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416 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1674
What though the field be lost?Vaunting revolutionary rhetoric. With Satan's speech we arrive right away at the famous interpretive problem the poem is said to present: that Satan is its liveliest and—at least initially—most attractive character. Or even its only character in a dramatic or novelistic sense, its only figure with a strong sense of a variable inner life, the rest being rather heraldically drawn types, at least until the fall of Eve late in the story. William Blake made the case most famously in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell:
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me.
The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels and God, and at liberty when of Devils and Hell, is because he was a true poet, and of the Devil’s party without knowing it.More critics than I ever plan to read have tried to solve the problem. In the 20th century, the Christian C. S. Lewis patiently explained the classical psychology and Christian theology that demands readers execrate this only superficially charismatic Devil (A Preface to Paradise Lost), while the atheist William Empson sympathetically investigated Satan's implied motives as if he were a character in a play or novel, speculated about gnostic influences on the poet, and pronounced God the child-sacrificing villain of the piece (Milton's God). It's still a live question: just this month, Sam Buntz essayed again on the topic, eloquently taking Lewis's side.
We know no time when we were not as now;Splendid poetry—I want to declaim it on a barricade in a burning city—but too redolent of teenaged ignorance to stand scrutiny, just like my jejune fantasy. Who is self-begot? None of us. Still, the pride here is sublime, and honest in its way; Empson emphasizes that Satan really appears not to know until the war whether or not God is truly omnipotent, and therefore he finds the revolt intellectually justified. Whether or not we will go that far with Empson, we can grant that Satan is a character with enough grandeur, bravery, and strength—all inextricably mixed with the pride that led him to "think himself impaired" when God named His son the Messiah—to have something to lose before he lost it. In literary terms, this makes Satan a hero of a particular type: a tragic hero, one whose catastrophic fall is already implicated in his gorgeous merit. When Satan ventures to the newly-created earth and finds that God has created Adam and Eve, his tortured soliloquy, which recalls Marlowe's Faustus and Shakespeare's Hamlet, emphasizes the character's tragic stature:
Know none before us, self-begot, self-raised
By our own quickening power, when fatal course
Had circled his full orb, the birth mature
Of this our native Heaven, ethereal sons.
Our puissance is our own; our own right hand
Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try
Who is our equal…
Me miserable! which way shall I flyWith this anguished depth psychology, Milton participates, for better and for worse, in the birth of the modern self. Regarding Satan as a tragic hero relieves us of having to decide whether or not we agree with him; it's enough that we feel pity for what he's lost and terror at what he's become.
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
The world shall burn, and from her ashes springFor the republican and regicide Milton, the trappings of authority—including, apparently, a transcendent and monarchical Father God and his regal Prince—are temporary expedients until we all become capable of enjoying the anarcho-communism at the end of history. From this perspective, to riff on one of Empson's startling analogies, Milton's God really is like "Uncle Joe Stalin," though Satan isn't much better, a kind of Lenin whose revolt, however we might comprehend it, leads to tyranny, as Satan becomes monarch of Hell. Milton, though, if we can belabor this fanciful analogy, is Trotsky, a visionary of the permanent revolution. At the end of time, God will dissolve into humanity, and humanity will therefore be God, free and equal at long last.
New Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell,
And, after all their tribulations long,
See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,
With joy and peace triumphing, and fair truth.
Then thou thy regal scepter shalt lay by,
For regal scepter then no more shall need,
God shall be all in all.
That all this good of evil shall produce,So while C. S. Lewis knows more of classical and medieval thought than I do, his strenuous defense of Milton's orthodoxy ("the adverse criticism of Milton is not so much a literary phenomenon as the shadow cast upon literature by revolutionary politics, antinomian ethics, and the worship of Man by Man") still seems to fall short when it denies the poet his radical modernity, however we judge it. Michael promises Adam that if he properly internalizes the virtues, he will enjoy a better version of the racking inwardness Satan gained through sin, otherwise known as what prior epic heroes have lacked, i.e., subjectivity:
And evil turn to good; more wonderful
Than that which by creation first brought forth
Light out of darkness! Full of doubt I stand,
Whether I should repent me now of sin
By me done, and occasioned; or rejoice
Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring…
…then wilt thou not be lothThis modern interest in the self explains the presence and the effectiveness of Milton's epic invocations, with their poignant personal asides on his blindness—
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess
A Paradise within thee, happier far…
Thus with the year—and on his not-entirely-un-Satanic sense of political defeat, no matter how recompensed by his sublime and inspired art:
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank
Of nature’s works to me expung’d and ras’d,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather thou, celestial Light,
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole,Are we fit? Probably not enough: do we know the languages he knew, the theology he read? Some do, and I've met them, but I don't. Yet he was a man, not a god, and susceptible to criticism. Dr. Johnson, a Tory and Anglican, had political and religious reasons to deplore Milton, to quote again from his Life of Milton:
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitest my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
His political notions were those of an acrimonious and surly republican… He hated monarchs in the state and prelates in the church; for he hated all whom he was required to obey. It is to be suspected that his predominant desire was to destroy rather than establish, and that he felt not so much the love of liberty as repugnance to authority.We might not share that particular qualm, especially if we are acrimonious and surly republican Americans, but when Johnson immediately follows it up with a censure of Milton's intense misogyny ("He for God only, she for God in him"), obvious even before Mary Wollstonecraft or Virginia Woolf complained of it, we have to admit he has a point:
It has been observed that they who most loudly clamour for liberty do not most liberally grant it. […] [T]here appears in his books something like a Turkish contempt of females, as subordinate and inferior beings. That his own daughters might not break the ranks, he suffered them to be depressed by a mean and penurious education. He thought woman made only for obedience, and man only for rebellion.And Johnson, who preferred novels and autobiographies to epics and romances, was also on solid ground when he noted that the poem's very virtue—its soaring sublimity—also makes it more alienating and exhausting than more mundane literary performances:
The want of human interest is always felt. Paradise Lost is one of the books which the reader admires and lays down, and forgets to take up again. None ever wished it longer than it is. Its perusal is a duty rather than a pleasure.The last sentence goes too far, though, and the first one might too. My interest in Satan, and in the persona of the poet himself, is a human interest, and I know few poets more pleasurable in their energy of invention. Following Johnson, and with likely similar political motives, T. S. Eliot's modernist rebuke of what he took to be Milton's crushing rhetorical artificiality is beside the point, as if it were not the poem's very triumph. Having read it for the third or fourth time in two decades, I renew a judgment first made when I was a teenager, that whether or not Paradise Lost is the greatest epic poem in the English language, it is one of the best books in any genre I have ever read.