Near East Vniversity

Faculty of Arts & Sciences

English Language & Literature
Department

The Concept of Nature

•
ın
Matthew Arnold's
"The Scholar-Gipsy"

repared by : Eral Akartürk

1pervised by : Prof. Dr. Ahmet Edip Uysal

Lefkosa, 1994
 Table of Contents

I. Preface

II. Introduction

III. Matthew Arnold's Life & His Publications

IV. The Love of Nature in "The Scholar- Gipsy"

V. A Paraphrasing of "The Scholar-Gipsy"

VI. Evaluation of the poem

VII. Conclusion

VIII. Notes

IX. Bibliography

X. Appendix - A text of "The Scholar- Gipsy"

PREFACE
 PREFACE

Victorian writers differed from the writers of the

preceding ages in taking upon themselves the responsibility
of teaching the public through the medium of novels and
poems. Arnold's "The Scholar-Gipsy" is a great poem
dedicated to ove of nature to man's devoting to a single
ca::se .rı an age when zny k.nd o: be~:e: was a'mos:
imposible.

Like the youth of modern times, the youth of the

Victorian Age suffered from aimlessness, lack of confidence
and determination. Arnold's model was the pastoral elegy.
Besides giving us excellent spectacles of English nature
scenery, he also teaches us a moral lesson and shows us how
to live in an unhealthy period in human history.

Classical in form, the poem is modem as far as it treats

the problems of its age.

I consider the poem to be a highly satisfying creation of

a mature and sensitive Victorian poet.
... .-;_."-

INTRODUCTION
 INTRODUCTION

The concept of nature in English Literature is difficult

to understand. There have been numerous attempts to define
the concept of nature. Lovejoy points out that there are over
sixty different definitions of nature in English ( 1). The word
"Nature" has acquired a great number of meanings through
the course of the development of the English language. We
can trace the changes of meaning the word "Nature" has
undergone during the 17'th, 18'th and 19'th centuries. Some
of the writers of these centuries defined the concept of nature
as follows :

(1668) TEMPLE (Let.Wks.1720 11.119):

"There are some Natures in the world who
can be proceed sincerely in Business"(2)

(1789) STERNE (Journ., Act of Charity):

"Nature is sky and hates to act before
spectators."(3)

1
 (1732-92) SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS:
"Nature is, and must be the fountain which
alone is inexhaustible and from which all
excellences must originally flow."(4)

(187 4) R. GAL TON:

"Nature is all that a man brings with
himself into the world."(5)

N eo-classical poets and critics used the word

"Nature" with reference to its physical and human
characteristics. Some of the neo-classicists used the word
only with reference to its human characteristics as they hated
the wilder aspects of nature. These critics did not give much
importance to the wild and the disordered aspects of nature.
They mostly preferred the orderly city life to rural life and to
the disorderly way of existence.

Before the eigteenth century, rural life and wild nature

were not regarded as subjects fit for literature because they
were believed to be uncivilized. For instance, the Alpine
scenery were thought to be ugly, and it was many years
before writers took any interest in rugged mountains and
mysterious forests.

2
 In English literature it was James Thomson who first
started looking at rural life and nature with naked eye and
offering us excellent descriptions based on direct
observations. Here are some examples from his famous work,
The Seasons:

"The keener tempests come; and fuming dun

From all the lived east or piercing north,
Thick clouds ascend, in whose capacious womb
A vapory deluge lies, to snow congealed.
Heavy they roll their fleecy world along,
And the sky saddens with the gathered storm.
Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends
At first thin wavering, till at last the flakes
Fall broad and wide and fast, dimming the day
With a continual flow. The cherished fields
Put on their winter robe of purest white;
'Tis brigtness all, save where the new snow melts
Along the mazy current; low the woods
Bow their hoar heed; and ere the languid sun
Faint from the west emits his evening ray,
Earth's universal face, deep-hid and chill,
Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide
The works of man."( 6)

3
 An example from a prose writer Horace Walpole will
now be in order. We understand from the following passage
that Walpole was introducing a new sensibility towards
nature, which he calls "Sublimity" which is a romantic
feeling:

Sublimity in Nature :

"But the road, West, the road ! winding round a

prodigious mountain, and surrounded with others, all
shagged with hanging woods, obscured with pines, or
lost in clouds ! . Below, a torrent breaking through
cliffs, and tumbling through fragments of rocks!. Sheets of
cascades forcing their silver speed down channelled
precipices, and hasting into the roughened river at the bottom
!. Now and then an old foot-bridge, with a broken rail, a
leaning cross, a cottage, or the ruin of an hermitage ! . This
sounds too bombast and too romantic to one that has not
seen it, too cold for one that has. If I could send you my
letter past between two lovely tempests that echoed each
other's wrath, you might have some idea of this noble

4
roaring scene, as you were reading it. Almost on the summit,
upon a fine verdure, but without any prospect, stands the
Chartreuse. ( From a letter to Richard West, from a hamlet
among the mountains of Savoy, September 28, 1739. )" (7).

