|
Justin Chen Some Matters of Form: The second edition of Milton�s Paradise Lost, published in 1674, contains essentially the same text as its 1667 first-edition counterpart, yet the two versions are quite different in certain key respects. For one thing, the 12-book second edition seems to announce itself as a descendant of the 12- and 24-book epics of Homer and Virgil, while the 10-book first edition seems to belong more in the tradition of poets like Cam�es and Lucan. A mindful reader might conclude from this observation that Milton wishes to provide yet another reminder that despite the many superficial similarities between his poem and the great classical epics, his own Christian version will �soar / Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues / Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme� (1, i.14-16). (i) Yet the effects of the change in structure go much deeper than this sort of simple macroscopic examination might suggest. In choosing to switch from a 10-book to a 12-book format, Milton divides two books from the first edition into four shorter books in the second, a change that delays the midpoint of the poem and therefore also delays the logical turning point in the poem�s action. Furthermore, the specific points of division that form the new books prove fruitful for discussion, not only because they seem to represent areas that Milton felt needed additional emphasis, but also because Milton adds several lines to the transitions between the newly created chapters that help add to the reader�s understanding of those particular passages. The insights drawn from this discussion therefore help to illustrate the importance of form in gaining an understanding of Paradise Lost. One of the most obvious differences between the two editions of the poem is the dramatic shift in the structural midpoint of the narration. In the 10-book version, the center falls between bks. v and vi—just after Abdiel alone proves faithful and turns his back on Satan�s doomed rebellion, and before the first of the three great days of battle in Heaven. In the 12-book edition, the midpoint is pushed back between bks. vi and vii, a location in the narrative that corresponds to the conclusion of Raphael�s discussion of heavenly affairs and the beginning of his account of the circumstances surrounding earth�s creation. If the careful balance in poetic superstructure that Milton maintains throughout Paradise Lost lends itself to an understanding of the poem�s center as a sort of fulcrum around which the text revolves—not due to any special emphasis by Milton himself but simply by virtue of its location in the course of the narrative—then the delay clearly signals a change in the reader�s proper understanding of where to place an emphasis within the poem. One obvious result of the shift is a much greater sense of divide between Heaven and Earth. The first half of the revised version could be seen as a heavenly example of the seduction of pride and its disastrous consequences, which are then replayed almost exactly on earth by Eve. Indeed, bk. vi of the second edition ends with Raphael sternly warning Adam: But list�n not to [Satan�s] temptations, warn The tragic aptness of Raphael�s counsel rings all the stronger in the reader�s ear when it is considered as the central turning point in the course of the narrative, and it seems to beg comparison to the poem�s powerful invocation: �Of man�s first disobedience� (2, i.1). Thus, the second edition�s new midpoint serves to strengthen the parallels between Satan and man and to further foreshadow the impending Fall. This is not to say that the first edition�s midpoint did not possess its own particular merits as a turning point in the poem. Bk. v ends with the powerful image of Abdiel scornfully turning his back �on those proud towers to swift destruction doomed� (1, v.907). That Abdiel acts alone in his renunciation of Satan�s rebellion is made abundantly clear; he is described as �faithful found, / Among the faithless, faithful only he; / Among innumerable false, unmoved� (1, v.896-8). Whereas the second-edition�s midpoint could be seen as a strong foreshadowing of the Fall, this original midpoint�s emphasis on Abdiel�s singleness and the beauty of defiant faith in the face of impiety seems to anticipate Michael�s account to Adam in Bks. xi and xii of the few men in history who manage to reject the corruption of their times and remain devoted to God. Additionally, just as the second edition�s mention of disobedience seems to resonate of the poem�s opening lines, the first edition�s emphasis on solitary faith also looks back to the invocation�s promise of �one greater man� who will �restore us, and regain the blissful seat� (1, i.4-5). Thus, the first edition seems to be more optimistic in its focus, and also perhaps truer to Milton�s own faith. After all, given the poem�s flirtation with the concept of the �fortunate Fall,� it could easily be argued that Milton believes that the triumphing of Jesus over Satan that ultimately comes from man�s initial disobedience outweighs the evil of the original sin itself—that triumph over evil can emerge from the original evil act. So why this decision to switch the poem�s focus to the drearier foreshadowing of the Fall? The second edition�s clearer delineation between a heavenly and an earthly narrative might be one possible explanation. But another more challenging reason might be that Milton prefers to place his emphasis on the comparison between man and Satan rather than that between man and Abdiel. In a poem whose title is, after all, Paradise Lost, it seems reasonable that Milton might not necessarily wish to focus on the possibility of redemption, which would have been a familiar story to all of his readers at the