And is there not an intended indication of the same Divine mystery, when the "Filial Godhead" went forth "in the chariot of Paternal Deity," to repel his rebellious enemies? The hero of "Paradise Lost" has been disputed; no doubt can exist as to the hero of the "Paradise Regained." A concise analysis of this "brief epic" may assist in forming a notion of Milton's ultimate belief as to the character of his Sacred hero. The prevailing opinion respecting the inferiority of this latter poem originates in an erroneous idea of the design and model proposed by himself for developement and imitation. It is rather a dramatic than an epic poem -more of a dialogue than either. But it is a dramatic poem in the same sense in which the Book of Job is one. That the Book of Job was intentionally his model may be readily collected from parts of that sublime specimen of his prose composition, which commences the 2nd book of his Treatise, entitled, "The Reason of Church Government urged against Prelacy"-in which "he thinks it no shame to covenant with any knowing reader, that for some years he might go on trust with him towards the payment of what he was then indebted;" namely, a work" of highest hope and hardest attempting-whether that epic form whereof the two poems of Homer, and those other two of Virgil and Tasso are a diffuse, and the Book of Job a brief model: or whether the rules of Aristotle herein are strictly to be kept, or nature to be followed, which in them that know art, and use judgment, is no transgression, but an enriching of art; and lastly what king or knight, before the conquest, might be chosen, in whom to lay the pattern of a Christian hero." He also proposes, for his imitation, "those dramatic constitutions wherein Sophocles and Euripides reign." "The Scripture also," says he, "affords a Divine pastoral drama in the Song of Solomon, consisting of two persons, and a double chorus, as Origen rightly judges. And the Apocalypse of St. John is the majestic image of a high and stately tragedy, shutting up and intermingling her solemn scenes and acts with a seven-fold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies."* Milton certainly appears to have considered the Book of Job as an epic, but he could not have been blind to its dramatic excellence. He accordingly has blended, with much skill, the two forms of composition, but, as in the Book of Job, the dramatic spirit preponderates over the narrative. In imitation of that ancient poem, he commences his narrative in the Spiritual World-the consistory of Satan and the full frequence of angels before the throne of God. The Eneid commences in a similar way, with a soliloquy of Juno. Virgil, however, may be censured, for having first set his machinery to work, in order to explain the previous history-a proceeding very inartificial. This objection, however, does not obtain against these two poems-the subject of each is of a supernatural kind, and particularly the argument which celebrates the "glorious Eremite" led by the Spirit. "Into the desert, his victorious field, Against the Spiritual foe, and brought out thence, By proof, the undoubted Son of God."-P. R. Book i. 9-11. Reason of Church Government, vol. i; p. 72-73. Burnett's Ed. The Divine and angelic agency is essentially necessary to the perfection of the design. In the neid it is only a mythological ornament, an allegorical embellishment. The Iliad opens with a spirit which, in our age, would be considered dramatic. The transition to the action is rapid, and we are introduced, in the midst of things, to the characters and circumstances at once. This transition, we doubt not, Milton considered peculiarly epic, and therefore adopted it in his larger poem; since both "Comus" and the "Samson Agonistes" open differently. It is according to the model upon which these two poems were formed, that he introduces the divine hero of the "Paradise Regained." At this point the action commences, and it is evidently conducted after the fashion of the Greek drama. Mr. Sunner remarks, that the soliloquy thus ascribed to our Saviour, is "founded on the supposition that Christ was not possessed of all the knowledge which his human nature was capable of receiving by virtue of the union of the two natures, and from the first moment of that union." He concludes, from what he feels, and hears, that he is "the Christ of whom the prophets spake." It would seem that Milton had formed a vague notion on this subject, but no decided opinion. The doubt, we think, might have been attributed to the Virgin, or, with still more propriety, to some of the disciples. It was impossible for his divine identity to have been so absorbed in his humanity, and yet he remain God. That the doubt should be proposed, however, was necessary to the integrity of the poem, and the completion of the design; to the excellence of which a beginning, middle, and end are necessary. The object of the temptation is, that the Messiah may come out thence "by proof the undoubted Son of God," and the angelic choir hail him at the conclusion as the "Son of the Most High, queller of Satan." Had the poem begun with more certainty, the evidence would have been anticipated, and the action wanted parts. We feel anxious for the success of the Messiah's arguments and patience against the sophistry and artifice of the Tempter; and we rise from the work with a conviction, that though the conduct and issue of the dispute evinced his divinity, yet such evidence was effected by human means—means equally available to all men under similar trials. It teaches that patience is a power, and that man's reason is not in vain. It is also an evidence of his alliance with Deity; and that the proper exercise of these faculties best asserts his connexion with superior essences. Let us consider a little how the object and design of the poet is effected, and developed in the progress of his poem. Satan is described as being solicitous to learn in what sense the divine hero might be called the Son of God, and with this purpose commences the temptation. Taking advantage of his forty days' fast, he invites him to a gorgeous feast spread, by infernal enchantment, in the desart. This temptation not succeeding, he offers him wealth as the means required for great enterprise, pretending to discover that his heart is set on high designs. Afterwards he endeavours to seduce him with glory. Then he transports the Messiah to the exceeding high mountain, whence he showed him all the kingdoms of the world, and tempts him with the prospect and promise of dominion. The Saviour is then conveyed to the pinnacle of the temple. It is worthy of attention, as marking Milton's purpose in the conduct of his poem, that he places this temptation last; precedence is given to it by the Evangelist Matthew, though not by Luke. The locality preferred by the poet tends to dramatic effect in the denouement. Satan tries this last test to prove the divinity of the Saviour; he commands him to cast himself down "Safely, if Son of God; For it is written, He will give