John Milton a Love Poet? Milton On Love and Loss

From John Milton's Paradise Lost, in his account of Adam and Eve, we have some of the most stunning and tender expressions of love and caring, possessing remarkable beauty, that can be found in all of English Literature. We all know, or should know, the greatness of John Milton's poetry and that Paradise Lost is the finest epic in the language if not also the finest poetry ever written in English. But, I must confess that as I was re-reading this masterpiece I was moved by the power of sentiment and truth in his expressions of Love, Sacrifice for Love and Loss. Milton is a great poet of Love!

First ---- Adam's profession of love and commitment to Eve.
In Conversation with Raphael,

Neither her outside formed so fair, nor aught
In procreation, common to all kinds
(Though higher of genial bed by far,
And with mysterious reverence, I deem),
So much delights me as those graceful acts,
Those thousand decencies, that daily flow
From all her words and actions, mixed with love
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned
Union of mind, or in us both one soul
Harmony to behold in wedded pair
More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear.
(Paradise Lost VIII.596-604)

It is in the 'thousand decencies' enacted by Eve that Adam finds the most stirring aspect of his love for her. Who could blame him? What a perfect phrase, "thousand decencies that flow from all her words and actions, mixed with love..." 'Decencies' is such the perfect word - conveying all the thoughtfulness, manners, good form, kindness, never extravagant or bombastic, just simple and true. 'Flow' makes the image of the decencies all the more tender as the decencies flow, as if completely effortless like water that flows from up stream to down stream, as if anything else would be completely foreign and backwards. From whence do the decencies flow? From ALL her words and actions - in all she does and says... words do not contradict her actions or her actions do not betray her words, but they are united in their flow of decencies which are 'mixed' in their union and coherence by 'love'. Not only is this amazing poetry - beautiful in the highest degree, but it makes one long for the very thing it portrays.

Though we can regret the phrase 'sweet compliance' which is revealing of a hierarchy of the social order in which 'good wives' were expected to be compliant with their husbands wishes, if we can set this aside and make allowances for the historic time and setting, we find a very tender and delicate statement by Adam in rapture with the gentle thoughtfulness of Eve in the 'thousand decencies' which 'daily flow' from both her words and actions.
His rapture meets its height in his declaration of their harmonious state of union - dedication to one another strengthened by a shared sense of the world and by shared 'decencies' to one another. It is a beautiful expression of love and the contentment / fullness of being in love.
The next expression or declaration of love by Adam that bares quotation is his response to her after she has told him that she has eaten of the forbidden tree and bids him to do the same.

How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote?
Rather, how hast thou yielded to trangress
The strict forbiddance, how to violate
The sacred fruit forbidden? Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguilded thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruined; for with thee
Certain my resolution is to die;
How can I live without thee, how forgo
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined,
To live again in these wild woods forlorn?
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart; no, no, I feel
The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh,
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.
(Paradise Lost IX.900-916)
Take particular note of the lines beginning, "How can I live without thee?" Adam declares how can I not be with you, have conversations with you, be alone? Even if God were to create another 'Eve' from yet another rib of mine, the loss of you will never leave me - would break my heart. And so, Adam chooses the death threat of eating of the forbidden tree rather than the loss of Eve. Having heard the story of the fallen angels and the battle in heaven that lead to their eternal damnation and separation from God, Adam is aware that he is at great risk in joining Eve. Love of Eve conquers his fear of death (a great unknown for Adam particularly) and loss of God (incomprehensible for Adam who daily conversed with Angels and had heard the voice of God). He will be damned to death, labor and separation from God - i.e. loneliness at its deepest level. Adam and Eve must now depend on their love to compensate for their loneliness - the absence of the divine. One is left to wonder whether outside the Paradise of Eden the 'thousand decencies' continue from either party?

Contemplating Finitude: Paul Bowles

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky



He awoke, opened his eyes. The room meant very little to him; he was too deeply immersed in the non-being from which he had just come. If he had not the energy to ascertain his position in time and space, he also lacked the desire. He was somewhere, he had come back through vast regions from nowhere; there was the certitude of an infinite sadness at the core of his consciousness, but the sadness was reassuring, because it alone was familiar.


Because we don't know when we will die we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood? Some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it. Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the moon rise, perhaps twenty and yet it will all seem limitless.

Anniversary of the 1st American Great Artist - Hawthorne

Today is the Anniversary of the first truly great American Artist - Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Many consider The Scarlet Letter to stand with Madame Bovary as two of the most perfect novels written. Other critics have hailed the influence of Hawthorne on the great Master of the novel, Henry James, whose work continually returns to Hawthorne and his themes as a touchstone. To be sure, there is little doubt that The Scarlet Letter was the first great American novel. Contemporaries of Hawthorne believed it the first work by an American to rival novels by British authors. Henry James believed it the first work of art produced by an American. It has been a mainstay of education in the US for more than a century. This work teaches us so much about human psychology, American history, cultural history, use of metaphor and allegory; it teaches us about the weight of the past upon the present and the burden that we as individuals and as a collective bare for what has gone before us. It is a warning and it is permission. It is the conflict of all things American.

