Sin
and
Death
into the Works of the Creation, the Almighty is again introduced as speaking to his Angels that surrounded him.
See! with what heat these Dogs of Hell advance,To waste and havock yonder World, which ISo fair and good created; &c.
The following Passage is formed upon that glorious Image in Holy Writ, which compares the Voice of an innumerable Host of Angels, uttering
Hallelujahs
, to the Voice of mighty Thunderings, or of many Waters.
He ended, and the Heavenly Audience loudSungHallelujah,as the sound of Seas,Through Multitude that sung: Just are thy Ways,Righteous are thy Decrees in all thy Works,Who can extenuate thee?—
Tho' the Author in the whole Course of his Poem, and particularly in the Book we are now examining, has infinite Allusions to Places of Scripture, I have only taken notice in my Remarks of such as are of a Poetical Nature, and which are woven with great Beauty into the Body of this Fable. Of this kind is that Passage in the present Book, where describing
Sin
and
Death
as marching thro' the Works of Nature he adds,
—Behind her DeathClose following pace for pace, not mounted yetOn his pale Horse—
Which alludes to that Passage in Scripture, so wonderfully poetical, and terrifying to the Imagination.
And I look'd, and behold a pale Horse, and his Name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him: and Power was given unto them over the fourth Part of the Earth, to kill with Sword, and with Hunger, and with Sickness, and with the Beasts of the Earth.
2
Under this first Head of Celestial Persons we must likewise take notice of the Command which the Angels receiv'd, to produce the several Changes in Nature, and sully the Beauty of the Creation. Accordingly they are represented as infecting the Stars and Planets with malignant Influences, weakning the Light of the Sun, bringing down the Winter into the milder Regions of Nature, planting Winds and Storms in several Quarters of the Sky, storing the Clouds with Thunder, and in short, perverting the Whole Frame of the Universe to the Condition of its criminal Inhabitants. As this is a noble Incident in the Poem, the following Lines, in which we see the Angels heaving up the Earth, and placing it in a different Posture to the Sun from what it had before the Fall of Man, is conceived with that sublime Imagination which was so peculiar to this great Author.
Some say he bid his Angels turn ascanseThe Poles of Earth twice ten Degrees and moreFrom the Sun's Axle; they with Labour push'dOblique the Centrick Globe—
We are in the second place to consider the Infernal Agents under the view which
Milton
has given us of them in this Book. It is observed by those who would set forth the Greatness of
Virgil's
Plan, that he conducts his Reader thro' all the Parts of the Earth which were discover'd in his time.
Asia, Africk
, and
Europe
are the several Scenes of his Fable. The Plan of
Milton's
Poem is of an infinitely greater Extent, and fills the Mind with many more astonishing Circumstances.
Satan
, having surrounded the Earth seven times, departs at length from Paradise. We then see him steering his Course among the Constellations, and after having traversed the whole Creation, pursuing his Voyage thro' the Chaos, and entring into his own Infernal Dominions.
His first appearance in the Assembly of fallen Angels, is work'd up with Circumstances which give a delightful Surprize to the Reader; but there is no Incident in the whole Poem which does this more than the Transformation of the whole Audience, that follows the Account their Leader gives them of his Expedition. The gradual Change of
Satan
himself is describ'd after
Ovid's
manner, and may vie with any of those celebrated Transformations which are look'd upon as the most beautiful Parts in that Poet's Works.
Milton
never fails of improving his own Hints, and bestowing the last finishing Touches to every Incident which is admitted into his Poem. The unexpected Hiss which rises in this Episode, the Dimensions and Bulk of
Satan
so much superior to those of the Infernal Spirits who lay under the same Transformation, with the annual Change which they are supposed to suffer, are Instances of this kind. The Beauty of the Diction is very remarkable in this whole Episode, as I have observed in the sixth Paper of these Remarks the great Judgment with which it was contrived.
The Parts of
Adam
and
Eve
, or the human Persons, come next under our Consideration.
