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Matthew ArnoldA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Though Arnold is sometimes counted among the last of the great Victorian poets, in many of his themes he is ahead of his time and prefigures modernity. Chief among these prescient themes is Arnold’s frank exploration of the self. His poems capture his sense of anxiety with a directness which is distinctly modern and would go on to influence poets from T.S. Eliot to Sylvia Plath. In “Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse,” the speaker’s awareness of self enters the text abruptly with the lines “And what am I, that I am here?” (Line 66). Up to this point, the outer landscape reflected the speaker’s inner turmoil; now, he addresses his inner confusion directly. It is notable that the poem’s first reference to the first-person “I” is a self-directed question. Thus, the poet immediately establishes that whatever the self (or “I”) might be, it is still unknown, divided, and indeterminate. Moreover, the poet makes clear that he will examine this “I” with the same scrutiny he has shown the monks, their library, and their garden. The subsequent admission that “rigorous teachers seized my youth, / And purged its faith, and trimm'd its fire,/ Show'd me the high, white star of Truth” (Lines 67-69) bursts out of the speaker with the power of a confession, as if he were revealing a long-suppressed secret. The urgency of the speaker’s voice is typical of the hidden self’s desire to assert itself. The “rigorous teachers” could reference the poet’s father, who emphasized liberal and secular values. A sense of irony underlines the phrase “high, white star of Truth”: The truth is cold and unapproachable, and the very idea that there is one Truth is debatable.
In Lines 86-88, the poet describes himself as “Wandering between two worlds, one dead, / The other powerless to be born, / With nowhere yet to rest my head” (Lines 85-87). This reference to a double (or divided) existence is a recurring motif in the poem, with the poet torn between the ruthless scrutiny of his intellect and nostalgia for an imagined, wholesome past. Arnold does not attempt to reconcile these contradictions; by the end of the poem, he accepts that he and his generation are stuck in inertia, unable to participate in the wholesomeness of past and future. The poet’s acceptance of his weakness and indecisiveness reveal a willingness to engage with the imperfection of the self and the psyche. Romantic poets explored the evolving self as well, but generally found redemption in nature. Arnold’s speaker affords himself no such luxury. The speaker longs to “hide” (Line 91) and be silent to escape his self-doubt; yet, he courageously examines that very same crushing inner conflict. Thus, the poem subtly acknowledges that the self is a work in progress. It is subject to many outside forces, including social expectations (e.g., the speaker feels the admonitory voices of his teachers chide him for his presence in the monastery, Lines 73-78), the weight of the past, one’s upbringing and experience, and individual temperament.
Though one of the poem’s major themes is the conflict between religion and skepticism (or logical, scientific inquiry), the relationship between these categories and the speaker’s self is more complex than it seems. The speaker’s tone of ambiguity in describing the monastery he visits—as well as his adoption of several voices and persona—underline this complexity. Some interpretations suggest that the speaker’s ambiguity hints at Arnold’s repressed religious beliefs. However, such readings ignore the fact that Arnold left Christianity as an adolescent and remained a lifelong agnostic. In “Stanzas to the Grande Chartreuse,” he does not advocate for a return to the religion of the Carthusian monks; in fact, he often compares the monks to ghosts and spirits, acknowledging that their time has passed. Othering language creates an unbridgeable distance between the monks and the speaker (as well as the reader), so that the reader watches the monks as if they were an exotic, alien species. Thus, the speaker does not envy the monks their religion; he envies their religiosity, or capacity for faith. Guided by faith, the lives of the monks may be confined, but to the speaker, such a structured, certain existence is free from self-doubt. The speaker has not yet found such a guiding conviction, which explains his melancholy and ambiguity. The poem’s ambivalence towards skepticism, as shown by the speaker’s fear of the judgement of his “masters of the mind,” arises from the tendency of empiricism to dismiss belief. As a poet, Arnold intuitively understands that empirical knowledge alone cannot explain human experience.
However, even though the speaker in the poem feels bereft of a guiding religious system, art has already begun to fill the void. Though the poem’s speaker does not believe in organized religion, he does find solace in the works of Homer, Byron, and Shelley. He knows he is part of a cultural tradition. It would take Arnold years to fully flesh out this train of thought: Art as a potential replacement for religion. He tackled it later in his critical essays. It should be noted that, though Arnold considered the strict doctrines the church intellectually unverifiable, he did aim to capture the true essence of Christianity in many of his essays. Arnold was an agnostic, but he came to believe that religious faith could be renewed in a way that was more compatible with secular values and aesthetic pursuits. He also thought a simpler form of Christianity was necessary to provide a stabilizing emotional support structure for the masses.
Though the speaker confesses his lack of religious belief, “Stanzas to a Grande Chartreuse” is a pilgrimage of sorts. The very beginning of the poem—with its descriptions of the “mule-track from Saint Laurent” (Line 4) and the slow climb up the side of a mountain—evoke a religious journey. Specifically, this description recalls the ascent to Golgotha, the supposed site of Christ’s crucifixion. The speaker’s pilgrimage is as much metaphorical as it is literal; he makes an arduous journey to retrieve meaning in life and find a more holistic mode of being. Such journeys often involve painful transformations; the speaker’s corresponding fear of change makes him dread every aspect of the bleak and beautiful landscape.
Crossing the threshold of the monastery, the speaker feels a brief sense of triumph: He has arrived at his destination. He is fascinated with the lives of the monks, as shown in Stanzas 6-11. However, by the end of Stanza 11, he realizes that he cannot follow their spiritual path; his journey lies elsewhere. This cold blast of knowledge is painful and paralyzing. The terrorized speaker implores the monks to surround him and help him cleanse his soul (Lines 91-96).
As a narrative of spiritual growth, “Stanzas” may seem unconventional because the speaker does not arrive at any epiphany (beyond the fact that he is lost in inaction). However, a closer look at the latter half of the poem provides a clue to the point of the speaker’s pilgrimage. The speaker compares himself and the monks to cloistered children, then asks how these children would reply to the calls of revelers. He answers, but in the voice of the children.
This is far from the intensely personal query in Stanza 11, where the speaker asks himself “What am I?” (Line 66). He no longer speaks directly to himself; there are now several layers of metaphor and distancing. One reading is that the adoption of personas gives the poet distance from the conflicted self, even as he acknowledges it. As the poem ends, the speaker is surer than ever that he must carve a path away from outside influences: the monks, the skeptics, the poets of the past. By adopting the persona of the monks and the children, he can admit the grief he feels at a dwindling way of life. His pilgrimage may seem pointless in light of this realization, but is useful because it has brought him closer to discovering meaning in his life.
By Matthew Arnold