Note: I should point out that these are just my thoughts on Milton’s Fictional and Fantastical Portrayal of the Fall of Man. I am not interested in a religious debate here but just a discussion about a work of fiction.
At the start of Book I, Milton’s stated aim is to “justifie the wayes of God”; thus presenting Paradise Lost as an attempt at theodicy. In this essay, I will argue that Milton’s representation of Divine Justice in Paradise Lost rests more on obedience to a divinely ordained hierarchy than on moral responsibility, thereby undermining claims that God’s justice, as presented in Paradise Lost, is fully compatible with ordinary notions of justice. I will first analyse and contrast Milton’s portrayal of God’s treatment of Satan with that towards humanity, focusing on repentance, ignorance, and inherited guilt. I will then discuss the collective and eternal nature of divine punishment. Finally, I will recount the role of knowledge and love, and how it relates to hierarchy in Adam and Eve’s fall, to show that obedience at the expense of other values related to justice is ultimately what defines justice in Milton’s epic.
The contrast in Milton’s God’s treatment of Satan and humanity reveals that divine judgement operates through hierarchical status. God’s judgement towards Satan and Adam are different in that God gives an opportunity for man to repent, but there is no sign that Satan could repent, both because he is unwilling and unable. As Satan himself says, “Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc’d so deep, / Which would but lead me to a worse relapse / And heavier fall; so should I purchase deare / Short intermission bought with double smart. / This knows my punisher; therefore as farr / From granting hee, as I from begging peace.” Satan, who is bent on revenge, does not want to repent, and believes that God would not be interested in his repentance anyway because it is in his nature to be rebellious. Satan’s thoughts are revealed to be accurate, at least about his repentance being irrelevant, since according to Milton’s God, “Man therefore shall find grace, the other none.”
The reason for this discrepancy is that man’s mistake was ostensibly made under the deception of the serpent: “Man falls deceiv’d.” However, this deception was only possible because of ignorance, as the passive construction of “falls deceiv’d” removes agency from Adam. This implies that Adam’s fall is also something that happens to him rather than something caused by him, whereas Satan fell “Self-tempted, self-deprav’d” without being lied to. However, it could also be argued that, in so far as Adam was ignorant of the true nature of his punishment, Satan was ignorant too, at least of the consequences of his actions, whereas God possessed perfect knowledge and, as such, is the only being capable of making choices, judging, and being judged and considered fully responsible.
In both cases, the sin which required restorative justice was disobedience. But neither humanity nor Satan could really hurt God, so what is there to restore? It is willing submission to divine order which needs to be restored. This means that obedience to divine edict is synonymous with divine justice. Stanley Fish goes as far as to argue that in Paradise Lost “freedom (liberty) is obedience,[1]” since liberty consists in aligning the will with God’s. This definition, however, reduces freedom to hierarchical submission, leaving little room for real moral autonomy, since any deviation from authority is automatically reclassified as servitude.
The basis for this justice is claimed by the fact that God created man directly and Satan indirectly through the hands of the Son. In other words, the justification for God’s justice is a hierarchical system, and it is for defying this hierarchy, whether through rebellion or disobedience, that Satan and humanity have been punished. In both cases, justice is determined less by the moral quality of the agent’s action than by their position within God’s created hierarchy.
The collective nature of divine punishment further points towards the notion that individual moral responsibility is subordinated to maintaining hierarchy. Both God’s punishment towards humans and towards demons are problematic due to their collective nature. God’s punishment towards both humans and demons is collective, and in humanity’s case applies down to the descendants of Adam and Eve as well. As Adam asks, “Ah, why should all mankind / For one mans fault thus guiltless be condemn’d, / If guiltless?”
Empson dismisses inherited guilt as an “exceedingly wicked bargain,[2]” highlighting the injustice of punishing those who had no opportunity to consent. However, in divine justice, it is deemed that moral corruption, and thereby renewed guilt, is an inheritable trait. As Adam says, “from mee what can proceed, But all corrupt, both Mind and Will deprav’d,”
If this is so, then free will is undermined, or at least no longer exists in the same form that Adam possessed before being corrupted by the knowledge of Good and Evil. However, if justice in Milton’s text functions primarily as a mechanism for maintaining divine authority, then the collective and hereditary nature of punishment becomes more understandable, though equally morally questionable.
Milton’s emphasis on humanity’s ignorance, as the factor which exonerates it from immediate damnation without relief like that of Satan, further suggests that divine justice is based on submission to authority rather than informed choice. In Book IV, Adam does not know what death is: “what ere Death is, / Som dreadful thing no doubt.” Adam has not yet witnessed death, and though he conjectures it to be a “dreadful thing,” like Prince Siddhartha prior to escaping his palace, he had scarcely encountered suffering, and therefore has no frame of reference for understanding what is at stake.
Adam’s first glimpse of death occurs in Book XI, when Michael shows him the murder of his son, too late to prevent his disobedience. His child-like innocent ignorance, highlighted by his dependence for everything, including knowledge, on angels such as Raphael, who is unable to answer his curiosity about the true nature of the heavens, creates a gap in knowledge between God and humanity. This gap reduces divine judgement to an unknowable and unquantifiable threat from Adam’s pre-fallen perspective, suggesting that he is expected to obey without fully understanding the consequences.
He is therefore asked to fear a punishment which he does not understand, and only after eating the fruit does he become fully aware of its meaning. Stanley Fish further suggests that reading the poem itself requires “self-humiliation,[3]” training the reader to subordinate judgement to divine authority. This reinforces the poem’s prioritisation of submission over independent moral reasoning as both the means and the end of justice.
Satan himself recognises how humanity is set up to fail: “Do they onely stand / By ignorance, is that thir happie state, their proof of thir obedience and thir faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build / Thir ruine!” The reason why Satan’s temptation works on Eve when he asks, “Can it be sin to know?” is, among other things, because of ignorance is the foundation of both their happiness and their ruin. In light of humanity’s fall, this also frames intellectual curiosity in the face of authority as a fatal moral failure. Knowledge then is divvied up by rank in the divine hierarchy and initiative to acquire knowledge above one’s station is punished as a breach of trust in the hierarchy.
The eternal punishment of the fallen angels represents the most clear expression of hierarchical justice. The devils’ punishment is problematic not only because it is collective (and because some demons argued against interfering with Eden, and were in some sense misled by Satan, just as humanity was), but also because it is eternal. “Eternal Justice had prepar’ed” a place where “peace and rest can never dwell,” where “hope never comes,” where “torture without end” persists. Milton through Adam questions the morality of eternal punishment in Book X: “For though the Lord of all be infinite, / Is his wrauth also? be it, man is not so, / But mortal doom’d. How can he exercise / Wrath without end on Man whom Death must end?” The “eternal” and “infinite” justice-maker thus appears unable to understand finitude, due the necessity for every judgement to be final, “infinite” and thus unchanging. This is contradicted when it is revealed to Adam that humanity will eventually be forgiven thus seemingly relieving him and the intended reader whom as a human is supposed to identify with Adam as his progenitor, of some of the burden of thinking of eternal punishment, and to instead be grateful for God’s finite grace. However, this concern still applies to God’s punishment of Satan. However heinous Satan’s crime of rebellion, it exists within time, and if punishment under ordinary justice is supposed to be proportional to crime, then a finite offence cannot merit an infinite punishment.
Furthermore, the demons are kept in existence in order to serve God’s plan. God refers to them as “My Hell-hounds” who are to “lick up the draff and filth,” suggesting that they remain His possessions, acting according to His purposes. They do not appear to have the freedom to act against His intentions, but are instead compelled to serve them. This suggests that if they are punished, it is not for their actions, since these cannot ultimately deviate from God’s will, but rather for their intentions alone, without the ability to act otherwise. In ordinary justice, intention may be punishable, but only where genuine choice exists.
This confirms what the demons themselves had suspected at the start, in Book I of the poem: “What if he our Conqueror… / Have left us this our spirit and strength intire… [to]… do him mightier service as his thralls.” This implies that God has anticipated, and perhaps even incorporated, their evil into His plan, thus Milton’s narrative is calling into question the notion of free will, and thereby fair punishment, as compatible with the narrative of divine justice.
Relatedly, the collateral damage which the serpent suffers as punishment for its role, despite its lack of rational agency, also suggest that punishment in divine justice, as represented in this poem, is not based on free will but on reinforcing the divine hierarchy by smiting those whose who acts against their purpose which is dictated by their position in the hierarchy. Likewise, the relative ease with which Satan enters Earth, and climbs the walls of Eden with “one slight bound” despite the presence of angelic guards, corroborates a degree of divine permission or manipulation. Perhaps even that the walls were there to keep Adam in rather than any evil out. The possessive way in which God refers to the demons reinforces this impression of control, implying a kind of collusion, perhaps comparable to that between law enforcement and organised crime, in order to maintain a certain kind of hierarchical order.
The purpose of this system appears to be to test the ignorant obedience of Adam and Eve. Punishment therefore reflects the assertion of God’s unilateral sovereign power more than any proportionate moral justice or punishment.
The limits placed on human knowledge further restrict genuine moral agency. Returning to Adam and Eve, Satan asks in Book IV, “Can it be sin to know?” The sin, within Milton’s framework, is disobedience, though more precisely the disobedience to remain ignorant when ordered to. Adam and Eve are supposed to use reason to remain loyal, and yet, if they could not possess knowledge of good and evil, how could they make an informed choice? Could that loyalty itself be considered a misunderstanding based on manipulated information. To dissuade such doubts, Milton includes the discussion between Raphael and Adam in Books V and VI, where Raphael explains Satan’s rebellion and warns Adam of the dangers of disobedience. However, the need for this attempt at remediation of ignorance by lengthy exposition, also signals that divine justice based on hierarchical relationships creates a vast gap in understanding between man and divine order, thus necessitating for the Son to come down to the level of humanity to bridge that gulf. Satan himself recognises the fragility of this arrangement when he asks, “Do they onely stand/ By ignorance?” suggesting that humanity’s obedience depends largely on ignorance.
If Adam and Eve were innocent like children, only with the bodies but not minds of adults due to their ignorance of right and wrong, they cannot be considered fully responsible for their actions. Were they, in some sense, made to fail at their task? Divine justice then here reflects the free assertion of God’s sovereign power more than any proportionate punishment. Responsibility is framed within obedience rather than the exercise of independent moral judgement. On the other hand, one could argue that Adam’s limited knowledge is necessary for moral testing, since obedience may have more value if exercised without full certainty, as it indicates trust. Yet a test undergone without adequate understanding undermines moral responsibility, turning moral choice into a mere compliance check rather than loyalty based on real mutual understanding between God and humanity, an understanding which I have shown to be made difficult by a divine hierarchy. This hierarchy then may turn divine justice into a cold mechanism without recourse to human understanding.
Adam’s fall exposes how the necessity for obedience of divine hierarchy pits personal loyalty against justice. In Book IX, Adam chooses to eat the fruit because of his love for Eve: “However I with thee have fixt my Lot.” His decision is motivated not by ambition or pride, but by love, as shown in his determination to stand by Eve through “bliss or woe,” echoing the words of the vows of marriage: “for better or for worse.” Yet such love, when it challenges the hierarchy of divine justice, remains invisible and unacknowledged.
This is evident when Milton’s God declares: “For man will heark’n to his glozing lyes… / Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.” In this judgement, no attention is paid to Adam’s true motive for eating the fruit instead referring to “his [the serpent’s] glozing lyes” even though Adam never spoke to the serpent to be swayed by its lies: his desire not to be separated from Eve is ignored as a mitigating circumstance. Perhaps this is because by following Eve, Adam displaced the highest authority in the hierarchy, God, in favour of someone lower in the hierarchy, Eve. His love as motive is reduced to ingratitude, disobedience and thereby as unjust.
Adam himself later laments, “And me with thee hath ruined…,” recognising that his attachment to Eve has led to his downfall by blurring his vision of his position in the hierarchy as a permanent debtor. As a created being permanently indebted to God, he is expected to prioritise obedience over personal bonds. This explains why he is labelled “ingrate” for choosing what was already given to him, Eve, over his “sole pledge of obedience” to his eternal benefactor. By obeying his love, Adam’s choice reflects conflicting loyalties, yet divine justice recognises only one legitimate form of obedience, that which respects the hierarchical order.
Eve’s misjudgement is similarly connected to hierarchy. It arises from her refusal to obey Adam’s wish that they remain together, believing in God’s love and her own strength to resist temptation, believing that she knows better, and from Adam’s willingness to listen to someone positioned below him and grant her permission to leave his side despite his misgivings. In both cases, mutual trust and affection leads directly to transgression by undermining hierarchy. Love is therefore subordinated to authority within Milton’s moral universe. It may be argued, then, that love itself is ultimately reduced to obedience within the acceptable narrow bounds of the divinely ordained chain of hierarchy.
The episode of the Tree of Life confirms that divine justice ultimately functions to preserve hierarchy. Adam and Eve do not die immediately after eating the fruit, and their banishment from Eden is not directly because of the act of disobedience itself, but because they might eat of the Tree of Life and thus become equal or superior to God after having eaten of both trees. This suggests that divine justice rests primarily on maintaining the authority of hierarchy. Access to immortality is regulated by submission to authority rather than by virtue.
For C. S. Lewis, this hierarchy is justified because obedience itself is “the mother and guardian of all virtues,[4]” and he therefore presents the prohibition as a rational moral test. Yet this assumes that moral goodness can be reduced to compliance. Lewis explicitly frames Milton’s universe as hierarchical, also arguing that goodness consists in “obeying its natural superior.[5]” While this clarifies Milton’s moral system, it also implies that justice is grounded in rank rather than in ethical responsibility.
In summary, Milton’s attempt to reconcile justice and hierarchy ultimately presents a conflict between Paradise Lost’s narrative and its theodicy. The divine justice presented here is obedience to the divinely ordained hierarchy. This justice based on obedience is tested against love, against the ability to make informed choices, against proportional punishment to transgression, and even against the pursuit for knowledge, against these because they might serve as an equalising force which might threaten the hierarchical relationships of the poem. As a result of this, Milton’s God appears more as an enforcer of hierarchy than an unbiased moral arbitrator guaranteeing ethical fairness, suggesting that it is hierarchy rather than justice as it is ordinarily understood, which forms the true foundation of divine justice.
Bibliography
Empson, William, Milton’s God, rev. edn (London: Chatto & Windus, 1965)
Fish, Stanley, Surprised by Sin: The Reader in Paradise Lost (London: Macmillan, 1967)
Lewis, C. S., A Preface to Paradise Lost (London: Oxford University Press, 1960)
[1] Stanley Fish, Surprised by Sin: The Reader in Paradise Lost (London: Macmillan, 1967), p. 332.
[2] William Empson, Milton’s God, rev. edn (London: Chatto & Windus, 1965), p. 24.
[3] Fish, Fish, Surprised by Sin, p. 207.
[4] C. S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost (London: Oxford University Press, 1960), p. 68.
[5] Lewis, p. 73.