time, but rather on mankind�s tragic propensity toward fatal pride. Like Satan�s original rebellion in heaven, Eve�s decision to taste the fruit of the tree of knowledge is motivated by a desire for power and prestige, and both actions are ultimately punished by loss of paradise. The switch in the poem�s format also changes other implied formal correspondences. When Milton split bk. x of the first edition into two smaller, approximately equal-sized books for the second edition, the association between the first and last books became much more concise and direct. Whereas bk. x of the first edition covers the entire extended vision that Michael shows Adam while atop the mountain, bk. xii of the second focuses primarily on the coming of Jesus to redeem mankind and to fulfill God�s prophecy. The immediate implication of this switch is a strengthening of the correlation between �man�s first disobedience,� which is introduced in the very first line of the poem, and his ultimate redemption in the last book. In this case, the second edition seems much more optimistic in tone precisely because of this strengthened tie between original sin and eternal salvation. It is also interesting to examine the lines that Milton adds to the beginnings of bks. viii and xii in the second edition. Because those two books are actually just the second halves of larger books in the first edition, the additional lines are ostensibly added to smooth the transitions caused by the new divisions, yet in both cases, they appear to invest those very transitions with additional significance and offer new insight into Milton�s verse. At the beginning of bk. viii, for instance, the poem reads, �The angel ended, and in Adam�s ear / So charming left his voice, that he awhile / Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear; / Then as new waked thus gratefully replied. / What thanks sufficient�� (2, viii.1-5). This is clearly a much more in-depth description than that seen in the first edition of the poem, which reads simply, �To whom thus Adam gratefully replied. / What thanks sufficient�� (1, vii.641-2). That Adam finds himself transfixed by Raphael�s words seems to suggest that we as readers ought also to find ourselves suffused by the beauty of the angel�s message, and all this because of the addition of just these few extra verses. The sense of reflection encouraged here relates to the story Raphael has just related to Adam of the earth�s creation, and the lines �charming left his voice, that he awhile / Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear� seem to refer to the musical quality of Raphael�s story�s ending, which involves an ode sung by the angels in heaven praising God—almost as if the powerful melody of the angelic chorus, like some great orchestral word (if great things to small may be compared), still resounds after the actual music has ended. Beyond this possibility that both Adam and the reader are meant to simply pause and reflect on the perfect musical glory of the angels� praise, it is also interesting to examine the ode�s final lines, in which the angels sing of �thrice happy men� (2, vii.625) who will �multiply a race of worshippers / Holy and just: thrice happy if they know / Their happiness, and persevere upright� (2, vii.630-2). Perhaps it is this concluding sentiment, with its optimistic sense that man will live in a beautiful communion with God simply by continuing to offer faithful worship, that resonates in Adam�s mind even after the melody has ended. The exuberance of the message is conveyed to an extent by the double usage of the phrase �thrice happy,� which suggests a sort of joy that only a complete relationship with God can bring, and the intensity of this concept serves to reinforce the persisting quality of the verse. At the same time, however, the angels� song also serves to foreshadow Adam and Eve�s eventual disobedience and failure to �know their happiness and persevere upright,� despite their many warnings. In that sense, the additional emphasis on the angelic chorus that accompanies the addition of bk. viii in the second edition produces a similar result as the shift in the book�s midpoint by foreshadowing the Fall of man and hinting at disaster to come. Finally, the additional lines at the beginning of bk. viii seem to pick up on Raphael�s final words at the close of bk. vii: �if else thou seekst / Aught, not surpassing human measure, say� (2, vii.639-40). The second edition implies that far from �saying,� Adam actually imagines that the angel is still speaking and stands mute. This exchange seem to suggest the concept of an unfallen, perfectly continuous language that characterizes the angels� faithful adoration of God. Adam is so caught up in this perfection that he is unable to speak for a moment—and when he does speak, he manages to disobey Raphael�s only injunction against questions �surpassing human measure� by inquiring about the movement of the stars, which Raphael suggests is beyond man�s understanding. This disobedience, likely unintentional, seems to prefigure Eve�s later disastrous thirst for knowledge and power beyond her proper sphere. Beyond this foreshadowing, however, the celestial perfection of the angels� chorus and its attendant suggestion of an unfallen speech also seems to imply some notion of unfallenness in general—a state in which communion with God is perfect and divisions, temporal or otherwise, simply do not exist. Adam�s transfixed state suggests that prelapsarian man had access to this unfallen language, but perhaps not perfectly so. It is only in the newly added opening lines to bk. viii in the second edition that we see a glimpse of such a perfect relationship. Yet more generally, prelapsarian Adam and Eve do live in a utopian world characterized