77 - Browning IV: Sceptic
Browning on a strange healing, Gene Wolfe on the location of God, a Sports Report on another Zimbabwean drug scandal, and a movie review of "The Law and the Outlaw"
Browning IV – Sceptic
Thou wilt object—why have I not ere this
Sought out the sage himself, the Nazarene
Who wrought this cure, inquiring at the source,
Conferring with the frankness that befits?
Alas! it grieveth me, the learned leech
Perished in a tumult many years ago,
Accused,—our learning’s fate,—of wizardry,
Rebellion, to the setting up a rule
And creed prodigious as described to me.
His death, which happened when the earthquake fell
(Prefiguring, as soon appeared, the loss
To occult learning in our lord the sage
Who lived there in the pyramid alone)
Was wrought by the mad people—that’s their wont!
On vain recourse, as I conjecture it,
To his tried virtue, for miraculous help—
How could he stop the earthquake? That’s their way!
The other imputations must be lies:
But take one, though I loathe to give it thee,
In mere respect for any good man’s fame.
(And after all, our patient Lazarus
Is stark mad; should we count on what he says?
Perhaps not: though in writing to a leech
‘Tis well to keep back nothing of a case.)
This man so cured regards the curer, then
As—God forgive me! who but God himself,
Creator and sustainer of the world,
That came and dwelt in flesh on ‘t awhile!
—’Sayeth that such an one was born and lived,
Taught, healed the sick, broke bread at his own house,
Then died, with Lazarus by, for aught I know,
And yet was . . . what I said nor choose repeat,
And must have so avouched himself, in fact,
In hearing of this very Lazarus
Who saith—but why all this of what he saith?
Why write of trivial matters, things of price
Calling at every moment for remark?
I noticed on the margin of a pool
Blue-flowering borage, the Aleppo sort,
Aboundeth, very nitrous. It is strange!
- “An Epistle Containing the Strange Medical Experience of Karshish, the Arab Physician” by Robert Browning
Karshish is only occasionally a lyrical monologist, but he is subtly one of Browning’s most convincing poetic creations. He has, before this stanza, been attempting to explain to his mentor a few things he’s discovered on his trip into Syria-Palestine – most notably, that he’s met a madman who nonetheless seems to be telling the truth that he was rescued from death by a Jewish teacher. Karshish comes back to this again and again, as if unable to shake the story, despite an obvious discomfort with it and with Lazarus’s strange, transcendent attitude.
Here, near the close, he returns again, and explains that he didn’t find out the medical secrets involved because the Jewish teacher was killed. Very well; let that be the end of the report. And yet Karshish must go on, because something in Lazarus’s telling has fascinated or confused or upset or disturbed or enraged him.
Karshish quite likes the sound of this Jewish teacher. In fact, he recognizes him as a fellow physician and scientist. That, after all, must be why he’s been murdered – because he was a truth-seeker. Karshish does report that the Jew was accused of rebellion, and we know from another account of Lazarus’s healing that the healing itself may have been the cause. But again, that is merely the sad and unjust end of a wise man.
The other imputations must be lies:
But take one, though I loathe to give it thee,
In mere respect for any good man’s fame.
. . .
This man so cured regards the curer, then
As—God forgive me! who but God himself,
Creator and sustainer of the world,
That came and dwelt in flesh on ‘t awhile!
—’Sayeth that such an one was born and lived,
Taught, healed the sick, broke bread at his own house,
Then died, with Lazarus by, for aught I know,
And yet was . . .
The tone here is key. Yes, there is disbelief – “The other imputations must be lies”, “God forgive me!” – and yet there is plainly something more, or less, than disbelief here too. Karshish begins to speak liturgically – a key change from Browning, a shift into something more austere and yet musical: “Creator and sustainer of the world. . .such an one was born and lived, // Taught, healed the sick, brake bread at his own house // Then died”. You hear the Creed in your mind reading this because of course Browning has it in mind.
And yet was what, Karshish? The physician refuses to repeat the last enormity. To say it, you sense, would be to believe it. It is not genuinely offensive to his rational nature, and thus he remains silent – to speak it is a commitment.
He is a recognizable type, and an interesting companion to Arnold’s visitor to the Grand Chartreuse. Arnold’s visitor recognizes that religion is done, but also recognizes that perhaps he is too religious, though a nonbeliever, to live beyond religion. Karshish has come upon what, though concerning Easter, might still be called “a birth, and a kind of death”, and where the Magi accept this with some measure of grief, Karshish turns and runs. He has no grand world theory of religion; he is in fact religious; but there is an existential challenge, a shaking and an unsecuring, that he cannot face. He is a real person rendered poetically, and he is, probably, you and me.
For Browning, I suspect there is a degree to which he sees this wholly in existential terms – there is a superrational challenge that Karshish must accept, ad Bishop Blougram does in that apologetic poem. Browning answers the doubt that cripples Arnold with a Heroic leap. Now, of course, Karshish is dealing with (alleged) supernature, but that does not make every aspect superrational. There is nothing given in the text to cause us to doubt that Lazarus is a reliable witness; there is strong reason to believe that the Jewish teacher raised him in some sense from death; and so the rest of Lazarus’ claim can and should be addressed, in part, in direct and reasonable terms. Even here, though, Karshish is still real, because (and we see this politically today) often it is the bluntest and hardest realities, not at all amenable to denial, that we sidestep by not speaking meaningfully of them. We ignore them because we cannot deny them.
