November 12 The Harvard Classics, fifteen minutes a day
Story of the First Dresses
Milton’s version tells how the Serpent induced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. Eve offered it to Adam. Then they became conscious for the first time that they were not clothed.
- John Milton married second wife, Nov. 12, 1656.
From the 1930 Reading Guide
Paradise Lost
John Milton
Page 278 opens mid-sentence; the reading starts at the beginning of that sentence (“Queen of this Universe!”), the last line of page 277.
Queen of this Universe! do not believeThose rigid threats of death. Ye shall not die.How should ye? By the Fruit? it gives you lifeTo knowledge. By the Threatener? look on me,Me who have touched and tasted, yet both live,And life more perfet have attained than FateMeant me, by venturing higher than my lot.Shall that be shut to Man which to the BeastIs open? or will God incense his ireFor such a petty trespass, and not praiseRather your dauntless virtue, whom the painOf death denounced, whatever thing Death be,Deterred not from achieving what might leadTo happier life, knowledge of Good and Evil?Of good, how just! of evil—if what is evilBe real, why not known, since easier shunned?God, therefore, cannot hurt ye and be just;Not just, not God; not feared then, nor obeyed:Your fear itself of death removes the fear.Why, then, was this forbid? Why but to awe,Why but to keep ye low and ignorant,His worshipers? He knows that in the dayYe eat thereof your eyes, that seem so clear,Yet are but dim, shall perfetly be thenOpened and cleared, and ye shall be as Gods,Knowing both good and evil, as they know.That ye should be as Gods, since I as Man,Internal Man, is but proportion meet—I, of brute, human; ye, of human, Gods.So ye shall die perhaps, by putting offHuman, to put on Gods—death to be wished,Though threatened, which no worse than this can bring!And what are Gods, that Man may not becomeAs they, participating godlike food?The Gods are first, and that advantage useOn our belief, that all from them proceeds.I question it; for this fair Earth I see,Warmed by the Sun, producing every kind;Them nothing. If they all things, who enclosedKnowledge of Good and Evil in this Tree,That whoso eats thereof forthwith attainsWisdom without their leave? and wherein liesThe offence, that Man should thus attain to know?What can your knowledge hurt him, or this TreeImpart against his will, if all be his?Or is it envy? and can envy dwellIn Heavenly breasts? These, these and many moreCauses import your need of this fair Fruit.Goddess humane, reach, then, and freely taste!”He ended; and his words, replete with guile,Into her heart too easy entrance won.Fixed on the Fruit she gazed, which to beholdMight tempt alone; and in her ears the soundYet rung of his persuasive words, impregnedWith reason, to her seeming, and with truth.Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and wakedAn eager appetite, raised by the smellSo savoury of that Fruit, which with desire,Inclinable now grown to touch or taste,Solicited her longing eye; yet first,Pausing a while, thus to herself she mused:—“Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of Fruits,Though kept from Man, and worthy to be admired,Whose taste, too long forborne, at first assayGave elocution to the mute, and taughtThe tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise.Thy praise he also who forbids thy useConceals not from us, naming thee the TreeOf Knowledge, knowledge both of Good and Evil;Forbids us then to taste. But his forbiddingCommends thee more, while it infers the goodBy thee communicated, and our want;For good unknown sure is not bad, or, hadAnd yet unknown, is as not had at all.In plain, then, what forbids he but to know?Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise!Such prohibitions bind not. But, if DeathBind us with after-bands, what profits thenOur inward freedom? In the day we eatOf this fair Fruit, our doom is we shall die!How dies the Serpent? He hath eaten, and lives,And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns,Irrational till then. For us aloneWas death invented? or to us deniedThis intellectual food, for beasts reserved?For beasts it seems; yet that one beast which firstHath tasted envies not, but brings with joyThe good befallen him, author unsuspect,Friendly to Man, far from deceit or guile.What fear I, then? rather, what know to fearUnder this ignorance of Good and Evil,Of God or Death, of law or penalty?Here grows the cure of all, this Fruit divine,Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,Of virtue to make wise. What hinders, then,To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?”So saying, her rash hand in evil hourForth-reaching to the Fruit, she plucked, she eat.Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat,Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woeThat all was lost. Back to the thicket slunkThe guilty Serpent, and well might, for Eve,Intent now only on her taste, naught elseRegarded; such delight till then, as seemed,In fruit she never tasted, whether true,Or fancied so through expectation highOf knowledge; nor was Godhead from her thought.Greedily she ingorged without restraint,And knew not eating death. Satiate at length,And hightened as with wine, jocond and boon,Thus to herself she pleasingly began:—“O sovran, virtuous, precious of all treesIn Paradise! of operation blestTo sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed,And thy fair Fruit let hang, as to no endCreated! but henceforth my early care,Not without song, each morning, and due praise,Shall tend thee, and the fertil burden easeOf thy full branches, offered free to