In the 1640s, aged sixteen, he was conscripted into the Parliamentary Army and would have met the extremes of a brutal war, religious passion and politics: the Levellers, who believed you should only obey those you had voted for; the Fifth Monarchists, who anticipated the imminent return of Jesus Christ; the Diggers,
who believed the land belonged to all. Their religious passion appears to have embraced him, but not so their politics, even though in the 1660s he spent two spells in prison âfor holding unlawful meetings' â that is, for preaching. He was a biblical literalist and the story of Christ was, in his view, both a true and a divine history.
Bunyan's prose not so much quoted from the Bible as lived inside its skin. This is as Christian and Hopeful wade into the river of death.
They then addressed themselves to the water: and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said âI sink in deep waters, the billows go over my head, all his waves go over me. Selah!'
Then said the other âBe of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom and it is good.' Then said Christian âAh my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed me about, I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey.' And with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian so that he could not see before him; also here he in great measure lost his senses so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of these sweet refreshments that he had met with on the way of his pilgrimage.
McAfee points out:
Christian's two sentences are a mixture of quotation, allusion and imitation clearly intended to evoke the Psalms without ever becoming an exact quotation. His first sentence could easily be mistaken for a quotation, especially as it uses the characteristic refrain âSelah!', but it is an adaptation of Psalm 42 verse 7 âAll thy waves and thy billows are gone over me' and Psalm 69 verse 2 âI sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the
floods overflow me', while âthe sorrows of death have compassed me about' is nearly a direct quotation from Psalm 18 verse 4. And the âland that flows with milk and honey' is the land promised to the oppressed and suffering Israelites.
The vocabulary of
The Pilgrim's Progress
is evidence of the literacy of a substantial minority. That literacy was founded and as it were funded by the King James Bible. It was both faith-driven and faith-fed. Together with the Bible itself, Bunyan's work rooted into the English-speaking Protestant reading classes a knowledge of and a loyalty to a particular period and style of Bible language which was reinforced and made sublime by Shakespeare and to some extent Milton. These three, Shakespeare, Milton and Bunyan, point the different but conjoined ways in which the Bible will be used by writers over the next four centuries. From its publication, the King James Bible did not walk alone but gathered around it three champions whose own writings fortified the English Scriptures of 1611 and helped the genius of that translation not only to endure, but to be quoted, and looted, ever since.
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To list every writer whose work owes debts to the King James Bible would be to write another book and several have already been written. In this book which looks at its overall impact and its penetration into many aspects in the history of English-speaking Protestants, there is not the space for many mansions. Even so, this and one other chapter will be needed . . .
John Dryden (1631 â 1700) was a political pamphleteer as well as being a satirical poet. His most famous poem, the epic
Absalom and Achitophel
is an attack on Charles II's bastards and a denunciation of the politics of that time, of what was called the Exclusion Crisis. He is prime evidence of the elasticity in the legacy of the Bible. In his hands it is an instrument of political torment,
beginning with his scarcely veiled comment on the public promiscuity of Charles II: apparently applauding it:
In pious times, ere Priest-craft did begin,
Before
Polygamy
was made a sin:
When man, on many, multipli'd his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confin'd:
When Nature prompted, and no Law deni'd
Promiscuous use of concubine and bride;
Then
Israel's
monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did variously impart
To wives and slaves: and, wide as his command,
Scatter'd his Maker's image through the land.
Daniel Defoe (1660 â 1731), is the father of the English novel according to Valentine Cunningham, who has written convincingly of Defoe's close kinship with the Bible. He was âa lifelong Dissenter. He was brought up from the age of two in the “gathered” congregation of the Reverend Samuel Annesley,' which his parents had joined in 1662. Daily Bible reading, meditation, copying chunks of it out in shorthand, Defoe at one stage was set on a career in the Presbyterian ministry before he went into business. The Bible permeated everything he wrote: pamphlets,
Moll Flanders
,
Robinson Crusoe
all draw on a âhuge repertoire of direct quotation'. It was ingrained in him whether claiming that Moses gave the world its first knowledge of letters when he brought the tablets down from Mount Sion, or having the narrator of
A Journal of the Plague Year
open the Bible with apparent casualness to light on a quotation which would arm and uplift him for the fight. As for the plague itself, there are two explanations according to Defoe. It is certainly the will of God. But it also arises from the ânatural causes' which âDivine Power' has put in place.
Everything is explained and excused through God by this writer, who was also acclaimed for bringing the news of his times into vivid and enduring fiction.
Robinson Crusoe
, for instance, is shot through with religion. Cunningham takes up the matter of the barley:
Famously, some barley unexpectedly springs up, to be rationalised as all at once completely providential and completely natural. When Crusoe first sees the shoots of English barley he supposes it God's miraculous provision. Then he remembers he had earlier shaken a âlittle bag of corn that had been reduced to Husks and Dusty by rats' and this natural explanation abated âmy religious thankfulness to God's Providence'. But then he had a further thought that âit really was the work of Providence as to me' in that the rats must have left âten or twelve grains of corn' unspoiled in the bag and he happened to shake them out in a place where they would flourish.
