The Bible in E.A. Robinson

      Edwin Arlington Robinson's affinity for the Bible is well-attested. He was described by his niece Ruth as a man who "wanted to be remembered for two qualities he cherished in his life and work, namely reverence for other persons, and a continual search for the truth." He never spoke of his own religion, but it is clear that, for Robinson, there was something about the Bible.

      Robinson was deeply influenced by the Bible. The reader finds that allusions to Biblical characters and imagery and borrowing of Biblical scenarios and themes abound in many of his works. Edwin Fussell claims with certain language that Robinson was not a Christian. I would argue that one can never be so certain about another's religious convictions, no matter how great the external evidence. But Robinson himself wrote, "... [it] is far better to read the Bible as mere literature than to read most of the stuff that is printed in these days for anything at all." Even if Robinson never took the Bible in the context of the Christian religion, it still played a powerful and prevalent role in his poetry as he crafted original, secular work from the sacred texts.

      "The Three Taverns" is written in the voice of the apostle Paul and begins as he is about to enter Rome to be heard in Caesar's court. Nicholas Ayo calls The Three Taverns "a carefully composed mosaic of over two hundred Biblical allusions [that] could substitute for an apocryphal Pauline Epistle." The very first lines show that Robinson created this story from several different Biblical sources and not just the book of Acts in which the original story is told. Fussell points out that the four names "Herodion, Apelles, Amplias,/And Andronicus" come from Romans 16. Robinson's typist, Esther Willard Bates, said of him, "He knew his Bible. One lay on his writing table in the Veltin Studio." In The Three Taverns and other poems, Robinson shows just how well he did know his Bible. Robinson's Paul says, "... The cup that I shall drink/Is mine to drink...." This is a usage of a popular Biblical image that appears 18 times in the New Testament but never in Acts. Psalms 11.6 reads, "Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup." This image of the cup of God's wrath is mirrored in the gospels when Jesus says to his disciples, "... Ye know not what ye ask: can ye drink of the cup that I drink of? and be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" and then to God, "... Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt."

      Robinson's frequent use of juxtaposition serves to emphasize the points that he himself wants to make. Though these usages are not entirely Biblically accurate, they still follow the spirit of the Scriptures. Robinson first juxtaposes ideas from disparate sources.

"Though hatred would have ended, long ago,
The bane of his activities. I have lived,
Because the faith within me that is life"

This seems to be a combination of Romans 6.23 and Galatians 2.20, the first speaking of death resulting of sin and the second speaking of life by faith in Christ. Still the combination is not immediately apparent, and the two ideas flow as one. The fluidity of thought here is explained by Nicholas Ayo as "the functional accuracy of [Robinson's] borrowings" from different sources. Another juxtaposition, this time of Biblical place names, occurs when Robinson's Paul speaks of the love of the Roman believers reaching as far as "Antioch and Haran." Though there was a very large and prominent church in Antioch, Haran is never even mentioned in the New Testament. It occurs only six times in the Old Testament as a place name, and it has no significance other than being the place at which Abram stayed before going to the Promised Land. The use of Haran in this context may be Robinson's effort to bridge the past and present. Robinson almost seems to make a mistake when he juxtaposes references to the Corinthian and Roman churches. Though Paul is speaking to four believers from Rome, he says, "You remark in me/No sort of leaping giant, though some words/Of mine to you from Corinth may have leapt/A little through your eyes into your soul." This goes back to II Corinthians chapter 10 where the Corinthians complain that Paul's letters are forceful, but he is in person unimpressive and ineloquent. It does not make much difference which church Robinson ascribes this feeling because this refers to something about Paul's character and persona that would be more or less equally expressed to all the churches. The reader finds irony in Robinson's juxtaposition of "crown of thorns" and Rome. In the story of the crucifixion, it was Roman soldiers who had placed a crown of thorns upon Jesus as they mockingly worshipped him as "King of the Jews." Perhaps Paul is wishing the condemnation of Rome. The reference "dragon-ridden field" only a few lines later brings to mind the various Biblical dragons, all of which are opposed to God. The evil leviathan of Hebrew mythology was described as a dragon whom God conquered. Nebuchadnezzar and the Egyptian pharaoh were also called dragons. The most obvious choice though, is of course the great dragon, Satan himself, of Revelation 12.9. Paul seems to predict Roman opposition to himself even before he enters the city.

