Close Reading of Sonnet 19

Serving God was probably the most important focus of Milton’s life. His letters, school exercises, polemical tracts, and poems describe a rich, lifelong examination of best practices for personal and civic spirituality. With each of these literary forms, different opportunities and constraints operated in the crafting of his message. The political and religious tracts, what he called products “of my left hand” (Reason of Church Gov’t Urged Against Prelacy), that is, his irascible, prose-writing hand, made blunt, timely work of addressing the erupting cultural issues of his day. But, it is Milton’s poetry, written with a pen surely in his right hand, which soared high, in spite of, or maybe by the grace of, each literary form’s stylistic constraints.

Sonnet 19 is considered an ideal example of his virtuosity. The term sonnet in Italian means “a little sound or song” (“Poetic Form: Sonnet”) and with his subject once again spiritual fitness, and the literary form once again a classic pattern, Milton created a familiar dance—but to his trademark soaring music.

Here, I must share that I don’t hear the music of the sonnet as I do the music of his epic, but I hate to miss any treasure within my reach and intend to remain as open and receptive as I can to this sonnet. It has been said that this sonnet is a poignant look at a spiritual Milton as he walks through a personal valley of darkness. If so, this sonnet seems like a good place to start my collected thoughts on Milton, as his relationship with God was so central to his work.

Since my appreciation of the music in Sonnet 19 is muted, I have searched the library stacks for help in understanding it. After pouring through a variety of interpretations, I came away favoring the view of a Milton who was marking the arrival of complete blindness following years of dimming sight. His faith is shaken as he wonders how he can exercise his God-given gifts and duties in such darkness. But, the steadying voice of patience reminds him that God is not a mere taskmaster concerned with the hourly accounting of a soul; His view is larger and more patient and probably even favors the tempering process of uncertain times.

Beyond that brief summary, critics have peered far into his lines to places historical, poetic, Biblical, and personal to produce a variety of interpretations. Some see a resigned, beaten Milton ready to forswear his goals. These critics often cite a Biblical parable that seems to have haunted Milton—-The Parable of the Talents (Holy Bible, Matt. 25:14-30). It admonished against sloth, by condemning the failure of a servant to increase the gift of a master’s coins. The younger Milton, who knew he was destined for great works, spent years in preparation and probably chafed at his delayed entry into independent adulthood—and was probably goaded by this parable. But to me, in the sonnet, the parable seems more like an old echo ably faced down by a mature Milton.

I favor the more positive spiritual interpretations because Milton’s own prose tracts bracketing the creation of Sonnet 19 are spiritually confident. In Christian Doctrine, written about the same time as Sonnet 19, Milton sets down God’s expectations for man: to search with faith for knowledge of one’s gifts and duties, to have faith that if one is virtuous that knowledge will come—often requiring the forbearance of evils along the way—then acting on one’s gifts and duties (Stroup). In the Second Defense, written a few years later, Milton is even more certain of God’s grace, believing that in exchange for his blindness God has illuminated his thoughts with an “inward and far surpassing light” (Robbins).

Now, it’s our turn to read the poem, digging for patterns, oddities, and loaded words with the hope of uncovering Milton’s messages. We humans often start with first impressions, and here that means noticing that this is a Petrarchan sonnet style, which was a little out of date when this sonnet was written—by maybe 50 or 60 years. So, why this form? Well, the original Petrarchan sonnets of the 1300s, which were part of a series, as most sonnets were in their heyday, told a story when collected together. In Petrarch’s case, the series chronicled his first glimpse of Laura, his immediate passion for her, a lifelong struggle with unrequited love, and, after her death, an awareness that he had invested so much of himself in his story that he had no other existence—and the sonnets continued, in a more spiritual vein. His sonnets are famous for introducing the novel European concept of love at first sight, along with the themes of love from afar, unrequited love (with its inevitable love-hate aspect), an idealization of love, sublimation of love to religious ends, and also a sense of the frustrated “set up” by Fate—-that is, to be caught in the no-win situation of loving the unobtainable. So, one key for unlocking Milton’s meaning in Sonnet 19 is probably bound up with the characteristics of Petrarch’s series. For now, we’ll just tuck that thought away while we read through the piece.

Although I am breaking down this examination several lines at a time, I found it necessary to read through the whole sonnet multiple times in order to see some of the obvious patterns. Now, to start:

                    When I consider how my light is spent
                    Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

Light-dark words and business-focused language are scattered throughout the sonnet. The opening line contains both, and the words are connected unexpectedly. How does one spend light? Well, the word spent can have several associations in addition to the economic one; it can imply exhaustion of a commodity or the act of using something. All the meanings are probably intended. And, light, along with being the opposite of dark, implies the opposite of blindness, and is often code for spiritual illumination. In Line 2, dark pops up in the phrase “dark world and wide,” and you may find that a chill starts to creep into your heart as you consider a sightless Milton facing a limitless dark world.