So, why is there a sudden increase of silly, foolish, ill-formed or just daft opinions/expressions about Hawthorne appearing on blogs? Several of bloggers/readers (or so they say) need to learn a valuable lesson about great literature; namely, that great works of literature define the reading experience and the reader. You say it is old, out dated, slow, boring, has a bad first chapter, and many other statements? Sadly, these impression define your lack of artistic & cultural maturity and appreciation for one of the most perfect novels in any language.
If one listens to Beethoven and then states that it is 'bad' music and boring, it says more about the person than it does about Beethoven. Beethoven is clearly anything but boring to those who appreciate pure genius and beautiful music. In truth, both Beethoven and Hawthorne are geniuses of the highest level. One who says that either Beethoven or Hawthorne are boring or old-fashioned needs to develop their sophistication and understanding of great works of art.
Aside from his short stories & novels, I strongly recommend reading Nathaniel Hawthorne's American Notebooks. They are a very different experience than reading those of Henry James, Steinbeck, Thomas Mann (Diaries), Robert Musil or even those published by Reynolds Price. The self-mannered awareness that the future will prize their "private" thoughts and ideas is absent. These were truly private workbooks. Hawthorne writes in full voice as someone for whom communication is vital and difficult. Open this work anywhere and read what sounds like the inner voice of someone practiced at concealing his thoughts publicly. Expansive, suggestive, and illuminating for all those who would like to know more of the deep thought and artfullness that went into his major works.

Some of his working ideas for stories sound absolutely modern. One story idea develops the possibility of having two men talking and discussing their difficulties while waiting and waiting for someone who never comes. They don't know what to do, so they continue to wait and discussing the one who never comes. Sound familar? A little like "Waiting for Godot"? If you love great literature, read Hawthorne again - slowly.... remember, there are no readers, just re-readers.

Hawthorne is a master of the novel and today we remember him as such.

Reflection on Theodicy - Tolstoy

Having spent the last week recovery from Thoracic Spinal Surgery, my mood is dark and strained by pain. Pain piles onto new Pain and just when I think the worst pain is gone it comes back with a fury that leaves me shaken to my core. As I complete one back surgery and another one is being scheduled, my surgery informs me that I'll need at least a third surgery. It seems that pain is my new mode of existence. As Shelley wrote:


Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever!

No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.
I ask the Earth, have not the mountains felt?
I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun,
Has it not seen? The Sea, in storm or calm,
Heaven's ever-changing Shadow, spread below,
Have its deaf waves not heard my agony?
Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever!*

I read these words for the first time, a first year college student, when I had no idea what pain was. It also makes me rethink the Biblical declaration & the Church declarations that Christ is eternally crucified. This idea of a promethean or christological pain at least carries with it a note of a redemptive purpose... my pain is neither redemptive or benevolent - it just is, without reason, purpose or meaning. It is the cruelty of an indifferent universe. (besides the point that any theory that glories anyone's suffering, let alone their endless suffering is just a cruel theory of religion..... Don't they ever get the willies singing "on a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame..." that's just really sick.

In Shelley, it is different... he thinks that suffering gives rise to and urgency for humans to aspire to the highest values of human existence - freedom, truth, justice, love, etc... He believed that suffering was a human phenomenon & that the only response to suffering was endurance (though not submission), rebellion, speaking the truth to power & overcoming yourself through love.

Nietzsche said that art is the only justifiable theodicy (explanation or rationalization of the co-existence of God & evil or suffering). I read poetry - some about suffering - some about life - some just embodying the beauty / the virtue of the language... does it provide a justifiable theodicy - does experiencing the beauty of human creation (born from suffering) prove to be so meaningful and significant that it excuses suffering - does it justify meaningless pain?

Now I have aged and experienced more of the world - I think that the popularized Christianity is fundamental mistaken, Shelley is naive, Nietzsche is close, but doesn't grasp the limits of art. I don't think that there can be a 'justifiable' theodicy - it could never cover the whole of suffering with redemptive significant... it is a nihilistic theodicy - it is the only thing that provides a plausible glimpse at meaning, however indeterminate & fluid. Believe me, the old platitudes about suffering are all wrong... it doesn't build character.. make you a better person... teach you empathy... connect you to all who suffer (Tolstoy's opening to Anna Karenina is on point here - All unhappy families are unhappy in their own unique way... so all who suffer do so in their own troubled way.)... it does nothing but rob one of the power to live..... it doesn't teach new wisdom... it just hollows you out like a tree infested with termites... thus the nihilism of it.


The logical outcoming of this theory would have us like Alice (as in Alice in Wonderland) falling through the rabbit hole that seems to never end and finding some jam on shelves constructed on the walls of the hole along the way down ---- she enjoys the jam and forgets that she is falling endlessly.... that is my Lewis Carroll philosophy of life - we are falling endlessly & hopelessly and we have not idea where we will land or what we become of us when we land - will we still exist? will we be severely harmed? what if we never land? But along the way, amidst our grave concerns we stop some jam and bread & we help ourselves to enjoy the bounty of the fall (since we must fall after all, why not for something to enjoy). And so we do, we find much to enjoy and take pleasure in... for me poetry, art, conversation (ugh - I mean GOOD conversation), fine food and wine, a beer or two, etc... All of our pleasures are merely JAM that we enjoy as we FALL.



Finally, maybe it is like Anna Karenina by great Tolstoy.... in the amazing final section... beautiful in its details and not attempting a mass theory or definition of what all humans experience. One person, Anna, this makes sense. Life has robbed Anna of love, family, her children, her husband, her new lover, her name & position, her self-respect, and worse of all her fondest hopes had been cruelly played with and destroyed with guile. She stands on the dock of the train station, she steps closer to the edge of the platform as she hears the train approach.
As people all around converse about their travel plans and financial matters, they too in mass move closer as the train approaches. Then, in what she felt to be a moment of clarity, Anna let her torso weigh her down - leaning forward more and more with the ease of fainting into bed and fell onto the tracks as the train approached. However, as soon as she hit the tracks on the ground she awoke from this fantasy of oblivion and with every thought and action began to move toward the platform top again. But as her hands reached out to those who had rushed to the edge to see what had happened, the train still decelerating put an end to her last hope and crushed more than her last desire for life. Life is like that. (See clip below)

* Prometheus Unbound, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Prometheus' opening monologue.

Nabokov in his own words