Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 133.djvu/564

558 

Michael, thereupon, in a speech of great poetic vigor, calls the battalions of heaven to arms. They all pass out, and the scene is filled by the Luciferists, who enter, accompanying Lucifer and Belzebub. They cry to be instantly led to storm the ranks of Michael but Lucifer first enquires into the condition of his own army, and then proceeds to take their oaths of allegiance. He bids them remember that it is now too late to recede, but they have taken a step at once fatal and fortunate which now forces them with violence to tear from their necks the yoke of slavery to Adam's sons. But whilst they shout in answer, and rapturously pledge themselves to follow the Morning Star, a herald is seen winging his way towards them from the height of heaven. This is Raphael, sent on a last embassy of peace and reconciliation. The position of Raphael in this act closely resembles 'that of Abdiel, 'faithful found among the faithless, faithful only he,' in the end of the fifth book of 'Paradise Lost.' In each case a single seraph opposes Lucifer at the moment of his violent action, alone, in his own palace, and undaunted by the hostile scorn of myriads. There is, however, the important distinction that Raphael is an ambassador, while the beautiful figure of Abdiel distinguishes itself by standing out in unshaken loyalty from the very ranks of the insurgents themselves. The resemblance is least marked in the opening words of Raphael's address. Instead of adopting the lofty arrogance of Michael or the cold impartiality of Gabriel, Raphael flings himself, overwhelmed with grief, on the neck of the stadholder. He says that he brings balsam from the lap of God all will still be forgiven, if the rebel angels be disarmed, and if Lucifer return to his loyalty. He weeps in picturing to the assembly, in florid and impassioned language, how in the old happier days Lucifer bloomed in Paradise, in the presence of the sun of Godhead, blossoming out of a cloud of dew and fresh roses. He reminds Lucifer that his festal robes stood out stiff with pearls and turquoises, emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and bright gold. He describes him, exactly as Memling or Van der Goes would have painted him two centuries earlier, standing behind the throne of some gorgeous Madonna, with his gold hair streaming against the clear green and blue of a distant strip of landscape, or glancing among his jewellery, as he crushes an enemy under his mailed foot. It would have well suited a painter of that effluent period to paint the stadholder, as Raphael describes him, with the heaviest sceptre of heaven in his hand, and blazing like a sun among the circling stars. The arguments of Raphael are more worldly than those of Abdiel. He is afraid that Lucifer's beauty will be changed into the semblance of a griffin or dragon or other monstrous thing, and stimulates his vanity in the hope of changing his purpose. At last he interposes force, or a courteous semblance of force, and strives to wrest the battle-axe out of one of the stadholder's hands, and his buckler out of the other. The arch-rebel replies with dignity to these familiarities, and utterly rejects his overtures of peace. Raphael argues, but in vain for Lucifer declares that Adam's honor is the whetstone of his battle-axe, and that he has but to reflect on the indignity which has been threatened to the angels, to grasp more tightly the weapon that must wipe out the memory of that insolence. Raphael takes it absolutely for granted that the rebellion will instantly and utterly fail and, finding Lucifer deaf to his loving and sentimental entreaties, he threatens him with the punishment prepared for him. He declares that a pool of sulphur, bottomless, horrible, has in this very hour gaped to receive him. To all this Lucifer cannot listen with patience he repels him with indignation and defiance. Raphael continues, however, calling him the perjured leader of a blind conspiracy, and declaring that the chains are actually being forged for his limbs. In a brilliant passage Lucifer wavers and sickens, wonders if he dare return to his duty, seeks vainly for counsel and confidence, but is constantly held up by his pride and rage. At the moment that he wavers most, the trumpet of God sounds through the circles of heaven, and it is too late. The battle breaks upon his 