Bertolt Brecht’s poignant question from 1939, “In the dark times / Will there also be singing?” resonates deeply, especially when considering the enduring power of poetry. The affirmative answer, “There will also be singing / Of the dark times,” highlights the crucial role poetry plays, particularly during periods of political and social upheaval. This exploration into the significance of poetic expression in moments of despair leads us to John Milton’s epic masterpiece, Paradise Lost, a work born from personal and political darkness that continues to illuminate readers centuries later.
Reflecting on times of political turmoil, much like the era of Donald Trump’s presidency or any period marked by societal distress, brings to mind the question of art’s purpose in adversity. For John Milton, the tumultuous years following the English Civil War (1642–49) served as the crucible for his creative genius. As someone deeply invested in the republican ideals that emerged from the revolution, Milton experienced profound disillusionment with the restoration of the monarchy in 1660. This personal and political defeat became the backdrop against which he conceived Paradise Lost. Adding to his trials, Milton faced imprisonment, financial penalties, blindness, and the loss of his wife and infant son. Amidst this “darkness compassed round,” Milton embarked on creating an epic poem that would grapple with themes of loss, rebellion, and the human condition.
One can appreciate the immediate and profound impact of Paradise Lost even in fragments. Consider the opening lines, instantly recognizable for their grandeur and ambition:
Of Man’s First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe…
These lines, rich in rhythm and meaning, encapsulate the epic scope of Milton’s undertaking. The very first line invites a moment of interpretive choice. The word “disobedience,” when scanned rhythmically, can be read with either four or five syllables: dis-o-be-dience or dis-o-be-di-ence. This subtle ambiguity at the poem’s inception mirrors the larger thematic tension between obedience and disobedience, order and rebellion, which permeates Paradise Lost. This duality is not accidental; it’s an invitation to actively engage with the poem’s complexities from the outset.
Paradise Lost is not only a personal testament born from Milton’s dark period but also a product of “dark writing” in the Renaissance sense – allegory. This epic, composed of ten thousand lines and dictated from memory due to Milton’s blindness, operates on multiple layers of meaning. On the surface, it recounts the biblical story of the Fall of Man, the temptation of Adam and Eve by Satan, and their expulsion from the Garden of Eden. However, beneath this narrative lies a complex political allegory.
Initially, Satan, the fallen angel who wages war against God, appears to embody the spirit of the failed English Revolution. His defiance against divine authority and his pronouncements against tyranny echo Milton’s own republican sentiments against monarchy. Satan’s famous declaration, “Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav’n,” resonates with a revolutionary fervor that can be misconstrued as heroic. This ambiguity is deliberate, prompting readers to question: Is Satan a freedom fighter or a destructive tyrant? Does he represent revolutionary ideals or the perils of unchecked ambition? The poem masterfully avoids simplistic answers, allowing for varied interpretations.
By the epic’s conclusion, Milton subtly shifts the portrayal of Satan, revealing his descent into tyranny and moral corruption. This nuanced allegory proved politically astute, evading censorship while offering profound commentary on power, rebellion, and the nature of good and evil. The poem’s inherent darkness, its allegorical depth, became a source of its enduring power, enabling it to resonate with readers across different eras and political landscapes.
Paradise Lost quickly transcended its immediate context to become a literary classic. While some readers appreciated it purely for its poetic brilliance, by the late eighteenth century, it re-emerged with potent political undertones. Revolutionaries in America, France, Haiti, and beyond found inspiration in its themes of rebellion and resistance. The poem’s allegorical richness allowed for diverse and even contradictory interpretations. Radicals identified with Satan’s rebellious spirit, while others saw in him the very tyranny they opposed. This inherent “darkness,” this capacity to hold multiple meanings, facilitated its long and impactful afterlife, reaching readers like the student who recognized the rebellious nature embedded in the very rhythm of its opening line.
The concept of “poetic darkness” extends beyond allegory and political subtext. It touches upon the profound ability of poetry to connect with human suffering and despair, creating empathy and understanding across vast divides. This is illustrated powerfully by the impact of Paul Celan’s Holocaust poem, “Death Fugue,” on another student. Celan, a survivor of Nazi persecution who lost his parents in concentration camps, captured the horrific reality of the Holocaust in stark and haunting verse. “Death Fugue,” with its hypnotic rhythm and grim imagery, delves into the heart of darkness:
Black milk of morning we drink you evenings
we drink you at noon and mornings we drink you at night
we drink and we drink …
The poem’s unflinching portrayal of suffering resonated deeply with a student, a man who had spent thirty-one years in prison. Despite his own experiences with hardship and emotional detachment, Celan’s “dark” poem “touched his soul,” fostering empathy for others facing crises far removed from his immediate reality. This exemplifies a paradox inherent in poetry – its capacity to forge intimacy across barriers of time, place, and personal experience, often through confronting darkness rather than shying away from it.
Paul Celan himself reflected on this very notion in his unfinished notes for a conference paper, “On the Darkness of Poetry.” He wrote, “The poem wants to be understood: it is because it is dark that it wants to be understood.” Celan suggests that poetic obscurity or darkness is not an impediment to communication but rather an intrinsic part of its desire to connect. Just as Milton’s Paradise Lost, born from personal and political darkness, sought to communicate profound truths to readers across generations, Celan’s poetry, emerging from the darkness of the Holocaust, reaches out to find understanding and shared humanity. Both poets demonstrate that it is often in confronting the darkest aspects of human experience that poetry finds its most potent and meaningful voice.
In times of despair, it’s natural to feel overwhelmed by hopelessness. However, as Walter Benjamin observed, “hope…is given to us for the sake of the hopeless.” The enduring legacy of poems like John Milton’s Paradise Lost and Paul Celan’s “Death Fugue” lies in their testament to something beyond mere hope – a profound faith in the transformative power of language and the enduring possibility of a world transformed, even amidst darkness. These poems, born from and addressing dark times, offer not just solace but a powerful affirmation of the human spirit’s resilience and its persistent quest for meaning and connection.