In the broadest sense of the term, "Romanticism" is an

artistic and literaty movement, preoccupied with the
"irregular," "strange," "picturesque," "wild," and
"distant".

Many attempts were made in Europe to define

Romanticism. In Germany towards the end of the eighteenth
century, numerous attempts were made in reaching a
satisfactory definition of the concept. Schlegel brothers
accepted "The Romantic" to mean a kind of art which
refused to recognize restrictions in subject matter or form
and to enjoy freedom to deal with the abnormal, grotesque,
and monstrous and to combine in a single piece, a variety of
standpoints.Sometimes even mixing philosopy and poetry as
well as other genres. They, however, used the term not for the
writers of their day but for such writers as Shakespeare and
Cervantes. As Goethe pointed out in 1830, it was mostly
through the writings of Schlegel brothers that the word
Romantic

5
 "goes over the whole world and causes so many
quarrels and division ... everyone talks about
classicism and romanticism - of which nobody
thought fifty years ago."(8)

Among the general characteristics of Romantic Poetry

are an emphasis on Nature and personal feelings and
emotions of the poet or writer writing in a free style defying
any set of rules. In William Wordsworth's definition, this
new kind of poetry

"is the spontaneus overflow of powerful

feelings."(9)

As a result of the Industrial Revolution in England,

rural areas were gradually declining. The villages were
immigrating from their villages to big cities or even to
overseas countries. Many villages began to be depopulated.
The decline of village life became a subject of deep concern
for numerous poets of the Romantic Period. One of the
romantics who profoundly dealt with this subject is Oliver
Goldsmith. In his book The Deserted Village, Goldsmith
treats this subject extensively :

6
"Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ;
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And disolation saddens all thy green :
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But, choked with sedges works its weedy way ;
Along the glades, a solitary gueast,
The hallow sounding bittern guards its nest ;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies.
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries ;
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o' ertops the moldering wall ;
And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
Far, for away thy children leave the land.
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay :
Princes and Lords may flourish, or may fade ;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made :
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, cen never be supplied."(10)

7
 In the Romantic Period, love of nature in English
poetry reached at its highest level. The romantics used the
term "Nature" to denote the physical world only. The
romantic poets such as Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelly,
Keats and Byron were concerned with the concept of nature
mostly with reference to its physical characteristics and
described its beauty. The romantic feeling for nature varied
from merely descriptive as in Keats to deeply philosophical
as in William Wordsworth.

Among these romantics, William Wordsworth made

the greatest contribution to the love of nature in English
poetry. Besides the physical characteristics of nature, he also
pointed out the feeling of man towards nature. He created a
perfect harmony between nature and man in his poems. The
following lines from his poem "Tintern Abbey" show
William Wordsworth's success in constructing a profound
relationship between nature and man :

" Five years have passed; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland marmur. Once again

8
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here under this dark sycamore and view
These plots of cottage ground, these orchard tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. One again I see
These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild, These pastoral farms,
Green to the very door and wreath of smoke.
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her, 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy : for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues
Rash judgements where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail agains us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings."(! 1)

9
.
...

MATTHEW ARNOLD'S
LIFE & HIS
PUBLICATIONS
 MATTHEW ARNOLD'S LIFE

There is not much to write about Matthew Arnold's

life. Therefore we can offer here only a very sketchy account
of his life. Arnold was born on December 24, 1822, at
Laleham, Surrey. He was the son of Thomas Arnold and
Mary Penrose. In 1836, He was sent to Winchester
College. In 1841, he obtained a scholarship to study at
Balliol College, Oxford. In 1842, his father died. In 1845,
he taught at Rugby. In the same year he became a fellow at
Oriel College, Oxford.

Arnold liked travelling. He spent most of his time

travelling to France, Belgium, Germany, ~ta~y, Ho.'and and
Switzerland where he wrote most of his poems.His first visit
was to France in 1846. In 1848, he visited Switzerland. In
1851, he was married with Frances Lucy Wightman. In
1854, he travelled to Belgium. In 1859, he had a long jurney
to France, Holland and Switzerland between April and
August. In 1861, his closestfriend Huge Clough died. In

10
1865, he had another long journey to France, Italy, Germany
and Switzerland for School Enquiry Commision. In 1867,
Arnold's professorship ended, and in 1868, he moved to
Harrow. In 1871, he visited France and Switzerland again.
In 1873, he moved to Pain's Hill Cottage, Cobham,
Surrey. Between 1873 and 1886, he had a few visits to
France, Germany, Switzerland and Italy. After his visits to
these countries, he felt tired and resigned from inspectorship.
Arnold died on April 15, 1888, and he was buried at
Lale ham.

