Marvell's Call To Arms
F.R.R. Mallory
November 27, 2006

Marvell’s Call To Arms

A revolution is a struggle to the death between the future and the past.
Fidel Castro

“To His Coy Mistress,” the poem by Andrew Marvell, appears at first glance to be a love poem written from a man to his lover yet the language Marvell uses remains illusive and puzzling. To make this poem work as a lovers exchange, the reader has to push against the words and worry out meaning. Why? When I first read this poem I was struck by how odd it was. I’ve read many love poems and this didn’t feel right to me. In fact, as a woman, if I were to receive this poem from a man I would be confused and unhappy with its message. So I asked myself, if this isn’t a lover’s poem, what else could it be?

Andrew Marvell had a passion for politics. During the turbulent English Civil War Marvell retreated to a country estate, potentially for his own safety since at the time, his politics were not favored. In examining this work I considered that poets and writers sometimes create political statements disguised as poems or stories. Treason was considered punishable by death. So, to speak out against the tyranny of a current government was nearly impossible. Given that these circumstances existed at the time this poem was written it became plausible to me to explore the idea that this poem was indeed a love poem, but not one between man and woman, this poem was a poem from a man to and about his country. Once taken with this idea I returned to the poem to see what it might be telling me if its words were offered in this context. This is what I discovered.

To His Coy Mistress, the title of this poem, can be read; to His ‘quiet’ or silenced Mistress, using the form of mistress here that, “personifie[s] a female that rules, directs, or dominates <when Rome was mistress of the world>” (Merriam-Webster). Or, to His silenced England. This certainly sounds like the opening to a formal speech, directed at specific individuals or those not currently represented. I offer that the he in His is the English King and the Mistress is England itself (or its people).

Had we but world enough, and time ~ Had we the time and resources. This coyness, lady, were no crime ~ Our silent resistance, patriots of England, is no crime. We would sit down and think which way ~ We would convene Parliament and think which direction should be taken. (During the English Civil War the King of England dismissed Parliament and the rights of the people versus the rights of the King were in heavy dispute.) To walk, and pass our long love’s day ~ For our country to go with united countrymen in peace.

Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side ~ England on the side of the ‘river of life’ or the people of England. Should’st rubies find: ~ England will find money: flooding in. (The King created shipping tariffs when Parliament cut his cash flow. Both sides were desperate for the money from shipping to fund their cause.) I by the tide of Humber would complain ~ I would make a formal accusation about the flow of money up the English river Humber (port river) and into the King’s pocket. I would love you ten years before the Flood ~ The tariffs were levied from 1629-1640 (just over ten years) and during the year this poem was being written, 1641, the crisis had reached its peak. He continued to love England for the ten years before the people rose up against the King. Keeping in mind that the people are the river of life. A country is its people.

And you should, if you please, refuse ~ You should not give in. Till the conversion of the Jews ~ Until the end of time. My vegetable love should grow ~ So that new ideas can take root and grow. Vaster than empires, and more slow ~ Rule by the people. These ideas are bigger than the concept of monarchy and will take time to grow and flourish. An hundred years should go to praise ~ It may take a hundred years to realize this prize, the prize of self rule.

Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze: ~ The eyes of the people are upon the leadership of Parliament. Two hundred to adore each breast ~ Two hundred eyes are one hundred men or Parliament. This could mean the divided Parliament or the people of England are closely watching the actions of the divided Parliament. But thirty thousand to the rest ~ Parliament and the King each had armies of 15,000. It is important to consider that the breast produces milk or nourishment, funding the country resulting in this division of resources so while Parliament and the King fight over money, the rest of England is fought over by their armies. This resulted in the pivotal battle at Edgehill which became the turning point in the war.

An age at least to every part ~ I felt this line was the poet saying that the people of England had tried every form of monarchy, given that system the best try they could. And the last age should show your heart ~ The battles were fought from the outer edges of the country inward toward Parliament’s base, perhaps showing the will of the people. For lady you deserve this state ~ England deserves a better government. Nor would I love at lower rate ~ I will love you more, not less. But at my back I always hear time’s winged chariot hurrying near ~ We are running out of time. He may also have felt personally threatened (at my back.)

Deserts of vast eternity ~ Our future will be barren. Thy beauty shall no more be found ~ What is right and good and beautiful about England will be lost. Nor in thy marble vault shall sound my echoing song; ~ In England’s death our voices will be silenced. Then worms shall try that long preserved virginity ~ Degradation shall overcome the people who have never ruled. And your quaint honor turned to dust ~ What was honorable will be gone.