all;Till, dieted by thee, I grow matureIn knowledge, as the Gods who all things know,Though others envy what they cannot give—For, had the gift been theirs, it had not hereThus grown! Experience, next to thee I owe,Best guide: not following thee, I had remainedIn ignorance; thou open’st Wisdom’s way,And giv’st access, though secret she retire.And I perhaps am secret: Heaven is high—High, and remote to see from thence distinctEach thing on Earth; and other care perhapsMay have diverted from continual watchOur great Forbidder, safe with all his SpiesAbout him. But to Adam in what sortShall I appear? Shall I to him make knownAs yet my change, and give him to partakeFull happiness with me, or rather not,But keep the odds of knowledge in my powerWithout copartner? so to add what wantsIn female sex, the more to draw his love,And render me more equal, and perhaps—A thing not undesirable—sometimeSuperior; for, inferior, who is free?This may be well; but what if God have seen,And death ensue? Then I shall be no more;And Adam, wedded to another Eve,Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct!A death to think! Confirmed, then, I resolveAdam shall share with me in bliss or woe.So dear I love him that with him all deathsI could endure, without him live no life.”So saying, from the Tree her step she turned,But first low reverence done, as to the PowerThat dwelt within, whose presence had infusedInto the plant sciential sap, derivedFrom nectar, drink of Gods. Adam the while,Waiting desirous her return, had woveOf choicest flowers a garland, to adornHer tresses, and her rural labours crown,As reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen.Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and newSolace in her return, so long delayed;Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill,Misgave him. He the faltering measure felt,And forth to meet her went, the way she tookThat morn when first they parted. By the TreeOf Knowledge he must pass; there he her met,Scarce from the Tree returning; in her handA bough of fairest fruit, that downy smiled,New gathered, and ambrosial smell diffused.To him she hasted; in her face excuseCame prologue, and apology to prompt,Which, with bland words at will, she thus addressed:—“Hast thou not wondered, Adam, at my stay?Thee I have missed, and thought it long, deprivedThy presence—agony of love till nowNot felt, nor shall be twice; for never moreMean I to try, what rash untried I sought,The pain of absence from thy sight. But strangeHath been the cause, and wonderful to hear.This Tree is not, as we are told, a TreeOf danger tasted, nor to evil unknownOpening the way, but of divine effectTo open eyes, and make them Gods who taste;And hath been tasted such. The Serpent wise,Or not restrained as we, or not obeying,Hath eaten of the Fruit, and is becomeNot dead, as we are threatened, but thenceforthEndued with human voice and human sense,Reasoning to admiration, and with mePersuasively hath so prevailed that IHave also tasted, and have also foundThe effects to correspond—opener mine eyes,Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart,And growing up to Godhead; which for theeChiefly I sought, without thee can despise.For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss;Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon.Thou, therefore, also taste, that equal lotMay join us, equal joy, as equal love;Lest, thou not tasting, different degreeDisjoin us, and I then too late renounceDeity for thee, when fate will not permit.”Thus Eve with countenance blithe her story told;But in her cheek distemper flushing glowed.On the other side, Adam, soon as he heardThe fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed,Astonied stood and blank, while horror chillRan through his veins, and all his joints relaxed.From his slack hand the garland wreathed for EveDown dropt, and all the faded roses shed.Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at lengthFirst to himself he inward silence broke:—“O fairest of Creation, last and bestOf all God’s works, creature in whom excelledWhatever can to sight or thought be formed,Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost,Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote!Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgressThe strict forbiddance, how to violateThe sacred Fruit forbidden? Some cursed fraudOf enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,And me with thee hath ruined; for with theeCertain my resolution is to die.How can I live without thee? how forgoThy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined,To live again in these wild woods forlorn?Should God create another Eve, and IAnother rib afford, yet loss of theeWould never from my heart. No, no! I feelThe link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh,Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy stateMine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.”So having said, as one from sad dismayRecomforted, and, after thoughts disturbed,Submitting to what seemed remediless,Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turned:—“Bold deed thou hast presumed, adventrous Eve,And peril great provoked, who thus hast daredHad it been only coveting to eyeThat sacred Food, sacred to abstinence;Much more to taste it, under ban to touch.But past who can recall, or done undo?Not God Omnipotent, nor Fate! Yet soPerhaps thou shalt not die; perhaps the factIs not so hainous now—foretasted Fruit,Profaned first by the Serpent, by him firstMade common and unhallowed ere our taste,Nor yet on him found deadly. He yet lives—Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live, as Man,Higher degree of life: inducement strongTo us, as likely, tasting, to attainProportional ascent; which cannot beBut to be Gods, or Angels, Demi-gods.Nor can I think that God, Creator wise,Though threatening, will in earnest so destroyUs, his prime creatures, dignified so high,Set over all his works; which, in our fall,For us created, needs with us must fail,Dependent made. So God shall uncreate,Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour lose—Not well conceived of God; who, though his powerCreation could repeat, yet would be lothUs to abolish, lest the AdversaryTriumph and say: ‘Fickle their state whom GodMost favours; who can please him long? Me firstHe ruined, now Mankind; whom will he next?’