      While Robinson touches upon details of the Acts narrative such as the stoning of Stephen , he also expresses a knowledge of Paul's theology in mentioning the "man within the man [who] is most alive." This Pauline idea was originally stated, "... but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day." Robinson's Paul also goes into lengthy discussions of the Law and the Word, issues of very complex theological importance. It is amazing that Robinson would treat these issues at all. One would think that such references would only make for dull and unpoetic theological argument, and indeed, this may be one effect. "The Three Taverns" does not read like a story. There is no plot, only the setting of Paul, a prisoner, who meets friends seven leagues from Rome. Brief narrative details emerge as memory, but only to continue Paul's speech. Paul is the only speaker throughout the whole poem. Robinson's purpose in this writing seems to be more geared toward delving into the mind of the great apostle. Ayo describes this as a "psychological expansion [that] is achieved through the focus of a limited point of view and through the development of the inner consciousness of the characters." Ayo remarks that Robinson's Biblical poems deal with the theme of the "mystery of rebirth." This is very apparent in The Three Taverns. Paul continually makes references to his two selves, usually the former and the newer. He says, "You see an older man than he who fell/Prone to the earth when he was nigh Damascus." This, of course, points to his conversion while on the road to Damascus. Perhaps this is to say that Paul is wiser now than he was when he was first converted. Or maybe he is merely more weary. He insists on reminding his fellow believers that it is now "Paul you see - the Saul of Tarsus/That was a fiery Jew...." There is a clear distinction between the man Paul used to be and the man he is now. He says how he used to pursue the Law as his fathers had before him but that he could no longer. Earlier he called himself, "A prisoner of the Law, and of the Lord a voice made free." The final statement of his roots rests in the mentioning of the learned Pharisee Gamaliel, whom we know was Paul's tutor, the one who taught him the Law and raised him to walk in the ways of Judaism. Over and over again, Paul affirms his new identity as he shirks off the old.

      In "Nicodemus", Robinson expands the Biblical character even more deeply than he did with Paul in The Three Taverns. Robinson has considerably less material to work with in composing the character of Nicodemus. The story of Nicodemus is only told in the gospel according to John, and his name appears only five times there. All that Robinson found of him in the Scriptures was an open-ended discussion with Jesus about the new birth, his defense of Jesus before a mob of Jews, and his gift of aloes and myrrh when Jesus was dead. The name of Caiaphas, the other speaker in the poem's dialogue, appears in all the gospels except the one according to Mark. The two figures never interact within the Scriptures, but Robinson makes the assumption that the Pharisee and the high priest would have known and met with each other. Robinson characterizes Nicodemus as a man who has just been introduced to the knowledge of awesome things. That much is Biblical, but Robinson goes into his mind and brings out a man in shock and grave contemplation. His internal struggle is manifested in his appearance and attire. Robinson describes him as a fugitive as he enters with a dark and somber look that brings a new mood to the scene. The Biblical stories of Nicodemus and Paul are similar in that both had personal experiences with Jesus (Nicodemus with the bodily Jesus, Paul with the spiritual one) that made ripples in their lives and caused them to reconsider their former beliefs and actions. Robinson's extension of the Nicodemus narrative also extends the similarity by giving Nicodemus a short span of contemplation before reaching the acceptance of Jesus' teaching, just as Paul had to travel to Damascus to be healed of his blindness and baptized by the Lord's servant Ananias. Like Paul, Nicodemus is trying to reconcile his new knowledge with his former training, and he is working up the courage to claim Jesus as the Messiah. The similarities, both pre-existent and created, may simply be coincidences, but in any case, they are interesting to note. Caiaphas is a cold figure who works against him in refuting the truth that Jesus has given. He mocks Nicodemus for being taken in by a fraud and basically tells him that he will never be born again, that he will never cease to be his former and present self, a Pharisee, to become a new creation through the rebirth that Jesus preached. Caiaphas curses Nicodemus to only admire Jesus from afar and visit him in the dark of night, apparently for fear of being seen with this heretical prophet claiming to be the Son of God. But the end of the poem shows Nicodemus fearlessly rising above the curse to finally accept Jesus' truth in his heart. I think these are very appropriate characterizations. The Biblical Nicodemus could not immediately understand Christ's message of rebirth, but later he is seen publicly taking the side of Christ, even defending him, and making provisions for Christ's burial. Caiaphas, on the other hand, is the one who condemns Jesus to death before the Sanhedrin. Therefore there is change for one and stagnancy for the other. Caiaphas' prideful, unchanging nature is seen in the way Robinson uses repetition in his dialogue for Caiaphas. Eight t e calls Jesus a carpenter, and many t e calls him a "mad carpenter." In the first instance he says, "I have been told he was a carpenter-/Before he was a ..." Nicodemus cuts Caiaphas' short, but it is clear that Caiaphas did not mean to say anything favorable about Jesus in this conclusion. The repetition of Jesus' common trade seems to be Caiaphas' way of convincing himself that Jesus is not any kind of Messiah but rather a "seditious prophet," a common and low man, a charlatan. Caiaphas can say little else to Nicodemus than "I'll say no more-/No more than one warning, Nicodemus,/That you provision your seditious prophet/Out of Jerusalem, and with no lost time." This warning is repeated several times as Caiaphas foresees Jesus' imminent destruction. One wonders why Caiaphas even gives such a warning. He obviously has no love for Jesus, and his relationship with Nicodemus seems to be only one of haughty superiority to a lesser religious leader. Perhaps this warning is just a form of professional courtesy. Robinson's characters are immeasurably more complex and well-defined than the gospel presentations of them.

