The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker, M.A

In Short

This biography captures the life of Robert Stephen Hawker, the enigmatic Vicar of Morwenstow. Set against the rugged, unforgiving landscape of Cornwall, the narrative follows Hawker from his exuberant youth at Oxford to his decades spent serving a remote, superstitious parish. As a poet, a local legend, and a man prone to both profound kindness and unsettling eccentricities, he remains a haunting figure. The book endures because it functions as both a historical record of a vanishing way of life and a sensitive portrait of a mind that eventually frayed under its own intensity.

The Story

The narrative begins with a young, bright-eyed student whose early days are marked by a love for pranks—such as dressing as a mermaid to startle the locals—and a growing talent for balladry. His "Song of the Western Men," written in the spirit of a true folk ballad, earns him the admiration of literary giants like Sir Walter Scott. Yet, beneath this youthful merriment, a serious, religious current runs steadily. When he settles into the remote, windswept parish of Morwenstow, the setting becomes a character in itself. The Vicar finds himself tethered to a church perched on the edge of iron cliffs, where the roar of the Atlantic serves as a constant, thundering backdrop to his ministry.

As the years progress, the Vicar’s life becomes defined by his isolation. He embraces the role of a shepherd to a flock that is often as rugged and superstitious as the coast they inhabit. He spends his days mediating local disputes, reading letters for parishioners who cannot write, and mourning the victims of the shipwrecks that frequently litter his shoreline. He is a man of contradictions: a liberal in politics, a liturgical traditionalist in practice, and a constant target for those who find his claret-colored coats and blue fisherman’s jerseys beneath the dignity of his office. His life is punctuated by personal tragedy and the heavy, melancholy weight of his own solitude.

As age advances, the boundary between his reality and his inner world thins. He becomes increasingly attached to symbolic rituals, interpreting the architecture of his church through arcane, mystical lenses. His later years are marked by failing health and a descent into a state of bewilderment. Driven away from his beloved Morwenstow by infirmity, he spends his final days in Plymouth, confused and disconnected from the life he once commanded. The end is quiet and sad, leaving behind a legacy of local lore, beautiful, mournful poetry, and the enduring image of an old man standing by his wife’s grave in the churchyard, gazing at the empty space where his own name was meant to be inscribed.

How It Unfolds

The early spark The narrative introduces a vibrant student whose exuberant humor and love for local legends mask a profound, budding religious devotion. Even in his youth, the lines between his playful pranks and his serious literary ambitions are blurred.

The call to the cliffs The focus shifts to the isolated parish of Morwenstow, where the Vicar builds a life among the rocks and the sea. He becomes a fixture of the landscape, tending to his church and his parishioners with a mix of fierce local pride and idiosyncratic theology.

The weight of the ministry The middle chapters examine the practical realities of his life: his role as a self-appointed postman, his efforts to support the poor, and his stubborn defense of his church against both secular authorities and the harsh elements. He navigates the political and social tensions of the mid-19th century while remaining largely aloof from the clerical establishment.

The final shadow The conclusion documents the tragic erosion of his mental and physical state. Removed from his sanctuary at Morwenstow, he drifts into a fog of confusion, ending his life far from the cliffs that defined him.

The People

Robert Stephen Hawker stands at the center, a man who desperately wants to protect the sanctity of his parish while simultaneously nurturing a private, internal world. He is often at odds with the "common" world, which views him as an eccentric, yet he is deeply loved by those who witness his genuine, if erratic, compassion. His wife serves as a quiet, grounding influence, providing the stability he often lacks, while his brother Claud and various local figures like old Tristam, the gravedigger, provide a mirror to his own shifting moods. The people of his parish—dark-skinned, superstitious, and hardworking—serve as both the subjects of his care and the cause of his constant, wearying labor. By the end, the Vicar is a shadow of his former vitality, broken by the very intensity of the life he forged.

In Its Own Voice

"I have always lived aloof from them all, whether High or Low."

The Vicar explains his refusal to join clerical clubs, emphasizing his choice to walk a singular, solitary path outside the established church factions.

"I wear a cassock, instead of a broadcloth coat, which is, I know, eccentric; but then, I have paid my parish school expenses for many years out of the difference between the usual clergyman’s tailor’s bill and my own cost in apparel."

He justifies his unconventional dress not as a mere affectation, but as a sacrifice of personal vanity to fund the education of his parishioners.

"A billowy sea and a shattering wind, / The cliffs before, and the gale behind."

He recalls the grim, traditional toast of the Cornish wreckers to describe the perilous environment of his coastal home.

What It's Really About

This book explores the fine, often invisible line between a visionary and a madman. It asks whether a life lived with total, unyielding devotion to one’s own ideals is a triumph of character or a failure of adaptation. The text is deeply concerned with the concept of the "sacred" in a world that is becoming increasingly mechanized and secular. It questions how a man can maintain his spiritual integrity in a remote corner of the world, where the forces of nature—the sea, the wind, and the rock—seem more present than the laws of men. It is, at its heart, a study of the cost of isolation and the human capacity to imbue the physical world with profound, if singular, meaning.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the gothic atmosphere of the Cornish coast or those interested in the lives of Victorian nonconformists will find this biography deeply rewarding. The prose is warm and empathetic, yet it does not shy away from the darker, more difficult realities of the subject’s decline. It is an honest look at a man who refused to conform, and it captures the strange, often melancholy beauty of his temperament.

However, be prepared for the book's period-specific attitudes and the occasional density of its local anecdotes. The text reflects the standards of a late 19th-century biographer, which means the pace is leisurely and the tone is often hagiographic in its attempt to preserve the Vicar’s legacy. If you are willing to navigate the occasional moralizing of the era and the sometimes heavy reliance on local dialect or obscure ecclesiastical disputes, you will find a human story that stays with you. The image of the Vicar standing by his own empty grave is particularly haunting—a testament to a man who lived fully within his own dreams, only to find the world moving on without him. It is a quiet, contemplative read that excels at painting a portrait of a person who simply did not fit into the "train courant du monde."