His publications were as follows :

1849. The Strayed Reveller, and Other Poems.

1852. Empedocles on Etna and Other Poems.

1853. Poems. A New Edition ( The Scholar-Gipsy

was included in this work).

1857. The Modern Element in Literature.

11
1859. England and the Italian Question.

1860. The Popular Education of France.

1861. On Translating Homer.

1862. Last Words on Translating Homer.

1863. The Bishop and the Philosopher.

1864. A French Eton.

1865. Essays in Criticism ( I 'st Series ).

1866. Report on Secondary Education in Foreign

Countries (May). Thyrsis (April).

1867. The Study of Celtic Literature. New Poems.

1869. Culture and Anachy. Poems in collected

edition with revised text. Later editions,
with alterations ( 1877, 1881, 1885, 1890 ).

1870. St. Paul and Protestanism.

12
1871. Friendship's Gerland.

1872. A bible Reading for Schools : The Great

Prophecy of Israel's Restoration.

1873. Literature and Dogma.

1875. God and The Bible.

1877. Last Essays on Church and Religion.

1878. Select Poems.

1879. Mixed Essays.

1880. Prose Passages.

1881. Burke's Letters, Speeches, and Tracts on

Irish Affairs.

1882. Irish Essays.

1883. Isaiah of Jarusalem.

13
1885. Discourses in America.

1886. Report on Certain Points Connected with

Elementary Education in Germany,
Switzerland and France.

1888. Essays in Criticism ( 2 'nd Series ).

1889. Reports on Elementary Schools ( 1852-82 )

ed. Sir Francis Standford.

14
 THE LOVE OF NATURE
IN
''THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY''
 THE LOVE OF NATURE IN
"THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY"

"The Scholar-Gipsy" is a kind of poem which has a

simple structure, action and thought. It also has strong
elements of the pastoral elegy. The characters are shepherds
and gipsies, people who live close to nature, and the action
takes place in the countryside around Oxford. This poem is
based on a book Vanity of Dogmatizing, 1661 by Joseph
Gian vii.

Matthew Arnold found the following information

about the Oxford student who abandoned his studies ın
Oxford University as recorded in Glanvil's Vanity of
Dogmatizing, 1661 :

"There was very lately a lad in the

University of Oxford, who was by his poverty
forced to leave his studies there; and at
last to join himself to a company of vagabond

15
gipsies. Among these extravagant people,
by the insinituating subtilty of his carriage,
he quickly got so much of their love and
esteem as that they discovered to him
their mystery. After he had been a pretty
while well exercised in the trade, there
chanced to ride by a couple of scholars,
who had formerly been of his acquaintance.
They quickly spied out their old friend among
the gipsies; and he gave them an account
of the necessity which drove him to that
kind of life, and told them that the
people he went with were not such impostors
as they were taken for, but that they had a
traditional kind of learning among
them, and could do wonders by the power
of imagination, their fancy binding that
of others: that himself had learned much
of their art, and when he had compassed
the whole secret, he intended, he said, to
leave their company, and give the world on
account of what he had leamed."(12)

16
 The above note drawn from Glanvil's book Vanity of
Dogmatizing became Arnold's source of inspiration for the
poem "The Scholar-Gipsy".

17
 A PARAPHRASING OF
''THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY''
 A PARAPHRASING OF
"THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY"

The poem begins with a call to all shepherds to start

looking for the lost Scholar-Gipsy. Here, we see the
employment of many of the conventions of the classical
pastoral elegy as observed in the works of Theocritus and
Bion.

1 ) All shepherds are asked to take part in the search

for the Scholar-Gipsy, and thay are urged not to waste their
times but to hurry and begin the search as soon as possible.

2 ) In the second stanza, we see a farmer reaping

corn. He has hung up his coat on the branch of a tree, placed
his food basket and pitcher nearby. He left his sickle and
came to eat of his luncheon basket during his rest time. He

18
hears the bleating of the flocks in the distance. It is a typical
summer day with all its activities and noises.

3) The poet Matthew Arnold is also involved in

this search. He pictures himself as lying among tall green
grasses and yellowing stalks enjoying the beautiful fragrance
of the blooms of linden trees.

4 ) Lying among the lovely pastures and flowers, he

has Glanvil's book with him. In this book, he reads the story
of the poor Oxford student who one summer morning left his
friends and college to learn the gipsy lore.

5 ) Years after, two students whom at college the

Scholar-Gipsy knew met him in the country-lanes and
questioned him about his way of life with gipsies. He
answered their questions and pointed out that his gipsy
friends had arts and rules and that they could control the

19
brains of people. He said that after learning all the secret of
arts of gipsies he would thenteach the world everything of
what he had learned from them. But to do this it needs time,
and when this will be determined by God.

