Milton’s sonnets are
set apart from
the prototypical Renaissance
sonnet in terms
of their radically
different subject matter.
In contrast to the
latter’s inward-looking,
private emphasis and
concentration on matters
of love, Milton’s
sonnets vary from dinner invitations
to friends to
celebration of public
figures, like Cromwell.
But even in
cases where his
sonnets are closer to
the traditional subject
matter, Milton manages
to imbue them
with a markedly
different spirit. The
beloveds of the
Renaissance love sonnet
fall into two
major categories: the angel woman,
and the cruel
mistress. While the latter repels
the lover with
her pride and
coldness, and causes him intense suffering,
the former’s innate,
saintly virtue inspires
the poet from
afar and enables
him to strive
for higher things. Milton wholly rejected
the figures of
the cruel mistress
and her pining
lover, as is evident
in his hymn to
wedded love in
‘Paradise Lost’, Book 4: love is to
be found, not in
“court amours” or in "serenade, which the starved lover sings/ To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain..." but in the true spiritual and physical union of Christian marriage.
It is, as E.R. Gregory says, in
his valorisation of the “sanctity
of married love”1, which
embraces its sexual
component, that Milton departs
significantly from the
paradigms of both
the cruel mistress
and the donna
angelicata. While the cruel
mistress denies sexual fulfillment, the donna angelicata
is worshipped from
afar. Dante’s love
for Beatrice is
both asexual and
entirely idealized. Indeed, in
most Renaissance love
sonnets, sexual love
for the mistress
is seen as
a hindrance to
the love and
worship of God. And, even in cases
where the love
for the mistress
is seen as
assisting in ascent
up the Platonic
ladder, the one-sided,
distant, unconsummated nature
of the bond
remains the same.
These differences between
Milton and the
Renaissance sonneteers can
be explained through
changing theological and
social attitudes. With the
coming of the
Protestant Reformation, the
idea of marriage
as a necessary
evil that must
be borne with
for the slaking
of male lust
and the production of offspring gradually changed to that of the companionate marriage. Genesis 2:18 became a key text in this change: "And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him." While virginity was definitely the supreme virtue, the keeping of it was a gift that was not given to all, for "each man has his own gift from God; one has this gift another has that" (Corinthians 7.1-16), and accordingly, to exercise one sexual appetite within the legitimate bounds of an institution that mirrored the union between Christ and his Church was not considered to be a barrier to the worship of God. Indeed,
as Calvin puts
it, married love was
considered to be the
“second kind of virginity.”2 The position of
the wife, not
just as the
bearer of progeny, but
as the husband’s
helpmeet, though clearly
subordinated to him,
gave her a
relatively more active
role within the
institution of marriage.
In the household,
she was second
in terms of
authority only to
her husband, and
her place as
his intellectual and
spiritual companion was
essential to their
proper worship of
God.
In this context,
Milton’s sonnets XIX and IX yield
interesting results under observation.
While sonnet XIX
is about a loved and
lost wife, sonnet
IX is addressed
to a lady
whose virtues would
make her the
ideal spiritual partner
in a marriage. In both cases,
the figuration of
the woman departs
from traditional images of
the beloved in
Petrarchan sonnets.
The most
extensive discussion that
Milton’s sonnet XIX
has generated has been
about the identity
of its subject.
Is it his
first wife, Mary
Powell, or his second,
Katherine Woodcock? Both sides
have their adherents.
Both sides provide proof
by linking text with biography.
Fitzroy Pyle uses
the lines “And such, as yet once more I trust to have
/ Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her
mind:/ Her face was veiled...” to argue for
Katherine Woodcock. Milton,
who was, in
all probability, completely
blind when he
married his second
wife, had never
known the sight
of her face.
Pyle argues that “This, then,
is the first
time he has
‘seen’ her.” Although, this
sighting, too, is only partial,
since she is “veiled”.