Milton's
Art is no where more shewn than in his conducting the Parts of these our first Parents. The Representation he gives of them, without falsifying the Story, is wonderfully contriv'd to influence the Reader with Pity and Compassion towards them. Tho'
Adam
involves the whole Species in Misery, his Crime proceeds from a Weakness which every Man is inclined to pardon and commiserate, as it seems rather the Frailty of Human Nature, than of the Person who offended. Every one is apt to excuse a Fault which he himself might have fallen into. It was the Excess of Love for
Eve
, that ruin'd
Adam
, and his Posterity. I need not add, that the Author is justify'd in this Particular by many of the Fathers, and the most orthodox Writers.
Milton
has by this means filled a great part of his Poem with that kind of Writing which the French Criticks call the Tender, and which is in a particular manner engaging to all sorts of Readers.
Adam
and
Eve
, in the Book we are now considering, are likewise drawn with such Sentiments as do not only interest the Reader in their Afflictions, but raise in him the most melting Passions of Humanity and Commiseration. When
Adam
sees the several Changes in Nature produced about him, he appears in a Disorder of Mind suitable to one who had forfeited both his Innocence and his Happiness; he is filled with Horrour, Remorse, Despair; in the Anguish of his Heart he expostulates with his Creator for having given him an unasked Existence.
Did I request thee, Maker, from my ClayTo mould me Man? did I sollicite theeFrom Darkness to promote me? or here placeIn this delicious Garden? As my WillConcurr'd not to my Being, 'twere but rightAnd equal to reduce me to my Dust,Desirous to resign, and render backAll I received—
He immediately after recovers from his Presumption, owns his Doom to be just, and begs that the Death which is threatned him may be inflicted on him.
—Why delaysHis Hand to execute, what his DecreeFix'd on this day? Why do I overlive?Why am I mock'd with Death, and lengthened outTo deathless Pain? how gladly would I meetMortality my Sentence, and be EarthInsensible! how glad would lay me down,As in my Mother's Lap? there should I restAnd sleep secure; his dreadful Voice no moreWould thunder in my Ears: no fear of worseTo me and to my Offspring, would torment meWith cruel Expectation—
This whole Speech is full of the like Emotion, and varied with all those Sentiments which we may suppose natural to a Mind so broken and disturb'd. I must not omit that generous Concern which our first Father shews in it for his Posterity, and which is so proper to affect the Reader.
—Hide me from the FaceOf God, whom to behold was then my heighthOf Happiness! yet well, if here would endThe Misery, I deserved it, and would bearMy own Deservings: but this will not serve;All that I eat, or drink, or shall begetIs propagated Curse. O Voice once heardDelightfully, Increase and Multiply;Now Death to hear!——In me allPosterity stands curst! Fair Patrimony,That I must leave ye, Sons! O were I ableTo waste it all my self, and leave you none!So disinherited, how would you blessMe, now your Curse! Ah, why should all Mankind,For one Man's Fault, thus guiltless be condemn'd,If guiltless? But from me what can proceedBut all corrupt—
Who can afterwards behold the Father of Mankind extended upon the Earth, uttering his midnight Complaints, bewailing his Existence, and wishing for Death, without sympathizing with him in his Distress?
ThusAdamto himself lamented loud,Thro' the still Night; not now, (as ere Man fell)Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black AirAccompanied, with Damps and dreadful Gloom;Which to his evil Conscience representedAll things with double Terror. On the GroundOutstretched he lay; on the cold Ground! and oftCurs'd his Creation; Death as oft accus'dOf tardy Execution—
The Part of
Eve
in this Book is no less passionate, and apt to sway the Reader in her Favour. She is represented with great Tenderness as approaching
Adam
, but is spurn' d from him with a Spirit of Upbraiding and Indignation, conformable to the Nature of Man, whose Passions had now gained the Dominion over him. The following Passage, wherein she is described as renewing her Addresses to him, with the whole Speech that follows it, have something in them exquisitely moving and pathetick.
He added not, and from her turned: ButEveNot so repulst, with Tears that ceas'd not flowing,And Tresses all disorder'd, at his feetFell humble; and embracing them, besoughtHis Peace, and thus proceeding in her Plaint.Forsake me not thus,Adam!Witness Heav'nWhat Love sincere, and Reverence in my HeartI bear thee, and unweeting have offended,Unhappily deceived! Thy SuppliantI beg, and clasp thy Knees; bereave me not(Whereon I live!) thy gentle Looks, thy Aid,Thy Counsel, in this uttermost Distress,My only Strength, and Stay! Forlorn of thee,Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?While yet we live, (scarce one short Hour perhaps)Between us two let there be Peace, &c.
