If not depraved from good: Narrative Structuring, the Archangel Raphael,

and the Center of Paradise Lost

James E. Osborne
English 533
Milton and the English Bible
Professor John Ulreich
December 7, 2012

Osborne 2
1. Introduction
The 1674 edition of Paradise Lost, published in twelve books, can be divided into
thirds, a neat division that can be seen as a reflection of Miltons use of three parts of his
conception of the cosmos in other words, Heaven, Chaos, and Hell where a majority
of the action of the poem occurs, with only a minor part being assigned to Earth
(Qvarnstrm 11), the Earth being the other component of Miltons cosmos. This division
of the 1674 edition might also be perceived as a subtle take on the apportioning of the
angels in Heaven, two-thirds of whom remained loyal to God and one-third of whom
rebelled. Within this three-part division one might also discover a foreshadowing of the
tripartite nature of the drama of Christs crucifixion: While Christ occupies the central
cross between the two thieves on Golgotha, the Son as victorious conqueror of the
rebellious angels occupies a metaphorically central position in book 6, the second book of
the middle third of the epic. There is also a possible ironic mirroring at work: Satan,
representative of all that is wrong, and associated with darkness and with midnight, has
one-third of the angels, [j]ust as the dragon in Revelation (12: 34) drew down one
third of the stars of heaven (Qvarnstrm 13). The Archangel Raphael, representative of
right, of good and of virtue (Copeland 117) has one-third of Paradise Lost.
Raphaels dramatic narrating voice, which in effect backgrounds Satan for a time,
recounts to Adam the story of the battle for Heaven and the creation of Earth, narratives
that dominate books 5 through 8, the central piece of a tripartite epic.
What could derail this interpretation of the 1674 second edition of Miltons poem
is the fact that the 1667 first edition consists of ten books, a version that Milton changed
to twelve books in what, according to John T. Shawcross, appears to be a case of

Osborne 3
publication consideration to make the poem agree with reader expectation (That
which 223). A number of scholars have pointed out certain narrative and structural
points in the 1667 Paradise Lost that indicate that, in contrast with the second edition, the
first edition does indeed have substructural attributes indicating particular authorial intent
regarding the division of the books. Shawcross notes the symmetry of the narrators
bipartite scheme of position : observation throughout the ten books of the 1667 edition,
as well as the steady progression of time from the first through tenth books (Shawcross,
With Mortal Voice 47-48, emphasis in original). Michael Lieb asserts that: the sixth
book [of the 1667 edition] becomes the matrix for the convergence of past, present, and
future events (69). William B. Hunter, Jr. notes ascended as the central word in the
1667 first edition, a word both preceded and followed by 5,275 lines (32). Hunter also
asserts that the positioning of the word ascended is a metaphor for the resurrection of
Christ from the dead, a precise mathematical localization of a passage which is a
traditional form of Biblical exegesis (32).
These pieces of evidence argue strongly for a structural symmetry and a specific
authorial vision particular to the first version. While such evidence has yet to be found for
the 1674 second edition, the second edition does contain structural symmetries that raise
intriguing possibilities of structure, voice, and character, particularly in the middle four
books, if they are taken as one facet of a tripartite whole. These possibilities include a
change in narrative voice in the middle books from the poet to Raphael that shifts
narrative perspective to Raphael as an arguably unreliable narrator; narrative scaffolding
that locates Raphael as the focal center of the middle books; and a focus on the angel
Abdiel in book 5 within Raphaels narration that foregrounds ambiguity over certainty.

Osborne 4
2. Discussion and Analysis
The structural analysis of the ten-book first edition does offer intriguing
symmetries with certain points in a similar analysis of the twelve-book second edition. As
Shawcross writes, citing Gunnar Qvarnstrm as well as Hunter (With Mortal Voice chap.
5 n.5 181), the exact center of the epic, calculated as to lines, is located in lines 761-62
(43); Milton apparently attempted to keep the center of the twelve-book edition the same,
but could not because of incorrect lineation of the 1667 edition (Hunter 33). Both the tenbook and the twelve book Paradise Lost, thematically and temporally constructed like
two textual hemispheres [, . . .] are firmly integrated, the whole epic forming a unified
complex of interrelated parts (Qvarnstrm 140). Raphael as narrator occupies a central
positon in the exact middle of both editions; he has been called the civilized centre of
the poem (Sherry 227). Acknowledgement of the centrality of Raphael as narrator of the
midsection of both the first and second editions of Paradise Lost would be an
appropriate place to begin an analysis of his central role in the epic. First, however, a
brief overview of the structure of the epics narrative voices is necessary.
John T. Shawcross calls Paradise Lost an epic with a difference (With Mortal
Voice 90). As Anne Ferry has noted:
The epic is in one sense about the story of its characters, but that story is
always presented to us in the context of the narration. This condition of
epic is especially important for Miltons purposes: his story, because it is
invisible to us, demanded not only a narrator but one endowed with
unique powers of vision to make the impenetrable world of prehistory
known to us. (15)

Osborne 5
Miltons unique powers of vision highlight the dramatic parts of the poem. Roger B.
Rollin states, the fact that the midpoint of the poem has been reached provide[s] an
opportunity for reminding his audience that the narrator-poet and hero is also a mere
mortal, beset by troubled times and troubling enemies . . . (32). An especially moving
example occurs early in book 7, when the poet-narrator expresses his psychological pain,
discomfort caused both because of blindness and because of political persecution (Milton,
PL n. 26-27 477):
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though falln on evil days,
On evil days though falln, and evil tongues,
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitst my slumbers nightly . . . (7.24-29)
Milton, the poet-narrator, communicates his state of body and mind in stunning vividness
as he invokes the Muse to grant him the fortitude to relate the creation of the world
through the voices of Raphael and Adam.
Ferry, continuing her analysis of Miltons narrative purpose, says that: [i]t is his
[Miltons] voice [. . .] which is the principal device in the poem for expressing its total
meaning (15, emphasis in original). However, Milton has also created other, highly
individual dramatic characters: Satan; Adam; Eve; Raphael; Michael; the Son; and the
Father. They are the seven eyes, [. . . ] each expanding upon by correcting and
improving the vision of the other who inhabit Paradise Lost and, in their own voices,
not only convey a range of emotions, but also are endowed with different extents of