by one primary feature: an absence of change. Had the serpent never entered Paradise, one might easily imagine that the two would have lived into eternity tending their plants and worshipping God. Satan�s rebellion and Eve�s later tasting of the forbidden fruit serve to punctuate the otherwise unchangingly blissful states of heaven and Eden, again inviting a comparison to the feeling of continuity that characterizes Adam�s unfallen reception of Raphael�s story about the earth�s creation. Another example of a new transition in the second edition that adds to the reader�s understanding of the text comes at the beginning of Book xii, in which Milton breaks up the archangel Michael�s speech to say: As one who in his journey baits at noon, Here there is a clearly intentional slowing of the poem�s action, and indeed these few lines seem to represent a stasis about which the newly created transition between bks. xi and xii can revolve and collect itself. The sense of precarious equilibrium, of vastly important outcomes hanging in the balance, is implied by Milton�s new suggestion that Michael�s pause comes �betwixt the world destroyed and the world restored,� while the latter part of that phrase also anticipates mankind�s ultimate redemption. The intentional slowing of the narration is also emphasized by Milton�s acknowledgment that the brief intermission comes despite the fact that Michael is �bent on speed.� It is important to note that this transition would have been implied by the verse to begin with since it occurs around the middle of the book in the first edition—that is, this portion of Michael�s speech represents a turning point even without the added emphasis of the second edition. The lines that Milton inserts could therefore be interpreted simply as a way of expanding the verse and justifying the new transition between books by emphasizing the important shift that Michael makes in his argument. Yet when considered in the context of the previous addition at the beginning of bk. viii, which introduced the constancy and static nature that characterizes the unfallen state, it is interesting to observe that this time it is actually the angel who introduces the break in narration and pauses for Adam�s benefit. First of all, this change is indicative of the fallen state in which Adam resides; Michael is either unable or unwilling to create the same sense of unbroken narrative as Raphael does. Secondly, in bk. viii, Adam is given a chance to intercede and ask a question, an opportunity that he initially fails to take because he is transfixed by the angel�s speech. In bk. xii, on the other hand, Michael does not ask for Adam�s thoughts outright, but instead pauses, Milton tells us, �if Adam aught perhaps might interpose� (2, xii.4). This distinction might also be indicative of the fallen state, in which the burden of revelation is shifted away from heaven and onto man himself. The added lines at the opening of bk. xii also add a graceful symmetry to the poem. In bk. viii, Raphael�s sublime and beautiful discussion of heaven is followed by Adam�s inopportune question about celestial movements, a transition that necessarily implies a descent. In bk. xii, on the other hand, the arc of Michael�s speech turns upward, as he ends his discussion of man�s repeated unfaithfulness to God throughout history and introduces the concept of Jesus as mankind�s redeemer. Furthermore, the reference to �noon� in the first line of bk. xii is reminiscent of the description of Satan�s fall at the end of bk. i:
Men called him Mulciber; and how he fell The emphasis on noon as a turning point in this passage from the poem�s first book, then, also seems to apply here at the poem�s end—only this time, it marks not the turn toward a descent into evening but the dawn of Jesus as both son of God and sun of the world. Such celestial imagery is also present in the passage from bk. i, in which Satan is likened to a falling star that descends with the sun. Thus, like the added verses at the opening of bk. viii, the addition of a profound pause in Michael�s historical account to Adam cannot simply be interpreted as a means of smoothing the transition between newly formed chapters. In both instances, the added lines also contribute to the reader�s understanding of the text. The ultimate significance of the structural changes that Milton introduces is debatable; as discussed above, the delay of the poem�s midpoint and the additional verses that prefix bk. viii seem to foreshadow the Fall, and as such, these changes lend the poem as a whole a somewhat gloomier cast. Yet the final change in bk. xii seems on the whole to be an optimistic one—Michael�s grand pause does not correspond to one of those events that disrupt man�s perfect communion with God, but rather signals the end of a world destroyed and the start of a world restored. Perhaps some insight into the reason for this change in tenor, and the underlying reasons behind Milton�s structural changes as a whole, can be gleaned from his Sonnet xvi. �Patience to prevent / That murmur, soon replies� Thousands at his bidding speed / And post o�er land and ocean without rest: / They also serve who only stand and wait� (3, 8-9, 12-14). As hinted at by the strong foreshadowing of the Fall in the second edition of Paradise Lost, man�s natural propensity is toward sin—but the patient reader would do well to wait, after transition sweet, for the ultimate arrival of Christ in the final book.
i) H.F. Fletcher, ed. John Milton�s Complete Poetical Works in Photographic Facsimile with Critical Apparatus in Four Volumes: Vol. II (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1945). ii) Milton, John. Paradise Lost: Second Edition, Ed. Alastair Fowler (New York: Addison Wesley Longman, Inc., 1998). |