Adam's
Reconcilement to her is work'd up in the same Spirit of Tenderness.
Eve
afterwards proposes to her Husband, in the Blindness of her Despair, that to prevent their Guilt from descending upon Posterity they should resolve to live Childless; or, if that could not be done, they should seek their own Deaths by violent Methods. As those Sentiments naturally engage the Reader to regard the Mother of Mankind with more than ordinary Commiseration, they likewise contain a very fine Moral. The Resolution of dying to end our Miseries, does not shew such a degree of Magnanimity as a Resolution to bear them, and submit to the Dispensations of Providence. Our Author has therefore, with great Delicacy, represented
Eve
as entertaining this Thought, and
Adam
as disapproving it.
We are,
in
the last place, to consider the Imaginary Persons, or
DeathandSin
3
who act a large Part in this Book. Such beautiful extended Allegories are certainly some of the finest Compositions of Genius: but, as, I have before observed, are not agreeable to the Nature of an Heroick Poem. This of
Sin
and
Death
is very exquisite in its Kind, if not considered as a Part of such a Work. The Truths contained in it are so clear and open, that I shall not lose time in explaining them; but shall only observe, that a Reader who knows the Strength of the
English
Tongue, will be amazed to think how the Poet could find such apt Words and Phrases to describe the Action
s
of those two imaginary Persons, and particularly in that Part where
Death
is exhibited as forming a Bridge over the Chaos; a Work suitable to the Genius of
Milton
.
Since the Subject I am upon, gives me an Opportunity of speaking more at large of such Shadowy and Imaginary Persons as may be introduced into Heroick Poems, I shall beg leave to explain my self in a Matter which is curious in its Kind, and which none of the Criticks have treated of. It is certain
Homer
and
Virgil
are full of imaginary Persons, who are very beautiful in Poetry when they are just shewn, without being engaged in any Series of Action.
Homer
indeed
represents
Sleep
as a Person, and ascribes a short Part to him in his
Iliad
4
, but we must consider that tho' we now regard such a Person as entirely shadowy and unsubstantial, the Heathens made Statues of him, placed him in their Temples, and looked upon him as a real Deity. When
Homer
makes use of other such Allegorical Persons, it is only in short Expressions, which convey an ordinary Thought to the Mind in the most pleasing manner, and may rather be looked upon as Poetical Phrases than Allegorical Descriptions. Instead of telling us, that Men naturally fly when they are terrified, he introduces the Persons of
Flight
and
Fear
, who, he tells us, are inseparable Companions. Instead of saying that the time was come when
Apollo
ought to have received his Recompence, he tells us, that the
Hours
brought him his Reward. Instead of describing the Effects which
Minerva's
Ægis produced in Battel, he tells us, that the Brims of it were encompassed by
Terror, Rout, Discord, Fury, Pursuit, Massacre
, and
Death
. In the same Figure of speaking, he represents
Victory
as following
Diomedes; Discord
as the Mother of
Funerals
and
Mourning
;
Venus
as dressed by the
Graces
;
Bellona
as wearing
Terror
and
Consternation
like a Garment. I might give several other Instances out of
Homer
, as well as a great many out of
Virgil
.