command Tempt not the LORD THY GOD: he said, and stood, P. R. Book iv. 565-562. The proofs of his divinity have been gradually accumulatinghere they rise to a grand climax. The moral of the poem is demonstrated, angels celebrate his victory, and the Saviour returus to his mother's house. The reason of Milton's preference of "Paradise Regained," may perhaps be detected in the superior dignity of the action. The action of "Paradise Lost," though great, was founded on the fall of man; it involved a moral degradation; that of the "Paradise Regained" represents the conquest over temptation, it celebrates a moral victory. Perhaps, too, it had a more interesting claim on his affections. The consideration of the subject caused him to dwell further on the proofs of the Divinity of the Messiah, (which, however, he never disputed), and we think, that there is reason to believe from the evident design of the poem, tended in no small degree to revive his earlier sentiments, and restore his nobler conceptions, regarding the Eternal Being, who laid aside "That glorious form, that light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, Wherewith he wont at heaven's high council-table The partial and apparently temporary heterodoxy of Milton respecting the generation of the Son of God arises from two sources. Some confusion respecting the proper definitions of substance and essence, and an insufficient definition of eternity. He admits that Deity can only generate Deity, as man can only beget man; and we should therefore, have supposed that he could have had no peculiar difficulty in arriving at the conclusion, that the Son of God must be equally God, even as the Son of Man must be equally man, inferior neither in substance nor essence; however these words may be understood. Eternity he defines as having no beginning nor end-but omits that it is without succession. This leads him to confound infinite time with eternity in many of his speculations. For it must be borne in mind, that Milton cannot be quoted as any authority for our modern Unitarians, though Dr. Channing would assume as much. "He by whom all things were made," says the poet," both in heaven and in earth, even the angels themselves, he who in the beginning was the Word, and God with God, and although not supreme, yet the first-born of every creature, must necessarily have existed previous to his incarnation." His great error is in supposing the generation to have taken place within the limits of time, although before the foundations of the world and the creation of angels; that is, we should have thought, in eternity. If eternity be properly defined as duration without succession; then the Persons of the Trinity can neither be "before nor after the other." The truth, moreover, is, that the Messiah did not begin in time, but that in him time had its beginning. It is well said, that he was the Beginning as well as the Beginner of the creation of God, because he is the Cause as well as the Causer, Deity being free to will, and having no external motive to act. Not having mastered the full idea of eternity, our sublime poet reasoned not erroneously, but insufficiently on this important subject. "Paradise Lost" has many examples of this deficient definition of the term. "As yet the world was not, and Chaos wild Reigned where these heavens now roll, where earth now rests (For time, though in eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past and future) on such a day As heaven's great year brings forth, th' Empyreal host Of angels by imperial summons called, Innumerable before th' Almighty's Throne. Forthwith from all the ends of Heaven appeared, Ten thousand, thousand ensigns high advanced; Of Hierarchies, of Orders, and Degrees.—Book v. 577–591. Upon this subject we would only further observe, that Milton precluded himself from a fine opportunity for improving his account of the declension of the angels, by the prominence given to the Paternal Deity. "Thee Author of all Being, Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sit'st Thus he describes the angels as introducing their sacred song, but. as we have before observed, neglects to apply the idea to any of the practical purposes of his poem. Had he represented the Deity as essentially invisible and inaudible to angels, and in imitation of the 2d Psalm ascribed to the Messiah the declaration of the divine decree, he might have made it the reason for the rebellion of the apostate angels, and illustrated that great principle of faith which is the "evidence of things not seen.' They might have been represented as disbelieving the word of God, and Messiah's victory exhibited as a testimony of its truth, and as, indeed, proving him to be "Son, Heir and Lord, to him dominion given, But this argument was reserved for the "great duel not of arms," when he undertook to sing in no unworthy numbers, "Recovered Paradise to all mankind, And Eden raised in the waste wilderness." We are conscious that we have been treading on holy ground, and it behoved us to take our shoes from off our feet and walk softly. The poet himself led us behind the veil, and it was not in our election to be silent at the mysteries, but we trust that they have not been approached profanely. Whatever may be thought of Milton's philosophy, as a system it is consistent; and as a poetical theory, it harmonises with the practice of poets in every age and country. If spirit include matter, then is the latter but a symbol of the superior substance, and nature in all her forms and varieties is an express type and image of the invisible mind. It is in this light that all poets (and Spenser in particular*), have considered the subject; they have not hesitated to incorporate the things eternal in the things temporal, and of detecting in the material world illustrations of the moral. Poetry breathes a quickening principle into nature, and imparts to it a living spirit; and having purified it of whatever is grossly corporeal makes of it a glorious body, in which whatever is moral or sacred may be suitably enshrined, "And what surmounts the reach Of human sense, she doth delineate so, Book v. 571-576. This may be erroneous in philosophy, but it is the source of much fine poetry, and gives large scope for the free exercise of the poet's fancy. Banish the 6th book of "Paradise Lost" to the perusal of nurses and children; and upon the same principle you must expunge nearly three-fourths of the whole work. Not only will the objection obtain whenever the angels are described as having bodies and armour, but it must extend to the burning marle of hellto Pandemonium-to the mountains with which the rebel angels were crushed ;-nay, all the beautiful similes by which the supernatural actors in the poem are assimilated to natural objects, must be denounced; for to what can pure spirit be likened? We must be prepared to part with the sea-beast, Leviathan, by whose side the Norway pilot moors under the lee-the sun in eclipse, shedding "For of the soul the body form doth take; Hymn in Honour of Beauty -1323. |