So says Milton! His Satan is the one we all think of, whether we know it or not, when we think of the Devil. In this passage from Book Six of Paradise Lost, the armies of Heaven and Hell are preparing for epic battle. The Council of Hell is discussing its chances in battle. So far, Heaven is winning. But Satan has something up his sleeve…
Whereto with look compos’d Satan repli’d.
Not uninvented that, which thou aright
Believst so main to our success, I bring;
Which of us who beholds the bright surface
Of this Ethereous mould whereon we stand,
This continent of spacious Heav’n, adornd
With Plant, Fruit, Flour Ambrosial, Gemms & Gold
Whose Eye so superficially surveyes
These things, as not to mind from whence they grow
Deep under ground, materials dark and crude,
Of spiritous and fierie spume, till toucht
With Heav’ns ray, and temperd they shoot forth
So beauteous, op’ning to the ambient light.
These in thir dark Nativitie the Deep
Shall yield us pregnant with infernal flame,
Which into hallow Engins long and round
Thick-rammd, at th’ other bore with touch of fire
Dilated and infuriate shall send forth
From far with thundring noise among our foes
Such implements of mischief as shall dash
To pieces, and orewhelm whatever stands
Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarmd
The Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt.
Nor long shall be our labour, yet ere dawne,
Effect shall end our wish. Mean while revive;
Abandon fear; to strength and counsel joind
Think nothing hard, much less to be despaird.
He ended, and his words thir drooping chere
Enlightn’d, and thir languisht hope reviv’d.
(Got that? He’s told the devils that there is an invention that can save them, made out of the very elements of the fiery earth. He says the angels will fear that they have taken the thunderbolt of Thor himself. Here I’m giving you a little break, so you can catch your breath and then plough on into the description of the invention.)
Th’ invention all admir’d, and each, how hee
To be th’ inventor miss’d, so easie it seemd
Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought
Impossible: yet haply of thy Race
In future dayes, if Malice should abound,
Some one intent on mischief, or inspir’d
With dev’lish machination might devise
Like instrument to plague the Sons of men
For sin, on warr and mutual slaughter bent.
Forthwith from Councel to the work they flew,
None arguing stood, innumerable hands
Were ready, in a moment up they turnd
Wide the Celestial soile, and saw beneath
Th’ originals of Nature in their crude
Conception; Sulphurous and Nitrous Foame
They found, they mingl’d, and with suttle Art,
Concocted and adusted they reduc’d
To blackest grain, and into store convey’d:
Part hidd’n veins diggd up (nor hath this Earth
Entrails unlike) of Mineral and Stone,
Whereof to found thir Engins and thir Balls
Of missive ruin; part incentive reed
Provide, pernicious with one touch to fire.
And there you have it: the hellish invention of gunpowder. The “future days” Milton’s Satan refers to had, of course already come to pass when Milton wrote his poem. But I think we can agree that he foresaw how out of control the thing was capable of getting. Have a great bonfire night everyone; devilish day. Don’t blow anyone up. And you can read the rest of the epic here.
2 Comments
November 5, 2009 at 5:36 pm
Dear Katy
I was really struck by the line ‘Wherof to found thir Engins and thir Balls’ for some reason. Can’t think why. Possibly because it made me laugh and suggested ‘Wherof to see the wizard!’
Best wishes from Simon
November 5, 2009 at 6:47 pm
Dear Katy
When I lived in Malvern, I took ‘Paradise Lost’ out of the public library. I kept it for weeks and paid a hefty fine on it but never actually read it. Perhaps now is my chance.
Best wishes from Simon