Allegory, Gendered Allegory, and Paradise Lost Research Thesis Presented in partial fulfillment of the requirements for graduation with research distinction in English in the undergraduate colleges of The Ohio State University by Samantha Demmerle The Ohio State University April 2014 Project Advisor: Dr. Hannibal Hamlin, Department of English Demmerle 1 Chapter 1: The Allegory of Sin and Death in Paradise Lost Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast Brought Death into the World, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, Sing Heav’nly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed, In the Beginning how the Heav’ns and Earth Rose out of Chaos: or if Sion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa’s Brook that flow’d Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous Song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime. … That to the highth of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence And justifie the wayes of God to men. (1. 1-26)1 These lines, which are some of the most powerfully comprehensive in all of English poetry, are the first lines of John Milton’s Christian epic, Paradise Lost. As an introduction they represent Milton’s argument perfectly, proposing “first in brief, the whole Subject.” The entirety of this epic’s effort is visible in these lines: describing the fall of Adam and Eve with the hope of later salvation. Right from the start Milton fully reveals his intention of expounding the true nature of our fall and justifying it to men, and for first-time readers of Paradise Lost, this is the poem’s abstract. Readers can see moments of Genesis and Milton’s other biblical sources in these lines, such as the source of all our woe: Death. Here Milton emphasizes the result of our disobedience, that the seemingly immortal mankind should suffer death instead of eternal bliss in Eden. This moment is a direct allusion to Genesis, where the concept of death first appears in chapter 2:17, 1 Throughout, I quote Roy Flannagan’s edition of Paradise Lost, in The Riverside Milton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998.) Demmerle 2 which states “for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.”2 Milton plays with this idea of Death throughout the poem, but, for initial readers, the first lines do not indicate just how much Milton plays with his source material. For second or third time readers however, the suggestion that Adam and Eve’s disobedience “brought Death into the world and all our woe” implies something more than just Genesis 2:17. This line, instead of simply referring to the Bible, could instead foreshadow the allegorical character of Death introduced in Book II. If so, then line three might also foreshadow Death’s entrance into Eden in Book X, after the Fall. That moment is when “all our woe” is realized, when the bridge from Hell to Paradise is wrought “too fast…And durable” (10. 319- 320). Why did Milton introduce this allegorical figure who erects a bridge, considering this narrative has no precedent in Genesis? This biblical play raises another question for returning readers though: the allegory of Death is present in both of these moments, but he is present there and throughout the rest of the poem with another figure: his mother and sister, Sin. Based on the biblical material, Sin should not be part of the subsequent narrative of Paradise Lost. Genesis does not introduce the word ‘sin’ until the Cain and Abel story, which Milton does not invoke until Michael’s speech in Book XI. To Cain, God says “If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him” (4:7). This ‘sin’ seems allegorical because of its reclined position (“sin lieth at the door”), but it seems more bestial than human. It is when readers reach Sin and Death’s introduction in Book II that Milton’s narrative begins truly to diverge from Genesis, and instead of the Bible, Milton’s scriptural elaboration becomes the focus of the poem. 2 For Bible quotations, I use Robert P. Carroll and Stephen Prickett’s edition of The Bible: Authorized King James Version (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2008). Demmerle 3 Even so, why then would Milton include, in this poetic theodicy, allegorical characters embodying Sin and Death? Why would he not maintain his apparently mimetic mode, and “justifie the wayes of God to men” by means of plain biblical exegesis (1. 