.
In all these discussions it is taken for granted that St. Michael’s Mount
was at one time unquestionably a “hoar rock in the wood,” and that the
land between the Mount and the mainland was once covered by a forest which
extended along the whole of the seaboard. That there are submerged forests
along that seaboard is attested by sufficient geological evidence; but I
have not been able to discover any proof of the unbroken continuity of
that shore-forest, still less of the presence of vegetable remains in the
exact locality which is of interest to us, namely between the Mount and
the mainland. It is true that Dr. Borlase discovered the remains of trunks
of trees on the 10th of January, 1757; but he tells us that these forest
trees were not found round the Mount, but midway betwixt the piers of St.
Michael’s Mount and Penzance, that is to say, about one mile distant from
the Mount; also, that one of them was a willow-tree with the bark on it,
another a hazel-branch with the bark still fat and glossy. The place where
these trees were found was three hundred yards below full-sea mark, where
the water is twelve feet deep when the tide is in.
Carew, also, at an earlier date, speaks of roots of mighty trees found in
the sand about the Mount, but without giving the exact place. Lelant
(1533-40) knows of “Spere Heddes, Axis for Warre, and Swerdes of Copper
wrapped up in lynist, scant perishid,” that had been found of late years
near the Mount, in St. Hilary’s parish, in tin works; but he places the
land that had been devoured of the sea between Penzance and Mousehole,
_i.e._ more than two miles distant from the Mount.
The value of this kind of geological evidence must of course be determined
by geologists. It is quite possible that the remains of trunks of trees
may still be found on the very isthmus between the Mount and the mainland;
but it is, to say the least, curious that, even in the absence of such
stringent evidence, geologists should feel so confident that the Mount
once stood on the mainland, and that exactly the same persuasion should
have been shared by people long before the name of geology was known.
There is a powerful spell in popular traditions, against which even men of
science are not always proof, and is just possible that if the tradition
of the “hoar rock in the wood” had not existed, no attempts would have
been made to explain the causes that severed St. Michael’s Mount from the
mainland. But even then the question remains, How was it that people quite
guiltless of geology should have framed the popular name of the Mount, and
the popular tradition of its former connection with the mainland? Leaving,
therefore, for the present all geological evidence out of view, it will be
an interesting inquiry to find out, if possible, how people that could not
have been swayed by any geological theories, should have been led to
believe in the gradual insulation of St. Michael’s Mount.
The principal argument brought forward by non-geological writers in
support of the former existence of a forest surrounding the Mount, is the
Cornish name of St. Michael’s Mount, _Cara clowse in cowse_, which in
Cornish is said to mean “the hoar rock in the wood.” In his paper read
before the British Association at Manchester, Mr. Pengelly adduced that
very name as irrefragable evidence that Cornish, _i.e._ a Celtic language,
an Aryan language, was spoken in the extreme west of Europe about 20,000
years ago. In his more recent paper Mr. Pengelly has given up this
position, and he considers it improbable that any philologer could now
give a trustworthy translation of a language spoken 20,000 years ago. This
may be or not; but before we build any hypothesis on that Cornish name,
the first question which an historian has to answer is clearly this:—
_What authority is there for that name? Where does it occur for the first
time? and does it really mean what it is supposed to mean?_
Now the first mention of the Cornish name, as far as I am aware, occurs in
Richard Carew’s “Survey of Cornwall,” which was published in 1602. It is
true that Camden’s “Britannia” appeared earlier, in 1586, and that Camden
(p. 72), too, mentions “the Mons Michaelis, _Dinsol_ olim, ut in libro
Landavensi habetur, incolis _Careg Cowse_,(90) _i.e._ rupis cana.” But it
will be seen that he leaves out the most important part of the old name,
nor can there be much doubt that Camden received his information about
Cornwall direct from Carew, before Carew’s “Survey of Cornwall” was
published.
After speaking of “the countrie of Lionesse which the sea hath ravined
from Cornwall betweene the lands end and the Isles of Scilley,” Carew
continues (p. 3), “Moreover, the ancient name of Saint Michael’s Mount was
_Cara-clowse in Cowse_, in English, The hoare Rocke in the Wood; which now
is at everie floud incompassed by the Sea, and yet at some low ebbes,
rootes of mightie trees are discryed in the sands about it. The like
overflowing hath happened in Plymmouth Haven, and divers other places.”
