“Both table and provision vanish’d quite,
With sound of harpies’ wings and talons heard.”
(_P. R._ ii. 402–3.)
If but one grain of that enchanted food had been eaten, or one drop of
that enchanted liquor had been drunk, there would have been no Cross, no
Resurrection, no salvation for humanity.
The temptation on the mountain is expanded by Milton through the close of
the second book, the whole of the third and part of the fourth. It is a
temptation of peculiar strength because it is addressed to an aspiration
which Jesus has acknowledged.
“Yet this not all
To which my spirit aspir’d: victorious deeds
Flam’d in my heart, heroic acts.”
(_P. R._ i. 214–16.)
But he denies that the glory of mob-applause is worth anything.
“What is glory but the blaze of fame,
The people’s praise, if always praise unmixt?
And what the people but a herd confus’d,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol
Things vulgar, and, well weigh’d, scarce worth the praise?”
(_P. R._ iii. 47–51.)
To the Jesus of the New Testament this answer is, in a measure,
inappropriate. He would not have called the people “a herd confus’d, a
miscellaneous rabble.” But although inappropriate it is Miltonic. The
devil then tries the Saviour with a more subtle lure, an appeal to duty.
“If kingdom move thee not, let move thee zeal
And duty; zeal and duty are not slow;
But on occasion’s forelock watchful wait.
They themselves rather are occasion best,
Zeal of thy father’s house, duty to free
Thy country from her heathen servitude.”
(_P. R._ iii. 171–6.)
But zeal and duty, the endeavour to hurry that which cannot and must not
be hurried may be a suggestion from hell.
“If of my reign prophetic writ hath told
That it shall never end, so when begin
The Father in His purpose hath decreed.”
(_P. R._ iii. 184–6.)
Acquiescence, a conviction of the uselessness of individual or organised
effort to anticipate what only slow evolution can bring, is
characteristic of increasing years, and was likely enough to be the
temper of Milton when he had seen the failure of the effort to make
actual on earth the kingdom of Heaven. The temptation is developed in
such a way that every point supposed to be weak is attacked. “You may be
what you claim to be,” insinuates the devil, “but are rustic.”
“Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent
At home, scarce view’d the Galilean towns,
And once a year Jerusalem.”
(_P. R._ iii. 232–4.)
Experience and alliances are plausibly urged as indispensable for
success. But Jesus knew that the sum total of a man’s power for good is
precisely what of good there is in him and that if it be expressed even
in the simplest form, all its strength is put forth and its office is
fulfilled. To suppose that it can be augmented by machinery is a foolish
delusion. The
“projects deep
Of enemies, of aids, battles and leagues,
Plausible to the world”
(_P. R._ iii. 395–3.)
are to the Founder of the kingdom not of this world “worth naught.”
Another side of the mountain is tried. Rome is presented with Tiberius
at Capreæ. Could it possibly be anything but a noble deed to
“expel this monster from his throne
Now made a sty, and in his place ascending,
A victor people free from servile yoke!”
(_P. R._ iv. 100–102.)
“_And with my help thou may’st_.” With the devil’s help and not without
can this glorious revolution be achieved! “For him,” is the Divine
reply, “I was not sent.” The attack is then directly pressed.
“The kingdoms of the world, to thee I give;
For, giv’n to me, I give to whom I please,
No trifle; yet with this reserve, not else,
On this condition, if thou wilt fall down
And worship me as thy superior lord.”
(_P. R._ iv. 163–7.)
This, then, is the drift and meaning of it all. The answer is taken
verbally from the gospel.
“‘Thou shalt worship
The Lord thy God, and only Him shalt serve.’”
(_P. R._ iv. 176–7.)
That is to say, Thou shalt submit thyself to God’s commands and God’s
methods and thou shalt submit thyself to _no other_.
Omitting the Athenian and philosophic episode, which is unnecessary and a
little unworthy even of the Christian poet, we encounter not an
amplification of the Gospel story but an interpolation which is entirely
Milton’s own. Night gathers and a new assault is delivered in darkness.
Jesus wakes in the storm which rages round Him. The diabolic hostility
is open and avowed and He hears the howls and shrieks of the infernals.
He cannot banish them though He is so far master of Himself that He is
able to sit “unappall’d in calm and sinless peace.” He has to endure the
hellish threats and tumult through the long black hours
“till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray,
Who with her radiant finger still’d the roar
Of thunder, chas’d the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grisly spectres, which the Fiend had rais’d
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
But now the sun with more effectual beams
Had cheer’d the face of earth, and dri’d the wet
From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds,
Who all things now beheld more fresh and green,
After a night of storm so ruinous,
Clear’d up their choicest notes in bush and spray
To gratulate the sweet return of morn.”
(_P. R._ iv. 426–38.)
There is nothing perhaps in _Paradise Lost_ which possesses the peculiar
quality of this passage, nothing which like these verses brings into the
eyes the tears which cannot be repressed when a profound experience is
set to music.
The temptation on the pinnacle occupies but a few lines only of the poem.
Hitherto Satan admits that Jesus had conquered, but he had done no more
than any wise and good man could do.
“Now show thy progeny; if not to stand,
Cast thyself down; safely, if Son of God;
For it is written, ‘He will give command
Concerning thee to His angels; in their hands
They shall uplift thee, lest at any time
Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone.’”
(_P. R._ iv. 554–9.)
The promise of Divine aid is made in mockery.
“To whom thus Jesus: ‘Also it is written,
Tempt not the Lord thy God.’ He said, and stood:
But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell.”
(_P. R._ iv. 560–2.)
It is not meant, “thou shalt not tempt _me_,” but rather, “it is not
permitted me to tempt God.” In this extreme case Jesus depends on God’s
protection. This is the devil’s final defeat and the seraphic company
for which our great Example had refused to ask instantly surrounds and
receives him. Angelic quires
“the Son of God, our Saviour meek,
Sung victor, and from heavenly feast refresh’t,
Brought on His way with joy; He unobserv’d,
Home to His mother’s house private return’d.”
(_P. R._ iv. 636–9.)
Warton wished to expunge this passage, considering it an unworthy
conclusion. It is to be hoped that there are many readers of Milton who
are able to see what is the value of these four lines, particularly of
the last.
It is hardly necessary to say more in order to show how peculiarly Milton
is endowed with that quality which is possessed by all great poets—the
power to keep in contact with the soul of man.