26)? Milton is notoriously dense and poetic in this poem, which confuses readers more than it “justifies” God to men. It is from this confusion that I will attempt to justify the ways of Milton to men. His use of allegory has prompted years of investigation and debate: partially because of the perception that allegory has been declining since Spenser, and partially because of the unique and complex allegory that Milton composed. In this chapter, I want to explore Milton’s allegories of Sin and Death, marking the places where the allegories succeed, and the moments where the allegories seem to break. It is my contention that Milton crafts a distinct allegorical mode for Paradise Lost: a mode that would not work in any other text of this size and weight. In order to address these moments and support my assertion, I will begin with an outline of allegory’s historical reception since the eighteenth century. I will then use the history of the reception of allegory to craft my own reception of Sin and Death in Paradise Lost. The questions of ‘why allegory’ is a legitimate question, but an unproductive one. Allegory as a concept can have three different uses, and these uses vary depending on the writer or the reader. Gordon Teskey, in the Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, describes allegory “(1) as an entire work of art, ‘an allegory’; (2) as a pattern of images, ‘an allegory of’; and (3) as arbitrary interpretation, where something is read ‘as an allegory’ of something else” (Teskey). From these definitions, a reader can see that allegory has a range of uses: allegory can be a tool used by writers during composition or by readers as an interpretive technique. The OED only defines allegory with regard to the writer, as “the use of symbols in a story, picture, etc., to convey a hidden or ulterior meaning, typically a moral or political one; symbolic representation,” Demmerle 4 limiting allegory to an intentional strategy. Authors do utilize allegory intentionally, in the cases of the medieval morality plays and The Faerie Queene (1590), but unintentional allegory seems to have so much interpretive potential as well. In this way, providing a comprehensive understanding of allegory is difficult, because there are too many uses of the possible definitions. The etymology of allegory comes closer to being useful: allegory is a portmanteau of allos, meaning ‘other,’ and agoreuein, meaning ‘open speech’ (Fletcher 2, ftn.1). Together, allegory becomes a term which openly says one thing, and means another. The etymology does not allow for the Teskey’s idea of allegory though, which indicates that allegory can be a rhetorical tool or a hermeneutic technique; instead the etymology implies the opposite of the OED: that allegory is a reader’s interpretation of a text. A popular example of reader-invoked, hermeneutic allegory would be the Song of Solomon in the Bible. Christian and Jewish scholars for centuries have attempted to allegorize these textually erotic love poems, and Christian scholars allegorize the poems as a relationship between Christ and the Church. Despite these interpretations, there is no indication that one must read it with Christian morals in mind. Whether the confusion surrounding allegory arises from the indefinite definition, or this issue of allegorical reading versus writing, allegory remains a complex concept with a more complex history of reception. In his 1962 book, The Muse’s Method, Joseph Summers analyzes Milton’s allegory, categorizing it as biblical accommodation. Milton invoked accommodation throughout his work in order to accurately “justifie the wayes of God to men” and Summers elaborates, saying: “The doctrine of God’s accommodation of His truth to human understanding made the reading of the Scriptures for a seventeenth-century man both complex and exciting” (Summers 40). Accommodation is not allegory per se, but it does overlap with allegorical interpretation in the way that Milton uses it. For example, one of Summers’ major claims is that Satan, Sin, and Demmerle 5 Death are parodic in Paradise Lost as the unholy trinity. His description of their allegory focuses on the contrast between Heaven’s reality and Hell’s unreality, accommodating Heaven’s essence in a fallen way that readers will understand. His description also epitomizes the essence of allegorical reading: the reading of Scripture mimics reading Satan, Sin, and Death “as an allegory” because allegories conflate the literal with the figural, the figural with the literal. Summers’ approach to this claim is integral to his overall argument, though, because he positions himself against the unavoidable influence of eighteenth century critics. For Milton studies in particular, eighteenth century critics are inseparable from the reception and understanding of allegory, because their opinions have shaped later criticism. Summers situates his position against a couple of eighteenth century figures because his claim differs so drastically from eighteenth century perceptions of the poem, but those perceptions still influence critiques of allegory today. Paradise Lost was written in a period of theological and political turmoil, and for literary critiques, this turmoil meant reconfiguring appropriate literary techniques. Even before Paradise Lost, allegory