Now while in this place Carew gives the name _Cara-clowse in Cowse_, it is
very important to remark that on page 154, he speaks of it again as “_Cara
Cowz in Clowze_, that is, the hoare rock in the wood.”
The original Cornish name, whether it was _Cara clowse in Cowse_, or _Cara
Cowz in Clowze_, cannot be traced back beyond the end of the sixteenth
century, for the Cornish Pilchard song in which the name likewise occurs
is much more recent, at least in that form in which we possess it. The
tradition, however, that St. Michael’s Mount stood in a forest, and even
the Saxon designation, “the Hoar rock in the wood,” can be followed up to
an earlier date.
At least one hundred and twenty-five years before Carew’s time, William of
Worcester, though not mentioning the Cornish name, not only gives the
Mount the name of “hoar rock of the wood,” but states distinctly that St.
Michael’s Mount was formerly six miles distant from the sea, and
surrounded by a dense forest: “PREDICTUS LOCUS OPACISSIMA PRIMO
CLAUDEBATUR SYLVA, AB OCEANO MILIARIBUS DISTANS SEX.” As William of
Worcester never mentions the Cornish name, it is not likely that his
statement should merely be derived from the supposed meaning of _Cara Cowz
in Clowze_, and it is but fair to admit that he may have drawn from a
safer source of information. We must therefore inquire more closely into
the credibility of this important witness. He is an important witness,
for, if it were not for him, I believe we should never have heard of the
insulation of St. Michael’s Mount at all. The passage in question occurs
in William of Worcester’s Itinerary, the original MS. of which is
preserved in Corpus Christi College at Cambridge. It was printed at
Cambridge by James Nasmith, in the year 1778, from the original MS., but,
as it would seem, without much care. William Botoner, or, as he is
commonly called, William of Worcester, was born at Bristol in 1415, and
educated at Oxford about 1434. He was a member of the _Aula Cervina_,
which at that time belonged to Balliol College. His “Itinerarium” is dated
1478. It hardly deserves the grand title which it bears, “Itinerarium,
sive liber memorabilium Will. W. in viagio de Bristol usque ad montem St.
Michaelis.” It is not a book of travels in our sense of the word, and it
was hardly destined for the public in the form in which we possess it. It
is simply a notebook in which William entered anything that interested him
during his journey; and it contains not only his own observations, but all
sorts of extracts, copies, notices, thrown together without any connecting
thread. He hardly tells us that he has arrived at St. Michael’s Mount
before he begins to copy a notice which he found posted up in the church.
This notice informed all comers that Pope Gregory had remitted a third of
their penances to all who should visit this church and give to it
benefactions and alms. It can be fully proved that this notice, which was
intended to attract pilgrims and visitors, repeats _ipsissimis verbis_ the
charter of Leofric, Bishop of Exeter, who exempted the church and convent
from all episcopal jurisdiction. This was in the year 1088, when St.
Michael’s Mount was handed over by Robert, Earl of Mortain, half-brother
of William the Conqueror, to the Abbey of St. Michel in Normandy. This
charter may be seen in Dr. Oliver’s “Monasticon Diocesis Exoniensis,”
1846. The passage copied by William of Worcester from a notice in the
church of St. Michael’s Mount occurs at the end of the original charter:
“_Et omnibus illis qui illam ecclesiam suis cum beneficiis elemosinis
expetierint et visitaverint, tertiam partem penitentiarum condonamus._”
Though it is not quite correct to say that this condonation was granted by
Pope Gregory, yet it is perfectly true that it was granted by the Bishop
of Exeter at the command and exhortation of the Pope, “_Jussione et
exhortatione domini reverentissimi Gregorii_.” The date also given by
William, 1070, cannot be correct, for Gregory occupied the papal throne
from 1073-86. It was Gregory VII., not Gregory VI., as printed by Dr.
Oliver.
