CHAPTER VII

MILTON'S "COMUS"

IN popular estimation Milton would be called a religious poet. The theme which he treats in his two longest poems is a theme of religion. It is the story of "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained." It would be expected, then, that to these great poems we should go in investigating the religious element; but, for reasons which I have explained, it seems to me well to avoid those poems which are religious in form. In such the religious element may be found, but, as a rule, it is not found so spontaneously as in the poems which are not religious in subject. Milton, of course, is not as Waller and Racine. It can hardly be said of these last named that they were men of strong or convinced religious temperaments. Milton, on the other hand,. was a man saturated with religious thoughts, and subjected to deep

religious convictions. God was a great reality to him; justice, righteousness, faith in large principles of toleration and charity were dear to Milton's soul. He had his weaknesses and inconsistencies; but he believed in great and noble principles of right. He had the courage to withstand the men of his own side when he saw them sinning against these principles. He could discriminate because he was true to his principles when other men were blind. He hated Laud's prelacy and the tyrannous priestcraft which he believed to be its accompaniment, but he saw that priestcraft was not confined to one form of Church government, and he hated the tyranny of Presbyterian intolerance, and had the courage to point out that new "presbyter" might be old "priest" writ large. Milton was a great man, not great in gifts alone, but great because he held his gifts and used them in a large and lordly fashion: he was king over his own thoughts, a master in his own house; he yielded subjection to no man, because devotion to what he believed to be true had made him free from the servitude of men and parties. He believed that the honest and simple-hearted spirit might entertain the highest for its guest. The light of God and the vision of God was for

the

pure and humble men of heart. No one can doubt the personal, moral sincerity of the opening invocation of "Paradise Lost." As we pass from the ground of Biblical allusion to the spiritual prayer of the later lines we become conscious of a deepened throb of the poet's heart. His genius writes the earlier lines; his soul is in the later. He invokes the aid of the divine muse:

Sing, Heavenly Muse, that on the secret top

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire

That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed

In the beginning how the heavens and earth

Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed

Fast by the oracle of God, I thence

Invoke thy aid to my adventrous song.

But what a touch of personal solemnity is laid upon the prayer which follows:

And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples the upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for Thou know'st: Thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss,
And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support.

The interest of this quotation lies, however, not only in the witness which it bears to the spiritual sincerity of the poet, but also in the

expression which it gives to one great truth which the poet held with much tenacity. It is the truth which contradicts the empty adage, "Art for art's sake." In Milton's view the powers of life gain in depth, force and range in proportion as the soul of man is ethically sincere; the spirit which can elevate and illumine man's powers finds its way to the heart which is upright and pure. The moral sincerity of the man is a real factor which makes the vigorous use of his powers increasingly easy. Moral force conditions mental force. A clean heart often means a clear vision. This question is not one into which we can enter here. It is important, however, to remember that it is not settled by citing the examples of loose-living poets who wrote more elevating poetry than some strictly moral poets could have produced. Nobody denies that Byron was a greater poet than Kirke White or Pollock. We may even admit that sometimes the very restraints of conscience may have robbed certain poets of a freedom which less scrupulous men possessed. The question is like one of sanitation. The change from a bad system to a good may work injuriously on the lives of a few; but the broad fact remains that in the long run the good system is preservative

of human life. There may be men who reach their best in unwholesome conditions or lose their lives by being deprived of the evil conditions to which they have become accustomed; but we have very little doubt for all that, about the general laws which govern human health and well-being. And in the same way we have very little doubt that where the soul is morally sincere the gifts of brain have freest play. And certainly the witness of the highest ranges of Olympus goes that way. Milton has no doubt of it. He feels that gifts are God's; they are to be used for high and noble ends; his power to achieve these ends depends upon the aid of a divine spirit, and for the helping advent of that inspiring visitor there is needed an honest and good heart.

This conception of the power which accompanies goodness is dear to Milton. It is a religious thought, and it holds an emphatic place in "Comus "-a poem not religious in structure or form.

"Comus" is a Masque or Masquerade. It is a slight play in which the actors appeared in masks. It consists of a little more than a thousand lines. The plot, if we can call it such, is very simple. A lady and her two brothers lose