If we had to choose one theme for Childe Harold's pilgrimage, we’d probably go with the power of flight and movement. If you ask us, what we notice most is how Childe Harold is constantly in motion and separating himself from family, from countries, and from conventional behavior. In a word, Childe Harold is almost always in flight.
Now let's discuss those specific flights that Childe Harold undertakes.
One of the first flights we notice is the flight from conventional morality. As Childe Harold tells us in stanza 5 in canto 1, "For he through Sin’s long labyrinth had run, / Nor made atonement when he did amiss." From this, we gleam that Childe Harold has strayed from common ideas of virtue and good. Has he sought repentance? No.
The next flight concerns family. In stanza 7 of canto 1, we learn how Childe Harold leaves his family members. He tells how he "departed his father's hall," which he mocks by describing it as a "vast and venerable pile." He then tells us he has a mother. He's also "parting from her." Finally, he leaves his sister "whom he loved, but saw her nought" before his journey begins. None of these family members are given much attention. Perhaps that's why he's fleeing them.
The next flight unfolds over the next three cantos. That's the flight from country to country. Where does our itinerant Childe Harold travel first? Spain. Then he goes to Greece, Albania, and an array of other European places, including Waterloo.
We might wonder what Childe Harold is fleeing. Perhaps he's not fleeing anything. As Childe Harold tells us in the third canto, "To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind." Maybe it's Childe Harold's love of mankind that makes him want to see as much of it as possible—although that seems like another topic for another time.
In common with the poem’s author, Harold is a young man who places a high value on liberty. Whatever he does and wherever he goes among human society, he keenly feels the weight of the oppressor on his shoulder. It’s not just political oppression that affects him; the oppression that comes from social conventions also has a negative impact on this sensitive young soul.
That being the case, Harold has no choice but to abandon society, with all its petty restrictions and conventions, and head out into Nature, where at least he can be himself. Once there, Harold rhapsodizes about the natural world and all its beauties. There is a pleasure in the “pathless woods” that makes Harold “love not man the less, but Nature more.” But Nature isn’t just full of pretty things to look at and enjoy; it has deep spiritual significance, a feature that sets it apart from the human world, with its shallow materialism.
At the same time, Harold doesn’t take his romanticization of the natural world too far. He’s acutely aware of its destructive power, as expressed in violent storms and the rolling of the ocean waves. Nevertheless, it is a savage indictment of contemporary society that Harold is still able to experience greater freedom in nature than in any human community. Here at least he can see himself as part of a vast cosmic whole, in which the natural and the supernatural are joined together, and in which true freedom resides in recognizing one’s place within the overall scheme of things.
In general, the most prevalent theme in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage is the cognitive transition from adolescence to adulthood. The protagonist of the narrative poem finds himself jaded, disillusioned with life and somewhat blindly seeking stimulation and meaning in far-flung places. The protagonist of this tale experiences a number of transitions toward this end.
For instance, in Canto I, Harold sings a long song about leaving his home while aboard a ship.
'Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'ver the waters blue;
The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee
My native Land—Good Night!
Harold embraces the tumult of the sea and the unknown and does not have sorrow in his heart when he parts with his "native shore," a childhood home he feels he has outgrown.
Throughout the following cantos, Harold continues to strive for independence and singularity in thought; he wishes to candidly observe life's bittersweet quality. In canto III, he states:
My springs of life were poison'd. 'Tis too late!
Yet am I changed; though still enough the same
In strength to bear what time can not abate,
And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.
Harold continues to seek novel experiences and ideas, but he also confronts painful revelations about the state of human existence: our violence, our futility, and our "bitter fruits." This is a common enough conflict. Harold both appreciates the beauty and variety in life and resents its constant strife and destruction. It is a painful transition which often plagues young adults to reconcile these two qualities of being, after the simple complacency of adolescence.
In fact, "Childe" is very much a term which expresses transition or of shifting from one state to another. "Childe" is essentially a ranking assigned to sons born of English noblemen, who may qualify to become a knight or squire. Both Childe Harold's station in life and state of mind are somewhat liminal, in between two mutually exclusive places.
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