John Milton (1608-1674) certainly meant his writing to be influential in his own time. Living through the rebellion and Civil War against England’s King Charles I, then Oliver Cromwell’s rule as Lord Protector following Charles’ execution, he was an ardent republican. He wrote religious and political tracts which promoted the republican cause and the rights of the individual. His writing made him a very significant figure and he was appointed Secretary for Foreign Tongues by the state.
Having such a reputation for outspoken republicanism brought problems, of course, when the English monarchy was restored in 1660. Milton lost his position, was imprisoned for a time, but survived the turmoil, partly through support from fellow poet Andrew Marvell. By this time, Milton had also become completely blind.
Yet it was at this time that Milton wrote his most famous work, Paradise Lost, an epic poem of over ten thousand blank verse lines. Published in its first edition in 1667, it recounts the central story of Christianity, the temptation of Adam and Eve and their banishment from the Garden of Eden. At the opening, the reader is told that the poem will tell
Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world…
The poem also narrates the backstory. Milton gives the reader the first Fall, of Lucifer and the rebel angels from heaven, which leads to Satan’s serpent disguise for the tempting of Eve to eat the apple from the ‘forbidden tree’.
The Paradox of Paradise Lost
It is not hard to see that both these narratives concern rebellion and disobedience against a mighty ruler – in this case God. This leads to an interesting ambiguity about Milton’s position as both a deeply religious man and a confirmed republican who supported the toppling of his king. Paradise Lost can be read as an orthodox retelling of the central myth of Christianity, explaining how temptation and disobedience led to the separation between God and humankind. It can also be read as a narrative of injustice and tyranny, where aspiration is crushed. There is something heroic in Satan’s determination not to be cowed:
… glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me, to bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee and deify his power…
The paradox of Paradise Lost has led to strikingly different interpretations and the poem has remained influential well beyond the lifetime of its author.
What In Me Is Dark
That is the focus on Orlando Reade’s new book What In Me Is Dark. Prompted by his teaching of the text to imprisoned students in New Jersey, he considers how the revolutionary poem has been read by different people in different times. As this review states, he embraces the paradox and
recognises that Milton can be viewed both as a symbol for the individual lives crushed by the modern prison industrial complex, and as a symbol for the forces doing the crushing.
He certainly considers a wide range, including the Romantic poet William Wordsworth, who became disillusioned with the excesses of the republican revolution in France. He recognised something of Napoleon’s despotism in the figure of Satan.
The widely recognised influence of Paradise Lost on Thomas Jefferson, third US President, is also explored, but some of Reade’s chosen characters are perhaps more surprising. They include the African American revolutionary Malcolm X, for example, and right wing thinker Jordan Peterson. As the Independent review notes:
Jordan Peterson sees in it an allegory of America’s culture wars – although Reade views this particular response with amusing scepticism.
Reade’s book gives us a powerful reminder of the power and influence of literature, its ability to frame contemporary debates while resonating long afterwards.
Further Reading
There’s not space to insert Paradise Lost here, but here is the sonnet Milton wrote reflecting on his blindness:
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
Read more about Milton at the Poetry Foundation.
Read Paradise Lost here.