Fall of Man only; that he regarded the Redemption as implicit in the Fall; that, although as far as Satan and Adam were concerned, the latter is discomfited, yet when we consider the whole scheme of the poem, the purposes of God and the triumph of the Messiah are clearly seen and felt. As to the second point, however, the development of the character of Satan, there is much that is interesting to have in mind in reading, which will bring out more strongly and effectively not a few passages which might otherwise pass with little notice. When he first appears to us Satan is not "less than Archangel ruined." He has still the pride and ambition that caused his fall; he has added to them the rage, chagrin, and longing for vengeance which followed his fall. But these qualities cannot be said to render him utterly evil, utterly vile. Even his desire to strike the Creator through his creation shows, not malice, not hatred of those who had never injured him, but merely that extreme anger that cares nothing for its instrument, as a naughty boy in a fit of passion may long to break something belonging to his mother. Otherwise Satan is a figure that may be admired. Were it not for our feeling for the awful power against whom he rages, we should not think of calling him mean or base. He is a schemer, a politician, it is true; he will stoop to sophistry (ii. 27, cf. note), to finesse (ii. 468), to flattery (ii. 817), to gain his ends,— but except for this rather petty temper, he may rightly be called a heroic figure. And so much Milton indicates to us, not only by his presentation of the character, but by a subtle symbolism, which may be followed through the poem. Milton tells us that as the Soul of Satan became viler and meaner, his form followed step by step, until from its heavenly beauty it fell to snaky ugliness. The angels had always power to change their form at will, but each had his own especial form to which he ever tended to return, and with Satan this form, once equal to the splendor of Raphael, gradually became more and more hideous as his spirit became more and more evil. We have first the fine lines in Book i.: 66 He above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost Somewhat "changed in outward lustre " (i. 97) he was, but still he had the remnant of the angelic beauty which had been his in Heaven. So then he gathers his followers, starts on his journey, flies through Chaos, and finally reaches the Earth and the neighborhood of Paradise. 66 Here comes the moment of indecision when Conscience wakes despair that slumbered," the moment of possible return to the better, ended by that cry "Evil be thou my good," the moment when he becomes pledged forever to Evil. And as his mind, which had wavered for a time, takes the determined plunge downward, so his form also, even through his borrowed form, takes on a hideous aspect, so marked that Uriel, whom he had before deceived, knows him for evil. Further proof comes when Satan is discovered in the garden by the Cherub Zephon. The angel asks which of the rebel spirits it may be, and Satan gives haughtily the well-known answer: "Not to know 1 "Six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine: the pair that clad Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold And colours dipt in heaven; the third his feet (Bk. v. 277-285.) me argues thyself unknown." But Zephon answers scorn with scorn: "Think not, revolted spirit, thy shape the same, As when thou stood'st in Heaven upright and pure. At this the Devil stood abashed, "And felt how awful goodness is, and saw With Ithuriel they leave the garden, and find Gabriel, who recognizes his fellows, and with them "A third, of regal port, But faded splendor wan, who by his gait And fierce demeanour seems the Prince of Hell." (869-871.) Even further than this, however, must he fall; the better to carry out his scheme he takes the form of the serpent, not without some loathing: "That I," he cries, "Who erst contended With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrained (Book. ix. 163–167.) And this form which he himself assumes, though so distasteful to him, the form in which he completes his evil, this hideous form finally becomes his own in the metamor phosis of Book x. 504–584,1 his own form which, although he is allowed to leave it by his power of change, must yet be worn certain numbered days each year. With this change of form has gone the moral degradation. Ambition, pride, hate, malice, deceit, fear,—these are the steps in his career. He returns from earth, successful and humbled in the dust, and in what follows of the poem, Milton shows how all the outcome of his malice and deceit is the redemption of man, and, in the fulness of time, a new heaven and a new earth. 66 The interdependence of body and soul is a favorite idea of the Platonist, and had long lain in Milton's mind. Closely connected as it is with the eternal problem of Art, the connection between form and idea, he seems to have given it in a measure embodiment in the masque of 99 Comus.' There we have the symbolic representatives of Goodness and Evil, we have the evil element in various natures coming to full possession in the "brutish form of wolf or bear, or ounce or tiger, hog or bearded goat," and, more especially have we the words of the elder brother, the Platonist, who explains to the younger brother the secrets of divine philosophy. "So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 'Too long to quote here, in which Satan and his angels are suddenly transformed into serpents. 1 The soul grows clotted by contagion, Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp ("Comus," 453–475.) 2. The Angelic Hierarchy. Besides Satan, the chief characters of the First and Second Books are the fallen angels. In speaking of the angels, whether faithful or fallen, Milton uses several different names, and in order to avoid confusion we should understand something of the traditional ideas on the heavenly hierarchy, with which of course Milton was familiar. The most commonly accepted tradition goes back to the works which passed under the name of Dionysius the Areopagite, who, as Dante says, 66 "Had learnt Both this and much beside of these our orbs This "eye-witness" was St. Paul, who (2 Cor. xii. 4) was caught up into paradise and heard unspeakable things. And Dionysius himself was held to be the very man mentioned in Acts xvii. 34, who had heard Paul at Mars Hill, and so become converted. Such was the tradition: under the name of Dionysius the Areopagite there still exists a treatise "De Coelesti Hierarchia." 1 In this treatise the angels are said to be ranged in three orders of three ranks each, as follows:-Seraphim, Cherubim, 'Translated from Greek to Latin by John Scotus in Migne's Patrologia, vol. 122, pp. 1038 ff. |