Immediately after this memorandum in William’s diary we meet with certain
notes on the apparitions of St. Michael. He does not say from what source
he takes his information on the subject, but we may suppose that he either
repeated what he heard from the monks in conversation, or that he copied
from some MS. in their library. In either case it is startling to read
that there was an apparition of the Archangel St. Michael in Mount
_Tumba_, formerly called _the Horerock in the wodd_. St. Michael seems
indeed to have paid frequent visits to his worshippers, if we may trust
the “Chronicon apparitionum et gestorum S. Michaelis Archangeli,”
published by Mich. Naveus, in 1632. Yet his visits were not made at
random, and even Naveus finds it difficult to substantiate any apparition
of St. Michael so far north as Cornwall, except by invectives against the
_impudenta et ignorantia_ of Protestant heretics who dared to doubt such
occurrences.
But this short sentence of William contains one word which is of great
importance for our purposes. He says that “the Hore-rock in the wodd” was
formerly called _Tumba_. Is there any evidence of this?
The name _Tumba_, as far as we know, belonged originally to Mont St.
Michel in Normandy. There a famous and far better authenticated apparition
of St. Michael is related to have taken place in the year 708, which led
to the building of a church and monastery by Autbert, Bishop of Avranches.
The church was built in close imitation of the Church of St. Michael in
Mount Garganus in Apulia, which had been founded as early as 493.(91) If,
therefore, William of Worcester relates an apparition of St. Michael in
Cornwall at about the same date, in 710, it is clear that Mont St. Michel
in Normandy has here been confounded by him with St. Michael’s Mount in
Cornwall. In order to explain this strange confusion, and the consequences
which it entailed, it will be necessary to bear in mind the peculiar
relations which existed between the two ecclesiastical establishments,
perched the one on the island rock of St. Michel in Normandy, the other on
St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall. In physical structure there is a curious
resemblance between the two mounts. Both are granite islands, and both so
near the coast that at low water a dry passage is open to them from the
mainland. The Mount on the Norman coast is larger and more distant from
the coast than St. Michael’s Mount, yet for all that their general
likeness is very striking. Now Mont St. Michel was called _Tumba_ at least
as far back as the tenth century. Mabillon, in his “Annales Benedictini”
(vol. ii. p. 18), quotes from an ancient author the following explanation
of the name. “Now this place, to use the words of an ancient author, is
called _Tumba_ by the inhabitants, because, emerging as it were from the
sands like a hill, it rises up by the space of two hundred cubits,
everywhere surrounded by the ocean; it is six miles distant from the
shore, between the mouths of the rivers Segia and Senuna, six miles
distant from Avranches, looking westward, and dividing Avranches from
Brittany. Here the sea by its recess allows twice a passage to the pious
people who proceed to the threshold of St. Michael the Archangel.” “Hic
igitur locus, ut verbis antiqui autoris utar, _Tumba_ vocitatur ab
incolis, ideo quod in morem tumuli, quasi ab arenis emergens, ad altum
SPATIO DUCENTORUM CUBITORUM porrigitur, OCEANO UNDIQUE CINCTUS, SEX
MILLIBUS AB ÆSTU OCEANI, inter ostia situs, ubi immergunt se mari flumina
Segia (Sée) et Senuna (Selure), ab Abrincatensi urbe (Avranches) sex
distans millibus; oceanum prospectans, Abrincatensem pagum dirimit a
Britannia. Illic mare suo recessu devotis populis desideratum bis præbet
iter petentibus limina beati Michaelis archangeli.”
This fixes _Tumba_ as the name of Mont St. Michel before the tenth
century, for the ancient author from whom Mabillon quotes wrote before the
middle of the tenth century, and before Duke Richard had replaced the
priests of St. Michel by Benedictine monks. _Tumba_ remained, in fact, the
recognized name of the Norman Mount, and has survived to the present day.
The church and monastery there were called “_in monte Tumba_,” or “_ad
duas Tumbas_,” there being in reality two islands, the principal one
called _Tumba_, the smaller _Tumbella_ or _Tumbellana_. This name of
_Tumbellana_ was afterwards changed into _tumba Helenæ_, giving rise to
various legends about Elaine, one of the heroines of the Arthurian cycle;
nay, the name was cited by learned antiquarians as a proof of the ancient
worship of Belus in these northern latitudes.
The history of Mont St. Michel in Normandy is well authenticated,
particularly during the period which is of importance to us. Mabillon,
quoting from the chronicler who wrote before the middle of the tenth
century, relates how Autbert, the Bishop of Avranches, had a vision, and
after having been thrice admonished by St. Michael, proceeded to build on
the summit of the Mount a church under the patronage of the Archangel.
