Passivity and the Divine in Richard Crashaw's Teresa Poems

Introduction: Crashaw's Place in the Canon

Richard Crashaw's place in the canon of English poetry has been problematic either since his poetry was first published — in one view — or only since the early twentieth century, when his work was reexamined with renewed interest and respect (Perry, 1; Low, 242; Gallagher, 278). Upon reading even the most respected of his verses, it is fairly easy to ascertain the fundamental reason for this problem. Though his verses are full of compelling imagery and present a strong message and motive, they are not — at least at first glance — intellectually deep or complex. Instead, they appear to be rather superficial, if strongly felt, descriptions of the divine or of the human experience of the divine (Gallagher; Perry). A close reading of two of Crashaw's poems that deal most directly and explicitly with many of the unique and controversial themes and images that typify his work — "A Hymn to the Name and Honor of the Admirable Saint Teresa" and "The Flaming Heart," both of which deal with the same concrete subject matter of the ecstasy of Saint Teresa in her religious revelations — shows that this appearance of shallow description is deceptive, perhaps purposefully so, and is in fact a part of the point Crashaw is trying to make.

This paper argues that a close examination of Crashaw's poems and the specific devices, words, and images used reveals a strong and cohesive statement regarding the nature of the divine experience. In arguing this point, the understanding presented by Low of Crashaw's concept of a "conquering passivity" (248) is highly useful, as is a rejection of the argument made by Davis that Crashaw's poetry is a mix of the meditative and liturgical modes. Rather, Crashaw's work typifies Davis's own description of the contemplative mode: "a record of or wish for direct mystical experience of God rather than a mimesis of experience; it invites the reader, to whom it speaks directly, to seek or share understanding of something intensely private, thus tending to be difficult in its imagery and to proceed not by a neat psychological structure but associatively" (107). A close reading using these lenses reveals a richly detailed and consistent representation of the human experience of the divine as an act that is active in its passivity — one in which the choice and willingness to become passive conquers through submission to God's love — and reveals Crashaw's explicit attempt to make public the private act of divine communion through the eroticism and physical description embedded in his work. In this way, Crashaw is shown not only to be paradoxically problematic in terms of the reception and criticism surrounding his poetry, but also to embrace paradox and certain deliberate ambiguities in his meaning.

The deceptive simplicity and directness of Crashaw's poetry is immediately observable in the first lines of this poem: "Love, thou art Absolute sole lord / of Life and Death" (1–2). Already Crashaw has stated his thesis. He does not embed it in the subtext of the poem for the reader to tease out, nor does he build a case for it only to reveal it with a neat turn of phrase at the end, as Donne might. Instead, he presents a succinct and even trite assessment of "Love" without any prior explanation, suggesting to the careless reader that what follows is a simple oratory to the glories of romance and interpersonal love. What actually follows is a much different discussion of the nature of divine love and the relationship between the human experience of romantic or passionate love and the human experience of divine love. It is truly this latter type of love that Crashaw refers to, as the poem makes explicitly clear; however, the line between the experience of divine love and the experience of physical human love is purposefully blurred.

Conquering Passivity in 'A Hymn to the Admirable Sainte Teresa'

To prove his point, Crashaw's speaker says they will not turn to "Men of Martyrdom," invoking a clear and definite connection between death and the divine, or at least faithfulness. Instead, the speaker turns to one so young that "Scarse has she learn't to lisp the name / of Martyr" — the embodiment of life and youth and thus the antithesis of death — who yet contemplates death and its potential for divinity in a highly precocious manner (5; 15–16). Already there is a sense of submission or passivity in this central figure of Teresa (named only once in the entire length of the poem), who is eager to give herself in death for the further testament and experience of her love for the divine and the love received in return.

Even from these first scattered thoughts of Crashaw's poem, Low's concept of the conquering passivity can be plainly demonstrated in the child Teresa. Not simply willing but eager to face death if it means a reunification of her soul with the divine, the point Crashaw began with — that love is lord of life and death — is already illustrated in this description and is clearly tied to the subject of an active passivity. There is a wisdom and willingness in the desire for death: to accept the love from the divine and give herself over to it in a manner that will allow for her transcendence of this world and a conquering of the mortal arrogances that Crashaw dismissed before introducing the child. It is not the active valor of the "Souldiers, Great and tall" or those that can "Speak lowd into the face of death" that will demonstrate the means by which divine love is truly experienced and through which it holds sway over life and death (4; 8). Rather, it is through the far more passive action of a child who simply feels the love run through her and is willing to abandon herself to it. The simple and direct juxtaposition of the natural passivity of a child with the strong and explicit action of the soldier, and indeed the rejection of the latter in favor of the former, makes it clear that in Crashaw's view it is passivity which conquers and fulfills the promise of divine and of human love.

These opening passages and images also demonstrate Crashaw's desire to make public the otherwise highly private experience of divine love and faith. The fact that the girl Teresa is barely able even to speak the word "martyr" makes it impossible that the thoughts Crashaw — or his speaker — shares with the reader are sentiments Teresa is able to express externally. These are necessarily private and internal conclusions on her part, becoming public only in their direct physical manifestation when that occurs. This contrasts directly with the highly public actions of the soldiers and the well-known martyrs, whose faith and deeds can only be publicly demonstrated, or who at least are known for these public demonstrations. The masculine and the active are necessarily public in their formation and their display, whereas the true love that is lord of life and death — that divine love experienced by Teresa even as a child — must necessarily be private and personal in its manifestation.

Erotic Imagery and the Publicly Private

It would not even be necessary for Teresa to publicly acknowledge or demonstrate her faith for it to be complete and compelling to Teresa herself, while at the same time her private and internal sentiments must be made public if they are to be compelling for others. Crashaw's description takes on an almost voyeuristic quality in its account of the private passivity that so consumes and motivates Teresa's inner drives. This quality is only strengthened by the introduction of sexual imagery that further explains the nature of divine love and Teresa's experience of it as at once physical and entirely beyond the physical realm.

This imagery enters innocently enough with a reference to Teresa's virginity, with the speaker commenting, "Nor has she e're yet understood / Why to show love, she should shed blood" (21–2). This fairly explicit reference to the act of feminine deflowering — which, though a proof of love, is yet violent and bloody — is again intensely personal and, from the feminine perspective, at once passive and active. The female is the recipient, by nature's design, in the act of consummating love; she is the passive acceptor of love, providing space to be filled by that love, and is thus made capable of truly melding with that which enters her. At the same time, this Teresa is unaware of the violent aspect of physical love, but knows only the aspect of being filled by love. There is still a distinct eroticism to this description of divine love, but the element of violence and blood is unnecessary, and in fact by working towards the acceptance of divine love, Teresa can overcome that violence and again conquer through her passivity — filled with love because of her openness to it, rather than being wrenched apart so that love may force its way in. Again, this feminine passivity outshines masculine action in its ability to experience divine and even human love.

Conclusion

Crashaw does not simply embrace the passive, the private, and the feminine in his poetry. He exalts these features, and indeed paints them as necessary for experiencing the full depth of divine love. It is through his seemingly paradoxical juxtaposition of various elements — innocence and eroticism, public display and private feeling, death and consummation — that Baroque devotional poetry is shown, in Crashaw's hands, to be capable of sustained and serious theological argument. Far from being the superficial devotional verse his detractors have suggested, the Teresa poems reveal a poet who deliberately wears simplicity as a mask for rich, multilayered meaning, and who makes the act of reading itself a rehearsal in the conquering passivity he so compellingly describes.