Milton’s always a delight to read, even at his moralistic. “Comus” or “A Masque” is at once one of his most moralizing and also one of his most delightful and lavish poetic works. The central conceit is the stance of Chastity, in the form of the Lady, against the seducer Comus, representative of the fleshly passions and of the bacchic.
Comus, as we learn, is the son of Circe and Bacchus. According to Wikipedia, “He is a son and a cup-bearer of the god Dionysus. Comus represents anarchy and chaos. His mythology occurs in the later times of antiquity. During his festivals in Ancient Greece, men and women exchanged clothes. He was depicted as a young man on the point of unconsciousness from drink. He had a wreath of flowers on his head and carried a torch that was in the process of being dropped. Unlike the purely carnal Pan or purely intoxicated Dionysos, Comus was a god of excess.”
Put this ancient deity, mix up early modern and ancient and classical discourse on chastity and passion and sex, and have it all conjured up by the mind of a preternatural genius who turns borrowing into originality — and you get “A Masque Presented at Ludlow Castle,” or, as it’s popularity called, “Comus”
It’s fascinating to me to think about how Comus appears to me in light of having read of Paradise Lost, Paradise Regained, and Samson Agonistes. This early poem looks so forward to those later three masterpieces: the theme of inner light, virtue, deception, response to temptation, elevation that could be deeply precarious, the sense of being constantly on the alert, the power of virtue but also the power of evil, and more. Comus is an early prototype of the Satan-as-seducer and Satan-as-deceiver we see in Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. The son of the deities of passion, Circe the sensual witch-goddess and Bacchus the god of drink, Comus represents the principle of excess, yet he is also a clever human who picks up cues and works with them in order to work with his foul purposes.
Samuel Johnson and other critics often say that Milton, compared to Shakespeare, has a want of human interest. Yes, Milton does deal with elevated beings rather than “realist” Leo Blooms, But Milton is so great a poet that even in these elevated beings and fictions there are real emotional, human truths. Eve and Adam are first woman and first man, yet they are freshly conceived and feel what real people might feel. Comus was probably seen in real life, as was Milton’s Samson, or Milton’s Lady. Even Satan, Milton’s greatest character created, has recognizable emotions, drives, and thoughts. So I have never quite felt the “want of human interest” that others feel.
And I’ve been struck by how Comus riffs off The Odyssey, even having explicit references to Scylla, Charybdis, the Sirens, and the episode where Hermès gave the moly plant to Ulysses. And Comus is a bit like Odysseus, who disguises himself and who flirts with a pure lady. And Comus takes after his mother Circe, who transforms the men by way of wine into bestial creatures. It’s amazing how reading The Odyssey again opened my eyes to see some cunning parallels between Homer’s epic and Milton’s masque. More on this when I finish reading the poem.
The treatment of chastity is worthy of note; the drama of the poem hinges on this. On the one hand, borrowing from the classical conceptions of chastity but also from Christian discourse, chastity is presented as this pure and strong thing that gives inner strength and allows you to access higher spiritual realities, and gives you freedom. But it’s also quite vulnerable; for chastity can be threatened by the simplest and the greatest of things; bodily lust is thus depicted as the most brutish and animalizing thing. And when chastity is coupled with beauty, the vulnerability and danger is increased exponentially. That’s how the Elder Brother eloquently conjures an image of chastity.
Considering this, is there not a real problem with valuing chastity as the sign of a woman’s worth? Or denigrating the body compared to the spirit? I would think that, judging from Milton’s Paradise Lost and his monist metaphysics, that he matured to an understanding where the pleasures of the body are themselves links to higher spiritual realities. Adam and Eve’s sexual enjoyment must have had some boldness to its conception in its day, and maybe even in our own day (and Milton’s poetry always confounds expectations and conceptions even as it creates them). But the early Milton was highly interested, nay, probably obsessed with chastity.
Comus and the Lady speak against one another, and the masque turns into a poem of argument and debate. Milton borrows partly from Greek tragedy, which also uses argument and back-and-forth between characters quite a bit. (The clearest example I can think of at the moment is Euripides’ Medea, where the sophistic Jason of the Argo is placed in opposition to the wronged Medea).
Milton perfects that argumentation poetry in Paradise Regained, a work which bears quite a bit of similarity in theme and tone to Comus. While the former is a spare brief epic that achieves an austere music, and the latter a lush and heavily mythic masque, both deal with seductively powerful but self-enslaved seducers of evil and sensuality who are outwitted by virtuous, self-possessed, grave, and internally free persons who are blessed for their stances. Milton, masculinist though he was, ended up giving the Lady a classical virtue that gives her a form of agency. In this she mirrors the Son.
But alas, Comus’ argument against chastity does have an appeal, if not exactly a point. And to place the entirety of worth on chastity bespeaks to something potentially neurotic and repressive about the poem’s moral valuation of Chastity and Virginity. The reference to Cupid and Psyche, which involves marital sexual union and childbirth, does adapt a viewpoint where chastity can coexist with sexuality, and the Lady herself advocates temperance with Nature’s delights rather than unmitigated mortification of the flesh. But a hardness and rigor is still felt in the Lady’s arguments, and I think Milton is a true poet because he does not quite discount them, but he works with them. And I know he is great because he makes me think, feel, and even be triggered at times. This is true of Paradise Lost, his greater masterpiece, but also of the austere Paradise Regained and the masque Comus, which seem to me to present Milton at perhaps his most counterintuitive.