Analysis of Milton’s Appeal To Cromwell



[CROMWELL, Act III. sc. iv.]

Stay! I no longer can contain myself,
But cry you: Look on John, who bares his mind
To Oliver--to Cromwell, Milton speaks!
Despite a kindling eye and marvel deep
A voice is lifted up without your leave;
For I was never placed at council board
To speak _my_ promptings. When awed strangers come
Who've seen Fox-Mazarin wince at the stings
In my epistles--and bring admiring votes
Of learned colleges, they strain to see
My figure in the glare--the usher utters,
'Behold and hearken! that's my Lord Protector's
Cousin--that, his son-in-law--that next'--who cares!
Some perfumed puppet! 'Milton?' 'He in black--
Yon silent scribe who trims their eloquence!'
Still 'chronicling small-beer,'--such is my duty!
Yea, one whose thunder roared through martyr bones
Till Pope and Louis Grand quaked on their thrones,
And echoed 'Vengeance for the Vaudois,' where
The Sultan slumbers sick with scent of roses.
He is but the mute in this seraglio--
'Pure' Cromwell's Council!
But to be dumb and blind is overmuch!
Impatient Issachar kicks at the load!
Yet diadems are burdens painfuller,
And I would spare thee that sore imposition.
Dear brother Noll, I plead against thyself!
Thou aim'st to be a king; and, in thine heart,
What fool has said: 'There is no king but thou?'
For thee the multitude waged war and won--
The end thou art of wrestlings and of prayer,
Of sleepless watch, long marches, hunger, tears
And blood prolifically spilled, homes lordless,
And homeless lords! The mass must always suffer
That one should reign! the collar's but newly clamp'd,
And nothing but the name thereon is changed--
Master? still masters! mark you not the red
Of shame unutterable in my sightless white?
Still hear me, Cromwell, speaking for your sake!
These fifteen years, we, to you whole-devoted,
Have sought for Liberty--to give it thee?
To make our interests your huckster gains?
The king a lion slain that you may flay,
And wear the robe--well, worthily--I say't,
For I will not abase my brother!
No! I would keep him in the realm serene,
My own ideal of heroes! loved o'er Israel,
And higher placed by me than all the others!
And such, for tinkling titles, hollow haloes
Like that around yon painted brow--thou! thou!
Apostle, hero, saint-dishonor thyself!
And snip and trim the flag of Naseby-field
As scarf on which the maid-of-honor's dog
Will yelp, some summer afternoon! That sword
Shrink into a sceptre! brilliant bauble! Thou,
Thrown on a lonely rock in storm of state,
Brain-turned by safety's miracle, thou risest
Upon the tott'ring stone whilst ocean ebbs,
And, reeking of no storms to come to-morrow,
Or to-morrow--deem that a certain pedestal
Whereon thou'lt be adored for e'er--e'en while
It shakes--o'ersets the rider! Tremble, thou!
For he who dazzles, makes men Samson-blind,
Will see the pillars of his palace kiss
E'en at the whelming ruin! Then, what word
Of answer from your wreck when I demand
Account of Cromwell! glory of the people
Smothered in ashes! through the dust thou'lt hear;
'What didst thou with thy virtue?' Will it respond:
'When battered helm is doffed, how soft is purple
On which to lay the head, lulled by the praise
Of thousand fluttering fans of flatterers!
Wearied of war-horse, gratefully one glides
In gilded barge, or in crowned, velvet car,
From gay Whitehall to gloomy Temple Bar--'
(Where--had you slipt, that head were bleaching now!
And that same rabble, splitting for a hedge,
Had joined their rows to cheer the active headsman;
Perchance, in mockery, they'd gird the skull
With a hop-leaf crown! Bitter the brewing, Noll!)
Are crowns the end-all of ambition? Remember
Charles Stuart! and that they who make can break!
This same Whitehall may black its front with crape,
And this broad window be the portal twice
To lead upon a scaffold! Frown! or laugh!
Laugh on as they did at Cassandra's speech!
But mark--the prophetess was right! Still laugh,
Like the credulous Ethiop in his faith in stars!
But give one thought to Stuart, two for yourself!
In his appointed hour, all was forthcoming--
Judge, axe, and deathsman veiled! and my poor eyes
Descry--as would thou saw'st!--a figure veiled,
Uplooming there--afar, like sunrise, coming!
With blade that ne'er spared Judas 'midst free brethren!
Stretch not the hand of Cromwell for the prize
Meant not for him, nor his! Thou growest old,
The people are ever young! Like her i' the chase
Who drave a dart into her lover, embowered,
Piercing the incense-clouds, the popular shaft


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Poetic Form Tetractys  (21%)
Metre 101111 111101011 1111111111 1100110101 0101010101 0111010111 1111011101 111111101 01111101 011010101 111001111 11000101010 01011111 10111011111 1011010101 1101111100 11001111110 1111011101 1101011111 010101011 0101111110 11101011 11010 11110111 01011101 111101 0111111010 110111011 11111010011 1111111111 110101101 011111011 1101110101 010100111 0101011110 1111011101 0101010111 1011011101 1110111 1111010111 10111111010 1111001111 1110101101 0101011111 010111111 11111110 1111100101 1101110110100 01011111010 01110010101 1101110111 0101010101 010101111 1111011101 111100111 10101010101 1101010111 1111010011 010111101 01011111110 111011010100 11101110111 111010101 111111101 1101011101 1110110111 1101111101 01110101010 1001010111 11111101101 11011111110 1111011101 110100111 1011110011 0101101101 111110101 1111110101 0111010101 11111101010 0101001101 10111100101 110111010010 1100111111 111111111 0111010101 1101010111 11111111 1101001111 10100101101 11111101101 010101011110 110110111 1111110101 11011110 11111101110 1101110101 111111111 010110110101 1101010101 100011010011
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,394
Words 759
Sentences 64
Stanzas 2
Stanza Lengths 1, 99
Lines Amount 100
Letters per line (avg) 35
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 1,745
Words per stanza (avg) 375
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:53 min read
78

Victor Marie Hugo

Victor Marie Hugo was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement. He is considered one of the greatest and best known French writers. In France, Hugo's literary fame comes first from his poetry but also rests upon his novels and his dramatic achievements. Among many volumes of poetry, Les Contemplations and La Légende des siècles stand particularly high in critical esteem. Outside France, his best-known works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862, and Notre-Dame de Paris, 1831. Though a committed royalist when he was young, Hugo's views changed as the decades passed; he became a passionate supporter of republicanism, and his work touches upon most of the political and social issues and artistic trends of his time. He was buried in the Panthéon. more…

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