[In The Dial for April 1843, in a memoir of George Keats, signed "J. F. C.", we read: "He preserved and highly prized John's letters, and unpublished verses, the copy of Spenser filled with his works [sic but quære, marks?], which he had read when a boy, and which had been to him a very valuable source of poetic inspiration, and a Milton in which were preserved in a like manner John's marks and comments. From a fly-leaf of this book, I was permitted to copy the passages I now send you. I know not whether you will agree with me in their being among the most striking criticisms we possess upon this great author." The memoir is in the form of a letter to the Editor of The Dial; and the author seems to have been a Unitarian clergyman, the Rev. J. Freeman Clarke. Following the letter are the notes, headed "Remarks on John Milton, by John Keats, written in the fly-leaf of Paradise Lost." It is possible that Keats may have written some of his notes in two copies of Milton; but certainly all the notes given in The Dial and reprinted by Lord Houghton exist with others in Keats's autograph on one of the flytitles and in the margins of a copy of Paradise Lost inscribed (also in Keats's writing) to his friend Mrs. Dilke. This book, a pocket edition in two volumes published in 1807 by W. and J. Deas of High Street, Edinburgh, is still in the possession of Sir Charles Dilke; and, as The Dial does not say George Keats's book contained autograph notes, it seems likely that it was a copy into which the notes made in the other had been transcribed. Such a copy, indeed, is in my own collection,—a small volume containing only Paradise Lost, with a preface by Elijah Fenton, but with no title-page whereby to identify the edition: into this, one of the Misses Reynolds, with great pains-taking and exactness, copied not only all Keats's notes in the Dilke copy, but also all his very numerous underlinings. I have not had occasion to use this little volume, as Sir Charles Dilke placed the original at my disposal among the rest of the highly important documents in his hands. The four longer notes now added to those given in The Dial have already appeared in The Athenæum for the 26th of October 1872. In now placing over each note the passage from the poem to which it refers, I have shown in italics what words or lines are underscored by Keats in these passages; but the book is very copiously underlined throughout.-H. B. F.] NOTES ON MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. THE Genius of Milton, more particularly in respect to its span in immensity, calculated him, by a sort of birthright, for such an argument' as the Paradise Lost: he had an exquisite passion for what is properly, in the sense of ease and pleasure, poetical Luxury; and with that it appears to me he would fain have been content, if he could, so doing, have preserved his self-respect and feel of duty performed; but there was working in him as it were that same sort of thing as operates in the great world to the end of a Prophecy's being accomplish'd: therefore he devoted himself rather to the ardours than the pleasures of Song, solacing himself at intervals with cups of old wine; and those are with some exceptions the finest parts of the poem. With some exceptions— for the spirit of mounting and adventure can never be unfruitful or unrewarded: had he not broken through the clouds which envelope so deliciously the Elysian field of verse, and committed himself to the Extreme, we should never have seen Satan as described "But his face Deep scars of thunder had entrench'd," &c. There is a greatness which the Paradise Lost possesses over every other Poem-the Magnitude of Contrast, and that is softened by the contrast being ungrotesque to a degree. Heaven moves on like music throughout. Hell is also peopled with angels; it also moves on like music, not grating and harsh, but like a grand accompaniment in the Base to Heaven. There is always a great charm in the openings of great Poems, more particularly where the action begins-that of Dante's Hell. Of Hamlet, the first step must be heroic and full of power; and nothing can be more impressive and shaded than the commencement of the action here"Round he throws his baleful eyes." But his doom Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes, That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace For those rebellious; here their prison ordained One of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another. Things may be described by a Man's self in parts so as to make a grand whole which that Man himself would scarcely inform to its excess. A Poet can seldom have justice done to his imagination-for men are as distinct in their conceptions of material shadowings as they are in matters of spiritual understanding: it can scarcely be conceived how Milton's Blindness might here aid1 the magnitude of his conceptions as a bat in a large gothic vault. Or have ye chosen this place After the toil of battle to repose Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven? BOOK I, lines 318-21. There is a cool pleasure in the very sound of vale. The English word is of the happiest chance. Milton has put vales in heaven and hell with the very utter affection and yearning of a great Poet. It is a sort of Delphic Abstraction—a beautiful thing made more beautiful by being reflected and put in a Mist. The next mention of Vale is one of the most pathetic in the whole range of Poetry Others, more mild, Retreated in a silent Valley &c. [BOOK II, lines 546-7.] How much of the charm is in the Valley! But he, his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore 'Keats wrote here ade, in such a way that it might be read for pervade; but his manuscript is full of slips of this kind; and the sense leaves no doubt that here aid is what he meant. The sense is not after all fully expressed; but the meaning is clear-that Milton's blindness might so sharpen his imagination as to give him the same advantage in the realm of the unseen as a bat has in the darkness of a gothic vault. |