Unrespited, Unpitied, Unrepriev’d

John Milton

I’ve often wondered when I’ve been researching the past lives of the writers that I’m interested in whether or not they were referred to in the proper way.  As I write this, I’m wondering if anyone ever called John Milton, Milts.  Please don’t ask me why I ponder the strange; it just popped into my head.

The blue plaque in Bread St London

Born in 1608 in Bread Street London, John Milton was the son of John Milton and Sarah Jeffrey. Being the son of a successful composer, he was fortunate enough to have his own private tutor after which he studied Latin and Greek at St Paul’s School. Milton attended Christs College Cambridge, graduated in1929 and prepared to become an Anglican priest remaining at Cambridge to achieve his Masters of Arts degree. If you ever have the chance to visit the British Library, there is a commonplace book that charters his development on display.

He dabbled in writing, but as usual for those who were well to do in those times, he also set of on a journey through Europe. His views had already developed through extensive reading and his travel contributed. On religion, he had his own views and didn’t necessarily fit any religious group of the time. Maybe that’s why he gave up on the idea of becoming a priest.

Statue of Milton in St Giles without Gripplegate

Upon his return from the continent, Milton settled in London and began schooling his nephews and later children of the better families. He was also supported by his father’s investments, but still chose to develop the knowledge of others.

In 1642, he visited the Manor House at Forest Hill in Oxfordshire where he courted the daughter of the family. Milton returned to London with his wife Mary and they had four children together. Throughout his life, he was married three times, and although he supported the idea of divorce, his marriages ended in death.

 As the civil war began to brew, Milton started writing political and religious pamphlets. He had radical views on politics too, but these were silenced when he was arrested after the restoration of Charles II. Fined and released, he left the city and lived for the rest of his life in the country.

I haven’t read any of his political or religious pamphlets; I’m more interested in the epic Paradise lost, which was dictated to his daughter as the poet had lost his sight by then. Based on the fall of Adam and Eve, this biblical tale starts off with Satan being banished to hell and Satan being a rebel, decides that he will put his strength into evil. So off he goes to earth and finds Adam and Eve and you know the rest. They eat the forbidden fruit and they’re kicked out of the Garden of Eden – hence, their paradise is lost. They did however have their freedom as prison wasn’t invented then, so they kind of went unpunished for their sins, unless of course, you think about that monthly curse that we women all put up with for a large stretch of our lives. So yeah, if the story of Adam and Eve is true, then thanks God.

Bust and plaque memorial

After some examination of pictures and statues that I’ve had the good fortune to stumble across, I’ve decided that Milton was a miserable looking git. He kind of reminds me of one of those sad looking dogs with the droopy faces. But casting his looks aside, his writing puts him among the ranks of Shakespeare and other English poets that have been mentioned in past blogs. Blake even wrote a poem about Milton and I like it when poets write poems about other poets, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Throughout his life, Milton stayed strong with his beliefs whatever the consequence, and although I’m not really a fan of religious poetry, I must say that Once up a time in London, a man wrote with the conviction and the courage never to submit or yield until of course, you’ve been fined.