6 ) After leaving the two college friends from Oxford

he never returned back. But according to rumours, the lost
Scholar-Gipsy was occasional seen while wandering in the
countryside. People observed him for a very short periods.
He looked thoughtful and would not speak; he wore strange
clothes not unlike those of gipsies. Shepherds had met him
on the hills of Hurst in spring and at some lonely beer
houses in the Berkshire moors. The villagers in long
overcoats had found him sitting at their entering by the warm
fire-place.

7 ) The Scholar-Gipsy would disappear in the

middle of drink or talk. Arnold seems to know the
appearance of the Scholar-Gipsy. He draws a picture of him
in his mind. In this picture, he used to put the shepherds to

20
follow the Scholar-Gipsy, and ask the boys in the lonely
wheat fields if the Scholar ever passed by them. Lying in his
boat, Arnold describes the scenery of the place around him
with its wide grass meadows and the green Cummer hills,
and wonders if the Scholar-Gipsy has ever visited these
lovely and quiet places.

8 ) In this stanza, Arnold talks about the pecularities

of the Scholar-Gipsy. He tells us that the Scholar-Gipsy
loves lonely places. On summer nights he is seen resting in a
wooden boat moves moored to the bank, somewhere near the
Oxford ferry-boat station where riders cross the small
Thames river. The boat moves with the wind and starts
trailing down the river. He is seen in a boat leaning backward
in a thoughtful way so to say dreaming, his top full of
flowers picked in the lonely fields and distant Wychood
bowers, and his eyes staring at the moonlit stream.

9) The Scholar-Gipsy does not want to contact

anyone. As soon as the passengers land, he disappears. He is
seen by the young girls who come from the distant villages

21
to dance at Fyfield, a village six miles southwest of Oxford,
in May. These young girls have often watched his wondering
through the shady fields, and The Scholar-Gipsy has often
given them plenty of flowers of white anemony, purple
orchises with spotted leaves and dark bluebells wet with
summer dews. But none of these girls can give any news of
him.

10) When the hay time begins in the fields above

Godstow Bridge, The Scholar-Gipsy is seen sitting on the
river bank by the reapers and black winged swallows. He is
seen wearing strange clothes and looking with suspecting
eyes and dreamy attitudes. But when the reapers and
swallows approach him, he runs away from them.

11) The Scholar-Gipsy is seen leaning on a gate of a

lonely farm in the Cummer hills and watching the threshers
in the old barns. Children returning from search for cresses
have seen him watching the growing pastures and the feeding
cows. And thay noticed him walking slowly through the wet
grasses.

22
 12 ) In autumn, when the gipsies pitch their tents on
the skirts of Bagley Wood, and hang hang their coloured
garments, a blackbird above the forest-ground Thessaly sees
the Scholar-Gipsy, but it is not afraid of him because he has
become a familiar part of the countryside. Every creature in
nature knows him and is not afraid of him. The blackbird
sees him wandering and waiting in a rapt state for the spark
from Heaven to perform his duty. He will be able to perform
his duties when he is finally granted his permission.

13 ) Arnold feels as if he had passed by the Scholar­

Gipsy on the wooden bridge or on the stone-raved road
where the travellers go home through the wet fields. He
visualized the Scholar-Gipsy wearing cloak and raincoat in
winter and his face turned towards the wintry ridge of
Hinskey. He climbes the hill and arrives in the white slope
of the Cummer range. He also watches the snowflakes
falling and the lights of the dining hall of Christ Chuch
College. He has no wish to return to his friends. Instead he
look for his straw bed in some lonely farm.

23
 ..•.

14 ) In Arnold's dream, the Scholar-Gipsy died a

long time ago, and Glanvil wrote the story of him explaining
how he left Oxford college to learn the strange arts of the
gipsies. In this story, the grave of the Scholar-Gipsy is in
some quiet churchyard through the tall grasses and nettles
with white flowers under the shade of a yew tree.

15 ) Arnold argues that the Scholar-Gipsy has not

felt the passing of time. He says that the passing of time
which wears out the life of mortal people has not affected the
life of the Scholar-Gipsy at all. To him, it is the shocks and
changes that exhaust and consume the energy of man.

16) In this stanza, Arnold states his belief about the

Scholar-Gipsy and claimsthat he will not die as he possesses
one aim, one business and one desire in life. According to
Arnold, the Scholar-Gipsy will continue to exist, for he has
one purpose in life to follow. He represents on immortal
idea-love of nature, which is a universal and eternal concept.
He is imagined as exempt from age and regarded as an

24
immortal person. He is an idealized from of the love of
nature. He has lived a spiritual life, not the life of a normal
person. A spiritual life cannot come to an end with dead.
Death is the end of those who lead ordinary, day-to-day lives.
He has high spiritual ideals; without them he would have
long died. With these ideals he is immortal.

17) Arnold continues to praise the Scholar-Gipsy

and admires his way of life. He appreciates his having a firm
aim and not wasting his energy. The Scholar-Gipsy leads a
life different from other people. Here, Arnold wishes to
express the idea that ordinary people around him do not
actually live; they lack firm ideas and strong convictions.

18 ) Arnold says that the Scholar-Gipsy believes in

God and waits for the sign from Heaven, but the people
together with Arnold are half-believers and their religious
beliefs are shallow. They never fulfilled their ideas. Every
year they have new beginnings in life, but they waste their
time doing nothing. They lose the ground as soon as they win
it. They do not have any firm purpose to fulfil in life.

25

---
 19) Arnold and the majority of the English people
wait for the divine moment to come, but it is delayed. This
makes them upset. Arnold implies Goethe who is the most
suffered man in Europe. Arnold describes the sad
experiences of Goethe. He tells us how he suffered from pain
and how he struggled to overcome this pain.

20) This was (Goethe ) our wisest. We others

continue to suffer. We have abandoned all claim to
happiness, and try to bear our suffering. But you are full of
hope. You are patient and hopeful to bear the difficulties in
life. You are wandering through the fields and forests. You
have thrown away all doubts and kept your aim in your mind
with a feeling of deep joy.

21) O Scholar-Gipsy, you were born when minds

were clear and fresh like the waters of the River Thames.
You were bom before the disease of modern life with its sick
hurry, scattered ideas and broken hearts. You never come
close to us and fear to contact us. You run away from us as
Dido ran away from the shade of Aeneas in Heades.

)
26
 22) The Scholar-Gipsy still varries in his heart the
endless hope which can not be destroyed. He is still hiding in
shady parts of the woods, and brushes through tall grasses,
and comes out in the open in a clearing and rests on moonlit
pales listening to the nightingales singing in deep dark
valleys.

23 ) The Scholar-Gipsy is advised to avoid coming

into contact with regular people whose conflicts are
contagious and do not lead to any happiness. Coming into
contact with them means distraction and hopelessness and
the loss of your clear aims. You would also lose your eternal
youth and die a quick death.

24 - 25 ) You run away from us as a Tyrean trader in

the Mediterranean ran from a cheerful Greek sailor loaded
with figs, Chian wine and tunnies.

27
' ~ .

EVALUATION OF
THE POEM
 EVALUATION OF THE
POEM

"The Scholar-Gipsy" is a reflective poem with a

strongly elegiac tone. A peculiar sadness runs throughout the
poem. This feeling of sadness takes its origin mainly from
the way of the life the Scholar-Gipsy has chosen for himself.
The Oxford s~::de:ı~ m.gh; have chose:ı for h.msc'f a
lucrative line of activity. With his present choice, it is
doubtful he will come to much. The best he can achieve
would not be an achievement exceeding that of the real
gipsies, a mere hand-to-mouth existence. The sad story of the
Scholar-Gipsy gives the poem an atmosphere of sadness and
melancholy. The disillusioned young Oxford student is a
young man completely withdrawn from his own social circle
for the sake of a high pursuit. He is determined to learn from
the gipsies the secrets they are believed to possess, that is
their ability to control the minds of people.

28
 Arnold shows a high degree of admiration for the
Scholar-Gipsy because he can nourish a high ideal and
believe in a lofty cause at a time when people find it hard to
believe in everything. In an age of materialism this young
man is a rare example of an individual with firm convictions.

In his "The Scholar-Gipsy" Arnold has choosen a

theme which can be described as "serious" and capable of
being interpreted from a variety of points of view. In his
Essays in Criticism ( 1865 ) Arnold wrote :

"The grand power of poetry is its

interpretative power; by which I mean,
not a power of drawing out in black
and white an explanation of the mystery
of the universe, but the power of so
dealing with things as to awaken in us
a wonderfully full, new, and intimate sense
of them, and of our relations with them. When
his sense is awakened in us, as to objects
without us, we feel ourselves to be in contact

29
 with the essential nature of those objects,
to be no longer bewildered and oppressed
by them, but to have their secret, and to
be in harmony with them." (13)

Great poets interpret to us nature as well as moral

profoundity of man. In this sense Arnold as a poet fulfills a
didactic function, a distinguishing characteristic of many
great Victorian poets and writers.

Arnold took the mission of poetry very seriously. In his

view poetry should be directly concerned with life. It should
teach us how to live.

"It is important to hold fast to this:

that poetry is at bottom a criticism
of life; that the greatness of a poet lies in
his powerful and beautiful application of
ideas to life, - to the question: How to live?" ( 14)

30
 The poem excells in superb descriptions of the English
countryside around Oxford and the pastoral scenes in that
part of rural England. In the long search for the last scholar
we are taken through sweet smelling dewy grass along the
clear waters of the young Thames. The poem is remarkably
rich in romantic imagery of all kinds. Stanzas describing the
wanderings of the Oxford student among fresh grasses
washed with early morning dews reach the highest point of
lyrism rare in English literature. With these characteristics
Arnold's poem is one of the finest examples of late
romanticism.

The last two stanzas of the poem constitute a rare

example of an extended smile concerning the idea of
"running away". The poet urges the Scholar-Gipsy to run
away from them as a Tyrian trader runs away from a Greek
sailor.

Written in 1853, the poem "The Scholar-Gipsy"

expresses an awareness of some of the environmental
problems treatening our world today. In my opinion
Arnold's description of modern life as a disease is very apt. I
find the poem full of original ideas and profound thoughts
for the future of mankind.

31
CONCLUSION
 CONCLUSION

A detailed analysis of "The Scholar-Gipsy" has led us

to the following conclusions.

1) The poem is an extention of the spirit of English

Romanticism into the Victorian era.

2) The poem is richly decorated with brilliant

descriptions of English countryside overflowing
with all types of imagery.

3) The poem was designed in such a way as to teach

the reader a moral lesson. In this respect it is a
typical piece of Victorian literature.

4) The conception of environment expressed in this

poem seems to be far ahead of its time.

32
""" ,,..~

NOTES
 NOTES:

(1) William Flint Thrall and Addison

Hibbard ( revised and enlarged by C. Huge Holman ):
A Handbook to Literature, The Odyssey Press, New
York, 1960, pp.306-310.

(2) The Compact Oxford English Dictionary,

Second Edition, The Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1991,
p.1150.

(3)' Ibid. p.1150.

(4) A Supplement to the Oxford English

Dictionary, ed. R.W. Burchfield, The Clarendon Press,
Oxford, 1976, Vol. II, p.1142.

33
 (5) Taste and Criticism in the Eighteenth
Century, ed. H.A. Needham, George G. Harrop,
London, 1952, p.133.

(6) James Thomson, The Seaosns, ed. Hanry D.

Roberts, London, 1939, 141, 11.223-238.

(7) Horace Walpole: "Sublimity in Nature",

Taste and Criticism in the Eigteenth Century, ed.
H.A. Needham, George G. Harrop, London, 1952,
p.152.

(8) David Perkins, ed. English Romantic

Writers, Harcourt Brace and World Inc., 1967, p.2.

34
 (9) William Wordsworth, Prefece to the Second
Edition of the Lyrical Ballads (1800). Ibid. p.321.

(10) Anthology of Romanticism, ed. Ernest

Bembaum, The Roland Press Company, New Yark,
1948, p.64, 11.35-55.

(11) "Lines Compoused a few miles above

Tintern Abbey on revisiting the Banks of the Wye
during a Tour. July 13, 1798", Poetical Works of
Wordsworth, ed. Thomas Hutchinson, Oxford
University Press, 1960, p.163-165.

(12) Victorian Poetry, ed. Robert Bernard

Martin, Random House, New York, 1964, p.468.

35
 (13) Arnold Prose and Poetry, ed. E.K.
Chambers, "How Poetry Interprets?", Oxford, 1967,
p.147

(14) Arnold, "Essays in Criticism", Ibid. p.144

36
BIBLIOGRAPHY
 , •.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. Arnold, Prose and Poetry. ed. E.K. Chambers,

"How Poetry Interprets?", Oxford, 1967.

2. Anthology of Romanticism. ed. Ernest Bernbaum,

The Roland Press Company, New York, 1948.

3. The Compact Oxford English Dictionary. Second

Edition, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1991.

4. Perkins David. ed. English Romantic Writers,

Harcourt Brace and World Inc., 1967.

5. Poetical Works of Wordsworth. "Lines Composed

a few miles above Tintem Abbey on revisiting the
Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798",
ed. Thomas Hutchinson, Oxford University Press,
1960.

37
6. A Supplement to the Oxford English Dictionary.
ed. R.W. Burchfield, The Clarendon Press,
Oxford, 1976.

7. Taste and Criticism in the Eighteenth Century. ed.

H.A. Needham, George G. Harrop, London, 1952.

8. Thomson James. The Seasons, ed. Henry D.

Roberts, London, 1939.

9. Thrall William Flint and Hibboard Addison,

(revised and enlarged by C. Huge Holman).
A Handbook to Literature, The Odyssey Press,
New York, 1960.

10. Victorian Poetry. ed. Robert Bernard Martin,

Random House, New York, 1964.

38
11. Walpole Horace. "Sublimity in Nature",
Tasteand Criticism in the Eighteenth Century",
ed. H.A. Needham, George G. Harrop, London,
1952.

39
 APPENDIX - A TEXT OF
''THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY''-
 THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY

Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;

Go, shepherd, and untie the warted cotes!
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,
Nor the cropp'd herbage shoot another head.
But when the fields are still,
And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest,
And only the white sheep are sometimes seen
Cross and recross the strips of moon-blanch' d green
Come, shepherd, and again begin the quest!

Here, where the reaper was at work of late­

In this high field's dark comer, where he leaves
His coat, /us basket, and !us earuıen cruse,
And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves,
Then here, at noon comes back his stores to use-

40
 Here will I sit and wait,
While to my ear from uplands far away
The bleating of the folded flocks is borne,
With distant cries of reapers in the com­
All the live murmur of a summer's day.

Screen'd is this nook o'er the high, half-reap'd field,

And here till sun-down, shepherd! will I be.
Through the thick com the scarlet poppies peep,
And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see
Pale pink convolvulus in tendrils creep;
And air-swept lindens yield
Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers
Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid,
And bower me from the August sun with shade;
And the eye travels down to Oxford's towers.

And near me on the grass lies Glanvil's book­

Come, let me read the oft-read tale again!
The story of the Oxford scholar poor,
Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain,
Who, tired of knocking at preferment's door,

41
 One summer-mom forsook
His friends, and went to learn the gipsy-lore,
And roam' d the world with that wild brotherhood,
And came as most men deem' d, to little good,
But came to Oxford and his friends no more.

But once, years after, in the country-lanes,

Two scholars, whom at college erst he knew,
Met him, and of his way of life enquired;
Whereat he answer' d, that the gipsy-crew,
His mates, had arts to rule as they desired
The workings of men's brains,
And they can bind them to what throughts they will.
"And I," he said, "the secret of their art,
When fully learn' d, will to the world impart;
But it needs heaven-sent moments for this skill."

This said, he felt them, and return' d no more. -

But rumours hung about the country-side,
That the lost Scholar long was seen to stray,

42
 Seen by rare glimpses, pensive and tongue-tied.
In hat of antique shape, and cloak of gray,
The same the gipsies wore.
Shepherds had met him on the Hurst in spring;
At some lone alehouse in the Berkshire moors,
On the warm ingle-bench, the smock-frock'd boors
Had found him seated at their entering,

But, 'mid their drink and clatter, he would fly.

And I myself seem half to know thy looks,
And put the shepherds, wanderer! on thy trace;
And boys who in lone wheatfıelds scare the rooks
I ask if thou hast pass'd their quiet place;
Or in my boat I lie
Moor' d to the cool bank in the summer-heats,
'Mid wide grass meadows which the sunshine fills,
And watch the warm, green-muffled Cumner hills,
And wonder if thou haunt'st their shy retreats.

For most, I know, thou lov' st retired ground!

Thee at the ferry Oxford riders blithe,
Returning home on summer-nights, have met

43
 Crossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hithe,
Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet,
As the punt's rope chops round;
And leaning backward in a pensive dream,
And fostering in thy lap a heap of flowers
Pluck' d in shy fields and distant Wychwood bowers,
And thine eyes resting on the moonlit stream.

And then they land, and thou art seen no more!­

Maidens, who from the distant hamlets come
To dance around the Fyfield elm in May,
Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee roam,
Or cross a stile into the public way.
Oft thou hast given them store
Of flowers-the frail-leaf d, white anemony,
Dark bluebells drench' d with dews of summer eves,
And purple orchises with spotted leaves-
But none hath words she can report of thee.

And, above Godstow Bridge, when hay-time's here

In June, and many a scythe in sunshine flames,
Men who through those wide fields of breezy grass
Where black-wing'd swallows haunt the glittering

44
 Thames,
To bathe in the abandon'd lasher pass,
Have often pass' d thee near
Sitting upon the river bank o' ergrown;
Mark' d thine outlandish garb thy figure spare,
Thy dark yague eyes, and soft abstracted air­
But, when they came from bathing, thou wast gone!

At some lone homestead in the Cumner hills,

Where at her open door the housewife darns,
Thou hast been seen, or hanging on a gate
To watch the threshers in the mossy barns.
Children, who early range these slopes and late
For cresses from the rills,
Have known thee eying, all an April-day,
The springing pastures and the feeding kine;
And mark'd thee, when the stars come out and shine,
Through the long dewy grass move slow away.

45
 In autumn, on the skirts of Bagley Wood­
Where most the gipsies by the turf-edged way
Pitch their smoked tents, and every bush you see
With scarlet patches tagg' d and shreds of grey,
Above the forest-ground called Thessaly­
The blackbird, picking food,
Sees thee, nor stops his meal, nor fears at all;
So often has he known thee past him stray,
Rapt, twirling in thy hand a wither' d spray,
And waiting for the spark from heaven to fall.

And once, in winter, on the causeway chill

Where home through flooded fields foot-travellers go,
Have I not pass' d thee on the wooden bridge,
Wrapt in thy cloak and battling with the snow,
Thy face tow'rd Hinksay and its wintry ridge?
And thou hast climb' d the hill,
And gain'd the white brow of the Cumner range;
Tum'd once to watch, while thick the snowflakes fall,
The line of festal light in Christ-Chuch hall­
Then sought thy straw in some sequester'd grange.