was already declining as a rhetorical tool and hermeneutic technique, so works like The Faerie Queene were being scrutinized for their allegory as a judgment of quality. This perception of quality stems from the theological disagreement regarding allegoresis, or the allegorical interpretation of scripture (an example being the allegorical interpretation of Song of Solomon). With the Reformation and the rise of scientific empiricism, theologians began to question the implications of allegory and its hidden messages (Copeland and Struck 8). From a biblical standpoint, Protestants literally read scripture, whereas reading the Bible allegorically emphasizes a duality of meaning, saying something and meaning something else. Protestantism deplored this duality of meaning in the Bible, emphasizing the literal truth of scripture instead. In Demmerle 6 Luther’s words: sola scriptura and solus sensus litteralis (Cummings 177). Brian Cummings, who compares and contrasts Protestantism and allegory, describes the Protestant reception of allegory as a division between “medieval obscurantism and Renaissance clarity” (178). He then expounds this perception to complicate the assumptions about allegory, saying that even Luther accepted intrinsic allegory, “when Scripture itself intends the allegory,” and concludes his chapter by redeeming Protestant reception of allegory (179). His most cogent claim emphasizes the elusive nature of language proper: no matter how literal language seems, the figural always gets in the way (185). Despite Cummings’ argument, the historical reality of the Protestant reception of allegory was harsh. In the eighteenth century, readers can see literal/figural critiques of allegory in the commentaries of Joseph Addison and Samuel Johnson, who agree with Milton’s literal goal of explaining God’s way to men, but disagree with the figural use of Sin and Death in the theodicy. Thus, Protestantism set the stage for the continuing distrust of allegory which then affected the next literary epochs. The first eighteenth century critic to express these Protestant concerns about allegory was Joseph Addison. In Addison’s 1712 publication of The Spectator, he reviewed and commented on the technique and form of Paradise Lost. For much of the review Addison’s laudatory tone drives his support for Milton’s project with regard to its genre, for he categorizes the poem as a heroic epic, and “assumes that every parallel which he can discover between the earlier epics and Milton’s, or between Milton’s practice and neoclassical theory is an unquestioned aesthetic mark in Milton’s favour” (Summers 33). He places the epic on the highest pedestal, calling it “the greatest Production, or at least the noblest Work of Genius, in our language” (No. 321). Addison wanted Paradise Lost to be the best the English language had to offer, but Addison could not praise everything in the poem, because Milton did admit “imperfections” into his work. One of Demmerle 7 these imperfections is Milton’s introduction of Sin and Death, which Addison attributes to the lack of characters in the story (No. 273). Nevertheless, Addison disagrees with the allegories because they do not fit his definition of heroic epic. Specifically, his concerns lay with the agency of the allegories, and their position as actors in the poem, which for Addison, conflicts with the genre and Milton’s biblical sources. Heroic epics are supposed to be credible, and Sin and Death are too imaginary to be credible. Addison’s entire analysis is focused on genre, but his theory regarding Sin and Death builds from the Protestant distrust of allegory. The particular issue he addresses deals with the agency and reality of Sin and Death beginning in Book II. Addison concludes that they are not probable as agents, and that “the plain literal Sense ought to appear probable” (No. 314). Again, Addison’s theory relies on a “plain literal Sense” of Protestantism that is not possible with the dual-meanings of allegory. Addison’s commentary on the poem has affected later receptions of its allegory, but Samuel Johnson, another eighteenth century critic, set the standard for subsequent theories of allegory, especially Milton’s allegory. Johnson, who is most famous for his Dictionary of the English Language (1755), wrote a series of biographies, which he compiled into his Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets. John Milton’s biography is one of the more famous by Johnson, and one of the more critically scathing. It begins by outlining Milton’s life, which Johnson vituperates frequently. At one point he criticizes Milton’s political position, saying: Milton’s republicanism was, I am afraid, founded in an envious hatred of greatness, and a sullen desire of independence; in petulance impatient of control, and pride disdainful of superiority…It is to be suspected, that