And into ashes all my lust ~ My passion and belief will be gone. The grave’s a fine and private place. No matter how nice my final surroundings might be – (he was wealthy or lived in wealth) But none, I think, do there embrace ~ It is empty of connection and meaning. Now therefore, while the youthful hue ~ So while our young men rise up. Sits on thy skin like morning due ~ On the skin of England or all over England. And while thy willing soul transpires ~ And while England’s ‘willing soul’ passes through the pours. At every pore with instant fires,~ (This willingness to rise and fight.) While we have the support of the people. Now let us sport us while we may; ~ Now let us fight while we can!

And now, like am’rous birds of prey, ~ As those who love England and become it’s defenders. Rather at once our time devour ~ We would rather give up our lives. Than languish in his slow-chapt power ~ Than watch England become weak as the King’s greed devours it. Let us roll all our strength, and all our sweetness, up into one ball ~ Let us gather our strength, our love of England into one place. And tear our pleasures with rough strife ~ Let’s wage war in England itself. Thorough the iron gates of life ~ Break thorough the prison of our lives.

Thus, though we cannot make our sun ~ Even though we can’t choose our King (this is a hereditary monarchy.) Stand still, yet we will make him run. Or make him stop, yet we can make him move forward to the future of a new England.

It is my belief that this poem by Andrew Marvell is a call to arms to his fellow revolutionaries, thinly disguised as a love poem to a woman and that this explication demonstrates this possibility.

Work Cited

Marvell Andrew, To His Coy Mistress The Norton Anthology of English
Literature. 7th ed. Vol 1. New York; W.W. Norton & Company. 2000.

Marvell Andrew, To His Coy Mistress, Literature For Composition, Essays,
Fiction, Poetry, and Drama, 7th ed. Ed. Sylvan Barnet, William Burto,
William E. Cain. New York, Pearson/Longman, 2005. 755-6

Merriam-Webster Online, http://www.m-w.com/

Work Referenced

Charles I, King of England and Scotland, Martyr, 30 January 1649, http://elvis.rowan.edu/~kilroy/JEK/01/30b.html

Wikipedia, http://www.wikipedia.org/

Andrew Marvell
1621-1678

I had an extraordinary experience with Andrew Marvell. His poem, "To His Coy Mistress" came up for historical analysis. This was my very first analysis of a poem, ever. I approached the poem from a position of near suspicious annoyance. I am very insecure with my relationship toward poetry. At the time when I encountered this poem I held the closeted opinion that most poetry participated in a behavior of classism with a strong bend toward upper-classism and elitist sensibilities. For me, poetry wasn't designed for accessibility.

My response was very similar to my first encounters with modern art. On a crass level I felt someone was trying to scam me. There was a striking disconnect between the piece and my understanding or comprehension. I felt these pieces were designed to expose absences in connectivity, gaps in my education, errors in my judgement, flaws in my thinking, or, simply, to reveal my lack of 'good taste'.

I don't think my initial reaction to either of these mediums is all that unusual. I think it is common to disparage what makes us uncomfortable or that which is so different from our comfortable or mundane viewpoint that it triggers our feelings of danger and imminent betrayal.

It's not that I hadn't read poetry that I understood or liked before, I am speaking primarily of the poetry that fell outside 'easy' capture.

At first glance this poem seemed to be a rather confused love letter between a man and a woman. But, for me, when I read the poem it didn't feel 'right' - for me, this was a coded writing. As soon as its offkilterness was discernable to me all of my disinterest flipped and became sudden intense interest. Someone speaking 'above' my level of comprehension intentionally is very different with reading the writing of someone writing cryptically - like a spy or a secret agent - and "I" had been let inside because the secret message was hidden in plain view, so certain of its disguise as to need no further obscurance.

I rather like mysteries. I rather like the idea that people I never met were up to stuff - stuff important to them, dangerous stuff. What's not to love about such a scenario?

So, my approach toward this poem became one of looking for the hidden script - a treasure hunt.

What I discovered, almost immediately, was that the poem offered me this particular script. Even though I am a poorly educated, non-native, non-historically immersed individual I was still able to see the grand gestures of this poet's strokes. If I were truly conversant with English history this analysis would almost certainly have come out differently - perhaps it wouldn't have fit together as nicely as it did. I still wasn't satisfied in the end though, because I believe that Marvell had more specifics in there that my amateur sleuthness simply didn't penetrate to discover.

What did emerge from this adventure was a watershed in my experience of and celebration of poetry and poets. Not all are as marvelous as Andrew was for me - not all hand me a key with a look of wicked delight. But then, I only need to find ONE example of something, be it poem or painting that pierces my fear for my whole world view to be transformed. This is my intimate and forever relationship with Andrew.

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