Milton’s Comus: A Case of Temptation and the Resistance
to it by (a combination of) Virtue and Grace
Of all Milton’s literary works, Comus which was originally titled A Mask presented at Ludlow Castle (1634), is considered to be the
most variously designated piece in terms of genre. Milton, as can be inferred
from the title given by him, obviously wanted it to be primarily treated as a
masque. However, it has been criticised and discerned to be a lyrical drama, a
drama in the epic style, a lyric poem in the form of a drama, an allegory etc.
by scholars and critics alike. For example, Dr Johnson described it as a drama
(while simultaneously judging it quite harshly) and E. M. W. Tillyard in his
work Milton calls it the author’s
“private experiment in dramatic style”. However it is obvious that the poem
lacks the characteristic traits of an ordinary drama viz. the development of
character, conflict between characters and a series of constituent actions
facilitating the building and resolution of suspense. On the other hand,
although Comus employs the standard
construction of the court masque i.e. poetic induction, two anti-masques, main
masque and epilogue, it very evidently deviates in some important respects –
the chief of which being the fact that the essential moment of the narrative
sequence is “not the solution of a riddle, not a sudden metamorphosis or a
revelation, but an act of free choice”(as said by Enid Welsford in The Court Masque). Guilherme
Ferraz and Thomas H. Luxon commented that the one element that distinguishes Comus as “a complex and fascinating
piece of dramatic literature” is the author’s subversion of the conventions of
the genre where he formulates a Puritan reordering of the classically-rooted
idea of self-governance and temperance. Indeed, Milton’s choice of setting the
opening sequence out-of-doors (and in the middle of a dense and enchanted
forest no less) and not at the banquet hall, along with the absence of the
usual tone of flattery and complimentary subservience, substantiate the
exceptional nature of the masque. Also, the overarching tendency of moralising
can be seen to be a bit excessive considering that the composition was
commissioned to celebrate the first visit of John Egerton, the first Earl of
Bridgewater to his still quite new administrative seat at the Ludlow Castle in
Shropshire, and as such was expected to most certainly include the Jonsonian
“revels” which marked a kind of breaking of the fourth wall resulting in
presenters and spectators alike celebrating the occasion at hand (in this case
that being the much awaited visit of the rightful master of the estate). For
this very reason, Herford and Simpson – both editors of Ben Jonson – have
commented that although Comus is in
conception “a genuine and unmistakable Masque”, “it is one in which the spirit
of drama has broken free” and subsequently retains “a few unimportant traces of
nominal allegiance.”
The chief respect
in which Comus differs from earlier
Jonsonian models is that it gives precedence to a sense of self-governance via
temperance and continence (a notion that is distinctly classical and yet
qualified by a puritan treatment given by a Renaissance poet steeped deep into
what E. R. Dodds called a “guilt culture”), over kingly authority which was
extolled to be the seat of any and all virtue. In fact, Comus, like Milton’s three major works viz. Paradise Lost, Paradise
Regained and Samson Agonistes,
deals with the central theme of temptation and the resistance to it. In the
words of Edward Dowden, Milton’s poetical works as well as his artistic
contemplations centred around the “one dominant idea that the struggle for
mastery between good and evil is the prime fact of life; and that a final
victory of the righteous cause is assured by the existence of a divine order of
the universe, which Milton knew by the name of ‘Providence.’” Indeed, Milton
chose to focus solely on spiritual education in Comus and consciously abstained from paying the requisite homage to
the state and other political apparatus. Whatever the reason for that be,
Milton seems curiously concerned with the notion of chastity in this poem. So
much so that he almost claims the Lady to be invincible in the face of the most
dire of temptations – in this case, Comus who is the embodiment of debauched
sensuality – solely by virtue of her chastity which seems to operate
autonomously. Apart from virtue of mind and heavenly assistance, the third
element that champions and ensures the Lady’s unassailability is, as the elder
brother puts it, her chastity. It seems as if in this context Milton refrains
from distinguishing between the heavenly virtue of chastity and the earthly
state of virginity. So, the simple fact of the Lady being a virgin – untouched
of mind and body – protects her from most evils in the universe of Comus. This, of course, raises the
question of the particular evil that the Lady faces while wandering, haplessly
lost and separated from her brothers, in the midst of a dark wood. The evil
disguised as a helpful shepherd is revealed to be Comus – the dark sorcerer of
the woods who, along with his motley crew “that are of purer fire”, embodies
incontinence and material as well as sexual temptations. In this context, his
familial connection with Circe becomes relevant as he, just like his mother, is
armed with a cup and a wand to seduce hapless travellers in the woods. Like
Circe, he offers his parched and famished victims refreshment, revelry and
eventually, sexual enjoyment. This is the temptation that the Lady faces which
constitutes the central episode of the story along with the kind of resources
that enable the Lady to withstand such allurements. However, it is interesting
to note, as suggested by Robert Martin Adams, that in this case, Milton inverts
the gender structure of the traditional Circe story by making a male assume the
role of the fatal temptress and giving the part of the ship-wrecked mariners to
a lady lost in the woods. In my mind, here is where the trouble with the
treatment of the story begins. Though indisputably an allegory of temptation
and the virtues of temperance that are invoked against it (which Comus refers
to deridingly as “lean abstinence”), it is evident that the story itself lacks
in the credibility of the seduction involved. Comus, for his part, uses
remarkably insignificant tactics in his attempts to “convert” the Lady as part
of his realm. In fact, he doesn’t even make explicit use of the enchanting
devices he has in hand – namely, the cup and the wand. Instead of offering the
damning drink to the Lady when she was the least suspicious i.e. when he was in
the garb of the shepherd and the Lady was already thirsty and pliable, he
brings her into his palace, lets her see his troop of victims turned “ugly
headed monsters” and only then, when she is fully aware of the dangers that
surround her, does he try to convince her to drink from the cup. Also, he
chooses not to “chain up [the Lady’s] nerves in Alabaster” by wielding his wand
and instead, resorts to befuddling her vision and making her sit immobile on an
anointed chair. There is, in effect, no evidence of actual and active
compulsion exerted on the part of Comus over the Lady and thereby, the
seduction, though hinted at as a possibility, never really comes through. There
is no way that the Lady is even provided with actual materials of temptation to fall off the wagon
of chastity and temperance as such to actually make Comus’s efforts a real
threat or even, to really establish the absolute virtuosity of the Lady.
