“For the Sake of Liberty” 1652–1654IV.2, 869). He sets out in exact detail the symptoms that appeared ten years before,
three years before, and a few months before his sight was completely destroyed
(quoted above at the appropriate places).^136 Now, he says, the mists, swimming
images, vapors, and bursts of light are gone, replaced by “pure black, marked as if
with extinguished or ashy light, and as if interwoven with it.... Yet the mist
which always hovers before my eyes both night and day seems always to be ap-
proaching white rather than black; and upon the eyes turning, it admits a minute
quantity of light as if through a crack” (CPW IV.2, 869–70). After offering this
account Milton assures Philaras that he has no false hopes, that he is facing his
blindness with a “stout and bold” spirit, and that he finds comfort and joy in study,
good friends, and God’s protection:
Although some glimmer of hope too may radiate from that physician, I prepare and
resign myself as if the case were quite incurable, and I often reflect that since many
days of darkness are destined to everyone, as the wise man warns, mine thus far, by the
signal kindness of Providence, between leisure and study, and the voices and visits of
friends, are much more mild than those lethal ones... why should one not... find
comfort in believing that he cannot see by the eyes alone, but by the guidance and
wisdom of God. Indeed while He himself looks out for me and provides for me,
which He does... surely, since it has pleased Him, I shall be pleased to grant my eyes
a holiday. (870)No other letters from Philaras have been found. Obviously he had no good news to
report.
“There Was... One Who Could Rightly Counsel,
Encourage, and Inspire”
Among Milton’s poetic productions of these years, the sonnet traditionally titled
“On his Blindness” is a masterpiece, fusing emotional intensity and high art. The
octave presents an anxious, even bitter response to total blindness and the voca-
tional crisis it has produced: Milton’s light is completely “spent” and his “one Tal-
ent” – writing, which includes noble prose defenses of liberty as well as lofty poetry
- is now “Lodg’d with me useless.” The sestet offers some resolution to that near-
rebellion but the hard questions keep recurring: “When I consider” – not once but
whenever; “patience to prevent / That murmur, soon replies” – not once, but each
time, and not soon enough to forestall the murmur. Milton cannot yet, if indeed he
or anyone ever can, entirely repress such complaints:
When I consider how my light is spent,
E’re half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,