This was in 708, or possibly a few years earlier, if Pagius is right in
fixing the dedication of the temple in 707.(92) Mabillon points out that
this chronicler says nothing as yet of the miracles related by later
writers, particularly of the famous hole in the Bishop’s skull, which it
was believed St. Michael had made when on exhorting him the third time to
build his church, he gently touched him with his archangelic finger. In
doing this the finger went through the skull, and left a hole. The
perforated skull did not interfere with the Bishop’s health, and it was
shown after his death as a valuable relic. The new church was dedicated by
Autbert himself, and the day of the dedication (xvii. Kalend. Novemb.) was
celebrated, not only in France, but also in England, as is shown by a
decree of the Synod held at Oxford in 1222. The further history of the
church and monastery of St. Michel may be read with all its minute details
in Mabillon, or in the “Neustria Pia” (p. 371), or in the “Gallia
Christiana” (vol. ix. p. 517 E, 870 A). What is of interest to us is that
soon after the Conquest, when the ecclesiastical property of England had
fallen into the hands of her Norman conquerors, Robert, Earl of Mortain
and Cornwall, the half-brother of William the Conqueror, endowed the
Norman with the Cornish Mount. A priory of Benedictine monks had existed
on the Cornish Mount for some time, and had been richly endowed in 1044 by
Edward the Confessor. Nay, if we may trust the charter of Edward the
Confessor, it would seem that, even at that time, the Cornish Mount and
its priory had been granted by him to the Norman Abbey, for the charter is
witnessed by Norman bishops, and its original is preserved in the Abbey of
Mont St. Michel. In that case William the Conqueror or his half-brother
Robert would only have restored the Cornish priory to its rightful owners,
the monks of Mont St. Michel, who had well deserved the gratitude of the
Conqueror by supplying him after the Conquest with six ships and a number
of monks, destined to assist in the restoration of ecclesiastical
discipline in England. After that time the Cornish priory shared the fate
of other so-called alien priories or cells. The prior was bound to visit
in person or by proxy the mother-house every year, and to pay sixteen
marks of silver as an acknowledgment of dependence. Whenever a war broke
out between England and France, the foreign priories were seized, though
some, and among them the priory of St. Michael’s Mount obtained in time a
distinct corporate character, and during the reigns of Henry IV. and Henry
V. were exempted from seizure during war.
Under these circumstances we can well understand how in the minds of the
monks, who spent their lives partly in the mother-house, partly in its
dependencies, there was no very clear perception of any difference between
the founders, benefactors, and patrons of these twin establishments. A
monk brought up at Mont St. Michel would repeat as an old man the legends
he had heard about St. Michel and Bishop Autbert, even though he was
ending his days in the priory of the Cornish Mount. Relics and books would
likewise travel from one place to the other, and a charter originally
belonging to the one might afterwards form part of the archives of another
house.
After these preliminary remarks, let us look again at the memoranda which
William of Worcester made at St. Michael’s Mount, and it will appear that
what we anticipated has actually happened, and that a book originally
belonging to Mont St. Michel in Normandy, and containing the early history
of that monastery, was transferred (either in the original or in a copy)
to Cornwall, and there used by William of Worcester in the belief that it
contained the early history of the Cornish Mount and the Cornish priory.
The Memorandum of William of Worcester runs thus: “Apparicio Sancti
Michaelis in monte Tumba, antea vocata le Hore-rok in the wodd; et fuerunt
tam boscus quarn prata et terra arabilis inter dictum montem et insulas
Syllye, et fuerunt 140 ecclesias parochiales inter istum montem et Sylly
submersse.
“Prima apparicio Sancti Michaelis in monte Gorgon in regno Apuliae fuit
anno Christi 391. Secunda apparicio fuit circa annum domini 710 in Tumba
in Cornubia juxta mare.
“Tertia apparicio Romæ fuit; tempore Gregorii papæ legitur accidisse: nam
tempore magnæ pestilenciæ, etc.
“Quarta apparicio fuit in ierarchiis nostrorum angelorum.