The reference to “ere half my days” has stirred a lot of debate over the creation date of the sonnet versus the calculated age for Milton at half his days. For me, that doesn’t seem like an important concern, beyond the fact that Milton seems to be very frustrated-—at whatever age he is-—with his failed sight and its impediment to his unfinished goals, as he write below.

                    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,

Talent, is the English translation for a type of coin mentioned in the Bible (Rogers), and the word account and maybe lodged also emphasizes a business theme. The word death (denoting darkness) continue the light-dark theme.

Talent also evokes The Parable of the Talents. As it was probably a long-standing spur for Milton, it is not surprising that it appears in the octave dilemma. And, it should be noted, the master in this parable punished slothfulness by casting the offending servant into “utter darkness.”

And, of course, the word talent connotes the idea of skill. Critics have different opinions on which skill is being implied: Milton’s spiritual gift? His polemical writing? His writing in general, especially the poetry still to be written? I favor the last choice, as I think Milton had intended greatness from his earliest days. His Reason of Church Government treatise, 1642, proclaimed his goal of leaving something “so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die.”

So, talent appears to be a word loaded with multiple meanings.

My last comment regards the word bent. At a skimming pace, I hardly noticed any meaning beyond that of a stalwart soul. But, other associations to bent are probably also intended—e.g., broken, becoming stooped under a weight?

The next section poses a question that trembles with frustration—-Milton’s gift demands the writing of great works, but God has visited blindness upon him!

                    “Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”
                    I fondly ask;

He sounds like a man who feels set up by God—along Petrarchan lines? I fondly ask, translated as I foolishly ask (Elledge 393—footnote) ends the formal octave, where the dilemma has been laid out—with a note of sarcasm in his address to God? And, again, maybe the Petrarchan overtones of love-hate?

Next we start the sestet, which will address—-and maybe resolve-—the dilemma posed in the octave above.

                                                  but patience, to prevent
                    That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not
                    Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
                    Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.

The sonnet continues the mercantile theme—-and perhaps some of the sarcasm noted above. Invoking patience, is probably a sincere—-though conflicted-—effort to pause and reframe his situation as patience is a virtue. However, patience also connotes the suffering patient in a hospital. So, the word may hint at relief, but only after some pain.

And, that murmur under one’s breath—-at God? I’ve murmured that way at times–when He sends some of His more emphatic lessons!

And, when patience replies, those business images conjured by bearing a yoke or serving, hint at a very lowly, servile type of relationship between man and God. So far, Milton is struggling to align himself with his Maker’s plans; but, the effort seems to be flagging.

We now reach the last lines:

                                                                                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.

Again, this God seems lofty and a bit remote. He has thousands doing his bidding and the writer may feel insignificant. But, notice that the word serve has been used for a third time. Back on line 5, Milton’s serve was infused with passion to honor God. In line 11, serve sounded rather menial (under the yoke). By line 14, serve is heavily colored by its association to the sonnet’s final word, wait, which, in turn, implies not only the lowly aspect of a meal server, but also that of someone awaiting something special. There is a sense of uncertainty regarding the writer’s relationship with God, but the position is an improvement on bearing up under a yoke like a beast of burden.

Another observation about those who do God’s work-—they are either skimming over land and sea with great energy or are waiting at a stand still. There doesn’t seem to be a middle ground. In fact, Milton himself has, by turns, tread both paths; he has spent years rusticating at his father’s country home, reading and studying in preparation for his life’s great work; and he has also journeyed extensively through Europe visiting the famous and learned men of his day. There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground for Milton. And, now that I think of it, when we get to Paradise Lost, we will find that the poet intends to weave an “adventu’rous song, that with no middle flight intends to soar” (Milton I.14). Perhaps the enforced middle-ground, that is, waiting, is a particularly challenging place for Milton. If so, the sonnet’s tone is even more understandable.

The arc of this sonnet will probably be in Milton’s mind as he leads Adam out of Paradise into a world where fallen man will have to learn to keep picking himself up and pushing onward. Adam, too, will learn that while God may seem remote, He is there for those who wait with patience.

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(Special thanks to Dr. Kristen Poole for abundant background on Sonnet 19)

Works Cited

n.p. “Poetic Form: Sonnet.” poets.Org. Academy of American Poets.  2004.  Web.  19 May 2014.