Milton
has likewise very often made use of the same way of Speaking, as where he tells us, that
Victory
sat on the right Hand of the
Messiah
when he marched forth against the Rebel Angels; that at the rising of the Sun the
Hours
unbarr'd the Gates of Light; that
Discord
was the Daughter of
Sin
. Of the same nature are those Expressions, where describing the singing of the Nightingale, he adds,
Silence
was pleased; and upon the
Messiah's
bidding
Peace
to the Chaos,
Confusion
heard his Voice. I might add innumerable Instances of our Poet's writing in this beautiful Figure. It is plain that these I have mentioned, in which Persons of an imaginary Nature are introduced, are such short Allegories as are not designed to be taken in the literal Sense, but only to convey particular Circumstances to the Reader after an unusual and entertaining Manner. But when such Persons are introduced as principal Actors, and engaged in a Series of Adventures, they take too much upon them, and are by no means proper for an Heroick Poem, which ought to appear credible in its principal Parts. I cannot forbear therefore thinking that
Sin
and
Death
are as improper Agents in a Work of this nature, as
Strength
and
Necessity
in
one
of the Tragedies of
Æschylus
, who represented those two Persons nailing down
Prometheus
to a Rock
5
, for which he has been justly censured by the greatest Criticks. I do not know any imaginary Person made use of in a more sublime manner of thinking than that in one of the Prophets, who
describing
God as descending from Heaven, and visiting the Sins of Mankind, adds that dreadful Circumstance, Before him went the
Pestilence
6
. It is certain this imaginary Person might have been described in all her purple Spots. The
Fever
might have marched before her,
Pain
might have stood at her right Hand,
Phrenzy
on her Left, and
Death
in her Rear. She might have been introduced as gliding down from the Tail of a Comet, or darted upon the Earth in a Flash of Lightning: She might have tainted the Atmosphere with her Breath; the very glaring of her Eyes might have scattered
Infection
. But I believe every Reader will think, that in such sublime Writings the mentioning of her as it is done in Scripture, has something in it more just, as well as great, than all that the most fanciful Poet could have bestowed upon her in the Richness of his Imagination.
L.
Footnote 1:
'Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique.'
Hor.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
Revelation
vi. 8.
return
Footnote 3:
Sin and Death
return
Footnote 4:
In the fourteenth Book, where Heré visits the home of Sleep, the brother of Death, and offers him the bribe of a gold chain if he will shut the eyes of Zeus, Sleep does not think it can be done. Heré then doubles her bribe, and offers Sleep a wife, the youngest of the Graces. Sleep makes her swear by Styx that she will hold to her word, and when she has done so flies off in her company, sits in the shape of a night-hawk in a pine tree upon the peak of Ida, whence when Zeus was subdued by love and sleep, Sleep went down to the ships to tell Poseidon that now was his time to help the Greeks.
return
Footnote 5:
In the
Prometheus Bound
of Æschylus, the binding of Prometheus by pitiless Strength, who mocks at compassion in the god Hephaistos, charged to serve him in this office, opens the sublimest of the ancient dramas. Addison is wrong in saying that there is a personification here of Strength and Necessity; Hephaistos does indeed say that he obeys Necessity, but his personified companions are Strength and Force, and of these Force appears only as the dumb attendant of Strength. Addison's 'greatest critics' had something to learn when they were blind to the significance of the contrast between Visible Strength at the opening of this poem, and the close with sublime prophecy of an unseen Power of the Future that disturbs Zeus on his throne, and gathers his thunders about the undaunted Prometheus.
Now let the shrivelling flame at me be driven,Let him, with flaky snowstorms and the crashOf subterraneous thunders, into ruinsAnd wild confusion hurl and mingle all:For nought of these will bend me that I speakWho is foredoomed to cast him from his throne.
(Mrs. Webster's translation.)
return
Footnote 6:
Habakkuk
iii. 5.
return
Contents
Desipere in loco.
Hor.
translation
Charles Lillie
attended
me the other day, and made me a Present of a large Sheet of Paper, on which is delineated a Pavement of Mosaick Work, lately discovered at
Stunsfield
near
Woodstock
1
. A Person who has so much the Gift of Speech as Mr.