46
 But what-I dream! Two hundred years are flown
Since first thy story ran through Oxford halls,
And the grave Glanvil did the tale inscribe
That thou wert wander'd from the studios walls
To learn strange arts, and join a gipsy-tribe;
And thou from earth art gone
Long since, and in some quiet churchyard laid­
Some country-nook, where o' er thy unknown grave
Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave,
Under a dark, red-fruited yew-tree's shade.

-No, no thou hast not felt the lapse of hours!

For what wears out the life of mortal men?
'Tis that from change to change their being rolls;
'Tis that repeated shocks, again, again,
Exhaust the energy of strongest souls
And numb the elastic powers.
Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen,
And tired upon a thousend schemes our wit,
To the just-pausing Genius we remit
Our worn-out life, and are-what we have been.

47
 Thou hast not lived, why should'st thou perish, so?
Thou hadst one aim, one business, one desire;
Else wert thou long since number' d with the dead!
Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire!
The generations of thy peers are fled,
And we ourselves shall go;
But thou possessestan immortal lot.
And we imagine thee exempt from age
And living as thou liv' st on Glanvil' s page,
Because thou hadst-what we, alas! have not.

For early didst thou leave the world, with powers

Fresh, undiverted to the world without,
Firm to their mark, not spent on other things;
Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt,
Which much to have tried, in much been baffled,
brings.
O life unlike to ours!
Who fluctuate idly without term or scope,
Of whom each striyes, nor knows for what he strives,
And each half lives a hundred different lives;
Who wait like thee, but not, like thee, in hope.

48
 Thou waitest for the spark from heaven! and we,
Light half-believers of our casual creeds,
Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will' d,
Whose insight never has borne fruit in deeds,
Whose vague resolves never have been fulfill' d;
For whom each year we see
Breeds new beginnings, disappointments new;
Who hesitate and fa'ter 'ife away,
And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day­
Ah! do not we, wanderer! await it too?

Yes, we await it!-but it still delays,

And then we suffer! and amongst us one,
Who most has suffer'd, takes dejectedly
His seat upon the intellectual throne;
And all his store of sad experience he
Lays bare of wretched days;
Tell us his misery's birth and growth and signs,
And how the dying spark of hope was fed,
And how the breast was soothed, and how the head,
And all his hourly varied anodynes.

49
 This for ourwisest! and we others pine,
And wish the long unhappy dream would end,
And waive all claim to bliss, and try to bear;
With close-lipp 'd patiencefot our only friend,
Sad patience, too near neighbour to despair­
But none has hope like thine!
Thou through the fields and through the woods dost
stray,
Roaming the country-side, a truant boy
Nursing thy project in unclouded joy,
And every doubt long blown by time away.

O bom in days when wits were fresh and clear,

And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames;
Before this strange disease of modern life,
With its sick hurry, its divided aims,
Its heads o' ertax' d its palsied hearts, was rife­
Fly hence, our contact fear!
Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood!
Averse, as Dido did with gesture stem
From her false Friend's approach in Hades tum,
Wave us away, and keep thy solitude!

50
 Still nursing the unconquerable hope,
Still clutching the inviolable shade,
With a free, onward impulse brushing through,
By night, the silver'd branches of the glade­
Far on the forest-skirts, where none pursue.
On some mıld pastoral slope
Emerge, and resting on the moonlit pales
Freshen thy f'owers as in former years
With dew, or listen with enchanted ears,
From the dark dingles, to the nightingales!

But fly our paths, ourfeverish contact fly!

For strong the infection of our mental strife,
Which though it gives no bliss yet spoils for rest;
And we should win thee from thy own fair life,
Like us distracted, and like us unblest.
Soon, soon thy cheer would die,
Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfix' d thy powers,
And thy clear aims be cross and shifting made;
And then thy glad perennial youth would fade,
Fade, and grow old at last, and die like ours.

51
 Then flyour greetings, fly our speech and smiles!
-As some grave Tyrian trader, from the sea,
Descried at sunrise an emerging prow
Lifting the cool-hair' d creepers stealthily
The fringes of a southward-facing brow
Among the .Egaean isles;
And saw the merry Grecian coaster come,
Freighted with amber grapes and Chian wine,
Green, bursting figs, and tunnies steep' d in brine­
And knew the intruders on his ancient home.

The young light-hearted masters of the waves-

And snatch' d his rudder, and shook out more sail;
And day and night held on indingnantly
O' er the blue Midland waters with the gale,
Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily,
To where the Atlantic raves
Outside the western straits; and unbent sails
There, where down cloudy cliffs, through sheets off oam
Shy traffickers, the dark lberiand come;
And on the beach undid his corded bales.

52