Milton hopes to
have “full sight
of her” in heaven
when his physical
blindness will no
longer be a barrier
and he will
be able to
look upon his
wife without “restraint” for the
first time.3 On the
other hand, William
Riley Parker uses
the same lines
to make his case
for Mary Powell:“In the dream he could not see her face clearly,[since it was
veiled]... On the other hand, in heaven he trusts to have 'full sight'
of her 'once more'. Unless one wishes to call this careless writing and assume
that the poet does not mean what he says, the lines cannot refer literally to
Katherine Woodcock, because there is not the slightest reason for believing
that Milton ever saw his second wife before his blindness. If he never had
'full sight' of her, he could not have it 'once more'. Again the lines point to
Mary Powell as a more likely subject.”4 From
the arguments of
these two representative critics
it can be
understood that this
is an irresolvable
and, ultimately, futile
debate. While the
circumstantial evidence for
Katherine Woodcock may
be stronger, there
is nothing that
can definitively prove
the identity of
the woman Milton
had in mind
while writing this
sonnet.
However, though her identity
cannot be surely
established, it is
clear that Milton
is writing about a real woman, who was his
wife, who gave birth
to his child,
and whose untimely
death he grieved
deeply. Contrary to Leo
Spitzer’s claim5, she
is not simply
an ideal figure modelled after
Dante’s Beatrice, a donna
angelicata. While Beatrice and
Laura were married
women, their marital
status was largely
unimportant to both
Dante and Petrarch.
It simply helped
to distance them further
from their lovers. Both
women played a
predominantly passive role
in the love
relation.
In contrast, Milton
sets up a
reciprocal, loving relation
between poet and
beloved in sonnet
XIX. A relation that is
built upon and
sanctified by Christian
marriage. Far from being a
distancing device, marriage
brings about the
physical and spiritual
consummation of their
love. The loved woman
is now the
poet’s wife, not
someone else’s, and
this mutual bond
is boldly emphasized
in his reference
to her as
his “espoused saint” in
the very first
line of the
sonnet. Though they
are now apart,
it is death
that has led
to this separation,
not earthly factors,
and, more importantly,
he knows that
they will be
reunited in heaven, where
their marriage will
be reconfirmed by
God and he
may have “full
sight of her...without
restraint.”
Although she is
no longer a
living woman, but
a veiled figure
who can only
visit him in
his dreams, her
actions imply a
more active participation
in their relation
than even the
poet's himself. Though
she is “brought to”
him, like Alcestis was
returned to her
husband by Hercules,
indicating a passive acceptance
of external agency,
there is a
crucial gap in
this comparison. While the outside agent
in case of
Alcestis is clear,
in case of Milton’s
beloved, it is not mentioned at all.
Indeed, it may
not even be
any external imperative,
but her own
will and desire to
look upon her
husband once more
that has “brought” her
back to him. This would imply
that her love
for the poet,
and her willingness
to act upon it,
is at least
as great as
his affection for her.
After all, it is
she who breaches
the barrier between
the living and
the dead in order
to visit him.
Another crucial difference
from the Alcestis
story lies in
the beloved’s recognition
by the lover.
Alcestis’s husband, Admetus,
could only recognize
his veiled wife
after some delay,
and the removal
of her veil. Milton,
however, knows clearly
that this visitor
is his wife.
Her veil posits
no barrier since
his knowledge of
her identity does
not depend on
her external features,
but her spiritual
qualities; her “love”
“sweetness” and “goodness”
that shine forth.
All of these
qualities are reinforced
by and partake
of her blessed
role of the
Christian wife, a
spiritually positive role
that is denied
to Alcestis, Laura and
Beatrice.
Though it is
not explicitly stated,
the recognition between
Milton and his
wife is mutual, and
gives rise to
equal gladness in
both lover and
beloved. This is confirmed
by the first
unambiguously active gesture
on either of
their parts: Milton’s “late espoused saint”
“inclined” to “embrace” him. Here, Milton
makes use of
a long established
tradition of attempted
embraces between the
living and the
dead. Odysseus tries
to embrace his
mother’s apparition, Aeneas attempts
to embrace his wife’s
phantom. There is
a telling difference
in Milton’s figuration
of the embrace:
it is the
dead wife, not
the living husband
who initiates it.
This is a
clear indication of
the mutuality of
their love and
the wife’s active
participation in it. This
attempted embrace also
brings to mind
the sexual embrace
that is legitimized
and celebrated within Christian
marriage by the
poet. Though the
sonnet’s earlier reference
to “child-bed taint”
may seem to
indicate the sinful
nature of the
act that leads
to childbirth, itself
a reminder of
Man’s Fallen nature,
and its consequent
need for purification,
this “taint” partakes of Fallen
Man’s general corruption.