“Spacium loci mentis Sancti Michaelis est DUCENTORUM CUBITORUM UNDIQUE
OCEANO CINCTUM, et religiosi monachi dicti loci. Abrincensis antistes
Aubertus nomine, ut in honore Sancti Michaelis construeret ... predictus
LOCUS OPACISSIMA PRIMO CLAUDEBATUR SYLVA, AB OCEANO MILIARIBUS DISTANS
SEX, aptissimam prasbens latebram ferarum, in quo loco olim comperimus
MONACHOS domino servientes.”
The text is somewhat corrupt and fragmentary, but may be translated as
follows:—
“The apparition of St. Michael in the Mount Tumba, formerly called the
Hore-rock in the wodd; and there were a forest and meadows and arable land
between the said mount and the Syllye Isles, and there were 140 parochial
churches swallowed by the sea between that mount and Sylly.
“The first apparition of St. Michael in Mount Gorgon in the Kingdom of
Apulia was in the year 391. The second apparition was about the year 710,
in Tumba in Cornwall by the sea.
“The third apparition is said to have happened at Rome in the time of Pope
Gregory: for at the time of the great pestilence, etc.
“The fourth apparition was in the hierarchies of our angels.
“The space of St. Michael’s Mount is 200 cubits; it is everywhere
surrounded by the sea, and there are religious monks of that place. The
head of Abrinca, Aubertus by name, that he might erect a church(93) in
honor of St. Michael. The aforesaid place was at first enclosed by a very
dense forest, six miles distant from the ocean, furnishing a good retreat
for wild animals. In which place we heard that formerly monks serving the
Lord,” etc.
The only way to explain this jumble is to suppose that William of
Worcester made these entries in his diary while walking up and down in the
Church of St. Michael’s Mount, and listening to one of the monks, reading
to him from a MS. which had been brought from Normandy, and referred in
reality to the early history of the Norman, but not of the Cornish Mount.
The first line, “Apparicio Sancti Michaelis in monte Tumba,” was probably
the title or the heading of the MS. Then William himself added, “antea
vocata le Hore-rok in the wodd,” a name which he evidently heard on the
spot, and which no doubt conveyed to him the impression that the rock had
formerly stood in the midst of a wood. For instead of continuing his
account of the apparitions of St. Michael, he quotes a tradition in
support of the former existence of a forest surrounding the Mount. Only,
strange to say, instead of producing the evidence which he produced
afterwards in confirmation of St. Michael’s Mount having been surrounded
by a dense forest, he here gives the tradition about Lionesse, the sunken
land between the Land’s End and the Scylly Isles. This is evidently a
mistake, for no other writer ever supposed the sunken land of Lionesse to
have reached as far as St. Michael’s Mount.
Then follows the entry about the four apparitions of St. Michael. Here we
must read “_in monte Gargano_” instead of “_in monte Gorgon_.” Opinions
vary as to the exact date of the apparition in Mount Garganus in the South
of Italy, but 391 is certainly far too early, and has to be changed into
491 or 493. In the second apparition, all is right, if we leave out “in
Cornubia juxta mare,” which was added either by William or by the monk who
was showing him the book. It refers to the well-known apparition of St.
Michael at Avranches. The third and fourth apparitions are of no
consequence to us.
As we read on, we come next to William’s own measurements, fixing the
extent of St. Michael’s Mount at two hundred cubits. After that we are met
by a passage which, though it hardly construes, can be understood in one
sense only, namely, as giving an account of the Abbey of St. Michel in
Normandy. I suppose it is not too bold if I recognize in _Aubertus
Autbertus_, and in _Abrincensis antistes_, the _Abrincatensis episcopus_
or _antistes_, the Bishop of Avranches.
Now it is well known that the Mont St. Michel in Normandy was believed to
have been originally surrounded by forests and meadows. Du Moustier in the
“Neustria Pia” relates (p. 371), “Hæc rupes antiquitus Mons erat cinctus
sylvis et saltibus,” “This rock was of old a mount surrounded by forests
and meadows.” But this is not all. In the old chronicle of Mont St.
Michel, quoted by Mabillon, which was written before the middle of the
tenth century, the same account is given; and if we compare that account
with the words used by William of Worcester, we can no longer doubt that
the old chronicle, or, it may be, a copy of it, had been brought from
France to England, and that what was intended for a description of the
Norman abbey and its neighborhood was taken, intentionally or
unintentionally, as a description of the Cornish Mount. These are the
words of the Norman chronicler, as quoted by Mabillon, compared with the
passage in William of Worcester:—
_Mont St. Michel._ _St. Michael’s Mount._
“Addit idem auctor hunc “Predictus LOCUS
locum OPACISSIMA OLIM OPACISSIMA OLIM
SILVA CLAUSUM fuisse, et CLAUDEBATUR Sylva ab
MONACHOS IBIDEM oceano miliaribus distans
INHABITASSE duasque ad sex, aptissimam præbens
suum usque tempus latebram ferarum, in quo
exstitisse ecclesias quas loco olim comperimus
illi scilicet monachi MONACHOS DOMINO
incolebant.” SERVIENTES”.
“The same author adds that this place was formerly inclosed by a very
dense forest, and that monks dwelt there, and that two churches existed
there up to his own time, which those monks inhabited.”
The words CLAUSUM OPACISSIMA SILVA are decisive. The phrase AB OCEANO
MILIARIBUS DISTANS SEX, too, is taken from an earlier passage of the same
author, quoted above, which passage may likewise have supplied the
identical phrases OCEANO UNDIQUE CINCTUS, and the SPATIUM DUCENTORUM
CUBITORUM, which are hardly applicable to St. Michael’s Mount. The “two
churches _still_ existing in Mont St. Michel,” had to be left out, for
there was no trace of them in St. Michael’s Mount. But the monks who lived
in them were retained, and to give a little more life, the wild beasts
were added. Even the expression of _antistes_ instead of _episcopus_
occurs in the original, where we read, “Hæc loci facies erat ante sancti
Michaelis apparitionem hoc anno factam religiosissimo Autberto
Abrincatensi episcopo, admonentis se velle ut sibi in ejus montis vertice
ecclesia sub ipsius patrocinio erigeretur. Hærenti ANTISTITI tertio idem
intimatum,” etc.
Thus vanishes the testimony of William of Worcester, so often quoted by
Cornish antiquarians, as to the dense forest by which St. Michael’s Mount
in Cornwall was once surrounded, and all the evidence that remains to
substantiate the former presence of trees on and around the Cornish Mount
is reduced to the name “the Hoar rock in the wood,” given by William, and
the Cornish names of _Cara clowse in Cowse_ or _Cara Cowz in Clowze_,
given by Carew. How much or how little dependence can be placed on old
Cornish names of places and their supposed meaning has been shown before
in the case of Marazion. Carew certainly did not understand Cornish, nor
did the people with whom he had intercourse; and there is no doubt that he
wrote down the Cornish names as best he could, and without any attempt at
deciphering their meaning. He was told that “Cara clowse in Cowse” meant
the “Hoar rock in the Wood,” and he had no reason to doubt it. Even a very
small knowledge of Cornish would have enabled Carew or anybody else at his
time to find out that _cowz_ might be meant for the Cornish word for wood,
and that _careg_ was rock. _Clowse_ too might easily be taken in the sense
of gray, as gray in Cornish was _glos_. Then why should we hesitate to
accept _Cara clowse in cowse_ as the ancient Cornish name of the Mount,
and why object to Mr. Pengelly’s argument that it must have been given at
a time when the Mount was surrounded by a very dense forest, and that _a
fortiori_ at that distant period Cornish must have been the spoken
language of Cornwall?
The first objection is that the old word for “wood” in Cornish was _cuit_
with a final _t_, and that the change of a final _t_ into _z_ is a
phonetic corruption which takes place only in the later stage of the
Cornish language. The ancient Cornish _cuit_, “wood,” occurs in Welsh as
_coed_, in Armorican as _koat_ and _koad_, and is supposed to exist in
Cornish names of places, such as _Penquite_, _Kilquite_, etc. _Cowz_,
therefore, could not have occurred in a Cornish name supposed to have been
formed at least 2,000 if not 20,000 years ago.
This thrust might, no doubt, be parried by saying that the name of the
Mount would naturally change with the general changes of the Cornish
language. Yet this is not always the case with proper names, as may be
seen by the names just quoted, _Penquite_ and _Kilquite_. At all events,
we begin to see how uncertain is the ground on which we stand.
