Browning and Dogma Part 15

IV. So far we have only treated of conclusions which, by comparison with other poems obviously dramatic, and with his more avowedly confessed opinions elsewhere, we have felt ourselves justified in accepting as Browning's own. Turning to the questions yet remaining for consideration, we are upon more debatable ground. But here, too, pursuing similar methods, we may expect the results to be also decisive in so far as our means of investigation will allow. To what extent did personal feeling influence the criticism of Roman Catholic ritual contained in _Christmas Eve_? In what degree may Browning be held to have sympathized with the final decision in favour of the creed of Zion Chapel? An answer to the first question involves at least a partial answer to the second.

Browning's att.i.tude, could it be accurately estimated, towards Roman Catholicism, might be decisive as to how far it was possible for him to concur in the conclusions attributed to the soliloquist as the result of his night's experience.

With regard to external evidence touching Browning's opinions on any given question, it is usually of so conflicting a character as to leave us still in the condition of mental indecision in which we began the enquiry. In the present instance we have the report to which reference has been already made of the author's own a.s.sertion respecting _Bishop Blougram's Apology_; that he intended no hostility, and felt none towards the Roman Catholic Church. On the other side of the argument has to be reckoned the reply to Miss Barrett's wish, expressed in the early days of their acquaintance, that he would give direct utterance to his own opinions, not sheltering himself behind his various _dramatis personae_. Whilst promising to accede to the request, he adds, "I don't think I shall let _you_ hear, after all, the savage things about Popes and imaginative religions that I must say." This correspondence took place five years before _Christmas Eve and Easter Day_ was published. To the year of publication is to be referred the author's satirical observation on the premature proclivities evinced by his infant son, during a visit to Siena, towards church interiors and ritual. "It is as well," he remarked, "to have the eye-teeth and the Puseyistical crisis over together." Of this comment writes Professor Dowden, to whom we have been recently indebted for so much valuable light on Browning's life and work: "Although no more than a pa.s.sing word spoken in play [it] gives a correct indication of Browning's feeling, fully shared by his wife, towards the religious movement in England, which was altering the face of the Established Church. 'Puseyism' was for them a kind of child's play, which unfortunately had religion for its playground; they viewed it with a superior smile, in which there was more of pity than of anger."[78] It was, indeed, as we have already had occasion to notice, in the nature of things unlikely that Browning should have remained uninfluenced by the spirit of anxiety and unrest, agitating the minds of English churchmen of all grades of thought during the years which succeeded the Tractarian movement. That this should have led him to a.s.sume an att.i.tude of distrust towards the Roman Catholic Church is hardly matter for surprise; that it was one of hostility he himself denies. And it is a satisfaction to believe that _The Pope_ section of _The Ring and the Book_ was the more matured expression of his feeling in this connection. The most valuable _internal_ evidence on the subject is probably to be derived from a comparison of this poem and _Bishop Blougram's Apology_, with Section X-XII, and XXII of _Christmas Eve_.

In _Bishop Blougram's Apology_, as in _The Pope_, all direct reference to the Church is made from _within_, not from _without_. The speaker is no critical onlooker, but, as we have seen, a prelate noted alike for his ultramontane tendencies, and for the breadth of his views with regard to the adaptability of his Church to the developments of contemporary intellectual life. This man is a leading member of the religious community for which Browning is accused of having in _Christmas Eve_ expressed his aversion. But, although a leading member, he is not therefore to be judged as a typical representative; his marked individuality being doubtless a main cause of the author's choice of subject. And what does this man say in defence of his Church? He points out that a profession before the world of faith, clearly defined and absolute, is essential to his influence and authority. Whatever the searchings of heart, the doubts and questionings inevitable to a keenly logical and a.n.a.lytic intellect, these must be concealed, lest the priest should be accounted a pretender, his profession a cloak of hypocrisy. His belief in the latest ecclesiastical miracle must be as avowedly absolute as that in a G.o.d as Creator and Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Thus he stands firm upon the ground which he has chosen. The question is throughout a personal one, and the implication is clearly not intended that the Roman Catholic Church would _necessarily_ demand of its members this implicit credence, would thus closely fetter the intellectual faculties.

