don Press Series edition of Milton, says that the name signifies "brave in retreat;" but other authorities find that the name applied to a malignant demon signifies "powerful against God," and inform us further that in certain magical treatises Azazel is "reckoned among the genii that preside over the elements" (Bib. Encyc. of McC. and S., art. Azazel). If Milton knew this, as he probably did, he may have regarded Azazel as a sort of Æolus, and to reach what is presented as a literal fact he thus allegorized the idea of displaying a banner to the winds. Our interpretation seems to be confirmed by a clause in the passage describing the ensign,

"Which, full high advanced,

Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind."

Another spirit in whom special interest is awakened is Mulciber, or Vulcan, the architect of Pandemonium. Masson identifies him-erroneously, we believe-with Mammon. Three distinct bands were engaged upon the work, the miners, the forgers, and the moulders. The first, called Mammon's crew, digged out the gold and other ores; the second wrought upon them and purified them in furnaces; the third, directed by Vulcan, working under-ground, prepared a single mould for the whole vast structure. When the various kinds of liquid metal had been conveyed to their several places and solidified in this mould, the infernal Capitol was finished, but entirely under-ground. For those who had strength to hurl mountains into the air it was an easy thing to raise this building, vast as it was, to the surface in such a way as to make it seem “like an exhalation." The master artisan is called by his name Mulciber, the Softener, probably because there was

prominent in the poet's mind the beneficent agency of art in alleviating human as well as angelic suffering after the Fall.

With reference to the word Pandemonium, Masson remarks that "some think Milton the inventor of it, formed on the analogy of the Pantheon." Much more than that: the infernal Capitol itself is almost the exact transcript of the Roman Pantheon, or rather, perhaps, we ought to say that according to Milton's conception the former is the archetype after which the latter was made. Standing at a little distance, the fallen spirits could see it

"Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid

With golden architrave; nor did there want Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven : The roof was fretted gold."

Almost every word is suggestive of the Pantheon, which was a temple, of a round shape, and encircled with two rows of pilasters. Doric pillars are by Milton substituted for Corinthian as being more chaste and better suited for a hall of council. The architrave, the cornice, the frieze, the statuary, here called bossy sculptures, are all prominent objects in the earthly temple of the gods as in their Plutonian Capitol. As the roof of Pandemonium is of fretted gold, so that of the Pantheon was formerly covered with plates of gilded bronze, until the latter were carried away by spoilers to Constantinople.

Upon a nearer approach and entrance to this infernal structure, the likeness to its carthly copy is discovered in a still greater number of particulars.

"The ascending pile
Stood fixed her stately highth; and straight the doors,
Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide
Within, her ample spaces o'er the smooth
And level pavement: from the arched roof,
Pendent by subtle magic, many a row
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light
As from a sky."

The extraordinary air of majesty of the exterior impresses all who behold the Pantheon. The doors in both archetype and copy were of bronze. The earthly structure, being by far the largest of ancient times, has its ample spaces within; though these are narrow in comparison with that spacious hall, "like a covered field," constructed by Mulciber. The wonderful pavement and the vaulted roof lined with silver likewise used to engage the attention of visitors to the Pantheon, but the circular opening of twenty-six feet in diameter in the centre of the roof, lighting the interior with magical effect directly from the sky, is the most astonishing of all. There was no bright sky in that world of nether darkness, and the want of light from this source was supplied by the circular rows of burning cressets.

Since every one of the dozen or more features mentioned in describing Pandemonium coincides with a similar prominent feature in the Pantheon, it seems surprising that none of Milton's admirers who have seen the Pantheon appear to have recognized the likeness of the two structures. Besides, it was to be anticipated that a structure erected by the devils in Hell, and one erected by men under their influence on Earth, would resemble each other. The propriety of

the poet's course is manifest, and well supported by analogy. As the temple on Mount Moriah, dedicated to the only true God, was built under Divine instruction according to the pattern of things in Heaven, would not the temple devoted to all the demons be built by men under their inspiration after the pattern of things in Hell? It is the more essential to observe such a fact because it helps to establish a very important principle in the interpretation of the poem, viz., that Milton usually, if not always, has a substantial basis for his imagination to act upon. He describes so confidently because he describes what he has seen. One is very liable, when reading Addison's or Johnson's remarks upon this part of the poem, to receive the impression that all the fallen spirits were admitted to the council held in Pandemonium. Both speak of the "multitude and rabble" of spirits shrinking themselves into a small compass, and the "vulgar" among them contracting their forms. The poet, on the other hand, evidently intended to make the impression that not more than one out of a hundred, perhaps even fewer, of the fallen host could gain access. The heralds were commanded to summon

"From every band and squared regiment
By place or choice the worthiest."

Properly speaking, none of the multitude and rabble, or the vulgar, were present at the council. The only distinction made by the sudden contraction was between the greater and the lesser dignitarics. If further evidence of this fact is needed, it can be found in the speeches during the council, in which the commonalty are never noticed, while the distinction between the

grandees, who kept their own colossal dimensions, and the inferior dignitaries, is observed in the double address opening several of the speeches. To the untitled the result is announced after the debate has ended. The distinction of privilege according to rank was not a custom originated in Heaven, where all had equal access to the eternal Throne; and it is significant that he who pretends to be striking for freedom thus speedily creates among his followers a system of oppressive and degrading caste.

This last scene, of the demigods and potentates gathered about their emperor for consultation within their magnificent council-chamber, is a transcendently lofty one, and worthy to close this sublime book. In this manner has the poet succeeded in concentrating all the fiendish wisdom in the universe upon the fearful project which is there proposed and afterwards so direfully carried into effect against mankind. It was a fateful council, the results of which were commensurate with the malign and powerful agents at work in that infernal court.

CHAPTER II.

ON THE SECOND BOOK.

THE infernal parliament having been duly constituted, -the mighty Emperor on his throne, the great Peers in their separate dark divan, and the inferior Powers assembled, not to take part in the debate, but by their applause or silence to signify whether the proposals were acceptable or not,-the Monarch opens the delibcrations by inviting an expression of opinions. The key-note of sentiment in the council is not right, justicc, or patriotism, but hate. The speeches overwhelm us with their terrible energy; though they do not awaken our sympathy or admiration, but our horror at their bold avowal of wicked designs. They are the utterances of beings who defy conscience, of beings bound even to one another by no higher motive than enlightened self-interest.

Moloch opens the debate. His impetuous and precipitate nature will not allow another to precede. His impatience does not brook the delay and caution needed in a war of wiles, and he finds the best exercise for his violent disposition in open encounter. This he advocates with words that have the furious sweep of storm and whirlwind. Anticipating the objection that in a three days' war of force on the plains of Heaven they had been unsuccessful with every sort of weapon,