Osborne 6
consciousness expanding outward from Satan and ascending upward toward God
(Wittreich 89). Each of these characters manifests a singular voice that, voiced and
framed by the voice of the poet-narrator, brings different perspectives to the epic which
both broaden its scope and deepen its meaning.
In channeling these other voices, and in maintaining throughout the epic the
singular, sustaining voice of the poet-narrator, Milton utilizes at least two of the three
poetic voices recognized by T.S. Eliot in The Three Voices of Poetry. In his text, Eliot
identifies a first poetic voice, that is: the voice of the poet talking to himself or to
nobody; a second poetic voice, or the voice of the poet addressing an audience, whether
large or small; and the third poetic voice, the voice of the poet when he attempts to
create a dramatic character speaking in verse (6-7). For Eliot, the use of the third poetic
voice allows the poet to communicate not what he would ordinarily say as himself, in
his own person (7) in Paradise Lost, for example, when the poet-narrator, in second
poetic voice, inveighs against his blindness and political persecution (7.26-28) but to
disclose only what he can say within the limits of one imaginary character addressing
another imaginary character (Eliot 7). Raphael, in his role as Adams interlocutor,
embodies the third poetic voice. If the epic is read dramatically and Raphael is not taken
as a mere authorial mouthpiece, the third poetic voice allows Milton to endow the
archangel with the independence expected of a flesh-and-blood literary creation.
Raphaels is a voice that allows for possible narrative ambiguity, as well as authorial
representation.
Ferry identifies a tension between the perception of Paradise Lost when it is read
more as a dramatic poem than as an epic, noting that [w]e have assumed that the

Osborne 7
meaning of the poem was to be found in our response to the characters in it as to figures
in a piece of dramatic literature, whom we judge directly, by the values created in the
language of the drama in relation to the values assumed in the world of the audience
(Ferry 15). The confusion, mild or otherwise, concerning how to read Paradise Lost is at
least partially explained by the fact that Miltons earliest plans for the subject were as
tragedy1. Ferrys identification of the tension involved in reading an epic as if it were a
dramatic piece lies in the interpretive stress implied by a nuanced understanding of the
authorial or implied audience, that hypothetical ideal audience for whom the author
constructs the text and who understands it perfectly (Phelan 215). If the reader-asaudience judges characters such as Raphael, Adam, and Eve, for example, as Miltons
nearly-independent agents, then that reader understands that Miltons synthetic
constructs (215) act in a separate, imaginary world that Milton has endowed with selfcontained autonomy. An epic, however, must have some sort of narrator who tells the
story, observes the characters, identifies the time, and describes the place (Ferry 14-15).
The fact remains that, although there is evidence that Milton originally conceived
of Paradise Lost as tragedy, its final form, in either ten or twelve books, is as epic. Even
though forearmed with this knowledge, the close reader of Miltons poem may still get
lost in a thicket of irresolution as to what, apart from the imposition of nomenclature, she
is reading an epic conceived as a tragedy, or a tragedy with epic proportions. There is at
least a partial answer, supplied by Allan H. Gilbert: Milton took a play and made it into
a heroic poem by adding half-extraneous material (26). The half-extraneous material

Allan H. Gilbert explains this history of the early Paradise Lost at length in On the Composition of
Paradise Lost: A Study of the Ordering and Insertion of Material (1947) (11-26). Pertinent to the
discussion here is his assertion that the epic contains [. . .] a large amount of dialogue, which is so
combined with action as to seem suited for drama (21).

Osborne 8
concerning Satan and Raphaels narrative is not part of the primary plot but form[s] a
subplot. [. . .] Their narrators are the chief actors of the poem and they tell their own
adventures (Gilbert 26). Miltons employment of a narrator who draws attention to the
identity of the voice, its relation to the events of the poem and to the experience of its
readers (Ferry 17) keeps the poem firmly anchored in the territory of the epic, albeit an
epic whose dramatic overtones keep the reader engaged in what Gilbert calls something
new (26).
Raphael is the character who, among the seven eyes so christened by Wittreich,
occupies the epics structural center. Employing once again concepts contained in Eliots
notion of the third poetic voice, Raphael epitomizes a character in which the voices of
the author and the character [are] in unison, saying something appropriate to the
character, but something which the author could say for himself also, though the words
may not have quite the same meaning for both (34). According to Mark D. Cyr, Milton
advances Raphael as being directly inspired and directed by God himself (V 224-245).
Thus [. . .] Raphael possesses a higher degree of theological, and hence narrative,
authority, a position which Milton bodies forth dramatically (309-10). Cyrs assertion
would appear to present evidence of Raphaels position as, if not a stand-in for God, then
a stand-in for Milton, so that Milton could use Raphael as a kind of double to assert
theological trains of thought. This is not to say that Raphael is equivalent to a
ventriloquists dummy or a mouthpiece (Eliot either alludes to or uses both of those
terms) but a unitary voice, an unreduced vocalic whole that allows the audience to
understand that Raphael and Milton are uttering the words in unison, though perhaps
with somewhat different meaning (Eliot 34-35). This is one position, and it is a stand

Osborne 9
that Cyr argues for strongly. There is evidence in the epic, however, that when closely
read the poem will demonstrate that, in spite of the Archangel Raphaels apparent
authority, a case can be made that he is, in a number of ways, an unreliable narrator.
Before entertaining the question of whether or not Raphael fills the role of an
unreliable narrator, it is necessary to define that term and also ascertain what kind of
narrative voice Raphael possesses, within the epics framework, on a level perhaps even
deeper and more resonant than third poetic voice. In The Rhetoric of Fiction, Wayne C.
Booth terms a narrator reliable when he speaks for or acts in accordance with the norms
of the work (which is to say, the implied authors norms), unreliable when he does not
(158-59, emphasis in original). Mere use of difficult irony does not render a narrator
unreliable, nor does the fact that he or she lies (159), although, later in his text, Booth
also avers that many of the works in the unreliable mode depend for their effects on
ironic collusion between the author and his readers (391). Referencing Henry James,
Booth states that the true unreliable narrator must have a quality that James called
inconscience; in other words, the narrator is in error or considers himself to be vested
with characteristics he does not possess (159). Critical to Booths conception of the
unreliable narrator is that [a]ll of them [unreliable narrators] make stronger demands
on the readers powers of inference than do reliable narrators (159). If a narrator is
revealed as unreliable, or untrustworthy, it follows that the total effect of the work he
relays to us is transformed (158). Crucial to the examination of Miltons Raphael is what
the reader may infer from a character that is endowed with such narrative authority that
author and character are, as Eliot asserts, in unison (34). Even if these two voices are in
unison, they are the voices of two distinct characters: one, the poet-narrator Milton,

Osborne 10
narrates the epic but does not take part in it; the other, Raphael, is a narrator embedded
within the primary narrative centrally located, as asserted in the introduction to this
paper and the teller of stories that are themselves embedded in the epics primary
narrative.
Terminology developed by Grard Genette in Narrative Discourse: An Essay on
Method, and expanded upon by Genette in Narrative Discourse Revisited and by Richard
Walsh, will be helpful in categorizing narrative precedence in Paradise Lost. Among
other nomenclature, Genette originated the following terms in narrative discourse:
intradiegetic, or diegetic, both of which concern a narrator who speaks inside a primary
narrative (Genette, Narrative: An Essay 228); and extradiegetic, which refers to a narrator
who is outside the first narrative and, although fictive [. . .] addresses the actual public,
just like Rousseau or Michelet (229) Existing outside the first narrative of Paradise
Lost, the primary narrator Milton, or the poet may be identified as an extradiegetic
narrator and the embedded narrator Raphael, who exists purely within the first narrative
may be identified as an intradiegetic narrator, as are, for example, Adam, Eve, Satan,
and Michael. To deepen further the complexity of the narrative layering, the angel
Abdiel, who speaks within Raphaels narrative, may in turn be characterized as an intraintradiegetic narrator (Herman and Vervaeck 83) or as metadiegetic (Genette, Narrative:
An Essay 228); in other words, a character that narrates incident but who is voiced by the
intradiegetic narrator. The extradiegetic narrator may, like Huck Finn, be identified with
a character in a story and be at least as strongly characterized in the telling of [his] tales
as [he is] in the role of protagonist (Walsh 497). In Paradise Lost, the poet-narrator may
even be comparable to a character in a monodrama, a kind of created character, a

Osborne 11
persona for John Milton (Rollin 30). In this sense, the poet-narrator of Paradise Lost
continues in the role of provider of, as Booth describes it, the artificial authority [. . .]
present in most narratives until recent times (4). However, this Miltonic created
character is an extradiegetic narrator who, although he is never an actor in the many
dramas of the epic, is nevertheless a persona with whom the sensitive and perceptive
reader can identify. This engaged extradiegetic narrator introduces his emotions, his
insights, his fears, his rages, even his politics, into each book of the poem. This persona
is someone about whom, as Roger B. Rollin writes, [e]nough information [. . .] is
supplied for [readers] not only to know him and to believe in him as a character, but
ultimately to empathize with him as a hero (30, emphasis in original). It is a reasonable
if arguable point that, given the emotional investment a reader might have in the persona
of the poet-narrator, that emotional investment apart from whatever religious or
political investment that hypothetical reader might also have could translate into
emotional investment in, or even emotional attachment to, a character such as Raphael.
The question here, of course, is not whether the poet-narrator of Paradise Lost is
reliable or not. However, as has been noted, Cyr characterizes Milton as wanting to
portray Raphael as being directly inspired and directed by God (309), which would
tend to invest Raphaels character with an implied narrative authority that could militate
against any charge of unreliability. This narrative authority, Cyr contends, would allow
Raphael to serve as a conduit for the theological magnitude of [Miltons] message and
as a way to bypass the absence of biblical authority for his account by creating his own
internal heavenly authority (310). Cyr goes on to assert that the doctrine of Christs
agency in the creation of [a]ll things (5.837), put forth by the angel Abdiel in his

Osborne 12
confrontation with Satan in book 5, would have been challenged by Miltons
contemporaries (310-11). This assumption, posits Cyr, caused Milton to locate Raphael
as the voice of this doctrine and others and what might otherwise be taken as
supposition or argument is conveyed in Raphaels voice as holy doctrine. Or so, at least,
Milton seems to intend (311, emphasis added). Raphael becomes an intradiegetic
narrative voice that allows Milton to avoid putting controversial words in the mouth of an
extradiegetic narrator whose persona may be construed by Miltons antagonists, or even
by a possibly friendly readership, as a stand-in for the poet himself. However, as
indicated by Cyrs italicized caveat, there is some room for ambiguity, if not unreliability,
in Miltons casting of Raphael as an intradiegetic narrator.
Cyrs interpretation of Milton and Raphael as, to use Eliots phrase, in unison,
stands in apparent contradiction to Rollins conception of the poet-narrator as a separate
persona, a character worthy of the readers empathy as a kind of hero, a hero who, as
Rollin continues, is committed to a quest for Things unattempted yet in Prose or
Rhyme (I, 16) (30). Although he does not appear to concede that there is much, if any,
ambiguity in Miltons epic text, Cyr does allow for some interpretive room when, as
noted above, he writes that Milton seems to intend, rather than intends, that Raphael
play the part of Miltons theological proxy in certain scenes in the poem. Cyrs argument
places Raphael in a very defined role, one that finds antecedent support in the work of
Earl Miner who, in 1983 Cyrs essay was published in 1987 wrote that Milton
composed within a consistent tradition of Protestant English narrative in the seventeenth
century . . . (11). Miner also avers that [r]eliable narrative requires a reliable hearer as
well as relater, and both are assisted by that singular Protestant virtue, faith in grace

Osborne 13
(Miner 11). Miner also writes that: Claims to truth imply possible falsifiability (10),
which leaves open numerous interpretive windows, at least one of which could cast light
upon the arguable unreliability of Raphael as an intradiegetic narrator. Mouthpiece,
proxy, substitute, and stand-in: these expressions might very well characterize the
Archangel Raphael if his character is, in fact, a narrator Milton devised to interpolate
controversial theological doctrine into his epic poem. Raphael might be, after all, more of
an authorial proxy than a character with whom one may identify, and certainly not a
counterpart to the Satan that Rollin describes, the Satan who is not an [e]veryman
although everyone can recognize something of himself in him (15, emphasis in
original); the evidence will tell.
The poet-narrator introduces Raphael in book 5, line 221, with God calling the
archangel to his side after observing Adam and Eve, beheld with pity (5.219-220),
tending to the Garden of Eden in their innocence. Raphael is referred to as the
. . . sociable spirit, that deigned
To travel with Tobias, and secured
His marriage with the seven-times-wedded maid. (5.221-23)
This allusion presages Raphaels position as Adams friendly interlocutor, referencing as
it does Raphaels role as the healer who cured Tobits blindness and the angelic
intercessor who found Tobits son, Tobias, a wife (Tob. 3.17); Raphaels role as a
healer may be traced to his name, which in Hebrew means Health of God (Milton,
PL n. 221-23 424). The allusion to the seven-times-wedded maid recalls the condition
of Tobiass prospective wife who, although married multiple times, remained a virgin
because all of her husbands were killed on their wedding night by a jealous and lustful

Osborne 14
spirit that possesses her (Sherry 231); one is reminded of the fact that, at this point in the
epic, Eves sleep has been invaded by Satan (231), causing Raphaels visit to assume
greater importance. Even before Raphael takes the stage, he is not merely presented as a
member of the angelic host, but as one who is possessed of skills appropriate to the role
which God is prepared to give him.
God assigns Raphael his task almost immediately, describing the escape of Satan
from Hell, his presence in Paradise, and how [he] disturbed / This night the human pair,
how he designs / In them at once to ruin all mankind (5.226-28). Raphael should half
this day as friend with friend / Converse with Adam [. . .] and advise him of his happy
state (5.229-34). God emphasizes the freedom that Adam possesses, a freedom that can
secure Adams happiness: Happiness in his power left free to will, / Left to his own free
will, his will though free, / yet mutable (5.235-37). God who is, here, an intradiegetic
narrator within the extradiegetic narrative of the poet stresses Adams freedom of
choice five times in those two lines: in his power; free to will; his own free will;
his will; and free. This rapid juxtaposition of synonymous phrases in Gods
admonition to Raphael regarding Adam and Eve, and succeeding generations of
humankind, correlates with the numerous times the Father uses the same or similar terms
in his conversation with the Son, in book 3, concerning the fallen angels and man (3.80134). Indeed, God employs language referring to freedom or free will no fewer than
seven times in those fifty-five lines; the number might certainly be increased to eight, if
one counts the phrase reason also is choice (3.108).
Exposition of Miltons moral investment in free will and freedom of choice is
found in his Christian Doctrine. He provides a brief summary of his thinking in book 1,

Osborne 15
chapter 3: By virtue of his wisdom God decreed the creation of angels and men as
beings gifted with reason and thus with free will (Milton, CD 1157). It is notable that, in
this passage, Milton refers to both men and angels as having been endowed with the same
two rational faculties reason and free will putting both species on a similar plane.
This being the case, both men and angels should each be equally responsible and equally
culpable for their own respective slippages from grace; one significant difference is that:
The first sort [angels] by their own suggestion fell,
Self-tempted, self-depraved: man falls deceived
the other first: man therefore shall find grace,
The other none . . . (3.129-33)
With these words, God is doing more than casting aspersions; he is defining whom to
blame and apportioning the quality and extent of punishment for transgression against his
commands.
Since both men and angels have been endowed with free will, and both are free to
choose their fates, both must be held accountable for turning their backs on God through
disobedience. However, because the fallen angels slipped from grace through selfdeception, convinced by Satan through his dissembling that they should rebel rather than
pay tribute to both the Father and the Son (5.772-802), they will never find grace. Men,
tricked by those who have already fallen, are not exempt from blame or from
punishment; however, because they were duped into choosing, they will have the
opportunity to find grace. Benjamin Myers writes: The gracious providence of God
does not leave human nature in its fallen state, but brings forth good from evil by
triumphing over the power of original sin and liberating the human will from its dark

Osborne 16
enthrallment (Myers 21). At the conclusion of book 10, Adam and Eve yearn for
forgiveness. Adam speaks on his own behalf and on behalf of Eve as well:
What better can we do, than to the place
Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall
Before him reverent, and there confess
Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears
Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek. (10.1086-92)
Myers goes on to say that [t]he fact that Eve and Adam become penitent at all, after all
that has taken place, bears witness to the intervention of the grace of God (22). Such
penitence is not in the hearts of the fallen angels; even if they were penitent, God would
not pay attention to them. It might be safe to say that, just as Abdiel in his zeal turned his
back on the multitude of rebel angels at the close of book 5, God would turn his back on
any fallen angel who begged for forgiveness. This distinction between the possibility of
redemption through grace and eternal damnation is central to determining the difference
in kind between the angels fall and that of Adam and Eve, and the distinctions
significance bears exploration in Raphaels dealings with Adam and with Eve.
Raphaels admonition to Adam may be considered faulty on two grounds, both
arguable but, if the evidence warrants, sufficient to find that, at least to some extent,
Raphael is an unreliable narrator. The first cause for questioning Raphael is the fact that,
although he warns (or advises) Adam, and thus Eve, his partner, of the consequences of
disobedience, he does not tell them the whole truth. That is, he leaves out the fact that

Osborne 17
even though disobedience will prevent mankind from attaining the same ethereal nature
of angels, and . . . at choice / Here or in Heavnly paradises dwell (5.499-500), man has
one method of escaping from eternal damnation that the angels do not have: the
possibility of redemption through grace (3.129-33; Myers 21). There might be, of course,
good reason for Raphael to withhold such information, which he must have known,
having been present when God, speaking to the Son, related both the angelic and human
consequences of their respective Falls (3.130-34). If Adam and Eve knew beforehand that
they could find redemption even though they had sinned, what would prevent them from
willfully sinning and then begging God for forgiveness? Armed with this type of
foreknowledge, Adam, Eve, and their progeny could live in a riot of license, and then go
down on their knees and pray for grace, hoping against hope for Gods mercy. As
illogical and irrational as this might seem, humankind might still make this choice. It
might be that God understood the possibility that man, being free to choose, could make
such an irrational choice because, as Milton himself states, God himself has made man
his own master (CD 1156). Such mastery does not preclude making decisions that would
be detrimental to mans own cause, and God, having created man in his own image
(4.567-68), might desire to avoid such moral confusion.
Is Raphael withholding information from Adam and Eve that could essentially
damage, if not alter, the carrying out of Gods plans? Is Miltons archangel doing this so
subtly that a casual reader would also be tricked? Is the archangel acting as an unreliable
narrator? Cyr states that Miltons readers that is, his contemporary readership would
have regard[ed] Raphael as inherently truthful and divinely knowledgeable (310);
therefore, the idea of Raphaels lying, even to facilitate the proper enactment of Gods

Osborne 18
plan, would not be possible for them to believe. Miltons readers might, as Cyr asserts,
question [. . .] statements coming from a human agency (Cyr 311), but not from a
divine being. An audience of our own day, which does not recognize the significance of
his narrators character and how this affects the narrative (315), and which is used to
interpretive situations where [t]he author and reader are secretly in collusion, behind the
speakers back, agreeing upon the standard by which he is found wanting (Booth 304),
might come to conclusions that contradict those of Miltons contemporaries.
Perhaps a more plausible rationale for Raphaels withholding of information from
Adam and Eve lies in the archangels role as celestial teacher, a topic pursued by Michael
J. Allen in Divine Instruction: Of Education and the Pedagogy of Michael, Raphael, and
the Father (1990). Allen describes Raphael as a skillful pedagogue who explains things
eloquently, draws Adam willingly into discussion, and inflames his love of learning
(114). Here is Milton on the skillful pedagogue, whom Allen paraphrases on page 115 of
his article:
But here the main skill and groundwork will be to temper them such
lectures and explanations, upon every opportunity, as may lead and draw
them in willing obedience, inflamed with the study of learning and the
admiration of virtue, stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men
and worthy patriots, dear to God and famous to all ages. (Of Education
974)
A good teacher, therefore, must be more a temperate, guiding master than a mere friend
who comes to impart knowledge. If this is, indeed, part of Raphaels charge, then God
wishes more for the angel than to be a knowledgeable friend (5.229) to Adam.

Osborne 19
However, it is questionable whether Raphael can do this maintain his transitory, hourslong friendship with Adam and still have tricks in his repertoire.
Allen avers that, notwithstanding Raphaels words and his subtle skills as a
teacher, Adam is not convinced of the magnitude of the danger that he faces (114). Adam
does pay rapt attention to the archangels brief yet event-filled lectures even if, in the
final analysis, Raphael proves a pedagogical failure if judged pragmatically, for Adam
ends up doing exactly what Raphael warns him against (115). At the very least,
however, Adam and his Eve end up truly penitent, which might not have been the case if
Raphael had told them the whole truth about the possibility of redemption. This line of
inquiry may not lead to the conclusion that Raphael is an unreliable narrator; however, he
may be a narrator with a benign trick up his sleeve a trick that, with its undertone of
prevarication, could guarantee Adam and Eves sincerity and true contrition.
The second ground for considering Raphaels admonition to Adam faulty may be
found in a line of inquiry pursued by Peter C. Herman in Whose fault, whose but his
own? : Paradise Lost, Contributory Negligence, and the Problem of Cause (2012).
Herman posits that the collective failure of Miltons angels to perform competently also
contributes to the story of the Fall (60). Herman cites Allens listing of Uriels failure to
penetrate Satans disguise, which thus allows the fallen angel to ascertain where Eden is
located; Herman notes also the misreading by Gabriel and his troop of Satans designs
on Eve: the guardian angels allow Satan to escape from Eden, and then negligently
permit him to return (60). As if permitting Satan to slip the angels successive grasps
were not bad enough, Herman points out that their failures are underscored by the fact
that, when Satan returns to Hell, his children, Sin and Death, recognize him easily, which

Osborne 20
causes Herman to wonder why, if Sin and Death could recognize Satan, why couldnt
Uriel? (60). Citing the failures of these erstwhile protective angels, Herman declares that
the poem provides mixed evidence on how effectively Raphael follows Gods
instructions (61). Herman characterizes Raphaels warning to Adam that he must
remain obedient in order to remain in either the worldly or the heavenly Paradise (5.50001) as an oblique hint and one that Adam has to inquire about further in order to get a
more enlightening answer, an answer which does not include any reference to Satans
wicked designs on Adam and Eve (Herman 61). This not only questions Raphaels
position as Adams forthright interlocutor; it also implies a questioning of the archangels
conversing with the first man as friend with friend (5.229). Hermans inquiries into the
questionably efficacious nature of Raphaels conversations also strengthen, even if only
to a small degree, the notion that the angel might have a trick or two up his sleeve;
whether or not those tricks include the withholding of all the pertinent information
concerning human and angelic possibilities for redemption, as well as the somewhat
grudgingly provided information about Satans plot, is an open question. Considering that
a narrators withholding of information might make him unreliable in the sense of
being potentially deceptive (Booth 159), this might be the case. Raphaels potential
deceptiveness begins with Adam but, as Herman goes on to say, it also concerns
Raphaels treatment of Eve (63).
Herman characterizes Raphaels attitude to Eve as indifference (63) and
Herman faults God on this point as well, relying on an interpretation of the development
of the doctrine of negligence in English law (49-55). Whether or not Raphael has a duty
of care regarding Adam and Eve, Raphaels assumption that what he says to Adam,

Osborne 21
Adam will pass along to Eve (64), has serious consequences. For Herman, Raphaels
indifference reveals especially poor judgment [on the part of Raphael] because Eve, not
Adam, has already been the object of Satans machinations (64). It stands to reason that,
if Raphael truly wanted to warn, or at least advise, both Adam and Eve or Eve through
Adam the angel would have made specific reference to Satans already-manifested
designs on Eve. If Raphael was truly duplicitous and there is really no evidence in
Miltons text that he is he would have specifically withheld the information from Adam
in order to ensure that they would eventually fall. Since it cannot be said that Raphael is
acting out of any malice why would he? he is at the very least negligent in his duties
as a teacher. Raphael may be, to the best of his ability, attempting to draw Adam into
what Milton terms willing obedience, inflamed with [. . .] the admiration of virtue (Of
Education 974). Perhaps he is being too oblique for Adam who is, though intelligent,
rational, and curious, possibly not imaginative enough to see through the layers of
Raphaels subtleties, although Adam does catch on fairly quickly when Raphael says that
the only way that Adam will continue to enjoy the paradisiacal life is by remaining
obedient (5.513-18).
However, this does still leave Eve, close by but not part of the conversation,
marginalized and dependent upon Adam to convey the substance of Raphaels words to
her. If Raphael for whatever reason has given Adam only partial information and Eve
was not properly advised, how is blame to be apportioned? Herman suggests that Milton
created a pattern in his narrative in which the assignment of blame may be divided in
such a way that nearly everyone in the poem obviously Satan, but also Adam, Eve, the
angels, and even God is caught in an ever-expanding web of accusation (64-65).

Osborne 22
Isolating Raphael, the angelic pedagogue, within this line of analysis raises the question
of whether he is, in fact, working to draw Adam into willing obedience (Milton, Of
Education 974). If Raphaels mission was to prevent the Fall, then in that respect he
failed to accomplish it, and even helped Adam and Eve in their misadventure, imbuing
his own persona with another level of ambiguity, and of unreliability as narrator, teacher,
and guide.
The angel Abdiel first takes the stage in Paradise Lost as the lone member of the
contingent of Satans rebel angels who dares to question Satans authority. Abdiel enters
the epic in book 5, line 805, immediately after Satans speech to his own contingent of
angels (5.772-802) and, in a flame of zeal (5.806), launches into a tirade against his
mutinous commandant:
O argument blasphemous, false and proud!
Words which no ear ever to hear in Heavn
Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate,
In place thyself so high above thy peers. (5.809-22)
The seraph thus establishes himself as the one voice of loyalty, the one member of
Satans legions to stand up against him, daring to be insubordinate to one who preaches
insubordination. Abdiel is also the loyalist angel who strikes the first blow in battle
against his former commander, a noble stroke (6.189) that sends the rebel leader
reeling backwards ten paces (6.193). Once Abdiel renders the opening blow, and
[a]mazement seized / The rebel Thrones (6.198-99), he ceases to be an active
participant in the epic.

Osborne 23
Abdiels first-person recounting of his stand against Satan is told intraintradiegetically; that is, Abdiels voice is filtered, in the style of a story-within-a-story,
within Raphaels recounting to Adam of the prelude to the War in Heaven in book 5, and
of the actual war in book 6. If, as Cyr posits Miltons contemporaries as believing,
Raphael is inherently truthful and divinely knowledgeable (310) and Raphael
essentially speaks for Milton, it may reasonably be assumed that Abdiel, speaking
through Raphael, also speaks for Milton, and also relates certain truths. The possibility
that the angel Abdiel is a kind of ventriloquized Milton sequestered within the persona of
the Archangel Raphael is an intriguing thought, and one that bears further investigation.
Numerous scholars have viewed Abdiel in various ways, and these approaches
have provided Abdiel with significantly different guises. George W. Whiting sees Abdiel
as a prophet, specifically as a version of the minor prophet Abdias, whose character
Milton adopted [. . .] adapt[ing] the name of Abdias and his prophecy against Edom,
altering both to suit his purpose (215). Whiting views the opening salvo of Abdiels
final words to the assembled rebels, shortly before he turns his back on them, as a
correlative to Abdiass prophecy concerning Edom, a vision of the inevitable ruin of
Satan and his rebellious crew (214). Whiting quotes extensively from Abdiels prophetic
tirade on page 214 of his essay, which begins:
O alienate from God, O spirit accursed,
Forsaken of all good; I see thy fall
Determined, and thy hapless crew involved
In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread
Both of thy crime and punishment . . . (5.877-81)

Osborne 24
In Whitings reading of Abdiel and his embedded prophecy, he equates Satan with Edom,
and sees Edoms pride as Satans pride, compar[ing] Edoms rocky fastnesses with
Satans lofty seatbearing in mind always that both Edom and Satan are arch enemies of
God (220). Abdiel the warrior angel takes on the role of prophet, anchoring himself in
the world of prediction, cursing Satan with a punishment that is well-deserved for the
rebel angels pride, and for his disobedience (5.888).
The reader of Miltons epic should remember Abdiels zeal, which Milton
(through Raphael) mentions four times during the seraphs initial confrontation with
Satan, and also consider that Abdiels name means servant of God (Whiting 214) and
that Abdias is the Greek form of the Hebrew Obhadhyah or Obadiah (the usual form in
the title of the prophecy) [and] means the servant or worshiper of Yaweh (215, emphasis
in original). Christian zeal is theologically important for the Puritans, and for Milton,
preferable to both the other extreme [lukewarmness] and the mean (Kranidas 423;
426). It is curious that zeal could also be the fire that burns in the belly of Satan, and that
he is zealous in a contrarian way, against God, against the decree that sets both God and
the Son over the angels: . . . prostration vile / Too much to one, but double how endured,
/ To one and to his image now proclaimed? (5.782-84). Satan is extremely zealous in his
own cause, ready to wage war for injured pride. His actions are a reminder that zeal, or
zealotry, is a trait that cuts both ways; in a manner of speaking, when Abdiel confronts
Satan, he is confronting not his opposite, but a distorted mirror image of himself.
Abdiel story may also be seen as a significant element in Raphaels pedagogical
relationship with Adam, a point that is alluded to by Mason Tung (596), evidence for
which can be found in Of Education, wherein Milton encourages teachers to instill in

Osborne 25
their students the admiration of virtue, stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave
men and worthy patriots, dear to God and famous to all ages (Of Education 974). As an
example for Adams education, it is not so much Abdiels bellicosity and willingness to
confront Satan that would be emphasized in a pedagogical context; rather, emphasis
would be given to Abdiels patriotism and loyalty, traits necessarily called upon in war,
but also important to proper everyday living. Viewed as mere loyalty, Abdiels zeal could
even be portrayed as something akin to stubbornness, or blind adherence to the powersthat-be (God and now the Son), as opposed to zealous opposition to the rebellious angels,
no matter the merit of their rebellion, or the righteousness (or lack of same) in their
leader. Such a diminished form of zeal might, in fact, be very useful on the part of a foot
soldier rather than a leader, and also quite appropriate in the case of Adam, whose charge
is, after all, to remain obedient, docilely accepting things as they are in order to
maintain the paradisiacal status quo.
Tung pursues the idea that Abdiel represents a paradigm of the one just man,
that is, the man with the ability to refrain from succumbing to evil, in full cognizance of
the true nature of evil even under great duress or against great odds (607). As additional
examples, Tung provides Samson, who stood fast in his solitary resistance against the
Philistines and even against his own people; and Jesus, in his stalwart opposition to Satan
in Paradise Regained (607). Tung also references Abraham, labeled just by Adam
(12.273) and the one just man Noah (607), whom Adam acclaims, in a passage from
book 11, which is quoted by Tung on page 607:
Far less I now lament for one whole world
Of wicked sons destroyed, than I rejoice

Osborne 26
For one man found so perfect and so just. (11.874-76)
Tung goes on to say that Abdiel endure[s] a great deal of suffering from scorn and
persecution as a result of his contesting Satan and his troops (607), although one could
question the extent of Abdiels true suffering. The ostentatiously righteous seraph not
only turns his back on the enemy multitudes (5.906), but does so with an almost
unbelievable stolidity, remaining unmoved, / Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified (5.89899) against the raging insurgent third of the heavenly host.
Not only does Abdiels apparent indifference to Satans legions indicate a lack of
fear, it might also point to the possibility that the seraph does not even believe he has a
reason to fear. At this point, before the actual War in Heaven, angels are not aware that
they can be hurt Satan himself first knew pain (6.327) when he was horribly wounded
by Michael on the first day of the war let alone die, which angels soon find that they
cannot (6.434). Again, Abdiels indifference might just point to his rigidity and
stubbornness, his willingness to take risks when the consequences, though dramatic,
might not be that dire, rather than indicate a sense of justice, or of zeal.
Elie Wiesel, in a story contained in his Holocaust memoir One Generation After
(1970), provides what may be a more powerful example of the just man, one who acts
according to what he knows is right even when the odds are truly hopeless. This nameless
just man enters Sodom with the intention to save its inhabitants from sin and
punishment and he utterly fails; a child then asks him why he continues on (72). The
man replies: Ill tell you why. In the beginning, I thought I could change man. Today, I
know I cannot. If I still shout today, if I still scream, it is to prevent man from ultimately
changing me (72). Wiesels just man continues to scream, to rage against injustice,

Osborne 27
even though he knows it is hopeless, and in doing that clings to what he knows is right,
bracing himself against any efforts to change him; he stands, and walks, alone. The angel
Abdiel, although manifesting a certain amount of courage, or at least nerve, manages with
relative ease to desert Satans mutinous troops, join the loyal angels, and fight on
surrounded and aided by his comrades. The true just man, in Wiesels view, fights on
not only knowing that the odds against him are infinitely bad, but that he is doomed.
There is no ambiguity in what Wiesels just man chooses to do. Does Abdiel resist the
rebel angels knowing that the odds are hopeless, or does he resist with at least a small
understanding that what he is doing will not have any dire consequences? That is where
the ambiguity lies.
3. Conclusion
In Paradise Lost, the complexity of Miltons creative process is evident in an
analysis of the epics structure, its characters, and the levels of doubt created in a close
reading of the text. The architecture of the ten-book 1667 edition is a repository of
recondite clues, and Biblical and historical arcana, that enrich the poem and serve to
deepen its mysteries. The poems center, its narrative core, in both the 1667 and 1674
editions are the books in which Milton foregrounds the Archangel Raphael, his visit to
Adam and Eve, his relation of the War in Heaven and of creation, and his admonition to
Adam not to eat of the Tree of Knowledge. In the 1674 edition this core narrative is
contained in books 5 through 8, pivotal texts-within-the-text that anticipate in their drama
the action of the Fall and the first parents expulsion from Eden, which Milton relates
through Raphaels intradiegetic narrative, a narrative whose nuances reveal intellectually
intriguing possibilities concerning Raphaels narrative reliability.

Osborne 28
Within Raphaels intradiegetic narrative Milton has placed the angel Abdiels
intra-intradiegetic narrative of his desertion of Satan and his rebel multitudes. Abdiels
arguably zealous confrontation with Satan, his lonely but steadfast walk away from the
mutinous legions, and his duel with Satan himself, raise questions of intent and of
consequences, known and unknown, that foreground ambiguity over certainty and raise
questions about Miltons intentions concerning that stalwart seraph which, in their turn,
reflect the questions raised previously concerning the Archangel Raphael. The
conclusions reached in this paper only serve to reveal ever more layers of doubt
concerning the poem and the characters within it. Indeed, if uncertainty is the beginning
of wisdom (Ulreich 31 Oct. 2012), then the uncertainties contained in the narratives of
Raphael and Abdiel will serve as starting points for deeper investigations of their
personae and how they relate to the text as a whole. This is but the beginning of the
journey.

Osborne 29
Works Cited
Allen, Michael J. Divine Instruction: Of Education and the Pedagogy of Michael,
Raphael, and the Father. Milton Quarterly. 26.4 (Dec. 1992) : 61-68.
Wiley. Web. 02 Dec. 2012.
Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. 2nd ed. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1983. Print.
Copeland, Thomas A. Raphael, the Angelic Virtue. Milton Quarterly. 24.4 (Dec. 1990)
: 117-28. Wiley. Web. 28 Nov. 2012.
Cyr, Mark D. The Archangel Raphael: Narrative Authority in Miltons War in Heaven.
The Journal of Narrative Technique. 17.3 (Fall 1987) : 309-16. JSTOR. Web.
16 Nov. 2012.
Eliot, T.S. The Three Voices of Poetry. New York: Cambridge UP, 1954. Print.
Ferry, Anne. Miltons Epic Voice: The Narrator in Paradise Lost. Chicago and London:
U of Chicago P, 1983. Print.
Genette, Grard. Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method. Trans. Jane E. Lewin. Ithaca:
Cornell UP, 1983. Print.
--- Narrative Discourse Revisited. Trans. Jane E. Lewin. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1990. Print.
Gilbert, Allan H. On the Composition of Paradise Lost: A Study of the Ordering and
Insertion of Material. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 1947. Print.
Herman, Luc and Bart Vervaeck. Handbook of Narrative Analysis. Lincoln: U of
Nebraska P, 2005. eBook.
Herman, Peter C. Whose fault, whose but his own? : Paradise Lost, Contributory
Negligence, and the Problem of Cause. The New Milton Criticism. Ed. Peter C.
Herman and Elizabeth Sauer. New York: Cambridge UP, 2012. 49-67. eBook.

Osborne 30
Hunter, William B., Jr. The Center of Paradise Lost. English Language Notes. 7.1
(Sept. 1969) : 32-34. EBSCO. Web. 10 Nov. 2012.
Lieb, Michael. Encoding the Occult: Milton and the Traditions of Merkabah Speculation
in the Renaissance. Milton Studies XXXVII. Ed. Albert C. Labriola. Pittsburgh:
U of Pittsburgh P, 1999. 42-88. Print.
Milton, John. Of Education. The Complete Poetry and Essential Prose of John
John Milton. Eds. William Kerrigan, John Peter Rumrich, and Stephen
M. Fallon. New York: Modern Library, 2007. 967-81. Print.
--- Paradise Lost. The Complete Poetry and Essential Prose of John Milton.
Eds. William Kerrigan, John Peter Rumrich, and Stephen M. Fallon. New York:
Modern Library, 2007. 283-630. Print.
--- Paradise Regained. The Complete Poetry and Essential Prose of John Milton.
Eds. William Kerrigan, John Peter Rumrich, and Stephen M. Fallon. New York:
Modern Library, 2007. 635-97. Print.
--- Selections from Christian Doctrine. The Complete Poetry and Essential
Prose of John Milton. Eds. William Kerrigan, John Peter Rumrich, and Stephen
M. Fallon. New York: Modern Library, 2007. 1137-1333. Print.
Miner, Earl. The Reign of Narrative in Paradise Lost. Milton Studies XVII. Ed.
Richard S. Ide and Joseph Wittreich. Pittsburgh: U of Pittsburgh P, 1983. 3-25.
Print.

Osborne 31
Myers, Benjamin. Prevenient Grace and Conversion in Paradise Lost. Milton
Quarterly. 40.1 (2006) : 20-36. Wiley. Web. 02 Dec. 2012.
Phelan, James. Narrative as Rhetoric: Technique, Audiences, Ethics, Ideology.
Columbus: Ohio State UP, 1996. Print.
Qvarnstrm, Gunnar. The Enchanted Palace: Some Structural Aspects of Paradise Lost.
Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1967. Print.
Rollin, Roger B. Paradise Lost: TragicalComicalHistoricalPastoral. Milton
Studies V. Ed. James D. Simmonds. Pittsburgh: U of Pittsburgh P, 1973. 3-37.
Print.
Shawcross, John T. That which by creation first brought forth Light out of darkness!:
Paradise Lost, First Edition. Paradise Lost: A Poem Written in Ten Books:
Essays on the 1667 First Edition. Ed. Michael Lieb and John T. Shawcross.
Pittsburgh: Duquesne UP, 2007. 213-27. Print.
--- With Mortal Voice: The Creation of Paradise Lost. Lexington: UP of Kentucky,
1982. Print.
Sherry, Beverley. Miltons Raphael and the Legend of Tobias. The Journal of English
and Germanic Philology. 78.2 (Apr. 1979) : 227-41. JSTOR. Web. 02 Nov. 2012.
Tung, Mason. The Abdiel Episode: A Contextual Reading. Studies in Philology. 62.4
(Jul. 1963) : 595-609. JSTOR. Web. 01 Dec. 2012.
Ulreich, John C., Jr. Class Lecture. Milton and the English Bible. The University of
Arizona, Tucson, AZ. 31 Oct. 2012.
Walsh, Richard. Who is the Narrator? Poetics Today. 18.4 (Winter 1997) : 495513. JSTOR. Web. 30 Nov. 2012.

Osborne 32
Whiting, George W. Abdiel and the Prophet Abdias. Studies in Philology. 60.2 (Apr.
1963) : 214-26. JSTOR. Web. 01 Dec. 2012.
Wiesel, Elie. One Generation After. Trans. Lily Edelman. New York: Random, 1970.
Print.
Wittreich, Joseph. Feminist Milton. Ithaca; Cornell UP, 1987. Print.