Episode 12
Hello and welcome to Episode 12 of Read Paradise Lost with me, Jane Davis, a podcast and Substack newsletter about my project to read all of Paradise Lost by John Milton, aloud, and with a sometimes word-by-word, sometimes line-by-line discussion. This is one-take recording with no editing, so forgive noise of seagulls, my coughing, or sound of men drilling next door. Rough and ready reading is what you get.
See Episode 1 for an introduction to the project.
I’m recording two episodes this week, as in a few minutes we will reach the end of Book 1.
Book 2 will begin in Episode 13.
Last week we finished at the point where Pandaemonium, the great hall of Hell, was raised, built with gold mined by Mammon, under the direction of the architect, Mulciber. No sooner built than in use, as hundreds, thousands, flock to fill it. We pick up at Book 1 line 752.
Mean while the winged Haralds by command
Of Sovran power, with awful Ceremony
And Trumpets sound throughout the Host proclaim
A solemn Councel forthwith to be held [ 755 ]
At Pandæmonium, the high Capital
Of Satan and his Peers: thir summons call'd
From every Band and squared Regiment
By place or choice the worthiest; they anon
With hunderds and with thousands trooping came [ 760 ]
Attended: all access was throng'd, the Gates
And Porches wide, but chief the spacious Hall
(Though like a cover'd field, where Champions bold
Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldans chair
Defi'd the best of Paynim chivalry [ 765 ]
To mortal combat or carreer with Lance)
Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air,
Brusht with the hiss of russling wings. As Bees
In spring time, when the Sun with Taurus rides,
Pour forth thir populous youth about the Hive [ 770 ]
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
Flie to and fro, or on the smoothed Plank,
The suburb of thir Straw-built Cittadel,
New rub'd with Baum, expatiate and confer
Thir State affairs. So thick the aerie crowd [ 775 ]
Swarm'd and were straitn'd; till the Signal giv'n.
Behold a wonder! they but now who seemd
In bigness to surpass Earths Giant Sons
Now less then smallest Dwarfs, in narrow room
Throng numberless, like that Pigmean Race [ 780 ]
Beyond the Indian Mount, or Faerie Elves,
Whose midnight Revels, by a Forrest side
Or Fountain some belated Peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while over-head the Moon
Sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth [ 785 ]
Wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth and dance
Intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms
Reduc'd thir shapes immense, and were at large, [ 790 ]
Though without number still amidst the Hall
Of that infernal Court. But far within
And in thir own dimensions like themselves
The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim
In close recess and secret conclave sat [ 795 ]
A thousand Demy-Gods on golden seats,
Frequent and full. After short silence then
And summons read, the great consult began.
I had the image of a massive football crowd or, or a Presidential inauguration, because it is that time of year as I write, the thousands of revellers trekking towards Glastonbury:
they anon
With hunderds and with thousands trooping came [ 760 ]
Attended: all access was throng'd, the Gates
And Porches wide, but chief the spacious Hall
(Though like a cover'd field, where Champions bold
Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldans chair
Defi'd the best of Paynim chivalry [ 765 ]
To mortal combat or carreer with Lance)
Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air,
And now I’m thinking of a huge arena (‘like a covered field’, in Milton’s imagination, used for jousting) so huge that the outside seems enclosed and the space within is so big that the devils seem tiny,
As Bees
In spring time, when the Sun with Taurus rides,
Pour forth thir populous youth about the Hive [ 770 ]
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
Flie to and fro, or on the smoothed Plank,
The suburb of thir Straw-built Cittadel,
New rub'd with Baum, expatiate and confer
Thir State affairs. So thick the aerie crowd [ 775 ]
Swarm'd and were straitn'd; till the Signal giv'n.
Behold a wonder! they but now who seemd
In bigness to surpass Earths Giant Sons
Now less then smallest Dwarfs, in narrow room
Throng numberless, like that Pigmean Race [ 780 ]
Beyond the Indian Mount, or Faerie Elves,
Whose midnight Revels, by a Forrest side
Or Fountain some belated Peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while over-head the Moon
Sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth [ 785 ]
Wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth and dance
Intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
This astonishing montage of images, (crowds, bees, giants, dwarfs, pigmies, faery elves) becomes a disorientating dream, or perhaps a hallucinogenic vision. And having arrived at a sense that it is a vision or a dream, Milton then imagines a dreamer:
by a Forrest side
Or Fountain some belated Peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while over-head the Moon
Sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth [ 785 ]
Wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth and dance
Intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
From before-human-time-Hell, we are now transported to some ancient British countryside and to the bewildered peasant who sees or dreams the dream of Faery Elves. So disorientating to be moved about so!
Perhaps this strange simile is drawn from Milton’s own experience of visions – his poetic muse coming to him nightly to give him the vision that would translate into the poetry of Paradise Lost?
Leaving that peasant dreamer in our imagination, Milton brings Book 1 to a close:
Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms
Reduc'd thir shapes immense, and were at large, [ 790 ]
Though without number still amidst the Hall
Of that infernal Court. But far within
And in thir own dimensions like themselves
The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim
In close recess and secret conclave sat [ 795 ]
A thousand Demy-Gods on golden seats,
Frequent and full. After short silence then
And summons read, the great consult began.
The fallen angels (‘shapes immense’) make themselves minute and thus all could fit into ‘the hall of that infernal court’. But there are hierarchies in Heaven and Hell as there are in human culture: the greatest of the fallen retire to a private place to offer counsel to Satan.
Well done! You’ve read Book 1 of Paradise Lost by John Milton. More in the next episode.
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