—Matter of scorn not to be given the Foe.However, I with thee have fixed my lot,Certain to undergo like doom. If deathConsort with thee, death is to me as life;So forcible within my heart I feelThe bond of Nature draw me to my own—My own is thee; for what thou art is mine.Our state cannot be severed; we are one,One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.”So Adam; and thus Eve to him replied:—“O glorious trial of exceeding love,Illustrious evidence, example high!Ingaging me to emulate; but, shortOf thy perfection, how shall I attain,Adam? from whose dear side I boast me sprung,And gladly of our union hear thee speak,One heart, one soul in both; whereof good proofThis day affords, declaring thee resolved,Rather than death, or aught than death more dread,Shall separate us, linked in love so dear,To undergo with me one guilt, one crime,If any be, of tasting this fair Fruit;Whose virtue (for of good still good proceeds,Direct, or by occasion) hath presentedThis happy trial of thy love, which elseSo eminently never had been known.Were it I thought death menaced would ensueThis my attempt, I would sustain aloneThe worst, and not persuade thee—rather dieDeserted than oblige thee with a factPernicious to thy peace, chiefly assuredRemarkably so late of thy so true,So faithful love unequalled. But I feelFar otherwise the event—not death, but lifeAugmented, opened eyes, new hopes, new joys,Taste so divine that what of sweet beforeHath touched my sense flat seems to this and harsh.On my experience, Adam, freely taste,And fear of death deliver to the winds.”So saying, she embraced him, and for joyTenderly wept, much won that he his loveHad so ennobled as of choice to incurDivine displeasure for her sake, or death.In recompense (for such compliance badSuch recompense best merits), from the boughShe gave him of that fair enticing FruitWith liberal hand. He scrupled not to eat,Against his better knowledge, not deceived,But fondly overcome with female charm.Earth trembled from her entrails, as againIn pangs, and Nature gave a second groan;Sky loured, and, muttering thunder, some sad dropsWept at completing of the mortal SinOriginal; while Adam took no thought,Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterateHer former trespass feared, the more to sootheHim with her loved society; that now,As with new wine intoxicated both,They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feelDivinity within them breeding wingsWherewith to scorn the Earth. But that false FruitFar other operation first displayed,Carnal desire inflaming. He on EveBegan to cast lascivious eyes; she himAs wantonly repaid; in lust they burn,Till Adam thus ’gan Eve to dalliance move:—“Eve, now I see thou art exact of tasteAnd elegant—of sapience no small part;Since to each meaning savour we apply,And palate call judicious. I the praiseYield thee; so well this day thou hast purveyed.Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstainedFrom this delightful Fruit, nor known till nowTrue relish, tasting. If such pleasure beIn things to us forbidden, it might be wishedFor this one Tree had been forbidden ten.But come; so well refreshed, now let us play,As meet is, after such delicious fare;For never did thy beauty, since the dayI saw thee first and wedded thee, adornedWith all perfections, so enflame my senseWith ardour to enjoy thee, fairer nowThan ever—bounty of this virtuous Tree!”So said he, and forbore not glance or toyOf amorous intent, well understoodOf Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire.Her hand he seized, and to a shady bank,Thick overhead with verdant roof imbowered,He led her, nothing loth; flowers were the couch,Pansies, and violets, and asphodel,And hyacinth—Earth’s freshest, softest lap.There they their fill of love and love’s disportTook largely, of their mutual gilt the seal,The solace of their sin, till dewy sleepOppressed them, wearied with their amorous play.Soon as the force of that fallacious Fruit,That with exhilarating vapour blandAbout their spirits had played, and inmost powersMade err, was now exhaled, and grosser sleep,Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreamsIncumbered, now had left them, up they roseAs from unrest, and, each the other viewing,Soon found their eyes how opened, and their mindsHow darkened. Innocence, that as a veilHad shadowed them from knowing ill, was gone;Just confidence, and native righteousness,And honour, from about them, naked leftTo guilty Shame: he covered, but his robeUncovered more. So rose the Danite strong,Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lapOf Philistean Dalilah, and wakedShorn of his strength; they destitute and bareOf all their virtue. Silent, and in faceConfounded, long they sat, as strucken mute;Till Adam, though not less than Eve abashed,At length gave utterance to these words constrained:—“O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give earTo that false Worm, of whomsoever taughtTo counterfeit