Browning – though Heroic, though Existential – has an insight into this rather more banal fact of human behaviour. He may almost agree with Karshish that there is great room for doubt – he does in “Bishop Blougram’s Apology”, certainly – but he has contempt for the refusal to either embrace or destroy that position, preferring instead a refined and delicate vacillation, a decision in favour of distraction:
Why write of trivial matters, things of price
Calling at every moment for remark?
I noticed on the margin of a pool
Blue-flowering borage, the Aleppo sort,
Aboundeth, very nitrous. It is strange!
Browning ends in a most unsubtle manner (“things of price”, indeed), but we must agree: it is strange.
Quote of the Week – Gene Wolfe on the Location of God
“The night sky was as clear as crystal, and there was no moon. I looked out into the vast universe, saluting suns and families of suns far away, and watched the planets creep among them—bloody mars, and Venus radiant and pure in her robe of cloud. For the first time in my life I really understood that I rode a planet like those, that earth and I were swinging through the dark vault even when we smiled in the sunlight. All my life I had thought of Heaven as a vague place far away, a mysterious land outside the universe where Gods sits a golden throne. That I realized that Heaven is not far away at all—that Heaven is wherever God is, and that God is everywhere. That every human soul is His throne room.
Hell is right here, too.
The artists of the Middle Ages painted allegories, we say. What really happened was that they saw more clearly than we do, and painted what they saw—angels and devils, beasts, and half-human monsters like m.
How long did I lie there staring up at the stars? It must have been some time, since I distinctly recall their movement across the sky. I knew then that the blessed dead see God face-to-face, and felt that I, too, had seen some small part of what they saw. It was glorious, and beyond my poor powers of description. Eventually, I slept.”
- from Pirate Freedom by Gene Wolfe
The first thing we can conclude from this is that Gene Wolfe was using AI in 2007, which tracks, because Pirate Freedom involves time travel.
The second is that Gene Wolfe continued to write very fine prose til very late in his career. Indeed, the whole book is of a high quality, structurally and stylistically, which (as with The Sorcerer’s House) defies the general judgement on his 21st century work, especially post-Wizard Knight.
The third is that the use of unpolluted Early Modern (pirate heyday) skies here is re-enchanting for the narrator. It is hard not to hear Lewis’ The Discarded Image in the background, previously quoted in these pages.
I do think there is something just worth teasing out here, though briefly – does Gene Wolfe believe in pantheism? Is the premiere post-Tolkien Catholic/Christian fiction writer in fact a heretic? Well, in part of course such language – “God is everywhere” – can be either purely Classical, indicating omnipresence, or it can be metaphorical. But of course the narrator does seem to move beyond that, by indicating that art of angels and devils, and heaven and hell, is allegory for—us.
But it is more than, not less than. A hobby-medievalist eccentric like Wolfe knows well enough the old allegorical system was not about reducing an image to something else, but allowing us to adduce additional meanings from an objectively true image. That is why the dead truly see God face-to-face here, despite not seeing the skies or their fellow heavenly or hellish Man; the Ur-Image of Heaven and its corrupted mirror, Hell, both echo through Creation, rather than being trapped within it.
Sports Report – Zimbabwean Cricketing Drug Scandal, Again
Sean Williams, Zimbabwe’s best player over the last decade, has effectively been retired by Zimbabwe Cricket after checking into rehab. Not for the rehab, in fairness – but because of his perennial troubles with drugs making him unreliable at even turning up for training and matches.
I am reminded that Heath Streak and Brendan Taylor (the latter just returned to the side post-ban) – the previous two generational stars for Zimbabwe – got hooked into matchfixing scandals by way of drug use.
I suppose this could just be some genetic weakness of the Rhodesian White, but more likely is that the permanent air of financial and moral insecurity surrounding ZC over the last two decades and more is a good selector in itself: if you’re very good at cricket, very mentally robust, or at morally sensitive, you ply your trade elsewhere. At least in Australia you get paid; at least in England you only have to deal with patronage corruption and not working for a guy who might have stolen your dad’s farm.
Those left may well be either of a lesser talent or of a lesser professional seriousness. Further, even for gifted, hardworking patriots, there will always be the temptation of better and more reliable money, and fun, in the murky fringe surrounding all pro sports.
My suggestion to ZC, then: divert at least part of the money you nick into an official Coke Fund. You can even see the interpromotional opportunities! At least with this system the morally unsound or emotionally traumatized amongst your players will find it easiest to go to you for their additional requirements.
Film Review – The Law and the Outlaw, d. Duncan (1913)
Depending on when you fix the closing of the Frontier, Tom Mix started his Western film career before it. Mix’s first film was in 1909; Arizona and New Mexico became states in 1912. The Law and the Outlaw is a representative sample of the vigour and creativity of the Western at this point. Mix is a fascinating silent actor; like many great silent actors, he is actually quite contained and “realistic”, barring the obvious requirement for big gestures at points. He is charismatic, drawing the eye; his strong posture, his even, quietly expressive face, his seemingly instant rapport with those on screen with him, are all significant boons to the medium.
We get some fun stunt work, especially Mix doing stuff on a horse, and there are some gun battles as the wrongly-accused main character (Mix) runs from posses. It’s workaday, in a manner of speaking, but much like the better quality B-Westerns of the 1930s it’s professionally excellent in a way that many far more expensive or flashy films are not. The story is clearly communicated. The pace is sprightly, which is right for a fairly simple two strand story (Mix is on the run, but finding work; Mix and a ranch owner’s daughter fall in love). As a use of 40 minutes, it’s better than any episode of most American TV dramas.
3.5/5
(Free here:
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