Jonathan Swift, apart from his satires which included at least one work of genius,
Gulliver's Travels
, was a devout clergyman. Whatever his mockery, he, not unlike Defoe, held closely to the faith and to the way in which it was expounded. In
A Letter to a Young Gentleman
in 1720, he explains how seriously a sermon should be undertaken, how carefully prepared and delivered. Of his own sermons, it was said âthey emit hardly a breath of his fabulous spirit and are surely unadorned in respect of wit and fancy.' The wild and rude riot of some of his writing, like that of Dryden, runs in apparently comfortable harness with a solid Anglicanism. And in his case too it could be argued that one reason for his rage against the world is because of its failure to live in the morality of the New Testament.
William Blake in his engravings and paintings, his poems
and commentaries, is a man wholly immersed in the King James Bible. He is also in a perpetual argument with it. He has, as it were, surfing on it, his own meditative, even mystical philosophy which spoke directly across the centuries to the âhippies' of the mid-twentieth century for whom he became a poetic guru. Allen Ginsberg, the American poet and a big cylinder of the hippie engine, seems to have worshipped him. He became a T-shirt, a pop icon. What travelled down the years was to do with his spiritual implacability quarried out of the Bible.
He recreated the first lines of Genesis in
The Book of Urizen
:
Lo, a shadow of horror is risen
In Eternity! Unknown, Unprolific,
Self-closed, all-repelling: what Demon
Hath form'd this abominable void;
This soul-shudd'ring vacuum? Some said
âIt is Urizen.' But unknown, abstracted,
Brooding, secret, the dark power hid.
And in his âThe Chimney Sweeper' he would write of a child left weeping in the snow by parents who have gone to church:
And because I am happy, and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King
Who make up a heaven of our misery.
And then he could write the hymn of the Women's Institute of Britain, a hymn that seems to capture the yearning of many who want to be anciently anchored in a place, a church and a faith by imagining Christ in their own land.
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
Blake shows yet another side of himself when, in a letter to a friend, he writes: âWhy is the Bible more Entertaining and Instructive than any other book? Is it not because they are addressed to the Imagination which is Spiritual sensation but mediating to the Understanding or Reason?'
It was beginning to seem that a well could be sunk in the Bible at any point and it would find energy for any view. It was available across the waterfront. Women poets at this time, Mary Robinson and Charlotte Smith, also sought a voice in what appeared to many women to be a monopoly of patriarchs past and present. But Mary Wollstonecraft, like Defoe a Dissenter, would draw on her Bible reading to energise her campaign for women's rights. In the Romantic Revival (which overlapped the Englightenment!) the most influential woman living in England in the Romantic era was Hannah More, whose radical pamphlets have pushed her religious literature into the background. In 1782 she published
Sacred Dramas
. She writes about âDavid and Goliath', âBelshazzar' and âDavid'.
In the drama
Moses in the Bulrushes
she brings together women both Hebrew and Egyptian and gives them common qualities. In this and other instances she is a key figure in bringing women on to the page. Her transparent faith exemplifies the religious nature and the learning of the women writers to come. For many of them, the Bible and other religious works were their only way to get an education and find a source which could give them the chance of literary equality.
The Romantic poets sought answers and questions in nature as much as in a biblical God. Wordsworth wrote:
She has a world of ready wealth
Our minds and hearts to bless â
Spontaneous wisdom breath'd by health
Truth breath'd by cheerfulness.
And, much more ominously:
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
The Old and the New Testament both put briskly aside! All the history and storytelling grandeur of the Old and the morality of the New deleted in a simple quatrain. Yet Wordsworth's pantheism often seems to merge with Protestantism:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
Without at least the inheritance of a religious sensibility it is doubtful if he would have written his greatest poetry.
The Prelude
is shot through with a sense of the divine.
Lord Byron wrote: âI am a great reader of those books [the Bible] and had read them through and through before I was eight years old; that is to say, the Old Testament, for the New struck me as a task but the other as a pleasure.'
We know that Byron was iconoclastic, at the very least sceptical. In
Childe Harold
he writes:
. . . Religions take their turn:
'Twas Jove's â 'tis Mahomet's â and other creeds
Will rise with other years, till man shall learn
Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds.
Again, though, as often happened, the effect of the King James Bible was felt by believers and unbelievers alike. Byron dug deeply into the Bible, often taking the Old Testament stories at their own value. âJephthah's Daughter', âSong of Saul Before his Last Battle', and others are faithful to the original story. Even in
Childe Harold
and
Don Juan
in which there are many references to Adam and Eve and the Fall, though there is mockery there is relish in the knowledge. The Bible continued to be a necessary resource. George Gordon Brown in his essay on Byron says of the âdust and clay metaphors' that each of them appears well over a hundred times in his poetry.
As the centuries rolled through, the Bible's literary and historical wealth often grew detached from its spiritual mission. Yet it remained no less powerful in the influence it maintained among great writers.
There is an extreme example, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, in the work of the atheist, Percy Bysshe Shelley. He had studied carefully much of the Old Testament, especially the Book of Psalms, Job and Isaiah.
Queen Mab
is given as one example in which Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew, tells the Bible story in detail only available to a close reader.
Coleridge is the apotheosis of the Romantic movement, even though he bowed to Wordsworth as the greater poet. He was born in 1772 and before Coleridge was three he could read a chapter of the Bible. âHe continued to read both Testaments all his life, and read them in the hope that they would reveal, and help create in him, the being of Christ. He valued the bible above all other
books.' Coleridge himself wrote: âthe words of the bible find me at greater depths of my being.' We are told that âwhen you read
Hymn Before Sunrise in the Vale of Chamounix
you may as well be reading the 19th Psalm.' He said: âintense study of the bible will keep any writer from being vulgar in point of style.'