If we take the facts, scanty and uncertain as they are, we may admit that,
at the time of William of Worcester, the Mount had most likely a Latin, a
Cornish, and a Saxon appellation. It is curious that William should say
nothing of a Cornish name, but only quote the Saxon one. However, this
Saxon name, “the Hoar rock in the Wood” sounds decidedly like a
translation, and is far too long and cumbrous for a current name.
_Michelstow_ is mentioned by others as the Saxon name of the Mount
(Naveus, p. 233). The Latin name given to the Mount, but only after it had
become a dependency of Mont St. Michel in Normandy, was, as we saw from
William of Worcester’s diary, _Mons Tumba_ or _Mons Tumba in Cornubia_,
and after his time the name of _St. Michael in Tumbâ_ or in _Monte Tumbâ_
is certainly used promiscuously for the Cornish and Norman mounts.(94) Now
_tumba_, after meaning hillock, became the recognized name for tomb, and
the mediæval Latin _tumba_, too, was always understood in that sense. If,
therefore, the name “Mons in tumba” had to be rendered in Cornish for the
benefit of the Cornish-speaking monks of the Benedictine priory, _tumba_
would actually be taken in the sense of tomb. One form of the Cornish
name, as preserved by Carew, is _Cara cowz in clowze_; and this, if
interpreted without any preconceived opinion, would mean in Cornish “the
old rock of the tomb.” _Cara_ stands for _carak_, a rock. _Cowz_ is meant
for _coz_, the modern Cornish and Armorican form corresponding to the
ancient Cornish _coth_, old.(95) _Clowze_ is a modern and somewhat corrupt
form in Cornish, corresponding to the Welsh _clawdh_, a tomb. _Cladh-va_,
in Cornish, means a burying-place; and _cluddu_, to bury, has been
preserved as a Cornish verb, corresponding to the Welsh _cladhu_. In
Gaelic, too, _cladh_ is a tomb or burying-place; and in Armorican, which
generally follows the same phonetic changes as the Cornish, we actually
find _kleuz_ and _klôz_ for tomb or inclosure. (See Le Gonidec, “Dict.
Breton-Français,” s. v.) The _en_ might either be the Cornish preposition
_yn_, or it may have been intended for the article in the genitive, _an_.
The old rock in the tomb, _i.e._ _in tumbâ_, or the old rock of the tomb,
Cornish _carag goz an cloz_, would be intelligible and natural renderings
of the Latin _Mons in tumba_.
But though this would fully account for the origin of the Cornish name as
preserved by Carew, it would still leave the Saxon appellation the “Hore
rock in the wodd” unexplained. How could William of Worcester have got
hold of this name? Let us remember that William does not mention any
Cornish name of the Mount, and that nothing is ever said at his time of
the “Hore rock in the wodd” being a translation of an old Cornish name.
All we know is that the monks of the Mount used that name, and it is
hardly likely that so long and cumbrous a name should ever have been used
much by the people in the neighborhood. How the monks of St. Michael’s
Mount came to call their place the “Hore rock in the wodd” at the time of
William of Worcester, and probably long before his time, is, however, not
difficult to explain, after we have seen how they transferred the
traditions which originally referred to Mont St. Michel to their own
monastery. Having told the story of the “_sylva opacissima_” by which
their mount was formerly surrounded to many visitors, as they told it to
William of Worcester, the name of the “Hore rock in the wodd” might easily
spring up among them, and be kept up within the walls of their priory. Nor
is there any evidence that in this peculiar form the name ever spread
beyond their walls. But it is possible that here, too, language may have
played some tricks. The number of people who used these names and kept
them alive can never have been large, and hence they were exposed much
more to accidents arising from ignorance and individual caprice than names
of villages or towns which are in the keeping of hundreds and thousands of
people. The monks of St. Michael’s Mount may in time have forgotten the
exact purport of “Cara cowz in clowze,” “the old rock of the tomb,” really
the “Mons in tumba;” and their minds being full of the old forest by which
they believed _their_ island, like Mont St. Michel, to have been formerly
surrounded, what wonder if _cara cowz in clowze_ glided away into _cara
clowse in cowze_, and thus came to confirm the old tradition of the
forest. For _cowz_ would at once be taken as the modern Cornish word for
wood, corresponding to the old Cornish _cuit_, while _clowse_ might, with
a little effort, be identified with the Cornish _glos_, gray, the
Armorican _glâz_. Carew, it should be observed, sanctions both forms, the
original one, _cara cowz in clowze_, “the old rock of the tomb,” and the
other _cara clowse in cowze_, meaning possibly “the gray rock in the
wood.” The sound of the two is so like that, particularly to the people
not very familiar with the language, the substitution of one for the other
would come very naturally; and as a reason could more easily be given for
the latter than for the former name, we need not be surprised if in the
few passages where the name occurs _after Carew’s_ time, the secondary
name, apparently confirming the monkish legend of the dense forest that
once surrounded St. Michael’s Mount, should have been selected in
preference to the former, which, but to a scholar and an antiquarian,
sounded vague and meaningless.
If my object had been to establish any new historical fact, or to support
any novel theory, I should not have indulged so freely in what to a
certain extent may be called mere conjecture. But my object was only to
point out the uncertainty of the evidence which Mr. Pengelly has adduced
in support of a theory which would completely revolutionize our received
views as to the early history of language and the migrations of the Aryan
race. At first sight the argument used by Mr. Pengelly seems unanswerable.
Here is St. Michael’s Mount, which, according to geological evidence, may
formerly have been part of the mainland. Here is an old Cornish name for
St. Michael’s Mount, which means “the gray rock in the wood.” Such a name,
it might well be argued, could not have been given to the island after it
had ceased to be a gray rock in the wood; therefore it must have been
given previous to the date which geological chronology fixes for the
insulation of St. Michael’s Mount. That date varies from 16,000 to 20,000
years ago. And as the name is Cornish, it follows that Cornish-speaking
people must have lived in Cornwall at that early geological period.
Nothing, as I said, could sound more plausible; but before we yield to the
argument, we must surely ask, Is there no other way of explaining the
names _Cara cowz in clowze_ and _Cara clowse in cowze_? And here we find—
(1.) That the legend of the dense forest by which the Mount was believed
to have been surrounded existed, so far as we know, before the earliest
occurrence of the Cornish name, and that it owes its origin entirely to a
mistake which can be accounted for by documentary evidence. A legend told
of Mont St. Michel had been transferred _ipsissimis verbis_ to St.
Michael’s Mount, and the monks of that priory repeated the story which
they found in their chronicle to all who came to visit their establishment
in Cornwall. They told the name, among others, to William of Worcester,
and to prevent any incredulity on his part, they gave him chapter and
verse from their chronicle, which he carefully jotted down in his
diary.(96)
(2.) We find that when the Cornish name first occurs, it lends itself, in
one form, to a very natural interpretation, which does not give the
meaning of “Hore rock in the wodd,” but shows the name _Cara cowz in
clowze_ to have been a literal rendering of the Latin name “Mons in
tumba,” originally the name of Mont St. Michel, but at an early date
applied in charters to St. Michael’s Mount.
(3.) We find that the second form of the Cornish name, namely, _cara
clowse in cowze_, may either be a merely metamorphic corruption of _cara
cowz in clowze_, readily suggested and supported by the new meaning which
it yielded of “gray rock in the wood;” or, even if we accept it as an
original name, that it would be no more than a name framed by the
Cornish-speaking monks of the Mount, in order to embody the same spurious
tradition which had given rise to the name of “Hore rock in the wodd.”
I need hardly add that in thus arguing against Mr. Pengelly’s conclusions,
I do not venture to touch his geological arguments. St. Michael’s Mount
may have been united with the mainland; it may, for all we know, have been
surrounded by a dense forest; and it may be perfectly possible
geologically to fix the date when that forest was destroyed, and the Mount
severed, so far as it is severed, from the Cornish coast. All I protest
against is that any one of these facts could be proved, or even supported,
by the Cornish name of the Mount, whether _cara cowz in clowze_, or _cara
clowse in cowze_, or by the English name, communicated by William of
Worcester, “the Hore rock in the wodd,” or finally by the legend which
gave rise to these names, and which, as can be proved by irrefragable
evidence, was transplanted by mistake from the Norman to the Cornish
coast. The only question which, in conclusion, I should like to address to
geologists, is this: As geologists are obliged to leave it doubtful
whether the insulation of St. Michael’s Mount was due to the washing of
the sea-shore, or to a general subsidence of the country, may it not have
been due to neither of these causes, and may not the Mount have always
been that kind of half-island which it certainly was two thousand years
ago?
1867.