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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.
Like his fellow Victorian-era poets Robert Browning and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Arnold often uses the literary device of alliteration, a tendency evident in “Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse.” Unlike Tennyson, who is sometimes accused of using auditory devices for mere ornamentation, scholars consider Arnold’s use of alliteration to be deliberate and meaningful.
In the first line, the repeated, gentle “s” sounds of “soft-suffus’d” create a lulling effect (which the subsequent lines rapidly undo). The same “s” sounds are used as a harsh, sibilant menace in Lines 9 and 10 with the “strangled sound” of the stream. Here, the juxtaposition of the guttural “r” sound in “strangled” and “stream” and the softer “s” creates an effect entirely different from the rounded vowel sounds of “soft-suffused” (Line 1). Arnold uses this particular effect again in Line 13 with “swift rush the spectral vapours.”
The use of alliteration continues through the poem (e.g. “tract and tome” and “priestly pride” in Lines 49 and 50). Alliteration’s sing-songy quality builds momentum and echoes the ritualized, repetitive life of the monks. Note, for example, the strong use of alliteration in describing the Christian ritual of “passing the host from hand to hand” (Line 42). The repeated sounds also symbolize the speaker’s obsessive and circular thinking.
In addition to alliteration, the poem also uses the literary device of assonance, where sounds are repeated in syllables of nearby words. Examples include the “ear” sound in “wet and drear, /The huts of Courrerie appear” (Lines 17-18) and the “ah” sound in “visage wan” (Line 43).
Another literary device which Arnold uses to great effect is personification, or the attribution of human qualities to inanimate objects. Closely linked with personification is the device of pathetic fallacy, a form of personification which attributes emotion to inanimate objects. While the “strangled sound” of the stream is an example of a personification (Lines 9-10), the wet smoke that “broods” over its boiling cauldron is an instance of pathetic fallacy (Lines 11-12). Both are noteworthy in a poem which uses the external landscape as code for inner, psychological turmoil. Through the devices of personification and pathetic fallacy, the poet constructs a world tinted by the perspective of the anxious speaker.
Personification’s reliance on verbs also allows it to convey powerful ideas with urgency. For example, in Lines 49 and 50, the austere books of the Carthusian library do not exist to “feed” priestly pride; rather, they “paint of souls the inner strife.” In Lines 146 and 147, a page from the French novel Obermann is described as a “sad, stern” teller of tales. Here, books and manuscripts are personified because they represent, perhaps, the only living tradition available to the speaker. But the world is ultimately indifferent to the agony of the creators of books (poets); she “long since hath flung her weeds away” (that is, her mourning robes, Line 153) after briefly lamenting the passing of poets. The world itself is infused with indifference and menace towards the speaker. Strikingly, Arnold depicts the inanimate world as having more personality than people of his time; in Lines 125 and 126, the sea “raves,” but the speaker and his contemporaries stand “mute.”
Arnold uses imagery, metaphors, and similes to illustrate esoteric and philosophical ideas and create a sense of drama. In “Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse,” he is also not afraid to use comparisons which emphasize supernatural and gothic elements in the landscape. This gloominess communicates the altered mental state of the speaker of the poem and the subjective nature of all depictions of reality. Thus, a stream is compared to a person being strangled (Lines 9-10), while the pointed roofs of the monastery are a metaphor for something hostile advancing upon the poet (Line 23). The twist is that Arnold’s descriptions are as literal as they are metaphorical; as the heights of the monastery are revealed to the speaker, visually, the rooftops rise or “advance (Line 23) into view.
The use of imagery is further enhanced by juxtaposition, such as the living space of monastery being described as a “living tomb” (Line 72), or the monks finding “emblems of hope over the grave” (Line 201). This strange co-existence of life and death suggest that the monks–and the speaker–are in some sort of a purgatory, the liminal state between heaven and hell.
The poem also contains two instances of extended comparison, where the poet uses an elaborate series of images and references to convey the speaker’s philosophy and state of mind. In Stanzas 13 and 14, he uses an extended simile comparing himself to a Greek explorer who “on some far northern strand” (Line 80) observes a fallen Runic stone with “pity and mournful awe” (Line 82; again, note the juxtaposition of “mournful” with “awe”). Why does the speaker compare himself to the Greek traveler? One interpretation is straightforward: when the Greek person observes a marker in an ancient Germanic or Scandinavian language, it reminds him of the lost, “pagan” culture the runes represent, and, in turn, of his own lost Gods. Similarly, the speaker sees the monks as relics of an old faith who remind him of his lost convictions. However, the use of the phrase “pity and mournful awe” (Line 82) adds another layer of complexity to the extended simile. The poet does not witness the runes as dispassionately as he would like his rational teachers to think. Furthermore, if the monks represent a more austere form of Christianity, the speaker’s own faith could be a more moderate form, Protestantism. The speaker’s lost faith could even refer to the rationalism of his teachers. Thus, with his curious choice of juxtaposed words and comparisons, the poet creates an elaborate simile with layers of meaning.
The second extended simile is found in the final section of the poem, opening with the phrase “We are like children rear’d in shade” (Line 169). This elaborate comparison continues over several stanzas to the end of the poem. Together, the poet and the monks form a singular unit, “we”; both can be understood as children because they are stuck in an immature stage of psychological development. The use of the term “children” to describe such a state is unexpected, since children are usually associated with dynamism and kinesis. The aspect of childhood that the poet evokes here is helplessness or lack of agency. The children are “rear’d in shade” (Line 169), a metaphor for stunted plants. Thus, their state of childhood is self-imposed: They refuse to grow up and change (or end their naive innocence). The children are “secret from the eyes of all” (Line 172) and hidden in the abbey with its “close of graves” (Line 174). The use of descriptors like “secret” (Line 172), “deep” (Line 173), and “close” (Line 174) underlines the isolation of the children and imbues the imagery with a sense of claustrophobia.
These children are mere observers to two passing parties, a troop of soldiers and a party of revelers, symbols of “action and pleasure,” respectively (Line 194). Both action and pleasure are associated with pursuit; this juxtaposes the active nature of the soldiers and revelers against the static nature of the monks. Described as “shy recluses” (Line 192), the monks and the poet are too caught up in tradition or in the trap of their own thoughts to join the world of activity. They have been “fenc’d early in this cloistral round” (Line 205) and cannot escape their self-imposed exile. Their hope lies only in watching “those yellow tapers shine” (Line 200), as flickering candlelight reminds them of life beyond the grave. Thus, neither the monks nor the poet live in the present moment. They exist only in hope and longing for an imagined past and future.
This extended simile evokes multiple ideas at once. First, it clarifies the poet’s own ambiguous stance towards religion: Though he mourns its passing in his life, he cannot return to it, since he views religious life as something the world has already left behind. Second, this simile provides some clues about the poet’s inner self, which he partly sees as victimized, helpless, and stunted; similarly, the multiple layers of trees close in on the children, starving them of light. Third, the simile subtly implies that neither the monks nor the poet necessarily want to join the world of banners, bugles, and dancing gay maidens. Happy or otherwise, they believe they are where they need to be. In accepting his own indefinite, lost state, the poet shows a very modern sensibility.
By Matthew Arnold