Man’s voice—true in our fall,False in our promised rising; since our eyesOpened we find indeed, and find we knowBoth good and evil, good lost and evil got:Bad Fruit of Knowledge, if this be to know,Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void,Of innocence, of faith, of purity,Our wonted ornaments now soiled and stained,And in our faces evident the signsOf foul concupiscence; whence evil store,Even shame, the last of evils; of the firstBe sure then. How shall I behold the faceHenceforth of God or Angel, erst with joyAnd rapture so oft beheld? Those Heavenly ShapesWill dazzle now this earthly with their blazeInsufferably bright. Oh, might I hereIn solitude live savage, in some gladeObscured, where highest woods, impenetrableTo star or sunlight, spread their umbrage broad,And brown as evening. Cover me, ye pines!Ye cedars, with innumerable boughsHide me, where I may never see them more!But let us now, as in bad plight, deviseWhat best may, for the present, serve to hideThe parts of each other that seem mostTo shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen—Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves, together sewed,And girded on our loins, may cover roundThose middle parts, that this new comer, Shame,There sit not, and reproach us as unclean.”So counselled he, and both together wentInto the thickest wood. There soon they chooseThe fig tree—not that kind for fruit renowned,But such as, at this day, to Indians known,In Malabar or Decan spreads her armsBraunching so broad and long that in the groundThe bended twigs take root, and daughters growAbout the mother tree, a pillared shadeHigh overarched, and echoing walks between:There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat,Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herdsAt loop-holes cut through thickest shade. Those leavesThey gathered, broad as Amazonian targe,And with what skill they had together sewed,To gird their waist—vain covering, if to hideTheir guilt and dreaded shame! O how unlikeTo that first naked glory! Such of lateColumbus found the American, so girtWith feathered cincture, naked else and wild,Among the trees on isles and woody shores.Thus fenced, and, as they thought, their shame in partCovered, but not at rest or ease of mind,They sat them down to weep. Nor only tearsRained at their eyes, but high winds worse withinBegan to rise, high passions—anger, hate,Mistrust, suspicion, discord—and shook soreTheir inward state of mind, calm region onceAnd full of peace, now tost and turbulent:For Understanding ruled not, and the WillHeard not her lore, both in subjection nowTo sensual Appetite, who, from beneathUsurping over sovran Reason, claimedSuperior sway. From thus distempered breastAdam, estranged in look and altered style,Speech intermitted thus to Eve renewed:—“Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and stayedWith me, as I besought thee, when that strangeDesire of wandering, this unhappy morn,I know not whence possessed thee! We had thenRemained still happy—not, as now, despoiledOf all our good, shamed, naked, miserable!Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approveThe faith they owe; when earnestly they seekSuch proof, conclude they then begin to fail.”To whom, soon moved with touch of blame, thus Eve:—“What words have passed thy lips, Adam severe?Imput’st thou that to my default, or willOf wandering, as thou call’st it, which who knowsBut might as ill have happened thou being by,Or to thyself perhaps? Hadst thou been there,Or here the attempt, thou couldst not have discernedFraud in the Serpent, speaking as he spake;No ground of enmity between us knownWhy he should mean me ill or seek to harm.Was I to have never parted from thy side?As good have grown there still, a lifeless rib.Being as I am, why didst not thou, the Head,Command me absolutely not to go,Going into such danger, as thou saidst?Too facile then, thou didst not much gainsay,Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss.Hadst thou been firm and fixed in thy dissent,Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me.”“Is this the love, is this the recompenseOf mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, expressedImmutable when thou wert lost, not I—Who might have lived, and joyed immortal bliss,Yet willingly chose rather death with thee?And am I now upbraided as the causeOf thy transgressing? not enough severe,It seems, in thy restraint! What could I more?I warned thee, I admonished thee, foretoldThe danger, and the lurking EnemyThat lay in wait; beyond this had been force,And force upon free will hath here no place.But confidence then bore thee on, secureEither to meet no danger, or to findMatter of glorious trial; and perhapsI also erred in overmuch admiringWhat seemed in thee so perfet that I thoughtNo evil durst attempt thee. But I rueThat error now, which is become my crime,And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befallHim who, to worth in women overtrusting,Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook;And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue,She first his weak indulgence will accuse.”Thus they in mutual accusation spentThe fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning;And of their vain contest′ appeared no end.
Book IX ends on page 290; the reading stops at its last line there and does not take in the Argument of Book X that begins below it and runs on to page 291.
Volume 4, pages 278–290 · See the scanned page on archive.org
This is the reading for November 12 in Fifteen Minutes a Day: The Reading Guide (1930 edition), page 86. There the assignment reads “Vol. 4, pp. 278–290.” Read it in the guide.