his predominant desire was to destroy rather than establish, and that he felt not so much the love of liberty as repugnance to authority. (43) Despite some of Johnson’s more harsh judgments of Milton’s personal life, Johnson is not entirely critical of Milton’s poetic prowess. In his discussion of Paradise Lost, Johnson actually praises the gravity of Milton’s goal, saying that “before the greatness displayed in Milton’s poem Demmerle 8 all other greatness shrinks away” (47). After the biography section though, Johnson begins to comment on Milton’s early works, particularly attacking Milton’s more poetic moments. For example, Johnson attacks the imagery in Milton’s Lycidas, saying: “of [Lycidas], the diction is harsh, the rhymes uncertain, and the numbers unpleasing. What beauty there is we must therefore seek in the sentiments and images. It is not to be considered as the effusion of real passion; for passion runs not after remote allusions and obscure opinions” (44). Despite moments of praise, Johnson continues his defamatory tone throughout his examination, until it climaxes in the section on Paradise Lost. Johnson drops a critical bomb on Sin and Death when he says that their allegory is “undoubtedly faulty” (51). This statement is problematic because, by asserting that Milton’s allegory is faulty, Johnson has provided a critical precedent to ignore, to refute, and to erase Sin and Death from subsequent analyses of the poem. Johnson’s reasoning for censuring Sin and Death depends on their figural function and their agency, which is similar to Addison’s reasoning. According to Johnson it is an inconvenience to the reader that Milton, through his use of “immaterial agents” in the form of Sin and Death, justifies “absurdity.” Thus he denounces their agency and purpose as a poetic fault (51). This issue of agency is not limited to Sin and Death either. Johnson thought that it was also inconvenient that Milton ascribes agency to the angels because that “requires a description of what cannot be described,” but he saw this as defensible based on their necessity as characters (51). In general, Johnson’s analysis of Paradise Lost builds from Addison’s influence and Protestant influences, but the clarity and frankness of Johnson’s criticisms have influenced subsequent interpretations of the poem’s major “flaws.” Specifically, the Romantics inherited this historical reception of allegory in the following literary epoch, and incorporated Addison and Johnson’s opinions into their theory of transcendentalism. Demmerle 9 The Romantics, especially Coleridge, disapproved of allegory and allegorical personifications because they conflicted with transcendentalism and “organic” form.3 The transcendent imagination held particulars and universals as compatible: their meanings intertwine to create coherent symbols. For Coleridge, a symbol consists of a synecdochic relationship between the idea and the symbol (Fletcher 17). In this way, allegory was demoted to instances or symbolic relationships in which logic and imagination conflicted: allegory is not an “organic” symbol, but a “mechanic” one. Furthermore the Romantics considered allegory to be a tenuous connection between the literal and figural, and Coleridge completely rejects the narrative agency of allegory (something that Johnson and Addison disliked as well). He sees the narrative agency of allegory as contrary to the reality of persons and histories, so that instances of allegory point to a person or history that is less than real. This theory in particular resonates with the earlier criticisms of Addison and Johnson regarding the reality of Sin and Death in the poem. For Protestant thinkers, the dislike of allegorical reality—of trying to make an abstraction material— reflects the Romantics’ disdain for mechanic imagery; Coleridge desired organic truth through symbols, and not artificial allegory. In modern examinations of allegory, there is a sense that allegory has maintained its mechanic association from the Romantics and its “faulty” association from the eighteenth century: now it seems that the critical instinct for allegory is to “revitalize” it or deconstruct it. From this historical outline of allegory, I can return directly to Milton, and two influential 20th century articles that analyze the ontology of Sin and Death. The first article, “’Real or Allegoric’: The Ontology of Sin and Death in Paradise Lost” by Philip J. Gallagher was published in 1976. This article is an apt example of revitalizing allegory, because Gallagher 3 This paragraph is indebted to Theresa M. Kelly’s chapter “Romanticism’s Errant Allegory” and Angus Fletcher’s Allegory: The Theory of a Symbolic Mode. These scholars were useful in that they outline Coleridge’s conception of allegory and the reception from the Romantics, which ideologically follows Addison and Johnson.