This may be due to
the fact that in this case, Milton was navigating the treacherous grounds of
female autonomy coupled with the expected need to keep the Lady subservient to
a larger superstructure of chiefly male-driven authority. While making a point about
the Lady’s self-governed chastity, Milton also makes sure not to place her in a
real danger of seduction so as to avoid the implicit complexities that come
with making the femme fatale a man and the hapless victim a woman – possibly because
changing the dynamic doesn’t keep the piece of fiction purely a product of
imagination, but rather makes it undeniably translatable in reality. And
obviously, Milton had to keep it in mind that the role of the Lady would be
played by the 15 year old daughter of the very Lord Egerton whose assuming of
the position of administrator at the Ludlow Castle the masque was actually
celebrating. He couldn’t very well go about making deliberate sexual allusions
about the Lady when she was being played by teenage nobility. On a rather
similar note, we might recall the modus operandi of Stoker’s Count Dracula who
intended to expand his political “empire” by seducing the female partners of
the men of England. In his words, he had declared, “Your girls that you
all love are mine already; and through them you and others shall yet be mine.”
This sentiment is echoed in Comus's efforts of winning the Lady over which would have, in turn, led to greater power and influence on his part (in fact, possession of the woman's body and mind as part of a larger exercise of gaining social validation characterised most marriages of Milton's period). As has been already analysed extensively, it is evident that Stoker’s Dracula is a meticulous exercise in
overthrowing the threat of the “new women” who were emerging during the late 19th
century. The female characters who displayed examples of “unbridled” sexuality
that could almost jeopardize the established sexual hierarchy were presented as
infected with the vampiris curse viz. Lucy and the three vampire brides of
Dracula. Indeed the only woman who survived the entire narrative is Mina who
was never, even for a moment, sexualised by Stoker. Ever the paragon of
Victorian modesty and upholder of the “angel of the house” philosophy, she,
once targeted by Dracula, even advised her husband to kill her if need be so as
to prevent the Count from conquering her body and soul - “Think, dear, that there have been times when
brave men have killed their wives and their womenkind, to keep them from falling
into the hands of the enemy”. This is a classic example of female
indoctrination where they themselves support the link between male supremacy
and violence against women. However, Stoker sugarcoats this suggestion by
prizing the child-like innocence and gentleness of Mina’s countenance – thereby
presenting her as only useful as a calming and motivating factor for the band
of men fighting the good fight of eliminating the Count. Milton, of course,
does not seem to have a similar agenda – he merely wants to sidestep the
dangers of presenting a female character possessing complete control of her
sexuality as well as placing her in a situation of being subject to a credible
seduction while writing during the 17th century for a bunch of
notoriously conservative nobility (particularly a family who was intent on
clearing their name from certain unpleasant past occurrences viz. the incident
with the Earl of Castlehaven). Again, the masque serves as a heavy reminder of
a cultural counterpart – namely, the story of Kiranmala as presented in Thakurmar Jhuli by Dakshinaranjan Mitra
Majumder. The story, like the masque, also consists of one sister and two
brothers and can also be potentially classified as a tale of temptation and the
resistance to it. In the story, while the two brothers are tempted by the wiles
and charms of the demon-folk while on a quest to bring back certain invaluable
treasures back home, Kiranmala – the sister – succeeds in earning the treasures
as well as rescuing her brothers simply due to the fact that she resists the
allure of the call of the demons. In fact, from amongst the vast compendium of
Bengali folktales, Kiranmala can be presented as one of the very few champions
of female autonomy and even, superiority over the male counterparts. Such tales
of resistance towards temptation leading to wisdom are abounding in Indian
myths and legends – one other prominent example is the “Banaparba” of the Mahabharat where all the Pandavas except
Yudhishtir fall victim to the allure of an enchanted lake and become lifeless
only to be saved by Yudhishtir’s temperance and presence of mind.
