remark. “That’s what Uncle Richard used to say.”
Uncle Julien grasped his niece and nephew’s hands. “When I first brought you to this house,” he began, “I knew I was doing the right thing. Between the two of us, I was the most ill-suited to raise children. My lifestyle was far too cosmopolitan for all that, and I was too selfish to relinquish it, though I love you both so dearly. But Richard has always been the rock of our family. When I say we are protectors of old knowledge, I mean all of the Romarins, including your ancestors; but my brother has always had the highest ideals, and was the most dedicated to the notions of truth and honor.”
Calvin nodded his agreement. “But back to the poem,” he said. “What’s so important about Paradise Lost?”
“You mean besides being what many consider the greatest epic poem in the English language?” their uncle asked rhetorically. “Well! To begin with, it’s more than just a religious poem describing man’s fall from grace. Much more! It’s also a political activist’s defense of the English Civil War, and the subsequent execution of Charles I. John Milton felt, like many others of his day, that the Church of England was moving back towards Catholicism, which as you know, didn’t sit well with a lot of people. Queen Mary’s bloody reign was still fresh in their minds, no doubt, and the Inquisition was in full effect in other parts of Europe. Milton himself supposedly visited Galileo in Florence, who was under house arrest because of his supposedly anti-Papal beliefs. Further, Milton didn’t believe that kings were ordained by God. He felt they were ordinary men who were placed on or taken off the throne by ordinary men.”
Calvin listened to his uncle with great eagerness. Julien had a way of making history come alive for him. “Go on,” he urged rather impatiently, when his uncle paused in his narrative for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
Pleased to have such avid listeners, Julien continued. “AlthoughParadise Lost is certainly a poem of its times, it is even more important to remember that it was truly a metaphysical poem. The political underpinnings are important, to be sure, but they aren’t what the poem was most winningly trying to convey. “
Uncle Julien put his fingertips together as he gazed down at the document lying open before him.“I’ve always felt that this poem had a special meaning for John Milton, aside from the religious and political aspects of it.”
“I agree,” said Natalie fervently. “I sometimes felt, when I read his work, that Milton had sympathy for the devil —in a matter of speaking, that is.”
“He certainly humanizes Satan in his poem,” added their uncle, “but Milton was a Puritan, don’t forget. Aside from that, to my mind at least, he was a radical thinker.”
Calvin had been gently turning the pages of the manuscript and scanning the neat, but curiously jaunty script. “Listen to this line,” he said. “It’s when Eve was being convinced by Satan to succumb to temptation.”
“O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, Mother of science, now I feel thy power Within me clear, not only to discern Things in their causes, but to trace the ways Of highest agents, deem’d however wise”
“I can’t help but feel that if I were in Eve’s position,” Natalie remarked, “I’d fall for Satan’s offer too. I mean, I’ve spent the last ten years of my life trying to derive wisdom from plants. What’s wrong with that?” she wondered.
“Nothing now, my dear,” her uncle answered. “We’ve already fallen. We cannot squander the gift of knowledge we have received, however ill-gotten it was.”
“What we need to do is to tackle this thing logically,” Calvin said briskly. “We’ve got to read the text from beginning to end.”
“I propose we take turns,” said Natalie. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, and read the whole thing aloud.”
The next few days were spent pleasantly, reading the beautiful blank-verse of John Milton. Mrs. Murphy kept them well supplied with tea and simple but satisfying meals. The reading was slow-going, because either Natalie or Calvin transcribed what was read in a notebook, and Julien followed along with the published version of the poem. Julien felt this was important, because if their manuscript really was the oldest version of Paradise Lost that was known to exist, he wanted to catch any discrepancies or changes of text they might encounter. Little did they realize that they’d find a very large discrepancy indeed!
~
Calvin had just begun reading Book IV, in which Satan has found the Garden of Eden but is having self-doubts about whether it was in his best interest to be avenged on man, God’s best loved creation. His fall from the heavens was essentially tearing him apart, and he sat on the outskirts of the Garden, contemplating breaking in, so to speak, and bringing Chaos with him. Calvin read these lines:
So farewel Hope, and with Hope farewel Fear, Farewel Remorse: all Good to me is lost; Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least Divided Empire with Heav’ns King I hold
“Satan is saying goodbye to any last good feelings he has about God,” explained Julien. “He is committing himself to what he is about to do, which is to bring Hell into God’s own earthly paradise. He is talking himself into destroying God’s most precious creatures.”
“I wonder what the world would have been like, if he’d left us alone,” Natalie mused.
“I imagine that we’d be dwelling in perfect happiness and innocence, in surroundings totally void of what we consider civilization. We’d still be living in the Garden,” answered her uncle.
“But is that better?” wondered Calvin. “I can’t imagine living without books, or museums, or things baked in an oven. I’ve often wished to live with the wild animals I study in Africa, but I know I’d miss going to pubs, and plays, and I’d miss watching movies. And I can’t help but feel that I’d dislike running around like a buffoon, naked and ignorant.”
“And oh, to be denied the sight of a beautiful woman in a Valentino gown!” Uncle Julien’s eyes grew misty at some distant memory.
“But you wouldn’t know what you were missing,” Natalie argued. “If those things never existed, you could never long for them.”
They continued reading throughout the morning, until they came to a part of Book IV that described the Garden of Eden:
Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit, Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt: Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at Sea North-East windes blow Sabean Odours from the spicie shoare
Natalie sighed. “I love how he describes Eden.” She closed her eyes. “I can almost smell the spices and perfumes in the air.”
“Nutmeg,” said Calvin dreamily.
“Pears and limes,” added Uncle Julien.
They shook their heads, as if from a spell, and Natalie took her turn reading.
Flowers of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Flowers of exotic enchantment, which wrest Malignant spirits from the soul And Goodly Herbes, though gone from man now, Herbes of power, and magical fruits, Fruits that heal all manner of woes, all suffering repel Roots of moste potente charms, hiding underground Resting til’ Eve brings them to the light
“Attendez!” cried Uncle Julien suddenly. “Those last lines were never in any translation, except the first line about the rose.” He read the unfamiliar section over again.
“He’s talking about plants that are now extinct, it sounds like,” said Natalie. “Herbs and flowers and such that have powerful healing properties. I wonder what they were?”
“And