Lillie
, and can carry on a Discourse without Reply, had great Opportunity on that Occasion to expatiate upon so fine a Piece of Antiquity. Among other things, I remember, he gave me his Opinion, which he drew from the Ornaments of the Work, That this was the Floor of a Room dedicated to Mirth and Concord. Viewing this Work, made my Fancy run over the many gay Expressions I had read in ancient Authors, which contained Invitations to lay aside Care and Anxiety, and give a Loose to that pleasing Forgetfulness wherein Men put off their Characters of Business, and enjoy their very Selves. These Hours were usually passed in Rooms adorned for that purpose, and set out in such a manner, as the Objects all around the Company gladdened their Hearts; which, joined to the cheerful Looks of well-chosen and agreeable Friends, gave new Vigour to the Airy, produced the latent Fire of the Modest, and gave Grace to the slow Humour of the Reserved. A judicious Mixture of such Company, crowned with Chaplets of Flowers, and the whole Apartment glittering with gay Lights, cheared with a Profusion of Roses, artificial Falls of Water, and Intervals of soft Notes to Songs of Love and Wine, suspended the Cares of human Life, and made a Festival of mutual Kindness. Such Parties of Pleasure as these, and the Reports of the agreeable Passages in their Jollities, have in all Ages awakened the dull Part of Mankind to pretend to Mirth and Good-Humour, without Capacity for such Entertainments; for if I may be allowed to say so, there are an hundred Men fit for any Employment, to one who is capable of passing a Night in the Company of the first Taste, without shocking any Member of the Society, over-rating his own Part of the Conversation, but equally receiving and contributing to the Pleasure of the whole Company. When one considers such Collections of Companions in past Times, and such as one might name in the present Age, with how much Spleen must a Man needs reflect upon the aukward Gayety of those who affect the Frolick with an ill Grace? I have a Letter from a Correspondent of mine, who desires me to admonish all loud, mischievous, airy, dull Companions, that they are mistaken in what they call a Frolick. Irregularity in its self is not what creates Pleasure and Mirth; but to see a Man who knows what Rule and Decency are, descend from them agreeably in our Company, is what denominates him a pleasant Companion. Instead of that, you find many whose Mirth consists only in doing Things which do not become them, with a secret Consciousness that all the World know they know better: To this is always added something mischievous to themselves or others. I have heard of some very merry Fellows, among whom the Frolick was started, and passed by a great Majority, that every Man should immediately draw a Tooth; after which they have gone in a Body and smoaked a Cobler.
The
same Company, at another Night, has each Man burned his Cravat; and one perhaps, whose Estate would bear it, has thrown a long Wigg and laced Hat into the same Fire
2
. Thus they have jested themselves stark naked, and ran into the Streets, and frighted Women very successfully. There is no Inhabitant of any standing in
Covent-Garden
, but can tell you a hundred good Humours, where People have come off with little Blood-shed, and yet scowered all the witty Hours of the Night. I know a Gentleman that has several Wounds in the Head by Watch Poles, and has been thrice run through the Body to carry on a good Jest: He is very old for a Man of so much Good-Humour; but to this day he is seldom merry, but he has occasion to be valiant at the same time. But by the Favour of these Gentlemen, I am humbly of Opinion, that a Man may be a very witty Man, and never offend one Statute of this Kingdom, not excepting even that of Stabbing.
The Writers of Plays have what they call Unity of Time and Place to give a Justness to their Representation; and it would not be amiss if all who pretend to be Companions, would confine their Action to the Place of Meeting: For a Frolick carried farther may be better performed by other Animals than Men. It is not to rid much Ground, or do much Mischief, that should denominate a pleasant Fellow; but that is truly Frolick which is the Play of the Mind, and consists of various and unforced Sallies of Imagination. Festivity of Spirit is a very uncommon Talent, and must proceed from an Assemblage of agreeable Qualities in the same Person: There are some few whom I think peculiarly happy in it; but it is a Talent one cannot name in a Man, especially when one considers that it is never very graceful but where it is regarded by him who possesses it in the second Place. The
best
Man that I know of for heightening the Revel-Gayety of a Company, is
Estcourt
3
,—whose Jovial Humour diffuses itself from the highest Person at an Entertainment to the meanest Waiter. Merry Tales, accompanied with apt Gestures and lively Representations of Circumstances and Persons, beguile the gravest Mind into a Consent to be as humourous as himself. Add to this, that when a Man is in his good Grace, he has a Mimickry that does not debase the Person he represents; but which, taking from the Gravity of the Character, adds to the Agreeableness of it. This pleasant Fellow gives one some Idea of the ancient Pantomime, who is said to have given the Audience, in Dumb-show, an exact Idea of any Character or Passion, or an intelligible Relation of any publick Occurrence, with no other Expression than that of his Looks and Gestures. If all who have been obliged to these Talents in
Estcourt
, will be at
Love for Love
to-morrow Night, they will but pay him what they owe him, at so easy a Rate as being present at a Play which no body would omit seeing, that had, or had not ever seen it before.
Footnote 1: