It’s been three weeks since we first arrived in Gryon. Three weeks of breathing pure air. Three weeks of endless beauty; impossibly perfect scenery. Three weeks of sublimity. Three weeks. And soon we’ll be gone.
My previous blogs have been on specific experiences we’ve encountered thus far and the connections I’ve made to the literature. Though I’d love to enthrall you all with more writings on the simple things that happen everyday that make me love Gryon more, I shall restrain myself. Rather, my next two posts shall be dedicated to two pieces of literature: Coleridge’s poem “The Hour Before Sunrise. A Hymn” and Henry James’ story Daisy Miller. This post is about Coleridge. Ready. Set. Go.
An important thing to know about this poem is that it was not originally written about Chamouny (“one of the highest mountain valleys of The Barony of Faucigny in the Savoy Alps”). Instead, the poem/hymn spawned from Coleridges mind while on the lesser Scafell, a mountain in a separate range. Feeling the Scafell inadequate of such praise and adoration, Coleridge switched the hymn’s subject to Chamouny. Thus came about “The Hour Before Sunrise. A Hymn”.
As the title denotes, the poem does deal with the sunrise. The first half of the hymn emphasizes the dark night, or specifically, Chamouny at night. A sense of confusion is felt; chaos not yet controlled. Coleridge’s diction creates a sense of emptiness. “Bald awful head”, “dread mountain form”, “silent sea”, “silently”, “pierces it”…all descriptions which create an atmosphere of isolation. Coleridge emphasizes the dark and sinister. The mountain is silent and he “[worships] the Invisible alone.” Chamouny at night is a dark, beautiful, silent form, but dangerously enchanting.
Then a change comes, the sun begins to rise. “Awake, Awake!” the hymn demands of the “forest pines” and “green fields.” Coleridge tells the “silent mountain, sole and bare, oh blacker than darkness” to awaken. The chaos becomes focused and life appears with the sunrise. The hymn takes on a purpose rather than the “passive adoration” previously experienced. The repetition of “awake, awake” effectively brings the poem to life. Sensory imagery makes every sense, every movement of life, tangible; as does the increasing contrast. Though sunrise occurs darkness still lingers. Light cannot exist without the dark. Within one stanza Coleridge includes a massive amount of contrast. “Blacker than the darkness”, “all the night”, “night”, “stars”, “sink”, “morning star”, “dawn”, “rosy star”, “sunless”, “night”, “death”, “ragged”, “life”…I could quote for days the endless amount of conflicting diction. But I won’t. What Coleridge does, though, is create tension. It’s brilliant really because in creating this tension he personifies the Swiss Alps very effectively. Like I’ve said in past posts: the mountains are deceptive. While the epitome of perfection, the Swiss Alps are dangerous; they are beauty in chaos. There is evil, but there is also good. Light exists with dark. They are utterly dependent on each other; shadows in the night and shadows in the day. Such are the Alps, shadows of good and evil. Therefore, Coleridge’s use of contrast between light and dark, life and death, sleeping and waking illustrates the true nature of the mountains.
However, the hymn can take on a more spiritual meaning as well. When the poem was published in the Morning Post in 1802, the introduction said, “Who would be, who could be an atheist in this valley of wonders?” and it’s true. Looking at the Alps from the deck of the Chalet Martin proves everyday that something greater than me must exist. Beauty such as this does not simply appear from nowhere. The sun hitting the curves of the mountainside, the glow as the daylight retreats, the very air we breathe…it’s all too much. Though Coleridge insists quite vehemently in “The Hour Before Sunrise. A Hymn” that “God, God!” is the creator of all the perfection I believe that extends to all spirituality. You don’t have to believe in God but seeing the mountains makes you believe in something.
So, the hymn can also represent a conversion, the darkness in the first half symbolizing being lost spiritually; blind in the night. Then sunrise occurs, the mountain awakens, and with it one’s soul; belief and faith form. I think that is really what Coleridge is saying in the hymn. Praise, God. He created this beauty and life from darkness. He controlled the chaos. Awake and praise! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
I do find Coleridge’s diction to be a bit too flamboyant for my taste, but I respect and agree with his adoration. The piece personifies the mountain appropriately and isn’t that what truly matters? After being in the Alps for three weeks and seeing Chamouny, I think I can safely say that “The Hour Before Sunrise. A Hymn,” though perhaps a little flowery in style, honestly reflects the mountain’s character. And for that, Coleridge, I raise my cup of Swiss tea to you. Cheers.
B
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