      "Nicodemus" is filled to the brim with contrast. Even from the very first lines, the reader is presented with the image of a confident high priest and a befuddled Pharisee.

"There were some rumors, but he smiled at them
And all who heeded them, and shook his head
Reprovingly, as at uneasy children;
And so he smiled tonight at Nicodemus,
Who had come late. More like a fugitive
He looked, in a long cloak that covered him
With dark humility..."

By his smiling at the tardy Nicodemus, Caiaphas holds an air of power and control of this opening scene. He asks why Nicodemus wears a "black shroud" even as he is still living, and he contrasts Nicodemus' "noble robes" of a Pharisee with a "sack." This illustrates a contrast that is repeated throughout the poem, i.e., finery versus decay. Nicodemus calls Caiaphas a priest of death, and he calls religious men like himself "sceptered slaves," a confusing image of a person from the lowest socio-economic level acting and being treated as a king. Nicodemus gets into some theological discussion of the body and soul when he says that he and Caiaphas "are two painted shells of eminence/Carried by two dead men." The body and soul reappear in the analogy of the body being "an instrument whereon the spirit/Plays for a time." This seems to be a misplaced theological concept as there are few if any references to the body/soul dualism in the gospels. This belief was more chiefly propagated by Paul, because it was more traditionally Greek than Jewish. It is thus doubtful that a Pharisee and a Jewish high priest would talk so much about the soul. The contrast of life and death appears as Nicodemus speaks of the risen dead. Jesus' ministry and the Apostolic Age featured several cases of miraculous raising of the dead including Jesus' raising of John and Paul's raising of Eutychus. Light plays against darkness in speaking of the wisdom that some have attained while Nicodemus and Caiaphas still remain in the dark. This reappears with Jesus' message that men love the darkness more than the light. Nicodemus contrasts the proud (high) with the humble (lowly) and later says that "The lowly are the first inheritors/Of his report." This seems to be Robinson's reference to the beatitude spoken by Jesus: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Or it may reference Jesus' parable of laborers in the vineyard when he says, "So the last shall be first, and the first last." "Nicodemus" too contains a mix of many Biblical borrowings. Edwin Arlington Robinson's poetry can be read on many different levels of significance. At times one wonders if literary scholarship goes too far in trying to ascribe evaluations and assumptions that do not present themselves concretely in the literature itself and may never have been meant to be seen in such a light. So may it be true, to greater or lesser degrees, of the light of scrutiny in the Biblical perspectives. Seldom is the literary critic fortunate enough to find a recognized writer who will comment extensively on his own literature, so scholarship and literary criticism must work within these limitations of the practice. As such Robinson and his literary legacy may come to life in new and unusual ways with each successive generation of readers.