The sexual act
itself is not
invested with any
specific sinfulness. Milton’s
“late espoused saint” may
in, all her “sweetness”
and chastity, attempt
to embrace her
husband without compromising
her innocence.
Though this embrace
fails, and the
spirit of his
wife flees, the
flight is precipitated
due to
the husband’s error,
rather than the
wife’s unwillingness. The
world of sleep
and dreaming is
a liminal space
where the dead
and living may
meet; it is the
husband who disrupts
this space by
waking, and thus
makes it impossible
for his wife
to remain.
While the composition
date of sonnet
XIX is unknown,
it could not
have been before
Mary Powell’s death
in 1652. It is
interesting to read
it along with sonnet IX, written
much earlier, between
1642 and 1645. Composed during the
period of estrangement
from his first
wife, when his
relationship with her
was at its
lowest point, this
sonnet seems to
describe the kind
of woman Milton
wished he had
married instead of
Mary.
Unlike sonnet XIX,
which is about
a specific woman,
and the pain
of losing her,
sonnet IX is about
an ideal. The
Lady who is
addressed by Milton
embodies womanly perfection.
Yet, her goodness lies,
not in her possessing
a set
of already perfected
virtues, which might inspire the
poet to reach
higher, but in
her own active,
life-long journey along
the narrow, difficult
path of righteousness. The sonnet
uses the commonplace
conceit of Truth
being the summit
of a tall
mountain, and commends
the lady for
being one of
those who have
chosen to “labour
up” this “Hill of heav’nly
Truth”, giving us the sense
that it is
a long and
arduous path that
the Lady has
undertaken to travel.
The lady’s figuration
as one who is on
the path to
Truth is reinforced
by the two
Biblical comparisons. She
is like Mary
of Bethany, who
chooses to further
her spiritual salvation
by attending to
Jesus’ words (Luke
10:38-42), or Ruth,
who undergoes many
trials and tribulations
and yet remains
devoted to Naomi, her
mother-in-law, and her adopted
faith (Book of Ruth).
The sense of
an active journey
is made stronger
by the sonnet’s
reference to her
“growing virtues.” The
further she ascends
up the “Hill of
heav’nly Truth”, the more she
gains in goodness.
Ultimately, the paradigm
of the ideal
woman as one
who makes spiritual
perfection her life’s
quest, and that
of such a
woman being the
most suitable wife
is brought together in
the reference to
the Parable of the
Ten
Virgins (Matthew 25:1-13).
Like the wise
virgins, the lady
has made it
her life’s goal to fill
her “odorous Lamp” with “deeds
of light”, and,
as a reward,
she will join
the “Bridegroom” and his
“feastfull friends” at
the “mid hour
of night.” The
image used to
portray the lady’s
final reward is
the blessed state
of marriage. Once
more, conjugal bliss is
put forward in
a positive light,
as one of
God’s gifts to
Man.
The position of
marriage in the
divine order, its importance
and necessity, its
sacred nature, and
the roles of
both partners within
it, were topics
that were much
discussed in Milton’s
time. Milton himself
put forward his
own views in
as diverse works
as “Paradise Lost”,
and the divorce
tracts. Thus, both
sonnets XIX and IX are examples of
Milton’s articulations of his belief
in the goodness
of married love,
the necessity of
the wife’s active
position as her
husband’s spiritual and
intellectual partner, and
the positive role
of both in God’s scheme
of things.
NOTES
1. Gregory,
E. R. "Milton's Protestant Sonnet Lady: Revisions in the "Donna
Angelicata" Tradition." Comparative
Literature Studies 33.3
(1996): 258-79. Jstor. Web.
2. Calvin, Institutes 4.12.28.
Web.
3. Pyle,
Fitzroy. "Milton's Sonnet on His 'Late Espoused Saint'" The Review of English Studies 25.97 (1949): 57-60. Jstor. Web.
4. Parker,
William Riley. "Milton's Last Sonnet." The Review of English Studies 21.83
(1945): 235-38. Jstor.
Web.
5. Leo Spitzer, "Understanding Milton," Hopkins Review, IV
(Summer. 1951), 17-25. Web.
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