Again, this instance of reversing the gender
dynamic becomes significant as it is very easy for the men to quash the threat
of a deadly vixen by killing her off or neutralising her effectively otherwise.
It is considered heroic even in most cultures viz. the mutilation of Surpanakha
in the Ramayana. But, due to the
inversion of the power structure, such action won’t be deemed acceptable when
done by a woman. So, Milton had to present the lady as powerful enough to
resist the (frankly feeble) temptation but not as powerful so as to effectively
take charge of the situation without heavenly assistance. She is, in effect,
placed between personal autonomy and heavenly authority (as proposed by A. S.
P. Woodhouse’s “The Argument of Milton’s Comus” where he examined the
relationship in the masque between “virtue” and “grace”). Though she rejects
Comus’s advances, she has to wait to be rescued by her brothers who, in turn,
are protected by the heavenly herb – haemony. Then also, the rescue remains
incomplete as the brothers act without complete knowledge of Comus’s magical
abilities. Finally, the situation is resolved by not a human agent – male or
female – but by a water nymph bestowed with heavenly authority to assist
virtuous maidens in need. So, in other words, though the Lady’s virginity
protects her to some extent, her rescue is only effected by heavenly
intervention – but also, such intervention is conditional on the basis of the
virginity in the first place. This is indeed, a unique position to find one’s
self in, and this can be linked back to Milton’s personal (and constantly
evolving) idea of divinity. Influenced heavily by the Dutch theologian Arminius
about the Reform canon, Milton had adopted a synergistic theory where he
believed or at least wanted to believe that God endowed us with certain
abilities to perform positive actions in increments based on our own virtue and
faith without any mediation from the Church. While the Lutheran and Calvinist
philosophies of his time had maintained the externality of the Reform canon by
taking away human agency more or less altogether and attributing grace and
salvation to God’s own discretion, Milton had been enough of a humanist to take
into account human restorative abilities and a desire for salvation. This might
be the reason that he presented the Lady as capable of determining the
direction of her destiny, at least at the onset, owing to her personal
abilities, while also making sure that the fulfillment of that destiny remains
impossible without express sponsoring on the part of heavenly authorities.
In conclusion, I would like to point out, as
all other critics have, that Comus
presents a clear distinction between Apollonian control and Dionysian rebellion
making the non-Calvinist question of choice on the part of the Lady (if we take
into account her own nature and the circumstances) ridiculously easy. Making
the right choice and thereby effecting a positive ethical action by rejecting a
certain kind of morally dubious pleasure, in this case, appear to be too
absolute and undifferentiated to be satisfiable. It certainly anticipates the
far more fleshed out exercise in temptation and the resistance to it in Paradise Regained. One explanation for
this can be traced to the fact that in Paradise
Regained, both the contending parties transcend the physical world and are,
more importantly, male. That is why Milton could take the liberty of showing
the hero in an unfair light. The moment you introduce a female character in the
equation, she has to be presented unequivocally as a figure of moral integrity (specifically when the equation consists of a man and a woman - things happen to get much more interestingly ambiguous when two women are involved, for example - Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla and Coleridge's Christabel).
Otherwise, she tends to be automatically relegated to the role of the deadly vixen
or the fallen woman – at least in the established literary canon of
contemporary times. This can be further illustrated by the bad press that the
figure of Eve gets in the Bible canon for falling victim to Lucifer’s persuasive
charm and by popular consensus, bringing Adam down with her. Milton, in Paradise Lost, had to work hard to
portray Eve as giving in to Satan’s suggestion not because of a pre-existing lack or flaw in her character but because of a different kind of intelligence instigating a natural desire for knowledge (which Stanley Fish
calls the principal motivator of temptation), with subtle hints towards a
divine foreknowledge, if not predestination. Whatever the case may be, Comus remains an enduring work of
Miltonic imagination which while tracing the author’s personal literary and
spiritual journey, simultaneously challenged the erstwhile conventions of the
established Jonsonian masques.
Bibliography:
·
Milton, John. Complete Shorter Poems. Ed. Revard
P., Stella. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, 2009.
·
https://www.dartmouth.edu/~milton/reading_room/comus/intro/text.shtml.
"Comus: Introduction", October 16, 2014.
·
Adams, Martin Robert. "Reading Comus". Modern
Philology (JSTOR article). Vol. 51, No. 1, (Aug, 1953): pp. 18-32. The
University of Chicago Press: http://www.jstor.org/stable/434894.
·
Major
M., John. "Comus and the Tempest". Shakespeare Quarterly (JSTOR article). Vol. 10,
No. 21, (Spring, 1959): pp. 177-183. Folger Shakespeare Library: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2866924.
·
Orgel,
Stephen. "The Case for Comus". Representations (JSTOR article). Vol. 81, No. 1,
(Winter, 2003): pp. 31-45. University of California Press:
·
Stoker, Bram.
Dracula. London: Penguin Group, 1994.
Mayurakshi Sen
PG II
Roll No. : 33
No comments:
Post a Comment