Direct, but not always accurate, quotations from Scripture and allusions
to Biblical characters and events are very numerous in English
literature. They are found in all sorts of books. Professor Albert T.
Cook has recently counted sixty-three in a volume of descriptive sketches
of Italy, twelve in a book on wild animals, and eighteen in a novel by
Thomas Hardy. A special study of the Biblical references in Tennyson has
been made,[2] and more than five hundred of them have been found.
Bishop Charles Wordsworth has written a book on _Shakespeare’s Knowledge
and Use of the Bible_,[3] and shown “how fully and how accurately the
general tenor of the facts recorded in the sacred narrative was present
to his mind,” and “how Scriptural are the conceptions which Shakespeare
had of the being and attributes of God, of His general and particular
Providence, of His revelation to man, of our duty toward Him and toward
each other, of human life and of human death, of time and of eternity.”
It is possible that the bishop benevolently credits the dramatist with a
more invariable and complete orthodoxy than he possessed. But certainly
Shakespeare knew the Bible well, and felt the dramatic value of allusions
and illustrations which were sure to be instantly understood by the plain
people. It is his Antonio, in _The Merchant of Venice_, who remarks that
“the Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose,” evidently referring to
the Gospel story of the evil one who tried to tempt Jesus with a verse
from the Psalms.
The references to the Bible in the poetry of Robert Browning have been
very carefully examined by Mrs. Machen in an admirable little book.[4]
It is not too much to say that his work is crowded with Scriptural
quotations, allusions, and imagery. He follows Antonio’s maxim, and makes
his bad characters, like Bishop Blougram and Sludge the Medium, cite
from Holy Writ to cloak their hypocrisy or excuse their villainy. In his
longest poem, _The Ring and the Book_, there are said to be more than
five hundred Biblical references.
But more remarkable even than the extent to which this material drawn
from the Scriptures has been used by English writers, is the striking
effect which it produces when it is well used. With what pathos does Sir
Walter Scott, in _The Heart of Midlothian_, make old Davie Deans bow his
head when he sees his daughter Effie on trial for her life, and mutter to
himself, “Ichabod! my glory is departed!” How magnificently does Ruskin
enrich his _Sesame and Lilies_ with that passage from Isaiah in which the
fallen kings of Hades start from their thrones to greet the newly fallen
with the cry, “Art thou also become weak as we? Art thou become like
unto us?” How grandly do the images and thoughts of the last chapters of
Deuteronomy roll through Kipling’s _Recessional_, with its Scriptural
refrain, “Lest we forget!”
There are some works of literature in English since the sixteenth century
which are altogether Biblical in subject and colouring. Chief among these
in prose is _The Pilgrim’s Progress_ of John Bunyan, and in verse, the
_Paradise Lost_, _Paradise Regained_, and _Samson Agonistes_ of John
Milton. These are already classics. Some day a place near them will be
given to Browning’s _Saul_ and _A Death in the Desert_; but for that we
must wait until their form has stood the test of time.
In general it may be observed—and the remark holds good of the works
just mentioned—that a Scriptural story or poem is most likely to succeed
when it takes its theme, directly or by suggestion, from the Bible, and
carries it into a region of imagination, a border-realm, where the author
is free to work without paraphrase or comparison with the sacred writers.
It is for this reason that both _Samson Agonistes_ and _Paradise Lost_
are superior to _Paradise Regained_.