Turning to _Christmas Eve_, we find the case reversed, and the soliloquist occupying the position of one of those outsiders to whom the Bishop believed himself compelled to present an unquestioning and unquestionable orthodoxy. For the Prelate is subst.i.tuted the man of active critical instinct, inclined to pa.s.s judgment with data insufficient to prove a satisfactory basis for the decision: of perceptions readily responsive to the glories of nature and their inspiration: but, we surely are not wrong in adding, of imaginative faculty unequal to the realization of those spiritual suggestions afforded to minds of different calibre by the symbolism of a ritualistic worship. The solemn silence of the vast crowd a.s.sembled in the cathedral makes stronger appeal to his sympathies than does the gorgeous display of ritual following. Hence it is a not illogical outcome of the position that he will but hear in the music of the service "hog-grunts and horse-neighings" that he will but see in the ceremonial observed "buffoonery--posturings and petticoatings." This man of spiritual and intellectual capacity so far developed is yet numbered amongst the congregation of the Calvinistic meeting-house, where the preacher is without erudition, the flock of mental outlook metaphorically as limited as the s.p.a.ce bounded by the four walls within which they are a.s.sembled.

How is the presence of this presumably unsympathetic personality to be accounted for in their midst? How otherwise than by the recognition of this peculiar deficiency in the nature which, whilst leaving it capable of looking directly upwards to the G.o.d of all creeds, yet renders it unable, in looking downwards, to see below the surface, and realize the worth of symbolism in worship where spiritual insight is not of the keenest. The utterance of the _Third Speaker_ of the _Epilogue_[79] may well be his as he awaits the coming of the Vision on the common without the Chapel:

Why, where's the need of Temple, when the walls O' the world are that?

And in his anxiety to avoid the "narrow shrines" of man's erection, he is ultimately driven to worship at one of the narrowest, chosen because the veil of ritual there interposed between the worshipper and his G.o.d is of the thinnest. The urgency of the desire to be freed from all outward ceremonial causes him to overlook the real faults of spiritual pride and exclusiveness characteristic of the Calvinistic congregation. True of heart, he would reject all shows of things; but there is in his nature a Puritanic strain which refuses to be eradicated, and this it is which finally leads him to become a member of the religious community whose failings he at first unsparingly condemned.

V. No stronger proof of the dramatic power of the poem is, perhaps, to be found than that afforded by the criticism quoted below, to which it has seemed almost impossible to avoid reference, bearing as it does the highest literary authority. Browning appears here to be regarded as occupying the position a.s.signed by him to the soliloquist, so completely has he succeeded in identifying himself with his _dramatis persona_. "Of English nonconformity in its humblest forms Browning can write, as it were, from within" [the soliloquist has become a member of the Calvinistic congregation when he narrates his experiences]; "he writes of Roman Catholic forms of worship as one who stands outside" [the position literally and metaphorically a.s.signed to the critic on the threshold-stone of St. Peter's]; "his sympathy with the prostrate mult.i.tude in St. Peter's at Rome is of an impersonal kind, founded rather upon the recognition of an objective fact than springing from an instinctive feeling" [May not the sympathy capable of inspiring the closing lines of Section X be taken as indicative of something deeper than this?]. "For a moment he is carried away by the tide of their devout enthusiasms; but he recovers himself to find, indeed, that love is also here, and therefore Christ is present, but the worshippers fallen under 'Rome's gross yoke,' are very infants in their need of these sacred buffooneries and posturings and petticoatings.... And this, though the time has come when love would have them no longer infantile, but capable of standing and walking, 'not to speak of trying to climb.' Such a short and easy method of dealing with Roman Catholic dogma and ritual cannot be commended for its intelligence; it is quite possible to be on the same side as Browning without being as crude as he is in misconception. He does not seriously consider the Catholic idea which regards things of sense as made luminous by the spirit of which they are the envoys and the ministers. It is enough for him to declare his own creed, which treats any intermediary between the human soul and the Divine as an obstruction or a veil." Then after quoting the pa.s.sage describing the soliloquist's final choice: "This was the creed of Milton and of Bunyan; and yet with both Milton and Bunyan the imagery of the senses is employed as the means, not of concealing, but revealing the things of the spirit."[80] Was it not just this inability to seriously consider the things of sense as made luminous by the spirit which Browning wishes to represent as accounting for the otherwise unaccountable presence of the man of culture and intellect in Zion Chapel? Surely to the characteristic weaknesses of the soliloquist, not to the crude misconception of the author, is attributable the intolerance of the criticism, whether directed, as in the earlier Sections, against the congregation of Zion Chapel, or, in the later, against that of St.

Peter's?

This belief in the strength of the dramatic element in _Christmas Eve_ is confirmed when we turn to _The Ring and the Book_, and the question suggests itself--Would the critic of the earlier poem have been capable of representing any member of the Church which he condemns in the light in which Browning gives us Innocent XII? A nature to which is possible in age the purity and simplicity of a childlike personal faith.

O G.o.d, Who shall pluck sheep Thou holdest, from Thy hand?

(_The Pope_, ll. 641-642.)

Of a tenderness which yearns in memory over the defenceless member of his flock, lately the victim of brutality and disappointed avarice.

Pompilia, then as now Perfect in whiteness.... (ll. 1005-1006.)

... My flower, My rose, I gather for the breast of G.o.d. (ll. 1046-1047.)

With tenderness is coupled that humility which can say to this child of the Faith:

Go past me And get thy praise,--and be not far to seek Presently when I follow if I may! (ll. 1092-1094.)

Stoop thou down, my child, Give one good moment to the poor old Pope Heart-sick at having all his world to blame. (ll. 1006-1008.)

Yet, in spite of the heart-sickness, is present also the moral rect.i.tude which refuses to shrink from the task demanding fulfilment--the censure of "all his world"--from the archbishop who repulsed the injured wife's appeal for protection, "the hireling who did turn and flee," through the entire list of offenders to the "fox-faced, horrible priest, this brother-brute, the Abate," and the chief criminal, Guido, for whom also his friends would claim clerical immunity from the penalty attaching to his offence. Realizing to the full the character of his office, the weight of authority and historical continuity lying behind, the old Pope might well be tempted to grant to the miscreants that shelter which they crave.

But the very fact which leads him to magnify the dignity of his official position, "next under G.o.d," leads him also to recognize the immensity of personal responsibility attaching thereto. The sentence to be pa.s.sed is the outcome of a _personal_ decision.

How should I dare die, this man let live?

Yet whilst laying bare before his mental vision the evils existent in his Church, obvious alike in the individual even though he should himself "have armed and decked him for the fight"; and in the communal life of convent and monastery; whilst rejoicing that Caponsacchi should have had the necessary courage to break through ecclesiastical convention and

Let light into the world Through that irregular breach o' the boundary: (ll. 1205-1206.)

he yet points to the strength of the Church as safeguarding, by her rule as "a law of life," those whose natural impulses may not be relied on to lead them to follow the course of Caponsacchi, and to whom it would not be safe to grant the permission: "Ask _your_ hearts as _I_ asked mine." To these and such as these the law of life laid down by the Church's rule is essential. Whatever the traditions of the past, whatever the possibilities of ecclesiastical modifications and developments in the future, in the present no considerations of personal interest or compa.s.sion must be permitted to warp the judgment of him who is armed

With Paul's sword as with Peter's key.

And it is to be remembered, that the man who could thus reason, thus decide, was head of that Church which excited the mocking condemnation of the soliloquist of _Christmas Eve_: and that Caponsacchi, "the warrior-priest, the soldier-saint," bore likewise the t.i.tle of Canon. To so remember may serve to cast new light upon Browning's supposed att.i.tude towards Roman Catholicism.

VI. The most important subject of discussion in relation to _Easter Day_ is that touching its so-called asceticism. Here also, as in _Christmas Eve_, two interdependent questions must be asked: (1) What is the _nature_ of the asceticism advocated by the First Speaker? (2) How far may it be regarded as the expression of Browning's own theory of life? A plain answer to the first question is necessary in order that, by comparison with the treatment of the same subject elsewhere, it may be possible to determine the extent to which the opinions advanced are in agreement: whether Browning was desirous of advocating renunciation even in the degree held essential by the First Speaker. The key to the position seems to be contained in two recorded comments on the poem by the poet and his wife. When Mrs. Browning complained of the "asceticism," her husband answered, that it stated "_one side_ of the question." Her supplementary observation adds, "It is his way to _see_ things as pa.s.sionately as other people _feel_ them."[81] It was by the exercise of this exceptionally powerful imaginative faculty that the author of _Easter Day_ has dramatically stated the case which he perceived might be made out for renunciation, as well as for grateful acceptance and enjoyment of the gifts of life. If we admit the accuracy of the criticism which would define the spirit of the poem as refusing to recognize, "in poetry or art, or the attainments of the intellect, or even in the best human love, any practical correspondence with religion,"[82] then indeed we are bound to acknowledge that it stands absolutely alone in Browning's work and is in direct opposition to his theory of life. I venture to think, however, that a careful study of this particular aspect of the poem will result in the conviction that the First Speaker is represented as realizing that, desirable as is renunciation in his own case, it is not the highest course possible to human nature.

Sections VIII, XVI, XX, XXIV, x.x.x, are those which deal chiefly with this question of asceticism. Taken in sequence, they present in outline the history of the spiritual life of the First Speaker. This it is desirable to notice very briefly before comparing the rule of life thus indicated with that suggested by references to Browning's work elsewhere. In Section VIII is depicted the att.i.tude of the First Speaker towards the Gospel story; the att.i.tude of "the fighter" who would not only wrestle with evil, but would search for any possibly existent danger and bring it to light (Section XIV). To such a nature the intellectual belief in the Incarnation--"the all-stupendous tale--that Birth, that Life, that Death!"

is productive of heartstruck horror: whilst for a practical acceptance of the faith, life must be regulated in accordance with Scriptural teaching, expressed in

Certain words, broad, plain, Uttered again and yet again, Hard to mistake or overgloss--(_E. D._, viii, ll. 257-259.)

words which declare that the loss of things temporal is the gain of things spiritual and eternal. But the asceticism thus advocated does not find full explanation until Section x.x.x. The gradual revelation begins with Section XVI where, before judgment has been p.r.o.nounced from without, conscience pa.s.ses sentence upon itself; realizing that that which it had deemed in life a mere temporizing, had in fact been a final choice. That, dallying with the good things of life, whilst believing renunciation the higher course, had meant a practical decision in favour of things temporal to the exclusion of things spiritual. In that exclusion lay the error. And the recognition of failure here is in entire accordance with Browning's usual att.i.tude towards life. Condemnation is merited not on account of indulgence, but because that indulgence had meant running counter to the convictions of the man who held that, for him, renunciation was the higher course. Not possessing the courage of his opinions, he had chosen that which he recognized as the lower course, the path of compromise: enjoyment in the present, renunciation before it was too late. Therefore for him who had so chosen--the h.e.l.l of Satiety.

Now, as we have already noticed,[83] the experience of the results of the Judgment tended to exhibit the true worth, both absolute and relative, of the things amid which life had been hitherto pa.s.sed. Satiety checked enjoyment of the beauties of Nature. Why should this be? In Section XXIV is given the answer:

All partial beauty was a pledge Of beauty in its plenitude.

But, engrossed in contemplation of the partial beauty the spectator had found that "the pledge sufficed [his] mood." Therefore, the plenitude was not for him, but for those only who had looked above and beyond the pledge, seeking that of which it was a proof. And in each of the successive attempts towards happiness by an appeal to art, and to the exercise of the higher intellectual faculties, the same explanation of failure is vouchsafed by the Judge. The symbol has been accepted for the reality, the pledge for the fulfilment. After the final choice has been made in favour of Love, "leave to love only," the fuller explanation follows; the secret of life's success or failure. Failure through the inability to recognize the Divine Love in the visible creation, or in the more immediate revelation to man: in either case ample proof being afforded to him who had eyes to see, intelligence to grasp, and heart to respond to the Love so taught. Yet the soliloquist of _Easter Day_ had proved himself incapable of such recognition of the highest truth. The world of sense had been used not to subserve but to supersede the world of spirit. To the nature which thus found in all externals a temptation to rest content with "the level and the night," asceticism was as essential to the preservation of the spiritual life as, under certain conditions, amputation may be to the preservation of physical life.

But it must not be overlooked that the necessity for amputation implies the existence of mortal disease. Hence, whilst realizing this personal necessity for renunciation, the speaker recalls the teaching of the divine Judge of the Vision as pointing to a higher standard of life for him who should be able to attain to it. A life in which all things should be not avoided as a snare, but accepted as cause for thankfulness; the relation of the gift to the Giver being recognized as const.i.tuting its primary value. To the lover of the beautiful is pointed out how

All thou dost enumerate Of power and beauty in the world, The mightiness of love was curled Inextricably round about.

Love lay within it and without, To clasp thee,--but in vain! (_E. D._, x.x.x, ll. 960-965.)

In this pa.s.sage may be found the solution to the whole question of the asceticism advocated. When the love thus expressed had been realized, the step was not a difficult one to the acceptance of the fuller revelation of Love in the Incarnation. And in this realization the highest aspect of life temporal would have been reached. Love, not abrogating the law would have served as its fulfilment. As the statements of Bishop Blougram are personal in relation to the treatment of doubt, so the speaker in _Easter Day_ would make out a case for personal asceticism. Not advocating it as the ideal universal course, he would yet claim for it highest value as safeguarding his individual life. To him who is incapable of moderation, renunciation may become a necessity; yet, through renunciation, may be attained that higher life consisting in a grateful enjoyment and generous communication of all gifts of the Divine Love.

Of the other poems dealing with this subject indirectly or directly, _Paracelsus_, 1835, _Rabbi Ben Ezra_, 1864, _Ferishtah's Fancies_, 1884, are sufficiently representative of the different periods of the poet's literary life to render them valuable as ill.u.s.trations of his mode of treatment. In the last, at least, we may be fairly confident that the decision given is his own.

In one aspect _Paracelsus_ may be regarded as the history of a man of genius who marked out for himself a career of complete asceticism; of work apart from human sympathy, love, and friendship, as well as from all gratifications of the flesh. And the scheme was pursued unflinchingly--for a time--until the inevitable reaction set in, spirit and flesh alike avenging themselves for their temporary suppression. Not only are love and friendship found claiming their own, but

A host of petty wild delights, undreamed of Or spurned before, (_Par._, iii, ll. 537-538.)

offer themselves to supply the place of what the earlier ascetic, in a moment of despairing self-contempt, terms his "dead aims." The declaration at Colmar is made whilst the influence of reaction still prevails.

I will accept all helps; all I despised So rashly at the outset, equally With early impulses, late years have quenched.

All helps! no one sort shall exclude the rest. (_Par._, iv, ll. 235-239.)

Only when he has learned from experience that human nature is not to be developed through suppression, that "its sign and note and character" are "Love, hope, fear, faith"--that "these make humanity," only then can he fearlessly, as in youth, "press G.o.d's lamp to [his] breast," a.s.sured of the divine guidance and protection.

_Sordello_, so closely allied to _Paracelsus_ in time of composition (pub.

1840, begun before _Strafford_, 1836), demands a brief reference since it has been especially singled out for notice in this connection as const.i.tuting "an indirect vindication of the conceptions of human life which _Christmas Eve and Easter Day_ condemns."[84] In the _Sixth Book of Sordello_ the question of renunciation has become imminent and practical.

It is the moment for decision. The imperial badge which he tells his soul "would suffer you improve your Now!" must be accepted or rejected: and with it the attendant temporal advantages. But the reflections occupying the poet's mind, at this crisis of his fate, are akin to those following the Vision of the Judgment in _Easter Day_. Why not enjoy life to the full? Why treat it as a mere ante-room to the palace at the door of which stands the Usher, Death? Even accepting the simile

I, for one, Will praise the world, you style mere ante-room To palace.

Oh, 'twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the to-day's delight.[85]